#when Harry transforms

[my-plot-thots]

One of my constantly reoccurring thoughts over the years is a Harry Potter plot. Yeah, yeah. Hear me out.

Little Lion raised by snakes.

Literally.

Harry Potter, at a young age, has accidental magic. He already has a problem with being kept in a small cupboard and treated like an animal. One day, his accidental magic acts up. He wants to escape. Wants to be smaller so he can hide or escape or scratch and attack back. And suddenly, the world is a whole lot bigger, and he is a whole lot smaller and uncle is looking down on him in shock and rage. So he runs.

Surely he will transform back at some point. Right?

Wrong.

He is hiding, just a small black kitten on the streets. There is so much danger at every turn. He forages and hunts, and that’s how he comes across his family. Someone who can speak to him. The other animals don’t make sense, but he happens upon a snake, and the snake seems pleasantly surprised that he is what it calls a speaker.

Years pass, and he gets a little bigger, but not by much for a cat. And he is still stuck as a kitten. He has learned from the snakes how to hunt, how to survive, and eventually finds out about a secret place where funny looking humans exist, and they have funny looking creatures that they keep. Harry quickly learns to stay on the safe side and avoid the owls, since he looks like a bite sized snack to them, just like the snakes warn him about. But he slowly comes to realize that perhaps, with some of these odd people’s help, he may be able to transform into a person again! It’s been so many years, part of him has begun to forget what it was like to have two legs and hands and to speak human speech instead of the language of hissing snakes.

And the people here, with the funny hats and odd dress ,seem to like him as a black cat, rather than condemn him as a bad omen like they do elsewhere. Some even try to keep him, calling him a ‘familiar’ or some such. He is quick to escape the overly grabby humans.

It’s during one such trip where he is exploring areas in this new and separate world from what he had known, that he ends up in a place where the street sign reads ‘Nocturne Alley.’ There are a lot more spiders to pounce on, but also a lot more suspicious looking people, a few of the nastier ones try to shoot lights at him with vicious sneers and laughter.

It’s while he is hiding under an empty crate after a particularly vicious attack that he hears her voice. Clearly she doesn’t know he can hear what she is saying. Hissing about what a delectable snack he will make as she slithers closer. Talking about squeezing him and enjoying his struggle before she bites him. It’s just as he is turning around to tell her off that he realizes just how BIG the owner of that voice is! Sure, many things are big compared to a kitten, but she is bigger than all of the much more common snakes that he has seen before. She is probably bigger than he is if he ever turned human again!

She doesn’t seem to care that he noticed her, probably because he is in striking distance even if he decided to run. And he has seen snakes striking speed. And her jaw is definitely big enough to end his already far too long and miserable existence.

He does his best, using his knowledge of the pride of snakes from those he has known in the past to charm her. To praise her beauty and size and intelligence. Speaking to her about how he is much too unworthy of a meal for one of her magnificence and beauty. Talks about how he is but a poor, orphaned kitten that has lived on the streets, and no doubt has diseases that would upset her stomach while digesting him. He offers to hunt for her, and bring her only the best treats he can steal from the stupid humans to pay tribute to her. This silences her as she watches him, and he hopes against hope that he has charmed her as he slowly steps back, only to realize that she, while he was talking, has completely encircled him with her long, thick body. To the point he won’t be able to escape with how little room under the container there is, and how thick her coiled body is.

It is just as he has resigned himself to his fate that the creature states that she already had an unusual hatchling, but he is grown, and boring, and doesn’t seem to appreciate her greatness like he should anymore. He will surely regret not paying her any interest when she replaces him with a new hatchling. Not to mention her old hatchling is much larger and able to protect itself, while Harry is small and pitiful and weak. And if it ever decided to leave her or replace her as his queen, she could easily eat him for his insolence.

Harry, rather terrified, agrees to become her hatchling and follow her back to her nest where her other, grown and rather ungrateful hatchling resides.

A hatchling that, he learns, is a human. A human that is arguing with other ‘lesser’ humans (as his new den mother informs him). And is honestly sort of terrifying. He decides quickly that he probably shouldn’t let this human know of his speaking skills until he can trust it, and his snake, not to kill him. After all, some of the things he just heard him talking to those other humans about he probably wasn’t meant to understand. And if he were to find out Harry were also a human stuck as a kitten… he’s probably as good as dead.

Meanwhile, Tom Riddle is somewhat annoyed by his snake, who seems to have brought her snack home with her and has decided to toy with her food rather than eat it. The kitten looks ragged and rather unappetizing and quite honestly petrified with fear. Which is somewhat amusing. Nagini, clearly trying to make him jealous, announces that she found a better hatchling that actually recognizes her beauty and strength. It’s cute, so he plays along and listens to her while the kitten tries to slowly escape before her coils wrap around it and nearly cover it till it lets out the most adorable panicked mew.

He decides to get the kitten the best food, and find a good cleaning charm for pets. At least when she decides to eat the creature she won’t get too sick and will actually be provided with some nutrition. He tells her as much, speaking with her indulgently. It’s rather odd how the kitten clearly starts acting more and more terrified as he speaks. Almost as if it knows what he is saying. Which is silly. It’s just some silly little black cat. Too young to be a predator yet. Just the right size to be prey. He much prefers the feel of smooth scales beneath his fingers, but he can see himself enjoying the kitten fur while it lasts. However long that may be.

Meanwhile, Harry is terrified. But he is sure that if he sticks around in this place long enough, he may learn a few things about this magical world. Specifically, he may find out how to transform back into his human body! If such a thing is even possible. It just kind of stinks that the first human he has ever met that might somewhat understand him he can’t even consider asking for help. Because he has a strong suspicion this human doesn’t like surprises. And the more he stays (the kitten food is amazing and the best stuff he has eaten in a long time. Along with what scraps he steals from the human), the more of the man’s plans for world domination he learns. And people don’t just walk away from finding out stuff like that. Perhaps it’s for the best he stays a kitten.

Idk when or how Harry eventually transforms. All I know is when he does, he is still scrawny, but much bigger than he was. Almost an adult size. Was he stuck as a cat for that long? His speech patterns are odd. It’s hard for him to speak human language because he has become so accustomed to snake language, and when he does remember to speak people, he is much more blunt and to the point and unsettling to normal human speakers. Snake speakers are much more simple to converse with considering he was raised by them.

Meanwhile, Tom is beside himself because he has been housing his enemy that he assumed was dead and created reforms because of for quite some time. After all, if he couldn’t kill the brat, how dare some muggles be the reason his equal died?! How can he just announce to the wizarding world and his followers that the kid who’s death he created his platform on to rebuild himself as a dark lord is alive and was chasing butterflies in a field as a cat for most of his formative years!? And the level of latent magic this kid had to maintain an accidental animal transformation for that many years because he felt unsafe to turn back is outrageous! How does this oblivious little Lion exist, much less how did he survive to his magical majority?!

[ashlovesrescuebots]

My IT obsession strikes again

Featuring Homestuck

Alt text

GT : THAT ISN'T JUST SOME GUY! THAT'S DENNIS CHRISTOPHER!

[tk5reader]

I don’t know if anyone’s thought of this, but it came to mind as I was playing SWTOR and remembered playing GW2.

What if the Jedi Order had been more about following the flows of the force? Like, they could have been a nomadic group (split into tribes maybe? I’d use clans, but I want some distinction between the Jedi groups and Mandalorian clans & coverts. I don’t know another word to use so let me know if there is a better one to use!) that followed the will of the force wherever it took them. Which often had them literally going on quests (hence the SWTOR and GW2).

They would still uphold the peace and justice in the galaxy and especially protect the vulnerable, but they weren’t really hindered by the republic? If someone needed help then they would go in and help regardless of if the planet was an ally of the republic; their goal is to help people not follow the republics orders. I imagine it’s kind of like the gaang (ATLA my beloved) when they just show up, complete a side quest with some chaos, and then move on 😂

And about the tribe thing, they would all be part of the order, but in order to travel well, be surrounded by the people they get along with best, and who understand them, they split into tribes. So the Jedi would have temporary settlements or small groups temporarily staying in places where people need help. Perhaps with a few permanent temples around the galaxy for the less free spirited Jedi who wish to stay put and help that sector of the galaxy. The tribes could be fluid in that they would regularly meet up (1:1 tribe meetings, several tribes meeting up, and/or mass gatherings during celebrations) where the groups mingle, bond, update each other in person rather than over holo, hear news, and can change which tribe they wish to travel with so the tribes are ever changing.

What about finding padawans? Perhaps the force guides them to force sensitives that need to be trained. And in this nomadic Jedi universe, they could take Luke’s approach with Grogu in that the force sensitive can choose whether to continue training to become a Jedi and follow the flow of the force or they can stop their training once it’s controllable and stay at their home.

Anyway I’ve been thinking about this for a while and I finally had to just info dump the idea lol

[witchofthesouls]

I need to be weird again, so-

What if in a Harry Potter x Transformers crossover, the main magical educational institutions give off energy readings to be recognized as a Titan?

Heat/Rut fic between Metroplex and Hogwarts, anyone?

(Not Ilvermorny. It's a baby still and sends a lot of messages to Momma Hogwarts.)

[praxieserver]

nice canines doggy. where'd you get them?

super awesome super cool lore in the tags

[that-glitter-chick]

Cyclones has risen in popularity since his unexpected romance, with the Autobot Tailgate, in the IDW comics. Back in the day he was an impressively deep and well developed personality added woefully late in the original series. I like to think of him as a precursor to Beast Wars Dinobot; honorable, brave, loves his culture but doesn’t always agree with his commanding officer, it’s enough to make me head canon him as Dinobot’s direct ancestor.

Imagine my surprise to find out that he was originally played by Roger C. Carmel, known to Star Trek fans as the original actor of the unforgettable character Harcourt Fenton “Harry” Mudd! Two VERY different characters indeed lol!

[t0paz616]

EWWWW, CANON

[monicaalexandraaa]

HOT WOW😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

This was so good! The back and forth and banter between them was everything. Loving her confidence and he matches her energy so well. Loved this🩷🩷

Summary: You're at frat party, drunk, but how do you convince Harry to stay when he's demanding you leave...Nothing better than a Fratboy!Harry attitude.

A/N: This story was based on this ->bot<- by the lovely @misspossessiveharry who was so freaking kind and let me use the idea for a quick smut shot! If you're a bot lover, go check her out. She's amazing!!

Word count: 5.8k

Warning: Reader Insert, Pure Fucking Filth, Basically Blow Job Smut. Take it or leave it, you've been warned!

It wasn’t what Harry wanted—to be here. 

Surrounded by people.

He knew he was already over it the second he felt the music thumping so hard, he could feel it through his chest like a pestering annoyance he couldn’t shake. Everywhere he looked was chaos, people packed tight into the crowded room not giving a single fuck about personal space, and that was fine because he knew what he was getting himself into when he agreed to come. 

It wasn’t until he looked over and watched as beer splashed down someone’s arm beside him, lighting another spark of annoyance, and with the flick of his glance, he spotted someone off in the distance throwing up in a corner not even second-guessing their action, and the couch, god the fucking couch, don’t even get him started on the couch. It looked like it might collapse under the weight of the people on it, and as little as that was, it had him at his breaking point for the night.

He was not having fun, but you were.

Tour had just ended with the boys, so he decided to come visit you at Uni for the weekend. He knew he hated this kind of party, but you wanted to go. You had said something about needing a night to blow off steam, how school had been killing you lately, and you just missed being young and dumb for a night. 

And he got it. He really did. It was a feeling he knew all too well.

At first, he thought it was cute. The way you clung to him with your drink in hand, dancing like nothing else in the world mattered, your body pressed to his, getting closer as you laughed into his neck, everything funnier the more you drank. He could tell you were tipsy, teetering on the edge of drunk, but not too far gone, at least not yet.

But an hour in, things seemed to shift, because somehow he had lost you. He had only taken his eyes off you for two damn minutes to get you water, and when he turned back, you were on the fucking table, arms in the air, your hair a wild mess around your face, shirt slipping a little too far off your shoulder, and holy fuck, then you started shouting the lyrics to some old Katy Perry song like it was the national anthem, laughing like you were on top of the world, and for a second Harry froze. A jolt of panic as he watched you wobble, a cute, careless smile splayed across your face.

And there he stood, torn between playing Mr. Safety and giving you your freedom. Part of him thought you were adorable, but the rest of him was screaming that this wasn’t okay. Not because He didn’t trust you, but because the room was full of people he didn’t trust. Not a single bit, especially the guy near the edge of the table leaning in with a smirk, saying something to his friend, and when he pointed at you, Harry’s heart began to race. 

That’s when he started pushing through the crowd, ignoring the spilled drinks and elbows in his side. You didn’t even see him coming; you were so lost in your own world. It wasn’t until he was right there in front of you, hands on your waist, lifting you down to the ground, and you gasped, eyes wide, but before you could say anything, Harry hoisted you up and over his shoulder like some damn cliché, a fucking, ‘Captin save a ho’ kind of moment and all Harry heard was:

“Harry! What the hell!” But you were laughing, slapping his back, kicking your feet as Harry’s hand patted your ass to console you.

“Okay, that’s enough. We’re going home—” He demands, not even trying to hide the edge in his voice, because yes, at this point, he was getting frustrated as He started walking, one hand on your thigh to steady you, the other pushing open the front door like it might swing off the hinges, and as soon as the night air hit his face he sucked in a deep breath, still pissed at the world around him.

He needed to get the hell out of here, yet there you were fighting him as you wriggled the entire way down the steps, but fuck that, he wasn’t going to put you down until he reached the car, until he knew you wouldn’t run away, and when he did, of course you stumbled, catching yourself on the side mirror, mascara smudged, your eyes glossy.

You looked up at him then, all flushed cheeks and a breathless grin.“I was just having fun,” you whined, barely above a whisper. Harry couldn’t help but sigh, brushing a loose strand of hair off your face. 

“I know, love. I know you were.” And you sway forward, and Harry catches you again, hands on your waist like muscle memory.

And your hands grip the fabric of his shirt for stability. “Listen, I’m not letting you fall off a table and break your neck in front of a bunch of drunk strangers, alright?” To his surprise, this makes you laugh, and you lean into his chest, mumbling something he couldn’t quite catch, and when your arms wrap around his middle, that seems to be enough for him.

“C’mon,” He whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Let’s get you home.”

That’s when, of course, you chose to protest because your night wasn’t over just because his was. “Home?” you ask, pushing from his chest.

“You heard me,” He said, reaching behind to yank open the passenger door to nudge you inside, but you refused, crossing your arms, ready to put up a fight.

“Please don’t give me that look. What? Do you want to stay the night at a frat party?”

Harry watched the pull between your brow deepen, “You said you would be down to party tonight?” 

“Yes, love, and that’s exactly what we’ve done. Now all that’s left in there is a bunch of morons I wouldn’t trust to watch a hamster, and you’re all cute and drunk and too trusting—”

“Baby—” you plead.

Harry sighs, “Don’t ‘baby’ me. You’re not talking me out of this one…just get in the car.” He tells you, giving you another nudge.

“What if we just stay a little longer…we could find a quieter place…like one of those rooms upstairs? I’m not getting in that car.”

This makes him laugh, and he shakes his head. “Babe, you must be drunker than I thought…you think I’m going to go back in there?” 

“Only good things could happen…if we do…if you let it.” And you both stare back at each other, a silent indifference, and when the corner of your mouth turns up, Harry can’t help but return the smirk, his body humming with the thought of your hands all over him.

“Fine…” is all he says, staring back at the house, his eyes trained on a couple of people stumbling out, and when he looks back, your looking at him all wide-eyed, and fucking hopeful and how could he resist you, or stay mad at you when your so goddamn cute. 

He grabs hold of your hand then, “Okay, just because we’re going back in doesn’t mean I’m letting you out of my sight. Got it?” He pushes as your eyes lock onto his.

“Fine…god, you’re so bossy sometimes…” You breathe, stumbling forward as he begins to walk.

He looks back with an amused smirk, “Yeah, but you love it.” He says as you reach the porch stairs, and you both duck past a few people already making out by the front door, and Harry makes sure that you’re close behind him, not trusting anyone to touch you.

 As you weave through the crowd, Harry gives your hand a squeeze here and there, keeping you focused. When you stumble again, he pulls you around to his front, his chest to your back, and he wraps an arm around your waist. Your body now secure with his.

“Baby…wait, I’m so fucking dizzy. I need water…I think.” You tell him, stopping dead in your tracks.

Harry couldn’t tell if you were serious or playing games, but he could see the dizziness in your gaze, a drunk glaze in your eyes.

“For fucks sake.” He huffs.

That’s when Harry pulls you to the side, forcing you back against the wall, keeping a firm grip on your hips. “Stay here for a sec...”

“Make me—” You tell him. Plain and simple.

And here’s the thing. Harry was used to your stubbornness, but not like this, not when you were all pliable and flushed like this, your whole body silently begging him to touch you, and he steps closer, trapping you between his body and the wall, hands still on your hips.

“Is this not enough? I thought this was what you wanted?” He asks, his voice a teasing whisper as he leaned in even closer, and he pinches your hip, making you squirm under his touch.

“Is it ever enough?” You answer, shifting the conversation, gazing up at him, and you tuck your hands behind your back, nudging your hips forward just enough to meet his.

Harry reaches for your chin, hooking a finger to tilt your gaze toward him, “No,” He tells you, his minty breath fanning over your face, and there goes your hips again, pressed flushed to his, making his dick stir. 

He liked this side of you, how confident you are when you drink, not that you weren’t always confident, but this was different. You knew exactly what you wanted right now, even if you might regret it in the morning. “It’s never enough. I want more—” You push.

Harry smirks, feeling the warmth rising between you, and fuck you were the perfect flush, your lips parted, and fucking begging for attention, and this is what he wanted. He wanted you just like this, he thought, as his thumb traced over your bottom lip, and he could see your eyes darting to his mouth as your lips closed around the very tip of his thumb.

“You want more?” he rasps, his tone dipping lower, and he knew you wanted more by the way you pulled his hips toward you as your back slammed against the wall.

“You said you were going to take me to one of the rooms, sir…you know, upstairs.”

“Sir, huh?” He repeats, forcing his need into the grip on your hips as he pins you against the wall. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

“You did…” and you lick your lips then, sending a spark to Harry’s growing bulge, and he knows he needs to get you alone soon, before his dick is rock hard, about to be on display for the whole fucking world to see. 

To your surprise, Harry leans down and wraps his arms around your waist, then lifts you up against his chest. Without thought, you wrap your legs around him and bury your face into his neck, but he can feel your grin growing against his skin, and when you say:

“You smell so good, my love.”

You draw a laugh from him, “You’re just saying that because you’re drunk.” and your teeth sink into his neck for being a smart ass.

“I can walk you know…” You tell him, on the verge of protesting again, and you both knew all you would have to do is drop your legs, but Harry tightened his hold on you anyway.

“I’m not fighting with you. I don’t want you to trip and fall and bust your ass, then I would just have to carry you anyway, enough with the bitching and moaning, miss.”

When you laugh into Harry’s skin it sends a shiver down his spine, “If you don’t want me to bitch, you better make me moan.” And fuck, you were naughty tonight, everything about you sending Harry to the edge and he hadn’t even gotten you fully alone.

Once Harry reaches the top of the landing, he slaps your ass hard, making you laugh out as the fire settles into your ass cheek, “Put me down, I’m a big girl, I can walk on my own.” you say, starting to kick your feet. 

But of course, he doesn’t listen as he pushes through one of the open doors, and kicks it shut behind you guys, locking it as the world spins around you, “Okay, big girl…Your wish is granted…” and he gently sits you down on the bed.

That’s when you reached up and tried to pull him down, but he stayed standing, looking down at you with a smirk. “Baby—don’t make me beg.” You pout up at him.

“Hmm…and what if I do?” he asks, a hand resting against your face as his thumb strokes your cheek, and he has to fight the urge to just kiss that stupid, drunk look off your face, because it’s so fucking tragic, and sexy—and fuck.

“I don’t beg,” you tell him, reaching for his belt, “I take what I want…”

The urgency in your movements catches him off guard, and he lets out a soft huff, “Do you now?” he pokes, as your hands fumble with his belt, and he wraps a hand around your wrist, holding you still.

“Careful,” he warns, his voice dipping. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing, love?”

Your laugh fills the space then, “Baby, I could do this with my eyes closed. Trust me.” and with your free hand, you continue on with your task, and that was to obviously get him naked.

There was something about your driving force tonight that was driving him insane. He didn’t know if it was your confidence or the alcohol pumping through your system, but his grip tightened on your wrist as you carried on, his knuckles white from the restraint, because he needed it. Every ounce of it, and somehow that was the only thing keeping him calm.

“Trust…yes, trust—” he muttered, clenching his jaw, his eyes roaming over you as you tried to undress him, taking in the sloppy state you were in, your breathless expression, the way you bit your fucking lip as you looked up at him through thick lashes, and he knew he was fucked—that he had to fuck you in this bed, tonight, or he would explode.

“You’re mine.” You tell him, pulling the belt from his pants, every movement messy.

And he watches you struggle with the button on his jeans, “I’m yours…” He echoes almost in a daze, his voice huskier than before, and he drops your wrist, placing a hand on your shoulder, his grip tightening when he feels the button of his jeans give way, and he gasps out in relief, his dick already pressing hard in his jeans. 

“You in a hurry, love?” He asks when you tug at the him of his shirt

Harry couldn’t help but laugh at your uncoordinated movements, “I’m not in a hurry, babe, I just fucking need this.” you say, the words flying out in frustration as you gaze up at him.

The hunger in your eyes was undeniable. Harry let you tug on his shirt, feeling the fabric pull up over his stomach as you tried to signal for him to remove it. 

“I know you do, baby,” he whispers,  his hand moving to the nape of your neck. “You need me that bad, huh? You need this?” He asks, smoothing a hand over his lengthy bulge, now perfectly outlined through his skinny jeans. 

And your eyes never leave his stroking hand. “Off…take it all off!” 

“Little Miss Bossy,” He mutters, but his lips curl with an amused smirk, and he lets go of you just long enough to pull his shirt off over his head, feeling your breath fan over his skin as you sat there and watched his every move, your hands already on his bare chest as soon as possible, tracing over his skin like you were trying to reacquaint yourself.

That’s when you lean forward and lick across the tattoo inked at the center of his chest, “So good…” and then your eyes flick to his as you stand to take his nipple into your mouth. “Baby, this body is fucking gold.”

Harry’s hands grip the back of your head as you move, his eyes closing for a moment, and his fingers tangle in your hair. The fucking sensation of your hot wet mouth on his skin was driving him crazy, and he inhales sharply, his chest rising and falling with the effort under your touch.

“Baby…you’re killing me,” he breathes, his voice heavy with want.

“You like this?” you ask, moving to his other nipple, and then your

moving back down, slowly lowering to your knees before him, and Harry follows your gaze to his open jeans, his bulge hard as a fucking rock. 

Harry’s breath grows shorter, shallower as he looks down at you. “I love this so much, love…I love all of you.”

“Good, now can I have a taste?” You ask, licking those beautiful lips of yours, already getting them ready for him.

Harry hooks a finger under your chin, lifting it up so he can see your face. His thumb finds your bottom lip, tugging gently as the words leave his mouth.“Go ahead, baby. Have a taste...”

Your hands reach for his jeans, then, working them past his hips, bringing his boxers with them. “Oh fuck baby…” and Harry listens to the gasp leave your mouth as his huge dick springs before you.

When he peeks back down, he watches as your eyes widen and your mouth falls open, and the sounds you keep making has his cock twitching against his thigh.

“Something wrong, love?” He teases, feigning innocence, but he can’t help teasing you like this, and his hand finds your hair again, his fingers twisting, and he gives you a gentle tug.

“See something you like, or is it too much?”

You swallow hard, resting your hands on the tops of your thighs, as Harry observes you intently, your eyes taking in every inch of him, your lips parting, looking so, so tempting.

“You’re a sight on your knees like this, you know that?” he says, his voice growing ragged, and he uses his hand in your hair to tug your head back, making you look up at him, but all you do is smile, a fucking wicked smile playing at your lips and he knows, what’s coming next, and he’s already trying to hold his composure, because he couldn’t dare give himself away. 

Yet that smile gets him every time, even in your current state, “Yeah, You know you look good like this, don’t you love?” and this time when he runs his thumb over your bottom lip, he presses harder, watching the flesh indent around the pressure as he pulls it down. “So, fucking pretty.”

“I want it!” you force.

“You want this?” Harry asks, taking his hard dick into his hand, “Is this what you want, baby?” and his voice is soft, playful as he runs a hand down his shaft. Your eyes are locked on his cock as it drops, heavy against his leg, and he leans down and captures your mouth with his, his hand still holding your hair, and when he pulls back he let’s his lips graze over your ear. “I’m gonna need a little more than that, love.”

“Harry—I need that fucking dick in my mouth,” you tell him, straightening your spine, and Harry can hear the impatience in your tone, but it’s only feeding his want. 

“That’s my good girl,” He coos, his smile matching yours as it spreads across his face, and his hand tightens in your hair, keeping you in place.

“How do you want it, Love?” he asks in a low voice. “You want me to play nice?”

And his words make you laugh, “I want you to choke me with it. I want to gag on this thick cock until I can’t breathe.” You tell him, wrapping your hand around his girth. “Fuck, baby! It’s so big, I fucking love this dick. Don’t play nice…I’ll know if you’re holding back.”

The look on your face sends a rush of excitement down his spine, and his breath leaves his lips with a huff of anticipation. That’s when his hand in your hair tightens and he draws your face even closer to his cock, guiding you to exactly where you needed to be, your mouth so close to the head of his dick he could feel the warmth of your breath graze over the tip, “Let me see you try and put that pretty little mouth around this cock. You know it won’t even fit. Tell me how you’re going to make it happen?”

God, the smirk that rises on your face sends a fucking ping straight to his dick, and it pulses in your hand, “I’m gunna have to be a good girl, right? Get it all wet before, is that what you taught me, baby?”

 “Yeah, love…just like that...” He breathes, eyeing you lick a teasing stripe up the underside of his shaft, your hot, wet tongue working slowly and tediously, as your hand begins to stroke what your mouth can’t reach.

“Damn, you look so fucking hot like this, baby. Your eyes all blown…shit…looking at me like that.” and he leans down to brush a loose strand of hair out of your face so he can watch the tip of his dick disappear into your mouth. 

“Mmmm…” you hum, sending the vibration down his dick, and he halts his hips, trying not to buck them forward, and you rip his dick from your mouth, “What did I tell you…no holding back.”

And Harry feels the pressure on the base of his dick, tighten, and he bites down on his lower lip, trying to suppress his smile, “Baby—” he says, his voice, grovel under your touch.

“If you do it again, sir, we stop…got it?” you demand, and Harry nods, lacing his hands behind his head, an act of surrender, and the second his dick is on your mouth again, you both moan, a low noise filling his ears as he closed his eyes. 

Your tongue hits first, broad and flat, landing with a vulgar smack that sounded around the room, a sound that broke any illusion of grace you had left. Your mouth began to work then, trying to scrape him across every tastebud you had, before you took the head of his cock back into the cavern of your mouth. 

There was nothing coy about the way you sucked: no gentle preamble, no teasing flicks. Because you were over the games and Harry could tell by the way you forced your mouth down over the tip, your jaw already straining, lips peeled back, and fuck, Harry had to look, gazing down as your shiny lips wrapped around him, spit pooling at the corners, readying to drip down your chin in clear, ropy strands.

This time, when Harry bucked his hips, his hand flew down to your scalp as if by reflex, fingers diving in and clamping tight, using your head as a handle, aggressive in the way that you wanted to play, because he wasn’t holding back this time, and the hum across his dick said you liked the violence of it—the surprise in his touch, the reflexive need to claim you.

But Harry knew you were in control; he could feel it with every stroke as your gaze held his, even as you took on more of him, the girth forcing your jaw to hinge open further. 

He knew there was no comfort, but you kept working, taking the challenge like the fucking pro you were, needy for him, and then your tongue was dragging along the ridge beneath his crown, a rough stuttering line grating across your palate, your fucking eyes watering—And all Harry could do was stand there, anticipating every move, knowing that the back of your throat burned with the promise of everything he wanted in that moment.

Then you pulled back until just the tip was resting on your tongue, and dammit, Harry lost control then, and his hips strained up, desperate to fill the sudden emptiness, greedy for the warmth of your mouth, and you let him hover there as your lips tightened around his thick circumference, letting him go with a loud pop. 

You smacked his dick against your lips then, and as it bounced his eyes were trained on your mouth, spit rising to the surface, gathering into a puddle, pooling into a bubble at the center of your mouth, and you smacked your lips harder this time, the sound loud and wet. It was pure fucking filth, your hand stroking down his dick as you dragged the spit across your lips, a fresh sheen of gloss, ready to wet his dick even more—your mouth a sloppy paradise beckoning to bring Harry home.

And, holy fuck, the second you flicked the tip of your tongue up his slit, he let out a fucking groan so loud it filled the room, guttural and messy, like he’d been holding in every noise for months and they were just now escaping, and maybe he had, because it had been a while since you were on your knees for him.

The more noise Harry made, the more it fed your determination: the little choked gasps, the involuntary twitches, the way Harry’s thighs tensed and quivered, and when you plunged back down, nose smashing into his soft pubic hair, you drew in a hard breath, your throat relaxing as you took him completely in your mouth. 

Out of nowhere, Harry made a sound so unhinged it almost startled him. And as you laughed, your throat constricted around him, then you let out a loud gurgle, your mouth flooding with spit, and as you choked, Harry felt the overflow of saliva spill down his balls, coating them in a dense shine that caught the light—and he wasn’t sure how much more he could take of this.

God, you were a machine. No, not a machine—you were a fucking creature, a single-purpose transforming you into some kind of animal, evolved for just this, for him. Your jaw working in a slick, insistent rhythm, cheeks hollowing with each pull, your mouth becoming the dark bottom of a well, and when you hummed around his shaft, making him twitch in response, the sound vibrated up your tongue and through his cock straight into his spine.

Your hands were barely even moving, and it was still fucking bliss. One hand cradled his balls, rolling them with obscene tenderness, the other stroking what your mouth couldn’t reach, wrist twisting on every upstroke. When you squeezed at the base, Harry’s cock pulsed, his perfect dick a shade deeper, and you pressed your thumb to the spot where his shaft met his body, making him cry out again, sharper this time, voice cracking in midair. 

His grip on your head tightened, desperate and vicious, but you didn’t let up. If anything, you doubled down, slurping harder, faster, using every ounce of suction your cheeks could muster. “Jesus—fuck, fuck—” Harry hissed, his voice strangled and high. “You’re—Christ, you’re going to—”

And with no hesitation, you cut him off by taking him deep again, this time swallowing around his head, flattening your tongue, and relaxing your throat. Harry could feel the head of his cock punch past your gag reflex, and you let your eyes roll up, watering freely now, tears streaking down your beautiful face in perfect, ravaged lines. 

That’s when you gagged, coughing but forced him down again, harder, until your lips met his base and his cock was buried, deeper than you had ever taken him before, deeper than he thought possible, and christ, Harry’s whole body shuddered, contracting like he might come just from the feeling of you suffocating on his dick.

You drew back with a gasp, choking on air, and you spat a glob of spit down his shaft as pre-come cascaded down your chin, then you dove back in with a desperate hunger that Harry knew was about to send him over the edge. Every time you pulled off, a spit-slicked string connected your mouth to his cock, stretching and breaking with a little pop. But this wasn’t the time to worry about the mess, and you continued with the achingly good twist of your wrists, your hand moving up and down his shaft, jerking him as you licked and sucked the head, working him into a state of perfect, desperate need.

And he wanted to stay like this forever. 

Harry tried to hold back, and he knew you could see it, his jaw clenched, the cords in his neck straining like steel cables. But he was failing, minute by minute, losing the fight as you pushed him closer to the thoughtlessness taking over him. He knew you wanted him to lose—that this was your plan all along, that you wanted to scrape every last drop of dignity from him, and he wanted you to. Wanted you to fucking destroy him with every savage move you made.

When you tongued the slit of his dick again, he watched your mouth slip over his head, and this time your tongue flicked at the slit, fast and mean, sending a craze through Harry’s entire body, and Harry bucked his hips hard, forcing his dick to the back of your throat, unable to control the movement as his hips pistoned up and down as he face-fucked you with a pathetic, desperate rhythm that had you gasping for air, but he didn’t stop, he wanted to watch you choke until you signaled to stop—your eyes streaming tear after tear, mascara leaving streaks of glory, and your eyes never left his.

He could tell you loved it as you opened wider, jaw probably aching, and you let him fuck your mouth however he wanted, your arms looping around his thighs to hold him in place, trying to keep him from retreating. Harry was moaning now, not even trying to stay quiet, making soft, broken noises that had you matching his moans between every gag or cough. Harry felt you reach with your free hand and you grabbed his ass, fingers digging in, using his body as leverage to pull him deeper into your face.

His cock was huge and he knew it, the sight of the struggle almost too much, but you told him you wanted all of it, and he wanted to give it to you. He wanted you wrecked, wanted to bruise your throat with every pump, wanted you to taste him in your nose, your sinuses, behind your fucking eyes for hours after if it was even possible. 

He wanted to choke you with his length, let his tip ram into the soft tissue at the back of your throat with a brutality he knew that only you could take as you fought the urge to gag—fuck your throat until it overwhelmed you—and that’s what he did as he felt you splutter all over his drenched cock, snot running from your nose, a fucking beautiful disaster but you obviously didn’t care. He was going to ruin you, destroy you, leave you dripping and breathless and marked as his.

Because you were his, and he was yours.

Harry saw you reach down then, busting the button open on your jeans, and you slipped two fingers under the waistband, and he knew you were soaked, you had to be, his mind imagining the slippery arousal coating your fingers, knowing this had nothing to do with Harry and everything to do with the act of giving yourself over to this—this monster of a master piece—the two of you slipping into a beautiful oblivian as you fingered yourself, sucking his dick in and out of your mouth, rolling your own pleasure into the sound amplified around Harry’s cock.

He was close now, and you must have known it, a smirk tilting the corner of your mouth as his peak climbed, his balls tightened, his hand shaking in your hair as an animalistic panic rose in his voice. “Fuck, I’m—please—”

And you pulled off just long enough to drag your tongue along the length of his shaft, from base to tip, swirling it around the head before sinking him back inside. It was torture, the pleasure that filled him, a fucking master of your craft. You wanted him to watch, that teasing gaze, staring up at him with a devastating beauty that stole his breath. Because this was love, pure and simple, you destroying yourself, he thought, watching your mouth stretch obscenely wide, keeping that same eye contact as you tongued the underside of his cock, never breaking the connection.

That was all he needed, your eyes, your mouth, and he came with a shout like you were stealing his soul, his whole body rigid, hips bucking forward as his cock pulsed inside your mouth. The first spurt was volcanic, thick and hot, hitting the back of your throat so hard you nearly choked again. But like the good girl you were, you swallowed it down, greedily, milking him, all lips and tongue, not letting a single drop escape you. The next spurt was almost as strong, and the next, until he was spent, cock twitching weakly against your relaxing jaw. 

When he felt his dick slide from your mouth, the tip of his cock dragged against your teeth, and he watched you wipe your chin with the back of your hand, dutifully showcasing your mouth—wide, tongue out, glistening with come and spit—then you closed your lips with a smirk and swallowed it all in one noisy gulp.

Harry was stunned, his mind unearthed, somewhere above still floating on the cloud you left him on, and all he could do was stare at you, your eyes glassy, cheeks fucking flushed, your chest rising and falling, heavy as you caught your breath. 

He felt like a man who had just seen god, somehow crawling back on his knees less holy than before as he smiled down at you, and he reached down, stroking your hair, worshipful, yet to your surprise, almost shy now, and this made you smile as you wiped the last trail of spit from your cheek, and he pulled you to your feet, lips swollen and red, throat raw but satisfied.

“Holy fuck,” Harry whispered. “You’re amazing…”

You laughed, soft, but wolfish. “I said I wanted that dick.” You tell him, your voice ragged.

Harry could only nod, still panting, cock lying heavy and half-hard against his thigh.

You wrapped your arms around him, and he slid his fingers into your jeans, wanting to feel your wetness, kissing along your jaw that he knew had to be sore, and when he found what he wanted, he pushed his fingers inside you just enough to wet the tips. 

Harry pulled his fingers out then, slipping them into his mouth, groaning in your ear, “If you let me take you home, I’ll fuck this sweet pussy all night, make you come as hard as you made me” he said, pushing his rasp into the flesh of your neck.

You pulled away with a grin, “You better fuck me so hard I can’t fucking speak…”

“Baby, I’ll fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk tomorrow, and that’s a promise”

“Then you better take me home…now”

Taglist: @sassamanda77 @harryyloverrr @panini @unfuckwitablenarry @triski73 @haleyannaw @dipmeinhoneyh @lizsogolden @spinninc @iloveharrystyles04 @mema10 @avas-queen-black @starshollowgazette @practistyles

Other One-Shots<-

[papirouge]

Sorry but I don't find Robert Pattinson quirky or endearing

He looks like he smells and eats his boggers

don't get me started on Timothée Chalamet.

[thetreetopinn]

Sources for Somerton's Plagiarism from Hbomberguy's Video (as much as I could get)

I went back through Harry's video, focused entirely on the sources James Somerton pulled from in the hopes of creating as much of a comprehensive list as I could--though my Google-Fu is not very strong. I did however find something I thought was forever lost and that made me very happy--specifically the magazine Midlands Zone containing the column by Steven Spinks that Harry poignantly used as an illustration of gay erasure... while Somerton uses it to sound like HE is waxing remorseful about the very subject.

This is not a complete list, I'm sure. For one thing, I was only able to attempt to pull sources that Harry himself mentioned in the video. Surely there's so very much more out there. I expect there to be a great deal more internet archeology to unearth just how much writing and culture Somerton has stolen like he's the British Museum of Natural History but for gay people.

- - - - -

Harry's list of mentioned youtubers:

Alexander Avila - https://www.youtube.com/@alexander_avila Matt Baume - https://www.youtube.com/@MattBaume Khadija Mbowe - https://www.youtube.com/@KhadijaMbowe Lady Emily - https://www.youtube.com/@LadyEmilyPresents Shanspeare - https://www.youtube.com/@Shanspeare RickiHirsch - https://www.youtube.com/@RickiHirsch VerilyBitchie - https://www.youtube.com/@verilybitchie

Harry created a convenient playlist of videos by these and other people he wants to bring to everyone's attention.

Please give them your support.

- - - - -

Midlands Zone Magazine - Column by Steven Spinks

After a great deal of searching, I found an archive of the "Midlands Zone" magazine, where you can read through past issues dating all the way back to February 2014. I have also found the issue from which Somerton took Spinks' poignant discussion of gay erasure: Overall archive Specific Issue - Pages 16-17

It will not allow you to download it, but you can read it exactly as it appeared in print form.

- - - - -

My best effort to find the exact book or article Somerton lifted from to be able to get attention to the original writers

Tinker Bells and Evil Queens By Sean Griffin

The Celluloid Closet By Vito Russo Wikipedia article about the book Wikipedia article about the documentary My weak google-fu could not find where you can access the book or documentary. Check your local municipal or university library for book or documentary, or if you know a good source for one or both, please reblog with it added

Camp and the Gay Sensibility By Jack Babuscio

The Groundbreaking Queerness of Disney's Mulan By Jes Tom Personal site with links to social media accounts

Why Rebel Without a Cause was a milestone for gay rights By Peter Howell

Why "The Craft" is still the best Halloween coming out movie By Andrew Park

Opinion: From facehuggers to phallic tails, is 'Alien' one of the queerest films ever? By Dani Leever

Women and Queerness in Horror: Jennifer's Body By Zoe Fortier

[Pride 2019] We Have Such Sights to Show You: Hellraiser and the Spectrum of Queerness By Alejandra Gonzalez

Revealing the Hellbound Heart of Clive Barker's 'Hellraiser' By Colin Arason

Queering James Cameron's Aliens (1986) By Bart Bishop

Demeter and Persephone in space: transformation, femininity, and myth in the 'Alien' films By David Greven

Fears of a millennial masculinity: Scream's queer killers By David Greven (Scholarly site, unable to access original work, offers a way to request a full copy of the text in PDF)

Queer Subtext in Stephen King's It - Part 1: 'Reddie' Character Analysis By Rachel Brands Rachel is the very unfortunate lady who found out she was being stolen from because she supported Somerton through Patreon and saw one of his videos early with her writing--lacking any form of citation or credit

How 'It: Chapter Two' Leaves Richie Tozier Behind By Joelle Monique

When Horror Becomes Strength: Queer Armor in Stephen King's 'IT' By Alex London

Why Queer People Love Witchcraft By Amanda Kohr

'The Favourite' Queers The Past And The Present By Giorgi Plys-Garzotto

(Wuko) Crush (Mako x Wu) By MoonFlower on YouTube

5 Terrible Movies With Awesome Hidden Meanings By J.F. Sargent

The Radicalization of Sexuality: The Queer Casae of Jeffrey Dahmer By Ian Barnard

Netflix's 'Dahmer' backlash highlights ethical issues in the platform's obsession with true crime By Shivani Dubey

The Possible Disturbing Dissonance Between Hajime Isayama's Beliefs and Attack on Titan's Themes Original Article by "Seldom Musings" (Author has made all posts not related to Attack On Titan private and has retired from the blog)

Everyone Loves Attack on Titan. So Why Does Everyone Hate Attack on Titan? By Gita Jackson

- - - - -

The following people are otherwise named in the video. There are no direct citations of articles or books by them in said video. I am unable to guarantee that I have identified the correct individual.

Darren Elliott-Smith Michaela Barton David Church Claire Sisco King Amanda Howell Jessica Roy

- - - - -

Telos announced and cancelled a film likely based on this book: The Final Girl Support Group - By Grady Hendrix

- - - - -

I refrained from including certain sources.

First off only focusing on Somerton's work.

Secondly not including anything that might be visible enough to not require amplifying their voice (I cannot speak for all of those I have found links to, but journalism is frequently a thankless job).

Thirdly any source that is of a nature that is antithetical to the very existence of the queer community, such as the right-leaning source that didn't make it into Somerton's video, but Harry was able to identify as a source he had considered using.

If you feel I have missed a mentioned source--or you know of a source from material that was not covered in Harry's video--please do not hesitate to reblog with added details.

- - - - -

Please share this information far and wide, and please add to it if you find more material that can be positively identified and linked to the creator/writer.

[p1utofairy]

holy shit, the glow-up vibes are potent as fuck in this pile! people are going to be in absolute awe of you, pile one. your energy, your body, your face card, and your personality are going to have people bowing the fuck down to you. i'm not feeling any sense of arrogance or conceitedness either – you're just truly about to step into your most powerful and authentic self. this was always destined, pile one. this innate magnetism was always inside of you, but you just never truly knew how to wield it entirely. it's like you were dipping your toes in and out of the water, not sure if you should fully submerge yourself in it and become who you've always known you were, or stay digestible and dim your light so others around you could shine. no more of that. this is, and will continue to be, all about you, pile one. you are shedding the people-pleasing tendencies that have held you back for so long.

you are reclaiming your power. you have such a kind heart with a fierce spirit, and you've been suppressing that fierce side of you in fear of what others may think of you or say about you. too many times, you've had your back kicked in at the expense of sparing another person's feelings, and your spirit guides are getting restless from the sidelines watching you repeat these same situations time and time again. they're giving you the green light to boss the fuck up and show these people what you're made of. they're telling me that this is a rebirth for you.

i see you experimenting with your wardrobe and appearance: more sexy, more bold, and more alluring. dark eyeliner, sheer stockings, red tops, lace, denim, corsets, etc. showing more of yourself but still keeping it classy. i'm being drawn to alexa demie, 2000s meagan good/megan fox, and gabriette. very siren-like and hard to miss. this is going to be completely new to you, but it's going to feel sooo good and rewarding. a lot of what you used to say yes to is going to turn into straight no's.

you're going to notice a shift in the people, opportunities, and love offers you attract as well – more fruitful and abundant. they align more with the lifestyle you've always wanted for yourself now that you're rejecting the projections and expectations that no longer serve who you are at the core. you will not be settling for less, pile one, that's for sure! i'm hearing that it's basically giving your pinterest boards come to life lol. i love that for you. things that you've been specifically journaling about and manifesting for yourself are going to come to you with no effort – it's almost going to be alarming. it's like you've been waiting, waiting, waiting, thinking someone was going to come along and shift your reality for you, when really you were the key all along.

i'm seeing a lot of yellow and orange, so your solar plexus and sacral chakra are going to be so fucking activated. you're going to be very selective and protective of your energy, as you should. you'll just be like, wow, what took me so long to lean more into this side of myself? it was necessary, though, because it opened your eyes to the world we live in and how you have to operate and not short-change yourself in spite of what others want or expect from you. some people might not like this transformation of yours, but that's simply not your problem, and those people are not on your same frequency. you already spark a lot of jealousy, but this energy shift right here?! whew. hoes mad, pile one! i'm like seeing tiktok edits in my head of the hot villainous characters like katherine pierce and jennifer check lmao. you're winning, and they're not, my loves!

OTHER CHANNELED MESSAGES:

ashwini, ballin' by partynextdoor, unhealthy codependency, anuradha, tall in height, 1st house, neptune energy, neptune-asc, blick sum by latto ft. playboi carti, manifest it, shatabisha, fashion/modeling industry. scorpio, aries, aquarius.

things have been seeming very redundant lately, pile two. you've been craving change for a while now. i'm picking up that you're really at your wits' end in regards to the job you're currently working at and/or all the responsibilities you have on your shoulders. you've been pushing yourself so hard, but you're starting to wonder if any of it was worth it because you're not seeing the payoff just yet. you might be feeling overlooked or undervalued at the moment, but i definitely see things changing for you.

i see a new job/financial opportunity making its way to you, and it aligns more with what you love to do. it's an offer definitely worth taking, pile two! this is the beginning of something that's going to catapult you to the next level. i see this one opportunity leading to an elevation of your life. it's a chance of a lifetime. you're closing out this current cycle of stagnancy and getting the ball rolling on your desires and the lifestyle you've always wanted for yourself. this isn't on a small scale either, this is huge. it's damn near like whiplash – so sudden and unexpected but very well deserved.

i see you gaining more friends and networking with people that advance you and pour into you as much as you pour into others. this is oddly specific, but i feel like some of you have some very mean-spirited co-workers around you. do not tell these people your plans or anything personal, because they really don't like you (projection because they really don't like themselves lol), and they're secretly sending you the evil eye. if you don't have an idea of who specifically this could be, just know they definitely smile in your face and pose as someone who likes you but say things behind your back that prove otherwise. they're not stopping shit though, so your spirit guides want me to tell you that you have nothing to worry about.

for my singles, i was also picking up on a new romantic suitor having their eyes on you. this person could have a charming and bit of a cocky vibe going for them – they usually like to be chased rather than do the chasing, but something about you is intriguing to them. for some of you that have just gotten out of a relationship, i see you have a couple of options to choose from. there's this energy of being amused and entertained. a lot of people are going to find you to be very irresistible, and the way you carry yourself so gracefully will have many heads turning.

for those of you that are in a committed relationship, i see you two becoming even closer and more vulnerable with each other. any walls you've built around yourself in fear of disappointment or regret will finally be dropped as you learn to trust not only yourself but your partner fully as well. one more thing i will say is that you should make sure you're budgeting your finances properly and remember to take care of any debts you may owe, okay? 444 on the clock. everything is working out in your favor you shall soon see.

OTHER CHANNELED MESSAGES:

6th house, krittika, dark skin, when one door closes another one opens, revati, transformation, jyestha sprung, ideal partner/dream person, taurus, pisces, scorpio moon, nasty by tinashe, fever by dua lipa & angèle.

you've really been keeping to yourself huh, pile three? you could be clashing a lot with your parents/family or just feeling misunderstood by the people closest to you. i feel like things have been a bit chaotic and unstable in your life, especially in regards to your home environment. one minute things are good, but when things get bad, they get pretty fucking bad. ugh, pile three.

i feel like you're very sensitive to your environment, and whatever is going on around you, you absorb it like a sponge. there's inner child wounds that you're working on, and it's really not easy, but your spirit guides want you to know that they're so fucking proud of you. you're doing the work that others weren't brave enough to do in order to heal yourself and your bloodline. some of you might have a very dysfunctional family, and it weighs heavy on you; most times you have to tiptoe around your emotions in order to keep the peace.

i'm also picking up that some of you might have older sibling syndrome – there's immense pressure and expectations put on you since you were a child. whatever the case may be, i feel like you actively doing the work is going to unlock a part of yourself you never really knew was inside. i can feel the passion, the dedication, and the motivation buzzing off you, pile three. 2025 is gonna be your year. the martian energy is strong in this pile. i feel like you had to learn the lessons and really sit back and observe the dynamics around you to come to the realization that NO, you do not want that for yourself and the ones that come after you. you want something stable, something emotionally fulfilling, something that makes you feel free in so many ways than one. you're a very compassionate and selfless person, and you will find someone who will pour equally into you as you do them.

this person that you're attracting is deeply committed, patient, financially secure, thoughtful, and extremely grounded. you'll never be an afterthought when it comes to this person – they'll support you and guide you (if you need them to) every step of the way. you're so used to figuring things out on your own and having to think for others, but this person wants you to simply relax and just be. i can see you pacing back and forth, venting to them, and just going on and on, listing every single thing you need to get done and do for this one and that one. and i can just see them sitting but rising to their feet and slowly walking over to you with this calm demeanor, putting their hands on your shoulders, and it's like everything melts away. they want me to reassure you that you're not alone – they want to carry the weight and release the burdens off of you because they recognize that no one has truly showed up and out for you the way you do for others. this is very beautiful energy, pile three.

as you step into this new chapter, you’ll realize that some of your past connections were often just bandaids for wounds you hadn’t healed yet. there’s a lot of clarity about your self-worth here. some of you might be working through daddy issues, and this healing is part of why you’re ready for a deeper love now. this is very specific and may not apply to all, but i keep picking up on pregnancy energy, so if you're ready for that, i do see potential for that with this person you're attracting. if not, then just be mindful of that lol. on the flip side, the person could have a kid, but again, this is just some scenarios i'm picking up on for a small fraction of you. i do see you getting long-awaited closure with a specific person or family member. when that happens, it’s going to feel like a massive weight has been lifted. pile three, this is your time to heal, grow, and attract the life and love you deserve. it’s so beautiful.

OTHER CHANNELED MESSAGES:

faking it by calvin harris ft. kehlani & lil yachty, bharani, pussy power, all of the answers are within you so trust yourself, big d energy, a father, purva ashada, having receipts, dhanishta, capricorn, aquarius, pyrmaids by frank ocean, sagittarius, aries, coffee fucking by miguel ft. wale.

mind over matter...hm. that's what i keep hearing, pile four. i feel like you're in your head about something regarding your work-life balance. it's like you deprive yourself of going out and having fun because you worry you'll be overspending or won't have enough time; but i feel like this mentality is causing you to miss out on some really fun moments and memories, especially with your friends.

you're very responsible (almost to a fault, according to your spirit guides lol), and because you're so practical and matter-of-fact, you don't give yourself enough room to be spontaneous and open. for example, if you just got off work and a friend invites you out, you might think about the laundry you could be doing or some work you could be catching up on instead of just saying, "fuck it, yeah, let's go have some fun." gatekeeping yourself isn’t going to get you very far, pile four.

you're meant to be seen, and you're meant to let your inner child run free and have fun. keeping yourself tucked away in your room or isolating yourself is doing more harm than good - your spirit guides really want you to know this. there are potential love interests you don’t even notice because you're not putting yourself out there enough! some of you might have bad social anxiety, and being around new energies might feel overwhelming, but your guides want you to know you can work through this, slowly but surely - you've just got to start somewhere.

your quirkiness could open so many doors for you, and you don’t even realize it yet. there are so many people you're destined to meet and connect with on a soul level because you have such a unique spirit. you have this way of making people feel seen and heard. if you're single, i feel like your next romantic connection will be incredibly healing in so many ways. some of your past lovers or friends might have made you feel misunderstood or undervalued, but that’s going to change. this is just a quick sidebar, but i feel like you’ve got people (unbeknownst to you) talking about you or your personal business. so, be careful who you confide in because not everyone is your friend, especially in a work or school environment. even if they don’t know anything about you, it seems like they’re speculating and gossiping about you with others.

but anyways i feel like this "mind over matter" mentality comes from wanting to control situations and outcomes, and while it’s great to have self-awareness and discernment, it can also be debilitating: if you let it. i feel like you’re about to start challenging yourself to socialize more and just not give a fuck. wherever the day or night takes you, it takes you. it doesn’t always have to be a club or party, but even if it is, you’re still giving yourself the freedom to have fun and live in the moment.

your job will still be there the next day, okay? your laundry too. but memories? they last forever. so please don’t deprive yourself of the good ones, pile four. you are so worthy of them.

OTHER CHANNELED MESSAGES:

hit me hard and soft album by billie eilish, vishaka, want more for yourself, magha, pay attention to the signs, moon energy, this person is manifesting you, pisces moon, purva phalguni, co-workers gossiping about you, leo, scorpio, libra, 11:11.

[saintshadow]

𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓊 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓉𝑒𝒸𝓉𝑒𝒹?

#001

You are being protected by disasters, destruction, or confusion coming upon your enemies. Perhaps someone left you feeling detached, cold, unwanted, abandoned, neglected etc.. I see that something or someone is moving to take down a lie or deception being spread to cause harm. This could have to do with family or friends, a sense of harmony and peace will be restored. Alternatively, you could be given an out or being booted out of a situation suddenly and unexpectedly in ORDER to protect you from people around you.

You may be being protected from public image or perceptions about you that people are fighting about. You may lose a friend- and you could realize this friend is FAKE AS HELL. You could be moving on from this situation or person. It’s not as bad as you think, it may feel intense and overwhelming but it’s really better this way. Things may not be what you think they are, and sometimes it’s better to realize when you’re making excuses for others. You know something isnt adding up or is wrong- but you ignore it because you don’t want to go. With love I say to you dear reader, be fucking fr.

I see that some kind of loss is actually a win. I feel like this has to do with my last pick a card pile where I mentioned a snake in a vision. You’re being protected from seeing this persons fear and anxiety. You are too attached and caring for them- to an extent that it genuinely causes you harm. You can’t fix this person/situation. They don’t want to be fixed. Others don’t want to fix it. Destruction and loss is the only way. It may be a painful loss, and if you’re not in a relationship or friendship where this applies I’d say that you should pick a different pile or reader.

Take what applies, let me get some less specific messages for others in this particular collective. You’re being protected from past secrets being dragged into the the public- or perhaps past secrets being dragged into the public will somehow help you?? It will help people see and support you potentially? There’s a common denominator or aspect to the situation that you may not be realizing or understanding. You’re being protected from being used as ammo in a damaging way. Whatever is happening here could somehow help you weirdly enough idk haha.

#002

Your privacy, comfort, and solitude is being protected at the moment. Or you are being protected through this state of solitude, I see that there are a lot of poisonous arrows and malicious energies being thrown around. You’ve kind of buckled in and distanced yourself from unnecessary chaos. I see you being very introspective, and I see this introspective energy paired with an innate sense of passion and resilience resulting in a more balanced approach that allows you to maintain what you have. You could have people defending your name, or speaking up for you. Or regarding you. Perhaps people could be trying to throw your name into something but it isn’t exactly sticking. It’s due to your nature & your general preferences in your approach to life.

Someone or something could be framing you as being aggressive or uncontrolled- or perhaps something is making you WANT to get aggressive. however you or others aren’t exactly biting. I also see that those who try to sow seeds of chaos into your life are dealing with a lot of fear and paranoia. This pile could be witches, perhaps you’ve done some kind of spell to disarm your enemies. You’re being protected because your enemies are not very intelligent?? 😭😭 please that’s so funny. I feel like they’re very emotional or very reactive, or perhaps super immature. Like they don’t look past their own assumptions or realize how their attempts to cause chaos further reveal the truth. I see someone with very negative energy, they could be evil eyeing you or others and having an extremely intense transformation occurring. Or maybe a reverse transformation, I’m thinking of the harry potter movie with the poly juice potions. Someone is being seen for who they truly are, and they’re tweaking hard.

I feel like your lack of emotional energy and attention being paired with a more calculated approach is revealing stuff. People are really really more curious than you think, I feel that you are trying to blend in. To be inconspicuous, but it almost comes off as if you can’t help but shine. You can’t help but be who you are and other people can’t stand it. You being exactly who you are IS PROTECTION, and IS MAGIC.

#003

Because your intuition is on fucking point you know how to transform the most unfixable chaotic messes into something workable. Your ability to dismantle concepts, ideas, structures, imbalances, etc; and actually ARTICULATE THIS to other people is bringing you a newfound sense of joy. People are really receptive to your wisdom right now. You’re low-key being protected from your own unconscious self sabotaging behaviors as well with money. Your future is secured, just follow suit. This message feels like your future & future desires are protected. I keep hearing “future spouse” and while I don’t subscribe to that concept- perhaps some of you have a current partner that you want to be with long term. I DO see this working out, I see that your goals and desires are highly attainable. You’re working out other things in life right now, and while you do that other shit is being held down. I feel like there’s something you’re duking out for the betterment of something larger. You could be doing something for the benefit of many. Or for the benefit of past versions of you.

Someone could be moving out on their own for the first time- you are being loved and protected by maternal ancestors through this move. They are going to teach you a lot that you don’t know yet. There are many skills and qualities you will develop over the next 8 weeks I’m hearing? You’re leveling up a lot. Congratulations on a win as well, I’m hearing in advance. This could be in school, work, etc- or getting some form of positive recognition. I feel like your blessings are very protected and that others can’t even see what’s coming for you. Theyre blinded by your light, and enveloped in your darkness. They mistake their shadow and shortcomings as your reality. You may be a water rising or highly reflective as an individual. You see things with more depth than most and it gives you the ability to break apart deception with ease.

You’re protected from others as you speak up in the face of an imbalance or injustice of some kind potentially. Someone could be going to court or a work meeting- some kind of judgment could be made in your favor. Due to favorable or good actions you’d taken in the past. Essentially you’re being protected because you’re proveably a good person who others view idealistically.

[witchofthesouls]

Silly thought, but hear me out:

The magical schools from Harry Potter became Titans.

[enhaflixer]

psh - BOUND & BEYOND - marriage law au! PART 2

A MARRIAGE LAW HARRY POTTER AU SUNSHINE X GRUMPY 2 LOVERS FIC!! PART 1

wizard diplomat grumpy!sunghoon x witch healer sunshine f!reader

warnings: sex lol, hes emotionally unavailable and it hurts, he also might be a bit mean but its okay.

-

That night, something changed.

The thunderstorm had been brewing all evening, the air heavy with electricity as dark clouds gathered. By midnight, lightning split the sky outside your bedroom window, thunder rolling so close it rattled the glass.

You'd woken disoriented, reaching for your wand on the nightstand to cast a light. In the brief flash before you knocked it to the floor, you saw Sunghoon standing in your doorway, watching the storm with unusual intensity.

"Sorry," you murmured as your wand clattered away, plunging the room back into darkness. "Did I wake you?"

"No," came his reply, unusually soft. "I was already awake."

Another flash of lightning illuminated the room, freezing the moment in stark white light—Sunghoon sitting up against the headboard, his hair disheveled, eyes meeting yours with unexpected directness.

"I'll get my wand," you said, starting to move, when his hand caught yours in the darkness.

"Wait," he said, his voice low. "The storm is... interesting."

You settled back, acutely aware of his fingers still wrapped around yours.

Lightning flashed again, and in that brief illumination, you caught Sunghoon studying your face with an intensity that made your breath catch. His usual guardedness was gone, replaced by something raw and unfiltered.

"What?" you asked softly, when the darkness returned.

His thumb traced a slow circle on your palm. "You look different in the storm light."

"Different bad?" you asked, pulse quickening at his touch.

"Different... real," he replied, the word seeming to surprise even him.

The next lightning flash revealed him closer than before, his eyes dark with something you couldn't name. The thunder that followed seemed to vibrate through your entire body.

You weren't sure who moved first. Perhaps you both did, drawn together by something neither of you had anticipated. His lips met yours hesitantly, a question more than a demand.

That hesitation lasted exactly three seconds.

What began as exploration transformed into something neither of you had expected. Sunghoon kissed you with focused intensity, his careful control giving way to something hungrier. His hand slid into your hair, cradling your head as he deepened the kiss with unmistakable need.

Your wand remained forgotten on the floor, the room dark except for the occasional lightning that caught you in tableau—his hand in your hair, your fingers gripping his shoulder, bodies drawing inevitably closer.

You gasped against his mouth as his free hand found your waist, pulling you firmly against him. The heat of him through your thin nightclothes was startling, intimate in a way you hadn't prepared for. His palm skimmed up your side, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

"Is this—" he pulled back slightly, his voice rougher than you'd ever heard it. "Is this okay?"

The formality of the question, contrasted with his disheveled state and the position of his hands, made you laugh softly. "Very okay," you assured him. "More than okay."

Lightning illuminated his face—his eyes darker than you'd ever seen them, pupils blown wide, his usual perfect composure completely undone. Something flickered in his expression—relief, hunger, something deeper—before darkness claimed the room again.

His lips found yours with new confidence, no longer questioning. Your hands slipped beneath his shirt, discovering the surprising warmth of his skin, the definition of muscle beneath your fingertips. He made a sound against your mouth—half groan, half sigh—that sent electricity through your veins rivaling the storm outside.

"I've thought about this," he admitted against your throat, his voice barely audible above the rain. "More than I should have."

The confession—so unlike his usual measured statements—thrilled you more than you wanted to admit. "Me too," you whispered, gasping as his teeth grazed your collarbone.

His hands found the hem of your nightshirt, fingers tracing the edge with deliberate patience. "May I?" he asked, his usual precision still present even in this moment of abandon.

"Yes," you breathed, lifting your arms as he pulled the fabric over your head.

Lightning flashed, giving him a momentary glimpse of you before darkness returned. His sharp intake of breath was audible.

"Beautiful," he murmured, hands hovering just above your skin as if memorizing you by proximity alone. "So beautiful, baby."

The endearment sent a shiver through you. His hands finally made contact, palms warm against your ribs, thumbs tracing maddening circles that slowly moved higher.

You weren't passive in your exploration. Your fingers made quick work of his shirt buttons, pushing the fabric from his shoulders to reveal the body he kept hidden beneath perfect tailoring. Lightning gave you glimpses—broad shoulders, defined chest, the surprising elegance of his collarbones. Your mouth followed the path your eyes had traced, tasting the salt of his skin.

"Angel," he groaned, the word catching as your teeth grazed his shoulder. His hands tightened on your waist, drawing you fully against him.

What followed was a discovery neither of you had anticipated. Sunghoon—controlled, precise Sunghoon—touched you with a reverence that bordered on worship, learning every inch of you with the same focused attention he brought to diplomatic negotiations, but without the clinical distance. His mouth and hands found places that made you gasp, arch, plead.

And you discovered him in return—the places that made his breath catch, the sensitive spot below his ear that made him tense when you kissed it, the way he moaned your name when your hand slipped beneath the waistband of his pajamas.

"Wait," he breathed, catching your wrist. "I need—we should—"

Even now, trying to think. So very Sunghoon.

"Stop thinking," you whispered, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "Just feel."

Something in him surrendered then. His remaining clothes joined yours on the floor, and when he covered your body with his, skin to skin with nothing between you, both of you gasped at the sensation.

"Look at me," he said, his voice low and commanding as he positioned himself. When your eyes met his, something passed between you—acknowledgment that this was about more than biology, more than proximity, more than Ministry requirements.

He moved with deliberate control at first, each thrust measured, his eyes never leaving yours. But as your body responded to his, as your hands clutched at his back, as you whispered his name with increasing urgency, that control fractured.

"Let go," you urged, recognizing his struggle to maintain composure even now. "I want to see you let go, Hoon."

His rhythm faltered at the nickname, something vulnerable flashing across his face. Then he buried his face against your neck, his movements becoming less calculated, more primal.

"Baby," he groaned against your skin, the word sounding natural in his desperation. "My angel, my—"

Words failed him as his body took over, his careful precision giving way to something raw and real. You matched him movement for movement, the storm outside echoing the one you created between you.

When release finally claimed you both, lightning illuminated the moment—his face above yours, completely unguarded for the first time since you'd met him, his eyes locked on yours as if you were the only fixed point in a universe suddenly without rules or boundaries.

After, as you lay tangled in the sheets and each other, his fingers traced patterns on your bare shoulder, his touch gentler than you'd imagined possible. The silence between you felt weighted with unspoken questions, but not uncomfortable.

"The Ministry assessment form definitely doesn't have a section for this," you murmured, feeling laughter bubble up in your chest.

For a moment, Sunghoon was silent. Then, to your astonishment, he laughed—a genuine, unguarded sound you'd never heard from him before. "A serious oversight in their protocol," he agreed, his voice warm with humor.

You propped yourself up on one elbow, staring at him through the darkness. "Did you just laugh? Actually laugh?"

"Momentary lapse in judgment," he said, though you could hear the smile in his voice. His hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your lower lip. "You have that effect on me."

"I like it," you admitted, turning to kiss his palm. "You should lapse more often."

He pulled you against his chest, his arms wrapping around you with surprising tenderness. "Only with you," he murmured against your hair. "Only like this."

You fell asleep to the sound of the rain and his heartbeat, a smile on your lips and the dangerous feeling in your chest that had nothing to do with physical pleasure and everything to do with the man who'd just let you see behind his carefully maintained walls.

-

Morning brought soft sunlight and an even more unexpected sight—Sunghoon, still in bed beside you, watching you with warm eyes.

"Good morning," he said, his voice lacking its usual crisp efficiency.

"Morning," you replied, waiting for the awkwardness, the retreat behind walls of propriety. It didn't come.

Instead, Sunghoon reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek. "Did you sleep well?"

"Better than I have in weeks," you admitted, studying his face for signs of regret or withdrawal. There were none.

"Hmm," he murmured, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw. "I canceled my morning meeting."

You stared at him, momentarily speechless. Park Sunghoon canceling a Ministry meeting was unprecedented.

"You're looking at me like I've grown a second head," he observed, the corner of his mouth lifting in what you now recognized as his version of a smile.

"It's just... not like you," you said.

"Perhaps I'm discovering new aspects of myself," he replied, leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead. "I found I wasn't particularly motivated to leave this bed."

Before you could respond to this startling admission, a furry weight landed on the mattress between you. Nyx, apparently sensing this new development, had come to investigate.

"Your cat has timing issues," Sunghoon observed dryly, though his hand automatically reached out to scratch behind her ears.

"She's curious about the new sleeping arrangement," you said, watching with delight as Nyx butted her head against Sunghoon's hand, demanding more attention.

"The arrangement meets with your approval, I hope?" he asked, his tone light but his eyes serious as they met yours.

"Very much so," you assured him, leaning forward to kiss him properly.

The kiss deepened quickly, morning breath forgotten as Sunghoon pulled you closer. Nyx, disgruntled at being squeezed between you, let out an indignant meow and jumped away.

"Even the cat has better judgment than I do right now," Sunghoon murmured against your lips. "You have a shift in two hours."

"Plenty of time," you whispered, your hand sliding beneath the sheets to trace the warm skin of his chest.

His breath caught, eyes darkening. "Indeed," he agreed, rolling you beneath him with surprising grace. "Time should be used efficiently."

The second time was different—less hesitant, more playful, a discovery of what pleased each other now that the initial tension had broken. Sunghoon, you were delighted to learn, was a quick study, remembering exactly what had made you gasp the night before and expanding on it with creative variations.

Afterward, as you both lay catching your breath, he pressed a kiss to your temple. "I believe I'm developing a new appreciation for mornings," he said, his voice warm with satisfaction.

"Just mornings?" you teased, tracing patterns on his chest.

"Afternoons have potential," he replied seriously. "Evenings as well. I'll need to conduct further research."

You laughed, the sound drawing a genuine smile from him—small but real, transforming his usually stern features into something almost boyish.

"I should make breakfast," you said, making no move to get up.

"I'll cook," Sunghoon offered, surprising you again. "I'm told my pancakes are acceptable."

"You cook?" you asked, unable to hide your astonishment.

"I have many talents beyond diplomatic negotiations," he replied with unexpected playfulness. "Though I rarely bother when it's just for myself."

When you finally made it to the kitchen, wrapped in your robe with your hair still damp from a shared shower (another surprising development), you found Sunghoon already at work. He moved with the same precision he brought to everything, measuring ingredients with exact care, but there was a new ease to his movements, a relaxation in his usually rigid posture.

Most surprising was his interaction with Nyx, who had positioned herself strategically near the stove, watching the proceedings with keen interest.

"This is not for you," Sunghoon informed the cat, who meowed back as if arguing the point. "Your food is in your designated bowl. This is human breakfast."

Another plaintive meow.

"Negotiations will not be successful," he replied solemnly. "Though I suppose a small sample might be permissible."

You watched from the doorway, fascinated by this one-sided conversation. When Sunghoon carefully set aside a tiny piece of pancake on a saucer for Nyx, your heart did something complicated in your chest.

"Are you bribing my cat?" you asked, finally entering the kitchen.

Sunghoon looked up, not at all embarrassed at being caught. "Strategic alliance-building," he corrected. "She has considerable influence in this household."

"She has you wrapped around her paw," you observed, sliding onto a kitchen chair.

"She's persuasive," Sunghoon admitted, placing a perfect stack of pancakes before you. "Much like her owner."

The casual compliment, delivered without his usual careful calculation, created a warm glow in your chest. This new Sunghoon—relaxed, almost playful, comfortable in domestic settings—was a revelation.

Over breakfast, conversation flowed with unexpected ease. Sunghoon spoke of his work without the usual clipped efficiency, asked thoughtful questions about your upcoming shift, and even shared a few stories from his own childhood that revealed a dry humor you'd only glimpsed before.

When it came time for you to leave for your shift, he walked you to the door—another unprecedented gesture. "Dinner tonight?" he suggested, his hand lingering at your waist. "I should be home by six."

"I'll be there," you promised, rising on tiptoe to kiss him goodbye.

He returned the kiss with surprising enthusiasm, his arms tightening around you briefly before letting you go. "Have a good day, My angel," he said softly, the endearment now rich with genuine affection rather than calculated familiarity.

You floated through your shift at St. Mungo's, earning curious glances from colleagues who noticed your unusually sunny mood. Even the most difficult patients couldn't dampen your spirits as memories of the morning kept resurfacing at unexpected moments.

When you returned home that evening, you found Sunghoon already there, setting the table with uncharacteristic care. A bottle of wine was open, breathing, and something that smelled delicious was bubbling on the stove.

"You're cooking again," you observed, hanging up your cloak.

"I'm feeling unusually domestic," he replied, looking up with a warm expression that still startled you with its openness. "How was your shift?"

"Busy but good," you said, moving to his side. "No invisible ears today, thankfully."

His arm slipped around your waist, drawing you against him with casual ease that belied how significant this casual touch was from someone who had once measured appropriate proximity in precise inches. "I missed you," he said simply.

The straightforward admission, free of his usual qualifiers and analytical distance, made your heart flip. "I missed you too."

Dinner was delicious, the conversation easy, and afterwards, you both settled on the sofa with tea—Sunghoon sitting close beside you rather than at his usual careful distance.

Nyx, sensing an opportunity, immediately claimed his lap, settling in with a loud purr.

"Your daughter really does have boundary issues," you teased, watching as Sunghoon's hand automatically began stroking the cat's fur.

"Our daughter," he corrected absently, then froze, seeming startled by his own words.

The casual claim—both of Nyx and of a connection between you that implied shared ownership—hung in the air between you, unexpectedly weighty.

"Yes," you agreed softly, reaching out to scratch Nyx's ears. "Our daughter."

Something flickered in Sunghoon's eyes—warmth and uncertainty mingled in equal measure. But he didn't withdraw the claim, merely nodded once and returned to his tea, his free hand continuing to stroke Nyx's fur.

The days that followed established a new pattern: breakfasts together, shared dinners, evenings spent in comfortable conversation or companionable silence, and nights of increasingly confident exploration. Sunghoon's schedule, once rigid and unyielding, now seemed to revolve around your shared times together, his usual late nights at the Ministry becoming increasingly rare.

Most surprising was his growing bond with Nyx, who had fully adopted him as her second favorite human. He spoke to her constantly, a running commentary that revealed a playful side you'd never imagined existed within him.

"Your preference for my chair has been noted," you overheard him telling the cat one evening as you returned from the kitchen with tea. "However, persistent occupation does not constitute legal ownership."

Nyx meowed back, settling more firmly into his favorite reading chair.

"I propose a compromise," Sunghoon continued seriously. "Shared custody with alternating usage rights."

You couldn't help but laugh, drawing his attention. "Are you negotiating chair rights with a cat?"

"Someone in this house needs to establish boundaries with her," he replied with mock severity. "You clearly encourage her territorial ambitions."

"She's learned from the best diplomat in the house," you countered, setting his tea beside him.

To your surprise, when you made to move away, Sunghoon caught your hand, pulling you down onto his lap—Nyx having relocated to the arm of the chair to observe this development with feline interest.

"What are you doing?" you asked, startled by this unprecedented playfulness.

"Demonstrating proper negotiation technique," he replied, his arms encircling your waist. "When borders are disputed, sometimes creative compromise is required."

His lips found yours in a kiss that started gentle but quickly deepened, his hands sliding beneath your jumper with familiar ease. When you finally broke apart, breathless, Nyx was watching you both with what appeared to be feline judgment.

"I believe we've scandalized our daughter," you murmured against his lips.

"She'll recover," Sunghoon replied, his voice lower than usual. "Though perhaps we should continue this negotiation upstairs."

Later, as you lay entwined in the darkness, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your bare skin, Sunghoon spoke softly against your hair. "I never expected this."

"What?" you asked, nestled against his chest.

"This... contentment," he admitted, the word clearly chosen with care. "I approached our arrangement as a professional requirement to be managed. I didn't anticipate..."

"That it could be good?" you supplied when he trailed off.

"That it could feel real," he corrected quietly, his arms tightening slightly around you.

The simple admission, so unlike his usual measured statements, created a warm glow in your chest. You pressed a kiss to his skin, right over his heart. "It feels real to me too."

-

Ten days into this new, unexpected happiness, the first crack appeared.

Your shift at St. Mungo's had run hours longer than scheduled due to a magical accident involving twenty children at a primary school. By the time you finally managed to reverse the effects of an experimental charm gone wrong (all the children had been temporarily transformed into various musical instruments), you were exhausted and running nearly three hours late.

You sent a Patronus message explaining the delay, expecting Sunghoon's usual calm acceptance of work emergencies. Instead, when you finally arrived home well after nine, you found him pacing the living room, his usual composed expression replaced by something that looked remarkably like agitation.

"You're still in your work robes," you observed, surprised to find him waiting rather than eating dinner without you.

"I was concerned," he said, his voice tight. "Your Patronus mentioned children in distress but provided minimal details."

"They're all fine," you assured him, touched by his worry. "Just an experimental charm that went wrong during a music lesson. No lasting harm done, though I suspect young Timothy Wilson will be teased about his trombone transformation for years to come."

Sunghoon didn't smile as you'd expected. Instead, he continued to study you with unusual intensity. "You appear fatigued."

"Exhausted," you confirmed, sinking onto the sofa. "Reversing transformation magic on twenty squirming children isn't exactly restful."

"You work excessive hours," he observed, a hint of criticism entering his voice. "Hospital administration should provide adequate staffing for such emergencies."

"That's how emergency healing works, Sunghoon," you replied, too tired to match his suddenly formal tone. "Sometimes things happen that weren't on the schedule."

"The schedule indicated you would return at six-seventeen," he said, his voice now clipped in a way you hadn't heard in days. "Dinner has been warming for three hours and fourteen minutes."

You stared at him, trying to reconcile this rigid, almost petulant version of Sunghoon with the warm, affectionate man who had kissed you goodbye that morning. "Are you actually upset that I'm late because I was treating children in an emergency?"

"I am not upset," he replied, though his tense posture suggested otherwise. "I am merely noting that predictable scheduling benefits all parties involved."

"Sunghoon," you said, rubbing your temples where a headache was forming. "I can't predict magical emergencies. No healer can."

"Other departments manage to maintain consistent scheduling," he countered. "International diplomatic negotiations rarely extend beyond projected timeframes."

"Well, I'm not a diplomat, and sick children don't care about projected timeframes," you snapped, your patience fraying under the combined weight of exhaustion and his unexpected criticism.

Something flickered in his eyes—hurt, perhaps, quickly masked by his more familiar analytical distance. "I apologize for the observation," he said stiffly. "Your professional obligations are your concern."

"That's not—" you began, then sighed, too tired for this sudden tension. "I'm sorry I'm late. I missed you too. Can we please just eat and talk about something else?"

For a moment, Sunghoon remained rigid, clearly struggling with something internal. Then, with visible effort, his posture relaxed slightly. "Of course," he said, his voice softening. "You must be hungry. I'll reheat dinner properly."

Dinner was a quieter affair than usual, though by dessert, Sunghoon had mostly returned to his newer, warmer self. When you yawned for the third time over your tea, he insisted on clearing up while you prepared for bed.

"You're dead on your feet, Baby," he said, his hand gentle at the small of your back as he guided you toward the stairs. "Sleep is the priority now."

You were already half-asleep when he joined you, his arms automatically drawing you against his chest in what had become his preferred sleeping position. As consciousness faded, you felt his lips press against your hair.

"I dislike when you're not here," he murmured, so softly you weren't entirely sure you hadn't dreamed it. "It's... unsettling."

-

Two days later, you arrived home to find Sunghoon and Nyx engaged in what appeared to be a serious conversation.

"Your request has been considered and rejected," he was telling the cat, who sat on his desk regarding him with unblinking yellow eyes. "The diplomatic pouch is not an appropriate sleeping location regardless of its apparent comfort."

Nyx meowed back, tail twitching.

"Appeals will not be successful," Sunghoon continued solemnly. "The Department has strict regulations about the handling of official correspondence. Even for the Minister's daughter, which you are not."

You couldn't help but laugh, drawing his attention. "Are you explaining international diplomatic protocols to our cat?"

"Someone needs to establish appropriate boundaries," Sunghoon replied, though his expression softened as he looked at you. "She seems to believe my diplomatic credentials extend to her as a family member."

"Our family member," you corrected gently, moving to kiss him hello.

He returned the kiss with unexpected intensity, his arms pulling you close against him. "You're home early," he observed when you finally broke apart.

"Quiet day," you explained, pleasantly surprised by his welcome. "Only three exploding cauldrons and one case of accidental vanishing sickness."

"Fortuitous timing," he said, his voice warming. "I've acquired tickets to the new exhibition at the Magical Artifacts Museum. Their collection of ancient Eastern European healing implements might interest you professionally."

The thoughtfulness of the gesture touched you deeply. "That sounds wonderful," you said, genuinely pleased. "When is it?"

"This evening," Sunghoon replied. "Unless you object to the spontaneity."

You smiled at his careful phrasing. Even in this new, warmer version of himself, Sunghoon's consideration for schedules and planning remained a core part of his personality. "Spontaneity approved," you assured him. "Let me just change quickly."

The exhibition proved fascinating, with Sunghoon's surprising knowledge of Eastern European magical history adding depth to the displays. Watching him explain the cultural significance of various artifacts to you, his usual precision softened by genuine enthusiasm for the subject, you felt another piece of your heart shift irrevocably in his direction.

When he reached for your hand partway through the evening, entwining his fingers with yours as if it were the most natural gesture in the world, you squeezed gently in response, earning a small but genuine smile.

"Thank you for bringing me," you said as you walked home later, still hand in hand. "It was perfect."

"Your enjoyment was evident," he replied, his thumb tracing small circles on your palm. "Your face becomes particularly animated when you encounter new healing techniques."

"You noticed that?" you asked, surprised by this observation.

"I notice everything about you," Sunghoon said simply, the straightforward admission making your heart stutter.

Back home, as you both prepared for bed, you caught him watching you with unusual intensity as you brushed your hair.

"What?" you asked, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

"I was considering the statistical improbability of our current circumstances," he said, his tone thoughtful. "The Ministry's compatibility formula, while theoretically sound, could not have accurately predicted this specific outcome."

"You mean we actually liking each other?" you asked with a smile.

Sunghoon's expression remained serious. "I mean the extent to which my daily functioning now appears based on your presence."

The admission—so characteristically Sunghoon in its analytical framing yet so revealing in its content—created a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with physical desire. "Is that your way of saying you care about me?" you teased gently.

Instead of the light response you expected, Sunghoon's expression shifted to something almost troubled. "It seems to be a significantly more complicated emotional response than just caring," he said quietly.

Something in his tone made you set down your brush and turn to face him fully. "Sunghoon?"

He shook his head slightly, as if clearing unwelcome thoughts. "It's nothing of concern," he said, his expression smoothing into something more familiar. "Merely an observation."

Later, as you drifted toward sleep in his arms, you couldn't quite shake the memory of that troubled look—as if Sunghoon had realized something that disturbed his carefully ordered world. But his arms remained securely around you, his breathing even and calm against your hair, and eventually you let sleep claim you, the concern fading beneath the comfort of his presence.

-

The next evening, everything changed.

You arrived home from your shift to find the house unusually quiet. No Sunghoon in the kitchen preparing dinner, no Nyx greeting you at the door. A note on the counter explained the absence:

Called to emergency session regarding Bulgarian delegation. Will return late. Dinner in warming drawer. —S

The note was friendly enough, but something about the absence of his now-customary "angel" or any personal closing created a small flicker of unease. You dismissed it as simple haste—emergency diplomatic sessions didn't allow time for niceties.

When Sunghoon hadn't returned by midnight, you finally went to bed alone, the sheets feeling strangely cold without his presence. You woke briefly when he slipped in beside you in the early hours, but he merely pressed a quick kiss to your temple and settled on his side of the bed, maintaining an unusual few inches of space between you.

The pattern continued for three days. Sunghoon left early, returned late, and maintained a polite but noticeable distance when your paths did cross. There were no more casual touches, no more lingering kisses, no more playful conversations with Nyx that you'd grown to love overhearing.

Most telling was his reversion to "Y/N" instead of "angel" in his increasingly brief notes and conversations. It was as if the warm, affectionate man who had shared your bed and your life for the past two weeks had been replaced by the original Sunghoon—polite, distant, and meticulously proper.

By the fourth evening, your concern had transformed into determination. You waited in the living room until you heard his key in the lock just after eleven.

Sunghoon paused in the doorway when he saw you, his face carefully neutral. "You're still awake."

"It seems to be the only way I'll actually see you lately," you replied, unable to keep the hurt from your voice. "What's going on, Sunghoon?"

"I don't know what you mean," he said, hanging his cloak with precise movements that couldn't mask the tension in his shoulders. "The Bulgarian situation has required extensive attention."

"For three straight days?" you asked skeptically. "With no breaks for actual conversations or eye contact when you're home?"

Something flickered in his expression—discomfort, perhaps guilt. "International diplomatic crises rarely observe convenient schedules."

"This isn't about schedules," you said, standing to face him directly. "Something changed. You changed. Three days ago, you were calling Nyx our daughter and holding my hand at museums. Now you're back to formal notes and sleeping as far away from me as possible without falling off the bed."

Sunghoon's jaw tightened visibly, but he didn't deny the observation. "I've been preoccupied with work."

"That's not all it is." You took a step closer, studying his face. "If something's wrong, just tell me. If you're having second thoughts about us—"

"There is no 'us' beyond what the Ministry arranged," Sunghoon interrupted, his voice suddenly hard.

The words hit like a physical blow. "What?"

"This arrangement is not a love match," he continued, his expression closing completely. "It's a Ministry requirement with a specific purpose. We've allowed ourselves to become... distracted from that reality."

"Distracted," you repeated, the word bitter in your mouth. "Is that what you call what's been happening between us? A distraction?"

"A natural consequence of prolonged proximity," Sunghoon said, his tone analytical. "Physical attraction, comfortable familiarity—these are biological responses, not meaningful connections."

"That's not true," you said quietly, fighting to keep your voice steady. "And you know it. What we've shared these past weeks wasn't just biology or proximity. It was real."

"It was pleasant," he conceded, though his gaze shifted away from yours. "But ultimately unsustainable given our circumstances."

"Our circumstances," you echoed. "You mean the fact that we're married?"

"Temporarily aligned by Ministry decree," he corrected. "A situation that could change at any time. Emotional entanglement in such circumstances is... inadvisable."

Understanding dawned with painful clarity. "You're afraid," you said softly. "You started feeling something real for me, and it terrified you."

Sunghoon's expression remained carefully blank, but the tightness around his eyes told you you'd hit the mark. "I am simply being realistic about our situation. The Ministry created this arrangement; the Ministry could dissolve it just as easily. Developing genuine attachment would be imprudent."

"Imprudent," you repeated, the word tasting like ashes. "Heaven forbid you do something imprudent like actually care about your wife."

"Caring is not the issue," Sunghoon said, a rare edge entering his voice. "The management of expectations is the concern."

"So you've decided to manage my expectations by pulling away completely?" You shook your head, hurt turning to anger. "That's cowardly, Sunghoon. And dishonest. If you didn't want this to get serious, you shouldn't have started calling Nyx our daughter and talking about how your daily functioning depends on my presence."

Sunghoon flinched slightly at the reminder of his own words, but his expression remained resolute. "I apologize if my behavior created misconceptions. I should have maintained appropriate boundaries from the beginning."

You stared at him for a long moment, seeing past the careful mask to the genuine turmoil beneath. "You're lying," you said finally. "Not to me, but to yourself. You felt something real, and instead of being brave enough to face it, you're hiding behind work and analysis."

Sunghoon didn't answer, but the muscle working in his jaw told you your words had hit home.

"I'm not asking you to declare undying love, Sunghoon. I'm just asking you to be honest about what's happening between us." You sighed, suddenly exhausted by the emotional weight of the conversation. "But I can't force you to acknowledge feelings you're determined to deny."

You turned toward the stairs, heart heavy with disappointment. "I'll sleep in the guest room tonight."

"Y/N," he said, your name replacing the endearment that had become so natural on his lips. "I—" He stopped, seemingly unable to find the words for whatever he wanted to say.

"It's fine," you told him, though it wasn't. "We'll go back to how things were before. Professional cohabitation. Ministry compliance. Nothing messy or complicated."

You didn't wait for his response, climbing the stairs with your dignity intact despite the ache in your chest. Only when you reached the guest bedroom did you allow yourself to acknowledge the truth: somewhere between reluctant marriage and those precious weeks of genuine connection, you'd fallen in love with Park Sunghoon—his hidden warmth, his dry humor, his awkward but earnest attempts at expressing affection.

And clearly, he wasn't ready to face the fact that he might be falling in love with you too.

-

You didn't speak to Sunghoon for three days after your confrontation.

It wasn't difficult to achieve—he left early each morning and returned late, making it easy to maintain your silent treatment. When you did cross paths, you responded to his polite inquiries with minimal words, never meeting his eyes, never lingering in the same room longer than necessary.

If he noticed your deliberate avoidance (and you knew he did—Sunghoon noticed everything), he made no comment. The polite mask he'd perfected over years of diplomatic service remained firmly in place, betraying nothing of whatever thoughts might be churning beneath.

On the fourth day, you arrived home earlier than usual. Your shift had ended unexpectedly when the magical ailment you'd been treating—a case of enchanted hiccups that caused the patient to float six inches off the ground with each spasm—had suddenly resolved itself. As you quietly entered the house, you heard Sunghoon's voice drifting from his study.

You paused in the hallway, wondering if he had a Floo call with the Ministry. But the soft tone of his voice and the occasional pauses suggested a different kind of conversation entirely.

Curious, you moved closer to the partially open door.

"She's still not talking to me," Sunghoon was saying, his voice lacking its usual composure. "Can't say I blame her."

A familiar meow responded.

"I know, I know," he sighed. "I messed up. But what was I supposed to do?"

You edged closer, peering through the crack in the door. Sunghoon sat at his desk, a forgotten cup of tea beside an open journal. Nyx was perched on top of his papers, her yellow eyes fixed on him as he ran a hand through his usually impeccable hair, leaving it charmingly disheveled.

"It was getting too real," he told the cat quietly. "Too important."

Nyx chirped, a sound somewhere between a meow and a trill.

"That's easy for you to say," he replied with a sad smile. "You've never had your heart broken, have you, my baby?"

The endearment—never before used for the cat—made your heart twist painfully in your chest.

"Your mum deserves better than this," he continued, absently scratching behind Nyx's ears. "Better than someone who can't even..." He trailed off, shaking his head.

Nyx butted her head against his hand, purring loudly.

"I miss her," Sunghoon admitted softly, his voice cracking slightly. "It's ridiculous. She's right down the hall and I miss her like she's gone."

The simple confession, spoken when he thought no one was listening, created a complicated ache beneath your ribs. If he missed you, if he cared, why push you away?

"It's safer this way," he murmured, as if answering your unspoken question. "For both of us. The Ministry could end this any time, and then what? I go back to my empty apartment and pretend none of it mattered?"

Nyx meowed again, more insistently.

"You're biased," Sunghoon told her with a hint of his old humor. "Just because she rescued you from that alley doesn't mean she always knows best. She married me, didn't she?"

The self-deprecating joke—so unlike Sunghoon's usual confident demeanor—caught you by surprise.

"Though that wasn't really her choice," he added, his voice softening. "Neither of us chose this, Nyxie. That's what scares me."

He fell silent then, gently stroking Nyx's fur, his face unguarded in a way you'd rarely seen. The pain in his expression was so raw, so human, that you stepped back, suddenly uncomfortable with your eavesdropping. This wasn't the composed diplomat you'd first met. This was just a man—confused, hurting, and afraid of losing something precious before he was ready to admit how much it meant to him.

You retreated quietly to the kitchen, making deliberate noise as you prepared tea, giving Sunghoon time to compose himself before he realized you were home.

When he finally emerged from his study, Nyx trotting at his heels, the mask was mostly back in place—though you could see the slight redness around his eyes, the subtle tension in his shoulders. Something in your chest ached at how hard he was trying to hide his feelings.

"You're home early," he said, his voice carefully steady.

"Case resolved itself," you replied without looking up from your tea.

A silence fell, weighted with everything unsaid. Sunghoon lingered in the doorway a moment longer than necessary, as if wanting to say more. Then, with a small nod, he retreated to his study, Nyx hesitating before following him with a backward glance at you that seemed almost apologetic.

That night, lying alone in the guest bedroom that had become your refuge, you stared at the ceiling and wondered how two people sharing a home could feel so completely separated. Not by walls or distance, but by fear—his fear of vulnerability, of loss, of attachment he couldn't control.

Perhaps the most painful realization was that Sunghoon wasn't cold or unfeeling as you'd first thought. He felt too much, and that terrified him more than anything.

-

Journal Entry: 2 May 2023

Three days of silence. I never thought I'd miss her voice this much.

She still won't look at me. Can't blame her, really. I wouldn't look at me either.

Nyx seems confused by the tension. She keeps looking between us like she's trying to figure out what went wrong. Smart cat. I wish she could tell me how to fix this without making it worse in the long run.

The Ministry assessment is in 18 days. I should be focused on that. Instead, I keep remembering how she looked at me that night—like I'd broken something precious. I suppose I did.

I'm not sleeping well. The bed feels wrong without her. Everything feels wrong.

She laughed in the kitchen yesterday. I was passing by the door and heard it—someone must have sent her a funny owl. For a second, I almost walked in just to see her smile. I stood there like an idiot, hand on the doorknob, unable to move.

This is for the best. It has to be. When the Ministry eventually dissolves these arrangements, clean breaks will be easier than messy ones. I know this. I've seen what happens when people get too attached to things that were never meant to last.

And yet.

I called Nyx "my baby" today. When did that happen? When did her cat become our cat become my baby?

The house feels empty even when we're both in it.

I miss her.

—Sunghoon

-

The Ministry owl arrived at precisely 6:17 AM on a Tuesday morning, tapping insistently at the kitchen window while you prepared your tea. Your silent standoff with Sunghoon had entered its second week, the atmosphere in the house growing increasingly strained despite his tentative attempts to bridge the gap.

The envelope bore the Ministry's official seal—a sight that never brought good news. With a sigh, you opened it, scanning the contents quickly.

OFFICIAL NOTIFICATION MANDATORY MARRIAGE UNITY RETREAT MAY 12-15

Mr. and Mrs. Park,

As per Section 17.3 of the Marriage Unity Act, you are hereby required to attend the Ministry's Three-Month Compatibility Enhancement Retreat at Briar Rose Cottage in the Lake District. This mandatory three-day program facilitates deeper bonding between Ministry-matched couples through supervised therapeutic activities.

Failure to attend constitutes non-compliance with your marriage requirements.

A portkey will activate at your residence at 9:00 AM on May 12th.

Cordially, Euphemia Howell Marriage Compliance Office

You were still staring at the letter when Sunghoon entered the kitchen, his hair damp from the shower, his expression carefully neutral as it had been since your confrontation.

"Good morning," he said, the greeting so formal it made your teeth ache.

You wordlessly handed him the letter, watching as he read it with growing tension around his eyes.

"The retreat," he said flatly. "I'd hoped they might overlook it."

"Apparently not," you replied, your first full sentence to him in days.

Sunghoon set the letter down carefully. "I'll make the necessary arrangements at the Ministry. My schedule can be adjusted."

"How accommodating of you," you said, unable to keep the edge from your voice.

His eyes met yours directly for the first time in days, something flickering in their depths. "Y/N—"

"It's fine," you interrupted, not ready for whatever carefully measured statement he was preparing. "We'll go, we'll convince them we're just fine, and we'll come back to our perfectly efficient cohabitation arrangement."

You left the kitchen before he could respond, the bitter taste in your mouth having nothing to do with your cooling tea.

-

The morning of the retreat arrived with gloomy skies that matched your mood perfectly. You packed with minimal enthusiasm, throwing clothes into a bag without your usual care. What did it matter what you wore to pretend to be happily married to someone who couldn't bear the thought of actually caring for you?

Sunghoon was already in the living room when you came downstairs, his own bag precisely packed beside him, Nyx curled in his lap. The sight of them together—Sunghoon absently stroking the cat while she purred contentedly—created a familiar ache in your chest.

"The portkey will activate in seven minutes," he said, glancing up as you entered. His expression softened slightly. "Did you sleep well?"

"Well enough," you lied. In truth, you'd barely slept at all, anxiety about the upcoming retreat keeping you awake until the early hours.

Sunghoon nodded, clearly not believing you but not pressing the issue. He gently moved Nyx to the sofa cushion, murmuring something that sounded suspiciously like "Be good, Nyxie. Okay?" before standing to face you.

"I've arranged for Healer Matthews to check on Nyx tomorrow," he said, adjusting his perfectly straight collar. "And I've left extra food in her enchanted bowl."

The fact that he'd thought of Nyx's care—that he'd made arrangements for "your" cat without being asked—made something twist painfully in your chest. How could he be so thoughtful in some ways and so infuriatingly closed off in others?

"Thank you," you said simply, your anger momentarily deflated by this small kindness.

Sunghoon nodded once, retrieving a tarnished silver hairbrush from the coffee table. "This is the portkey. It will activate in approximately three minutes."

You moved to stand beside him, close enough to touch but maintaining a careful distance. The silence between you felt heavier than usual, weighted with the prospect of three days in close quarters under the Ministry's watchful eye.

"It won't be as bad as you think," Sunghoon said suddenly, his voice softer than you expected.

You glanced up, surprised by this attempt at reassurance. "Won't it?"

Something flickered in his eyes—vulnerability, perhaps, quickly masked. "We've managed more difficult challenges."

Before you could respond, the hairbrush began to glow. Sunghoon held it out, and you placed your finger reluctantly against the handle. The familiar, unpleasant jerk behind your navel swept you away, the world spinning in a kaleidoscope of color before resolving into a picturesque cottage garden.

Briar Rose Cottage was undeniably charming—a quaint stone building covered in climbing roses, nestled against a backdrop of rolling hills and the glittering surface of a lake in the distance. In other circumstances, you might have found it breathtaking.

"Mr. and Mrs. Park!" A cheerful voice called from the cottage doorway. A plump witch with rosy cheeks and a clipboard hurried toward you. "Welcome to your Marriage Unity Retreat! I'm Facilitator Penelope, your guide to deeper connection!"

Her enthusiasm was so at odds with the tension between you and Sunghoon that you almost laughed. Beside you, Sunghoon straightened his already perfect posture, slipping into his diplomatic persona with practiced ease.

"Thank you for the welcome," he said smoothly. "We're pleased to be here."

"Delighted!" Facilitator Penelope beamed, checking something off on her clipboard. "Now, let me show you to your cottage. You're in the Primrose Suite—our most romantic accommodation!"

She led you down a winding garden path to a smaller cottage set apart from the main building. The interior was just as charming as the exterior—a cozy sitting room with a crackling fire, a small kitchenette, and a single bedroom visible through an open door, dominated by an enormous four-poster bed strewn with rose petals.

"The bedroom has been specially enchanted for maximum intimacy," Penelope explained with a wink that made you want to sink through the floor. "The roses are self-replenishing, and the lighting adjusts to create the perfect mood!"

Sunghoon's expression remained perfectly neutral, though you noticed the slight tightening of his jaw. "How... thoughtful."

"Your orientation session begins in the main hall at eleven," Penelope continued, apparently oblivious to your discomfort. "That gives you a full hour to get settled in. The handbook on the table outlines all retreat activities. I'll leave you to get... comfortable."

With another suggestive wink, she bustled out, leaving you and Sunghoon in awkward silence.

"Well," you said finally, dropping your bag onto a nearby chair. "This is... a lot."

"Indeed," Sunghoon agreed, picking up the handbook with a slight frown. "According to this, we have a full schedule of 'bonding exercises' planned for the next three days."

You moved to read over his shoulder, uncomfortably aware of his proximity and the familiar scent of his cologne. The handbook listed activities like "Emotional Vulnerability Sessions," "Physical Connection Workshops," and "Guided Intimacy Meditation."

"This is a nightmare," you muttered, stepping away from him.

To your surprise, Sunghoon didn't disagree. "Some of these activities appear designed to create artificial emotional responses through environmental and psychological manipulation."

"You mean they're trying to force us to feel connected," you translated.

"Precisely." He closed the handbook, his expression thoughtful. "However, I believe we have an alternative option."

"Which is?"

"We don't participate."

You stared at him, certain you'd misheard. "But it's mandatory. The letter said—"

"The letter required our attendance at the retreat," Sunghoon corrected. "It did not specify mandatory participation in every scheduled activity."

"So what do you suggest?" you asked, confused by this unexpectedly rebellious stance from someone who typically followed rules to the letter.

"I suggest," he said carefully, "that we register our arrival, make brief appearances at meal times, and otherwise remain in our cottage."

"Just... hide out here for three days?"

"It would be significantly less uncomfortable than participating in 'guided intimacy meditation,' would it not?" He raised an eyebrow, a hint of his dry humor briefly visible.

Despite yourself, you felt a smile tugging at your lips. "I can't argue with that."

Sunghoon nodded once, as if the matter were settled. "I'll inform Facilitator Penelope that you're feeling unwell and need to rest. Food can be brought to the cottage. We can use the time to catch up on work or reading."

The practicality of his solution was so characteristically Sunghoon that it almost made your heart ache. Even now, with things broken between you, he was trying to make the situation more comfortable for you.

"Thank you," you said quietly. "That's... considerate."

Something flickered in his eyes—a brief, unguarded moment before his usual reserve returned. "The retreat's methods are invasive and manipulative. Neither of us should be subjected to them."

Before you could respond, a knock at the door announced Facilitator Penelope's return. Sunghoon straightened his already perfect posture and went to answer it.

"Just checking how you're settling in!" Penelope chirped, trying to peer past him into the cottage.

"Actually," Sunghoon said, his voice taking on the smooth, authoritative tone he used in diplomatic negotiations, "I'm afraid my wife isn't feeling well. The portkey travel was unusually difficult for her."

You quickly sat on the sofa, doing your best to look pale and distressed. It wasn't difficult, given the circumstances.

"Oh dear!" Penelope's cheerful face creased with concern. "Would you like me to call in our healer?"

"That won't be necessary," Sunghoon assured her. "She simply needs rest. We'll need to skip today's activities, I'm afraid."

Penelope looked momentarily flustered. "But the opening ceremony is crucial for establishing group dynamics! And the vulnerability circle is the foundation of the entire retreat experience!"

"I'm sure they are," Sunghoon replied, his tone gently implacable. "However, my wife's health must be the priority. Perhaps we can join tomorrow if she's feeling better."

There was something in the way he said "my wife"—a subtle emphasis, a hint of genuine protectiveness—that made your heart flutter traitorously in your chest.

"Well... I suppose health comes first," Penelope conceded reluctantly. "I'll have meals sent to your cottage. But please do try to join us tomorrow if possible. The magical bond strengthening ceremony cannot be rescheduled."

"We'll do our very best," Sunghoon promised with diplomatic gravity.

After Penelope left, you let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. "That was impressive. I'd almost believe I was actually ill."

"Years of diplomatic training have some practical applications," Sunghoon replied, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly in what you now recognized as his version of a smile. "We should be left in peace until dinner at least."

An awkward silence fell as you both realized you were now effectively trapped together in the small cottage with nothing but the tension between you for company.

"I brought some patient files to review," you said, moving toward your bag.

"And I have correspondence to answer," Sunghoon nodded, reaching for his own satchel.

You settled on opposite ends of the sofa, carefully maintaining the distance between you as you worked in silence. But unlike the strained atmosphere of the past week, this silence felt almost... peaceful. There was something almost comforting about sitting with Sunghoon like this, each absorbed in your own work but aware of the other's presence.

Hours passed this way, the silence broken only by the occasional turning of pages or scratch of Sunghoon's quill. Outside, rain began to fall, pattering against the windows and enhancing the cottage's cozy atmosphere despite the awkwardness of your situation.

When lunch arrived—a basket filled with sandwiches, fruit, and two bottles of pumpkin juice—you were surprised to find yourself actually hungry.

"It seems hiding from enforced bonding activities improves the appetite," you observed, selecting a sandwich.

Sunghoon looked up from his correspondence, that almost-smile appearing briefly. "A study should be conducted. The Ministry might reconsider their methodologies."

The small joke—so understated and typically Sunghoon—caught you off guard. For a moment, it felt like before—before the storm night, before the closeness, before the painful withdrawal. Just the two of you, finding unexpected moments of connection in your arranged circumstance.

"I've missed this," you said without thinking, then immediately regretted the admission.

Sunghoon went very still, his sandwich halfway to his mouth. "Missed what?"

You hesitated, then decided honesty couldn't make things worse than they already were. "Just... talking. Being comfortable. Before everything got so complicated."

He set down his sandwich with careful precision, his expression unreadable. "I've missed it too."

The simple admission hung in the air between you, more meaningful than it should have been.

"Why did you pull away?" you asked finally, the question that had been burning inside you for weeks finally escaping. "We were good together, Sunghoon. Maybe it wasn't planned, maybe it wasn't what either of us expected, but it was real. I know it was."

Sunghoon was silent for so long you thought he might not answer. Then, with uncharacteristic hesitancy: "It was too real."

"What does that even mean?"

He looked at you directly, his carefully maintained composure slipping to reveal something raw beneath. "I don't know how to do this, Y/N. I don't know how to feel this much for someone the Ministry could take away with the stroke of a pen."

The bare honesty of his admission took your breath away. "So you decided to take yourself away first? To protect yourself?"

"To protect us both," he corrected quietly. "Attachments in temporary situations lead to pain. I've seen it happen. I've—" He stopped, something vulnerable flashing across his face. "I've experienced it."

Understanding dawned. "Who was it?"

Sunghoon's jaw tightened, but he didn't pretend to misunderstand. "My mother," he said finally. "She fell in love with a diplomat from another country. When his assignment ended, he left. She never recovered."

"I'm not going to leave you, Sunghoon," you said softly.

"You might not have a choice," he replied, his voice tight with suppressed emotion. "The Ministry created this marriage; they can dissolve it just as easily when their population goals are achieved."

"So your solution is to never let yourself care? To never let yourself have anything real because you might lose it someday?" You shook your head, your own emotions rising to the surface. "That's not living, Sunghoon. That's just existing."

"It's safer," he said simply.

"It's lonely," you countered. "And you know what? It didn't work. You still cared. You still got attached. I heard you talking to Nyx."

Sunghoon went very still. "What?"

"I came home early one day last week. I heard you in your study, talking to Nyx." You held his gaze steadily. "You called her 'my baby.' You talked about missing me."

A faint color rose in his cheeks, but he didn't look away. "You weren't meant to hear that."

"But I did. And it told me what you wouldn't—that pushing me away didn't stop you from caring. It just made you miserable." You leaned forward, holding his gaze. "It made us both miserable."

Sunghoon's expression flickered, his careful mask cracking to reveal the conflict beneath. "What would you have me do, Y/N? Pretend this isn't temporary? Pretend we chose each other?"

"No," you said quietly. "I'd have you acknowledge what's already happened. We didn't choose each other, but we did choose to make something real out of this arrangement. We chose each other every day for those few weeks. And it was good, Sunghoon. It was so good."

"And when it ends?" he asked, his voice hardly more than a whisper.

"Then we'll have had something real," you said simply. "Isn't that better than nothing at all?"

Sunghoon looked away, gazing out at the rain-streaked windows. The silence stretched between you, weighted with the enormity of what you were asking him to risk.

"I don't know if I can," he admitted finally, the words clearly difficult for him. "I don't know if I have the courage for it."

His raw honesty, the vulnerability in his admission, touched something deep in your chest. This wasn't the polished diplomat or the analytical perfectionist. This was just Sunghoon—afraid, uncertain, but finally, completely real with you.

"You were brave enough to call Nyx our daughter," you reminded him gently. "You were brave enough to tell me you needed me. Maybe you can be brave enough for this too."

Sunghoon turned back to you, something shifting in his expression. "You make me want to be," he said quietly. "That's what terrifies me."

The simple admission, spoken without calculation or reserve, made your heart flip in your chest. "Sunghoon—"

A sharp knock at the door interrupted whatever you might have said. Sunghoon's expression instantly closed, his diplomatic mask sliding back into place as he rose to answer it.

Facilitator Penelope stood on the threshold, beaming despite the rain dampening her robes. "Just checking on our patient! Feeling any better, Mrs. Park?"

You summoned a weak smile. "Still a bit queasy, I'm afraid."

"Oh dear," Penelope's face fell momentarily before brightening again. "Well, I've brought you both a special tea from our healer! It promotes wellness and—" she lowered her voice conspiratorially "—fertility!"

Sunghoon accepted the steaming mugs with admirable composure, though you noticed the slight tightening around his eyes. "How thoughtful."

"The evening bonding ceremony will begin at seven," Penelope continued cheerfully. "It's a beautiful ritual involving synchronized heartbeat spells! Very powerful for marital harmony!"

"We'll try to attend if my wife's condition improves," Sunghoon assured her, though his tone made it clear this was extremely unlikely.

After Penelope departed, Sunghoon set the mugs down on the table with obvious distaste. "I believe we can safely assume these contain potions designed to lower inhibitions and increase suggestibility."

You eyed the suspiciously shimmering liquid. "So much for the Ministry's ethical standards."

"Indeed." He returned to his seat, slightly closer to you than before. "It seems our conversation must be continued against a backdrop of increasingly invasive Ministry interventions."

"We don't have to continue it," you said carefully, giving him an out if he needed it.

Sunghoon studied you for a moment, something resolving in his expression. "I believe we do," he said quietly. "However uncomfortable it might be."

Your heart gave a hopeful flutter. "Okay."

He took a deep breath, as if preparing himself for something difficult. "I apologize for the way I handled things after... after we became intimate. It wasn't well done of me."

The formal phrasing was so characteristically Sunghoon that it almost made you smile despite the seriousness of the moment. "You hurt me," you said simply.

"I know." His voice was low, heavy with regret. "I panicked. The intensity of what I was feeling—it wasn't something I was prepared for. I've spent my life constructing systems to manage emotions, to keep them within acceptable parameters."

"And I disrupted those systems," you guessed.

"Completely," he agreed, a hint of something almost like wonder in his voice. "You made me feel things I couldn't categorize or control. It was... overwhelming."

"So you shut down."

"It seemed the logical solution at the time." A faint, self-deprecating smile touched his lips. "I'm beginning to understand it might not have been."

You reached out, touching his hand lightly. "Feelings aren't logical, Sunghoon. They never have been."

He turned his hand over, catching your fingers in his. "I'm not good at this," he admitted, the simple touch seeming to ground him. "I don't know how to be what you need."

"I don't need you to be anything other than what you are," you told him. "I just need you to be honest—with me and with yourself."

Sunghoon's fingers tightened around yours. "When I'm with you, I feel... complete," he said, the words clearly difficult for him. "As if a part of me I didn't know was missing has been found. It's irrational. Unquantifiable. Terrifying."

"It's called falling in love, Sunghoon," you said softly.

His eyes met yours, startled by your directness. "Is that what this is?"

"I think you know it is," you said, your heart pounding as you took this final risk. "I know I do."

For a moment, Sunghoon simply looked at you, something complex and unreadable moving in his eyes. Then, with deliberate slowness, he raised his free hand to your cheek.

"I've been so afraid of losing you that I pushed you away," he said quietly. "That doesn't seem particularly logical in retrospect."

A smile touched your lips. "Not your finest strategic decision."

"No," he agreed, his thumb tracing your cheekbone with exquisite gentleness. "But I believe I've developed a better approach."

"Which is?"

"To stop fighting what I feel for you," he said simply. "To accept that some things can't be managed or controlled—they can only be experienced."

Your breath caught at the raw honesty in his voice. "Sunghoon—"

"I love you," he said, the words clear and certain, as if once decided, there could be no hesitation. "I don't know when it happened or how, but I do. And I'm tired of pretending otherwise."

The simple declaration, spoken without qualification or analysis, made your heart soar. You reached for him, drawing him closer. "Say it again."

A smile—a real, unguarded smile that transformed his entire face—curved his lips. "I love you, angel."

This time, when his lips met yours, there was no hesitation, no careful calculation—just the pure, honest connection of two people who had found each other despite everything.

The kiss deepened quickly, weeks of distance and longing crystallizing into urgent need. Sunghoon's arms drew you against him, your body molding to his as if returning to its natural state.

"I've missed you," he murmured against your lips, his voice rough with emotion. "So much."

"I've missed you too," you whispered, your hands finding their way into his hair, disheveling his perfect appearance in the way you'd learned he secretly loved.

When you finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, Sunghoon rested his forehead against yours. "Perhaps we should continue this conversation somewhere more comfortable," he suggested, his eyes darting toward the bedroom door.

"I thought you'd never ask," you smiled, rising and pulling him with you.

The bedroom, with its enormous four-poster and enchanted rose petals, might have seemed tacky under other circumstances. But as Sunghoon closed the door behind you, all that mattered was the way he looked at you—like you were precious, irreplaceable, essential.

His hands framed your face with exquisite tenderness, his eyes searching yours. "Are you sure about this? About me?"

"I've never been more sure of anything," you told him, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw. "I love you, Sunghoon. All of you—the analytical parts, the diplomatic parts, the parts that talk to our cat when you think no one's listening."

A laugh—a genuine, unguarded sound that you'd heard so rarely—escaped him. "I thought I'd imagined you calling her 'our daughter' that night," he admitted, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin. "When you heard me talking to her—"

"It made me love you even more," you said simply.

Something in his expression shifted, softened, opened completely. Then, with deliberate gentleness, he lowered his mouth to yours.

But Sunghoon surprised you. He pulled away.

You had expected something hungry, desperate, hurried—the way he had kissed you downstairs, the way his hands had gripped your waist like he couldn't stand not touching you. 

But now, standing before you, he was achingly gentle.

His hands hovered over your shoulders before finally resting there, thumbs smoothing over your skin as he leaned in, brushing his lips over yours, so soft, so patient, as if giving you one last chance to stop him.

When you didn’t, he exhaled sharply, like he had been holding his breath.

His fingers trailed down your arms, delicate yet unwavering, before reaching for the hem of your shirt. Slowly—painstakingly slowly—he lifted it, his knuckles grazing your ribs, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Every patch of skin revealed was met with his lips. Every inch of you, memorized.

"You are beautiful, my beautiful wifel," he murmured against your collarbone, so softly that the words barely reached you. But you heard them. You felt them.

A shiver ran through you—not just from his touch, but from the way he said it, like he truly meant it.

Sunghoon didn’t rush.

If anything, he seemed to be pacing himself, like he was afraid to move too fast, afraid to miss anything. He traced your body with his hands, his lips following, as if this moment deserved to be experienced, not just lived through.

When he finally reached for his own shirt, your hands beat him to it.

Sunghoon stilled, his breath hitching when your fingers brushed over his stomach, his skin warm under your palms. You felt the faintest tremor when you dragged your nails up his chest—his muscles flexing involuntarily, his heartbeat hammering beneath your touch.

His reaction was intoxicating.

Sunghoon—composed, controlled Sunghoon—undone by you.

His usual restraint cracked the moment you leaned forward, lips brushing, then pressing against the line of his throat.

"Angel," he whispered, voice rougher than before, his hands tightening on your waist.

It was the way he said it—the sheer need in his voice—that made heat bloom deep in your belly.

"I need—"

"I know," you assured him, pulling him closer, molding yourself against him. "Me too."

His control snapped.

Sunghoon had always been meticulous. Attentive. A perfectionist to the core.

But that didn’t prepare you for the way he touched you now.

Like you were something precious. Like every sound you made was a revelation.

He moved slowly, mapping you with his lips, his hands, his breath—learning you, adjusting, testing what made you sigh, what made you shudder, what made you tremble.

And when he found the places that made your breath stutter, he lingered.

He kissed down your stomach, his hands smoothing over your thighs, parting them with reverence. And when his lips replaced his hands warm, deliberate, insistent—you gasped his name.

That sound—his name, shaped by your pleasure—did something to him.

His fingers dug into your hips, holding you steady as he worked you open, devastatingly precise, like he was memorizing the way your body responded to him.

And it wasn’t just what he was doing—it was the way he looked at you.

His dark eyes, locked onto yours, watching every reaction, like he needed to see you fall apart for him.

This was Sunghoon, letting you in.

When he finally pressed himself against you, his body molding to yours, he hesitated.

A brief, flickering moment of uncertainty.

You lifted your hand to his cheek, tilting his face toward yours. "It's just us, Hoon."

His breath shook.

And when he finally moved, it was everything.

Slow. Deep. Unbelievably tender.

And when he kissed you, you swore you could taste devotion on his lips.

Later, as you lay tangled together in the ridiculous rose-covered bed, Sunghoon traced abstract patterns on your bare shoulder, his expression thoughtful.

"What are you thinking?" you asked, pressing a kiss to his chest.

"That I owe Facilitator Penelope a thank you," he replied, surprising a laugh from you.

"For the fertility tea we didn't drink?"

"For creating the circumstances that finally forced me to be honest," he corrected, his fingers trailing down your spine. "Though I still have no intention of participating in synchronized heartbeat spells."

You laughed again, the sound drawing a smile from him. "Me neither. I think we're managing just fine on our own."

His expression grew serious again, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. "I can't promise I won't be afraid sometimes," he said quietly. "This is... new territory for me."

"For both of us," you assured him. "We'll figure it out together."

Sunghoon nodded, something settling in his expression. "Together," he agreed, the word clearly significant to him. "I like the sound of that."

As twilight deepened outside the cottage windows, neither of you made any move to join the evening's activities. The Ministry's mandatory retreat continued without you, the synchronized heartbeat spells and vulnerability exercises proceeding as scheduled while you remained wrapped in each other's arms, creating your own, far more genuine connection.

Later, when dinner arrived via a house-elf who tactfully avoided looking at your disheveled state, Sunghoon accepted the tray with grave courtesy before returning to bed, where you ate between kisses and shared confidences.

"Do you think we should make an appearance tomorrow?" you asked as night fell completely, your head resting on his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear.

"I think," Sunghoon said thoughtfully, his fingers tracing lazy patterns in your hair, "that we've already achieved what the retreat intended. Perhaps more effectively than their methods could have managed."

You smiled against his skin. "So that's a no?"

"That's a 'I have no intention of sharing you with anyone for the next two days,'" he clarified, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"Mmm, I like this plan," you murmured, settling more comfortably against him. "Very efficient use of our mandatory retreat time."

"I thought you'd approve," he replied, and you could hear the smile in his voice—that rare, genuine expression that you now knew was reserved just for you.

Outside, the rain continued to fall gently on the cottage roof. In the main hall, the Ministry's retreat activities carried on without you. But in your rose-scented bedroom, you'd found everything the Ministry had hoped to create and more—not through spells or enforced exercises, but through the simple, profound courage of allowing yourselves to love despite the risks.

As you drifted toward sleep in Sunghoon's arms, you realized that sometimes, the most unlikely beginnings could lead to the most beautiful journeys—if only you were brave enough to take the first step.

And finally, both of you were.

-

The Ministry portkey deposited you both in your living room with the usual disorienting lurch, your bags landing neatly beside you. After three days secluded in the cottage, the familiar surroundings of your home felt both welcoming and slightly strange, as if you were seeing it through new eyes.

"Home sweet home," you murmured, steadying yourself against Sunghoon's arm.

"Indeed," he agreed, his free hand automatically reaching to straighten a picture frame that had tilted during your arrival. Some habits, it seemed, would never change.

A loud meow announced Nyx's presence before she came tearing around the corner, tail high and vibrating with indignation at having been abandoned for three days. She wound herself between your legs, then Sunghoon's, her complaints echoing off the walls.

"Yes, we missed you too," you told her, bending to scratch behind her ears.

To your surprise, Sunghoon crouched down beside you, extending his hand to the aggrieved cat. "I apologize for our absence," he said with complete seriousness. "It was a Ministry requirement, not a voluntary abandonment."

Nyx butted her head against his palm, her purr starting up like a small engine.

"She forgives you faster than she forgives me," you observed with a smile.

"Strategic diplomacy," Sunghoon replied, though his eyes held a warmth that belied the formal words. "I believe bribes may be necessary to fully restore relations."

As if understanding his words, Nyx trotted toward the kitchen, pausing to look back expectantly.

"Our daughter appears to be suggesting dinner," Sunghoon said, rising and offering you his hand.

You took it, allowing him to pull you to your feet and into his arms in one smooth motion. "I'd say she has her priorities straight."

Sunghoon's arms tightened around you, his eyes softening as they met yours. "Food can wait," he murmured, lowering his head to catch your lips in a kiss that made your toes curl.

You melted against him, still marveling at this new version of Sunghoon—one who initiated affection without hesitation, who held you as if afraid you might disappear if he let go. Three days away from the Ministry's watchful eye, three days of honesty and reconnection, had transformed something between you—not erasing his reserved nature, but allowing the warmth beneath to emerge without calculation or restraint.

"Mmm," you sighed when you finally broke apart. "I could get used to being greeted like that."

A small smile curved his lips. "I intend to make it a regular occurrence."

Nyx meowed again, more insistently this time.

"However," Sunghoon added, his expression turning serious, "it appears we have a diplomatic crisis requiring immediate attention."

You laughed, the sound drawing another of those rare, genuine smiles from him. "Heaven forbid we keep the ambassador waiting."

Together, you moved to the kitchen, Nyx trotting ahead with her tail held high in triumph. As Sunghoon prepared her food with his characteristic precision—exactly two scoops, carefully placed in the center of her bowl—you found yourself studying him, still adjusting to the new reality between you.

He looked the same—perfectly pressed robes, immaculate hair, posture straight enough to make a finishing school teacher weep with joy. But there was something different in the way he moved now, a subtle ease that hadn't been there before. The rigid control that had characterized his every gesture had softened, not into sloppiness but into a more natural grace.

When he caught you watching, his eyebrow raised in silent question.

"Nothing," you said, smiling. "Just... happy to be home."

Something flickered in his eyes—warm, intimate, just for you. "As am I, angel."

The simple endearment, now spoken with genuine affection rather than calculated familiarity, sent a pleasant warmth through your chest. Sunghoon moved to the refrigerator, assessing its contents with his usual methodical approach.

"Limited options," he observed. "I don't suppose you'd object to takeaway?"

"Sounds perfect," you agreed, leaning against the counter. "I don't think either of us is in the mood for cooking tonight."

A hint of color rose in Sunghoon's cheeks, his mind clearly revisiting the same memories as yours—of lazy meals in bed, of conversations that stretched into the night, of rediscovering each other with unhurried thoroughness. "Indeed," he said, his voice slightly lower than usual. "We have been... otherwise occupied."

The kitchen suddenly felt several degrees warmer. "Those Ministry retreat cottages certainly provided plenty of... activities," you said innocently.

Sunghoon's eyes darkened. "None of which appeared in their official program."

You laughed, the tension breaking as Sunghoon's lips curved into a small smile. "I'm going to shower while we wait for food," you said, pushing away from the counter. "I feel like I still have rose petals in my hair."

"You do," Sunghoon confirmed, reaching out to pluck a tiny dried petal from behind your ear. "Just here."

His fingers lingered against your skin, the simple touch charged with meaning after everything you'd shared. For a moment, neither of you moved, caught in the gravity of the other's presence.

Then Nyx, finished with her dinner, jumped onto the counter between you, breaking the moment.

"Boundaries, daughter," Sunghoon told her, though his tone held no real reproach as he gently set her back on the floor. "We've discussed this."

You shook your head, smiling as you headed for the stairs. "Good luck with that particular diplomatic negotiation. She's outmaneuvered you from day one."

"A temporary tactical advantage," Sunghoon called after you. "I'm developing countermeasures."

Your laughter followed you up the stairs, a lightness in your step that had been missing during the painful weeks of distance. The shower was blissfully hot, washing away the last traces of portkey travel and Ministry interference. As you dried your hair, you could hear Sunghoon moving around downstairs, the familiar sounds of his precise movements oddly comforting.

When you came back downstairs, wearing comfortable pajamas despite the early hour, you found the living room transformed. The lights had been dimmed, a fire crackling in the hearth despite the mild spring evening. Cushions and throw blankets had been arranged on the floor before the fire, and the coffee table held an array of containers from your favorite Indian restaurant.

Sunghoon stood beside this arrangement, looking almost uncertain. "I thought you might prefer a relaxed dinner," he said, his tone casual though his eyes watched you carefully for your reaction.

"It's perfect," you said softly, touched by the thoughtfulness of the gesture. "When did you have time to arrange all this?"

"Efficient time management," he replied, though the slight color in his cheeks suggested he'd moved rather quickly to create this surprise. "The restaurant is only a brief Floo call away."

You moved to him, rising on tiptoe to press a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you."

His arm curved around your waist, holding you close for a moment longer than necessary. "You're welcome, angel."

Dinner was a relaxed affair, both of you sitting cross-legged on the cushions, sharing food directly from the containers in a way that would have been unthinkable a month ago. Sunghoon had even changed into casual trousers and a simple shirt—an outfit you'd rarely seen him wear.

"The Ministry assessment is next week," he said as you both finished eating, his tone carefully neutral.

You set down your fork, stomach tightening slightly at the reminder. "Tuesday, isn't it?"

Sunghoon nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Given our attendance at the retreat, they may be more... thorough in their evaluation."

"Because we skipped all the activities?"

"It's possible they've been informed of our non-participation," he confirmed, though he didn't look particularly concerned. "However, I believe our current situation will more than satisfy their requirements."

You smiled, reaching for his hand across the blankets. "You mean the fact that we're actually happy together now?"

His fingers entwined with yours, his thumb tracing small circles on your palm. "Precisely. Though I anticipate they'll have a considerably more invasive set of questions this time."

"Let them ask," you said simply. "We have nothing to hide anymore."

Something flickered in Sunghoon's eyes—a vulnerability that still caught you off guard when it appeared. "No," he agreed softly. "No more hiding."

Nyx chose that moment to insert herself into the conversation, stepping delicately onto Sunghoon's lap and turning three precise circles before settling down with a contented purr.

"I see you've been claimed," you observed, smiling at the sight of your proper, dignified husband absently stroking the cat while she kneaded his leg.

"We've negotiated a mutual non-aggression pact," Sunghoon replied, though the gentle way his fingers moved through Nyx's fur belied the formal description. "She permits me to occupy the residence; I acknowledge her territorial sovereignty."

You laughed, the sound drawing Sunghoon's eyes to your face with unexpected intensity.

"What?" you asked, self-conscious under his steady gaze.

"I like hearing you laugh," he said simply. "I missed it... before."

Before. Such a small word to encompass the painful weeks of distance, the walls built between you, the careful avoidance of anything real.

"I missed a lot of things before," you replied softly. "I'm glad we found our way back."

Sunghoon's expression softened into something almost vulnerable. "As am I." He hesitated, then added quietly, "I'm sorry it took me so long to find the courage."

"You found it," you assured him, squeezing his hand. "That's what matters."

He nodded, something settling in his expression. "The Ministry's requirements brought us together, but what's between us now is our choice. Our creation. Not theirs."

"Our very own diplomatic treaty," you teased gently.

A smile—small but genuine—curved his lips. "With considerably more pleasant negotiation methods than I'm accustomed to."

"Speaking of pleasant negotiations," you said, moving to sit beside him, your shoulder brushing his. "I believe we were discussing Ministry assessments?"

Sunghoon's arm came around you, drawing you against his side as if it were the most natural gesture in the world—which, perhaps, it now was. "I believe we've covered the essential points," he murmured, his lips finding the sensitive spot just below your ear that he'd discovered during your time at the cottage.

"Mmm," you sighed, tilting your head to give him better access. "You're sure? No additional preparations required?"

"Perhaps some practical exercises," he suggested, his voice dropping lower. "To ensure consistent performance."

You laughed, turning in his arms to face him properly. "Always so thorough, Mr. Park."

"In all important matters, Mrs. Park," he agreed seriously, though his eyes held a warmth that made your heart flutter. "And nothing is more important than this."

Later, as you lay tangled together in the bed that now truly felt shared, Sunghoon's fingers traced lazy patterns on your bare shoulder.

"I never expected this," he murmured, his voice soft in the darkness.

"What?" you asked, nestled against his chest.

"Happiness," he said simply. "Real happiness, not just satisfaction or achievement or proper functioning. This... completeness."

The unguarded admission, so unlike his usually measured statements, created a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with physical pleasure. "I never expected you," you replied honestly. "The real you, under all those perfect manners and diplomatic phrases."

His arms tightened around you. "For a long time, I wasn't sure the real me existed anymore," he admitted. "I'd spent so many years becoming what was required—the perfect son, the perfect diplomat, the perfect Ministry employee. You made me remember there was more."

You pressed a kiss to his chest, right over his heart. "I like all the versions of you," you told him. "Even the infuriatingly proper one who measured appropriate hand-holding distance."

A soft chuckle—still rare enough to be precious—rumbled through his chest. "I believe those measurements may require revision," he said, his hand finding yours and entwining your fingers. "Current data suggests significantly closer proximity is optimal."

"Optimal, hmm?" you teased, lifting your head to see his face in the moonlight filtering through the curtains.

"Essential," he corrected softly, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek. "You are essential to me, Y/N. Not because the Ministry decided it, but because I choose it. Because I choose you, every day."

The simple declaration, spoken without qualification or analysis, made your heart swell. "I choose you too," you whispered, leaning down to press your lips to his.

As the kiss deepened, as his hands began their now-familiar exploration of your body, as the world narrowed to just the two of you in the darkness, you marveled at how something that began as a Ministry imposition had transformed into the most real, most chosen thing in your life.

Perhaps, you thought fleetingly as Sunghoon rolled you beneath him, sometimes the most reluctant beginnings led to the most passionate endings.

And this was only the beginning.

Epilogue

Six months later

"Nyx, cease and desist immediately," Sunghoon's voice drifted from the study, prompting you to pause in the hallway. "That document is for the Hungarian Minister, not feline consumption."

A plaintive meow followed.

"Your objection is noted but overruled," he continued, his tone serious but warm. "The diplomatic corps does not recognize 'but it looks chewable' as valid grounds for document destruction."

You smiled, leaning against the doorframe to observe the familiar scene—Sunghoon at his desk, hair slightly mussed from running his hands through it, Nyx perched regally atop a stack of parchments she had claimed as her sovereign territory.

"Judicial negotiations have concluded," Sunghoon informed the cat, gently lifting her from the documents. "The court finds in favor of the Ministry of Magic."

Nyx meowed indignantly as she was relocated to Sunghoon's lap, though her protests subsided when his hand automatically began stroking her fur.

"You know you're just encouraging her territorial ambitions," you observed, making your presence known.

Sunghoon looked up, his expression immediately softening in the way that still made your heart skip. "She employs highly persuasive methods of negotiation," he replied, the corner of his mouth lifting in what you now recognized as his version of a smile.

"You're wrapped around her paw," you teased, entering the study.

"A diplomat knows when strategic concessions are necessary for peace," he countered, though he didn't deny the observation.

Six months after your reconciliation at the Ministry retreat, these everyday moments still caught you by surprise—the easy warmth between you, the casual affection, the way Sunghoon's formal facade had softened into something more genuine without losing the essential qualities that made him who he was.

"The Hungarian proposal is finished?" you asked, moving to perch on the edge of his desk.

"Nearly," he confirmed, his free hand automatically reaching for yours, an unconscious gesture that spoke volumes about how far you'd come. "Their approach to international magical education standards is refreshingly progressive."

You listened as he explained the complexities of the proposal, his eyes lighting with the quiet passion he brought to his work. This was the real Sunghoon—brilliant, thoughtful, deeply committed to improving magical cooperation across borders. The fact that he now shared this side of himself with you, without filters or calculation, felt like a gift you unwrapped daily.

"I've been thinking," you said when he finished, your fingers absently playing with his.

"A dangerous pastime," he replied, eyebrow raised in mock concern.

You laughed, still delighted by these glimpses of his dry humor. "The Pediatric Magical Development Center at St. Mungo's is expanding," you continued. "They've asked me to head the new research division for childhood magical stabilization."

Sunghoon's eyes warmed with genuine pride. "That's a well-deserved recognition of your work with unstable magical cores. Your treatment protocol has already improved outcomes significantly."

"It would mean more regular hours," you added, watching his face carefully. "Less emergency shifts."

"That would be...very preferable," he said, his thumb tracing circles on your palm. "Though I've grown used to your erratic schedule."

"And there's something else," you continued, heart quickening slightly. "The position includes specialized training in prenatal magical development."

Something flickered in Sunghoon's eyes—a sudden attention, a quiet intensity. "Prenatal development," he repeated, his voice carefully neutral.

"Yes," you confirmed, watching him closely. "They're particularly interested in research on how parents' magical signatures influence fetal magical development."

Sunghoon was silent for a moment, his fingers still moving against yours with unconscious intimacy. "That's a fascinating area of study," he said finally. "With significant practical applications."

"It made me think," you said, gathering your courage. "About us. About the future."

Nyx chose this moment to stretch dramatically in Sunghoon's lap, her paws extending toward the ceiling before she resettled, purring loudly.

"Our daughter approves of serious conversations," Sunghoon observed, his attempt at lightness not quite masking the sudden tension in his shoulders.

"I've been thinking about expanding our family," you said directly, deciding that after everything you'd been through, honesty was always the best approach with Sunghoon. "About having children. Actual human ones, in addition to our feline overlord."

Sunghoon went very still, his expression unreadable in a way you hadn't seen for months. For a moment, you feared you'd misjudged, pushed too far too soon.

"Children," he repeated, the word careful, measured.

"It's just a thought," you backtracked quickly. "Something to consider for the future. There's no rush—"

"Yes," Sunghoon interrupted, his voice unexpectedly firm.

You blinked, caught off guard by the certainty in his tone. "Yes?"

"Yes, I would like to have children with you," he clarified, his eyes holding yours with unwavering conviction. "I've given the matter considerable thought."

Relief flooded through you, followed quickly by curiosity. "You've been thinking about this?"

A hint of color rose in his cheeks. "It would be irresponsible not to consider all aspects of our future together."

"Of course," you agreed, fighting a smile at his characteristically methodical approach to family planning. "And what did your considerations conclude?"

"That I would like five or six," he said matter-of-factly.

You nearly choked. "Five or six what?"

"Children," he replied calmly, as if he'd merely suggested getting a few extra teacups.

"FIVE OR SIX CHILDREN?" Your voice rose to a pitch that startled Nyx from her comfortable position.

Sunghoon blinked, apparently surprised by your reaction. "Is that an unreasonable number?"

"Unreason—Sunghoon! That's half a Quidditch team!" you spluttered, torn between laughter and genuine shock. "Where did you even get that number?"

He looked slightly embarrassed now, adjusting his collar in the way he did when feeling defensive. "I may have prepared a preliminary analysis of optimal family size."

"An analysis," you repeated faintly. "Of course you did."

"It's merely a starting point for negotiation," he added, his tone suggesting he was prepared to be flexible on the exact figure.

"A starting point," you echoed, now fighting genuine laughter. "So generous of you."

"My research indicates that larger families provide numerous benefits, including built-in social structures, diverse personality dynamics, and practical experience with diplomatic conflict resolution," he continued, warming to his subject. "Additionally, having grown up as an only boy,with just a younger sister, I found the experience somewhat... limiting."

You stared at him, this perfectly proper diplomat calmly explaining why he wanted enough children to populate a small classroom, and suddenly you couldn't contain your laughter any longer.

"What?" he asked, looking genuinely puzzled by your reaction.

"Sunghoon," you managed through your laughter, "most people start with one child and see how it goes!"

"Inefficient," he replied with perfect seriousness. "Proper planning prevents—"

"If you say 'poor performance,' I swear I'll hex you," you threatened, still laughing.

The corner of his mouth twitched. "I was going to say 'prevents problematic outcomes,' but your version has a certain alliterative appeal."

You slid from the desk into his lap, displacing an indignant Nyx who shot you a betrayed look before stalking from the room. "Let's compromise," you suggested, looping your arms around his neck. "How about we start with one and reassess after I've recovered from growing and birthing an actual human being?"

Sunghoon's arms came around you automatically, his expression softening into something tender. "Your counter-proposal has merit," he conceded. "Though I reserve the right to revisit the total number at a later date."

"Always the diplomat," you murmured, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"Not always," he corrected softly, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. "Not with you. Not anymore."

The simple statement, spoken without calculation or reserve, still had the power to make your heart flip in your chest. "I love you," you told him, because you could now, because the words came easily and often between you. "Even when you try to negotiate for a small army of children."

"I love you too," he replied without hesitation, his thumb tracing the line of your cheek. "Although I believe six hardly constitutes an army. Perhaps a specialized task force."

You laughed again, resting your forehead against his. "One at a time, Sunghoon. I promise we'll revisit your task force proposal after the first mission."

"Acceptable terms," he agreed, his lips finding yours with the easy familiarity that still felt like a miracle. "Though I should note that twins run in my family."

You pulled back slightly, narrowing your eyes at him. "You're not serious."

The smile that spread across his face—full, genuine, no longer rare but still precious—was your answer. "Perhaps we should begin with adjusting Nyx to the concept of a sibling," he suggested, his eyes dancing with humor. "She does like to be consulted on household changes."

"A trial run with a stuffed toy might be wise," you agreed, settling more comfortably against him. "Diplomatic relations with our daughter must be maintained."

As Sunghoon's arms tightened around you, as his laughter—no longer a rare occurrence—rumbled through his chest, you marveled at how far you'd come from those first stilted days of Ministry-mandated marriage. From measured proximity to genuine connection, from calculated familiarity to real intimacy, from reluctant cohabitation to a future planned together—with however many children eventually joined your family.

Later that evening, as you watched Sunghoon solemnly explaining to Nyx that future changes to the household structure would not affect her status as "firstborn daughter," you silently thanked the Ministry's ridiculous marriage law and the bureaucratic algorithm that had matched you with this man—this complex, brilliant, unexpectedly tender man who had learned to let himself love despite his fears.

Sometimes the most reluctant hearts, once opened, proved capable of the greatest love of all.

-

"Absolutely not," you said firmly, arms crossed over your chest. "Four is our absolute limit."

Sunghoon looked up from where he sat on the nursery floor, three-year-old twins climbing over him like a jungle gym while their six-month-old sister batted at a magical mobile nearby.

"But I've prepared new charts," he protested mildly, somehow maintaining his dignity despite the toddler attempting to use his shoulder as a launching pad. "The efficiency metrics for five children are significantly superior to four."

"The efficiency metrics for my sanity are currently hovering around critical," you informed him, though you couldn't suppress your smile at the sight of your proper, dignified husband covered in sticky fingerprints and sporting a lopsided sparkly clip in his perfectly arranged hair.

"You said that after the twins," he reminded you, catching your youngest daughter as she began to roll toward the edge of her play mat. "And yet here we are, already discussing the next addition."

"We are not discussing anything," you insisted, even as you bent to kiss the top of his head. "I'm stating a fact. Four children, Sunghoon. That's halfway to your original negotiation position, which I think shows remarkable generosity on my part."

"Mummy, Daddy promised me a brother next," your eldest daughter announced, bouncing on Sunghoon's lap with cheerful disregard for his comfort. "He pinky swore."

You raised an eyebrow at your husband, who had the grace to look slightly abashed. "Diplomatic negotiations with four-year-olds require certain tactical concessions," he explained.

"Tactical concessions," you repeated, fighting laughter. "I see."

Nyx, now elderly but still regal, observed the chaos from her perch atop the bookshelf—the only surface in the house not covered in toys, art supplies, or sticky residue of unknown origin. Her expression suggested both judgment and a certain smug satisfaction at having retained her throne despite the invasion of tiny humans.

"Our firstborn daughter remains skeptical of expansion plans," Sunghoon observed, following your gaze to the cat.

"Our firstborn daughter is the only one showing proper judgment," you replied, finally allowing your smile to break through. "Unlike her father, who apparently thinks we're establishing a new branch of the Ministry."

Sunghoon carefully disentangled himself from the twins, rising to pull you into his arms despite the children immediately wrapping themselves around his legs. "Not the Ministry," he corrected softly, his eyes warm with the love that still made your heart skip after all these years. "Just our own little diplomatic corps. With you as permanent ambassador to my heart."

"That," you informed him, rising on tiptoe to kiss him, "was terrible."

"But effective," he murmured against your lips as your arms tightened around him.

"Four, Sunghoon," you insisted when you broke apart, though you both knew your resolve was weakening. "Final offer."

His smile—still your favorite sight in the world—told you that negotiations were far from concluded. But as your children's laughter filled the room, as Nyx watched over her human siblings with reluctant affection, as Sunghoon held you close in the center of the beautiful chaos you'd created together, you couldn't find it in your heart to mind.

After all, the best diplomatic agreements left room for future amendments.

fin.

TL: @ziiao @seonhoon @beariegyu @somuchdard @ddolleri @zzhengyu @annybah @elairah @dreamy-carat @geniejunn @kristynaaah @zoemeltigloos @mellowgalaxystrawberry @inlovewithningning @vveebee @m3wkledreamy @lovelycassy @highway-143 @koizekomi @tiny-shiny @simbabyikeu @cristy-101 @bloomiize @dearestdreamies @enhaverse713586 @cybe4ss @starniras @wonuziex @sol3chu @simj4k3 @jakewonist @azzy02 @addictedtohobi @cherrybeomm @urmomdotcom5678 @jaeyunsbimbo @yongbokified @changbinniescurlyhair

[watermelonlovershigh]

Obsessed with Harry's Facial Hair (SMUT)

AN: i started this a few weeks ago but just recently got to finishing it. it was inspired by all the recent photos of harry out and about rocking a mustache and beard. i couldn't help myself. i hope you enjoy and don't forget to leave your feedback. xoxo

This story contains: love for facial hair, face sitting, face riding, female orgasm

{ any!harry (boyfriend or husband) - softrry - au!harry - confident!reader }

word count- 1,217

You refuse to sit on Harry's face until he grows back his facial hair.

Things were getting heated. You were sitting on Harry's lap in the bed, engaging in fervent kisses that left you gasping for air, as he began to remove your clothing with a blind determination. The only time your lips parted was when he lifted your shirt over your head. Once you were completely naked on his lap, the kissing resumed until Harry pulled away, his tone gravely, demanding you, "Sit on m' face, baby."

You pulled your face back and shook your head, as if to disagree with an almost disgusted expression, leaving Harry confused. You've road his face plenty of times in the past. "What?" he asks, still trying to catch his breath from your previous kissing.

Taking a deep breath, you answer him in a way you hoped didn't hurt his feelings. "Um, it's just, *pointing to his upper lip* you shaved, and it feels weird to sit on your face when your face is so smooth."

Harry throws his head back with a laugh. "Seriously, Y/n? So you're tellin' me you only like ridin' m'face when I have a mustache?"

In a quiet voice, you reply, "Yeah."

"So I can't even eat you out at all until m'mustache has grown back?"

You smile slightly and answer, "No, you can still eat me out. I just don't like sitting on your face when it's so smooth. The different positions make the experience different. But, I do prefer you to eat me out with a mustache too. Your hairs tickle my clit and it feels extra good."

Harry's not hurt by your words at all. Actually, he enjoys your confessions and is proud of you for voicing what you like and dislike. It shows you're comfortable with him. "You're ridiculous baby, you know that?" Harry tells you in a joking manner, reaching up to tickle your ribcage, making you jerk your body and laugh out loud.

-----------------------------

Two days later, you awaken to the sound of Harry breathing in your ear. He's spooning you with his face nestled against the side of your head. In an effort not to disturb him, you gently shift within his arms and begin staring at his beautiful face.

The first detail that captures your attention is his relaxed expression. Next, you observe his delicate eyelashes resting softly against his upper cheeks. Finally, you notice the slightly longer stubble on his face; his previously smooth skin has developed noticeably longer facial hair overnight.

Harry's facial hair was simply dark, short stubble yesterday, but it's now transformed into soft wisps of hair that cover his jaw and upper lip. You think back to the other night when you decided against sitting on his face due to him having shaved earlier in that day. Looking at him now, the idea of sitting on his face becomes increasingly appealing, as his facial hair has grown back.

After a few minutes of quietly watching Harry as he sleeps, he stirs awake and opens his eyes, noticing your gaze. As he stretches his arms and legs, he grunts, "Mhm, why'r you watchin' me sleep? That's creepy."

"It's not creepy. You're just exceptionally beautiful when you sleep." you retort, defending yourself.

With a sleepy smile, Harry replies, "Yeah?"

You hum a yes before reaching over to caress his coarse facial hair before spitting out what you've been thinking all morning. "Wanna sit on your face now."

Harry turns his head in confusion, still half asleep, thinking he heard you wrong. "M' sorry, what?"

With confidence, you repeat, "You heard me, I wanna ride your face now. Your facial hair has grown to the perfect length which means your face is no longer baby smooth. So I'm now agreeing to sit on your face."

Harry tosses his head back with a laugh. He loves how confident you are and how you simply know what you want or don't want. It turns him on more than you know. "You're spoiled, Y/n. Seriously spoiled rotten." he speaks before agreeing, "Alright then, what'r you waitin' for. Come sit."

He shifts down slightly until his head is level with the mattress, prompting you to quickly remove the panties you wore to bed. Just as you start to crawl over him, Harry adds, "Uh-uh, shirt too. Wanna see your beautiful tits." Rolling your eyes, you toss your t-shirt off as well and then make your way over his body, until your level with his hairy face, before sitting.

He doesn't waste any time before he starts munching on your pussy, as if your pussy alone was his five course breakfast on a silver platter. The sensation of Harry's mustache against your clit heightens your arousal as he fucks you with his tongue, causing your arousal to increase more than it already was. After a few minutes of his tongue inside you, he shifts his tongues attention to your clitoris, providing it with the proper attention it needs.

Harry begins to take your clit into his mouth, applying a vigorous suction. The sensation is so intense that you grasp the headboard tightly, your thighs clenching around his head. His hairy chin becomes soaked with your clear fluids, which drips down his neck, yet he's completely unbothered. He's just happy that you're allowing him to eat your pussy in this position, viewing it as a privilege.

The sensation of the hairs above his lip grazing the hood of your clit enhances the pleasure created by his tongue. After a few minutes of sucking, Harry switches to a rapid flicking motion of his tongue on your sensitive nerve, before ultimately settling on positioning his tongue flat and assisting you in moving back and forth, trying to maximize the pleasure you feel.

With his hands resting on your thighs, you begin to rock back and forth over his mouth, quickly realizing that your orgasm is nearing. The feeling of his tongue as you slide over it, the precise scratching of his facial hair against the back of your thighs, and the tip of his pointed nose bumping into your swollen clit, all combine to create a feeling that's almost too intense to bear.

"Oh my God! Harry, shit! I'm coming, I'm coming!!" you yell out as your orgasm crashes down on you. Your knuckles turn white as you grip the headboard tightly. Your thighs squeeze around Harry's head. He eventually has to help move you over his mouth because your muscles have become too tense to move on their own.

Slowly, you start coming down from your high. Your clit still throbs lightly against Harry's tongue, and when he lifts up slightly to peck one final kiss to it, you nearly jump off his body, way too sensitive to handle any kind of touch between your legs for at least a few minutes. "Your clits so sensitive, isn't it baby?" Harry mocks, looking up at you with dark eyes and a glossy face.

You remove yourself from above him and settle in the bed beside him. You lay flat with your arms and legs laying limp against the mattress, your breath still coming out in pants. After calming down for a minute, you open your eyes and turn you head towards Harry, saying, "Don't ever shave again. That was incredible."

Harry laughs and replies, "Yes ma'am!"

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(if you want to be apart of my new tag list, let me know right here !! some people who've requested to be added doesn't allow me to @ you. please check your settings first.)

taglist: @swiftmendeshoran // @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite // @hsonlyangelxo // @lunabai // @ppleasingg // @harryscherrysugar // @devilsqueen722 // @mema10 // @harryswifee // @jewelaponte // @fruity-harry // @triski73 // @chronicallybubbly // @prettygurl-2009

My Masterlist Masterpost

[rose24207]

Roseee’s Masterlist

ℕ𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕘𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟

𝖦𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾

Mafia - ✪ Angst - ♤ Fluff - ♡ Suggestive - ✰ Dark - 𖣔

Humor - ߷

Squid game

The Salesman:

• How my dad does it ♤♡

-> Ji-Woo imitates her father’s Ddakji game at school, offering chocolate for wins and punches for losses, believing it’s what he would do, forcing her parents to reevaluate the lessons she’s learning from him.

• Just a Salesman ♤𖣔

-> Your perfect world shatters when a furious stranger bursts into your home, accusing your loving, devoted husband of being a monster responsible for countless deaths.

-> pt.2

Player 333 / Myung-gi:

• The Triangle’s Mercy ♤𖣔

-> You defy the rules of life and death, sparing Player 333 on the field and pulling your gun on another player in the dormitory, leaving him questioning why a guard would protect him.

Spiderverse

Miles Morales!42:

• I got this ♡

-> Miles never lets anyone touch his hair except his mom, but when she’s not around, he just might make an exception.

• Web of feelings ♡߷{♤}

-> When Spider-Girl is dosed with a love potion and falls for her enemy, the Prowler, he must fight to undo the chaos while questioning if this fake love could ever become real.

• Ma Meilleure Ennemie ♤♡

-> Two enemies, bound by hatred and an undeniable connection, navigate a love-hate relationship where each becomes the other's greatest blessing—and worst curse.

Harry Potter

Fred Weasley:

• that’s rich ♤{♡}

-> After a painful breakup, Fred finds you in the depths of your heartache and confesses his regret, leading to an emotional confrontation that leaves you both questioning whether love and healing are still possible between you.

• new year, new chapter ♡

-> Fred’s New Year transforms into a celebration of love, family, and new beginnings as he learns he’s about to become a father.

• spinning into love ♡

-> During a game of Spin the Bottle, Fred’s jealousy over a harmless kiss pushes him to confess his long-hidden feelings for his best friend, leading to a heartfelt and love-filled moment.

• a second chance at forever ♤♡

-> After surviving the explosion that everyone believed had killed him during the Battle of Hogwarts, Fred reunites with you, who, overwhelmed with relief and love, proposes to him on the spot.

• Get a room♡

-> A disciplined Slytherin is tasked with tutoring the Weasley twins, but between Fred’s chaotic charm, George’s relentless teasing, and their combined knack for trouble, resisting their antics—and Fred’s growing affection—proves impossible.

• I‘m okay ♤♡

-> During the chaotic Battle of the Seven Potters, Fred is consumed with worry when his girlfriend is the last to arrive at the Burrow, battered but alive, prompting him to stay by her side all night, vowing never to let her face such danger alone again.

• Potions and Obsessions 𖣔

-> in which Fred‘s crush gets caught in the middle of a love potion and instead of giving her the antidote, Fred is keeping her all to himself.

George Weasley:

• What they’re like ♤♡

-> George confronts his friends after overhearing hurtful comments about his Slytherin girlfriend, defending her fiercely and making it clear that their behavior won’t be tolerated.

• Lucky git ♤

-> George hides his heartbreak as he gives Y/N advice on pursuing Fred, knowing he’ll never be the one she chooses.

• Forever and always ♤♡

-> On their wedding day, George comforts his bride after finding her placing flowers on her parents' grave, reminding her that their love and future together will always honor the ones she’s lost.

• Love beyond house colors ♤♡

-> After a secret relationship strained by house rivalry, George proves his love for his Slytherin girlfriend by standing by her side after a Quidditch injury and publicly declaring their relationship.

• Home for Christmas ♡

-> George invites his nervous girlfriend to the Burrow for Christmas, reassuring her with his warmth and humor, and she quickly realizes she’s already part of the Weasley family’s chaotic love.

• Long day, warm night ♡

-> After a grueling day as an Auror, you come home to George, who lifts your spirits with a cozy dinner, heartfelt affection, and the perfect night of love and laughter.

• a dance too late ♡

-> George hesitates too long to ask his crush to the Yule Ball, only to discover she's going with Harry as friends, but amidst the festivities, he finds the courage to confess his feelings, leading to a magical evening spent together.

Formula 1

Lando Norris:

- The Norris Family - Mafia - ✪

• When mom looses her cool ♤♡

-> You finally snap after you catch your kids lying about a party and afterwards teach them a lesson about responsibility.

• Party pact ♡{♤}

-> Amelia and Jacob, the spirited teenage children of a strict but loving Lando, attend a party where their bond is tested as Jacob protects his bold sister while ensuring they stay out of trouble and honor their father's trust.

• Unseen tears ♤{♡}

-> A mother struggles with emotional isolation and her distant family until her husband finally steps in to confront their children and begin mending their fractured bonds.

• Amelies Innocence ♤ {♡}

-> Lando’s kind and patient wife loses it when she finds her six-year-old daughter with a gun in her hand.

• Family Business ♡

-> An evening where Lando and his wife recognise themselves in their children.

• Shadows and Sunlight ♡

-> In the dangerous world of Lando Norris, a ruthless mafia boss, his kind-hearted wife and their contrasting children create a family full of warmth, love, and the delicate balance between light and dark.

• The balance of Us ♡ {♤}

-> As Lando navigates his dangerous world, his fiercely curious daughter and gentle son test the delicate balance of their family, while his kindhearted wife remains his unwavering anchor in a life of chaos.

• A lesson in Strength and Kindness ♡

-> When Jacob stands up for a bullied classmate and gets in trouble, Lando and Y/N work together to ensure their son learns the value of both strength and kindness, teaching him that standing up for others can be just as important as following the rules.

• Switching Sides ♡

-> In a day filled with business and adventure, Lando and Y/N teach their children the balance of strength and kindness, reminding them that family is their true source of power and purpose.

- Imagines -

• More than enough ♤♡

-> Lando, living a modest life, discovers that his girlfriend is a secret billionaire CEO and battles his feelings until she reassures him that he is her home and true happiness.

-> P2

• Right here ♡

-> Lando feels overlooked as you get carried away with friends at the club, but after expressing that he misses you, the two of you reconnect and focus on each other for the rest of the night.

• Tested ✪♡♤

-> Lando, raised to see vulnerability as weakness, pushes through the flu to maintain his mafia image, but ultimately allows you to care for him when his facade cracks.

• Stress Shopping ✪♤♡

-> After a heated argument, you storm off on a stress-shopping spree with Lando's card, prompting a call from his bank, but the fight ends in heartfelt apologies and a reminder of his love for you.

• No, you’re not ♤

-> You and Lando have been inseparable since childhood, both secretly in love with each other but too afraid to confess—he believes you deserve better than him, and you think his flings mean he could never see you that way, leaving your feelings tangled in unspoken fears of ruining your lifelong friendship.

• What she is to me ✪♤

-> In the ruthless world of power and betrayal, Lando’s desperate attempts to shield you from the darkness of his empire begin to unravel when a mysterious woman threatens to destroy the fragile trust between you both.

• why didn’t you tell me? ✪♤♡

-> Lando discovers you’re hiding your illness to avoid worrying him, leading him to care for you tenderly through the night, reaffirming how deeply you mean to him.

• Prom dress ♤♡

-> You sit with Lando after a disappointing prom night, as he reassures you that you don't need perfection to be valued and offers comfort, reminding you that you're not alone.

• Mr. Overthinking ♡

-> Lando navigates the overwhelming mix of excitement and fear about becoming a dad, constantly panicking but finding reassurance in your steady support.

• Nothings new ♤♡

-> Lando, overwhelmed by relentless bullying and emotional strain, reaches a breaking point, leading to a heartbreaking breakdown where he finally allows himself to cry and lean on you for comfort.

• mistletoe and mayhem ♡߷

-> Lando comes home to find you tipsy on Christmas Eve, takes care of your chaotic but endearing antics, and tucks you in with a smile.

• Winter depression ♤♡

-> Lando helps his girlfriend navigate the numbness of her winter depression with patience, love, and small acts of care, reminding her she’s never alone even in her darkest moments.

• In sickness and in secrets ✪♤♡

-> When you break up with Lando to protect him from your illness, he uncovers the truth, confronts you, and promises to stay by your side, ensuring you receive the best care and his unwavering love.

• though the scope ✪♤♡

-> Lando, unaware that his wife is the mysterious sniper who has been secretly protecting him, becomes obsessed with uncovering their identity while she struggles to keep her double life hidden to ensure his safety.

->P2

• sounds fun ♡

-> Lando, the shy and self-doubting "nerd" at school, slowly gains confidence as he bonds with you over shared interests, despite his moments of insecurity.

• bribary ✪♡߷

-> Lando Norris, a notorious mafia figure, struggles to get along with his girlfriend's cat, Milo, who constantly hisses and scratches at him, until Lando decides to win him over with a little bribery, resulting in an unexpected truce.

• Christmas shopping ♡

-> Lando carefully shops for thoughtful Christmas gifts for his girlfriend in Monaco, gracefully handling paparazzi attention as he envisions her joy on Christmas morning.

• racing hearts ♤♡

-> Lando panics over the fear of losing his F1 career if he marries his princess girlfriend, says hurtful things, loses her, and later learns from her father that his fears were unfounded, prompting him to win her back and reconcile.

• the weigh of words ♤♡

-> After a heated argument fueled by his frustrations on and off the track, Lando's harsh words pushes you away, forcing him to confront his guilt and fight to mend your relationship through heartfelt apologies and unwavering effort.

• unspoken doubts ♤♡

-> After a misunderstanding fueled by media rumors about Lando’s connection with Magui, you start to doubt their relationship, pulling away from him. But Lando’s commitment to you is unwavering, and he fights to clear the air, proving that his love for you is real and strong.

• stream interrupted ✰♡

-> While Lando is streaming, his focus shifts completely when he sees you dressed in a revealing Halloween outfit, leading to a steamy distraction that leaves both of you cutting the stream for a more private celebration.

• the way to her heart ✪♡

-> Lando tries to impress you with his lavish lifestyle, but when he puts in the real effort to show you his true self—cooking dinner and building a blanket fort for a cozy night in—he finally wins your heart in a way money never could.

• native language ♡

-> Lando’s playful attempts at learning his partner’s native language bring them closer together, with each small phrase exchanged deepening their connection without the need for grand gestures or complicated words.

• background cuddles ♡

-> While Max Fewtrell tries to focus on his stream, chat becomes obsessed with Lando and you cuddling in the background, turning his gaming session into a hilariously chaotic third-wheel adventure.

• make them pay ✪♤♡

-> When your favorite café is shattered by violence and your friend needs help, you turns to your mafia husband, Lando Norris, to bring justice and restore peace to those you hold dear.

• an unlikely pair ♡

-> Lando has always had a crush on you , but you never really noticed him. When a teacher forces you to study together, you begin to get closer, but doubts arise when your ex teases Lando, making him feel like he’s just a tool for you to pass exams.

• if he gets too close…✪♤♡

-> Lando breaks up with you to keep you safe from his dangerous world, but when you unknowingly agree to a date with one of his enemies, his protective instincts override his restraint, forcing him to confront both his feelings and the secrets he’s kept from you.

• soft for you ✪♤♡

-> Lando Norris, a dangerous mafia leader, shows nothing but love and gentleness to his darling, but when she hears whispers of his darker side, he reassures her before taking ruthless action against the man who planted doubt in her mind.

• second chances ♤♡

-> After overhearing his son reveal how hard his mother works to make ends meet, Lando confronts his ex about her struggles and offers them both the stability and love they deserve

• Nerd in love ♡

-> A kind-hearted cheerleader befriends the school’s shy, bullied nerd, standing up for him and forming a heartfelt bond that defies expectations and whispers.

• Off-camera temptations ♡✰߷

-> Lando gets caught off guard when you flash him off-camera during a TikTok prank, but his playful confusion quickly turns into suggestive teasing

• you matter more ✪♤♡

-> After a misunderstanding involving an unwanted kiss, Lando proves his loyalty to the you by confronting you, clearing up the truth, and eliminating any threat to their relationship

• more than enough ✪♤♡

-> After overhearing gossip that shakes your confidence in your relationship, you begin to pull away from Lando, only for him to confront your fears head-on and prove his unwavering love and commitment.

• Dinner with a little fame ♡߷

-> Lando meets your family at a chaotic dinner where your parents are clueless about his fame, but your teenage brother’s over-the-top reaction exposes his celebrity status, leading to hilarious misunderstandings and eventual acceptance.

• Tangled hearts ♤♡

-> After a one-night affair leads to an unexpected pregnancy, Lando falls for you, but when you overhear gossip about him dating someone else, you pull away, only for him to reveal he was planning to ask you on a date all along.

• By my side ✪♤♡

-> Mafia boss Lando Norris fights to prove his love to his maid after cruel gossip causes her to doubt their relationship, ultimately winning her trust and heart.

• Until someone shinier comes along ✪♤♡

-> Y/N wants to break up with Lando after a cruel guest claims he’ll leave her for someone better. Learning the truth, Lando confronts the guest and reassures Y/N of his unwavering love.

• Yours to protect ♤✪♡

-> After your toxic ex shakes your confidence, Lando reassures you of his love—but secretly plans to ensure your ex never hurts you again.

• Fake or real? ♡߷

-> A fake proposal for free dessert turns real when Lando confesses his love, changing their prank into something genuine.

• Rivals or lovers? ♤♡

-> Lando and his teammate, initially fierce rivals, slowly begin to realize their unspoken attraction for each other, transforming from enemies to lovers as they confront their fears and vulnerabilities.

• Not now. Not ever ♤✪♡

-> Lando, consumed by anger during a fight, unknowingly frightens you, causing you to flinch and pull away, leaving him devastated by the realization that he made you fear him and determined to earn back your trust.

• Little secret ✪♤♡

-> Lando Norris, a mafia boss, falls for a woman hiding her past with an abusive ex and a child she’s trying to protect.

• Brothers bestfriend ♤♡

-> Lando and Carlos younger sister secretly fall in love, risking their relationship with Carlos when the truth comes out.

• Hidden in plain sight ♡߷

-> Lando secretly dates Zak Brown’s daughter, but everyone already knows.

• You belong to me ✪𖣔♡

-> Lando becomes possessive and jealous when he finds you dancing with one of his men at his club, and demands your attention for himself.

• He‘s mine ✪♤♡

-> Lando tracks you down after two years and discovers your son, vowing to protect you both and rebuild your trust.

• That‘s my girl ✪♡

-> The girlfriends of illegal street racers compete in a high-stakes race, with you driving Lando’s car to victory and surprising everyone, including Lando, with your skills.

• Prove it ✪♤♡

-> In a tense and emotional confrontation, you try to leave Lando out of fear, but he proves his unwavering love and devotion, vowing to change and earn your trust.

• Tiny♡

-> Lando overcomes his fear of holding his tiny newborn daughter, discovering an overwhelming love and sense of responsibility that changes him forever.

• Fine line♤♡

-> After a painful breakup with Oscar, you find unexpected love and healing with his teammate Lando, navigating the complexities of loyalty, heartbreak, and new beginnings.

• Hidden past ♤✪♡

-> Lando discovers his girlfriend’s secret criminal past, born from her desperation to protect her family, and vows to stand by her side despite her insistence on handling it alone.

• Misunderstanding ✪♤♡

-> A misunderstanding over cryptic texts from Lando’s sister leads to heartbreak and confrontation, but ultimately strengthens the trust and love between him and his girlfriend.

• Copacabana ♡߷

-> A stunning performance on Let’s Dance sees you and Lando sharing an undeniable chemistry as you dance to Copacabana, captivating the audience with your graceful moves, bold connection, and breathtaking energy, leaving everyone in awe of your magical partnership.

• bound by blood and fate ✪♤♡

-> After a devastating breakup, Lando is pulled back into your life when an accident reveals not only your fragile state but also the existence of the baby he never knew you carried, forcing him to confront his love for you and his vow to protect his growing family

• Right time ♤✪♡

-> When an intruder threatens your life, Lando's protective instincts take over as he saves you and vows to eliminate any danger, all while you help him find solace in the aftermath.

• Is there someone else? ✪♤♡

-> When Lando grows distant and secretive, leading you to suspect infidelity, you uncover his dangerous efforts to protect you from a rival threatening his place in the criminal underworld.

• shattered trust♤ {♡}

-> Lando dumps you for another woman, but soon regrets it and tries to win you back.

• Fourth time‘s the Charm♡߷

-> In which Lando tries to confess to you but gets interrupted every single time.

• The Rookie’s Mistake ✪𖣔♡

-> In which a Rookie makes a mistake by unknowingly flirting with someone that belongs to Lando.

• Shadows ✪♤♡

-> Lando’s ruthless mafia life is shaken when his vulnerability, Y/N, becomes a target, forcing him to protect her at all costs.

• The heirs weakness ✪♡

-> there is only one person who can crack Lando's shell infront of his men.

• Simp sessions and sliding into DM‘s♡߷

-> Y/N openly simps for Lando Norris during a Beta Squad video, and he surprises her by sliding into her DMs.

-> P2

• Interrupted Stream ♡߷

-> Lando is streaming and the chat seems to like his girlfriend more than him.

• Safe Place ♡߷

-> feeling exhausted, Lando calls his girlfriend for a night to allow himself to relax.

• Worth it? ♤

-> after a regretful night, Lando realises how much he really messed up and if it was even worth it?

Taglist: @ipushhimback, @ladyoflynx, @lewishamiltonismybf, @cmleitora, @hmma3 , @same1995, @amatswimming, @llando4norris, @dr3wstarkey, @hurtblossom, @ernegren, @esposamultifandom, @darleneslane