#Famous Love Spells Tips

[feelingbat-ty]

This is inspired by @aflamboyanceofflamingos post about Tim choosing to publicly hate Robin as Tim Drake, cause to love or hate someone is the best way to hide a secret identity.

I started thinking about Tim coming into contact with his teammates as a civilian and Tim using this as an opportunity to take out all the grievances he has for his team in a way, that 1) Won't cause tension and fights. And 2) let him get away with being a petty arsehole, cause it's not like superheros can just go and beat up random civilians.

And well... my hand slipped.

--- You Can't Spell Spite Without Timothy Jackson Drake ---

The amount of times YJ comes across Tim Drake in the wild would be concerning if Tim didn't stalk them as often as his busy schedule allows (which turns out to be quite often). The Beta tube in the Batcave and another secret Beta tube in the bowls of Wayne enterprise's Francisco building allows Tim easy and direct access whenever he so desires.

And well, Tim never did grow out of his stalking phase.

It would be comical - if it wasn't maddening - how often they don't realise he's there. Most of the time he's stalking trailing a member of the team he's not trying to hide his presence, it wouldn't make sense for him to, not as Tim Drake.

The team have a tally board that sits in the common room, it's at 85.

85.

His team's situational awareness is absolutely appalling. 85, they've noticed him only 85 of the hundreds of times he's followed them around?

He complains to Dick about it, a lot. He's hoping Dick will give him some tips on how to beat situational awareness into his teammates thick skulls. He was the leader of the Titans, so he has to have something!

Dick - like the asshole he secretly is - just laughs at him.

He asks Cassie about it once. Why they don't find it concerning that they encounter Tim Drake: famous for being the civilian who 'beat Robin in a fight' every other week?

"I mean, You're usually right about these sorts of things, Rob. If you don't think Drakes an issue, then we trust you."

Tim can't figure out whether to feel warm and giddy at the fact that they apparently trust him, or to be annoyed at the fact that they follow after him like sheep. Not even doing their own research and recon (Cassie probably did. Kon and Bart? Yeah, hell would have a better chance at freezing over).

The first time was a coincidence. Tim had needed some space (from Bruce. From his deadlines. From his own mind...) and ended up wondering the streets of San Francisco with no real destination in mind.

An impulse turn led him onto the boardwalk and from there right to Superboy.

It was a bright and sunny day in Fran and Kon was glowing. Literally, because of the sun and figuratively from pride after he stopped a would-be pick pocket-er from pick pocketing an elderly lady.

He shouldn't. He knows he shouldn't, not when the team know of Tim Drake, know his face and all about how he hates Robin and makes it his whole personality. Not when the only thing that stops them putting Tim Drake on Baby Super villain watch is Tims general blasé attitude about, well... himself.

But is it oh, so tempting.

Especially because the month before, Kon had accidentally smashed Tim's favourite coffee mug in a series of event's (involving a yoga ball, shearing scissors, laser vision and a will from God himself) so convoluted that Tim was convinced it had been orchestrated for a solid week.

Was it a cheap mug from Kmart? Yes, but it's the principle of the matter!

As Tim’s left shoe impacts the side of Superboys face, a sense of manic glee overtakes him. Tim takes special care to seer this memory of Superboy getting hit in the head with Tim's shoe and the stupid face he makes as the ratty converse collides with his cheek, into his brain.

It's not much, but it's justice all the same for his once beloved mug.

Tim... might just be a tad sleep-deprived.

Superboy startles and lets out a frantic “Shit!” Assuming he’s being attacked by a surprise enemy (the kind that isn’t just civilians throwing shoes) he looks around, taking stock of his surroundings and looking for any immediate threats before glancing down at the shoe and visibly doing a double take.

His face is blank as he stares - undoubtably confused - at the shoe. A second later he's lifting his gaze, following the direction the show came from and staring right at Tim.

Tim, who (like an idiot) is still, for some reason, positioned how he was when he threw the shoe - arm outstretched and leg back to brace himself.

There is absolutely no way he wasn't the one who threw the shoe. If the stance didn't give it away, then him having one shoe (that shoe being a near identical ratty rad converse) probably did.

“What?” Superboy asks. He looks befuddled. A little amused, but mostly just confused. He's got a small, polite smile on his face that just reeks of Clark Kent's influence. Kon is obviously trying to model himself off of Superman - specifically Superman's polite and approachable "Grandma pinching worthy" vibe and not his fashion choices, since he's still got the leather jacket and sunglasses.

Tim makes a mental note to tell Kon that he has a really expressive face. Tim is literally reading all his emotions in 4K. They should probably work on that, it could be a liability in the field.

Tim briefly considers playing dumb and acting like it wasn’t him that threw the shoe, before dismissing that idea, Kon can be clueless at times, but he’s not a complete idiot.

So instead, he says, “that was a very open-ended question.”

And well, it was.

At the look Superboy gives him, he elaborates, “What, when said in that context, could mean literally anything! Like, ‘what was the purpose of that?’ ‘What’s your name, so I can in-prison you’ ‘What shoe size was that?’ Seriously, dude, be more specific!”

Superboy’s befuddlement takes a sudden nosedive to incredulity. “Okay, fine. Why did you throw a shoe at me?”

“Cause you work with Robin.” He says simply. He'd say 'justice' but then he'd sound like batman and like, thanks but no thanks.

“Cause I- what? You physically assaulted me with a shoe because I work on the same team as Robin?”

Tim, personally, thinks assault is a strong word to use for this situation, but he’s glad that at least some of his lessons on the proper terms and vocabulary are paying off.

He nods, cause that is indeed what he just did, he crosses his arms across his chest, and stares Superboy down.

Superboy who, looks like he’s regretting everything that led him to this moment. Tim relishes in that for just a little too long to be healthy. Probably.

Tim doesn’t really care. He told Kon (as Robin) that he’d regret breaking Tim’s favourite mug (accident or not, he's still not over it.) yeah, this might not be how either of them envisioned it, but Tim thinks this might just be better than beating Kon up as Robin in their next team training session. What better way to get someone back than to publicly humiliate them in front of all their peers? Shame he can't do that anymore.

Eh, who is he kidding? He’s still going to do that anyway.

“You’re only gonna throw one?” Superboy has a look on his face that’s similar to the one Bruce gets when he’s decided to give up and play along with the crazy. The one where he'll smile and nod, slowly inching out of the room, as Duke and Damian (There has truly never been a more terrifying duo) explain to him in vivid detail how they're going to use psychological warfare to make a shitty teacher at their school resign.

“Yes.” Why’d he throw both his shoes? He’d have no shoes!

“… Right. Why did you throw this one?”

All these questions!

“I like that one the least,” he shrugs, and it's true, the converse on his right foot has a little bi flag that Steph sewed into it back when they were dating. A throw pillow was the closest thing in reach at the time, so he sewed a little pan flag on it for her (he later did one on the breast pocket of one of her denim jackets).

“You are so freakin’ weird, dude! You throw a shoe at me! Because I work with Robin!”

Uh, yeah, we've already established that.

“How did you even get it off that fast!”

To be Honest, Tim is also surprised at how fast he was able to get his shoe off. One second he’s looking at Superboy the next he’s lobbing a shoe at his thick head.

Instead of saying any of that, Tim channels his inner Janet Drake, sticking his nose into the air and scoffing like Kon is the literal gum stuck on the sole of his shoe.

Kon, - because he’s no longer Superboy, he’s too fired up to hold onto the mask - shakes his head. It’s mocking, when he says, “You must be really shitty at throwing a punch if you had to resort to throwing shoes.”

Tim shrugs, “Well, I woulda thrown a fist, but you’re not worth a fist.”

Kon is silent and doing an amazing impression of a blobfish.

Tim turns and struts away before Kon has the chance to come up with a rebuttal, or just decides to punch him in the face.

He’ll grab his shoe later, after Kon leaves.

The basted incinerated his shoe.

[3typical3]

Tip for non Hispanic ppl writing Spanglish

*I initially wrote this at 1 am so like, keep that in mind as you decipher this lol

*context is key when speaking Spanglish, if your character is in a professional setting they probably won’t speak Spanglish unless it’s to a fellow co worker who also speaks Spanglish. It’s more of a casual way a speaking yk?

Also parents, I avoid Spanglish with my parents unless we’re switching from just speaking Spanish to just speaking English. But that’s depends from family to family.

It’s typically like switching sentences and not dropping in random words.

Example “ es Que fui a la tienda, and they were out of milk”

Example “ te ves cansada, did you sleep last night?”

“La neta” is and extremely common Mexican slang term, typically means, honestly. It can also be used to mean ‘really?’

Honestly example:

“La neta, Im tired”

Or “La neta, estoy cansada. Im going to bed”

In the case it means “really?”:

ex.) “Neta?! They said that?!”

I personally say “ de que” which is basically saying “like”, it’s a filled term, before saying a sentence in either English or Spanish

example “ de que idk it won’t work”

I’m Mexican so I use “ósea” a lot in both languages. Another substitute for words like:

“I mean,” “it'd be,” ”like,” “so,” “that is,” “therefore,” and “or.”

Ex. “ ósea, it looks weird idk”

The famous “ pero like” I personally don’t use a lot but an example of how it’s used in Spanglish is “ pero like, how did it happen?”

Sometimes I Just say “ fuck” but like in my Mexican accent or in a sentence.

“ fuck, perdí mi pulsera”

When I get startled I cuss in both English and Spanish but a Spanglish example would be

*insert random startling noise

“ ala verga! That scared me” or “ hijo de tu puta madre!” when something REALLY scared the shit out of me lol

“Chingada madre, where did that come from”

Rlly insert any cuss word in there and it probably works in Spanglish.

Edit bc I thought of this the morning after

In Mexican Spanish for whatever reason the word “madre” can be used like kinda like a cuss word lol.

Example “ Me vale madres”

Which in English would translate to “I don’t value mothers” but in practice means “I don’t give a shit” or “I don’t care”.

Another Mexican deep cut is the word “pedo” which yes, means fart but we’ve really given the word so many alternative meanings like

“ no es mi pedo “ = “not my problem”

“Estoy bien pedo” = “in rlly drunk”

“Vas a la peda?” = “ are you going to the party/kickback”

There’s more but that’s like the basics lol.

Also another Mexican term is “Aguas”… which literally translates to “waters” but it’s used as a warning.

“Aguas, there’s car coming”

The most famous of Mexican slang has to be “wey” or “guey” depends on how you spell it. But it just means dude. Another term that goes in hand is, “no mames” which basically means “are you kidding me”.

*men for whatever reason hate when the girl they’re dating or are into calls them wey. I think it’s because it’s seen as either improper or as like friend zoning.

“Wey, you’re not gonna believe this”

“No mames wey, look at this”

Another term is “equis” which basically means whatever

“How was the party?”

“Estuvo equis”

Another example

“ now was she dressed?”

“Equis, nothing crazy nothing wow”

*I recommend for Mexican characters looking into the words, or you can just ask me I just don’t wanna make this longer than I already have lol, “mamar”/“mamo”/“mamon”, each you would think is the same but no, no they are not and using one in the wrong context could be catastrophic lol. They are vital words to our vocab

If you’re writing to a character from a specific country, take the time to learn some slang. Sometimes slang crosses over, sometimes even we use slang we learn from each others dialects. Personally I love “joder”/“no jodas” because of the shows from Spain.

But take the time because if you write a Colombian character using most of the slang I’ve used above, you’d get a lot of hate from Colombians lol.

Some bad Spanglish examples would be

“ why didnt you eat your comida?”

Like no. Just no. Inserting a random Spanish word doesn’t equate to Spanglish, at least not in most Latin peoples lives

“ you look cansada” also just no.

*Edit I saw someone post abt this and I felt like adding it in

If you do insert a random Spanish word or vice versa it’s because you forgot the word but that involves a lot of blanking and being annoyed you can’t dig the simplest word out of you sub conscience lol

Example: “ you look, FUCK what’s the word! You know when you’re cansada…TIRED. You look tired”

Another commenter addition I’ll be adding is using “eh” as a filler instead of “um”. I use both but even in English I default to using “eh” or “ehmmmm”

The worst is when you don’t remember the word, only to have it appear in your subconscious hours later lol

Another fav filler word is “deste” which equates to another more Central American term “vaina” but a less refined way of saying it. Essentially they mean “thing” but that thing can be anything. It’s kinda a word when you’re to lazy to say the actual word.

“Pásame el deste”

*passes them x ítem

“No I meant the remote”

*trying not to kill the person because they could’ve said remote the whole time but chose not to

Sometimes we use bad Spanglish on purpose just to be funny

“Que sad” “Que cute”

* i personally love inserting the word cute into my vocab in Spanish just cuz so to each their own

Something I do is like say something in English and immediately say the exact same thing in Spanish. Or like I’ll say an exclamation in one language then end in the other.

“ GO GO GO, VÁMONOS APÚRATE”

“Que asco, gross”

“WOW, que bueno”

Also if you’re writing like couples tbh nicknames in Spanish would be reserved for when you’re speaking in Spanish and same for English, but each couple is different so if you rlly want to leave a nickname in Spanish in go for it. If you rlly want the endearment to be “ mi amor” please remember that after like the first or second time the Spanish speaker would probably just refer to their S/O as “ amor” or switch between the two.

Which brings me to the terms “mami/mamita” and “papi/papito”. Now, while they Can and are by some used in a sexual manner, they can also be used as general terms of endearment. My mom will sometimes call me mamita or my brother papito.

Amongst couples though it’s just kinda said, I saw someone describe it was you just give motherly energy so “mami” is said lol which I get oddly enough.

Once a couple is well established or just comfortable the woman can refer to her S/O as “ viejo” which is old man lol, but it’s like cute. On the flip side idk it’s typically seen as offensive when a man calls his S/O “vieja” but that depends on culture to culture.

Again mami and papi don’t have to be sexual but can be.

Another simple thing you can do is look up nicknames for certain names.

Examples:

“Mike” pronounced “Mique” for Miguel. Some people like to use “Mickey”, that gained popularity from an old Mexican singer lol.

“Ponchó” For Alfonso

“Ale” Can be used for Alejandro/Alexandra/Alejandra

Another thing I thought of is amongst siblings when referring to our parents we will say like

“Haz visto a mi mamá”

Which means have you seen “my mom” even though she’s both our mom… idk it’s weird but a nice little touch you could add to your writing lol

I get rlly annoyed reading bad Spanglish, sometimes it’s just painfully cringe and just obvious a non Spanish speaker wrote it, and I realize it’s bc most of y’all didnt grow up with it so like this is just what is typical Spanglish most Hispanic ppl grow up speaking, obviously not everyone speaks like this but figured I’d give tips from someone who actually speaks English and Spanish and switches between.

If I missed anything feel free to add on or if you disagree add examples

[yurinaa-world]

Hi! Can I get Dan Heng, Jing Yuan, and Blade with a reader who's like Furina from Genshin? Also your blog theme is cute ❤️

Characters: Dan Heng, Jing Yuan, and Blade x Female Reader

Synopsis: with reader that’s like Furina

Warnings: Fluff, spelling mistakes

𝒟𝒶𝓃 𝐻𝑒𝓃𝑔

"Well, my dear Dan Heng, rejoice that you are now in my presence.” He listens to words like these all the time. It doesn't bother him that you act the way you do, always acting so confident before running away with a tail between your legs, or even better, hiding behind him.

Whenever you sulk (by a huge body of water filled with sea creatures), on your knees, cupping a little sea creature with such a depressed expression on your face, he’s always there, yet you don’t notice until he reveals himself to you. "Haha, you saw spectacular acting. Did you think I was crying? Well, I wasn't.” You scoff and laugh, trying to pretend you were okay when you weren’t.

Trying to comfort you, but he can’t seem even to touch your walls since you put up 50 more. Since ‘actions speak louder than words’ don’t they “you’re lying." "Ha, I’m not. I don’t know what you're talking about. I've never cried since I’m the life of the show." "Your eyes are puffy.” “THEY AREN’T, so stop saying that!”

You’ll never admit to it unless you're on your last breath or not. So he’ll hug you until you stop crying about whatever upsets you, and he’ll only do this for you.

𝒥𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒴𝓊𝒶𝓃

When a general is madly in love with you, he won’t care about any flaws you might have. If he were to be honest, when looking at you, he couldn’t help but remember the first time you had. You were a famous performer, and everyone enjoyed your acts, especially the ones that involved mystery. There had to be a trial, or this ain’t a show you want to be in.

You always played ‘the dashing and beautiful watcher/the great judge who had such venom and confidence in her voice’ and he was still training hard with Jingliu; your personality never faltered even without the stage that you were born to be on. It was who you truly were.

Now that you two have been together, you're more sentimental with him since acting for your entire life and being someone you're not is very tiring, so why not take a vacation? You love sea animals so much, why not go somewhere with a lot of animals? like a honeymoon.

𝐵𝓁𝒶𝒹𝑒

"Annoying,” that’s what he always thinks about (not all the time though). Your are so loud that he can hear you from the other room, and your dumb little shows, which he gets dragged to, are always about you.

Call you a brat and know you can’t do anything about it since you're like a scared cat; it doesn’t make it better that you hide behind him every time you go meet someone with a bad reputation; he has to go with you or you’ll die!

Gripping on his arm, "Please, blade, accompany me.” “Why should I do that? I don't remember being some sort of bodyguard to you.” "Blade, please; I promise I won’t bother you again!” He’s just messing with you; he’ll come with you, but he wants something else in return, like maybe the most tame thing he’s thinking about is a kiss.

When you kiss him as a payment, he’s so mean about it afterward, straight up making fun of you. When you complain about him teasing, “I’ll never forgive; you’ve done something worse than treason against me,” before walking off in a hurry.

He’s not all that mean, comforting you whenever you're in a depressive mood, giving you everything, and staying with you until you're better, and when I say he’s glued to you, he’s GLUED to you, making you feel better in any way he can, even if others call extreme care so much. He does not listen to anyone.

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[cursedonyx]

I read the post about students reacting to mc dying in their arms. You should do the professors (including Black)

Thank you for the ask! 💚

Hogwarts Legacy Professors React to MC Dying in Their Arms

Link to student reactions here

⚠️Content warning for Death and Body Horror Below the Cut⚠️

Professor Hecat

Dina Hecat had rarely found herself as impressed with a student as she was with you. Your tenacity, your aptitude for magic, your ability to pick up new and complex defensive magic was unmatched, though Sebastian made a valiant effort to maintain a solid second place behind you. Such was your prowess that Dina thought you might make an excellent Auror, and determined to tutor you privately once you expressed an interest. It was a thrill to begin with, to teach you all the tips and tricks an Auror might need in their arsenal, you picking them all up as if it was as easy as breathing, to the point that Dina grew complacent.

She’d heard tales of your exploits during your fifth year, of course, and fought beside you during the Battle for the Repository. She was confident that you could handle anything thrown at you, and you impressed her over and over and over. But all it took was one tiny misstep, one foot wrong, and all her Ministry training and the reason behind it was thrown into sharp relief.

The troll was supposed to be an easy dispatch. You’d defeated one when you were brand new to magic, after all. Dina had taught you an advanced form of confringo, or at least, she’d taught you the theory. It was a powerful spell, a short step below feindfyre, and she was eager to see it in practice. But the troll had flung its club just as you began the incantation, and everything went wrong. You were distracted as it flew towards Dina, and you lost control of the spell.

The resulting inferno was too much for mere aguamenti, and there was nothing Dina could do but wait for the flames to die down, listening to you scream as you blundered about in the middle of the fire, unable to find a way out. When the smoke cleared, all that was left of you was a charred skeleton, your clawed hand leaving sooty streaks on her skin as she took it, hoping that this was some kind of nightmare, some kind of illusion or hallucination, anything but brutal, cold reality.

There was an investigation, of course. Why was a seventh-year student out fighting trolls? Why was this student doing so under the instruction of a faculty member that should have known better? Why had this professor allowed things to get so out of control?

Dina avoided Azkaban for her neglect by a narrow margin, but she had to give up her teaching post. She passed a little over a year later, having drunk herself to death, unable to cope with the guilt.

Professor Ronen

Abraham Ronen had always had such a love of fun and games, determined to make each of his classes a joy for his students. Yes, he recycled ideas through the terms, a large timetable in his office holding large lists of games he could incorporate that was appropriate for each year of Charms classes. But even so, after several years in his position, he found these games began to grow repetitive, and he wanted to liven things up.

That’s where you came in. Your ingenuity was famous throughout Hogwarts for a reason, and so he called on you one day after class, requesting your assistance in thinking up new games to play. He gave you a list of the spells he was to teach his seventh-year students, promising to waive your homework for a month if you helped out. You took to the task like a kappa to water, assailing Abraham with a variety of ‘games’ that would help the other students learn. The problem was, most of your games involved far too much risk for his liking, including trying to steal a dragon egg. Despite your protestations that you knew where to find one, Abraham wasn’t having it. But he’d promised, and you’d promised, and a deal was a deal.

So extreme were your ideas that when you proposed the still dangerous but comparatively tame idea of delayed-action bombarda combined with glacius, Abraham thought the idea of students running through a booby-trapped field, freezing the latent explosive spells, was a positively marvellous idea.

The students were less keen. They, unexposed to your particular brand of fun, saw the folly in such a practice. But you, determined that everyone should have fun, decided to be the first across the field. Abraham realised far too late just how foolish this game was, and had barely raised his wand as you danced across the minefield before disaster struck, and you were blown apart.

He tried his best to gather the pieces of you that rained down. A severed foot here, a shattered forearm there, holding his robes like an apron and gathering you up. It was futile, of course, for once a witch or wizard’s head is detached from their body, even the very best healers only have a few seconds to make it right.

He could never get that image out of his mind. One moment you were smiling, laughing, joking, teasing the others for their hesitancy, and the next you were in bits, everything that you were tumbling from the sky in slow motion. Every student in that class was scarred for life, set to fail their Charms NEWTs, fifty promising careers suddenly thrown down the toilet. Abraham resigned in shame, and did not go home to his wife. He wandered until he became lost, and lost himself until he found a cliff. Only by shattering himself on the rocks below could he find some form of atonement for his sins.

Professor Sharp

Aesop Sharp had always preferred to be somewhat gruff and stern. It kept his pupils in line, and his firm but fair approach ensured that everyone that took his classes passed with good marks, even if they had a tendency to blow things up, a practice he’d secretly taken to calling “doing a Garreth.” You, on the other hand, slipped past his guard. Maybe it was your incredible aptitude for offensive and defensive magic, or perhaps it was your endearing wit and charm. It could have been your happy-go-lucky nature, your ability to smile no matter how dire things seemed to be, always poking fun at yourself before anyone else. He found himself growing fond of you, thinking of you as some kind of wayward nibling.

He still had to give you detentions on occasion, of course, because even you couldn’t cheek the Potions Master and get away with it, no matter how well-intentioned your words had been. He found such hours to be more of a delight than a chore, happy to talk to you about anything and everything, even laughing a little as you revealed some of the mischief you’d gotten up to, things he’d normally give more detentions for.

One evening in the dungeons, you were cheerfully scrubbing out the cauldrons, and you asked him about is days as an Auror. You told him about an Ashwinder camp you’d caught wind of, and how you wished you could eradicate them. Aesop knew he should report it to Officer Singer and keep you out of it, but hell, he’d seen you fight, and there was something in him that yearned for that spark of excitement that came with defeating his enemies. He suggested travelling with you to wipe them out, considering it worth at least three detentions. You joked that this meant you had two free passes to be cheeky in class, and he told you not to push your luck.

If only he’d known. If only he’d taken a moment to think. If only he’d listened to his Auror instincts that told him this was a bad idea.

You’d both crept up on the camp, wands at the ready. There weren’t many of them, but enough to pose a bit of a challenge. Aesop had every confidence in you, he knew your skills after all, but unfortunately, the Ashwinders did as well. The moment they saw you, they didn’t bother with their typical hexes. They knew enough about you to know they couldn’t waste a second if they wanted to live. Three Killing Curses were sent your way, and one found its mark.

Aesop thought he knew loss when his partner was killed in Scarborough, but this was something else. Watching the light go out of your eyes, the ghost of your last, confident smile on your face, broke him like nothing had broken him before. He didn’t even try to resist when the Ashwinders took him, snatching his wand and throwing him in a cage along with the kneazles they’d poached. He couldn’t get the image of you out of his mind, your still body lying amid the debris of the Forbidden Forest, already ignored and forgotten by your foes, left for whatever scavengers crept through the night to feast. He refused food and water as he was dragged from one end of the country to the other, kept prisoner by those that had killed you. It took weeks to kill him, but one morning, lying on the floor of that cold, hard cage, he just didn’t wake up.

Professor Black

Phineus Nigellus Black preferred to let the students of Hogwarts think he was a cold-hearted, pompous bastard. It was much easier to work this way, easier to make the tough decisions a Headmaster of Hogwarts needed to make. Budget cuts, cancelling quidditch, extending exam season and banning Hogsmeade visits to ensure student safety was easier to weather if his heart was already hardened to the complaints and cries of woe, the bitter mutters, the whispered insults, the playground songs made up to poke fun at him. Yes, it hurt, but he was better than that. Stronger. Prouder. He had a job to do, after all, and Merlin only knew the previous Headmaster had left a hellish mess for him to set right. He had to be hard to be kind. He preferred not to pay attention to those around him, erecting a hard wall around his heart.

You, however… you were different. He heard about what you did in your fifth year, and though he found it hard to believe at first, he paid a bit more attention to you as time went by, and found the tales of your prowess were, if anything, undersold. Phineas made an effort in your final year to take you under his wing, seeing a potential candidate for the position of Minister for Magic in your future. He wanted to teach you the finer points of politics and bootlicking, introduce you to the right people, like the Gaunts, the Blacks, the Malfoys and more to give you the boost you needed to clamber up that slippery ladder. The only gifts he knew how to give.

You were resistant, of course. What kind of firecracker would you be if you weren’t? Phineas relished the challenge, demanding more and more of your free time until you began to understand just what kind of privileges came along with knowing the right people and scratching the right backs. Ominis knew it and used it to his advantage perhaps less than he should have done, but this seemed to tip the scales in Phineas' favour, and you finally began to listen and learn from his wise tutelage. He found himself swelling with pride as you whipped about your newfound allegiances, terrifying students and teachers alike, reining you in when you frightened Hobhouse so much he wet himself, his scolding gentle and warm. He might have had five children, but you showed promise.

Unfortunately, even the shrewd and clever Phineas couldn’t have foreseen the simple dangers of existing in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

He’d taken you to the trophy room, waxing lyrical about the famous witches and wizards that had come through Hogwarts, pointing out their accolades with relish, his hand on your shoulder, a rare and affectionate gesture of genuine pride. He told you that you could achieve just as much, perhaps more, if you applied all your skills and knowledge in the right ways. He even smiled at you, and his eyes were warm.

You asked to see a particularly bright medal on a high shelf, and Phineas, taking a leaf out of your muggleborn book, decided to give the other life a try, just for once. If a muggleborn could be as impressive as you, perhaps he didn’t have to use magic for everything. He tried to reach the medal by hand, even climbing on the shelf to do so, smiling as it made you laugh. He climbed down, medal in hands, his brow furrowing as your face grew ashen. The next moment, you had barrelled into him, throwing him out of the way of the falling shelf.

By the time he picked himself up, scolding you for your behaviour, it was too late. The falling shelves and shattered glass had crushed you, slashing your neck. By the time Phineas realised you weren’t just pratting about like you usually did, you’d bled out, your skin pale, your eyes wide and unseeing. Phineas sat on the floor beside your corpse, holding your fingers closed over the medal that read:

Most Impressive Display of Honour.

Professor Garlick

Mirabel Garlick had endured her share of enamoured students, villagers, and even fellow professors in her time. She dealt with it all with the grace and decorum that was expected of such a sunny personality, treating all and sundry with the same level of ardent attention and big, bright smiles. She had a soft spot for you though, someone who appreciated magical plants for the marvels they were. She didn’t mind when you stayed after class to quiz her on the less known properties of pufferpods or the right way to tamp down earth around a mandrake to ensure maximum comfort. She’d heard all about your little adventure to see the giant venomous tentacula, and had been curious about your knowledge ever since.

She was more than happy to help you grow your plants bigger and better than what the school board advised. She even cleared out Greenhouse Four for your personal use, encouraging you to grow things most students would only ever see if they were extremely unlucky. But she trusted you. She believed you knew what you were doing, swept up by your enthusiasm, tempted by her own curiosity to see just how far you could push your skills.

So it was that the pair of you ended up breeding a new kind of Devil’s Snare, one that was resistant to light and heat. It took time, and though you both occasionally wondered what the purpose of such a plant would be, you were too excited by the prospect of your experiments bearing fruit to worry about consequences. Mirabel should have known better. The only defence against a Devil’s Snare is light and heat, and both of you pushed away thoughts of protection against such a thing. It seemed playful, intelligent, happy.

It was early on a Saturday morning when Mirabel decided to look in on Greenhouse Four. It was only by chance that she had decided to do so, and she would spend the rest of her life wishing she had been five minutes sooner. She saw the Devil’s snare distract you with dancing tendrils as it had so many times before, only this time, you were too close. It wrapped you up faster than a spider wraps a fly, crushing the life from you. No matter how many incendios she cast, no matter how much she shouted and beat at it, even conjuring a torch to hold against the vines, all it did was hurt you more as it crushed the life from you, each snap of your ribs loud above your gasping breaths, the crunch of your spine grinding in her ears, the blood from your nose splattering on the floor as your lungs punctured, your eyes bulging out of their sockets. Even still you fought to draw breath until there was no more room in your chest.

Mirabel had never felt so helpless. She sank to her knees, waiting as the Devil’s Snare took you into its core to feed upon your corpse. She didn’t resist when the vines caressed her face, then wrapped around her throat, her wand lying forgotten on the floor of Greenhouse Four.

Professor Fig

Eleazar Fig had always had a soft spot for you. He’d watched you grow from a novice to a master in the space of a year, popular and clever, beloved by your peers and professors alike. He always made sure to make time for you in his office, sharing a cup of tea as you discussed your past adventures, gossiped about the students, or just had a jolly good chinwag. You both shared a love of adventure, and made time at least once a month to get up to mischief, whether it was investigating old ruins, clearing out mongrel dens, or just running the occasional errand for those in need. You delighted in having your mentor along for the ride, and he adored helping you where he could.

Unfortunately for you, your exploits over the years made you enemies. Though you helped a good many people and made plenty of friends, there were those that were hard done by when you stole from them or caused them trouble on behalf of someone else. Eleazar knew this, and made sure to continually warn you to watch your back, clucking like a mother hen. Perhaps he warned you too much, his words of caution becoming background noise as you continually avoided retribution for your misdeeds. Eleazar did his best to keep you safe all the same, ardently researching your enemies and eliminating plots before they came to fruition.

But after almost a year of no schemes against you, he dared to relax. He invited you out to lunch at Steepley and Sons, intending to enjoy a quiet cup of tea, some nice sandwiches, and perhaps even a slice of cake, his treat, of course. He wanted to catch up properly, to make sure you were happy, on top of your homework, getting on with your friends. You wanted to know how he was coping after Miriam’s passing, if he was back on the scene, how his work as a teacher was going, and can he please get you out of detention with Professor Sharp?

Neither of you expected after all this time there were still those that held a grudge. The young wizard helping Mrs Steepley was actually an Ashwinder, and they poisoned your cup of tea. It took a moment to take effect, but once it did, the only way to save you was locked away in Hogwarts Castle. Even accio couldn’t have got the antidote to you in time.

Eleazar watched as your face went ashen, seemingly sinking in on itself as you clawed at your throat. He caught you as you listed sideways, his eyes locked on yours, trying to comfort you, soothe you as you struggled to draw breath, not even a pin able to pass through the tightness of your throat. Your nails left bloody furrows on your neck, your feet kicking feebly even as someone ran for J Pippin’s, hoping he’d be able to help. Eleazar knew better. He just held you as your body jerked, the last of your life sliding through his fingers as he tried oh so hard to hold on to it, begging you silently to just hold on a little longer. You were all he had, the last spark of joy in his cold, dark life. Once you were gone, there was nothing left for him. A swift unforgivable curse delivered to his temple as he lay in his chamber was enough to ensure he could see you and Miriam again.

witchdoctorpirate ~💚

[kingtomura]

Tomura's Masterlist

all works contain 18+ content. reader discretion is advised. mdni

Series:

Strict Parents AU:

Good Girl

It's not your fault that your boyfriend was hard for people to warm up to. God, your parents were so lame. But so were you. So you did what anyone else with strict parents would, and you cut him off. Bad idea.

Bloodline

Tomura Shigaraki is so nice! He teaches you the secrets to Mario Kart online, he teaches you how to disable your location so your strict parents can't track you, And today he's even teaching you how to work past your gag reflex.

Arcade

There's nothing worse than getting ditched by your so-called friends on a Friday night. Well, maybe the asshole complaining about your skills at the arcade has that beat. Tomura Shigaraki knows how to make one hell of a first impression.

From Water to Wine

It’s so obvious — so glaringly obvious and you can’t believe the realization hit you right here, right now as Tomura makes you come undone on his tongue in the warmth of the morning twilight. You love him.  You love him. Fuck.

Chaptered:

Vitality

You were always told heroes and villains had no place in your home.  Not when there’s an increase in crime, not when there’s monsters on the loose in Hosu and certainly not when the man in your home raises a hand to you.  All it takes is one impulsive decision to change your life forever. Chapters: one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten.

Coming soon...

Coming soon...

One shots:

Lessons (Dark content)

Tomura thinks its time you learned an important lesson.

Uber eats

What a crappy Friday night! You're the only driver for your restaurant and you have to deliver to this Tomura S. guy. The worst part? He never tips.

Cat and mouse

Your ex boyfriend has some nerve texting you at three in the morning — an entire week after the disaster breakup you had. You should really go over there and give him a piece of your mind. Well, you know what they say about famous last words. 

Ashes to ashes (sfw)

Even in the cold aftermath of the war, Tenko rests knowing he's not alone.

Tough love

Back and forth banter with a world class villain is all fun and games until he’s gotten you undressed and underneath him, begging for anything and everything he can give you.

Love Spell

He knows he’s got you hook, line and sinker by the way you bite your lip and make room for him between your legs. It’s so desperate it almost disgusts him. You are Shigaraki's biggest fan and he wants to break you. 

[lilacs-honey]

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader

Description: Reader dresses up and finally gets Remus’ attention

MASTERLIST

——-

“You going to the Gryffindor after party tonight?” Marlene asked as she curled her hair with her wand and a heating spell.

“I want to but it’ll probably just be Sirius and James being overprotective pricks.” I replied, applying my daily makeup.

“But, Lupin will be there! This could be your night to get it in with him!” Alice interjected, throwing her notebook down in mock frustration. I had had a ‘crush’ on Remus ever since I first met him and have been trying my best to get his attention yet nothing has worked.

“Remus obviously doesn’t like me like that, I’m over trying to get him to notice how I feel.”

“Come on, Black!” Alice groaned loudly. “Remus is the stupidest genius I know. I mean look at how he looks at you! He just needs a little more fuel!”

“Let us dress you up and do your makeup! If that doesn’t work then you can give up on your true love.” Marlene offered, practically begging me with her eyes to let her give me a makeover.

A beat of silence fell against us before I gave in. “Fine… but this is the last time.”

The girls cheered before getting to work.

——-

The hustle and bustle of a Gryffindor party was already underway by the time we moseyed down stairs. My nerves were already practically vibrating with excitement due to the palpable energy of the common room. As I swung open the door, several sets of eyes landed on me. I felt like the star of one of those muggle movies.

Marlene pushed past where I’d stopped in the doorway, with a squeeze of my shoulder she whispered, “Told ya you look hot.” She kept walking making her way into the dense crowd.

I turned around to face Alice who was grinning ear to ear. She pinched my cheek like a grandma and cooed, “My little masterpiece is finally gonna get laid.” With a giggle, she walked into the party, probably in search of her boyfriend, Frank.

——-

It wasn’t too long into the party before I found the famous marauders. Remus was sat on a couch that faced away from me watching James and my brother, Sirius, chugging some kind of alcohol from colorful plastic cups. Sirius slams his cap down first, cheering before his eyes fell on me. James followed suit, his jaw dropping to the floor.

“Who are you and what have you done to my baby sister?!” Sirius dramatically exclaimed, gesturing toward me erratically. This caused Remus to turn his head toward me. As he looked at me his pupils dilated and he smiled discreetly.

“Respectfully, damn.” James said with a smirk.

Sirius hits him in the chest lightly with the back of his hand. “That’s my sister!” He said with a dramatic (as always) gasp and the clutch of his heart with his other hand. James shrugged and gestured for me to come over. I took the offer and plopped down on the couch next to Remus. Out of the corner of my eye, I could still see him staring at me. He licked his lips, the tips of his ears turning pink.

‘Whoa maybe Alice and Marlene are right,” I thought momentarily.

The conversation kept flowing between me, James, and Sirius, especially since James was always extra bubbly and talkative when drunk. However, Remus didn’t make a peep the whole of the night that was until James and Sirius left us on the couch to talk up two pretty best friends they saw.

“Sooooo…” I dragged out my words awkwardly. “What’s up, Rem?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” He replied smiling but his eyes never met mine.

“It’s okay if there is, I’m always here for you.” I bumped my shoulder with his.

A moment of silence dropped before he blurted. “You look gorgeous.”

Blood ran toward my cheeks. “Thank you, Remus. You look pretty gorgeous yourself.” A shifted closer to him and his eyes finally met mine.

“I look like a sack of beets compared to you.”

“That’s one handsome sack of beets.”

He blinked at me before asking, “Are you flirting with me?”

“Maybe. Are you with me?”

“Perhaps.” My heart raced.

“Would you… hypothetically like to go out sometime?” I ask, bracing for rejection.

“I would love to.” He smiled softly and placed a hand in mine. “How about a picnic and I could read to you just like you like? Hypothetically of course.”

“Sounds like a dream.” We laughed and I felt once again like I was in a movie.

——-

MASTERLIST

[1800jjbarnes]

𝐉𝐉'𝐬 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐏𝐭.𝟏

Updated : 8th March 2024 | Fic Counter : 9

Mature [M] Fluff [F] Romance/Slice of Life [R] Comedy [C] Gore/Thriller [G] Horror [H] Supernatural/Fantasy [S] Others [O]

Masterlist Navigator

Three Is Better | Poly Bf's Au [M/F]

↳ 【Synopsis】 : You suggest something new, and the boys love the idea.

Crave Sex Like Air | Demon Au [M]

↳ 【Synopsis】 : You missed your boyfriends dearly. But they were currently on a mission. Little did they know you had a few spell up your sleeves, so you could have them, even if it was only for a moment.

Why So Tense | College Au [M]

↳ 【Synopsis】 : Your two professors were more than happy to show you some tips and tricks to help you study.

Prove It | College Au [M]

↳ 【Synopsis】 : late night conversations aren't supposed to end in sex… right?

New Member | Rockstar Au [M]

↳ 【Synopsis】 : You're the newest member to join one of the most famous rock bands. And luckily for you they are all hot…and fuckable.

Black Card | Mob Boss Au [S/F]

↳ 【Synopsis】 : You were hiding a big secret from your two loving boyfriends. What happens when they finally find out?

Lesson one be a good girl | College au [M]

↳ 【Synopsis】 : Your professors just wanted to help you learn and gain knowledge. Your first lesson happened to be very educational.

In The Night | Vampire Au [A/F/R/M/G]

↳ 【Synopsis】 : Bucky was your protector. The king of the land, but even the king has his dark side, and now Ser Rogers, the leading knight, must help you love him.

Look What We Have Here | Roommate Au [M]

↳ 【Synopsis】 : Your two roommates love to make it hard for you to find a partner… but what happens when they stop you at the door of your apartment and "convince" you that you deserve better.

© 1800JJBarnes. Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, repost, or use my work in any way, shape, or form.

[cynical-rain-frog]

Albedo x fem? Reader

Themes: fluff, angst, unrequited love (but is it really? *winks*), misunderstandings (but they aren’t annoying)

Summary: You love Albedo but he starts falling in love with Lumine.

Story notes: this starts as fluff which turns into angst which then turn back into fluff. THIS HAS A HAPPY ENDING!!!

Author’s notes: This is my first time writing something this long so I apologize for any spelling errors, grammar errors, or format errors! It is not proofread. Also I kinda wrote this for myself so I imagined a Fem reader but I’m pretty sure the reader’s gender is never mentioned. Please don’t be too harsh but give me tips on things that don’t make sense with the story or aren’t very satisfying! Enjoy!

You loved Albedo. How could you not? He was the first person you met when you came to Mondstadt and although he seemed unfeeling and cold on the outside; he was actually very attentive and sweet. You knew he was capable of love. I mean, he clearly loved Klee, So why couldn’t he love you too?

You would spend hours upon hours with Albedo in his lab in dragonspine. You would assist him with anything he asked of you while you would talk to him about your life and ask questions about his. You felt comfortable whenever you were with him and he seemed to feel the same.

So how did lumine do it? What was different about her? You had gone back to mondstadt in the early afternoon to look after Klee at albedo’s request. While taking care of her you suggested to get some Cecelias and bring them to Albedo. (his favorite flower) Klee agreed and you went out to starsnatch cliffs to gather them.

As you walked up to his lab, you heard Albedo talking to someone. Rare but not uncommon. Rounding the corner into his lab you saw him giving the famous traveler, Lumine, a smile he had only ever given Klee before. Your heart dropped and you froze in your tracks. Klee ran up to Albedo holding the Cecelias.

Klee: “Albedo! We picked some flowers for you!”

She smiled wide and lifted the flowers up to Albedo’s hands. He smiled a loving smile and accepted the flowers.

Albedo: “Thank you very much Klee. These are very beautiful. Did you have any trouble gathering them?”

Klee: “Nope! Y/n got all the ones that I couldn’t reach!”

Albedo’s gaze lifted up to where you were still standing in the entrance to his lab. You watched his smile change ever so slightly as he locked eyes with you. You jolted and walked forward handing him the rest of the flowers.

Y/n: “h… here”

Albedo: “thank you, Y/n”

He turned back to lumine, who was watching the interaction and studied her for a second before tucking one of the flowers behind her ear. You could see a slight tinge of pink at the tips of his ears and you knew it wasn’t because of the cold. You stayed silent as he chatted with Klee for a few minutes before you headed back down the mountain with her. As you walked you felt tears welling behind your eyes. “Why were you so upset? It’s not like you owned him.” you thought to yourself.

The next day you had fleeting hope that the occurrence with lumine was just momentary attraction and nothing more. You were alone with him in the lab again when he suggested you become his apprentice. He could teach you alchemy and help you apply to the knights of favonius. Spending even MORE time with Albedo while also being useful? Yes please!

The weeks that followed were filled with long days learning alchemy with Albedo. To your surprise you had a natural talent for it, especially when creating healing ointments and potions! Albedo commented how you were a good student and how easy it was to teach you. You had to look away to hide the blush spreading on your face.

One particularly cold morning you got the lab earlier than usual. You walk around the corner to greet Albedo with a “good morning” but stop dead in your tracks when you see lumine is also there, sitting on a table while albedo prepares ingredients for your lesson. They are deep in conversation so they don’t notice you at the entryway. Albedo smiles softly to himself as he talks with lumine. You notice he is talking a lot more than he usually does with you though you can’t hear a word they’re saying. Your heart is beating too fast. Something inside you tells you it would be very uncomfortable if you intrude right now, so you decide to wait right outside the lab until the time you usually arrive. You step outside into the crisp cold air and sit down, bringing you knees up to your chest. You look up at the gray overcast sky and snow starts to lightly fall around you. You think back on how Albedo interacts with lumine. You really love him and as much as you wish you could be the person he smiles at everyday, you know that may not be possible.

Despite it being cold in the mountain, the warmth radiating from the lab keeps you comfortable. Combining that with being up earlier than you’re used to, you feel you eyes growing heavy. The last thing you think about before drifting to sleep is how handsome Albedo is when he smiles.

Your eyes flutter open and you see Albedo at a table working on an experiment. He isn’t wearing his coat and you feel very warm. You look around and realize you're sitting on a chair near the alchemy table in the lab. Lumine isn’t anywhere to be seen. You shift slightly and notice you have extra clothing on. It’s Albedo’s coat. Why does he have to get your hopes up like this?

You sigh and he turns his head to look at you.

Albedo: “Ah. Good morning, Y/n.” Y/n: “Albedo…? How did I get here?”

He shrugs and replies bluntly.

Albedo: “I carried you inside. You would’ve caught a cold if you stayed out there.”

Y/n: “Oh. Thank you.”

You’re searching for something else to say. Something to keep the conversation going, but you can’t find any words. There is a minute long silence between you two as Albedo finishes writing the results of his experiment. He stands up and walks over to you. You assume he’s going to ask for his coat back so you start to take it off. He notices you doing this and stops you.

Albedo: “you can keep it on if you want.”

Before you can respond he hugs you tightly.

Y/n: “wha-?”

You are surprised but not upset. You hug back. After a minute Albedo moves away while still holding your shoulders. When he speaks next his voice is soft and full of relief.

Albedo: “why did you do that? I was so worried when you didn’t show up for your alchemy lessons.”

Y/n: “I… thought it would be awkward if I intruded in your… moment with Lumine”

Albedo: “My… Moment…? Oh. You mean the conversation I was having with her? Yes that probably would been quite awkward for you.”

Upon seeing your wounded expression he explained further.

Albedo: “But not for the reason you probably think. You see, Y/n… I….”

He stops talking and sighs. His cheeks turn a slight pink.

Albedo: “Y/n. I think I am in love with you.”

Y/n: “What?! But- but I thought you liked Lumine?”

Albedo: “Ah… are you referencing the day where I tucked the flower in her hair? In retrospect I will admit that was childish of me... I was upset that you hadn’t noticed my feelings so I tried to make you jealous.”

Y/n: “What about the conversation you had this morning? I clearly saw you look very much in love while talking to her.”

Albedo: “We were talking about you.”

His words make your face heat up.

Y/n: “So this whole time… you were in love with me?”

Albedo: “Yes.”

Albedo gently tucks your hair behind one ear. With his other hand he puts a Cecelia behind that same ear. He leans in close and kisses your cheek.

Albedo: “Think of that as my apology.”

His smile is full of love. So YOU were the one he was in love with the whole time. You think about how you acted and feel silly.

Y/n: “Apology accepted.”

You lean in kiss him.

[bettyfrommars]

Ring of Fire

a biker Steve au

Part 1 || I went down, and the flames went higher

18+ONLY || afab!Reader, eventual smut, alcohol consumption, allusions to dirty deeds, smoking, allusions to sex with someone other than reader (not cheating), allusions to violence/fighting, bloody knuckles, eventual breaking & entering, biker!Eddie, biker!Hopper, reader and Steve are in their early 30's. Please read warning for each part.

masterlist playlist

Summary || You haven't set eyes on Steve Harrington since the 8th grade, but you have no problem recognizing him almost 20 years later when he steps back into your life. A lot has changed in Hawkeye, the town you grew up in, but a lot has stayed the same.

word count: 5k

A/N || This is my version of Hawkins, a town called Hawkeye, and it is a desert town surrounded by tumbleweeds, agriculture, and junkyards. Even though Steve is a biker and a mechanic, I try to maintain his "essence". I plan for this to be a shorter series, like 3 or 4 parts, but those are always famous last words from this lyin', cheatin' mouth. This is a niche fic, and for the ten people who will appreciate it, I love you.

The bell on the door dinged to let you know you had a customer, but you didn’t look up right away, you were too busy trying to figure out why your till was a few bucks short for the day.  Donna would not be happy.  Heavy foot falls made it to the counter and then the person in question cleared his throat.

“Ten on pump 2 and a pack of reds, please,” the voice was deep and scratchy, like he was recovering from a sore throat.

You closed the cash register and glanced up for the first time.

The sight made you inhale a sharp breath and hold it.  The man had on a thick motorcycle jacket zipped up halfway over a white tee, atop blue jeans that were a dark denim wash, faded over time, with a tattered hole in one knee.  There were tattoos scattered over his flesh, peeking from his collar, and down his hands.  Letters on his knuckles spelled something that you couldn't quite make out, and he had a luscious mop of maple syrup hair on his head that looked like it had once been gelled into place but lost the fight hours ago.  He raked a big hand through it slowly, pausing halfway through the movement, and tucked his chin to pin you with an anticipatory stare. 

The last person you every expected to see again was Steve Harrington.

He pushed his wayfarer sunglasses up to reveal hazel eyes that were just as sad as they were electric. Swiping the tip of his tongue over his top lip, he repeated himself.  “Pump 2?”

You gave a flustered wave of your hand.  “Yes, of course,” turning to pull a soft pack from the wall behind you.  “Matches?”

He shook his head, and then, “just a sec,” before sauntering over to the aisle on the other side of the potato chips.  

Tossing a back of Magnum condoms on the counter next to his smokes, he dug his wallet out of his back pocket and said a polite, “those too, please.” The wallet was as worn as his jeans and connected by a chain to one of his belt loops.  

The cash register made loud click-clack noises as you punched in the numbers and gave him the total.  You weren’t expecting to see the wad of bills that fanned, but then he handed you what you needed.

“You new here?” He asked as you passed him his change, rolling a piece of bright green gum from the inside of his cheek to start chewing it again.

You stumbled over the question.  “New to this store or Hawkeye?”

A smirk lifted up one side of his mouth.  “Both, I guess?”

He was well aware that you were new to the corner gas n’ sip because he’d been a regular customer for years, and he definitely would have remembered you. 

Definitely.

Yet, something about you felt very familiar. 

“I grew up here,” your delivery was dry.  

Steve tilted his head back to assess you down the bridge of his nose and frowned like he didn’t believe you.  You noticed that his hands were rough and stained with evidence that he did some vocation of hard labor for a living.   

You decided to humor him with a clue.  “I left Hawkeye right before my freshman year.  My hair was different back then, and my mom drove a big, white Buick LeSabre—-”

With an unblinking stare, he blurted your name, repeating it a few times in disbelief as the memory seized him. 

There you were, the one who’d haunted his middle school dreams.  The first notable crush he ever had, standing a few feet in front of him 

“Shitttt,” he continued, scooping his purchases up in one hand, huffing out a breath.  He searched your face, and you watched the light in his eyes intensify. “You were a year older than me, right?  I remember you were always so bossy on the playground.”

You sealed your lips over a chuckle.  “Well, someone had to keep you and Eddie from dismantling the playground equipment to sell to the salvage yard.”

Steve chomped down on his lip in a smile, his hip finding the edge of the counter, trying to get closer to you.  “Copper,” he corrected with a one-eyed squint.  “We wanted to dismantle the lampposts.  Copper wiring could earn a pretty penny back then.”

“You’re still good with your hands I see,” gesturing to his calloused digits, the moons of his cuticles stained from motor oil, knuckles slashed with white scarring.

He flexed his right hand into a fist and then opened it again, deliberate and slow, watching you as he did so.  “I do all right.”

He was leaning over the counter at that point, elbow resting next to the cash register,  hip jutting out behind him, holding his mouth as if he were about to say something—-

“...and then, do you know what Ned said to me? Nothing, that’s what. Three days and I barely get two words out of him.  Before you go, there are two crates that need to be put away in the back—-”

56 year old Donna, your boss, approached the front desk from the back room, buzzing with conversation.  She stopped short when she saw Steve there, and tucked some silver, permed hair behind her ear.  

“Oh, hey Steven,” she greeted.  

“Donna,” he gave a twitch of a smile, standing to full height again, slipping his wallet into his back pocket.  “I was just catching up with an old friend.”

Donna had on bright pink lipstick and heart-shaped, baby blue clip-on earrings.  “You know Steve?”

“You could say that,” you stared at him as you said it.  “I’ve tried to put it behind me.“

Steve ran his tongue over the ridge of his teeth at that, and you could see that the left incisor was gold.  

Donna crowded in behind you, trying to get to the styrofoam container with her food inside that was on a stool just below the rack of caffeine pills.  It was leftover burger and fries from the diner across the street and the smell had been making your mouth water.  

“How’s Eddie?” Donna asked, and it was obvious she was talking to Steve. “Haven’t seen him drop by here in a while.”

Steve pulled his sunglasses out of his nest of hair and slid them back down to his nose before giving you one final look.  You backed up against the cigarette display to watch him go.

“He’s been busy,” Steve gnawed his gum, addressing your boss.  “Business at the garage has picked up since the only other mechanic in town split.  I work there part time when I’m not—” he swallowed back whatever he was initially about to say.  “---when I’m not doing other things.”

Donna shoved the corner of her sesame seed bun burger in her mouth, chewed it and kept talking.  “I saw Robin yesterday.  Her and Ratchet back together?”

In the past few days of your employment, you were learning that Donna was a pillar of gossip in the community, and she wasn’t afraid to ask the tough questions.  

Steve scratched the stubble on his chin, possibly contemplating how much he should share.  “I think they have an understanding,” he chimed diplomatically, stealing another glance in your direction. 

“Say hi to Wayne for me,” Donna added as Steve pushed his way out the mostly glass door.  He waved over his shoulder in response, nodding that he would.  

You shimmied further along behind the counter, pretending to organize the pens, so that you could follow where Steve was going, see what he was driving.  

To your surprise, he pumped gas into a hulking, coal black motorcycle with ape-hanger handlebars and blue ghost flames on the tank.  You were staring with your mouth slightly agape when Donna’s voice broke your concentration.

“Don’t even think about it,” she said, cheek of food again.  “That boy is adorable, but he’s bad news.”

“Why?” The question was out of your mouth before you were cognitively aware of it.   

She thumbed ketchup from the corner of her mouth.  “You ever heard of the Coffin Kings?” 

Your gaze flicked to the side, catching Steve as he kicked a leg over to straddle the bike.  “I don’t think—it doesn’t ring a bell.”

You were lying; of course you’d heard of the Coffin Kings.  How could you forget the horde of long-haired bikers who cruised through town when you were a kid, a few of them stopping by to pick Eddie and Steve up from school on occasion.  Eddie’s uncle Wayne was one of the original members, and most of the teachers kept their manners around the boys for that reason alone.  Sure, Steve got detention for carving his initials into one of the school desks, but little did you know that it was only because he knew you would be in there too.  

Steve revved the bike to life until it was growling, idling in place with his back to you while he strapped his bare bones helmet on.  

“How do you know him?” Donna asked, not afraid to be pushy. 

“Well, I—” you thought about the specifics of that question.  “I don’t know him at all anymore, really.  We were just kids. It’s been a long time.”

“You want my advice?” Donna wiped her mouth with a tissue from a nearby Kleenex box.  

You didn’t, but you knew you couldn’t stop her from giving it to you.

“If you’re looking for a bad boy type, his friend Eddie is a much better catch.  Runs his own business, works hard, stays out of trouble.  Steve? Well, let’s say Stevie is just—-”

You turned to her as Steve hit the main road and shot into the distance.  “He’s what?”

You waited while she rolled her lips together, wetting them thoughtfully, turning her gaze to the ceiling.

“He’s a nice kid, but he’s trouble,” she sighed.  “He’s not the type you’d want to get serious with, if you know what I mean.”

Coincidentally, you did know what that meant.  You were a bit of a connoisseur when it came to trouble; not only could you sniff it out, but it flocked to you like seagulls on a parking lot french fry.  

But what Donna didn’t know was that you were no angel.

You scoffed at her suggestion.  “I’m not looking for a relationship any time soon.  I plan to stay single for a while.”

Donna dumped the rest of her dinner in the trash under the cash register.  “In that case, you and Steve have more in common than I thought.”

—-----

Steve had the rest of the evening off, he should’ve gone straight home to have a beer in his boxers in front of the TV and try to pass out early. He’d been slinging wrenches at Munson’s Garage that day, a double shift to help Eddie out, and his hand was throbbing so hard he had to take it off the throttle and shake it out. 

But also, who was he kidding?  He hadn’t slept more than a few hours that whole week. He needed a distraction, he needed people, he needed to forget his gut-wrenching loneliness for a while.  

He revved the throttle, shooting himself faster along the empty highway, passing nothing but flat alfalfa fields and the odd farmhouse every mile or so.  The low, desert hills rolled like sleeping giants on the horizon as dusk descended.

The Blue Light Tavern was housed in a brick building built in the 40’s, located between the truck stop and the Rosebud Motel, about a mile or so from the center of town.  The only way anyone passing by would even know it was a tavern was due to the neon Pabst and Jameson signs in the two tiny front windows.  There were already two motorcycles out front when Steve pulled up, and he found a spot at the end.  

The bartender that night was Angie, and she greeted him by name when he strolled in.  He asked for a beer, picked some songs on the jukebox, and started a game of pool with a fellow MC member, cigarettes bobbing from their lips as they played.  

That's when you walked in. 

He took a drink from his pint glass, pausing it there, watching you scan the room before making your way quietly to one of the stools at the far end of the bar, on the corner, closest to the door, as if you might have to make a run for it.  You were in the same clothes you’d had on at the gas n’ sip, but now you wore a zip-up black hoodie, hugging it around your ribs as if you were cold.  

The guy Steve was playing pool with was known as Big Jim around Hawkeye. Head of hair slicked back with generous sideburns down to his jaw, and a white scar making a thin indentation from the corner of his mouth to his ear.  He wore a long sleeve red and black flannel under his Coffin Kings kutte with the name Hopper patched on one side.     

Hopper said something to Steve and he appeared to ignore him, but finally blinked a few times.  “What did you say?”

Hopper held his pool cue across his lap as he sat on one of the tall swivel chairs against the wall, long legs braced wide.  “It’s your move, Romeo,” he drawled, plucking his smoke from the ashtray to take a drag. .

Steve suddenly got very confused, frowning when he turned to his friend.  How could Hop know he was interested in you? 

Hop gestured to the green felt under the Budweiser chandelier with his chin, exhaling, framing his lips to make an “O” with the smoke.  “Your turn, pipsqueak.”

“Right,” Steve huffed, shaking his head as he pushed off the wall.  

—--------

You waited outside, staring up at the Pabst neon that was missing the “b”, trying to work up the nerve to go in.  The Blue Light Tavern had been around so long, you remembered it from the rare occasions when your dad met up with his buddies, back when it was called The Hideaway.  Before the accident, back when you were a kid and considered Hawkeye your home.  

You were officially a resident once more, but you weren’t sure if you’d feel at home anywhere ever.  You weren’t sure if you’d ever feel safe again.  You weren’t sure you’d ever feel again.

When you finally opened the door, smoke billowed out, and the low-lit, grimey ambiance felt like a familiar friend.  You weren’t in the mood to drink, necessarily, you just didn’t want to sit at your apartment alone.  There weren’t many public places open in Hawkeye after 9, so you’d just been walking around aimlessly for the past hour.  Your tiny rental above the Gas n’ Sip was empty but for a mattress, two kitchen chairs, and five or six boxes you still needed to unpack. It all felt too dismal and overwhelming to tackle after your first full day at your new job.  

“What’ll it be darlin’?” The brunette bartender asked, using a white rag to wipe down the bar in front of you.  There was ice melting in a tumbler, a few used toothpicks, and a sticky ring on the woodgrain.  She scooped it all out of the way and then stared at you with a hand on her ample hips.

You were flustered and said the first thing that came to mind.  “Can you make a gin and tonic?”

“I think I can handle that,” she winked, moving out of the way to grab a glass.  You could hear the billiard balls clacking together over the music of Bringin' on the Heartache by Def Leppard , but there was a jukebox and a length of partition in the way, so you couldn’t see who was at the table. Including you, there were only a handful of customers that night; one surly man with a long gray beard at the bar, a couple at a table looking up at the mounted Zenith TV on the wall playing a muted episode of the Twilight Zone, and another two were throwing darts at a well worn target.  

Angie placed a white cocktail napkin before setting your drink down.  “Someone bought you this,” she had tiny veins of red around the cracks of her bare lips, as if she’d been wearing lipstick earlier.

“Someone?” Disbelief came first, and then it made you paranoid.  The last thing you wanted was to get hit on by—-

“It was him,” Angie gestured down the end of the bar to where Steve caught your eye and bucked his chin at you.  

The universe really did have a sense of humor.

—-----

A few minutes later, once he finished his game and let Hopper win just to move things along, he sauntered over to put his booted foot up on the bottom rung of the stool next to you. His white tee had a V-neck, exposing a tuft of chest hair.  “Are you following me?”

You swished your drink with a red stir stick, and then sucked it clean.  “I won’t let this freebie go to my head, Harrington.  I bet you buy drinks for all the new women in town.”

He gripped a fresh cigarette between pursed lips and lit the end, looking up at you from under his furrowed, James Dean brow.  “Yeah, but you’re not new.”

“Shhh it’s a secret,” you snipped two fingers in the air like a pair of scissors and he grinned at that, offering his pack of reds for you to take one. One of his ears was pierced, and a small silver hoop curved there.  

“Since when do you smoke?”

“I don’t,” you answered flatly, leaning over so that he could light the end for you with his plastic blue Bic, inhaling so that your cheeks hollowed.  

“You want to read my palm again?”

“Again?” You exhaled smoke to the side.

Steve straddled the stool and got comfortable with his elbows on the bar.  “You read my palm once when we were kids,” he straightened his arm, locking his elbow, so that his palm was open in front of you.  “I think you said my love life would be troubled, but I’d live a long life.  And then you made some crack about how I’d let the right one get away.”

You huffed a laugh and chomped onto your bottom lip to keep from smiling too big, staring at his strong fingers as they wiggled in front of you, veins popping strong in his forearm. 

“I can’t believe you remember that.” Tilting your head to the side, you took another sip of your drink, cringing a little at the strength of the alcohol; it was a glass of gin with a splash of tonic.  But maybe Angie’s heavy hand was a blessing that night.  

The gold in his tooth flashed like lightning in a storm. “I remember everything,” his voice was soft and deep, and you had to look away before he turned you into a brainless, lovesick zombie from his vampiric-strength powers of persuasion. 

Clearing your throat, you squirmed a bit under the weight of his stare.  “My palmistry days are behind me. I’m out of practice.”

He slid his hand back, but slowly, hoping you might want to touch it or grab it or—-

“But I am curious—”

Fingers flexed flat again as an invitation.

“---what does it say on your knuckles?”

“Oh these?” He made two fists and twisted them to read it himself as if he wasn’t sure, and then put both palms flat and slid them back in your direction, fingers splayed.  

Murmuring aloud as you spelled it out, you realized that the right knuckles spelled LOVE and the left ones said PAIN in thick, capital lettering.  

“My turn,” he pulled back his shoulders, taking another drag, squinting, before resting his cigarette butt back in the ashtray.

“Your turn for what?”

“Questions. What is that key around your neck for?”

You slapped a hand over the metal piece dangling from a chain, not realizing it had escaped the confines of your shirt collar, fingering it thoughtfully as you thought about what type of story you should make up.  

You could tell him the truth, but you weren’t sure you were emotionally equipped to answer any further questions.  You made a fist around the key and started massaging it with your thumb, when another hulking biker with a thick mustache cupped a meaty hand onto Steve’s shoulder.

“Bones just paged, we gotta meet them at the junkyard,” the big man shifted his kind, blue eyes to you, blinking with a nod of his head to acknowledge your presence, and offer his silent apologies all at once.  

Steve stood without argument, clearly duty bound, but his attention remained on you. He motioned Hopper ahead, and then he idled there, internally stumbling over his words.

“Any chance you’ll be here again tomorrow night?” He flicked the spark on his lighter a few times as he spoke out of nervous habit.

You tucked the metal key into your shirt.  “I work the late shift at the gas station tomorrow.” 

His mood seemed to lift slightly at knowing where you would be.  

“Taz,” Hopper hummed from the door where he braced it open with his broad back, offering a blast of fresh air to the nicotine saturated walls. Taz was Steve’s nickname in the club, but that was just one more thing you had yet to learn about him. He adjusted the collar of his leather jacket, gave your bicep a tender squeeze as he went by, and leaned down to whisper, “it’s good to see you,” at the shell of your ear, giving you goosebumps.  

Once he was gone, the tavern suddenly felt emptier, the sound of George Thorogood singing about drinking alone pounding much louder as you stared down at the glass in your hand.  

You finished your drink and then you made the trek back home, hugging yourself against the crisp night breeze, wondering how you would occupy your time for the next couple hours before you found sleep.

—------

The roar of their two engines cut through the dry June night like a knife, affording no illumination but their headlights and the moon.  Steve had replaced his leather jacket with his own MC leather that said TAZ on the front from one of his saddlebags, bare flesh of his arms exposed to show the scattering of tattoos there as he gripped the handlebars.  Both riders wore clear safety glasses to protect their eyes from the wind and the kamikazee bugs.  

Snipes Junkyard loomed menacingly in the expanse of desert, shrouded in cobalt night.  Heaps of twisted metal wreckage, smashed cars all piled on top of each other, and a high fence made of corrugated metal with curls of razor wire along the top ridge.  

There was a group of bikes parked out front when they arrived and two of the Coffin Kings Prospects, Riot and Krebs, guarded the gate to the place.  

Both new arrivals put their helmets on the end of their handlebars and tucked their safety glasses into their front pocket as they approached.

“What are we walking into?” Hopper asked, and Riot was already shaking his head in answer.

“The underground tunnels were breached,” he said, tucking a strand of curly black hair behind his ear.  “Crater isn’t happy.”

Crater was a Hawkeye native who got his nickname because of the chicken pock scars that covered his cheeks and jaw. He was also President of one of the other MC’s in town called the Skull Crushers.

When tensions were high among the gangs, there was always a good chance someone would pull a gun or start punching, so Steve and Hopper shared a weary look, bracing themselves before entering.

—------

Just as you were about to step up onto your block, you caught sight of someone coming out of the mini mart that you lived above.  A side door led up a flight of narrow stairs, and the top room was all yours; it was the size of a tin can, but it was shelter and you were grateful.  

Through the soft glow of the front window, you saw Donna’s husband Ned behind the counter with his half-moon reading spectacles on and a novel open in front of him.  Which reminded  you to make sure you brought some material to entertain you on your shift the next night.  

Somewhere not too far off in the distance, a group of coyotes yipped their excited whines.

The person who’d just come out paused on the sidewalk to light a smoke, and you sank around the corner of the building to watch the guy in the jeans, leather, and thick boots stroll over to put some gas in the tank of his Harley. Bulkier than the one Steve rode, this one was glossy obsidian with chrome pipes and a sissy bar in back, as if he usually had a rider with him.  His hair was unruly, long and dark, and once you caught a glimpse of his profile from the dim beam above the pumps, you knew right away that it was Eddie Munson.  

You thought about getting his attention to say hello, but then realized that your social battery was tapped for the day.  The cigarette dangled from his mouth when he took off, and you waited until he was down the street before darting to the stairs of your apartment.

—-----

A few hours later, Steve’s left hand with the PAIN held a black payphone receiver to his ear while the other hand rolled the numbers on the rotary dial.  His knuckles were freshly spit and bleeding, since one of the Skull Crushers had come at him during a misunderstanding at the meet earlier, and he was forced to lay the guy out.  He felt wired, like rest had somehow become his enemy, something he ran from as it tracked him ruthlessly.  

A woman who went by the name Lorelei picked up on the second ring.  

“It’s me,” he coughed and tasted that familiar copper tang. “It’s Steve.  Are you busy?”

It was almost 4 in the morning, but Steve had been a regular customer for a few months and, also, she didn’t mind his company.  He wasn’t like her other customers; he didn’t want the typical things from her.  

His hand haphazardly bandaged with a red handkerchief; he hugged it to his chest when he knocked at the door of room 8 at the Rosebud Motel.  When it opened, Lorelei stood there with a silk, periwinkle kimono wrapped snug around her curves, and motioned him in. There were two lamps on in the room, both of their shades draped with floral scarves, and a candle burned on the nightstand, smelling of essential oils, bergamot and lavender.   She didn’t live at the Rosebud, but she did stay a few nights in a row there when she was working.  

Steve's relationship history thus far had been a blur of endless disconnect, a series of hit and runs that left his heart empty and his eyes vacant.  It was easy for a guy in a motorcycle club to get laid; their parties were always crawling with eager pussy.  But after a certain age, that wasn’t what he craved anymore. He often worried that the parental dynamic he’d witnessed growing up, or lack thereof, had fucked him up to the point that he would never be able to have a normal relationship with a girl he liked.  

A while ago he’d given up on love, figured that he was broken. But he still had urges, and making them transactional helped him to disengage further.  

“What are you in the mood for?” Lorelei hooked a finger into his belt loop and pulled him closer, searching his face.  “Same as last time, hmm?”

Steve lowered his head, internal exhaustion making him dizzy.  He held her arm, thumbing the delicate material of her robe.  “Not tonight,” he swallowed thickly.  “Just the stuff that…comes after.”

Nodding that she understood, she cupped his chin so he would look at her. “Will three hours be enough?” One look at him told her what he needed was 24 at the least, but three was all she had to give.

Over the years, Steve had come to realize that his insomnia was somehow cured when he could sleep next to someone.  To roll over and have them there, to hold them.  Alone, his mind raced, and nightmares plagued the inside of his eyelids. With Lorelei, they mostly slept side by side, and the weight and familiarity of her was somehow enough to calm his nervous system down to a reasonable level.

“Come,” she sat him on the edge of the bed and knelt to unlace his boots.  He wrestled to pull his wallet out of his back pocket, ready to pluck some bills out, but she put her hand up to stop him.

“After, okay? I trust you,” she whispered, tugging off the first boot by the heel, rubbing the ball of his foot a little before moving to the next shoe.  

Steve’s head bobbed on his neck, and then he rolled it back to center, eyes heavy.   

He always refused to undress fully, and Lorelei suspected it had something to do with how vulnerable it made him feel, but she never asked questions.  He scooted up to find the pillow with his head, and by the time she crawled in next to him and put her hand on his thigh, he was out.  

-------

Thank you to my darling readers who love biker Steve!

[another-lost-mc]

Saying Something Stupid Like "I Love You"

Simeon decides to send his beloved a long-awaited confession of his feelings. Unfortunately, he's never been good with technology.

SIMEON x gn!Reader 2.6k Words | SFW | Angst with a Happy Ending | Misunderstandings Content Warnings: Mentions of drinking/getting drunk. A/N: This was my contribution to the Simeon 2023 Birthday Collab (original submission post and AO3 link).

Simeon groaned in frustration and tossed another crumpled paper into the waste basket under his desk. Despite being a famous writer, he spent the past hour struggling to write a simple, coherent letter confessing his feelings to you.

There was a special event taking place in the Devildom soon, and he was struck by inspiration to confess his feelings - finally, after admiring them in silence for so long - and hope they would accept his offer to be his date. The eager anticipation resulted in dozens of abandoned letters in his trash filled with mistakes: numerous instances of misspelling your name or his own; shaky penmanship that left parts of the letter completely illegible; and at times he pressed so hard on the paper that the pen tip poked through.

Simeon glanced warily at the computer pushed back against the edge of his desk. He was horrible with those contraptions, but spellchecker was such a handy tool that it made it worthwhile to type up drafts of his TSL work. He wanted a more personal touch for his invitation to you and chose a handwritten letter instead. Unfortunately, he was spiraling into frustration and wanted the weight of his confession off his shoulders.

With some reluctance, he reached across the desk and pulled the keyboard closer. His fingers flew across the keys, and before he knew it, he had typed his invitation to you - complete with his confession of his feelings for you too - and read it over twice for spelling errors.

Satisfied, he opened up the Dmail app and attached his letter to a blank email. He tapped quickly on his contacts and added your email address. The screen froze for a moment while the attachment finished uploading. When he hit “Send,” he smiled in satisfaction. He decided he would cook for Luke and Solomon tonight; he was in the mood to celebrate. He shut off his computer (with only minor difficulty) and walked to the kitchen with a spring in his step.

CHAT: The Demon Brothers (7)

Levi: WTF is this?

Satan: What’s wrong?

Levi: Have you checked your Dmail lately? Simeon sent something sooo cringey to all of us!

Satan: Let me take a look.

Beelzebub: I get the feeling this wasn’t meant for me, but I’ll go to the festival with him if he wants. The food is going to be amazing.

Belphegor: I have a feeling this email definitely wasn’t meant for you.

Satan: I agree. Did he send this to all of us by accident?

Levi: LMAO!!!! He’s such a noob with technology!

Asmo: Aw, I never knew Simeon had such a sweet side. I’m totally jealous, I would swoon if one of my admirers sent me a love letter like this!

Mammon: Wanna bet who this was meant for? Oh, I bet he’d pay us whatever we want to keep it secret!

Asmo: Ugh! Way to ruin the romance!

Lucifer: Enough. I will call Simeon and speak to him about this. In the meantime, DO NOT mention this to anyone.

Belphegor: Any ideas who this was really meant for? 

Asmo: I’m really curious about that too!

Mammon: Who cares! This is perfect blackmail material!

Satan: I think I know who it’s for.

Levi: Huh? How’d you figure that out?

Satan: We know who he sent it to and it was obviously a mistake. That’s all I’ll say.

Beelzebub: It’s their turn to cook dinner tonight. I’m on my way to the kitchen to see if it’s ready. Should I ask if they got it too?

Mammon: Huh? What about them?

Lucifer: SILENCE. ALL OF YOU.

Simeon drummed his finger tips against his knee while he read the same page of his book for the sixth time. He made a light lunch for him and Luke - Solomon was busy elsewhere today - and sat in his favorite chair to distract himself. The weight of the DDD in his pocket burned heavily against his leg and the Devildom’s newest bestselling novel couldn’t keep his mind off his confession to you.

An hour ago he felt elated that the feelings he tried to suppress were finally out in the open, but now a new type of worry plagued him: uncertainty. Any angel of his age and status would be familiar with regret - arguably, he’d had more than his fair share compared to most - but exploring these new and wonderful feelings made him feel vulnerable in a way he hadn’t felt in a very long time. 

He jumped in his seat when the DDD started to chime with an incoming phone call. He scrambled to keep the book in his lap from tumbling to the floor. He reached into his pocket, barely conscious that he was holding his breath. Simeon’s eyebrows shot up curiously when he saw Lucifer’s name flash across the screen. It wasn’t the phone call he expected, but he always felt a warm feeling when Lucifer took the initiative and reached out to talk to him first despite their rocky past together.

Simeon tapped the screen and held the phone to his ear. “Good afternoon, Lucifer,” he said with a smile. “I hope you’re doing well.” 

There was a pause, the sound of shuffling on the other end of the call. “Yes, good afternoon, Simeon,” Lucifer replied. Another pause. “Have any of my brothers contacted you?”

Simeon ran his finger along the spine of his book. “No, although now that you mention it, some of them sent me some random emoji messages. I assumed they were sent by accident, I know I’ve done the same in the past. Why do you ask?”

Lucifer cleared his throat. “I’ll be blunt. I know about the email you sent earlier today. More accurately, we all do.”

Simeon’s throat suddenly ran dry and he coughed. Clearly he had misheard. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re—“

“The email you attempted to send earlier to a specific individual,” Lucifer interrupted, “was sent to me and my brothers which I assume was a technical error on your part.” He chuckled dryly. “While your letter was very flattering, I realized quickly it wasn’t meant for my eyes and I wanted to make sure you were aware.”

It was difficult for Simeon to think clearly with the muffled roar in his ears. His face burned with embarrassment and his hands felt clammy. He glared at the computer on the table across the room as though it had done this terrible misdeed to him on purpose.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered dejectedly. He wanted to be angry, but all Simeon really felt was defeat. How had his simple plan gone so wrong? “I appreciate you telling me, and if you and the others could keep this to yourselves, that would be for the best. I’ll have to…figure this out,” he said slowly. He needed time to process this unexpected turn of events.

“I can’t guarantee that they won’t attempt to tease you about this, but I have already warned them about the consequences should they do anything beyond that. But Simeon, I think—“ Lucifer paused, and then sighed. “Nevermind. Take care, and please let me know if any of my idiot brothers bother you.”

When the call disconnected, Simeon let the phone slip between his fingers and fall to the plush carpet at his feet. He buried his face in his hands and shook his head. Time seemed to freeze and Simeon couldn’t focus on anything but the burning waves of embarrassment that rippled through him every time he thought about his letter to you. The intimate praise and heartfelt declarations he made felt almost scandalous now that he knew Lucifer and his brothers were aware of the contents.

Despite his awkward handling of technology, his fingers flowed freely against the keys of the keyboard as easily as if they were those of a piano, the deepest wishes of his heart spilling into a digital void and he hoped his words echoed true once they reached their destination. It was difficult not to succumb to regret and doubt now that his plea for your affections had failed; his trials as an angel seemed to pale in comparison to the despair he felt now, as though once again fate had tempted him with something just beyond his reach.

The sound of a door opening nearby jolted Simeon out of his daze. He wiped the dampness from his eyes and stood up hastily, wiping his hands on his slacks and looking around his dimly lit room to make sure nothing was out of place. He bent over and picked up the forgotten DDD on the floor by his feet, and he grimaced when he saw missed notifications flash on the screen. He stuffed the device into his pocket with more force than necessary when a familiar knock rattled his bedroom door.

“We’re back!” Luke beamed at him when he opened his door and poked his head inside. “I picked up ingredients for devil-spiced chili tonight, but you might want to hurry because—“ Luke visibly flinched at the sound of pots and pans rattling in the kitchen. “Solomon said he always wanted to try making it.”

Simeon gave Luke a reassuring ruffle of his hair and followed the younger angel to the kitchen, his personal angst temporarily forgotten as he rushed to salvage their dinner.

Sun peeked through the gap of his curtains and Simeon woke with a groan. He buried his head into his pillow and tried to go back to sleep, but the faint throbbing in his temples promised a lingering headache he would regret later on.

He stayed up later than usual the night before, staring into the fireplace with a frown while he sipped Demonus and prayed the fiery sweet taste would help dull the pain in his heart. After he finished his first glass, he got up with a sigh and went into the sitting room to retrieve the bottle. Solomon was reading on the sofa and raised his eyebrow when he saw Simeon’s stormy expression.

“Rough night?” the sorcerer asked with a teasing smile.

“You have no idea,” Simeon grumbled under his breath when he retreated back to the dark solace of his bedroom. He poured more dark amber liquid in his glass and embraced the drunken haze that fell over him like a veil.

Simeon sat up and winced at the stiffness in his neck and shoulders. At some point during the night he tried to undress himself for bed but failed miserably; his shirt was half-unbuttoned and wrinkled, and one of his socks was missing. He was still wearing his slacks but the belt was unbuckled and loose around his waist.

Simeon swung his legs over the side of his bed and rubbed the remnants of sleep from his eyes. The shameful events from the day before came crashing down on him when he heard the familiar ping of his DDD. The sound was muffled, and Simeon started patting his bed trying to find it. He stood up on unsteady legs and glared at the tangled mess of blankets. He grabbed his duvet and threw it behind him, but the device was nowhere to be seen.

“Technology is overrated,” he grumbled to himself. He picked up each of his pillows and tossed them aside. Still no DDD. “It’s probably one of Lucifer’s brothers teasing me,” he guessed bitterly. He grabbed hold of his sheets and raised them with a sharp snap. “I should just get rid of the cursed thing.”

He finally heard a dull thud on the carpet. He glanced down and saw the familiar shape of his DDD hit the floor and bounce underneath the bed. It had stopped pinging with new notifications but morbid curiosity and sheer defiance motivated Simeon to kneel down and reach for it anyway; perhaps destroying it later would make him feel better.

It had rolled just out of reach and he flattened himself against the carpet while he stretched his hand towards it. His fingers brushed the smooth surface but he swore when a loud knock on his bedroom startled him and caused him to jerk suddenly. His head hit the bed frame and he accidentally knocked the DDD further out of reach.

Simeon was frustrated and muttering angrily by the time he pulled himself out from under the bed and stalked across the room. He practically ripped the door open, but the curse on the tip of his tongue died in his throat when he saw your concerned face staring back at him.

You glanced at him nervously, eyes darting between his rumpled clothing and the room behind him where his bedding was scattered all over the floor. “Is this a bad time? I wanted to talk to you but I can come back later.”

Simeon acknowledged your generous opportunity to escape for what it was, but he supposed he had to face his faults sooner or later. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. You walked past him when he moved aside, and he closed the door so he could suffer his continued humiliation in private.

“I tried to call you but you didn’t answer,” you said apologetically.

“I dropped my phone,” was his response, and he realized how silly it sounded a moment too late. “I’m not the best company today,” he admitted while he tried to smooth down the wrinkles of his shirt. He was suddenly very aware of his poor appearance and he could only imagine what you must think of him, seeing him in such a haphazard state.

Simeon froze when he felt your fingers brush against his face. When had he started crying? He couldn’t make out the expression on your tear-blurred face.

“Is this about your letter?” you asked quietly. You cupped his cheeks in your hands and he knew they must’ve felt his skin grow hot when he blushed.

Simeon bit his lip bashfully. He covered your hands beneath his own, enjoying the feeling of your fingers nearly entwined with his. “Who told you?” he whispered thickly around the lump in his throat.

“Lucifer sent it to me last night,” you admitted, “but I wanted to give you my response in person.”

Simeon felt the warmth of your body against his own when you leaned against him, a comforting presence that helped keep him steady on his feet. He braced himself for the worst and nodded that he was listening.

You couldn’t help but smile sadly at the look of anxious anticipation on Simeon’s face. “I don’t like the feeling that I make you nervous,” you said. You pulled their hands away from Simeon’s tear-stained cheeks and wrapped your arms around his waist instead.

Simeon leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours. “I find myself lost, wandering in unfamiliar territory when it comes to my feelings for you,” he sighed, lips grazing your skin. He answered your hug with his own, his limbs growing heavy with exhaustion as he gave up trying to wear a mask of brave indifference. 

You pulled back enough to catch his gaze with your own. “I love you,” you said with a smile that started shy and soft, but grew wide and radiant when Simeon blinked at you in surprise. Simeon’s only response was a sob that quickly morphed into relieved and delighted laughter. His hold on you tightened and you held each other in his warm, sunlit room.

In a moment of clarity, Simeon pondered that perhaps technology wasn’t so bad after all.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 15 - Smart

@jegulus-microfic August 15, Word count 744

Previous part First Wolfstar part

Regulus can’t believe he didn’t think of it himself. He was in Slytherin after all. He'd seen that portrait nearly every day for seven years and yet a Gryffindor had come up with the incredibly smart idea of asking the portrait of one of the most famous wizards in Britain for help with the locket. 

“When can we go?” Regulus says excitedly. If he had been his brother, he’d have been jumping off the walls by now, but luckily he wasn’t and had more decorum than to run amok like Sirius would have. 

“I need to get a message to Dumbledore so he knows I’m coming.” James scratched his head as he thought. He pulled out his wand and was about to recite the enchantment when Regulus interrupted him. 

“What do you mean you? We’re both going. You are not leaving me here with Flitsy,” Regulus argued. If James Potter thought he could go waltzing off and take all the glory for himself. 

“Love,” James started gently. Regulus steeled himself, ready for whatever lame excuse James was about to try him with. “Everyone thinks you’re dead. You’re only safe while everyone keeps believing that. The second Voldemort finds out you’re still walking about, he’ll stop at nothing to get to you.”

“I can take care of myself,” Regulus scoffed, folding his arms across his chest and turning his head petulantly. 

“Against someone who’s basically immortal?” James questioned, his eyebrow raised. Regulus sighed. He had a point. 

“But Salazar's more likely to give information to me. Isn’t there a way for me to get in without Dumbledore or any of the professors needing to know I’m there?” He asked, his mind already sifting through all the possible spells he could use. James groaned, which made him look up. It was an exasperated groan, something Regulus had never heard from James. James dragged his hand down his face and groaned again. 

“I have a way that will keep you hidden better than any spell.”

“You’d better not be about to transfigure me into a mouse or something,” Regulus warned, pointing his finger at him. James huffed out a laugh. 

“No, love, something far better than that. But you have to promise me you won’t tell anyone about it.” Regulus agreed instantly. He was intrigued by what James could possibly have that could fool the protection spells surrounding the castle. 

“Accio, cloak!” James called into the house, pointing his wand in the direction of his bedroom. Something silvery floated across the room like a partially hidden ghost. But when it landed in James’s hand, Regulus couldn’t see it any more. “This is one of the things that made the marauders so successful at getting up to mischief while we were at school,” James said before he disappeared. He was standing there one second, making his speech, and then he'd vanished. Regulus blinked hard, looking around the room to see where he’d gone. 

“James?” He asked the empty room. 

“Yes, love,” James’s voice came from behind him, startling Regulus. He jumped and spun on the spot to see nothing but thin air. 

“Where are you?” He said suspiciously. 

“Right here, love,” James’s arms were around his waist, pulling him under a heavy cloak. It clicked then what James had in his possession. 

“An invisibility cloak,” Regulus said in awe, reaching out and running his fingers over the fabric. “Where did you get this?”

“Family heirloom passed down over the years. I’ve no idea where they got it, but it’s mine now.” Regulus could hear the smugness in James’s voice. 

“And this will get me in and out of Hogwarts undetected?”

“Yup,” James popped his p. 

James took the cloak off of them and carefully folded it. He raised his wand again. “Expecto Patronum!” He called, casting the patronus charm. Regulus took a step back as the giant silver-blue stag erupted from the tip of James’s wand. The great beast bowed his head to them, his antlers dipping to eye level. “Tell Dumbledore that I need to come to the castle. It’s of the utmost importance. I need access to the Slytherin Common room as soon as possible,” James finished his message and the stag raced from the room on its way north to Scotland. “Here, you’ll need this as soon as we get the okay,” James said, holding out the invisibility cloak. Regulus took it with trembling fingers. This was it. The fight against Voldemort had truely begun.

Next part

[evanbuckleyrecs]

Buddie AUs under 20k part 2

Part 2 to the earlier rec list!

Over the waves (under your spell) by my_hopless_opus

14,9K, rated E

What if in season 6, Bobby and Athena don't cancel their honeymoon trip, but decide to give away their tickets to another couple? Hen & Karen are busy and Chimney & Maddie are still figuring out their stuff, that leaves only Buck and Eddie.

The only condition is that they have to pretend to be a couple during the whole trip.

How hard can that be?

OR

Buddie fake dating fic

(Spoilers: There's only one bed)

Spousal secrets and celebrity crushes by AshwinMeird

9,3K, rated G

Eddie joined the 118 and Hen learned plenty about his husband and son through endless stories, but she knew almost nothing about Buck. Then a movie being filmed not far from the station starts to become very relevant to her life.

Or

Five times Hen was confused about Eddie's husband and One time it all made sense.

You smiled and it was the most beautiful thing that I'd ever seen by wafflesofdoom

13,5K, rated G

Eddie had always loved coffee. From the moment his parents had deemed him old enough to drink it, he’d loved coffee – he loved the smell, the taste, and most of all, he loved the process of making it. So, it was inevitable that'd he'd end up in Los Angeles, and take over Diaz's Café from his grandmother.

He just never imagined he'd meet the love of his life while doing it.

or, a 911-style ode to the classic coffee shop au trope.

He never thinks about me (except when I'm on tv) by heartbeatdiaz

18,1K, rated M

"I have been in love, yes." He says after the most torturous of seconds.

"Would you mind expanding on that?"

Buck hesitates for a few seconds and then Eddie sees the exact moment he decides 'fuck it' as he straightens in his seat.

"There was this guy in high school. He was my best friend."

Wait.

Hold on.

Eddie freezes.

Is Buck— Is Buck talking about him?

or:

In which Eddie finds out years later that his unrequited feelings for his high school best friend were not actually unrequited, Buck is stupidly famous now and they pine.

They get there in the end, they just need to get their timing right.

Inspired by the prompt: “you’re famous and just got asked if you were ever in love this should be good– WAIT WHAT."

All that's left to find (is peace of mind) by agustmoons

8,3K, not rated

A still warm kernel thumps lightly against Buck’s temple and it’s his last straw. “What the fuck is your problem, Han?” He demands, rounding on the paramedic currently tucked away in an armchair, popcorn bowl balanced precariously on his chest and knees.

“Your dumb, grumpy face. What’s got you all wound up, anyways? You look like someone took a shit in your cereal this morning.” Chim says, waving a hand in his direction.

___________

Eddie's deployed and Buck is /handling it/. He's not freaking out, definitely not.

Well, he wasn't. Until his contact with Eddie is cut off and he's left alone, wondering what could have happened.

Taking smoke with my coffee by UisceOneLove

3,9K, Rated G

"Order for Firefighter Diaz!"

Eddie knows that coffee runs have typically been deemed a Probie task. He did plenty of them when Bobby first recruited him to the 118. So, tradition dictates that it's supposed ot be Ravi getting them.

But Eddie gets to have a lot of nice things for himself. The things that make even his worst call days just a smidge better.

If anyone (Hen) is interrogating him for details, it's definitely the coffee he's referring to.

"I'm not in my gear, Buck," Eddie tells the barista when he approaches the counter.

The smile he looks forward to is waiting for him courtesy of the barista that makes even Eddie have to tip his head back a little bit to make eye contact. "Yeah," Buck drawls as he pushes the tray of coffee towards him, "but you're still on duty."

Mr. Buckley's after hours detention by aresaphrodites

11,4K, rated M

It’s not like Eddie Diaz planned on this. Really, there was no scenario in his mind where he would ever be bringing his son’s teacher a freaking goody basket to class; a homemade goody basket, no less. Then again, Christopher has never had a teacher quite like Evan Buckley.

Lucky streak by 2manyboys

8,6k, rated E

A massive tsunami hits the Santa Monica Pier; Eddie has an instant connection with a firefighter from another station.

[changingplumbob]

New Goth: Chapter 4, Part 2

Saturday is date night!

Back home Alexander works out his frustrations on a punching bag. Dina always manages to rile him up. He’s also discovered he has ADHD, Cassandra’s diagnosis had him look into it. James may fit in a workout but he does get very tired afterwards. What can turn that frown upside down? A cat! He goes in search of someone fluffy, Hamlet is playing on the cat tree upstairs.

James: Hey boy, can I have a couch snuggle

Hamlet: *meows* Of course dad

James: You look good in that cape. We must get you a special look for Harvestfest, we want to impress the guests

Hamlet: *purrs* We will if I’m there

Settling down with the oldest journal Milton begins to read.

Dear diary, how exciting is that to write! I got 10 out of 10 on my spelling tests all month so daddy bought me the journal I wanted. I’m excited to start keeping proper track of things. Yes I’m 8 but never to early to organise. Michael makes fun of me but I know he’d never peek. Sometimes I think I have the best older brother in the world…

Milton: I know the feeling mummy

Alexander: Can you follow the star Gertrude

Gertrude: *meows* Oh it is so dead

Alexander: Where’d it go? Where’d it go

Gertrude: *meows* I got it! Wait… get back here star!

Alexander: I think I’ve tortured you enough for one day *turns off laser pointer*

Gertrude: *meows* It… vanished???

Alexander: Here, how about a brush. You do look impressive in the armour but we must keep your coat looking as lovely as you

Hamlet: *meows* I am more impressive

Gertrude: *purrs* dream on son

Milton: Alexander?

Alexander: We’re in here

Milton: I wanted to say thanks to you and Uncle James for the new room

James: You’re very welcome

Milton: I know you have your date but when you get back could we maybe… just for tonight… have a sleepover in my room

Alexander: That sounds fun but I don’t know if James’ back will-

James: I would love a sleepover Milton

Milton’s face lights up at this news.

Milton: I’ll see you later then. Come home safe... promise?

Alexander: We will Milton, I promise

We head to Chez Llama where our normal greeter is on duty.

Caleb: Name?

Alexander: There should be a reservation under Goth

Caleb: Under Goth? Are you sure

Alexander: Yes I made the reservation myself

Caleb flicks his eyes over Alexander’s suit, his aged companion and the space where a celebrity shine isn’t.

Caleb: Yes... well we are very busy tonight

Alexander: No one is in the restaurant yet

Caleb: We have many distinguished patrons, we must keep room for them

Alexander: My father was a five star celebrity

Caleb: Yes, he was

Alexander: My parents spent a fortune here

James: Are you sure we’re not on there? Sorry love, looks like we’ll have to take our service elsewhere *sighs*

Alexander: Look- Caleb? I know I made the reservation. We are long time patrons who wish to spend money here. If you have a problem with that perhaps I should ask to speak to your boss

Caleb: *stiffens* That won’t be necessary- sir, here it is

James: Just like magic

Caleb: If you’ll follow me

The two are escorted to a small table just inside the restaurant.

James: What was that man’s problem

Alexander: I guess he didn’t think we were famous enough

James: Well make sure to leave a big tip so he knows we don’t have hard feelings

Alexander: We don’t have to

James: Maybe we don’t have to but we should. If anything maybe it will make him less judging of future guests that don’t have celebrity status

Diaz: Hello there, what can I get you tonight sirs?

Alexander: Nectar. White I think

James murmurs in agreement and the waiter’s pen begins to mark down the order.

James: You order first love

Alexander: Could I please have the… hmm, the tiger shrimp broth sounds good

Diaz: very good sir

James: Can I have a space taco please

Diaz: Of course sir

The waiter speeds off and Alexander looks at James chuckling.

Alexander: Swanky restaurant and my husband orders a taco

James: Space taco. Maybe it’ll make me fly

Alexander: *laughs* Just don’t go getting abducted, they’ll impregnate a handsome man like you for sure

James: I have been thinking pregnancy thoughts lately

Alexander: *chuckles* Of course. We’ll have a science baby with my hair and your eyes and-

James: Actually…

Alexander: You don’t want a science baby with me?

James: I’d love one, don’t misunderstand me. Raising a mini you would be great but we have to be realistic

Alexander: What do you mean

James: Love, I’m not getting any younger

Alexander: Ridiculous! You’re plenty young

James: You’re sweet but we both know I’m not. Humans here seem to live to about 80

Alexander: Joey would say it’s the watchers fault

James: Yes, he probably would. But Alexander, I want a kid who’s going to remember me

Alexander: But… You’re only 74, you’ve got time left

James: Maybe but not enough time for an infant to get to know me properly. Not enough time for me to be able to pass on my life lessons. Not enough time… for me to know them

Alexander: So what are you saying sweets

James: I’d like to adopt a child or even a teen…

James: What do you think

Alexander: It’s just… something we haven’t discussed before

James: I know, and I’m bringing it up now

Alexander: I mean… I’m not against adoption. Not at all. But… a teen?

James: I know how to handle teens from all my years teaching

Alexander: Yes but *quietly* who says I’ll know what to do

James: You’re wonderful with Milton. You're going to make a great dad

Alexander: Yeah but Milton is my brother. How am I meant to be a dad to someone only a decade younger than me?

James: You won’t be doing it alone, I’m going to be here as long as I can

Alexander: You really want a kid that remembers you huh

James: I do. And I want to leave you with someone that can look out for you to

Alexander: What will I do when you’re gone

James: Pretty sure parenting has a pretty steep learning curve. By the time… well you will know more than nothing

Alexander: What if they don’t respect me

James: I’ll teach them to, we’ll teach them to

Alexander: *sighs* I suppose it can’t hurt to look in to it

James: I’ll win you over eventually

Alexander: *winks* You always do

Previous ... Next

[gritsandbrits]

Cringetober day 20 hanahaki disease: Jora

Drabble, cw for hanahaki disease, OV death and Angst. Tragic.

In a world where almost anything is possible, Hanahaki disease is no exception. Though rare, it has been growing increasingly common in a changed world scarred by greed, hyper-individualism, and loneliness. In Jora's case as a Nature Elemental, her chances of catching the disease is higher. And for someone who carried feelings for the most famous man on Earth, it was only a matter of time until she developed the dreaded blossoms. Not only did multiple girls pine for him, but he is also destined to marry one of them, and that Jora is just another participant in love squabbles no one asked for.

An extraordinary case where, instead of beautiful flowers, she coughs up rotted branches and knarled, crunchy leaves. Sure, she coughed up the occasional Pink roses, as was her signature color, but they were brown at the tips. Sharp thorns tugged in her throat, sprawling out as if daring anyone to come close.

Gwen works tirelessly to find a spell but every time she casts, the effectiveness barely lasts a day, before roots of bitterness take hold once again. Weeks pass, more regrow from Jora's insides. She rarely ate, nor slept, her dreams wracked with broken visions if a future not meant to be hers. It got so bad, Grandpa Max forbade her from going on missions. Even the villains they faced were put off by the sudden coughing fits the superheroine fell into. All the while Ben is at a loss of what to do. He knows this thing is killing his friend. So as a hero would, he looks to rid the problem at its source, Unaware that one look in a mirror could help him find the answer he desperately needed.

Finally, Gwen concedes that the only other options is surgery, or a kiss from the Hero of Heroes.

But Jora doesn't want surgery. That would cause her to lose her feelings for him. She didn't want to erase one of the few intimate links she had to her one true love. But she was too shy to request just one teeny tiny little kiss. She didn't want to frighten him off or destroy the future laid perfectly at his feet.

In the warmest day of summer, the anniversary of the day she first met Ben long ago for their summer vacation, she sits on the sill on her window clutching the pot of chanterelles her gave her for her birthday, as the thorny vines wrapped around her heart throb one last, mournful rhythm into a garden of silence.

[365partygirl305]

Chapter V: The Perfect Date II || Enter Vivian

Warnings: nada, just pure fluff

A/n: Grab your popcorn or snacks cuz this chapter cute but also insane

2 months later…

Matty’s pov

Driving to London with Elena had been what I was planning on for the past 2 months now. I was thinking of taking her on a boat ride on a pond there. Turns out she loves that. She told me all the times she reads many books she would always imagine herself in that scene in romance novels. I know she may not have her voice now, but she writes with her finger on my skin, and it is how I listen to what she says. From all the times we hang out, even when she’s staying with me for months, I feel like I’m falling for her.

My head is yet again still thinking about her voice when she saved me that day. Could she be the one? The one I can spend the rest of my life with despite all the stuff me and my mates are doing as a band? I really want to love her.

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

“Is that Elena?” Isa asks as the girls hide beneath the water away from the boat.

“It should be,” is Macy’s response. Catalina has her eyes on her and a man she’s sitting across from. “Do you think she’s in love with him?” she asks.

“I think so,” Isa concludes. “I seem to understand now why. I remember kinda eavesdropping when she and Saoirse were talking about a boy she met when she was walking. And when the Ocean found out that she saved him, She took her voice away. Could that boy be him?”

“I suppose so.”

“What can give her back her voice?”

“I think I asked Her once. Do you remember Freya?”

“Who’s Freya?”

“Freya was one of us before you came in, Catalina. She disobeyed the Ocean by killing her abusive family. The Ocean took her voice away like they did to Elena. What broke the spell was true love’s kiss. Macy and I witnessed her kissing a guy she was with. And she was able to speak again except that it doesn’t kill him. The side effects of the kiss doesn’t affect everyone and never kills them. They only affect the siren that kisses a person.”

This is one of the stories of sirens who disobeyed the Ocean that led to dire consequences and warnings for the next generation of sirens. It goes to show how every siren must obey the rules. Catalina thinks about the story for a moment until she sees how it was played out. After all, she is a siren now and still learning the ropes.

“Ah,” Catalina understands now. “I see now.”

Looking at the boat, she says, “Isa, you told me how Freya broke the Ocean’s spell right? I think I got an idea.”

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

Elena’s pov

He is telling me some stories about his life. His mom and dad are famous. He appeared in a tv show once.

Yet I’m still surprised he still doesn’t know I’m a siren who lost her voice to the Ocean. Honestly, I’m glad I ran away, even after I saved him. He came to me that day I was on shore. When he saw my dress turn to sand. When he brought me to his place. When he calmed me. He’s like an anchor, holding me when I cried.

I was going to sign something when we see a blue glow in the water. My sisters? Did they know? They’re rebelling against the Ocean?

A small drop of water lands on Matty’s cheek. I giggle silently as I wipe it off from him. His eyes are warm as he looks at me. I feel myself drawing closer. I see what’s going on. He’s gonna kiss me…

Something tips us overboard and we fall into the water. “What was that?” he asks as we laugh together at the sudden moment. There my sisters stand in front of us at the edge of the pond. Isa signs, We were watching you the whole time. Is that the boy you saved? I nod. I introduce him to them. Matty, my sisters Macy, Isa, and Catalina.

“Pleased to meet you ladies.” he says as he shakes each hand. We all drive home to Manchester to his place for the night.

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

The Ocean is more angrier and jealous than ever. What She witnessed tonight was horrible. She cannot let Elena be closer to that boy. Too close. Alas, She still has Elena’s voice with Her.

After all I did, she still doesn’t understand Me. And my servants too?! She roars. There’s only one solution to end this now. I’ll get the boy myself! And I will kill him so she serves me more. So will the others.

She shape shifts into a woman, who holds a locket around her neck. Elena’s voice is held in it. And She is going to use it to bring the boy to Her one way or another. They will pay for this.

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

Matty’s pov

“…And we both fell off the boat. Something must have tipped us over. I did meet her sisters too.” I’m on the phone with George about the date while sitting at the beach. All the girls are asleep now. And I had sung Elena her lullaby again. She seems to like it. George is wanting to meet them. So is Ross and Adam. Elena would be really excited about that. “How has Elena been after that?” George asks.

“We laughed together,” I reply. “This has to be the fun moment for the both of us. Though I’m still learning more about her, I think I’m falling in love with her every day.”

“I bet you need more time to think your feelings about her before asking her out.”

“Speaking of which, I think she might be the one. The one who saved me months ago.”

“You should run home and tell your feelings to her.”

I promise you, Elena. I promise that I will love you, that I’ll never leave you, that I’ll always stay by your side. You’ll always have my shoulder to cry on. You’ll always be safe with me. I’ll always protect you from danger. You are my light. My love. My heart belongs to you forever. I will always be here for you. Always.

I have had these words in my head since I was saved. These feelings. I want to tell her how much she means to me.

“I’m gonna go to bed and tell her in the morning.”

“Alright, mate. Get some rest, yeah?”

“Will do. Night, mate.”

Getting off the phone after that, I am about to head back when suddenly I hear a hypnotizing voice. Could that be Elena? I run back to shore to see a woman. My heart slows down, my eyes fixed on her.

It must be her who saved me.

[lexicorp]

Adventure time is in my brain so much now-

I'm round mid season 5 rn buuuuuut already started theory crafting and au incorporating one of my peeps

Amory Führer taking Simon's place as the local ice wizard ~

I'd think that this universe would come about from the wish "I wish Simon never found the crown" and thus someone else replaces his biz

Simon and Betty don't get into that absolute batshit, tho I'm sure they'd still have some shenanigans in their years lolz. But ye, it works p well for them, they deserve chill vibe time-

Base amory is always obsessed with magic, so it was perfect to translate to this. He would love Simon's books and study antiquarian stuff on the side of his chemistry science nerd degree. And when Betty and Simon can't find the crown, amory with his stubborn ass would find it a perfect way of proving his metal to retrieve it where a famous person couldn't lolz. He always feels like he has something to prove, which manifests in his reckless determination and stubbornness. His goal was to prove the existence of magic and theorized the artifacts were tools and a map to determining the code to spells with your own hands. His dad always thought it was absolutely stupid, that he was wasting his potential on silly fantasies, daddy-o wasn't a fan of Simon either when amory would talk about a lecture of his. Amory's dad is kinda like, take Marcy's dad, and remove the goofy cray cray, he's kinda jus a gruff and generally aggressive ass. Abusive in many flavors and imprinted a lot of the trauma response behaviors in amory.

(I'm tryna summarize best I can but omyglob-)

The gal on the bottom right was amory's fiance, who didn't know much bout this stuff but tried to support him, yet something didn't sit right with her about seeking objects like those that are buried away. Amory was wrapped up in his head and didn't listen, which leads to kirona leaving, as she couldn't deal with his progressively worse obsessive behavior, especially after he found the crown and put it on. He did not keep it together with the crowns effects, and nearly hurt kirona before she managed to land hitting the crown off his head. He was so engulfed in what he saw that he didn't even hear her when in her high adrenaline state was scolding him. When kirona tried to take the crown to get it away, he reached out to take it back which made her more angry. High emotion time and all that she rushed out from the apartment.

Amory tried to show the crown off as proof of his theories, that he just needed to study it more. They didn't believe what he told them of it, so in his frustration he put it on to show them, trying to keep it together this time, but it went a bit crazy with him freezing some peeps and getting in ppls face hah.

His deal is that he totally is like, "itsfineitafineitsfine-" thinking he totally has it all under control, that he can figure it out.

Over the years, he thinks he's found a way to stifle the madness to get a clearer head. In his chaotic potion making, made a sort of toh eda elixir. It helps but doesn't fix fix it, and he'll start growing a tolerance so he keeps changing it and trying to figure out other ways. So he's kinda in between ice king and winter king in sanity lol

Instead of capturing princesses like ice king, glacier king (amory) tricks wizards into signing a contract to basically give their body to science, door to door business bich in the wizard City lmao, jus like I got ✨free healthcare✨ XD also collects various creatures of ooo to study mutations and differences between how the natural creatures are and hexed creatures. Glacier would also be fascinated by bubblegum for her own mad scientist side lol. He would a hundred percent steal her candy people making instructions or randomly bug her for tips or share his own.

Finn and Jake would be a nuisance cuz y'know they'd sabotage his hostage lab rats biz, but after getting over that he'd find it kind of amusing and a cut between the cycle he's been in. So later in the show would study them lol not entirely sure how all the parts would work- but that's most of what I got so far