#sewrites

𝗕𝗙 𝗧𝗘𝗫𝗧𝗦 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛 𝗘𝗡𝗛𝗔 ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ot7 x reader

vol. 1 ㅤvol. 2⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀suggestive⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀29 screenshots

𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

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"There's nothing you can do for me," he says. His coat sleeve flickers in the corner of Han Yoojin’s vision. From empty, fluttering in the wind, to whole again.

Han Yoojin thinks, what makes you think I'd want to help you? He hears himself say, hollow, "You don't know that."

"Maybe you could have, before, and I was wrong,” Sung Hyunjae goes on as if he hasn't said anything at all. “But you and I both know there's truly no way for you to help me this time."

A magic stone, he wants to say. It worked before. But Han Yoojin's mana reserves are at an all time low; Attempting the transfer would kill him without a doubt, and he cannot afford to die. Sung Hyunjae wouldn't allow it either.

Sung Hyunjae looks at the conflicting emotions Han Yoojin knows must be warring on his face, and something in him seems to soften, just the tiniest amount. 

He lifts a hand to gently card it through Han Yoojin's hair, as if soothing a child. Han Yoojin doesn't stop him.

"I was living on borrowed time anyway." 

"But now you seem to have a finger in every pie." Sung Hyunjae's steps halt, and Han Yoojin feels a spike of dread work its way up his spine as he stops with him.

"You've amassed a fortune out of taming monsters, talked over budding, S-rank talented individuals into joining your side, and now I have just witnessed you swindle an SS-ranked item out of experienced businessmen, along with their chance to profit off what could be the most groundbreaking invention for the Hunter world after the synthesization of the health potion.

Sung Hyunjae had been stepping closer as he talked until he’s fully invading Han Yoojin’s space, and there’s no one else in the hallway except for them but he feels crowded in from every side, still, the air he breathes saturated with his overwhelming presence.

"What I would like to know, Han Yoojin-gun, is when exactly did you get such a clever mouth?"

The memory of his hands scorching a trail along Han Yoojin's back, drifting up from his shoulders to grip his jaw rises unbidden in his mind. The dread morphs, colors with the memory of heat, clears with the suggestion of an idea. His face aches and burns. Worth a try.

He raises his hand.