#Famous Love Spells Tips

[cei1ne]

—How the MHA men would react to you wiping their kiss as a a prank!

დ”*•.Summary:

Reaction of male My hero academia character of you wiped their kiss after they had kissed your lips

◌⑅⃝♡⋆Pairing:

Bakugou Katsuki ; Denki Kaminari ; Kirishima Eijirou ; Sero Hanta ; Shoto Todoroki

✩•̩̩͙*˚Tags: Fluff, funny, prank, loving, married life, aged up, kissing

˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ ꒰Wordcount: 1.3k

❧◦°˚A/N:

I hope I included the very important sexy men ‌​and maybe I’ll do a part two but I’m not very famous right now but I think I will but also please don’t forget this is one of my first ‘story’? And English isn’t my first language! Ily guys!

Pt. 2. Masterlist

ᰔ ᩚ| Bakugou Katsuki (After he comes home from work)

The front door slammed, signaling Katsuki’s return from work. His heavy boots thudded against the floor as he dropped his bag and ran a hand through his messy hair. His usual scowl was deeper than usual—clearly, it had been one of those days. You greeted him with a soft smile, moving closer to help him shed his jacket.

“Tch, don’t bother,” he grumbled, but his tone lacked its usual bite.

“Well, hello to you too,” you teased, standing on your toes to plant a soft kiss on his lips. He froze for a second, tension bleeding out of his shoulders as he leaned into the kiss. It was sweet, rare, and enough to make his bad day feel distant. But the moment he pulled back, you wiped your mouth with an exaggerated grimace.

“Ugh,” you muttered, loud enough for him to hear. “Tastes like explosions.”

His crimson eyes narrowed, and his brow twitched. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?!”

“I don’t know,” you said with a casual shrug. “It’s like… smoky. A little bitter, maybe.”

His mouth opened as if to yell, but then he stopped, his expression shifting from irritation to disbelief. “Are you messing with me right now?”

You tried to keep a straight face, but the smirk tugging at your lips gave you away. “Maybe.”

Katsuki groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re a real pain, you know that?”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be so sensitive!” you teased, poking his chest. “You’re not mad, are you?”

He scoffed, but the tips of his ears turned red. “Mad? Tch. Please. I don’t care.”

But as he turned away, you caught him muttering, “Next time, I’m making you taste like explosions.”

ঞ| Denki Kaminari (After he gives you a gift)

Denki burst into the room, grinning from ear to ear as he held a small, brightly wrapped box. “Guess what I got you!” he exclaimed, practically bouncing in place.

You raised an eyebrow, playing along. “Hmm, is it a puppy?”

“Better,” he said with a wink, handing you the box. Inside was a handmade bracelet, colorful and slightly mismatched, with beads spelling out your name and his. It was endearing and so Denki.

“Aw, Denki! It’s adorable,” you said, slipping it onto your wrist. “Thank you!”

Unable to contain your excitement, you leaned in and kissed him. He melted instantly, his cheeks glowing pink. But as soon as you pulled back, you wiped your mouth with an exaggerated motion.

His face fell immediately. “Wait… what was that?”

“Just… something tasted off,” you said, feigning confusion.

His eyes widened in horror. “Off?! Like, bad? Oh no, am I a bad kisser?!”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing as he started pacing, mumbling to himself. “Maybe I need to brush my teeth more. Or chew mint gum before—”

“Kaminari, relax,” you interrupted, unable to hold it in anymore. “I’m joking.”

He froze mid-step, blinking at you. “Joking? You mean… I don’t taste bad?”

“Of course not! You’re fine, idiot.”

Relief washed over his face, followed by a mischievous grin. “Oh, you’re gonna pay for that.”

Before you could react, he tackled you onto the couch, peppering your face with kisses. “Let’s see if you wipe these off too!”

ஐ| Kirishima Eijirou (While working out together)

The gym echoed with the sound of weights clinking and Kirishima’s encouraging voice. “C’mon, just one more set! You’ve got this!”

You groaned, your arms trembling as you completed the last rep. “Done!” you announced, dropping the weights and collapsing onto the bench.

Kirishima laughed, offering you a water bottle. “Good work, babe. You’re getting stronger every day.”

“Thanks, coach,” you teased, taking a long sip. He leaned in, his red hair falling slightly over his eyes, and kissed you. It was quick and sweet, but as soon as he pulled away, you wiped your mouth with an exaggerated grimace.

His smile faltered. “Uh… what’s wrong?”

“Just… sweaty,” you said, wrinkling your nose.

His face turned red, and not from exertion. “Wait, I’m sweaty?!”

“Yeah, kinda gross,” you added, biting back a laugh.

For a moment, he looked genuinely hurt, his hand subconsciously touching his lips. “I—I didn’t think I was that bad…”

Unable to take it any longer, you burst out laughing. “Eijirou, I’m kidding! You’re fine.”

Realization dawned on his face, and he broke into a wide grin. “Oh, so that’s how it is, huh?”

Before you could escape, he grabbed you, pulling you into a bear hug. “If I’m sweaty, you’re gonna be too!”

“No, Eijirou, stop!” you laughed, squirming in his arms. But he just held you tighter, his laughter joining yours.

❦| Sero Hanta (While watching a movie)

You and Sero were sprawled out on the couch, surrounded by snacks and watching a cheesy rom-com he insisted on. His arm was casually draped over your shoulders, and every so often, he’d glance at you to check if you were enjoying the film. As the leads leaned in for a dramatic kiss on screen, Sero smirked and turned to you.

“Bet you didn’t know I can do it better,” he teased, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips. It was sweet and unhurried, his grin lingering even as he pulled back.

You wiped your mouth dramatically with the back of your hand, scrunching your face. “Ugh.”

Sero blinked, confused. “Uh… what was that?”

“Just… felt sticky. Like tape residue or something,” you said, fighting the urge to laugh.

His jaw dropped, and he let out an exaggerated gasp. “Oh, no you didn’t. Are you saying I kiss like tape?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe.”

He stared at you for a moment before his lips curved into a mischievous grin. “Okay, you’re asking for it now.”

Before you could react, he launched himself at you, pinning you down on the couch and peppering your face with kisses. “Let’s see if you can wipe all these off, huh?”

“Stop! Hanta!” you laughed, squirming beneath him, but he only laughed harder.

Shoto Todoroki (During a quiet moment in the garden)

The garden was peaceful, the air filled with the soft scent of flowers and the warmth of the sun. Shoto sat beside you on the bench, his mismatched eyes fixed on the petals of a nearby bloom. You loved moments like this, where his normally stoic demeanor softened into something tender.

“Thanks for bringing me out here,” you said, leaning in to kiss him gently. He returned it, his lips cool against yours, and for a moment, the world seemed still.

But as soon as you pulled back, you wiped your mouth with an exaggerated frown.

His brows furrowed slightly. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Mm, kind of tastes… icy,” you said, smirking. “Like kissing a popsicle.”

He blinked, his face expressionless, but you could see the faintest twitch at the corner of his lips. “You knew I was cold, and you kissed me anyway. Complaining now seems counterproductive.”

You burst out laughing, and his smirk became more evident. “You’re such a troll,” you teased.

“I’m simply stating the facts,” he replied, but there was a rare glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Next time, I’ll use the hot side.”

[harrywritingsbyme]

The Sweetest Case

a/n: hey y’all, long time no see, lol. I caught the writing bug that included follow-through with writing, editing, and posting. I just had this random idea pop into my head at 3am one night and figured I’d give it a stab. This one is so cute and will be a two-parter and potentially a mini-series. Also, the characters are down horrendous for each other. The second part is going to have my world-famous smut lol, so don’t worry lol. I’ve just been in a fluffy, very cutesy vibe for a long time, and idk if y’all were into that, given my normally smut-heavy writing. Anyway, I hope u like it…enjoy 🫶🏾😗

a baker!Harry au

pinterest mood board ♡

summary: an attorney’s structured life is turned upside down when a charming café owner shows her that love might just be the sweetest case she’ll ever take on.

word count ~ 6.2k words

Not even in your wildest dreams would you have thought that your late commute into the office on a random Tuesday morning would bring you and the man of your dreams together. You knew that casually stumbling across the love of your life wasn’t completely farfetched. But since it’d been confined solely to the pages of the books you’d read on the train to and from work, you were a bit weary of its potential.

But you were in for a rude awakening when you stumbled into the café a block from your office. You were already running late due to your choice of snoozing your alarm three times that morning, so you couldn’t stop at your regular coffee shop on your way to the train. However, no matter how late you were, you would never skip your morning latte. Maybe you’re a creature of habit, or perhaps you have a serious caffeine addiction; regardless, you were going to stop for your morning fix.

You’d seen the quaint shop on the corner on your walks to work, never stopping in, merely eyeing the pastries and deserts through the window as you walked by. You hated the coffee in your office, so there was no other option but to grab a coffee from the charming shop. You stepped underneath the pale green and white awning, pulling open the surprisingly heavy door with curly letters spelling out Sugar Bowl Bakery & Café. When you step inside, you’re immediately enveloped by the warm air and delicious smell of freshly baked goods circulating through the room.

Upon stepping up to the counter, you’re face to face with a pretty handsome barista in what you assumed to be the standard issue pale green apron for the shop and a name tag with Harry scrawled across it clipped to the top.

“What can I get for you this morning?” Harry rasps from behind the counter, a smile forming on his lips as you break from your thoughts at the sound of his voice.

“Oh- um…” You stammer, breaking away from your inner thoughts. “Could I get a vanilla latte, please?” You rush out, a little flustered at your noticed staring. “And a croissant, please!” You quickly add.

“Of course.” Harry chuckles softly, adding the haphazard croissant to your order. “Can I get a name for the order?” He adds, despite you being the only order at the moment.

“Y/n”

“Thanks, that’ll be $8.34.” ‘Pretty,’ Harry thinks as he replies, biting his lip to stop himself from beaming down at you. It only worsens for him as he watches you maneuver into your purse through your jacket, fishing through your things to find your wallet. At that moment, Harry’s wracking his brain to know if he’s seen anyone as beautiful and adorable as you were at this moment. And he comes up short.

“Here ya go.” You smile, handing over the $10 bill you’d pulled from your wallet. He quickly pulls your change from the register along with your receipt.

“Your order will be ready in a couple of minutes.” Harry carefully hands you the receipt and change, his fingers lightly brushing against your palm.

“Thanks.” You whisper back with a small smile, dropping the change in the tip jar and stepping away from the counter. You weren’t sure if you were just imagining things or if you felt a shock of electricity run through your hand when he touched yours. And you weren’t imagining things; Harry could feel it too, not that either of you could confirm or deny at that moment anyway. You were so caught up in the whirlwind that was Harry that you weren’t even stressed about being late for work.

After waiting a couple moments, Harry calls your name with your order in hand.

“Have a good one.” He says, his eyes locking on yours as a bright smile spreads across his lips.

“Thanks, you too.” You reply with a smile, taking the items from his hands. Again, your hands brush against him, and you feel a jolt of electricity flow through your hands. So no, you weren’t just imagining it the first time. You quickly turn and walk out of the shop, desperately trying to shake off the butterflies starting to attack your stomach.

As you walked away, Harry’s eyes never left you, following your every move until you were out of his sight. It was as if you and he were sharing one feeling. A feeling of excitement and hope to see each other again and simply be in one another’s presence. It was overwhelming but in a good way. A feeling that both of you wanted to feel again and neither of you wanted to forget.

While you walked toward your office, you finally took a sip of the hot drink in your hand. You didn’t know if you were biased towards the man making it, but this had to be the best latte you’d ever had. Either way, you were planning on becoming a regular at the establishment.

❃❃❃❃❃

And a regular you were. For a month or so straight, you came in every morning on your way to work, stopping in for your regular vanilla latte and croissant and your daily chats with Harry. You both secretly wished you could sit down and become properly acquainted, but the morning rush in the shop had other plans. Either way, you two appreciated the small interactions. In fact, they stayed on your minds all day long and kept you both afloat until the next morning when you got to do it all over again.

There was one morning, though, where there was absolutely no way you two could even say good morning to each other, as the place was just about packed to the brim. Even though the place was already popular, the muffins randomly went viral, and everyone flooded into the bakery to get their hands on them. In your head, you were patting yourself on the back for being ahead of the muffin curve. The shop was so packed that the only interaction you two had was a glance and smile when he turned at the sound of your voice as you placed your order. Yes, he remembered your voice. It’d be kind of hard to not remember your voice as he replayed it in his head nearly every chance he got. Not only did he remember your voice, he remembered your smile, your laugh, your presumably unorganized purse, given the way you always had to fish around for your wallet, and your bright yet soft aura that undoubtedly flooded the room and his being whenever you walked in.

Because of this incessant need for Harry to be around you, he decided to take the leap and unofficially ask you out. When your name was called to pick up your order, you grabbed the cup and bag and shuffled through the crowd and out the door. Only when you stepped onto the elevator of your office building did you see the note Harry had written on the bag. ‘Sorry, we couldn’t have our usual chat this morning. Stop by around lunchtime, I’ve heard our lunch menu is the best around. H.’ If there weren’t three other people in the elevator, you would’ve squealed from excitement. For the rest of the morning, you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at the clock, hoping it’d strike noon already so you could dash out of the office and back to the café. 

When the time was finally on your side, you shot up from your desk, grabbing your jacket and purse before dashing out of the office. You stopped in the bathroom to straighten out your clothes and hair before taking the elevator down to the lobby. On your short walk to the shop, you tried your hardest to slow your breathing and heart rate, which was extremely elevated from excitement and nerves. It’s not like it was an official date. Right? Either way, your efforts were in vain because the moment you stepped into the warm establishment, your eyes met Harry’s, and your heart was ready to explode out of your chest all over again.

He’s leaning against the ledge behind the counter, waiting for your arrival. For the past 15 minutes before you came in, he kept an eye on the door, his head tilting up every time he heard the small bell on the door ring. Harry was doing his best to keep cool, trying his best to avoid thoughts of you not showing up or not being into him the way he was into you. Harry and yourself would’ve thought that at your age, you’d be calmer and less anxious about someone you were romantically interested in. But even though you could’ve kicked yourselves for being so infatuated with the other, neither of you cared to fight it much because, deep down, you both had a feeling that it’d be worth it.

“I was told that this place has an excellent lunch menu.” You hum, unwrapping your scarf that was bundled up around your neck.

“I’d have to agree with that.” He chuckles, beaming down at you from across the counter. “What can I get you, love?” He adds with a smile, making your heart flutter a bit.

“I’ll have whatever you recommend.” You reply, putting the choice for lunch in his hands.

“Alright, any allergies I should know about?” He continues.

“Nope.” You pop back, reaching into your purse for your wallet to pay. When he sees you going to pay, he quickly stops you in your tracks.

“No need, it’s on the house.” Harry quickly rushes out. He hadn’t even put the order into the system.

“You sure?” You shoot a questioning pout in his direction, weary of him picking up your tab.

“Yes. Now, how about you go and pick a seat, and I’ll bring the food to you? " he lightheartedly instructs, sending you on your way while he heads towards the kitchen in the back.

When you’re out of his sight, you drop the cash you would’ve spent in the tip jar and turn to find a seat in the tranquil café. You pick an able that’s in a corner by the window and make yourself comfortable while you wait.

In what seemed like no time at all, in the corner of your eye, you see Harry coming in your direction with a tray of food in hand.

“Alright, I picked some of my favorites off the menu.” He says, strategically placing everything down so it could fit onto the small café table before sitting in front of you.

“Everything looks amazing.”You whisper, taking in everything he’d placed before you. You were a little curious, though, as to how he could have possibly known that you were the type to have two beverages, with a cup of tea and a glass of ice water on the table for you. You were even more curious about why he hung around with you. “Why are you sitting? I’m not gonna be the one to get you in trouble with your boss, Harry.” You pointedly add.

“Love, it’s kind of hard to get in trouble with the boss when you own the place,” Harry smirks, sending a slight wink your way before making up his tea.

“You’ve been the owner this entire time?!” You whisper-shout across the table, a little shocked at the revelation.

Harry then goes on to explain that he’d opened this second location for his bakery almost two years ago, a little while before you started at your firm, and often frequented to help out a bit. He also explained how he wasn’t even supposed to be there the morning you first came in and that he was only in to help a bit since some of the staff were sick. Maybe it was meant to be, after all. Especially since you were running late for work and needed a quick coffee in the area that morning. 

For the next half hour or so, you two talked and ate, discussing almost everything from your families to your jobs and hobbies. He told you about how he’d recently become an uncle (which he was beaming about from across the table) and how he’s a shop owner professionally, but his passion is baking. He developed just about every recipe for every item sold in the café. Harry also brought up how he was working on a cookbook and creating new recipes, which led him to his favorite show, ironically enough, The Great British Bakeoff. Which also explained the accent.

Conversely, you told him that you were an attorney, which he was thoroughly impressed by, but not so impressed that he asked you everything you could possibly imagine about your job, which was refreshing, believe it or not. You went on about how you related to him about being close with your mom and how you enjoyed cooking from time to time. You were also similar in the way your favorite shows matched your profession in some way, your show being tied between Suits and Law & Order.

The two of you could’ve kept talking all afternoon long had it not been time for you to return to the office.

“Thanks for lunch, Harry. I think it may just be the best lunch around.” You smile, biting the inside of your lip as you stand from the table. “And I’m serious about being a taste tester for your cookbook. I’m never going to turn down a sweet treat.” You remind him, bundling yourself up again to brave the cool air outside.

“Well, since you’re going to be my taste tester, I think that warrants getting your phone number. So that I can keep you up to date on recipe developments.” He rations, standing up from the table as well.

“Yeah, I wanna be developed on all things recipes.” You counter, fighting back the giggle that was bubbling in your throat. You pull your phone out from your jacket pocket and hand it over for him to put his number in. “The Handsome Baker? That’s what you’re going with?” You laugh, staring down at the new contact.

“Well I mean, do you disagree?” He cocks his head to the side with a wide smirk spread across his face.

“I plead the fifth.” This time, fully biting your lip to conceal your dopey smile. You quickly shrug on your coat and slide your purse onto your shoulder before stopping directly in front of Harry. “I‘ll text you later…” You softly hum up to him, lightly tapping his chest. “About the recipes.” You add with a closed smile before making your way out of the door and back to work.

His eyes follow you as you walk toward your office until you’re out of sight. As he cleans up the table, his mind is solely on you. He replays the entire conversation with you repeatedly for the rest of the day and the next morning when he sees you again. You decided to toy with him a bit and text him until the next morning, getting the sense that he was waiting for your message. You were completely correct about it because he texted you back less than 5 minutes after you’d sent the initial message. 

For the next week or so, the two of you kept up the same morning coffee and light lunches routine. The conversation flowed continuously; if you two had it your way, you’d never leave your designated table in the corner by the window. Of the 6 lunches you two had, he only let you pay for two. In between, you two would be texting back and forth almost nonstop. And there was only one mention of the recipes you signed up to taste test for.

❃❃❃❃❃

One day, though, you were unable to make your regularly scheduled lunch “date.” Your firm had just brought on a new client, and you were tasked with writing up a legal brief. This meant you’d be glued to your desk until at least 3 p.m. and unable to take your standard hour lunch.

You: hey, i won’t be able to make it for lunch today…boss dropped a project on my desk :(

The Handsome Baker : No worries :)

Now get back to work! Don’t wanting you getting in trouble with the boss. ;)

You couldn’t stop a smile from forming on your lips before turning your phone over and getting back to work. Believe it or not, you could completely lock in and focus on your work for the next hour. That is, until your desk phone rang, breaking you out of your work-related daze.

“Hey Emma.” You greet the receptionist through the phone, cradling it between your ear and shoulder as you went back to typing on your desktop.

“Hey, Y/n. Sorry to interrupt, but security just called up saying that you had a delivery in the lobby.” The receptionist replied in her usual chipper voice.

“Thanks, I’m heading down now.” You had a history of forgetting what you ordered online but wouldn’t have anything delivered to your job. But you figured stretching your legs couldn’t hurt, so you slipped your heels back on and made your way to the elevator and down to the lobby.

When you stepped off the elevator and rounded the corner, any confusion you had completely melted away. You were greeted with a smiling Harry standing at the security desk with a brown paper bag and what you presumed to be your go-to latte order in his hands.

On the flip side, Harry could feel his entire body warm when he saw you walking in his direction. He’d seen you dressed in your usual office attire (minus the glasses), but seeing you walking towards him as Y/n, the attorney, was an entirely different sight. It was like every other noise around him faded into nothing; only your heels clicking against the ground and your cheery voice as you closed in on him met his ears.

“Thanks, Andrew.” You greet the security guard as you push past the turnstiles, standing fully before Harry. “I could get used to the personal delivery.” You smirk, trying to conceal the millions of butterflies swarming around your stomach and chest at the sweet gesture.

“Well, you have to eat, and your favorite restaurant closes at 6pm. Plus I figured you could use a caffeinated pick me up.” He slightly tilts his head to the side, giving you a little smile.

“Who sad it was my favorite?” You poke back, mirroring his head tilt.

“Judging by the way I’ve seen you every morning and afternoon for almost two months, it’s safe to say you’re a big fan.” He grins, knowing he got you there.

“I guess so. But it’s only because I’ve heard the owner is kinda cute, can bake a great pastry, and makes a mean vanilla latte.” You whisper back, fully beaming up at Harry now.

Harry’s mind scrambles at your comment, his heart threatening to explode out of his chest and onto the glimmering floor. His mind only races further when your hands brush against his to take the cup and bag from him.

“Thanks for lunch. I’ll text you later.” You reach up to leave a small peck on his cheek before returning to the elevators. As you turn the corner, you sneak a glance back in Harry’s direction to find him still standing there with his eyes solely on you. He hated to admit it, but as good it was to see you coming, it was even better to see you going.

As if you were telepathically linked, as soon as you were out of each other's sight, you both took a deep breath, your brains completely wracked from your interaction. The both of you were stunned at the gall on both of your parts in that small timeframe. For the rest of the day, it's all either of you could think about; thankfully, you were in the final stretch of your brief. Harry had brought you your favorite sandwich on the menu, a pastry he knew you loved, and a cupcake from a recipe he was testing out. You were his designated taste tester, after all. And you made sure to let him know, declaring it the best thing he's ever baked in his entire life over text.

That night, after all those unofficial lunch dates and secretly (quite obviously actually) pining for one another, especially after that afternoon, Harry finally made an official move.

The Handsome Baker: What’s your favorite dish?

You: spaghetti carbonara??

 are you going to make a carbonara flavored cupcake for the cookbook??

  i’ll try it but i'm not sure about that one…

The Handsome Baker: Not quite.

I thought we could make it together in the café kitchen this Friday around 8pm?

You: sounds like a date!

And just like that, you and Harry had your first official date scheduled for Friday night. Let’s just say you both were giggling and kicking your feet as you went to bed that night.

❃❃❃❃❃

Friday night couldn’t have come sooner; you two only had to wait two days, by the way. But to be fair, you hadn’t seen each other since Harry brought you lunch earlier in the week. The universe decided it’d be great to completely inundate you both with work the week of your first official date. Harry was busy at his other café location on the completely opposite side of town, and you were in meeting after meeting with clients and dissecting contracts page after page. But again, the only thing keeping Harry and yourself going was your date.

The day finally arrives, and a cocktail of nerves and excitement runs through your veins. While you’ve dated and done the first date thing plenty of times, you’d never had as good of a feeling about them as you did about the upcoming date with Harry. You couldn’t articulate it yet, but something was different this time.

Before you even pick out what you're wearing to work in the morning, you plan your outfit for that night. Up until now, Harry had only ever seen you in a suit or suit adjacent. You always felt confident, strong, and smart in your suits and workwear. But now you just wanted to feel soft and pretty. So, for almost an hour, you flipped through just about your entire closet, eventually settling on the perfect dress. It's not too dressy or too casual, but just right. After finally nailing down what you were going to wear, all the way through to the accessories and how you would do your hair, you finally got yourself dressed and out of the door to work. 

While you were playing dress up and running late for work, Harry was flying around town picking up items for that evening. He picked up all the ingredients for dinner, stopping at three different grocery stores to get the best ingredients. He also grabbed your favorite bottle of wine, which he only knew to get since you’d sent a picture of the label a couple weeks ago after he mentioned wanting to try it. Along with the groceries and wine, Harry hauled his stand mixer and its fifty million attachments from his home kitchen to the café, stashing everything away into its proper places until he needed them later.

For the rest of the day, you two were locked into your work. You were almost certain you were typing and reading faster than normal, intent on walking out of the office at 5pm on the dot. Harry started the next day's prep work earlier than normal, making sure that he could send everyone home earlier to have the kitchen to himself. And right on schedule, you were heading home to get ready, and Harry had done the last bit of cleaning before sending his staff home early for the evening.

At that point, the countdown had begun. You were taking your precious time getting ready and refusing to account for Friday night traffic. Harry was practically in an episode of the amazing race, trying to get home to shower and change, stop by the florist before they closed to pick up a small flower arrangement, and set up the kitchen all before you arrived. While he may have appeared to be going mad and doing the absolute most, he wouldn’t have had it any other way. Because similarly to how you felt, Harry had this gut feeling about you. While there was still so much more for you two to learn about each other, he thought that you already knew him so well. You two just clicked. The last thing he wanted to do was scare you off, but Harry was in love. And he was ready to say it whenever you were. He was just praying you felt the same way. 

❃❃❃❃❃

The Beautiful Attorney: i’m outside :)

As soon as he saw your message, Harry rushed up from his table in the seating area of the café to the door to let you in, on the way, drying his sweaty palms on his pants. He could see your shoes tapping on the ground outside the door window, and a smile instantly made all his nerves disappear. When the door swings open, your eyes immediately meet, and your arms pull each other into a tight and long-awaited embrace. His arms snake around your waist while yours glide around his neck. You two whisper small ‘hi’s’ into each other’s ears. Upon pulling away from the embrace, Harry closes and locks the shop door, shutting out the cold air. He then helps you out of your coat, draping it over the table he once sat at, and leads you into the kitchen.

“So this is where the magic happens.” You hum, taking in the well lit kitchen. Your heart swelled at the sight of the full bouquet of flowers sitting on the counter.

“Indeed it is…” Harry chuckles. “Now put this on,” He continues, handing you a green and white striped apron to put on. Once you slip the apron around your neck, Harry reaches around you to tightly wind the ties around your waist to tie them together in the front. “Don’t your pretty dress getting dirty,” He mutters, intently tying them into a bow. When he’s done, Harry absentmindedly cups your hips, giving them a small pat before rounding the counter.

At that moment, all you wanted him to do was pull you against his chest and give you one of the best kisses of your life. Knock the air out of your lungs and officially claim you as his. You thought good things come to those who wait as you moved next to him.

“So I figured we could make everything from scratch.” Harry grins, starting to set up the stand mixer.

“I thought so…I hope that doesn’t include the wine though. I’m not a crushing grapes with my feet kind of girl.” You joke.

“Your favorite bottle is in the fridge, " he chuckles, watching you giddily skip over to the fridge in response. And could you grab the shopping bag in there, too?” You follow his orders. You sit the heavy bag of groceries on the counter before abandoning it to focus on opening the chilled bottle. Harry watches in amusement as you concentrate on maneuvering the cork out of the bottle.

“I had a long week okay.” You justify, eventually prying the cork out.

“Why don’t you tell me about it.” He offers, placing two wine glasses in front of you to fill.

You then go on to tell him about your week, every once in a whileawhile he’ll interject to know if the person you’re talking about is the same one you mentioned in previous conversations. You were impressed at how he remembered the little things you’d mentioned previously.

For the next hour the two of you cook, laugh and dance around the kitchen. Harry shows you how to make the absolute perfect pasta from scratch, somehow managing to make you want to cook more instead of just ordering out. After dropping the flour covered pasta into the boiling water, instead of prepping for the next step, Harry grabs you by your waist and spins you around the kitchen to the beat of the music playing out of his phone.

You two wouldn't have stopped if it hadn’t been for the stupid timer. While you were mixing the eggs and cheese for the pasta sauce, Harry was telling you about a potential new recipe for his cookbook. However, all you could think about was how he still hadn’t kissed you despite there being at least two open windows this night alone. You’re only broken out of your thoughts when you see Harry turn away from the stove towards you for your thoughts. You brush off your thoughts, telling him that the recipe sounded good.

Not long after, you two finish cooking dinner. Harry let you sit at the stainless island while he plated the food before taking a seat as well. Your aprons were removed, and you two were finally digging into your creation. It had to have been the best meal you’d ever had, and you weren’t saying that just because you were hungry or because it was Harry who helped make it. You two continued chatting over dinner about your families, shows you were watching, and everything else under the sun.

“I really hope we don’t have to make dessert too. I’m in a bit of a food coma.” You huff, pushing your cleaned plate towards the middle of the island.

“Don’t worry, I already took care of that for you.” Harry chuckles, standing up from the island. He places your dishes into the sink before opening the fridge to grab a small brown box filled with your favorite sweet treat. “I know it’s your favorite.” He grins, sliding the box towards you. When you look into the box, your eyes immediately light up at what’s inside. The cupcakes Harry had you try two weeks ago were sitting in the box just for you. And you waste no time flipping the clear lid off and popping one of the cakes out. You’re so engrossed in the delicious cupcake that you don’t even notice Harry intently watching you as he leaned against the counter next to you. That is, until you set the cupcake down on the counter to take a breath and pace yourself.

“Want a bite?” You motion down to the half eaten cupcake.

“I’m good love.” Harry smiles.

“You sure, it’s a really good cupcake.” You ask again, now looking up at him.

“Positive” He snickers, noticing you had a little frosting on the tip of your nose. But before he could even swipe it away, you were already standing in front of him with the other side of the cupcake waiting for him to take a bite.

“You have to taste your work.” You insist, your smirk becoming a grin when he takes a bite. “Good, right?” You add, to which Harry nods in response.

“But you already knew that since you have frosting all over your face.” He jokes, finally wiping away the frosting from your nose with his thumb. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, from the gesture.

At that moment, Harry couldn’t take his eyes off of you, and you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. His hand still rests against your face, shifting slightly to fully cup your cheek. Both of your hearts were racing, your stomach inundated with butterflies, and your chests rising and falling quicker than before. You shift slightly towards him, with your hands coming up to rest softly against his chest, nonverbally giving him the green light. The millionth one of you were being completely honest. However, this time, he got the memo loud and clear.

His free hand goes to your hip, gliding around to the small of your back to press you further into him. And without any further delay, Harry finally and firmly plants his lips on yours. It’s as if your entire body takes a big sigh of relief, instantly relaxing into his touch. In that moment, you two are perfectly in sync, his lips slotted with yours as he guided your movements. After a few more seconds, his lips separate from yours, allowing you both to come up for air. The both of you were panting messes, your warm breaths fanning across your faces.

“Took you long enough.” You lightly laugh as you nudge your nose against his, reaching up to wind your fingers around the short hairs at the nape of his neck.

“Well, allow me to make up for lost time.” Harry hums, smashing his lips back onto yours. He was now standing completely straight, holding you firmly against him. While his grip on you was firm, his hold was still gentle. Despite his fervent kisses, like your lips were the oxygen he needed to survive, his touch was delicate. His passion for you wasn’t overpowering; it was perfect. When you parted your lips, granting his tongue access to your mouth, he didn’t rush to cram it practically down your throat (like others in the past had). He took his time and was gentle. And all you could do was contently sigh against his lips from how absolutely perfect the moment was.

Eventually, you two flipped places with your back being now against the island. Only this time, you were being lifted up to sit on the cool steel counter. You slowly pull away from his lips, playfully snagging his bottom lip between your teeth a little as you pulled back.

“I wouldn’t want to defile your kitchen any further.” You whisper to Harry, your hands coming around from his neck back to their original spot on his chest. “Plus, I don’t intend on breaking any more of my dating rules with you tonight.” You assert. You weren’t a kiss on the first date, girl, let alone an entire make-out session like the one you enjoyed not even a minute ago.

“I’ll have you know that I’m a proper gentleman.” Harry pokes back proudly, moving back further to get a better look at you while planting his palms firmly onto the counter on either side of where you’re sitting.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” You smirk, lightly poking a finger at his chest.

“And I intend to prove it to you.” He smiles, pecking your cheek.

“Are you asking me out on another date.” Because if he was, you were definitely saying yes.

“I’m asking you out on as many as you’ll have me.” He counters, a dopey smile falling onto his face as he took your features in. Yeah, it was official…Harry was in love.

You couldn’t stop yourself from pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, giddy with the prospect of going on more dates with him in the future. Hopefully forever.

After begging Harry to let you help him with the dishes and him standing firmly in his answer of absolutely not, you were finally heading back home. And, of course, he called you an Uber back home and made sure you arrived home safely. For the rest of the night, while you were getting ready for bed and while Harry was closing the kitchen, there was a permanent smile etched onto your faces as you replayed the night's events over and over again. You both wanted to relive it in your heads as many times as possible until the next time when you two got to do it all over again.

You: i had a great time with you tonight. can’t wait to do it again soon. <3

And almost instantly you got a response back.

The Handsome Baker: I had a wonderful time as well.

Just got in.

Sleep well, and I can’t wait to see you again. <3

Seeing him mirror your little heart made it nearly impossible for you to go to bed, but you managed to eventually fall asleep. And you indeed slept well. The both of you did. And you were pleasantly greeted the next morning with a text from Harry.

The Handsome Baker: Good morning beautiful.

You should stop by the café so I can kiss you again, and again.

After rereading the text at least 100 times, you fall back into your plush pillows, staring up at the ceiling in pure bliss. Yeah, this was shaping up to be the sweetest case you’d ever take on.

❃❃❃❃❃

i hope y'all liked it ♡ Masterlist

[dionysianivy]

𝐏𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜𝐤

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁

Often associated with myths of rebirth and transformation, pomegranates hold an important place in witchcraft and magical practices. They are known for their rich symbolism and magical properties, which remain influential in modern spells and rituals. Pomegranates symbolize life, fertility, abundance, rebirth, and connection to the spiritual realm. Their seeds, often linked to cycles of death and renewal, make them powerful tools in rituals of self-discovery and spiritual growth. Pomegranates can be used as offerings, included in spells for prosperity or love, and also incorporated into kitchen magic.

The most famous myth about pomegranates comes from Greek mythology. Persephone, daughter of Demeter, was out picking flowers when she was kidnapped by Hades, the god of the Underworld. While in his realm, Persephone ate six pomegranate seeds, which tied her to the dark world forever. In her grief, Demeter caused the earth to wither, until the gods reached a compromise. Persephone would spend half the year with Hades, and the other half with Demeter. This myth explains the changing seasons: when Persephone is with her mother, the earth flourishes, but when she’s with Hades, the world falls into winter.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁

Magic Correspondences

Zodiac: Scorpio

Planet: Mercury

Day: Wednesday

Element: Fire

Energy: Masculine

Tarot: The Death

Goddesses: Demeter, Persephone, Kore, Aphrodite, Hera, Ceres, Athena, Hekate

Gods: Hades, Dionysus, Zeus

Animals: Peacock, Snake

Celebrations: Samhain, Yule, Beltane

Magical Uses: abundance, death, fertility, love, attraction, sex, wealth, luck, rebirth, invoking both feminine and masculine energy, self-love, purification, spirit communication, wish magic, growth, new beginnings, releasing toxic habits, transformation

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁

ꨄ︎ Pomegranates are good for manifestation♡ Eat pomegranate seeds while visualizing your wishes coming true.

ꨄ︎ Aphrodite, who is said to have planted the first pomegranate tree, is deeply connected to their energy.

ꨄ︎ For fertility magick, pomegranates are very powerful. You can also add dried seeds to a prosperity talisman.

ꨄ︎ Drinking pomegranate juice enhances creativity and fertility magic.

ꨄ︎ Pomegranates make excellent offerings to the deities.

ꨄ︎ Carrying dried pomegranate seeds in your pockets or wallet can attract wealth and abundance.

ꨄ︎ Eating pomegranate can enhance psychic abilities and help correct past mistakes.

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

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Don't Take Her For Granted

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~4.2k

Warnings: angst, feeling like second best, fluff at the end

Request by @jessicalynnann: What about one where Jensen wishes he had a normal life with the reader but his wish comes true and he is married to some one else and he is a sports therapist and the reader is his secretary and she gets treated like shit by him and his wife but the only way to break the spell is for him to get the reader to fall in love with him some how

Summary: You and Jensen can’t have what’s normal to most because he’s famous. You’re usually okay with it, but there always comes a tipping point in which you can’t recover from. Jensen’s world is turned upside down, and it’s up to him to figure out how to make things right.

Square Filled: “If I like her, shoot me.” (2021) for @spnquotebingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Life hasn’t always given you what you wanted, but you’ve always had what you needed in the form of Jensen Ackles. He’s been your rock, your safe haven, and your best friend all rolled into one person. Tonight, you two are celebrating your one year marriage anniversary despite dating for nearly five years before that.

This is something you’ve been looking forward to all month and it’s finally here.

Jensen booked a night at one of the most expensive restaurants in town where you have to dress fancy in order to get in. You haven’t had a night off in so long so you were excited to dress up and do your hair and makeup. Jensen has been so busy finishing the 15th season of Supernatural and filming wrapped up last week.

You're so proud of the man he is and you love what he’s done not only for himself but for his fans. Still, you’re kind of happy he’s not actively in another job right now so that you two can focus on yourselves.

Jensen pulls up to the valet and both of you get out in front of the very nice restaurant. Jensen hands his keys to the valet and pulls you in closer.

“Happy anniversary,” he grins.

“Happy anniversary, baby.” You two walk to the front door of the restaurant when you hear Jensen’s name being called. You two look to the right and see two young girls smiling widely. They’re both wearing Dean Winchester shirts that look like they’ve been in the washer one too many times. Still, they look so happy to be seeing their favorite actor. “It’s okay. Go ahead.”

Jensen breaks away from you and walks over to the girls who are head over heels for him. He’s polite and signs what they want signed and takes pictures with them. He keeps their interaction brief before returning to you.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You two head into the restaurant and approach the hostess’s table. “Party of two for Ackles.”

“Right on time. Right this way,” she grins and grabs two menus. She escorts you back to your table, and you sit across from Jensen. “Here are two menus. Your waitress will be over shortly.”

“Thank you,” you smile. You pick up your menu and look through the appetizers. “Wow, these options all look so good.”

“Get a few. Whatever you don’t eat, we can take home. I know how much you love leftovers.”

It’s true, you do. You always order more than you can eat just so you have something to bring home. A young woman walks over to the table, and you set your menu down to give her your full attention.

“Hi, welcome in. My name is Hannah. Can I start you off with any drinks?”

“Yes. I’d like a glass of your Rosé, please.”

“A beer is fine for me, thank you,” Jensen chimes in.

“Great. I’ll let you look over the menu a little longer and put those in for you.”

She leaves and you look at Jensen who is browsing the menu.

“So, Tammy’s wedding is coming up and as her Maid of Honor, I have to plan the bachelorette party for her. I was thinking of a scavenger hunt type thing since I know she loves those. If it’s okay with you, I wanted to create a list of things to buy and that would be the scavenger hunt that way Tammy gets presents as well as the bridesmaids. What do you think?”

“I think that’s great. Sounds like you’ll have a lot of fun.”

“Is everything okay?”

Jensen puts his menu down and sighs. “I wanted to wait until later to tell you this but you need to know now before you plan any wedding events with me. I got offered a role for The Boys. The money is good. A little less than Supernatural, but I think this could be good for us.”

Whatever good mood you had is now gone. You don’t want to show him how disappointed you are but you can’t help it.

“Jensen, you know how happy I am for you, but you just got done with Supernatural. I thought we agreed to take a break for a little bit to spend more time together.”

“Filming doesn’t start for another month.”

You really don’t want to let this ruin your night and it will if you continue to talk about this.

“Can we talk about this tomorrow and just enjoy the night?”

“Sure.”

The waitress comes back with the drinks and you two put your orders in. You’re about to talk more about your sister’s wedding when two men come up to the table shyly at first.

“Sorry to interrupt your evening, but our girlfriends are big fans of Supernatural, and they would kill us if we didn’t at least ask for a picture. Do you mind?”

Jensen looks at you to see your eyes cast down. You grab your wine glass and take two big gulps. Maybe alcohol will numb your senses. You don’t say anything because you know whatever it is will be rude, so you opt for silence.

“Sure.”

The two men go on either side of your husband, and one of them takes a few pictures. The man to the right takes out a notepad and a pen, and you resist an eye roll. You don’t mean to be rude but this is supposed to be a special night for you and Jensen. Still, you don’t want to make a scene so you keep your mouth shut. Jensen signs the paper quickly, whatever will get them away faster.

“Thanks, man. You’re awesome!”

The two men leave, and you look at Jensen silently.

“No more distractions for the night.”

“Okay,” you say, unconvincingly.

Since Jensen has a bladder the size of a pea, that one beer is enough to make him want to pee. The food comes but Jensen is already out of his seat.

“I’ll be right back. Go ahead and start without me.”

“No, I’ll wait,” you smile.

Jensen pees fast so it’s not long until he’s coming out of the bathroom, but he’s stopped by one of the managers. The bathroom is in direct view from where you’re sitting so you can see all of this happening. First, you think something is wrong until Jensen and the manager shake hands with smiles on their faces. The manager takes out his phone and snaps a few photos with Jensen, and that’s the last straw for you.

Now you’re pissed.

Jensen knows you’re waiting for him. He knows the food on the table. Yet he continues to chat with the manager as if they’re lifelong friends catching up. You don’t want to start eating and be almost done before he gets back. By the time Jensen comes back to the table, the food isn’t hot anymore.

“Sorry, I got stopped by the manager,” he says as if you didn’t watch the whole exchange.

“I want to leave. Let’s go home.”

“Y/N.”

“Jensen, the food is cold now. I want to go home unless you still need to take pictures with the bartender. I’m sure he wants one.”

Jensen grows annoyed but he doesn’t say anything that he knows will make the situation worse. Instead, he puts more than enough cash down on the table and grabs his jacket. The entire ride home is filled with tense silence. Even when you get home, you get ready for bed without a word. You didn’t eat anything but you’re too pissed to want to eat something now.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?”

“You’re always sorry,” you say and walk out of the bathroom.

“What do you want me to do, Y/N? I can’t control people coming up to me in public.”

“No, you can’t, but how about try telling them no for a change instead of giving them what they want?”

“So, what, you don’t like my fans now?”

It’s just like Jensen to take your words and spin them. You grab your extra pillow and slam it on the bed angrily.

“I didn’t say that. You know I adore what you do. I love the fan base you have built. Don’t ever think I won’t support that side of you, but this night was our one year anniversary.”

“I wish I could turn it off. I wish I had a normal life, but this is what’s normal for me… for us. You knew that when you started dating me. You agreed to that when you married me.”

You sigh tiredly and sag your shoulders. You take off your rings and put them in the small seashell Jensen found on the beach one day that you keep on your bedside table.

“I’m tired. I just want to go to bed.”

“I love you.”

You can’t hide the sadness in your smile. This part of his life sucks but you have to find out how to make lemonade with it.

“I love you, too.”

You two get into bed and fall asleep easily. When Jensen wakes up the next morning, he’s alone in bed. He feels the sheets but they’re cold which means you’ve been up for a while. He sits up and wipes the sleep out of his eyes when he notices it. The decor in the bedroom is different. Gone are all of your things, even the small seashell on the bedside table. The walls are void of pictures and the small trinkets you painted and put up. He jumps out of bed and runs into the bathroom but the same thing greets him.

Your side of the sink is free of all of your clutter, bobby pins, stray pieces of hair, and the faint smell of hair products. He runs out of his room hoping to see you on the couch but he pauses before he can get far. Everything in his place is completely different. There is no evidence that a woman has ever lived here. Did you pack up your shit in the middle of the night and leave? He takes out his phone and looks through it, but all evidence of you has been wiped from it. No photos of you two on the couch when you were being lazy. No photos of you two in clay masks when you two had a spa night. No photos of your life with him.

What the hell?

His panic is interrupted by a call on his phone. He sees your name pop up, so that’s proof he still knows you.

“Where the hell is all of your things? What is going on?” he answers the call. “Where are you?”

“Um, work where you’re not. Your eight am is here. Are you on your way or should I reschedule?”

“What? What are you talking about? Did you pack up all your things and move out in the middle of the night?”

“Jensen, what are you talking about? Are you coming to work or not?”

He thinks it’s better to have a conversation with you face-to-face, so he decides not to freak out right now.

“Yeah, I’m on my way. Send me the address.”

He hangs up the phone and you look at the phone with a weird expression. Maybe he had too much to drink last night. Still, you do as you’re told and send him the address to the place he comes to every single day without fail.

“Mr. Ackles is running a bit late. I apologize for the inconvenience, but if you have a seat, he’ll be in shortly,” you say to his client.

“Sure. Thanks.”

You open up the chat window you’re using to talk to your friend and briefly read through the messages again to remind yourself of what you’re talking about. Right. Jensen.

You: Guess who is late? For a man who has been punctual for as long as I’ve known him, he sure had a lot to drink last night. He asked me for the address.

Kristy: At least you get a break from him, right?

You: I’m so sick and tired of this shit, K. If he’s not late, it’s the way I schedule his clients. If it’s not that, it’s the way the food is cold when I bring it to him. I can’t do any good in this man’s eyes.

Kristy: You know, I read about this in a book once where the secretary falls in love with her boss.

You: If I like him, shoot me.

The front doors open and Jensen comes strolling in looking disheveled and concerned. He slaps his hand on the counter and you back up slightly from how intense he’s being.

“What the hell is going on? All of your things are gone. It’s like we’re not even married anymore.”

Okay, you were not expecting that. You were expecting him to blame you for scheduling a client at eight in the morning even though he told you to, but you weren't expecting him to blurt out that you’re married. You put up a lot from him, but this is where you draw the line.

“Sir, I put up a lot from you, but this is inappropriate,” you sutter.

“What?”

“Your eight am is here waiting for you.”

“To do what? What is this place?”

“How much did you have to drink last night?” you whisper. All he does is give you a confused look. “Look, Mr. Ashby is here for his first appointment for therapy. He injured his leg while playing football. You’re his physical therapist. I know you like to drink but come on.”

Jensen looks back at the man and shakes his head.

“Reschedule it.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just do it, okay?”

Jensen leaves and heads to his office, and you huff out in anger and annoyance. You’d quit on the spot if the benefits weren't so great. You make really good money and your rent is low. You’re not going anywhere no matter how big of a headache Jensen is.

Jensen shuts the door to his office and sinks into his desk chair. There is one person who might make sense of this, so he calls his best friend of almost his entire life.

“What’s up?” Jared asks when he answers the phone.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on but just humor me for a sec, okay? I need the 411 on my life.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. You know Y/N?”

“Your secretary?”

It pains him to hear that you’re just his secretary but he pushes past that.

“I swear I’m telling the truth but last night, we were married. We had a life together. I woke up this morning and everything changed.” Jared laughs much to Jensen’s annoyance. “What?”

“You? Married? That’s a good one.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’re not the settling down type which is fine, but you haven’t had a steady girlfriend since your prom date in high school.”

“What are you talking about?” Jensen asks, flabbergasted.

“You bring home a new girl every week.”

“What about Y/N?”

“Dude, you hate her. You don’t care about her. You never did.”

Jensen can’t believe what he’s hearing. You? How can he hate you? He fell in love with you the second he laid eyes on you.

“I gotta go.”

He ends the call immediately and just sits back as he tries to process this. After what feels like hours, he does a bit of research on himself to see the type of person he is. He doesn't know much about sports medicine or how to treat injuries, but with extensive research, he feels like he can fake it for today.

He goes through three clients before lunch, and he’s grateful for the break before two more clients. He leaves his office and approaches your desk with a shy smile. You’re putting things in your purse since you’re about to head out for a quick lunch.

“What are you doing for lunch?”

Your shoulders sag knowing what he’s asking you. “Nothing anymore. Do you want the usual?”

“What?”

“Don’t you want me to go all the way across town and get your lunch for you?”

“No, why would I want that?”

You frown. “Because you always want me to.”

“Not today. Do you have lunch plans?”

“I was just about to go get lunch and bring it back. I don’t normally go anywhere just in case you need me.”

Jensen pushes back the feeling of resentment. “Lunch is on me. Have some with me.”

You stand up angrily and glare at him much to his surprise.

“I don’t know what sick game you’re playing but leave me out of it. I just want to come here, do my job, and go home. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” he says in a soft voice.

“Now, I’m going out to lunch.”

“Okay.”

Jensen watches you storm off with a sigh. He knows he fucked up but he has to try and fix this. If this is his new life, he has to make it better.

A week goes by, and it’s been the most troubling week of his life. This is worse than when he wasn’t given the script until the last minute, and that entire week was full of fuck ups. He hates that you’re not by his side but he’s trying to get used to you being at a distance. He’s been nothing but nice to you but you’re not used to such a sudden change from the man who mistreats you.

Jensen came to work and barely said two words to you, as per usual, so you’re chatting with Kristy over messenger.

You: I don’t know if Jensen was hit in the head but he’s being nice to me. It’s weird.

Kristy: See? It’s the romantic office story I’ve been telling you about. Girl, he’s hot.

You: That doesn’t make up for the fact that he’s an asshole.

Jensen walks out of his office and approaches your desk, so you minimize the chat so he doesn’t see the messages. He reaches for his wallet and pulls out a shiny black Amex card.

“Lunch is on me today.” He sets the card on the desk. “Oh, and before I forget, I’m forced to go to some dinner with people I don’t even like. You’re coming with me.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Get whatever you want, also on me. I’ll pick you up at eight tonight.”

Jensen is gone before you can say anything. You pick up his card and reopen the chat window.

You: He just gave me his credit card and invited me to a dinner tonight. He told me to buy something new to wear.

Kristy: Girl take advantage! Maybe he’s changed.

You: I’ll believe it when I see it.

You’re not a gold digger but you are looking forward to dressing in something nice for a change. You normally don’t go out unless it’s with Kristy, but she lives in another state. You don’t spend much of Jensen’s money, mostly because you’re afraid he’s going to make you pay it back. Still, you spend the rest of the day buying new things and getting prepared for dinner.

The dress is simple and black with a top that accentuates your upper chest. It doesn't show a lot of cleavage but it does show off your shoulders and collarbone. Your hair is down but in soft waves, and you keep your makeup light. Your shoes are open-toed heeled sandals that make your calves look amazing.

The doorbell rings making Jensen right on time. You walk to the front door and open it, and you’re taken aback by how handsome he is. In his hands are flowers, your favorite kind.

“Wow, you look beautiful.” You hate to admit it, but you’re shocked at this. “Here, these are for you.”

“Wow, thank you,” you say and take the flowers. You put the flowers in your kitchen and remove his credit card from your purse. “This is yours. Thank you for the new clothes.”

“It’s the least I can do.”

Jensen escorts you to his car and opens the passenger door for you, and you slide into the car with ease. Jensen gets behind the wheel and starts driving to the restaurant.

“Why are you being so nice to me? You’re never this nice to me.”

“I finally appreciate the person you are.”

“Really?” He nods. “In all the time I’ve worked for you, you never once complimented me.”

This makes Jensen’s heart hurt. He briefly looks at you before returning to the road. “I’ve always found you beautiful.” Okay, now you’re shocked. “I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you. I’ll do better.”

You smile but don’t say anything else. Jensen makes it to the restaurant and hands the keys to the valet. He puts his hand on your lower back and escorts you inside the place.

“Jensen!” You look to the right to see a man coming your way. “I knew that was you. What you did for my daughter… She’s never walked better thanks to you.”

“Thanks. I’d love to chat, but I’m here with someone. Maybe next time, okay?”

Jensen leads you away from the man and over to the large table with a bunch of his associates that he has no business being with. The only person here that matters is you. Jensen pulls out your chair, and you sit down with a blush creeping up your neck.

“So, tell me about you.”

“What?”

“What are your likes? Hobbies? I want to know everything about you.”

You’re about to answer when someone across the table calls for Jensen.

“Hey, Jensen, tell Robert about that time you helped Peyton Manning.”

“Not right now. I’m talking to Y/N. Maybe later.”

All throughout the night, Jensen has made you a priority. You didn’t think it was possible, but maybe he has changed. You don't know it yet, but you’re falling for this man instead of the one you thought you knew.

After dinner, Jensen drives you home without any funny business. He walks you to your front door, and you turn to him with a genuine smile.

“Thank you for tonight. I actually enjoyed myself, believe it or not.”

Jensen leans in closer, and you freeze thinking he is going to kiss you. He bypasses your lips and kisses your cheek gently.

“I’d love to take you out on a real date next time, if you’ll let me.”

Your skin tingles from where his lips touched your cheek, and you resist the urge to touch it.

“That can be arranged,” you smile.

“Good. Have a good night, Y/N.”

“Have a good night, Jensen.”

He goes to bed that night with a smile because it’s the first time since switching into this new life that he’s finally okay with it. The sun isn’t even up when Jensen wakes up in the morning, mostly because of the black out curtains that you insisted on putting up when you moved in with him.

Wait.

Jensen shoots up in bed and looks next to him to see you sleeping there with soft snores coming out. Right there on the nightstand is the seashell he found for you. Inside are your rings. The walls are decorated with your trinkets he loves, and he can see the cluttered mess in the bathroom.

He’s back.

Did he dream it all? Was it real? Whatever it was, opened his eyes. Jensen is about to lay back down when he remembered the fight you two had before going to bed. He finally knows what he needs to do. He gets out of bed carefully so as to not wake you, and he walks to the kitchen where his laptop is. He opens iMessage that’s connected to his phone and makes a new message to his agent that scored him the role for The Boys.

Jensen: After some thought, I can’t take the role. I need to focus on my family before I take on new work. Thank you for thinking of me. If the role is still available down the line, I’d be more than happy to take it then.

The next thing he does is go online and browse through the two saved websites he bookmarked a few weeks ago. He wanted to surprise you with a vacation for your one year anniversary, but that’s also when his agent told him about The Boys. You’ve been wanting to go to Hawaii, and he books the perfect package that he knows you’ll love.

When he’s done, he walks back to the bedroom and carefully climbs into bed. He leans over you and presses kisses to your exposed shoulder. You moan tiredly and shift before opening your eyes.

“What time is it?”

“Just after six.”

“What are you doing up this early?”

“Listen, I’m sorry about last night. I was a jerk. You deserve better.”

You sit up and turn the lamp on so that it emits a soft glow in the room.

“I was a jerk, too.”

“I turned down The Boys role.”

“Why?” you gasp.

Jensen leans in and kisses you. “You are my wife. There’ll be other roles. Not another you. I also booked a two-week vacation in Hawaii. We leave tomorrow.”

“What?” You grin widely. “Really?”

“Yes. I love you. I am in love with you. You’re the most important thing in my life.”

You jump into his arms and he falls back with a laugh at your eagerness.

“I love you,” you grin and kiss him.

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[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 ~💚

[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!

[darcydekarios]

✨Day 6 of Gale Tits Week

Saturday Sweater Bunnies 🐰🐰

This week has been brought to you by the combined efforts of these lovely Galemancers:

@tociminna, @optimisticgrey, @avabjorna36, @astarioffsimpmain and myself 💜

This week has been so much fun, and I truly love this Tumblr community so much.

This will be my first time publicly posting any of my writing on here, so bear with me for any grammar mistakes/spelling errors. Because proofreading? Phst, we don’t know her

If any of you are like me, then you’ve fantasized about what you could lick off of this man’s chest. Seriously, it’s a daily thought running through my mind. I could eat a steak dinner right off this man’s happy trail.

So, here’s a little fantasy. Slight NSFW under the cut:

The scene is this:

You are curled up in your cozy Waterdeep library that your husband is now more than happy to share with you. The rain beats heavily against the window, the thunder a dull roar.

Your enchanting book of a magic world hones you in, but reality gives way to your senses. You hear clanking coming from downstairs where your husband resides. Curious, you set your book down and follow the sound.

​ You reach the kitchen of your shared tower to see Gale mixing contents in a large bowl while joyfully whistling to himself.

You take in his handsome presence. His shoulder length, chestnut hair is half tied back with loose tendrils framing his forehead, his long sleeves are rolled up to the elbow revealing his strong forearms flexing as he stirs. The shirt he wears leaves three buttons undone, showing one of your favorite sights: that dark chest hair splayed against his chiseled pecks.

Damn him.

He knows exactly what this does to you. Was he also purposely not wearing an apron just to show more of his chest in hopes that you would come down and find him this way?

Coy bastard.

“Well, hello there, my love,” he gives you a warm smile as he notices you standing there, practically drooling.

“What cha making there?” You stride towards him casually, ignoring the subtle heat already pooling in your lower belly.

“Ah, I thought I may surprise you with my famous brownies, as a reading snack for this rainy day.” He gives you a wink as he sets the stirring spoon down and dips a finger into the batter. “Would you like to try?” He asks, holding his now batter covered finger close to your lips.

You look into his eyes as your mouth moves closer. You part your lips, slowly encasing him in your warm mouth, your tongue taking its time to wrap around his finger, the sweet chocolate batter making your taste buds dance. Your hand reaches up to grab his wrist as your mouth pulls back with a “pop,” leaving his mouth parted slightly, a quiet breath escaping between them. His pupils now darkening with desire.

Two can play at this game.

“Mmm, very delicious,” you say as you lick your lips. Dipping your finger into the bowl, you bite your lip, “Wanna try?”

He raises an eyebrow as he moves his mouth towards your hand. Your grin turns cheeky as your other hand pushes against him slightly, unbuttoning just a few more buttons and smearing the batter down his exposed chest.

“Oops,” you shrug playfully.

He looked down at his chest, then back at you, a broad grin stretching across his face, “And what do you intend to do about this?”

​ You don’t answer him with words, but instead with a gentle push, his bottom now against the counter. You press yourself against him, unfastening the remaining buttons of his shirt.

​Dipping your head down, you start at his happy trail, and lick your way up his chest, sure to lap up every bit of the brownie batter. The tip of your tongue darting between every crevasse and flattening as it reaches his pecks and up to his neck, as he leans his head back, his breathing now choppy as he releases low moans of ecstasy.

​You finish off with a small nibble right under his jaw as you pull back. Taking in your husband’s melted puddle of dark eyes, you rub your lips together. “Tastes even better now.”

​A low growl emits from his chest as he pushes you back against the kitchen island behind you. Spinning you around to press your ass up against his hardened groin, he whispers low into your ear, “I suppose your reading snack can wait.”

[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.

[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. 

Alley Cat (dark content)

You should have known better than to take your usual shortcut home in the dead of night.

coming soon...

coming soon...

[lilacsbeeswax]

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

[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.

[witchyintention]

Where It All Began: The Ancient Roots of Witchcraft

Witchcraft didn’t appear out of nowhere like a mysterious cloaked figure under a full moon. Its roots stretch deep into the soil of human history, sprouting from the primal desire to understand, interact with, and occasionally charm the forces of the natural world. In essence, witchcraft was humanity's first attempt to make sense of life’s mysteries—birth, death, illness, and those pesky harvests that sometimes failed to cooperate.

Mesopotamia: Magic at the Dawn of Civilization

In the ancient lands of Mesopotamia, magic was woven into everyday life like the intricate patterns of a Sumerian tapestry. Priests and priestesses doubled as magicians, using rituals to appease gods or ward off mischief-making demons. The Assyrians and Babylonians developed complex systems of divination, like hepatoscopy (reading the entrails of sacrificed animals) and astrology, where the movements of celestial bodies were believed to influence earthly events. Think of these practices as ancient spreadsheets for managing cosmic chaos.

One standout Mesopotamian magical figure was the āšipu, or exorcist. Armed with incantations and symbolic objects, they combatted evil spirits with the confidence of someone holding a holy water squirt gun. Their spells were recorded on clay tablets, many of which have survived, offering us a peek into their magical toolkit.

Ancient Egypt: Spells, Deities, and Afterlife Insurance

Move over Cleopatra—Egyptian magic deserves its own red-carpet moment. For the Egyptians, magic (heka) wasn’t just a tool but a divine force that existed before creation itself. Gods like Thoth and Isis were thought to wield heka with unparalleled mastery, inspiring humans to follow suit.

The Egyptians had spells for almost everything: curing snake bites, securing a prosperous journey in the afterlife, or even ensuring a good hair day (yes, beauty magic existed). Amulets were their magical multitaskers, offering protection, health, and a little pizzazz. The famous Book of the Dead was essentially a magical user manual for navigating the perils of the afterlife. If reincarnation were an obstacle course, the Egyptians were determined to ace it with cheat codes.

Greece and Rome: The Birth of Western Esotericism

The ancient Greeks and Romans didn’t just dabble in magic—they wrote dissertations on it. In Greece, philosophers like Pythagoras and Plato explored metaphysical concepts that later influenced magical thought. Pythagoras, for example, wasn’t just a math guy; he believed numbers had mystical properties. So next time you curse algebra, remember it might have been a magical tool at some point.

The Greeks also gave us some of the earliest grimoires, such as the Greek Magical Papyri. These texts were chock-full of spells, invocations, and recipes for crafting magical potions. They even included tips for summoning deities or spirits, proving that ancient people also loved a good life hack.

Meanwhile, the Romans took a more practical approach to magic, using it for love, revenge, and keeping those pesky neighbors in check. Curse tablets, thin sheets of lead inscribed with hexes, were buried at sacred sites to call upon the gods for justice. It’s basically the ancient equivalent of subtweeting someone, but with higher stakes.

The Far East: Mysticism and Balance

Across the globe, ancient Chinese and Indian traditions were also steeped in magic and mysticism. In China, Taoist practices incorporated rituals, talismans, and alchemical experiments to achieve harmony with the Tao, or the natural order of the universe. The blending of spirituality and practicality was key, with many rituals aimed at promoting health, longevity, and prosperity.

In India, the Vedic texts described rituals and hymns to invoke divine powers. These practices evolved into a blend of spirituality and mysticism that still influences Hinduism and other traditions today. The emphasis on balance and connection to universal energy feels remarkably modern, doesn’t it?

Shamanism: The Universal Foundation of Magic

Before the rise of organized religions, shamanic traditions thrived across cultures from Siberia to South America. Shamans acted as intermediaries between the physical and spiritual realms, often entering trances to seek guidance or heal their communities. Whether they were chanting, drumming, or consuming psychedelic plants, shamans were the original multi-class characters—part healer, part mystic, part community leader.

The tools of their trade—herbs, bones, and natural objects—laid the foundation for many magical traditions that followed. The use of sympathetic magic (the idea that like affects like, such as using a doll to represent a person) can be traced back to these early practices.

Magic Across Africa and the Americas

In Africa, magic and spirituality were deeply intertwined with everyday life. Practices like Ifa divination in Yoruba culture involved intricate systems of symbols and interpretations, revealing paths to healing, growth, and understanding. Meanwhile, in Mesoamerica, civilizations like the Maya and Aztecs used rituals and offerings to communicate with their gods, often centering around natural cycles like the harvest or the movements of the sun and stars.

The connection to nature in these practices wasn’t just poetic—it was practical. By aligning their magic with the rhythms of the earth, ancient people ensured their survival and fostered a sense of harmony with the world around them.

The Bigger Picture

From the rivers of Mesopotamia to the temples of Egypt and beyond, early witchcraft and magical practices were about survival, connection, and understanding the mysteries of existence. These ancient roots remind us that magic isn’t just about casting spells—it’s about fostering relationships with the forces that shape our world, whether they’re gods, spirits, or the natural elements.

Now, when you light a candle, hold a crystal, or write in your journal, remember: you’re participating in a tradition as old as time. How’s that for a little magic in your day?

[zot3-flopped]

There's a piece on the Daily Mail that gives a very interesting behind-the-scenes of Liam's life (they also talk about a big childhood trauma but "whose full details the Mail has chosen not to publish"). It's behind a paywall but I've discovered that many times the reading mode in Firefox and Safari gets through anyway, so here it is:

---

Liam Payne's serious childhood trauma and why having a baby so young with Cheryl couldn't bring the stability that may have saved him: KATIE HIND

It was the autumn of 2011, and I had been summoned to Sony Music’s west London HQ to meet Britain’s hottest new boy band.

A few months earlier, five hopeful teenagers had auditioned for ITV’s X Factor talent show – and the music impresario Simon Cowell had drawn them together to form One Direction.

The fledgling stars had already attracted a global fanbase in the millions: a juggernaut that was drawing comparisons to 1960s Beatlemania, even though they had yet to release a song.

Now that was about to change. The band’s debut single, What Makes You Beautiful, was launching the following week – and I was there to interview the boys behind it.

Although they had seemed like sweet young things when we had briefly met at the Fountain Studios in Wembley, north-west London, during their X Factor live shows the previous year, I had expected these precocious adolescents to now be full of self-importance at their growing fame.

How wrong I was.

I arrived to find five handsome young men politely waiting to greet me, but one of them stood out thanks to his cute curly hair and his charming, talkative manner.

No, not Harry Styles – the only ex-1D member who has gone on to forge a successful, long-term solo career – but Liam Payne. Dressed down in a navy hoodie and jeans, Liam wrapped me in a warm hug and excitedly introduced me to his bandmates – Styles, Louis Tomlinson, Niall Horan and Zayn Malik – in his strong Wolverhampton accent.

Looking younger than his 18 years, Liam told me how badly he was missing his beloved mum Karen’s cooking – so much so that he had resorted to eating chicken dippers warmed up in the microwave.

Living as he was out of suitcases in hotels, he asked me for ironing tips as he had yet to learn how to use one – and said he still spent much of his free time playing Nintendo.

He admitted that he had practised putting his hands behind his back and trying to sing like his hero Liam Gallagher, the snarling Oasis frontman. ‘I probably looked a bit stupid though,’ he said.

He also spoke lovingly about West Bromwich Albion, the football team he had supported since he was a young boy – though he regretted that he no longer had time to cheer them on in person.

As for girls, Liam told me he preferred shy and quiet ones, although he revealed he’d fallen in love with X Factor’s 2006 winner Leona Lewis, while he found singer Tulisa Contostavlos ‘really, really hot’.

Overall, he struck me as an innocent abroad – a child, really – who seemed too vulnerable a soul to last long in the cut-throat music world.

As the years passed, I met Liam many times at industry events and in chance encounters – and I never shook that worrying sense that he was, in some ways, a lost little boy.

I could never have known, of course, that just 13 years after our first interview, Liam would perish in the most terrible circumstances – following a long spell of torment, scandal and drink and drug abuse.

His descent into addiction had been playing out, in public and in private, for years – worsened by his fragile emotional state.

Many had tried to help him quit the substances that were destroying his life, but to no avail: following his death in Buenos Aires’s five-star CasaSur hotel on Wednesday evening, what appeared to be cocaine and heroin paraphernalia were found in his wrecked suite, with its smashed TV and half-drunk flutes of champagne.

It was a squalid end for one of the most famous young men in the world, so adored by ‘Directioners’ that he insisted he couldn’t leave his hotel without a large security detail (although it’s worth pointing out that other former bandmates, including the global megastar Styles, often travel without huge entourages).

So where did it all go wrong for him – and how did that smiling boy I met all those years ago, rough around the edges as he was, come to such a terrible end?

There is no doubt that he struggled, even more than his bandmates, with that explosive early fame and notoriety.

In a candid moment at 2014’s Brit Awards, Liam told me how difficult he found it to be unable to blend into a crowd. The band’s relentless schedule had taken its toll on him, as had the long months away from home.

He often wished, one of his friends later told me, that he had gone to university like many of his schoolmates.

Of course, Liam came to enjoy a lifestyle unimaginable to his old contemporaries at St Peter’s Collegiate, his Church of England secondary school in Wolverhampton.

Despite his insatiable appetite for drugs, his large property portfolio, his endless jaunts on private jets, taste for high fashion and luxury hotel stays, his bank balance was still thought to be in the millions when he died.

For all his fears that he had peaked so young, he still had decades ahead of him – and ample time to grow into the contented father to Bear, his son with Girls Aloud star Cheryl Tweedy, his friends and family longed for him to become.

But I can reveal that behind that smiling, cherubic face, Liam had suffered serious trauma in his childhood: a shadow from which he felt he could never escape and whose full details the Mail has chosen not to publish.

One friend told me: ‘Before he even began his showbiz career, he had demons from his formative years. He struggled with that and never quite got over it. He was in a band with four other guys, he could get any girl he wanted and he was earning millions – but he struggled to enjoy any of it.’

I can vouch for that: of all the 1D members, Liam seemed by far the most uncomfortable with his fame and fortune.

I would see him most years at the Brits, where at first he would dash over to say hello, often reminding me that he had enjoyed me asking him ‘fun questions’ at our first interview.

Yet as time went on, his chaotic living began to catch up with him, and his manner became ever more unpredictable.

In February 2013, at a Brit Awards afterparty organised by his music label at the upmarket Arts Club in Mayfair, I saw him drunkenly dancing with his bandmates – by far the most bleary-eyed of them.

That December, I bumped into him in the Kurt Geiger shoe shop in Canary Wharf, east London, where he was buying his then girlfriend Sophia Smith – a former school sweetheart – a pair of boots for Christmas.

Gone was his carefree demeanour of just two years earlier, he now seemed strikingly shy. He told me he had bought a penthouse flat in the Docklands, and at my insistence, he posed for a picture with me before dashing off.

During 2013’s Take Me Home tour, the band performed an average of a concert every two days, completing 124 dates between February and November. That, I’m told, put unbearable pressure on Liam, who would often say that he ‘just wanted to be normal’.

Of course, the fame came with perks – women chief among them. Liam’s best-known romance was with Cheryl, who was ten years his senior, which had begun in 2016 following her split from her French husband Jean-Bernard Fernandez-Versini.

They quickly became the most talked-about couple in showbiz –and only six months after they were confirmed to be an item, Cheryl revealed she was expecting their baby.

For Liam, however, the pregnancy was a huge shock: he was, he allegedly told friends, not ready to become a dad.

With 1D having gone on ‘permanent hiatus’ in 2016, he was trying to launch his solo career, and becoming a father – especially to a woman a decade older than him –was not part of his plans.

He told friends that he felt like Cheryl, who was 33 when Bear was born, had used him so she could have a baby.

When Bear, now seven, was born in 2017, Cheryl grew increasingly fed up that she was stuck at home with the baby while Liam was away jet-setting.

‘Liam was flying around the world promoting his music,’ said a friend. ‘He was in the zone Cheryl had been in ten years before with Girls Aloud. It led to some furious rows.

‘He began using private jets so he could get home quicker, but it wasn’t enough. Cheryl wanted a proper family unit and Liam just could not give it to her. Things got really bad and tempestuous. Liam was a young lad in his early 20s and he just wasn’t ready for it all.’

Inevitably, they split up – giving Liam even more time to ‘go off the rails’, as one former associate of the star describes it.

Even when they were co-parenting, Cheryl desperately hoped that Liam and Bear would develop a strong father-son bond, despite Liam’s addiction issues.

‘Cheryl knew what a state he was in,’ says a source. ‘She wished she could make it better.’

And she wasn’t alone in that wish: as Liam turned from being a cheerful teenager into a tormented, angry young man, many of those closest to him tried unsuccessfully to rescue him.

He was dropped by more than one of his managers due to his erratic behaviour and his failure to turn up to work engagements.

In September 2017, Cheryl, Liam and Bear went on a luxury holiday to Majorca: a birthday treat for Liam. But he injured himself while drunk.

As the years went on, he only got worse.

In 2022, a gurning Liam appeared to be high on drugs at a post-Oscars party in Hollywood. In footage that went viral for all the wrong reasons, he replaced his Wolverhampton twang with a bizarre Los Angeles accent.

One friend of Liam’s called me in horror to share their fears that he ‘really wasn’t OK’. Last year, Liam moved to a sprawling mansion near the Buckinghamshire town of Chalfont St Giles to be further away from the temptations of London and closer to Bear, who lived nearby with Cheryl.

However, neighbours tell me that he brought his problems with him. They would often spot him coming home in the early hours in chauffeur-driven cars, often with women in tow.

While I’m told he tried to see Bear regularly, his unpredictable lifestyle frequently made this impossible. Instead, Cheryl was largely left to bring up the little boy alone with the help of her mother Joan.

Liam’s new home was also close to a woman who some describe as his fairy godmother – the Olympic heptathlon gold medallist Denise Lewis.

Her husband Steve Finan worked with Liam for several years and the couple were at his side through some of his most difficult times – including his fall-out with Cheryl.

He would often stay at their home as they battled to keep him sober.

‘Liam adored Denise,’ says a source. ‘She mothered him and really tried to support him.’

Yet in recent months, his life was clearly spiralling out of control. His on-off girlfriend, Maya Henry, 23, had recently hired lawyers to send a ‘cease and desist’ letter to the star, accusing him of repeatedly contacting her and her loved ones.

Liam’s friends insisted he was angry and upset at her, adding that her behaviour was due to her wanting to publicise her new book.

And only last week, I’m told Liam had a huge row with his manager over his forthcoming album, whose release – to Liam’s fury – had been delayed because it was deemed ‘too poppy’.

A source said: ‘There was a blazing row and the album was put back again. The single from it had flopped and there were concerns. Liam desperately wanted that album to come out: despite everything, he thought of himself as a musician.’

To make matters even worse, just a few days ago Liam’s record label dropped him.

Another source said: ‘People begged him to get help and suggested that he went to Alcoholics Anonymous or Narcotics Anonymous meetings, but he wouldn’t take them up on it.’

His most recent girlfriend was Texan model Katie Cassidy, whom he thought might have been The One. She too had tried to help him, but left Argentina to return to the US two days before he died.

‘Lots of people cared for Liam,’ said a source. ‘He had so much love around him.’

Yet all the love in the world was not enough to rescue this desperately unhappy young man, who for all his fame and fortune could never escape the demons that haunted him from his lost, tormented youth.

www dailymail co uk/tvshowbiz/article-13972405/Liam-Paynes-childhood-trauma-having-baby-young-Cheryl-bring-stability-saved-KATIE-HIND html

Thank you for this. Plenty of interesting insights here.

[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