The Book That Wouldn't Burn Fanart 소설 & 이야기

Alika’s POV There was a page in the book that hadn’t been there the night before. I was sure of it. Pressed between a crumbling leaf and the edge of a wax-stained page, it had appeared like a wound reopening—a set of instructions written in a woman's looping hand, smudged with something that looked like dried ash and blood. "When the fire takes, the bond breaks. But only if danced in truth. Only under stars that forget."

I interrupted. Her cheeks went red, and her eyes brightened. With a groan, I shook my head. My wolf was growling at me even before I said, “It’s not worth crying over.” The book blew up. Every page lit on fire as it burst outward, flying in every direction. A chunk of the flaming spine hit me square in my chest. I batted it away, yelping in shock. There was a slight burn where it’d hit me, but nothing bad. I stomped out the flames and made my way to the other bits of burning paper, putting out the fires.

“Hey… about what you saw earlier.” She jumped, clutching the book to her chest. “I—I didn’t see anything. I swear. I won’t tell anyone.” I smiled softly and stepped even closer, backing her gently against the shelves. “Relax. Professor Harlan and I… we have an understanding. But I saw how you looked at us. You didn’t run away because you were scared. You ran because it turned you on, didn’t it?” Her cheeks burned brighter. She shook her head quickly. “No… that’s not… I’m not—”

However, you will also see his mistakes, fumbles, and failures. Naturally, since these are the memories of a person's life, it is uncensored so you will see every aspect of him as a person. It is essential so you can see the full picture and learn the intricacies of the story. You will see loveably innocent moments, and explicitly intimate moments, with nothing edited out. Therefore, as a disclaimer, this is a story for mature readers. You will see the most private aspects of Dillon's thoughts and experiences. It may be too much for some, just like with anything in this world, and that's fine. However, the ones that push forward to read the entire story will be rewarded with happiness and la

Still, I updated every line, polished it, checked every possible mistake, even used AI to make sure nothing was missing. Hours passed. Finally, I felt confident. I knocked, entered and placed it in front of him. He read it slowly. Too slowly. Then, without hesitation, ripped it and tossed it in the bin. I stared at the bin like it personally insulted me. “Get out.” I didn’t argue. I just walked away. If he wants a war, fine. I have thick skin. I made another version. And another. Every time, he rejected it. Threw it at me. Yelled. Insulted.

“What do you think about this?” Nico took the book and glanced through it, trying not to think about the electric jolts that had bolted up his spine at the brush of their fingers. He flipped through the book, his eyes taking in the words on the pages. “A reincarnation trope?” he asked, squinting his brows. “Mmhm.” “So why’s it so lackluster? I know I’m only skimming but I haven’t caught a single glimpse of anything interesting or attention-worthy in these pages.” Nico glanced up at Theo, a genuine confusion on his face. “Is this normal?”

If she saw me zoning out one more time, she’d definitely start bugging me. We kept walking, and Veronica was her usual chatty self, typical Veronica, always rambling about milk tea and romance novels. She can stay up all night reading those love stories, but when it comes to our class textbooks? She’s already yawning by the first page. We were already inside the milk tea shop, I had my drink in hand, but Veronica was still at the counter, arguing with the server about the quality of the sugar used. A few more minutes passed before she finally wrapped things up and marched straight over to the table where I was sitting.

The boy slowly looked up, his eyes filled with mocking superiority. That was the last straw. Thinking Liam wasn’t paying attention, Isabella quickly took the silver charm she used for protection and slashed the child’s hand. “Zzzzt—” “Ah!” The sound of burning flesh was followed by the pup’s piercing scream. The boy clutched his arm, staring at her in shock. Immediately, Isabella raised her hands, looking all innocent as she screamed, “Oh my god! I didn’t even touch you! You hurt yourself with that toy! So naughty!”

And I did. It was messy, desperate, nothing like the neat fantasies I’d allowed myself to imagine. We didn’t slow down, we didn’t pause to think, we simply burned. And when it was over, when the fire ebbed just enough to breathe, my forehead rested against his chest, and my lungs dragged in frantic gulps of air. Every brush of his mouth, every drag of his fingers against me was reckless, forbidden, perfect. “Tell me to stop,” he breathed against my skin, even as his body betrayed the words, trembling with restraint that was already cracking.

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