#I just would make a perfect little hobbit
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I just… this is perfect. I am obsessed with fourth age headcannons and theories. The interpersonal relationships and friendships between these characters are so special. I absolutely love Imagining how they would evolve and how their kids would interact.
I want to add a few ideas your post gave me:
Faramir Took would love to learn and expand his knowledge like his father and namesake alike, but he would also be the spiciest lionhearted hobbit - just like his father. There would be no foe too big for him, and he would train with the Rangers of Ithilien and the Knights of Gondor to hone his swordsmanship. Watching his son learn to fight would remind Pippin of learning from Boromir in Eriador. Later that night, Pippin would sit Faramir down and tell him all about his namesake’s brother and how Boromir saved his father’s life. Faramir would have heard this story many times before, but he would listen to it all again in rapt attention.
Elboron eagerly shares all his latest findings and pieces of knowledge with his dear friend from the time they are children - whether in person or in letters. Faramir looks forward to these exchanges more than almost anything even when it’s the most mundane of facts or theories that hold little interest for him. Elboron’s excitement is infectious. (I am simply ignoring the fact that it would take at minimum 3ish months to travel from The Shire to Ithilien, which would make it a six month process to get a response to a letter)
Both Elboron and Faramir would be treasured advisors to the other - Elboron leaning on Faramir when unsure if a situation calls for military action and needing reassurance that it is the correct decision, and Faramir leaning upon Elboron to temper his more impulsive nature.
The two fathers love nothing more than watching their boys play together and learn from each other. They sit together and reminisce on their younger and wilder days. Some days they one of them will get a far off look in their eyes and wonder aloud what Boromir’s children would be like. The other would sigh and say “would that he could share in these moments with us.” “He lives in us, and then in them, my friend,” the other would answer. For a long while they would both fall silent and gaze out towards the Falls of Rauros and Amon Hen.
Aragorn and Eldarion make a point to watch over all the children of Faramir and Pippin, promising them both to keep them out of trouble and keep them safe when their fathers pass, serving as a god father and older brother respectively. The task is a challenge, but they mostly succeed. Faramir takes to calling Aragorn Strider even when not appropriate, just as Pippin did. Elboron, while as quiet natured and scholarly as his father, also inherited his father's keen perception and ability to read people. With it, he inherited Faramir’s propensity for mischief and teasing - we saw Faramir in Ithilien with Frodo and Sam, he likes to mess with people. Rarely does it get him trouble, but every once in a while it lands him in a tight spot when he's a little to on the nose with his teasing or calls out the wrong noble for ill intent with no concrete proof other than vibes.
I have spent too much time thinking about these characters. I refuse to acknowledge how far apart they live, and I absolutely insist that they spend any time they can with each other even with canon distances.
Anyways, these were a blast to contemplate. Thank you for the inspiration!
Hey you know how Pippin and Diamond had a son and they named him Faramir? And then they introduced him to his namesake and he immediately gained the biggest uncle ever? And how Faramir and Elboron would pal around together and became close lifelong friends? And how Faramir and Elboron both took after their fathers, in that Elboron became a gentle scholar who helped restore lasting peace between Gondor and Harad and Faramir became the fightingest Thain Tuckborough had produced in generations and carried his father's sword and was known for leading the defense of the Evendim Road in the goblin skirmishes following the restoration of Annúminas? Okay so only the first line is actually canon but the rest is also canon
#lotr#lord of the rings#peregrin took#pippin#elboron#faramir#Faramir took#fourth age#lotr headcanons#tolkein#tolkienverse
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Little one, part I
You are Thranduil's adopted daughter and he loves you more than anything, even if you cause a lot of trouble sometimes.
A series that takes a peek into the life of Y/N, the adopted daughter of Thranduil and younger sister of Legolas.
Fandom: Tolkien - The Hobbit, Peter Jackson - The Hobbit movies Characters: reader (Y/N), Thranduil, Legolas, Thorin, Fili, Kili, Balin, Dwalin, Bofur (rest of the company mentioned) and Tauriel Warnings: none really Keywords: child!reader, parental fluff, Thorin's company needs to learn some manners I own nothing except my own writing.
You sneaked around the kingdom, trying to be as quiet as possible. You wanted to see the dwarves that your brother had found in the woods, the ones you were forbidden from seeing. So naturally, you wanted to see them even more. You had never seen a dwarf before, your father wouldn't allow you to, and you were curious. Were they truly so short that ada told them that they were? You sneaked down the stairs that you knew took you down to the dungeons, you knew that they whould be kept there.
This was the perfect night to do this, everyone was up, enjoying themselves, it was the feast of starlight. You had thought it was boring so you sneaked down, knowing that there whould be no guards down tonight. You had tried this before but you couldn't sneak down without being seen, so you just had stayed higher up, listening to them talking in their gruff, and low voices. But now, you made your way down, making sure that your steps were silent. You were a little nervous, your father had warned you about them many times, not to go close to them.
- - - -
Meanwhile, Thorin was sulking in his cell, cursing the elves in his head. He heard the light patter of feet, the stone made them more audible, and he got up, thinking it was one of the guards yet again. "What do you want?" He bellowed and marched to the door, ramming his hands against it and making it rattle, only to see that the hallway was empty. He frowned and looked around, not seeing anyone. "What are you doing, Thorin?" Balin's voice came from a few cells from the left and Thorin could swear he could hear someone snickering. "It's nothing, I thought I heard something." He grumbled and sank back down, resting his head against the stone wall when he saw someone walking on the stone path. "Hey!" He yelled and the figure jumped into the air and disappeared behind a corner.
- - - -
You were breathing heavily, having gotten spooked by the sudden yell. You were evening out your breath, a part of you wanting to run to your father or your brother, and let him comfort you, but most of you was too curious and you pushed the fear aside, peeking behind the corner yet again. There was so many of them, nearly all the cells were full. They were all at the gates, and they looked so ... funny. They were short, and all of them had some sort of beard. They were not fat, but they were a lot bulkier than you. You couldn't control your curiosity, you slowly inched closer. You were in the shadows, so none of them could see you, but you could see them clearly. Most of them looked quite scary, but some of them looked kind. You were so curious, your head full of questions. What did dwarf children do for fun? Was a beard itchy? Was it hard to fight when you were stocky? You just stood there, thinking about what you should do, when the same voice made you jump slightly but it didn't scare you away this time. You inched closer to the border between light and shadow, pondering what you would do. "I can see you standing there." The voice rang yet again, and you decided to step into the light, walking so you were in front of the cell. You stared at him, his hair was dark and the beard he had was short, and his face was a little stunned. You took a tiny step forward and tilted your head, not sure what to do next, your curiosity rising. You decided to see who was in the next cell, so you shifted to see what did that dwarf look like. He had a long white beard and nearly no hair at all. You looked from one to another, they looked so different, yet somehow similar. The latter smiled and leaned to the bars. "What are you doing here, little one?" His voice was gentle and you thought for a moment before you answered. "I wanted to see a dwarf. Ada wouldn't let me so I came on my own." You declared and looked around.
- - - -
The small elfling was talking with Balin, having moved on from Thorin, who kept a close eye on her. She was very young, and her hair was done half up and her eyes shone as she was watching Balin's every move. "What is your name?" The elfling didn't answer straight away but after a little while of pondering. "Y/N." She stated simply and shifted her feet. "What is yours?" She asked Balin, who answered her nearly instantly. "Balin." "That is a funny name." She giggled and Balin huffed. "I suppose." She shifted her weight to see who was at the next cell, only to be met with Dwalin's gruff voice. "What do you want, leave me alone." He banged the bars but the young elf didn't' even flinch, she just giggled and moved on, walking past a few cells before her steps halted. "I like your hat." She was standing in front of Bofur's cell, then. "Why, thank you little one." His voice was gentle, he was good with kids. "Can I ask you a question?" She was still standing in front of Bofur's cell, who answered her, a little hesitantly, but for nothing, because the question she asked was quite sweet. "What do dwarf children do for fun?" She was staring at Bofur with bright eyes, clearly wanting to know the answer. "Well, they play with wooden toys and they play tag and hide and seek and other games." Bofur listed, and she huffed. "Huh. So the same things as I do." She shrugged and pressed herself to the wall, and suddenly pushing herself off of it and jumping over the gap between the two stone paths that ran in front of the paths of the cells, landing on the other side with the agility of an elf. She jumped up to the candle holder and swung back and forth on it for a while before letting go and landing with steady feet, not wobbling at all. She turned to the dwarf that was in the cell that she was now next to.
- - - -
This cell had a young looking dwarf in it with light brown beard and hair. "Can you say something in dwarvish? I would like to hear some of it, ada always says it sounds funny." The dwarf stared at me for a moment but did indeed say a sentence in dwarvish. You giggled. "It sounds like you have a sore throat but you still want to speak." You tilted your head. "But I kind of like it. It's different, but not as horrible as ada described it as." "Who is this ada you talk about?" Another dwarf, this one with dark hair and the smallest of all the beards, was looking at you. He had warm, brown eyes that reminded you of your father's elk. "Ada is my father, it's just funny to call him father when there is a shorter and more convenient word to it." "Your father doesn't sound very pleasant," Thorin growled from his cell, and you turned to him. "No! He is the best. But he might get a little boring sometimes, he doesn't allow me to do many of things, such as..." "Visit the dungeons alone?" You froze at the sound of your father's voice but turned around to face him. "Hi, ada." You greeted him with a quiet voice, knowing that he would be angry. Thranduil stared at you for a moment and the dwarves were silent, observing the situation and settling with the thought that you were the daughter of the king, the king that they hated. You were looking at the ground, not wanting to look at his face, you couldn't see the disappointment in his eyes. Suddenly, you felt hands around you as Thranduil picked you up and hugged you to his chest tightly, taking long breaths. "Y/N, I was so worried, I was sure that a spider had eaten you." You buried your head to his chest, muttering out words as you clutched his robes in your hands. "I'm sorry ada, I just really wanted to see the dwarves." - - - -
"Ada, I searched everywhere, I don't understand where she..." Your brother had arrived, speaking with a nervous tone until he saw you. "Where did you find her?" Thranduil handed you to him, and you wrapped your hands around his neck as you clung to him now. "She was down here, talking with the dwarves," Thranduil answered, sounding a little bit displeased and you shrunk down into Legolas's chest. "Talking with the dwarves, why whould you do that Y/N?" He asked you and you lifted your head from his chest. "I was curious, you whould never let me go down there so I went alone. And the party was boring." Your father just huffed, and took you from Legolas, heading downstairs. "This elloth is going to get a bath and then go straight to bed." "Noooo!" You squealed and went totally limp in his arms and slipped off and ran back towards the cells. "Y/N." Your father's voice was calm, but it had a slightly sharp edge to it as he looked at you. "I am not in the mood for games." You smiled miscefiously and shifted your weight from one leg to another. "Thats too bad, because I am." You stormed over to the path in front of the cells. "Y/N, please. Let's go. I'll read you a story afterward." Your brother tried, slowly inching to his left. But your mind was set, and you weren't about to change it. "No." You stomped your leg to the ground.
The next thing you noticed was that your father was at the other end of the path, and your brother was at the other. "What to do now?" You pondered, and as they moved towards you, you allowed your shoulders to slump. "Let's go and end this foolishness." Your father approached you and you let your head sink down. "Okay." But just as he was going to grab you, you jumped up as hard as you could and grabbed the edge of the path that was running above. You hoisted yourself up, and peeked over the edge, smiling yet again. "Did you really think that I would come that easily?" You didn't wait for the answer, you got up and ran off, giggling, leaving Thranduil and Legolas shaking their heads. They made their way up after you with small smiles on their faces
****
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I think I was supposed to be a hobbit
#I like to cook and write and lie in the sun#I just would make a perfect little hobbit#my body was made for the shire#bilbo baggins#the hobbit#my art
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I’m currently listening to Maren Uthaug’s book 11% about a world where most men have died. I should probably wait until I’ve finished the book but I’m so fascinated by the world building.
As of now it’s still unclear why the men died but when the story takes place there’s a mix of older women who fucking hates men and young women who have only met drugged up men at “breeding centers” and imagine “males” as violent boogeymen but otherwise don’t really care and just want to live in the new seemingly perfect society their grandmothers fought for. The only people who still fight for men’s rights are witches who believe masculine energies are as natural and Of Nature as feminine energies, but even they sound more like animal rights activists, standing outside breeding centers with signs every Friday. Their most provocative sign is a picture of a man with Human written on it.
Christianity has been completely transformed and is now run by priests (they don’t call themselves priestess) who can only hold ceremonies when they have their periods and snakes are their most sacred symbol because they gave knowledge to Eva and God is called The Mother.
Trans men exist but are referred to as Man Women and they all seem to be sex workers who have functional silicone penises, though I’m not far enough into the story to know if they have other jobs. They generally also still have breasts because working as a wet nurse is another source of income for them. Testosterone treatments is not an option because it would make them too masculine and dangerous to be allowed into society but they all have male names and everyone use male pronouns for them.
A really fascinating aspect of the world is how people want to get rid of the old “patriarchal architecture” of straight lines and boxes but refuse to tear it down with machines, instead insisting on letting Mother Nature reclaim it. Only Rat Girls are actively trying to destroy the old buildings by releasing hoards of rats into them and planting bamboo to break up the concrete. New buildings have round shapes and are build in ways that make them blend in with cultivated nature and inside they’re painting in beautiful colors with no hard edges. They sound a lot like colorful hobbit homes. Also, locks are considered uncivilized and of a time when violent men roamed the earth and made life unsafe so nothing, from front doors to bathrooms, have locks. For a while after most men died women would go for Night Walks to relish in the fact that they no longer had to be afraid, though they liked to visit the witches at night because it felt a little spooky, which the witches thought was good fun.
The story is naturally about a middle aged witch who is hiding a young boy illegally and gets milk from one of the trans men in the red district while also sleeping with a Christian priest who struggles with her sacred job because her periods are irregular.
I’ll come back with follow up thoughts once I’ve finished it. Unlike what you might think, Maren Uthau isn’t a scary man hater. I’ve listened to most of her other books and this isn’t a recurring trope so clearly she has something to say specifically with this story and it’s rated pretty highly by both male and female readers. I think I’m in for quite the ride.
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Jack & Coke - Eddie Munson x Reader
Collaboration with my darling @munson-blurbs
Summary: When your best friend Eddie betrays you, you head to The Hideout for a drink—and maybe something more.
Note: This is what comes from late night conversations and texts that say “I had another angsty eddie thought.”
Warnings: angst, family issues, smut, p in v, age gap but both parties are well over 18, oral, m receiving
Words: 4.8k
“And then you put your middle finger riiiiight here,” Eddie explains patiently, tongue slightly poking out of his mouth as he adjusts your grip on the guitar neck. “Perfect. Now, give a little strum.”
The A-chord doesn’t sound as good as when he plays it, but it’s an improvement since you’d started this impromptu lesson half an hour ago.The fact that butterflies flapped their wings in your stomach every time he touched you didn’t help your concentration, either.
“I still like it better when you play,” you tell him shyly, lifting the guitar and handing it back to him. “You’re, like, a natural-born rockstar.”
Eddie grins, leaning back against your bed. “Yeah, well, you can’t teach this kind of bad-assery,” he teases, booping you on the nose playfully and inadvertently sending a shockwave of shivers down your spine.
You’re about to muster up the courage to nudge him back when you hear the front door open.
“I’m home!” Andrea shouts obnoxiously, making you roll your eyes. You miss the initial flash of fear that washes over your best friend’s face, mistaking his grimace for a mutual dislike of your older sister.
You know that everyone has issues with their siblings; even ones that are close-knit still have their share of rivalries. But your relationship with Andrea goes beyond the usual bickering. Since you were very young, Andrea has bullied and tormented you incessantly. As kids, Andrea would break her old toys and tell your parents that you did it, that way they would buy her newer and better toys. From the moment that Andrea hit puberty, she was the “hot one.” Never mind not being the “pretty sister,” you had to deal with being invisible because all eyes were glued to Andrea. Then you practically were invisible when you started high school and Andrea pretended she didn’t even know you. It didn’t matter that you’d never ratted her out for all the times she snuck out of the house after your parents went to sleep. But any little thing you did wrong, Andrea went straight to your parents and snitched. It probably wouldn’t have mattered if you squealed on your sister anyway since she was quite obviously your parents’ favorite.
When boys did talk to you, it was because they wanted to get to your sister. Some of them thought treating the little sister as a charity case would get them into Andrea’s pants. The only time it was ever different was when Eddie Munson started talking to you your freshman year. He plopped down next to you at your lunch table and started talking to you about the copy of The Hobbit you had been reading. At first you thought this was another ploy to get to Andrea through you, but the longer he talked about things far nerdier than the book in your hands, you figured this guy might actually just want to talk to you. It was an odd and gratifying feeling. The first time you’d mentioned that you were Andrea’s sister, Eddie actually seemed surprised. “You two share blood?” he said. “She’s a goddamn tornado that destroys everything in its path. And you…you’re like a rainbow.” It’s the greatest compliment you’ve ever gotten.
As your friendship with Eddie grew, you began to tell him more about how Andrea treated you. How she’d hurl the meanest, most vile words your way with no provocation. You didn’t need to provoke Andrea, she was constantly on the offensive. “Why does she treat me like shit all the time?” you’d ask, and Eddie would reply, “She doesn’t need a reason. There’s just venom in her blood.”
Andrea was the walking embodiment of those luminescent fish that were so beautiful and shiny on the outside, only to lure the smaller, weaker fish in so that it could crush them. Her jet black hair was always shiny and never a strand was out of place. No blemish ever dared to appear on her skin, leaving her with the smoothest, most glowing complexion. Her curves seemed to be perfectly sculpted, defying anyone to not look at her and either want to be her or want to be with her. Obviously, it was impossible for you to keep up with her current flavor of the week.
“Are you going to play for me?” you ask as Eddie just sits with the guitar in his lap. You scoot until your thigh is pressed up against his. It would be so easy to tilt your head and rest it on his shoulder. The comforting scent of cigarettes, Old Spice deodorant, and a hint of weed floods your senses as you try to be as close to him as you can—without being creepy about it, you remind yourself.
“I, um,” Eddie mumbles, his eyes watching your bedroom door intently. “I thought you said your sister wasn’t going to be home?”
“I didn’t think she was,” you say with a shrug. “But you know Andrea, she does whatever the hell she wants. Maybe she met her quota for making children cry today and decided to come home early.”
Eddie nods and looks back down to the guitar in his lap. He swallows so loud that you’re able to hear it, which has you raising your eyebrows.
“Look, I know she’s demonic,” you say. “But she probably doesn’t even know we’re in here. Besides, if she was going to torture someone, it would be me, not you.”
“I don’t want her to hurt you. I’d rather she hurt me, actually,” Eddie says, still looking down at the guitar in his lap. More words rest on the tip of his tongue, but the bedroom door flying open stops him.
“I said, I’m—oh, hi, Eddie,” she trills, giving a tiny wave. “Come back for round two?”
Round two? You glance over at Eddie, waiting for an explanation, but he just turns beet red and sheepishly drops his gaze.
Andrea takes in the puzzled look on your face and laughs harshly. “Aw, did your best friend not tell you?” There’s nothing but malice in her tone, and you feel like a rock landed in your lower abdomen. “Well, let me fill you in.”
“N-No, I should…” Eddie starts, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “I swung by yesterday…I forgot you’d picked up that extra shift…”
Andrea rolls her eyes impatiently. “Write a goddamn novel, why don’t you?” she snaps. “I’ll summarize: you weren’t home, I was, and Eddie and I hooked up.”
“H-Hooked up?” The butterflies now have lead wings, and you feel the bile rising in your throat.
“We slept together,” Eddie clarifies softly at the same time that Andrea quips, “we fucked.”
You try to blink back the tears that mist over your eyes. Your sister knows how you feel about Eddie; you weren’t naïve enough to tell her, she snooped through your diary and has been teasing you about it ever since. And while Eddie has no idea about the massive crush you’ve been harboring, he certainly is aware of how awful your sister is. His betrayal stings one thousand times worse.
“Your bed is really great for sex,” Andrea sneers as you stumble to your feet. “Not that you’d know.”
This has to be a nightmare. You’re going to wake up at any moment, and the idea of Eddie and Andrea sleeping together will be a figment of your overactive imagination. It has to be, there’s no other explanation. But when you glance down at Eddie and see the shame that fills his face, you know. It’s real. Your best friend betrayed you in possibly the worst way he could have done so. All to get his dick wet.
“What the fuck?” It’s all that you can get out of your mouth. You suddenly feel like you’ve run ten miles. You’re lightheaded, your pulse is racing, and sweat is beginning to break out along your hairline. Eddie sets the guitar down and stands up. He reaches for you and you flinch away and pull back from him. The look of hurt that flashes in his eyes would normally make you want to wrap him up in your arms. But now? Now that you know that he fucked your sister in your bed, you don’t want him to ever touch you again.
“Sweetheart, I’m—”
“Don’t you fucking call me that,” you snap. Looking past him, you can see your sister’s face is full of glee as a self-satisfied smirk settles on her lips. “What was in it for you, huh? Just to hurt me?”
Andrea scoffs and brings a hand up to her chest, reminding you of a southern belle clutching her pearls. “Are you insinuating that I don’t have feelings for dear Edward?”
Eddie rolls his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. Yeah, Eddie, you want to say, that’s the girl you slept with.
“I would never insinuate that you have any feelings at all. Pretty sure you were born with a lump of coal in your chest instead of a heart. Come here, I’ll stab you with my letter opener and we’ll see the black blood come fucking rushing out,” you seethe.
“Always so dramatic,” Andrea says with a sigh. “That must be why Eddie doesn’t reciprocate the silly little crush you have on him.”
Eddie’s eyes snap to you, and at any other time, you would’ve said him finding out is the worst possible thing to happen to you. But that’s been usurped now, so you really don’t care how he’s going to react.
“Must be,” you retort, “or maybe he’s only into psycho bitches.” Clenching your fists, you turn to face Eddie. “I hope her pussy was worth it.” You storm over to your bedroom door, pushing past the both of them. Before you leave, you spin around to face the traitors. “I never want to see either of you again.” You don’t wait for either to respond; you just grab your bag and rush out to your car.
You’re not sure why you drive to the Hideout; maybe it’s because you still want the comfort of Eddie, but you tell yourself it’s because the drinks are cheap and payday isn’t until next week.
“I’ll take a Jack & Coke, please,” you tell Lou. The bartender nods, and you add, “you can put it on Eddie’s tab.” He is the reason you’re drinking, after all.
The thought of their bodies melded into one, him holding her the way you’d only dreamed he’d hold you—it’s too much to bear. And now, like an idiot, you’d left them alone to do it again.
Lou slides your drink over with a small smile, the most affection you’ve ever seen from the usually stoic man. You down the drink, and then another, frowning when you get the urge to break the seal.
“Be right back,” you mutter to no one in particular, hoisting yourself off of the barstool and traipsing towards the restroom. You get a decent glimpse of yourself in the mirror: eyes still slightly puffy from when you’d been crying in the car, mascara smudged and smeared. A flick of the makeup wand has you looking a bit perkier already, and you practice your smile a few times before walking back out.
Lou has another drink ready for you, cocking his head towards the other side of the bar. “Paid for by that gentleman over there,” he informs you, raising his eyebrows.
You look to where he’s motioning and see a gorgeous older man giving you a little wave. His black t-shirt clings to his muscular frame, and you can’t help but notice the way his biceps ripple with each small movement. He looks to be in his mid- to late-forties, but his hair doesn’t show any signs of thinning. Short brown curls cover his scalp, cropped closely at the base of his neck. His upper body is covered in tattoos, and you immediately wonder where else he has ink.
You saunter over to him, batting your eyelashes flirtatiously, just as you’d watched Andrea do countless times before. “I guess I should be thanking you for this drink,” you say, giggling and taking a sip.
“Pleasure’s mine,” he offers, grabbing his green Heineken bottle and taking a swig. “Looked kinda sad, and pretty girls should always have a smile on their face.”
“It worked.” You rest your hand on his bicep, surprising yourself with your own brazenness. Or maybe it’s just tipsiness?
“You gotta name, pretty girl?” the mystery man asks, and you tell him. “Pretty name, too. Damn,” he muses. “I’m Jack. Just, uh, moved back to Hawkins a coupla days ago.”
“Moved back? So you don’t need the welcome tour?” you pout, earning a chuckle from him.
“Pretty girl, I’ll take you up on anything you offer.”
You consider his proposition. “Let me finish this drink and we’ll see.”
His hand rests on your thigh as he tells you that he’s got a job lined up at the local power plant—immediately reminding you of Wayne, but you push the feeling down. You allow yourself to get lost in his sky blue eyes, somehow both haunting and comforting.
You kill out your third drink, contemplating ordering one more. Either Jack was paying, or Eddie was, so all you had to worry about was how drunk you wanted to get.
“What had you all upset earlier, hm?” Jack asks, running his thumb along the denim above your knee. “Don’t tell me it’s some stupid boy.”
“Fine, I won’t tell you then.” You giggle again—you can’t seem to stop giggling around him. “He’s not worth the time.”
Jack shakes his head. “He’s not. You don’t need to play his games. What you need,” he says seriously, “is a real man.”
“And where can I find one?”
His lips crash against yours hungrily, gently parting them with his tongue. He tastes like the hoppiness of beer and stale cigarettes, but you don’t mind.
“That tour you mentioned earlier,” he murmurs in your ear, “can the first stop be my place?”
You give him a pout, leaning forward into his space, just enough for him to get a peek down your shirt. “I don’t know if I can wait that long.”
Jack looks around the bar, doing a doubletake when he sees the bathrooms in the back corner. He slides from his seat and takes one of your hands in his. There’s a smirk on his face as he walks backwards towards the bathrooms, tugging you along.
“Just as impatient as I am,” he says. “We shouldn’t wait any longer then.”
Without taking notice of if it’s the men or women’s room, you follow Jack in as he nudges a bathroom door open with his elbow. He’s quick to lock it behind you and his hands are instantly on you, grabbing at your waist as his mouth finds yours again. The kisses are urgent and sloppy, no teasing, just devouring one another. Your hands move down to his beltbuckle, making quick work of it and working on the button of his jeans. Strong, large hands grope over your chest as you shove his pants down, but just as you break from the kiss to get down on your knees, there’s a loud banging on the bathroom door. You’re startled and grab onto Jack’s arm, and he’s quick to wrap it around you reassuringly.
“Not in my bar!” Lou shouts through the door.
Well, you think, can’t show my face at The Hideout again. Your face is burning in embarrassment as Jack huffs an awkward chuckle and resituates his belt.
“I guess my place is the first stop on the tour then. That is, if you still want to?” Jack’s eyes meet yours, obviously wanting to convey that if you’re no longer interested, that’s fine. But a little embarrassment was nothing compared to how you felt earlier in the day.
“I want to,” you say. For emphasis, you grab the back of his neck and give him a kiss that proves how much you want him. When you pull away, there’s a dazed smile on his face that may be the most endearing thing you’ve seen all day. He takes your hand in his and slowly opens the bathroom door. Luckily, Lou isn’t standing on the other side of it, but you’re sure he’s not far off, watching to make sure the two of you leave.
You force yourself not to look over at the bar as you and Jack head towards the door. It’s not like you think the bartender will tell anyone, but you can’t bring yourself to meet his eye at the moment. Jack’s car isn’t the nicest, but that’s not something you ever cared about anyway. If it gets you from point A to point B, that’s all that matters. The gentleman that he is, he holds the passenger’s side door open for you and you slip inside. He practically runs around to the driver’s side and it makes you let out a soft giggle. When’s the last time someone seemed this eager to spend time with you? And seem to be genuinely enjoying it?
The ride to his place is only about five minutes, and Jack makes sure you stay in the car until he can come around and open the door for you again. The apartment complex isn’t the nicest either, but what was in Hawkins? His place is on the first floor and you watch his hands as he fumbles with his keys. They’re large, calloused, from what you can only assume is years of work. Staring at them just makes you want to have them all over your body even more.
As soon as he swings the door open, he’s all over you again. Frantic kisses keep his lips connected to yours as the two of you clumsily make your way to his couch. The material is worn, but not dirty, and you find yourself once again fumbling with his belt as he sits on the cushions.
“Picking up where we left off?” Jack teases, throwing his head back in ecstasy as you get back on your knees and take him into your mouth. The saltiness of sweat and pre-cum hits your tongue, his cock edging towards your throat when he brings his hands to the back of your head and helping you find the perfect rhythm.
“J-Jesus Christ,” he hisses, bucking his hips slightly and watching the tears involuntarily pooling along your lash line. “First time back in that dive bar in years, and I managed to find the girl who gives the best head in Hawkins.”
As if to prove his point further, you cup his heavy balls as you lick up and down his shaft. You keep at it for a few minutes, swirling your tongue around his overly sensitive tip before he pulls away.
“You’re good–too good; but ‘m not gonna lie to you,” he admits when you stare up at him with a puzzled expression, “I don’t bounce back as fast as those college guys you’re probably used to, and I gotta be inside your pussy tonight.”
You nod, tugging your shirt above your head as he helps you shimmy out of your jeans. “Like what you see?”
Jack doesn’t answer right away; just unhooks your bra and watches it fall to the floor. His gaze immediately snaps back to your bare breasts, beckoning you over to straddle his waist. His hard length presses against your lace panties, and the two of you moan in tandem.
“I don’t think you need these,” he mumbles, running his thumb over the lace before tearing them off completely. His middle finger easily finds your clit as he makes slow, deliberate circles.
You can’t help the way you grind against his touch, begging him to stretch you so good. The finger drags through your folds before he slips it inside you.
“So wet already, hmm? Pretty girl must need another finger.” You cry out in pleasure as his forefinger breaches your hole, pumping faster until you feel the familiar tension building in your core.
“N-Need your cock inside me,” you manage, barely able to formulate a thought, let alone a coherent sentence.
He reaches into the pockets of the pants he discarded and fishes out his wallet to grab the foil-wrapped condom tucked away. Your eyes watch hungrily as he slips it over his cock, fucking his fist a few times to make sure he’s ready for you. His other hand grabs your waist and helps guide you until you’re hovering over his cock. Slowly, you begin to slide down, both of you letting out a groan as he first enters you. The stretch feels so good and from the way Jack’s squeezing his eyes closed and biting at his lower lip, you’d say it feels good for him as well.
“Shit,” he mumbles. “Gives the best head and has the tightest pussy.”
Your only response is a whimper as you lower yourself even further, letting more of his cock fill you up. Once you no longer need your arms to steady yourself, you brace your hands on Jack’s chest. When your hands meet the fabric of his shirt though, you frown. Unable to form words as he finally bottoms out inside you, you tug at the dark material of his shirt, hoping he gets the hint. Reluctantly taking his hands off of you, he maneuvers out of his shirt and tosses it on the floor with his jeans. Most of his chest is covered in ink and you find your eyes trailing the different designs as you rock your hips back and forth. You slide your hands down to rest on his abdomen, since there’s no tattoos there, and you can get a better view of the artwork above. A snake is curled near his right collarbone and a little beneath that there are some sort of wings, but you’re not sure if it’s meant to be an angel, a bird, or something else. On the left side of his chest there is a bird, and it looks like a crow. There’s also a small “E” down near his heart that you can only assume is for an old girlfriend.
Jack starts rocking his hips up to meet yours and it has your mind completely forgetting about the tattoos as you close your eyes in pleasure. His hands feel rough where they rest on the skin of your waist, but it feels so good when he slides them around to the front and grabs your breasts. You give a particularly hard thrust of your hips when his thumb grazes over your right nipple. There’s a breathy chuckle below you as he sees how sensitive you are to his touch.
“Feel good, huh?” Jack asks. Breaths becoming more shallow, you nod your head. That’s not good enough for him, though. He gently pinches your nipple, just enough to get your attention, not enough to hurt. “Use your words for me, pretty girl.”
“It’s good,” you say. “So fucking good.”
“Tell me how it feels.”
“So deep,” you say through a moan. “You’re so big. I feel you everywhere.” It’s true. He’s definitely the largest you’ve ever been with, and in your position, it feels like he’s splitting you open. His arm wraps around your middle as he adjusts himself so he’s sitting up more, your faces closer together this way. As your eyes slip closed again, his lips settle on yours, licking into your mouth hungrily. His teeth graze your bottom lip and it causes you to moan into his mouth.
“You’re close,” he says. It’s not a question, but a bonafide statement; he already knows your body all too well. “Cream my cock, pretty girl. Just let go f’me.”
The coil snaps as he thrusts into you harder and faster than before. He spills into the condom with a groan of your name but doesn’t pull out right away. You keep him inside you as the two of you catch your breath, coming down from your highs.
“I should go,” you murmur, realizing that there is no way in hell that Andrea won’t rat you out for coming in late and smelling of sex. “Could you give me a lift back to the Hideout so I can get my car?”
Jack nods, discarding the used rubber in a nearby waste bin as you get dressed. You start to look for your underwear before remembering how he destroyed it, and it has you getting wet all over again.
He kisses you one last time in the bar parking lot. “Sorry I couldn’t stick around for round two,” you tease, “but maybe I’ll catch you here another time?”
“I sure fuckin’ hope so.”
You’re in your bedroom a few days later, frantically searching through your cassette collection for your favorite AC/DC tape. It’s not in the “As” section, where it would normally be, and you realize with a sinking feeling in your stomach that you’d left it at Eddie’s a few weeks ago.
“Shit, shit, shit,” you mutter. He was the only one allowed to borrow it–you’d gotten it signed by Angus Young when you saw the band in concert, and it meant everything to you. You needed it back.
The drive to Eddie’s trailer seems to fly by, now that you’re dreading facing him. You knock on the door once to no answer, but his van is parked in front, so you knock again, louder this time.
“I need my AC/DC tape,” you snarl as soon as he opens the door.
He rubs his face, combing his fingers through his hair. “Can I drop it off later? And then maybe we can talk?” he asks meekly.
“No.” You shake your head and put out your hand. “Go get the tape and give it to me now.”
Eddie glances around the trailer nervously, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Look,” he starts, “now’s really not a good time…”
You scoff. “Why? Are you fucking another one of my family members? A cousin or something?”
A brief look of hurt flashes across Eddie’s face. He shakes his head and looks down at his feet before meeting your eyes again. “No. No, I wouldn’t…” he trails off with a sigh, sensing it’s useless—and he’s right. “My dad’s here.”
That’s one of the last things you expected to come out of his mouth. Your eyebrows raise in shock as you stare at him. Eddie hadn’t seen his father in years. Didn’t want to, according to him, no matter how many times his dad reached out. The relationship was tumultuous to say the least, but you felt you never had the right to offer any advice since you couldn’t relate to his situation. And Eddie never asked, so you weren’t going to say anything.
“Your dad?” you ask, just wanting to clarify.
“Yeah,” Eddie says. He keeps speaking, but movement in the trailer behind him catches your eye. You blink a few times to make sure you’re seeing what you think you are. An airy giggle bursts out of you, drawing both the attention of Eddie and the man in the living room—Eddie’s father, apparently.
“What?” Eddie asks, brow furrowing in confusion. He looks behind him to see his dad, then back to you, unsure of what is making you laugh. “What’s so funny?”
Eddie’s dad stares at you, eyes widening as he comes forward to stand next to his son at the door. The shit-eating grin on your face must be confusing both of them, but it’s wholly impossible for you not to find this whole situation highly amusing.
“Eddie?” his dad asks. “How do you know the pretty girl from the bar?”
Your ex-best friend’s gaze shoots to his father, head moving so fast that the curls whip around his head. Seeing them next to one another, you can see the resemblance. About the same height and build, same nose, and both covered in ink. Their curls are roughly the same color even if one has brown eyes and one has blue.
“W-What?” Eddie asks, looking from his dad back to you.
“Hi, Jack,” you say, giving the older man a wink.
“Wait, what the fuck?” Eddie asks, the color draining from his face. You wait a beat while the realization sets in. “She’s…he’s…” He turns back to you. “You fucked my dad?”
You laugh, shrugging as you reply, “Guess so.” You waltz past your bewildered friend–ex-friend– grabbing Jack’s hand as you lead him back to Eddie's bedroom.
“Wanna help me look for my tape?” you ask, hooking a finger through his belt loop and you bring your lips to whisper in his ear, “and maybe we can see about that round two?”
Jack grins, grabbing a handful of your ass as he follows you. “Looks like we found the next stop on our tour.”
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson fan fiction#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fanfic
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Jumbled - Kíli Durin x Reader
A proper, full-length fic featuring our favorite little brother! I'm not the most proud of this but it's finished and I think I should put it out there. No one requested this, but it's to tide you over until I put the finishing touches on the last few requests :)
Word count: 1.6k
Warnings: a lot of being oblivious and dumb, but other than that we're good.
There were no words to describe Kíli Durin. That's what you were thinking as the top of your quill lightly brushed your bottom lip, gazing out the inn's drawing room window. This was the last town you would all stop in for a long while, and those of you with families had made the choice to write letters to your families back home as quickly as possible. You told them how you were doing, that you were tired but making progress and eating well, and keeping good company among thirteen dwarves and a hobbit.
You told them a bit about Bilbo and his odd little ways that you found quite endearing, if not annoying at times, and about Glóin, and his unabashed love and pride in his family. You told them about the golden-haired Prince Fíli, who was always a gentleman and had fast become your friend. You told them how Thorin was usually a big grump, but you had seen evidence from time to time, usually in relation to Bilbo, that it was all just a front. But the one dwarf you wanted to tell them about, you found yourself tongue—er, pen-tied over.
There were no right words to describe how you felt about Kíli Durin. Perfect wouldn't really do him justice, with his uneven bangs and his dazzling lopsided smile and stubbly beard that he cursed to the end of his days. Neither would ethereal, with the way his scent of pine sap and the feel of the callouses on his hands were so very grounded and real. Princely didn't fit his flippant attitude and his unceasing laugh and his never-ending jokes that had your lungs cramping at times.
Perhaps the real problem was that there wasn't enough paper.
You sent the letter off without writing exactly what you wanted about the soon-to-be prince of Erebor, save for his best wishes to any female member of your household. He didn't think you would write it down, but there was just enough room for a postscript. That would show him.
And before you knew it, you were on your way again. You readjusted your pack on your shoulders as Fíli dropped back to walk beside you. "I don't suppose you confessed your undying love in that letter by any chance?"
You blushed and nudged him with your elbow, too untrusting of your own balance to attempt kicking him. "Do you have to be so loud?"
"I can assure you it's all lost in the thunderous stomping, my friend," he smiled. "But that's probably for the best. Better for the object of your affections to know first, don't you think?"
"Stop trying to push it, Fíli," you groaned. "I already feel horrible for avoiding him for so long. I just... I can't be normal around him anymore, I—I don't know how to get the words out. This is all... so weird."
Fíli gave you a pointed glance. "If you're worried about him rejecting you, there's no way in all of Arda."
"Is that verified intelligence?"
"I'm his brother."
"Fair enough. I'll try."
"Tonight?"
"...Soon."
You didn't even have to approach the prince that evening, as he sought you out to have supper with. "Hello," you said with a nervous smile, scooting to make sure there was plenty of room for him on the log you had claimed. I hope he doesn't think I'm trying to get away from him.
"Hey," he returned a bright grin. "I just figured I'd better take my chance to spend some time with you while I can. We never seem to be near each other anymore."
"Hah, yeah," you answered awkwardly. "Sorry about that."
"Have you been avoiding me?" He asked, suddenly serious.
"What?" You asked with wide eyes, horrified. You looked to Fíli, sitting just a few yards away, and he gave you a look that said, just tell him.
"No—no, I wasn't trying to avoid you at all, it's just, you see, well—" gods you were a mess—you sighed. "I just realized, fairly recently, that I'm... in love, and it's made it hard to focus. I'm sorry if I was avoiding you."
That was a terrible confession by any standard.
Rather than looking relieved or hopeful, Kíli looked... pained. Almost angry, and Kíli was never angry. "Oh. I'm happy for you," he said flatly, before picking up his stew and heading elsewhere. He took a seat near Dwalin and Thorin, silently listening to their intense conversation.
You gave a desperate look to Fíli again, and he just shrugged. "I'll try to talk to him," he mouthed, and you nodded in gratitude.
You spent the rest of the evening in silence.
You loved Fíli. Of course, you loved Fíli, Kíli thought as he wandered the outskirts of camp, kicking a rock from one boot to another. Just one look at the two of them could have predicted that clearly enough. He was tall but broad, properly muscular for a dwarf. He had thick, curly hair and enough braids to make Thorin jealous. He had a full beard. He forged enough knives to supply an army and carried half of them on his person.
What did Kíli have compared to that? Bangs he had cut for himself on impulse so that people would have something else to look at instead of his pathetic excuse for a beard? A small game bow that was useless when anything came up close? A sword that he needed help to make?
There was no contest, really. Even if Fíli was engaged, what would that do to stop anyone from seeing his merits?
"You're sure he didn't say anything? Didn't make any significant noises or... grunts or anything?" You asked, on the verge of tears. It had been three days since your terrible confession, and Kíli hadn't so much as glanced your way.
"Nothing. He hasn't said anything to me since, either," Fíli said dejectedly.
There were only two explanations: he had horribly misunderstood you, or he knew you were in love with him and was so disgusted by the concept that he decided to avoid you entirely. As foolish as it was, you were inclined to believe the latter.
"What about what I said would make him hate me?" You murmured.
"Hey now, he may be giving you the cold shoulder, but he does not hate you. Kíli's not like that. You'd have to do something terrible, like... kill me, to get him to hate you," Fíli assured you.
That drew a short laugh from you, and you rubbed your nose on the back of your hand. "I hope you're right," you sighed. "I just wish he would at least look at me."
That night, like the previous two, you sat away from the fire, holding your soup close to your body to stay warm, despite Balin's many good-natured attempts to get you to join them. If Kíli didn't want to be near you, you wouldn't force him.
It was still light out when you decided to lay out your bedroll for the evening, the sun just starting to dip behind the trees. Apparently Thorin had decided you all needed the extra rest.
You glanced up at the sound of footsteps, and your eyes were met with boots. Kíli's boots. "Kíli!" You said, surprising yourself with how... shocked your voice was.
"Are you alright?" He asked, and though he sounded concerned, there was a hardness to his eyes. "People who are in love don't normally appear so sad."
"Well, they do when the object of their affections makes it so clear that they are not interested," you replied glumly. "You don't have to pretend—"
He made a frustrated sort of huff, and you looked up at him in confusion. He had never made a sound like that. "I am sorry for your heartbreak, but forgive me if it frustrates me as well. It is clear to all the world by his disposition, his words, and most importantly, his braids, that my brother is taken. He has promised himself in marriage to a dam he loves, and there is nothing my brother is if not loyal. And I can understand his appeal, but have I not also been a friend? Have I not also tried to be kind and—and charming and gentlemanly and make you laugh? I am not my brother but I would like to think I have my own merits so why are you lovesick over him when I am right here?"
You gazed at him with wide eyes, a smile breaking across your face. "You... think that I love your brother?"
Kíli's brow furrowed. "Why are you smiling like that?"
"Fíli! Kíli has declared me hopelessly in love with you!" You shouted, and the golden prince unceremoniously spat out a spray of his soup, narrowly missing Nori.
By this time you were full-out laughing, and everyone in the company was staring at you, especially Thorin.
"Will you please tell me what's going on?" Kíli asked, all the hardness having vanished from his eyes.
"Kíli, I may have been... fantastically terrible at saying this, and I'm sorry for that, but I was trying to say that I'm in love with you," you explained, taking his hands.
"You're... in love with me?" He breathed hopefully.
"I love you, Kíli, and if your recent outburst was any indication, I'm feeling very optimistic about my chances of you loving me as well," you confirmed.
"But—but I'm short and uncouth and—and I can't grow a proper beard—"
"You were just touting your many good qualities, and I agree with those more," you teased.
"You love me?"
"Yes."
"I love you too," he finally admitted. "May I kiss you?"
"You may."
#lotr fanfic#lotr#lotr fandom#the hobbit#lotr headcanons#the hobbit headcanons#the hobbit x reader#kili x reader#kili durin x reader#prince kili x reader#kili durin#kíli durin x reader#kíli durin
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Unwanted: Chapter 1, Unarmed - Pt. 2
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader
Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.
Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Mild language, Bucky and Reader being Tolkien nerds, light fluff, mention of rabies (it's a super scary disease and we should all be vigilant, okay?!)
Word Count: 1.6k
Previously On...: You just had the pleasure of meeting the very handsome Bucky Barnes. Despite a little bit of awkwardness during your first encounter, you have a feeling your life is about to get a lot more interesting now that he's been introduced into it.
A/N: You know what? I said I wasn't going to do this, but I thought "fuck it!" and decided to post all of Chapter 1: Unarmed. My anxiety is too high to just sit on it. So, please enjoy Ch1. Pt2! Pts 3 & 4 to follow!
Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917
Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @blackhawkfanatic
The next evening, you were making your way back to your suite after a productive, albeit exhausting, day in your lab. You were working on a crisis prediction real-time monitoring system to anticipate global threats. You were convinced it would allow the Avengers to respond to trouble faster, but perfecting the privacy algorithm had been an absolute pain in the ass, and you still hadn't gotten it quite right. Technically, you could have farmed the project off to a subordinate; hell, even a team of subordinates of a subordinate, but this was one of your pet projects and you insisted on being hands-on in its development.
You had your tablet open as you walked, chewing on your thumb and reviewing the dataset from the run of your latest algorithm model one more time. Closer, but not good enough. If you were going to convince Tony that this was a program worth implementing, especially at its projected cost, everything had to be perfect. "Damn it," you muttered to yourself.
You rounded the corner and ran smack into Bucky's chest, dropping your tablet and causing him to drop the three books he'd been holding under his remaining arm. "Oh, shit-- I'm so sorry," you uttered as you bent down to retrieve the dropped items. Bucky leaned down to assist you, but you waved him off.
"’S my fault; I've got it," you told him, piling up his books for him. "I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. I didn't hurt you, did I?"
Bucky leaned up against the wall and chuckled while you stood up and handed the books back to him. "I doubt you could hurt me," he said, smiling softly. "No offense."
You let out a small laugh. "None taken." He was a super soldier, after all. Stealing a glance at book spines, you couldn't suppress the smile that crossed your face. "Lord of the Rings," you nodded appreciatively. "Have you read them before?"
Bucky looked down at the books tucked under his arm. "No, first time. I read The Hobbit back when it was first published in '37, but these didn't come out until after..." he trailed off, but you knew what he meant. After he'd been abducted and brainwashed, turned into a murderer.
You nodded in understanding. "I'm actually really excited for you," you told him. "What I wouldn't give to be able to read them again for the first time."
"You a Tolkien fan, then?" he asked you. When you nodded, he continued: "When I finish them, maybe we can talk about them sometime? Steve's not really into fantasy."
"Yeah, I'd like that," you said. "If you're interested, we could watch the movies. I'll warn you though; they're long as hell, but their masterpieces. I mean, they didn't need to turn The Hobbit into three separate films, but still, they'll blow your fucking mind."
Bucky ran his tongue over his lower lip and you couldn't help but follow the motion with your eyes. "That sounds like fun," he said, his eyes twinkling with... something. "Your place or mine?" Was he… flirting with you?
"How 'bout you finish the books first, then we'll talk logistics," you teased. "Hey, speaking of, what floor did they end up putting you on?"
"Um, this one, actually," he said, tilting his head toward a nearby door.
"No shit," you remarked, laughingly. "You must have done something to piss Rogers off, because he put you right across the hall from me."
Bucky looked down, scuffing the toe of his boot against the carpeting. "He said it was the quietest floor, thought I'd prefer that."
You pursed your lips, considering. "Yeah, that makes sense; it's just been me on this level for ages. It'll be nice to have some company for a change."
Bucky looked surprised. "Stark's kept you down here all by your lonesome? That doesn't seem very nice."
You shook your head and dismissed his concern with a wave. "Oh, no-- Tony hates that I still live down here, actually. He put in all new living quarters a few years back. Everyone migrated upstairs, but I was the only one who didn't want to move."
"Why's that?" Bucky asked, appearing genuinely interested.
"I've lived here since I graduated college," you admitted, "back when it was still just Stark Tower. When Tony relocated here from Malibu to rebrand it for the Avengers, he wanted to redo everything, which meant fancy new suites for everybody. But I love my rooms, so I asked to stay put. They've been my home for so long now and I guess I just like the stability, you know?"
Bucky nodded thoughtfully. "And Tony thinks highly enough of you that he let the blow to his ego slide?"
You raised an eyebrow. "Maybe I have enough dirt on him that he felt like he didn't have much of a choice." You snorted, not able to keep up the pretense. "No, but seriously, I know you and Tony have a complicated... history, but he's not a bad guy. Ego as tall as this Tower, yes, definitely, but he's also incredibly kind and generous. He paid for my entire college education-- undergrad, post-grad, doctorate. I owe everything I have to him."
Bucky shifted against the wall. "That is pretty generous. And he never expected anything from you in return?" He didn't say the words out loud, but the implication was there. Had you slept with Tony in exchange for your diplomas? The innuendo should have bothered you, but it had been posed to you so many times over the years, you'd stopped being offended by it. Before Pepper, Tony had had quite the reputation, after all, and an MIT education didn’t exactly come cheap. Most people couldn’t understand why he would offer a full ride to someone who, at the time, had been a complete stranger.
"Tony appreciates talent," you clarified. "When he finds it, he cultivates it, nourishes it, does everything he can to help it grow to its fullest potential. But he does like to get a return on his investments, and my skills have helped him make a lot of money." You shrugged your shoulders with a chuckle. "I love my job, I love the work we do, I love the stupid weirdo family we've built here, so I've always considered meeting Tony to be the best thing that ever happened to me. He's kind of like my own fairy godfather."
"So, what exactly does he have you do around here?" Bucky asked. "I know Steve said you did computer stuff, but you said it was an over-simplification."
You ran a hand up to rub the back of your neck while you considered your answer. How best to explain your position to someone who was born before the invention of the television? "Okay," you exhaled, "so, short answer is that I'm the CTO, the Chief Technology Officer, of Stark Industries and, under that, I run the Avenger’s Technology and Innovation Department. It's sort of our take on Research and Development. I've got a lab where I'm in charge of about 450 scientists, engineers, computer programmers, analysts, et. cetera. And our entire job is coming up with cool new ways of making things easier for the Avengers. Like, new features for suits, developing useful programs, coming up with new defenses and weapons, that kind of thing. And if we've got missions that require heavy computer- or tech-work, I come along for on-site support. I'm combat-trained and good with languages, so that comes in handy in the field. There’s probably a ton of field agents that could go in my place, but for Tony, it’s a matter of trust."
Bucky let out a low, appreciative whistle. "Damn. That's impressive. You're a little intimidating, you know that?"
Laughing, you tucked your tablet under your arm. "Please. I'm about as intimidating as a hamster." You paused to think. "Maybe a hamster with rabies, but still a hamster."
A series of beeps emanated from your tablet. As you pulled it out to check the alert, Bucky moved away from the wall. "I'm so sorry-- you were heading back to your room and I've basically been holding you hostage this entire time."
"Actually," you said, silencing the notification alarm that had distracted you, "That was just a reminder I set for myself to eat. Sometimes I lose track of time in the lab and completely forget to have dinner. Are you hungry? You could join me."
Bucky pulled his head back, regarding you as though he wasn't sure if you were serious.
"Or, if you don't want to, that's cool," you said quickly once you noticed his hesitation. "I mean, you wanted a quiet floor. Annoying neighbor is probably the last--"
"I'd love to," interrupted Bucky with a grin. "I'm just surprised someone like you would want to spend time with someone like me."
"Someone like me? Hey now, for all you know, I could be an absolute trash person," you teased, playfully punching him on the shoulder.
Bucky chuckled, his eyes sparkling with a newfound warmth. "Well, I highly doubt that, but I guess I'll find out soon enough."
"Don't say I didn't warn you when you do." You cocked your head toward the door to your room. "I'm going to change out of my work clothes. While I do, how about you decide what you're in the mood for, and we'll go from there. That sound good?" Bucky nodded as you let yourself into your room. The evening had taken an unexpected turn, but you found you were looking forward to spending more time in the company of Bucky Barnes.
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#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky x you#bucky x reader#bucky fanfic#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky x female reader#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes fanfiction#james bucky buchanan barnes#james buchanan barnes#mcu bucky barnes#james barnes#bucky x y/n
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Under Your Spell
Masterlist of fan fiction
Fandom: The Hobbit
Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Smut, insecurity, a little angst (with a happy ending)
Word count: 1571
Comments/Notes: From the imagine, "You put a spell on Thorin to make him fall in love with you, but as the spell wears off, you find out that he has always loved you." Requested by @asgardianhobbit98
Written while listening to Journey's Greatest Hits.
I hope you like the fic. As always, like, reblog and comment if you enjoy. If you wish to be added to any of my tag lists, let me know.
Thank you to everyone who supported me during my posting hiatus. I felt like it was needed to get back into a better mindset after I become incredibly overwhelmed by another one of my fics' reception.
The last twenty four hours had been beyond perfect. The spell which you had been keeping for the last few months, ready for the chance to use, had worked better than you could have imagined. Thorin had declared undying love to you as the sun set; the two of you having just shared dinner together with a large group. Then once on your own together, he had been so open in his affection toward you, blushing and smiling as the words tumbled out of his mouth.
“I love you more than anything,” he had told you, confident and bold. He had taken your hand, kissed it, then asked for you to join him on the royal balcony.
The two of you had sipped wine, while Thorin gazed at you over the top of the glass, unable to tear his gaze from you.
You shared tender kisses, hand holding, and Thorin had held you as you fell asleep. Then you woke in his arms, warm and content. He had been watching you, and as you woke from your slumber, he smiled at you and kissed your head.
All of that day and you had remained in Thorin’s presence, sharing meals, conversations, kisses.
“Would you join me again tonight on the balcony? It is forecast that we should have a clear night sky.”
“Of course,” you had replied. Only now, sadness began to seep from your words, unable to hide any further. The realisation that all of this would be over at sundown was growing heavy in your heart and gut. The spell would only last for one twenty four hour period, and could only ever be used on one person once in their life. After sundown, and Thorin would return to his former self, purely a friend to you and your King, nothing more than that.
It was almost sundown, and you excused yourself from Thorin’s chambers, telling him that you wished to quickly write a letter to a friend. He just smiled at you, his eyes so full of adoration, as you disappeared out of the door.
As you walked the corridors back to your bed chamber, you felt tears fall down your cheeks. The pain was so heavy and hot in your chest. Just to have Thorin adore you for twenty four hours had been perfect beyond any kind of comprehension. However, the fall back to reality was going to be excruciating. In time, another woman would have Thorin fall for them, and this time it would be of his own choice.
You lit your candles and sat down on the edge of your bed, staring at the vase of roses that Thorin had had brought to your chamber. They could now be disposed of as they would just serve as a reminder of your pathetic need to have Thorin love you.
All sense of time slipped away from you as you fell asleep on your bed, still fully dressed. Once you had lay out on your bed, you had not moved. Tears had flowed, pulling you into your subconscious world where you could be happy temporarily.
Dreams came and went, flickering pictures of far off lands that you had explored with the Company, months earlier, where you had fallen for their leader. Flashes of sunlight bouncing off swords and the calls of armies became a jumble in your mind.
Your eyes opened slowly, adjusting. The candles had gone out hours ago. There was a dull thump behind your eyes and you winced, blinking hard.
For a second, you felt as if you were still in a dream somewhere. You could feel something resting on your waist, curled around. Blinking again, you looked down and could make out a hand. On the middle finger was a ring.
You gasped and shifted away suddenly, almost dropping out of bed. “What?” you choked.
Thorin was lying on your bed, and was now rousing. His eyes opened slowly and he smiled at the sight of you. “Come back to bed, my love,” he said sleepily. “It’s still early.”
“But…how?”
He just smiled again and sat up. “You think a spell could make me love you?”
“How did you know about it?”
“I’ve known about it quite some time now,” he replied. “I will not name any names, but I was made aware that you acquired the spell from someone in Lake-town, did you not?”
Shame hit you hard and you lowered your head, feeling the tears fall once again. “I’m sorry,” you said softly. “And now you are playing along to mock me; the spell wore off at night fall yesterday.”
Thorin got up from the bed and followed the edge of it towards you. “Why would you think I’d ever mock you?” He stood before you, his head to once side in question and disbelief that you could ever think such a thing.
“I was stupid to ever think you could love me,” you hissed.
Anger flared in Thorin’s eyes and on impulse he grabbed your hip and threw you both into a kiss. It was hot, demanding, needing. So much unlike the day earlier. All you could do in your weakness was cling to him, your backside resting against your dresser. He was pressing into you harder now, his tongue desperate in your mouth.
Thorin drew back from you, his blue eyes ablaze. They were no longer soft like the day before, but they were on fire. That had always been the true Thorin, and as you had known him for the last six months: passionate, on fire. He pressed his forehead to you and then kissed it.
You closed your eyes as you felt his hand become buried in your hair. His other hand was still on your hip. There was a desperation in his actions. The day earlier and he had wanted to be in your company, to look upon you. Now, he needed to touch you.
The two of you kissed again, hard and needing. You could feel your inhibitions let go, and your hands became tangled up in his hair, your breath lost, your heart pounding.
He whispered your name, needing you.
Within minutes and the two of you were back on your bed, disrobed and exploring each other. Thorin’s lips caressed every inch of you, and when he was kissing down the inside of your thigh, he looked up at you. “Why did you ever think you needed a spell to capture my heart? It was always yours.”
The two of you joined, exhaling in relief at the pent up frustration. Thorin was over you, his one hand gripping yours. To feel him connected with you, feel him inside you, giving himself over to you by choice, that was the true magic.
Your bodies were synchronised, moving together in rhythm so well.
Each and every time Thorin’s gaze connected with yours, and you could see the love for you there. It burned. The spell you had cast had diluted his true love, and his gaze the day earlier had been as if he weren’t quite in the room with you. Now he was present for every second.
Every thrust was now making you build upward towards climax. The sensations feeling as if waves were cascading down your body, until the last one took hold. It came from the base of your stomach, and shattered outward. You shook, and as you rode out that one spectacular wave, Thorin kept his gaze locked on you.
The sensation of you gripping Thorin’s girth in your plateau pushed him over the edge, and he spilled. He dug his head against your neck, groaning at the wondrous pleasure that washed over him.
Both of you fell down beside each other, panting and sweating. Thorin reached for you, and you rolled over to him, and put your head on his chest. “Is that what true love feels like?” you gasped.
“No spell could ever replicate that,” Thorin said softly. “When you first placed the spell on me, it was as if I couldn’t control my words, and no longer could I keep my feelings for you secret. But the expression of my love for you, it…I cannot describe it. It was as if it was dulled, and when dusk came, the spell having ended, my heart and my body burned for you again, like it always had. The spell stopped me feeling that love in a true sense.”
“Why did you never tell me how you felt?” you asked, propping yourself up on your arm.
“I was terrified of rejection. The spell at least took away my cowardice.”
“You’re the bravest man I’ve ever known, and yet you couldn’t tell me you loved me?” you asked, not quite able to believe such a revelation. “You lead a kingdom, and armies, yet you couldn’t tell me three simple words.”
Thorin sighed. “You did not tell me either.”
“I had reason not to,” you scoffed. “You’re a king. Declaring your love to a king and expecting them to love you in return is just ridiculous.”
You saw that anger flare in Thorin’s eyes again, and his jaw clenched. “I am a king in name and by my birth right. But I am no different to you in heart. There is only one that I bow to, and that is my wife and Queen. And those positions will only ever be filled by one person…you.”
***
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Special tag for this fic: @kurlyfrasier @littlesweetdressmaker
#richard armitage#thorin oakenshield#the hobbit#thorin x you#thorin x reader#thorin x fem!reader#Thorin Oakenshield x you#Thorin Oakenshield x reader#Thorin Oakenshield x fem!reader
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hii!! so your previous crush-post (xD) was so. cute! may I ask for some more romantic fluff and the Fellowship (and Faramir and Arwen, if it's okay?) proposing to the reader?
I added pictures of what the rings might look like because I have a Pinterest addiction and figured I could put it to use
How the fellowship proposes (+ Faramir & Arwen)
Aragorn:
-To be completely honest, I don’t see him being particularly traditional about it
-And by that I mean he doesn’t make a big thing of it and doesn’t do the whole kneeling thing
-I imagine him proposing just happens in a loving conversation that is pretty casual
-But honestly every conversation with him feels kinda intimate so it’s still very romantic
Legolas:
-He is restless
-He plans it to be thought out and to give a little speech
-But it just kinda comes out
-Not in an awkward or rushed way; but he is just so in love he can’t wait any longer
Gimli:
-Actually shitting himself
-I really think he would have planned to propose on multiple different occasions but got too scared and chickened out
-It’s not because he isn’t sure about it, or thinks you won’t say yes; he just wants it to be perfect
-He covers for his anxiety with a forced confidence that is frankly adorable
-Blushes profusely
Boromir:
-Very traditional
-I’m talking secluded paradise with rose petals and candles everywhere
-He spares no expense; no he’s not extra…he just wants to show how much he loves you…that’s it
-Down on one knee giving a honorable and sweet speech about how you are the best thing in his life and how he will spend eternity loving you
-Definitely gets a little emotional but for the most part he keeps it together (the same cannot be said for your wedding)
-He had Faramir help him find a ring because I refuse to believe Boromir knows anything about fashion, let alone jewelry
Frodo:
-He’s a bit restless, but in a giddy sort of way
-He’s just so excited about the idea of marrying you that he isn’t even thinking too much about the proposal
-He knows you will say yes
-I could also see him putting the ring somewhere you will find it; maybe on your pillow, and hide in the next room all giddy like a little kid as he waits for you to find it
-This is what my dad apparently did and I think it’s cute
Sam:
-Ok I know I said Gimli is shitting himself; but this guy is actually having the squirts
-But he’s nervous because he gets very down on himself at times and he worries you might say no
-Logically he knows you will be so excited because you have talked about marriage before; but he can’t help but worry
-Doesn’t take you anywhere too fancy; he keeps it kinda casual but romantic
-Maybe in the garden
Merry:
-He has had this planned for months
-He has one of his friends distract you for the day while he sets up a romantic picnic dinner
-Like a surprise party that you are kinda expecting because the person getting you out of the house is kinda sus
-But it’s so sweet and Merry is dresses so nicely
-Seriously a dapper little hobbit
-He has practiced some speeches to Pippin, but he doesn’t end up doing any of them
-Instead he opts for just a natural conversation that is sweet and to the point
-Big expensive gem
Pippin:
-He has been pretending to propose for a while
-Well not really pretending, but you know it’s not his official proposal
-That being said every “proposal” he does comes with some sort of offering; he once did it with your dinner plate
-All his fake proposals were to have some fun with it, but mainly to get over his nerves; he’s practicing
-Will continue to fake propose even after you are married just for the fun of it
-Likes to see people’s reactions (plus maybe get a free cake slice at a restaurant or something idk)
-I wanted to add a joke picture of a tiny with three plastic carrots but alas you are only allowed 10 pictures apparently so just imagine I did a funny thing
*Bonus Faramir
-He is just the sweetest and I love this man
-He seems like the type to propose pretty early on in a relationship
-Not because he’s rushing, but he just knows you are the one
-Surprisingly calm about it; or at least he appears that way
*Double bonus Arwen:
-She is probably the most confident of them all
-She is just so sure spoken
-She makes sure you both are dressed in your best clothes and will take you to a beautiful secluded place in Rivendell
-Idk why but I felt strongly that the gem would be blue
-(sorry hers is short, I wasn’t particularly inspired idk why)
——————————————————————-
Just a little reminder that Gandalf isn’t included because I don’t generally write him for romantic prompts unless specifically asked
#lord of the rings#lotr#lotr headcanons#lotr preferences#lotr fellowship#legolas#aragorn#boromir#frodo baggins#samwise gamgee#merry and pippin#arwen#faramir#gimli#peregrine took#meriadoc brandybuck#the lord of the rings#lotr x reader
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Concerning Hobbits
Pairing: Fili x hobbit f!reader
Request: Anonymous asked: Could I request a Fili fic where the reader is a hobbit and really close friends with Bilbo so he has brought them with him to Erebor several times and between their last visit and their current visit Fili has been exchanging letters with Bilbo to learn about Hobbit courting etiquette so he can ask the reader out?
A/N:I hope you enjoy it! I'm honoured you trusted me with this request, especially since I haven't written for Fili before.
Genre: Fluff/romance
Description: Fili enlists the help of Bilbo to learn about hobbit courting customs in order to ask you out in the best way possible.
Warnings: None
Word count: 1471
You’d always been close to Bilbo, he was like a brother to you, so it was only natural that you thoroughly questioned him when he came back months after disappearing so suddenly.
His tale fascinated you, more than it should fascinate a respectable hobbit. You asked questions, about the elves, about the mountain, about Smaug, but most of all, about his 13 companions, the dwarves.
You’d never met anyone who wasn’t a hobbit, but ever since you were young you’d had a fascination with the race of dwarves, reading books about them, begging your parents to bring you back hand-crafted items the dwarves in Bree were selling.
So yes, it was only expected that you would be most interested in Bilbo’s companions - how you wished you’d been able to meet them. But most particularly, you were fascinated by the Durin’s, especially the golden-haired prince who’s good nature and humour Bilbo would fondly talk about.
Therefore, when Bilbo casually mentioned returning to Erebor to visit his friends you immediately begged to go with him. Knowing how much it would mean to you, particularly with your birthday coming up as you so kindly reminded him, he agreed, and one letter to the dwarf king later the two of you were on the road.
To everyone’s (or no-one’s) surprise, you and Fili hit it off immediately. The golden-haired prince had taken an instant liking to you and you to him.
The second visit was much the same, except the relationship between the two of you only grew stronger as you grew closer and closer to the line between friends and something more.
Both of you were beginning to feel things for each other that went beyond friendship, but neither of you said anything as you left with Bilbo once more, this time with a promise to write.
Neither of you noticed the knowing glance Thorin and Bilbo had shared, and after you left, Fili had been subjected to endless teasing from his brother until Tauriel of all people had taken pity on the heir and reminded Kili that he was just as smitten, if not more.
In the weeks after the trip, you and Fili had sent letter after letter to each other, and when Bilbo mentioned taking you on another visit you’d instantly agreed, the blond still vivid in your mind.
What Bilbo didn’t tell you, was that you weren’t the only one who had been in regular contact with Fili. Ever since he had returned to Bag End his mailbox had been full of letters from Fili asking all kinds of questions about hobbits and their courting customs.
It was bad enough reading and answering the incredibly long letters that seemed to revolve around you, but he also had to hide them from you - something that was quite difficult since you’d often bring in his mail for him when you came over for breakfast, forcing him to wake up even earlier to snatch any letters Fili should send before you came over.
In the end, he had sent a thick book regarding hobbits and their customs which had seemed to satisfy the dwarf for the foreseeable future.
Now, he was finally taking you to Erebor again, and you were beyond excited. Little did you know, but Fili, upon hearing of your visit, had been a flustered mess, his usually calm demeanour seemingly gone as he scoured the text in the book over and over as he scurried to make sure that everything was perfect as he anticipated your arrival.
No one commented when your greeting with Fili was far from ‘formal’, his arms winding around your waist as he lifted you from the ground and spun you around, your laugh ringing through the air, your curls bouncing when he set you down.
It wasn’t until later that Fili asked you if he could show you something and the two of you excused yourselves from the company.
You completely missed Kili’s encouraging wink and thumbs up to his brother from behind your back.
Fili didn’t tell you where he was leading you as he led you through halls you’d never seen before. You were about to ask when he pulled open a door, gesturing for you to step through and you stepped into perhaps the most beautiful part of Erebor you’d seen.
It was a terrace, or courtyard of sorts, jutting out from the mountain and looking over Dale, but it wasn’t the view that amazed you most.
The terrace was more like a garden, with grass instead of stone and all sorts of brightly coloured flowers blooming in various places - some you recognised, some you didn’t.
You turned to Fili, a bright smile adorning your face. “This is amazing. Has this always been here?”
He shifted, looking slightly embarrassed. “Sort of. It was awful when I first found it. I’ve been fixing it up since your last visit. I thought you’d like it.”
“I love it!” You assured him, walking further out, relishing the feeling of glass tickling your feet again as you headed towards the only non-plant in the place; a yellow picnic rug set out with your favourite foods.
Fili followed you to the rug, watching you sit down and look admiringly at the food.
“Did you make this too?” You asked, half joking.
To your surprise he didn’t object. “Bombour helped. I hope it’s alright.”
You stared at him for a moment. Did he realise that in The Shire something like this would be seen as an intention to court? Or was he just being friendly? You smiled. “I’m sure it will be.”
As you ate, you couldn’t help but notice that Fili was acting a bit strangely. Yes, he would laugh and smile, but he fidgeted when he thought you weren’t looking and only picked at the food.
You set your plate aside. “Is there a reason for all this? Or am I just that good a friend?”
“No. I mean yes. I mean…” He sighed, seemingly building up his courage before he faced you. “Maybe this will tell you what I mean.
He reached behind him to pick up a bouquet which he then held out to you.
You accepted the bundle of carefully picked flowers, a few immediately sticking out to you. Red roses, both white and pink camellias, red carnations, orchids and tulips.
Clearly, in the eyes of a hobbit, a declaration of love and adoration.
You glanced up at the blond, who was watching you with a hopeful expression. “You know, in The Shire, this sort of thing would be considered a clear intention to court. A declaration of love, even.”
“And what would you say if that’s exactly what it is?”
You smiled, leaning across to place a quick kiss to his lips before leaning back, watching the expression of surprise and happiness cross Fili’s face. “I’d say I accept and the feelings are returned.”
He smiled, leaning closer to brush a stay piece of hair behind your slightly pointed ear, letting his fingers linger. “That’s good, because otherwise I wouldn’t be able to do this.”
He kissed you again, this time lingering longer, the remaining food all but forgotten as your grip on the bouquet loosened and you leaned into the kiss.
You’d be lying to say that you’d never thought about what the Prince’s lips would feel like against yours, how his beard would brush against your skin, and it was safe to say that this surpassed even your wildest dreams.
Fili pulled away, blue eyes shining. “Maybe later I can show you our courting customs.”
“I’d like that.” You murmured. “How did you know all this stuff?” You asked, glancing down to admire the bundle of flowers in your hands again.
“I asked Bilbo.” Fili admitted. “And he sent me a book.”
“What book?” You questioned with a smile. You found it adorable that he’d put in so much effort for you.
He grinned back. “Concerning Hobbits.”
~
Bilbo wasn’t surprised when you nervously pulled him aside the day before you were to leave, glancing anxiously at Fili over the other hobbit’s shoulder, who nodded encouragingly. He’d already talked to his uncle, who had agreed that you should be the one to talk to Bilbo.
“Bilbo?” You began, “Bilbo, I’m not ready to go home. I want to stay here…with Fili…” At his silence you rushed on. “I don’t want to upset you, and I’ll miss you but-”
Your long time friend wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. “I understand. You don’t need to explain yourself.” He pulled back, smiling at you. “I’m happy for you.”
So with a promise to visit again soon and one last hug, Bilbo left Erebor, and you remained behind, Fili’s warm hand around yours as you returned his radiant smile.
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Can I request a How Many Kids They Want for the characters from The Hobbit? I’m curious to hear what you think!
Heck yeah! I already made a placeholder for it in my drafts cuz I had to let’s GOOOO! Last post pre-surgery, crazy that we’re only 3 days out 🥲
How Many Kids Do They Want? The Hobbit Edition
Balin
Certainly not a future he ever expected, but it’s not such a bad one, is it? How big his family is is a question Balin wouldn’t mind deferring to his partner, especially as he would never be the one bearing them! But probably not more than three if he was really pressed for an answer.
Dwalin
Girl dad. I said what I said. Secretly wants to settle down and adores the idea of domestic life, especially with a sweetheart of a partner who he can take care of. This transfers to his children, who Dwalin is the fiercest papa bear to! No one will touch a single hair upon his daughters’ heads. I can see him having two or three little girls, very unusual for a dwarf and a bit unexpected to him, who would have said he wanted sons. The moment he has to pull a knife out of his little girl’s hand, though, the very same one that held a doll on the other side, Dwalin realizes what he wants has nothing to do with boys. Raises the toughest girls this side of the mountains!
Thorin
Does not mind the idea of a small family, more time and love to give each member as king. Thorin is fiercely loyal and dedicated, so he wants to shower his partner and child(ren) with as much as he possibly can. Thus he would prefer only one or two children. While he hopes for a son to continue on the line of Durin, growing up with a sister gave him a soft spot and respect for femininity, too. A boy and a girl sounds perfect to him, Thorin’s little prince and princess. He would have such a hard time not softening his harsh ways and one hundred percent spoiling them, but the last thing he wants is to raise spoiled royalty with no humility!
Oin
Oin is so the type of father to have a big family and brag about them all the time! Five or six children. He’s the default carer when they get sick, being so good at treating any ailment or pain that they run to him upon feeling any sort of ill. Not picky about if he has boys or girls, ending up with two girls and three or four boys. All of them are welcome to become his apprentices and several even grew up playing ‘doctor’ for years beforehand! Literally Oin could be handling someone halfway to bleeding out and he’s still standing there staunching it saying how he has the best kids ever.
Gloin
The proudest father and family man in general! Cannot wait to have a family of his own and absolutely wants a son to be his mini-me. Has a special bond with his son as we all know. Gloin is happy to even have one child, but could be persuaded to go up to two or three. Would raise the toughest, shrewdest daughter as he shows her the ropes of getting out of uncomfortable situations and having the confidence to stand up for whatever she wants!
Bifur
A family is a future he never grew up expecting being a manual laborer and warrior. Parts of him weren’t even sure how long he’d live unless he got tough, which of course he did! One son sounds good to him, someone to pass on stories of battle and his ancestors to and shape as a fighter, though he also hopes if he has a family they would not be so forced to see war.
Bofur
Envies his brother’s family a bit, not that he wants quite so many! Bofur would be happy with two or three or four. He loves the idea of having a little girl, especially if she’s a tiny version of his partner, he would just melt at the sight of her. Total, though, he’s down for three or four, multiple but still small enough to feel cozy! Absolutely the type of father who lets his daughter dance with her feet on his and teases the kids whenever he can! Makes little hats for his sons so they can match.
Bombur
Going by the fanon/actor canon here as always, a lot. He’s so good with wee ones and just adores them, so he is down for as many as he’ll be allowed, even up to thirteen or fourteen! Because of this, he naturally wants several of both boys and girls, especially because girls are rarer among his people. So playful with them and a master of getting down to their level as a naturally lighthearted and whimsical person. He loves when the little ones help him cook or bake even if it gets messy!
Dori
The most caring father ever, forever doting on his children and making them feel loved, even if it’s a little much! His perfect number is two, one of each if he’s lucky but he’d be happy with two of the same, too. Dori grew up caring for both of his brothers for enough years, after all, but he also has the sneaking suspicion that with dwarven culture, his love for the finer things would be more likely passed on to daughters! Likes the idea of teaching skills like sewing or jewelry-making to whoever his offspring are.
Nori
Kind of suspects if he had a child, it might not be legitimate, but in the end he takes the plunge of settling down, feeling the urge as he ages to keep his bloodline on. One or two is enough for him, though, sons if he can help it, which being a dwarf he practically can! Realizes carrying a wee bairn around has a charm that lets him get away with even more than usual, and as they age teaches his little boys how to play games and even to cheat a little.
Ori
Softer, more caring than his middle brother, someone who fantasized about having a family if someone would have him. His vision is of four children, two of each. So patient with all the buzzing questions and curiosities of their young minds. All of them, boys or girls, will have the most enriching environments full of art and writing, being raised with culture over getting taught to fight. Since self-expression is encouraged, though, you can bet it’s a loud home!
Fili
Even beyond the weight of cultural expectations, Fili wants to experience being a father. Doesn’t have as strong a desire for a son as most kings and princes do, honoring his mother and what a great queen she would make. In fact, he loves the idea of raising a future queen more than king in some ways. She would be strong, resilient, free to be herself and not fall to the shadows beneath anyone if Fili has his way. He definitely wants more than one, though, and in fact ends up with twins, too! Identical twin sons he encourages both to train and explore as well as to mess with everyone by lying about which twin they are.
Kili
This dwarf loves his mother and is just dying to show his children the love he got and respect his partner especially if she’s the mother of his children! The idea of a family makes him happy like nothing else, for despite all his flirting and seeming like he wants to have fun he really wants to settle down with the love of his life. He wants at least one of each, loving different things about having a son and daughter. The kind of father who would play dress-up with his daughter and spar with her just as much as his son! All in all, he’s pretty open on numbers, but he wants at least two and the ideal range in his mind is around three to five.
Bilbo
Didn’t think he wanted children for a long time, but Bilbo is definitely the sort to change his mind if he meets the right person. Still would prefer a smaller family of one or two children, though, as more would be overwhelming to him and he wants to keep his home in order! Boy or girl, his kids would learn so many skills ranging from folding handkerchiefs to cartography. No strong preference from Bilbo on what he wants, per se, he more just hopes to have things in common with them and be able to bond.
Thranduil
Torn between his desire for an heir and not exactly paternal ways, Thranduil really only wants one child. All his attention can be focused that way, too, because at his heart he does know that duty makes it hard to be as involved as he could be with family and it would not be fair to have a massive family he can’t spend time with. Likes the idea of a son, again considering an heir, but a little girl would have the woodland king absolutely wrapped around her finger and get every pretty little thing she wants.
Bard
Pretty obvious on this one, but he would want three! Not so picky on having sons or daughters, especially when his legacy already has pressure upon it. In truth he’s the sort who wants ‘the full experience’ and says he’d want to try for one of each. Teaches all of his little family valuable skills, wishing them the best chance in life. They’ll learn to heal, defend themselves even if it’s not fighting, simply keeping safe.
Beorn
Intimidated as he is by the prospect of having children in a world that was so cruel to his people, his papa bear instincts run deep through his veins. I can see him having twins or even triplets, like a little litter all his own. I see triplets, two boys and a girl. Beorn cannot help the way his often harsh expression softens at his little ones, the hopeful smile that creeps onto his face at the thought of continuing the Skin Changers’ legacy through his sons and daughters, his name-bearers and the one who will choose her own.
Taglist: @kilibaggins @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart | Message/Reply to join 🥰
#the hobbit#the hobbit imagines#the hobbit x reader#the hobbit headcanons#thorin’s company#balin#dwalin#thorin#oin#gloin#bifur#bofur#bombur#dori#nori#ori#fili#kili#bilbo#thranduil#bard#beorn#ask#anon#requested#parent au
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If You Would Promise Me Your Heart
For my Eddie, @steveshairychest.
Every nerd in Steve’s life had their mythical creature niche.
Robin loved pixies. Channelling their mischievous energy into her everyday life, bouncing around the store while they were on shift, even joking she’d get a pixie cut one day.
Nancy, though she would deny it to anyone outside their circle, loved fairies. Soft but calculating, intelligent and beautiful, when they had visited the ren faire the year prior her cheeks matched her glittery wings.
Dustin loved hobbits and Steve loved to affectionately call him one even as the boy grew just as tall as him, the excitement that crossed his face when Steve agreed to watch the movies with him made the confusing deep lore worth it.
Lucas loved ents. Steve would often find him in the woods just listening to the trees, he was the only one of them that would still brave the forest at night, the trees would keep him safe.
Max loved harpies. If Steve were to give any proof that these creatures existed, he’d just tell you to look at Max’s face when some boy told her girls can’t skate.
Will loved merfolk. When they visited the beach last summer Steve could see the years of stress melt away from the young boy’s face as he listened to the waves, the water washing away the memories.
El loved elves. She loved the many forms they came in from fantasy to Christmas, that they could be fun or loud or quiet or brave, that they could be whatever they wanted to pointy ears just made them a little special.
Mike loved griffins. He knew that being both just made you stronger, that you can be strong and brave and protect the things you love, that being different doesn’t make you less whole.
Erica loved unicorns. She would hit you if she heard you saying they were anything less than metal.
Which of course leads us to Steve’s favourite nerd, Eddie.
Eddie loved dragons.
The first thing he did once his scars had healed enough was to get a beautiful dragon tattoo across them, the rough skin almost like scales through the dragon’s back.
One of his most prized possessions is a massive red dragon figure for his campaigns.
Steve thinks he’s seen the How to Train Your Dragon movies more than every seven-year-old in the world because it’s the only things that make Eddie feel better when he has nightmares. He has seen them so many times that he can recite his own favourite scene by heart.
They’re in the small clearing in the woods behind their house, it’s spring, the afternoon is warm and the wind is calming. The sun is setting, they are sharing a small picnic, it’s perfect. The sun is bathing them in a golden light, Steve thinks Eddie would be beautiful even if the world was pitch black.
It’s time.
He whistles out the first few notes.
“I’ll swim and sail on savage seas, with ne’er a fear of drowning. And gladly ride the waves of life, if you will marry me.”
Eddie has turned to Steve recognising the song, his eyes are as bright as the love between them.
“No scorching sun, nor freezing cold, will stop me on my journey.”
Eddie’s eyes are shining, he’ll blame them on allergies.
“If you will promise me your heart, and love,” Steve looks expectantly at Eddie.
Eddie face breaks into a smile at Steve’s pause.
“And love me for eternity,” he continues, “My dearest one, my darling dear, your mighty words astound me. But I’ve no need for mighty deeds when I feel your arms around me,” Eddie sings pulling Steve to his feet as he stands.
Steve laughs as he continues, “But I would bring you rings of gold, I’d even sing you poetry!”
“Oh would you?” Eddie giggles.
“And I would keep you from all harm, if you would stay beside me.”
“I have no use for rings of gold, I care not for your poetry; I only want your hand to hold,” Eddie sings lacing their fingers.
“I only want you near me.”
The boys begin to spin and dance to only the tune of their voices.
“To love and kiss, to sweetly hold, for the dancing and the dreaming. Through all life’s sorrows and delights, I’ll keep your laugh inside me.”
Eddie begins to spin from Steve the joy bubbling up inside him, not even noticing Steve’s voice has gotten softer.
“I’ll swim and sail a savage seas, with ne’er a fear of drowning. And gladly ride the waves of life if-” the last words catching in his throat as he looks at Steve, down on one knee.
“If you will marry me.” Steve finishes, a beautiful black ring in the shape of a dragon protecting a ruby in its centre laying in a black box in his hand. “For the dancing and the dreaming, Stevie, yes.”
#modern steddie#steddie#httyd#steve loves his nerds#eddie loves steve and dragons#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things s4#ficlet#proposal#fluff#i had other writing things to do but whoops
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Flying Private Part 2
A half season filled with pastries and about as much romance as in “The Hobbit” book later, Alexia decided to one up her gift-giving.
Repeating the usual routine - Alexia embarked the private jet with a pep in her step – leaving a simple paper bag on top of the closest seat to the cabin, as usual. This time? No ensaimada was in sight. That beautiful doughy pastry dusted with a delightful sugar powder that Y/N adored. A simple box took it’s place inside the paper bag.
That was it, the hard part was done, or so Alexia thought.
An usual talkative Y/N entered the jet, starting polite conversation with all crew members, making a bee line for the cabin – the pilot stood dead on her tracks as she opened the bag. Was it guilt? Maybe disappointment? Surely the pilot wasn’t sad about the gift switch-up?
Oh- yeah, that’s it. Y/N pouted in Alexia’s direction. This was new.
“Open it” the midfielder instructed, a grin from ear to ear displayed on her face. Alexia was beyond proud of herself. For the first time in her interactions with Y/N, Alexia felt confident. Who wouldn’t like a watch?
“I can’t accept this Alexia” and that was all hopes out the window now. The midfielder always found a way to get on Y/N’s bad graces. What was so bad about a watch?
“It’s- It’s just a watch” the midfielder pleaded.
“Alexia, it’s a Rolex”
Oh- that makes more sense now.
Regardless, Alexia’s taste was impeccable. A simple gold bathed watch, a beautiful black plate decorated with small diamonds – representing the stars in the sky – It was the perfect gift for a pilot.
Realizing where she went wrong; that watch was probably worth Y/N’s rent for a full year, Alexia downplayed it’s value.
“They gifted it to me a while back, it’s been collecting dust ever since”
Little did the midfielder know, the receipt was still inside that very box.
“You see, I would believe you” the pilot approached Alexia “If only you hadn’t left this little, probably information-less piece of paper in here” Y/N’s voice filled with sass - she had deciphered Alexia.
That was bad.
“Oh wow” Malcolm, Y/N’s closest college, approached; inspecting the watch – taking all it’s beauty in – “Whoever gifted you this must like you, a lot”
Yup, it got even worse just then. Talk about someone rubbing salt in a wound.
For some reason, unbeknownst to us – not really but here we are – the trip felt a little too long. Random stares into teammates, a thoughtful Alexia pondered on how she could turn the situation around.
What had she done now? Is it that bad to gift a random pilot a simple watch? Ok, maybe it wasn’t a simple watch – and sure – it wasn’t just a random pilot; it was Y/N.
The sweet sound of wheels hitting the tarmac, the cute but scary bump as the plane landed – they had arrived.
The beautiful night sky with the beaming stars hiding among the clouds, Y/N stared up as she got out of the jet “Damn, nothing beats the beauty of a night sky”
“I know of something that can beat it” the confident Alexia was back.
“I told you, I can’t accept it”, yes just another hit to the abdomen delivered by yours truly, Y/N.
As the cute but aloof pilot made her way to the airport check-in a mischievous Malcolm approached “Something tells me that she wasn’t talking about the watch”
#woso imagine#woso#woso x reader#woso fanfics#fc barcelona woso#fc barcelona femeni#alexia putellas imagine#alexia putellas woso#alexia putellas x reader
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The king's toy - Thranduil x fem!reader
warning : smutish, use of wine, possesive, some degradation, obsession
Summary : The Elven King Thranduil, ruler of Mirkwood and his pretty toy. A human woman, no more than a second of beauty in the king's infinite life. But with every second they spend together, he consumes her more and more. In the end, she had no choice but to obey her king.
Info : So Thranduil or the Hobbit mini phase you could say has taken hold of me after I saw some scenes with my mother this morning. So have this little slightly more dark thing for the elven king
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°,,From this day forward, you are nin múl," said the king of the mirkwood. He looked down at her from the high throne made of deer antlers and wood. She was his beautiful human wife, actually a traveling singer in a group from different parts of the world. But with money, precious stones and the command of a king, her "companions" were worth more than her. Now she knelt before him, her gaze undecided and fearful, knowing that she belonged to him. But this fact, this absurdity, frightened her even more. His gaze let her know that he would bring her to so much more.
°He had not called her my slave for nothing. She quickly learned not to disobey his orders. His guards, his own son, had recaptured her from the forest within a few hours. No matter how many times she was carried away, the ropes closed around her body, precisely encircling and yet holding her tight. Her pleas were met with a pitying look from the prince. ,,Don't struggle...it makes it easier," he said to her as he brought her into the throne room. The rope on her hands was loosened slightly by Legolas, but she would not get out of the hall.
°,,Again and again! Understand at last that you belong to me," he demanded, gesturing to his son. She did not see the hesitant look as he knew what this would mean. But another look was not necessary as he gave his father his well-formed staff and disappeared with a dismissive look. The footsteps faded and it seemed dead silent between them. ,,Please, Your Majesty, let me-just let me go," she tried, wincing as the wood of the staff settled under her chin. He forced her to look at him and she flinched as his cold fingers laid on her cheeks.
°In the time she had been here, she had quickly learned that he was not purely interested in the physical. No, there was the night when he lost himself in her, wanted to hear the sounds she made, wanted to let everyone hear them. He took her body as he wanted, used her as he wanted and yet his eyes flashed in the mirror again and again when he took her. But just when their eyes met in the mirror, she saw his obsession as he pulled her close, his hands exploring her crown. He saw her beauty, the thought of holding her in his hands and having her for himself.
°Another thing besides the punishments from the blows with his staff, sword or hand was his emotionality. When he looked at her he was calm and almost happy, but when she used her talent to play the harp she was better than the elves. She was Thranduil's personal songbird, playing for him while the king looked at her, read a book or hummed along. It was the only time she blossomed and felt at ease when she played the harp. But it was then that she felt the pitying gaze of Legolas. But her father saw it too.
°He saw his son looking at the pretty creature. He imagined that he also wanted to give her something. Love and devotion. Something the king could not allow. Under other circumstances, he would have let his son have fun with it. But those would have been different circumstances. Now it was different and perhaps it was the rise of evil, the dwarves, the dragon and the ring. Maybe it was the loss of his wife, the emotions or it was all together that made him become so obsessive.
°She only became even more his perfect favorite, his pretty star in matching clothes. Initially white hip dresses with bright gemstones, robes and blouses that hid her body underneath. Only visible to the king in his bedroom when the wine flowed over her, wetting her skin and turning the white a dark red. It was a favorite of the king to kiss and lick the sweetly tart wine from her bed with the finest steel. Forged to leave her in place. Until at some point it went so far that her body was covered with the most necessary. Silver threads threaded with diamonds barely covered her nipples, a simple crown of wood with white roses on her head and a white, almost transparent fabric wrapped around her midriff. Her fingers were adorned with precious rings, gifts from her king.
°Whenever she saw him, she was nestled against his leg on the throne. Playing the harp, her gaze blank and evasive, resigning herself to her life was the harp that kept her alive. Before he pulled her onto his throne whether there were guests in the room or not. Who was to stop him for he was the king of mirkwood and his actions were right and proper. His son would not have the opportunity to mess with his diamond and everyone else would be honored to be in his presence.
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@tinfairies
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I've been seeing a lot of criticism of lotr on booktok by various people and I would just like to say I don't want to hear it. Are there problems with the books? Sure. Is Tolkien's writing a little flowery? Sure. Is it a little slow at the beginning? Sure. Is it a little complicated and hard to connect with the characters on the first read? Maybe that's a problem people can have, I can see it. Is the worldbuilding very intense and perhaps overwhelming? Could be, especially if you're going into it with expectations from the movies. Do I want to hear any of this? Absolutely not. I don't care. I love the characters I love the world I love the plot I love the women I love the elves I love the hobbits I love the heart it has I love what it is trying to say I love that a man came out of the trenches of ww1 which most people agree was hell on earth and lost friends and wrote a story about love and friendship and kindness being the most important things in the entire world and how you don't have to be perfect to make a difference you can just try your very best and ask for help I love that up until recently it was (and by most still is) considered the best fantasy book ever written because it is!!!!!!
#sorry people can choke when they say lotr isnt the best anymore#i know its slow and a little hard to read the first time but just#i dont want to say you have to but i will say you should#you really really should#and the movies did a great job#but at the end of the day the movies are not the books#lotr#the lord of the rings#lord of the rings#jirt#tolkien#jrr tolkien#it's not like i'm telling you to slread the silm come on#honestly i think if you can get through aspiaf you can get through lotr
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lyall flipped a page of his book (the lord of the rings — the hobbit, obviously; it had been remus’ favourite book when he was little, he used to read it to him), sitting on the old, worn out armchair.
remus had asked him, in his last letter, not to come to king’s cross to pick him up, and instead let him apparate back home. lyall had, reluctantly, agreed, yet his heart felt a twinge of sadness when he wrote the letter back; remus was growing older, undoubtedly. he didn’t need them anymore. but the prospect of him splinching himself to wales hadn’t been exactly exhilarating. however, he decided to give his son the chance to… he didn’t even know. he missed remus.
his thoughts were interrupted by hearing the door open and seeing his son enter their cottage, carrying his shabby suitcase in one hand. remus seemed to have grown considerably over the school year, making him appear gangly and unsure into his body. he was also in dire need of a haircut; his mother, hope, would surely take care of that later. (lyall almost chuckled, already hearing her voice: “cariad, do wizards not have scissors?”)
remus looked almost exactly like his father. the same curls, the same hooked nose, the same dropped eyes, rimmed with long eyelashes, the same crooked teeth. however, lyall knew better; his son had his mother’s warm smile, the same dimples in their cheeks, the same mischievous glance.
as if he could read his father’s thoughts, he put his arms to his side. “intact,” he said, rather awkwardly. “i didn’t splinch myself; apparition classes seem to have been a success.”
“i knew you wouldn’t,” lyall lied, licking his fingers before flipping the page, as his son made his way into the kitchen.
he sat down on the couch, and saffron, their ginger cat, considered that to be the perfect opportunity to jump next to her owner and start kneading against his thigh.
they sat in silence for a while; a father, pretending to read, and his son, looking at the pictures on the shelf above the fireplace and obviously engulfed in his thoughts, yet lyall didn’t ask what he was thinking about.
finally, he put his book down. “did i ever tell you about how your mother and i met?”
remus’ lips were parted by a small chuckle. “yes, about a billion times.”
“well,” he said, clasping his hands together. “you know, son, the first time I met your mother, it was quite the adventure. she was out for a walk through a forest when she stumbled upon a boggart — and i’m not going to explain to you what that is, because considering your OWL results, i can very well tell you know.. for her, it turned into a large, terrifying man. i don’t know who it was supposed to be. you mother was frightened, she screamed; i, being nearby, rushed over and with a quick wave of my wand, turned it into a little mushroom.”
“what a hero,” remus chuckled, pulling his longs legs up his chest.”
“i made sure she got home safely, and well, that was the beginning of something special. a few months later, i told her that the boggart posed no danger at all, but by then, we had already fallen in love. not long after, i asked her to marry me, and she said yes. we got married about a hear before you were born, and your mother, with her wicked sense of humor, decided we should have…
“the boggart-shapper topper,” remus finished, grinning. “classic ma.”
“then, as you know, or well, don’t, since you were just born,” lyall continued, (remus snorted) “on march the tenth, the following year, you came into our lives, and our little family was complete.”
his son chuckled, kicking his feet up on the couch. he chewed on his lip. “what’re you reading?”
“the hobbit,” he answered. “i had a bout of nostalgia. you’ve grown up so quicky; it feels like you’re not my little boy anymore.”
he saw remus’ adam apple bob up and down as he swallowed.
“i mean, look at you. your mum’s got to stand on her tiptoes to kiss you, and i know she’s not the tallest woman, but she had to bend down to be able to hold your little hand once. and you could fit between my arms, remus, with your head on my chest when i read to you. you used to be so little, and in a few months you won’t even be living with us anymore. you’re of bloody age,” he let out an airy laugh, “now.”
lyall didn’t know when remus had stood up and was behind him, his arms wrapped around his dad’s shoulders. “i’m still your son,” he said, his voice as small as it used to be when he was little.
“i know,” he reached out awkwardly and patted remus’ shoulder, ignoring the sniff he heard remus let out. “you’re always gonna be our son, cariad.”
#hope is kind of the only subject they can discuss without being awkward#also what if i cried what if i shed a tear writing this what then#remus lupin#lyall lupin#remus&lyall#lyall&remus#my writing
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