#no one has visited the souls in-person. ever.

[elikajinnie]

P: Gryffindor!Gunwook X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Bonding, Cute Ending, Maki Cameo, Teasing, Minor Jealousy, Suggestive Content, i know for sure hes a good kisser..

Synopsis: Working at a cozy little tea shop in Hogsmeade after classes has always been your quiet escape. You spend your evenings serving customers, sorting tea leaves, and enjoying the atmosphere—until one particularly reckless Gryffindor comes crashing (literally) into your life while chasing a mischievous pixie—and after breaking a few cups along the way—he seems to have taken a sudden interest in you.

a/n: This started as a idea some friends were tossing around on disc… and since I’m such a generous person, I decided to bring it to life for them. This is just an experiment, but if it does well, maybe I’ll write more on ZB1. (Not proofread)

Hogsmeade was always a treat to visit—not just because of the shops but because it was a world of its own, separate from the familiar halls of Hogwarts. That was why you made it a point to visit whenever you could.

There was one shop in particular that always called to you, a small teashop tucked away in a quiet corner. The scent of peppermint and daisies greeted you before you even stepped inside, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. It became a ritual—settling into your usual spot by the window, a steaming cup of tea in hand as you flipped through a book or caught up on studying.

Your visits became so frequent that one day, the owner made you an offer: if you ever had free time, you could help around the shop. The idea of spending even more time in the teashop was too tempting to resist. Of course, you accepted, and soon, you found joy in a place that now felt a little like home.

You didn’t think anything could disrupt the careful balance of your life.

You should’ve known better than to jinx it. Because it wasn’t just anything that shattered your routine—it was someone.

The evening had been calm, the shop now empty except for the lingering scent of steeped tea and sugar-dusted pastries. You had fallen into the familiar rhythm of closing duties, cradling a small stack of teacups in your hands as you moved toward the counter. The soft clink of porcelain against porcelain was soothing.

Then, the door swung open with such force that the tiny bell above it nearly rattled off its hinge. The sharp blast of cold night air rushed in, carrying a voice—loud and frantic.

Startled, you barely had time to turn your head before someone slammed into you. The impact knocked the breath from your lungs, and for a split second, all you registered was warmth—strong arms wrapping around you in an attempt to steady you both. But gravity wasn’t on your side.

With a startled gasp, you tumbled forward. The world tilted, your vision a blur of motion, and the next thing you knew, you were on the floor—more specifically, on top of someone else. The delicate porcelain cups you’d been holding slipped from your grasp, shattering against the wooden floor in a cacophony of breaking ceramic. The scent of peppermint tea burst into the air, mixing with the sharp tang of ceramic dust.

Heart hammering, you took a second to catch your breath, trying to make sense of what just happened. Then, slowly, you glanced down at the unfortunate soul beneath you.

Broad shoulders, disheveled dark hair, a familiar red-and-gold tie loose around his neck. Sharp, wide eyes staring up at you in what looked like surprise and amusement.

Park Gunwook.

Popular Gryffindor, Quidditch player, and the last person you expected to be lying beneath you in the middle of a teashop disaster.

You blinked. He smirked.

“Well,” he drawled, voice laced with amusement. “Didn’t think I’d be falling for someone today.”

Your brain short-circuited for a second.

Gunwook’s smirk lingered as he lay beneath you, completely unfazed by the fact that he had just crashed into you. Meanwhile, you were still struggling to process what just happened, heat creeping up your neck as the weight of the situation—literally—settled in.

The broken teacups. The mess. The fact that you were still on top of him.

You scrambled to push yourself up, palms pressing against his chest as you tried to regain your balance. "I—what—why—" The words tumbled out in a jumbled mess, your thoughts struggling to catch up with your mouth.

Gunwook let out a low chuckle. "You alright there?" His hands, which had instinctively caught you during the fall, lingered briefly on your waist before he let go, allowing you to awkwardly sit back.

You huffed, brushing stray strands of hair from your face before glaring at him. "You just—barged in here like a madman and tackled me!"

He grinned unapologetically. "Technically, you were in the way."

Your glare deepened, but before you could argue, a groan from the entrance made you both turn. A second-year Gryffindor stood frozen in the doorway, looking horrified. "Gunwook-hyung, I swear, I tried to stop it—"

A chorus of voices suddenly erupted from outside, and before you knew it, a small group of Gryffindors burst into the shop, all looking winded as if they had just sprinted across Hogsmeade.

"There he is!" One of them pointed at Gunwook, who was still lounging comfortably on the floor.

Before you could even begin to process the absolute mess unfolding in your peaceful little teashop, another one of the Gryffindors suddenly pointed upwards, their voice rising in alarm.

"Oi—there it is!"

Your gaze snapped up, along with everyone else's, and that was when you saw it.

A tiny, mischievous-looking pixie flitted through the air just below the ceiling, its translucent wings buzzing rapidly as it hovered above you. Its bright blue skin shimmered under the warm teashop lighting, and its sharp little eyes glinted with amusement. Most telling of all, however, was the high-pitched giggle that escaped its mouth, a sound so gleeful and impish that you knew, immediately, this thing was trouble.

For a moment, the entire shop fell into stunned silence.

Then, all hell broke loose.

"Catch it!" one of the Gryffindors shouted, already scrambling onto a chair in a desperate attempt to reach the creature.

"Don't let it escape!"

Gunwook groaned, tilting his head back dramatically. "Oh, come on! I literally was just about to catch that thing!"

The pixie, unbothered by the chaos it had caused, let out another giggle before darting away just as one of the Gryffindors lunged for it. The poor student miscalculated entirely and ended up face-planting onto one of the tables, sending a teapot flying.

You barely managed to dodge as it clattered to the floor. "Can someone explain why there is a pixie loose in my shop?" you snapped, but your voice was drowned out by the sheer noise of the impromptu chase now taking place around you.

The pixie, clearly enjoying the game, zipped between shelves, knocked over a vase of fresh daisies, and even had the audacity to tug playfully at your hair as it flew past you.

"Seriously?!" You swatted at it, but it dodged easily, giggling all the while.

Gunwook finally pulled himself to his feet, his eyes locked onto the creature with the determination of someone who had made this their life's mission. "Alright, enough of this," he declared, rolling up his sleeves like he was about to duel the thing. "Get ready to grab it when it comes your way!"

"You act like it’ll just let itself be caught," you muttered, ducking as another Gryffindor leaped for the pixie and missed spectacularly.

Gunwook only grinned. "Oh, it will."

And with that, he launched himself at the pixie.

The next few minutes were an absolute disaster.

Gunwook and his friends made increasingly ridiculous attempts to corner the pixie—diving across tables, stacking chairs on top of one another, and even using a Gryffindor scarf as a makeshift net. The pixie, meanwhile, danced through the air with ease, taunting them at every turn.

At one point, Gunwook nearly had it—his fingers brushed against its tiny frame��but just as he closed his grip, the pixie yanked on his tie and yanked him down with it.

The two of them crashed onto the floor right in front of you. Gunwook groaned, sprawled out on his back, while the pixie perched triumphantly on his chest, grinning from ear to ear.

You stared. "That is the cockiest little creature I have ever seen."

Gunwook, still breathless, just reached out weakly and muttered, "Help."

For a moment, you could only stare at the absurdity in front of you—Park Gunwook, one of the most well-known Gryffindors in Hogwarts, utterly defeated, lying flat on his back while a smug little pixie perched victoriously on his chest like it had just won a duel.

The rest of the Gryffindors stood frozen around the shop, panting from their failed attempts to catch the creature.

The pixie wiggled its tiny fingers in a mocking little wave. "Hee-hee!" it giggled before darting up into the air again, leaving Gunwook groaning on the floor.

"Okay," he huffed, slowly sitting up, his tie still slightly askew from where the pixie had yanked on it. "That thing hates me."

One of his friends wheezed out a laugh. "No, I think it just knows you’re the easiest to mess with."

Gunwook shot them a glare but didn't deny it.

You, however, had reached your limit.

First, you’d been tackled to the floor. Then, your teacups had shattered. And now? Now, your cozy little teashop had turned into a battleground for a pixie chase.

Absolutely not.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you exhaled sharply before rolling up your sleeves. "Right. Enough of this. Move aside, amateurs."

The Gryffindors blinked at you in surprise as you strode forward.

Gunwook sat up straighter, brows raising. "Wait—you think you can catch it?"

You shot him a pointed look. "Unlike you, I don’t charge at things headfirst like a brainless troll."

A few of the Gryffindors snickered, and Gunwook gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. "That was unnecessary."

Ignoring him, you turned your attention to the pixie, who was now perched on the teashop's chandelier, swinging its tiny legs back and forth as if enjoying the view.

You slowly reached into the pocket of your apron and pulled out a sugar cube.

The pixie’s giggling slowed as it noticed the treat. Its tiny eyes locked onto the cube with interest.

"That's right," you murmured, holding it up between your fingers. "You like sweets, don’t you?"

The pixie tilted its head, intrigued.

Gunwook, now watching with rapt attention, whispered, "Are you—are you bribing it?"

You shot him a quick glare. "Shut up."

Gunwook immediately mimed zipping his lips.

Carefully, you extended the sugar cube further, moving just slow enough to keep the pixie’s interest without startling it. "Come on," you coaxed, keeping your voice soft. "No more running around. Just take this, and we’ll call a truce."

The pixie hesitated for a moment. Then, slowly—very slowly—it began fluttering down from the chandelier, inching closer and closer to your outstretched hand.

Gunwook and the rest of the Gryffindors held their breath.

The pixie landed lightly on your fingers, sniffing at the sugar cube curiously.

Then—quick as lightning—you flipped your other hand over and cupped it around the creature, trapping it in your palms.

The Gryffindors exploded into cheers.

"NO WAY!"

"HOW DID YOU—"

"THAT WAS BRILLIANT!"

Gunwook gaped at you, utterly awed. "You actually caught it."

You gave him a pointed look. "Told you I was better at this than you."

Still holding the pixie carefully in your grasp, you turned to face the mess of your teashop. Broken teacups, overturned chairs, spilled sugar, and petals from the knocked-over vase littered the floor.

You sighed. "Now, before we celebrate—" Your gaze flickered back to the group of sheepish Gryffindors. "You’re all cleaning this up."

Gunwook groaned dramatically but got to his feet. "Fine. But only because you’re terrifying when you’re in charge."

"Idiot," you muttered, rolling your eyes as you walked toward the back room to secure the pixie.

Behind you, the Gryffindors scrambled to fix the disaster they had caused—while Gunwook, grinned as he whispered to his friends, "I think I just fell in love."

You could still hear the Gryffindors bickering as you stepped into the back room, carefully cradling the now very grumpy pixie in your hands. It wriggled and huffed, clearly displeased that its fun had been cut short.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," you muttered as you reached for an empty jar on one of the shelves. With practiced ease, you gently guided the pixie inside before sealing the lid with a flick of your wand. A few ventilation holes appeared at the top, ensuring the little menace could breathe—not that you cared much after all the chaos it had caused.

The pixie pouted at you, crossing its tiny arms as it flopped onto the bottom of the jar.

"Don't give me that look," you deadpanned. "You started this."

The pixie stuck out its tongue before turning away in protest.

You sighed and shook your head before heading back into the main shop.

To your surprise, the Gryffindors were actually cleaning up. Kind of.

Gunwook had dragged a broom across the floor—but in the most half-hearted, lazy way possible, barely moving the broken shards of teacups around. One of his friends was stacking chairs upright again, while another was using their wand to vanish the spilled sugar.

It was progress. Messy progress, but progress nonetheless.

Gunwook noticed you watching and straightened up, flashing you his usual carefree grin. "See? We got this under control."

You arched a brow, gaze flicking to the still-visible mess. "Really? Because it still looks like a disaster zone."

One of the Gryffindors groaned. "Give us a break, we’re trying!"

You exhaled, rubbing your temples before setting the pixie jar onto the counter. "Fine. Just... try to finish up before the owner gets back."

Gunwook perked up. "Wait, you’re not the owner?"

You shot him an unimpressed look. "Do I look old enough to own a business?"

He shrugged. "I dunno, maybe you’re just super mature."

You narrowed your eyes at him, but before you could reply, the door to the shop suddenly opened again.

Everyone immediately froze.

Your stomach dropped.

Your boss was not supposed to be back this early.

But instead of your boss, an older wizard, dressed in the official robes of the Hogwarts faculty stepped in. His gaze swept across the room, taking in the mess and the startled Gryffindors.

Gunwook, still gripping the broom like he’d been caught red-handed, let out an awkward cough. "Uh. Hello, Professor."

Your heart sank. This was bad.

Professor Kettleburn, the Care of Magical Creatures professor, slowly folded his arms.

"Would someone like to explain," he began "why I am missing a certain pixie, and after searching everwhere for it, I find it here?"

All eyes immediately turned to Gunwook.

Gunwook blinked. Then, ever so slowly, he pointed at one of his friends. "It was his fault."

"WHAT?!"

Chaos erupted again.

And you—utterly exhausted, utterly done with everything—just buried your face in your hands and groaned.

Even if the entire evening had been a disaster, at least one thing had gone right—you’d managed to hand the pixie back to the Professor after discovering the truth. Apparently, one of the Gryffindors had nicked it from class to pull a prank, only for it to backfire spectacularly when the pixie escaped and caused absolute mayhem.

You had expected the professor to hand out a brutal punishment, but after a long sigh and a muttered, "Gryffindors," he simply took the creature and left, no doubt exhausted from dealing with worse over the years.

With that crisis averted, you and the others scrambled to finish cleaning the shop, fixing the broken cups with hurried Reparo charms and wiping down the tables. By some miracle, they’d all managed to sprint out the door just before your boss returned.

So, in the end, you thought that was that.

You thought you were done with them.

You truly believed you’d be able to return to Hogwarts in peace, wrapped in your own thoughts as you pulled your jacket tighter around you to block out the chill of the evening air.

That belief was shattered the moment a familiar presence suddenly appeared beside you.

"Oi," came Gunwook’s voice, casual as ever.

You nearly jumped out of your skin. "Merlin’s beard,—" You turned your head, only to find him grinning at you, completely unfazed.

He held up a small paper bag, shaking it slightly. "Candy?"

You eyed the bag warily. "Why are you here?"

Gunwook blinked. "I’m walking back to Hogwarts?"

"You could’ve gone with your friends."

"Yeah, but they’re slow." He shrugged, popping a piece of chocolate into his mouth before offering the bag again. "So? Want some?"

You hesitated before sighing, reaching into the bag. "If this is your way of apologizing for ruining my shift, it’s very cheap."

Gunwook gasped in mock offense. "Cheap? I’ll have you know, I used my own money for this."

You gave him a look. "That’s usually how buying things works, Gunwook."

He just laughed, shoving his hands into his pockets as he walked beside you. For a few moments, the two of you fell into a surprisingly comfortable silence, the only sounds being the crunch of gravel underfoot and the occasional rustling of leaves in the chilly autumn breeze.

"You know," Gunwook suddenly said, glancing at you, "I think you might secretly like me."

You nearly choked on the candy. "What?"

He grinned, stuffing another chocolate into his mouth. "Just saying! You did let me walk you back."

"You ambushed me."

"Details, details," he said, waving a hand dismissively.

You shot him a glare, but he only grinned wider, clearly enjoying himself. With an exasperated sigh, you pulled your jacket tighter around you, trying to ignore the fact that he was still walking beside you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Gunwook, however, didn’t seem to pick up on—or chose to ignore—your attempts to brush him off. Instead, he casually tilted his head toward you. "So, you work at that little teashop a lot, huh?"

You raised a brow, side-eyeing him. "Yes? Why?"

He hummed, chewing on another piece of candy before responding. "Dunno. Just… didn’t expect you to be the type."

"The type to what? Have a job?"

He snorted. "No, the type to work in a quiet, cozy place like that. You seem more like the ‘rolling your eyes at customers’ type."

You scoffed, though you couldn't deny he had a point. "Well, when you’re dealing with people like you, it’s hard not to roll my eyes."

Gunwook clutched his chest dramatically, nearly dropping the candy bag. "Ouch. You wound me."

"Not hard to do," you muttered under your breath, but he still caught it, laughing in amusement.

For a while, the two of you walked in silence again, the warm glow of the castle slowly coming into view up ahead.

Then, just as you thought Gunwook had finally run out of things to say, he surprised you.

"I think it’s cool, though," he said, voice softer this time. "That you work there."

Before you could figure out how to respond to that, he suddenly nudged the bag of candy toward you again. "Here. You should take some more."

You furrowed your brows. "Why?"

"Because I feel bad about, you know, completely destroying your shift." He flashed you a sheepish grin. "Consider it a peace offering."

You eyed him suspiciously, but after a moment, you sighed and reached into the bag, grabbing a small piece of fudge. "Fine. But this doesn’t mean I forgive you."

"Of course, of course," he said, nodding seriously—though the grin never left his face. "But if you ever do forgive me, I wouldn’t mind getting a free cup of tea next time I stop by."

You rolled your eyes. "You actually think I’d let you into the shop again?"

Gunwook smirked. "You haven’t kicked me yet, have you?"

You groaned, stuffing the fudge into your mouth to stop yourself from saying something you might regret.

Unfortunately, the warmth in your chest had nothing to do with the candy.

And everything to do with the boy walking beside you.

You didn’t see Gunwook for a few days after that night. And you weren’t going to admit it, but a part of you couldn’t help but feel… disappointed. It wasn’t like you wanted him to show up again, but after the strange ease of your last conversation, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d left something unfinished between you two. You told yourself it didn’t matter, that you had better things to focus on—like getting through the rest of the week without anything else catastrophic happening.

It wasn’t until you were walking through the crowded Hogwarts hallways, trying to make your way to class, that you found yourself suddenly thrown out of your thoughts.

One minute, you were minding your own business, and the next, something zipped past you with a whoosh—and before you could even react, a body crashed into yours.

You gasped, your eyes instinctively squeezing shut as you braced for impact with the stone floor. But instead of hitting the ground, your body twisted in midair, and you found yourself somehow landing on top of someone, the air knocked from your lungs as they hit the floor with a soft thud.

You blinked rapidly, eyes wide open now, and there he was—Gunwook, his face barely an inch from yours.

For a heartbeat, neither of you moved. Neither of you said anything.

His chest rose and fell beneath you, warm and steady. His eyes—wide with surprise at the sudden collision—locked onto yours, the usual mischievous glint missing for once.

You were too close to him, and it made your heart race faster than you liked to admit. And then, for just a fraction of a second, you swore you saw his gaze flicker down to your lips.

Your breath caught in your throat, a thousand thoughts flooding your mind. Was he—was he really looking at my lips?

The heat between you seemed to grow in that brief moment of silence, as though the world outside the two of you had disappeared entirely. But then, like a flip of a switch, Gunwook blinked, snapping his gaze back to your eyes, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

"Well," he said, still grinning, his voice low and teasing, "this isn’t exactly what I had in mind for our next meeting, but I’ll take it."

You pushed yourself up from him a little too quickly, your heart still hammering in your chest as your face flushed. "Are you insane?!"

Gunwook let out a soft chuckle, rubbing his head where it had collided with the ground. "Guess I’m not the only one who can’t keep their balance around here."

You took a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of composure as students began to gather around, staring curiously at the two of you on the floor. You shot a quick, annoyed glance at him. "Maybe you should keep your Quaffle under control next time."

Gunwook’s grin widened, and he winked. "Maybe I don’t want to— not if it gets me this close to you again."

You froze. Your eyes locked with his for a moment longer than you cared to admit, and the feeling of his hands against your sides as he helped you up sent a strange shiver down your spine.

"Next time," you muttered, still not quite able to look him in the eye, "keep your distance."

He raised an eyebrow, stepping back and brushing off his robes. "If you insist, I guess. Though, I can’t promise I’ll be able to stay away if you keep tempting me."

You froze, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. Tempting him? You were sure you hadn't done anything to warrant that kind of remark. But as Gunwook’s grin stretched wider, clearly savoring the effect his words had on you, you couldn’t deny that your heart was still racing.

"Gunwook," you started, your voice much shakier than you intended, "you’re unbelievable."

He simply tilted his head, eyes still gleaming with that playful glint. "Is that a challenge?"

You quickly shook your head, desperate to regain control of the situation. "No! No challenges. I’m just saying—keep your comments to yourself, alright?"

Gunwook took a step closer again, and you couldn’t help but tense up at the proximity, your brain racing. Was he really that bold?

"Alright, alright." He raised his hands in mock surrender, though that smirk never left his face. "I’ll keep the comments to myself—for now."

You barely managed to suppress a groan. "Good. Now go... do whatever it is you do."

With a soft chuckle, Gunwook straightened up and took a step back. "Guess I’ll see you around, then."

You nodded quickly, not trusting yourself to say anything else.

Gunwook turned, seemingly satisfied with the interaction, and started to walk away, his footsteps gradually growing fainter as he made his way through the bustling hall. You stood there for a moment, trying to steady your breath, feeling the adrenaline slowly fade, replaced by a mix of confusion and something else you couldn't quite place.

You had no idea what that was. What he was doing, or why it made your heart flutter in a way you were absolutely not prepared for.

Shaking your head, you adjusted your bag on your shoulder, trying to push the interaction out of your mind as you continued your walk to class.

The rest of the day passed in a blur—disjointed conversations, lectures that didn’t seem to hold your attention, and the occasional glance from friends who probably noticed your distracted state. You couldn’t focus on anything without your mind drifting back to Gunwook.

It wasn’t long before you found yourself back in the common room later that evening, your thoughts still tangled. You were reading, though you hadn’t registered a single word, your mind preoccupied with the earlier interaction.

You closed the book with a frustrated sigh and set it down on the table. Maybe it was time to give your brain a break—or maybe you were just avoiding dealing with the fact that Gunwook had somehow gotten under your skin.

A soft shuffle of footsteps broke your train of thought, and you glanced up to see one of your friends, Yuna, entering the common room. Her eyes lit up when she saw you, and she immediately made her way over to your table, her curious gaze scanning you.

"You okay?" she asked, sitting down across from you. "You’ve been a bit... out of it today."

You nodded, trying to dismiss the thoughts of Gunwook that had been distracting you all day. "Yeah, just... distracted." You couldn’t exactly tell her why, could you? The last thing you needed was for Yuna to start pestering you about him.

"Distractions can be a good thing, though," she teased, clearly reading the shift in your mood. "You’ve got that... look."

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide your embarrassment. "What look?"

Yuna leaned forward, grinning widely. "The 'I met someone who’s got my attention' look."

You froze for a second. Did she know?

"No," you quickly said, shaking your head, hoping the heat rising in your cheeks wasn’t too obvious. "It’s just school stuff. I’m fine."

Yuna raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but she didn’t push further. Instead, she let out a soft sigh. "Alright, if you say so. But just so you know, I’m not buying it."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't suppress a small smile. "You never do, do you?"

Yuna just shrugged. "I know you too well. But whatever, I'll let you figure it out yourself."

That was all you really wanted to do—figure it out by yourself. But as much as you tried to tell yourself that, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the answer was slipping further away every time Gunwook flashed that smug grin of his or said something that made your heart beat a little too fast.

You’d been trying to convince yourself that it wasn’t a big deal. It was just Gunwook—annoying, persistent, and always just a little too close for comfort. You could handle it. It wasn’t like he was that special, right?

But you knew better. The more you tried to convince yourself, the more confusing it became. And honestly? You'd rather scrub cauldrons with Professor Snape glaring over your shoulder than trying to figure out Gunwook. At least with Snape, you knew exactly what to expect—sneers, insults, and the possibility of something blowing up in your face. Gunwook, though? He was a puzzle you couldn't even begin to unravel.

The next few days passed in a blur, with Gunwook and his constant presence never far from your thoughts. Every time you saw him in the hallways, your stomach did that ridiculous flip, and it wasn’t even like he was doing anything special. He was just... there. Watching you with that look in his eyes that could have meant anything—or nothing at all.

You tried to avoid him. Or, at least, you told yourself you would. But the problem was, every time you tried, you’d end up bumping into him at the most inconvenient moments. The hallway outside the library, the staircase on your way to class, and once even by the Gryffindor common room, where he’d casually lean against the wall like he was waiting for you.

"Not again," you muttered under your breath, but sure enough, there he was. Gunwook stood at the top of the stairs, a bag of sweets in one hand and that damn grin plastered across his face.

"Why so serious?" he asked, tilting his head. "Didn’t expect to run into you here."

"Why are you always where I am?" you shot back, crossing your arms, trying to mask the irritation that only came from how damn good he was at showing up uninvited.

He shrugged, taking a leisurely step closer. "Maybe I like the view."

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, but something about his tone caught you off guard. Was he teasing you? Or was there something else there? You really didn’t want to think about it too hard.

"You’re impossible," you muttered, stepping around him, but of course, he moved just enough to block your path, as if he knew exactly how to make you stop.

"Am I?" he asked, leaning in just enough that his breath brushed your ear. "You don’t seem to mind too much."

You froze, heart pounding in your chest. There was no denying it—he was doing it on purpose. And you hated yourself for the way your pulse skipped a beat.

"You don’t know what you’re doing," you whispered, trying to stay composed.

Gunwook simply looked at you, the playful spark in his eyes replaced by something a little deeper, a little more... intentional. "I think I do."

You hated how that sent a shiver down your spine. You hated how easy it was for him to unnerve you. But more than anything, you hated that despite everything you couldn’t seem to walk away.

And that, you realized, was the most frustrating part. The fact that no matter how hard you tried to figure it out, you couldn’t seem to resist the pull he had on you.

Now, one thing with Gunwook that had become a regular occurrence was his tendency to tease you in that infuriatingly flirty way of his. He’d pop up when you least expected it, say something that made your cheeks flush, and all you could do was roll your eyes or shut him down. The last thing you needed was to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he could affect you with just a look or a sly comment.

Gunwook, however, didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it more the more you tried to push him away. It was like a game to him, one that he was determined to win—even if he didn’t know the rules. And you? Well, you hated that he kept winning, even though you never gave him the satisfaction of admitting it.

That was just the dynamic between you two, and honestly, it wasn’t anything you hadn’t handled before. You had your own way of pushing back, of keeping things at arm's length. What you didn’t have to deal with was this strange, flustering feeling whenever he got close. It was like your brain short-circuited, and the only thing you could do was put on the mask of indifference and push him away.

But, there was one person you didn’t need to keep a distance from—Maki.

Maki was a Gryffindor friend who shared a similar teasing dynamic with you. The difference was, with him, you didn’t hold back. You gave it right back to him, returning every sarcastic jab or playful comment with something just as sharp or just as ridiculous. It was fun, and it was safe. You knew where you stood with Maki, and there was never any awkwardness, no heart-racing moments that made you second-guess yourself.

But what you didn’t realize was that Gunwook had been a witness to a particular exchange.

It happened one afternoon when you, Maki, and a couple of other friends had gathered in the grand hall, chatting and laughing. Gunwook had walked in, clearly looking for some distraction, but when he saw the way you and Maki were bantering back and forth—mocking each other, laughing too loudly, trying to one-up the other—it caught his attention.

You noticed that Gunwook’s gaze had drifted over to you two, a little too intense, a little too curious. And you couldn’t quite tell if it was the way you and Maki made each other laugh that was so intriguing or if it was just the way the two of you acted together that seemed to capture his attention.

"Come on, just admit it," Maki said with a smirk, flicking his wand to levitate a book towards you. "I’m better at Transfiguration than you. I’m pretty sure you just got lucky with that last answer."

You directed your attention back to Maki and grinned, eyes narrowing. "Lucky? Please, I’m always better than you."

Maki chuckled, clearly pleased by the exchange. "You’re delusional if you think—"

But before he could finish his sentence, you flicked your wand to send his book spiraling out of his reach, laughing as he scrambled to catch it. "Oh, is that so?" you teased. "You can barely keep up, Maki. Are you sure you're not losing your touch?"

Gunwook couldn’t hold back the slight chuckle that escaped him. His eyes flicked between the two of you with a mix of amusement and... something else.

He watched the playful exchange unfold before him, and when Maki shot you a playful grin, he raised an eyebrow.

"Guess you two are quite the pair," Gunwook remarked casually, as if commenting on something he’d been observing for some time.

You froze, your laughter dying down just slightly, but you didn’t let it show. "What’s that supposed to mean?" you asked, trying to sound unaffected.

Maki, ever the tease, leaned in toward Gunwook with a sly smile. "Oh, you know how it is. We have great chemistry."

Gunwook’s eyes flicked from Maki to you, and for a moment, the playful light in them shifted into something more thoughtful. "Huh," he said, his voice quieter now. "So that’s how it is."

Your chest tightened, and you could feel the shift in the air. You hadn’t realized just how much Gunwook had been watching, paying attention to how you interacted with Maki. And for some reason, that made you uncomfortable. Not because of Maki—Maki was your friend—but because Gunwook had not seen that side of you, the side where you weren’t trying to guard your feelings, where you weren’t second-guessing everything you said.

He didn’t say anything else after that, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed, just a little. Gunwook had noticed something about you, and that made you question whether you’d been too careless around him. You couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking, what he thought about your dynamic with Maki.

As you exchanged a final glance with Maki, you quickly turned to leave the gradn hall, your heart pounding in your chest. Gunwook was still standing there, watching you as you walked away, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just opened the door to something that was about to get a lot more complicated.

It did get more complicated, just as you’d feared. After that day, it seemed like Gunwook had made it his personal mission to push your buttons more than ever. His teasing remarks were sharper, more frequent, and without fail, they made you flustered every single time. He had this uncanny ability to zero in on your weak spots, effortlessly making you blush or stumble over your words when you least expected it.

You’d be walking through the hallways, trying to avoid making eye contact with him, but then he'd lean in from out of nowhere, his voice low and smooth. "I was just thinking about how good you looked in that sweater the other day."

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks before you even processed what he’d said. You quickly shoved your hands in your pockets, avoiding his gaze. "You’re ridiculous," you muttered, trying to maintain some semblance of composure, but it was no use. Your heart was hammering, your thoughts were racing, and all you could do was focus on walking away as quickly as possible without looking like you were about to combust.

And then there were the times when he’d purposefully appear right behind you, just close enough that you could feel the warmth of his presence. His voice would come from just over your shoulder, and the way he’d drop a casual compliment always made your pulse spike.

"Careful there, you might just break hearts if you keep looking like that," he’d say with that teasing smile, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

It was infuriating how easily he made you lose focus. You hated it. And yet, you didn’t do a thing to stop it.

The worst part was how effortless it all seemed for him. Gunwook wasn’t just teasing in that playful way anymore—there was something more layered to it. It was like he knew exactly how much it would make you squirm, how much he could push you before you’d retreat into yourself. But it was never enough for him. He’d always find a new angle, a new way to leave you flustered.

You found yourself seeking ways to avoid him, hoping that maybe if you stayed out of his path long enough, the teasing would die down. But then you’d find him sitting at the edge of the courtyard when you least expected it, catching you off guard with that damn grin.

"Did you miss me?" he’d ask, voice light but knowing. And you would just stand there, blinking in disbelief, too embarrassed to answer. You had no idea how he did it—how he could keep showing up when you thought you had enough distance.

One afternoon, you were walking to the library, trying to get through a mountain of homework, when you turned a corner and found yourself nearly face-to-face with Gunwook, who had somehow appeared out of thin air. Before you could even blink, his hand shot out, brushing your arm in that way that made your heart skip a beat.

"Whoa there," he said with that ever-so-charming smile. "You didn’t see me coming, huh?"

You stepped back instinctively, your heart racing in your chest. "Seriously, Gunwook? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

He shrugged casually, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Nah, just trying to keep you on your toes."

It felt like your entire body was on alert, the way he stood so close, his gaze lingering a little too long on your face, like he was waiting for you to say something—anything.

But you couldn’t. You couldn’t say anything that would give him more ammunition. You had to keep it together, even though every part of you was screaming to back away before you did something you’d regret.

"I’m just trying to get to the library," you said, forcing a smile, sidestepping him as you attempted to regain some sense of normalcy. "You know, not fall over from shock."

He matched your pace, stepping along beside you. "And what’s in the library for you? Looking for a little escape from all this fun?"

You let out an exasperated sigh, hoping it would throw him off, but Gunwook didn’t seem to mind. He was in it for the long haul, and you were caught right in the middle of it.

"I swear, Gunwook, you’re the most infuriating person," you muttered, but there was no real heat behind it. You couldn’t even muster up the frustration to match your words. It was like you were too tired to argue anymore, too flustered by him to even try.

"Well," he said, drawing out the word, "I guess I’m your favorite type of infuriating person then."

You were about to shoot back a quick retort, but before you could, you heard Maki’s voice in the distance, calling out to you.

"Hey! Don’t let him get to you, alright? You know he’s just messing with you!"

You sighed in relief, finally having a reason to escape the conversation. "Thanks, Maki!" you called back, shooting Gunwook one last glance. "I’m going to the library to actually get some work done, not to get distracted by you."

Gunwook raised his hands in mock surrender. "I’ll let you have your peace," he said, but the mischievous twinkle in his eyes told you he wasn’t going to make it easy.

Gunwook didn’t make it easy. Not one bit. In fact, it seemed like he had decided to make it his personal mission to join you wherever you went. You hadn’t even been in the library long, your focus on the books in front of you as you tried to dig through them and find the references you needed. The quiet hum of the library normally gave you peace, but that tranquility was fleeting, because just as you flipped through a thick tome, you felt the unmistakable presence of someone standing far too close behind you.

A shiver ran down your spine before the familiar voice of Gunwook slid into your ear, smooth and dangerously close. “You know, it’s a lot more fun to study when there’s company,” he murmured, the words so soft that they made your breath catch.

You froze, the book slipping slightly in your hands as you tried—unsuccessfully—to ignore the closeness of his body. Your heart rate sped up in a way that had nothing to do with your academic endeavors. “Gunwook,” you said, trying to sound annoyed, though you could hear the waver in your voice that betrayed you. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d join you,” he replied casually, his tone almost too smug for your liking. “You’ve been spending so much time avoiding me, figured I’d make things a little more... interesting.”

You tried to focus on the pages in front of you, but every time you turned a page, the faint scent of his cologne, mixed with the warmth of his proximity, sent a jolt through your system. He was right there, so close that if you moved an inch, you’d be brushing against him.

“I wasn’t avoiding you,” you muttered, hoping you sounded convincing. “I was trying to get some work done.”

Gunwook chuckled, a sound that was somehow both teasing and entirely too intimate for the library. “And now you can’t concentrate, can you?” His voice was low and playful, making your skin prickle.

You quickly moved to shift your position, but Gunwook anticipated the move. Before you could even react, he was leaning over your shoulder, his arms brushing against yours as he glanced down at your open book. “What’s this, huh? Studying for Potions? I could help you with that.”

“Help?” you scoffed, trying your best to sound uninterested. “You? You probably can’t even remember what the ingredients for a simple healing potion are.”

“Oh, I know them,” he said smoothly, his voice light. “I just don’t care enough to memorize them like someone here does.”

You rolled your eyes, already aware of where this conversation was going. His teasing never stopped, and you never quite seemed able to push him away. He always found a way to slip through the cracks in your defenses.

“Seriously,” you said, hoping to steer the conversation back to your work, “I really do need to focus.”

But Gunwook wasn’t having any of it. He leaned in just a little closer, his breath now warm against your neck. “You don’t need to focus. You need a break,” he whispered, his voice laced with that same playful, distracting tone. “And I think I’m just the person to help you with that.”

Before you could even respond, he pressed himself just a little further behind you, making it almost impossible for you to continue reading without feeling like he was taking up every inch of your attention. You could feel the heat of his chest against your back, the slight weight of his body as he hovered, and suddenly, the library didn’t feel so peaceful anymore.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, frustrated, but not nearly enough to push him away.

“No,” he replied with a grin you couldn’t see but could definitely hear in his voice. “I’m exactly what you need.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to regain some semblance of control.

But Gunwook seemed to have a way of making even the most mundane situations feel like something you couldn’t walk away from.

You barely had time to process his words before a sudden movement broke your focus. As someone walked by, Gunwook’s hand shot out without warning, gripping your waist tightly and pulling you just a little closer, pressing your back into him. The sudden closeness made your breath catch in your throat, your body jolting in response as the weight of his hand on your waist intensified.

The force of it caused you to lose your grip on the book in your hands, and it slipped from your fingers, falling to the floor with a dull thud. A gasp escaped your lips as you braced yourself against the nearby shelves to steady yourself, your heart hammering in your chest from the shock of it all.

“Gunwook!” you whispered sharply, your breath shaky as you quickly righted yourself, still feeling the ghost of his touch against your side.

He didn’t let go immediately. Instead, his grip lingered for just a moment longer, his body still pressed up behind you as if the situation was completely normal. “What?” he said innocently, though there was an undeniable smirk in his voice. “I was just trying to make sure you didn’t fall.”

Your pulse was racing, but you couldn’t tell whether it was from the embarrassment of the situation or something else entirely. You could feel the warmth of his body against yours, the way his presence seemed to consume the space between you, making it hard to think clearly.

You finally managed to pull away, though it was more out of necessity than desire. “You can’t just—” you started, but your words trailed off when you turned to face him, catching the amused look in his eyes.

You stood there for a moment, unable to find the words to finish your sentence, your mind still swirling from the closeness of the moment. His eyes—those mischievous, bright eyes—seemed to be studying you, like he knew exactly what effect he was having on you, and it made your chest tighten.

"You were saying?" Gunwook asked, his voice teasing but with a hint of curiosity, as if he was genuinely interested in your response. His smirk never left, though now it felt almost like a challenge.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. It was like your brain had short-circuited, and all you could focus on was the warmth of his body that had been so close to yours just moments before. You should have been mad, or at least frustrated, but instead, you were acutely aware of how his presence seemed to wrap around you, making it difficult to push him away.

“I…” You stopped, finally shaking your head as you closed your eyes for a moment to regain your composure. “You can’t just keep doing this,” you said, though the words felt weak even as they left your lips. You wanted to sound firm, to set some boundary, but it was hard when you weren’t sure what you wanted from him.

Gunwook leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice to something that sent a shiver down your spine. “Doing what? Just having a little fun with you?” His tone was soft but laced with something deeper, something you couldn't quite identify, and it made your heart beat faster.

You took a step back, needing space, needing air. “You’re not funny, Gunwook,” you muttered, trying to regain control.

But he just smiled, that same unreadable, confident smile that made you feel like he knew more than he was letting on. “I think you like it, though,” he said, his words barely above a whisper. His gaze flickered down to your lips for a brief, stolen moment, and you felt your breath catch in your throat.

Your pulse quickened, and for a moment, you felt paralyzed, caught in that brief glance and the weight of his words. Gunwook wasn’t just teasing anymore—there was something else beneath the surface. You could see it in the way his eyes lingered on you, something more intense than the usual playful banter.

You opened your mouth to say something, anything, to push back against the tension he’d stirred up, but your voice failed you for a second.

“You don’t have to admit it, but I can tell,” he said, his voice low, the teasing edge still there but softened by something more sincere, almost vulnerable. “You’ve been reacting to me this whole time.”

It was like the ground beneath your feet shifted. You wanted to brush him off, to laugh it off as just another one of his games, but it was impossible. The way he said it, so casually, like he had nothing to lose, made you feel as though he had cracked open something inside of you that you hadn’t been ready to face.

You exhaled, trying to collect your thoughts. “I’m not—” you started, but the words died on your lips as you caught his gaze again. He was watching you so intently, as if he could see right through the walls you’d built up.

He tilted his head slightly, that glint of challenge still in his eyes. “You don’t have to lie to me,” he murmured. “I already know how you feel.”

For a heartbeat, the world around you felt too loud, the rustle of pages and soft murmurs of students in the library nothing but background noise to the sudden silence between you. You weren’t sure how to respond, or if you even could.

The way Gunwook had a way of getting under your skin, of pushing you just enough to make you confront things you weren’t ready to, made your chest tighten. You wanted to tell him off, to shut him down for good, but part of you… part of you was starting to question if you even wanted that.

“Gunwook…” you finally whispered, your voice almost a plea, though you didn’t know what you were pleading for.

He didn’t move, didn’t break the distance between you, but there was something in his eyes—something softer now. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said quietly.

Neither of you moved for a while, but the space between you slowly seemed to shrink, as though some invisible force was drawing you closer together.

Your heart raced in your chest, pounding with each second that passed. You should’ve said something, anything to break the moment, but instead, all you could do was watch the subtle shift in his expression—the softening of his features as he held your gaze. It was like he was waiting for something from you, or maybe you were waiting for something from him.

Your body moved before your mind could catch up. You found yourself leaning in, just slightly, just enough to close the gap between you, your breath mingling in the air that hung between you. You could feel the pull—magnetic, inevitable—and you couldn’t seem to stop yourself from moving closer.

Gunwook didn’t back away either. If anything, he seemed to lean in just as much, as if testing the boundary between you two, both of you moving closer without quite realizing it.

The moment your lips finally met, it was soft, hesitant—almost like a question being asked, an answer left unspoken. It was just a fleeting touch, barely enough to make your pulse race, but as soon as you pulled back, the world around you felt strangely quiet. You both stood there, eyes wide and breath shallow, staring at each other as though neither of you could quite believe what had just happened.

For a beat, neither of you moved. You weren’t sure if you were waiting for him to speak, or if you were waiting for yourself to make sense of what had just transpired. But the silence stretched too long, and the pull between you—now so much stronger—was impossible to ignore.

Before you knew it, your hand was already reaching out, grabbing the front of Gunwook’s tie, pulling him back in without thinking. His breath hitched as his body reacted instinctively, closing the distance between you, lips crashing together again, this time deeper, more urgent.

The world around you seemed to vanish as your lips moved in sync, kissing with a hunger that neither of you had fully acknowledged before. Gunwook’s hands found your waist, pulling you closer, until there was no space left between you, your body pressed up against the cool shelves behind you. The weight of his touch sent shivers down your spine as his arms circled around you, holding you tighter.

The kiss deepened, becoming more frantic, more desperate. It felt like everything had been building to this point—the teasing, the tension, the stolen glances—and now there was no holding back.

You didn’t even care that you were in the middle of a library, surrounded by students who could easily walk by. It felt like everything else had faded, leaving only the two of you.

Gunwook's hands slid to your back, guiding you closer as he pressed you harder against the shelves.

Time slowed. You didn’t know how long you stayed like that, wrapped up in the kiss, caught in a moment that felt both like a beginning and an end. When you finally broke apart, gasping for air, your heart raced in your chest, and your mind felt like it was reeling.

Gunwook was still close, his forehead resting against yours, breath coming in heavy pants. His lips were swollen, and his eyes—those playful eyes—held something more serious now.

“You’re not going to be able to get rid of me now,” he murmured, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

You took a breath, the teasing glint still alive in your eyes. "Oh, I think I can handle it," you said, voice laced with playful challenge. Your fingers brushed lightly over his shoulders, the contact sending a ripple of electricity through you. "But I’m not sure you’re as easy to get rid of as you think."

Gunwook chuckled, the sound low and warm in your ear. "Is that so?" he teased, leaning down slightly, his lips grazing the side of your neck, sending a shiver through your body. His hands shifted, fingertips gliding along the curve of your waist under the fabric of your robe, making you bite your lip in an attempt to suppress the wave of warmth that flooded you.

Your own fingers trailed across the smooth skin of his neck, feeling the tension there as your touch sent a shiver down his spine. "You’ve got a lot of confidence for someone who just got put in their place," you teased, running your hand down to his shoulder, your thumb brushing over the muscles there.

Gunwook smirked, his hands drawing you closer as his fingers traced circles along your hips, his touch growing more confident. "I like to test my limits," he murmured, pressing his lips to your neck again, this time lingering a moment longer, savoring the sensation.

He moved his hands down, one sliding lower on your waist, the other gently resting on the curve of your hip. "You should be careful," he whispered, his voice now a hushed growl in your ear. "You might not be able to walk away if you keep this up."

You felt his lips press gently against your jaw, the soft caress sending a ripple of heat through you. "I’m not worried about walking away," you shot back, your fingers now tracing the line of his jaw, feeling the slight stubble beneath your touch. "But you should be careful. I might not be as easy to keep around as you think."

A slow smile spread across his face, his gaze more intense. "I’m starting to like the challenge," he said.

And without another word, his lips found yours again—slow at first, as though testing the waters. But you didn’t need time to think, not anymore. You responded instantly, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was far from innocent.

His hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair as he deepened the kiss, his touch gentle. The world around you seemed to disappear as his body pressed against yours, his chest rising and falling with each breath you shared.

And you would never pull away from him.

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

Perm taglist: @ilyunjina @nshmrarki @laylasbunbunny

@wensurr @immelissaaa @simj4k3 @vegahrid @03sunoos

@hollxe1 @moonpri @cherriesfine @badtzsan @anushkaaaiaiiaiaia

@heeseungbabydoll @wondash @renjiishot @demigodmahash

@strawberrieswithchocolateo3o @honeybunnee @jjongstar111

@enhaprettystars @zorange13 @jiminie-08 @chocowonnie

@enhamonsterghoul @mrsjjongstby @bussolares @kiripimaspillow

@sumsumtingz @norucking @tunafishyfishylike @txnwvc

@jakeluvrrs @firstclassjaylee @xnatqq @arclviie @aussie-boys-wife

@vvenusoncasual @bamguetismee

[loverlessnight]

My Favourite Polin FanFiction: Smut

Dr Bridgerton; or With his educated eyes, and his hand between my thighs: There lay in Penelope a sickness, or so she had been told. A very specific kind that only this physician, as he called himself, could potentially be willing to alleviate for her, if there were any hope at all. At least that was what the flyer had said. A gentleman by the name of Mr Bridgerton had developed a technique of stimulatory effect to relieve the sufferings of women. Of sharp tongues and short tempers gone in a few months or less, within three sessions with his special apparatus.

so come give me a hug (if you're into getting rubbed): The three times Colin and Penelope were just cuddling. You know, as friends. That's all. Really. And the one time- Well, you know.

Only a Kiss: “You want to kiss me?” Colin merely nodded in response, that confident, deadly smile still firmly in place. “As a thank you.” Penelope’s eyes darted from his face to the door, which was still firmly shut. Locked.

Faking It: When the editor-in-chief of Mayfair Magazine insists that Penelope work with a new writer on her sex column, she wants to scream. When she finds out it’s Colin Bridgerton, she wants to murder something (or someone). It’s been five years since she last spoke to him and a lot has changed. Penelope has changed. And she is not about to let him steal her column out from under her. Especially not when he’s under her.

Call Me: If Colin could only want her when there was a few thousand miles between them, so be it. Even if it stabbed brutally at something inside her for nearly two bloody years, Penelope had allowed herself the indulgence, thinking it was all she’d ever get of the man she loved with a wasted, aching, childish heart. One version of him wanted her, and that was enough. Because it had to be enough when it was all Colin wanted from her. Until she met Harry.

Siren: Colin gets cursed while on his travels and finds himself insatiable for Penelope whom he no longer considers a friend.

A Worthy Suitor, Indeed: Friends With Benefits: Regency Style

pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape: Penelope repeats her concerns to Daphne, though with much less comfort than she did to Kate. She regrets now bringing it up. While she’s always been able to afford to purchase new books thanks to her Whistledown money, splurging often would have been suspicious. She can buy freely now and perhaps should have tried to discreetly find a book on the subject rather than explaining to Daphne that she finds her younger brother’s lovemaking to be a little predictable. A lot predictable. The same every time, in fact.

Yes, Lady Whistledown: Colin visits a brothel to try to get over Penelope, and finds a sex worker who reminds him of his best friend... she just happens to have a very particular set of skills...

Friendly Competition: Colin and Michaela play a little friendly competition...

tie me up, tie me down: Penelope needs to learn to give up control. Colin thinks he has the perfect solution

Aflame: Colin Bridgerton had always favoured red heads. He often found it… difficult to connect with another person; even in the most intimate of acts he felt a distance. But when he was with a woman with firey hair, something seemed to flicker in his soul. A few nights after his return to the ton, he attends a masquerade ball hosted by the notorious Madame Littlelove. It's there he spots a courtesan with the perfect shade of auburn. Well, at least he thinks she is a courtesan...

An Anatomy Lesson: Colin helps Pen through the vocabulary of sex.

My Heart Is Thrilled By The Still Of Your Hand: In the weeks leading up to their wedding Colin scales a tree in the middle of the night to sneak into Penelope's bedroom...

Ice Cream and Lemon Custard: Colin was going to show Pen a thing or two about deserts.

Big Deal: One rainy evening Colin decides to teach Penelope how to play poker.

Depravities of Colin Bridgerton: Penelope is Colin’s best friend. He loves her a bit too much.

august: Penelope Featherington is house-sitting for Violet, and Colin comes home early from his travels

sugar we're going down: “I think you should let me go down on you.” Every muscle in Penelope’s body froze. She stood in shock, her fork halfway to her mouth, and then she turned her head slowly to look at him. "I'm sorry, what?"

[ask-the-6-souls]

This question feels directed to the creator themselves but is there any rules when it comes to ocs/characters interacting with the kids?

OOC: I guess the big one is not to have canon characters- either from UT or UTY- interact with the kids. There's a piece of worldbuilding I want to establish (that has been partially done so but not explicitly yet), but aside from that, I don't think so!

[the-faceless-bride]

More Ideas for KNY (demon slayer) different characters ♡ (SOME NSFW CONTENT FOR SANEMI AND MUZAN AND MENTIONS OF GORE IN SANEMI AND LIGHT NSFW IN GYOMEI)

<- Part 1

Imagine being dangerously in love.

Imagine being a demon, obsessed with the brash, and blood thirst Wind Hashira. the first time ever being in battle with him is what leads you down a path of want and lust for the cruel hashira.

Imagine going out of your way to always be where he is, always catching his attention and being attacked by him. He believes you're mocking him, following him just to show off that he hasn't been able to kill you. But that isn't true at all. When you fight, you never actively try and gut him, only blocking your neck and leaving the rest of your limbs exposed to be lashed in this masochism tango.

Imagine struggling to hide your enjoyment and ecstacy each time his sword ripped, teard, and scar your body. He had to have known how me made you feel. He must. The darkness of your cheeks must've been a giveaway. Right? His eyes bewitching you in how intense he glares into your soul. It sets a fire under your cold skin, a burning desire.

Imagine one time when you and Sanemi are fighting. Other slayers show up. But they don't instantly jump into the fight. 1. from looking at the fight, you hadn't landed a single strike and seemed to be a greater deal slower than the hashira, and 2. Tanjiro made an odd comment. "Huh, it's like she's avoiding striking him on purpose."

Imagine how Shinobu decided the fight was long enough and tried to sneak in and end the fight. Only for a switch to set off and catch her off guard and spin at the speed of light, leaving a large gash across her body from her left founder to her hip. And Sanemi instantly tried to help her. Only to be stopped by your own weapon pressed so close to his neck that even swallowing made his Adamsapple scrape against a sharp blade. "Don't you dare. Your attention is meant for me. Are you seriously letting her attempt to get between us work?" And that made Sanemi pause... "us? Wha-" -- "don't play dumb darling. We're soulmates, Sanemi~" you whisper to him. "What the fuck."

Imagine how now you make him feel so conflicted, how he hates you for what you are but loves you for how you make him feel... in his home in his spare time as the sun rises, his windows covered and locked tight as he has you on your knees, leaning forward and his chest pressed to your back. Your head locked between his bicep as his other hand held his sword under you. It nicks you each time he thrusts. If he pushed you forward anymore, his blade would surely cut your chest and stomach open. "I HATE YOU, YOU FILTHY DEMON. I DONT WANT YOU. CURSE YOU FOR DEMONIC TEMPTATION." You softy cry at the harsh words from your love, "I don't care if you don't want me... I'm yours right now..."

Sanemi Shinazugawa × Demon reader Trope: Yandere Lovesick/I hate you so much I love you.

Imagine being with Muzan his entire life... your family were servants to his family. And from a young age, you were assigned to be Muzans personal maid or companion as you were too young to really do any work than cleaning up his room. But since you can remember, you've always been with Muzan.

Imagine being the one he confides with most. His fears, his wishes, and despite his coldness. His shouldering eyes seemed to be less scorching when it came to you. His one and only friend. Even if you didn't have much of a choice in the companionship. It was you who sat in on his doctor's visits about his deteriorating health. When he got the news of how it would be a miracle for him to even make it to his mid 20s...

Imagine how one night after a particularly scary coughing fit, he simply places his head to your mid section as you blush his hair and pull it back into a braid. He softy thanks you as he tilts his head to look up at you, "Of course, I'm always happy to take care of you." But that isn't want he wants. He wanted to take care of you. Not you to him. And without thinking, he pulls you down to him.

Imagine His heat is pounding in his chest. You lay across him as his long and slim fingers tease you between your legs. You try and stay quiet, your face twisted with pleasure and guilt. You felt like you were taking advantage of the sick man who would never find love or feel the love of another in such a romantic and intimate way. You thought maybe that this was him just grasping for a moment where he didn't feel so useless being bedridden. But it was so much more. If this was the last thing he did, pleasing the only one who he cared for most. The one he wished he could've married... he would be happy to die. This surely isn't good for his heart, but he couldn't care less. You hovering yourself above him. As he tried weakly to pull you in to rest your whole weight. This was how he wanted to spend his last days, weeks, and months. However long he had left. He wanted it to be with you.

Imagine as days go by, and he feels more and more guilty. He starts to feel as though you let him do these things because you feel obligated as his personal maid to do so. Nights in the dark ask he fingers you, giving and receiving oral pleasure. But you still won't give him everything. You refuse to fully lay with him. Sometimes, he feels like it's because you don't really love him. Not like he does you. Or maybe you find him... pathetic... he can't actually make love to you. You'd be doing all the work. He doesn't want that, and it seems you don't either... eventually, his thoughts become too much, and he decides to let you go...

Imagine you were relieved of all your maid duties, not just to Muzan but to the family as a whole. You were heartbroken. And the heartbreak only worsened at the news of Muzan and his families and your families deaths. You'd cried more times than you'd ever had before in your life. And you were so very confused when you'd found a Man who looked exactly like Muzan sitting in your bed a few nights later. "Hello dear. I'm home." He invented to truly give you what you wanted, and he was eager to give it too you.

Muzan Kibutsuji × reader Trope: Unrequited/reunited love/soulmates

Imagine being Master Kagaya's faithful slayer, you'd always admired him. You and your Master had created a strong bond. Stronger than others. Moments like this reminded you that you were special. You sat on your knees as you just like you had the first time. Your head pressed to his chest and he dragged his fingers over your head.

Imagine trying not to tear up as you remember the first time you'd kneeled for him. You'd been reckless and impatient leading to a fellow slayer getting extremely hurt. You kneeled before him as you sat in the room alone waiting for him to speak. Doing your best to not make any noise as you silently cry. You'd failed him. Your beloved Master. But he didn't yell. He didn't make you feel like you were a problem. He merely hummed before knealing with you, one hand on atop your head and the other cupping your cheek feeling the wet stream of tears and wiped it away. "It's alright. You didn't mean for this to happen. I know you didn't. I know you're a good girl." And your breath hitched. He noticed. And from then on he gave you positive affrimations which encouraged you to do better. For him.

Imagine how as you sat there listening to his words letting yourself flow away and melt into your master. He thought it was innocent. He was simply your master helping you, if it wasn't him maybe you'd find these soft words from Gyomei or maybe even Kyojuro... but he was wrong. So wrong. It was him. Only him. You'd put yourself on the line so much more than you should've. All to hear those soft praises. His wife must not like you... you do take up more and more of his time as days go on...

Imagine how he softly calls to you. Late that night, he'd heard your footsteps. He sat with you talking. About anything that day. Soft and short conversations. Quiet but not uncomfortable. "You're my favorite you know." He sighed, before he let out a small chuckle "don't tell the others." You know he was teasing. But your heart told you other wise.

Imagine being hurt. In battle you were hurt. But even in your pain you still made your way to your master... your beautiful Kagaya... the married man, the family man, that you had fallen in love with. "My dear, you still come and see me while you're in such pain?" He seemed shocked. But you aren't sure why, you'd walk on hot coles and crawled on your hands and belly to kneel for him. You'd do anything for your master. And you could only hope as his favorite... you wouldn't let him down. Finally you lifted your head from his chest, pulling his hands from your hands, leaving a kiss to his knuckles. One day. One day you'll have him.

Kagaya Ubuyashiki × Slayer reader Trope: unrequited love/lovesick/slow burn

Special Part two of Forbidden love with Gyomei × demon

Imagine how the rest of the slayers flock around Gyomei, asking him so many questions. And he couldn't even answer them all. Too consumed by his disbelief that the person he'd fallen in love with so deeply, had turned out to be a demon.

Imagine how he layed in bed lonely and... missing you. He began to long of your cold touch, your voice, your laugh that was so contagious to him. He missed you. He'd fallen for you. Demon or not. He laid in his bed trying and failing to get even a wink of sleep. But just as he had almost fallen asleep he was awoken by a sound. 'Tap tap' was the sound, 'tap tap' on his window. "Gyomei... my love..."

Imagine how he practically leaped from his bed. Demon or not you had carved yourself a spot in his heart. Slamming open the window and pulling you inside, his hands instantly feeling over your cheeks, your nose, your neck. Kissing the knuckles of your cold hands.

Imagine being the one that made Gyomei for a moment stay from his faiths. Gyomei devoted his life to his beliefs, that includes waiting. Waited all his life for the one. Saving himself and waiting. But you both were in a unique circumstances... so from that point on Gyomei promised himself to you. You would stay with him in his home and he would always come back to you. That night he would kiss you, love you, lay you under him while he whispered for you to be his.

[hamilando]

ੈ✩ my muse (smau) ੈ✩

pairing : max verstappen x fem reader

summary : the chaotic private account of an artistic soul 💫

tw : fluff, a little chaos, suggestive

a/n : So this was requested anonymously, so if you are seeing this, Hope you like it 💫

·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ

liked by max1, lordperceval, albono, lilihye, alexamiuex, and 37 others

maxwife the italian view 💫 one for the day ☀️ one for the night 🌝

view comments

albono you stare at him, he stares at the podium ✊🏻

max1 stop being sour about driving a cart

lordperceval your just lucky you have a good car

max1 “ i have the longest contract ferrari has ever offered” lordperceval dw max, lewis is joining the misery gang 😮‍💨 hamsandwich fuck you mate

maxwife the only way you are staying at Mercedes is if you bang Toto 😮‍💨

hamsandwich he already is fukinh me 🤺

maxwife Toto follows me -

hamsandwich WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU LET 40 YEAR OLD FOLLOW YOU! norizz and you are what- 18 ?

max1 YOU ARE MY WIFE Y/N, STOP FOLLOWING DILFS, TOTO 🤺🤺🤺

maxwife I was joking - fransisca.gnomes it's alright y/n, they all have a thing for Toto

totomercedes everyone, I am married and do not harbour any feelings for the same gender with all due respect

hamsandwich TOTO WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE !? max1 I will sign to Mercedes just for a shirtless pic 🚗 totomercedes check dms.

maxwife can. everyone. stop. simping. over. toto.

chillisainz lando, that ass be looking smashable 😮‍💨

norizz aww, my room is on 7th floor 🤭 georgey open the door, I am ringing the bell 💪🏻 maxwife if you want your balls to not be cut into pringles , leave my girlies and then suck your homies 🫷🏻 carmenvroom ily y/n 💌 maxwife I got your back @ carmenvroom and a knife and your balls @ georgey

lordperceval max,kiss me the way you kiss the trophy

maxwife OYE, STAY AWAY FROM MY HUSBAND 🤺🤺 maxwife MAX IS MINE 🤺🤺🤺🤺

max1 charles, in another lifetime 😞

maxwife yall are supposed to be driving cars on the grid

lordperceval yet we drive each other crazy @ max1 max1 🤭💌

maxwife yall are banned, that's it, OUT 🤺

liked by max1, albono, hamwich, fransisca.gnomes and 28 others

maxwife the muse and the art 💫

view comments

max1 she gifted me the painting y’all

max1 I won in life 😙😌

alexmiuex love, we need to visit the museums together 🫶🏻

maxwife let’s ditch the men species carmenvroom count me in ✊🏻 fransisca.gnomes me too 🫶🏻😗

pierreneedsgas for gods sake, keep you wife away from mine

norriz did I miss something -

fransisca.gnomes when did I become your wife ?

lordperceval oh lord, GASLY KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT 🤐

maxwife OMG, KIKA mcdkcmdkcjdicjdicjdcijdcidjcidj

pierreneedsgas ITS OUT NOW, I SHOULD JUST TELL IT

hamsandwich my phone is out ☺️

albono his hands are shaking while typing 🌝

pierreneedsgas STOP ALEX ALBON

fransiscka.gnomes amour ❤️ ?

pierreneedsgas well, I wanted to do this in person, but ig my mouth spoiled it

pierreneedsgas Happy April’s Fool day 😊

maxwife that’s it, YALL ARE OUT INCLUDING MY HUSBAND

fransisca.gnomes girls, number 44

hamsandwich what?

carmenvroom ignore the real number 44

lordperceval Pierre, Alexandra just left the house

albono so did lily … max1 so did this account user

maxwife I have a name

max1 you are the love of my life, the reason I look forward to every day, the muse and the thrill to win each and every race max1 if you were not there, I would have not survived the lowest of my life max1 I want you to know that whatever I may say, I hold you above anyone else, and if needed, I would die for you without anything asked maxwife I am crying now 🥹 I love you so much my wdc ❤️ Pierre, take tips pierreneedsgas yes ma’am 🫡

[riki-dazed]

Best friends can kiss, right? -- PART 1

3:00 AM -- Finding Hope · part 2 · fluff · wc: 792

"I'm so tired," You sigh, watching Riki search for another song on the computer that he's currently sat in front of.

The both of you had spent the last couple of hours together in his personal studio, turning the tight space into a full blown karaoke room. All that you hoped for tonight was that no one would come knocking at the door, considering that Riki already had to sneak you into the company building.

Your body falls backwards against your sofa, yes, your sofa. The tiny, barely-seats-two one that Riki had cramped into the corner of his studio, just so you'd have somewhere to sit, or sleep on, when you'd visit him. You loved that about your best friend the most, his overly thoughtful and sweet nature. To Riki, your comfort and happiness has always been at the top of his priorities list.

Your gaze stays on Riki as you watch him scroll through one of his spotify playlists, your head resting on your arms in which are slumped over an armrest. Eliciting a hum of approval, he finally decides on a song after a few moments. The slow, soft melody that engulfs the space causes your eyes to flutter closed. It was a familiar sound, one of your favorites. You hear your best friend humming along to the tune, the sound of his soft tone further pushing you into a sleepy trace. It's about time the both of you finally took a second to calm down, to breathe.

Baby, it's three AM, had you on my mind...

"Here," A deep voice cuts you out of your trance, you blink your eyes open, "Lean on me, it's comfier,"

You glance over your shoulder towards the direction where the voice was coming from, suddenly finding Riki's body sat beside yours on the little sofa. You give him a small smile as you pick yourself up and off the uncomfortable armrest, you nuzzle yourself into his side. His body's warm, the fabric of his hoodie soft against the skin on your face.

He smells good, too.

"We should probably go home soon," You murmur against him, your eyes closing shut yet again. Who knows what the time must be, though, you're too comfortable and cozy to even care about it at the moment.

"Later," The boy beside you replies, his voice barely above a whisper as his hand snakes its way around to the side of your waist. He pulls you into him.

You nestle closer into Riki, enjoying the warmth of his embrace, and the comfort of his presence. Every other irrelevant thought within your mind fades away as you focus on the soft music playing through the speakers. The feeling of contentment envelops the both of you.

Cause baby, if I find a way, I'm sure of it, this love won't stray...

"..just give me a chance to say I love you, and I need you, now are you here to stay," Riki sings along quietly, his deep voice is as soft and as smooth as a cloud.

Despite the late hour, you have nowhere else that you would rather be than right here.

Wanting you more and more, I can't help but think of what we could be...

Without a single thought behind your actions, the lyrics suddenly cause you to lift your head off him. As you meet Riki's gaze, you find yourself getting lost within his sharp eyes, seeing a reflection of the emotions swirling within your own chest. Neither of you exchange a single word, yet a silent understanding engulfs the space between the both of your bodies, a mutual recognition of something unspoken, yet deeply felt. You feel the weight of the lyrics echoe within your mind, and stomach, in the form of a hundred butterflies.

As you continue to scan your best friend's face, you see a vulnerability in his expression. It's as if he's laying bare his soul before you, offering you a glimpse into his unspoken feelings.

"This feels dangerously intimate," You murmur out of the blue, the sudden seriousness had caused you to almost start feeling awkward. You and Riki were barely ever a serious pair when together, you needed to lighten the mood somehow..

Riki can't help but shake his head over your sudden remark, he lets a chuckle escape his lips. You smile at his heartwarming reaction, yet you can't shake the feeling that had just engulfed you moments prior.

You can't help but realize that perhaps the both of you had been dancing around the edges of something more profound than mere friendship.

"Best friends can kiss, right?"

Your eyes grow wide as Riki catches you completely off guard with his sudden question, your smile drops off your face.

...

Copyright © 2024 riki-dazed. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED | Do NOT edit, copy, translate or repost any of my work without permission.

[terapsina]

Can we take a moment away from Agatha's all encompassing grief for her son and acknowledge Rio's grief as well? Because she's Nicky's mother too.

She is Death, her son was never going to live, and unlike Agatha, Rio had nothing to rage against.

She's the cycle of life and the inevitable end but does being the personification of that really change anything about the fact that she had to take the soul of her own son?

She gave Agatha the one gift that was in her power to grant - even though it was against her own nature and against the natural order of things - she gave her love time.

And Agatha had six years with Nicky.

Rio didn't.

She might have been able to watch him through every dying flower he plucked from its stem and she might have caught a few moments when Nicky was at his closest to her - likely whenever it had been a while since Agatha had killed the latest batch of witches and used their life force to extend Nicky's life for a little longer - when he slept and the delirium of someone terminally ill granted her access.

But those would have been stolen glimpses. Brief, and precious, and painful.

And Agatha could hate Death. Could take all that grief and turn it into anger. She could hide her pain behind that fury. There's a sort of relief to that.

What did Rio have?

Love so strong she broke the natural order that governs her? A son she could only love from a distance as he grew... but couldn't grow up? Eternal hatred of the one person in eons she had ever fallen in love with?

And maybe Rio can visit Nicky in whatever corner of eternity she had helped him cross over to - I hope she can, it would be far too cruel otherwise - but does that really erase the tragedy here?

And on top of that pain there's also the fact that Agatha has avoided Rio for centuries and ultimately asks Rio to promise her that she would never ever have to see Rio's face again.

Death can be cruel. But I think sometimes mortals win that particular game by a mile.

[adelheidvonschicksal]

Don't you agree we need more A/B/O for love and deep space?

Omegaverse Scenarios with the Boys

Content warning: Omegaverse, jealousy, marking, scenting, fluff, mild sexual content, no pronouns, MORE ABO! MORE ABO!

Original Post

“You’re back.”

You whip your head around to see Xavier standing at the balcony door, looking serene as ever in the mid-morning light. The soft look the sunlight gives him brings a smile to your face. However, it quickly strains and breaks, collapsing into a frown as Xavier steps out onto the deck. There’s nothing scary about his demeanor; he seems calm as usual but there’s a subtle tension in the air that fogs heavy from him.

Wordlessly, Xavier scans you up and down, focusing on…something. You’re not sure what he’s searching for, but you suspect he’s found it when his forehead creases and his voice drops.

“Did you visit Philos while you were out?"

"How'd you guess?"

"You smell like Jeremiah,” Xavier concludes coldly, which causes you to hold on tighter to the little packet of plant food clutched between your hands. “What were the two of you doing?” he follows up; this time he fixes his face and flashes you that sweet smile.

You’re smart enough to not be fooled by the innocent expression he puts on whenever he tries to pry information out of you. However, you have nothing to hide and answer honestly.

“My friend has been sick, so I wanted to send her some flowers.”

“Is that all?”

"I also got plant food for the strawberries," you add, flashing the green packet of nutrients. 

"That's not what I meant."

Your suspicion tipped off, you raise your eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

Xavier closes in on you, each step making your heart pound as he boxes you in between himself and one of the large ceramic pots homing the strawberry plant. Raising your hands to your chest, your knuckles brush against the tassels of his hoodie as you try to make some space between the two of you. It's clear you have no room to run, and a part of you isn't sure you want to escape.

Xavier reaches out to you; his hand sweeps under the collar of your black turtleneck, sending jolts through your body when his fingertips hit the sore bruise in the soft junction of your neck. The way he immediately finds that tender target reminds you of the way he hunts down wanderers with precision, persistence, and unfortunately, pinpoint accuracy. Despite the severe shivers being coerced in your soul, it doesn’t frighten you as he traces around your scent gland.

“You’re practically shaking,” he mumbles, gripping the neck of your shirt and giving a gentle tug, exposing your bond mark. “Are you cold?”

“No," you answer immediately, watching his snooping hand from your periphery, "and don’t change the subject.”

“I’m not,” he says with a shake of his head as he continues to fumble with your clothing. “I was just wondering why you were so covered up.”

“There’s no reason,” you breathe out, distracted by the fierce concentration reflecting from dark pools of blue so different from the soft glimpses and angelic gazes he normally shares with you. They strike you so deeply, peering through you so sharply that memories from how the mark was made begin to flash through your mind, fumbling any other excuses you might have said.

“None at all?” he comments, making your face warm. “If the mark hurts, it’s nothing a hot bath won’t fix.”

“It doesn’t hurt.”

“Then, why are you covering it up?” he asks; this game of cat and mouse quickly unravels when he brings up, “Did you not want Jeremiah to see it?”

“That’s not it,” you deny with a sigh, pushing his hand away.

You never understand how Xavier can be so jealous. Jeremiah is a friend to both of you; he has been for centuries from your understanding. Even if there was some point in those decades that Jeremiah possibly had feelings for you stronger than friendship, you didn’t hold those same feelings for him. You only desired to be bonded with one person, the one standing in front of you. Even when he was being a needlessly jealous dummy.

“It has nothing to do with him.”

“Do you not like the way it looks?” He questions instead, his demeanor softening only slightly with regret. With a slight blush, Xavier pouts and rubs the back of his neck. “I admit I was a little out of it when I did it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it! It’s pretty,” you finally yell, which causes him to clamp his mouth shut enough for you to explain better. “This is the first time anyone made a bond mark on me, and it’s a little embarrassing cause then everyone knows, we’re um…” you start to lose your concentration when he looms over you. You take a sudden step back, stopping only when the pot behind you threatens to fall over when you bump it. “Doing things…together.”

Chest aching, you hope your explanation is satisfactory. You never want to make him insecure but the idea of people knowing intimate details of your love life makes you sheepish.

“So, you don’t want him to know.”

“Xavier, did you not listen to what I said?”

“I did but isn’t what you said still a roundabout way of saying you’re hiding it?” He teases with a small laugh. There’s a pleased curve in the smile on his face and a shimmering light like stardust in his eyes; unbeknownst to you, that’s from knowing he’s the first and only one to ever mark you. How proud he would be if everyone was aware of that fact. “You don’t have to be embarrassed by something so natural. Everyone, especially him, should know you’re mine and I’m yours.” 

You open your mouth to protest but you’re interrupted by him grabbing your wrist in one hand to prevent you from squirming away as he hooks a finger into your turtleneck. Pulling your collar, he presses an open-mouth kiss to your bond mark then higher up to nip the soft flesh under your earlobe, higher until he's breathing into your ear. 

"I'll fix it," he murmurs and kisses your neck again and again until all you can make sense of is the heat blooming along your throat with each touch of his lips. 

His kisses lack his normal gentleness; they’re filled instead with a desire that makes your knees shake and buckle. You’d fallen if he hadn’t held you closer, squeezed you to him like letting go would be the end of him, as if he finds joy in feeling the aftershocks of your fluttering heart against your ribcage.

“Xavier, what are you-you-ah."

You desperately hold in the moan that builds up in your chest as he continues to bite into your skin and the sound of his kisses fills your ear smooch by smooch. Xavier chuckles against your flesh.

“Relax. I’m not going to do anything bad to you. I’m simply making a few minor adjustments to your  first  mark." He hums, tongue sliding along your neck to mark its target. “I think this is a good spot,” he whispers before sinking his teeth into your pulse.

It burns in a searingly blinding way, and your eyes roll up when he sucks onto your bite-broken skin. He doesn't stop until he manages to ring out a strangled moan from your throat. He cements his work with another swipe of his tongue then pulls away to admire it.

He paints that innocent smile back on his face as he locks his eyes with yours. His voice is light and airy like a weight is off his shoulders when the fresh mark peeks from your turtleneck. "This time I gave you a mark you can’t hide."

It’s another day at the arcade and another day Zayne watches you spend an exorbitant amount of money winning a plushie you could’ve easily ordered cheaper online. The Tinkle Toy you win this time is cuter than the normal fare at least. It’s a bright candy streamer rainbow, with smiling pink cotton candy clouds.

“I did it!” you cheer and hold out your prize to him in search of his approval. He congratulates you on your well-earned victory. With a smiling face, you push the toy closer to him rather than hug it to your chest in your normal possessive manner.

“What is it?”

You wave the toy back and forth. “You know.”

“I’m afraid I don’t.”

In truth, Zayne knows exactly what you want, and it makes his neck hot under the collar. He presses his pointer finger to the bridge of his glasses and pushes them further up his nose as an excuse to avoid your slowly narrowing gaze. Your previously cheerful smile flattens into a stern line and your tone becomes more demanding.

“Zayne,” you repeat ominously, like a parent scolding their child for not finishing their chores. Somehow, it always works to earn his attention, and he briefly glances over the toy again; it looks much less cute this time, the carefully stitched smiles now a mocking grin.

Zayne examines his surroundings: the kids running around the overly decorated and gaudy arcade, the bored and drowsy-eyed employees behind the gift counter, the many older siblings and parents trying to win tickets for the little ones, and, well, you, glaring him down. That look tells him you’re not going to be willing to let this go despite how crowded the arcade has become in your short time here.

“You want me to scent your toy for you?” he questions, adding for emphasis, “Right here?”

“Rainbow Candy can’t join the other plushies in the nest without being christened by the leader.” Poking out your lip, you give him the biggest puppy eyes you can muster. It doesn’t move him enough to give in, not until your eyes start to gloss like stained glass and you softly plead, “Please, Dr. Zayne.”

Ice quickly breaks and chips in the mildest bit of sunlight, dissolving into warm puddles, and it’s just like that when Zayne finally breaks and melts at the smallest insistence from you. Grabbing the toy, Zayne quickly shoves it against his throat, ignoring how plush the toy feels against the underside of his chin. He trails it up and down the column of his neck, swiping it one final time under his chin. It’s a simple motion, done quickly and precisely to efficiently cover the toy in his scent in the least amount of time possible, yet it still feels so inappropriate to do here under your watchful, yearning gaze threatening to make his body stiff.

As he feels his limit about to be broken, he hands the rainbow back to your waiting arms.

“Is this satisfactory?”

You squeeze onto the toy as if someone could snatch it away. You press your face against it, smelling deeply, and when you look up at him from under your brow it’s with the sweetest smile he thinks he’s ever witnessed.

“Your best work yet, Dr. Zayne. Good job!” you giggle, and he has half a mind to pinch your cheek and wipe that childish grin off your face. “Now, I’ll have something to remember you by while you’re at work today.”

“Is that why you demand I scent all your toys?” he asks, and you nod slowly.

“You’re always so busy that I hardly get to see you outside of the hospital, so when I get lonely I just cuddle with these guys,” you confess. You press your nose deeper into one of the garishly pink cotton candy clouds; this time when your eyes waver like watery skies, it isn’t to sway him. “When the teddies smell like you, it’s like I’m holding a piece of you too.”

Those words connect everything that has ever happened between the two of you together, stringing the moments like a red line of fate. Despite the words  I love you  never leaving your lips, it excites the same effect that can make a sane man an idiot, an effect not even Zayne is immune to when you so innocently and freely express your feelings to him.

It’s a skill he struggles with; though for you and your happiness, he’s willing to give in and let loose the restrained mask he wears on his face as he listens to the one person he’s longed for all this time admit that they get lonely without him beside them.

“I think scenting you before my shift would be more comforting,” he offers; the adoration glowing in your irises makes him weak enough to stroke your forehead with the back of his hand. There’s a little whimper muffled into your plushie while your forehead feels hot to touch before your face falls into shock and your eyes dart around the room, like his before. As sweet and innocent as you can be, you can also be very easy to read. “You’re thinking inappropriately.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Not here.”

“I wasn’t going to ask.”

Zayne gently pokes your forehead to clear your head of the improper thoughts running through it causing you to whine and rub the spot, which only reminds him how you’re much, much cuter than any plushie. 

You hold in a giggle as Rafayel shoves his face against the crook of your neck. Since you came over to his studio, he hasn’t been able to tear himself away from you, which left you sitting on the couch, covered in little splotches of dried paint, trying to discern why he feels the need to drag his hands down your arm and audibly sniff your hair.

His breath is heavy and ragged as he sucks in a breath, or rather your scent, and continues to trace up your skin until his finger can finally sink into the collar of your button-up. “Did you do something different today? New lotion? Bath Soap?” 

“I did what I normally do every day.”

Rafayel groans against your skin again. You haven’t seen him hot and bothered, face soaked and flushing red with fever, since his last ebb day, which already happened earlier this year.

“Are you sure?” His lips on your skin feel so familiar that your body is immediately on edge and reacting to every stuttered exhale he makes whenever your leg so much as brushes against him. He sinks closer to you, removing any space in between your bodies. “You smell delectable.”

“Rafayel?”

“I just want a taste.”

“Rafayel, are you rutting?”

“No, I’m not,” he groans, laps your shoulder without any care for the fabric covering it, then pricks his canines against vulnerable, pulsing skin. You can tell he’s about to lose it when he pops the first button on your shirt, not even paying attention to the way his nails draw across your upper chest. “I’m just…admiring you…there’s nothing wrong with that.” 

There’s a whimper melting from his mouth when you press your hand to his chest and push away. Your confidence is quickly rising thanks to the pitiful expression on his face, highlighted by parted, puffy lips and wide violet-pink eyes fogged with hazy lustful clouds.

“I charge by the hour for appearances.”

Rafayel huffs lightly in response. Something about him is different today; something that your experience tells you is due to the rut he fails to explain away. He misses the usual flare he has, the coy seduction that he uses to draw you in. He trades it for brute force, spurred by the mind-numbing need to have this fire in him quenched inside of you as he grips your wrist and forces you closer to him.

“Just send any charges directly to the studio,” he pants out in desperation between sporadic breaths. His voice hitches, forming a short gasp when you grip his chin and focus his sights back on you. He follows so readily at any touch you offer him no matter how rough. Your mind was becoming fuzzy with how much power you have when he’s like this.

“I only take payments in kisses, but I’ll be sure to let Thomas know.”

There’s a moment where his eyes narrow, perhaps in frustration, before they drop and lock on your mouth; specifically, he's memorized by the motion of your tongue glancing across your lips. Rafayel is only consumed with thoughts of how gravely he wants to be the one wetting them despite doing so hundreds of times before. His body wildly craves yours like the months before he was graced with a taste of you, or maybe this yearning is because he knows exactly how it feels to be touched by you as you are now. Rafayel isn't sure which it is anymore, the lines fade and blur, becoming harder to trace by the second. It hurts being this vulnerable, his body uncontrolled by himself, but if you’re his mate then there isn’t anything to fear, at least not this time.

“On second thought, I really should settle my own debts.”

“Are you sure you can afford it?”

“I’ll gladly pay you with interest, darling,” he barely manages to force out in his last single coherent thought. “Now, let me taste you already.”

Rafayel leans closer, aiming for your lips, but is stopped by your nail dragging up the center of his neck, unhindered by the thick gulp he takes to stop his heart from jumping into his throat. You creep your finger up his chin, stopping at the point to force his head up and eyes to lock with yours. The smile on your face is torturous, the look in your eyes out to kill as your lips purse and part to form one simple word,

“Beg.”

The arrogant smirk on your face says you know he will; Rafayel knows he will; anything for a small taste to quench this thirst built in him since eternity for you, but he also knows he’ll have you in his trap instead very soon.

[sunderwight]

SV scenario where Shen Jiu is also Shen Yuan's Meimei.

Trans egg SJ never got to examine her gender identity very much in her first life. What with all the enslavement, abuse (given as well as received), misunderstandings, betrayals, dismemberment, and death, there was far too much for her to ever come to terms with a set of concepts she'd never really had the luxury to entertain. By the time Shen Jiu was a peak lord, the Shen Qingqiu persona was locked in, and any dreams of a different life or inclinations to the contrary of her role were ruthlessly quashed by SJ herself.

But when SJ finally dies and her soul is free to reincarnate (taking a few more memories than usual along for the ride), she has mixed feelings about being born as the youngest daughter of a wealthy family.

The mixed feelings don't actually last long, though after a while she starts to wonder why the fates would grant her a reprieve? Maybe remembering her past life is her punishment, because it's certainly the worst part of her new situation. Her parents are indulgent, her older brothers all dote on her and spoil her, and when she tests limits she's only gently rebuked if she gets rebuked at all. Not only is she allowed to wear fine dresses and look pretty, she's expected to (actually the expectation does chafe, a bit). But even when she uses foul language, skips classes, reads controversial books, and commits myriad other tiny rebellions, no real retribution ever comes of it.

Even despite everything, after some years Shen Jiu starts to become... not complacent, but perhaps calmer would be a better description. She has a stable future handed to her on a silver platter. Very few things remind her of her past, either. She can read books about snotty highborn lords getting railed by werewolves as readily as classics of literature or academic papers on science, business, culture, politics, or whatever else takes her fancy. Her family doesn't even put demands on her to marry, despite some of her mother's hints in that direction. For the first time, Shen Jiu has a life where it seems like she can't fail, she can only succeed however much she wants to. It's like having nowhere to go but up, except without the part about hitting rock bottom.

A foolish set of assumptions, in the end. There's always something to lose.

When Shen Yuan suddenly dies, Shen Jiu recognizes the sinister hand of the same entity which oversaw her own reincarnation. One which had visited her dreams quite recently, trying to tempt her back to her first life with offers of being able to change the past. It wasn't even difficult to deny it. Shen Jiu doesn't believe she could change what happened, and she doesn't really want to try. Her one regret is what happened to that person, the one who died so horribly while rushing to her rescue, and even that, she doesn't know how she would change (because she still doesn't know why he bothered in the first place).

But how dare the System God take the silliest and softest of her brothers to try and fix her accursed first life?! Luo Binghe will eat him alive! Cang Qiong will mistake him for a demon or a madman or worse, and throw him into some cell somewhere, if they don't just kill him outright!

Shen Meimei tries to negotiate with the System, but it tells her the window of opportunity for her to go back instead has passed. Smarmy piece of shit. There's nothing she can do without supernatural help, however, except bide her time and wait for another "window of opportunity". It's in the midst of this that she discovers PIDW, and its (terrible) account not only of the broad strokes of her first life and death, but of what came afterwards. That little beast really wrecked the world, huh? And all those women, too. She's never been more grateful to have not figured herself out in her first life. But at least with access to this information, she can try and prepare more. (She's suspicious of who actually wrote this account as well -- is Luo Binghe himself in this world? Better to leave it now, in that case, before he inevitably makes another bid for power and destroys everything in his wake all over again!)

When the System finally gives her an opportunity to go back (as herself, or rather "Bonus Epilogue Side Character -- Shen Qingqiu's Mysterious Little Sister!") she is braced for any number of outcomes. Shen Yuan could be dead. He could be imprisoned. He could have had his limbs all cut off. He could be stuffed into a pickle jar. He could be hiding or on the run somewhere. Hopefully, he'll be hiding behind that person, confused and distraught but still intact thanks to the sect leader's guilt-driven sense of obligation. Most likely if the same number of years have passed since Shen Yuan "left", he's already been destroyed by Luo Binghe and all Shen Jiu will be able to do is avenge him. But she has some ideas of how to kill the beast, so, she will.

Of course, what she finds is nothing she expected, and almost even worse.

Luo Binghe married her brother?!

Death is too good for him! Shen Jiu's going to skin him alive!!!

[heartswithinreach]

LaDS with a chubby MC

Xavier

As long as you're happy and healthy, who cares that you have a little extra weight? Not Xavier. He'll never stop looking at you like you hung in the stars in the sky.

He's so smitten it completely takes him off guard if you tell him you don't like the way you look sometimes.

If you say something bad about your body and he's within earshot, he'll get very serious and make you apologize to yourself. He won’t let anyone talk about his partner that way, not even you.

Your thighs are his favorite pillow. If you sit still long enough, he’ll slowly slide his way over and before you know it, Xavier’s face is pressed into your stomach and his arms are tight around your waist. It's the slowest takeover ever yet he's so subtle it surprises you sometimes. You'll look down while you're reading a book and suddenly he's there, napping away.

Your thighs are also his favorite target. He’s obsessed. He's biting them, he's stroking them from your hips to your calves, he wants them around his waist, across his lap, over his shoulders. He doesn't care who sees him like this. He's in heaven let the poor boy rest.

Rafayel

Rafayel has loved you countless times and in so many different ways. Do you really think something as trifle as physical appearances would keep him from you?

Absolutely ZERO MC slander will be tolerated in his presence. One unfortunate soul had the audacity to ask Rafayel why he settled for someone who looks like you during one of his exhibits and the havoc that followed was the talk of Linkon’s elite for months.

The only thing that saved the offender from being thrown into the sea was your forgiveness and a promise from Thomas that person would be banned from ever attending another one of Rafayel’s art exhibits. Rafayel clung to you for the rest of the night, distracting you from any insecurities by pointing out all the ways you inspired each of his paintings.

Rafayel encourages you to wear the clothes you like, not the ones you use to hide. He loves seeing you wear something new and daring when you come to visit him at Whitesand Bay and will always hype you up as you deserve.

When it comes to learning not to worry so much about what other people think or say, there’s no better teacher than Rafayel.

Zayne

Like Xavier, as long as you're healthy, your weight doesn’t matter to him.

But what does matter to Zayne is when you tear yourself down after he compliments how you look. It boggled him into stunned silence the first time he heard you say such things because you are the standard of beauty for him. It’s a violation of what he believes to be simple truth when you deny how beautiful you are.

Zayne creates a flow chart in his mind to counter every fault you find in your appearance and gently reminds you to be kinder to yourself as often as he needs to.

As your physician, he knows your body is doing everything it can to keep you alive and healthy, therefore, you should show it the same care and respect. If you decide to take up exercising, Zayne will help you make a workout plan that works with your heart and stamina and will exercise with you to keep you motivated.

Zayne knows a well-earned treat is good for the spirit so he's the best person to indulge in comfort food completely judgement free.

Sylus

You are all that Sylus adores. He knows he stares at you too much but he truly can’t help it. Softness has no place in the life he’s had to live without you and now that you’ve returned to him, he intends to get his fill of you.

But he isn't blind. The closer you two become, the more doubt creeps into your mind until you pull away from him entirely, ashamed as you ask if he's truly attracted to you as you are.

Sylus is immediately seething but he makes it clear he is not angry with you. He would never blame you for what you feel. Obviously, outside influences are at fault for making you think you could ever be undesirable to him. So, as soon as he knows he's allowed, he's unapologetically tactile and vocal. How can you feel anything less than perfect when you’re loved so completely?

He still wants the names of everyone who's ever made you feel unworthy, of course. Just to have a little chat.

Sylus will definitely use your measurements as some sort of passcode, along with your birthday and your anniversaries for his many, many armories and safe houses.

[foone]

So, Bashir and Garak from Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, won't you?

Bashir is the man who has one big secret and it's his entire life, and he has always assumed it will destroy him if it gets out.

Garak is a man made of fractal secrets. The cast-out student (and secret son) of the head of an empire-wide spy agency. He's stolen secrets from every power in the alpha quadrant. His own personal history is nothing but lies, possibly even to himself. He lies so completely it took Bashir visiting GARAK'S DAD to figure out that "Elim" is his first name.

If truth was a river, Bashir's is wide and free-flowing, with a real big meander where it goes kilometers out of its way to avoid a huge rock that we don't ever talk about.

Garak has dammed his river with endless pebbles of lies. There's no truth there, only more lies. This is a man who lies reflexively, who once claimed (in one of the few true things he ever said) that lying is a skill you must practice constantly.

Garak is such a liar I don't think he really understands how to tell the truth. When he was dying from his addictions, instead of admitting the problem he made of stories to try and scare his doctor off, to let him die. When an assassin showed up to kill him, he got the local police involved by attempting to (almost) assassinate himself first. Garak carries a big hammer labeled "lying" and every problem is a juicy nail.

These are not two different people, this is the same person at different scales. Bashir is one big lie in a Star Fleet uniform, Garak is a multitude of tiny lies in a lizard suit and a very fashionable outfit of his own design.

In Ancient Greek Mythology*, humans were single souls split into two bodies, male and female, forever searching for their other half so they can be whole again.

They may have been wrong about the gender and species, but Bashir and Garak are definitely two parts of the same original material. They were chiseled from the same piece of marble, cut from the same cloth, split from the same soul. They deserve to be together, not because they'd be good for each other (dear God, no. They are terrible for each other in many ways!) but because they're incomplete without each other.

* not to be confused with Star Trek, which is Ancient Geek Mythology.

[firstfullmoon]

Years ago, I received a query from a prominent editor about a line in Mahmoud Darwish’s long poem, “The ‘Red Indian’s’ Penultimate Speech to the White Man,” (If I Were Another). The poem channels Chief Seattle’s voice and spirit. In the poem’s second section, the line in question follows an address to Columbus, “the free [who] has the right to find India in any sea, / and the right to name our ghosts as pepper or Indian.”

The line in question is this: “You have burst seventy million hearts…enough, / enough for you to return from our death as monarch of the new time”:

isn’t it time we met, stranger, as two strangers of one time and one land, the way strangers meet by a chasm? We have what is ours…and we have what is yours of sky. You have what is yours…and what is ours of air and water.

“I just don’t get where he got the seventy million from?” the editor asked.

I didn’t reply. I didn’t wonder about the accuracy of Darwish’s claim. Maybe he included all the Natives annihilated in the Americas over the centuries. The only thought I had in my head was, “Is this really what’s bothering you about the poem?”

Years later, in a daydream, a marginalia of my soul visited me, and it spoke thus: “Do you remember those seventy million punctured hearts in Darwish’s poem? If you’re ever asked again, if the person who asks you says that historical studies show the number is not possible or whatever, remember the buffalos.”

The buffalo hearts are also native hearts. Who will count the donkeys, dogs, and cats in Gaza? The birds will return.

— Fady Joudah, in his essay “A Palestinian Meditation in a Time of Annihilation”

[peonysgreenhouse]

-`♡´- return.

summary: the obey me datables & luke react to mc coming back to life!

tags: obey me datables (simeon, solomon, diavolo, barbatos) x gn!reader, luke & gn!reader, hurt/comfort, implied character death, mentions of violence in solomon's parts, solomon goes a little crazy teehee

i. simeon

he sees you there, in the celestial realm. he had known your soul was pure from the very beginning, but seeing you among the angels was like a knife to his gut, a reminder of his failures to protect you. 

you weren’t supposed to be here, not now, at least. it was far too early for you to die. simeon can’t help but feel bitterness well up within him as you turn from michael to look for someone in the crowd (he knew it was him. he hoped it was him).

your features light up – simeon feels his heart skip a beat. even now you were just as he last remembered you, he had always taken the time to visit you in the devildom, even after his internship was over. you more beautiful than any angel he had ever seen. 

you embrace him tight, and the tighter you squeeze the more he feels like he can’t breathe, the combating feelings waging a war in his mind. he should’ve been watching over you; what kind of guardian angel was he to let his human die like this?

“i’m sorry,” he doesn’t know why his voice cracks when he says it. simeon? losing his composure? he had garnered many millennia of years of experience working to keep it up. “i’m sorry i didn’t protect you.”

“it’s okay simeon,” he feels your hands squeeze the back of his cloak. a wicked thought crosses his mind; maybe if you dug your nails in harder he would have some penance for his failures. if you cut through the bone and marrow and reached his heart then maybe his father would forgive him – maybe you would forgive him for his short-comings. “i’m here now.”

“right,” he breathes you in as if to convince himself. simeon feels the strength of his bond with you overwhelm him, he can feel how much you care for him and he feels his chest fill with warmth, chasing away his guilt, if for the moment. “you’re here forever. with me. nothing can hurt you here, i promise.”

ii. luke

luke had always told you to be mindful of demons, that they were evil creatures who would take any opportunity to kill you. it had seemed that his warning had proved true in the worst way. if only he hadn’t been a cherub; if uriel had promoted him to be your guardian angel like he had asked, maybe this could’ve been avoided.

but he was overwhelmed with how happy he was at the fact that you would be spending time with him forever in the celestial realm. he had wanted nothing more ever since you had become friends in the devildom. you were the one light for him in the exchange program.

“you’re here!” luke chirps, sprinting down the golden bricks of the road to the archangels’ house. “you’re really–!” you’re suddenly enveloped in a hug as luke wraps himself around your waist. 

“hello luke!” you smile from ear to ear, ruffling up his neat hair. usually, he’d make a comment about you not treating him like a child, but for now it seems he’s too busy nuzzling into you. “it’s good to see you again.”

“yes! i’m happy to see you,” he pulls away, cheeks visibly flushed. “i’m sorry that i wasn’t there to protect you from those mean old demons but… everything will be fine now that you’re here!”

“would you like to give them a tour of the celestial realm?” michael chimes in with a smile, the younger angel’s eyes lighting up like a christmas tree.

luke nods excitedly, taking your hand in his, already tugging you out of the estate: “we have so much to do! we can’t waste any time!”

iii. solomon

solomon spirals hard.

there was a reason solomon pushed everyone away, why most people in his life were kept an arms length apart. he got too attached to things; to power, to magic, to anything that gave him that needed adrenaline rush… why would you be any different? you, the only person he has ever loved had been snatched out of his hands.

and worst of all, he had been powerless to save you. 

all the magic and demon pacts and connections in the world couldn’t stop you from bleeding out in his arms. humans like you were much too fragile for his liking; he had worked tirelessly his whole life to be anything but.

if he couldn’t get what he wanted from the damned, he would have to turn his eyes to the celestial realm. if he had to tear down the heavens and bring you crashing back down to earth, he’s sure he would. 

making bonds with angels was much more difficult than that of demons, but he found after nights of endless research that plucking a few of their feathers would get them to sing. 

he’s covered in golden ichor when he manages to bring you back – a life for a life. he finally was able to do it, not only to bring a human back to life, but to bring you back. solomon rises, shakily, as you feel your body materialize out of the magic sigil etched into the floor. he smiles gently, looking at you as if you were the only thing that mattered.

so why do you look back at him with such horror?

iv. diavolo

he had bargained with the archangels before, but never for a life.

in all accounts, a human choosing to leave the celestial realm and go to the devildom was unheard of. being cast out of heaven was notoriously the worst punishment anyone could receive.

but you do, you would always choose him over all the luxuries and beauty of the heavens every single time. it was true that love made people do stupid things.

michael sends you back to the devildom months after diavolo’s terms were set, a gift with the price of owing the ruler of the celestial realm a favor. michael was known for his kindness, but diavolo knew that there was more to him than that. he was smart enough to know that michael would never jeopardize the devildom, but angels never forgot debts owed. it was a risk, but one diavolo had no choice but to take. 

above all the benevolence and good-will he draped himself in, at his core, he was a selfish demon; perhaps moreso than anyone else in the devildom. 

he holds you against his chest the whole night. in the morning, he’d have duties and meetings to go to. but for now, you were his. 

“little one,” he mumbles into your hair, hands tight around your waist, “make a pact with me. that you may be at my side forevermore.”

v. barbatos

in so many other timelines he sees you, shining, alive. he starts to resent the other versions of himself for being happy with you (or even worse, happy with any of the others). barbatos could pull you out as easily as he could breathe; he had a mastery over his powers that other lower demons could only imagine. 

but it wouldn’t be the same, he reminds himself, it wouldn’t be his version of you. 

he knew the way to get you back, it’d be to break his own rule: do not interact with the past. diavolo had given him permission to bring you back, it would be a stain on the exchange student program if one of the humans came back dead after the second semester. but he wasn’t so sure, what if the you he brought back wasn’t the you he remembered? 

barbatos does it anyways, knowing he can’t refuse an order from his lord. the you in the celestial realm will be erased from existence replaced with the you of the past, the one who doesn’t know what it’s like to die. the two can only hope it doesn’t cause drama in the celestial realm.

“barbatos?” you question as you walk in the gardens with him, completely oblivious to it all. if he hadn’t been so happy that you had returned, he would feel guilty for not telling you of your death. sometimes, ignorance was bliss. “are you okay? you seem more quiet than usual.”

“do i?” he muses, forcing a soft smile for you. “i’m afraid i’m simply just a bit tired. sleep evaded me last night.” the last part wasn’t a lie.

“sorry to hear that,” you pout, “if you want to go nap, you should!

“do you not wish to spend time with me?”

“it’s not that…” you kick at the ground, arms crossed behind your back. “it’s just we have all the time in the world though, right? i want you to be rested when we’re together.”

he feels as if you’ve struck him with an arrow to his chest. barbatos sees your lifeless body in his mind, did you know and were trying to taunt him? or were you simply just this sweet?

“i suppose you’re right.” he nods his head, “but you’re coming with me.”

[pierregazly]

in the mind of another ꨄ max verstappen

max verstappen x fem!soulmate!reader

warnings: mentions of sexual themes (no smut), pining/yearning for another, tiny bit of angst but hea! [wc is 5.4k]

in which soulmates always have a way of building the connection with one another. for you and max, you've always been the voice instead the others head, the one thing that has always been a constant presence. but will that voice inside your head, ever be the voice you hear from in front of you?

By legal terms, a soulmate was defined as “person with whom one has a feeling of deep or natural affinity.  This may involve similarity, love, romance, platonic relationships, comfort, intimacy, sexuality, sexual activity, spirituality, compatibility and trust.” In today’s day and age, more often than not, your soulmate was that of romantic origin, a person you yearned for on a regular basis. 

It was something instilled in you at an early age, that everyone had a soulmate, but not everyone met their soulmate. Everyone had a way of interacting with their soulmate before they met. You learned early on, very early on, that you could interact with your soulmate through your mind. Through words, pictures, even internal conversations. But sometimes those interactions would lead to nothing, and your parents tried to ensure you were aware of that in the fear that you would be heartbroken one day.  

One thing you could never do was tell them your name, who you were, or where you were until it was time. It was like your mind would go elsewhere when you tried to tell the male on the other end who you were. He told you the same thing happened to him every time he tried.  

The both of you spent a plentiful amount of time interacting in your shared youth. He would often ramble on about his day, about go-karting, and his dad who he kind of hated but obviously loved, about his mum who he missed, and his sister who he couldn’t wait to see when she came to visit him wherever he was in the world. 

You would do the same, you’d tell him about the things you did that specific day, explain little things about your family, the things you looked forward to for the remainder of the week. It was something you both just got used to. 

The both of you grew up together. Even if it wasn’t physical, you were an emotional tether for one another when either of you needed it. He was there for almost all of your firsts, your first graduation, your first familial heartbreak, your first crush, your first boyfriend (which he was eager to help you through when it ended).  

Ever embarrassing to admit, he was even the one in your mind, more times than you can count, when you felt the butterflies in your tummy growing as your fingers explored different parts of your body. He always pushed you to continue, telling you exactly what he would do with his own fingers, or his own tongue; when he finally got the chance to make you feel the way you were making yourself feel. 

It was something you didn’t speak about after it happened, but it didn’t change the fact he was usually the one your brain went to when you made yourself feel that way. He argued it was the soulmate connection, that your soul just simply wanted him to be the one to do it. 

As time went on, the conversations dwindled amongst the two of you, both of you growing up and growing out of the fantasy that you would meet your soulmate one day, meet each other. 

You still got glimpses into his brain occasionally, pictures of blue and red cars, racecars are what you presumed. His fingers on what looked like a controller, but turned out to be a steering wheel when you asked him what it was. 

“Seems like a bit of an extravagant steering wheel, no?” 

The silent laugh was loud in your mind, as if you could feel his body rumbling in its laughter at your words, “Pretty extravagant, yeah. Not everyone gets to use something like this, though.” 

“Explain the steering wheel to me, there’s too many buttons and toggles,” you prompted him, knowing full well it would dive him deep into an explanation about the object you so often saw inside his head. 

That was another thing you learned about him early on. He liked to explain everything. He used to spend hours describing the go-karts he drove every weeknight and weekend, putting as much detail and emphasis into his explanations so that you would better understand. As time went on, so did his explanations, explaining situations he’s found himself in around the world, explaining how his career was kicking his ass but how he loved it, occasionally getting drunk and explaining how soulmates worked and that it was inevitable you’d meet one day, even if it felt like that day was never coming.  

Not wanting to be the one to burst his fantasy and ruin whatever hope he had, you would usually just nod along and silently hum to him when the conversation of eventually meeting one day was brought up. 

You still shared nights together, even from thousands of miles apart, your brain yearning for him as his did the same. 

There were moments in time, where you were positive you had almost met him, or perhaps had made eye contact with him. It was a small feeling inside of you, like everything you were looking for was in the same building as you, or around the corner, or even in the same city. 

Usually just as fast as the feeling appeared, it was gone. It never lasted for long periods of time, it was like your soulmate bond was teasing you, pushing for you to reinstate your faith in the connection. He always argued that if you lost faith in the soulmate bond, it would lose faith in trying to push the two of you together. 

Yet another thing you learned early on, whoever he was, arguing was in his blood. If he disagreed with you, with something you said, or with an opinion you had, he would go off into a whole explanation and argument about why he knew you were wrong, and how he knew he was right. 

It was endearing, how passionate he was about everything in his life, and seeing how his passion for everything just continued to grow as he grew up.  

Over the last 8 years, you had learned not to even attempt to communicate with him on Saturday or Sundays. He had told you that it was the busiest time of the work week for him, and that he couldn’t handle internal distractions on those days. 

You would only speak to him when he spoke to you on those days. Usually it was a fleeting ‘have a nice rest of your weekend’ or ‘I can’t wait until you’re here with me, celebrating this with me’.  

He never elaborated on the last part, and you never went out of your way to ask. Whoever he was, he was usually celebrating something on Sundays, at least that’s what you assumed from the raw happiness and elation that usually went through your connection on those days. 

You hadn’t heard from him, from your soulmate, in weeks. Which wasn’t necessarily unusual, either of you could cut off the connection for weeks at a time if things were stressful in life, or if you just needed a break from the never-ending person that was inside your head at all times. 

It didn’t mean you didn’t miss his dry sense of humour, the bluntness with which he said things to you, the never-ending arguments about the stupidest things. You would never admit any of this to him, though.  

Ignoring the yearning-feeling from inside of you, you allowed yourself to think about how things would be if you ever met the person on the other end of the connection. Would it be instant happiness? Relief? Joy? 

People always explained their own experiences to you, saying it was like love at first sight, but amplified so significantly, because it felt like your soul was complete, like everything was finally where it needed to be in life. They described it as meeting the one thing that made you whole, the one thing that made you continuously push to be your best self, to continuously push to be better at everything you did in life.  

You truly couldn’t believe what they said, not that it sounded exaggerated or silly. It was just difficult to imagine anything causing a feeling so instantaneously and intense as what they described.  

Your friends had disappeared earlier in the day, eager to try and find themselves different drivers throughout the entrances to get photos or autographs with. You really had no interest in any of it. Your soulmate had eagerly admired, and shit talked almost every single person on the grid to you, at least once or twice, so it really wasn’t worth trying to interact with any of them after that. 

Your paddock pass sat heavily on your chest, the lanyard rubbing against your neck as the bright Sun shined down upon your skin. The cheering of the Tifosi could be heard throughout the entire fan sections. The Ferrari faithful were dedicated, especially at their own Grand Prix. 

He had told you that Monza was one of the ones not to miss. That it was electric, regardless of who you drove for, even if the fans were booing your favourite driver, or your favourite team, it was a delight to drive in Monza. 

You found yourself staring at the different drivers names that were wrapped around the seating section. Charles Leclerc, Carlos Sainz, Lewis Hamilton, George Russell... Max Verstappen. 

He was handsome, that you could admit. With his pretty blue eyes, and his arrogant little smirk, and his annoying obsession with having to win.  

“Oh, you think Max Verstappen has pretty blue eyes, huh?”  

A small sound erupted from your chest as you listened to the words floating through your head from the man you hadn’t heard from in weeks. 

“Look who’s alive! Thought you got lost with your little controller steering wheel.” 

Laughing at your words, “You didn’t answer my question! You think Max Verstappen has pretty eyes?” 

“I think Max Verstappen himself is pretty. Other than when he’s being an arrogant prick.” 

That feeling had been eating at you all day, again. Like your soulmate bond was trying to force you to go in a direction you weren’t understanding. It was like it was trying to tell you that he was here, that he was so close you could almost smell him, almost touch him. You had been ignoring the little jabs inside of you all day, refusing to acknowledge the fact that maybe, just maybe, the person you were yearning for so heavily, was so close. 

“My soulmate just called me an arrogant prick, without realizing she was calling me an arrogant prick.”  

The Brit in front of him guffawed, his whole body moving as he gripped his side at Max’s words, “Mate, how did that even happen?” 

Shrugging his shoulders as he looked at Lando, “Not too sure. I haven’t heard from her in a few weeks, figured she had shut the connection off for some time alone and all of a sudden, she’s thinking about how ‘Max Verstappen has such pretty blue eyes’ and then told me that I’d... or he’d be attractive all the time if he wasn’t such an arrogant prick.”  

Patting his shoulder gently, all Lando did was grin at him, “Just think, mate. At least whoever she is, she thinks you have pretty eyes and that you’re good looking when you’re not being an arrogant prick.” 

Max shoved him as he walked by, walking away in the direction of his driver's room. He had been having that feeling again, like his body was yearning for something that it couldn’t explain to him. He had tried to ask a few people about it, had asked Sebastian in the past if it was something he had experienced before meeting Hanna. Of course, Seb hadn’t been much help when one considered the fact that he and his soulmate had met in their shared childhood. 

It wasn’t something he could ask either of his parents, both admitting long ago that they weren’t destined for one another and that they had never had a connection with their true soulmates, which allowed them to willingly marry each other. Victoria had met her soulmate and now husband when they were young as well, so she would be of no help. 

He was almost embarrassed to ask Christian, or any other older person who had already met their soulmate. He was a grown man, he could literally just google it if he wanted to, but what exactly would he type in? 

What is that weird yearning feeling I get every now and then, out of the blue, in random buildings or random cities? 

Max was almost positive the answer would be ‘allergies’ or ‘hunger’. He figured that maybe it was soulmate related, it would make sense, but it wasn’t a feeling he had often. It wouldn’t make sense to only yearn so heavily for your soulmate in certain areas. 

It was always the strongest when he felt like he was truly connecting with you. He noticed it for the first time when both of you had touched yourselves to the sound of the other, egging one another on, saying exactly what the both of you know the other wanted to hear. Max couldn’t deny how much he enjoyed that time with you, how intimate it was, how much he craved to be the one making you moan and whimper. 

The feeling always grew after that, the yearning for the other person, the desire to have you there with him, the desire to have you underneath him after a night of celebration, the desire to have you wrapped in his arms, the desire to send you an unnecessary bouquet of flowers... if he could just figure out who you were, all of that would be possible.  

But the yearning today was different. It was like his body was trying to tell him he needed to go somewhere, trying to encourage him to walk down halls he didn’t usually walk down, or trying to push him in directions that made no sense.  

“You gonna tell me why you’re thinking of Max Verstappen so much today, and why you’re thinking so much about his pretty blue eyes?” 

He could feel the involuntary smile reach his lips when he heard your soft laugh. He really tried not to be someone who was smitten with a person he had never met, but he couldn’t deny that he was in love with you, likely had been since the both of you were young.  

You were the one constant in his life, the one person he could always turn to when he needed someone. You listened to all his ranting, dealt with hours upon hours of ‘Maxsplaining’, dealt with unnecessary outbursts and temper tantrums, but you never complained about it. You always eagerly pushed for him to continue, asking him more and more questions, prompting him out of his head and prompting him to get over whatever frustration had pushed him over the edge that day.  

“If you must know. I’m at the Monza Grand Prix, and I had to get away from all the Ferrari fans for a bit, pretty sure they were going to blow my ear drums. Max Verstappen’s name is everywhere, so I, of course, had to internally acknowledge his attractiveness while grimacing at his name in front of me.” 

Max felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest. You were here? In Italy? At the Monza Grand Prix? The same place where he was, at this very moment, at this very second?  

He could tell you were waiting for a response from him to your words. It was like he could sense the raise of your eyebrows from the silence that emitted between your connection.  

“You’re in Monza?” He questioned eagerly, his hands sweating as he waited for a response 

“Yes sir, just about to try and force myself to go find my friends and head back to the paddock so I can avoid getting trampled by any other Ferrari fans.” 

Max knew almost instantly that, that had to be what the feeling was. The yearning. You were close by, and his side of the soulmate connection knew it.  

He had tried to tell you who he was before, had tried to explain it to you in words that the connection wouldn’t muffle or meddle with. It never worked. Any time he tried to explain to you who he was, or what he did for a living, it was like his brain malfunctioned and he had to hotwire it back on. 

You had told him the same thing happened to you every time you tried to explain to him who you were, or the easiest ways to find you in the real world. Every time either of you tried, it was like the connection was shutting it down. 

Daniel had told him it was likely the bond, telling him it wasn’t the time yet, that the both of you had to wait until the bond was steady and ready for you to finally meet in person. Max had never believed it, until right now.  

You had never been able to tell him exactly where you were before, at least, not that he can ever remember. You had told him the things you were doing in the past, had told him the people you were spending time with, even that you were getting dinner in certain districts. Any time you had tried to tell him the restaurant, or the city even, the connection would malfunction. 

But you were just mentally able to tell him where you were, you were internally able to tell him where you were going in the place that you currently were. 

“I’m... I’m in Monza too. At the Grand Prix, I mean.” 

He could almost feel the instant shock and excitement at his words. Before he or you could get the chance to say anything else, he heard GP calling for him, the annoyed expression on his face an indication that he had been looking for Max for far longer than he actually wanted to be.  

“I have to get back to work. Please, don’t leave before you hear from me again. Maybe this is a sign.” 

You could practically feel the shock coursing through your body. Both of you were here. In Monza. At the Grand Prix. At the same time, together... but not together? You tried to contain the giddiness at his words, a silent hum in acknowledgement when he told you not to leave. How could you leave? Especially now that you knew he was here? And that he was working? 

It gave you some indication as to why he was always so busy on Saturdays and Sundays, if he worked for a Formula 1 team, or for Formula 1 in itself. Their biggest days of the week were the weekends, especially during race weeks. It made sense why he could never talk on those days of the week, or why he always seemed so happy or moody on Sundays. 

You couldn’t believe that both of you were able to tell each other where the other was, that the connection finally allowed you to give that little tidbit of important information to the other. Maybe it finally was time, maybe the connection was finally allowing you to meet the one person you had been yearning for, even if you tried to convince yourself that you weren’t.  

The text message to your friends asking where they were garnered a response, which prompted you out of your train of thought. Letting them know that you were on your way to their location, your brain moved back to the previous thought your mind was on. He was here, like truly here. Within the same 10 kilometers as you. Probably the closest either of you had ever been to each other before. 

Your friends greeted you eagerly when you finally found them, excitably telling you all about the drivers they had met, how Alex Albon even recognized two of them from previous Grand Prix and how they just knew Charles Leclerc was going to win today because the Tifosi were going crazy and how could you not win with all that support screaming for you? 

Nodding along with a smile on your face, you had an inkling they were wrong. Max Verstappen was likely going to get his tenth win in a row, but you weren’t going to say that to them.  

The drivers parade went by faster than you were expecting, before you knew it, the cars and their drivers were lining up in their respective places along the grid. Your friends eagerly itching for a better view of the upcoming race. You couldn’t even put the effort in to pay attention, wondering where he was right now.  

Was he working? Was he one of the mechanics? One of the pit crew, eagerly waiting for their driver to pull into their spot? One of the engineers, hoping their instructions and their drivers did as they were supposed to? You tried not to let your mind wander to the other possibility, but it was hard not to. 

What if he was one of the drivers? One of the 20 men now pushing themselves around the track at the fastest speed their car could take them? You tried not to stay on that thought too long, but your mind seemed to wander back to it.  

It would make sense, really. Whoever he is, he had been karting since he was a boy. His father had been unnecessarily forceful with him about it, always pushing him even when he was down, telling him that champions didn’t cry and that if he wanted to win everything one day, he had to act like he wanted to.  

He always made it seem like he was on top of the world on Sundays, like everything he ever wanted had happened that day. Would a mechanic, or an engineer, or someone from the pit crew consistently have that level of elation on Sundays?  

You knew it was possible, if they were working for a winning team, or a winning driver, and that driver was making their lives as easy as possible, then you knew it was definitely a possibility. You just couldn’t shake the idea that maybe, just maybe, it was one of the drivers. 

The crowd was cheering as eagerly as they possibly could, Verstappen had overtaken Sainz three laps prior after the Spainard had led for 15 laps straight. The Tifosi were relentless though, cheering as loud as they could for their two drivers. Your friends had resigned themselves to the fact that Verstappen was getting his tenth win in a row, which was slowly coming closer and closer as the time ticked down. 

It felt like time was zooming by; the minutes on the clock trickling down as the stadium waited for that last lap to start. Sainz was battling to keep Leclerc in fourth, doing everything in his power to keep the third podium spot he had rightfully earned. 

The checkered flag waved as the Red Bull car of Max Verstappen passed the finish line, a simultaneous cheer erupting within the crowd when the two red Ferrari’s passed the line with barely a second apart. 

That feeling inside of you, the yearning, it had been getting stronger and stronger throughout the race. Strong enough that you had to rub at your chest with a grimace more than once, ignoring the signs that obviously your soul connection was trying to give to you.  

The television in front of you showed Max Verstappen on the top of his car, both hands and 10 fingers up as he stared at the moving camera, an obvious celebration beginning as he ran towards his team. Verstappen jumped at them, right as you heard his voice in your head. 

“Where are you right now? I want to see you. I need to see you.” 

He sounded out of breath, but elated, as per usual on a Sunday. Must work for Red Bull then, you thought to yourself. 

“I don’t really know how to explain where I am, I’m in the Paddock Club with my friends.”  

Turning away from the screen, you tried to focus on the words coming through the connection. 

“Come to the area where you can go towards the garages, I’ll have someone tell security to let you in. What are you wearing? I don’t think you’ll be able to tell me your name yet, and I don’t want to risk fucking this up.” 

You had absolutely no clue how to find the area he was describing to you, explaining to him that you didn’t spend most of your time at Grand Prix’s unlike someone, apparently. All he did was laugh joyfully, explaining to you in simpler terms how to get to where he wanted you to go. 

“I have to go do a few more things, but just wait for me, okay? I’ll come to find you, the moment I’m done. I swear.” 

“I’ve waited for years; I think I can wait a few minutes more.” 

He didn’t verbally respond, but you could still feel the happiness, the sense of something you could only describe as adoration come through the connection before he shut it off again. It was obvious he had commitments, but it was disheartening knowing you still had to wait a few more minutes, that he wouldn’t be there waiting for you, behind whatever security guard you were going to have to verbally grapple with to be let behind the barricades. 

All you told your friends when you left was you had to go make a call, and that it may take a few minutes. They tried to argue with you, telling you the drivers were just about to do their post-race interviews and that it was always one of the best parts, but you simply brushed them off, eager to get to where you needed to be. 

It didn’t take you long to find where he had told you to go, his explanations as thorough and necessary as they usually were. Before you could even get a word out to the security guard, a tall brunette in a Red Bull shirt lightly tapped your shoulder and gestured for you to follow her, flashing her entry pass at the guard and pulling you along. 

“I’m Liv. I work in PR with Red Bull; I was told to wait for you. Sorry for just like... pulling you along. No one really gave me any explanation, just that I was told to look out for someone wearing the exact same outfit you are, and that it had something to do with a soulmate thing and I couldn’t get involved or ask questions.” 

“This pass will get you in and out of pretty much wherever you need to be in the Red Bull garage and areas nearby,” the brunette rambled on as the both of you walked, pulling a second entry pass from her back pocket to give to you. 

Both of you stopped in front of what only could be the hospitality lounge, if the plethora of food and drinks were any indication. You didn’t necessarily know where to go, or where to stand, so you looked back over at the brunette with confusion evident in your eyes. 

“Just wait here! He shouldn’t be long. Feel free to snack, or make yourself a tea, or you know... drink whatever really. I have to get back to work. Just like, don’t leave. I’ll probably get in trouble for that. Anyways, bye! Good luck!”  

Not giving you the chance to respond, Liv, as you learned previously, turned and basically ran out of the room. You were left alone in the hospitality area, everyone from Red Bull obviously still celebrating Max Verstappen’s tenth win in a row. 

You didn’t know what to do with yourself, deciding to sit down on one of the couches being the only real option you could decipher. The television was on low, the interviewer speaking to Sainz, Perez, and Verstappen. 

“You look eager to get out of here, Max. Big celebration planned for your tenth straight win?” 

The Dutchman chuckled, a cocky grin prominent on his face, “I have something I have to do after this, of course, though, not the celebration right away. I’m sure the team has a celebration planned, but it’s a bit arrogant of me to be involved in my own celebration party planning, no?” 

The interviewer laughed in response; you simply cocked your head at his words. Ironic that Max Verstappen would call himself arrogant, just hours after you had told him how arrogant you found Verstappen.

A few more questions zoomed by; your own thoughts preoccupied by the idea that your soulmate could be coming towards the room at any minute. The feeling in your chest, in your body as a whole, had grown substantially again since you sat down. What you didn’t notice was him grabbing his chest at the same time you did, rubbing it with a grimace as the yearning grew and grew. 

It didn’t take long for the interview to end, the television going back to the reporters as the drivers evidently went to go do whatever it is they do after their post-race interviews. 

You could hear someone walking down the hallway, which was strange considering how busy the Red Bull garage had to be right now. The steps grew louder as they got closer and closer to the room you were in, the door slamming open being the only thing to pull you out of your thoughts as you spun around. 

Making direct eye contact with your soulmate for the first time was exactly how everyone described it. It was instant, the feeling that seated itself inside your heart, inside your mind. It felt like you were whole, like everything you had done in the past 24 hours, let alone the past 10 years, had led you to this exact moment. 

You subconsciously moved off the couch, stepping in the direction of the man that was now eyeing your every move. You couldn’t tell what was going through his mind, whether he was happy, disheartened, you didn’t know. 

He stepped in your direction, just as you put another foot towards him. You could see the corners of his lips turning up, a smile starting to edge itself onto his cheeks.  

“I can’t believe you’re really here. In front of me. Like, a real person.” 

It was the same voice that you’ve heard in your head for years, except the words were coming from the mouth of the man in front of you, coming from the mouth of the man with the prettiest blue eyes you had ever seen. 

You barely had time to process anything before he had wrapped his arms around you, pulling you directly into his chest as you wrapped your own arms around his body.  

He was real. Everything you had yearned for, for years was real, and Max was right there, holding you in his arms as he pressed his lips against the crown of your head, not wanting to let you go. 

Max could barely contain his eagerness as he basically sprinted down the hall of the Red Bull garage after the end of the interview. Olivia had told him where she had brought you, telling you to wait in the hospitality lounge and that he’d be there to see you as quickly as he could get out. 

He couldn’t believe that you were really there. After spending years of talking to an invisible force inside his head, years of having a constant companion who he could turn to for internal comfort, you were barely seconds away from him. 

Max didn’t hesitate to throw the door of the lounge open, making eye contact with you just a second later. 

Everyone was right, the feeling you get when you finally meet your soulmate, the person that’s supposed to complete you in the best of ways. It was instant love, instant happiness, a feeling better than any win he had ever accomplished, a feeling that could barely be explained in one million words.  

He knew right then that he loved you, and when you smiled at him, he knew you knew it too.  

i am obsessed with the soulmate trope so this obviously got out of hand and way more descriptive than i intended. im hoping you all love it as much as i loved writing it!! let me know what you think

my requests are also open :)

taglist

@leclercdream @myescapefromthislife @iloveyou3000morgan @love4lando @asfaraslifegets @decseptapril @somanyfandomsbruh

if you're interested in being added to my taglist, just send me a message/reply and ill add ya. i lost my list of who asked so if you weren't tagged and wanted to be pls let me know. (if your name has a strike through it, it wouldn't let me tag you)

[remireee]

Thanks so much for replying to my question earlier Remi💖💖 I was wondering if i could request yandere malleus draconia with reader who’s also a dragon fae just like him, however reader prefers to have their horns and tails hidden because they don’t want to attract further attention..i personally just want to see what yandere malleus’ reaction would be to discovering reader’s true form and all (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)

Shock. Utter shock… that slowly melts into a puddle of blissful joy before quickly turning into an array of questions in that little head of his. Like ‘had the love of my life really been right underneath my nose this whole time’? Disappointed that he hadn’t noticed your presence earlier within the walls of the valley (but can you really blame him?).

That is Malleus’ reaction when discovering your true form…

…through his own means.

You see… Malleus is a curious soul, since he never got out much… so, whenever something intrigues him, he has this desire to find out more—to learn and know almost everything about it. This principle applies to his darling as well.

The small pieces of shed skin hiding within the cracks of the wooden flooring of the dorm. Chipped scales shining underneath the moonlight whenever he’d crawl in for his nightly visits. At first, he was skeptical, believing that there was a logical explanation behind all of this; yet the more he looked, the more unlikely it seemed.

His obsession with his darling also means he too is very observant of you. Your mannerisms, etiquette and overall vibe were dead giveaways to your identity as a Fae (being a Fae himself).

If you ever decide to tell him about or even show him your true form (for whatever reason), boy will give you a gentle smile; head tilted to its side, his hands behind his back; before saying ‘I know’. All the while, feeling giddy on the inside because you trusted him enough to tell him such things.

Slender hand taking in yours, softly cupping his cheek with it as he whispers about future arrangements. He originally wanted to teach you the ways of the Fae so you and him wouldn’t have any issues during the wedding he had planned without your consent but now that he knows you you revealed yourself as one of his own that just saved him and you so much time!

…oh, he can’t wait for the both of you to graduate~

[onlyangel4]

never going back. ln4. glen powell. part one. smau.

cheater!lando norris x reader. glen powell x reader

when lando cheats on reader she makes a promise to herself, to never go back to him and by doing so she meets someone that treats her just how she deserves to be treated.

faceclaim: scarlett leithhold

part two

f1wags

liked by user1, user2, user3 and 56,829 others

f1wags: some of you may forget but lando norris does actually have a girlfriend, y/n y/ln is an american based model and has been dating lando for a year and a half. lando never comments on their relationship saying that he likes to keep their personal lives private. y/n is in the paddock in australia to watch the race today for the first time in a little under a year.

view all 14,293 comments

user1: i always forget that they are dating

user2: hasn't he been getting really close to one of mclaren's influencer guests this week

user3: this is how i find out lando is actually taken

y/ninsta posted a story

written: good luck my love

influencer posted a story

written: been in australia all week watching these guys get ready, can't wait for race day.

y/ninsta posted a story

y/ninsta

liked by lilymhe, alexalbon, logansargeant and 872,394 others

y/ninsta: so i was not going to say anything about what happened in australia but i have seen some discourse online blaming @.influencer for what happened and that is just wrong. she is the reason that i found out something was wrong. she had been lied to just as much as me. i don't know if i will ever talk about exactly what happened that day but please be kind. remember that you only get 5% of the full story online.

a little personal update: i am now back living in texas full time and boy is it nice to be home. i hope everyone is doing well, i love you all.

comments on this post have been disabled

lilymhe posted a story tagging y/ninsta

written: my girl is visiting us in monaco and lets just say some questionable choices have been made

y/ninsta posted a story

written: a change was needed

alexalbon posted a story tagging lilymhe and y/ninsta

written: lily is now claiming that she will be quitting golf to become a hair stylist

y/ninsta

liked by lilymhe, alexalbon, landonorris and 762,394 others

tagged: lilymhe and alexalbon

y/ninsta: monaco trip dump. a massive thank you to mom and dad for having me

view all 14,384 comments

user4: lando needs to get the fuck out of her likes

user5: you finally have your smile back y/n i am so happy for you

lilymhe: i miss you already

y/ninsta: i miss you too lils

alexalbon: the house actually feels empty without our child

y/ninsta: say the word and i will move in permanently

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

TAGLIST SIGN UP SHEET

taglist: @formulaal @formulaonebuff @danielshoe @noooway555 @dilflover44

@peterholland04

@sunshinedaisy21

@nikfigueiredo

@fall-bambi

@mel164

@lando-505

@charllleclerc

@paigem00

@heavy-vettel

@pseudoyo

@simple-soul-searcher

@lyannesworld

@wordesthatics

@toldyouitwasamelodrama

@sltwins

@aquamariene-me

@justarandomfamdomblog

@janeh22

@kol67-t

@gr3yhues

@luckyladycreator2

@nichmeddar

@multi-fandom5

@whatthefl1p

@stradlingmrstradlin

@notpeachybby

@kikiki04

@marknolee

@asparklysoul

@sleutherclaw

@stinging--nettle

@holybatflapexpert

@gothicwidowsworld

@pear-1206

@scorpiodiosa

@charlesgirl16

@marshmummy

@jess-wither

@callsignwidow

@jenxjar

@livbullyingjeongin

@rexit-mo