#man those hobbits gave me feels

[itsonlydana]

"passenger princess" | chapter seven

the hobbit | a modern!AU by itsonlydana

❱ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader

❱ wordcount: 3,6k

❱ summary: phone-call interruptions on a lazy sunday morning / defining the word "date"

❱ warnings: none

❱ an: we're halfway through and I'm more in love with this man every word I write

general m.list + series m.list

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot - especially with longer projects <3

CHAPTER SEVEN: QUESTIONS

You awoke to a low, deep-throated groan right next to your ear; the sound pulling your hazy, sleep-infused mind into reality faster than any alarm could've.

Multiple sensations surged through your body in a matter of seconds, from the heavy arm curled around your middle, a large hand broadened over your stomach, the leisure exhales of breath hitting your neck, and of course, the delicious, if not close to unbearable, heat of another body pressed against your back.

The memory of the conversation in the kitchen, sharing doubts and fears over chocolate cake, was all too clear, as was the movie which had turned out to be much more interesting and enjoyable, when you had a hand to cling onto.

Halfway through the second movie, you had felt the pull of exhaustion that came from a day out swimming, in your bones, and after a while, it had become impossible to fight the – becoming gradually harder and the moments in-between shorter – heaviness of your eyelids fluttering close.

You remembered falling asleep to the giggles of Legolas, the hushed whispers of Aragorn, and the hypnotic and serene rising and falling of Thranduil's chest that became your pillow as you gave up concentrating on the movie and instead focused on his hand in the back of your head, stroking through your hair until your consciousness slipped away.

Before your mind railed off into an overload of thoughts prompted by this, another groan followed the last one, this one blending into a deep inhalation of air.

The muscles of the arm tensed up as you heard a yawn indicating that Thranduil, because this was without a doubt Thranduil, was waking up as well.

Regulating your breath, eyes still closed in an effort to stay in this cozy headspace a little while longer, you listened to the rustling of the blanket, to the tiniest movements of his body and just his breathing, luxuriating in this private moment.

Was there any other sound more comforting than that?

"Gods," his voice rumbled, yes, very much Thranduil, and his hand weighted down on your stomach.

As soon as he noticed, and you felt it in his chest heaving with another breath and his legs moving under the blanket that covered you both, Thranduil slowly pulled the hand out of your shirt.

The feeling of its weight and the size stayed prickling under your skin, even as he shifted, yawning and groaning quietly, to roll his shoulders.

He pushed himself up on one elbow, using his free hand to trail his fingers over your temple, pointer and middle finger drawing circles that moved all across the side of your face that wasn't nestled into the cushion in a feather-like lightness that, when he reached the bow of your lips, tickled just enough for your mouth to twitch into a smile.

"Good Morning," Thranduil murmured drowsely, sleep still coating his words and tongue.

You answered in humm, signaling – kind of– verbally you were awake, before turning to your other side, stretching your legs along his.

"Morning," your voice was still raspy as well, but you couldn't be bothered to stand up for a glass of water.

Thranduil in the morning was truly an unfair sight, because how could this man have woken up not a minute ago and his eyes were already sparkling like a cool lake in the mountains and in them a look of pure adoration as they took you in.

Sunlight fell through the windows, indicating it must've been a while since the day started and you couldn't have cared less except that the warmth in those rays shimmered in the air around you, resting their golden touch on Thranduil's hair and he looked– ethereal.

Unreal, almost.

But, to the enjoyment of your heart and singing soul, this was indeed real and Thranduil was here on this sofa, loose strands of hair falling on you as he continued the exploration of your in-awe face.

"You know," he started and lost himself for a second, as his fingers brushed your lips again and you swallowed hard, "I don't remember the last time I slept through the whole night." Chuckling and looking around, he added: "And on this sofa as well."

"Wow, and here I thought you would complain about your back," the smile that came from the soft touches of his fingers bled into your teasing, the corners of his mouth tipping upward at the comment as well.

"Mhm, what's that? Swore I heard you say something about my age but that couldn't be, right?" Thranduil's finger followed the bridge of your nose, flicking the tip in one tap as he raised one eyebrow, "You wouldn't dare on a morning this beautiful and barely after waking up."

"What if I did?"

"Then you are awfully brave for a woman at my mercy."

"Your mercy?" you giggled, fully aware you were going nowhere while his large frame towered over you, "First your back, then this– didn't know you're already that senile."

"Oh, now–" Thranduil playfully sneered, leaning over in such a quick motion that his hair fell on you like a curtain, and his other hand landed on the other side of your face, basically trapping you right where he wanted you, "I assure you my mind is still very much sharp and even if we just woke up, I'll not hesitate to throw you into the pool."

"Is that a threat?"

"No, it's a promise."

Chocking on your breath, you opened your mouth in another witty reply, though nothing came to mind.

Thranduil sensed that this time you wouldn't bite back and the grin on his face was satisfied, shifting into smugness: "I'll let this pass once because I admittedly am in no rush to get up," the long line of his body fitted perfectly against yours, the weight a comfortable, if not exhilarating, reminder how much taller he was and his knee nudged yours as he slowly lowered himself more, "But know that I've gathered quite a few tricks in my age that go further than that."

"Yeah?"

Unfortunately and it filled you with deep regret, it got no closer than his eyes brushing over your lips, another chance of a kiss passed right in front of your eyes as Thranduil's phone started ringing on the coffee table, breaking the spell of this lazy morning before it could progress further.

With an apologetic look, Thranduil sat up on his folded legs, taking the blanket with him so it hung over his shoulders in a long, fluffy wine-red coat and exposed you to the chilly air.

"Oropherion," he answered the phone, the sleep disappearing almost immediately from his voice to be replaced by an authoritarian and composed tone that bordered on sharp and sent tingles through your stomach while you finally sat up as well.

Thranduil held the phone in one hand, the other gently squeezed your naked ankle.

It was soothing, to simply let him caress your skin as he listened to the person on the other end of the line, his eyes focused on where his fingers moved absentmindedly, and not care that this morning got interrupted by his work.

"Alright, Feren, thank you for calling me. No, of course–" He cast you an apologetic look, "I'll be on my way soon. Prepare a statement for PR ASAP; tell them I want that published before I'm in the office or– yes, that. No, tell Thorin to fuck off and do what I say, that thickheaded man better has his arse up and going right now."

You pressed a hand to your mouth to stifle the giggles that bubbled up your flipping stomach, there was something about Thranduil cursing the laziness of his partner of the firm while he was still in the clothes of yesterday, hair –while looking beautifully soft– in disarray and by now you knew he wouldn't leave the house before having his cup of coffee and changing at least twice.

He raised one eyebrow at your antics though it only fueled the giggles further.

This cracked a smile on his face, one he gave into with an annoyed roll of his eyes. Thranduils fingers curled around the phone. "Have the papers on my table in five, the statement out in ten and.. Feren? If Thorin isn't there and on my line in fifteen minutes–"

No more words were needed, Thranduil simply hung up and turned his gaze back onto you.

"You, Miss, are glad that I do not have the time," he said slowly.

You, being who you are, stuck out your tongue at him. "Can't help a girl for wanting a calm Sunday. It's your fault that your firm needs you to hold their hand."

All of a sudden, he tugged sharply on your leg and had you once again below him. He smirked at your surprised yelp. "Tell me," Thranduil started lowly, "what sets you apart from them?"

And while you were catching your breath, staring into his bright eyes, he swiftly stood up and left you there, gaping at him as he strolled through the living room.

"Come on, I'll drop you off on my way."

"Oh, the nerve of this goddamn man!"

How you managed to get ready was unfathomable yet somehow you were in Thranduil's car before Legolas and Aragorn had even woken up, once again dressed in one of his sweaters and a pair of shorts, that were cinched by an elastic hair tie.

The hair tie was his as well. It felt comically domestic as you had helped him prepare a coffee to go, standing next to each other in the kitchen, and he had leaned down, long and agile – cold – fingers tying the shorts up in no hurry.

Falling into the familiar seat in clothes that smelled like him and having the sun beat through the window as he steered the car out of the driveway fueled you enough for the day to make up for the fact he hadn't kissed you again.

Initially, the only sounds were the whir of the engine and Thranduil's tranquil, rhythmic breathing.

Then, he tapped on the dimmed display, and orchestral music filled the air from the speakers:

The Carnival of the Animals, the piece of the swan.

Immediately you turned your head to him. "Oh, I love this piece!"

Thranduil smiled and from your position, you saw the dimple in his cheek.

"I feel the same way," he remarked, his smile tinged with nostalgia. "We used to attend the Philharmonic in town every week. My parents enjoyed these outings, but I never quite connected with the other children over discussions of politics and history. Instead, I'd settle into the seat by the balcony railing, immersing myself in the music as if it were the very air I needed to survive," he told you.

You listened to his voice, probably your favorite sound in the world above the deep cello, both lapping over you in quiet waves and you snuggled into the sweater.

There was nothing he could say that wouldn't be interesting to you, not in that voice of his.

No matter if he lectured you and Legolas on something he heard you talking about, or if he commented on current political situations on weekend breakfasts together, scoffing over something written in the papers.

He could chat about his day, throwing around names of people you didn't know and numbers you didn't understand but you would be listening no matter what.

And at that moment in the car, with his voice dripping like honey and talking with the same grace as the poetry of the classics he was praying, you fell even harder for him.

"I used to have such a deep love for classical music that I pleaded with my father to buy me an instrument, something beyond the recorder we played at school. I'll never forget the moment I unwrapped one of my Christmas presents and found myself holding a violin in my hands; it was one of the most cherished gifts my parents ever gave me." Thranduil glanced at you, his grin widening.

"Now, take a guess at which piece I dedicated a year to studying." He didn't wait for a response, nor did he need to. "I practiced diligently every day until my fingers ached and my neck grew stiff, but every ounce of effort was worth it. After a year of dedication, I had the opportunity to perform at the Philharmonic and showcase 'The Swan' in front of my loved ones."

The image painted itself in your mind; a young Thranduil, in one of his fine suits, his blond hair already long enough to flow down his back like water, on stage playing The Swan while putting the beauty and elegance of the animal to shame.

He would stand straight, engaging as always, his long fingers on the strings of the violin and his eyes resting only on the instrument in his hands.

You had seen often enough with what fondness and gentleness he had examined a good book, to imagine how he would examine this violin, sanctified by him, like his dearest object on earth came easy.

"Do you still play?" you asked, not entirely innocently.

Thranduil hummed softly and shook his head, causing a hint of disappointment to spread through you. "Not anymore, not for a long time. I don't think I'll really start again, either. I'd rather go to the philharmonic, I can get much more involved with the music there."

"I understand that. It must sound fantastic live, all these instruments in their full sound."

With a surprised and curious look, Thranduil turned back to you. "Have you never been to a concert before?"

You screwed up your face, eyebrows together and lips curled. "Does the musical from my ninth-grade class count, where half were bad recorders and the other half were even worse singers? If not, I'll have to say no. Never to a concert that played classical music."

It was true what you said, except for that one –disastrous, it must be said– musical you had never been lucky enough to hear classical music the way it was meant to be heard.

So far, your headphones have always had to suffice.

Thranduil clicked his tongue against his teeth, and you wanted to tease him for this visibly privileged outrage when he gifted you a cheeky grin. "Your education in that aspect has been criminally neglected."

"Want to give me a lesson?" you asked before you could stop yourself.

Thranduil, taken aback, swallowed, then caught himself. "Sure," his voice sounded horse, "–what do you want to learn?"

"Everything."

"Everything?" he repeated and you saw the shift back into his usual self, the one that adapted quickly to you taking him by surprise, "That sure is a lot."

You giggled, "Oh, afraid you're not up for it?"

Thranduil's hands curled around the wheel as if the seat he was sitting on wasn't bracing him enough and he needed to hold on to something.

You pushed your hands under your own thighs as well and felt giddy as your nails dug into his sweater.

"You're too sassy for your own good," he breathed out a laugh and threw you a look through the mirror that contradicted the seriousness of that statement.

"In three months, the Carnival of the Animals will be performing right here, at the Philharmonic Hall in the city," Thranduil said. "If you allow me, I would like to take you there."

"Thranduil–," you began, straightening up in the seat, but with a shake of his head, he interrupted you.

"No, I know what you want to say and I want to invite you, love," he said gently yet firmly.

You frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"That is to say that I could see your pretty head immediately worrying about the tickets. You have this offended and defensive look, like when Legolas once asked you to take a cab or when I offered to take you out to dinner with Legolas and me–I realize how hard it can be as a college student not to think about the money, believe me, Legolas refuses my help more than often."

You gnawed on your bottom lip, immediately throwing his words around in your mind.

"However, I'm not asking you to pay for it." Thranduil turned his head to you for a moment at a red light. His blue eyes shone bright and radiant like the clear sunny skies.

"I want to ask you out, take you out, or whatever they call a date these days."

A Date.

Your eyes continued to linger on Thranduil, even though he'd turned his attention back to the road. You couldn't break away from him.

All at once you were aware of how much bigger than the question of cost this conversation was. It was bigger than this car, pressing against the doors and windows, stretching apart like a bubble gum bubble you were just waiting to burst. It was too big for every word that came into your head, and after chewing on them for far too long, the very thing you were trying to prevent flew out.

"Netflix and chill."

"Excuse me?" The horrified look on Thranduil's face was indescribable, a mixture of pure shock and incredulity at what you had said.

You stammered, a little unsure if you really wanted to explain to him what you meant: "Well, nowadays, you don't really date anymore. So not like in the old days with dates to the movies or ice cream or going for a walk. Oh god, um you just meet to watch movies at someone's house, but you don't actually watch movies?"

"I understand the basic principle," You turned onto a bigger street at the most appropriate moment, you could see the slightest hint of blush at the tips of Thranduil's ears.

You took a deep breath and pressed a button to lower the window a little. As soon as the breeze played with your hair, you felt your body relax. "Good.. that's good. Jeez, I don't know if I would have wanted to go into more detail." A short laugh burst out of you while your head was still spinning around his words.

He never even kissed you but such a step as an official date had never come up as well and you somehow didn't believe that would be what Thranduil wanted.

He could have so much, probably even with just a flick of his fingers or a blink of his wonderful curved eyelashes.

Not that you would tell him that. This would probably be one of your worries that would eventually be slurred by drunken tongues on nights when you could let all your walls down and find home in the arms of your best friends.

"Would you allow me then?" asked Thranduil as he guided his car off the highway, and the light of sky-high glass towers reflected on his curious face.

"What?" you couldn't help but tease him "Netflix & Chill? Quite a bold question Mr. Oropherion, don't you think?" Oh how easy it was to fall back into this game with him, the back and forth.

Thranduil extended his hand to your thigh, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through your veins.

After this morning, your body hummed delightfully at being physically close to him again.

"Well, I have to admit to being more of a fan of the classic courting, but if the lady wants to play by her rules, I'll throw away the tickets to the theater and we can pretend to watch a movie," he said, his voice low and in the same teasing tone.

You almost choked on your next breath, so suddenly your heart stopped, only to continue beating twice as fast in the next moment.

You sought his gaze, and it was infuriating that he kept looking down the road. "You already have tickets?"

Thranduil's hand on your leg didn't stay still, his thumb began to stroke small circles over your skin.

"Of course," he said without really responding. An annoying, self-satisfied grin pulled at his lips, even if he tried to suppress it.

Your voice was breathless as you whispered, "And you would really go with me? To the Philharmonic for a real live concert?"

Thranduil gave a theatrical enough sigh to be able to stand on the stage himself. "Now that you ask, I had tickets for the night when they just set up speakers and run everything through Bluetooth, but if you really want to, we can go listen to the Carnival of the Animals live."

Awkward with your words, which you lacked so often because of him, you simply grabbed his hand and beamed at him.

Thranduil turned his gaze from the red light in front of you and smiled at you. His hand turned, intertwining his long manicured fingers with yours.

"I'll take that as a yes? You'll allow me to take you out on a real date and you won't worry your pretty head about anything, but let me take care of everything?" he picked up, looking at you insistently enough that all your insecurities blurred within the cerulean sea of his eyes.

Instead, you leaned back in your seat, grinning, floating on a cloud of Thranduil's scent, the warmth of his hand in yours.

"But only because you begged me."

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[togglesbloggle]

Is it just me, or is there a pretty under-explored niche for a massive D&D fantasy franchise along the lines of Star Wars and Marvel? The sort of missing third genre leg beside science fiction and comics, so to speak.

They've clearly tried this with Tolkien, at least as far as extending the LotR movies to the Hobbit trilogy and the Amazon show which is kinda-sorta in the same lineage. And those things had more than none traction. But the Tolkien estate isn't making it easy with rights licensing, and there's an awkward founder effect they have to contend with- the Jackson LotR trilogy gave the entire franchise a very distinct 'vibe' in the popular imagination, and in practice it seems to be hard to recapture given current production constraints. It seems like it's really hard to make a Tolkien movie or show that 'feels like' the Jackson movies unless you sink a lot in to costuming and practical effects, but the current trends are in the opposite direction, with elaborate greenscreening and digital everything.

But in any case, Middle-Earth really isn't the brand you want for a mass-media culture juggernaut, is it? It's literary when it needs to be pulpy, mournful when it needs to be exciting, pensive when it needs to be strident. The world is vast, but delicate, and written by a single author exploring a narrow, coherent set of themes and styles.

Surely D&D- which is to say, the Forgotten Realms, realistically- is better for this all-around. It has a truly massive baked-in fanbase that's clearly (through 'actual play' podcasts etc.) already chomping at the bit for high production value experiences, a vast backlog of source material to draw on owned by corporate entities rather than a single brittle family estate, a wide variety of scenarios allowing for multiple sub-genres and directoral styles all under the same umbrella. It's just as popular but less sacred, meaning the audience will be more tolerant of failures. It has merchandising options for days, already has beautiful examples of video game and multimedia tie-ins, and has established and successful writing patterns for epic-scale crossover movies, long-running multi-season campaigns, one-shots, and everything in between.

There's one weakness, which is that compared to Star Wars and Marvel, individual characters are less central in the existing property. D&D has some, such as Drizzt, that rose to prominence in the novel spin-offs, so of course this isn't totally wrecked. However, the brand was originally built fundamentally as a game system and as a set of places, with the heroes to be assembled by the consumers themselves; it must be said that iconic characters are somewhat sparse, and awkwardly spread across multiple settings and continuities. But I think if you got the thing really roaring, this might give it longevity that Star Wars and Marvel ultimately lack- Robert Downey Jr. is Iron Man, Mark Hammil is Luke, and notwithstanding AI representations, once those actors are gone, the franchises themselves flounder awkwardly. But if audiences come to identify their enthusiasm for D&D franchise movies with the world and brand itself, then the turnover in the cast is much less damaging to that brand, because the whole thing is already built from the ground up without overly relying on a specific group of 8-10 actors as a lynchpin of the whole operation. Even the leveling mechanic allows for franchise tentpole actors to grow in prominence as they emerge as audience favorites, then conveniently transition in to CG apotheosis or some other suitable end as the actors age out and new favorites are found.

I mean, far be it from me to give advice to the goliaths of culture, but I'm genuinely puzzled about why Disney hasn't bought D&D yet, or why Hasbro hasn't made some kind of big push to do this outside the single (pretty good!) movie. I think I'd even kind of enjoy it.

#I'm still hoping that I can make 'commedia' stick #as the name for these giant culture-dominating media franchises #but alas #not all wishes come true

[fizzyxcustard]

Twilight Roses. 

Fandom: The Hobbit

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Domestic violence, fluff, angst

Summary: Thorin visits you every night, leaving you with a rose, as he emerges from your poster. One night he finds you in tears, with a bruised cheek and withdrawn.

Comments/Notes: This is a direct spin off of my own fic called A Rose at Twilight. The masterlist for that fic is HERE, however, I'm an re-uploading it gradually from AO3 so the most up to date version of the fic is on AO3. Requested by anon with the injury prompt, "Look at me. Look at me. Who did this to you?"

As always, if you like the fic, please consider a reblog. If you wish to be tagged in future stories, please let me know. :) Enjoy!

The room was dark. Thorin couldn't see you as he shifted from his world into yours, passing through the poster which was pinned to your wall. "My love?" he asked, stepping into the gloom of the room.

Sobbing came from the darkness.

"My love?" he asked again.

"Thorin?" you whispered with a sigh.

You flicked on the lamp, the soft light illuminating the man whom you loved. He visited you every night, leaving a crimson rose with you, a sign of his adoration. All of the roses stood proudly in a vase on a table next to your bed. Ten of them. Each one counted the nights that he had passed from Middle-earth to you.

Immediately he caught sight of a dark bruise across your left cheek. He reached over to you, you sat up in bed and him beside you. His hand cupped your cheek, his palm caressing your cheek. You couldn't help but break down into tears and lean toward him, closing your eyes.

"Look at me, Who did this to you?" Thorin asked, his voice loving, but firm. His thumb brushed over the bruise.

You remained silent, your shoulders hitching with your sobs.

"My queen, look at me. Who did this?"

Finally you opened your eyes and looked at him. Those steel blue depths that you loved so much were focused on you. "R...Ryan."

Thorin closed his eyes for a second and grit his teeth in anger, then opened his eyes again and focused his gaze back on you. "He dare raise a hand to you."

"I deserved it," you whimpered. "I'm stupid and..."

Thorin growled. "I will not have you stay here a moment longer. Come home with me. I will not have him look upon you again, and make you believe such..." He grit his teeth again, feeling the anger overtake him.

The memory of Ryan's hand striking you and his disgusting words made you fall into a heap in Thorin's arms where you sobbed. He held you tight and kissed your head. "I swear to you that he will never, ever come near to you. I will protect you. Come home with me."

You remained silent in Thorin's strong arms and slowly he picked you up from the bed, his one hand reaching to the poster on the wall. He touched it, and with a blinding flash of light, both of you were stood in another bed chamber.

Thorin walked to his bed and lowered you down. "Sleep in peace, my love," he whispered.

You looked up at him, tears still rolling down your cheeks.

"He can't hurt you any more."

As you looked at him, you could feel all the anxiety in your chest beginning to dissipate, like the breaking of dawn on a long overdue morning. Your hand reached to him and in response, he leaned down to you. You both kissed, growing hotter in your want.

In the height of your passions, you began to disrobe Thorin, taking his tunic from his shoulders. His hand cupped your breast, fondling it slowly. His lips crept down your neck.

"Will you be my queen?" he asked, breathless.

"Always," you replied.

That night you gave your body over to the King of Erebor, sealing yourself as life companions. Every day your love for each other grew even stronger, and never once did you look back upon your old life.

Every night, for years and decades onward, Thorin left you a rose in the twilight hours. Your bedchamber was never without vases of roses. They were ever present, watching over you as you raised children, whose laughter filled the royal wing.

The rose became a sign of the Queen of Erebor, a royal sigil. It reminded you of a life transformed; sadness and suffering blossoming into joy and peace.

Even years after your passing, with your body laid to rest next to King Thorin II, roses still blossomed through the halls of Erebor.

***

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[kylos-isomnisexual]

An Unthinkable Love

Mary Goore x Male! Reader

Words:2278

A/N: It’s been a really long time since I’ve written any sort of fanfiction so if this is really shit I apologize

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

"Mary? Hey man are you in there? We brought you some food" One of your friends knocked on the door

"Jesus, varför lämnar ni mig inte ifred" was all that could be heard from the other side. "See man, nothing, not even food will get him out of that hobbit hole of a room he's been living in" Another one of your friends spoke.

You and Mary have been best friend's for years. You had met him at one of the shows he was playing at in your city. Him and his friends were one of the opening acts of the band that you had come to see that night. Somehow, after the concert you managed to bump into him. You said hello and brought up how much you loved the songs his band had played. Despite how scary he looked the first time you met him, he was actually very sweet and thanked you for enjoying the show they had put on. From there you both clicked instantly, you some how managed to snatch his number before his band mates had to drag him away from you because he was taking too long. Back to present day however, Mary seemed to not want to deal with anyone's bullshit

Mary had been dating this girl for a little while, and despite the aching feeling that rested in your heart, you were very supportive and happy for Mary. Of course that achy feeling hadn't gone away, not until recently when the news broke out that the girl he had been seeing was cheating on him with her ex. Part of you felt bad for Mary, knowing how much he had loved that girl, but also part of you was happy, knowing that he didn't have anyone standing in the way of you and him. You knew that part of you was very selfish, so you pushed all those feelings down and decided that no matter what you would be helping him from this point onward, even if you had some certain feelings resting deep down.

"Good luck trying to get him out, I doubt he'll answer to anyone at this point" His friend sighed. You smiled softly at them, giving a reassuring look before knocking on the door. Before you could even give an indication that it was you, Mary had already started to complain about being disturbed again. "För sista gången, lämna mig fan ifred" He sounded so tired and defeated, your heart broke hearing him sound like that. "Mary, it's me, (r/n)" You said softly, unsure if he was actually going to open the door or not. To both you and your friends surprise, the door slightly cracked open.

You gave him a gentle and reassuring smile, barley being able to see anything other then his obviously tear stained eyes. "Can I come in?" You asked softly, not wanting to sound demanding incase he wanted to be completely left alone. You both had sat there for a little bit. You were about to say something, telling him that it was okay if he didn't want company, but before you could say anything, he grabbed your hand and dragged you inside his room, locking it behind him. Both of your friends stood there shocked, opting that they were just going to put the food on the counter and then leave, knowing that you probably have everything under control.

It took you a minute before you could compose yourself. After a second you looked up, the sight in front of you killing you from the inside. There stood Mary, his face paint and fake blood smudged, obvious tear stains on his face. His clothes are more tattered up then they usually are, and he looked and smelt like he hadn't showered in days. "Oh Mary" You said, holding your arms out for a hug. Mary wasn't one for physically touch, not from most people. With you it was different, but you still wanted to give him the option of wether or not he wanted to be touched right now.

Mary walked up slowly, wrapping his arms around your waist, burying his face in your chest. Normally, this kind of situation would make you blush, but right now you needed to be there for him. Mary started sobbing violently into your chest. You had never seen him this vulnerable. Sure you've seen him sad once or twice, but never so dejected, never so broken. You shushed him quietly as you brought both of you to sit on the bed, still maintaining the hug. "Hey, shhh it's okay, I'm here for you man" You said softly, rubbing circles on his back. You both sat in silence for a little while, feeling the tears fall down on your shirt. Eventually, Mary was able to compose himself. He looked up at you, his eyes all red and puffy. You gave him a soft smile, continuing to rub his back

"You wanna talk about it?" You said, concern in your voice. He sniffled, rubbing the tears away from his eyes. "God, (r/n). I loved her so fucking much, she meant everything to me. How could she just go and cheat on me without a second thought." He said angrily, his hands balled up into fists. You grabbed his hands, lacing your fingers together. His anger seemed to simmer down immediately, but he wouldn't look you in the eyes, almost like he was embarrassed to be seen like this. You let go of one of his hands, grabbing his chin to make him look at you. "You don't deserve her man, and definitely don't deserve the way she treated you throughout your whole relationship".

"You are such a kind person despite what people may think of you. You're loving and caring and you treated her like a princess. If she decided that throwing you away over her stupid ex was a good idea then she wasn't worth it anyways. You can do so much better. I know it hurts now, but you'll get through it, I know you can" You said, hoping that your little pep talk would cheer him up a bit. Evidently it worked, as a small smile appeared on his face. "Thank you, it means a lot to me. More than you know" He says with a genuine tone in his voice. "Ayyy don't get all sappy on me now" You lightly hit his shoulder. "Alright, you don't have to be an ass" He laughs, the smile on his face getting bigger. You laughed, standing up to leave the room to get his food. Before you could step outside the door, Mary had grabbed your hand. Shocked, you turn around to see him trembling a little bit, almost like he was afraid of you leaving him.

“Please don’t go” He said softly, looking down at the ground. “Can you stay here and lay with me for a bit?” The question had caught you off guard. You stood their for a little, trying to process what he asked you a few seconds ago. You snapped back into reality once you saw the scared look that threatened to appear on his face. “Yeah of course. I don’t mind. Let me just get comfy first” He let go of your hand and you turned around, not wanting him to see the blush that spread across your face. You took off your shirt and pants, opting to just stay in your boxers. You turned back around to see Mary already getting comfy in bed, an open spot right next to him. You walk over, lifting the covers up as you got underneath them. You shuffled a little, turning so that your back was facing him.

After a few moments, you feel Mary scoot closer, wrapping his arms around you. You jumped a little in surprise but calmed down soon after, the body heat making you sleepy. “Thank you (r/n), for everything” You smiled, letting out a soft yawn. “It’s really no problem” Was the last thing you remember saying before passing out.

A few months later, Mary was back to being himself, his asshole like demeanor making it’s appearance. He seemed happier, now having been moved on from his ex for a while. After the night you stayed with him, Mary promised he’d get himself together and go back to the way he was. Now you, Mary and all your friends were having a good time, sitting and talking, having a few drinks in your living room. “Yeah well she was a fucking bitch anyways, I don’t know why I dated her” Mary slurred his words, taking another sip of the fireball he had in his hands. His friends laughed, agreeing with his comment.

“So, do you have anyone new you’re interested in?” One of your friends asked, wiggling their eye brows. Mary hesitated for a bit before speaking, “I might have a small thing for somebody, but it’s nothing” He waved it off. “Oooo, who is it? Tell us” Your other friend pried. “Fuck you is who it is” He took another swig of the fireball, flipping off his friends in the process. You looked over at Mary, curious to know who this secret crush is. Part of you hoped that it was you, but in your mind you knew that there was no reason to get your hopes up. You’re not Mary’s type, and your sure as hell not a girl. Mary goes for the bimbos, there was no shot of you ever getting with him. “I’m hungry, I’m gonna go buy some snacks” One of your friends states, struggling to get up and on his feet. “Where are you gonna get snacks from, you can’t drive” Mary slurred, tilting his head at them. “There’s a vending machine downstairs… your coming with me” He managed to pull the other guy up with him despite his protest. Both of them walked out the apartment door, stumbling and almost falling on their way out.

Now it was just you and Mary sat alone in the living room, you started to giggle and Mary had asked what was up. “I’m just glad there not in the room anymore, I couldn’t stand them” You slurred, waving around the bottle of wine in your hands. Mary agreed, saying how those two could be annoying and a handful. You scooted closer, the alcohol clouding your judgment on wether or not being this close to him while being this drunk was a smart idea. “Yknow, you’re a really great friend, and I really REALLY appreciate you” You said, loosely grabbing onto his shoulder. “I think you’ve had too much to drink” He said, shaking his head. You pointed a finger at him, your face getting dangerously close to his. “Your one to talk, pain in the ass…” You mumbled the last part. You could’ve sworn you saw Mary look at your lips, but you just decided it was part of your imagination. You both sat there in silence, looking off into space. Eventually, you felt like someone’s eyes were on you, turning to see that Mary was just staring at you with an unreadable expression.

“What are you staring at?” You asked, blush appearing on your face. “You’re Uhh, really handsome, I guess” Mary said, still staring at you. “You’re really handsome too” You weren’t quite sure where the sudden boost in confidence came from but it wasn’t unwelcome. You both just sat there, staring into each others eyes, looking down at each others lips from time to time. “Jag vill verkligen kyssa dig” You looked at Mary confused, unsure of what he just said to you. “What was that?” You asked, tilting your head. “I said, that I really want to kiss you” He repeated, this time in English. Your eyes opened wide, surprised that even came out of his mouth. “You can kiss me” Was all you could muster up to say.

He took his hands, placing them on your cheeks. He rubbed his thumbs against them. You both leaned in slowly, his lips meeting yours passionately. You pulled away after a few seconds, staring into his eyes. “Why uhh, why did you kiss me?” You would never think that Mary Goore would show any interest in you, so why all of a sudden did he kiss you. “After that night, when you helped me. I slowly started to realize how much you meant to me and how much I loved you. I eventually figured out that love was beyond just friendship” His speech didn’t sound slurred, almost like he wasn’t drunk in the first place. “I’ve never been with a guy before, but I genuinely love you, and I want to be with you”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, Mary Goore, the man you were in love with for years, said that he loved you back. You smiled, happy tears falling from your eyes. “Of course I’ll be your boyfriend you fucking idiot, I’ve been in love with you for years” A shocked look appeared on his face. “Years?!? There’s no fucking way” You laughed, shaking your head. “Maybe it’s because your fucking dense” You joked, punching his arm. “Hey okay, there’s no need to be an ass” He said, pointing his finger at you. Before he could say anything more, you pulled him into another kiss. Thank god for that alcohol because without it, you both probably wouldn’t have the confidence to confess. As for your friends well, they passed out while trying to get there snacks from the vending machines, but it’s okay, because they woke up after being completely fine

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Translations:

Jesus, varför lämnar ni mig inte ifred = Jesus, why won’t you guys leave me alone

För sista gången, lämna mig fan ifred= For the last time, leave me the fuck alone

Jag vill verkligen kyssa dig= I really want to kiss you

#Marry Goore #Repungent #tobias forge #the band ghost #x reader #male reader #mlm love

[incorrectmarvelquotesss]

— don't let go —

Warnings: major angst, major character death, fluff, mentions of brain tumour

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Life likes to torture Bucky Barnes and this time is the worst.

Word count: ~ 1.4k

A/N: Feel free to scream at me.

Bucky never had too many things to call his ever since he fell into the clutches of Hydra. Hydra didn’t like to give him much; a bed, clothes, and a mask was all they gave him. They gave him a small cell, big enough to hold his twin sized bed and a small sink with a toilet. That was all Bucky had when he woke up before the asset could. They loaded him up with knives and guns before a mission, unable to trust the asset they made. They were scared he would turn on them, something people were still scared of. 

He saw the way people looked at him, like he was going to murder them in broad daylight. As if he was going to kill everyone in a mile radius. He saw the way people who gripped their kids a bit harder when he was near and told them to stay away from strangers. He knew better. The government announced his trial and there were protests, but they let him go with a few probations for the next year. 

After that year passed, he started doing better and going out without a care of who stared and whispered about him. Once he was allowed to use guns and knives again, he went on missions and used the alias Shuri gave him; the White Wolf. Not the Winter Soldier. He was long gone and now everyone in the world knew that. Not that that meant everyone had changed the way they looked at Bucky. 

Some still whispered and pointed while others smiled and gave him a quick thanks. There were more kids that looked up to him as they did with the other Avengers and asked him questions excitedly. The little girl with the prosthetic gave him a hair tie, saying that his hair wouldn’t get into his eyes when he was out saving the world. That was when Bucky noticed that that hair tie was his. His eyes shined with tears as the little girl gave him a high five and a promise that she would see him again. 

His mind was his. That was the first thing that became his after Hydra. There was relief and satisfaction when the trigger words did nothing. He was instantly in tears, wet cheeks in the night with the fire blazing in front of him. His heart felt lighter knowing that his mind was now his and only his. He kept the detail to himself for a few days before telling Steve and coming back to New York. 

The second thing that was his was his apartment floor. Tony had led him to his floor, waving a hand at the space and letting him know that it was his. Even though Tony and him had bad blood to start with, the two had started bonding over new technology advances. Tony slowly forgave him, giving him a few upgrades in his new vibranium arm with the promise that Tony wouldn’t make a mess of it. 

It was when Tony asked if Bucky was alright with him touching a plate that Bucky realised his decisions and choice were also his. Slowly, but surely, Bucky started calling things his. His bed. His comb. His mug. His hoodie. And so forth on. He kept those things close to him, snapping at anyone who tried to use his mug. At first no one understood, but as time went on, they understood. 

He felt his heart getting lighter and lighter and he finally felt okay. 

He started dating next. That took time to get used to. He let Natasha set him up with a few people—something Steve advised against—and none worked out. When he was about to give up and just let life do its course, Natasha set him up with you. 

You were Bucky’s definition of perfect. The second he saw you sitting at the cafe with your nose buried into The Hobbit with a cup of tea in front of you that had long gone cold. He knew that this might lead to something. So he took a seat and watched you light up at his appearance. You looked at him with bright and curious eyes and he swore that you made him feel like the only man in the world. 

“I’m Y/N,” you had said with a hand outstretched to shake his. He still remembered the electric shock he felt when he shook it, repeating your name before giving his own in a flustered state when you giggled. 

Even though you two were supposed to spend two hours at most talking, you spent almost six hours talking and laughing about anything and everything. It was the most care-free he had felt in years and he hated it when you said you had to go back to your apartment. That was when an old memory resurfaced and Bucky suggested walking you there. 

“Trying to find out where I live, Barnes?” You had teased before agreeing and letting him walk you home. Even though the walk to your apartment took at least half an hour—“Bucky! You’re slowing down again!”—he still wanted more time. And you must have felt the same because you had invited him up for dinner. 

That was over a year ago. It had been a year since you and Bucky became official and almost six months since you moved in with him—”Your work is closer from the Compound anyway, doll.”—and almost three months since he had given you his dog tags. 

He liked to call you his, his girl, his doll, and he wouldn’t want it any other way. His plan was to buy a nice ring for you and settle somewhere far from prying eyes where you both could raise kids. He would call the house his home and you his wife, but life has never let Bucky keep things that were his. 

He had watched you come home crying and shaking, a report from your doctor in your hand. He crossed the room just in time to catch you before your knees buckled and you fell. He crumpled down with you, one of his hands smoothing your hair and the other grabbing the report from you when you held it out slightly. He couldn’t get an answer out of you so he opted to read the report behind you, holding it open with both hands as yours clutched his shirt, now wet with your tears. 

“Bucky,” you had choked out, moving back as his eyes read that part of the report. “It’s back and worse.” 

Malignant Brain Tumour. He held back the sob that threatened to leave his mouth, but made a sound like a wounded animal. Of course you had told him about your brain tumour and how it was cured and how the risk of it coming back was always going to be there. You had cried on his shoulder as you recounted the events and he had—just like right now—wished you had never gone through that. Here he was, like he was in a loop, letting you cry on his shoulder and wish the exact same thing. 

Life had funny ways to torture him.

And this was by far the worst one. 

His head was always spinning with worry when he took you to appointments, your weakened state making him overprotective of you. He knew that you hated when he worried, rubbing your thumb on his little crease between his eyebrows and telling him that you were going to be okay. How he hoped you were going to be okay. 

He called in his favour with Shuri—despite your protests—and asked her for help when the doctors only suggested surgery. He hated the way you would clutch your head in pain when you thought he wasn’t watching. He hated when you would smile through the pain when getting blood work. He hated that all he could do was watch doctors and Shuri do their work. He hated every second of feeling useless. 

“I’m so sorry, doll,” he had said that night, holding you close to him. 

“For what, darling?” You had asked, confusion and worry laced in your voice. He ran his hand down your spine and smiled. 

“I’m useless, Y/N, and don’t say I’m not.” 

“You’re anything but useless, Bucky. You’re the reason I’m even hoping to live through this. You’re the reason I don’t let go.” 

He had never said he felt useless again. 

Now as your casket lowered into the six feet hole with rain pattering against your tombstone, he wanted to spend all eternity here. With his other half. His better half. 

But you had let go. 

#bucky barnes x reader #mcu x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #mcu x y/n #mcu x you #marvel mcu #avenger x reader #bucky barnes x you #mcu #james barnes x y/n #james barnes x you #james barnes x reader #james barnes #james bucky barnes #james barnes x female reader #bucky barnes angst

[shiinata-library]

Invisible desires

Relationships: Bilbo x First person narrative (fem!OC or fem!reader)

Content: Rated E - Smut, invisible hobbit

Summary: A smut story with an invisible hobbit.

N/A: One comment on one of my old smut stories gave me the motivation to write this new one.

Have you ever had a dream that felt very real? Well, I have. Many times. And I'm not talking about fantasy dreams or nightmares. I'm talking about, hm, erotica dreams. Oh, it's embarrassing but I can't forget them and they are too recurrent to forget them. 

So, where do I start? 

Well. It always starts in the middle of the night in our bed. When I say “our bed”, I mean the bed of Bilbo and me since we live together in Bag End since the quest is done. The dreams never happen outside or in another place. The night through the windows is always darker than ever, the light only coming from the fireplace at the end of our bedroom. 

More or less awake, I wake up slowly when I feel kisses on my skin, my eyes remaining closed, warm lips starting from my ankle, and moving slowly to my tights. Two hands follow the same path until they grab my thighs to spread them out without any resistance. 

When the lips arrive at my most intimate part, a warm breath makes me shiver. Then, without waiting any longer, a famished tongue starts to devore me., like a hobbit eating his second breakfast without having the first, and I know what I’m talking about, I’m married to one. 

So, hungry licks. Again and again, giving me delicious sensations until I can’t think of anything and strong waves of pleasure waking me definitely. 

So far, you will tell me there's nothing exceptional about it, will you? “Good for you if someone wakes you up like this”, right? “Why are you telling us this?” Just wait. 

While my senses come back to me, the lips and the hands softly get out of my legs, then under the blanket. The next thing I feel is the wet lips coming on my neck, kissing or nibbling it, as the two hands run on the top of my nightdress to rest on my breasts. 

It's always after the first orgasm that I open my eyes. Despite the light of the fireplace, I don’t see anyone, yet I can confirm that I feel those lips and hands on me ; especially when one of them raises my nightdress to touch my naked buttocks!

There's no one with me, I mean I can't see anyone. I’m used to it now, but the first time, I was nervous, but it’s my dream right? Why would I be nervous? 

At first, I always try to stay quiet, as if I would be afraid of walking up Bilbo next to me. As if he would sleep behind me in my dreams while an imaginary man takes care of me. Impossible, right? But most of the time I can't contain my moans, my cries, my demands… I noticed the more I'm loud, the more he responds vigorously.

So, as my imaginary person goes down to taste my recently freed breast, I can already feel his hardness growing under his trousers against my fine nightdress. Weird thing, he rarely kisses my lips. And when he does, it feels like Bilbo’s. Maybe I’m unable to imagine another man than him. It’s a shame because it’s my dream. I could imagine anyone…

Even though he is invisible, I can obviously touch him. His clothes are as light as mine. When I run my hand on his back, I can feel his hot skin, already sweaty because of the time he spent under the blanket. I let him rub himself against me as much as he wants while I run my hands under his shirt.  Oh, his skin is very hot for the middle of the night...

When he seems breathless with excitement, he escapes himself from my hand and I hear him taking off his invisible clothes. I always take advantage to remove mine too. A nightdress is quick to remove, but he seems as fast as me. I barely have time to lie back on the bed that he is already above me, his breath starting at my navel, ending at my breasts.

At this moment, as every time I start to feel his burning skin against me, he takes my wrists and holds them tightly to the sides of my head. His strength is always stronger than I remember but he never hurts me. I would be lying if I told you I don’t enjoy it…

As my arms are blocked, he buries his head in my neck and flats his body against mine, letting me no escape. My whole body shivers while his is getting hotter. His hardness easily finds my sensible woman’s part, even more wet since he tasted it. He rubs it slowly, making me breathless. Not knowing when he will enter arouses me so much that I can’t even keep my eyes open and my mouth closed.

Sometimes, he enters me suddenly, burying himself as deep as he can, not waiting for me to adjust before withdrawing and thrusting again in the same way. 

Or, sometimes like now, he pulls on my wrists, raising me up. I have done it too many times not to know what he wants, so as soon as he lets me wrists go, I turn around, my hands and knees on the bed. 

More eager than before, he doesn’t wait to grab my hips and enter me. Deep, hard but slow. His hands are firm on my hips, leaving him the choice of the pace.

I’m totally at his mercy.. If this position seems to be his favourite, I can’t lie. I always hope we end up like this. He fills me so deep and so well that I can’t think of anything. But he knows how to call me back. Keeping his thrusts in the same pace, he leans towards me, his skin sweating under his efforts.

Even though his lips are soft, his teeth are hard, and when he bites at the back of my neck, I can't help but whine of pain-pleasure. Sometimes I can feel his teeth on me again the next day, but Bilbo always confirms to me he sees no marks on me. Maybe my imagination is too strong…

Yet, the pain feels real and the more I whine, the faster he goes. My voice is echoing with the sound of flesh on flesh through the bedroom. Do I sometimes exaggerate to make him speed up? Yes. It's my dream, isn't it? I can do whatever I want, right? And right now, I want him to go faster. I know he won’t last either.

In this position, it feels like he’s using me. His hands on me, his pace, his bites… Of course, I don’t care. But if I want to end it, I have to do it myself. 

One hand on the bed is enough not to suffocate against the blanket. When I start to touch myself, I can’t keep myself from raising my buttocks. The change of angle gives me the most delicious pleasure and I know he feels it too. The pace quickens as his fingers sink into my hips. 

In no time, pleasure ravages me, my previous orgasm already forgotten. My moans echo with the only sound I hear from him, his loud breath. He straightens up and after a few deep thrusts, he fills me with his warmth in a loud, long groan.

He stays inside me for a short moment, kissing where he bit me, as if he was regretting it. Sometimes I hope I could see this man if I turn around but I already did it a lot of time and I never saw anyone. My mind seems really into this invisible man…

After he withdraws, I feel his hands a last time caressing my neck then my back. When his fingers leave me, I can't keep myself from shivering. Luckily for me, the blanket is never far away. All I have to do to fall asleep is fold it over me. As if I had to sleep back to end this delicious dream… 

Alright, I have a question! Imagine the oc/reader becomes pregnant after that? Do you think the ring could influence something? 🤔

#the hobbit fanfic #bilbo #bilbo baggins #smut

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Stitches - Thorin Oakenshield X GN Reader

Title: Stitches

Thorin Oakenshield X GN Reader

Additional Characters: The Company (Mentioned)

Modern AU / Magic AU

WC: 1,602

Warnings: Death mentioned, The Hobbit storyline mentioned, slight angst, and fluff

Pulling the thread and needle through the fabric, you let out a sigh, tying the thread and cutting the excess string. Placing down your craft supplies, you hold the finished plush in your hands, holding it up to stare at your masterpiece. You had been making a plush of your favorite Hobbit Dwarf, Thorin. It took a couple of months, but you were done. Staring into his black, shiny eyes, you smiled. He wasn't perfect, being your first plush you've ever made, but he was yours. His dark brown hair, made of felt, was sewn to his flesh colored fabric head. You made his beard with the same brown colored felt, and even braided brown yarn to make his braids. You gave him stubby limbs, and dressed him in a poorly fashioned outfit that looked sadly nothing like the one in the movie. 

Overall, you were very proud of yourself, and decided to go out and get yourself a small treat for your great feat. So, placing the Thorin plush on your bed, you scooted off the mattress and grabbed your bag, before putting on your shoes and leaving your home. You wandered the streets, making your way to the nearby café, where you had bought yourself a small mocha. Walking inside the building, you took in the atmosphere. It was warm and cozy, with soft music playing and colorful lights decorating the walls. It gave you 70's vibes, which was nice. You ordered your drink, before leisurely making your way back home, occasionally sipping your drink as you did so.

Unlocking your door and entering your home once more, you kicked it closed behind you. Sitting your cup of coffee on the kitchen counter, you hummed a simple song as you toed off your shoes, taking them off and setting them neatly by the shoe rack. Heading to your room, you almost had a heart attack. There, standing in your room, was a person... A man... Who looked very similar to Thorin. The same hair, stature, and even though his back was turned to you, you knew it was him. You watched The Hobbit too many times, not to instantly recognize the Dwarf. But, how? You asked yourself. What magic was this? You didn't even think magic was real in your world. 

"Uh... Hello?" You spoke up, startling the man as he turned around to look at you, eyes slightly wide as he stared at you with his deep blue eyes.

"Where am I? Who are you?" He commanded quickly, and you couldn't stop your heart from skipping a beat; he sounded just like Thorin, and looked just like him too. 

"You're in my home, and my name is Y/N."

Thorin seemed defensive, looking at you skeptically, "Why am I here?" He asked, before looking around your room. "I recognized this place, for only a fleeting moment, but the last thing I remember was the feeling of being cold... Numb. Thinking back, my mind is a blur."

You frowned, realizing what he meant. The only understandable conclusion was that your plush of Thorin had come to life, and the last thing Thorin remembers was his death. But, how could that be possible? That world was fiction, so there’s no possible way that a toy could come alive… Right? You shook away those thoughts, trying to push them aside as you began answering Thorin's questions. 

"Well, I had made a... A doll of you and I think you came to life." You said sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck, as Thorin looked up at you once more.

"What do you mean?" He asked, "I am confused."

"Me too." You answered, "I have no idea what is happening."

"Then we are in agreement." Thorin spoke, before taking a seat on your bed. "You say I was this doll that you made. And the last thing I felt was numbness, a cold chill..." Looking up at you, he frowned, "Am I dead? Or has some... magic sent me to this world?"

You had a loss for words, "I- I don't know. I'm sorry. All I know is that I finished making a plush of you and then left for a coffee. And when I came back you were here and my plush was gone." You ranted, running a hand through your hair.

"You made me..." Thorin muttered, repeating his words, "So, you know of me?" He asked, and you nodded.

"Yes, in this world, you are a fictional character -- a story book character. Someone made you into a story a long time ago and then they made a movie about you and your Company reclaiming Erebor." You explained and Thorin closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath.

He clenched his fists as he quickly opened his eyes, "I do not understand what this place is or why I am here, or what happened to me to have brought me here..." He began, staring at your bedroom floor, "But, you must help me get back to my Company."

You bit your lip, "Thorin... I don't know if I can. I don't even know how you are real right now..." You sighed heavily, “Honestly, I’m freaking out right now.”

Thorin raised an eyebrow, "What do you mean? Why can you not help me?" You could see he was growing upset.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair again, "Like I said, in this world, you are not real." You paused, before heading to your shelf and pulling The Hobbit DVD off the shelf, you offered Thorin the case, where he could see a picture of himself on the cover. "Well, now you're real, but I'm sorry... I have no idea how I can send you back."

Thorin was quiet as he stared at the DVD case, staring at himself. You sighed, hesitantly making your way over to him, sitting beside him on your bed. "Look, I know it might sound crazy," You began softly, "But maybe there’s a reason you were sent to this world." You wondered and Thorin looked over at you.

"What do you mean?" He asked, and you bit your lip, looking down at your socked feet.

"Uh, maybe something in the world or the universe wanted to give you a second chance." You spoke, unable to look him in the eyes.

"A second chance?" He asked, and you nodded before sighing shakily.

You swallowed thickly before speaking, "You died, Thorin." Thorin looked at you, shocked and you continued, "So that's why the last thing you remember is feeling cold and numb... You were on that frozen river."

Thorin looked back at the DVD in his hands, and you waited patiently for him to speak. He finally did, after several minutes of silence.

"Thank you." He whispered, causing you to look up. Your brows furrowed in confusion. He looked down at the case of The Hobbit once more, "I'm starting to remember... I remember my Company... and Bilbo." He looked back up at you, his sad blue eyes staring into yours. "Are they alright? Did we reclaim our homeland?"

You felt the tears well up in your eyes, "Yes, you reclaimed Erebor." You nodded, "The battle... Many were lost."

"As with every great battle." Thorin interrupted as you nodded again in agreement. "But what of my kin?" You stayed silent, and that was all he needed to hear. You both stayed silent for another long while, and the tension in the air was thick. But, eventually, Thorin broke the silence. You went to open your mouth to say something, but he quickly stood up and walked over to the window. "I am stuck here... In this world." He spoke, turning to face you, as his expression was hard to read. 

You shrugged, "I don't know for sure that you are stuck here, Thorin." You began, standing up yourself, and walking over to him. "But, you are more than welcome to stay."

"Thank you," He stated, as he looked out the window, watching as the sun set, casting him in a beautiful orange hue. You followed his gaze and smiled sadly, looking away, before clearing your throat and looking back at the Dwarf. "May I stay here tonight?" He asked, and you nodded.

"Of course, um... Do you want anything? Water? Milk?" You asked, gesturing towards the door, wanting desperately to do something, anything to help Thorin.

"Water will suffice. Thank you." His tone was polite and formal, and you nodded before leaving the room to fetch your drinks.

When you returned, he was still looking out the window and, upon seeing you enter, his eyes lit up. You handed him the glass of water which he gave you a small sad smile in thanks. You sipped your drink, standing awkwardly near him, before he spoke up. 

"You say this is my second chance." He began, voice deep as he continued, "Maybe Mahal sent me here after my death... To  give me this second chance?"

You hesitated before responding, "That would explain a lot..." You mumbled.

Thorin smiled slightly, and you saw his eyes dart across the room. "It will take time to get used to this strange place. It seems we are going to be spending a lot of time together." He took a sip of his water.

"Yeah," You agreed, before smiling to yourself, "We'll figure this out, okay, Thorin?"

He nodded, staring back out the window as the stars began to fill up the sky. Deep down, he missed his home, his family. But, he knew that this place with you, he'd be able to find comfort.

_______________________________________________

Let me know if I should make a Part 2

#the hobbit #hobbit #fanfics #fanfiction #fandom #fanfic #x reader #x gn reader #x you #x y/n #thorin #thorin oakenshield imagine #thorin imagine #thorin durin #thorin x reader #thorin x you #thorin x y/n #thorin x gn reader #fluff #cute #slight angst

[weezlbot]

What your favorite LOTR character says about you

Some of these are only from the books, sorry about that. 

Update 6/5/22: Added Theoden and Eomer. 

Frodo: You’re depressed, homosexual, traumatized, highly empathetic, or some combination of the above. 

Sam: Loyalty, friendship, generosity, and love all give you feels. You love a man who can cook. Himbos are your favorite genre of male.

Merry: You’re an older sibling yourself. You might also like swimming or boating (remember, he lived on the river in the books). 

Pippin: You like adventure, tomfoolery, and shenanigans. You probably use humor as a coping mechanism. 

Fredegar Bolger: You’ve probably been through some shit yourself. You’re a major critic of the Peter Jackson adaptations. You like food and think Saruman was a more effective villain than Sauron. 

Bilbo: You’re gay. Or you’re smack in the middle of your yaoi phase. Or you only ever liked those YA books with a “sassy” male protagonist.

Aragorn: You have a crush on him. Either that, or your favorite scenes in books/shows/movies were the fight scenes. Or you like roleplaying as a mighty warrior. 

Arwen: You want Elrond to parent you, or you have a crush on Aragorn, one of the two. Or you’re a lesbian with a crush on her.

Legolas: You have an elf kink. You also like fight scenes. You like long blond hair, himbos, and/or twunks. You have a mixed opinion of the Peter Jackson adaptations. You’re either a straight female or a homosexual male.

Gimli: You loved the Hobbit, and were overjoyed to see Gloin come back in LOTR. Chivalry brings you joy. Dwarves are your favorite race in ME. You probably collect jewelry, or crystals, or dice, or something else shiny. 

Boromir: You like people who can put their people above themselves. You’re probably a little too into activism. Selflessness is very appealing to you. You might also be an older sibling. 

Gandalf: You like smart guys. Younger you made edits highlighting the “sassiness” of your favorite character. Maybe you still do it now. You probably have granddaddy issues. 

Eowyn: You either want women to sit on your face (straight male), you’re an insufferable feminist (female) or both (lesbian). Either that, or you’ve struggled with suicidal thoughts yourself and empathize.

Faramir: Gentleness gets you going. You want a lover who’s as troubled as you are. You may have daddy/mommy issues yourself. You don’t like the PJ adaptations much. 

Eomer: You’re a horsegirl yourself. If not in reality, then in spirit. Protectiveness makes you weak. You might have a crush on Arwen, too.

Elrond: You don’t get enough hugs. You just want someone to hold you tight and not let go. 

Elladan and Elrohir: You like Shenanigans. You wish Elrond was your dad. You like making headcanons for background characters. 

Galadriel: You prefer the Silmarillion to LOTR. You also might be a lesbian. Either way, you crave being mothered. Similar to the Elrond lovers, if someone gave you a hug, you’d start ugly crying. 

Tom Bombadil: You don’t like the PJ movies. You really like cottagecore. Your life goal is to own a little farm and grow all your own food. You probably made friends with trees as a kid. You enjoy singing and dancing, but you were never classically trained in either. You also like to party. 

Radagast: You’re an animal lover through and through. You love dirt. You don’t mind stink as long as it’s a natural stink. You may be a vegetarian or a vegan. 

Haldir: You have a love/hate relationship with the PJ movies. You probably think he’s attractive. You might be an older sibling yourself, or you wish you had one. 

Rumil or Orophin: Same as Haldir, basically. You love your siblings.

Theoden: You want to be fathered. Bad. You also loved the Silmarillion, for its tragedy. The idea of rebirth is something you love. 

Lobelia Sackville-Baggins: You like to make mountains out of molehills. You love a redemption arc. You wish the fandom would just stop bullying her. 

Saruman: You love a bastardization arc. Powerful men get you going. 

Grima Wormtongue: You love pathetic, problematic little men. You probably unironically listen to Weezer. 

Sauron: If you’ve read the Silm, you’re probably either gay or just love an evil twink. If you haven’t read the Silm, I fear you on a deep, personal level. 

#might update later #might do a Hobbit version or a Silm version later #frodo #samwise #merry #pippin #fredegar bolger #fatty bolger #bilbo baggins #aragorn #arwen #legolas #gimli #boromir #gandalf #eowyn #faramir #elrond #elladan #elrohir #galadriel #tom bombadil #radagast #haldir #rumil #orophin #lobelia sackville baggins #saruman #grima wormtongue #sauron

[secretlywritingstories]

We balance each other out on the seesaw of life | Phan one shot

Summary: Phil had dragged Dan to Isle of Man after his return home from tour. The sea air would do him good (even if it gave him hobbit hair) and he could be surrounded by Phil's family (who were his family too). He hadn’t actively planned to drag him onto a seesaw on a playground but it turned out to be a precious moment all the same.

Tags: Established relationship, domestic fluff, being the best guncles, playing on a playground and embracing their inner child

Word count: 5.1k

No warnings.

Inspired by this video Phil posted on Twitter.

Read on AO3 or below

It was wonderful to have Dan back. Phil felt as if he hadn’t really been a functioning human without him. Perhaps that should be cause for concern. After all, there was such a thing as being too dependent on each other.

However, it was not a concern that Phil would or really could entertain because if there was anything in this whole world that he felt sure about… it had to be Dan. If pressed or feeling contrarian, Dan could might be able to come up with a million and one arguments of could occur to pry them apart, even or particularly against their will, but Phil decided not to listen to any of those hypotheticals.

He trusted the universe to let him keep Dan until they were both grey and old. They would be one of those old couples that died within days of each other because they couldn’t live without each other. He had already decided that within the first year of knowing Dan.

It hadn’t quite been that extreme feeling to be without Dan while he was on tour, but there had been moments where Phil had felt a new sense of being lost. He had taken for granted what it was like to always have his love so close. He begrudgingly had to admit that he had taken that privilege slightly for granted. It had become their everyday life, and while it was wonderful, it became a given.

Maybe that was why Phil was even more all over Dan since he had returned. He understood that Dan needed to go into hermit mode, have a whole week of frydays, and no responsibilities.

No people too.

Other than Phil.

Of course.

Phil didn’t count as people to Dan anyway. He’d called him a piece of furniture once. Phil had chuckled at that one and teasingly demanded that Dan take him back to the store. Dan’s eyes had crinkled, even with the dark bags under them, and he’d said Phil was too used to be returned. Phil had hit him with a pillow. They’re giggled and laughed and fallen into each other.

For a moment, Phil hadn’t been able to tell where he ended and Dan begun. It wasn’t the first time he’d experienced that.  

It had been a few weeks since Dan’s return to London post tour and Phil had deemed it necessary that they started to see people again. They made plans to catch up with friends, more days in a row than initially planned to accommodate other schedules, and then setting off for Isle of Man to see Phil’s parents, as well as Martyn, Cornelia and little Freja.

“People did that once you know,” Phil said to Dan when they were on the plane.

Dan turned from where he’d been blindly staring out of the window. The seatbelt sign turned on to indicate that they would begin their descend.

“Huh?”

“Go to the seaside,” Phil said.

He realised that he’d just again started a conversation with no context, or rather the context of his thoughts, which Dan didn’t have access to. He wasn’t really worried though because –

“Go to the seaside when they were unwell? Faint ladies prescribed visits to seaside towns to regain their strengths?”

– Dan often figured out where his head was at without any direct access anyway.

“Yes,” Phil said, clutching onto Dan’s arm after he’d doubled checked his seatbelt was still on.

“Are you telling me I’m a faint lady?” Dan said, mock offended with a soft scoff.

The last couple of weeks had done him good but the exhaustion still lingered in his face. Phil knew that he had loved every night out on stage in front of their audience, but all of the travelling and the effort had definitely taken a toll on him.

“You need it. The fresh seaside air,” Phil said with a hum.

Dan just hummed and slumped more in his seat, leaning towards Phil.

“I do like the seaside air,” he said after a beat. “You can breathe in without filling your lungs with car exhaust. It’ll kill my hair though, especially now that it’s so long.”

It would. Phil was rather looking forward to that really. Dan still hadn’t gotten a haircut since he had come back from tour. He was past his normal due for one by now, but he hadn’t wanted to use his limited social resources on getting a haircut.

Phil had offered to cut it for him, but Dan had just put the old haircut video up on their big screen TV and turned the volume all the way up to remind him how it had gone last time. Phil might be dense at times, but he got the hint there. Though he stubbornly maintained that it had made for a hilarious video and Dan hadn’t even looked that bad.

When they arrived home, Kath was the first to greet them. She stood in the doorway with a warm smile and something deep within Phil’s heart ached a little. It wasn’t that long since he’d seen his parents. It had just been for his birthday in January less than two months ago, but he loved her and his dad, and they were growing older.

Not just older. Growing old.

Not yet, but it was creeping up on them, slow and deadly.

Phil stayed in his mother’s embrace a touch longer than he would otherwise have, and he only really let go when Dan poked his side and then also demanded a Mama Lester hug. Phil reluctantly relented, if only because he wanted to watch the comfort and love with which his mother and Dan handled each other.

Dan had really been readily adopted into his family years ago, and it had been Phil’s mother leading that charge. Nigel met them in the kitchen, instructed to keep an eye on Kath’s latest baked creations in the oven while she came out to greet them. Dan was a little more awkward around him, but it was still a lovely reunion, even if Dan got insulted right off the bat.

“It looks like you haven’t slept for a week,” Phil’s dad told him, not meaning offence but just stating it plainly.  

“I feel like it too,” Dan laughed with an easy smile. “Even though it’s the opposite. I’ve pretty much been asleep every day since I came home.”

“I can confirm that,” Phil said and raised his hand. “Practically comatose.”

It was an afternoon of warmth and comfort, and then an evening full of laughter and games when Martyn, Cornelia and Freja came over too. It was good to see them again. It was more of a treat to see them now that they’d moved out of London, and Freja was growing much faster than Phil had anticipated.

“Do you want to come to the playground with us tomorrow?” Cornelia asked, as the evening was wrapping up and she was standing in the doorway with her sleeping daughter over her shoulder.

“Playground?” Dan asked, looking slightly bemused.

“We’ll be there,” Phil promised for the both of them.

“Cheers, I’ll send you a text when we get ready to leave. It’ll be around 10 AM, but it might be a little before or later depending on the princess’ mood,” Martyn said, trying to sound annoyed but there was too soft a tone in his voice.

It had been a strange thing to see his big brother become a parent. Sometimes, Phil was reminded of how him and Martyn had been as children, and now Martyn was the one with a kid. It felt rather adult.

Much more adult than Phil felt himself. He knew he technically was an adult and he was capable of many things, but he wasn’t sure if that supposed “I am an adult” feeling would ever kick in.

It was still on his mind when him and Dan curled up together in the guest bedroom in his parents’ house.

“Do you feel like an adult?” he asked Dan.

Dan didn’t answer right away and Phil looked over to see if he had fallen asleep immediately. It hadn’t been that long since they had gotten into bed, but it wasn’t a lie that Dan had been sleepy lately.

“No,” he said, spoken softly into the dark bedroom. “But I don’t quite feel like a kid anymore either. It feels like I’m stuck somewhere in between. Responsibilities and childishness mixing in a rather terrifying manner.”

His words were slightly slurred, like he was just barely clinging to his consciousness.

“That’s not childish, it’s your inner child still living,” Phil said, after a moment. “No need to kill him.”

Dan didn’t reply. Phil snuggled closer and he could feel his steady breathing, clearly drifted off to sleep mid-conversation. Phil didn’t really mind. He looped his arms around Dan, ignoring the face full of curls and felt how Dan shuffled back just a little into Phil’s embrace. Even sleeping they drifted towards each other. Sought comfort in each other.

Bright and early – at least according to their usual morning rhythm – they grabbed their coats and headed out to meet Martyn, Cornelia and Freja. Dan had slept in until the latest moment, and his face still had creases from the pillow where his skin hadn’t evened out yet. Phil on the other hand was just feeling the effects of his first coffee of the day and he was almost giddy in his steps as he dragged Dan along by the hand.

They didn’t usually hold hands out and about but experience taught them that they could get away with a bit more on Isle of Man. It was a smaller community, less people out and about, and the ones that did see them didn’t seem to care one bit.

The playground was located on the top of a hill overlooking the ocean. You couldn’t see it from within the playground, but it was close enough that the sea air was wafting liberally through the air. Dan’s hair had curled in the moisture just on the walk to the playground.

Phil noticed and he couldn’t stop himself from pausing and reaching out with his free hand. Just tugging on a curl and watching it spring back up. Dan narrowed his eyes and tried to do his best to send a death glare at Phil but he wasn’t really succeeding. Maybe because he still looked more sleepy and mildly grumpy than scary.

“It’s cute,” Phil said.

“It’s a mess.”

“A cute mess.”

“I’ll make you a cute mess,” Dan grumbled, even as his mouth lifted in a slight smile.

Phil reached forward to poke Dan’s nose, and then let go of his hand. He smirked before starting to sprint off the last of the way to the playground.

“Last one is a rotten egg!” he hollered over his shoulder.

He was granted with a rather delighted expression of surprise, disbelief and fondness on Dan’s face before he turned around to look where he was actually going. He knew he would need to do that, or injuries was way to high risk.

“You can’t just say that!” Dan complained in a yell but Phil could hear him start to sprint after him all the same.

There was a glee building in his chest, a bright smile on his face, even as his heart beat way too fast and he was running out of air in his lungs. It was worth it; he could live on glee and happiness of being silly with the love of his life.

It was moments like this that made life worth living.

Phil predictably reached the playground first, touching the fencepost and letting out a shout of victory. Dan wasn’t far behind but rather than heading for the post, he just ran right into Phil.

Phil stumbled a little, nearly tripping over but he managed to catch Dan and keep them both standing. Just barely. Dan was panting and if Phil had to guess, he would wager that his heart also was beating out of his chest.

“Cheater,” Dan said and then coughed twice. “You got a head start.”

Phil didn’t even try to deny it. He moved his hands to hold onto Dan’s shoulders better, but still let him lean into him.

“Sore loser.”

“False winner.”

Oh, how Phil loved him.

“Well, there’s one way we could fix it. All or nothing!”

It made Dan pull back, a little, to be able to look properly at Phil’s face. He shook his head when he saw the sincerity in his eyes.

“You’re a mad man if you think I’m running twice. Once was more than enough,” Dan said, pinching Phil’s side. He yelped and tried to pull away but Dan managed to wrap his other arm around his shoulder and keep him there to endure the abuse.

Well, the babuse.

“Did we get here first?” Dan asked, looking around at the empty playground. There wasn’t a single child in sight, let alone Freja with her parents.

Phil fished out his phone and saw that a new message had ticked in that Freja had refused to put on shoes for a bit but they were on their way now.

“They’re on their way, just a little delayed,” Phil said, looking down at his phone.

“Shoes?” Dan asked, as he let go of Phil and strolled into the playground.

Phil chuckled. “Yeah. But can you blame her?”

“No, I too want to live a wild barefoot existence. Well, at least until I cut my foot on something or just, like, get cold.”

Phil smiled, shaking his head fondly. The fact that Dan knew his niece currently had trouble accepting shoes on his feet felt nice. He’d been paying attention to even stupid silly things.

Phil took in the playground around him. Before Martyn and Cornelia had gotten Freja it had been a while since he’d actually been on a playground. It had felt a little strange coming here as an adult without a child. He had a feeling that he would have gotten some weird looks for lurking around on a playground or playing near other people’s children.

But they were alone right now, and Phil had his perfect playmate.

“Come on,” he said, tugging Dan properly into the playground. Most of the playground was entirely too small to cram their large bodies into. It would surely break. They couldn’t fit their asses down the slides and the seat of the swings looked far to narrow too. But there was one item that Phil was pretty confident could hold them.

“What are we doing?” Dan asked, even as he let himself get dragged along. He might question why but he didn’t hesitate for a second.

“The seesaw,” Phil said, and he knew that would be explanation enough.

“Phiiil,” Dan whined. “It’ll snap.”

“We’re not that heavy, and it’s like meant for parents to be able to use it too, isn’t it?” Phil insisted.

He put a hand on the little race car seat on one side and tried to wiggle it. It felt more than sturdy enough.

“I don’t think it’s meant for adults,” Dan said with a frown. “Imagine tiny Freja on one end and you on the other. There’d be no balance. She’d just be up in the air the whole time.”

It was a fun imagine, and Phil made a mental note to try it with her. Freja loved to be tossed up high, so he thought that she might actually like it. He could imagine her little giggle.

“Well, I’m not asking Freja to get on it with me, am I? I’m asking you,” Phil said. “Jump on.”

He made a shooing motion with his hand, to get Dan to walk over to the other side of the seesaw as he put just one foot on his side in preparation. Dan just looked at him with a blank expression.

It didn’t say blank for long. His resolve cracked far too quickly, warm smile spreading on his face and eyes sparkling slightly.

“You want me to ride the seesaw with you.”

“Yes.”

“For real?”

“Are you hard of hearing already?” Phil quipped, completely unphased. He wasn’t backing down. He didn’t need to with Dan. Together they could indulge in every single silly idea.

Dan shook his head, making his curls even more messy for a moment. Phil watched with a smile as he walked around to the other side of the seesaw and put a single foot up, just like Phil.

“You want to do this at the same time?” he asked.

“No, you get on first, then I’ll go.”

“You just want to see my ass hit the ground. If I fall off and break something, you’re paying for the hospital bills,” he remarked.

“We’ve got joint finances,” Phil snorted. “And it’s a children’s playground.”

“Never underestimate the dangers! We’re getting old,” Dan said, the last bit with a glint in his eye.

“We are not. Now get on the seesaw, buddy.”

Dan did. As predictably, it tipped under his weight. His legs were far too long, having to almost curl up to fit on the tiny footrests but he just managed it. Phil tried to not let the seesaw drop all the way down by keeping his foot on it, but Dan was heavier than he’d thought.

“Just let me fall, huh?” he asked, bright smile on his face, even with the accusation.

“And now I’m about to raise you up!” Phil argued and got on himself.

Dan had made it look quite easy. It wasn’t. Phil’s legs were too long as well and it felt like his muscles protested as soon as he tried to bend them into position. But he was going to do this, and his body just had to get on board with the fun.

It did. He managed to cram himself onto the little seat and then they were swinging. Their weight was similar enough that they evened out almost perfectly. And Phil got the pleasure of looking right at Dan, with his messy hair and the dark circles under his eyes and the small smile on his lips.

He rocked back a little, clinging on tightly with his hands, and let them tip back and forth. Dan did the same and soon they were rocking back and forth gently. Phil got a vision of them in rocking chairs on some porch as old men instead of being in their 30’s and rocking back and forth on a seesaw in a playground.

The movement was small, but there was still something fun about it. Maybe just because it was an indulgence and an experience shared with Dan. Most things were more fun when they were shared.

“Happy?” Dan asked, sounding caught been exasperated and fond.

“Yes,” Phil said, warm and secure.

Dan’s eyes softened a little. He knew that Phil didn’t just mean in this moment.

It was so good to have Dan back. Phil had taken to staring at him more than normal, delighting in looking over and just be able to see him without a screen between them. He never quite wanted to go back to that again. Long distance wasn’t made for them, at least not for long.

Though it was all good in the end, as long as he got Dan back.

“I see you started without us,” Martyn called out.

Phil turned to look at him walking into the playground with Freja on his hip, Cornelia walking behind with a bag slung over her shoulder. They never really went anywhere with Freja without a bag for her things.

It reminded Phil of how he and Dan would bring just one shared backpack going to the BBC when they went to do the radio show. They’d take turns carrying it, just like Cornelia and Martyn did.

“We can’t let the kids have all of the fun,” Dan quipped, and then it looked like he was ready to get off.

Phil wasn’t quite ready for that yet.

“Corn?” he called out.

“Yeah?”

“Take a video of us?” he requested, effectively halting Dan’s movements.

Dan raised an eyebrow at Phil in question, but Phil didn’t meet his gaze. He wanted to remember this moment. He wanted video of it. He loved that he had so many fun memories with Dan captured on camera and this would be another one.

“Got it,” she said with practiced easy, pulling out her phone.

Martyn sat Freja down who pointed at the two of them. “Guncles,” she mumbled out, words half hidden behind her other hand shyly coming up to her mouth.

Dan threw his head back and laughed. It made the whole seesaw move more his way; elevating Phil as Dan threw his weight around.

“Did she just call us… guncles? Who’s taught her that?” he asked, looking pointedly at Phil, but he looked quite touched.

“No one, she came up with that all on her own,” Phil argued, trying to wink at Freja and not really succeeding.

“Liar,” Martyn was quick to call him out. Phil could always count on his big brother being a little shit. “Phil practically rehearsed it with her on his birthday visit.”

Dan laughed again, and it was such a lovely sound. Phil rolled his eyes, but he was smiling too.

“Alright, ready when you are, boys,” Cornelia called, camera ready in her hand.

Dan and Phil exchanged one look and then schooled their expressions. They kept their faces neutral as they rocked back and forth a couple of times. Phil hoped it came off both as silly and a little eerie.

“Some performer you are, huh?” Cornelia said with a shake of her head as she lowered her phone. “You make the seesaw look tiny.”

“It is tiny,” Phil argued.

Suddenly, Freja ran over and tried to climb up on the middle piece unprompted. She couldn’t quite clamber up on her own, even as Phil put a foot down to steady the seesaw for her. She turned around and pointed at her father.

“Up!” she requested and then tried to climb on again.

Martyn grabbed her and carefully placed her on the little platform in the middle. She let out a delighted giggle, even as her legs wobbled under her. Martyn stayed by her side, keeping a hand on her shoulder to steady her and be ready to catch her if she lost balance. Phil carefully eased his foot off the ground and the seesaw started swinging back and forth again.

Cornelia walked around to the other side and lifted her phone to film again.

“Want to swap out, Corn?” Dan asked. “I can get one of the family together.”

Phil was about to protest that Dan was just as much a part of the family, but Cornelia beat him to it.

“You’re family too, Dan. Besides I want a video of my little girl with her father and her guncles.”

Freja seemed to agree, wiggling her little butt happily. Phil took that as they should keep the gentle rocking of the seesaw going. He may even had leaned back as much as possible to give it more momentum. Dan did the same on the other side and she let out a happy laugh.

Martyn rolled his eyes at the two of them, but he also couldn’t quite keep the smile off his face.

It didn’t take long for Freja to tire of the seesaw, and so they went around the playground watching her try everything at least once. She was so full of energy and Martyn and Cornelia seemed delighted that Dan and Phil were the ones running around with her the most. It seemed like it was a welcome break for them.

Phil was pretty sure he was more exhausted than Freja by the time they left the playground. They waved off Martyn, Cornelia and Freja, but not after Freja ran up and gave both him and Dan a hug.

She also kept waving at them from over her mother’s shoulder.

“She’s quite cute,” Dan said, falling into step next to Phil. He walked close enough that their shoulders bumped with each step as they headed back. “I’m fucking exhausted though. She’s fast.”

“She is,” Phil agreed with a chuckle. “Not quite rocking back gently on a seesaw for her.”

Dan let out a hum of agreement. “It was fun though,” he said, voice barely loud enough to be heard.

“What did you say?” Phil asked, mostly just to make him repeat himself.

Dan narrowed his eyes in mock annoyance but he did repeat himself all the same.

“The seesaw. With you. It was fun.”

“I’m glad,” Phil said, feeling warmth spread in his chest. “It’s supposed to be fun.”

“Yeah,” Dan agreed. “And it was but also just… there’s something life affirming about it. Like… you never get too old or too big to play around. No one is stopping you except yourself. Life if meant to be fun and silly, and do random things just for the sake of it. It’s what everything is about.”

The warmth continued to expand in Phil’s chest and he leaned close enough to latch onto Dan’s arm.

“You got all that from a children’s seesaw?” he asked, chuckling.

“Shut up.”

“No. You’re being soft and sentimental. That means I’m allowed to tease you.”

“I never signed anything like that,” Dan protested, while fighting a smile.

“Yes, you did. Must always entertain Phil’s whims. Must endure teasing when sentimental,” Phil listed off on his fingers. “It’s all right there in our contract.”

“What contract? I just told you I didn’t sign anything.”

“Hmm, well, I know how to forge your signature, so are you sure about that?” Phil teased, leaning his head on Dan’s shoulder for just a moment.

He wanted to get snuggled up once they were back at his parents’ house. It was nice enough to be outside in the fresh air and run around but it felt like they could do with getting cosy and warm now. A little late morning nap never hurt anyone. It wasn’t like their sleep schedules could be more thrown off than they already were.

“What else have you signed with my signature, Philip Michael Lester?” Dan asked, even as he pulled Phil more into his side as they walked.

Just like they had balanced each other out on the seesaw, it was so easy to fall into perfect step next to each other. The length of their strides and the tempo matched without a second thought. A side effect of having walked next to each other for so many years.

“Oh, you know. All the regular stuff. Deals with the devil and such.”

“You sold the devil my soul. Imagine their disappointment when they find out that I have none. That’s mean of you,” Dan said, voice growing a little tired. A little sleepy.

They were almost back at Phil’s parents’ house. Judging by the look on his face it seemed like it wouldn’t take much to convince Dan to crawl back into bed.

“It’s incredible that you work actually. No soul and no heart,” Phil said.

“No heart?” Dan echoed.

“Yeah, ‘cause you handed it off to me,” he said, cringing a little at his own cheesiness. Dan was the one for sappy declarations, but at times Phil tried to purposely speak his language.

It was worth it when Dan snorted, almost choking on a laugh.

“You did not just say that. That’s corny as shit, Phil,” Dan protested, even as he tried to lean closer to Phil. Almost melting into his side as they walked side by side.

“Doesn’t matter. You love it. You want to hear all that corny shit,” he said, full of confidence.

Dan shook his head but didn’t argue. It would have no point. They both knew he’d lose that discussion. Phil knew him too well.

His phone buzzed in his pocket just as they reached the house. He pulled it out to find a message from Cornelia. She’d sent over the two videos of them on the seesaw. The first one with their stoic faces and the second one with Freja giggling in the middle and Martyn standing behind her.

“Look,” Phil said, leaning close to show Dan the two videos.

“Cute. You should post the first one,” he said as he pushed open the front door.

The car hadn’t been out front, so Phil’s parents had probably left to do something. Phil still called out to announce their return just in case he was wrong. No one replied.

“What, with no context?” Phil asked, even as he already moved to save the video.

“Keep them on their toes,” Dan said with a shrug. “And to remind them that if grown ass men can play in a playground, then so can they. You’re never too old for a little fun.”

“We look more like we’re being held hostage,” Phil said, as he opened Twitter and picked the video from his gallery.

“All part of the aesthetic,” Dan said, closing the front door behind Phil that he’d just left open because he’d been distracted by his phone. “That and my awful hair.”

“It’s cute,” Phil maintained. He left the video sitting in his drafts for now. He could post it later. Right now, he was much more interested in putting his phone away and falling into bed with Dan. “Come to bed?”

“We just got out of bed like an hour and a half ago,” Dan argued, even as he toed off his shoes and hung up his jacket and headed right back to the guest room.

Phil did the same and when Dan wasn’t moving fast enough, he grasped him by the hand and pulled just to make sure that he didn’t get any other idea. Again, Dan let himself get pulled and they stripped off their pants and just crawled back under the covers.

“We’ve been outside, we’ve been active. We deserve a little rest,” Phil argued, and snuggled up close.

His nose was slightly cold, and he nosed along the underside of Dan’s jaw. Dan pinched Phil’s hip but otherwise didn’t protest being used as a personal heater. Phil then reached up to trail his hands through Dan’s curls one more time.

He hummed contently and leaned into Phil’s touch.

“Thank you for dragging me along, and making me remember to have fun,” Dan mumbled, speaking against the top of Phil’s head. He placed a soft kiss there.

“Always,” Phil promised. “We’ll be 84 years old and I’ll still make you ride the seesaw with me.”

#phanfiction #phanfic #my stories

[teejaystumbles]

I continued my Dreamling drabble with Daniel and Hob. Again, this is spoilery for the end of the Sandman books, so only read it if you know what’s up. And maybe read my earlier drabble first. :3 I just need comic Hob to have a bit more... zest. I can’t stand seeing him so tired so I needed to write this.

“Thanks for coming.” Hob said with a smile, as he put two cups with tea in front of them on the small couch table. His guest gave him a tiny smile back and pulled his legs up onto the couch to sit (like a bony white bird, Hob thought) with knees to his chest.

“Thank you for inviting me. I admit I was… anxious… how you would react… to me. If you would be willing to meet at all...”

Hob sat down next to him and picked up the remote. While he flipped through streaming channels, he said: “Well. It’s not everyday someone’s best friend dies, but then comes back...only not the same… I still don’t know what to make of you.”

Dream looked at him with a small frown. Hob waved his hand and added: “Don’t worry, kid. I think I got the gist of it, although trying to wrap my head around your… your concept… is giving me a headache.”

“I’m not a kid, Robert Gadling.”

Hob snorted. “Oh? You sure give off that feeling a bit, though. And… please call me Hob.”

Dream’s eyes sparkled. “Hob.” He leaned forward and picked up his tea, cradling it in his bony white hands and watching the steam rise.

“I suppose I am… young, still. I know a lot, but some things are… difficult to understand.”

Hob hummed and settled on the first part of The Lord of the Rings. “This is one of the big stories. I think you’ll like it.”

He looked over at Dream and watched him for a while, taking in his features and the perfectly still way he sat, cradling his tea, watching the screen.

“You’re right. It’s one of the big stories. I think I know it...or something similar…” Dream mused.

“What’s your name?” Hob asked, apropos nothing, while Frodo and his friends sat in a dark tavern, being watched by Aragorn. Dream looked at him. “My name?”

“Yeah, like… his was Morpheus, right? I know you’re Dream, but what’s your name? Where did you come from? I mean, you don’t even look the same, so you’re… you must’ve been someone else, right? Before? Or did you just...pop up?”

There was a flicker of emotion on his friend’s face that Hob could not decipher. He took a sip of tea and then said quietly: “Daniel. My name...was Daniel.”

“Okay. Daniel. Nice to meet you.”

Hob smiled and Dream seemed again taken aback. He didn’t smile back this time, just looked down at his tea. “Yes...it is. Nice.”

They watched the movie for a while, Dream seeming to relax a bit more once the hobbits reached Rivendell. Hob’s cup was empty and his guest’s tea had gone cold but he still cradled the mug between chest and knees. When Galadriel had her power-hungry moment and finally withstood temptation Hob spoke up again:

“I sometimes thought he...you were like that, a bit. First time I watched it I thought, that’s how it’s like to be in the presence of one so powerful... Sitting there, every century at the White Horse, across from him I felt like Frodo, offering up the ring, in hope, in love… and him with all the power to take it all and own me…” Hob gasped. Where did that come from?

“I, I...was never afraid but in those moments I wanted to give it all… to you… to him, most of all…”

A white hand slid over his on the couch beside him and Hob stopped and stared at it, shivering at the foreign sensation, at the meaning of it.

“I would never ask… anything of you, Hob. I would only want what you’re already willing to share and return it in kind… friendship. Love.”

Hob looked up at Dream and frowned. The young man looked at him with the certainty of an adolescent, innocent and serious. Hob sighed and swallowed down his feelings and chose to stop digging his own grave. Hah.

“Death visited me. Asked if I’d had enough.” Dream startled and pulled back his hand. Hob felt strangely bereft.

“Oh…”

“I guess she knew that I had started to think about it… or maybe she just wanted to check in, you know, because y-… because Morpheus… was gone.”

White lips pulled down at the corners, Dream looked away.

“What did you tell her?”

Hob stood up and took the cold mug of tea from his guest, startling him into looking up again. Hob smiled.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” He turned and gathered his own mug, then headed to the kitchen.

“I believe I promised you popcorn.”

When he came back with a bowl of popcorn Frodo and Sam were already leaving the Fellowship and hurrying away. Dream was frowning but his forehead lost the wrinkles when Hob sat down.

“Who was the golly man we met at the beach? The one with the big hands and the big laugh?”

“My brother. He has left us.”

“Ah. So it was that kind of dream.”

“What kind?”

“The hopeful one.”

Dream looked at him without expression and then took the bowl from him.

“Hope outlasts all, Hob. Even me. Even Death. Now, I believe this is not the end of the story?”

Hob laughed, feeling better than he had in years, thoughts of having enough of life gone. He could have more of this. A lot more.

“No, kid, it is a story about Hope, after all, right?” he winked and picked up the remote.

A few hours later Dream took his leave. The popcorn bowl was empty, as was another cup of tea, and Hob counted it as a sounding success. Morpheus had never consumed anything when they met.

“Hob… these were great movies, but it was a bit like taking a stroll through my own realm. Next time, I would like to watch something more… human?”

Hob nodded and internally settled on Trainspotting. He was not ready for romantic comedies.

#this can be read as platonic or more #personally I still see it as platonic although the love is there #Hob is struggling a bit maybe #also I somehow ended up drawing parallels between TLOTR and the dreamling relationship #own writing #dreamling #the sandman comics spoilers #hob gadling #daniel hall

[lunar-writes-things]

2) Getting Real Wings

A few days later, with Y/n's hobbit hole finished and all the basic farms for her food and grinding for other materials that they would need for their megabase, Y/n decided it was time to get a pair of wings. 

Wings weren't hard to get... usually. 

I mean, Y/n could always buy them if they really needed them but it always felt more personal when they got them themselves. Y/n had gotten used to the tiny wings on their back, they weren't much different from the wax and feathers that made their wings from the sixth season or the magic ones from the seventh season. Although it did feel weird not to be able to take off these wings for the night. 

Either way, Y/n had plans to get with Impulse to go endbusting for some elytra wings. 

Soon they will be able to fly and feel the rushing wind against their face and visit the farther people on the island. 

"Y/n?" Impulse's voice was muffled by Y/n's door and Y/n rushed to answer the door with a large smile. 

The man had eyes that sparkled like the night sky with messy brown hair, When He entered the one-room house Y/n swore he lit up the room just based on how excited he was.

"You ready to get some wings?" He asked and took Y/n's hands in his, gripping ever-so-gently like if he held them too tight Y/n could break

"Yep!" Y/n exclaimed "Let me grab a few stacks of blocks so we can bridge and we should be good to go!" 

And off the two went. 

"So You're getting wings for your shop?" Y/n asked as they carefully placed each block to stand on

The two had to respawn and then kill the enderdragon for an even remotely good chance at finding elytra wings. It was a little tedious but kinda fun. 

"Yep!" Impulse said, The man was crawling on the ground and clinging to the rockets he held in his hands "Its a great way to make diamonds from people who don't like going to the end!" 

"That's so Nice!" They exclaimed and reached a new end island "I think this place has a ship!" 

Y/n ran off and left Impulse behind, he watched her fade into the distance and into the stars, He had a gentle smile on his face as he got to the island and stood. 

Y/n and impulse had known each other since Y/n joined hermitcraft in late season six. It was during late season 7 when the two actively started talking and during those few months Impulse had grown a crush on her. Unfortunately, so does everyone else in Boatem (With the exception of Pearl who just met her) 

Grian and Y/n had that bond from Y/n rooming in Grian's oversized future-based pot that he called a megabase in season six, Mumbo loved to call Y/n for building advice and constantly had them at his side, and Scar who has that silver tongue that can woo anyone including Y/n who has come to Impulse embarrassed because of something Scar had said to them that made them melt. 

Impulse was an anchor for Y/n, He knows that and he's proud of it. How often can you say you are one of the sole confidants of your friend and crush? 

Unfortunately, when Impulse brings up crushes Y/n avoids the topic like the plague. 

But if they don't want to answer then oh well, He can't force it out of them and he would never do anything to make Y/n uncomfortable. Impulse walked towards the end city and noticed Y/n in the air with large white wings holding them up. Their laugh echoed through the void and Impulse felt his heart swell at Y/n looking so happy. 

"Impy!" Y/n called to impulse using Tango's nickname for him "I found the elytra!" 

"Great job Y/n!" Impulse called back and watched as they landed in front of him "Do you need any shulkers? I can grab some for us and you can grab me a pair of wings?" 

"Yeah! that works out, I need some more rockets though. I suck at conserving them." Y/n seemed to pout as they crossed their arms over their chest and Impulse gave them two stacks of rockets "You go find them, I'll gather some shulker shells. When you come back we can grab the other Elytra for my shop." 

"Got it!" Y/n grinned and set off into the stars 

Impulse watched as they left before rolling up makeshift sleeves and taking out his diamond sword and heading into the city

only to be immediately hit by a shulker bullet and began levitating 

"This is gonna take a while," Impulse gave a nervous laugh as he grabbed onto one of the city's towers "Great." 

^^^^^

"And We're back!" Y/n said as they resurfaced from the end portal and woke up in their room only to see impulse wasn't by them and presumably in his base "And I have all his elytra wings, welp chat! Guess we're gonna see Impulses base!" 

The stars around Y/n's head sparkled brighter and Y/n laughed lightly at their excitement. They walked out of their own hobbit hole to see Grian planting a tall tree on top of Mumbo's base. Y/n only shook their head and ignored the pesky bird. 

"Impy!" Y/n called as she knocked on his door "I have your wings!" 

"Y/n?" Impulse asked as he opened the door "Thanks! These are much appreciated, I honestly kinda forgot about them!"

He laughed as he took the limp elytra from Y/n and put it in his inventory. The two shifted in his doorway silently before Impulse perked up. 

"Oh! Have you heard? Me and Grian made a skeleton farm, I can show you if you want?" He offered 

"Sure! I need some bones anyway. I have big plans this season!" Y/n said and spread their arms and wings out wide with a large smile on their face 

"Oh?" Impulse asked as he walked out to show Y/n where the farm was "Like what?" 

"I have plans to make a white cathedral floating in the sky. I'm going for a gothic-victorian era feel and with this new build height it can be appropriately off the ground!" Y/n explained and followed the male "I'm not particularly religious but the architecture for victorian era chapels is exactly what I was looking for! So many details and the spires and I get to play with some stained glass as well!" 

Y/n clasps their hands together in joy and seemed to... glow? 

"Woah- Y/n... You're glowing!" Impulse said and took a step back in shock 

"Oh yeah-" Y/n said and shook their head and body violently and the glow seemed to fade away "That happens. I freaked out when Grian pointed it out to me yesterday. So far it seems to just be when I feel strong feelings." 

"That's kinda cool!" Impulse said And too cute! 

"Is it?" Y/n asks "I Guess! I don't know what to think, to be honest. This has never happened." 

"That's right, something changes about you every season." Impulse remembered "Last year you were a witch? Since you were focused on medicine and the body?" 

"Yep! And Scar was a Wizard since he focused on mainly academia and the physics of the magic!" Y/n exclaimed "And season 6 I was just a pirate sailing the seven seas! At least until my boat crashed and I had to stay in Grian's place until he found me." 

"I remember that. Grian was freaking out when he found you asleep in an amazing-looking room and I was with him." Impulse prompted and got a laugh out of Y/n 

"Yeah!" They laughed and started down the staircase Impulse led them to "I felt so bad so once I moved out and got my life together I made him a gift!" 

"You literally bought out Tango's shop once he restocked," Impulse laughed "He complained to me for hours!"  

Their conversation echoed as they went lower and lower, notifying the skeletons that they were there and started moving forward. Impulse placed Y/n in front of the carved-out hole where Y/n could just hit the skeletons to get XP and bonemeal. 

As Y/n slashed her sword at the Skeletons, Impulse talked with her about his plans for his megabase and stuff. "Y'know, I just finished the sorting system before you got on today."

"Really Mr.Candyman?" Y/n asked and turn to look at him "What else did you work on?" 

"there's a bee farm under my base," Impulse said, "and I made a mob farm, I made a transport system to show off the boatem bases, plus I made the void hole for the Boatem Hole." 

"Neat," Y/n said before turning to slash at the skeleton with a powerful slice "You've been uber productive then huh?"

Impulse watched as their muscles contorted and rippled across their body as they hit the mob made of bones, their clothes shifted across their body perfectly and showed off their form perfectly. 

"Impulse?" Y/n asked and turned around while snapping him out of his stupor 

"Huh? Oh! yeah! I've been pretty busy lately." Impulse said and watched as Y/n sat down next to him, dirtying the white clothes "Are you sure you should be sitting on the dirty ground?" 

"I have plans to make a washateria for Hermits clothes. I also need to make myself some new clothes because I realized I didn't spawn with extra." Y/n said 

"Oh? Tell me if you need any extra, you can borrow some of my shirts." Impulse said, "They'll be a bit oversized but hey it's clothes." 

"I might take that up!" Y/n smiled and leaned their head On impulse's shoulder "But for right now I'm gonna focus on grinding and getting my megabase done!"

Masterlist

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft x reader #hermitcraft x you #hermitcraft x y/n #mumbo x reader #mumbo jumbo #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #gtws x reader #gtwscar #gtws hermitcraft #mumbo jumbo x reader #grian x reader #impulse x reader #hermitcraft impulse #impulsesv #pearlescentmoon #pearlescentmoon x reader #hermitcraft s8 #hc s8 #boatem #boatem crew #luna has written #Luna's Symphony of Boatem

[itsonlydana]

"passenger princess" | chapter three

the hobbit | a modern!AU by itsonlydana

❱ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader

❱ wordcount: 3,2k

❱ summary: distractions over distractions..

❱ warnings: none

❱ an: i may or may not have giggled a lot while writing and imagining this. This scene was the reason i started this fic in the first place :)

general m.list + series m.list

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot - especially with longer projects <3

CHAPTER THREE: PAINTING

As the night progressed, the alcoholic drinks slowly but surely turned into water or coffee for your own good. None of you wanted to sit in Professor Sauron's class in the early morning with a hangover.

The man was obnoxious on his own, adding headaches and fatigue and you had practically dug your own grave and you could be sure the professor would take it upon himself to kick you in it, face towards the dirt– no questions asked.

You continued to play for a while until, as the others had predicted and taunted you with, you were the first to hand over your last bill. That and your last street went to Aragorn, and taking it like a true champion you gave up with a "No more monopoly! Never again!"

After all these hours you weren't even disappointed with this loss, it gave you a reason to finally get up from the chair and stretch your back.

On slightly asleep feet, you wandered through the lowest floor, craning your head and neck, popping the aching bones for some sweet relief.

The Oropherion family home had become a familiar place to you over the past few months, a retreat of peace and quiet that your dorm couldn't provide.

While you had initially counted how many evenings you had spent in this house, with your friends in the kitchen cooking or on the couch watching a movie and the constant hope to meet Thranduil to even have the smallest chance to strike up a conversation, these experiences, as well as conversations had accumulated to a frequency that wasn't worth counting.

The floor under your sock-clad feet was pleasantly cool, your body had grown far too warm at the table where the boys' testosterone had skyrocketed when you left.

The whole house radiated a pleasant coolness, something you appreciated after spending a few nights in Legolas' far too warm room. Legolas was a running radiator and although you were very grateful for the fact and his warm hands in the winter, you often preferred to walk around the rest of the house whenever you woke up with him pressed to your side.

Perhaps because that comfortable cold reminded you of Thranduil, of the light and sporadic touches of his cool hands sometimes in your back, sometimes on your shoulder, and very rarely the brush of his fingertips over your hands.

You collected the memories, those feelings of his skin against yours, locked them deep in your heart. They were yours, no matter how public or private they had been in the first place, now they belonged to you.

Your gaze wandered along the bright wall as it lingered on a particular spot of the hung paintings, your feet automatically following.

It was inevitable that you stopped in front of this painting during your visits for it was by far your favorite.

It was framed behind a thin glass pane, most likely because Thranduil knew about the sock races you held in the long hallway with fantastically smooth floors, and although there was a real Monet hanging among the others, it was this unassuming-looking painting that captivated you.

A forest had been painted in rather dark tones, with massive tree trunks and broad branches stretching skyward, interwoven into a dense green blanket through which little light seemed to fall. And in places where the fine rays of a warm sun were nevertheless drawn, the leaves glowed a glittering gold. On the ground, thin wisps of mist drifted over the moss-covered ground glistening with morning dew, entwining themselves around the roots that had broken out of the ground.

Unlike all the other paintings, it had no signature, no artist. Just a name; 'Mirkwood'.

You had looked at this picture so many times that you saw the individual brush strokes in your brain drawing this magical forest, and often you wondered if such a place actually existed.

How you would love to immerse yourself in this image, to bury your toes in the earth and moss, to listen to the rustle of the many leaves in the wind. Breathing deeply, you tried to conjure yourself to the trees and froze when you noticed the smell of pine needles and a slight puff of air on the back of your neck.

"You're pretty bad at sneaking up on people," you spoke forward, without turning away from the painting, to which you were almost glued with your forehead.

You knew who was behind you even so; only one person evoked this state of absolute chaos in you.

"Oh, I'm not?" Thranduil's voice wore an amused smirk. "Those shivers on you seem to be clear evidence of the contrary."

"Whatever you think you're talking about, you're wrong."

"Are you absolutely certain? Someone who flashes a grin at a good hand of cards in poker shouldn't be so quick to boast."

You were about to protest – granted, your poker face wasn't the best, but who could resist grinning when winning against Legolas?

However, before you could say anything, Thranduil beat you to it, "Speaking of games, it seems your strategy of passing 'Go' and collecting money didn't quite pan out, did it?"

Now you turned around and looked up at Thranduil.

The shirt was gone, in its place a green sweatshirt hugged a torso that shouldn't look that fit for a middle aged man, and he looked directly much more... homely. You liked that sweatshirt on him, it accentuated his eyes, the crinkles around them and his ice-blond hair stood out against the rich green like the shining moonlight. His lips were pulled into a teasing smile and you couldn't help but roll your eyes.

"It wasn't my strategy's fault. It would've secured my victory if it weren't for the incessant whining from the boys. 'Spose they couldn't handle watching me systematically take over. Soo I did the only sensible thing and gracefully bowed out of that power struggle," you explained with a playful glint in your eye.

"What a noble deed," Thranduil smirked, looking at you through long lashes. Then he took a step toward you. "However, I must disagree with your words again. I believe you had no choice but to lose."

Your eyebrows rose challengingly and you pushed your shoulders through to appear more confident. Yet you were the complete opposite under Thranduil's gaze, behind which a thought seemed to be forming that would surely cost you some nerves.

"Is that so?" you asked, itching to find out what was going on inside him, and at the same time, a little afraid.

Thranduil could say the most boring thing in the world and still make it sound like flirting.

Well okay, flirting was a little wide of the mark and a little inappropriate for a man in his 40s, it made it seem a little juvenile and what he was saying was anything but a stupid pickup line you'd hear in the bars.

It was mostly just as teasing and at the same time charming as the grin that spread across his face.

"I think," Thranduil started and you suddenly regretted investigating "No, I'm sure you weren't completely focused on the game"

Of course, you hadn't been focused on the game, at least not ever since he'd come home and messed with your mind, strolling around the goddamn kitchen with his effortless good looks as if he didn't know how much he could dominate and take over a room.

But you would never tell him that, as much as it burned on your tongue. You swallowed the words, tried to swallow the lump that formed in your throat, but it had become too big.

"I'm.. I'm not sure what you're referring to," you attempted to deflect the conversation and focused on the painting again, hoping to divert your attention from him.

A moment of silence passed between you, charged with unspoken feelings. You heard him approach and felt the cool touch of his slender fingers slowly wrap around your wrist. His fingers easily met his thumb, essentially cuffing you to himself and your knees nearly buckled.

"Am I distracting you?" Thranduil asked nonchalantly, although the question was loaded with meaning.

"No, it's just–"

"I am," His thumb traced gentle circles on your skin, causing you to clench your fist, and paused just above your pulse. "I can feel that I'm distracting you… or else your pulse is extraordinarily fast because of some painting," he whispered, his breath tickling your ear.

"I already said you're–"

"Distracting you. I know," he interrupted.

With a gentle pull, Thranduil turned you around until your back was pressed against the glass of the long-forgotten painting. He was so close that his long hair draped over your shoulders.

That one movement sent your brain into overdrive, eradicating doubt, smushing reality and fantasy until all that was left was the pure enthusiasm of being this close to the sole reason your heart felt like it was bursting out of your chest any moment now.

You looked up at him, probably spending way too much time staring at his face, from his cheekbones to his lips, rosy and pulling up in a smirk as he followed your eyes.

"Something the matter?" he asked, slightly putting some pressure on your pulse point, "Cat got your tongue? C'mon, bite back. Don't get shy suddenly."

You pressed your body back against the glass as far as it would allow it, and let the heat of his touch rush over you, savoring the contrast of hot and cold.

"Ugh. You can be soo annoying," you uttered, and although a year ago it had been unthinkable for you to call Legolas' father annoying, it was one of Thranduil's qualities that you had to remind him of again and again.

He laughed, a short chuckle deep from his chest, which you felt first before you heard it, and dimples and laugh lines of age bored into his otherwise smooth cheeks. The playful smile didn't disappear when he leaned closer to you.

You had slightly tipped your head back, for he towered above you, one large hand of his still around yours while the other spread across your lower back, nudging you against him.

Thranduil's lips moved and you had to pull yourself together to listen to him and not just stare at him and wonder if this was really happening.

Which you did.

Because, what the fuck was happening?

"I get that quite often. Comes with the job as well as raising a thick-headed son, but," –he paused and his baritone voice dropped even lower, the rumble curling around the words that twisted around your heart like roots– "dare I say that when it rolls off your tongue, it sounds dangerously close to a compliment."

This newfound closeness with him was both exhilarating and unnerving. Up until now, you had danced around each other, exchanging subtle remarks that defined the boundaries.

Yet, in this moment, those boundaries seemed to dissolve, swallowed by the intensity of the lingering eye contact you were hesitant to break.

His gaze felt like it was burrowing under your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps and pulsing blood.

You were sure of what was about to happen, you felt it in his hand on your back, leading you toward him, his shallower breathing and suddenly..

All the pressure fell off you, all the worries tumbled away and only the anticipation of finally being able to be as close to him as you've been wishing for months now remained in your chest next to your strongly pounding heart.

He was close, so very close.

"Little one-"

That's when you heard Legolas yell your name.

At first, you hoped you were imagining it.

Thranduil lingered for a breath, leaning against you. His pausing left the decision of how to proceed to you and though everything in you wanted nothing more than to bury your hands in his hair and kiss the smirk off his face, you drew your eyebrows together apologetically.

"I'm so sorry," you said softly. "I.. I can't. Not now, even if I wished–"

Immediately, Thranduil took a step back, putting a distance between you that tore a sigh out of your chest.

Even though you could see the disappointment of being interrupted in his expression, a gentle smile quickly settled on his lips. "No need to apologize."

You waited for a second though the moment had passed and even if it left you on the edge and unraveled like a ball of yarn rolling into an abyss, the end never to be found again now that you'd thrown yourself over the cliffs.

Thranduil nodded and took another step back.

And as you set off down the hallway back to the dining room, Thranduil remained back at the painting, his gaze still on you, as you couldn't help but look back at him again.

You didn't want to leave, not from him, not from his touches, his teasing words, which without this interruption would have led to the highlight of your sneaking around each other, even if until today you had believed it was nothing more than a fantasy of yours.

Yet the way Thranduil had looked at you, blue eyes full of curiosity and desire and longing, the way he had held you as if he would never want to let go of you again, if you would allow him to, no longer made you doubt the one-sidedness of your feelings.

There had to be something and while you couldn't explain why a man his age and status would go for you of all people, that wasn't what you wanted to concentrate on.

In the kitchen, the Monopoly game still seemed to be in full frenzy, just like your friends.

Aragorn had even tied his hair into a braid and was counting his money intently. You had to give most of your cards to Gimli, he had already built his first houses in the fifth round and now owned streets, with so many red hotels that even Vegas would turn green with envy.

Legolas, well, Legolas was Legolas in the sense that Gimli and he went all out for another bet because when you entered he was leaning against the wall.

Upside down.

And counting backward.

"Please. Someone tell me what I missed?" you asked, and the disappointment of being interrupted by Legolas went up in smoke at the sight, or rather in a laughing gasp. Your body automatically relaxed, no matter how electrically charged you felt by Thranduil, your little group could always bring you back.

Aragorn looked up at you, eyeing you for just a single second before one of his eyebrows lifted. "What did we miss?" he turned the question around and you knew full well you'd been seen through. "Red cheeks, tousled hair.." his eyes widened before he opened his mouth in disbelief.

Quickly you shook your head, lifting a finger to end that assumption that was forming in his mind.

At the same moment, Legolas shouted "Zero!" and landed elegantly (how he managed that with the amount of alcohol in his blood was a mystery to you) on his feet again.

Grinning triumphantly, he came back to the table, smacking his hands on his leggings and pointing to your cell phone, which you had left on the table

"Rang several times, your roommate seems to have locked herself out somehow," and turning to Gimli he said, "You said if I do a handstand for two minutes I don't have to pay my rent, so hand over the dice."

Even as you unlocked your screen, the last text message lit up at you, a 'where r u??? its cold' paired with 8 missed calls.

You rolled your eyes. Receiving such messages was nothing novel for you; your roommate had a recurring tendency to leave her keys in your shared room despite your daily reminders. The prospect of her learning from this habit seemed increasingly unlikely.

Yet, she consistently chose the most inconvenient moments to pester you about it.

Swiftly, you texted her, falsely claiming that you were en route, a dramatic exaggeration considering you weren't even certain if the bus was coming or not.

"Just leave the lass out in the cold," grumbled Gimli "Pretend you lost your phone and then we can watch that one movie later."

"The offer sounds tempting, but I think I should start getting some sleep anyway. Instead of sleeping in like you idiots, I'm going to talk to Professor Baggins again." You were sure these were two valid arguments, but at the determined look on Legolas' face, you prepared yourself for a discussion.

"C'mon, just sleep here. Tough luck for your roommate, she can sleep somewhere else," he began.

Tempting, especially when you thought back to that moment with Thranduil.

As nice as the idea of sneaking around at night sounded, and maybe more, depending on how serious Thranduil was about his flirting, you groaned. "My materials are in the dorm. I don't feel like getting up in the morning to pick everything up first and then drive to the university"

"We'll go with you," Legolas shot off another argument, though the other two didn't seem thrilled with it.

"Sure, because that's sooo realistic," you drew out "I can see it coming; I'm the only one who gets up because you'd rather sleep in. No thanks, as much as I appreciate your breakfast cereal, I don't want to put myself through that stress. Two more days and we're free for the weekend. Let's watch the movie then."

The latter was like an olive branch of peace. Although it was your turn to clean the dorm tomorrow, Legolas' pout indicated a never-ending fuss if you left early and without completing his "pep up plan".

You decided that you'd just ask your roommate to cover your shift as a way of saying thanks for letting her in tonight.

"Alright," Legolas relented "We will watch that new horror movie though."

You stuck your tongue out at him. "Bribery. I hate horror"

"And I hate it when you leave," he said, and you conceded defeat.

The smile was back on his face in an instant.

Opening the bus app, however, dramatically lowered your spirits. "Shit. The bus in 10 minutes is canceled, due to a shortage of staff at short notice, and the one after that won't arrive for another two hours. Fuck."

"And the night bus? It's a ten-minute walk to the station, we can bring you," Aragorn's face wore a frown as he stepped beside you, scrutinizing the app as well.

"No," you sighed and leaned against his side, "No.. they canceled the line as well because, wait.. Here; they say it's some roadwork."

His arm wrapped around your shoulder, rubbing it comforting. "Stay the night, please," he asked in a lowered voice, "I won't be able to sleep when you're out there this late. If it's our comments from earlier that hold you back I deeply apologize."

You shook your head, falling into the embrace even more. "Don't worry about that, that's not the problem. I kinda need to sleep in my own bed tonight, y'know? I love you guys but my energy reserves won't fill up if I have Legolas snoring next to me all night."

Aragorn waited, holding your gaze until your nod convinced him that you weren't lying to him about the teasing. "Alright, we'll get you home," he whispered and softly kissed your forehead.

"Can't you call a cab? Way faster and safer."

As sweetly as Legolas' suggestion was meant, a bitter taste spread in your mouth.

As a student, you didn't always have it easy, not with the costs of the university, which only allowed you a room in the dormitory even if you didn't have to live on instant noodles every day and somehow made ends meet with a small part-time job.

Legolas had grown up without money problems because of Thranduil and his father, which he was well aware of, but sometimes you had to remind him that not everyone could take a cab through half the city in the middle of the night.

Just as you were about to tell him this, another voice joined in the conversation:

"Come on, I'll give you a ride."

taglist [still open]: @mushroomemeralds, @mssuguru, @solartoge, @12134z03, @fruitymoonbeams-blog, @lady-of-imladris, @finallyforgotten, @123forgottherest,

#📁files: passenger princess #thranduil x reader #lotr x reader #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit x reader #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x you #lord of the rings fanfiction #lord of the rings x reader #lotr fanfiction

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

Find the Words

Search your works for the given words and post the context of what you find! My given words (from @squadron-of-damned ) were youth, hypocrisy, burrow, and bias. 

I bolded them for ease of finding. 

youth 

‘No,’ Gríma shrugs. ‘Only, people have had the recent habit of assuming that about me. Wasn’t always the case, but it’s been a thing in the last five years.’

‘Why? Were you up to no good?’

‘In a manner of speaking.’

Hallbjorn mulls over this in the studious, trying-terribly-hard fashion of youth. His hair is pulled back out of his face this day, save for several curls who misbehave, waving jauntily about his forehead in the breeze.

‘What’d you do?’ Hallbjorn finally asks.

Gríma opens his mouth, fishes for a bit, shuts it. Smokes assiduously. Exhales and thinks that he misses Frodo’s company. The hobbit never asked too many questions. Or, if he did ask, there was a purpose to them and he had such a way of asking that Gríma didn’t mind very much—at least, at the end of the day, he didn’t mind very much.

‘I broke an oath,’ Gríma replies. Having finished his pipe, he pulls himself a second bowl. ‘And I committed a great betrayal.’

‘To who? Your wife?’

‘My—what? No. Why would you assume that? No one says I cheated on my wife like that.’

‘I don’t know. That’s how my grandfather put it. Mum’s dad.’

 hypocrisy

Marcus Aurelianus is not proving soothing. Vetinari notes down in his journal some of the more sage advice he wishes to emulate but struggles to apply himself to them at this moment. He writes, Let it be thy earnest and incessant care as a Morkporkian and a man to perform whatsoever it is that thou art about, with true and unfeigned gravity, natural affection, freedom and justice: and as for all other cares, and imaginations, how thou mayest ease thy mind of them. Which thou shalt do; if thou shalt go about every action as thy last action, free from all vanity, all passionate and willful aberration from reason, and from all hypocrisy, and self-love, and dislike of those things, which by the fates or appointment of the Gods have happened unto thee.

Finishing the passage, which takes up two pages when written out in a proper manner, he stares at it. What did he expect to feel upon inhuming Winder? Gratification? Pride? Knowing he had rid Ankh-Morpork of yet another vain, petty and cruel patrician.

Should he have wanted to feel pride for it? Vanity? Is he vain?

Perhaps he is not made of the stern stuff he wished to fashion himself out of. Perhaps he is soft materials like his colleagues at the Guild. He is no Marcus Aurelianus.

 burrow

‘If I got a doctorate and if I advanced through the ranks at the Guild I could end up a lord, you know.’ 

Amos snorts. Wouldn’t that be the day—his son, a lord. 

‘If I continued there I’d be a gentleman,’ Downey snaps. ‘I wouldn’t have my hand in trade.’ 

‘A bloodstained hand is worse than a hand that does honest work?’ Asked quietly. The room becomes brittle. Downey’s mind scatters off then regroups itself. He shakes his head. ‘I fear I have failed you in one regard, William, which is that I’ve allowed you to become used to getting whatever it is you want at the snap of your fingers. That isn’t how things work in life and the world has harsh ways of teaching those who do not learn this lesson early.’ 

Downey focuses on his cards. His father’s gaze burrows into his skull and he wants to protest this assessment. He isn’t selfish! Indeed, he is well equipped to handle things when they don’t go to his liking. He does it all the time at the Guild. 

Exhibit A: Vetinari, that scag, was made his lab partner in applied poisons for three years in a row. Downey did inform Dr. Tindel that this was a deplorable state of affairs but his favoured professor remained uninterested in altering the seating arrangement. 

Once it became clear no cajoling would work to budge the Dog-botherer on and get someone decent in as a lab-partner, like Willis, Downey gave up and likes to think he accepted the situation with grace. He can bear ignominy nobly.

This hand Downey wins. He silently lays his cards out and calculates the score. His father allows the silence grow and linger and gain weight. 

 biased.

Jacopo is one for French lutes and songs, says they have more depth. Cristof informed Nicolo of this once to which Nicolo sneered: French music is pretty enough, I’ll grant. Fashionable, even. But it is Venetian and Tuscan that lifts the soul.

And Andalusian?

Nicolo leaned in with sly expression, I have a special fondness for that form, I must admit. But then, I am terribly biased.

This was a lot of fun! and I also realized that I almost never use the word hypocrisy. The things you learn about your own writing 

I choooose: @ahufflepuffhobbit and @pipuhattar annnd @dellevigne but only if you want to! 

Words are: inertia, flesh, wretch, and awe. 

(feel free to sub in synonyms if there are blank patches - I almost did for hypocrisy.)

#writing #writing meme #tag game #the venetians #discworld #lord of the rings

[maeglinthebold]

image template from here

My 2023 AO3 Wrapped

Quick Stats

Works published: 57 (21 RNM; 18 OFMD)

Words written: 447,106, up about 50k from last year (!) but still nothing beats those 2020 numbers

Hits: 43,668 (updated today)

Bookmarks: 641 (also updated today), probably mostly from people waiting for me to finish a damn thing XD. Incidentally…

Unfinished works: 3 that updated this year, 17 total

Most popular by kudos: Do you know you'll never fly alone? My D&D:HAT fic contributing to Edgin/Xenk. A bigger hit than expected! 

Most hits: Sinking in your Eyes, Chasing Golden Nights: OFMD, PWP. It’s technically continued from 2022. 

Longest fic: Also Sinking in Your Eyes, but that’s a bit of a cheat because it’s co-written with @lizzy-leo

Shortest fic: Looks like we always end up in a rut (Man From UNCLE OT3)

Most comments: From Roswell with Love, which is a continuation from 2021 and cowritten with @haloud. Of course, I also posted like seven fics in the last week of the year so it’s hardly fair to them…

[Fun answers below the cut]

Gifts:

I received 4 gifts (Three Player Morning, from @tasyfa’s NYE Drabble last year, and this year as well: Heading for Midnight; for RNM Secret Santa I got The Neon North Star by @ajna-eye-cogitations; and finally, I got a few podfics of my fics: [Podfic] Everything About You by 1lostone and [Podfic] The Foundation of Youth by TipsyKitty.

I gave 19 gift fics, mostly in Maeglin's Hobbit Birthday Gift Fics 2023 and a Secret Santa gift for @angrycowboy

Collaborations:

@haloud and I still wrote a ton this year, in a few new fandoms even, but have been slow to actually post things! Still we updated From Roswell with Love; wrote a silly little porno for Malexa Sorry that I got caught; and wrote chemical composition for Liz Week. For RNM After Dark we gave some true rarepairs some love with Get your soldiers, tell 'em that the break is over, Something Borrowed, and of course contributed some Malexa In the Bleak Midwinter. And Malexa finally won the Roswell Halloween costume contest for RIP Roswell in Not A King. Okay, maybe we didn’t slow down, after all! 

@lizzy-leo and I ping-ponged back and forth between Blackbonnet (Bell the Cat, Whale of a Tale, Fly By Night, Sinking in your Eyes, Chasing Golden Nights,) and Vianton (The Now Show Me Your Fangs series, now 9 works strong!), with plenty of smut for both. Lizzy even submitted (a SFW section) of some of our fic for Vico Ortiz to read through their Patreon, which was a hoot to listen to. 

Events taken part in: @rnmbingo, @rnmafterdark, @februaryficletchallenge, @lizortechoweek, @riproswell, @rnm-secret-santa, as well as my own Hobbit Birthday Ficlets Challenge, and Vianton Week on Twitter.

Which artist’s songs did you pull from the most? I actually maintained a pretty good variety this year (a nonzero number of like, 80s ballads featured, LOL), but Lady Gaga wins just because we’ve been using lyrics from Show Me Your Teeth for the Vianton series lol. 

Pairing you wrote the most for this year? Ed/Stede (15) ousted Malexa this year (10) but apparently variety is the winner, as that’s less than half of my total fics. Multishipping for the win!

Favorite fics not already mentioned? I picked three:

I would do anything for love (but I won't do that) (Legolas/Gimli ficlet that was funny),

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero (my mean Izzy-anti fic, which was also funny, and cathartic, before he died in canon and achieved that catharsis better lmao), and

Steve Bunnet (Blackbonnet at a petting zoo, also funny).

(questions from multiple lists, feel free to re use uncredited like I did lol)

#stuff i write #me #2023 #ao3 wrapped #fanfic #our flag means death #roswell new mexico

[frodo-with-glasses]

Any questions you haven't yet answered for the Hobbit cousins‐ Frodo, Merry, and Pippin! Thank you!

Yesss, my bois! After a bit of discussion, we narrowed this one down to just a few questions, since I can’t recall anyone asking for these three as a trio before and I can’t answer all 15 in one go LOL

1. “When I think they became friends”

Well, I’ve already described how I think Frodo left a good impression on little Merry before he left to go live with Bilbo, setting the stage for their friendship later on; and I’ve also described how I think Merry and Pippin bonded over something stupid when they were young and have been inseparable ever since. I don’t think it’s hard to imagine that the three of them would’ve gotten to know each other over the course of several various family obligations—weddings, birthday parties, etc.—and hit it off, because of course you want to get along with family when you can, and Frodo just seems to jive perfectly well with kids who are a lot younger than him.

2. “My favorite scene of them”

Oh man, can I just say the whole Crickhollow chapter?? I mean we get Pippin splashing in the bath, Merry thoroughly schooling Frodo on how to keep secrets (and then everybody laughing at Frodo’s dumbfounded surprise), Merry and Pippin singing a song they prepared for the occasion—and that wonderful, heart-clenching line from Merry, “We are terribly afraid, but we are going with you, or following you like hounds.” The Crickhollow chapter is just one long fluff fic demonstrating the relationship dynamics of this trio—and Sam and Fatty Bolger!—and I just *clenches fist* love it so much

3. “A random headcanon I have of them”

Have I mentioned before that Pippin is incredibly ticklish? I feel like I must have. It just seems like too much of an obvious fact of the universe for me not to have said it sooner. Pippin is incredibly ticklish, and Merry and Frodo definitely know all of the worst tickle spots to get him thrashing on the floor within seconds.

Merry will sit back, cross his arms, and swear up and down he isn’t ticklish and you can’t make him laugh, no matter how hard you try, no sir, but that’s because he’s secretly protecting his armpits and the back of his neck. Frodo knows this. All he needs is a distraction, and a chance to lean over and brush the tip of a feather under Merry’s ear, and he’ll nearly jump out of his seat and start swinging fists at whoever’s nearby.

Frodo isn’t actually very ticklish, but the fact that anyone would try makes him laugh anyway, so he’s pretty easy to crack. Pippin finds this entertaining. Jury is still out on whether or not he realizes it’s basically cheating, and whether or not he cares.

4. “My favorite thing about them”

I think the beauty of the hobbits is that their friendships all start in very innocuous ways. “Ah yes, my second cousin once removed on his mother’s side, stand-up chap, gave me a gold coin for his birthday once”, etc, etc. And yet those mundane little relationships are so fierce and loyal when it comes down to the wire. Love doesn’t have to start dramatically to be real and true and ride-or-die. Merry and Pippin don’t decide to walk off into the possible jaws of death because Frodo is somebody extraordinary; honestly, aside from being a bit odd, Frodo is kinda just some dude. But they’re willing to risk everything for him, because Frodo is their odd dude, and they don’t want him to face this danger alone. I think that’s beautiful.

5. “A scene I wish we had of them”

Give me the Rivendell slumber parties and sleepy, giggly nighttime conversations or give me DEATH. Rivendell is lovely and homey, but you can’t tell me that the hobbits didn’t get a little lonely sleeping in those huge beds all by themselves for so long. I think there’s room enough on an elf-sized bed for all the hobbits to lie comfortably, lined up like sardines from the foot to the headboard; and I also think they wouldn’t get any sleep until very very late, because Pippin would keep waking everyone else up with some random thought that just popped into his head, and the giggle fits that ensue would take several minutes to calm down. And then another Pippin thought would come. Rinse, and repeat.

10. “A song that reminds me of them”

We’re back to Of Monsters and Men with “Your Bones”. No doubt this is one of the more obtuse of their songs, but I like it for a few reasons:

First, the contrast of the cheerful tune and melancholy lyrics fits the personalities of this trio. Pippin is the loud, cheerful face that you notice first, while Frodo and Merry are the quieter deep waters that you will only see if you take the time to look a little closer.

Second, I like that the song seems to describe a journey of some sort. “In the spring we made a boat/Out of feathers, out of bones/We set fire to our homes/Walking barefoot in the snow”; hobbits always walk barefoot, and the “snow” makes me think of Caradhras. Of course they didn’t literally set fire to their homes, but they did leave them behind, with full knowledge of the possibility that they might never return, and emotionally, those two things can feel much the same way. “Chasing leaves in the wind/Going where we’d never been/Said goodbye to you my friend/As the fire spread”; Merry and Pippin had to part ways from Frodo, and Pippin had to leave Merry (twice!!), and the trio is all separated by the time the final battle rolls around. But that just leads me into my next point—

Third, the chorus. The other lyrics in this song are strange and bewildering—like everything the hobbits encountered once they left the Shire—but the chorus is clear, simple, powerful, and rings out with clarity and purpose. “So hold on/Hold on to what we are/Hold on to your heart”.

Isn’t that the core of LotR? It’s in the relationships. No matter what strange and fantastical things the hobbits encountered on their Quest, what they needed to succeed was something they’d already had back in the Shire, something they’d always had all along. “Hold on to what we are; hold on to your heart.” When all hope is lost, remember your friendships. Remember you are not alone. Remember your purpose. Keep us close; even if we are not there with you, we will give you strength.

But on a less serious note, I also found THIS gem of a behind-the-scenes clip recently. It’s a song! It doesn’t have lyrics, but it’s a song! That counts, right?? 🤣🤣

FRIENDSHIP ASK GAME!

#ask game #frodo baggins #meriadoc brandybuck #merry #peregrin took #pippin #lord of the rings #lotr #my writing #featuring our boys elijah sean billy and dom being goofy on set—AGAIN

[luna-writes-stuff]

CHAPTER XXXI

A Kili X OC fanfic

Previous chapter // Next chapter

Tw: Raewyn is pulling a season 8 Daenerys Targaryen, description of violence and use of of weapons, but no mention of injuries or blood. Thorin with dragonsickness, shitload of angst, just pain; Kili cries.

——————————————————————————

Raewyn might be girlbossing a bit too close to the sun

Armies of elves and men littered the front gates of Erebor, archers hidden behind the gates of Dale, awaiting the command of their leader. As Raewyn and Kili reached the group above the entrance of the mountain, the ranger was able to make out the familiar figure of Bard, and - much to her surprise and dismay - that of king Thranduil. Frowning upon the sight, she turned to Kili, who merely gave her a confused look, having not expected the two either.

Thorin, who had been standing in front of the dwarves, drew his bow, shooting an arrow toward the pair. The projectile embedded the floor directly in front of the elk Thranduil was riding, making him halt the animal, looking up at Thorin in shock.

“I will put the next one between your eyes!” The dwarf bellowed, glaring at the elven king. 

Drawing his bow again, the dwarves began to cheer, shaking their weapons in warning and pride. Rolling her eyes at the pair, Raewyn walked forward, trying to find the hobbit.

Suddenly, the bowmen from Dale pulled back their weapons, aiming their arrows toward the crowd of dwarves. Abruptly, their cheering ended, their axes and swords freezing mid-air. Some of them began to duck, yet Thorin stood in place, Raewyn only shortly removed from him.

“We have come to tell you, payment of your debt has been offered…” A brief silence struck as the elven king spoke. “And accepted.”

“What payment?” Thorin chuckled, almost mocking the men and elves below. A sinking feeling began to settle into Raewyn’s stomach as she inhaled sharply, as if she had just gotten hit by a blunt kick.

“I gave you nothing! You have nothing!” The dwarf shouted, his bow still drawn.

The Asha noticed Bard moving forward, reaching for something in his pocket. Taking two steps to the ramp, Raewyn stood beside Thorin, not sparing him a second glace, her eyes instead glued onto the man.

“We have this!” Bard claimed, pulling the Arkenstone from his robe, holding it above his head.

“They have the Arkenstone?” Kili wondered aloud, surprising the ranger with his sudden presence. “Thieves! How came you by the heirloom of our house? That belongs to the king!” 

Though her face was facing forward, and none of the dwarves could see it, Raewyn formed her lips in a thin line, looking down at her hands.

“And the king may have it. In our good will.” The man offered, putting the Arkenstone back where it is hidden from sight. “But first, he must honor his word.”

Now finally looking at the king, Raewyn awaited his words, knowing that perhaps now was the worst time to ever speak up.

“They are taking us for fools,” Thorin muttered to himself. “This is a ruse, a filthy lie.”

His eyes scanned over his subject, before ultimately landing on Raewyn, his eyes set in anger, though it was obvious to both it was not necessarily directed towards her.

“The Arkenstone is in this mountain!” He roared, facing the Lakeman. “It is a trick!”

“It-It’s not a trick,” A new voice spoke up, drawing the attention of all those on the rampart. “The stone is real. I gave it to them.”

“Bilbo,” Raewyn whispered, staring at the hobbit in horror.

“You…” Thorin whispered, near enraged.

“I gave it-” “I took it as my fourteenth share.” Bilbo interrupted, shaking off Raewyn’s attempts to help him.

“You would steal from me?” The king hissed.

“Steal from you?” The hobbit repeated. “No, no. I may be a burglar, but I like to think I’m an honest one. I’m willing to let it stand against my claim.”

Closing her eyes upon his choice of words, Raewyn shook her head, knowing Bilbo had the right intentions, but the wrong choice of speech.

“Against your claim? Your claim?!” Thorin raged, throwing his bow down in anger. “You have no claim over me, you miserable rat!”

Crazed with greed and anger, the dwarf marched up to Bilbo, setting a threatening pace. Making a quick decision, Raewyn ran up to the king, halting in front of him, thankful her armor had now made her heavier, and therefore more difficult to move.

“I found it!” She lied, knowing Thorin would believe her would it only be in his hatred against her. Now all eyes fell on her, including Bilbo’s, who was at loss for words. 

“When I left Erebor,” She convinced. “I found the stone minutes prior, but I knew you were suspecting me of treason. I gave it to Bilbo as to keep it within the mountain, making him promise he’d hand it to you when you were thinking clearly again.”

“You would have taken the Arkenstone with you?” The king seethed.

“I would have if you were alone. But you are not.” Raewyn explained, gesturing towards the group surrounding them.  “I would have given you the right to the gem, had you only kept your word and sanity towards the people of Laketown.”

“Who are you to decide my right?” Thorin hissed, taking another step closer to the Asha, who refused to take one back, only looking down at the dwarf. “You are nothing, you come from nothing! You come from a line of impure imbeciles, who wander the lands as if they owned them. Without respect, without dignity! And you are no better.” He cursed, his face now mere inches removed from Raewyn, but yet, she refused to yield.

“You have traveled with my kin,” He whispered harshly. “You have deceived my kin. And now you dare wear the armor of my kin. You are not one of us, you are not a dwarf, nor will you ever be. You are the worst creature I have encountered.”

“You can say any words you think of me,” The Asha returned, her voice venomous and sharp. “You may insult me, you may call me names, accuse me of the things you yourself have done, I could not care. But you bring my clan into this once more, and this mountain will no longer house a king.”

Deciding against her speech, the dwarf showed a mocking smirk, narrowing his eyes at her, speaking his next words in a low tone.

“You are the last of a line of rebels, naysayers, traitors, and thieves. No one cares about them anymore. Your name is weak and unfortunate.” The words were spat in her face, causing her to clench her jaw together in anger. 

“Had my nephew not been so fond of you, I would have killed you that night in Bag-End. But I will not make that mistake again.” Finally taking a step back, the king unsheathed his sword, pointing it at the woman, who merely stared at him in anger, her hand subconsciously reaching towards the ax she had carried with her. 

“You have insulted me, attacked me, stolen from me, and lied to me; The King Under The Mountain!” He boomed, now holding his sword up. “You stand accused of these four major crimes against the throne. And I will carry out your sentence immediately.” He decided.

His sword swung down with an impressive pace, leaving Raewyn a mere two seconds to jump from the place of impact. Bofur and Oin, who had stood beside her, took four steps back, dragging multiple dwarves with them. Bilbo had disappeared at the sudden movement, leaving him incapable of seeing what was happening. 

His breath caught in his throat as he tried to push past the dwarves, only hearing the clinking of Thorin’s sword. His heart rate sped up as his feet grew heavier with each step. From above the crowd, Thorin’s sword was seen again, before crashing down once more.

Moving between Dwalin and Balin, Bilbo caught hold of Raewyn, who was now wielding her ax, the look in her eyes almost terrifying him. Though he knew she had always held a demanding glint in her eyes as she fought, this was something entirely different. The grip she held on her weapon was tighter than it usually was, and there was an almost crazed expression hidden in her eyes. She was wielding her ax as he had never seen her wield a weapon before.

She was hitting back every single shot Thorin send her way, not a single tired breath leaving her lips. It was almost as if she was challenging him, for, with every hit he gave her, she took a step closer to him, forcing him back. And she did not falter once.

In his shock, the poor hobbit did not know what to do but stand and watch. He dared to let his eyes wander to Fili and Kili, who had seemed to be caught in the same position he was. Where Bilbo would have gone to stand beside Raewyn, he no longer knew whose side to protect. Because the longer he watched her, the more he began to realize; She was not defending herself. She was attacking him.

She was swinging wildly at him, a scowl set on her face as her feet kept carrying her forward. It was becoming increasingly obvious who had begun to grasp the upper hand in their battle. Enraged, Thorin stabbed his sword straight ahead, the gesture unexpected by Raewyn. Quickly ducking out of the way, Thorin tripped lightly, but managed to regain his balance. Hooking her ax behind the blade of Thorin’s sword, she tried to knock it out of his hands. But the dwarf was quicker, and turned around swiftly, placing both hands on the handle as he took a step back.

Sneering at his actions, Raewyn ran at him again, now wielding her ax high, ready to strike down as Thorin had tried to do with his sword earlier. Holding his sword above his head, he caught the hit, his arms straining against the weight, yet managing to hold him save. 

Not thinking clearly anymore, Raewyn kicked her left leg from underneath her. The metal boot came into contact with Thorin’s chest plate, forcing him to stumble back while the Asha could only hiss at the impact. 

“You took away my entire life!” She screamed, her voice raised in anger, sending goosebumps down Bilbo’s back.

In her delusion, her eyes fell upon Fili and Kili, who were still staring at the whole ordeal, frozen to the floor. Fili just stood there, a helpless look washing over his face as he dared not to make eye contact with the ranger. Kili, however, stared straight into her eyes, pleading for her to come to her senses, though there was visible fear and hesitance in his eyes as well.

Swallowing harshly, as if mentally fighting with herself, she pointed her ax towards the pair, a newfound determination spread on her face.

“It is because of you that I fear going to sleep at night!” She accused, her eyes set on Thorin, who was slowly recovering himself. “It is because of you I fear to even talk to other people!” As her voice rose, her ax began to swing, not violently, yet threatening enough for Fili and Kili to not dare to move. Nor anyone else for that matter.

“It is because of you I still suffer every single day! That I cannot find myself to be happy as long as I have to live with the fact that you are here!” She now stormed. The fact that she had never spoken these words out loud should have made her cry, and should have made her rethink her choices. But at the moment, it only fueled her rage.

“It is not fair that you have become king after all that, and I still haven’t had my revenge.” She seethed, grasping her ax even tighter, her knuckles pressing against the metal in her armor, surely leaving bruises on there.

“Raewyn,” Kili whispered, his voice hoarse, barely there, but she heard it. Turning her head towards him, she glared at him. “Please.”

Ignoring his words, Raewyn turned back towards Thorin, who stood with a conflicted look on his face, finally understanding his situation.

“I have waited long enough, Oakenshield.” She spat out, holding her ax higher, the blade now facing both Fili and Kili.

“Please,” Kili whispered again, a stray tear falling down his cheek as he kept looking at the Asha, trying to ignore the imposing ax pointed at his face. The ax he had given her.

For a short moment, her could swear he saw the weapon move slightly, but it returned before he could even register the movement.

“Raewyn Asha, what are you doing?!” A booming voice spoke up, shocking everyone on the rampart. Everyone except for the person who was mentioned. She still stood there, her eyes trained on Thorin as her weapon was held to the side.

“Raewyn Asha, ishalo ter ulma e ashada!” The wizard called again, but to no avail. 

Her eyes did not once fall from Thorin’s shocked face, delusion still there, but slowly fading.

“Be the bigger person!” Gandalf offered, earning a groan from the Asha.

“I have been the bigger person for my entire life, and it has gotten me nowhere!” She yelled in frustration, lowering her ax briefly. “I’m sick and tired of it. I’m ending my pain.”

As she spoke her last words, the ax was wielded once more, the muscles in her arm slowly straining, but she choose to ignore the objection.

“Do you not think your pain would only become worse when you have his blood on your hands?” The wizard pointed out, but all Raewyn gave in response was a short “No.”.

A deafening silence struck the plains as the armies awaited the words of the wizard, and the group in Erebor began to grow scared of the woman they had traveled with the entire year.

Bilbo dared to step forward, not saying a word, but removing him from the crowd. He was standing behind Raewyn, who had already expected him to step out. He kept himself removed a relative distance from her, but besides the two princes, he was closest to the ranger now.

“You do not truly want to kill them.” He tried, his voice hushed, knowing very well it might as well be his last words.

Though the anger in her face had begun to grow less recognizable, it was still very much clear that she had no intention to yield just yet. However, she did turn back towards the pair next to her, swallowing thickly as she observed the two.

“I don’t.” She whispered.

“Come back down, Raewyn, and we can settle this.” Gandalf called out again.

A short glimpse was thrown over her shoulder as she looked at Bilbo, her face softening at his hopeful eyes. But as she heard Thorin near, her eyes darkened again, flying back towards the dwarf.

“No,” She decided. “No, we cannot.”

“Throw him off the rampart.” Thorin called to his company, yet again, surprising everyone. But the dwarves stood nailed to the floor, their eyes shifting between the raging Asha and their delusional king.

“Do you hear me?!” Thorin boomed, deciding to ignore the ranger who had her weapon pointed towards the head of his kin.

“I will do it myself!” He claimed, running towards Bilbo, who still stood behind Raewyn. 

Widening her eyes, Raewyn’s ax was now pointed towards Thorin, her feet parted for more balance as a scowl formed onto her face once more. The king held his sword in front of him as well, ready to continue their battle.

“Cursed be the wizard that forced you on this company!” The dwarf shouted at Bilbo, the words not going unheard by Gandalf.

“If you do not like my burglar then please don’t damage him! Return him to me!” He shouted, alerting Raewyn of his presence once more. “You are not making a very splendid figure as King Under The Mountain, are you? Thorin, son of Thrain?”

Dwarves behind the Asha hesitantly began to move as they helped Bilbo climb down the rampart.

“Never again will I have dealings with wizards or Shire-rats!” Thorin cursed, still forced to face Raewyn. “Or rogue wenches.”

In response, the Asha swung her weapon in anger, nearly hitting Thorin, who managed to block the hit rather clumsily. Blinded in her rage, and his provocation, she began to hit wildly, no longer placing strategy behind her attacks. She was ready to throw everything on the line, would it only be for her final moment of revenge.

In a surprising move, she swung the ax low, beneath his feet. Quick as he was, the king tripped over the blade, landing on his back, coming face to face with the ax pointed at him, Raewyn looming over him with a threatening look.

Making up his mind quickly, Kili stepped away from his brother, just missing the hand extended to him. Another tear slipped from his eyes as he approached the ranger from behind, gently laying a hand on top of hers, which were wielding the weapon.

Having successfully drawn her attention, the ranger turned to look at the dwarf, shooting him a questioning look, her anger fading once more. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he pointed the weapon away from Thorin, gently lowering it to the floor.

“Leave,” He whispered, choking on his own word as he watched her expression fall. “Please.”

Slowly, his hand fell from hers as he took a step back, leaving her to make up her mind. Staring at him blankly, she processed his words, looking at his saddened face. Now, she finally looked at the crowd around her, save the dwarf she had gotten on the floor. Though she could not have cared less for their ideas, the plain sight of the fear and terror on their faces was enough to knock her back to her senses.

Letting the ax slip from her hands, she stepped back from the fallen king, not flinching upon the sound the metal made as it hit the floor. She only looked at Kili, nodding at him with a heartbroken expression.

As she made her way to the rope Bilbo had climbed down from, the dwarves parted, none of them daring to even offer the girl a hug or goodbye. It was a quiet departure, leaving her to climb down in shame.

“Are we resolved?” Bard spoke up, watching Raewyn’s figure near the grounds below Erebor. “The return of the Arkenstone for what was promised?”

Thorin showed up above the ledge again, breathing heavily, yet fixing his crown with a brave face.

“Give us your answer! Will you have peace or war?” The man asked.

For the second time, a painful silence struck the area. None dared to make the wrong move. None, except, of course, the stubborn king himself.

“I will have war.”

——

Raewyn Asha, ishalo ter ulma e ashada!: Raewyn Asha, let go of your weapon and turn around in Asyr (Language of the Ashas)

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