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rmnamjoons · 3 years

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🍁🔮✨ Under Your Spell [KNJ]

➳ summary: You’re a garden witch running a potion business and plant shop, and you might just have a tiny crush on the non-magical man running the bookstore next door. Namjoon is sweet, cute, and handsome, and he actually seems to like you back — but just as the two of you start falling for each other, an evil witch puts a curse on him: unless Namjoon falls in love with her instead, he will break anything he touches forever.

➳ pairing: bookstore owner!Namjoon x garden witch!reader

➳ genre: fluff, smut, witch au, magic au, whimsical modern magical realism (Ghibli-meets-Practical Magic vibes)

➳ word count: 25k — this is a complete one-shot

➳ tags: cute nerdy book-loving gentle giant Namjoon, black cats and curses and potions (oh my!), magic and witches are normal in this world, Y/N’s cat is also in love with Namjoon, mutual pining, “we can’t touch each other but we want to” pining, smut, oral (f and m receiving), sex that is only protected by magic

➳ links: read on ao3 + my masterlist

➳ A/N: Happy Halloween/spooky season!!! 🎃🍂💖🍁🔮✨

***

➳ TRIGGER WARNING (spoilers, obviously — read at your own risk): The lack of consent involved with the curse is discussed and treated like the villain attempted to force Namjoon into being with her. Namjoon is safe and happy and nothing bad happens to him other than the curse itself, but those themes are present. The concept of rape is mentioned in passing at one point, but does not happen in this story. The ethics of love potions are also discussed.

Blood (not gore or violence, just blood) is also present and used in various potions/spells throughout, and periods are mentioned in passing. Grandparents who died are also discussed.

***

🍁🔮✨

***

Eye of a newt. Tooth of a wolf. Four bat claws, which you’d bought online and had finally arrived this morning. Shell of a snail, heart of a worm, scales of a dragonfish.

You dropped in your ingredients one by one, the purple sludge in one of your grandmother’s cauldrons bubbling up at you. The specific shade of purple wasn’t exactly what you’d hoped for, it smelled a little off, it didn’t bubble as much as it should, but you figured this was as close as you were going to get. The uppity witch who’d actually tried to haggle with you for her potion would just have to deal with it if this gave her thirteen years of IBS instead of luck.

You mixed in the last of the ingredients: crushed calamus, mugwort, and sage, all of which you’d grown in your garden yourself. You let the potion simmer for a few final minutes before cooling it down with a spell, carefully ladling it into a small glass vial, and plugging it off with a cork. You slid the potion into your pocket and headed back into the main room of your shop, figuring you should probably attempt to do some real work today, too.

Potions were alright for you, but you were a garden witch, through and through. Your grandmother had taught you potions, protective charms, and the importance of avoiding dark magic, but your talents, like your grandmother’s, were strongest when it came to plants. You both could make just about anything grow, regardless of climate, circumstances, or even time. You could bring nearly dead plants back to full bloom in only a minute or two, which helped tremendously with the flower shop that you, and formerly your grandmother, owned and operated.

After your grandmother’s death, you were left in charge of the shop. You now lived in the apartment above it, and you were happy enough with your simple little life. You were open for business every weekday, nine to five, and you ran it all on your own. You weren’t exactly the most popular store in town, so you had plenty of time to practice your non-plant magic, like lifting empty flowerpots to higher shelves you couldn’t reach, making your tea warm again after you forgot about it, or brewing the potions you were sometimes able to sell for a little extra money on the side.

You weren’t really capable of much beyond that, but still, you were proud of what you could do. And hey: at least you hadn’t accidentally turned anyone into a frog for a while. Last time you attempted that particular spell, your neighbor Taehyung had moved out the very next day, his unsettled eyes refusing to even look in your direction on his way out.

The spell was supposed to turn milk into hot chocolate, but you were really bad at it, so whoever was standing closest to you always paid the amphibious consequences until you quickly reversed it. You’d even once turned your grandmother, and she hadn’t been able to turn herself back. You had no idea how you did it, or what it had to do with hot chocolate — your magic was so nonsensical sometimes.

Your flower shop was on a quaint little shopping street in a quieter part of town. Across the street was a candlemaker whose candles never went out, next door to them a slightly haunted teashop that did leaf readings and the occasional rhapsodomancy. Further down was a stationary store, a beauty boutique, an enchantment emporium, and a Colombian coffeehouse, and sometimes, on warm days when everyone kept their windows open, you could almost smell the bakery at the end of the street, the scent of their honey-bread and confections floating over the cracking cobblestones like a cloud.

Right next door to you, however, was your favorite shop on the whole street: you worked next door to the bookstore.

Throughout your entire childhood, the bookstore was run by a kind, elderly man named Mr. Kim, who always let you come over during the day and read books without actually buying them. He’d bought flowers from your grandmother at least once a week, and you’d always wondered if the two of them had secretly had a thing at some point, from the way his eyes sparkled when he looked at her to the way she always wore one of her nicer dresses when she knew he’d be stopping.

Mr. Kim had died earlier this year. You’d provided all of the flowers for the funeral, though you’d had a lot of trouble getting anything to bloom back then. Just like it had been for months after your grandmother’s death, you couldn’t make plants grow when you were mourning.

That was months ago, though, and you were used to him being gone now, mostly. You weren’t a little girl anymore; the bookshop was no longer your playground. You’d heard the store had been passed on to a family member, but you hadn’t stopped by yet to meet them. You just kept to yourself nowadays, growing your plants and not leaving the shop, other than for groceries and supplies. Your cat — a sleek black Bombay you’d named Jiji, after the cat in your favorite movie, despite the fact your Jiji was a girl — was thankful you were a homebody, at least.

It was October now, the breeze cooler in the evenings as the leaves turned bright orange and dark red. Even the willows lining the shopping street were a dead kind of yellow, their hanging branches dancing in the wind like skeletons. A full moon was coming up at the end of the month, and you were considering practicing a reverse fertility ritual — not that you were seeing anyone or getting any; you just wanted to prevent your relentless periods. All blood, even your own, spoke to you, so that plus the cramps were always such annoying distractions when you were trying to focus on potions, plants, and patrons.

The door to your flower shop swung open a little too hard, pulling you from your thoughts and making you jump in surprise. The bell above the door jingled harder than you’d ever heard it, clearly not used to being abused like this.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the man who’d walked in said, grimacing at his own clumsiness. He closed the door as carefully as he could, smiling back at you sweetly, as if attempting to minimize the anger he expected you to feel at his sudden loudness.

The man was cute. You weren’t sure you’d ever seen a grown man you instantly thought of as being cute, but looking at his dimples, his round cheeks, his librarian-esque cardigan and the small book tucked under his arm — that was the perfect word to describe him, despite his large size and deep voice. You could tell he was manly, masculine, and big, but he was cute, too.

“Welcome,” you said, raising an eyebrow at him as he stumbled forward. You could see his eyes through his thick glasses and saw his prescription was dreadful; the man must be half-blind without them. Maybe he was looking for a potion to improve his vision. “How can I help you?”

The man walked up to you like he was nervous, now holding his book with both hands. He stood like he was trying to make himself smaller, afraid of taking up too much space or intimidating you with his size. Somehow, though, you thought he fit in perfectly with your shop; the overgrown vines you had growing all over the walls, the little shelf of potions by the window, and the mismatched wooden tables covered in houseplants all did not clash with the large, cute man. He looked like he belonged here in your space.

“Hello,” he said, his deep voice a low rumble in his throat. He pushed his glasses up his button nose as he continued, “Um, my name is Namjoon. You’re Y/N, right? I live next door and run the bookshop. My grandfather used to own it. Did you know him?”

You nodded, your brow creasing. You still missed Mr. Kim, even though months had passed since he’d died. You hadn’t known he had grandchildren, let alone a grown one he’d leave his home and business to. This must be the family the bookstore had gone to.

“I didn’t know him all that well,” Namjoon said, as if reading your thoughts. “I was his last living relative. When I found out about the will, I moved here to run the shop. Sure beats my old job in an office,” he tried to joke, before flinching and looking down when he realized his attempt at humor didn’t work.

You almost felt bad for him. He wasn’t the best at first impressions, though you could tell he was trying his best. Namjoon’s “best” just included him crashing into your shop and immediately bringing up his dead grandfather.

“I brought this for you,” he said then, attempting to change the subject. He held the book out, and you took it carefully. “I thought you might like it since you run a plant shop. I’ve read that one before and really liked it.”

“Thank you,” you said, looking down at the book in your hands: Around the World in 80 Plants, with drawings of flowers and sprouts all over the cover. Cute. “That was really sweet of you, Namjoon. Do you like plants?”

His eyes lit up and he grinned, nodding eagerly.

“I love them,” he said, a little louder now, like he was so excited he forgot to use his inside voice. “I have a bunch in my apartment above the bookstore. Do you have any bonsai trees? Or seeds? I have three of them, but maybe I’ll buy another today, if you have any. I’ve been wanting to get another since moving here.”

“Yeah, I have a few pine bonsais here in the shop, and I think a few others,” you said, smiling with him. He was even cuter when he was all excited and happy like this.

“Pines? Wow,” he said, his eyes almost looking like they were lost in wonder. “Aren’t they the most difficult of all bonsai? I have a maple, an elm, and a plum blossom. I’ve never been brave enough to try growing a pine. Holy shit, that’s incredible! Especially having more than one. Can I see them?”

“Oh,” you said, blinking a few times. You hadn’t known they were considered difficult plants; you just did your normal thing with them, and they grew just fine. You had a few because you liked the way they looked in the shop and they were big sellers, but you had no idea how normal people cared for them. “Um, yeah. They’re right over there. And yeah, they’re really difficult. Totally.”

You grimaced at yourself, hoping Namjoon bought it. You were always such a terrible liar. You supposed you could just tell him the truth, that your magic was the only reason they thrived, but you liked how he was impressed with you and didn’t want to ruin the moment.

Namjoon appeared to believe you, smiling happily as he looked around at all your plants and headed to the bonsai shelf. He picked up the smallest of the pines, bringing it over to the counter you stood behind.

“I hope I can take care of her. Do you name them?” he said, smiling at you sweetly.

“I do,” you said, blushing. You’d never told anyone that before, not even your grandmother. It had always felt childish and silly, but you just couldn’t help yourself — when you used your magic to encourage plants to grow, you felt connected to them, and you’d named all your favorites over the years. You also had always thought of your plants as girls, which Namjoon apparently did too, considering he’d called the bonsai ‘her.’

“I haven’t named her yet because she’s so small,” you continued, looking down at the bonsai and trying to remember if there was a spell to make your face not look so red. If there wasn’t, you just hoped he wasn’t noticing you blushing so much. “It’s better you get to name her anyway, if you’re buying her today. Names are personal, so you should name her if she’s yours.”

“I’ll let you know what I come up with, after I get to know her some,” Namjoon said, grinning so wide his eyes crinkled. He had his hands on the counter, holding the bonsai’s pot loosely between the two of you. You hadn’t realized how tall he was before now, your head tilting back to look up at him.

Up close like this he was even more handsome, his brown eyes sweet and kind behind his glasses, his lips full and looking so soft, his dark hair practically begging you to run your fingers through it. You set the book down on the counter, and it took everything in you to not reach out and touch him. You felt drawn to him, and his awkwardness and cuteness only endeared you more.

Namjoon looked down at his feet then, and you saw a big smile appear on his handsome face.

“Well, hello,” he said, and you leaned over the counter and saw Jiji rubbing up against his leg, the little bell on her collar jingling softly. She was an escape artist by nature, and no matter how well you thought you kept your apartment closed up, she always found her way down here while you were working. Half the time you wondered if she could teleport or walk through walls.

“That’s Jiji,” you said as Namjoon scooped her up, holding her like a big baby. You could hear her purring as he pet her, her eyes closing as she tilted her head back and enjoyed being spoiled.

“She’s beautiful. How old is she?”

“Around two hundred. That was my grandma’s best guess when we found her, and that was about twenty years ago.”

Namjoon tilted his head, trying to figure out if you were joking or not.

You and Namjoon both jumped as the door to your shop was suddenly flung open, in striding the witch who’d bought the potion you’d made earlier. Behind her, a cloud moved in front of the sun, darkening the street outside as the wind picked up almost violently, swirling around dead leaves on the cobblestones. Jiji jumped from Namjoon’s arms and scrambled, her tail high as she ran into your back room and knocked over a potted plant on her way out. The hair on the back of your neck stood straight up as the witch’s aura hit and overpowered yours, just like it always did when you met with one of the Daughters.

The door swung shut and the bell above it chimed hard, sounding almost in pain. Belladonna pulled off her large sunglasses, already looking bored as she glanced around your little shop like it disgusted her. She tossed her long, light blonde hair over one shoulder, sighing as if you were already wasting her time.

Belladonna Goode always liked reminding you in little ways that she had more important things to do and you were just one of many errands in her very busy schedule. She was in a coven, like some bougie city witch, though you’d never seen anything to suggest that her “coven” was more than just a rich woman’s social club. All the witches you were friends with practiced spells and looked for little ways to improve the world around them. Belladonna, on the other hand, had more sisters than sense, not one ounce of goodness in her heart, and more money than she knew what to do with, but she visited you every few weeks, wanting more potions for luck and good fortune. Part of you wondered if it was because she didn’t know how to make her own, or if she thought brewing potions was beneath her.

On her coat that was worth more than your shop, Belladonna’s Daughters of Salem pin glinted and sparkled, and you raised an eyebrow as you looked at it, unimpressed. The Daughters of Salem coven thought they were better than everyone else, only letting in members who were from the proper families, all of whom were coincidentally very wealthy and very white. To them, the only thing that mattered more than bloodlines was piles and piles of money. And being a snoot, you thought with a snort.

“My potion?” she said, not bothering to look at you. Despite how elegantly she was dressed and how well she was put together, you thought you saw a fly circling her.

“I have it right here,” you said, pulling the vial out of your work apron’s front pocket. You came around the counter to hand it to her, not wanting to inconvenience her by making her take more than a few steps.

You noticed Namjoon looking between you and Belladonna then, his eyes wide. Witches weren’t rare by any means and hadn’t been a secret from normal people for centuries now, but it wasn’t like there were a lot of witches running around out in the open. A town your size typically only had a few dozen, maybe a hundred at most, and other than the witches who ran businesses dealing in magic, you didn’t normally advertise it, though you didn’t exactly hide it, either. You had a business card on your counter for your potions, for goodness sake. He’d walked right past your potion shelf on his way in.

You realized then that Namjoon hadn’t even suspected that you were a witch, and was just now figuring out that he was outnumbered and surrounded.

“Here,” Belladonna said, tossing you the money you’d agreed on. You had to jump forward to catch it, and she snatched the potion from your hand before you’d even regained your composure.

“What’s the potion for?” Namjoon said, his brow furrowed and concerned eyes not leaving the vial.

Belladonna looked at him like she just now realized he was present. Unease spread through your stomach as you watched the way she looked at him, tilting her head as a smirk spread across her thin red lips.

“Well, aren’t you handsome?” she said, her smoldering eyes landing right on Namjoon’s jugular.

“Can I help you with anything else?” you cut in, attempting to distract her from the now very scared man.

Belladonna looked to you, her smirk turning into what looked like a scowl of disgust. She pursed her lips before looking back up at Namjoon, who was now crossing his arms and attempting to take small steps away from her and closer to you.

Before you could react, Belladonna stepped toward Namjoon, reaching up and placing one hand on his cheek, cupping his face. Namjoon’s eyes went wide and eyebrows went to his hairline as he jumped back and pushed her hand away.

“What are you doing?” he said, his whole body tense, looking like he was ready to fight her if it came down to it.

“Ignore her,” you said, glaring at Belladonna. “She’s just messing with you.” You would recognize her favorite method of tormenting non-magical men a mile away. She was notorious for it: let men know exactly what she was, and then, without words, threaten to hurt them.

“If you’re going to ruin my fun, I’ll go.” She shot you one final scowl before turning back to Namjoon. “It was so nice meeting you,” she purred, running one long, claw-like, painted fingernail along his chest as she passed and making him shiver and move away from her one last time.

As soon as the door swung closed, Namjoon rubbed his chest frantically, like he was trying to brush something off of his shirt.

“What did she do to me?” he demanded, looking at his hands as if expecting to see something where she’d touched him. You swore his hands were almost shaking.

“Nothing, I swear,” you said, attempting to sound comforting and harmless. “You would know if she cast a spell on you. She would’ve had to say an incantation or have something in her hand, like a gem or a totem, and you would’ve felt it in the air. It would feel prickly, like static electricity. Do you feel anything like that now?”

Namjoon narrowed his eyes.

“No, but how do I know you two aren’t in cahoots? What if you’re lying to me?”

“Do she and I look like we hang out often?” you said, gesturing down at your practical clothes, your beat-up old boots, the dirt on your hands and work apron. You were pretty sure Belladonna, on the other hand, had been wearing exclusively custom-made designer clothing. “I can’t make you believe me, but I just make potions and she buys them sometimes. I have no more connection to her than you do to the random people who buy your books.”

“What was her potion for?” he asked, taking a small step closer to you, like he wanted to trust and believe you but wasn’t sure he could yet.

“Good fortune and luck. That’s all, I swear. It wasn’t even a powerful one. She’ll probably just find a few pennies heads up, or get an extra side dish for free the next time she orders out.”

Namjoon still looked uncomfortable, but he nodded, seeming to consider that. He’d calmed down a lot since Belladonna left, but you couldn’t forget how panicked and spooked he’d looked when she’d touched him. You understood why he was scared of her; you kind of were, too. But him being scared of you? You laughed a little, shaking your head.

“Is somebody intimidated by powerful women?” you teased, watching the way his ears immediately turned red.

“Only literally powerful women. Women who could kill me with words or turn me into something else,” he said, his shoulders still tense. “And intimidated isn’t the right word. ‘Scared shitless’ would be more accurate.”

“I guess you have nothing to worry about with me, then. I only do potions and plants. I’m not powerful at all,” you said. “Not all of us are fairytale monsters who eat children in candy houses. A few of the witches I know are actually in a vegan health club together.” You watched the way his body eased up slightly the more you spoke, and you let yourself smile. “We’re nowhere near as powerful as you think, anyways. For the most part, witches are harmless. Sometimes I wonder if Belladonna even knows any magic. She and her coven are more influencers and socialites than real practicing witches.”

“Oh,” Namjoon said simply, shifting back and forth from one foot to the other. He was too awkward for his own good, seemingly not knowing what to do with his body as he stood there. The awkwardness from when he’d first walked into your shop had returned, and you wished you could go back to all the plant talk that had made his eyes light up. You didn’t want him to feel afraid.

“Come here,” you said then, stepping over to one of the planters you kept by the window. Namjoon followed behind you cautiously, always staying a few steps away. You gave him space and didn’t blame him at all, after Belladonna touched his face and chest like that. You’d be uncomfortable too.

“You said you only do potions and plants,” Namjoon said, glancing down at the planter in front of you.

“Right. Watch this,” you said, and when he looked at you, you winked at him before focusing on the planter.

You held your hands up around a new little carnation sprout you’d noticed earlier, cupping it loosely. You stared at it as hard as you could, focusing your energy into it, breathing slowly as you imagined it growing and willed it so. You heard Namjoon gasp as the carnation bloomed, the bulb growing and growing until it turned into a large white flower before your eyes.

You picked it, turning and holding it out to him.

“For you,” you said, smiling up at him.

Namjoon smiled too, taking it from you and looking down at it curiously.

“That’s basically the extent of my magic. I’m probably the least powerful witch in the whole town. It’s actually kinda sad,” you said, unfortunately telling the truth.

“That was amazing,” he said, still looking at the flower in wonder. He looked happier and more at ease now, thankfully, but you still felt bad about him being uncomfortable in your shop. You wanted him to feel welcome and come back, not stay away out of fear of magic he didn’t understand. He was cute, Jiji liked him, he was related to Mr. Kim, and he liked books and plants. You wanted to know him more, not scare him away.

“Take the bonsai,” you said, glancing over at the counter. “It’s a gift. Consider it an apology for having to meet Belladonna, and a thank you for the book you gave me.”

“Are you sure?” he said, and you nodded, smiling up at him. “Wow, thank you. I really hope you like the book now. It’s not worth nearly as much as a bonsai, but I liked it when I read it, so I hope you do too.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it,” you said, biting your lip. You watched him glance down at your mouth at that, and felt yourself blushing again.

“Well, I better get back,” he said, clearing his throat a little as he looked down at the ground and stepped away from you, as if he felt embarrassed over getting caught looking at your lips. “Shop’s not going to run itself. I probably got robbed while I was over here for so long.”

“I could put a protective charm on your shop, if you want,” you offered, hoping this wouldn’t spook him like other mentions of magic had. Protective charms were comforting and nice like the flower had been, not scary or dangerous, right? Maybe this and the carnation could help him see magic as safe. You continued, “I could make it so anyone who tries to steal from you gets a bunch of zits, or trips on their way out, or a really loud bird builds a nest right by their bedroom window and sings all morning every day until they return what they stole.”

That earned a genuine laugh from Namjoon, his eyes sparkling with joy.

“Sure,” he said, nodding as he laughed. “Whatever you want it to be. Just please make sure it doesn’t affect me. I don’t want to take one of my own books and wake up the next morning to a loud annoying bird or a face covered in zits.”

“Of course,” you said, laughing with him. “You’ll be exempt from whatever punishment I think of. I’ll let you know when I do it, so you can watch me and know about it.”

“How’s tomorrow sound?” he said, and that almost sounded like a date to you, though you knew it was just related to his business. He looked hopeful though, his warm brown eyes searching yours as he waited for your answer.

“Tomorrow after work,” you confirmed, nodding.

Namjoon’s whole face lit up, and his joy was contagious, making you grin, too.

He left with his bonsai and carnation then, after insisting on sliding a twenty into your tip jar, which wasn’t even half of what the bonsai would’ve cost him — not that you minded. On his way out, he kept glancing back at you, smiling his dopey smile and biting his lip as he looked at you. You waved goodbye to him, easing the door closed behind him so the bell wouldn’t ring.

Once your shop was empty, you sighed to yourself, smiling as you looked out the window and watched the willows dance in the wind. Your smile fell, however, when you noticed Belladonna still standing there across the street, smirking as she watched Namjoon return to his bookstore.

You did not like that one bit.

***

You decided on the loud bird option for the protection charm, since that one had made Namjoon laugh.

The protection charm would only affect shoplifters who knew they were doing something wrong — intention was everything with magic. The charm didn’t attack the act of shoplifting so much as the knowledge a person had that they’d intentionally robbed a small, struggling business. You also worked in that the thieves would magically just know that returning whatever they stole would make the loud bird go away, so hopefully that would be enough to protect Namjoon’s merchandise.

You’d researched what you would need to do all night, scouring through book after book even though it was a relatively simple charm. Now, you were going over it again and again in your head, making sure you had every part of it down. You did not want to embarrass yourself in front of the cute, large, charming, handsome man.

In addition to the protection charm, you were also planning on giving Namjoon one of your enchanted glass clovers, which protected from the blood boiling hex. You knew that spell was a favorite with some of the older members of the Daughters, and you wanted him to be safe if he ever pissed off Belladonna and her coven. That was all you could really think of doing; protection charms were very limited when it came to protecting from other witches. You’d just have to keep an eye out for any trouble and stop it before it happened.

After work, you locked up your shop, got your supplies, and headed next door. You wanted to make a good impression after how rocky your first interaction with Namjoon had been, being extra careful today to make sure your fingernails were clean, your dress nice, your hair in order. Witches weren’t scary. Namjoon had nothing to be afraid of. You were a perfectly normal, safe, non-dangerous woman who simply had a few odd talents — if yours could even be called a “talent,” you thought with a sigh. With how mediocre your magic was, it was more like an awkward party trick than proper witchcraft.

As you opened the front door to the bookshop and stepped inside, that familiar smell hit you, and you closed your eyes and smiled, seeing flashes of memories from your childhood. You hadn’t been in here since before Mr. Kim’s death, but you’d missed it dearly. Old musty books, earthy and sweet. Dust particles floating in the afternoon air. Every inch of exposed wall covered in framed art and faded, mismatched photographs. You could remember giggling and running through the thin aisles of shelves overflowing with books, drinking tea and sneaking extra sugar when Mr. Kim and your grandmother weren’t looking, curling up on one of the cozy old leather chairs by the fireplace with one of your borrowed books. It was like you’d never left.

“Y/N!” Namjoon called, coming around the corner with a big stack of books in his arms and a grin on his cute face.

He looked natural here, just as he had in your shop, like he belonged and was right where he was always meant to be. Today he wore a dark red, almost brown cable-knit sweater, and a small part of you wondered if it was enchanted, because you could only think about how badly you wanted to touch it. The material looked so soft, while the man underneath it looked so big and handsome.

Namjoon set the stack of books down on the table by the old leather chairs, pulling up his sleeves as he came over to you. His arms looked strong and veiny, and you swallowed hard, making yourself focus.

“I have what I need for your protection charm,” you said, holding up your little canvas tote bag of supplies weakly. Don’t think about his arms. Or his chest. Or his dimples.

“Cool,” he said, nodding. He pushed his glasses up his nose before continuing, “Do you want anything to drink? Tea? Water? Hot chocolate?”

“Tea’s good,” you said quickly, a brief flash of panic spreading through you at the mention of hot chocolate — you really didn’t want him asking you to turn milk into hot chocolate and having to explain why you could’t do that simple spell. Your pride couldn’t take that on top of how flustered he already made you feel. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

You watched him grab the kettle from the mantel and head toward the back of the shop, and you tried to pull yourself together. You’d interacted with hot people before. Namjoon was no different than them. He was supposed to be the awkward one here.

To your surprise, Jiji jumped down from one of the leather chairs by the fireplace, following Namjoon and not even glancing your way. She hadn’t come down to your shop today, so you’d just assumed she was napping — you should’ve known she was actually over here with her new best friend, since she always did whatever she wanted. You saw a little bowl of milk on the floor beside the fireplace and wondered if she’d been here with him all day.

You looked around the shop to see if anything had changed under the new ownership. Namjoon had added a little stand by the checkout counter featuring local authors, and he’d decorated for fall with a few pumpkins and orange candles placed around tastefully. The store was also a bit more organized than you remembered, with far fewer random stacks of books laying all over the place. All of the aisles were actually passable now.

Namjoon returned with water in the teakettle and hung it in the fireplace, just like his grandfather used to do. Jiji was close behind him, and when he stopped, she rubbed up against his leg, mewing softly and begging for attention. He reached down and scratched between her ears before turning to you and smiling, and you ignored the way that made your heart flutter in your chest. Behind him, the fire crackled and cast the whole room in a soft, warm glow. It was already getting dark outside, so the light from the fire danced across the crowded bookshelves, making them look alive.

“Do you need anything from me for the charm?” he asked.

You shook your head, looking down at the ground. You’d remembered the large rug that had been here in the main part of the shop, and you’d decided earlier that this was the best place for what you needed to do.

“Can you help me move the rug? Just for a minute,” you said, stepping off to the side of it and dropping down to your knees so you could roll it. Namjoon went over to the front of the shop and locked the door before joining you on the floor. Jiji realized she wasn’t going to get attention from him for a little while, so she jumped back up onto one of the chairs and curled up in a tiny ball, keeping her unblinking yellow eyes on Namjoon the whole time, watching over him.

The two of you rolled the large old rug up, dust stirring in the air and making Namjoon cough. You got your chalk out of your bag and began drawing a sigil on the ground, right in the middle of the floor where the rug would cover it.

“My grandmother did this for your grandfather years ago, when I was little,” you explained as you worked, drawing the intricate symbol. “It would’ve faded after he died though. The charm was to protect his business, but it’s yours now, so we do it again.”

You focused on the intent of your charm, thinking about its purpose: to protect Namjoon’s shop from thieves. This charm was related specifically to business and commerce, so it wouldn’t protect him from violence or witches, but it would have to do. You could potentially give him a luck potion to avoid random violence, and you had the clover to give him for the blood boiling hex, but nothing could protect him from a witch truly out to get him.

“Here, hold this,” you said, pulling a sage smudge stick from your bag and pushing it into his hands. You snapped your fingers beside it and the very end of it caught fire, making Namjoon gasp and hold it out away from him, despite the flame being small. Seriously, had the man never even burned sage before? It was the most basic part of any casting, to make sure the area was pure and cleansed. Even non-magical people could do it to cleanse a room.

You smiled and shook your head, ignoring him and focusing on the sigil.

“This will make anyone who tries to steal from you never have a full night’s sleep until they return what they took,” you explained, placing three small crystals around the sigil. Amethyst for protection, citrine for prosperity, quartz to amplify magic. “A crow will nest right beside their bedroom window and caw for hours on end, every single morning before the sun even rises.”

“Wow,” Namjoon breathed.

You looked over at him and saw him holding the burning sage out from his body with a wide berth, his eyes on you with that same look of wonder you saw yesterday. He was impressed, like you were performing a miracle and not some simple charm.

You pulled a small jar out from your bag, the last part of what you needed to do. Stardust was so hard to get ahold of — there was a whole market of comet chasers tracking falling stars and selling the ground-up dust to the highest bidder — but all charms required it, and you were willing to use a little if it meant giving Namjoon this… and impressing him.

You took out a pinch of the dust and blew it over the the sigil, which began to glow dark red as it burned into the wood floor. You glanced at Namjoon, who was watching the floor like he expected it to come alive.

“Done,” you said proudly, clapping your hands together and accidentally shocking yourself with static electricity. Namjoon’s hair was standing up from it, the prickly spark from the charm filling the whole room, and when you took the sage from him carefully, the two of you gasped as you shocked each other when your fingers touched.

“I feel it, like you said yesterday,” Namjoon said. “Spells cause static electricity. That means it worked, right?”

You put the sage out with your fingers and threw it and the crystals and chalk back into your bag. “Something certainly happened. We’ll see if it worked next time you get a shoplifter.”

“That’s so amazing,” he said, and you could tell he truly was impressed by this.

“Here,” you said, pulling the glass clover from your pocket. You didn’t know why, but you felt shy from how impressed Namjoon was with you, and you wanted to change the subject. He took the glass clover, tilting his head as he looked at it. You explained, “It’s another protection charm, of sorts. That Belladonna woman you met yesterday is in a coven, and her coven loves the blood boiling hex. If you have that in your pocket, the hex will bounce right off of you.”

“Holy shit, wow,” he said, his eyes going wide. “Thank you. I’ll always keep it on me from now on.” He slid the clover into his pocket and then patted it, making sure it was secure.

“I’m sure you don’t have anything to worry about with her, but I wanted you to have that just in case. It’s one of the few hexes that actually has something that protects directly against it. I haven’t heard of them doing the blood boiling hex for a few years now, but it’s always possible with them.”

“That’s terrifying,” he mumbled, looking down at the sigil on the ground in front of you.

Fuck. You’d wanted him to feel less scared of magic and witches, not more.

Before you could say anything else, the kettle over the fireplace started whistling, and Namjoon jumped to his feet, rushing over to it. Jiji sat up, alert and watching him, but stayed in place when she saw him busy with the kettle. He used a poker with a hook to carefully pick it up, setting it down on the brick beside the fire as you stood, too.

The two of you kicked the rug back into place before each sitting on one of the old leather chairs by the fireplace. Namjoon prepared the tea, dumping in sugar, just like you liked it. You wondered then, if he had been raised here by his grandfather instead of by whatever other family he had, if the two of you would’ve grown up stealing sugar and giggling in the aisles of the bookstore together.

“Thank you for doing all this for me,” Namjoon said once the two of you were both settled in. He was sharing Jiji’s seat, and she’d curled up in his lap, purring so loud you could hear her over the fire. He smiled, petting her with his free hand and taking a sip of his tea.

“No problem,” you murmured. Part of you didn’t even want to speak, because then you might accidentally end this perfect, fragile moment you now found yourself in. The fire cast Namjoon in an amber glow, the warmth of it turning his skin a golden caramel color. His sweater somehow looked even softer than before. He looked from the fireplace to you, smiling softly, and just that was enough to make you feel like you were floating.

The two of you sat there together all afternoon, drinking your tea and watching the fire as the evening faded into night. Jiji stayed right there in his lap the whole time, despite the fact she normally was not a cuddler. She must really feel comfortable with him to act like this.

You felt comfortable with Namjoon too, you realized. You barely knew him, but you liked him, and he made you feel safe. He was sweet, handsome, and cute, and you were absolutely charmed by him, and if Jiji liked him, so did you. You could see yourself becoming good friends with him, or maybe more, if he wasn’t afraid of you and your magic.

When you left that evening, Namjoon walked you back to your shop, insisting that he wanted to make sure you got home safely — though really, you would probably be the one protecting him if something happened out here. You’d told Jiji to follow you home, and she was glaring up at you as she walked, already suspecting you were separating her from Namjoon.

The moon was a dramatic blue crescent tonight, making the whole shopping street blue, too. The wind was cold and biting, and off in the distance, you thought you heard a wolf of some kind howling. As you and Namjoon walked the short distance to your shop, his large hand skimmed against your small one, and you had to fight not to shiver from just that brief contact.

“Y/N,” he said as the two of you approached your door and you pulled out your keys. You looked up at him, furrowing your brow. “Do you maybe, uh, want to have dinner with me tomorrow night?” he asked, biting his lip as he looked down at his feet in bashfulness.

“That sounds wonderful,” you said, beaming up at him. He grinned too, your answer making his whole face light up.

“Tomorrow, then,” he said, taking a small step back, like he knew he had to go but didn’t want to leave you yet.

“Tomorrow,” you said, nodding. “My place or yours? Or somewhere out?”

“Whatever you want,” he said dreamily, his deep voice making you want to curl up with him and cuddle in front of the bookshop’s fireplace for hours.

You giggled, turning to unlock your door but looking back at him over your shoulder. “You better decide by tomorrow night. I’ll see you then, Namjoon.”

“Joon,” he said, and you ignored the way he glanced down at your mouth, your mind not able to process that right now. “People close to me sometimes call me Joon. You can too, if you want.”

“All right, Joon,” you said, and his eyes darkened, making your heart skip a beat. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he said, his deep voice somehow even deeper than normal.

You giggled to yourself almost giddily as you slipped into your shop, Namjoon watching and making sure Jiji followed and that the door was securely locked before he headed back home. You watched him through your window as he kept glancing back your way, a dopey smile on his adorable, handsome face. His joy and excitement made him almost skip home, and you knew you felt the exact same way he did.

If you were one of those witches who floated when you were happy, you’d be on the ceiling right now.

***

Jiji went straight to bed, but the very first thing you did once you got into your apartment was head for your seed bag, to figure out Namjoon’s intentions.

Your grandmother had taught you this when you were a teenager, and it was one of the few magical things you were truly good at. You had a large old leather bag with nearly a thousand different kinds of seeds inside, and you would reach in and pick one at random while thinking only of another person. Whatever you drew, that seed represented the person you’d thought of, in the language of flowers you’d grown up studying.

When you’d drawn a seed thinking about your grandmother, you’d picked an amaryllis seed: strength, familial pride, and sparkling magic. For Mr. Kim, you’d drawn an aster: knowledge, wisdom, and innocent affection. One of your childhood friends, a yellow zinnia: friendship and good memories. The boy you’d had a crush on in high school, a lavender seed: homosexuality.

The white carnation you’d grown for Namjoon downstairs yesterday had been a coincidence, not one you’d drawn from your bag, but you’d been thinking about its meaning all day. White carnations meant pure intentions and loyalty, but could also sometimes mean tragedy or sorrow. You needed a second opinion.

You found your bag in your study and immediately reached in, running your fingers through all the seeds as you closed your eyes and thought of Namjoon. His lips that looked so soft, his large hands, his deep voice, his kind eyes. You wanted him to be good so badly, but you needed to know for sure. You trusted plants more than you trusted your own gut, and this would tell you how Namjoon truly felt, or would one day feel, and what he would mean to you in your lifetime.

You pulled out a seed and held it up to the light, narrowing your eyes. You willed it to grow, concentrating your entire consciousness on making it sprout right there between your fingertips.

It sprouted and twisted and grew, the flower’s sudden new stem stretching upward, its roots shooting down toward your palm and wrapping around your wrist. Your heart almost stopped when you saw the shape of the tiny purple buds and thought a nightshade was growing, especially since nightshades were belladonna flowers. How awful would that have been? The name aside, belladonna nightshades were highly poisonous and meant deception. That certainly wouldn’t have been a good sign for Namjoon’s intentions.

Instead, the flower kept growing, its little purple buds blooming and lightening in color, thankfully definitely not a nightshade. A branch of fully-bloomed purple honeysuckle now sat in your hand, and you let out a long sigh of relief. You smiled to yourself, barely able to contain your joy as you looked at it.

Honeysuckle had a lot of potential meanings. You ran through them all in your head, searching for one that could be twisted negatively, but you couldn’t think of any. They were all good. Trust, adoration, protectiveness. A kind heart. Sweet, playful romance. Purple honeysuckle specifically meant devotion and passionate love. That was how Namjoon felt or would eventually feel, what he would mean in your life, and what his future with you would hold.

And, funnily enough, honeysuckle was one of the only flowers not toxic to cats.

A thought crossed your mind then, and you carefully set the honeysuckle stem down on your table before reaching back into the seed bag. This time, you imagined Belladonna’s smug face and the way she’d looked at Namjoon yesterday like she wanted to eat him.

You pulled out a seed and set your jaw as you willed it to grow. To your surprise, a belladonna nightshade didn’t appear; this seed grew into a bush-like little stem, its small pink flowers all blooming at once as green leaves grew around them. You’d know this one anywhere because of the story your grandmother had told you about it when you were young: a hero in Greek mythology had tried to swim to his lover but drowned. He was brought ashore, and where his body laid, this toxic flower later grew.

Oleander flowers: caution, a curse, poison. Tragic lost love. Impending doom.

***

Dinner the following day ended up being in the bookshop, each of you again curled up on one of the old leather couches by the fireplace. Jiji sat in Namjoon’s lap the whole time, and you tried not to feel jealous of a cat.

You were keeping an eye out for Belladonna, but other than that, you had no idea what you could do about what your seeds had told you. You didn’t want to do anything to make her angry or provoke her, but you felt like a sitting duck doing nothing, and you felt like Namjoon was especially vulnerable. You spending more time with him would potentially keep him safe, and you could talk to some of your friends about learning defensive hexes, but you also didn’t want to let Namjoon know you were worried. You didn’t want him to feel afraid, and besides, it was probably nothing. Hopefully.

Tonight, Namjoon had ordered takeout, and he’d had you choose an appetizer and dessert in addition to the meal he bought for you. By the time you were picking at the large slice of carrot cake in the takeaway box, you were sure you’d never been more full in your life.

“You really didn’t have to get me all this,” you said, giving up on the cake and setting it aside.

“Sure I did,” he said simply. He was lounging back in his chair across from you, his legs spread lazily as he relaxed after eating. Jiji was across his lap, and he stroked her fur on her back, making her purr with her eyes closed. The fireplace was the only light in the dark room, and it cast you both in its warm glow, the soft crackling of the logs pleasant and lulling. “I want you to eat well. Plus the dessert was for us to share.” He reached over and snatched it from the table beside you, smirking to himself like he thought he was being sneaky. Jiji shot him a glare for disturbing her, but quickly forgave him and closed her eyes again.

“Take it. I can’t eat another bite,” you said, resting your hands on your tummy. He smiled at you like you were adorable, taking a big bite of cake and getting a little frosting on the corner of his mouth.

The two of you had been flirting all night, and looking at him now, part of you wanted to get up, come over to him, and wipe that frosting off his mouth, maybe wink at him and lick your finger when you were done — but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. You wanted to respect his personal space and let him make the first move, especially after how spooked he’d been after Belladonna had touched him the other day.

Besides, wiping his mouth and licking your finger was a third-date-at-the-earliest kind of move anyway, plus Jiji might come after you for trying to steal her man.

Namjoon had been a perfect gentleman all evening, but when you’d first arrived in his shop after work, he’d come up to you and kissed you on the cheek. It had been so casual, so fast, so wonderful you’d barely heard what he’d said to you after that, following him into the shop like you were on a cloud. Your cheek still tingled where his lips had touched you, and part of you wondered if later he’d let you kiss his cheek back.

Now, you watched him eat the slice of cake, his cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk as he chewed.

“Do you have a sweet tooth?” you asked, smiling at him.

“How could you tell?” he laughed, his mouth still full. He swallowed, and then licked the frosting at the corner of his mouth, making your heart flutter and core clench. “Was the tea yesterday too sweet? I realized on my way back that I hadn’t even asked how you took your tea; I felt so bad about that.”

“No, the tea was perfect. That’s how I like it too,” you assured.

He smiled at you like that was the most wonderful thing he’d ever heard, his eyes lighting up in joy. You watched him as he ate one big last bite of cake, maybe a little too big for his mouth, and you wondered if there was any man in the world cuter than the one in front of you now.

When Namjoon walked you and Jiji home that night, he took your hand in his, swinging it between the two of you during the whole fifteen step journey from his shop’s door to yours. His hand was soft and warm, no calluses from hard work, used to holding books and being gentle all his life. You wondered what his hands would feel like holding your face, if all his kisses would be as soft as his touch.

“Goodnight, beautiful,” he said when he left you, his warm voice just as soft as the rest of him.

***

You might potentially have a tiny little crush on Namjoon. Maybe.

The cute, awkward, large, wonderful man filled your every thought. All day while you worked, all you could think about was seeing him that night at dinner, telling him about your day, hearing about his day in return. He always listened to you so intently, like hearing you talk about making a houseplant grow was the highlight of his whole evening.

The two of you had been sharing meals together for almost two weeks now, not going more than a day without seeing each other. You were somehow more and more endeared every time you saw him, and you kept catching yourself looking at his plush lips, daydreaming about cuddling with him in front of the fire, wishing you could touch his seemingly endless supply of the world’s coziest sweaters.

Jiji spent more time with Namjoon than with you, and you had no idea how she got over there every day. She left the apartment before you did, and Namjoon had even told you that he’d woken up a few times this week with Jiji sleeping on his feet or curled up against his side. That cat was completely in love with him, and you couldn’t blame her at all.

When you’d told Namjoon that you’d read the plant book he’d given you, his whole face had lit up and he’d grabbed your hands, asking if you’d liked it. When you’d said yes, he’d immediately jumped up and found three more books about plants and nature, which he’d insisted on giving you. One was a little book of flower-themed love poems, which you tried not to overthink for the sake of your sanity.

He also insisted on paying every time the two of you ate dinner out, so you started offering to cook instead, not wanting him to go broke out of chivalry. The two of you were cooking together later tonight, and you were so excited you could hardly stand it. He’d be in your apartment with you, the two of you in your tiny kitchen working side by side and drinking wine, flirting, maybe touching. Maybe he’d even kiss you tonight, you thought with a dreamy sigh.

You wanted him to. Badly. There’d been a few moments the last few days where you’d thought he was going to, but then the moment had been ruined by some little thing. Delivery food arriving, your phone going off, Jiji wanting attention from him, a loud group of teenagers walking by outside. Maybe tonight you’d finally have your chance.

As if your thoughts alone had summoned him, the bell above the door to your shop rang out as the man himself strode in. It was the time he usually ate lunch, and the last few days he’d come over and eaten lunch with you, too. Just like always, Jiji strutted in right behind him, never more than a few feet away, ever the watchful protector.

If you were a cartoon character or a more powerful witch, little pink hearts would be swirling around your head and filling your eyes right now. You smiled up at him as he approached your work counter, looking at you with a sparkle of joy in his beautiful brown eyes. He was wearing yet another one of his cozy sweaters, and it looked so soft you just wanted to touch him, or maybe crawl inside of it with him.

“I missed you today,” he said, smiling so wide his dimples poked out at you. He leaned on your counter with both elbows, holding his face in his hands as you approached him.

“I missed you too,” you said, batting your eyelashes at him.

“Someone tried to shoplift from me today,” he said, which made you perk up. “This kid, probably fifteen or sixteen years old. Right as he walked out the door, he turned into a crow.”

Your eyes bulged as his words sunk in.

“Whoops,” you said, offering him a weak smile.

“I went outside and picked up the book, and right as I walked back in with it, he turned back,” he continued, and you let out a huge sigh in relief. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a teenage punk that scared of anything. I doubt he’ll try stealing from anyone ever again.”

“I guess he learned his lesson, as long as he’s okay,” you said unsurely. “Did he still have a beak or anything when he turned back? Did he caw?”

“No beak, no cawing. I thought Jiji was going to eat him before he turned back, but he was fine,” Namjoon assured you. He reached out and laid his hand on yours, squeezing your fingers, comforting you.

You still felt bad about your spell going wrong, but you decided to drop it and enjoy your lunch and Namjoon’s company. The charm could’ve gone wrong in a lot worse of ways, like killing the kid, permanently changing him, or hurting Namjoon instead, but you didn’t want to stress over it if things were okay.

The two of you shared lunch in your back room, eating sandwiches and drinking tea, and then sharing a warm apple turnover for dessert, rich in spice and high in sugar. You didn’t normally eat dessert with lunch, but it was autumn and you were with Namjoon. It was basically a special occasion, you told yourself, plus it was an excuse to share with him and eat off the same plate.

You held Namjoon’s hand as you walked him to the door, and when he put his hand on the doorknob, you stood on your tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. His face turned bright red and he squeezed your hand, smiling so wide his eyes crinkled and dimples showed.

Yeah, you definitely had a crush on him.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he said as he opened the door, his voice deep warm caramel. He was still holding your hand, like he didn’t want to leave you yet and was trying to be strong.

“See you then, Joon,” you said. It took everything in you not to kiss him right now.

“I love it when you call me that.” His eyes darkened as he looked at you.

When had he gotten so close? His mouth was only a few inches from yours, his warm breath on your lips. You were close enough you could see his short eyelashes, the little moles and freckles on his cheek, the flecks of lighter brown in his beautiful, intoxicating, nearly-black eyes.

“Joon,” you breathed, and his mouth quirked, his eyes falling to your lips and lingering.

He pressed a kiss to your cheek, long enough you closed your eyes and just enjoyed feeling his perfect lips. When he pulled away, you almost wanted to hug him to you and kiss him right here and now.

“I better get back,” he said, almost regretfully. “I wish I could spend all day with you, though.”

“I wish that too,” you murmured. Despite his words, he still stood there holding your hand, your mouths only a few inches apart. He was looking at your lips like he wanted you, his eyes darkening and jaw clenching in a way that made your heart race.

Outside, the crisp autumn wind picked up, rustling through the willows and carrying the scent of apple cider and pumpkin bread from the bakery. The shopping street was busy today, and it was probably bad for both you and Namjoon to keep your shops closed for lunch, but whatever. You’d close your shop all week if it meant spending more time with him.

With one final squeeze of your hand, Namjoon left you and went back to his bookstore, Jiji right behind him.

***

You were kissing him tonight. You’d decided it. You were going to walk right up to that gentle giant, say you wanted to kiss him, and if he was into that, you were going to grab him and kiss him silly, until both of you went blue in the face.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You were so attracted to him you couldn’t stand it, and as sweet as his gentlemanly act was, as nice as it was taking things slow, you wanted more. Cheek kisses and looking at each other’s mouths weren’t enough for you anymore, as wonderful as those things were. You wanted real kisses, you wanted those big hands of his all over you, and you wanted him.

You’d only known him two weeks now, but it felt like so much longer. You shared nearly every meal, spent every evening in front of his fireplace in the bookshop or in your kitchen cooking together. It was the mother of all clichés, but you felt like you’d known him your whole life, like the two of you had grown up together and you’d been crushing on him the entire time.

You weren’t crushing on the cute boy next door, though. Namjoon was the sexy, beautiful, sweet, big, perfect man next door, and he actually liked you back.

You were closing up your shop now, counting the money you’d earned today, getting ready for your evening with Namjoon. You’d see him in just a little while, as soon as you both got your shops in order, and then you’d spend the night cooking together, drinking wine, and kissing until your lips fell off.

Jiji suddenly rubbed against your leg, and you looked down at her, tilting your head.

“Why aren’t you with Namjoon?” you asked her, laughing. “I thought you liked him more than me now.”

Jiji meowed urgently, butting her head against the back of your leg before rubbing against you again.

“What?” you said, taking a step forward as she all but pushed you with her head.

She meowed again, a loud cry of a noise as she tried to push you toward your shop’s door.

Your stomach lurched. Jiji had never acted like this before. Something was wrong.

You reached down to pick her up, but when your hand touched her, she shocked you. You looked at your own hand in confusion, your heart all but stopping in your chest. Some kind of spell or powerful magic was happening nearby, and it wasn’t from you.

Now that Jiji had your full attention, she ran for the door, stopping by it and looking back at you, meowing loudly again. She wanted you to follow her, because she knew something was wrong and came to you for help.

Before you could move, Namjoon burst into your shop, and the door came right off its hinges. He caught it with both hands, his eyes frantic, but the door just broke in half, splintering and splitting down the middle as if he’d snapped it like a twig.

You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. You just watched him with wide eyes, blinking a few times, wondering if someone had maybe slipped you a hallucinogenic potion without you realizing. Jiji was meowing up at him, but she didn’t rub against his leg like normal. She was staying away from him, mewing sadly and looking between you and him.

Your door was now on the floor in pieces, and the doorknob had come off in Namjoon’s hand at some point, maybe before the door came off its hinges and shattered. He dropped it with a metallic clatter, breaking it too as he looked down at his own hands in horror.

“Something happened,” he said, his voice urgent and scared, his hands still out in front of him as he looked up at you. “That woman, Bella-whatever. She came into the bookstore and did something to me.”

“What happened? What’d she do?” you said, moving to go to him, but he jumped back away from you, his eyes wide with fear.

“No, stay away from me!” He shook his head hard, his eyes almost tearful. “Don’t come near me!”

“What happened, Joon? Tell me what she did to you.”

He swallowed thickly, and you hated how terrified he looked. Whatever Belladonna had done to him, you’d do back to her tenfold. A wave of fury spread through your veins like a shot of adrenaline, the shock of the situation wearing off and filling you with rage. How dare she try to do something Namjoon? He was an innocent person who couldn’t even defend himself. You weren’t a violent witch, but in that moment you thought you could kill her if you saw her now. You’d come up with a whole new kind of hex to deal with her.

You should’ve known. You should’ve protected him more. You should’ve paid your friends and every witch you knew to take turns standing guard. You should’ve gone after her yourself the moment you’d drawn that oleander from your seed bag.

The fear in Namjoon’s eyes was the only thing that pulled you out of your bloodlust. You watched him looking at his shaking hands, and you just wished he’d let you touch him and come near him. Whatever she did, you wanted to comfort him more than anything.

“She said something in a language I didn’t recognize,” he said slowly. “I felt the static in the air, like when you did your charm, but even stronger. It felt different than your magic, all wrong and darker. She was holding a skull of some little animal, maybe a rodent, and it had gems in its eye sockets.”

“A totem,” you said, your blood running cold. Witch’s totems meant powerful dark magic.

“She cursed me, Y/N. She said I’ll break anything I touch, forever,” he said. “She left and I tried to call you for help, but I broke my phone as I pulled it out of my pocket. It just shattered in my hand and wouldn’t even turn on. Then I broke my front door on the way over here — I tried to put it back in place, but it just broke more, and my hand touched the doorframe and that broke too. The wood just split, right as I touched it, and that happened with your door, too. What if I touch a person, Y/N? What if I touch you?”

“You’re okay, Joon. You won’t touch a person. You’ll be careful. We’ll figure this out together, I promise,” you assured him, trying to make your own heart stop racing. This curse was powerful by the sounds of it, but no curse was unbreakable. You would help him and protect him until he was free of it.

“She put something in my pocket,” he said then, glancing down at his side, where you could see something poking out of his right pocket of his jeans. “I didn’t want to touch it just in case, but she said it was immune to the curse and wouldn’t break. She said drinking it would break the curse. Why would she put a curse on me but also give me the cure right away?”

“Let me see that,” you said, stepping forward and reaching for his pocket. He held his hands up above his head as you stood close to him, holding his breath and stilling his whole body while you were close.

In his pocket was a small vial, which you held up to the light above you as you stepped back from him. You spun it slowly, watching the sparkling blue liquid inside swirl. You didn’t know what this was, but it definitely wasn’t an antidote or cure, and it definitely wasn’t good. You could almost feel its danger and malignity through the glass.

“Curses aren’t broken by potions, Joon. They’re broken by something you have to go do. There’s no way this breaks any curse. Let me run some tests on it and figure out what it is.”

“Okay,” Namjoon said, nodding and still awkwardly holding his hands up by his head, afraid of touching anything on accident.

“In the meantime, here,” you said, slipping the vial into your own pocket as you walked over to your workspace. You grabbed a pair of scissors and the gardening gloves you never wore because they were too big, snipping both of the gloves at the wrist, maybe half an inch. You set the scissors back down before returning to Namjoon with the gloves.

“What are you doing?” he said, taking a small step back as you approached him.

“I cut them, so they’re broken. You can’t break something that’s already broken.” You tossed him the gloves, respecting the distance he was trying to keep between the two of you. “Put them on, and then you won’t be touching anything besides them.”

“How do you know this’ll work?”

“If you have on gloves and hold something, you’re not touching it. The gloves are technically what’s touching it, not your hands. You’ll be safe with them on. You’ll be able to use your hands, at least. Trust me, I know magic,” you assured as confidently as you could, watching him pull on the gloves and squeeze his large hands into them.

Curses were whatever people believed them to be. If you told Namjoon the curse wouldn’t work if his hands weren’t technically touching things, then that’s how it would work. It was Namjoon’s belief in the curse that gave it power. You couldn’t fully get him out of it without actually breaking the curse, but you could control it and the damage he caused.

If you told Namjoon about his belief and interpretation affecting the curse, you feared he’d start overthinking it and make the curse spread and get worse. Him wondering about the semantics of what it meant to “touch” something — only his hands? With or without gloves? Was his body technically always touching itself? If one cell in his body touched another, or one organ touched another, would that count? — would make whatever he believed become the truth, and he could wind up breaking his own body and ripping himself apart from the inside out.

His bones, his skin, and the clothes on his back weren’t all broken now simply because he hadn’t thought about it yet. He’d taken the curse literally, at least at first, and that had saved him. Just like your protection charm in his shop had attacked the knowledge someone had that they were shoplifting, this curse attacked the knowledge Namjoon had that he was touching something, because magic was always like that — it was mental, not literal.

If you told him his clothes and body and things he held with gloves wouldn’t break, they wouldn’t, unless Namjoon doubted what you told him. He needed to believe you, so you needed to make him believe you. You needed to tell him that it was only when his bare hands touched something unbroken, and you needed to say it confidently and without room for doubt. His safety and his life depended on it.

Once Namjoon put on the gloves, you led him and Jiji into the back room, to the smaller potion setup you kept down here at work. Your full set was upstairs in your study, but this was useful for brewing while watching over the shop. You saw Namjoon eyeing all the vials and jars, the plastic baggies of wolfsbane and herbs, the dried plants hanging on the walls. He looked curious, but more importantly, he didn’t look panicked anymore.

He wasn’t scared of you and your magic, you realized. Even after what happened to him, he trusted you and knew you wouldn’t hurt him. He felt safe here with you.

You took the vial out of your pocket and poured it into your cauldron. Deconstructing a potion and figuring out what it was made of was simple enough, but it took a bit of time to brew, so you wanted to get started now. You added mugwort, three death cap mushrooms, foxglove, and thirteen crushed fireflies, and filled it up the rest of the way with vampire bat blood, stirring it all together with the mysterious contents of Belladonna’s vial. You turned on the portable little burner underneath the cauldron, and with that, left it to bubble. In a few days, the vampire bat blood would speak to you and tell you what the potion was made of.

You led Namjoon up to your apartment, listening to him stumbling up the stairs behind you. Despite the gloves, he was trying so hard to be careful, still not risking anything. That meant he didn’t fully believe you yet, which wasn’t good. You needed to make sure he had zero doubts about the rules of the curse.

“You’re fine,” you laughed, glancing over your shoulder at him as you opened the door to your apartment. He was on the stairs behind you, but he still held his gloved hands out in front of him carefully. “You can touch things with your gloves. Use the handrail when you’re on the stairs, so you don’t trip.”

“I didn’t want to risk breaking your railing,” he said, looking embarrassed.

“I told you wearing the gloves means you can use your hands, remember?” You attempted to say it light-heartedly, like he was worried about something silly. You felt like you were lying to him, even though you knew him believing you would just make him safe. You were always such a terrible liar, but you reminded yourself you weren’t really lying to him. You were just defining the rules in a way where he’d be safe from himself.

“Sorry, I know,” he said, stepping into your apartment and looking down at his feet.

You had Namjoon sit on your couch, and he sat on the very edge of the cushion, his back straight as he avoided touching anything around him. The couch didn’t break, which was good. He was believing you. Jiji sat right beside him, mewing softly and looking up at him with her big, pleading yellow eyes, but he didn’t touch her, instead grimacing and giving her an apologetic look.

You wanted Namjoon to relax and feel comforted, so you made him some hot chocolate. You chose one of your favorite mugs for him, one you rarely used because it had a chip on its rim, that way he was using something technically already broken, like the gloves. You really didn’t want to clean up hot chocolate stains from your rug, but if you acted like the curse was no big deal, hopefully Namjoon would relax and not break anything.

You made the hot chocolate the non-magic way, stirring in sugar and cocoa and heating it up in the microwave. You were definitely not willing to risk your hot chocolate spell right now. Namjoon didn’t need “being turned into a frog” on top of all his other problems today.

“Thank you,” he mumbled when you handed him the chipped mug.

You watch him blow on the hot chocolate and take a sip, and the mug didn’t break. He was believing you about the curse’s rules.

“I’ll call someone to fix both of our shops’ doors,” you said, sitting on the chair beside your couch with your own hot chocolate. You’d fantasized earlier about cuddling with Namjoon on your couch, but that was probably the last thing he wanted now. You gave him distance and respected his space.

“Oh, good,” he said, nodding. “I’ll pay for yours. I’m so sorry about that.”

“Don’t even worry about it. I know a witch who owes me a favor, and she’s really good with carpentry spells. It won’t cost anything. I can look into getting your phone fixed, though,” you offered.

“I won’t be able to use it for a while, but sure,” he said, looking down at his gloves. “Thank you, by the way. For everything.”

“Of course,” you said, giving him a weak smile.

The two of you drank your hot chocolates, and you pulled up a movie on the television, not wanting him to feel bored. Distraction was probably good for him right now. Jiji climbed over and sat in Namjoon’s lap, and at first you thought he was going to push her away, but when he saw she was okay and not breaking, he let her sit there and watched the movie.

After you finished your hot chocolate, you went back down to your shop and called your friend to come fix the doors. You put a “closed” sign in your shop’s window and Namjoon’s, closing the blinds with a wave of your hand.

You needed to make a plan. Staying focused and figuring this curse out so you could help Namjoon was the priority, in addition to keeping him safe. Finding out what Belladonna’s potion was would be helpful, but ultimately wouldn’t make him better or break the curse.

Belladonna had lied about what would break the curse, which meant only she knew the real way, and you couldn’t exactly go ask her how to break it. You needed to be smart. You weren’t strong enough to go up against her in a full-on battle, not if she was powerful enough to create a curse like this and apparently had a totem.

You couldn’t fight her unless you got in one good spell that took her by surprise and completely incapacitated her. You couldn’t force her to tell you how to break the curse. You’d have to find another way.

You would look through every spellbook you owned for ways to figure out how to break curses. Other than that, you had no idea where to start.

***

“Oh, fuck.”

It was now day three of Namjoon living in your apartment, and you finally discovered what Belladonna’s potion would’ve done to him.

Namjoon had been sleeping on your couch the last few days, afraid to touch anything and still wearing your ridiculous gardening gloves. He never took them off; not when he ate, not when he slept, not when he sat around watching television and listening to audiobooks. You’d gotten him some latex gloves for when he bathed, snipping each of them on their wrists as well so they were technically “broken” too, but he seemed to prefer the gardening gloves most of the time. Maybe how thick they were made him feel extra safe.

He’d broken your bathroom sink when changing gloves after showering last night, but other than that, he was being careful. Even though he still believed the curse only worked when his bare hands touched something, he still avoided using his gloved hands, keeping them carefully in his lap or tucked under his arms as much as he could, out of an abundance of caution.

The gloves had presented a good enough solution for now, and they were certainly survivable, but they weren’t realistic. He couldn’t run a business; he could barely use a fork or change his clothes. He couldn’t live like this forever.

Despite the fact Namjoon believed you about the curse’s rules enough to survive it, he still wouldn’t let you come near him. If you stepped within a few feet of him, he’d quickly jump away or freeze in place, watching you with wide eyes until you were out of range. He was protective and careful, and while it was flattering and sweet of him, you wished he didn’t have to feel so cut off. You just wanted to hug and comfort him, almost as much as you wanted to save him from the curse.

Despite all Namjoon’s caution, though, and despite the fact he wouldn’t let you near him, Jiji slept on his chest every night, sat in his lap whenever he was seated, and rubbed against his leg whenever he stood, and there seemed to be nothing he could do to stop her. He’d even told you that he’d woken up to her licking his face the other morning, cuddling up with him and laying across his neck. She wasn’t breaking, so Namjoon thought it was safe enough.

He was fine petting Jiji, but with you, he didn’t risk anything. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to be flattered or insulted.

Jiji only became more and more attached to him the more time he spent here. When one of your friends came over to drop off some crystals, Jiji hissed at her, her back arching and the fur on her spine standing straight up when your friend simply stood too close to Namjoon.

Jiji was protective of him, you realized. Strangers she sensed magic on were all a potential threat to him, and this time she wouldn’t let any stranger hurt him.

You’d been watching the potion brew over the last few days, waiting for it to break down Belladonna’s original concoction while you searched for a way to break the curse itself. Jiji had even been helping you — only during Namjoon’s showers; otherwise she didn’t leave his side — standing guard over the cauldron and meowing loudly when it almost boiled over at one point. You’d also discovered a ritual yesterday in your grandmother’s oldest spellbook, one that would hopefully tell you how to break the curse, so now you were just hunting down everything you’d need for that very advanced witchery.

Meanwhile, your potion had finally finished this morning, and the vampire bat blood had been speaking to you all afternoon. Knowing what Belladonna had tried to give him wouldn’t necessarily help him with the curse, but it would let you both know what you were up against with her.

Namjoon wasn’t going to like this.

“Joon!” you called out, rushing out of your study. You’d moved your potion set upstairs so you could brew closer to him; you didn’t like leaving him alone for too long.

You found him in your kitchen, holding his chipped mug and carefully turning the faucet off with his gloved hand. Jiji was sitting on the counter beside him, and he pet her once, making her rub against his arm as she begged for more attention.

“I know what potion Belladonna gave you,” you said, nearly breathless. You walked up to him and watched as he sucked in a breath and froze in place, not risking moving with you so close to him.

“What is it? Would it have killed me if I’d taken it?” he asked.

“No, it wouldn’t have killed you. She tried to give you a love potion, Joon.” You put your hand on his arm, feeling him tense up, but your hand didn’t break. You were fine. You wanted him to know you were fine touching him, because you didn’t want him to feel alone, especially not now.

“She told you it was an antidote, but it’s really the most powerful love potion in the world,” you continued. “It’s so powerful, it’s literally illegal. It would’ve possessed you. If you’d taken it, you would’ve fallen in love with her on the spot and been stuck like that the rest of your life, in love and obsessed with her, basically her slave. She gave you a curse so horrible, she knew you’d be desperate to break it right away, so she was trying to trick you into taking her potion so you’d want to be with her. I bet she even made herself immune to your curse, so you wouldn’t break her if you… touched her.”

Namjoon blinked a few times, like he was trying to process what you’d said but was struggling. Even Jiji sat still, as if she understood the seriousness of the moment.

You didn’t know what to say or how to comfort him. If this had happened to you, you knew you’d feel disgusted, violated, and terrified, and you weren’t sure how you’d want to be comforted, if at all. What Belladonna had done was a violation of Namjoon’s autonomy, an attempt at something you couldn’t comprehend doing to another human being. She’d tried to steal away his mind, his body, his free will, his whole life.

You moved your hand on his arm down to hold his hand, squeezing him gently through his glove.

“She can’t make you do anything if you don’t drink the love potion,” you said quietly. Namjoon looked up at you with an unreadable expression. “You can keep staying with me as long as you want, so I can protect you if she tries to come for you. I’ll figure out how to break the curse, and then we’ll deal with her.”

“Thank you,” Namjoon mumbled, his voice blank and deeper than normal. “When will we find out how to break it?”

“I’m working on it,” you said, dropping your hand to your side. You laughed a little, hoping you sounded light-hearted as you said, “Do you know how hard it is to get ahold of fresh, ethically-sourced lamb blood?”

“Isn’t ethically-sourced and lamb blood contradictory? Aren’t lambs the babies?” Namjoon was smiling again and teasing you, which filled you with relief.

“Not if the lambs don’t die or feel any pain when they take just a little blood,” you assured him. “Once I get ahold of some, I can do a ritual and it’ll tell me all the rules and specifics about the curse. I’ll have to touch you, though.”

Namjoon stiffened, his smile falling and brow furrowing.

“There’s no way around it?” he said. “Can’t you wear gloves? Will it be safe?”

“My bare hand has to put the lamb blood across your forehead and draw a symbol with it on your chest. There’s no way around it. But I’ll be the one touching you, not you touching me. I swear to you it’s safe. I just touched your arm a minute ago and I was fine.”

“But you touched my sweater, not my arm,” he said, shaking his head.

You reached out and put your hand on his cheek, and he froze, his eyes going comically wide. You pulled your hand away before he could overthink it and let the curse hurt you.

“See?” You held your hand up to him, wiggling your fingers and showing him you were fine. “I told you that the curse is when you touch something, not when someone else touches you. All curses have similar, highly specific rules like that.”

Namjoon nodded, seeming to buy it. After all this was over, you wanted to finally tell him the truth about curses being influenced by the victims’ belief in it, but you weren’t sure how he’d take it if he found out you’d been sort of lying to him. You told yourself his safety depended on it and you weren’t truly lying, but you still felt awful and like you were being dishonest.

He opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it. He bit his lip, looked down at his feet, avoided your gaze.

“What’s wrong, Joon?” you said, stepping back from him and giving him space.

When he looked up at you, his pained expression broke your heart.

“I know you make potions. Do you… do you make love potions, like the one she tried to give me?”

You expected him to scowl and narrow his eyes, but instead he just looked sad, like he was afraid you’d confirm his fears.

“No,” you said firmly, watching his shoulders relax before continuing. “I don’t make any love potions. I’ve always thought they were unethical and creepy. The only ones I’ve ever made just make you seem a little more appealing, sort of an equivalent to adding pheromones to a perfume or having a really good makeup day. It’s one you would take, not slip to someone else. You just seem a little more attractive, but the other person’s consent is still there. But I haven’t made one in years. Anyone who wants to buy a love potion just goes somewhere else for the real thing.”

Namjoon nodded, looking down at his feet again. His brow furrowed as he crossed his arms, shrinking in on himself as he looked lost in thought. You understood his fear, and knew that if you were a witch who made love potions, he would’ve had every right to feel betrayed and disgusted with you.

“Have you ever cursed anyone?”

His question took you by surprise, but you understood the jump his mind had made. He wanted to know if you were like her.

You debated on not telling him, but you decided the truth was the best way to go. You already felt like you were lying to him about the details of the curse, so if you were honest now, hopefully he’d think you were always telling the truth and he’d have no reason to doubt you. Plus, you told yourself, you wanted to be honest with him.

“Once,” you said, crossing your arms. “This cop hurt one of my friends. She’s a witch like me, and what he did affected her so much, she couldn’t even leave her house, let alone cast a spell. I cursed him so that his forehead said ‘rapist’ in painful scratches, and I made him go bald so he couldn’t cover it with his hair. It wouldn’t heal or go away until he admitted what he did to her in full detail on camera and in front of a crowd.”

“Wow,” was all Namjoon said, and when you looked up at him, you saw him smiling at you with that look of wonder he got sometimes.

He wasn’t scared by you having cursed someone; he was impressed and liked what you’d done.

“My grandma had to help me with it because I wasn’t strong enough to cast it on my own. I still remember her face when I told her my plan; she was so proud.”

Namjoon smiled. “She was right to be proud of you. That’s a good curse. I never thought I’d call any curse ‘good,’ but that one sounds very deserved.”

“I thought so too,” you said, smiling up at him. “Plus my friend cursed him again a few months later.”

“Good,” he said, and you could tell he meant it. “You know, it’s comforting knowing there are lots of good witches like you out there.”

Your heart felt like it was soaring, or maybe twirling around like a ballerina. On the kitchen counter beside you, a vase full of flowers bloomed, just from the giddiness you felt from his compliment.

“I should get back to work,” you said quietly after a moment, still blushing and unable to look at him. You didn’t want to leave him, but you really did need to get back. “I’m getting everything ready for the ritual. I’m hoping we’ll be ready in the next couple days or so.”

“Alright,” he said, a little smirk spreading on his cute face. “Have a nice day at work, honey.”

You snorted, shaking your head at his sarcastic domesticity. He smiled when he saw you giggling, and you let yourself feel relieved he still had his humor and good spirits. You had a feeling he needed some alone time to process how he felt about what Belladonna had attempted to do to him, and you’d be one room away if he needed you. Plus, he always had Jiji, of course.

If you didn’t think it would worry him more than comfort him, you’d hug him right now and never let go. And maybe kiss him all over his face too, for good measure.

***

The ethically-sourced lamb blood had an express shipping option, so it arrived two days later in a bubble-wrapped and sharpie-labeled mason jar. The seller had even included some black cat stickers and a little bag of salamander toes as surprise gifts for supporting her small business.

You’d spent the time the blood took to arrive gathering everything else you’d need for the ritual, along with preparing every amplifier you owned and even borrowing some from your friends. You were going to need all the help you could get.

Once you did the ritual and found out how to break the curse, you were prepared to do anything to help Namjoon. Whatever it was, whatever near-impossible task Belladonna had thought up for him, you would be by his side and help him any way you could, protecting him and keeping him safe all the while.

He’d been more cheerful and relaxed the last few days, and he’d even let you sit beside him on the couch last night while the two of you watched a movie after dinner. You’d sat at opposite ends, Namjoon still too cautious to be near you, but you were making progress. Jiji was a constant for him, clingy and loving and never out of arm’s reach. You even saw him press a kiss to the top of her head at one point, before his eyes had gone wide when he realized what he’d done. She hadn’t broken, though. She was fine.

Tonight was the night for the ritual, you decided. You had everything prepared and set up in your study, every amplifier arranged, every aspect of it ready to go — you just needed to get Namjoon calm enough to let you touch his skin for more than a few seconds at a time.

You were going to touch his face and chest with your bare hand — your skin would have to touch his for at least a minute or two while you drew the complicated sigil. You’d have to do your best to keep him distracted and in the moment, otherwise he could start worrying and overthinking. You didn’t want your hand to break — whatever that would look like — but more than that, you didn’t want him to feel bad if something did end up happening. You’d survive a broken finger or a cut that needed stitches, but you didn’t want him to live with the guilt. You needed to work as fast as possible… without messing up or making him realize you were worried, and all while keeping him distracted.

After dinner, you brought Namjoon into your study and closed the door in Jiji’s face. You felt bad, but you didn’t want her distracting you during such a powerful ritual, where something could easily go wrong.

“Take off your sweater, please,” you said as you got started, hoping it didn’t come out too awkward or demanding. Outside, you could hear Jiji meowing mournfully, and you tried to ignore her. Motioning toward the chair you’d put in the middle of the room, in the middle of the circle of amplifiers, you added, “Then you can sit there while I get ready.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding. Namjoon fumbled with his sweater with his big gardening gloves for a few seconds before pulling it carefully over his head, making his glasses go crooked on his nose.

You tried not to look at him while you poured the lamb blood into a bowl, but holy shit, Namjoon was hot. You’d imagined his body and fantasized about him quite a few times, but what you saw now was beyond expectation. His shoulders, usually hidden under his soft sweaters, were strong and broad, his chest so big, his arms muscular, his abs defined. Why did a cute bookworm have abs? How much did he work out? It looked like a few times a week at the very least.

He sat down in the chair, and you were very interested in his cute little tummy and how low his pants were on his hips and a million other things about him. You were ogling him and openly staring, and you blinked a few times, shaking your head and making yourself turn away and focus back on the lamb blood. You had a job to do — you couldn’t get distracted, no matter how hot Namjoon was.

You noticed him looking around at your study, a curious expression on his face. You had a whole wall of ingredients in glass jars, some of which glowed and one of which hovered a few inches off the shelf. Dried flowers and herbs hung from the ceiling, and you had candles on every surface, lit and filling the dark room with gentle, yellow light. One table had your cauldron and all the supplies you’d used preparing for the ritual, while the opposite wall had your desk with your seed bag and the potted honeysuckle sprout you’d grown when picking seeds.

You looked from the honeysuckle to Namjoon, setting your jaw and focusing.

“Ready?” you said, pulling a vial out of your front pocket. It was the strongest luck potion you knew how to make, and you knew for a fact it worked, so you shot it back and let it kick in.

“Is this going to hurt me?” he said, glancing at the bowl you’d filled with lamb blood.

“Not physically. If you’re squeamish with blood, it might hurt emotionally, though.”

Namjoon hummed, and while he didn’t look particularly excited, he didn’t shrink away or look disgusted when you brought the bowl over.

You dipped your middle and forefinger into the lamb blood, pulling it up to let the excess drip off as Namjoon raised an eyebrow at it. You then wiped the blood across Namjoon’s forehead, temple to temple, a few streaks of it running down his face. His skin was warm and soft, and he gasped when you touched him, sitting up a little straighter and watching you with widened eyes, like the ritual was suddenly becoming real for him.

You focused on the intent of the ritual, closing your eyes and thinking only about what you wanted from the blood.

I need to know how to break the curse.

You opened your eyes and saw him watching you. With your thumb, you wiped away a little blood from the near the corner of his eye, and he blinked a few times while you tried not to think about how warm the brown of his eyes was, like rich walnut firewood on a cold, dark night. He was comfort and coziness personified, and you felt yourself being pulled in.

“You’re gonna be okay,” you said to him, hoping to keep him calm and to distract yourself from how badly you wanted to kiss him. The two of you had gotten so close without you even realizing, you now standing between his spread legs as he carefully kept his gloved hands away from you.

“I trust you,” he murmured back, his eyes not leaving yours.

You didn’t respond. You didn’t know what to say, so you just kept going, taking a deep, shaky breath before dipping your fingers back into the blood.

The sigil you drew on his chest covered most of his torso, intricate and detailed and very easy to mess up. You’d printed the sigil out as high-res as possible, and you’d taped it to the wall by your desk earlier, not willing to risk drawing it from memory. You kept glancing back and forth between the picture and his chest, making sure every last millimeter of it was perfect.

The whole time you worked, you thought only of the ritual’s purpose, focusing on your intent: find out how to break the curse. That was all that mattered.

You started shocking Namjoon every time you touched him, the two of you gasping and flinching every time static electricity sparked between you. You could feel your hair frizzing up and saw Namjoon’s doing the same, and by the time you were finishing it, the shocks almost stung afterwards, more painful than normal. This was much stronger than your normal magic.

You hadn’t known what to expect, exactly. Maybe you’d have to concentrate for a while, focus your entire being on the ritual, use every bit of magic and push your mind to the point of breaking. It was the part of the ritual you were worried about most, other than the curse itself hurting you. You weren’t sure you were strong enough.

Instead, the moment you finished drawing the sigil, it hit you like a freight train, so sudden the power of it nearly knocked you over. You stumbled back, grabbing your head with your non-bloody hand, blinking a few times as you made sense of the sudden new information filling and overwhelming your mind. The blood had spoken to you, and you knew how to break the curse.

Namjoon had reached up and grabbed you by your arm when you stumbled, his cute, bloody face so concerned for you.

“Are you okay?” he said quickly, letting go of your arm when he saw you were steady on your feet again.

You nodded, taking a deep breath and trying to force yourself to calm down. Your heart was racing, and you weren’t sure if it was from the shock of the ritual working or from your anger toward Belladonna.

“I know how to break it,” you said, taking a step away from him and looking down at the ground between you.

You knew why Belladonna did this to him. You could see her whole plan now, why she’d done all this, what the curse meant with the potion she’d given him. Belladonna was going to the deepest circle of hell for this, and you’d find a way to send her there yourself.

“You just have to have sex,” you said. “That’s it. It can be with anyone, but I think she wanted it to be with her. She just didn’t make it specific enough.”

“Sex? You’re sure?” he said, blinking a few times in surprise. “Is that a common way of breaking a curse? That seems weird.”

“All curses are unique,” you said, unable to look at his face. “Belladonna created this one, so she decides the rules. The way of breaking it just has to be any action that’s physically possible. But Namjoon…” you said, your brow creasing. “She gave you a love potion and told you it was the cure, so I think she did all this because she wants to sleep with you. She wanted to force you. She cursed you so you’d feel desperate enough to drink the potion, thinking it would help you, but then the love potion would kick in and you’d go to her willingly, and she could do whatever she wanted to you forever.”

“And if I had sex with her right away, that would’ve broken the curse for real, and I never would’ve known the difference,” he said, his voice vacant and flat.

“Exactly. I think that was her end goal with all this.” You’d known about her love potion for a few days now, but you felt disgusted all over again.

“What the fuck,” Namjoon mumbled, rubbing his forehead like he was getting a headache and accidentally spreading around lamb blood. “She’s evil. She’s pure evil.”

“Yeah, she is,” you said. You just felt empty. If Namjoon hated all witches after this, you wouldn’t even blame him.

He sighed, sitting back in your desk chair and closing his eyes. The lamb blood sigil all over his chest and stomach was dripping, but you forced yourself to look away. You felt guilty and slimy ogling him right now, when he was thinking about the curse and what Belladonna had attempted to do to him.

“Alright,” he said after a moment, resigned. “If I have to have sex, then that’s what I’ll do.”

You didn’t say anything, unsure how to respond to that. The two of you just looked at each other, Namjoon almost looking like he was in pain, his eyes pleading and jaw set. You hated Belladonna for this and didn’t want Namjoon to have to do anything he wasn’t comfortable with, but you weren’t sure of any way around it. There was no way to break a curse besides whatever the witch who’d casted it intended.

Namjoon looked down and sighed.

“I want it to be you,” he muttered after a moment. “There’s nobody else for me. I don’t want you to feel pressured or like you have to to help me, or for you to do anything you don’t want to do. But if you want to…”

“I want to,” you said, maybe a little too quickly. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“I just don’t want to hurt you. That’s the only thing I’m worried about.” He looked at his gloved hands in his lap with a sigh.

“We’ll be careful. You won’t touch me with your bare hands,” you said. “I trust you.”

“I trust you too,” he said quietly. “I just don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” you said as confidently as you could.

The two of you just looked at each other for a moment, you still standing between his spread legs as he sat in your desk chair. You knew you wanted to be with him, but this felt like the situation was forcing you to, instead of the two of you deciding this together. Namjoon liked moving slowly. He hadn’t even kissed your lips yet. You didn’t want him to rush or do anything he didn’t want to do, but you knew he wanted to be free from the curse.

You trusted him, and you trusted him to make decisions for himself. You wanted him more than anything, so if he chose to sleep with you to break the curse, then you’d be here for him. And afterwards, the two of you would deal with Belladonna.

And hey, you’d read about hundreds of curses the past few days, and some of those curses had ridiculous ways of being broken. Climbing a certain mountain on a certain day, stabbing your lover in the heart, cutting out your own tongue. You figured as far as curses went, having sex with anyone you wanted wasn’t too bad. Leave it to Belladonna to be too lazy to even define her own curse properly.

You and Namjoon both startled and gasped when Jiji suddenly jumped up into his lap.

“How did you get in here?” you said, glaring at her.

You watched her put her little paws on Namjoon’s chest, stretching up so she could touch her nose to his face and sniff around. She was checking on him, and when she determined he was okay, she licked his nose once before curling up on his lap.

“She missed me,” he said, smiling up at you and melting your heart.

“I think she’s getting separation anxiety,” you said, looking back at the door. Had she squeezed under the bottom of the door? Could she really walk through walls like you suspected?

“I think I’m gonna take a shower before we do anything,” Namjoon said, glancing down at the blood on his chest. There was a smudge over his heart where Jiji had put one of her paws.

“Okay,” you said, nodding. You wondered if you should shower too, or maybe shave or put on makeup or something.

Namjoon stood and eased Jiji off his lap, and when he left the room and headed for the bathroom, she followed right behind him.

“Get back here,” you grumbled at the cat, chasing after her and scooping her up. “Don’t you dare track lamb blood all over my house.”

You took Jiji into the kitchen and wiped off her bloody paws, and when you finally let go of her, she ran back toward the bathroom, sitting outside the door and waiting for him. If you and Namjoon were doing anything tonight, you would probably have to do something with her, otherwise you’d risk getting clawed out of jealousy.

It hit you then, as you washed the blood off your hands in the sink, that you and Namjoon were probably doing something tonight. A shiver of excitement made you smile and bite your lip. You didn’t care about the risk involved — you wanted to help him, and you wanted to touch him and kiss him and be with him.

Once your hands were clean, you went into your bedroom and changed into clean clothes, a dress you’d thought about wearing on a date with Namjoon. You freshened up, but didn’t bother putting on makeup or doing anything special. He’d been around you nonstop for almost a week now and had seen you without makeup every day, and you still saw the way he looked at your mouth when he thought you weren’t looking.

You heard the shower turn off, so you went out and scooped up Jiji. She meowed in protest as you brought her to the cat carrier you had in your living room, and when she realized what you were doing, she started thrashing and trying to get away.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you mumbled, easing her into it and closing the door. “Just while Namjoon and I break the curse. We’re gonna be busy for little bit, and then he’ll come cuddle with you, I promise.”

She meowed angrily at you, and you grimaced, hoping you wouldn’t have to listen to this the whole time you and Namjoon were… being intimate.

Jiji huffed and rolled her eyes, and then she curled up in a little ball, looking like a little black hole in the darkness of her carrier.

“Good girl,” you said, sighing in relief. “Just sleep for a little while.”

You went back to your room and sat on the bed, your hands awkwardly in your lap. You didn’t know what you were supposed to do while you waited. Should you lay in a sexy pose? Was not wearing makeup the right choice? Namjoon had been so concerned about touching you the past few days; what if he was too nervous about touching you while having sex? What if he couldn’t get out of his own head?

You chewed on your lower lip, but then made yourself stop, not wanting it to look weird if Namjoon kissed you later.

Your bedroom door opened carefully, and Namjoon stepped in, dressed and ready after his shower. He wore latex gloves, a pair of pajama pants, and one of his sweaters, and you realized you may have made a mistake by putting on the fancy dress.

“You look nice,” he said, serious and sweet, still standing awkwardly in the doorway. “I mean, you always look beautiful, but that dress is nice. Not that you have to dress up for me, I–”

“Thank you, Joon,” you said, giggling a little. He relaxed at the sound of your laughter, and he took a cautious step forward, approaching your bed.

“I put on latex gloves,” he said as he sat down beside you. “I don’t have a condom though.”

“I did a reverse fertility ritual a few days ago,” you said, hating how awkward this conversation was. You could almost feel his nervousness, and you wished you could just kiss him and sink back into that touchy, flirty dynamic the two of you had had before the curse. Was it only last week he was kissing your cheek and holding your hand whenever he wanted? All that felt like ages ago.

“That’s good,” he said simply. He looked down at his gloved hands in his lap. “Do you think the curse breaks once I start having sex, or after I… finish?”

“When a curse breaks, you feel it, but we can go with after just in case,” you told him. “Once we’re done, we can test it first and have you hold a mug or something.”

“Good idea,” Namjoon said, nodding. “What will it feel like when it breaks?”

“Your vision will have an aura, where everything you see will look like it’s glowing. It’ll feel like a weight off your shoulders and your heart will feel lighter, too.”

He nodded, taking that information in.

The silence between you returned, nearly making you cringe. You couldn’t handle the awkwardness anymore, so you reached out and took one of his hands, lacing your fingers with his. You could feel the warmth of his palm even through the latex, and he looked up at you, his eyes wide. He didn’t pull his hand away, though, and he didn’t break you.

“I don’t think I’ll feel comfortable putting my hands on you during this, just in case,” he said after a moment. “God knows I want to, but I don’t want to risk it. Not with you.”

You squeezed his hand, and then you let go of him, respecting his wishes.

“I trust you,” you said quietly, putting your hand on his shoulder.

You finally let yourself touch his cozy sweater, feeling the soft material and running your hand down his arm. He closed his eyes, letting out a broken breath as he felt you, and you realized just how touch-starved he was, just how much your touch affected him, just how much he wanted this. He’d been so careful all week, but he’d been cooped up here in your apartment, avoiding being close to you out of caution. Now that you were touching him, it was affecting him.

“I feel like not being able to use my hands will make it bad for you. This won’t be a very good representation of what I’m like in the bedroom,” he laughed weakly, his eyes still closed, his voice deeper than normal. His breath caught in his throat as you moved your hand across his chest, and you shifted so that you sat on the bed on your knees, facing him. His chest was firm and broad, and you could feel his heart racing when you rested your hand there.

“We’ll just have to try again after the curse is broken, then,” you said before you could stop yourself. You could feel him laughing a little, and you ran your hand up and down his arm again, letting yourself touch him and feel his strong muscles and soft sweater.

“If I don’t break you and it’s not so horrible you don’t want to ever again, then yes.”

“I have a feeling you’ll be amazing, even without your hands,” you murmured, leaning in so you could speak closer to his ear. He shuddered, and you moved your hand on his large chest, feeling the way he sucked in a breath and watching his eyes close tighter.

You brought your hand up to his face, turning his head to have him look at you. He opened his eyes, and you saw his pupils blown with desire, the black making most of his beautiful brown irises disappear. You kept your hand on his cheek once he was facing you, and you traced his plush lower lip with your thumb, the two of you just looking at each other and not otherwise moving.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since the moment I saw you,” he murmured, his caramel voice low as he made unbroken eye contact. “All over your body. Everywhere.”

“Then do it,” you breathed.

“I wish I could use my hands,” he said, leaning in until his forehead pressed to yours. You closed your eyes and just felt him, breathed him in, felt his warmth and closeness.

“I can use my hands, though,” you said. You dropped your hand back to his chest, dragging your fingernails over the soft fabric. “And you can use your mouth and the rest of your body.”

“I’ve wanted to use my mouth on you for a while now, too,” he said, his voice a low growl. “Since before the curse. Thought about it all the time.”

“I thought about you, too,” you said, and you gasped when he leaned in and bit your lower lip, capturing it with his teeth and pulling on it playfully before letting go, his breath hot on your lips. “What did you think about doing to me with your mouth?”

“Why don’t I show you?”

You weren’t sure who moved first, but suddenly you were in his lap, the two of you pulling at each other’s clothes and kissing. Your hands were in his hair, tugging and running your fingers through it as he hugged your body to his, so tight you almost struggled breathing. He was holding onto your dress, squeezing the fabric in tight fists as he stopped himself from actually touching you with his hands, but he apparently had no issue slipping his tongue into your mouth or pressing his face against yours.

“Joon,” you gasped against his lips, and he growled, squeezing you tighter.

“Wish I could touch you everywhere,” he mumbled before claiming your mouth in another urgent kiss. “Want my hands on you.”

“Touch me over my clothes,” you said, grabbing at his sweater over his shoulders. “Please, Joon, touch me. I need you.”

He let out a long, low moan, but he didn’t touch you like he wanted to. He just kissed you again, slow and deep and long until you were moaning into his mouth and grinding down against him, where you could already feel him becoming hard. He pulled off your dress, carefully bringing it over your head and then tossing it aside. You wanted to point out to him that your dress hadn’t ripped or broken, but all words and thoughts left your brain when he reached down and pulled his sweater off.

You’d already seen his chest tonight, but now you could touch him as much as you wanted, and you did, your mouth watering as you ran both hands over his large, defined pecs, nothing between you and his skin.

“You’re so fucking hot, Joon,” you said, and he smiled, laughing to himself as he sat there and let you feel him up.

“I’d take off your bra, but I don’t think I’d be able to stop myself from touching you,” he said, watching you with hooded eyes.

You reached back and undid your bra, and Namjoon’s eyes went wide as it fell away.

“Oh, fuck,” he moaned. He grabbed onto your comforter on the bed on either side of him, squeezing it as he stared at your chest. His eyes darkened and jaw clenched as he sucked in a sharp breath through his nose, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed hard.

You could tell how badly he wanted to touch your breasts; it was paining him not to, but he controlled himself, looking but not touching.

“So fucking perfect.” He looked up at your face, a sparkle of mischief in his dark eyes. “Lay down on the bed and take your panties off for me,” he growled, not breaking eye contact.

Your heart skipped a beat and you nodded, taking in a shaky breath as you carefully climbed off of him. His eyes followed you, watching your every move as you walked around him and laid down on the bed, sinking into the comforter and carefully sliding off your panties and tossing them aside.

You were now completely bare before him, and you’d never been this wet in your life, but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel ashamed or self-conscious, not when he was looking at you like that — how his dark, hungry eyes immediately fell between your legs, his jaw clenching as he stared hungrily. You felt your core clenching around nothing, almost aching from feeling so empty. You wanted him inside you, needed him, and you wanted him to hurry up and break the curse so he could use his hands, but judging by the way he set his jaw as he climbed across the bed toward you, his eyes not leaving your pussy, you had a feeling he was making a detour before actually fucking you.

When Namjoon got to you, he pressed kisses between your breasts, down your sternum and stomach, across your hipbones and thighs. His hands, still covered by the latex gloves, touched only the bed, staying carefully away from your skin even as he kissed all over your body.

“I’ve thought about doing this so many times over the last few weeks,” he murmured, pressing kisses along your inner thigh as you spread your legs for him. “Wanted to taste you like this.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” he hummed, not taking his lips off of you. He kissed up to your hipbones again, his tongue tracing your skin now and making you giggle.

You opened your mouth to say something to him, but gasped as he settled in place and pressed his open mouth to you, slowly licking up your slit and circling his tongue over your clitoris. You were dripping wet for him now, and he licked you up, his saliva mixing with you and tongue dipping inside you.

You moaned, squeezing your legs around his head, but he just nuzzled his face in against you harder, holding himself in place with his strength alone and letting you maybe suffocate him.

“You taste so good,” he murmured, his voice muffled as he pressed another open-mouthed kiss to your clit before sucking it between his lips, the tip of his tongue circling it.

“Oh my god, Joon…” you moaned, running your hands through his dark hair as you arched your back, your eyes closed tight in pleasure. You made yourself keep your legs spread, but other than that, all you could do was close your eyes, hold onto him, and take it. Every little movement of his wicked tongue made you gasp, and he seemed to notice, doing it more just because he liked the noises you made for him.

He tilted his head slightly, as if he were trying to kiss you deeper. His tongue was inside you, his lips parted wide as he moved it in and out of you, slurping obscenely and grunting to himself as he enjoyed his work. You could feel the way his tongue slid into you, his nose pressed against your clit, the sound and feeling of him breathing hard against you as he fucked you slowly with his tongue.

“So fucking sweet,” he sighed, kissing your folds and licking back up to your clit, sucking it into his mouth and flicking it with his tongue. “Wish I could use my hands, baby.”

“Your mouth is more than enough,” you gasped, your back arching. Namjoon rewarded you for your compliment with a swirl of his tongue that made you see stars, your eyes rolling back in your head and mouth hanging open as he sucked on your clit hard.

You repeated his name, over and over like some powerful ancient incantation, and he only pressed his face in against you harder, moving his lips and tongue on your clit like a man starved. His plush lips were somehow both soft and firm, and you thought about the way he’d kissed you earlier, the way his perfect lips must’ve been made for kissing you and your body.

His tongue moved against your clit so perfectly, and you gasped as you came, squeezing his head with your legs as you stopped breathing, your whole body tense and shaking as you felt nothing but him. Around your bedroom, all your houseplants grew, the flowers all blooming in unison as your back arched dramatically up off the bed and your eyes squeezed closed. You held onto him by his hair, his tongue still moving on your clit, and you gasped, moaning his name with every harsh exhale as stars exploded behind your eyelids.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he hummed, his mouth still on you so you could feel the vibrations of his deep, deep voice. Overstimulation and aftershocks of your earth-shattering orgasm made your legs twitch as he kissed your clit one last time, humming, “Mine.”

“Yours… I’m yours, Joon,” you moaned as he pulled back and climbed up your body. He kept himself off of you carefully, his hands on the bed on either side of your head as he covered your face in wet kisses.

“You did so well for me, Y/N. You’re so sexy,” he murmured, kissing your cheek, your neck, your lips, your brow.

“Joon,” you gasped, unable to say more. You tried to focus on breathing and coming back down from your high, but you felt like your mind was still in the clouds; you hadn’t known feeling that level of pleasure was possible — and he hadn’t even used his hands. If he could’ve fingered you during that, or maybe held your legs apart or held you down on the bed… you weren’t sure you’d ever recover from an orgasm that intense.

Namjoon rolled onto his side, pulling you with him and wrapping his arms around your body as he kissed you. You could taste yourself on his tongue and kiss-swollen lips, and you moaned to him, feeling him growl back in response.

“Y/N,” he sighed against your mouth, barely above a whisper, his deep voice making you shiver against him. His kisses left you breathless, and when his tongue slipped past your lips, you sucked on it, wrapping your lips around it and swirling your own tongue with his.

You rolled him then, flipping him onto his back and straddling him. You could feel him smiling against your mouth, and he laughed a little, his voice so deep and warm in his chest as he let you take full control of him. His erection pressed up against you, straining against his pants and boxers and your slit as he moaned into your mouth. You felt like you couldn’t get close enough to him, and judging by the sounds he was making, he felt the same way.

“Your turn,” you said, grinning at him as you started moving down his body.

“You don’t have to, baby,” he said, watching the way you kissed his chest, his abdomen, his taut stomach. His voice was so deep right now, it sent a shudder straight to your still-throbbing clit.

“I want to,” you said, not breaking eye contact with him.

His lips parted and eyes glazed over in lust, a strained noise escaping him as you kissed his skin right above the waistband of his pants. You could both see and feel how hard he was, but you couldn’t wait to see all of him. You wanted him to enjoy tonight as much as possible, and you wanted him to relax and let go.

You pulled his pants and boxers down his legs together, and his erection sprang free, bobbing up against his lower stomach. He was big, which you should’ve figured, given how much of a big boy he was in all other areas, but looking at him now made your mouth water and core clench. Big, veiny, curving upward slightly, surrounded by short dark hair at the base. He looked painfully hard, the head a deep angry color and already dripping pre-cum. You wanted him deep inside you and you didn’t care if it was your mouth or your cunt, you just needed him.

You put your small hands on his large, muscular thighs, and Namjoon moaned just from that, biting his lower lip as he watched you. He was sensitive and worked up, but he still kept his hands out to his sides, carefully away from you. You watched the way he grabbed at your comforter, squeezing it tight in his fists and holding on.

You realized then that he wanted to touch you so badly, but despite his latex gloves, he was still holding himself back from it.

That was fine. You didn’t want to ask him to do anything that made him uncomfortable. You’d just do a good job, have fun with him, and then once the curse was broken, he could touch you as much as you both wanted.

You watched his Adam’s apple bob in the thick column of his throat, the way his hooded eyes watched you so closely, how he was dripping in sweat despite not having exerted himself yet. You smiled innocently up at him, batting your eyelashes before leaning over and bringing the tip of his cock to your mouth as you stroked him with your hand, making him moan so loudly, almost sounding agonized as you wrapped your lips around him for the very first time.

“Oh, fuck, just like that…” he groaned, his eyes closing and head tilting back as you licked him from base to tip, sucking just the first inch or so into your mouth as you ran your tongue along his slit. He tasted so good, you thought; heady and salty, the weight of him heavy on your tongue, your jaw already starting to hurt from his size.

You suctioned your mouth and hummed, and he responded by suddenly grabbing fistfuls of your hair with both gloved hands, moaning loudly as he tried so hard to keep himself still and not to buck up into your mouth. He was so sensitive, and you smiled, his tip still in your mouth as you swirled your tongue around him, bobbing your head and sucking just to feel him shiver.

“Jesus, Y/N, fuck,” he moaned loudly, gasping as you suctioned your mouth harder, groaning so loud you were sure the whole street would hear him.

He let go of your hair suddenly, his hands falling back to his sides. He’d realized he was touching you and stopped himself, even though he had on his gloves and his cock was in your mouth. You almost wanted to laugh, but if he was able to think about the curse right now, that meant you weren’t doing a good enough job.

You pushed yourself further, slurping and taking him into your mouth so deep, your nose pressed against his pubic hair and his cock pressed against the back of your throat. He made a choking sound and his whole body tensed up, and you could tell he was trying so hard not to move his hips. You wanted him to, though. You wanted him to lose control.

You bobbed your head as you moved your tongue on him, swallowing around him and suctioning hard. Your jaw ached but you almost liked it; you liked working hard to make him feel good, and Namjoon was moving his hips now, his eyes closed and hands in tight fists at his sides.

“Baby,” he gasped, grabbing your hair with one hand and trying to still you. When you stopped, you kept his cock in your mouth, looking up at him as you moved your tongue and lips on him slowly. He whimpered and stroked your hair sweetly, biting his lip as he tried to breathe steadily.

When he spoke again, his voice was strained. “I want to fuck your mouth so bad, baby. I’m not gonna last much longer. Can I fuck your mouth? Or do you wanna ride me?”

You took him from your mouth with a loud pop! that made him close his eyes and moan, and you licked your lips as you smiled up at him.

“You pick, Joon,” you said, running both hands up and down his muscular thighs, massaging in pulses and dragging your fingernails on his skin as he groaned, so sensitive and wound up so tight from what you’d been doing to him.

“Ride me,” he begged, trying to reach down to your hips with grabby hands but stopping himself when he remembered. “Please, fucking ride me. Need your pussy, baby. Fuck, you’re so hot. Wanna come inside you. I won’t last long. I need you so bad. Please.”

You didn’t even respond, feeling just as desperate as him.

You climbed up onto him, straddling his lap and settling down on him, and he held onto your comforter with both hands, squeezing so hard you could see his knuckles turning white through the latex. You reached down and lined him up with your entrance, and he let out a noise so deep you felt the rumble of it through the mattress.

You and Namjoon both let out a long, agonized moan in unison as you sank down on him fully, his eyes squeezing closed as you felt yourself throbbing around him, clenching down on his cock as he stretched you out so wonderfully. You could feel his pulse and yours lining up, both of your hearts racing as you moaned and tried to adjust to him so deep inside you.

“You’re so fucking tight, baby,” he moaned. He started to reach for your hips but stopped himself, instead putting his hands up above his head, grabbing onto two of the metal rungs of your headboard and holding himself in place like that.

You were sitting upright, so you had a perfect view of his muscular body: his large arms flexing as he held onto your headboard, the way his sweaty chest expanded as he breathed hard, how taut his abs and stomach were as he tensed up and tried to keep himself calm. He was looking at your body too, and judging by the way his jaw set and his cock twitched inside you, he liked what he saw.

You tilted your head back, breathing slowly and closing your eyes, resting your hands on his stomach as you just felt him and the way he filled you up. You’d never felt so full or complete in your life, the two of you fitting perfectly together. You were certain of it now: Namjoon was meant to be inside you. Your body belonged with his, just like your heart belonged with his.

“Move, baby, please…” he groaned, and when you rolled your hips once and squeezed him, he almost choked, his back arching as he nearly came.

He was covered in sweat, his body sparkling with it, and you ran your hands down his chest, his abs, his stomach. You were just feeling him, admiring his large, toned body as the two of you rolled your hips together lazily, you grinding down on him and him moving up into you in perfect rhythm. He was so sexy you couldn’t stand him, but his body was only part of it. You moved together perfectly, fit together perfectly; everything about him was so big and perfect and good and yours.

Namjoon’s eyes were glued to your breasts, his mouth hanging open now as he breathed hard and you kept moving together. His eyes had that look of wonder you adored so much, as if he were looking at a work of art or a miracle, not your breasts bouncing as you fucked him.

“God, I wish I could touch your tits,” he moaned, and you squeezed down on him purposely, riding him harder, making him moan loudly as you dragged your fingernails down his stomach.

“Yeah?” you gasped, watching him as he laid there, his whole body tense and taut with pleasure as you kept moving your hips, his arms still flexed as he held onto your headboard for dear life. You reached up and squeezed your own breasts with both hands, feeling yourself and pushing them together for him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his eyes looking absolutely depraved. “Keep touching yourself, baby. You’re so fucking sexy. Touch yourself how I’d touch you.”

“How would you touch me, Joon?” you said between breaths, breathing harder now as you kept rolling your hips with his.

“I’d squeeze your pretty tits and feel your nipples with my fingers,” he groaned. He let go of the headboard and reached out on either side of him, grabbing at your comforter like he was internally fighting himself from giving in and touching you with his hands.

“Like this?” you said, pinching yourself and gasping from the sensation.

Namjoon changed the angle of his hips slightly as you did that, drilling up into you as you bounced in his lap, and that combined with what you were doing to yourself made your eyes roll back in your head and mouth fall open as skin slapped against wet skin.

“Yes, baby, just like that,” he purred, watching your fingers as you pinched and tweaked your own nipples. “Do it harder to yourself. I’d do it hard enough to make you moan just from this.”

You cried out as you touched yourself, all of it too much. You wouldn’t last a minute once he could finally touch you.

“What else would you do to me?” you said, breathless from the effort of keeping up with his thrusts. Namjoon was relentless, his stamina seemingly endless as he fucked you from beneath. You were riding him, but he was the one in control here.

“I’d spank your ass while you ride me,” he gasped, his chest heaving. “I’d touch your clit and make you come all over me. Touch your clit, baby. You’re so fucking sexy.”

You did as you were told and your whole body tensed up, nearly coming the moment your fingers found your swollen clit. You didn’t even have to move your hand — Namjoon thrusting up into you made you bounce in his lap, your fingers moving against your clit just from that. You were more sensitive than you’d ever been in your life, and you were fairly certainly you could come from his filthy words alone at this point.

“I’m close,” you whimpered, and you pulled your hand away from your clit, all of it too much for you.

“Me too,” he said, and the curse must’ve been long gone from his mind, because he suddenly grabbed your hips with both gloved hands, bucking up into you and squeezing so hard you thought you might bruise there. You weren’t worried about the curse at all, though. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you. You knew you wouldn’t break.

“Come inside me, Joon,” you gasped. Your hips and his moved in perfect unison, your wet skin smacking against his, his cock hitting your cervix and sliding through your tight, slick opening again and again and again.

“I’m so close, baby. Come with me,” he moaned, and you let out a near-scream as he brought his thumb to your clit, rubbing hard and watching you spasm above him.

Your orgasm hit you like a strike of lightning, reverberating through your body as you tensed up and cried his name. He kept moving his thumb on your clit and pounding up into you, extending your pleasure, fucking you relentlessly now and pushing you as far as you could go in overstimulation.

You reached down and grabbed him by his wrist, pulling his hand away from your clit. It felt too good, your body twitching as you gasped and moaned loudly with every harsh exhale as you came down from your euphoric high. You whimpered when he grabbed your hips with both hands again, fucking you and taking his pleasure. You were dizzy in ecstasy, fucked and spent and so far gone you thought you might fall over, but you kept yourself sitting upright for him, breathing hard and resting your hands on his stomach to hold yourself in place. You wanted to last until he came.

You felt the way his cock twitched just before his orgasm hit, a low, agonized moan escaping him as he stilled beneath you, breathing hard with his mouth open as he moaned. He spilled into you, his cum so warm and deep, and you whimpered as you felt it, loving feeling full of him.

You opened your eyes then and saw Namjoon looking up at you in wonder, his swollen lips parted. He looked awestruck, like he was witnessing a miracle or entering nirvana.

“You’re glowing,” he whispered, and that made you grin.

“That means the curse is broken, Joon,” you said, breathless, and he grinned, too.

“Everything’s glowing,” he said, and you watched his eyes moving around, from your body, to the room around you where all of your plants were now overgrown and climbing up the walls, and back to your face, looking lost in wonder the whole time. “You’re so beautiful, baby. You look like an angel right now.”

You took one of his hands from your hip and pulled his glove off, throwing it off to the side. He opened his mouth to protest, but you ignored him, placing his bare hand on your face so he was cupping your cheek.

“You’re not breaking,” he said, his eyes wide. He moved his thumb on your cheek, stroking you there sweetly, but otherwise he was frozen like he couldn’t believe it.

“Because the curse is broken, Joon,” you giggled, turning your head so you could kiss his palm.

He smiled up at you, his expression so warm and loving, you felt like you were floating. His softening cock was still inside you, and when you squeezed him, completely subconsciously, he closed his eyes and moaned, tilting his head back.

“Too much,” he groaned, his voice somehow even lower. He pulled out of you, and then his eyes fell to your body. He didn’t look ravenous anymore, instead appreciative, awed, almost loving. “Come here, baby,” he said, and he reached up and pulled you down against his chest, hugging you so hard he took your breath away.

“You like being on the bottom, don’t you?” you teased, and you felt him laugh a little, the rumble of it low in his sweaty chest. He just hugged you harder, keeping you there on top of him.

“I like anything when it’s with you,” he said into your hair. “Any position, anything. Whatever’s your favorite is my favorite too.”

“I like anything with you, too,” you said, and you smiled as he kissed the top of your head, pressing his lips there and still hugging you tight.

You smiled lazily to yourself as Namjoon sighed, his arms around you squeezing gently. You figured he’d spent nearly a week afraid of touching anyone, and now that he had you in his arms, he didn’t want to let go — not that you minded one bit. He had a week of affection and human contact to make up for, so you’d let him hug you as much as he wanted.

After a few minutes, Namjoon rolled the two of you, moving you gently so he didn’t crush you. Once he was on top, he kissed you all over your face, stopping only to pull off his other glove and toss it away from the bed. He then held your face with both hands, kissing you so deeply and touching you as much as he’d wanted to before, his hands on your face, in your hair, on your breasts, tracing down your arm. His touches were slow and careful, cherishing you as he worshipped your skin with his hands and lips.

When his kisses turned lazy, he moved his mouth to your cheek, your neck, your jaw. The two of you had kissed earlier, but somehow this felt like kissing him for the first time all over again. He bit at your jaw playfully, making you giggle, and you could feel his smile against your skin.

“We did it, Joon. You’re free from the curse,” you said, closing your eyes as he kissed you everywhere his mouth could reach.

“Maybe we should go a few more rounds tonight, just to be sure,” he said right against your ear, before biting your earlobe lightly and pulling on it with his teeth.

“I’m fine with that,” you sighed happily, and when you felt his tongue on your earlobe, you gasped, giggling like you were being tickled.

“I can’t wait to put my hands on every last inch of you,” he growled into your ear. Despite his growling and biting, his thumb on your cheek still moved gently, like he was being sweet with you. “I want my fingers inside you the next time I make you come. How’s that sound, baby?”

His thumb stroked over your lips, tracing your mouth, and you kissed the pad of his thumb. He pulled back so he could look at you, watching your mouth as he kept touching you there.

“That sounds amazing, Joon,” you said, and he kept tracing your mouth, his eyes not leaving your lips. “There is one thing we should talk about, though.”

His hand stilled, and he looked up at your eyes, his brow creasing.

“We need to figure out what we’re going to do about Belladonna,” you said. His whole body tensed up at the mention of her name, but it was important to talk about this now. “She’ll feel that the curse was broken, so we should plan what we’re going to do before she can think up something else.”

“Put a curse on her,” Namjoon said firmly. “Turn her into a pig or something. Take away her magic.”

“I can’t take away her magic. Not permanently,” you said, but the second thing he said gave you an idea, a lightbulb going off over your head.

“How can we make sure she never does something like this to anyone else ever again?”

You leaned up and kissed him slowly, feeling him relax against you. When you pulled back, he was looking at you like you were his whole world, his warm brown eyes full of softness and what you thought might one day become love. You couldn’t wait to fall further and further in love with him every day, but you wanted him to feel safe and happy. Belladonna continuing to be a threat would make him not feel safe, so you needed to fix that.

You hadn’t even heard her come in, but Jiji suddenly jumped up on your bed, tilting her head as she looked at Namjoon, checking on him and making sure he was okay. Both of you laughed when you realized Jiji was here investigating, and Namjoon reached out and pet her with his bare hand for the first time in a week. She purred happily, rubbing herself up against his hand before curling up in a ball on the very edge of the bed, apparently happy just sleeping here and being close to him. You could relate to that; between you and Jiji, you weren’t sure who had it worse for Namjoon.

Both you and Jiji would always protect him, but in your case, all you had was your mediocre magic that sometimes went wrong in nonsensical ways. However: as unpredictable as your magic was, there was one spell that always consistently went wrong in one very specific way, and nobody but you knew how to fix it or even knew it was possible.

You knew you’d never be able to win in a real fight against Belladonna, but if she thought you were doing a harmless little spell, if you invited her to your shop under false pretenses and surprised her… she wouldn’t think to protect herself until it was well past too late. Even if she was on alert and expecting something, she wouldn’t see this coming.

“I think I have an idea about what we can do to Belladonna,” you said as you looked back to Namjoon, a positively diabolical grin spreading on your face.

You could see it all now: you’d invite her to your shop. Ask if she was thirsty. Maybe buy an aquarium tank and some flies beforehand, for your new pet.

“What’s your idea?” Namjoon said, raising an eyebrow.

You brushed his hair back from his face, giving him a quick kiss before smiling up at him.

“Have I ever told you what happens when I try to turn milk into hot chocolate?”

#namjoon smut #bts smut #ksmutclub #bangtanarmynet #hyunglinenetwork #kim namjoon #namjoon #rm #rm smut #namjoon scenario #halloween #halloween au #under your spell #my writing #*#the description isn't exactly what the curse is but that was a snappier way of writing it #bts fanfiction #bts fic

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