#Private Quarters (OOC)

[moonlight-records]

Rich Boys Don't Have Hearts | LN4

pairing: Jock!Lando Norris x Nerd!Reader

summary: Formula Ivy Academy, or FIA for short, is the most renowned private in the world who takes such a select few. Usually those from wealth with status and secrets and so much to lose. Yet, you are selected to join the FIA on a full scholarship. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain scares a lot students, especially their star athlete who will do anything to protect those he cares about. Though, he didn't expect you to have as much of a...bite to you for a little nobody.

warning: cursing, bribery, jealously, angst (ig???), possessive!lando maybe??? def ooc Lando at points i know it, leclerc & reeader are besties, open ending??? maybe???

fc: none!

wc: 4.4K

current | part 2

Formula Ivy Academy was the most renowned private school tucked away in Monaco for the brightest people. Whether that was inventors, politicians, artists, thinkers, or athletes was anybody’s guess since FIA was very hush hush about what happens behind their walls. Which, in theory, should be the first sign not to get involved with a school like that. With the amount of money, fame, and reputation of how secretive this academy was, why the hell would anybody want to go there?

Well, anybody who wanted to be anybody, obviously.

Everybody and anybody tried to get in. Thousands of applications went in every semester. Most applications that were submitted were from those that came from wealth that expanded to celebrities and even royalty applied and were rejected.

The rest of the world only dreamed of going there and some had the balls to apply though they knew that they would be rejected. They didn’t have the funds to cover even a quarter of the tuition cost. The only way most people would be able to get in was on a full ride scholarship and according to rumors, full ride scholarships to FIA was like winning the lottery. A one in a million chance for most people. It seemed that FIA was painfully selective about who they let in.

Yet, you were that one in a million person who got accepted into FIA with a full ride.

“Who is she?”

“I think that’s the new girl.”

“Really? She’s really pretty, how come she’s never been here before?”

“Rumor is she’s not from wealth.”

A few gasps erupted, “What?! How did she get in?”

“Full. Ride.” There were some murmurs, “apparently she was valedictorian at her high school and she applied and the school was impressed. She has to keep her GPA at least a 3.5 to keep her scholarship and,” there was a pause and throat cleaning, “she needs it if she’s going to stay.”

You roll your eyes hearing these girls before shaking your head. Casting your gaze at them the group quickly realized that they were talking much louder than attended and quickly scattered. You sigh softly while shaking your head because it was tiring.

You’ve been listening to the whispers and murmurs about yourself for almost a month straight since moving into the dorms back in August. The only places you found peace was in your dorm, since FIA had been so nice to accommodate you with a single room dorm so you can avoid that whole roommate thing, and the vast walls of the library but alas, instead you found yourself walking through campus as more people look and whisper.

You’re cutting through the green to get to your dorm building when a larger pair of Jordan clad feet fell into step besides yours. The pace was deliberate and rhythmic to match yours. You didn’t have to look over to know who it was. You stayed silent and forced your neck to look the other way though it’s no use. Everyone is looking at you and the new found walking partner though when you met their gaze they looked away. You let out a silent huff before craning your neck like a flower turning to the sun but the sun was actually the most annoying boy to ever roam campus who was 1 of FIA’s 20 star athletes and apparently, you’re upstairs neighbor that you try to avoid the best you can. He’s smiling, curly hair unruly, green and white jersey with his lucky ‘4’ on the front and his iconic gray sweatpants.

“Well, if it isn’t ‘Miss Popular’. You know I was getting a bit worried that you had already left before I got the chance to really know you.”

“First off, don’t call me ‘Miss Popular’ because I’m not,” you roll your eyes, “second you can’t get me to leave that fast. I’m sure the whispers and rumors about me are going to die down rather fast considering I think people are realizing that there really isn’t a lot going for me.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I don’t have wealth like that nor do I care. I’m here to get my degree, make connections, and get a head start on my career and I plan to make sure that happens,” you glance at Lando then forward again, “There’s not much to me.” You shrug as you enter the building and you head down your hall towards your room.

“Bullshit.”

You scoff and look over at Lando, “excuse me?”

“I said bullshit. I don’t think that’s the real reason you’re here.” Lando stares down at you, “I doubt you’re just some random insanely smart person who got in with an amazing application. Celebrities and even royalties themselves get rejected but they let you in? Full ride? Just because they like you?” He scoffs. “But fine. Let’s go with that story but I highly fucking doubt that you’re going to keep your head down and just mind your business for the next four years. There’s a lot that happens here at FIA, a lot that would be rather dangerous if it got out. A lot of reputations on the line.” Holding out a stack of cash, “Maybe it would be for the best if you left, don’t you think?”

You stare at Lando in disbelief. Lando’s known as one of the friendliest athletes on campus. He’s always smiling and laughing and making everyone feel welcomed. Even you, the rare times you spoke before this moment but it became crystal clear in this moment that it was nothing more than a ruse to bribe you out of this school and this life. For what? Protecting the students' reputations? You could care less about your classmates and what they do in their spare time. It was none of your business and honestly you probably would forget about most of them and any scandalizing thing they do now.

But Lando wouldn’t believe that and it upset you more because it made sense. You were a nobody who got accepted into the most renowned school that was super selective. Everyone here had three things: money, power, and secrets. You have none of those. You are just a simple person with a simple life that really just wanted to further your education and make a better life for yourself so you didn’t have to worry when you grew older. Pay your parents back for all the sacrifices they made for you. Give back to your friends who saved you when you were drowning…or jumped in so you weren’t drowning alone. Unlike everyone else who had everything to lose and nothing really to gain, you had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

You stare at the stack of cash in Lando’s hand trying to mentally count how much was there, “How much—”

“100,000 in USD,” Lando finishes, “more than enough for you I’m sure. Unless you want me to just pay for whatever school you transfer to, I can do that as well.”

“No, no, the cash is fine—”

Lando smiles wider, “I th—”

You reach out for the money before slamming your hand down. The bills go everywhere as they fall from Lando’s hand and the Brit is stunned. His eyes widen as he stares at you in pure shock before his face darkens.

“IF I was shallow and had no self respect,” you snap back, “how dare you try to bribe me? You probably wouldn’t believe this but I actually do not give a single care about you or any other student on this campus. All you guys care about is your fame, your wealth, and the carefree lifestyles that you all get to have. Unlike you all, I actually have to work for my shit and I will continue doing that. I don’t have time to collect evidence of all these scandals and sell them to news outlets. Besides, I need connections so the last thing I want to do is ruin that chance by breaking the number one unofficial rule of FIA which is what happens within FIA walls stays within FIA walls. What do you take me for? A shallow tool?” Looking Lando up and down, you sneer slightly, “You know what you can do for me, Lando?”

“What?” The Brit snaps.

“You can take your cash and shove it up your fucking ass right along with the lacrosse stick that’s been wedge up there,” you give him a mocking smile, “have the day you deserve.” You turn, flipping Lando off as you continue down the hall before going into your dorm, slamming it behind you. Finally, tears spill past and you clamp a hand around your mouth to silence your cries. You stumble to your bed, vision blurry before crumbling against it, hiding your face into your comfort, sobbing as the weight of Lando’s words settles.

Nobody wants you here. Nobody trusts you nor likes you. To them, you’re nothing more than an outsider who was going to ruin all their reputations. Obviously, someone like you just could not be here to further your education and take this chance to connect and get a huge head start down your career path. That was all just some ruse to really make a quick buck off the rich and their bullshit drama. That you will never be accepted by them and you should quit while you’re ahead. Another sob rips out of your throat as you bury your face further, body shaking, trying so hard to will yourself to stop crying but it was so hard as a month worth of worry and pains had manifested as the cold hard truth and the reality was heartbreaking.

Then it dawned on you. It wasn’t bullshit. What was bullshit was the fact Lando thought you were so shallow. Actually, it was bullshit the entire campus thought you were that shallow. Are they so self absorbed that they really assumed you had applied just to expose what goes on behind the walls of FIA? God, you needed money but you weren’t that desperate for money. Unlike them, you actually gave a fuck about what you wanted to do in life. Especially because you were happily picking something that wouldn’t be destroyed so easily by mere rumors or a single photo to destroy your entire reputation. You didn’t care how much you got to gain to expose all of them, especially Lando after that lovely chat, because that’s what they expected of you. Instead, you were going to completely ignore them. Prove them wrong. Prove Lando wrong.

Settling, you sit there for a bit before slowly lifting your head. You ignore the oncoming headache or the fact your face is wet and puffy. You sniffle softly before patting yourself down and pull your phone out with slightly shaky hands. Arthur Leclerc was a rare friend you had. Well, you assume anyway but now you weren’t sure as you text him.

Do you hate me?-YN

Y/N, how many times do I have to tell you that I don’t hate you. Nor does Mick, Ollie, Kimi, or Charlie.-AL

Well, Lando just tried to give me 100K in USD to get me to leave the school since everyone hates me and nobody trusts me and that I’m here to expose everyone for money and not for my education and to get a head start of my career.-YN

…He fucking did what?-AL

Yeah.-YN

Oh my god. I’m going to punch him at practice. Actually, I have piano so I won’t be at practice—I’ll have Charlie do it. No, he won’t—Kimi will-AL

No-YN

Don’t ‘no’ me! Y/N! You just told me that Lando bribed you because the rest of the school doesn’t trust you for some stupid fucking reason! Also, I know that you were actually warming up to Lando for this to be the reason? Oh god I should tell the couch! I’m going to tell coach—AL

No. No, I don’t need any more issues than already. I just…I just need reassure that you actually like for who I am-YN

Of course I do Y/N. Me, Charlie, Mick, Ollie. We adore you. You’re a breath of fresh air to us, really. You remind us that not everyone is stuck up and snooty and loves to be careless and wild because money and fame will save them. You remind us to slow down and enjoy the moments. You remind us to do things that we love even if nobody else cares because we enjoy the things we love. I promise, we wouldn’t trade you for anything in the world.AL

Arthur…that’s so sweet I might cry again but I won’t.-YN

It’s okay to cry!! I can come over with ice cream and blankets for cuddles-AL

No no, it’s fine. I don’t think I have any tears left. I kind of let out a month’s worth of sadness just out, so, I’m good but I might take you up on the offer for ice cream and blankets after your piano practice-YN

Okay, yeah. God Y/N. I’m so sorry this happened to you.-AL

It’s fine. I’m kind of upset Lando did this privately because the look of shock on his face when I smacked the money out of his hand was priceless.-YN

You WHAT?! Oh my god! You didn’t tell me that!!!-AL

Yeah well, I’m done being sad. I’m angry now.-YN

Anyway, yeah he basically found me. Walked me to the dorms asking if I was avoiding him and stuff. I had said that I just wanna focus on my education and get a jump start at my career and he literally was like ‘bullshit’. I was like ummm what?? Yeah so he goes on about how im a threat and all this—me, the nobody but whatever—and he was giving me cash or offering to pay the tuition of the school I would transfer to in full if it meant leaving since I’m just a wee peasant who’s only here to gossip and get paid by the news and get the school shut down. So I was like, “oh no the cash is fine”…-YN

Oh my god. What did he say?-AL

Oh he was gonna go on that I was making the right choice before I smack the money out of his hand. Man he was pissed-YN

I could imagine.-AL

Arthur, when I tell you watching his face darken out of anger was—kinda scary. Though mama ain’t raised a bitch so. I went off about how I can’t believe he thinks I’m shallow and that I truly could care less about my classmates and that I need these connections so why would I risk losing those connections by outing everyone, ya know???-YN

Oh I know.-AL

Thank you! So then I was like “you know what you can do for me” and he was like “what?!” all snappy and shit. I told him he can pick his money up and shove it right up his ass along with his lacrosse stick and have the day he deserves and the I flipped him off as I left…then I broke down and cried and now we’re here-YN

I AM SO PROUD OF YOU FOR THAT!!! AS YOU SHOULD! Oh my god, I am buying you dinner for that because that is amazing. Also, Lando can go fuck himself and I will personally make sure it happens at practice.-AL

Arthur!-YN

It’s fine! I already laid out that Charles is just to make Lando go a bit insane. No physical harm, all mental.-AL

…Fine. Only because there’s no way I can convince either of you to not do anything-YN

You’re learning! Okay, I have to run but I will see you later tonight. You don’t have to, considering how news gets out around here but, Charlie would like to see you at some point just to make sure you’re okay so, just show a sign of life to him? Please? I’ll cover the ice-cream if you do-AL

I will, promise.-YN

Alright, see you see y/n!-AL

You too, Arthur.-YN

It’s only been 20 minutes since your conversation with Arthur and you really didn’t want to leave your dorm let alone the field after everything that happened. You had finally found the energy to climb into bed curled up under the comfort while staring at the wall before frowning. You know that if you didn’t Charles would go insane with worry and blow up both your phone and Arthur’s and you really didn’t want to upset the only rare few people in your corner. Sighing, you force yourself out of your bed and go through your closet.

The school had uniforms that students must wear to classes. Outside of classes, students were free to wear whatever they wanted and you chose a baggy hoodie with a t-shirt underneath and fuzzy pajama pants that had snoopy all over them. Sliding your crocs on, you grabbed your keys, phone, headphones, and lanyard with your ID before heading out of your dorm and to the field. Putting your headphones on, you gently bobbed your head to the beat of the music as you crossed the green towards the field. Seeing the empty bleachers, you make your way up the ramp as you look out at the field.

There were the two lacrosse nets at the opposite ends of the field. The boys were lingering around the benches as they all chatted among themselves with five minutes to spare in this break. You scan among them, thankful that none of them spotted you. Expect the one that was sitting on the bench away, staring at a small group down. You saw the ‘16’ on the jersey and knew exactly who it was. You straightened up slightly when the player turned and saw you before lighting up like a child on Christmas and scrambling over to you, almost tripping over his own two feet.

“Mon chérie, there you are. I was worried you weren’t going to show that I was about to start calling for a sign of life,” Charles grins as he stands below the bleachers laughing softly. You can’t help the small smile that appears on your face as you lean over the edge of the bleachers looking down at Charles.

“Sorry, I was just—gathering myself.”

“I could imagine,” Charles frowns. “I truly am sorry that happened to you,” Charles whispers. “Just say the words and I will tell the coach or I can punch him. Really, I am angry enough to go through with it.”

“No you don’t have to punch him or tell coach,” you reassure Charles, “I think me slapping the money out of his hand, telling him off, telling him to shove the money up his ass, and flipping him off while telling him to have the day he deserves is probably enough.” You smile, “besides, I have no plans on transferring at all. Especially not after this. Him having to see my face should be enough of a hell for him.”

Charles laughs breathlessly while smiling up at you, “You truly are something else Y/N.” He grins while shaking his head, “Arthur mentioned something about ice-cream and blankets?” He questions.

You go to answer but feel someone just staring at you. Casting your gaze up you lock eyes with the sea green eyes staring at you. It seems that you and Lando are in a stare off that neither of you intend to lose but you only forfeit when you hear Charles scoff below you. “Charles,” you murmur softly and Charles looks up at you, a slight pout on his face, “please be nice so you can join Arthur and I and probably the others for ice-cream and cuddles. That’s what we mean by blankets.”

Charles gasps softly, “and I can join?!”

“If,” you start, “you leave Lando alone.”

Charles narrows his eyes at you and weighs his options, “okay, deal.”

“Leclerc!” Lando shouts, voice clipped, “lets go! No more talking!”

“Duty calls,” Charles murmurs and you shake your head, murmuring to Charles that it’ll be fine. You sit in the stands and switch between watching the practice and looking at your phone. You stand up when the coach blows the whistle to have the team come in to wrap practice up. You make your way off the bleachers and linger at the entrance of track as the team all heads to the bench to gather their things. You watch Charles swiftly grab his water bottle and bag before making his way over to you.

“You did it!” You applaud happily, “you survived practice and didn’t kill him.”

“I know, I know. Took a lot of self control,” Charles murmurs as he steps closer, “I’m pretty sure he was targeting me after seeing me talk to you. The audacity of him, can you believe that?”

“I could, sadly,” you roll your eyes, “he’s an ass. Just ignore him. Why don’t you get change and I’ll wait here and we can then head back to my dorm together?” You offer, “Arthur said he’d bring the ice-cream and Mick would bring the blankets.”

“Okay, I’ll be right out!” Charles says and is off.

You watch him leave and smile slightly before looking away and nearly jumping at Lando who just spawns in front of you. You look up at the Brit and all the emotions from early claw at your throat for an escape. You want to scream. You want to cry. You want to curse him out. You want to ask him why. There are so many questions in your head and you know that no matter what, you won’t get any answers so you settle for this stare off with Lando, even if your neck gets a cramp.

The silence is finally broken by Lando, “What were you talking to Charles about?” His voice is cold and icy. It almost seems uncharacteristic of the Brit but then again, he was full of surprises!

“None of your business.”

“I think it is my business since he’s a teammate of mine and I am also co-captain, so,” he lets his voice trail off as if indicating his importance, “kind of my responsibility to make sure our players are accounted for and safe.”

“Oh? Is it because he’s with me? Cause if you were really concerned, I doubt you nor Max would really be okay with the heavy partying that happens. Then again you two would be hypocritical.” You retort.

That strikes a nerve. He clenches his jaw and stares down at you in anger though he stays silent because he can’t really argue with you. Instead, Lando takes a deep breath while glaring, “well, is coming back to your dorm?”

“Why do you care?”

'“Cause I really don’t need you being so fucking loud and distracting me.”

“Seriously? You’re rarely in your room. When you are, you’re doing anything but homework. The only thing I might give a damn about is your streams for the poor people that watch you.” Crossing your arms over your chest, “but if you need to know since apparently hell has frozen over with you doing homework, I am having a few guests over and Charles is one.”

“Who else?”

“You don’t get names,” you snap. “First off, it’s not your business. Second, you don’t care because I’m just a nobody who’s here to gather intel and sell the secrets and make so money and get the school shut down instead of learning more and making connections and wanting a better future for myself since I’m not privileged like that,” you mock before scowling at him, “you think I’m dumb? No way am I giving out the names of the few genuine friends I have here.”

Lando goes to argue before Charles cuts in, loud and clear, “Oh mon chérie!” Charles stops next to you and glares at Lando who glares back at you, “Oh. Am I interrupting something?”

“Yes. You are.”

“No, you’re fine.”

You and Lando stare at each other before you turn to Charles who slings an arm over your shoulder, “Ready to go then?” Charles asks you, smiling and you nod. “I am.”

“Well. Have a good evening, Lando,” Charles tells him as you just turn and start walking off, leading Charles with you.

Your gut twists and you can’t help yourself even with Charles talking your ear off since you stopped so Charles could tie his shoe. You’re about to look back at Lando until Charles tells some stupid story which gets you to laugh loudly and you nudge Charles when he stands saying that it was a good story.

You hear a thud or something which gets you to turn.

Lando is standing there holding with his head of the lacrosse stick now snapped off. He’s got Max and Oscar on either side of him both concerned and worried while trying to talk to him but Lando is staring at Charles as if he’s trying to strike Charles down mentally before finally looking at you before. He stares at you for a moment before looking at Charles and scowling before turning sharply and heading to the locker room with Max and Oscar trying to figure out what the hell just happened before following Lando.

You stand there watching the trio head off. Your eyes fall on the broken lacrosse stick head. You can’t wrap your head around why Lando was so determined to figure out who was hanging out with you. Was it to turn the little friends against you? Was he just upset that you weren’t bending to his will and made a fool of him earlier today? Why was he like this

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“Are you okay?” Charles asks softly.

“Yeah, yeah,” you shake your head and smile, “I’m okay. Just…distracted, that’s all. Come on! I’ll race you,” you start and take off, giving yourself a head start as Charles is cursing and scrambling after you.

Even if Lando wanted you to leave and threw the world’s biggest tantrum as it seemed, you were quite comfortable staying here since you added a new life goal to your plans. It was a very simple life goal.

Make Lando’s regret trying to bribe you.

[nellielsss]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀᴘᴛᴀɪɴ'ꜱ ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ˳༄꠶

Summary: Your captain loves nothing more than spending the night with you in his bed! Although, he wishes that you weren't so hellbent on keeping this thing a secret... A drabble semi-inspired by Touch My Body by Mariah Carey only it's much more intimate and less playful. Author's note: the amount of brainrot I've been having over Yami omfg 😭 😭 I've been OBSESSED with Black Clover and it's possibly worse than JJK... speaking of, I know this doesn't include the JJK crowd, but a girl can still explore her interests!! This also might be very ooc for Yami but IDGAF this is my perception of him. IDGAF if this flops I JUST NEED HIM TO FUCK ME ALL NIGHT LONG!!!!! Pairing: Yami Sukehiro x fem!reader CW: gentle sex, pet names, praising

🪽 Nσɯ ρʅαყιɳɠ…

"Thwap. Thwap. Thwap."

╰┈➤ Those were the sounds that were echoing throughout the Captain's quarters, and there was no way one could mistake them for the sound of anything but Captain Yami's thick, monstrous cock thrusting in and out of you.

"Y-Yami~ Captain Yami~" you gasped, looking over your shoulder at the Captain of the Black Bulls as he fucked--no, made love to you. For a guy who weighed close to 230 pounds, he could be quite gentle with you in bed.

And he had to be, because there was no way that he could harm his pretty little Bull, not when he A. needed you to go out on a mission soon and B. desperately wanted your trust. The latter reason was his cover for going slow if asked about it, at least, because the real reason was much more embarrassing for the prideful captain to admit.

He was in love with you, of course! He's actually had a crush on you ever since he saw you, but he'd never admit to it; he had a reputation to uphold.

"There you go, you've got it, sweets," he said in that deliciously husky voice of his as he gripped your hips and moved you back and forth on his girth. "Fuck, I don't even know how I could repay you for this, pretty girl... letting some big, ugly brute like me have a sweet taste of your body," he murmured, leaning down and pressing sweet kisses to your neck. "Don't even know why you'd agree to see me in private and let me do you in like this, you're way too fucking amazing for me," he thought aloud with a dry chuckle. Even in the throes of passion, he still found a way to be self-deprecating.

"Y-You're not ugly, S-Suke- gah~!" you gasped, feeling him press the head of his cock against your sweet spot for a few moments.

"Whatever you say, princess," he chuckled, relishing the feel of your spongy spot against his tip. "Fuuuck, looks like I found your sweet spot, eh? I'll make sure to make it even sweeter," he added, pulling your hips closer and thrusting as deep as he possibly could.

You buried your face in the pillows that he'd bought for your comfort, much too embarrassed by the sounds you were making. "I don't want my captain losing any sleep when there's missions to be completed," was what you told him when you were at the market.

So sweet to him, was what he first thought. Even when you were practically insulting him with your "compliments," he could still see right through the prickliness and find the gooey inside of your words. He'd never had anyone care for him like this--not since the Wizard King was his captain, and that was because the King had a weird obsession with his dark magic. Sure, you were bound by the respect expected of a captain's subordinate, but you took it a step further and personally cared for him.

He knew it from the moment you joined the Black Bulls and showed what you were made of that he'd somehow get you in his arms & his bed, and when that day came, it was the happiest day of his life, because now he could make sweet, sweet love to you every single night. Even when you complained and made a fuss about it, he could just throw you over his shoulder and carry you to his bedroom.

His sheer strength came in handy, because now he was giving you deep, steady strokes, his thick, tanned cock rubbing against your walls deliciously, making you feel things you didn't think were humanly possible

For such a brute, he could be so sweet, but that was because he wanted to repay you for your sweetness.

"Hey, pretty, don't hide your face from me," he crooned, gently grabbing your chin mid-stroke and making you look at him. He smiled fondly when he caught the unabashed love and lust in your eye, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I wanna see my pretty when I make her eyes roll back in her head."

There was it, that cocky streak that he had.

His cockiness could be justified, though; with the sounds you were making, one could imagine that you were ascending to heaven.

"D-Don't tease m'like that, Y-Yami, you know how... flustered I get," you whimpered, stuttering while trying to make your thoughts known. It was so impossible to speak or even think properly with the way he was digging into your guts.

"I know, I know, pretty, but good god is it amazing to see you melt away when I fuck your pretty brains out," he said, the words flowing off his tongue like honey.

He leaned down again and pressed his lips to yours this time, his huge arms wrapping around you even tighter and holding you to him. Was it blatant favoritism? Yes; was it probably going against the rules? Also yes; but neither of you cared, not even a little right now.

Not when he could make his subordinate moan his name over and over again when he made her cum.

His abs flexed and relaxed, his pecs felt hard and soft against your back, and you were just loving every single second of this. No matter how bratty or prickly you got with him, there was nothing like having him dick you down every single night without a care in the world, knowing that you could come to him any time you needed some stress relief or a shoulder to cry on or a dick to ride on. Looking at you now while he sat up straighter, hand still on your head and guiding you back and forth on his cock, he smiled softly once more. In that moment of sweet, unabashed bliss, Yami Sukehiro vowed to someday make you his officially, to show the world that you were his prized girlfriend, the woman who made his heart melt every time he so much as sensed your Ki.

His thoughts were interrupted by that familiar feeling of you squeezing and spasming around his thick pole. "Y-Yami, please-"

"I know, baby, I've got you, I've got you. Yami's got you," he murmured, leaning down to kiss you softly on the lips, his nose burying in your hair and sighing softly. "C'mon, cum on your captain's cock."

Those words were enough to make you arch your back and throw your head back with a loud, heavenly moan, babbling out his name while tears flowed down your cheeks.

"There we go, thaaat's it, cum on m'cock like I know you wanna," he cooed a bit louder this time. Watching and feeling you cum around his cock never got old, and it was enough to make him cum as well with a raspy grunt. "Shit, baby, you got me cumming so soon. I was gonna wait, but, oh well; might as well say fuck it," he said after emptying his balls into your eager hole.

He sighed a sigh of relief once his orgasm passed, and he pressed several kisses to your neck while chuckling softly. "Goddamn it, princess--I fuckin' love you."

"Love you too, Yami," you murmured, too fucked out of your head to even process the aftermath of your heavenly orgasm.

"I know you do," he whispered, rolling you over and kissing you. He kissed your lips over and over again, his cock still buried deep inside of you. "One day, I swear to god, I'll show the world how much I love you. Make all those other uptight captains wish that they had what we have."

Possibly the best part of your night was when you fell asleep in his arms, his body entirely entangled with yours all sweaty and sticky. No matter how sticky you were, he would never give a shit about it. He'd hold you just the same.

"So pretty when you sleep," he said with a soft kiss to the forehead.

Your dear friend and fellow Black Bull, Vanessa, didn't miss the soft glow that graced your gorgeous features when you made your way into the dining hall and to breakfast. "Good morning," you said to everyone with a smile on your face, grabbing a plate and getting the food that you were in need of.

"Is it just me, or is she way nicer than she normally is?"

"Right? Her mood's usually worser than Yami's, especially in the morning..."

"It must be nice to be in love," Vanessa sighed, setting aside her bottle of alcohol for a moment. The other Bulls looked at Vanessa with confusion, the observation making them look at each other as well.

"The hell is she talkin' about?"

© ʙʀᴜɴᴇᴛᴛᴇ-ʙɪᴛᴄʜ77 on tumblr - get your own shit bitches | ca. 6/18/2024

[marthawrites]

Between the Covers

Modern Aemond Targaryen x girlfriend reader

Word count: 3.4k+

Can be read as a one shot but reads best as part two to Summer's End, Autumn's Beginning

About: During a cozy night in at your place, Aemond discovers your new taste for “literature”. Upon confronting you about it he makes a deal. Part of you wants to say no… but, you ultimately agree to his terms.

Includes: Established relationship, fluff, teasing, banter, and smut featuring breast play (reader is implied to have sensitive breasts), minor vampire play, pussy eating, vaginal fingering, Aemond loses his mind at the mention of blood sucking, dirty talk, vaginal sex, and reader and Aemond say 'I love you'

Note: Hello lovely reader! This might be ooc for Aemond but it's ic for the Aemond in my heart! My heart and pussy wrote this so if you have a problem with it up take it up with them!! Reader is non-descript! As always, I hope you enjoy this fic ♥

Autumn turned to winter, then winter to spring, and things with you and Aemond were better than ever. According to Aegon the two of you were “disgustingly cute”, and Helaena, on more than one occasion, admitted how she’d never seen her little brother so happy. 

Alys, despite her best efforts, had been fully removed from the picture after the last big fight that had you and Aemond taking a long self-reflecting break. 

Perhaps the universe really did do you a favor by making you face an ugly side of yourself–jealousy, distrustfulness, suspicion. Was it fun to look at in the eyes? No. Absolutely not. But, it made you realize things about yourself which ultimately lead you and Aemond to give the relationship another chance: a real honest chance. 

He too was far from perfect and had his own baggage and scores to settle. But at the end of the day you two were fucking wild for each other. And that’s all that mattered.

While your third floor apartment wasn’t anything compared to the sprawling Targaryen estate, it was cozy and located in one of the nicer neighborhoods in King’s Landing. Any city had its slums and dark underbellies, but thankfully you didn’t have to deal with either of those. Inwardly you were convinced that if you did live in one of those shady places that Aemond would swoop you away to his own private quarter in his family’s mansion. The idea of moving in together had been hinted at a couple times and each time your belly–and heart–did flips. One day, sure, maybe. But, now? You hadn’t even been together for a year yet. Moving in together was a huge commitment.

Perhaps something to consider for your three-year plan. 

Or, one-year plan.

You both had a free day tomorrow, so Aemond took advantage of it and stayed the night. After dinner you took a shower and he waited in your bedroom, searching for something to watch. 

There were so many choices. Why was there always so many choices? It made it such a challenge to actually decide on something!

When you came out with damp hair and your favorite pajamas–a big shirt and cute underwear–you proclaimed, “I saw an A24 movie last night I think we’d both like!”

He looked over at you from where he lay lounging on your bed in black sweats and a white tee, barely contained amusement plastered on his face. “As much as I love those, I’m less interested in movies now that I’ve found this,” he said, holding up the latest book you’ve been reading. 

Oh. 

Oh no. 

Did you forget to put it back on your shelf? Warmth flooded your face. “Baela was talking about it and she talked it up so much I had to check it out!” You admitted a little too quickly, hiding an embarrassed smile behind a hand.

“Uh-huh,” he smirked. “Vampire smut? If you’re so bored by The Two Towers all you had to do was say something.”

Your eyes–no, your whole face–brightened with shared amusement. “What! No, it’s not smut. There’s plot!” You said defensively (perhaps not convincingly, though, with the giggle), as you hopped on the bed and straddled him. His slim hips fit so easily between your bare, soft thighs, it was almost criminal. Mischief sent his eye twinkling. You took the book from him and cleared your throat, preparing to read the synopsis on the back. “Listen, ‘kay? This explains it really well.”

“Already read the back,” he said, sly. “And comments on goodreads. Seems to be extremely popular with women. There were… lots of caps, exclamation points, sweaty face and fire emojis… rave reviews.” Sometimes when he smiled–really smiled–he had little dimples; they were out on full display, now. He ran his wide, warm palms up your thighs, thumbs skimming dangerously close to that delicate space between your thighs he loved so, so fucking much. “Do you want to know what my favorite part is though?” He asked as if it were a secret.

Goosebumps tickled your skin as he teased you. You didn’t bother to put a bra on and you suddenly became acutely aware of your t-shirt’s texture as your sensitive nipples tightened beneath it. How easily your body reacted to his. “What’s your favorite part?”

He took the book from you and opened it. Smirking, he read Baela’s note she left for you on a post-it sticky, his voice an octave or two higher: “‘chapter 32 might be the hottest thing I’ve ever read in a book. It will change your life.’” He peered up at you with an arched brow. “Have you got to chapter 32 yet?”

You were blushing and giggling and trying so hard to not rip the book from his hands and smother his taunting face with one of your many pillows. “Oh my gosh shut up you are terrible!”

He laughed. “You’re the one reading vampire smut!”

“There’s plot!”

Aemond flexed beneath you and the next thing you knew you were on your back beneath him. His long silver-blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail and it hung over his shoulder threatening to tickle your face. “My pretty girl still hasn’t answered me,” he said as he pinned you down, lowering to nip your earlobe. “Or will I have to use compulsion to get it out of you, hm?”

You felt his grin against your neck, heard it in his question, and before you could stop yourself a little moan escaped your mouth because he bit you. Really bit you. His teeth, clean and sharp, clamped around a mouthful of your neck. He drew it into his mouth, sucking, and–fuck it was hot–you then understood why women in silly vampire books gave in so easily to the predator. You knew your pulse had to be jumping right there in the flesh he held between his teeth. All those giggles from before vanished and were replaced with small gasps. You squeezed your hands over his shirt-covered shoulders, answering, “n-no… I haven’t read that far yet.”

He relaxed his mouth and licked up the same bit of skin he’d been biting, kissing it softly. “Good,” he replied. “You can read it out loud to me now.”

That perked you right up. “Oh my god Aem! No!” 

“But I’m sooo curious to know what happens when she goes inside the castle. I skimmed the last chapter you were on. Something about him loving the smell of her blood, barely able to control himself around her, and she’s stuck there with him now?”

You were laughing again. “You’re such an ass!”

“Those are very important plot points,” he said smoothly, matter-of-factly. “And it’s chapter 31. So all the tension will lead up to the famous chapter 32.” He kissed you as he spoke; your mouth, jaw, neck, collarbone, whatever he could reach.

You were still laughing, but his kisses relaxed you, too. You pushed your hands up beneath the front of his shirt and gently scraped your fingernails over his abdomen. His chest. You felt his muscles quiver slightly beneath your touch. You loved how his body reacted to you. While stroking between the patch of hair at the center of his chest, and the trail of hair below his navel, you asked, sheepishly, “what if I get embarrassed?”

It was his turn to perk up. Pulling back, he looked down at you with a mixture of deviousness and softness that had your heart flipping. “Let’s make a deal.”

“Why am I have scared to hear this deal? But… okay, let’s hear it,” you replied, smiling and biting your lip.

“As long as you keep reading, I’ll keep eating your pussy.”

Yet another wave of heat rushed to your face and along your spine. You really, really hoped Aemond couldn’t see the blush of your features. Knowing him, however, he probably did… or at least saw the spark of desire, excitement, and embarrassment in your eyes. “You really wanna hear me read this stupid book?”

He nodded. “Yeah. And I wanna eat you too. So, why not both?”

“Well, when you put it that way…,” you mumbled in agreement, grabbing your book and opening to where you last left off.

Aemond shuffled triumphantly and smiled one of those smiles that if he did indeed have fangs they’d certainly be showing. He kissed your throat as he pushed the bottom of your shirt up, grazing his fingertips along your belly as he did so, not stopping until the softness of your breasts melted against his palms. Squeezing the sensitive mounds, he gave your neck one last little nip before lowering to your bared tits. He made a noise in his throat at the sight of them–your pretty nipples peaked with need–and he held each in a hand. Looking up at you he asked, "how long do you think you’ll last reading?” He squished your tits together so your nipples were as close together as they could be. Hot mouth wrapped around one and he sucked, greedily drawing it into his mouth. He relished the sensation as well as your gasp of surprise. He relaxed his mouth and let your tit free only to repeat the motion to the other one.

Fuck. He’d barely started, you hadn’t even begun reading, and you already felt warm tension pull in your belly. Your breasts have always been sensitive. Sometimes when you were feeling especially needy, and Aemond especially wicked, he’d suck your tits until you came. Part of you wondered if he meant to do that now with how he lavished them. “Shit–Aem! Not long if you keep this up…!” You moaned, biting your lip again as your eyelids trembled closed. “Haven’t even let me start yet..!”

A laugh rumbled in his chest. “You’re right…,” he said, slowly circling his tongue around and between your nipples. “Go ahead and start reading then, baby. I’ll get nice and comfortable between these thighs.” 

True to his word, he did. Your boyfriend meant to murder you. Without a fucking doubt. Straight up murder.

With a shuddering breath you began to read aloud.

Aemond kissed over your covered pussy, not yet bothering to move your underwear aside or take them off. He wasn’t trying to be especially distracting yet, but he loved knowing you were wet and eager for him. He kissed the insides of your thighs–that impossibly soft dip where your thigh met your pelvis–and even the underswell of your asscheeks as your legs spilled open. He knew right where your clit was. He licked over it through your panties. Teasing. Coaxing. Hoping to hear your voice warble with want.

It did. There was no way you’d be able to keep this up for the rest of the chapter as well as the next chapter. The main female character, a human, had just re-dressed into something suitable for dinner. In this case, a gown that complimented the color of her skin and shape of her body. And the main male character, a vampire, was waiting for her to finish. Before this, the tension had indeed been all over the place. Blood, desire, lust, everything sinful about the undying charisma of vampires. At the end of the chapter she walked downstairs only to make him utterly darken with lust. And, at the end of the chapter, Aemond pulled the front of your panties aside to finally give the full length of your pussy a hot, slow lick. You gasped in time with the main female character’s gasp.

“Think he sinks his teeth into her pretty neck and finally takes what he wants?” Aemond asked, low and somewhat muffled, as he turned his gaze up to your heated face.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. You half thought he was joking about the whole thing! But… then again, you knew Aemond pretty damn well by now and knew he wasn’t the prankster type. You moaned softly at the slow, wonderful feeling of his tongue on your clit. Then, you answered in a shaky breath, “it’s the temptation. He worships her. Or… at least her blood. He won’t tear her apart. He needs her.”

He made one of his classic little ‘mmm’s in thought. “Keep reading, baby. I’m dying to see what happens.” Another lick, another kiss to your most sensitive bud, and a gentle suck. 

Fuck–if he kept this up?! Pleasure rippled up your body in goosebumps and your voice shook as you read into the new chapter.

Somehow the book tension intensified even further. Between that, and how Aemond continued to slowly eat you, your head felt dizzy. Really, honest to God, you didn’t know how much more you could take. Then, the next line started to crumble some of that tension: “The vampire lord kissed the top of the lady’s hand, and when he did his fingers grazed the delicate webbing of veins on the underside of her wrist. Her scent bloomed beneath him. A perfume. His jaw ached with the need to consume. To consume her.”

Aemond picked up pace, too, as did your pulse. He balanced you on the edge of bliss and wouldn’t yet let you go. 

You began to stammer over words. You even left some unfinished. Because now you read a scene that was strikingly similar to your current situation. The vampire had his lady laid back and sprawled on the staircase, her skirts bunched high, his starved tongue feasting between her thighs.

Aemond groaned appreciatively. He worked you higher and higher, selfishly making it harder for you to read out loud, and savored each and every little dip and rise of your voice. His good girl. So fun, and playful, and willing to entertain his silly ideas. God, he loved you. He memorized all the signs of orgasm in your body. He could hear them. Feel them. He knew you were getting close, but he didn’t want you to come yet. There was still more to be read. Right before climax could claim you, he stopped.

��Aemond!” You squealed, near breathless. You looked down at him, accusatory, blissful eyes glaring. “Not fair!”

“Did I forget to mention I’ll only let you come when I want you to? Sorry, love, my bad.”

“How convenient of you,” you retorted.

“Do keep going though? I have a feeling he’ll need a taste of her blood now that he’s tasted her cunt.”

Begrudgingly, you did. And, as luck would have it… (did he read ahead while you were in the shower!?): “The vampire lord’s cock strained in his breeches, throbbing with a pulsing need that sent his mind to delirium. He never craved anything so badly as he did her.”

Aemond made more of those ‘mmm’s in agreement as he started to slowly work you up again. He pressed his tongue into you and let his nose rub against your clit. His hands rubbed and squeezed over any part of your body he could. Waist, belly, hips, thighs, anything; he loved all of it. He could lay here and do this all fucking night–vampire smut or no.

It became harder and harder to keep reading. Between little moans, whimpers, and firm bites to your lip, you kept trying. By now, the chapter progressed to both of them in various stages of undress on the staircase. “The vampire lord claimed her body with his hot, rigid manhood. At the same time he filled her with his cock, he sunk his teeth into her neck.”

After that you were no longer able to make words. A finger replaced Aemond’s tongue as his mouth lavished your clit. You dropped the book and neither of you seemed to care anymore. One of your hands gripped into his hair–more than likely making the sleek pull back of his ponytail a mess–while your other hand played with your breasts. Seemingly effortlessly, a second finger joined the first and your hips rolled in a desperate need for more. “A-ah yes!”

A soft dark laugh rumbled from him as he watched you from below. “You’re so fucking wet your pussy just sucked my finger in. I barely had to move it. Getting close again, my love?” He asked as those two deft, long fingers worked your inner walls with blinding precision. “I love how you were blushing and fumbling with your words when you read. Fuck–you’re so pretty with my fingers in you.”

A familiar tightness began to build in your legs. The inside of your thighs started to tremble. Your head, fuzzy as it already was, buzzed with your body’s anticipation. Pleasure. So much pleasure. Your fingers tweaked your nipples for that extra little push, and apparently that’s exactly what you needed.

Aemond’s tongue was on your clit again, quick and light compared to the harsh way he fingerfucked you. This time he didn’t edge you along.

Orgasm, beautiful and consuming, swallowed you into a starless dark. When you came back to yourself your head was heavy. The tips of your fingers tingled. Everything felt light. Like you weren’t quite inside your own body yet. “What the fuck Aems…,” you whispered, smiling like a dork.

That was one of the best orgasms and he fucking knew it. He had to know it. 

He carefully rolled away from you to let you catch your breath. “Better than the book?”

“Without question.”

He grinned as he watched you regain yourself. Once he was sure you were okay he pulled you on top of his naked form. When did he take his clothes off? “Always so sweet to me,” he said with that same grin. “I can still taste you on my tongue and need to feel you on my cock. Now.”

You didn't need to be told twice. Your body was ready for him as soon as he moved you atop him. He looked so good, so handsome, so devastatingly perfect as he sat there against your headboard, your bodies meshing together so well. His lean arms wrapped around you, nails scratching down your back, as you lined up with him.

The stretch was unfuckingbelievable. 

Moaning in unison, he rolled his hips up into you with one hand gripped on your waist. Your breasts squished against the firm planes of his. Your scent, your skin, your lust all around him. The squeeze of your cunt around his entire length had him half crazy. There wouldn't be any more teasing. 

You ground onto him, desperate to fuck him as silly as he had fingered you. 

One of his hands gripped the hair at the back of your head and tugged downwards, exposing the fullness of your throat to him. Your neck. He bit you again–all but sinking his teeth into your flesh–and fucked up into you with added fervor. 

“God!” You squeaked, whimpering through your surprise. “Yes, yes, yes, keep biting me..!” You pleaded, bouncing on him in time with his upward rolls.

That's how you both stayed–his teeth on your neck, your fingernails leaving pink scratches on his pale skin, grinding and fucking each other with raw desire–until climax washed over both of you.

You were both panting, a little sweaty, and intoxicated by each other.

A couple minutes later, amidst pillow talk and teasing one another, Aemond asked, “would you read more to me another time?”

You looked at him cheekily. “Seriously?”

“Yes. I’m very interested in the plot,” he said with obvious innuendo. “And I don’t think you quite understand what you saying words like ‘cock’ ‘cunt’ and ‘blood sucking’ does to me.”

That sent you into another fit of giggles. “You’re insane!”

He rolled on top of you and smirked down at you. “Well?” He asked, grazing the tip of his nose against yours.

“Okay, okay. Yeah, I will.”

Pulling the blankets up around your bodies, you turned on the movie you mentioned earlier. Aemond laid on his back and scooped you against him, legs immediately intertwining with one another. Sated. Happy; even as your skin pleasantly burned where he left dark hickies behind.

“Thanks for that. It was a lot of fun,” he whispered against the crown of your head.

“Yeah it was,” you agreed. “I love you, Aem.”

“I love you too.”

-

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

Masterlist

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[islayhawkin]

It's from her

Captain John price x fem!reader

Summary: The task force learns that john's beanie holds way more importance to him than it should

Warnings!: sad and vulnerable john, prob ooc, not edited

Leaving for a mission was always hard. He knew that you struggled immensly with it and while he never showed it, it took it's toll on him too.

To leave you behind. Knowing that you had a hard time because of him.

To have the mission ahead of him. The knowledge that he'd be away for weeks or even months on end. The contact to you was rare and it took a lot of effort for him to be able to have a phone call or receive a letter from you. He always worried. While he was the one fighting for his life, there was always a part of his mind that thought about how you were doing, if something happened, if you needed him...The constant uncertainty was driving him on edge sometimes.

And he missed you. Oh, how he missed you. He spent so many lonely nights in his tent or a safe house imagining you beside him while the snores of his comrades filled his ears.

John clung to the few things he had with him that were you. One of them being his hat.

It was one of the first things he got from you. You had knitted the beanie when you first moved in together. Every evening when you two had cuddled up on the couch, the TV playing, you had knitted. He had seen it develop and it was the most calming sound to him, whenever he heard your needles clicking softly against each other. Not until you finished the hat had he been aware that you made it for him.

"Here. I made this for you." You had smiled at him proudly as you handed over the dark-knitted beanie.

It was nothing special and with closer inspection, a few mistakes could be sighted but for john it meant the world. At first, he had struggled to even think of a response as he gripped the soft fabric in his rough hands.

"I know you always like to have something on your head and I thought that would keep you warm when you're in a cold area..." you had muttered out your explanation.

"thank you." He had replied quietly. The love and astonishment had been evident in his expression.

There were times when he thought back to that moment and wished he had said more. That he would've been able to express what it meant to him. But you knew without him saying so. It was clear in his actions.

It was endearing how he still took it on every mission after all these years.

The 141 started to notice it's importance to him when he couldn't find it at base. His usual calm demeanor was slightly irritable and underlined by the strong walk as he barged into the common room as if he were on a mission to save the queen.

"Does any of you shitheads have my hat?" His deep voice made the whole room go quiet.

Soap and ghost exchanged glances. "Got no reason to steal your hat captain." Ghost grumbled out.

John clenched and unclenched his fists multiple times. The muscle in his jaw tightened. "You'll have no problem then if I check your rooms lieutenant." There were some unspoken words between them as two pairs of hard eyes met each other.

"No problem." Ghost replied.

Price took a look around the room before giving them a nod and leaving for their private quarters.

"What's wrong with him?" Gaz leaned over the table to his comrades.

"No bloody idea. Probably got his period." Ghost grumbled.

Price rummaged through room after room methodically. The drawers and cabinets were thrown open and closed softly after close inspection. He muttered a few annoyed curses when he arrived at soap's room: the drawers were already opened but his clothes were probably more scattered over the floor room than in his closet. Room inspections were obviously in dire need of attention.

When he made it to Gaz's room the hat was the first thing his eyes spotted as he opened the door. There it was. slightly frizzy and worn at the edges but still looking soft the way it always did. Except that it didn't lay at its usual spot in his neatly organized closet.

"Can't keep their bloody hands to their own stuff." John grumbled.

The tension fell from his body as he picked the beanie up and took it back to his room. He laid it back to the dedicated spot with a scarf next to it. His eyes observed how it seemed to lay so innocently in front of him. A tired sigh escaped his lips before he pushed himself into an upright position and locked the door to his room for good measure.

In the next moment he dragged gaz out of his chair pressed him against the wall. Johns hand clasped the collar of gazs uniform. While gaz grunted from the impact of his captains weight against him, his face stayed nonchalant. If you knew him better you'd seen the small sliver of nervousness in his eyes.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing with my stuff?" Price gritted out.

"I didn't take anything from you sir." Gaz shot back almost angrily at the accusation.

"You think that's funny huh?" John sneered. It was unusual for the captain to throw angry words at his team. He was always the composed one; giving them a sense of confidence and security in the battlefield.

"No sir."

"Hmhm. I found something in your quarters. My goddamn hat on top of your closet."

Gaz frowned. "Captain I didn't- sir I don't know anything about that."

Price grunted in frustration before ghost stepped to them and slightly pulled the captain back. "Take it easy cap."

John let himself fall back before pointing a warning finger at the young sergeant. "Just keep your hands off of my things. Especially that hat. Got it?"

Gaz gave him a nod but he didn't back down from his position as innocent. The air was tense as everyone watched the ongoing confrontation.

Ghost gave his captain a look which held john back made him leave the room back to his own office (where he should've worked for the last hour). The lieutenant followed him out as if to escort him. "Why are ya followin' me simon?"

Ghost was about to protest about his name choice but decided there were more important matters at hand right now.

"I figured you'd want to tell me what's going on?" The deep voice came from behind the mask.

Price stopped in his tracks and crossed his arms while shifting his weight onto his toes. "What?"

While price was a tall and muscular man he had no chance against the build of ghost as he towered opposite of him.

"You're going wild over a damn hat for no reason." His tone sounded almost bored.

"It's not just a bloody hat!" John's jaw clicked.

Ghost scoffed. "Then what is this about?"

"With all due respect lieutenant, you wouldn't understand."

That was it. It was never brought up again until a few months later on a mission at the Russian border.

A small safe house offered them shelter before they took off for the next day.

The night was a troubled one. Everyone was anxious and tired, which was a dangerous mix of feelings in a group of men. But they were trained for this. Keeping one eye and ear open constantly; without pause. This was the requirement to survival.

John took the night shift after Ghost woke him up out of a rather unpleasant dream. Everything was quiet except for a few night animals chirping in the forest surrounding them. The sun already brought a bit of light through the windows.

He sat down against a pillar and rubbed his exhausted eyes with his calloused palms. A defeated sigh escaped his lips as he took the gun into his hand and let his head lull back against the wood.

The last few months had been rough. The 141 was on this mission since almost two months now and it felt like they didn't get any closer to their target. For john it meant two months without you. No call, no letter, nothing. For all he knew you could be laying in bed with another guy right now. He couldn't blame you. No, what was he thinking. That was a riddiculous thought. He grunted quietly as he rubbed a hand over his beard. John definately needed sleep.

His beard and hair had grown out over the time, which made him think of the way you'd sit him on the toilet lid and step between his legs to shave his beard for him. You never realised how that position made it quite impossible for him to relax under your intense stare. He smiled at the memory and simultaneously hope that he'd be able to be in that position soon again.

The nightmare had made him unpleasantly agitated and worried. John just hoped, prayed and begged Laswell to make sure that you were okay.

A few hours later the sun started to rise above the horizon, which brought john his clue to wake everyone up and get going for the day ahead. When everybody was checked and price paced slowly in front of the group to explain the plan his voice got stuck in his throat. He had been telling them that they would be making their way into the snowy area as your voice made it's way into his thoughts.

'to keep you warm in colder regions.' you had said with that sweet smile when you gave him his hat.

The hat.

He didn't have his beanie on. It got soaked through yesterday and he took it off to dry. But they had checked the whole safehouse already, ready for departure.

"My hat. Has anyone seen it?" he questioned the group of men standing before him. They looked stunned at his sudden change of topic.

When they didn't answer he started walking up the stairs. Frantically going through the rooms again. Soap went with a nod to the others after him. "Capt'n. We're ready for departure. None of us saw yer hat."

John shook his head. "Not without it." He searched the drawers in the room even though he knew it couldn't be there. His expression was stoic and unreadable but there were emotions behind those blue eyes.

They gave him a few minutes but when he didn't make a move to get on with it ghost shouted up the stairs. "Cap we have a schedule remember?" It sounded slightly irritated coming from behind the mask.

"I said I'm not going without it!" John thundered back.

He couldn't leave without it. It felt like leaving you behind. It was irrational and stupid and the hat was going to cost him his goddamn life someday but... he needed it. That feeling couldn't be explained with rationality or tactic. you would have described it as love. But john would rather name it desperation.

"It's just a bloody hat. We need to get going." Ghost came up beside him.

"It's not. It's from her." John pulled his lips in a thin line as he exhaled through his nose sharply. The room went quiet for a moment at his admission.

Ghosts expression stayed emotionless as he crossed his bulky arms over his chest.

"Yer bonnie wife?" soap asked for clarification.

John nodded sharply and but turned away quickly from the pair when soap raised a brow.

"Honestly dinna know yer were married to her until a few weeks back. I'm sure ye'll survive a week without the hat and see yer lass soon hm?"

Ghost grunted in frustration. "Seriously? That's been the reason for this bloody hat."

"I wouldn't expect you to understand. When you're married we can have this conversation." John shot back at his lieutenant. His voice thick with accent and a deep grumbling from the throat.

Soap got between them before Ghost had the chance to respond. "So we ready to go then? Captain?"

John pursed his lips and it pained him to go through with it but he shut off his emotions like he so often did and gave them a stern nod. He started to talk about their upcoming task again as he took the lead once more.

When he got home to you a week later he couldn't hold back a few tears in his eyes when you presented him a new, more colourful beanie, that you made when he was gone. And to his delight you ushered him into the bathroom to shave him first thing in the morning.

The task force never dared to touch his hat again.

[billythesimp]

*BASHES DOWN DOOR* I HEARD RQ WERE OPEN

Okay here me out, Lycaon with a rabbit or cat (you decide) thiren that tried to argue with him at any chance they get. But that's because they don't know how else to act around him because of their HUGE crush on him. Basically you're typical tsundere.

That's about it, BACK INTO MY CORNER. NO PRESSURE TO DO THIS AND TAKE YOUR TIME BESTIE

-AJ🐺

Well, Well, Well~ [insert evil laughter here]

If it isn't my fellow proxy, AJ. Thank you for leaving me a request, I do appreciate the support so I put my whole Badussy into this request.

Smooches, see you soon!

Cat And Dog Fights

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎…

Before I started detailing this request, I did a funny 10 pull on the standard banner. I now have C1 Von, so I dedicate this post for the good luck of those who want Von Lycaon to come home. Bless Bless, Wolf ass.

Lycaon x Cat-Thiren-gn!reader

𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡…⋙

tw: Little OOc, mention of Rina's cooking /j

✦ Lycaon likes to think himself a patient man- or werewolf. He can handle Corwin’s self deprecation. He can handle Ellen’s overwhelming bored and teen rebellious phase. Rina’s cooking and antics, I’m pretty sure he puts up with, though barely. However, with this new addition to their team, he acknowledges the huge- HUGE elephant in the room. This cat thirens disobedience and clear dislike towards him, their boss. And while it’s fine when it’s outside the job, they work efficiently and swiftly when on their jobs, though they always seek to peeve him off at times, a cunning glare in their eyes when they look back at him, how they run forwards to finish his own enemies as to show off. It’s their defiance that creates problems as he can’t help but think they are trying to prove that their are better. 

✦ And usually he won’t complain, after all he hired them for their potential and knows what he’s getting into, but lately they’ve been chipping away at his patients, their coy antics getting under his fur, having to restrain a low growl when they purposely interrupt him or act out of line in front of guest or their masters. The reason Rina can only giggle behind her palm while staring at the two of them stare each other down, another one of their pity arguments being the center of attention. Creative backhanded compliments shared between the two as Corwin tries to calm the two, Ellen holding the girl back in amusement.

✦ Honestly, Lycaon can’t help but be slightly disappointed, he sees his employees as family, so to see one with a clear disdain for him makes him pout in private, seeming gloomy as his tail thumps and ears pinned back. Rina has to comfort him, all the while encouraging him to cheer up. Offering him a meal which he refuses, stating he wasn’t hungry. Though Rina can only ask that he give it his best try to be the bigger person and treat them kindly, for they don’t know what they could be going through.

✦ That being said, Rina is hiding more then she’s leading on, one second in Lycaon’s office to comfort him and then another in a private sitting quarters with said Cat thiren, brushing their hair and scratching behind their ears while listening to their childish rant- more like them denying their feelings. 

▿

While sitting before Rina’s small puppets, they paw and rack the little phantoms on their heads, watching them evade their attacks before being pulled back towards Rina’s lap. Having to sit still was difficult enough, but Rina promised to comb their hair and get it nice and pleasant for their next trip. “Ah, you need to take better care of yours. Lycaon will scold you if your headpiece isn’t perfectly centered- or in one piece in general.” She giggled before properly setting the cutest fabric on their head and giving their ears a little scratch.

“Eh, who cares what he thinks. He can just fix it himself if it bothers him so much.” With a hiss, their tail thumps besides them before they use it as a distraction from their overwhelming thoughts on said werewolf. “Oh, I think you do actually care about his thoughts on you.”

“Ehehe- Yeah you do!”

“Sir Lycaon, did you see that! Hehehe”

“Oh Sir Lycaon, see how great I am!”

“Great! Great!”

“H-HEY SHUT IT!” The cat hisses at the teasing from the little boos, Drusilla and Anastella spinning around before returning to Rina’s figure, avoiding the nasty glare said cat was giving them. “Now, now kitty. No more fighting- you already do enough of that with Von,” Smiling before moving them to sit upright, the figure before her slumping again and leaving her to adjusting them again til they stay, “Though, you know if it’s attention and praise you want, maybe fighting less with the boss would actually get you the results you want.”

“Pffm, as if.” They only pout to themselves, muttering quietly as Rina takes out a needle and starts stichting up their uniform where little tears and rips had formed. Whether from their battles or their tendies to claw at the fabric when they don’t know what to do with their hands. “Even if I wanted it, I don’t even know what I would say…”

“Oh, and what makes you think that kitty? Von would be more than delighted to compliment your achievements, after all he looks highly of you. You’re an amazing servant here, he couldn’t be more proud of your growth. He told me himself.” While she gushed her Boss’s supposed claims, the thiren’s tail swayed quicker then before, the adorable pout on their face turned into that of an embarrassed frown, afraid to speak out of fear of word vomiting. “Oh Kitty, promise you’ll try to be nicer to Lycaon. As much as I adore your little cat-dog fights, I would like it if you both got along much more.” 

They yelp as Rina ‘accidently’ poked them with the needle, ears flatten as they only mumble out a silent promise. Blushing as they think of how they could try to be nicer, distracted at how Lycaon would react to their change in demeanor, tail returning to playfully bat Rina’s hand while lost in deep thought.

▿

✦ After this conversation, Lycaon finally notices the little changes in their Cat’s behavior. Offering a hand in his tasks, though they still have their little backhanded comments, they are obedient nonetheless. He could tell that they seem to be warming up to him again, not running away from him as much and willing to calm down and listen instead of enlightening another fight between wolf and cat. Really, He’s glad they have improved since then, also making an effort to respect his fellow thiren and help them however he can. 

✦ He sees how much they enjoy the headpats and scratches the girls give them, how they have a subtle purr from the affection and praise they give them. So after a mission complete, satisfied with their work today, he gives them a little head pat and congratulates them on the great. While at first they don’t respond at first, tired from the day's events, they suddenly perk up and jolt away, rambling an indescribable comment and turning tail to run off into their safe house. He can only tilt his head, tail wagging as he couldn’t help but enjoy just how soft their hair is.

[embarrasingmf]

taking a sick day

PAIRING: Steve Rogers x reader

SUMMARY: when cap gets sick, you volunteer to be his personal nurse for the day.

WARNINGS: not proofread, might be OOC steve☹️

WORD COUNT: 1k

A/N: this is now my longest fic yay! also, I know steve can’t rlly get sick bc of the serum but I see a lot of fics where reader is sick so I wanted to swap the roles🫠

Steve thought he was immune to all Earthly diseases, disorders, and infections after taking the Super-Soldier serum.

But he was recently proven wrong after getting struck with a bad case of the flu.

He always stayed in bed, not that he was necessarily bedridden, per se, he was just too lazy to walk around his private quarters.

Really, the only time Steve got out of bed was to make himself some food or go to the bathroom. Other than that, he stayed curled up under the covers.

When the other Avengers learned about his recent misfortune, they quickly formed a little meeting to discuss who would keep watch to make sure he recovers fine.

As if his immune system wouldn’t fight it off by the next morning.

At this revelation, you immediately volunteered. Maybe a little too quickly considering the smirk you got from Tony.

In truth, you liked spending time with Steve. He was fun to hang out with considering he’s been around for well over a hundred years.

In your excitement, you almost missed Steve’s room, quickly backtracking a few steps before knocking and waiting for his reply.

You heard a muffled “come in,” from the other side, and it sounded nasally, too.

Opening the door to Steve’s private quarters, you were met with him in the kitchen, a simple white shirt and sweatpants on. He was standing in front of the toaster, leaning against the counter.

You walked over, taking a moment to look at his facial expression. It was mostly blank, but his eyebrows were furrowed a bit from how shitty he probably felt right now.

“Making some toast?” You questioned, awkwardly trying to make some conversation.

Steve nodded wordlessly in response, grabbing the toast and throwing it on the plate after the toaster dinged annoyingly.

He grabbed a butter knife and started spreading some jam onto the darkened bread.

You watched intently before speaking up after clearing your throat to get his attention.

“After you finish that, I can make you some soup?” You offered with a smile, and Steve looked over.

“Sure. That sounds good.” Steve matched your smile.

You nodded as Steve took a bite of the toast, closing his eyes for a brief moment.

—————————————————————————

Soon after Steve finished his toast, he trudged back into the bedroom and left it cracked open for you.

You were making some chicken noodle soup for him, except you didn’t really know how to cook homemade chicken middle soup so you used the stuff in a can.

Steve was staring up at the ceiling when he heard the microwave beep from afar, signaling that his soup was ready.

He craned his head just enough to see you walk in, sitting next to his legs as you placed the soup onto the bedside table.

“Here, let me help you.” You mumbled, gently grabbing his hand and putting your free hand on his upper back to help him situate into a sitting position against the headboard.

After Steve was comfortable enough, you grabbed the soup and carefully placed the warm bowl onto his lap — which thankfully wouldn’t burn him since he had a thick comforter.

Steve took a spoonful of the soup, letting out a small groan of satisfaction as the warm broth hit his tastebuds.

While he was off in his own personal heaven switching from eating the noodles and pieces of chicken to drinking the broth, you placed your hand on his forehead to check his temperature.

You fought the urge to immediately take your hand away from the burning skin.

Yeah, you knew he always ran warm, but he was never this warm. And it freaked you out a little bit.

“Jesus,” You cursed, pulling your hand back after keeping it there for a few moments.

Steve looked up, letting out an oblivious: “Hm?”

“You’re burning up, Steve.” You quickly got up to go grab a washcloth from the connected bathroom.

Steve watched your fleeting figure for a moment before going back to his soup, eventually finishing it and placing it on the bedside table.

You came back after a few seconds and placed the washcloth on Steve’s forehead before laying him back down.

“You done with the soup?” You asked quietly, pointing to the now empty bowl with a few remnants of carrots and celery along with some seasoning.

Steve nodded and you grabbed the bowl, walking back into the kitchen to wash it out.

“Why are you even in here?” Steve inquired once you returned. “You don’t need to be taking care of me like this.”

If Steve was being honest, this moment of vulnerability reminded him of when he was young. When he had a number of medical issues and his mother was working multiple jobs to help him simply live.

He was shaken out of his somber trance when you spoke up.

“Well we had a small meeting of who was going to watch you to make sure you recovered fine.” You explained with a breath.

“And I volunteered to do it.”

Steve let out a low hum of acknowledgement, his head lulling back against the pillow as he weakly readjusted the damp cloth on his forehead.

“You didn’t need to, I’m sure I’ll be fine by tomorrow.” Steve mumbled.

“But I appreciate the gesture,” He added as an afterthought, not wanting to sound rude.

You chuckled, getting up once you noticed the time.

8:06 P.M.

It wasn’t necessarily late, but you wanted Steve to get a lot of rest so you got up anyway.

“I’m gonna sleep on the couch, if you don’t mind,” You paused for a moment to see if Steve would tell you to just go back into your quarters and come back in the morning.

But he didn’t. He didn’t have any sort of reaction so you took that as a good sign and continued speaking.

“So just call me if you need anything.” You flashed Steve another smile before turning and walking out of his bedroom, dimming the lights and leaving the door cracked open.

Just in case.

—————————————————————————

tags! : @ryvkkr (pls let me know if you don’t want to be tagged for marvel fics🙏)

[python333]

what's a noise to an eardrum? — python³

― ― ― ―

synopsis you've been on a mission for a while, and instead of going back to your quarters after coming back, you head to ghost's.

relationships platonic!ghost & gn!reader.

characters simon "ghost" riley.

word count 2.2k

warnings ghost's pov, 2nd person pov [you/your/yourself], sleep deprivation, bad cliches, bad writing, might be ooc

note hey gang!!! i think i got all the warnings since this is pretty lighthearted considering what i usually post, so enjoy :) lmk your thoughts!

Ghost was sitting at his desk―in his own sleeping quarters, since it’s technically past curfew and he doesn’t need any trouble from recruits about him being in his office after hours, the annoying little shits―typing away at his computer, trying to get a report on his latest assignment done before going to bed.

He’s had a little bit of trouble sleeping lately. Not to say that it’s your fault, but it’s definitely your fault. He doesn’t necessarily need you around to go to sleep, but since you volunteered for a mission a week ago, he’s been a little on edge. Originally, it would’ve been Soap and a few other sergeants heading out to a small town in some country down in Central America, but you took the place of Soap after Price had explained the mission. 

It could technically be done by one person, he’d said in short, but it’s quicker to send out a squadron than a single soldier.

You weren’t the best sniper they had, but you had enough experience with it for Price to approve of you going with one other person to keep watch of you. The long duration of the mission was really to be blamed on how often your target had been moving, leaving you with little room to take any shots. It wasn’t too important of a mission, however―as long as you didn’t miss your target in the end―so Ghost is sure Price is glad that he only had to send out one soldier instead of around six or seven.

Still, despite how there was little to no chance of you coming out of this mission in multiple pieces, Ghost found himself worried; something he, admittedly, feels for a lot of the soldiers here. His worry for you is different, though. Maybe it’s an age thing. Maybe it has something to do with how he’s seen you grow over the years that you’ve been here, and how close you’ve gotten to going from a Private to a Lance Corporal. It’s a relatively low rank for someone in the 141, which only makes him―dare he admit it―prouder. A weird feeling lingers in his mind when the word proud comes to mind as he thinks of you, but he ignores that feeling, instead opting to focus on the report he so desperately wanted to finish.

Despite his usual sleep aversion, he finds himself wanting to sleep for once.

Just as he gets to the middle of his report, he hears a knock at the door. Before Ghost can even say anything, he hears the door open, and his head whips around to see who would decide that it’s a good idea to enter his room without his permission. Though, all of his confusion and building anger dissipates the moment he sees that it’s you. Fresh from medical, he can safely assume, seeing the various bandages and bruises on you, and that odd too-clean smell that’s sticking to you. You look so exhausted, it’s almost funny. Almost. 

You close the door behind you and Ghost turns his head back to his laptop. It’s not that he doesn’t want to look at you, but it’s a little harder to when you look so disheveled. He hears a few footsteps, then the squeaking of bed springs, and a sigh before the rustling of bed sheets. In the faint reflection of his computer screen, Ghost can just barely see you getting comfortable under the covers of his bed, seeming to fully disregard his presence. He doesn’t mind, though. He gets it; that feeling after being on guard for so long, not sure how much of it you can let down even though you’re back on base, and that strange structureless feeling where you wish you had bones but only feel like flesh. 

It’s odd, put simply. When Ghost thinks of the feeling, he thinks of the age-old question, if a tree falls in a forest and nobody is around to hear it, does it make a sound? The feeling is like a constant questioning of what you’re experiencing, the wonderance of whether or not you can feel safe if the safest you’ve ever felt is a feeling lost somewhere beyond you. If you lose a feeling, was it ever felt? If you lost safety, were you ever safe, or, as Maslow would put it, were you always missing that basic need? Ghost knows plenty about missing safety. He knows that his mind blanks when he tries to think about the last time he felt safe before the 141. 

He knows that you know plenty about missing safety, too. Not a lot, because you never say enough to clue him in on just how much you’re missing, but he has his suspicions. Some are confirmed, others mere theories, but still―he knows you well enough. That’s why you’re in his room, not saying a word, just breathing heavily into his pillow and trying to garner warmth from his blanket. He can see you staring at him from the bed. He’s sure you want him to say something, and because it’s you that’s looking at him, he does.

“Back already?” Ghost asks dryly, drawing a small huff out of you. 

“Soap said y’missed me,” you reply, making Ghost scoff, “when he visited me in the infirmary.” 

“Too big of a mouth on ‘im,” Ghost saves the draft of his report, deciding to just save writing it for another time, instead closing out of the program and hovering his finger over the power button on his keyboard, “don’t know how y’managed to understand him.” 

You hum and sit up in Ghost’s bed, the blankets rustling again, and as Ghost’s screen goes black, he turns around to see you sitting up with the blankets wrapped around you like a jacket. He blinks at you, before raising an eyebrow at your position.

“Ruinin’ my blankets?” he asks, though sounding barely offended, “After walking in unannounced besides that little knock?”

“Ruin’s a pretty strong word,” you argue, “and it wasn’t a little knock. It was loud. Practically echoed off the walls.”

Ghost can sense your sarcasm from a mile away, but continues to play along, leaning back in his chair. You look a little more tired covered in blankets, he thinks, those dark circles under your eyes are a little more pronounced. He sees them a lot. Those darkened semi-circles that he used to think were just a part of you, some kind of skin condition, but later realized they were a product of your sleep deprivation. It would’ve been his first thought had he not always seen you with the bags under your eyes, but after going on leave with you―a few months ago, back to his small house, after you had admitted that you preferred staying with him to going back to your dingy apartment―and witnessing you getting proper rest, seeing those circles get a little lighter, he knew that it was more of a sleep issue. 

He’s gone through his fair share of sleeping problems. He still goes through them; everyone in the military does, he’s sure. Ghost used to think that he took the brunt of it, compared to the rest of the task force, not because of the missions but because of what came before the missions. He’s changed his way of thinking since then, has opened up his mind a little more beyond the idea of suffering more than someone else in a specific sense, but he still had that feeling that he took on the majority of nightmares. The word “nightmare” feels a little juvenile for him, but until someone creates a better word for the repulsive things he sees after closing his eyes and just barely drifting asleep, that’s what he’s stuck with. 

“You better hope y’didn’t wake anyone up with it, then,” Ghost hums, “I doubt anyone wants to be awake right now.” 

He sees a small smile grow on your face and small spots of blood arise from beneath the cracked skin of your lips. 

“Everyone here sleeps like a rock as far as I know,” you reply, before pausing, considering, “maybe except for the guys who came in a few weeks ago.”

“I’m sure they’ll be gone by next month,” Ghost tells you, his tone almost reassuring, “I don’t think they can handle any of… this.” 

“You don’t think they can handle your bullying?” you scoff, making Ghost huff out a small laugh, “Weak.” 

“Not everyone’s as strong as you, unfortunately,” Ghost hums sarcastically, getting up from his chair and walking the short distance over to his bed where you’re sitting. Automatically, you move so that Ghost can sit down next to you.

You’re both silent for a little bit. Ghost can see the few healing bruises on your face a little clearer here. Small dark yellows and reds on the sharper points of your face, the parts where the bone is a little closer to the skin, particularly your cheeks and a few over your jawline and near your chin. They’re a bad look on you, not because Ghost doesn’t think you can handle yourself, but because he knows that you can handle yourself, so the only way you could’ve gotten those bruises is if you were forced into a corner. He would consider that they were an accident, somehow self-inflicted, but he knows better than that. 

“Are you tired?” Ghost asks, even though he knows the answer.

“I haven’t slept in a few days.” There it is.

“And for the few days that you did sleep?” He thinks he knows the answer to this too.

“I don’t know if you can really call it that.” Bingo.

It’s not surprising to him. Not only has he been on enough missions with you to know how hard it is for you to sleep outside of the base, but he’s managed to get you to actually tell him about your sleeping struggles. He knows. He watches you subtly kick off your boots, letting them fall over onto their sides, as if you could read his mind and know what he’s going to request next.

“Lay down,” Ghost puts a bare hand on your clothed shoulder and lightly pushes at it, prompting you to lean back onto your side, settling into the bed with the blankets still wrapped around you.

Ghost doesn’t mind the lack of blankets he’s getting. As long as you’re the one hogging them, he finds it easier to go without them, strangely enough. He lays down onto the bed next to you, his head naturally above yours, and neither of you bother to change positions. He doesn’t attempt to pull the blankets from you, and you don’t try to move away from him, the both of you simply existing together in one small space with nothing interrupting you two. A thin layer of air, similar to the blanket covering you, seems to cover the both of you, not trapping you together but instead comforting the both of you. The air feels woven from Ghost’s thoughts, yarn strewn from his cerebral cortex, emotions run through an invisible loom to create the beautiful quilt that covers the both of you. 

Ghost’s hand comes up to thumb at the edge of his balaclava, and he pulls it up the tiniest bit, but then pauses to think.

He knows that if you just turn your head up the tiniest bit, you’ll see his face. The blonde stubble peeking out from under his skin, the small dent forming in the middle of his nose from the constant wearing of his balaclava, and possibly the most embarrassing of all, that small smile he wears that pulls at his already cracking lips that draws blood on occasion. Despite all of this, he pulls his face covering all the way off, and tosses it onto his desk. Your face doesn’t move an inch despite how obvious it is that some kind of fabric has hit the desk. 

He considers saying thank you, but Ghost doesn’t deem it necessary. You’re so close to sleeping that he doesn’t want to risk ruining your chances by talking to you. So, instead, he just brings his arm over your side and lets his hand reach up into the nape of your neck to toy with the small hairs tapering off there. They’re short enough that he’s essentially just brushing his fingers against the skin of your neck, but he assumes you don’t mind, considering how you continue to not move. You stay still peacefully, soft breaths leaving you as your body starts to actually relax.

So you weren’t lying about your lack of sleep, he thinks, his own eyes slowly closing, not that I thought you were, anyway.

Your breathing creates the perfect white noise to him. The vibrations emitting from your larynx that escape your mouth reach his ear canals, where they bounce off of his eardrums, and move down from his middle ears to his inner ears where the nerve endings that live there turn the vibrations into electrical impulses and are translated by his brain into actual sound. The translation sounds like more than just a simple sound, though; it’s like your breathing is translated into actual words rather than breathing, words like safe and guarded. Those small vibrations bounce around in his ears and turn into syllables, then eventually whispers, then firm speech. 

Those words are like music to his ears, as cliché as it is, and he cherishes every word he hears―more than he’ll ever let you know.

[the83rdgenius]

dottore x reader | minors do not interact

warnings: gender neutral reader, dottore accidentally triggers you, soft dottore because we deserve it, no pronouns/gendered terms for reader, past trauma/abuse, dottore is most likely ooc, hurt/comfort, heavy angst, estabilished relationship, flashbacks, reader cries for most of this, homicidal thoughts/urges (dottore), established relationship, wrote this in tumblr drafts meow.

a/n: this was so healing to write 🩵

summary: due to an unfortunate series of events dottore learns about the darker parts of your past.

It all happened so fast. One minute you were listening to Dottore ramble on about something and the next moment you’re crying, back pressed against the wall. Shame and guilt washed over you the moment you realized what had happened. He hadn't hurt you, barely even touched you, yet you couldn't help but cower in fear.

It wasn't something Dottore was used to. Seeing the look on your face, the terrible way your eyebrows furrowed while your eyes burned with a pain he couldn't recognize, it was almost too much for him to bear.

You refused to answer, or rather, you couldn’t. Dottore held back from touching or reaching out to you. Instead he studied your facial expressions and body language, relying on you to tell him when the time was right to make physical contact.

Still, regardless of how patient Dottore was you wouldn't move a muscle. Neither of you said anything. You wanted so desperately to resign yourself to the comfort of his skin, but stronger forces kept you pressed against the palace walls.

Dottore did well to shield from anyone that may have made the unfortunate choice of walking down that hallway, but he was quick to deter any of those peering eyes and any hushed voices were swiftly silenced.

A feeling he had not felt in a long time washed over him. "Are you able to stand?" His voice was low and calm, like the soft humming of a quiet building.

You paused before nodding your head. Slowly you stood up, your knees wobbled and threatened to buckle at any given second.

"May I touch you?" He asked, offering one of his hands to you.

There was an odd sort of gentleness which hung from his words that made you a little less tense. Your eyes which were trained to the ground finally peered up at his hand. For a moment you hesitated, but thankfully the moment was brief. Cautiously you took his hand and allowed yourself to relax against his body.

You felt the world around you begin to spin. Your vision grew blurry with every pathetic tear that fell from your eyes, and your hands shook with fear as they clung to your lover’s coat. Dottore very slowly wrapped one of his arms around you and pressed you close to his chest. If it had been any other time you would’ve teased him for being so soft, but at that moment all you could think about was your horrible past.

As you softly cried into Dottore’s chest you had begun to remember events, faces, people, in grave detail. It was as if everything was surfacing all at once. Dottore quickly urged you to walk along with him, leading you into his private quarters. As you made your way to his room you made sure to stick close by him, keeping your eyes on the ground in front of you while squeezing his hand tightly.

Once you’d finally made it to his room he promptly shut the door and gently sat you onto his bed. You sniffled quietly as tears continued to roll down your face. Still, Dottore hadn’t uttered a word and instead merely held you close in his arms, safe from any and all harm.

There was a long moment of silence before Dottore finally spoke. “What was their name?” He struggled to contain his anger and hide the urgency of his question.

You started to cry a little harder, scared to answer his question. “I’m-I’m sorry, I don’t remember.” There was a brief pause and then you bounced your leg and scratched at your skin as if you were contagious. “I-I know that must s-sound dumb, and I-I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be so stupid.”

The way you spoke only caused his anger to grow, and yet, he continued speaking to you in the softest tone he could find. “When did it happen? Do you know what they looked like?”

He knew logically his approach was most likely doing more harm than good, but he couldn’t help it. He’d never burned so hot in his entire life. In all the years he’d lived he’d never felt rage quite like the kind he experienced in that very moment.

You shook your head. “Please, Zandik, I can’t.” Your voice broke on that last word, and oh, how it destroyed the poor man’s heart.

He took a deep breath, reminding himself that you were the one in pain, and that you needed him with you most of all. So, swallowing his pride he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his lap. Dottore rocked you back and forth in a moment that was mainly filled with silence, until about ten minutes in when he started to softly sing a lullaby from his childhood. He’d known it was something mother’s would sing to soothe their crying child, and although he had never experienced it first hand, he figured it could be used towards helping you.

Dottore smoothed down your hair with a careful hand, handling you with the gentlest of touches. There wasn’t much he could say without making a bigger mess than there already was, but perhaps he could at least hold you close and keep you safe for as long as possible. He’d never promise such a thing, or at least he never had before, but perhaps he could make an exception for the love of his life.

[i984]

Sweet Words Make a Lovely Shade | Part 1

|Pairing|: Wednesday Addams x gender neutral reader.

|Warnings|: Ooc! Wednesday Addams, mentions of gore, Wednesday being uncharacteristically tame, reader likes to test boundaries, Wednesday gives bone-breaking hugs, no beta; we die like my brain cells.

|Summary|: You test your luck by putting Wednesday Addams in a compliment jail. 

|Word count|: 2.7k words

|A/n|: I ended up not changing a thing. I took some liberty with your request 💡anon, hope you still enjoy it! | Part 2 is available in my masterlist.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Love  

It does wonders for a person. 

And for you? Well, it makes you spew the utmost revolting, foolish, and absurd things out of your mouth—Wednesday's words, not yours. You think it's her way of saying she likes the compliments you practically shower her with. 

At first, you didn't even realize you were doing it. You could be sitting next to the raven-haired girl in class, having some lunch together, reading books in the library, or on your occasional walks around town, and you only have one single recurring thought that you can't seem to get out of your mind; 

Wednesday Addams—your precious sadistic little girlfriend—is so pretty.  

And not to be shallow or anything; after all, you like her for many different things. Her intelligence, wittiness, and her I-don't-give-a-fuck attitude. Her obsession with everything macabre, the monochromic-colored outfits that perfectly suit her, and the way she uses words you can't even begin to comprehend half the time. 

But then there's the way her hair has that lustrous glow, and then the rare grin she cracks when it's just the two of you, the constant little pout in her lips, and don't even start about her plump dark burgundy lips; Oh, you wanna kiss her-  

"-so bad," you mumbled out absent-mindedly, and Wednesday slowly looked up from her double cap—mouth gaping slightly at the suddenness of your words—her eyes blinking rapidly at you.  

"Oh- no no no I was just thinking and I got distracted because your lips look SO pretty!" Your voice was louder than you had intended for it to be, and you quickly covered your mouth—a pointless act as the slip-up had already been done. 

Wednesday only spared you a sharp glare before standing up from your shared sofa booth, already heading towards the Cafe entrance. Before you can even explain yourself, she had already bolted out, leaving you and her double cap behind. 

You know that Wednesday is not big on PDAs; soft kisses and gentle touches are reserved for private quarters. And even then, you can tell that her moves are calculated—afraid of doing too much that she'd find herself in a compromising position. 

But you didn't miss the darkening of her freckle-painted cheeks as she snuck a peek at your figure from outside Weathervane, and that's when you realized; 

Oh.  

Well, this is gonna be fun. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You walk to your dorm room with a dopey grin on your face, recounting the things that happened earlier.  

You've figured it all out. Wednesday might act like she isn't affected by other people's words and opinions about her—and in most cases, this is true—except when it comes from you.  

She caught you wearing a hoodie of hers? Now you have three more in your closet. You respond a beat late to some disputable thing she mentions? She immediately apologized for being insensitive and asked your take on the subject. You told her that she looked good in that checkered sweater? Now she wears the piece of garment all the time. Ask her to binge-watch all 10 seasons of My Little Pony with you? It would give her nightmares for weeks, yes, but absolutely.  

You quickly realize that you're one of the few people lucky enough to have Wednesday tolerate you to a certain degree. So you do the obvious—run after Wednesday after leaving some money on the table, and then shout at the top of your lungs, "I LIKE YOUR LIPS WEDNESDAY ADDAMS"  

You swear to God, you've never seen someone bolt out of your view so quickly. She didn't even spare a single disapproving glance at you—on normal occasions she would—but now, as people stop in their tracks to see who your words are pointed to, she's gone, nowhere to be seen.  

It's cute, how much she's affected by your words. And that's why, as you open your dorm room door, you walk straight to your thinking desk past a figure, planning to come up with new ways to fluster your girlfriend. 

Wait. Past a figure? 

You turn your head to see Wednesday Addams standing still, looking daggers at you, and you know things are about to go down.  

You smile coyly at her while taking a seat. The raven-haired girl's gaze trails your every movement. She looks almost predatory in this state. Like she's about to tear you apart to shreds. 

You hold your head high as you speak, "Is something wrong, Wens?" A pet name. You've heard Wednesday made it clear time and time again to Enid that she was against pet names. And you've never called her one before. But you're willing to gamble your life this time just to see how far she would tolerate you. 

So you maintain your perfect facade, and it was all worth it as you see Wednesday's eyes widen at the morbidity of your words—the good kind, you'd assume—and you saw her mouth open and close a couple of times, trying to say something deprecating and failing acutely.  

She stands awkwardly like that for a moment; her hands making little gestures as if she was trying to make a point while maintaining her look of utter disbelief at your behavior. 

You figured if you didn't egg on her a little more, she wouldn't let her guard down, so you decided to turn your back on her and pulled out a book to read. 

"What are you doing?" You can hear the stress in her words. You can picture her look right now; her jaw clenched, teeth gritted, brows furrowed in dismay. 

"I'm reading a book, as you can see with those pretty brown eyes of yours." You flipped a few pages, eyes tracing along the shape of letters and words, not really paying any mind to the actual content. 

"All right then," exasperation is evident in her voice, and you have to fight yourself from snickering at the situation. 

You've always been very careful around Wednesday, trying not to agitate her into giving you snarky comments—she still gives them nonetheless, and you find it amusing as time goes by—but curiously, she's not giving you any at the moment. And if you are to guess, it's probably because she physically can't bash you for your words. Not when she's fighting for her life with feelings she refuses to acknowledge most of the time. 

You hear her footsteps grow distant—she's heading for the door, you figured—and you don't even bother to look up as you say, "Come back soon, tesoro,"  

The sound of footsteps ceased. 

"Are you really going to keep doing this?" You can tell by Wednesday's voice that she is trying so hard not to burst at your display—you were never like this after all—from rage or the compliments, you don't know. But you figure you'll find out if you pick the right words. 

"Keep doing what, Wens?" You spin in your chair to her, your voice dripping with honey, with faux innocence. You can see her face turn colors into one of carnation, her lips thinning into a line as she tears her gaze apart from you. 

"You. Know. What." Wednesday strains every word, her tone is low as if to intimidate you, but you know the ball is in your court. 

"What? Telling you how pretty your lips are? In front of a lot of people? 

"Yes, exactly-" 

"And that I wanna kiss those lips of yours so badly? Dark plump lips like yours are my favorite, by the way," you look at her in the eyes as you speak, and you let your gaze trail down her face, and Wednesday fidgets with the hem of her top. 

"Oh wait, actually, you are my favorite." 

Wednesday glares at you—an act that usually works with Enid and everyone else when she wants to avoid certain conversations—but you are unfazed. You have her exactly where you want right now, and judging by the absence of a knife in her hand, you're going to assume that she's more than okay with what you're doing.  

"But wait. Oh. Is this about the fact that I know you blushed so hard when I complimented you? Every single time, did you notice that?" You stood up from your seat, throwing the book atop your desk.  

"I know you like it, Wens," you smirked, the nickname easily sliding out your tongue the more you said it, "I know you like me."  

"Oh, you are so full of yourself-" 

"You know what else I like? The way your pout grows bigger—as we're speaking right now, yes," and you see her face growing a scowl as you take a step closer towards her, "and now you're clenching your jaw slightly, god, you look so cute doing that."  

"I do not look cute, and if you cut my words off-" 

"Do you know that your micro facial expressions are probably the most adorable thing I ever get to witness?" 

"-again, I will cut your tongue and force-feed it to you."  

You ignore your girlfriend's words, continuing the torture you've devised for her. "No, not probably. Definitely the most adorable thing ever."  

A broad grin sprouted on your face, the one Wednesday always calls 'the idiotic grin' but you know she secretly likes it, and you can't be happier right now. You're experiencing a power trip; adrenaline rushing through you to continue your teasing despite the possibility of being mute in the future. 

"And that? Right there. Just now. The way you just announce dangerous threats? And sometimes about people's demise? Now, that is attractive."  

Wednesday decided that she's had enough of your antics. Her hand reaches for the doorknob, and you trail after her out of your dormitory. 

"Do not follow me," Wednesday hushed, and you walk beside her trying to catch up as she seems to speed up her pace.  

"I'm not following you, we just happen to be walking in the same direction- Oh, hi Bianca!" You see the girl waving back at you as you both walk through the quad; Wednesday did not acknowledge Bianca's presence as usual. 

"Oh yeah, that reminds me. Remember when you totally beat the shit out of Bianca in that oral test last week? That is also incredibly attractive."  

Wednesday seemed to pay no mind as you continued your horrible strings of compliments, except for the fact that she's practically running through the corridors right now, embarrassed of being caught blushing by any of her peers. 

You know that at this point, you're threading a thin line between her turning into putty at your words or her leading you to a grave site, ready to smash your head with a rock once you get there. 

Well, she's heading towards Ophelia Hall now, so it's safe to say you won't be visiting the realms of the dead today. 

"It would be wise for you to quit whatever skulduggery you're doing if you don't want me to slice your head off at fencing class-," 

You raise your hand in mock defeat at her words, and you can see Wednesday's knuckles turn white in a fist as she continued her words, "-which will start in a couple of hours. So, leave me-" 

"Oh yeah, that got me thinking of how good you look when fencing. I mean, there's a reason why I never ever spar with you during class."  

"Yes, and it is your remarkable ineptitude in the sport." 

You shoot her a look of false hurt at her words, "How dare you- Well. I mean yes, but also have you seen yourself?" You speak out of breath, your legs slowly catching up with Wednesday's pace.  

"Yes, of course. I've been staring at a mirror in the middle of my sparring," Wednesday rolls her eyes at you, "and that's why I've been on a losing-" at this, you can see Wednesday practically seethe in anger as she chokes the word out, "-streak against Bianca Barclay."  

"No, silly, it's because I would be in complete awe," you decided not to comment further on the sore issue, opting to clear out the tension with—yes you guessed it—more compliments.  

"I mean, the all-black outfit? Your menacing strikes and your calculated steps, not to mention your disheveled hair and the concentrated look on your face?" You clasp your hand in front of your chest, eyes looking up dreamily at the memory, while the girl beside you scoffed in irritation. 

You're now at Ophelia Hall, and Wednesday continues her brisk walk toward her shared dorm room. You don't have much time left if you want to break her composed demeanor. 

"And yes, if I sparred with you, the exact situation you mentioned earlier would've happened. My head sliced off the very first second into the spar." 

"And I'd assume you wouldn't want that. So don't make me do it." 

"Quite the contrary, I wouldn't mind. I bet dying by such skillful hands would be an amazing experience." 

You can see the door now. Wednesday knows this as well. If she gets inside and locks you out, maybe you'll shut up and spare her from the torture that makes her gut feel like it's ripping her apart from the inside. 

"What do you think of adding my head as a mount on your room's wall? I'm sure Thing would appreciate the addition of another dismembered body part in the room." 

If Wednesday wasn't agitated before, she definitely is now. As she opens the door to her dorm room and turns her body to you, you can see that not only are her cheeks of blossoming color, the tips of her nose and ears are as well! It's as if this is the first time blood has rushed to her face, and you'd argue that she looks dangerously magnificent like this; face sneering but eyes unable to maintain eye contact with you. 

She spared you only a short pointed glare, before closing the door to your face. You can hear her voice ring moments later, "Stop pestering me on my writing time or I will take you up on that offer. If you decide to omit my warning, make sure you say something adequate, as I will personally make sure it will be written on your gravestone as your last words."  

Her threats have never felt so empty, not with her obviously shaky voice—not when you know she's staring at her typing paper blankly right now, unable to type a single word as you can't hear any clacking sound of the machine's keys. 

The gears in your mind turn at an insane speed, and with the bravado only you possess, you belt your next words for the whole dormitory to hear,  

"I AM CRAZY FOR YOU, WEDNESDAY ADDAMS!" 

There was only silence. Then, you hear the rapid clickety-clack of your girlfriend's shoes, and you jump backward when Wednesday yanked the door open. 

This is it, you thought.  

You had been too cocky, thinking that you could get away with harassing the raven-haired girl—if compliments can be considered harassment, that is—and now you're going to pay the price. In the most gruesome way imaginable, if you know anything about your girlfriend. 

Wednesday storms at you, and before you can even try to escape, you feel her arms wrapped strongly around your figure in a death grip. She's about to tackle you to death, and you brace yourself for the upcoming impact- 

-that never comes? Her arms just stay there, her head buried against your chest, and you are at a loss for words. 

It's unfair, how easily she makes you feel flustered. You've been trying to get a reaction out of her all this time, and she barely cracks. But now as she hugs you, you practically melt into her embrace; your mischievous agenda is long forgotten. 

When you regain your senses, you take a breath— about to comment on the situation before she cuts you off with a; 

"Shut up. I hate you."  

You smirk at her words before sighing in contentment, eyes closing as you soak in the rare moment, "I love you too." 

"But I will never shut up about this- OW-" 

Wednesday left you rolling on the floor in pain after landing a punch in your guts. 

"Now, you will."

[tenjikyu]

𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯' 𝘺𝘰𝘶 - 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ bonten!mikey x male!rockstar!reader , reader plays guitar in a band , reader dresses more grunge as that’s the bands theme , think nana osaki from nana bc she’s the inspo for the fic , very lighthearted, tryna let poor bonten!mikey catch a break , slight sexual references but nothing actually happens , bonten is a lil ooc bc they all act like family but it’s okay bc it’s bonten.

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ SLIGHT SPOILERS FOR BONTEN ARC, NOT REALLY BUT WARNING JUST IN CASE. (honestly it’s not spoilers at all bc it’s pretty fanon in comparison to the canon bonten timeline.)

“cmon mikey, get outta the apartment for once in your life that isn’t to go to headquarters!” rindou pouts at his boss.

manjiro really didn’t know what he expected when he decided all the executives should move into a massive penthouse together. sure it was good for his health to be around others and not coop himself up in agony, but he didn’t exactly like the idea of being dragged out whenever his lackeys felt like it.

“not intrested, leave me alone.” manjiro says, attempting to make his way to his bedroom. to go see a band he rarely listened to? who goes to a concert when you don’t give a shit about them to begin with?

sure he’s heard all about the gorgous female lead singer and the hot as fuck guitarist. (Y/N), right? manjiro couldn’t remember nor did he really care to.

“but i bought us all front row tickets to see Black Rose so we could witness how hot Hiroko Asato issss” ran attempted to persuade the stubborn bonten leader.

it wasn’t working.

“i’m looking forward to seeing her outfits up close. from what i’ve heard, she wears pure designer.” kokonoi adds onto the conversation.

“cmon mikey, it’s only one night. if you hate it that much i can drive you back to the penthouse.” kakucho, ever the resolver, bargains with the pouting leader.

“…” manjiro stays silent. ‘it’s just one night i guess, plus it means that i’d have them off my ass for at least a month’ he reasons with himself.

“alright, let’s get going then.” he says, the rest of the executives silently fist bumping the air rn.

the wait to get into the stadium was a bitch, however with a little bit of force, the bonten executives managed to get inside ahead of time.

koko ordered the drinks, kakucho and mochi reserved the spots and the haitani brothers were chatting up some vip ladies in scandalous dresses. meanwhile mikey is . . .

umm . . .

wait.

“oh, hey! are you lost..?”

you do your best to keep cool with the fact that the leader of the biggest mafia syndicate in japan was in your personal changing room.

“the show doesn’t start for another 2 hours, can i help you to your seat? i wouldn’t mind.” you offer, keeping careful of how you talk.

the hotshots of bonten’s identities had been long revealed to the public, however people were too afraid to really report their whereabouts to authorities. many stories of people who had revealed their location that day were swiftly eliminated, even before the news of their position were made public.

and so, knowing that the tatoo on this rather depressed looking man’s neck was a bad sign, you decided to just adhere to whatever he might need.

you were already dressed, the iconic vivienne westwood jewellery hanging from every inch of your body. each member of your band had a significant brand to them, so it wasn’t uncommon for you to be seen decked out in the iconic space themed jewellery. you had always loved the style, and it seemed the mafia boss was equally as intrigued in your designer pieces. you even had their logo imprinted onto your guitar.

“no, i’m okay.” manjiro only replied, his eyes not leaving the necklace that rested gently on your chest.

he didn’t really know why he snuck into the private quarters of the band. perhaps it was to escape his ever-so-annoying underlings?

or perhaps, a little part of him wanted to catch a glimpse of you.

apart from the obvious favourite of the band, the lead singer AS well as the only girl in the band, you were a favourite among listeners.

you had women and men alike screaming your name and begging for skin-on autographs. despite being a dude yourself, you had other guys begging you to sign their tailbone (which you had to politely decline).

manjiro understood why, as you were definitely easy on the eyes. your amazing sense of fashion and your toned body didn’t help.

“uhm.. are you feeling okay? you seem a bit dazed.” you question. in reality, the man was just dead on staring into your soul, scaring the living shit outta you.

“yes, i’m alright.” he finally responds.

.

. .

. . .

“here, take a seat.” you finally break the silence. why was he here? you didn’t think that a guy like him would have time to sit around some flashy concert. sure, you were a big band but let’s be real, shouldn’t he be at his headquarters shooting peoples heads in?

alas, you knew better then to question it.

and so, you order in some glasses of alcohol and begin chatting. you spoke about your career, how your band came to be and about dreams.

you aren’t entirely sure why you were discussing this sort of shit with a random mafia leader who could probably give less then a shit about you, however he seemed almost enamoured with your conversation.

you felt bad for talking his ear off, especially since you now only had about 45 minutes till showtime and you STILL hadn’t tuned your guitar, however he didn’t seem to care.

everytime you stopped talking, manjiro almost.. glared? at you? as if he was offended that you stopped talking.

unbeknownst to you, manjiro loved listening to you talk. the way you worded things and your voice overall was heavenly to his ears.

the piercings that decorated your skin were appealing to the man. the chain from your ear to you lips especially looked so… attractive to him.

“(Y/N) C’MON, WE’RE ON IN 10” you could hear toru, your drummer, scream out to you.

“SHIT! MY GUITAR” you freaked. HOW did you forget your guitar??

“i’ll come visit after the show.” manjiro says, exiting the room.

“oh, oka-“ before you had the chance to finish your sentence, he vanished.

well, now you couldn’t WAIT for the show to finish!

after the show had ended, you packed up the rest of your gear. your manager had popped in and taken your stage clothes back to the studio before bidding farewell.

as you sat around in a pair of baggy jeans and a t-shirt (inspo - don’t feel like you have to imagine this.) , you paitently waited for the white haired mafia boss to sneak back into your private room.

why were you even waiting? he was probably bullshitting you anyways. why would someone as busy as manjiro sano give a fuck about what you were doi-

“yo.” a cheeky grin graces his face, looking back at you.

note to self : doubt gets you nowhere!

“hey manjiro, enjoy the show?” you ask the man, automatically getting comfortable in his presence. you didn’t exactly know why you felt so relaxed around him, considering his rather infamous reputation, but you just did.

“yeah, you’re certainly the best in your band though. could go solo and still be famous if you wanted.” he replies, automatically heating your face up.

“cmon (Y/N), let’s get going already. i’m tired.” he winged to you in a childlike manner.

“okay.. WAIT—HUH?? where am i going?” you shriek, having no idea that he actually PLANNED to leave this place with you in tow.

“back to my place. duh. i don’t just talk to anybody for fun unless i plan to shoot them in the head an hour later.” he responds in a nonchalant voice.

this boy is gonna be the death of you, literally or figuratively? only time will tell.

regardless of how much you declined the offer, the man ends up dragging you out to the expensive limo that was owned by bonten. not only were you dragged into the car, you were squished in between the boss and 2nd in command of the syndicate, haruchiyo sanzu.

not that you were complaining, the pink haired dude was hot as fuck.

there were many things that occurred that night :

• at 1am, you arrived at their shared headquarters, completely baffled that they all lived together. you decided that you would NOT mention anything that might offend anyone in the room right now.

• at 2am, you were drinking alcohol more pricey then your stage guitar. you weren’t by any means on the poor side, but these men lived a new version of luxury.

• at 3am, you were playing pool with the haitani brothers and sanzu. you lost. miserably.

• at 4am, you were half naked and making out with manjiro sano on his own bed. you didn’t expect the high and mighty manjiro sano to be so submissive in the bedroom.

wait…

“HUH??” WHY WERE YOU IN MANJIRO SANO’S BEDROOM?? WHY WERE YOU IN NOTHING BUT BOXERS?? WHY DID MANJIRO SANO HAVE BITE MARKS ALONG HIS NECK??

“relax dummy, nothing went beyond tongue action.” a mop of platinum hair grumbles beneath the duvet covers.

thank fuck.

‘wait. what time is it?’ you ponder, taking a look at the clock next to the bed. 3:45pm. just how much did you drink to wake up this late?

before you had anymore time to think about it, you feel a thin but strong arm yank you back under the covers,

and come face to face with a pouty mafia leader.

as if on instinct, you pull his head gently into your chest, cradling his head like he’s a porcelain doll. his arms wrap around you as he nuzzled into your body closer, seeking your warmth and comfort.

it doesn’t quite dawn on you that your cuddling a man you literally met yesterday. not because you’re naive or dense, but because it just felt right to be in each others arms.

it’s not until mochi wakes the both of you up for dinner that you reopen your eyes, realising you hadn’t moved since you got dragged down.

it’s an all out war getting manjiro to leave his bed, but when you’re swiftly abducted by the haitani brothers, he’s up and ready, chasing the idiots around claiming they ‘stole his baby.”

well, that’s one way to get a boyfriend!

[t-a-a-1]

The Darkest Hour

(TFP Optimus x Female Reader)

Summary:

After being labeled as crazy for trying to report that robot aliens exist on national television, you lose your job and move to Jasper City. In a drastic turn of fate, you meet Optimus Prime. You and Team Prime get together to find ancient relics that are vital to the Autobot's cause.

Along the way, you and Optimus start to develop feelings that go beyond comradeship.

But what happens when he discovers you've been lying all of this time?

……..

This story is a slow burn. Eventual smut. Optimus develops an unhealthy attachment (he is smitten, obsessed) to you but nothing OOC. Lots of yearning, craving, hurt, betrayal, erotic and that good stuff. Ok bye. In case of any questions, comments, concerns, suggestions, requests, etc, you may message me here. Thank you for reading! For A better reading experience you may read this story on Ao3.

>>> https://archiveofourown.org/works/60642838/chapters/154846393

Ch.1: The Crossroads Of Destiny

"During times of war, there is no good or bad. Everyone is a victim and an abuser. But it's good to remember that the best thing a person can do is to be kind and show mercy to the enemy."

Everyone needs a pep talk once in a while. Even Optimus Prime.

After the death of Cliffjumper, there wasn't much morale going around in the base. Just a very uncomfortable quietness. It was like an unspeakable agreement between Team Prime to never really speak of their feelings. Whether it had become customary to lose the ones they cared about, they didn't see the point.

It's a war after all.

"It takes one act of kindness to change people's hearts and everyone has the ability to change. Together we can transform this hateful world into one of peace."

Nonetheless, he found comfort in the small things. He wasn't fond of human entertainment but he deemed it necessary to learn the current happenings of the world. That was the main reason he installed a TV in his private quarters. With all the main news channels. He wasn't surprised to see robberies, murders, abuse and the constant wars. He was too familiar with it all.

But one day as he passed by one of the channels he found something, or rather someone who caught his attention.

"I believe anyone can be a hero."

The reporter always had something good to say. Just like him, this individual has been through countless wars and witnessed many misfortunes. Optimus knew this because he would never miss the news just to watch this specific reporter. Or if he did, he made sure to record it so he could watch it later. This human had somehow become a small hope for him. Encouraging words when he needed it the most.

"But the world will always need a true leader in the darkest hour."

And Primus knows he needs it.

.

.

.

"Reporting to you live, (Reader), CNF News."

You should have stopped being so biased and giving your opinion on everything when your boss first told you to.

You hated watching your old reports but you needed to see what was so wrong with them for CNF to fire you. Now you can see why.

Hero? Hope? Peace? Love?

You were young and stupid to believe in all of that. You had grown now and after seeing so much malice in this world, your opinion had completely changed.

Now you were in Jasper City. Not so much of a city more like a town. With its small population, they had a local news station that was willing to give you a job.

"I have insiders in the government telling me that aliens are real! I even have footage and locations where they have appeared!"

That was one of the few things you told your boss before he fired you. Of course, it wasn't just that. Your ticket out was trying to report your findings live on national television, with video, graphics and all. Of course, the station cut you off the broadcast the moment you started to sound like crazy.

But it was enough to ban you from all major broadcasting companies. Not even print media would accept you. Not the New York Times, not The Wall Street Journal, not even lifestyle magazines wanted you.

You had so much information to share. Like how you were able to track down locations that lead to items of alien origin. You didn't know what the items were for but by investigating ancient legends, you assumed that they were important.

"So, (Y/N), what are you going to be reporting on?"

Your new boss came into your small office. Not really an office but rather a desk that you shared with the other ten people.

"I've been investigating and on a few forums, it says that this town has a government base not too far from here," you typed in your laptop and quickly flipped it to show your boss various pictures. "Apparently, the base is used for weaponry manufacturing and other .... Illicit activities."

"Look, when we hired you, we didn't need a crazy alien believer," he put a hand on his eyes and moved it down his face, clearly frustrated. "We just needed someone who met deadlines."

"But isn't our job as journalists to bring the truth to the people? Don't you want to know where your taxes are going?"

"Look, this is Jasper City, the most interesting thing that has ever happened here is a pig that gave birth to another pig with two heads," he pointed to the wall and you followed it with your eyes. It was indeed, a newspaper cut out of the birth of a mutated pig.

"There is a new coffee shop opening tomorrow, why don't you report on that instead?"

"But, Mr. Jones-"

"Coffee shop. Tomorrow," he said in a commanding tone. "And upload the package on the rundown before midnight."

.

.

.

You pulled out a lighter and started smoking a cigarette on the outside of a bar. You were planning on coming down from your car and drinking a beer. However, after careful consideration, you didn't want to deal with strangers. You didn't want any 'Are you new to town? Haven't seen you around."

You knew that would happen, after all, you came from a small city before moving to New York to be a reporter. Now you are back to a smaller town you weren't even familiar with.

You had gone to the coffee shop opening and turned in your report before the deadline.

From reporting on corruption, war and crimes ... you went to reporting ... whatever this was.

You looked outside your car and noticed a military vehicle parked in front of you. Two guys in uniform come out of it, stretching their arms and yawning.

"Do you think it's safe for us to let that box unguarded?"

"Yeah, it's just some papers. Nothing to worry about. We are close to base anyways, we deserve a beer for our hard work."

One of them carelessly put the truck's keys in his back pocket and as you expected, it fell to the ground.

"Old job, here I come."

You were in the back of the truck, looking at the documents that weren't too impressive. It was stuff you already knew. Alien artifacts were located in different parts of the world. Nothing new. Still, you decided to take pictures of it with your phone. You needed more time to read them, maybe they contained something you didn't know.

Nonetheless, you knew that wherever these documents were heading was going to be more interesting. So you decided to leave the truck keys in the front seat with the hope that the men wouldn't even question how they got there.

You were right. It was too easy to predict men.

You were heading to somewhere unknown, miles away from your new home and somehow it felt more liberating. Could you be killed by the government for doing this? Probably. But then again you've survived worse and you have nothing left to lose.

You hid and didn't make any sound. It's probably been around two hours of driving.

Everything was going smoothly.

Until the truck came to a complete stop. You almost hit your head as you lost balance.

Then, the vehicle moved uncontrollably as you heard the sound of a missile impacting it. You recognized the sound, you'd heard it before. Countless times while reporting the wars.

You did not only hit your head but other parts of your body as the truck rolled multiple times through the dry desert.

You were dizzy but still managed to hold onto the box. You saw the two soldiers come out of the truck, holding guns. Next, you heard shots.

You heard heavy steps. The type that made the ground tremble.

You came out of the truck, not caring anymore if the military men saw you. Curiosity was always your weakness and you needed to know what made a five-ton truck flip like a coin.

You held into the box like your life depended on it. Stepping into the fuel that was leaking from the truck. You saw the soldiers, helplessly shoot bullets to that thing.

A thing.

That's the best way you could describe it.

Made of metal. 20 ... No, 30 feet tall. Robot. Silver and grey. Red. Sharp ends. With missiles and guns at its disposal.

You stared at it with awe. It was good to know that you weren't crazy, that you were right. On the other hand, you don't know if you will live long enough to tell the world about it.

The enormous metal creature pointed at you with one of its missiles.

"You, give me that box."

It spoke.

You knew that aliens must have their ways of communication but speaking perfect English was something you didn't imagine.

"I won't ask again ... Give me that box."

He wanted the documents. You didn't know why nor wanted to find out. It didn't take much for you to realize that you indeed had important information. So much that an alien came looking for it. But your body didn't respond. It was your first time seeing something out of this world. In the dark night and the starry sky of Nevada, you suddenly felt so little. So insignificant and the realization made your body unable to move.

Then, there was light.

That of metal clashing. Of the little chemical reaction when two metals collide.

Another creature. Bigger and taller. Stronger. Red and blue and silver.  Punching in the face the creature that was threatening you. They engaged in a battle too fierce to be in front of.

Your attention was drawn towards the men who lay on the floor unconscious. The soldiers must have been knocked out during the intrication. Dropping the box, you ran towards them as the two creatures fought against each other.

You thought your ears would explode from each impact, from each crash. You checked their pulses, they were breathing, but you knew you were too weak to move them, especially with uniforms on.

"Give me that box."

You ran towards the box, falling in the way as the ground trembled. You have to think fast. Two titanic robots, fighting. The first one spoke to you, demanding the box. The second one came in to fight.

Who was good? Who was bad? You weren't sure. You only knew one thing.

This box was important. It's content at least. You weren't a hero but you knew this was bigger than you. Maybe the information gave the robots a way to conquer the Earth. Regardless, you couldn't afford to think about it too much.

The box was made out of carton. For such an important thing, it sure wasn't guarded safely. But this was the United States Government, you didn't expect much. It was already covered with fuel from the leaking truck.

People say smoking cigs is bad. Well, at least you always carry a lighter with you.

The aliens keep fighting. You thought of them as aliens because you couldn't describe them better than that. They weren't green and skinny, nothing like you imagined. They were more like giant robot aliens. Aliens that had guns and that each bullet was so loud that you felt your entire body shake within.

You dropped the lighter on top of the box and it immediately caught on fire. You ran as fast as you could away from it, as you knew that the fuel would travel to its place of origin, the truck.

The truck explodes, and you use your body to cover the bodies of the still-unconscious men.

"NO!"

You hear one of the creatures scream. Both creatures had their attention on the truck on fire. However, the silver one took a step back and in a blink of an eye, he transformed into a jet. It flew away and it went away just as fast.

You couldn't even afford the time to be in shock.

The red and blue creature slowly came towards you. It kneels in front of you and its face is covered by what you consider to be a battle mask but somehow, it made it disappear. Its face moves closer and closer, observing you, moving in ways that are not human. Yet, you didn't feel threatened, it's as if it was amused with your presence.

Suddenly, you hear whimpering and grunts of pain. One of the soldiers was waking up.

"Did ... Did we win?"

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"She wants to talk to you, Prime."

It wasn't like Optimus was waiting around because he didn't trust Agent Fowler's procedures. It was mostly because Ratchet was having difficulty opening up the groundbridge again.

"She's actually a very prestigious reporter ... before she started ranting about aliens, I mean she was right, but you know what I mean."

The whole area was guarded in a 100-meter diameter, not another human would enter without Fowler knowing. A few helicopters had arrived at the battle scene, fastly constructing tents. One is for the medics to treat the injured soldiers, and the other is for you, for a questionnaire. Everything was quickly contained.

"Why don't you take her for a ride and convince her to sign the confidentiality papers? ... I hate to use brute force on women."

He sees you walk out of the pre-made tent. You had a small blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Optimus sometimes forgets how delicate humans can be. The nights in the Nevada desert can be extremely cold and deadly for a small organism like you.

He looked at Fowler and the agent wasn't budging. He was waiting for him to take the next step.

Optimus vents heavily and transforms himself into his human-based design. A semi-truck with 18 wheels. He slowly drove towards you and when he got close enough, he opened the pilot door as an invitation to go inside.

You seemed hesitant but ultimately you walked towards him and got inside the truck. He closed the door for you and drove off into the distance.

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You couldn't keep your hands to yourself. You touched the steering wheel, the windows, the seats, the radio buttons, the stick shift. Everything looked and felt like it belonged in a regular truck. Yet, it did not feel inanimate. It all feels somehow alive. You were quiet, literally, inside a robotic alien.

"I do not wish to be rude, but would you be kind enough to stop touching me?"

The alien spoke to you.

"Oh, forgive me, does it hurt?"

The truck stays quiet. But you can feel that the hot air coming out of his vents becomes hotter for a few seconds.

"My name is Optimus Prime from the Planet Cybertron. I am-"

"The leader of the Autobots? And you are in a war against the Decepticons?"

Silence. It was even comical to you. The bot was probably tired and the last thing he wanted to do was deal with a pesky human. Not like you cared much.

"Yes," he simply responds. From this point forward, you knew that this is how most of your conversations with him would go. Short and straight to the point. You'll easily find common ground with him.

"Fowler gave me the rundown of things."

"Then I must ask ... why are you hesitant to sign the confidentiality contract?"

You didn't know where he was taking you. You thought that he is probably driving for the sake of it. He is a truck, after all, he must enjoy the drive. But the night is dark and everything around you made it eery.

"I am a reporter ... If I sign that contract my career is over. Can't talk about the government ever again," you weren't completely lying. "And I just happen to love exposing corruption."

"I know."

"You know?"

"I've seen a few of your works,' Optimus said, making a small pause. His voice is very pleasant, nothing like you expected from a robotic alien. "You speak of truth."

"It's the only way you can fight a war without violence," you try to be vague without giving out too much information. You can't trust someone you just met, especially not someone from another planet.

"And maybe the only way to win one."

"What do you wish for? What would make you sign the contract?"

"The truth," you said. "I want the truth."

"I will sign the contract under one condition," talking was one of your strengths. You let out one important fact, leaving you vulnerable. It was a risk but you needed to create the illusion that there was trust.

"I have the information that was in the box, stored in my personal phone. If you let me accompany you in retrieving these ancient items, I will sign those contracts without complaining."

Suddenly, Optimus comes to a slow stop. The middle of nowhere in Nevada's desert. Just a couple of mountains, some big rocks, and cactus. And of course, a clear night sky.

You see that the bot had locked the doors. You mentally curse yourself. Did he have some type of power that could read through you? You should probably have done better research before lying.

"Why do you want to venture yourself in such matters?"

It was your time to shine.

"No matter how much I try, the truth is not enough to fix my world. At least it won't happen during my lifetime," you say words that your old self would say. Maybe a small and tiny part of you still believed in it.

"I heard your world is not even habitable because of the war. Even after that, the Autobots and the Decepticons won't stop fighting."

"I was just taught a quick rundown of everything so I am sure there's still much to learn but," you think carefully about what you are going to say. It's cheesy and cringe but you could only hope that this robotic alien is a fool and can't see your human nature of deceiving others.

"By learning and telling the truth, you can build the base of a new future for your planet. I can't fix my world but I want to help fix yours."

There was no reaction from him. You started to get worried as seconds turned into minutes. He wasn't stupid either. He was testing you to see if you would break or say something suspicious.

"I'll allow you to accompany us during our expeditions if there are no risks."

You were about to let out a heavy sigh of relief but you stopped yourself. For all he knows, there was nothing to worry about since you were not lying.

"But you will be under my surveillance," he adds as he starts to drive once again. "Starscream has seen your face, we can't afford for you to be alone for long periods of time."

That's going to make your work a bit more complicated but you had to do everything in your power to get your old life back.

"It's a deal then."

Optimus makes a sharp turn, instantly making you fall from your sit. He wasn't the most delicate. He probably didn't even measure his own strength.

"We'll start immediately."

"Immediately?" you rubbed your head, surprised he didn't even apologize. He probably doesn't care or Cybertronians have different manners. There's much to learn. "Well, as long as I am back for work on Monday it should be fine. But can we leave tomorrow morning? I want to go home and rest."

You felt the hot air from his vents coming out stronger than before for a few seconds. You assumed this was his way of sighing, with much disappointment.

He didn't say much after that and you just waited until he spoke to ask you for directions. .

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You were renting a small home in the suburbs. You weren't sure if semi-trucks were allowed but one night should be fine. Prime wouldn't fit in your garage but the driveway gave him enough space.

Optimus opened his door for you and you jumped out. Stretching your legs felt nice, it was a bit chilly outside but nothing compared to the coldness of the desert. Turning to look at the Autobot, you wonder what you could say.

"Do you need anything?"

Did he drink water? Or oil? Did he need a bath? Did he even bathe?

"No."

His voice interrupted your thoughts.

"Alright then, if you need something, let me know," you said, trying your best to get some conversation going. "We are leaving as soon as the sun comes out."

He doesn't say a word. You didn't blame him, it was too much to expect him to trust you just after a couple of hours of knowing each other, and it's not like you could blame him. You wouldn't trust yourself either.

"Goodnight."

He doesn't reply.

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.

.

"I'll return in two days. I am on a special mission to seek for a Cybertronian relic. I was assigned to work with a human. I am unsure if the subject can be trusted. I'll keep the human away from the base until I conclude their trustworthiness. I'll explain more later. Do not worry."

Arcee, Bulkhead and Bumblebee looked at the message on the data screen as Ratchet read Optimus's message out loud.

"Seems like he had an interesting patrol night," Arcee said as she looked at Optimus' vitals on the screen. They looked normal. "Shouldn't we go with him?"

"If Optimus needs backup, he will ask for it," Ratchet also keeps looking at Optimus' vital signs. There weren't any abnormalities, nothing that would require him to come to the base. "Besides it's not like we can go to him even if we wanted to. I am still trying to fix the groundbridge."

This wouldn't be the first time Optimus would be assigned a solo mission by Agent Fowler. Everyone knows that as the leader, Optimus has to be on constant missions, taking jobs that are too dangerous. Not because he didn't trust the abilities of his team-mates but because he didn't want to risk the spark of the others.

"It's better if we stay here in case we find an energon mine."

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.

You did not dare to write your findings on the laptop. You weren't stupid. You knew very well that the wifi and your laptop must be rigged by the government by now. Watching and revising every search.

Instead, you opted for doing it the old way. Writing today's events on a notebook and little by little, fill it up with more information and most importantly, evidence.

You could already imagine it. Getting your job back. Being recognized as the best reporter of all time. The one who exposed the government and told the world about the existence of alien life. You will be set for life. You won't be a simple reporter anymore. No. Maybe, you'll become the CEO of CNF. Or even better, have your own news station.

That's if the government doesn't kill you before. You have to be extremely careful.

You look outside your window and see Optimus Prime. Agent Fowler didn't tell you much. Just that's he is a sentient being, with a strong sense of justice. Leader of the Autobots, a group of soldiers who fought against the Decepticons to gain control of their home planet.

Oh, how much you hated soldiers. Whether they were fighting for a good cause or not, it didn't matter to you. They all had blood on their hands. They all were guilty. Especially leaders who make others fight their useless war.

But your hatred won't get Optimus to trust you and you need to get as much information from him as possible.

You sigh. You were new here as well so you have a lot of boxes lying around. Nonetheless, you remember seeing an old tarpaulin in the garage, probably from the previous renter.

You look out the window again. It shouldn't hurt to try.

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.

.

Optimus finished texting to Agent Fowler. A simple text that explained the current situation and his next steps.

It had been a long night. He thought his patrol was going to go as smoothly as others before. But nothing turns out as he expects it.

He still doesn't know how you convinced him to let you come. It's not like he doesn't know who you are. He has never missed one of your reports. Regardless of everything, all the war, the pain and suffering you've seen, you always ended things on a good note.

It was the kind of thing he needed.

Words he needed to hear.

He is always wary of people. Of anyone in particular that hasn't proven to be worthy of trust.

And you?

He just knew you for a couple of hours. He would be lying to himself if didn't admit his spark glowed for a small moment when he saw you.

Against the lack of his better judgment, he wanted to accept you immediately. To show you the base, for you to meet everyone and become that individual with unbreakable morals that keeps the team together.

A duty bestowed upon him ... that he so wanted to share with someone. He has been carrying it for so long, it has become too difficult to carry it by himself.

Can someone ... Can anyone ... Please, help him?

He feels something on the back of his fifth wheel and suspension.

Optimus doesn't respond, pretending to be in resting mode. However, he is always alert. No matter how tired, he tries to be awake in between sleep cycles in case something happens.

That's how he noticed you approaching him, carrying a large plastic cover bigger than you. Dragging it and carelessly putting it over him.

He is curious but doesn't say anything.

"There you go, big guy."

You patted your hands and you finished covering him up.

"I don't know if you get cold but you can't never be too sure."

He sees you walk away, shivering a little as you enter your home once again.

A part of him wanted to answer your question. But he is left without words. Would you even care to listen to him? Care enough to listen to his long explanation about Cybertronian biology?

He wants to say so much. The archivist in him has so much knowledge to share, yet no one would listen.

"I don't get cold. At least not on these temperatures."

That would be the easy answer. The not-so-boring one.

But if given the time and patience, he could tell you all about the biology of it and the reason for it. About how their bodies were perfectly made to the image of Primus.

And you?

He wonders about the things you could share with him. The things he could learn from you.

You know the land better than him and have experienced things in this world that he has yet to experience ... or maybe never will.

He is so lonely. That's the truth of it all. He craves for a connection.

But of course, he won't allow it. Not to himself. Not ever.

At least, under the starry night, covered by a dirty tarpaulin, he can pretend that his worries no longer exist. As his only worry is the ache of his spark wondering if the stranger in the house could become what he needs.

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Ch.2: >>>

https://www.tumblr.com/t-a-a-1/767425691778203648/the-darkest-hour?source=share

[mgparker]

the bodyguard- din djarin

din djarin x f!royal!reader

summary: the princess makes it her mission to know what’s really behind that rigid suit of beskar.

warnings: fluff, mando/princess bonding, nothing crazy happens tbh, hopefully not too ooc, unedited as fuck

<<last chapter! | masterlist!

ੈ✩‧₊˚. iii. a suspect *.ੈ✩‧₊˚.

You step out of your meeting with a relieved sigh, resting your forehead against your palm, leaning back against the double doors of the great hall.

Inside, you could hear the Council quietly disputing their next topic of concern, some trade with a far-off planet.

Between your fingers, you see the Mandalorian standing a small distance away. Straight with a hand on his belt, dutifully aware.

“You didn’t tell Phex about the other night, thank you,” you tell him gratefully.

The Mandalorian nods as always.

You take the lead, breezing past him and heading through the passageway. It held large open windows, from which you could see the village and your people.

A child suddenly stops with a bucket of water, staring right at you with wide eyes and you give him a graceful smile.

Then you make a show of waving in a very childish manner.

It was unladylike of you, but it made the child wave back with triple the enthusiasm. A wide toothy smile on his young face.

He tugs on the dress of who you assume belongs to his guardian. The woman looks down before following his little pointer finger to you. Her eyes widen just as the little boy’s did and she instantly drops into a curtsy.

You nod your head softly, still smiling.

A hand on the base of your spine makes you jump and tear your eyes away from the village. You almost glance behind you but a voice speaks close to your ear.

You freeze.

“Your Highness, we should keep going.”

A flash of irritation makes you purse your lips. But you do as the Mandalorian says, the spot where his hand was touching you beginning to burn.

Your cheeks feel warm, not used to physical touch from anyone in this way.

Maker, you feel delusional.

“Why must you usher me away from my people?” You ask hotly, as soon as he shuts the door to your quarters.

“I—”

In a very uncharacteristic manner, the Mandalorian suddenly stumbles over his words. Seemingly looking for an excuse.

Eyebrows knitting together, you attempt to put two and two together.

“Do you… do you have a suspect? Is that why you don’t want me lingering around others?”

He’s silent.

“You believe it’s one of my people? But why—?”

“I have many names to cross before I can determine who wishes to inflict harm upon you. For now, we must take every precaution necessary,” his raspy voice modulator replies. His stance shifts, hip jutting out a bit. You follow the movement despite yourself.

To your surprise, your sharp tongue fails you.

Retreating into your private quarters, you half expect him to follow you but he stays put in the antechamber. In your position by the vanity, you can still see him clearly.

“You know, I don’t really know much about you,” you pick up a journal and pen. “We spend nearly every waking moment together and I don’t even know if you’re human.”

The Mandalorian makes a sound you can only perceive as a huff. “I can assure you we’re both made of the same flesh and bone.”

You can’t spot a single spot of revealed skin on his person. Every inch is covered by beskar or fabric.

You bite the inside of your cheek. “I’ve heard of few warriors on Mandalore that choose to conceal their faces to any other living being. Do you belong to this group?”

“You mean the Children of the Watch,” he rasps through his modulator. You make your way further into the antechamber, sitting upon the settee. The Mandalorian stands by the foyer.

“Mhm,” you confirm.

“I simply choose to wear my helmet because it makes my work a lot easier. It keeps my identity concealed.”

“Doesn’t it make you stand out more?”

“Does it?”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you think this is a trick question to boost his ego.

“I’d say so. I can’t go anywhere without whispers following behind.”

“Maybe they’re about you.”

You shake your head. “Oh, I doubt it. I am to be their queen but I’ve only ever lived in the shadows since-since—”

There’s a heaviness in your gut as you think about your parents. You try your best not to, dismissing any reminder of them so that you can try to maintain a level head.

It upset you too much.

“You said it yourself,” injects the Mandalorian, sensing your struggle. “You’re to be queen soon. You were born to be their ruler. And you’re kind.” He says it as though it’s the most shocking thing above all. “Perhaps too kind.”

“Are you suggesting that a ruler should be cruel to their people?”

“No,” the Mandalorian rasps. “But it can make you more vulnerable. You see the good in people. It can blind you to the bad.”

You eye him for a few moments, wishing you could read any part of him. But it’s like trying to identify feelings in a brick wall.

You think over your response and begin slowly. “I’m aware many rulers across the Galaxy are tyrants. Leaders of their worlds, but terrorists to their people. Like ants under the shadow of a boot. But I refuse to be like that. And if it means there will be more attempts over my head, then I’m glad you’re here.” You sigh. “I won’t change. Not for anyone.”

The Mandalorian is silent for a minute.

“Then maybe you’re what this Republic needs.”

You stare at him, trying to see past that pitch black helmet. You wonder if he truly means what he said, wishing you were better at handling more serious topics like these.

“Don’t say that around Phex,” you joke as you fight off the warmth blossoming in your cheeks at his comment. “He’ll try to rope me into the Senate more than royal duties require.”

There’s a puff of air that catches onto the modulator of his helmet. Like a chuckle.

It makes you smile a bit.

“You’re still upset with the Senator.”

Your smile drops. You briefly wonder how he knew about your ire, before realizing he had heard your confession in the abandoned tower nights ago.

“No. No, I know why he did what he did.” A certain blacksmith had something to do with that. “But you must know I’m not trying to be difficult. I just—all this fuss, it’s rather complicated seeing as I haven’t been harmed... it is those around me that have met the fate Phex believes is intended for me. My last guard still lies in the infirmary and my handmaiden barely survived an attack outside these quarters mere months ago…”

He squares his shoulders. “I’m quite good at my job, Princess.”

“Yes, but don’t you see? I’m not worried about myself,” you urge desperately. The twinges of discomfort are impossible to hide, you want to outright say it but you find yourself too humiliated.

He reads between the lines. “Princess… it’s not your job to worry about me. I’m skilled in every form of hand-to-hand combat, I wield the strongest armor in all the galaxies. There’s few that have gained the upper hand against me. It hasn’t happened in years.”

Something builds in the room. It gets more serious than you would like. You swallow the lump in your throat.

“Is that a hint of smugness I sense in you, Mandalorian?” You ask as cheekily as you can manage, trying to ease the tension before it gets more uncomfortable.

He stays silent, as if he hadn’t just said more words to you in the last few minutes than he had in the two weeks since he’d been assigned your protector.

You sigh, a small part of you wants to get him to talk again. “In years?” You try.

The Mandalorian bows his head. “Well, as children, you have to fall before you can learn to stand. In combat, the same applies.”

You fight a scoff. “You haven’t lost since you were a child?”

“In training,” he nods.

You knew of the rumors. The Mandalorian was a formidable force, undefeated in his fights. He had deep scarlet red in his ledger, gushing and flowing from his past. Something you’d only managed to learn about through hushed gossip in the village. Nights, before the threats began, when you would dress in a disguise, hidden beneath layers of cloaks, slowly gliding through the marketplace with sharp eyes and even sharper ears.

Even now, as a work-for-hire bodyguard, the Mandalorian managed to rack up quite a reputation. Hefty in price but matchless in his service.

There’s no one better in the field.

Apparently.

You suppose he’s already proven his skill in tracking, staying hidden in the shadows, keeping a watchful eye on you. But you’ve never seen him fight…

Hopefully, you’d never have to.

The soft glow of the sun catches your attention through your windows. They’re sealed shut again, the rope tied beneath your bed reluctantly discarded but you didn’t want the Mandalorian to watch you more than he did already.

You suddenly remember the journal and pen in your grasp and open the book gently.

Flipping to the next empty page, you scribble a few things you’d discussed with Senator Dameron this morning. It’s important for your future plans once you are crowned…

You don’t realize how long you’ve been writing until your hand begins to ache and your eyes have to squint from the lack of light to your parchment. As if he’d been watching your every single minuscule movement, the Mandalorian suddenly crosses the room and lights a wall torch with a device you hadn’t noticed he had strapped to his arm.

The heat of the flames lick at your skin even from the distance between you… the dusk pulls a yawn from deep within your chest. The long meeting with the Council exhausted you.

You longingly eye your bed and then turn to face the Mandalorian again. He stands there like a statue.

“I think…” you’re hesitant to end this comfortable silence you’ve both fallen into so soon. “I think I’ll retire for the night. I’m exhausted.”

The Mandalorian simply nods.

You stand from the settee and glance around the antechamber. Everything was in place, just as you’ve always left it. Nothing out of the ordinary other than the disarray of pillows from where you’d been sitting for the better part of an hour.

Curiosity got the better of you. “Erm— where do you sleep?”

He’s silent.

You absolutely hate it and you knew you couldn’t go back to the stoic figure of beskar you’d been living with before.

You push again. “Do you sleep?”

“It’s my duty to ensure no harm comes to you, your Highness.”

The heavy weight of guilt settles deep within your gut. You frown at him, feeling quite bad about the fact that he was sacrificing his own well being just because you couldn’t be trusted.

Because of your rebellious nature.

In this entire day, you’ve learned a few things about the Mandalorian. Mostly, that he’s attentive. He thinks, despite the lack of sleep you’ve caused him, that you’re kind. He knows about your ire with the Senator despite the mask you’ve carefully constructed around others… and he was able to decipher the words you couldn’t bring yourself to say.

Despite the fact that technically he was forced to be with you, he still cares enough to get to know little bits of you.

And you feel a deep desire to know him.

“I won’t be sneaking out in the middle of the night, I can assure you. I won’t be making that silly mistake again,” you try to assuage any doubts he had. You want him to rest.

His stance shifts apprehensively.

You take a few steps closer to him, ignoring the childish temptation to hold out your pinky finger.

“I promise,” you tell him genuinely. “Which is a big deal. I don’t tend to make those.”

And slowly, he seems to relax just a bit, his shoulders falling slightly from where they’d been standing tall. His hand leaving its usual spot on his belt. A small puff of air escaping the modulator of his helmet.

“Feel free to make this room your own,” you motion toward the settee which could expand into a decent sized bed.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

You back up a few steps before spinning around and heading toward your bedroom, only stopping before the archway.

“I wish you a good night. Please do get some rest,” you say genuinely, loosening the ties that held your curtains apart. It separated your private chambers from the rest of your quarters.

“You too, Princess.” There’s a new warmth in his tone even the modulator couldn’t filter out.

Satisfaction blossoms in your chest.

A mischievous thought comes to mind, a perfect way to end your night.

“I don’t suppose you’d want to become a bit more acquainted now? Maybe take off your helmet?” You smirk, half joking.

You keep a cheeky smile on your face so he doesn’t feel uncomfortable.

Surprisingly… he gives you a warm chuckle, full bodied and his chest moves up and down.

You shake your head with a small laugh, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks and ears. The small nerves that came with a new friendship rising in your tummy.

As you shut the curtains and climb into your bed giddily, you don’t fight the elated smile that’s been threatening to spread across your lips all evening.

And it’s only then that you realize how suggestive your comment might’ve sounded to the Mandalorian and you stare at the wall with wide embarrassed eyes. You try to dismiss the thought, hoping he didn’t think anything of it…

Just as you begin to doze off, the small click of beskar echoes from the antechamber, followed by a hiss and then an unfiltered sigh.

Your heart stops, clinging to the sound of your protector’s voice. Or rather the air leaving his lungs.

The raw sound of it sends a chill up your spine.

It replays in your head until you fall asleep.

don’t worry, pals. the next chapter is where the real drama starts. ;)

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otherwise, join the taglist here! ]

[noirbriar]

Glorestor: 5 Times They Denied (Final)

+ 1 time They Did Not.

From the POVs of the various folks around the 2 elves who are convinced they are courting, or betrothed, even though they were told otherwise.

OOC as always is all on me and canon is super hazy now but ahhh I tried

The final part! Thank you esp @mae-it-be-an-evening-dhros @tamilhobbit @the-dreaming-plastic-dinosaur for following this indulgent writing of mine as part of me coping with things and being so kind to my first experiment writing based on Tolkien's works!

Sometimes, its the kindest ones who break the most.

---

6] Elrond Earendilion

Elrond is tired.

Here he sits on Celebrian's favourite bench in their balcony, watching the blazing crimson sun setting over the cliffs of his beloved Imladris. The light flooding the valley with endless red. Like fire, burning the skies, dripping into the water flowing endlessly, the life blood of all in this realm.A swallow chirps and lands on his shoulder, weightlessly and with ease.

Vilya pulses with every breath and each pulse of his fea as Elrond feels the fine well of power entangling around him. The Lord have been feeling the weariness of the ages sinking deep and clinging heavy on his bones.

The dull weight of it all drags on, settling on his spirit, plunging into depths unknown, rolling down and down, pulling into a deep, dark ocean beyond even Ulmo's reach.

Deeper.

And deeper.

And deep-

"-rond? Elrond!"

Elrond gets startled out of his darkening thoughts as the little swallow flutters off and faces the one face that he had always known.

One he and his brother have come to known as warmth and safety since they were but tiny elflings. Against the burning sky, Erestor stands before him, bent low with a gentle hand over his own, the one that bears the weight of power. The older ellon's cold hands cooling unlike the overbearing heat of his own skin. His slate green eyes dark, filled with a wide array of emotions unspoken, swirling in those orbs.

Right now, his Chief Councillor has forgone his usual heavy black robes, except for his elegant brocade robe of office over a tunic and leggings. The gold earcuff and feanorian earring shinning brightly.His twin blades strapped by his side and a crimson red scarf. No longer a mere advisor, Erestor and a select few of his staff have taken up the duty as the last means of defense of the Valley with the absence of Glorfindel and their troops.

Yet to Elrond, before him is not his Councillor and advisor, but one he and his brother have long recognised as another peredhel and claimed as kin of their own.

"Tor."

Elrond shifts and tugs Erestor down to sit beside him, the Lord of Imladris easing away the persona he carries.In his own private quarters, he cares not. The quiet guardian lets him, allowing Elrond to lean his head on his shoulder, his cold hand holding his own.The rare instance where Elrond feels the suppressed fea of the elder, the cold light bringing him familiar comfort. There was always something about the elder's fea he could never explain and he never knew why Erestor did so. Elrond never asked.

"You should not push yourself, Elrond." Erestor whispers.

"This land and many depend on me. As well as those further west. The darkness grows and without the strength of the land, it will be hard on our forces."

"Glorfindel and our warriors are more than capable of defending our borders against the wretched claws of evil and their ilk."Erestor admonishes gently, rubbing mindless circles on the peredhel's hand."You must rest, it will do us no good should you wear yourself thus. Arwen worries too."

"My precious daughter...always so sensitive and thoughtful. Even if I loathe to part from her, she has grown and found her own path. My sons, even if they have not made their choice to sail, they are finding their own place in this world. I cannot help but wonder...where does this leave me?"Elrond whispers his heartache in melancholy, closing his eyes and tries to ease the tension in him.

He is so, so tired. Like a thin piece of string, tattered and worn as time went on.

How he wished he could return to those innocent days! Safe and warm.There were days where he yearned for vague memories of the arms of nana, the hazy and distant gentleness of his adar's hand. Oh! How he longed for Celebrian's infectious joy and light. The ever smiling Celebrimbor's optimism. The ever practical Erenion and his laughter. In all that he had lost, he misses them the most. Dearest Elros by his side as they played with their strong Atto, with Atya singing enthralling songs and wonderous lullabies into the wild breeze.

His heart is so greedy and wants for them all. Fragments of light out of his grasp. Little fragments is all he craves.

"To be honest, when all is over, I had no desire to sail."

Erestor's words throws Elrond out of his maudlin thoughts like a broken glass, bringing everything to a standstill. The air freezes as Elrond's heart sinks, the younger elf turns harshly around as he hears the feanorian's proclamation.

"What?"

"I have long thought I shall fade here. On this very land where my Atar and my Amil have held me and my siblings in their embrace. " Erestor stares at the crimson dusk, "Where it all began, is where I will find my end. The only home I had. Where all my memories are, and have possessed all that I have ever known."

The string breaks.

"You can't!"

Elrond snarls, grabbing Erestor's arms, clinging almost like a desperate man reaching for a distant shore. The son of Earendil and Elwing feels that the abyss have finally caught him in its cold maw, the endless waves of loneliness and loss, regrets and sorrow that he have kept away for so long, now unchained in its fury. He had long known many of the old feanorians and the noldor have thought to remain in Middle Earth, with Imladris as their final Home. However, to hear those words from his longest friend, protector and kin-

The power beneath this land moans painfully with her master's sorrow, clinging to Elrond like a child seeking solace.

"Everyone I have known and love are lost and gone. Forsaken and abandoned! I cannot! I cannot lose you as well, Tor!"

Elrond gives in as he finally wails, wretched and tormented, ages of heartache and desires bursting forth. The remaining one finally starts to crumble under the weight he has borne.

Dear Erestor who watched over him and Elros, and sheltered them after Maedhros and Maglor were gone. The one they have taken as their older sibling. Who had held them in the cold, somber nights in Lindon, with battered bloodied hands and lustrous raven locks shorn from his head. Who mourned with him the death of their beloved Elros, and the fall of his legacy. The one built with him this haven and held his own children with the same gentle hands filled with scars. The one who kept him and his children going as Celebrain's ship sailed.

Elrond has had enough.

"I don't want to lose anyone anymore. Please, Tor. You are all I have left..." was all Elrond could plead with what selfishness he could find in him.

He is a healer, he has seen broken hurts and deep wounds buried in the soul, mending each unspoken pain little by little with what strength he carries.

But who would bear and heal the pain of the healer then?

"Oh, Elrond..."

The old feanorian caresses his face in tender hold, wiping away the tears he have not realised were there from his redden cheeks. Bathed in ephemeral crimson light, the two companions through the ages holds the other quietly.

"Do not weep." Erestor whispers into his ear as he embraces the younger peredhel in sorrow.

"I will not lie, that was my thought for the longest time, to remain in the land where my amil and my siblings have laid to rest before passing into the Halls. I am tired, truth be told. Yet with all that has happened recently... watching you, the young ones, even Bilbo and the Dwarrow and Edain, and all who have came to this haven we have forged...I find myself wondering, if I could find that courage that you all have shown to walk a different path?"

Erestor then turns back towards Arien, watching the crimson setting sun. While Elrond stares up wonder at this Erestor who is still that calm and mighty guardian, yet different all the same. Within his eyes, they seem to hold a different light. A light that he feels in their shared bond of kinship in their fea, a burning ember chasing away the creeping darkness that have grown far and deep away inside.

And Elrond feels.

Things then swiftly happen in immediate succession, like something in the distance shattered and mended. A change in the air as that unseen miasma of dread it lifts as the birds cry. Vilya shudders, the elven ring trembling in resonance, before finally dimming itself into almost nothingness.

The horn of the Valley resounds.

An age ends. Another shall soon begin.

---

The residents of Imladris awaits at the square for the troops returning, bearing the wounded and the lost, but triumphant still with news of the destruction of Sauron and his Ring. Elrond bears his mantle once more with his circlet and heavy robes embroidered with patterns of gliding stars, hollow still but no longer in deep woe.

Vilya remains silent.

Their Lord descends to welcome their armies and the Edain back Home. Arwen remains close by his side, dressed in silver and silk. His daughter, ever empathic and sensitive. Her quiet presence a balm after that release of emotions welled up and sealed in him through the ages, bringing about much relief to his weary heart.

Bilbo Baggins, even with his body growing old and frail now that the final connection as Ringbearer is lost, hobbles slowly beside him in careful steps. The Hobbit probably hopeful for some news of his nephew and the fellowship.

A long welcoming horn sounds and there beyond the bridge, they see Glorfindel, glowing with the light of Aman, leading their victorious warriors and the last of their wounded home. Elrond's heart gladden to see them safe once more. As the Lord of Imladris, Elrond breathes in deeply the refreshing clean air, ready to give a speech to welcome them all home-

Right before he could get a word out, a blur of a shadow darts out, his Chief Councillor leaps elegantly past the many steps and simply crashes straight into his Captain dismounting Asfaloth. His favourite crimson scarf falling and lays forgotten in his wake.

The Golden Lord would have fallen over by the sudden unexpected impact from being pounced upon him if not for his unnatural strength. The Balrog-slayer dropping his helm and swiftly catching the dark haired elf with a hand on his back and another placed almost naturally on his assailant's bottom with no hesitation. The startled warrior's surprised noise also does not hinder Erestor in the slightest as he wraps his arms around the taller ellon and greets him.

Head on with a hard kiss.

Elrond nearly chokes.

The world seems to stop in that instant. Not a soul breathes. Not even as the caravan and wagons of the wounded behind holler at what was on with the hold up from behind. Asfaloth simply snorts in disbelief with a shake of his great head only a horse can, and wisely chooses to trot further away.

Everyone else remains still. Not even willing to move a muscle as the couple parted after a long heated kiss before a stunned audience, heaving with adrenaline and foreheads touching close.Unbothered and unconcerned.The silence is deafening, before someone finally speaks.

"Marry me, Laure." Erestor whispers, breathless.

Glorfindel gasps. His eyes bright with emotions, wild and free. The Hero of Gondolin could only gaze at his partner wordlessly filled with a fierce passion and endearing love.

"Eres? You are certain? You know we do not have to. I care not for oaths or promises or ceremonies, but only you by my side. My fea knows only you, forever and always. I am content!”

"No!"

Erestor's hands clutches into the white cape of their Captain, his eyes fierce with raw determination, their unbridled Tempest.

"No more I shall fear of the unknown. Neither of Oaths nor Doom. Even if I am damned to the Void, even if I must claw my way out of the abyss, I will find my way back to you! It is you, and only you that I will hold till the end of all of Eru's Songs! I want to be one with you meldanya*. I am ready."

If there was a tear from either of them, no one could say for they were so enthralled by the words they share.

“My brave Eres! Have I not told you before? May it be in the light of grace or endless Void, all I care is you as you are. It will never change! If it is what you desire, then let us become one! None will keep you from me, for what use is my poor existence if I cannot keep my heart by my side?" Glorfindel smiles, holding Erestor close with no concern to the travel-worn state he is in. With a lighter, softer peck upon the soft lips of his partner.

“You need not protect me. Just, stay beside me, as I face what is ahead, that is all I shall ask. ” Erestor whispers softly. It was plain for all to see, even with that cool mein, their ever stern Councillor was basking in the raw light of love.

“That I can do.”Glorfindel returns with a soft laugh, eager and proud in their joy.

"I am sorry. I am sorry it took so long."

"Nay, it matters not for we are here at last, and what do you know? I am ready too." Glorfindel then pulls Erestor into a deep embrace.

"Let us be bound, Eres, and never be apart."

"Aye."

Elrond does not know why or how but watching this all unfold before his eyes, his two friends finally answering to those unspoken feelings that they have all long known felt like a refreshing air of relief for himself. The Lord can only give a loud laugh at the incredulous timing in the whirlwind of it all. Like a chapter coming to an end on its own.

Their happiness is so infectious and warm, that it urges the half-elven on with an unexpected impulsiveness as he descends down the steps to meet the couple. His arms reaching out and pulling them into a hug with his dear friends. Which causes the trio of Lords to nearly fall over into an unseaming heap if not for Glorfindel and Erestor pulling Elrond and each other safe on their feet on the solid ground.

"Mellyn nin! Does this mean we can safely deem that you are both together? After so many years, we are to have a wedding in the Valley then?" The Lord of Imladris smiles, feeling lighter than ever.

The couple shares a an uncharacteristically shy look, probably realising their open affections have been on full on display. The two shuffling awkwardly, as Glorfindel pulls back his golden braid and Erestor straightening his robes. Even as their hands remain clasped together through the motions.

"Aye."

"We are."

With that the dam breaks and there are cheers and roars from all around. The felicitations and laughter blooming and loud, even out beyond the gates, voices echoing far across Imladris.

Elrond even spots several bags of coin being passed around. Looks like the age old wagers have ended, one that he was unfortunately unable to participate out of fairness and status. His foresight definitely did not foresee any of this, Elrond can be certain, despite whatever one may believe. There were some hands passing over even to a rather eager Bilbo and...Arwen!? Elrond gives his daughter a incredulous stare of dismay with a raise of his brow, but Arwen simply wiggles the bag and mouths, "Aragon's!"

Right.

"But we will not be having a wedding."

The sounds all come back to a halt, leaving the birds to continue with their delightful song.

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!"

Everyone gets startled by the suddden aggressive shout and turns to its unlikely source. The ever polite and dutiful Steward of the House, Head Minstral of the bards, Lindir, stands in utter dismay and fury. A look of disdain upon his face with a hand clutching his robes in great horror. Elrond is rather certain its overly dramatic and very much out of character for the usually placid minstrel.

"No! No! Absolutely no! I have waited for an age for this and I refuse to accept-Its not how things are done! I made plans! I drafted songs! I will be vindicated! I WILL SEE A WEDDING!" Lindir declares with a glorious wave of his sleeves. Some of the household staff can be seen nodding in agreement.

Alright, he stands corrected with further observation. The little sleeve sweep was so much that he is reminded of Atya. Lindir certainly has enough flair to match with the Noldor he admires.

The couple can only simply blink blankly in response.

"But, we do not have the resources allocated for it, Lindir. Besides, we are short on time, we must prepare for our Arwen's wedding and for our House to journey forth to Gondor. There is also our wounded and our dead to care for, either way, it is not feasible at all." Their ever calculating and planning Councillor explains calmly.

"I politely disagree, my Lord Erestor."

Everyone now turns to Saelbeth who is the one to interrupt his mentor with a bow. His hands tucked in his sleeves as he steps forward from the group of councillors gathered.

"We not only have an abundance of resources stored, our staff and soldiers are more than capable and equipped to run autonomously. In fact, much of the preparations have already begun. Our household is more than proficient to handling the arrangements should our Lords be amendable in our suggestion."

Erestor narrows his sharp eyes at his protege, who is undaunted by the fierce look. As if the feanorian did not expect the efficiency he has implemented in this House to choose now of all times to work against him of all things.

Glorfindel gives a slight cough which sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

"We are also, able to oversee the duties of our troops as needed, if necessary." Deputies Laica and Thandor concurred from behind without prompt.

Which only earns them a careful glance from their Commander, one that the soldiers have chosen to disregard. Glorfindel rolls his eyes with an unbelivable shake of his head, muttering something along the lines of 'insubordination'.

"To be honest, Eres and I, we have both desired to only be wed simply by bonding. For our kin and friends here in our beloved home to recognise it, is more than enough." Their Captain elaborates, although this answer just seem to infuriate the usually calm minstrel even more, that the sindar is made speechless as he tries to breathe with his staff supporting him behind.

Elrond is a little guilty to find the whole situation a tad comical in any other circumstances.

"You will both not grant me the chance to witness an elven Wedding in my Home before I leave?"

They all turn around and come face to face with his daughter. Their beloved princess, their Evenstar, reaching out to hold their hands in hers. She gazes at her mentors and guardians with those gentle eyes, glimmering and full of hope under the golden rays of a new age of peace.

"Arwen-" Erestor began but Arwen urges him to listen with a shake of her head.

"Uncle Erestor, Uncle Glorfindel. Long have I wished to see you joined and blessed in ceremony. Will you not grant me this? Please?"

With that, Elrond can see the couple's resolve fall. Which was not surprising. For the two loved his daughter as though his children were their own since they were born. Elrond remembers the nights he and Celebrian handed his children to the two, watching them care for the young little elflings with so much care and selfless love.

Although that little spark in Arwen eyes is a little too obvious. Elrond gives his daughter an exasperated but fond look for that. It is somewhat reassuring to know his children all have not lost all of their playful innocence after all they have experienced in life and will carry them forth in what lies ahead.

Erestor manages to resist for a good while before giving a resigned sigh. He shares a knowing look with Glorfindel who returned with a wistful shrug.

"We can compromise, I suppose. Who needs tradition anyway in our haven, a Home for all walks of life?"

And compromise they did.

After mourning for the ones that have passed and comfoting those who grieved, the rest of Imladris sang for all, for those who cry and those who are to heal, and for everlasting peace.

Until the voices cease and raises once more in the flurry of excitement and chaos. The whole of Imladris prepares for the journey to Gondor and Arwen's wedding. Here in Imladris, where all of the elves from every clan have settled and called home for more than an age all prepare in their strange mix of elven customs hashed together in celebration.

On the night before their departure and their supposed wedding ceremony, Glorfindel and Erestor disappears, while Imladris makes merry in the name of the married couple.

The duo only emerges once more at the break of dawn, with Arien's greeting upon them. Glorfindel and Erestor appear, walking down the path from the sea of beech trees serenely, dressed in beautiful robes that Elrond has vaguely remembered from years long ago on one autumn eve. Their hair braided in a mix of noldor and vanyar patterns. They bear no wedding rings, but upon their brow, rests the circlet of their mate, with golden flowers shining against raven dark hair, and an elaborate twisting weaves gleaming upon glowing gold locks. It was plain for all to see, the marriage bond is complete and proud.

They stand before The Lord of Imladris and Arwen by his side, Lindir standing nearby bearing the ceremonial water from the Bruinen with almost the entirety of the Last Homely House welcoming the newly bonded Lords back with flowers. With bended knee, they greeted him and presented each other as their rightfully bonded mate, awaiting for his blessing. One that Elrond is more than eager to give, as he holds their warm hands in his.

Warm?

Under all that happiness, Elrond suddenly senses a familiar light in Erestor as well. Elrond feels, and is surprised to find Erestor's fea dancing unbound, like a little ember on a quiet eve. With Glorfindel's powerful light mingling through like blooming vines, caressing across the shared connection. He simply cannot put a finger to no matter how he tried. Although he is unable to give much thought to it with most of his House eager to approach and congratulate the newly wedded couple until the time comes that they must leave for the long journey to Arwen's future.

Elrond watches it all, as he had done through the ages. A sense of acceptance settles within him as he urges his mount on, taking the first step out of Imladris with his daughter and friends by his side, and the elves of Imladris following behind.

Elrond turns to the boundless skies beyond.

Everyone is finding their own path, its probably time he walks down his own as well.

---

Flags flutter in the wind. Sails are prepared, and the ships are ready. Elrond observes as everyone else bid farewell to friends and kin. He has already made his goodbyes to his children but as a father, it is still difficult to part with them, forever his and Celebrian's treasured little ones. Bilbo and Frodo are huddling with their kin while Galadriel and Olorin speak with Cirdan in quiet voices.

It is hard to comprehend that he himself is finally leaving these shores for some place he has only heard and never seen. May it be from tales in the books or words of others. The unknown seems so difficult to grasp now that he is facing it.

"Elrond."

Elrond turns and sees Erestor and Glorfindel approaching, probably done with overseeing things.

"Tor." Elrond indulges a childish whim, greeting his advisor the nickname out in the open. Before he is pulled into a warm embrace by his old companion.

"Be safe. Be happy."

"I will."

A press of their foreheads, the two part, before Glorfindel hugs Elrond as well.The warrior's arms folding over his form, strong yet gentle. Oh Glorfindel! Fair and selfless, who protected him and his family since the days of old, always cheerful and supportive. The defender of Imladris who sang so beautifully and made the flowers dance. Who also have the terrible habit of enabling little elflings with too much sugar and making him laugh.

He will miss them both dearly. His precious friends who have walked by his side.

"Send my regards to Celebrian and everyone there, alright?"

"Are you both sure you are staying?" Elrond asks once more, just to be sure.

Now that Glorfindel's duty is done, he is to return to Valinor. Erestor, now his husband and mate meant that he too, will sail with his beloved. Yet, the couple has elected to remain in Middle Earth and Imladris for sometime yet.

"Someone has to watch over Elladan and Elrohir. As well as those who seek to sail in the coming years, who will need guidance as they pass through the Last Homely House. Celeborn alone would not be possible!" Glorfindel remarks lightly in jest.

"It would not be long." Erestor reassures.

A bell sounds, and Cirdan calls for those looking to sail to finally board the ship. In that moment, the reality of the situation finally sinks in for Elrond like a skipping pebble finally falling into the water.

He looks back at his friends, who returns with an encouraging nod and a wave.With a deep breath, Elrond steps forward and onwards.

As everyone boards, Elrond notices Galadriel turning pointedly towards Erestor without a word. Who simply gives a small nod in acknowledgement to the Lady while Glorfindel keeps a hand proudly on his mate's waist. Galadriel gives a cryptic nod in return, and turns to board the ship.

As the hobbits follow along with Olorin, Erestor suddenly strides up, calling for Bilbo. The old hobbit and his nephew turns back towards the feanorian in wonder. It is then, Elrond sees Erestor removing his treasured earring bearing the feanorian star, bending down and handing it carefully into Bilbo's thin hands.

"I do not know what good this may do, but I hope it will aid you in what you seek in some way."

"And... should anyone ask?"

Erestor and Bilbo share a long moment in silence, before the old hobbit grips onto the gift with a new found strength in his old hands with grateful acceptance. Olorin watches on, curious and full of mirth, but wisely chooses not interfere as they move on.

The anchors are pulled. The wind picks up and the gulls sing an ode to bid them farewell.

Farewell to Middle Earth! Farewell to everything and all! As the Eldar and the ringbearers leave behind all they have known and onwards into another realm, into another journey unknown. The breeze grows strong and the waves rushes, pushing them on and into the light-

"Elrond!"

The Peredhel turns back and sees Erestor running upon the docks, robes in hand and shouting towards the ocean with little care for his usual decorum. Glorfindel following close behind, waving brightly and so enthusiastically, almost like a maniac should one stumble upon the sight.

"Go! My kin! We will be just right behind!"

"The journey will be awhile! Do not miss us! It will not be long and you shall have company to keep you busy, dear Elrond!"

Elrond blinks back a tear at his silly friends and laughs.

---

---

---

There was only so much one can do out in the vast and endless sea in close quarters with many others. However, Elrond has found comfort watching the stars and his Adar sail across the night skies, wondering in the quiet of his mind.

When the shores of the West are finally sighted, many are excited, though for a break in endless voyage or beauty of it, Elrond could not be certain. As they all clamouring and crowding on the bow for a glimpse of the blessed realm.

Yet the unexpected always happen when one least expects it.

With a loud cry resounding into the air breaking the peace, everyone on the ship are soon startled out of their watchful gaze of the their eternal home. Elrond jumps up, sprinting to the bottom of the deck to the storage where lies its source. Where a pale Frodo stares incredulously at an open box.

Galadriel arrives as well and they share a questioning look, leaving Olorin to quickly tend to the startled hobbit on the floor of the ship. Bilbo slowly joins in, offering a pat of comfort to his kin, though the old adventurer seems oddly calm by the chaos. Sounds of movement from the opened box increase with intensity, each rustling and rattling growing louder much like Elrond's own heartbeat. There is no foulness or evil in the air, but age old instincts has them on edge all the same.

With careful steps, Elrond approaches the crate first with Galadriel following close behind.

Cautiously, they all peer inside.

After all these years and in endless joys and unending sorrow, the half elven finds finally feels that burden upon him lifting, a light of hope and his being healing at long last. With quiet tears and a sob of delight, Elrond is finally able to smile again, full and free, as he dives in to embrace the beginnings of healing as his heart soared.

"Atya!"

---

*Quenya: my beloved

A/N: I probably could have polished things more but at this point, I think I shall leave it as it is. A rather odd final part I think but I tried? Thank you all for taking the time to read and comment and reblog, you all made my day with each one!

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6)

[lu-lus-dicks]

@huskers-bar x @nunalastor chapter 2

Tags: enemies to lovers, angst?, eventual fluff, yearning?, soft huskers-bar, both mods are separate people, no beta we die like i do in this fic (not yet though), minor character death, ooc, au: hellaverse (hazbin hotel), nunalastor is head of the marketing department of the hazbin hotel (lucifer grabbed them randomly), jealousy?, huskers-bar is an employee at voxtek, lulu as a villain, lulu is a dog, huskers-bar is a liar, secret dating?

chapter: 2/? / chapter Word count: 1852 / total word count: 3283

Featuring: babygirl anon and @xxx-angie . eventually will feature solis, the oc of @soliac-snecc

nunalastor as a single entity is nunalastor, traumatized mod dickmaster and cursed mod nun. and huskers-bar just husk. babygirl anon will be babygirl anon. I will be lulu. Angie will be angie but is meant to be read as angel dust.

A/N: I am a little drunk while writing the start of this, forgive me for any weird mistakes and stuff. bit of a change to the script, angie will no longer be a villain, but an obstacle and yes. I am currently the only true villain. the font size joke was very much forced in

this chapter is huskers-bar focused

"Ugh... Fuck"

The growly and gruff voice of Huskers echoed throughout the empty room. They winced as they rolled over in bed, accidentally knocking over a pile of empty bottles. The sound of their clinking was giving them a headache. One shattered at the side of the makeshift bed of their small private room-

Which you can only get at voxtek, come and become a part of the family! Voxtek, trust us with your employment and living quarters-

Ugh, they must be hallucinating... They squinted their eyes, trying to make sense of their surroundings. The migrane wasn't helping. Huskers stared at the ceiling, a little more dazed than usual. They tried to recall what happened, but the past few hours were completely wiped from their memory. It must've been one of those days. They look over at the clock.

It'a about time they get to work...

With one groan they get up, dragging their hands on the floor as they reach for their keys and phone. The room still spun a little, but it's not like they had a choice. They headed towards the door, less than ready, and finally left their sanctuary.

~

"Where the fuck is my cameraman?!" The angry shouting of Val could be heard from behind closed doors. Vox can already hear the glasses breaking and his precious voxtek equipment getting destroyed. The frustration of dealing with that mans temper never stops. Who does he think he is anyway?! Making all these expensive equipment costs money! Precious money! And it doesn't help the fact that he always demands the highest quality cameras too. Besides, why does he need them?! His eyes see in 144p anyway!

It was right at that point when a knife cut through the wooden door and broke yet another piece of expensive furniture. Great. All these were custom made god damn it.

Vox sighed heavily, trying to pinch an imaginary bridge of his nose, before his fingers were met with the flatness of his screen. It was the thought that counts.

"Hey huskers" vox called out with casual annoyance, like he'd rather not be dealing with this right now.

Huskers who had been loading up the latest voxtek equipment paused and turned their attention to Vox. "Yes?" They asked.

"I need you to take over the cameraman duty, our regular isn't showing up on time" Vox explained, already making his way to the door and waving his hand dismissively, muttering something under his breath about killing their regular with a five headed spear later.

Huskers, hurried to put away the box, which they assumed was filled with weird sex toys, and hurried over to Val's door. The knife sticking out of the door was concerning but it wouldn't be the first. Carefully they opened the door, readying themselves to dodge any attack thrown their way. Luckily for them, Val seemed to be distracted with another employee.

"Hi, I'm a stand-in for the cameraman" husk said, sliding over to the cameras sneakily. Val of course noticed and angrily shouted. "Fucking finally! That slut finally sent a bitch. Now chop chop!"

~

The job of a cameraman was not an easy one, especially when the scene in front of you is ridiculous. Not intentionally of course, but husk had to keep it in if they valued their life. Val didn't seem like the type of person who would take that kind of "disrespect" lightly.

"Oh daddy, please don't stack all those donuts on my penis!" Came the overly sexual and whimpering voice of Angie, who finally had gotten that line down without breaking character. A fish demon groaned, both for the act and because this stupid scene had finally been recorded after attempt number 69, much to everyone's relief. Val was getting antsy and would murder some poor employee any second.

Husk didn't know how angie took any of it seriously, even the sexier scenes. The whole scripted aspect felt very silly and goofy.

They guessed it didn't matter though, their job was finally done and they can fuck off from the studio. Husk would not be missing this place. They got up off their chair and just as they were about to head out, Angie, the one and only, had stopped them with an arm on the shoulder.

"Hey there new kid, pleasure-" he said, moaning out that specific word like a bitch in heat "to be doin buisness with ya" he said, offering two hands to shake husks one. Angie leaned against one of the lamps, nearly knocking it over in the process and started eyeing them up and down. "So, what brings ya to this studio?"

Huskers was visibly a little put off by the directness, but they should've expected as much. Everyday an event just reminds them that they are indeed in hell and that only the worst of the worst live here...

Ah, yes the question. "I'm just a stand-in for whoever was here before" They answered, pointing vaguely at the outside world. "Vox asked me to, and honestly doing camerawork is a much lighter load than what I was doing before"

Angie quirked a brow at this, either confused or not expecting that response. It could've honestly been both. His demeanor changed quickly though. "yeah. say, whatchya doin later?" biting his lip, he wiggled his eyebrows in a manner that would make grown men cum on the spot.

"Drowning down my sorrows with liquor" Huskers deadpanned, not biting at that fruit angel was so provocatively dangling in front of them. A scoff from him was expected. what wasn't expected though, was that the scoff was more amused than offended.

"you remind me of someone. say, how do you feel about redemption?"

~

"And these are the cockroaches that won't stop breeding! and this is the wall with a record breaking repairs done to it, and here's Angies dildo collection and-"

"babe, we've talked about this, you don't have to show them everything" Vaggie said, patting charlies shoulder hoping to ease or at least slow down the excited vibrating of her dearly beloved.

"Right, right! Sorry!" Charlie was quick to snap out of it, offering a small kiss to the back of Vaggies palm as an appreciative thank you and returning her attention back to Husk.

Husk was very much overwhelmed. All the energy in the room was making their brain sort-circuit and start buffering. They felt like they were under a microscope and being prodded with electric wires and it was... strangely pleasant. "Uh... Yes hi?"

A very mischievous chuckle came from nearby, one very much at a higher pitch of frequency and- Wait, is that the radio demon?

"Pardon my intrusion, but what is that on your wrist?" Alastor the radio demon said, bending his slutty waist to lean down at Husks eye level. "I believe there's a strict 'no voxtek products' policy here. Did you not bother to read the sign?" Alastor pointed his cane over to the whiteboard, which read:

RULES:

no Voxtek

no Vox

Jambalaya every friday

One of those sexy tentacles reached out, unclipping and retrieving the watch. He held it up in the air in front of everyone to see.

A collective gasp echoed through the room as Vaggie swiftly retrieved her spear from behind her back, pointing it menacingly at Husk "Not another one of these idiots" Vaggie growled, now in her defensive position. Angie and Charlie both flew to husk's defense, meanwhile Husk remained frozen in place. This was how they double died wasn't it?

"It's okay guys, they just work at voxtek. They're okay, I would know. They're harmless" Angie used one set of arms to shield husk and the other to gesture for everyone to ease their guard. The tension did die down a little, but that was fine. The tension in the room slowly began to dissipate, but Angie knew that Charlie would soon work her magic and convince everyone to give Husk a chance, as per usual.

~

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"nun get out! I need to take a shit" dickmaster banged on the hotel's currently singular clean bathroom. The force of their knocking was definitely excessive and damaging to their hands, but it got the desperation of the request-no-demand across.

"you said to help answer asks, so I am doing that... in the toilet" Nun yelled through the door, not even bothering to look towards the door, currently blocking access to Dickmasters relief.

"I doubt that" Dickmaster crossed their arms, and legs. Their bladder was about to fucking explode. Just at that moment a ding went off on their phone.

'nunalastor just posted: anonymous asked...'.

huh.

guess they were actually answering asks in there.

"Okay fine but I still need to shit! Do your answering outside!"

"I'll get out after one more ask" Nun chuckled, knowing full well, they weren't about to stop the torment anytime soon.

"Your eyesight is piss poor. I doubt you can even read anything on your phone"

"You'll just have to wait and see~"

And of course, as any normal sane person would do in this situation, Dickmaster decided to start banging on the door until either nun had enough and left or until the door broke and they murdered nun themself.

"I bet your phone's font size is 230%-"

~

All that banging attracted the attention of Husk, who had been wandering around the room with Angie. They weren't walking together, but their paths were the same.

"What's that noise?"

"Oh that? That's just our marketing team doing their job"

"Sounds like fucking... Are they fucking?"

"HA, doubt it..." there was a pause, both in the speech and in the walk. "Maybe, sex sells afterall" Angie shrugged and continued walking forward.

"seems counterproductive for a place made for rehabilitation..."

Husk couldn't help but be curious. This hotel had turned out to be everything they hadn't expected from Hell. The residents were surprisingly pleasant, and even the staff, though weird as fuck, weren't as unbearable as the other sinners in Hell. Now that they thought about it, Charlie never mentioned a marketing staff. She seemed so excited to share about the hotel and it's people. One would think she wouldn't forget to mention them, right?

unable to resist the curiousity, Husk had to know who they were. They quietly sneaked towards the source of the banging. They rounded the corner and was met with an... Interesting visual. One demon, black eyes with yellow pupils desperately pounding on a door.

Dickmaster paused their relentless banging, a feeling of being watched washing over them. Their head snapped immediately in Husk's direction, locking eyes with them. Their expression displayed emotional as well as physical constipation.

Husk froze, their body stiffening like a board. Had they interrupted something? Should they make a break for it? The state of being caught in such an awkward situation was undeniably terrifying. With a rigid and awkward wave, Husk managed an awkward smile. And then they realised-

"Are you nunalastor? You look just like your profile picture"

FUCK, they're going to get accused of being a stalker.

[septimaseverinawannawrite]

How the Relationship Begins

Fandom: Star Wars

Type: Headcanons

Pairing: Cassian Andor x F!Reader

Warning: Late night writing, so, no beta. Writer is being overwhelm and under Taylor Swift's Lavender Haze (As you can see title's colours). A little bit OOC.

Rate: T

A/N: This idea happened when I rewatch Andor for fourth time. Now, I'm heavily in the writer-block state, but I don't want to abandon this blog. I believe this dilemma is gonna pass, if I keep writing. So, Enjoy!

🌹Click to My AO3

(Divider by @saradika)

Okay, let's start!

You met him on Yavin IV. Both of you were new to the Alliance's main base.

Since it was the main base, that meant you both had to train for necessary skills.

From the Alliance's levels, he was 'good to excellent', while your far-lenght shooting skill was not reaching the requirement. You stayed at training ground, after all new recruits leaved, to improve your skill.

Cassian saw you practising. He volunteered to help you, because he had feelings toward you.

It was the impression at first sight.

He couldn't clearly answer what kind of feeling, but as you were around him, smiling at him and saying thanks, he felt like he was teenage boy - who had a first crush - again.

While you had been grateful for his help and feeling like butterflies were in your stomach, especially when he adjusting your stance.

Not only his help drove you crazy, but also his smiles, his touches and his whispers into your ear - how to shoot and hitting right at the target.

As you hit all targets in all rows, you jumped and hugged him with happiness and exciting.

Yes. It made you blushing hard like tomatoes, while Cassian's heart skipped a beat. So, you two bounced away.

"First time is a beginner luck. You have to practise everyday." He said. "Meet me every day after dinner."

You agreed. You and Cassian kept meeting at training ground, every evening.

And after the semi-private session. You returned to your quater with many questions in your head. The big question was; 'Did you fall for him?'

You shaked them off and switched with the thought until you falling asleep.

Now you had been practising every evening for 2 weeks, until he challenging you to shoot all targets within 30 seconds. You accepted and you did it.

Jumping and hugging him again. But this time you both lingered. His face and yours were close, enough to feel the breathes. His brown eyes bared his soul, you could not fight them.

"Thank you so much, Cassian. I think tomorrow I will pass the test with flying flag." You mumbled.

"I think so, but, why do you looking to another way?"

You still looked down at the floor, almost startling, he was tilting your chin up to look at him. His thumb gently fondled your lower lips, your lips part a little.

"Cassian...I-I.." You stuttered, "I don't know what to say..."

"Kassa, call me Kassa."

Cassian's raptured voice got you, finally you gazed upon him, whispering 'Kassa'.

Like the gravity around you two sent the colossus magnets pulling you both to capture each other's lips.

After few seconds, which felt like hours; you both withdrew for air, leaning the temples together with wide smiles and small laughing.

When you passed the test and registered as an officially rebellion officer, Cassian was waiting for you.

You hopped and hugging him tightly. He praised you and guiding you away from the chaos around hangar and commanding table.

"Would you like to move into my quarter?" He asked, kissing your temple.

"You should ask me out before asking me to move in with you." You teased him. This time was his turn that his cheeks were reddening.

He knew too well, your both works were not certain. The missions after would take his own or your life. Also, his first mission as Captain Andor had been assigned, he must leave in three days from now. So, he had to rush things like this.

But you had a point. He should ask you out for an official date. He made up his mind and asking you to survey the ancient ruins on Yavin IV with him.

You accepted with conditions and terms;

"Okay, I'm going out with you, but about moving in--"

"But what?"

"But after your first mission succeed and our third date. Because I need the assurance that you are gonna return back safe and sound. Promise me."

Cassian smiled sweetly, kissed you before he speaking.

"I'm certainly gonna get back to you, my love, I promise."

Then you hugged him again and kissing his jawline, just like a seal to guaruntee the new chapter and adventure in your both lives was full of happiness, joyous and bright futures. Even those three words did not slip out yet.

[sendandburn]

An Analysis of the hogwarts teachers

This iwas included in the Analysis of Severus Snape as a teacher but i decided to put it in a separete post 'cause i feared it would be to long for Tumblr.

"Fake Moody  [a Death Eater, but a Death Eater who fooled everyone, meaning his behavior was not that OOC for real Moody, whom Dumbledore hired]:

Transfigures Draco and slams him repeatedly against the stone floor while Draco is squealing in pain

tortures spiders with Crucio in front of Neville, which causes him such distress Hermione interrupts the lesson. Then, he “comforts” Neville. Now picture how Neville must have felt when he found out it was one of his parents’ torturers. That had to be more traumatic than watching your toad not get poisoned

curses students in class - “The rest of the class was very eager to leave; Moody had given them such a rigorous test of hex-deflection that many of them were nursing small injuries.” (r/harrypotter)

Ok , we don't know if the REAL Moody was even good at transfiguration so he might not have used that to punish Draco and as for the unforgivables....maybe...i mean, the reason Barty gave to show them that was a good one but Moody knew of the backgrounds of Harry and Neville so i'd like to think that he wouldn't use the unfogivables that affected them most with them in class.

"Flitwick:

does nothing about Luna’s bullying

has Seamus repeatedly write "I am a wizard, not a baboon brandishing a stick". The Irish were once openly compared to apes in England in the past, so that’s in extremely poor taste

Lavender bursts into tears during Charms, Flitwick doesn’t notice"

(r/harrypotter)

Ok, so i can't in good conscience say anything to defend him against points 2 and 3 'cause, quite frankly, there's no excuse for that, in fact point 2 makes him no better than Snape when he called Hermione the M word and he dosen't even have the excuse of once being anti-irish and trying to change,like Snpe does.

as for point 1 however the Harry Potter Wiki clearly states that when heads of houses decided to live at Hogwarts, they most likely had private quarters NEAR their House's common room. " note that it says Near, not In and as Luna's bullying happened In the dorms & common rooms, Flitwick would have no way of knowing about it unless she reported it, wich she never did.

"Trelawney:

predicts a death every year and generally distresses students with her predictions

To Hermione: “I don’t remember ever meeting a student whose mind was so hopelessly mundane.”

takes her anger about Umbridge’s performance review out on students: throws a book at Dean and Seamus, and thrusts another one so hard into Neville’s chest that he falls. She then calls the entire class a bunch of idiots: “You know what to do! Or am I such a substandard teacher that you have never learned how to open a book?”

Points 2 and 3 make her no better than Snape who is also often criticized by snaters for insulting his students, wich is funny if you consider that we clearly estabilished that he is not the only one who does this. As for predicting people's deaths, i understand that it's a part of her character, just like is a part of Snape's character to be snarky, however i can't help but think that she is incredibly stupid for doing that as it not only, as said distresses the students, but makes the theory that she is a fraud seem much more belivable.

"Slughorn:

starts an elitist club to promote his favorites and doesn't even bother to learn Ron's name. This clearly affects Ron (Molly is still raw about Arthur being excluded from the Slug Club, years later)

Ron is poisoned and he just stands there

was Tom Riddle’s mentor and his influence on Tom is apparent in Tom trying to become a teacher to influence young minds, and testing poisons on house elves; he is openly prejudiced, though non-violent. Further, Slytherins were groomed into the DEs under his nose." (r/harrypotter)

Ok, i'm not even going to defend him cause i never liked him and there are honestly no good arguments to defend his actions in any of those instances. Honestly, i can agree that Snape is a bad teacher but at least he never picked favorites or did nothing when a student was endagered in front of him.

"Dumbledore:

silenced student Snape after Sirius tried to kill him, and did not expel Sirius

His attitude toward Harry in OOTP was emotionally abusive

recruited students into the original Order while they were still his students in the Marauders era, and continued to use children for his war against Voldemort."

Look, i get silecing Snape as he didn't whant to put Remus in danger but Sirius punishment was fairly light in face of what he did, though i will disagree that he actively TRIED to kill Snape as the same point that was made in the original post about Snape and Trevor can be made about Sirius, to semi quote "Sirius  is competent enough that if he’d wanted Severus dead, he would be. " i mean....He is the son of Walburga OFF WITH THAT ELF'S HEAD Black and grew up having acess to more dark artefacts and dark arts spells than Snape could ever dream of having, thus it would be as the host of screen rant says " super easy,barerely an inconvenience" for Sirius to kill Severus without being caught. However, it was still Involuntary manslaughter and thus " a Friday afternoon detention for the rest of the year, along with being banned from playing Quidditch for the rest of the school year." is not a suitable punishment

As for Dumbledore in OOTP, i get that he was afraid that Voldemort could read Harry's mind but that could be solved by simply writting a porpusfully vague letter like " Harry, I'm afraid Voldemort can read your mind, that's why I can't look at you and I can't share my plans with you. I need you to trust me, I have a plan and the best thing you can do to help is put all your efforts in learning Occlumency. I would teach you myself but that may allow Voldemort to see my plans, but I happen to know of another expert at Occlumency who may be of help. You might not like him but he is by far the best person for this job. Don't worry, i will talk him into curbing down his behavior so that he is more civilized with you during those lessons"

There Harry won't know for sure who his teacher is going to be (thus neither will Voldemort ) but at least he won't be compleatly in the dark.

Point 3 was always something that irked me about him, but i suppose i can't say much as age is also not a factor in the recruitment of death eaters, though it can be noted that while Voldemort did manipulate his potential recruits, he never lied to them about what he expected of them wich can't be said about Dumbledore.

"Hagrid:

gives Dudley a tail because Dudley’s father insulted Dumbledore. Dudley has to get surgery to remove it. He intended to transfigure him into a pig

gets the Trio involved in his illegal and dangerous dragon hatching scheme, which results in them being caught and punished and in Ron being gravely injured, for which he blames Ron

calls Draco an idiot

first sends Draco and Neville alone, after the unicorn killer, then sends Harry and Draco alone, despite seeing that Draco is trying to cause trouble

sends Harry and Ron into the forest to speak with Aragog

Draco gets injured in Hagrid’s lesson

His blast-ended skrewts lesson result in multiple injured students

threatens Draco with transfiguration again after Moody’s stunt

asks Harry and Hermione to secretly look after his incredibly dangerous brother

makes a fuss about the Trio dropping his subject and guilt-trips them about it" (r/harrypotter)

ok so lets go in order:

Point 1: IRL, it was clearly another demonstration of Jk Rowlling's fatphobia. In potterverse, it was clearly irresponsible and constitutes as a violation of the status of secrecy as, although the Dursley's know about magic, the staff of the hospital where Dudley goes to remove his tail do not.

Point 2: once again, Irresponsible, but in character for Hagrid who seemingly fails to see how something like a Dragon could hurt the students.

Point 3: and Yet another teacher who insults his students ladies and gentlemen.

Point 4: One of his worst offences on this list, Investigating the Unicorn deaths was HIS JOB!!!! Honestly, call Snape what you will but he never used detentions to send students to get dangerous potion ingredients for him or set any detentions past curfew. Hagrid should have them do something like clean the owlery instead.

Point 5: i get that he though Aragog wouldn't eat them, wich is in character for him as he always sees dangerous creatures as inoffensive but he didn't know for sure and could have just told them to research Tom Riddle's geneology wich would have been just as effective and way less dangerous.

Point 6: Ok let's get this out of the way first: YES, Draco is partly to blame for this injury as he insulted Buckbeak when Hagrid specifically told him not to! However, in any class there will always, and i mean ALWAYS be a student that, for whatever reason, fails to follow instructions so if Draco hadn't said a word, you can bet that another student who wasn't paying attention would have! thus the end results would still be the same, with the only difference being how much power the parent's of said student have at the ministry and if they decide to press charges or not. The risk was always there and that's what he gets for bringing a XXX beast to a third year class.

"Lupin

endangers everyone for an entire year by covering up for a mass-murderer just to look good, even after said murderer has infiltrated the castle twice, once attacking and traumatizing the Fat Lady and once pulling a knife on Ron

is negligent with his Wolfsbane - Snape has to nag him about it. This leads to him transforming in front of the Trio

Hermione doesn’t get a chance to fight the boggart, leading to her first less than perfect grade, which affects her confidence well into her 5th year. As the DADA OWL exam included banishing a boggart, this is presumably why she doesn’t get the O she deserves

Has no apparent issue with executing Peter in front of three children" (r/harrypotter)

Point 1: Ok,so i believe that his reason for not telling people about Sirius being a dog animagus wasn't to, as the post said, "Look Good" but to be loyal to his friends whom,being who they were,probably made a pact in their first year to not tell any figure of authority about their mischiefs, wich included becoming animagus. Was it a bad decision? Yes,as he should have put the safety of his students above anything else but i understand his reason. it dosen't excuse it though.

Point 2: while i can understand that, as anyone would forget it with all that was happening, i can't defend him for that one.

Point 3: "his teaching style was obviously not good for Hermione, who got an E in DADA because she couldn't defeat a boggart, because she didn't get the same chance as everyone to practice in Y3. She remained insecure about her DADA skills, for no good reason" (pet_genius on reddit) Honestly, the fact that he let any of his students leave without having defeated their boggarts is something that i think no one could defend and is worrisome that, if it weren't for the Patronus lessons, Harry might not have gotten the chance to defeat his either.

Point 3: Ok i need to remind you that: LUPIN IS A WEREWOLF WHO DIDN'T TAKE WOLFSBANE AT THE TIME AND IT WAS THE NIGHT OF THE FULL MOON! meaning, the freaking Wolf while not in control of his body, was very active inside his mind and it, being an animal, dosen't care about the emotional impact Peter's execution could have had on the children and with it being so close to the front of Remus' mind, it was very capable of clouding Remus' rationality and common sense, making him focus only on his anger.

"McGonagall:

forces Harry to become Seeker without asking him if he wants to, threatening him with punishment if he doesn’t practice hard (in the process, ignores Draco’s attempt to steal Neville’s Remembrall)

pulls 1st-year Draco by his ear in addition to assigning detention and docking 20 points, doesn’t give points back or apologize when it turns out he wasn’t lying

sends 1st years to the Forbidden Forest to find a unicorn-slaying horror, in addition to docking the trio 150 points, thus making them a target for hatred, for breaking curfew

Doesn't notice 1st-year Ginny’s obvious distress

Allows Ron to study with a broken wand

catches Harry and Ron wandering the hallways alone, at a time when teachers escort students everywhere, and lets them get away with it because Harry lies that they’re going to see Hermione in the hospital wing; does not escort them there

Locks Nev out of the common room with a mass murderer on the loose for having his passwords stolen, a humiliating and dangerous punishment for something that's not Neville's fault, in addition to a ban from Hogsmeade visits and detention.

Lets Harry practice Quidditch outdoors in POA despite the danger he is in, because, as she explicitly says, she wants the Quidditch Cup

reacts to “Moody” torturing Draco by ordering Moody to take Draco to Snape to be punished some more, and doesn't check on him

humiliates Neville because she doesn’t want to look bad in front of the foreign delegations

punishes Harry for losing his temper with Umbridge, proceeds to do the same thing in front of him

admits she treated Peter poorly because he wasn't as talented as his friends

The worst two sets of troublemakers in school history were her charges and she failed to control them." (r/harrypotter)

Point 1: “threaten” changes the entire context. She says she “may change her mind about punishing him” but it’s not made to sound very serious, especially since she smiles immediately after that. " (Fae_Faye) That said, while, as Fae_Faye said, she might have allowed him to give up Quidditch after trying out should he want to, it wouldn't be Oc for her to pull a Voldemort emphasizing the fun and glory that Quidditch can bring more than the dangers it can cause,suibitably manipulating harry into trying out should he decide that he dosen't want to play or wants to wait for y2. Yes, she would respect his opinion should he make his denial clear but she would still try.

Point 2: "Pulling somebody by the ear is a common way for adults to punish children but the fact that physical abuse is extremely common does not make it right. Would you find it acceptable if your employer dragged you around by the ear if you spent too much time on break? No? Why not? Why would that be cause for a lawsuit, but not an adult doing it to a (physically much weaker) child in their care?

At worst, the child will actually come to believe that he deserves being psychically abused if he's done something wrong, which, later in life, will turn them into an adult who accepts domestic violence. (

At worst, the child will actually come to believe that he deserves being psychically abused if he's done something wrong, which, later in life, will turn them into an adult who accepts domestic violence. (Fae_Faye and to a lesser extent Vrajitoarea) Sure, she took more points of the trio than of Draco, but as his only misdeed was being out of the Snake's lair past curfew, a simple detention would have suficed.

Point 3: "There’s no evidence that McGonagall knew what the students were going to do for detention. It’s possible Hagrid asked for them without telling her why but the fact that she accepted to send three 11 y.o. to Hagrid, at 11 o'clock at night, without even asking what he would be doing with them? That's... somehow even worse.

Besides, Filch was the one McGonagall assigned to take them to Hagrid, and Filch knew what they'd be doing. Do you think Hagrid told Filch, whom he couldn't stand, but not McGonagall? And Filch didn't tell her either, for whatever reason?

About the point deduction –Harry and Hermione not only got into trouble themselves, but also put Neville and Draco into trouble as well, and already Harry and Draco have been troublemakers (having fights at the Hall over the Remembrall, breaking the rule about flying, and maybe some more- I can’t remember right now), so she was probably trying to discourage them from doing such a thing ever again by giving such a harsh punishment, especially since the school just recently had an issue with a troll on the loose and attacking students. In any case, Neville also had 50 points deducted, and Harry, Hermione, and Neville all became the target of bullying because of it. It doesn't matter what they did, putting a target on three 11 y.o. children's backs is wrong in itself. That it happened just for breaking curfew, and in addition to the detention in the FF, just makes it worse. (Fae_Faye and Vrajitoarea, semiquoted 'cause Vrajitoarea assumed Ron was involved)

Point 4: "Heads of Houses (i.e. real-life Housemasters) are parental stand-ins, and they're supposed to watch out exactly for this kind of situation. Ginny was visibly unwell, and Percy noticed, but couldn't force her to talk about it. Ron was a 12 y.o. child, he had no responsibility.But, anyway most people at that time were distressed with the opening of the Chamber, even the teachers. Which isn't an excuse. Checking up on 11 y.o. children who have just been separated from their families, for the first time in their lives, is the Head of House's job. After a superficial inquiry, it would have become clear that Ginny was having serious issues, which should have prompted further investigation." (Fae_Faye and Vrajitoarea)

Point 5: None of his teachers did anything about it. And Ron himself makes the decision not to get one because he doesn't want to suffer a howler: "Write home for another one," Harry suggested as the wand let off a volley of bangs like a firecracker. "Oh, yeah, and get another Howler back," said Ron, stuffing the now hissing wand into his bag. " `It's your own fault your wand got snapped-'" (Fae_Faye)

Point 6: McGonagall has no way of knowing that they’re lying; all she knows is that three thick friends have had one of their own petrified and so are desperate to see their friend. This scene showcases her empathy and kindness despite usually coming off as a disciplinarian. Also, the Hospital Wing is on the first floor and at the time McGonagall catches them, Harry and Ron were on the second – I don’t think it reflects that badly on her that she allowed them to go unescorted just one flight of stairs down, especially since she was rather too emotional at that time to think rationally (when Harry and Ron leave, McGonagall is tearing up and blowing her nose).(Fae_Faye)

Point 7: All McGonagall knows is that a boy habitually known for forgetting and misplacing things wrote down every password of the Gryffindor Common Room in the last week and then lost it while a mass murderer was on the loose and trying to get into the Gryffindor Common Room. Neville endangered every Gryffindor classmate of his by losing that parchment, and could have been the cause for all their deaths if Sirius had turned out to be the psychotic mass murderer he was painted as (especially since at that time, Ron was screaming about Sirius standing over him holding a knife). Sure, there were security trolls there to protect him ( “Poor Neville was forced to wait outside the common room every night for somebody to let him in, while the security trolls leered unpleasantly at him.” ) But, setting aside the sheer mental and emotional trauma Neville was experiencing by being forced to wait outside, fearing for his life, and to humiliate himself in front of his classmates by begging to be let inside his own "home"... Sirius Black was believed to be an extremely skilled killer, who walking around the castle without being seen. The trolls were not even a small guarantee that Sirius couldn't endanger Neville.

All this, for Neville supposedly having lost something (so, not a voluntary action, but the consequence of him being naturally forgetful, and of the fact that Cadogan was inventing harder and harder punishments, to the point that other students complained).

And Neville is an extremely sensitive child, so a punishment that would have been terrible for anyone, would be excruciating for him. McGonagall, as his Head of House, should know that. It's also extremely poor pedagogy - by having him there, it's a constant reminder to everyone else that he supposedly endangered their lives, which would prompt bullying." (Fae_Faye and Vrajitoarea)

Point 8: "Bad news, Harry. I've just been to see Professor McGonagall about the Firebolt. She -- er -- got a bit shirty with me. Told m' I'd got my priorities wrong. Seemed to think I cared more about winning the Cup than I do about you staying alive. Just because I told her I didn't care if it threw you off, as long as you caught the Snitch first." Wood shook his head in disbelief. "Honestly, the way she was yelling at me... you'd think I'd said something terrible... then I asked her how much longer she was going to keep it. He screwed up his face and imitated Professor McGonagall's severe voice. 'As long as necessary, Wood'..."*When it comes down to it, she clearly cares for Harry’s safety more than winning the Cup. I also doubt that Harry would have been in any danger out on the Quidditch field, since it’s part of the school, a wide open space and shooting spells at a person flying in the air would be almost impossible" (Fae_Faye)... so yeah that point is null and void but it is the only póint so far that is null and void.

Point 9: " I must say I don’t like how you word some of your points. McGonagall didn’t “order” Moody; she told him there were alternatives to transfiguring a student as punishment, which includes seeing their Head of House - and Moody immediately says he’ll do that.McGonagall’s reaction to “Moody torturing Draco” is thus: she "shrieks", drops her books, untransfigures Draco and then she scolds Moody "weakly". It’s made clear that she’s extremely stunned by what happened, still ,she didn't even bother to ask the Draco, who was visibly in pain, if he was OK, instead letting him be dragged away by his torturer, who was still threatening him." (Fae_Faye and Vrajitoarea)

Yes,his fall would probably not be considered serious but it dosen't change the fact that she should have asked about his wellbeing regardless of that: a scraped knee is not serious but it can still be painfull.

"In case of injury, you don't send the injured person to the "proper authorities", who will then send them to the hospital. Internal bleeding and ruptures are a thing.

About the pain, Draco might be slightly hurt by the ten-feet fall, but I doubt it's any more serious than a kid scraping their knee on the floor.

... repeatedly smashing someone into the floor isn't any more serious than a kid scraping their knee? Never mind the emotional trauma.

“I don’t think so!” roared Moody, pointing his wand at the ferret again—it flew ten feet into the air, fell with a smack to the floor, and then bounced upward once more. “I don’t like people who attack when their opponent’s back’s turned,” growled Moody as the ferret bounced higher and higher, squealing in pain. “Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do…” The ferret flew through the air, its legs and tail flailing helplessly. “Never—do—that—again—” said Moody, speaking each word as the ferret hit the stone floor and bounced upward again. [...] “Hello, Professor McGonagall,” said Moody calmly, bouncing the ferret still higher. [...] Draco Malfoy had reappeared, lying in a heap on the floor with his sleek blond hair all over his now brilliantly pink face. He got to his feet, wincing. [...] Malfoy, whose pale eyes were still watering with pain and humiliation, [weeks later] The Gryffindors roared with laughter. Malfoy flushed with anger, but apparently the memory of Moody’s punishment was still sufficiently painful to stop him from retorting.

It's made very clear that the experience was a truly traumatising one. (Vrajitoarea)

Point 10: "She scolds Neville for not being able to do a spell properly, and does so by mentioning the delegates. Neville has a history of endangering the class by melting his cauldrons (see PS, where the students have to climb on tables); Neville was supposed to have studied that particular potion over the summer; living in a magical household, he could have even practised brewing it (unlike a Muggle-born); Snape had also given them exact instructions as they were brewing; Snape is clearly frustrated with Neville's seeming intentional incompetence, and wants to make him learn - which is why he tells Neville he'll have to use the potion on Trevor - he tries to scare Neville into paying attention, because he thinks Neville can get better (not a good tactic for someone like Neville).

McGonagall, on the other hand, may belive in Neville ( as can be seen from the quote: You cannot pass an O.W.L.,” said Professor McGonagall grimly, “without serious application, practice, and study. I see no reason why everybody in this class should not achieve an O.W.L. in Transfiguration as long as they put in the work.” Neville made a sad little disbelieving noise. “Yes, you too, Longbottom,” said Professor McGonagall. “There’s nothing wrong with your work except lack of confidence." ) however, she never explains to him what he's doing wrong .

It's also mentioned that the only time she says something positive to Neville is in HBP, and then it's only because he was willing to die for Harry at the Ministry... which was actually the sort of reckless gesture that a teacher should not have been encouraging. If they had all stayed put, Sirius would have lived.

And, again, she was his Head of House - she was supposed to nurture him, help him gain self-confidence, not further undermine it.

She was often sharp with him, as she is with everybody. McGonagall holds all her students to high standards because she believes in them, and Peter probably didn’t meet those expectations often

(Fae_Faye and Vrajitoarea) Fae_Faye said and i agree that Minerva appears to not care what others think of her, but she knows that Neville does so her mentioning the delegates might have been done because she donse't want HIM to look bad in front of the foreign delegations.

Point 11: " There’s a difference. Harry is a student who can easily be punished by his professor for cheek and he is, after all, the person that the Ministry is trying to discredit as hard as they can. Though McGonagall’s job can be on the line, punishing her is a lot more difficult than with Harry, considering her stellar record of service in Hogwarts (thirty-nine years, wow). Their situations are nowhere near the same.

Point 12: "that is not what she said. Let’s see that quote, shall we? "Hero-worshipped Black and Potter,’ said Professor McGonagall. ‘Never quite in their league, talent-wise. I was often rather sharp with him. You can imagine how I – how I regret that now …’ She sounded as though she had a sudden head cold. ' She was often sharp with him, as she is with everybody. McGonagall holds all her students to high standards because she believes in them, and Peter probably didn’t meet those expectations often, , along with him being a troublemaker as part of the Marauders. She regrets her sharpness, as most people tend to regret their actions regarding a dead person, even if they were right in those actions." (Fae_Faye) and here we have the second null and void point.

Point 13: "She constantly tries. It’s not her fault that they are completely unwillingly to change and, no you can't use Lily's morals to imply James's. It's the sort of reasoning used to dismiss domestic abuse, for example - X can't possibly abuse Y, because Y is a good person who wouldn't stick with them/wouldn't tolerate a bad person.

Plenty of decent people are partnered with terrible ones.

Besides, in Y5, Lily downplayed James's actions, and even "almost smiled" at him tormenting Snape. JKR had also said she was already attracted to James, even while he was being the school bully. She wasn't a saint Sure, Plenty of people seemingly have a good relationship and marriage.

The Marauders, i.e. James's friends and accomplices, tell Harry, who is highly distressed, that his father's head "deflated a bit." Then admit that James lied to Lily (why would he, if he wasn't at fault), and continued hexing Snape behind her back (the idea that Snape was the initiator falls flat on its face, when Sirius admits James was the one to decide when the hexing would occur; similarly, if James had grown as a person, he could have just used the Map to avoid Snape).

James' maturity is, as far as I know, collaborated by every person who knew the two, except Snape, who is biased to hating James

It's not. Only Lupin and Sirius say James got better, and Sirius is the only person, throughout the books, to call James "a good person." Seriously.

Hadn’t people like Hagrid and Sirius told Harry how wonderful his father had been? (Yeah, well, look what Sirius was like himself, said a nagging voice inside Harry’s head… he was as bad, wasn’t he?)

Hagrid only says, to James's orphan son, that James was brave. Which he was, of course. The best that McGonagall has to say about James, while looking back through rose-tinted glasses, is that James was brilliant… and the leader of a gang.

“He is his father over again—”

“In looks, perhaps, but his deepest nature is much more like his mother’s.

Considering Dumbledore usually reflects the authorial voice, there you go.

As for James's behaviour post-Hogwarts, JKR wrote two short stories that portray James as reckless, arrogant, mocking of Muggles, and responsible for the collapse of Lily's relationship with Petunia. Which I honestly find weird, considering she clearly intended for James to have become decent, yet never got around to actually writing it.

In any case, "toning down the bullying and the sexual assaulting" != "becoming a good person."

I don't blame McGonagall for the Marauders' behaviour itself, just for the complete lack of consequences. I find it hard to believe she didn't know about t.On the other hand, Draco was Snape’s student but he never managed to make him a better person bu that's because Draco was the subject of heavy indoctrination, and Snape had the mission of pretending he agreed with said indoctrination. Draco actually acts behind Snape's back a lot, like in PoA, when he's taunting the Trio behind Snape's back, while pretending to be very injured in front of him."

Holly shit that was long! and looking back i find it interesting that Pomona and Aurora Sinistra were the only one's not criticized by the original post (not couinting  Septima Vector and Bathsheda Babbling who we don't see teaching cause the books were written in Harry's perspective and he never took their subjects), perhaps because they were the one's that actually deseve the title of best teacher at Hogwarts.