#Estel replies

[esteljune]

soap squad is such a cute name for soap mctavish fans omg

It is OMG 😍 and I have to thank @brewed-pangolin for that cause I pretty much joined their soap squad ™️

Thank you sm for welcoming me in the fandom ❤️

[loyalborn]

@powerfought sent: ❝ i lose a great deal of my charm when someone gets to know me better. ❞ // from zevlor to estelle!!

"Oh, hush." Fingers interlocked with his and gave him a reassuring squeeze. Pushing up on her toes, Estelle attempted to kiss him, but barely managed to make contact with his bottom lip and ended up mostly kissing his chin. Her free hand pinched his chin and she used the pad of her thumb to wipe away the pale smear of red she left behind. "You're plenty charming, my dear."

[estelle-speaks]

No I’ll say it. If you don’t reply to people for weeks I don’t like you

[vila-of-burning-waters]

<From x>

"I hope that the trinkets I sent Miss Traveler and Miss Paimon helped! A bunch of ingredients and a pretty orange and green water rock that's cool on my membrane... Mint for Mel and Seagrass-stuffed Tidalga for me make a great quick meal when I'm on an adventure, after all."

Vila grins, looking at the city and getting a metal plate out of her bag that she carefully wraps around Mel... It covers the bottom of the Slime and seems heat-resistant, since it hasn't started melting.

"There we go! Now you can join me in the city too, Mel! Gotta thank Miss Estelle for making this when I visit Muirne and Sedene and Liath..."

[multeasers]

Ohhhhh-kay, holy shit, wait a minute; did it just talk?

Unless he’s just totally losing his mind, Yuri’s pretty sure he didn’t miss some words being spoken, but could... No, surely even an aer krene wouldn’t do something like that, right? Not nowadays, anyway—but nothing was surely-known, either.

Maybe—maybe I did just hear wrong, though. He tries to reason with himself regardless, as he watches, for a moment, as the horse snorts and shuffles about; outwardly, he tries for a little, “Hey, hey, it’s alright; I won’t hurt ya,” to try and show good-faith, even as he is half-way turned to keep walkin’. Whatever he heard, whether it really had been words or just a mistaken whinny or not, Yuri’s got the feeling he shouldn’t leave this alone; so he goes to turn back completely, his body shifting to face the horse again...

...only to see it already following him. Huh.

Well, when in doubt, isn’t it better just to laugh? This really doesn’t feel like it’ll end badly (for him, anyway...).

“Decidin’ to come along, then?” As much as his tone is a little teasing, Yuri’s genuinely appreciative; it’s been a long time since he well-and-truly traveled on his own, and he wasn’t so sure how he was feelin’ about it. With this guy by his side, though, things were bound to not feel so lonely. “No problem, that’s cool by me; I don’t know how long we’ll be together, but let’s make the most of it.”

And though he was intending to let the horse approach him before he did anything, buuut...he’s always really loved animals, so he tries for a compromise; as he walks up to his side, Yuri extends a hand out. Not yet touching, but surely making his intent known.

“The name’s Yuri, by the way; should I just...make up a name for you, though? Seems a bit rude to just refer to you as the horse in my head...”

If Estelle were here, she’d have a good name in a heartbeat, but Yuri’s positive he can think something suitable up!

He caught the sound of another's voice and turned to face them, his mind swirling in a haze of bewilderment. It was as if he had stumbled upon a creature from the depths of nightmares—a beast, a monster, perhaps a goblin or a troll—something that prowled the forest, ready to consume anyone foolish enough to lose their way in the labyrinth of towering trees surrounding them. But there stood a person, a warrior, exuding an air of purpose and confidence, nothing more, nothing less.

What could they possibly be doing here? Surely, they were after the same things he sought: fame, fortune, and a power that defied all logic. They had ventured into this realm to uncover the secrets hidden within, to seize the ancient relic of the witch that had lingered here for centuries, twisting and turning through time. He had come with insatiable greed, yearning to claim it for himself, to wield it for his own desires and ambitions.

Yet, fate had thwarted him; he never grasped that coveted treasure, not even for a fleeting moment. Cursed and transformed, he faced the consequences of his reckless pursuit. Dazed and disoriented, he now found himself in the presence of this stranger. Were they here for the same prize? That treasure was destined for them, that idol was theirs alone, and the relic promised true power—the kind of magic long forgotten. And he craved it desperately for himself.

As he paused to observe the human, he noted how remarkably strong they appeared at that moment. Given the circumstances, it was clear that this man needed him far more than he needed the man. What was he supposed to do in this situation? He had glimpsed his own reflection in the shimmering surface of the river, and the sight of himself—how he was perceived by others—filled him with an overwhelming dread. It terrified him to his core, leaving him breathless as he struggled to find his voice.

“Who are you?” he managed to whisper, but the words barely escaped him, sounding more like a frightened whinny than anything coherent. A soft snort followed, and he found himself pacing nervously, his hooves gently disturbing the earth beneath him. The odd noise he had made caused his ears to flatten against his head. Was that sound really his? Meanwhile, the man stood firm, unwavering, merely observing him and labeling him as just another horse, a common creature at that. Yet, when the human referred to him as "big guy," there was a sincerity in his tone that hinted at genuine concern.

The man chuckled softly, as if contemplating leaving, a desire to turn away and depart. Surely, there must be others like him. But could he risk the witch's curse that might transform this man—and perhaps his companions—into horses as well? If it could happen to him, who was to say it wouldn’t befall them too? The man was now looking ahead, ready to move on, and that was something he could not bear. He began to follow, one leg after the other. If the man was intent on leaving, he would not stay behind. He couldn’t lead the way, but he was determined not to be left alone; he would accompany him, no matter what.

[lesbiankiliel]

🌹

thank you 💕 this is from like a ray of sun, from a chapter I haven't published yet because I have a block with this fic

Right, great, time to explain the concept of Jedi to a five-year-old.

send me a🌹or several for a random sentence from a wip of mine

[lady-phasma]

Fangtober Day 4 - Bondage

Dom!Armand x fem!reader (vampire)

Summary: Reader is a new addition to the Theater and Maître takes a particular interest in her and decides to show her the ropes take her to a private flat for a session, 3.3k words.

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, it started out as bondage fluff but then turned into smut, tiny bit of blood play, unprotected sex but vampire sex so not risky.

a/n: Thank you so much to the moot who suggested actor vamp!reader new to the coven. However, I struggled with this one for a while - I finally just powered through it and here it is. fem!reader but reader not described.

So far the initiations and manual labor with the theater hadn’t been so bad. You slogged through your nights, cleaning the rows after the filthy humans left, helping with disposal after performances, whatever was needed. And you were rewarded with pre-dawn camaraderie, as you watched and listed to the elder vampires tell stories, rehearse, or just chat. Occasionally there were nights out among humans. The first few weeks had felt infinitely long, but now you had begun to adjust to a routine.

You began to nurture new and tentative friendships with Celeste and Estelle and even Sam. Even Santiago wasn’t always a cunt to you. As you had settled into the coven you had begun to notice Maître more and more. His eyes missed nothing. Constantly alert, constantly appraising, Armand watched his new addition. You felt an attraction to him that wasn’t there at first. You had been a little intimidated by Maître at the start of your tutelage. but now you wondered what exactly he was thinking about. Maybe it was all in your head.

As you swept the auditorium floor tonight you listened to the coven chatter and almost longed to join in. However, there was a small part of you that was glad to be alone with your chores. You didn’t feel like being seen this evening. Disappearing into the background suited you just fine. You were nearly finished, brushing the trash into the bin, when you heard footsteps behind you.

“Maître,” you bowed as soon as you turned to face him. Armand took a step toward you, slightly entering your personal space.

“Good evening, puce,” he let the words slide off his tongue, emphasizing your station. “Are you almost finished with your duties?”

“Yes, Sir,” you replied happily, almost but not quite looking into his eyes. “I only need to empty this.” You gestured to your trash can.

“Take it to the incinerator then meet me in the lobby. Don’t dally.” Armand left before you could reply.

You dusted off your clothes and ran a hand over your hair, smoothing it down, while you went to the lobby.

“Maître,” you greeted Armand as you entered.

“Walk with me.” He held the door open, allowing you to exit first. You stepped into the cool Autumn air of the city. Halos of mist hung around the street lamps as the evening’s rain slowly evaporated from the pavement. The emptying street had a quality that only late night city streets have, a liminal feeling left behind after the humans were nearly all tucked into their beds.

“Come,” Armand commanded from beside you. You walked in silence, waiting on him to explain or elucidate, but he did not. Not for many blocks. It wasn’t long before you had left the arrondissement and crossed the Seine. Vampire speed, even slowed for public viewing, was still surprisingly fast to you.

“I thought we could go somewhere with more privacy. I have a flat nearby,” he offered, apropos of nothing. He lit a cigarette, offered you one, and smoked for the rest of the walk. He dropped the butt on the pavement and ground it out with the toe of his show before opening the door to the apartment building.

You followed Armand through the doors and up the three flights of stairs to the flat. When you entered and Armand had locked the door behind you, a fire blazed in the fireplace. He took off his coat and hung it on a rack by the door. He tucked his hands in his pockets as he entered the small room. It was modest, a studio with a closet-sized bathroom in one corner, a table in the kitchen area, and a full size bed taking up much more space than the traditional twin bed these apartments usually housed. The only places to sit with the table or bed so you stood, waiting.

Armand strode to the fireplace and made a show of warming his hands over the fire. At first he didn’t turn to look at you when he spoke. You watched his face, lit by the fire, nearly mesmerized by the yellow and orange light in his hair.

“You are no doubt wondering why I brought you here tonight. You show potential, perhaps not to be center stage any time soon, but maybe one day. But you have something…” His voice trailed off as he turned to you and moved to stand directly in front of you. He lightly stroked your cheek.

“Interesting,” he murmured to himself as he appraised you. “You trust me as your Maître, yes?”

“Of course, Maître,” you nodded.

“So if I ask you to do something you would do it without question?” His nails ran down the side of your neck to your shirt collar.

“Yes, Maître.” You didn’t nod this time, something in his face had shifted and a nod felt too unserious.

“Well, puce, if I ask you to do something tonight that you find objectionable, simply say the word ‘aubergine’ and you won’t have to do it.” He smiled gently at the befuddled look on your face as he began to unbutton your blouse. “You can remember that word?”

“Yes, Maître.”

“Perfect.” He took his time opening your shirt while your heart hammered in your chest. You knew he could hear it and it would have embarrassed you, yet… Yet it seemed as if this wasn’t new to him at all.

Armand slipped your blouse off your shoulders. Then he began to work on the buttons of your slacks. You weren’t sure why you were doing this. It wasn’t entirely because he was your Maître. That was certainly part of it, but it felt like a very small part. You mostly felt like you would do anything for this ethereal creature. His hands moved deftly and barely touched your skin as he slid your pants to the floor. You stepped out of the pile of clothing without being told to. You stood still as Armand picked up the shirt and slacks and laid them over the back of a kitchen chair. You felt self-conscious standing in your undergarments, but Armand didn’t look at you in a way that made you uncomfortable. He led you to the bed and directed you to sit.

“You should know, this isn’t about the theater, darling,” he said. “This… is for my own enjoyment.”

You watched him with trepidation and excitement as he opened a drawer in the wardrobe and removed something. It looked like silk cord or rope and your heart raced in your chest again. He laid the bundle of cord on the bed and stepped next to you. He tilted your face up toward his with the lightest pressure of his fingertips.

“Lay down for me,” Armand whispered. You did so. Armand slowly began to unbutton his shirt, then placed it on the kitchen chair as well. He untied and toed off his shoes, placed them neatly beneath the chair, and walked to the bed in in his pants and socks. His movements were maddeningly slow as your mind raced with the possibilities. He untied the bundle of cord and it glistened in the dim light, it looked soft, but strong. He knelt on the bed near your feet as he spoke.

“Bend your knees, press your heels to your rear,” he instructed. You felt your face go hot, a very human response, but you did as you were told. He wrapped the cord around your thigh, then your shin, and tied your leg in a bent position. The cord was silky-smooth against your skin, but the knots were tight. Then he repeated the process on your other leg. You were exposed and vulnerable like this, even with your undergarments still on. You could have easily broken the bonds using your weak, fledgeling strength, but this was far more interesting. Armand took the remaining lengths of cord and moved them to your side.

“Hands above your head, palms together.” You pressed your hands together above your head. He leaned forward, between your legs, and bound your wrists together. Every sensation was more intense now: the fabric of his trousers rough against your inner thighs, the drag of his fingers over your camisole, grazing your hard nipples. He stood up and your eyes followed him as he walked to the table and sat in the empty chair. He tapped a cigarette from his pack, lit it, and smoked. He didn’t rush. You tried not to let your thoughts show on your face, but you knew you failed. Your brow was furrowed as you waited on him. The cords dug into your skin even though you had barely moved at all. Your normally shallow and slow vampire breathing sped up. Your cunt throbbed.

After an eternity, Armand stood and approached the bed. He trailed his fingers down one of your knees, down your shin to where the cord crossed your leg. You shivered. He moved to kneel on the bed, between your legs again. Slowly he slid a hand up your belly, under your camisole. His fingertips brushed against the undersides of your breasts. You gasped at his touch. As he moved his hand back down, he used both to gently press your thighs apart. Even that small movement caused the cord to shift against your skin. You sucked air sharply between your teeth. He let his fingers slide down the insides of your thighs and gently touched you over your panties. You could feel your wetness against the fabric and moaned. You tried to lift your hips to his touch, but it was nearly impossible in this position. The cords seemed to tighten as your legs shifted. You moaned as he pulled his fingers away, craving more of him.

Armand didn’t make you wait long. His long fingers slid up your buttocks to where the cord held you, then moved his hands up your hips. He leaned forward, almost hovering above you. He dipped his head and brushed his lips against your nipple through the thin fabric. He licked gently, leaving a damp spot above the hard point of your nipple. You involuntarily arched your back to get closer to his mouth and whined when your bonds prevented it.

“Maître, please,” you begged.

“Please what?” Armand quipped back, but his tone was patient.

“More please, Maître,” the sound of your voice was almost pathetic to your own ears, but you didn’t care. You watched him through half-closed eyes as he rubbed his hands gently up and down your sides. His thumbs occasionally grazing a nipple. He slid your camisole up over your breasts and sucked one of your nipples between his teeth. You could have cried out from the shock, but the pressure was so light that you could only pant. You still needed more. You wanted to touch him, run your fingers through his dark curls, down his neck, press yourself into his mouth.

Before you could beg again he sucked harder on your nipple and pressed his hips between your legs. You made an inhuman sound as the front of his pants rubbed against your panties and your sensitive lips. He sucked and licked your nipple with increased focus, getting caught up in the sensations and grinding his hips in slow circles. The pressure of his cock against you was a momentary relief. Then he pulled back.

“So needy,” Armand growled as he kissed down your stomach. He rose up to look at you as his fingers delved under the edge of your panties at the crease of your hips. Slowly, teasingly, he moved your panties to the side. He trailed his finger over you aching, swollen cunt, dipping just into your folds before leaving you wanting more.

“You’re doing so well,” he whispered as he looked into your heavily-lidded eyes. “So well for me.”

“Yes, Maître,” was all you could think to say, the words most likely inaudible to a human, but he heard.

Armand continued to hold your panties aside as he leaned down and kissed just above your slit. He flicked his tongue over your clit and you twitched, moaning and whining. He smiled and licked harder, his tongue sliding between your lips. He moaned and the vibration sent chills up your spine. He teased you, not offering you any satisfaction, over your clit, down to your entrance, and back up. You wanted to beg and plead, but tried to bite back the words. Whimpering moans escaped your mouth, incoherent sounds, as you shifted and pulled against the restraints. You made no effort to break free. You could have, but the need for him to touch you, to keep doing this, was nearly overwhelming.

When Armand sat up he let go of your panties and began to unbutton his pants. You groaned louder than you intended. The thought that he would reward you, give you what you craved, flew through your mind.

“Yes, a small reward for such good behavior,” he grinned. “Perhaps I’ll even give you a release.” He slid his pants and boxers off his hips. You stared unabashedly. He was gorgeous. His dark hair caught the low light of the room, his chest rippled as he moved his pants further down, the muscles of his stomach flexing tautly. He stroked his cock lightly as he moved closer to you. Your legs strained against the cord. You watched him watch as he lined up and pressed his cock against you. He looked up and met your gaze. Yes? he asked silently. You nodded. When he slid into you it felt as if all of your bonds tightened. Your hands itched to reach for him, but you kept them above your head. Your thighs and shins seemed to press against the cord as you widened your legs to make room for his hips.

“God,” he moaned as he sank all the way into you. He steadied himself with a hand on each of your knees as he began slow, long strokes. Every time he pressed into you, the cords binding you shifted and dug a little harder. His eyes nearly closed as he increased his pace, hands sliding down to grip your thighs, then hips. The combination of sensations was exquisite. Every movement, every thrust, intensified by your inability to move.

Armand moaned softly as he slid into you over and over. His eyes flicked between your face and watching himself disappear into your cunt. His fingers tightened on your hips slightly as he moved faster. You whimpered as you grew even more desperate to touch him. Just my hands, you thought. Armand looked up at you with a nearly compassionate expression and leaned forward. You lifted your hands, still bound, and ran your fingers through his hair. The new contact combined with the forward shift of his hips drew a groan from your throat. As you stroked his hair, he almost seemed to purr. His sounds were soft and deep. He kissed your neck and collarbone as he pounded into you.

The mingling of your voices, your need, filled the small apartment. You grazed your nails against Armand’s scalp. He moaned and cursed against your skin. You clenched tight around him, so close, so desperate. You tried rolling your hips again, despite your bonds, this time disregarding the pain. You continued to ignore the part of your mind that insisted you could break them and be free. He wanted this, needed this, and you wanted to give it to him.

“Oh Maître,” you whined into his dark curls. You felt a small shudder pass over his body and continued. “You feel so good. Harder. Please.” Your words came out as breathy whispers, a pleading note in your voice.

Armand shifted his weight to one hand on the bed and slid the other up behind your shoulder. He pulled you down onto his cock as he thrust up and you cried out. He lifted his head to look at you and you saw that he was almost smirking. Hearing you beg was exactly what he wanted. He licked his lips and leaned down, kissing your hungrily. His hips slammed into yours and you moaned and whined into his mouth. Lips and tongues and fangs collided. You tasted your own blood in your mouth and arched your back. Armand sucked at the wound on your bottom lip, his movements becoming slightly erratic. You tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled back, gasping.

“Please Maître,” you looked into his eyes. “I want you to come.” He nearly smiled before kissing you again, licking the remaining blood from your already-healed lip. You barely noticed when he freed your wrists, his movements were so quick, and before the cord had slid off he muttered against your mouth.

“Touch yourself, puce, now.” Armand’s command alone could almost have been enough to bring your climax. You groaned as you slid your hand between your bodies. You looked at his face as you circled your clit, watching his reaction to how you tightened around him. He closed his eyes in the most beautiful expression of peace and pleasure. His hips began to stutter just a bit and you increased the pressure of your fingers as you brought yourself closer. You both groaned and panted as your climaxes neared. You closed your eyes and inhaled as you focused on his body above you, the way he moved inside you, the way his balls hit your ass with each thrust, the way you squeezed your thighs against his hips, the way his breath was hot on your skin. Your orgasm seemed to tense in all your muscles, starting everywhere at once, then it rushed over you. Your thighs shook. Your hand slowed as your arms trembled.

Armand nearly growled into your ear as you came around him. He thrust a few more times and, nails digging into your shoulder to hold you against him, he came hard. Mumbled curses and praise floated past your ear, but you were too far gone to pick out single words. He lay on top of you for a moment, balls emptying, cock twitching and softening, before pressing himself up to kneel between your legs again. He gently stroked a finger around from your temple, to your cheek, and along your jaw. Then he slowly began to pull out and you groaned as you felt his cum move with him. It was a singular and delightful feeling, but stimulation was becoming overstimulation with your legs still bound.

Armand knew this and as he knelt he began to untie your legs. He didn’t move slowly, but he took his time. Even though you were no longer human, he rubbed the skin of your legs where the cord had been as gently as if you were. He helped you straighten out your legs, one at a time, slowly and with care, with expertise. He stayed kneeling between your legs for a bit longer as he massaged them until they were flat on the bed. You watched with a mixture of awe and adoration. You also couldn’t help but to notice that he was equally gorgeous, soft and spent, as he was when he had started. You looked at him between your legs and felt a deepening attraction. This was a side of Armand that a select few were allowed to see and you were now included among them. Deftly, he slid his clothes off the rest of the way and lay on the bed next to you.

“Come here, puce,” he said with a tone that was more of an invitation than a command. He circled an arm around you and pulled you next to him. You laid your head on his chest and rested your hand on his stomach. You rolled half onto your side, wanting as much contact with him as possible. You let your hand travel up his stomach to play with the hair on his chest as you lay in his arm.

“Thank you, Maître,” you whispered as you closed your eyes.

Fangtober 2024 prompt list • Main masterlist

[sun-snatcher]

Elrond has a conch shell.

Not one of the prettier ones you would imagine, with the spikes and spots— No, this is a weathered and lumpy one; Sandy coloured and boring, for lack of a better word, only offset by the fact there’s a weird star-shaped hole you can peek through.

He brings it everywhere he travels.

Theory goes that it’s a magical trumpet gifted to him. Or, that he keeps secret messages in it for safekeeping. And his favourite: that he’s bound to the shell by oath, and if he steps a mere pace away from it, Ulmo would transform him into foam like a cursed sea-nymph. (You can imagine that one was debunked quite easily.)

No matter; the most important thing the Elves have come to learn about its peculiar existence is that above all: You do not touch it. (One of the younger elven recruits of a party learns this the hard way mid-travel, when he’d— bless him— grabbed the shell and suggested the idea to cast it aside, in exchange for more space to fit a spare skin of water.

It’s the first they’d ever seen Elrond snap like a whip.

Nobody dares question it since.)

That is, until young Estel had found it.

They can hardly blame the little child. Idle hands and curious trinkets never mix well, after all, much less with that of a 6-year-old who’s come to learn his bright-eyes and daisy-face lent him the ability to get away with almost anything.

“Look, Atya!” He’s skipped his way up to one of the open galleries of Imladris, hefting the coveted conch over his head as he peers at the night sky. “I can see the Evening Star through this hole!”

The Elves pale. They wait for the tongue-lashing, but the storm never comes.

“Not like that, Estel,” corrects Elrond patiently, bending to lower the child’s arms. “Put it to your ear, and close your eyes. Yes, now tell me, what do you hear?”

“…The sea!” he exclaims, after a focused minute. Then Estel lights up, and so Elrond lights up, and suddenly there’s a laughter in the air akin to a musical ring of bells, so high and sunny it dispels the witnessing Elves’ tension from the air.

“But how? We’re too far from the shores, and I can’t hear as well as you. Do you hear it too? Listen, Atya, listen!”

“Yes, yes,” Elrond laughs, and holds his hand over his son’s to bring the shell to his ears. And yes, indeed, if he closes his eyes, he could almost see it: The great rushing shores of Sirion, the pitter patter of Elros’ feet splashing at the rolling tides, the salt-winds carrying Maglor’s distant singing and Maedhros’ disgruntlement over grains of sand in his hair.

Elros had had a Conch of his own. His was bright and ivory-coloured, long since laid to rest alongside him in Númenor. When they were younger, they used to believe they could communicate with each other through the shells no matter their space apart— some imaginary fancy planted by Maedhros (“You two are twins. That’s a magic no force nor distance in the world can unmake.”) which was inevitably nurtured by their child-like wonder.

Years after Númenor had sunken, Celebrían caught Elrond once or twice, speaking to the old conch, and bringing it up to his ear in hopes of a reply.

“What do you hear, Atya?”

“My brother,” he says. “Amidst the heart of the sea.”

[navybrat817]

Resignation

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Andy Barber x Female Reader Summary: You get to know Andy a bit more and put in your notice, but your boss doesn't it take it well. Word Count: Almost 4.4k Warnings: Slow burn, getting to know each other, sugar daddy contraction, tension, flirting, slight insecurities, inner monologue, yelling (apologies to anyone named Sean), Andy Barber (he's a warning, okay?) Graphic talent and thanks: Banner - @sgt-seabass, Divider - @firefly-graphics, Header - yours truly Previous Part: Sign the Dotted Line A/N: Welcome back to my Terms and Conditions AU! Hope you lovelies enjoy. Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby but any and all mistakes are my own. ❤️ Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The feeling of floating on cloud nine wasn't something you experienced much in your life. There were high points, of course, but nothing like the elation that filled you as Andy went to make a copy of the contract. It was almost dizzying to think that for the next three quarters of a year, everything was going to be okay. Better than okay.

All thanks to Andy.

Estelle shrieked as she pulled you to your feet. “You're a sugar baby! You're a sugar baby!” she sang, making you laugh as she did a little dance with it.

“I thought you said I was going to be his ‘companion’,” you teased.

She leveled you with a look. “It’s the same thing,” she said, grabbing her bag. “And since your new ‘companion’ is taking you to the diner, why don’t we celebrate tomorrow? You better give me all the details.”

You giggled again at the implication as she squeezed you in a tight hug. If you weren’t happy before, you would've been thanks to her infectious attitude. “You sure don’t need me to head down with you?”

“No, I’m good. You just enjoy the rest of the day,” she said, winking at you and pointing at Andy when he came back. “Have fun and be good to her or I’ll destroy you,” she told him as she walked by with every ounce of confidence you wished you had. “And nice meeting you!”

You half expected there to be an air of awkwardness once the two of you were left alone and were surprised not to feel it at all. It was hard to describe the atmosphere outside of that, but it was something both familiar and new. Maybe that was because Andy continued to put you at ease all while exciting you. The next chapter of your time would be unpredictable in ways that you were looking forward to encountering.

Did he feel the same way?

Andy chuckled after a moment, the sound bringing a smile back to your face as he held up the papers in his hand. “I realize this is probably a bit outdated since everything is done electronically, but I prefer it this way.”

“I don't think it’s outdated,” you assured him as he handed you the contract, his fingers brushing yours. Would you ever get used to the jolt of electricity you felt at his touch? “It’s less of a chance of it getting leaked.”

Though it was you he worried about, you still wanted to protect his reputation.

“Yes, it is,” he said, smiling to himself when you tucked the papers carefully in your folder. “Estelle is serious, isn’t she? She’ll destroy me if I hurt you?”

“Oh, yeah. She isn’t afraid of anyone,” you said as you shifted slightly on your feet. “But I wouldn't worry about her. I don't expect you to hurt me.”

He had to know that.

Andy took a step closer. “She’s a good person to have on your side,” he commented, butterflies fluttering in your stomach at the soft look in his eyes. “And I have no intention of hurting you.”

You carefully considered his words with furrowed brows. “Aren't you supposed to say you promise not to hurt me?”

A sad smile touched his lips. “People make promises and usually do so for the right reasons, but they don't always lead to the desired outcome,” he replied as if he peeled back a small layer of himself that still left you with questions. “Take the weeklong silence, for example. I inadvertently hurt you by not reaching out.”

Your cheeks flamed, almost wishing you hadn't mentioned it. “But we talked about that. You didn't mean anything by it.”

“Yes, we did talk about it and I'm glad you told me how you felt. I still caused doubt in your mind though,” he said, his tone gentle and understanding without breaking eye contact. “So while I do want to promise that I’ll never hurt you, I'd rather promise that I have no intention of ever hurting you. Because I don't.”

It took a moment to recall that Andy was married once years ago. While you weren't sure why things ended, did his divorce give him a new perspective on making and keeping promises? Or was it his time as a lawyer?

Whatever the reason you had to respect him for his outlook.

“I appreciate that and I will hold you to that,” you said, falling in step beside him as you headed for the door.

He raised an eyebrow as he held it open for you to go through, allowing you to catch the scent of his cologne again as you walked past. You almost asked what brand it was just so you could get a bottle and spritz your worn in sweatshirts. “Isn't this the part where you promise you have no intention of hurting me?” He questioned.

“I don't think I have the power to hurt you,” you replied, not looking behind you as you headed toward the elevator. You were positive you didn't have that kind of influence nor did you want to hurt him. “But I promise that I have no intention to do so.”

You froze when he leaned in close, his beard ticking your ear and it took all of your inner strength not to turn your head toward him. “Never underestimate how powerful you are, honey,” he whispered, your breath rushing out of your lungs as he stepped back and gestured to the open elevator doors. “Shall we?”

“Sure,” you replied, your voice more breathy than you intended as you stepped inside. You swore you caught him smiling before he joined you.

“I gave my driver the afternoon off, so you’re stuck with me,” he said, pressing the button for the lowest level before the doors slid shut. “I hope that’s okay.”

“I think I can handle you driving,” you teased, happy that the two of you would be alone for part of the evening.

He chuckled before he went quiet again. The silence was comfortable, the soft dings as you passed each floor the only sound in the space. It gave you a moment to admire the man beside you. With his perfect posture, chin held high, and pristine suit, you tried to picture how he looked when he simply relaxed. No eyes on him. No one expecting anything from him.

Maybe he can show me that side of himself sometime soon.

“You’re staring,” he stated.

You smiled, not at all embarrassed that he caught you without looking your way. “I guess it’s because I’m still trying to figure you out.”

That and he was still one of the most handsome men you had ever seen.

But who was Andy Barber beyond his money? Your hero and your second chance at a better life, but what else? What did he do for fun? What did he want out of life, years from now?

Andy swung his head toward you as the elevator came to a stop. “I guess that makes two of us then.”

You found yourself in his car a few minutes later. The Audi still had that “new car” smell to it, the passenger seat sleek and not at all broken in. There wasn’t a spec of dust on the leather interior. Either he didn’t drive it often or he made sure to keep it in next to perfect condition.

Your mind drifted back to Andy’s earlier statement. What exactly was he trying to figure out? If he meant that he was trying to figure you out, he didn’t have to look too deeply. And if he was still trying to figure himself out, that was normal. Searching for your true self was a lifelong journey. And with your newfound sense of freedom at your fingertips, you’d be able to explore your own passions and visualize your ideal self.

But part of you figuring Andy out was getting to know him.

“Why the diner?” You asked, glancing over at him as he concentrated on the road in front of him. “I mean, why go there for coffee or food when you can go anywhere else?”

Maybe upscale places weren’t his usual style. He took you to the Courthouse and looked at ease there, but maybe the diner was an escape. Something different.

“I didn’t grow up with much, but my mom made it work as best as she could,” he admitted, a wistful note in his voice. “We never went hungry and she got creative with some meals so I wouldn’t get tired of eating the same thing. Things like fast food were considered a treat and diners were fine dining.”

You shifted in your seat as you listened, touched by the unexpected vulnerability. “I’ll bet she looked forward to those moments,” you said.

“She did and so did I,” he smiled over at you. “On the rare nights when she was able to save up and take us to a diner, she got a large breakfast or dinner meal for us to split. Best way to stretch her dollar and make sure neither of us felt hungry after.”

You almost reached over to take his hand, but you didn’t want to overstep. He was giving you a piece of himself by revealing a part of his past. That was more than you could ask for.

“I went to diners in college, too, when I was struggling to make ends meet,” he continued, stroking his beard for a moment. “I guess they kind of stuck with me because they reminded me of happier times. They also serve as a reminder to be thankful for what I have. It’s important to remember who I was then and who I am now.”

You let out a breath and closed your eyes as he turned onto the next street, wishing you could thank his mother for raising such an amazing man. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

His hand covered yours unexpectedly when your eyes opened. “Thank you for asking.”

You turned your wrist so your palm met his, your stomach flipping as he held it a little tighter. Opening up was never easy, even if Andy made it sound effortless. You felt closer to him after hearing that important piece of his history. Even the crackle of electricity felt different this time. Instead of a jolt, it was like a steady hum.

Maybe that closeness was the reason you didn’t want to let go when he parked his car in front of the diner.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

You swallowed as you glanced out the window, the flashing lights from the sign of the beckoning for you to go in. “I just can't believe I'm actually going to quit,” you said, clutching your bag with your other hand. “I mean, I do believe it. I have my resignation letter here and everything.”

“Even when you had that bit of doubt that the contract wouldn't go through, you had your letter ready,” he smiled.

You toyed with the strap of your bag as you tried to hide your smile. “I guess I did.”

Preparation never hurt anyone.

“But if you’d rather hold off until tomorrow, I understand. I can even drive you back here if you want to wait,” he offered.

For a moment, you questioned if you should wait. As you bit your lip to fight your smile more and squeezed Andy’s hand, you made your decision. You signed the contract. You were more than ready.

Most of all, you deserved to start your path to a better future.

“I’m ready,” you assured him, reluctantly releasing his hand before you unbuckled your seatbelt. “Are you going in or did you want to wait here?”

“I’ll grab a coffee while I wait,” he said, stopping you as you reached for your door handle. “Allow me.”

You smiled to yourself as he went around to let you out. “Are you always a gentleman?”

“Not always,” he said without missing a beat, winking as you joined him on the sidewalk.

You licked your lips and gazed into his bright blue eyes. Could he see the want in yours? What would it take to make him lose control?

“I’m looking forward to seeing that side of you, Mr. Barber,” you smiled, brushing past him as he inhaled.

But first things first.

The bell rang as you walked inside and you paused to take it all in. Taking Andy’s earlier story to heart, you wouldn’t allow yourself to forget that this diner was part of your story. It not only led him to you, but also kept you from becoming homeless. It was a blessing.

“Hey,” Casey, one of the veteran servers, nodded to you from behind the counter before she looked over your outfit. She seemed to forget all about you as Andy as he walked in behind you. You didn't blame her. “Hi there. Sit anywhere you’d like.”

Andy put his hand on your lower back before he leaned in, your breath hitching slightly. “Good luck, honey,” he whispered, releasing you as Casey gawked in your direction. “I’ll just have a coffee, please,” he said as he took a seat at the counter.

The usual warmth Andy exuded was down a notch. Still friendly, but different. Or maybe you were just telling yourself that in order to feel special. “Is Sean here?”

“Yep. In the office,” Casey answered, pouring Andy a fresh cup of coffee. “Just got here.”

“I’ll be right back,” you told Andy, feeling his eyes on you as you headed through the employee only doors.

Sean had his head buried in some paperwork as he grumbled to himself. With a deep breath, you knocked on the open door. He didn't speak to you much outside of your shifts and hardly praised you for a job well done, but he wasn't a bad boss. You felt bad disturbing him, but it was now or never.

“Hi. May I come in?” You asked as he looked up.

“Yeah. Don't shut the door though. Lock’s broken,” he said, nodding to the chair in front of his desk. “Didn’t expect to see you today. What are you all dressed up for?”

“Oh, I had a meeting,” you answered, which wasn’t a lie. You did meet with Andy. “That’s actually what I needed to talk to you about.”

“A meeting?” He repeated with a frown. “Don’t tell me you’re quitting.”

Your stomach began to twist in knots. The last thing you wanted to do was disappoint your boss, even if he wouldn’t be that for much longer. Being a waitress also wasn’t your dream job, but it helped you when you needed it.

Now you have to help yourself.

“Yes, I am. I’m putting in my two weeks notice,” you said quietly, taking the letter out of your bag and placing it on the desk when he stared impassively. “I found another opportunity and I’m going to take it, but I’m happy to take any shifts I can over the next two weeks to help.”

Sean didn’t speak for a moment as he drummed his fingers on the desk. “Two weeks? No, that's not gonna work. We’re short as it is,” he said, shoving the paper away before he leaned back in his chair. Was he serious? “You're gonna have to make it four weeks and then we'll revisit after that to see if we need you to stay on longer.”

“No. I'm giving you two weeks,” you reiterated, your tone unwavering. You wouldn’t let Sean bully you into staying longer, even as guilt crept up since the place was short-staffed. “That's standard and I can't do more than that. I'm sorry.”

“Oh, no. I'm still in charge and you'll give me four weeks. That’s final,” he argued, waving his hand dismissively as you shrank a bit in your chair. “Unless you have anything else to add, I’ll see you next shift.”

You clasped your hands in your lap to keep from shaking. You didn't expect him to react this way. “No, that’s not final. I can't give you four weeks,” you said as calmly as possible, even as you began to feel more uncomfortable. “I would if I could, but I can't. I’m sorry.”

“Can't or won't?” Sean asked, almost making you jump as he raised his voice. “Listen here, you've been a solid employee and I'm not going to lose you in two weeks or four weeks. Do you understand? And if you don't show up you can forget about ever getting a good recommendation from me. Might as well kiss that ‘opportunity’ of yours goodbye.”

Your eyes burned as your mind flashed back to when you were told you were laid off from your previous job, the compassionate tone of your old boss the opposite of the man in front of you. The situations were different, but both made you feel so small. Especially since Sean was essentially threatening your future endeavors. You refused to cry though.

He wouldn’t witness your tears.

You cleared your throat and maintained your resolve. “Two weeks, Sean. That’s it. I said I’m willing to work as many shifts as I can over the next two weeks, but I can't do more than that. I won’t,” you firmly spoke as his eyes widened. “I really don't want to end this on a bad note, please.”

He pushed himself to his feet as he thrust a finger toward your face as if it would somehow make him appear intimidating to tower over you. It wouldn’t sway you. “Listen here, you little-”

“Is everything okay?”

Andy’s voice made both of you jump as you spun in your chair. He stood in the doorway but didn’t look your way. He trained his gaze on your boss, his normally bright eyes narrow and cold.

Your boss must’ve felt malice in that stare since he sat down immediately. “Oh. Mr. Barber,” he said. Did he know him as a regular customer or merely recognize his status? “It’s just an issue with an employee. This doesn’t concern you.”

“There is no issue,” you corrected him.

“Actually, she’s with me, so it does concern me,” Andy spoke as he took a step into the office, staring your boss down with a clenched jaw. The space no longer felt like Sean’s. It was as if Andy owned it along with everything in it. “If you want to raise your voice at someone, I’m right here. You won’t speak to her that way though. Do you understand?”

The deep timbre almost knocked the air out of your lungs, your heart pounding from Andy defending you.

Sean coughed a bit as color filled his cheeks. He should be embarrassed. “I didn’t realize she was with you. I wouldn’t have…” he trailed off.

Your blood simmered. He wouldn’t have raised his voice at you if he knew you were with Andy. Was this a taste of what things were going to be like? How people were going to treat you moving forward?

“Who she’s with shouldn’t matter. Not to mention, your customers and employees could hear you since your door was open,” Andy added, disappointment thickly laced in his voice. “You said she was a solid employee. Why would you speak to her like that?”

Sean’s eyes flickered to you as you waited for an answer. “We’ve been short-staffed and I’ve been stressing over it. That’s no excuse. I'm sorry,” he said to Andy, making your blood go from simmering to boiling. A customer, a powerful man, got the apology, but not you. “Won’t happen again.”

“Maybe remind yourself to be kind to the people who work for you before you raise your voice again. They’re the ones who keep your business running,” Andy said.

With a hang of his head, your boss sighed. “Two weeks, huh?” He asked, the wind completely out of his sails as you nodded. “Okay. Two weeks it is.”

“Thanks,” you whispered before Andy walked over and held out his hand to help you to your feet. Luckily, you didn’t tremble as you took it and gave it a small squeeze. It was nice that he was on your side.

“And one more thing?” Andy added as Sean glanced up. “I’m not the one you should apologize to.”

You held up your other hand when Sean looked your way and opened his mouth. “No. The only reason you’re going to say you’re sorry is because he’s here,” you stated, looking at Andy momentarily. He responded with an encouraging smile. “And I don’t want an empty apology. You can keep it.”

It was nice that Andy wanted an apology on your behalf, but it wouldn't feel believable.

Sean’s face fell, but he didn’t argue. Up until today, he treated you decently. The pressures of running a business were tough, but he had no reason to take it out on you. At the same time, you felt bad for him.

“But thank you, Sean. You gave me a job when I needed one and I won’t forget that,” you added gently. “I’ll see you next shift.”

“Why don't I meet you outside? I just want one more quick word with your boss,” Andy said as Sean audibly swallowed.

Uh-oh.

“Sure,” you said, the knots in your gut unraveling as you left the two of them alone.

You exhaled as you walked back into the dining area, avoiding the gazes from a few of the customers. Your hand shook as you gave Casey a small wave. At least she didn’t look upset with you.

“Quitting, huh? Lucky duck,” she smiled sadly. “You okay? He had no right speaking to you like that.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you nodded, taking another breath. You didn't like anyone raising their voice at you, but you wouldn't allow yourself to dwell on it and didn’t need her to worry. All you could do was make the transition as smooth as possible over the next two weeks. “Didn't expect that kind of reaction. Didn’t expect anyone out here to hear it.”

“Sean’s voice carries and he’s probably just pissed that he’s losing another good one while he’s stuck here,” she guessed, glancing over her shoulder before she added in a whisper, “Oh, and that guy you’re with? He looked furious when he heard him.”

“He did?” You asked, an almost goofy smile appearing on your face.

“Yeah, he did. He had fire in his eyes. Put a bill down, got to his feet, and immediately walked back there. And I wasn’t about to stop him,” she said, her smile widening as she leaned on the counter. “I’d say he’s smitten.”

Your heart skipped a beat. First Estelle, now Casey. Though the latter had no clue about the arrangement. “He’s really something, isn't he?”

“Oh, yeah,” Casey said, straightening up when the employee door swung open.

Andy’s eyes landed on you as he walked through, his eyes soft again as he held out his hand. He also looked pleased with himself. “Ready?”

“Ready,” you said, taking it as you gave Casey a nod. “I’ll see you soon. Hope the rest of your shift is okay.”

“Me, too. See ya,” she said before she went back to assisting other customers.

“You okay?” Andy asked softly as he led you outside.

“I’m fine,” you promised, not wanting him to worry either or get upset. “But what did you say to Sean?”

“Nothing for you to worry about,” he answered, shaking his head. “Listen, I’m sorry if I overstepped by intervening. I just couldn’t let him talk to you like that.”

He easily deflected your question and you decided to let him have that victory for now.

You went in for a hug but kept space for him to breathe. He wrapped his arms tightly around you before you could pull away, your body melting into his. The bustling city around you faded as you focused on the warmth of his firm body. It made you forget all about Sean’s reaction.

“I’m glad you did,” you said, stepping back with a tiny smile. It meant the world that he defended you. “I tried to hold my own.”

“You did. You could've snapped back or walked out, but you didn't. That’s commendable and powerful,” he assured you, his gaze serious. “But I don't care if it’s your boss or a stranger or your best friend, I’m not about to let someone take their frustrations out on you.”

Warmth settled in your chest. You learned something else about Andy today: He truly wouldn't tolerate anyone disrespecting you. He continued to prove that he was a man of his word.

You also experienced firsthand how things worked in his world, how people would bend toward his will. If it was a test, you wouldn’t say you failed since you stood up for yourself. It wouldn’t always be that easy. Whether someone questioned your motives or place with Andy or not, you had to learn to grow a thick skin. Not just for your own benefit, but Andy’s, too.

He needed someone strong by his side.

“Thank you, Andy.”

“And, listen, if you don’t want to work those shifts or if he gives you a hard time-”

“I’ll be fine,” you promised. You doubted Sean would make it a hostile work environment, but you could handle it if there were any issues. “But I think I’d like to go home now.”

Andy blinked and gave you a single nod. “Sure. If that’s what you want.”

Is he disappointed at the thought of me ending the day right now?

You smiled as you tugged him in the direction of his car. “I’d also like you to see my place,” you said, his eyebrows shooting up. It surprised you that you offered, too. “It isn't much, but it’s comfortable. Maybe we can order takeout?”

It wasn’t exactly the ideal way to celebrate, but he shared a piece of himself on the drive over. The least you could do was let him see your apartment. And who knew where the evening would take you?

“Only if you’ll let me pay,” he smiled.

“You're not going to let me pay for anything, are you?” You smiled back.

“Not if I can help it,” he replied, opening the car door. “Let's get you home, honey.”

We all need a man like Andy. And what's going to happen at the apartment? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Andy Barber Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[juneberrie]

MISS HER, KISS HER, LOVE HER

🧸 percy jackson

author's note quick lil percy boo blurb because im debating whether to work on the princess diaries au or nah xx love u all!!

word count 0.6k

warnings fem!reader, petnames, tooth-rotting fluff

ᥫ᭡ little romantic gestures ; resting foreheads together

percy unlocked the door to the jackson apartment, skateboard under his arm, and was immediately greeted by estelle running up to him with a big grin.

"hi percy!!" she exclaimed, raising her arms up. he laughed and scooped her up, kissing her on the cheek.

"hey, stella," he smiled, carrying her over to the couch where sally and paul sat watching a show. he leaned over and pressed a kiss to sally's head. "hi, mom. hey, paul."

sally took estelle from her brother's arms and smiled. percy stood for a few moments, watching the show. he heard estelle giggle and lean into sally, whispering loudly.

"should i tell him, mama?" she glanced at percy and her giggling intensified. percy picked her up from her mother's lap and held her up like in the lion king.

"what're you gonna tell me, starfish?" he asked, throwing her in the air and catching her again, causing her giggles to get even louder. percy's heart warmed at the sight of his little sister's grin.

"nothing!! its a secret!!" she shrieked. percy attacked her little face with kisses.

"oh, y'gotta tell me now," he threatened playfully, his face breaking into a smile. "or else i'm just gonna find out on my own."

stella kept looking back and forth between sally, percy, and...

"is there something in my room, stella?" estelle's eyes widened in surprise and she fought to get out of her brother's embrace.

"no!! nothin' in your room percy!!!" she finally managed to escape his grip and stood in front of his door, arms and legs spread wide like a starfish. percy walked calmly towards her as paul and sally watched with knowing smiles on their faces.

"stella...." he started. before she knew it, she was over percy's shoulder like a potato sack. her peals of laughter echoed throughout the hall as percy strode towards his room. his hand twisted the knob and he pushed open the door.

his eyes went wide. his cheeks flushed. he gently helped stella to the ground before taking another step into his room.

"y/n?" he whispered. his girlfriend waved from her spot on the bed where she was laying, scrolling through her phone.

"hi perce," she smiled. "how-" she didn't get to finish, because percy ran to her, picked her up, and spun her around in a joyous hug.

"oh my gods, i missed you so much, angel," he laughed into her neck. he felt her smile and he set her down and pulled away. he immediately leaned forward and connected their lips, which elicited a squeal of disgust from estelle as she ran from her brother's room and shut the door behind her.

when they finally pulled apart, percy's face was red and he could feel the heat emanating from his girl. he took in her gorgeous smile, her pretty eyes, her wonderful hair. he wanted to memorize every part of her before she ever made it out of this room.

"what're you doing here?" he asked, face still split in a smile.

"school's over, so i thought i might come stay with you before we go to camp," she replied. she quickly added, "if that's okay with you?"

"of course its okay with me, babe!!" he nearly shouted it for how happy he was to see her. "you can always stay with me—us!! my mom loves you!" she laughed and he wished he could freeze the moment and put it in a locket.

she rested her forehead against his and murmured softly, "i love you, perce."

he kissed her nose. "i love you more, sugar."

[balrogballs]

"Bilbo had assumed accusing an elven lord of Tookishness in his own house would result in swift decapitation and not a decades-long camaraderie that both parties truly cherished, but it seemed that in this regard too, the Lord of Imladris defied expectation."

The Peculiar and the Deranged: Moments between Bilbo Baggins, Elrond Peredhel, and the most unprecedented friendship in Middle-Earth, under the cut!

(aka this friendship wasn’t leaving my mind so I wrote this on my phone and drew this with the 3 pencils I had on a train because I’m incapable of being normal about anything)

on Bilbo's first visit to Imladris, featuring Estel's pet snake:

"You had a rat?" Bilbo blinked, hoping Elrond wouldn't notice the snake he was glaring at had initially been curled around his own neck. "Sir."

"I did not have a rat," corrected Elrond imperiously, looking every bit the lord of the valley. "I would never have a rat, I do not approve of rats. My daughter had a rat. Lothinvar, it was called, the bane of my household. Until this terrible creature wormed its way in. The snake that is, not the child, though Estel is not in my good books at the moment either."

on the return journey, after the death of Thorin Oakenshield:

"What can I do? How can I ever move past this?" Bilbo asked quietly, unsure why exactly he was pouring his heart out to a being six thousand years older than him, who must have faced far greater sorrows.

"Grief," Elrond replied, staring intently at him, "tricks you into thinking it’s all you have left. As though if you let it go, even for a moment, you betray him. You hold onto relics like lifelines, thinking what else is there to keep Thorin alive in your mind? It is a lonely life, Bilbo. It will turn you into the loneliest person in the world."

"Is there no way out?" he gasped, looking up at the elf.

"Start small. A smile, perhaps, when you think of a joke he made," Elrond said steadily, like he was reciting a recipe. “And then, try telling someone about him. Perhaps you could tell me. Something new each time you visit, perhaps.”

“You say it like you have experience of it, sir,” ventured Bilbo. “Like you know it by-heart. Did you get past it?”

“I did,” Elrond’s voice was confident, too confident. Bilbo chose not to probe.

"Thorin's nephews?" Elrond asked later, after Bilbo had gathered himself together, mopped himself up. "They were slain too? Both?"

"Yes, both."

"That is good," Elrond had said with a blank, intense smile etched into his features. "That it was both at once."

"What?" Bilbo sat up in shock, spluttering. "Good? What is wrong with you?"

"Were they not twins? Thorin's nephews I recall were twins, no?"

"Brothers. But what difference does that make? What do you mean good? I beg your pardon, my lord, that's an unhinged thing to say!"

"Oh. I am sorry, Bilbo," Elrond shook his head, the awful, blank expression still on his face. "I am sorry, I spoke without thinking. It is only that I had thought they were twins. Do forgive me, I misunderstood, and spoke out of turn."

"Don't worry," Bilbo sighed, finding to his own surprise that he could manage a laugh. "With names like Fili and Kili, it's frankly a surprise they aren't."

He still thought it was a rather unhinged thing for Elrond to say, but, well — Bilbo Baggins had always been fond of the peculiar and the deranged.

on a visit to the Shire, sharing burnt scones

"Cel was — is — remarkable. She had an exceptional appetite for burnt bread: she would go into the kitchens and instruct the staff to deliberately burn sweetbreads, just because she loved the crunch, apparently."

"She sounds like a Shire lass through and through."

Elrond laughed, shaking his head: "I am certain had I brought her to visit, she would never leave. Though she is not made for the rustic life. A total terror of any creature on four legs. The first time I spotted her she was in a garden, standing on the bench screaming, because she had seen an enormous beetle scuttling around the grass."

"Oh, so it was a damsel in distress situation, eh?"

"Quite the contrary," he admitted. "She threw a pair of gardening scissors right at my head, and called me utterly disgusting for the crime of allowing beetles to exist on my property, and threatened to cut off my hair with the same scissors if she ever came across another one. And mind you, this is Celeborn's daughter, and that soul would have married an Ent if Galadriel hadn't come around."

"Well, that truly is a surprise! Did she not even like dear Arwen's little rat?"

"Oh, you remember the rat!" Elrond's eyes shone, genuinely delighted. "If I remember right, she paid our boys to get rid of it and told Arwen she had sent it to, well, your people."

"I will be certain to invent an illustrious Shire-based family tree for the rat, if your Arwen ever gets around to asking."

on a Yule visit, when Bilbo forwent self-preservation, featuring the same snake:

"Oh, it was not I who named the snake after the Mariner, it was my… other father."

"That's impressive, sir. Quite bohemian."

"One would wish," Elrond muttered darkly, pouring himself more wine, as if all the talk of snakes had driven him to drink. "Estel is friendly with Maglor, who along with Maedhros, raised my brother and I. And I had banned all talk of pet snakes until Maglor showed up last year with a present for Estel: his very own snake named Gil-Estel, which they both insist has nothing to do with the Mariner and is simply a play on the child's name. Which I would have believed, if Maglor did not also own a remarkably ugly cat named Thingol."

"When they say you are Half-Elven, Lord Elrond," Bilbo blurted out, after a short, surprised silence. "Do they mean the other half is merely mortal man, or…?"

"Yes, the other half does indeed refer to mortal men," blinked Elrond in surprise, looking something other than perfectly composed for the very first time. "Do you… suspect otherwise?"

"Oh, I was certain there was a bit of Hobbit somewhere. Just your life, you know, your family, all of it," he waved his hands about the valley. "It's a little… well, Tookish."

"What in the world is a Took?"

on a midnight wander in Minas Tirith on the morning of Aragorn’s wedding to Arwen

When Bilbo came across the figure sat on the steps, he was ridiculously old and his memory even more ridiculously ragged, so he didn’t know why it was that he thought, reflexively, it will turn you into the loneliest person in the world. He didn't say a word though, only reached out a hand and sat beside the figure. Elrond didn’t say a word, only grasped the offered fingers so tightly Bilbo's knuckles turned white, held on as he shook. When it passed, he looked away and apologised, sniffing. "Forgive me, my friend, I do not mean to get melancholic, especially not on a day of such joy. I —"

Bilbo cut across him, too old to deal with the elvish tendency to be completely insufferable.

“How did you get past it the last time? With your brother?”

"I have one of the longest memories in this land, yet I cannot truly remember this one thing," the elf smiled bitterly, tapping his nails on the stone steps. "I slept, I think. A lot. I shrunk out of the world until the sheer pain of it no longer clawed at me. But I cannot do that, Bilbo. Now, I have duties, responsibilities. I have kings to oversee, a valley to hand over and a people for whom I must keep up something of a brave face. There is no longer any room for the small death I was permitted last time."

Elrond sighed. "You must think I am terribly privileged, or that I have too grandiose an idea about my place in this world."

"No, I was just thinking how unfair it is," said Bilbo quietly. "So unfair that for you there is a last time and now a this time."

Elrond, in tears again, was looking at him with an almost obscene gratefulness, as if Bilbo had done him some enormous kindness and not something any friend would do, looked at him in a way that made the hobbit think again, inexplicably, the loneliest person in the world.

“I’m sorry,” said the lord, catching his friend’s expression. “You should not be h-“

"Shut up," Bilbo huffed, looking truly offended, rolling his eyes. "You're insufferable, do you know that? Stop acting like you've jumped off a damned cliff before my eyes, Elrond. I'm starting to think elven history would have been a lot less bloody and tragic had more of you — and I mean that Fëanor, mainly, but the rest of you too — appreciated the value of a good cry. Emotional constipation is just as bad as the real thing, you know. And you can be sure I'll tell old Fëanor that to his face when I see him."

Elrond blinked, then laughed. "Oh, Bilbo, I am glad you found your way back to Imladris this year, I truly am."

"And I, in turn,” Bilbo found himself saying, cursing the fact that his memory decided to make its wondrous reappearance that night. “Am equally glad our mutual friend Aragorn tried to bribe me to put his pet snake in your office that very first day."

on a ship in the sundering seas, far too early

"Suffering from a spot of morning sickness, are we?"

"My apologies, Bilbo," Elrond stumbled back into Bilbo's cabin from the privy, looking only slightly less green than he had when he left it. "Please do not make any sudden movements."

"I am only pleased that you and I are now such intimate friends that you feel comfortable enough to throw up your breakfast in my bathroom. Maybe you should come around and do it every morning to wake me up, like the world’s most useless cockerel."

"It was not by choice, as you very well know," Elrond muttered, downing a swig of ground herbs and honey from a bottle in his pocket. "My mortal heritage does, unfortunately, mean there are some weaknesses to the constitution. Perhaps this is why it was Elros who took ship for Numenor and not I."

"Well, that, and you couldn't resist micromanaging six thousand years of Middle-Earth now, could you?" chortled Bilbo, settling down in a plush chair and laying his walking stick by his side. "Mortality is all well and good, but heaven forbid you lose a chance to develop domestic policy over the continental grain trade. Besides, and I don't want to be the one who brings it up, but…"

"Elbereth, what now?"

"Your father was known as the Mariner, you know," Bilbo snorted. "As in, the seafaring sort, no? It would truly be such a shame if someone were to… write a poem about the mis-inheritance of seasi—"

"Write that poem, Bilbo Baggins, and I will personally petition Ulmo to turn you into seaweed."

in the house of Elrond in Aman, with the chattiest woman Bilbo has ever encountered (which is saying something)

"I only burned that layer because you made me do it, mind you. You really are as remarkable as he said you were," Bilbo blurted out as she picked out pink sugared biscuits with a dark crust that he knew to be from burning. He had even spread jam on them for a second layer of sweetness. "Mad and irritating, to be frank, but remarkable. I am truly glad to know you, Celebrìan — not as Elrond's wife, but, well."

He gestured at her weakly, meant the peculiar and the deranged. She understood.

"Yes, I do pity all the folk that know me as Elrond's dead wife," she wrinkled her nose, sitting down by him and grabbing a second burnt biscuit. "And considering my poor husband's approach to grieving, and all the laments Lindir said he's made him compose, that is what most end up knowing me as. It is quite a pity, I am as you say, delightful. Oh, Bilbo, this is amazing! So wonderful, I didn't think pastries could be this sweet!”

"No, not when your cheapskate of a husband is in charge of the rations," he said in a carrying whisper. "In the Shire though, we know how to live."

"Who are we referring to as a cheapskate then?"

"The elf who implemented a sugar tax in his valley," said Celebrian dryly. "You may know him. Have a biscuit!"

"I would truly rather nail myself to the birch," he said dryly, picking up a piece of bread. "I do not get the logic behind oversweetening victuals. Impractical, unnecessary."

"Oh," Celebrían clapped her hands to her mouth. "Of course! The Lord Elrond grew up amidst the War of Wrath! Surely, he has not mentioned that to you, has he? He never does!"

"Ah, that he was raised in military conditions by a couple of kinslayers?" chuckled Bilbo. "No, not at all. Not once. He certainly never brought it up in our first ever conversation. Should we ask him to expand?"

[esteljune]

👉👈

P x Reader where they’re kidnapped by the Black Rabbit Brotherhood after why attack the hotel. and when P finally arrives they’re covered in cuts and bruises and possibly a few broken ribs. P seeing this, goes feral on the brotherhood rage mode activated. He cradles them in his arms when he’s done careful not to put them in more pain.

I can just imagine him planting a kiss on their forehead before he leaves for the abbey. before leaving the room the are now in at the hotel

Wow this is a really good idea! Starting working on it asap ❤️

[loyalborn]

@mccnrxse sent: ❝ it's good to see you again, mom ❞ ( from astarion )

For a moment, Estelle thought she was dead, that she died and had forgotten her own death. That would be why her son, long dead and pale as snow, appeared before her. He was here to escort her to the afterlife.

But he was different, and not in ways one would expect a ghost to be. Red eyes and new scars on his neck. Silver eyebrows drew together as she took him in. Surely he would have appeared in the clothes he was either killed in, or buried in. But instead he wore something entirely different.

It felt silly, realizing her son was still alive all because of some clothes. But with it, her lips began to tremble and tears filled her eyes. She became an unstoppable force as she closed the space between them and wrapped him in a tight hug. "My little star," she sobbed. "My baby boy."

[psychcdelica]

"You know Dogi, you're a pretty spirited person yourself, you know? You and Annie are suited to each other! It's pretty cute~"

"You're not kidding. Hard to feel down when that girl's around. Hey, that kinda rhymed. Ahem. Ahhh... well, y'know. Trying not to just. Give the skeevy answer here. I'm a... culturally encompassing kinda guy after all!"

[lunarlando]

Hi I just saw ur girl dad lando requests r open and ran over bc I'm obsessed with dad lando too and there's simply not enough fics on it unfortunately.

Anyway my fic/blurb idea is fluffy and slightly angsty? so lando and fem!wife!reader's daughters r in their teens and and they're used to reader (their mum) typically being the "bad cop" and lando being the "fun parent" who will spoil them and can never say no to them when reader does. One day readers tired of her teens hating her for being the mean one so they decide to switch roles and the girls r rlly confused and angry at lando and start being nice to reader who's enjoying watching lando take her place for once. Maybe the girls ask to go out to a party or ask for new phones or smth u can decide. Ignore my request if it doesn't seem interesting 😭 and have a grt day byee xx

thank you for the request! a few other grid kids make an appearance, hope that's okay! and lando is such a fun dad type guy you're so right x

feel free to request more :)

Having teenage girls was not an easy feat.

You were warned of the terrible twos and gotten through them twice with your sanity intact, but nobody had ever warned you about teenagers. You suspect it should’ve been a given, but when you thought about having teenagers you always saw yourself as the type of mum who your daughters would feel close to.

Now that you’re the mum of a sixteen and seventeen year old, you find yourself becoming the opposite. You’ve turned into the bad cop between Lando and yourself. He’s the fun parent, you’re the party pooper. He spoils Estelle and Delilah because he can, because he loves his girls more than life itself, and you’re stuck reining in his gift giving because you don’t want them to become accustomed to always getting what they want when they want no matter the cost.

Even when you put your foot down on some of their more extravagant requests, Lando finds a way around it. 

Part of the reason Lando spoils them so much is because he was still racing in Formula One when both of them were born and while they were growing up, so he’d miss things sometimes. He tried his hardest not to miss bigger events like their birthdays and holidays, but other stuff like their school recitals, sports games—he did the best he could, but a lot of the time it just never aligned with his busy schedule. 

Now that he’d taken a step back from being in the seat of a car for the past three years, he was trying to make up for lost time. 

“I feel like the girls think I’m a hardass,” you sigh as you’re getting ready for bed one night. Lando is brushing his teeth, but he sticks his head out of the bathroom at your words, frowning at you with the brush still in his mouth. “Do you think they hate me?” 

“You’re their mum, they don’t hate you,” he replies through toothpaste bubbles, wrinkling his nose at you. “All you’ve done their whole lives is take care of them. How could they hate you?” 

“Because I’m their mum,” you say pointedly. Lando cocks his head, like he doesn’t understand what you’re saying. “Mums and daughters are different from mums and sons. Trust me.” 

“Okay, fair. But I don’t think you’re a hardass. You’re just…firm with them, is all.” 

You snort unattractively, looking at him pointedly. “Yeah, I have to be, mister take my credit card, buy whatever you want.” Lando hums thoughtfully, disappearing back into the bathroom to finish washing up before reappearing and padding over to his side of the bed. “I love that you want them to have everything they could ever dream of, and I say this with nothing but even more love, but you’re not the best when it comes to saying no to the girls.” 

“I know. I just…I hate it when they look so disappointed and sad.” 

“And you think I do? I don’t want to be the bad cop, but someone has to,” you grumble, setting aside your book. Lando snuggles up close to you, propping his chin on your shoulder. “You should try it.” 

“Ha, that’s funny.” 

“No, I’m serious, Lan. Tomorrow, we switch roles. You’ll be me and I’ll be you, and then you’ll understand,” you propose, smiling at him in that way you know he won’t be able to resist. All these years and you’ve still got your husband wrapped around your finger. 

“That doesn’t sound like a good time.” 

“Oh, it won’t be. Not for you, at least. But we’re a team, aren’t we?” 

“I hate it when you’re right.” 

—

Fortunately for Lando, things at the Norris household don’t get interesting until nighttime the following day. 

“Hey Mum, we’re going out tonight. Just wanted to let you know since we might be out after curfew,” Estelle says absentmindedly, not looking up from her phone. Beside her, Delilah giggles quietly, ever her older sister’s follower. You want to tell them no—their curfew is late enough as it is and they’ve got school tomorrow—but you refrain. It’s Lando’s turn to be the bad cop. 

“Sure, I don’t see why not. Ask your father first though,” you reply instead. From the couch where he’s watching some rerun of an old grand prix, Lando straightens at the mention of his name, twisting around to look at you with wide eyes. You raise a brow, tilting your head at the two girls who’ve turned their attention on their dad. “Go on, he’s listening.” 

They share a confused look with each other, but you can see the gears turning in their quick teenage brains. If mum said yes, dad would definitely say yes. Easy.

Or so they think. 

Delilah bounces over to sit on the couch next to Lando, smiling at him widely. “Hi daddy! Can we go to a party tonight?” 

Now Estelle’s sitting on his other side, bringing out the same patented charming Norris grin. “Well, it’s not really a party. More like a few friends hanging out. Super laid back.” 

“Uh huh. Gonna need some more details, lovebugs,” Lando hums, flashing their same smile right back at them. There’s no use in trying to play the guy who invented the game. “Who’s gonna be there, where it is. You wouldn’t want your mum and I to worry, would you?” 

“Um…” Delilah balks. She probably wasn’t expecting him to ask so many questions. He usually doesn’t, just says yes because he can’t bring himself to say no to them. 

Estelle cuts in before her sister can potentially dig them into an inescapable hole. “Adrien’s going, Clara and Maeve will be there too, and Teo.” 

Adrien and Teo—Charles’ and Carlos’ sons, respectively, and Clara and Maeve—Oscar’s twin daughters. You know that she knows the two of you trust your friends, so name dropping their kids would give them a fighting chance. She’s smart like that. You’d admire it more if her intellect wasn’t aimed at sweet talking her parents. 

Lando sneaks another panicked glance back at you, and you shake your head slightly. That solidifies his resolve, because as much as he doesn’t want to disappoint them, you have an agreement, and a deal’s a deal. “Sorry girls, it’s gonna be a no. We’re all staying in tonight.”

“What?” 

“Let’s do something as a family, yeah? Game night? Or you can do some laps on the sim, I know how much you like that,” Lando offers up, as if enticing them with sim racing would soften the blow of their dad’s first no. 

“Seriously? But dad, it’s not a party! We’re just gonna watch a movie or something!” Estelle exclaims, crossing her arms over her chest.

The girls share another look with each other, this one more irritated than confused. Lando just tries his best to stay firm looking. You, on the other hand, watch the whole thing play out from where you are, fighting to hide a smile, because now he knows how you feel all the damn time. It shouldn’t please you, but as someone who’s been taking the brunt of their teenage-ness for a while now, it brings you just a smidge of joy. 

“That doesn’t change things, unfortunately. You two will be staying here with your dear old parents, and that’s it.” 

“That’s so unfair though!” Estelle huffs, rolling her eyes. 

Lando cocks his head at her, brows raised in challenge. “I’d watch the attitude if I were you, Stell.” 

Delilah switches her tactic to try and salvage things, coming over to where you’re still chopping vegetables at the kitchen counter. Out of the two of them, your youngest knows exactly where her mum’s soft spot lies. “Mum? We just want to hang out with our friends. Please?” 

“You heard your dad, girls,” you say, shrugging. “If he says no, it’s no. Sorry.” 

They disappear down the corridor grumbling to each other rather quickly after that, no doubt already texting their friends about how awful their dad is. It almost makes you laugh, because for once, you’re not the one they’re mad at. Lando trudges over to you, pressing himself against your back in a rather dejected hug. 

“Doesn’t feel great, does it?” 

“Is this what it feels like to be you?” he groans. You can feel him frowning against your neck and you chuckle, running your fingers through his curls affectionately. “We’re setting some more ground rules, effectively immediately.” 

“Like what, don’t be mean to your mum? They’re teenagers, Lan. It’s what they do.” 

“I was never like this.” That draws quite a laugh from you. “What?” 

“So if I call your parents and ask them if you were ever a little shit when you were younger, they’d say no?” 

“...Don’t call them.” 

“That’s what I thought.” You kiss his cheek gratefully still. “We balance each other out well, I’d say. I don’t mind being the bad cop sometimes, but you can’t just be a fun dad all the time.” 

“But it’s so fun being a fun dad,” he whines, but you know he understands. “I don’t have to feel like this.” 

“You’ll get over it, darling. They will too, and we’ll be back to the same old thing tomorrow.” 

“I love you, bad cop.” 

“Love you more, fun dad.”

[inthehouseoffinwe]

A Meeting in Valinor

Elrond comes back from his first real meeting with Eärendil tired and unsure what to do. He gets some help from an unexpected source.

Dw this isn’t hating on any of Elrond’s parents. Pure fluff :)

Elrond had returned to his house and was lying with his head in Celebrian’s lap. He’d told her how the meeting had gone and flopped on the sofa, drained, before she’d soothed away some of his oncoming headache as she’d done many years before. Now he lay with his eyes closed, soaking in the summer rays as she read.

Celebrian jerked suddenly, and Elrond shot up, hand going to the knife in his boot. Some habits wouldn’t change.

“Ai! relax! It’s just me!”

Elrond’s face slackened.

“It cannot be...”

Celebrian looked between the two, eyes lingering on the semi-familiar features before her. Round ears. Beard. Warm grey eyes, wise yet playful. Elven cut, navy tunic with silver embroidery, and brown hair brushing his shoulders. She tensed at the closed expression on Elrond’s face, reaching for her own dagger as the figure shuffled nervously.

“Hello, Ada.”

Elrond released a strangled sound and the man ran to his open arms, desperately clutching the elf. Elrond pulled back, hand smoothing down unruly hair as if he’d done so many times before.

“Estel, how- You’re *dead.*”

Celebrian relaxed at the name, a gentle smile lighting her face as the human spluttered between tears. So this was her lost son.

Aragorn smiled tremulously as he replied.

“Exactly as you used to say Ada, Illuvatar’s mind is unknown in regards to the fate of men, and I guess I was allowed to come here.”

Elrond hugged him again.

“How’s Arwen?”

“She’s doing well, recently became good friends with Andreth.” A strange look came over Aragorn’s face and his foster father laughed, kissing his forehead. He turned to his wife, and it was then that Aragorn froze, seeing the elleth before him. He shot to his feet, bowing low before her.

“Milady, I-“

Celebrian shot the half-elf an exasperated look and grabbed one of the man’s hands, pulling him up. Aragorn looked at her, confused.

“Mil-“

“Call me ‘Milady’ again and I’ll toss you out the front door. Elrond said you used to call me Naneth.” Aragorn flushed, eyes on his boots and Celebrian laughed. “I take no insult, son of Elrond! It is only right considering you were not only adopted into the family, but also married my daughter.”

The Dunedan gaped, and she pulled him onto the sofa between herself and her husband, voice softening at the sorrow in Aragorn’s eyes.

“There is no need to feel guilty Estel, I long foresaw Arwen’s choice and understand she was loved and taken care of by the best of men.” She pulled him into a tight hug. “Thank you for giving her happiness. She was so sad after the orcs, I feared she’d never smile again.”

Aragorn froze for a moment, then buried his head into her shoulder, apologies spilling out his mouth. Celebrian rested a hand on his head.

“None of that now, I’m glad Arwen was able to find her strength again, even if it led her down a different path.” She pulled back and squeezed his shoulders. “And I’m glad to meet *you.*”

Aragorn bowed his head then settled back against the sofa. A comfortable silence filled the space until Elrond spoke.

“Not that I’m not glad to see you, ion-nin, but why are you here?”

Aragorn turned to face the half elf, a mischievous glint in his eyes as Elrond raised an eyebrow.

“Well this should be interesting.”

“I had some... unfinished business to attend to.”

“Is that so?”

Aragorn sat on a chair in front of the elves, and both of them straightened. He winced at the expectant look on his foster father’s face, reminded of every scrap he’d been pulled out of in Rivendell, then later as a ranger.

“It may have had something to do with your earlier conversation.” The look didn’t change and he sighed in defeat. “Ok fine. It had everything to do with it. I had a conversation with Earendil. Interesting man. Surprisingly relaxed.”

Elrond smiled tiredly and Celebrian took his hand.

“Interesting indeed. He… wasn’t what I expected.”

Aragorn’s laugh echoed, loud and warm and *human* in a way Celebrian knew her husband missed dearly. So many of Elrond’s friends had been mortal, so much of his family.

“Now that’s an understatement!” The man smiled wide. “In any case, I had a quick conversation with him after you left. He says he’d love to take you sailing and have a proper heart to heart.” The smile dropped to something more somber, more gentle. “He also says he understands if you need more time, and will wait as long as he needs.”

Elrond seemed to simultaneously age and relax.

“If you’d take my advice…” Aragorn began hesitantly, waiting for Elrond’s warm nod before continuing, “I think you should take him up on the offer.“

Elrond gave real thought to the words and Celebrian wondered just how well this man judged characters that Elrond was willing to take another chance. Any elf would have been shut down by now. Had been in the past.

“I do not know if I can.”

A familiar stubborn glint entered Aragorn’s eye. A fearlessness Celebrian was delighted to see.

“I say this with respect Adar, but you have to stop running away from this.”

The half-elf startled at the sharp words, but Aragorn continued before he could fully recover. Smart kid.

“For your own sake, you must face him. Just as you must one day face Elwing, Maedhros and Maglor… but this is a good place to start.” He leaned forward to take his father’s tightly clenched hands. “What did you tell me when my heritage was revealed? When I was terrified the weight of my past might drown away my present?”

A suspicion began to form in Celebrian’s mind, threatening to break out in a bright laugh and smothering hug for the son she’d never met. Of course. Of course.

Elrond closed his eyes and took a deep breath, wryness and pride in his eyes when he looked up at Aragorn.

“The past is but a small part of you. You are so much more your history, no matter what anyone else says.”

“Wise advice, no?”

“Seems a little narcissistic to agree, but I suppose it is.”

Squeezing Aragorn’s hands back, Elrond sighed and slumped back, eyes closing for a long moment. Aragorn glanced at Celebrian, who returned a small, reassuring smile. It was about time someone smacked some sense into her husband’s head, and this one knew how to push all the right buttons.

“I am afraid, little one.” Elrond finally whispered.

Aragorn grinned boyishly, and Celebrian’s suspicions were confirmed.

“That’s why I’m here.”