#no. 1 reason he's not a bard

[macksartblock]

spent most of my time off playing BG3 so-- dads in their classes starting gear

[william-solace-aaaaa]

Yo guys I started playing a dnd campaign w some of my friends n my husband (both of us are new to it) and it's soooooooo cool and I love this game sm but it's pretty complicated but that's what makes it gooooooddd

(Dam das alot of tags)

[designernishiki]

I will maybe make a bigger post at some point about other characters’ dnd classes but. thought about it. kiryu would be a battlemaster fighter multiclassed into oath of vengeance paladin. end of statement

[im-still-a-robot]

I just want to use charm person because it will 100% get us out of a Situation. The spell literally says friendly acquaintance. However, if you want me to seduce the character you literally named "Lucifer" understand that I am no coward.

[lovelyrotter]

i still think the funniest thing about playing lavellan was during 'what pride had wrought' and having morrigan humansplain elven things to you. i wish so badly thered been more dialogue options that had been more in line with sorcen's personality cause he wouldve brought that whole thing to the most awkward of silences. hed have "well as a dalish and the first of my clan [...]"'ed her tf up

[rivendell-poet]

*･༓˚✧❝𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 (𝐋𝐨𝐭𝐑)❞‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧ « scenarios »

○ Aragorn ○ Legolas ○ Frodo ○ Sam ○ Merry ○ Pippin ○ Boromir ○ Faramir ○ Éowyn ○ Éomer ○ Bard ○ Thranduil ○ Tauriel ○ Lindir ○ Haldir ○ Elladan ○ Elrohir ○

No TWs | GN!Reader | Wordcount : 3.3k (each individual around 190~ words) | Read on Ao3

« 1, 4, 5, 6, masterlist »

𝐀𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐧

✧ When you get to Rivendell the first thing you do is rush to Frodo’s side - checking he’s ok and thanking the healers.

✧ The second thing you do is take in the beauty of Rivendell, eyes going wide as you see the home of the elves in all its splendour.

✧ He’s walking with you and showing you Rivendell, eyes lighting up almost as much as yours when you see the sights - except the light in his eyes and the smile on his face come from your happiness.

✧ Taking note of what makes your eyes shine brightest, he begins to tour more specifically with your preferences in mind.

✧ As you turn around to express your love of something, he realises he’s too focused on trying to capture every inch of your beauty - especially while being in awe like that - that he misses the question.

✧ Aragorn hopes he isn’t blushing too much when he asks you to repeat the question, this time quickly answering it to the best of his abilities.

✧ The next room captures your attention, and Aragorn instinctively goes back to watching you and laughing with you before he realises what he’s doing.

✧ It’s then he realises the blush on his face isn’t because of embarrassment - but because he likes you.

𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬

✧ Legolas is enjoying his time in Imladris, with one of the greatest things being the company. There is you, of course, and the rest of the Fellowship - but it is also nice to spend some time with fellow elves (who aren’t his subjects).

✧ Or, almost fellow elves, such as the sons of Elrond. He has always been intrigued by them, not just for the heritage, and it’s good to spend time with the two. Eventually, in a conversation with Elrohir, the topic finally comes up.

✧ “What is it like, living with Lúthien’s gift?”

✧ “Gift?” Elrohir looks at the elf, “Most call it a choice. Is there a reason you ask? A… someone you ask for?”

✧ His immediate reaction is to say no, and that he is just curious, but then he thinks harder. Is there someone he would stay on Middle Earth for?

✧ As he thinks, an image of the two of you - bow in your hand and grinning at him, bathed in sunlight - comes into his mind. And his mind subconsciously answers the question. If you would have him, he would answer yes.

✧ The elf stays silent, and Elrohir gives a knowing look, before speaking briefly. Offering some advice, and congratulating Legolas on at least figuring out his feelings.

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐨

✧ Frodo realised he liked you from just about the second he laid eyes on you - you were unlike anyone he had ever known, and that excited and fascinated him.

✧ He expected the crush to go away, eventually, once the novelty wore off and you were known to him as a friend.

✧ Except it never did. With every new smile he saw from you, every word, every laugh falling from your lips - he slowly became more and more enamoured by you.

✧ It was after yet another night that you’d come round for dinner, it was becoming a regular (and welcome) occurrence that he truly realised he didn’t just have a crush.

✧ Frodo was in love with you.

✧ When he’d finally closed the door, watching as you’d walked away, he could still feel the red on his cheeks - and could see the knowing smile Bilbo gave him when he’d turned around.

✧ Patting him on the back, Bilbo had given the young hobbit words of support and encouragement - a twinkle in his eye as he hinted this love may not be unrequited.

𝐒𝐚𝐦

✧ Sam had seen you in and around the Shire a few times before, stopping briefly to look at you before going back to what he was doing.

✧ At first he’d thought it was just him being observant, until Pippin had been over and pointed out that of all the hobbits in the Shire - he’d only stop to look at you.

✧ He was mortified to realise what he'd been doing, and had thrown himself back into his work with much more vigour. Trying to stop himself from being distracted, again.

✧ It works ok, but while in the Green Dragon Pippin assures him that the comments weren't meant in a bad way, and that they were all glad Sam had 'found someone'.

✧ Sam almost isn't sure what they mean, until he thinks back to all the times he's seen you - the times he's blushed. The very small interactions you two have had, that have then lightened his day.

✧ It's thanks to Pippin's teasing he realises he has a crush on you, and then thanks to Frodo when he can finally interact with you.

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲

✧ Merry realised he liked you from the second he laid eyes on you.

✧ And not in a silly, young-hobbits-in-love type of crush - but something that reminded him of the story books he'd read as a child.

✧ The ones that said when you met the one for you, you'd feel sparks like Gandalf's fireworks and you'd just know.

✧ He did just know, taking the first opportunity he could to talk to you; talking to you felt even easier than most, as though you were a lifelong friend and not just a stranger.

✧ Every time you make eye-contact, he searches in your eyes for the spark he so clearly feels in his - and when he makes you laugh for the first time he's delighted to see it appear (however briefly).

✧ Each passing day cemented this feeling even more, but he still believes it was love at first sight (for him at least).

𝐏𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧

✧ When the two of you first met, Pippin thought you were an angel (an opinion he still holds, in some regards). The second he realised you were of Middle Earth, he also realised he was blushing like a fool.

✧ He knows the attraction isn't just superficial from the day he meets you, but he also sees it as a crush at the start.

✧ And then he starts to spend time with you.

✧ You make him laugh, he makes you laugh. He makes you smile, you make him smile just by being there.

✧ It's also at this time when he realises that what he feels for you isn't just a crush.

✧ He likes,  no - loves, every part of you. And to call it simply a crush would be an insult to his heart.

𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐨���𝐢𝐫

✧ Like a lot of the soldiers of the White City, his spirits are high as he watches from Osgiliath, eagerly awaiting the return of the rangers, if only for a little while.

✧ Most of the men are looking forward to the night of celebrations and drinking, although some are more looking forward to seeing their loved ones come home.

✧ Boromir is looking forward to seeing his little brother come home - but he isn’t just looking forward to seeing his little brother. Faramir isn't the only one he dearly misses.

✧ As Captain, he’s in prime position when the rangers come in; immediately identifying the two of you and going over.

✧ He pulls Faramir into a hug before looking at you with a grin, unsure of what to do before you embrace him as well.

✧ Instantly, he hugs back - just as firm and confident as with Faramir’s hug - but inside he can feel his heart almost beating out of his chest.

✧ The grin is still on his face as he comes out of it, and when you begin to talk his heart calms down, although only a little.

✧ It’s only then when he realises his heart isn’t beating fast around you because you’re nervous, but because he loves you.

𝐅𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐫

✧ Faramir knew he liked you from the second he laid eyes on you, even if he was slightly too drunk to realise just how deep it went at the time.

✧ He truly didn’t drunkenly hook-up with people, but he did tend to gravitate towards people he liked. People like you, even when you were in the dark corner. Especially when you were in the dark corner.

✧ And of course, he had kissed you back. The only reason he didn’t try to take it further was because he could smell the alcohol on both of you.

✧ When he had woken up the next morning, he regretted that he had not gotten your name (and the slight hangover).

✧ Then when he saw you, lined up as one of Boromir’s potential betrothed, he could feel his heart do two things.

✧ Skip, at the sight of you again. And drop, at the idea you didn’t love him back.

𝐄𝐨𝐰𝐲𝐧

✧ Staring after Aragorn, Éowyn takes a deep breath, trying to remain calm. From chasing him down, and telling him that she knows looking after the children brings honour (without renown). But she should be allowed to seek honour in other places.

✧ And then she feels a hand rest on her shoulder, calming, as she turns around to see you behind her.

✧ You can see her thought process, and tell her that you aren’t here to override your brother’s - or her king’s - orders. But you are here to give her this.

✧ When you press the sword into Éowyn’s hands, finely polished and gleaming perfectly, she can barely think of the words to thank you before she notices your traditional sword is missing.

✧ Instantly, she realises what you’ve given here and tries to give it back - but you keep it firmly in her hands.

✧ “There are many fine weapons in this armoury. Think of it as my gift to you, for now. A promise that I will be coming back to collect it."

✧ "Besides, it brings me comfort that if orcs get into the caves they shall find a warrior there.”

✧ Taking your hand away from the sword you disappear to follow Aragorn, and Éowyn is left holding it. As she watches the two of you leave together, she realises that she may have fallen in love with the wrong sibling (at least at first).

𝐄𝐨𝐦��𝐫

✧ When orcs are spotted within Rohan's borders, in two separate places no less, Éomer immediately takes action.

✧ It's bad luck you're on the second group of riders sent out, and worse when you haven't arrived back when Éomer does.

✧ He tries to reassure himself that it's simply bad luck, and nothing dangerous has happened, but by the second day his nerves get the better of him.

✧ With Éowyn he sets out to wait next to the gate you'll ride in from - a traditional practice.

✧ While waiting, he takes the time to look around and sees who else waits for the riders. When women there bat their eyes at him he ignores it until he realises something.

✧ Éomer is one of the only men there, and the only one not blood-related to the rider he is waiting for. Almost everyone else here is a parent, a sibling, or a lover.

✧ So where does that leave him?

✧ He feels blush begin to rise on his face as he realises precisely which one he is. Or, more accurately, which one he wishes to be for you.

𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐝

✧ Begrudgingly, Bard watches you leave for the final patrol of your shift before laughing as he sees Tilda’s pout when she looks at you going as well.

✧ Looking up at him, she huffs even more; declaring that it isn’t fair he’s allowed to smile while you’re here and while you're away.

✧ He responds that you’re good company, but he can be happy without you - and that’s a good thing.

✧ Then Tilda looks up at him with a doubtful expression. Announcing that he looks extra happy, and his face turns a bit red like when Bain had that fever one time. Or when Sigrid looks at the neighbour's kid, except she shouldn’t tease her sister about that because it’s ‘feelings’.

✧ As pleased as Bard is that his children are taking his lessons to heart, he’s less pleased about her observations.

✧ Keeping walking, Bard tries to reassure her that that’s not what’s going on with him and you - but internally he’s truly thinking about it.

✧ About the fact you’re the first person to make him smile like that for the first time in… a while.

✧ The fact he always lets his kids go up to you because then he can talk to you, and the fact he talks to you even if the kids aren’t with him.

✧ It’s then Bard realises that, somehow, his children have worked out he likes you before he has.

𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐢𝐥

✧ Thranduil had barely noticed that the biweekly meetings had become less formal, and more about the two of you spending time together.

✧ He hadn’t noticed that most of the time you spent talking was just about the two of you, and no longer about his son.

✧ The thing that made him notice just how special these meetings became was when, while watching you leave, he could feel his smile.

✧ There was a warmth in him that wasn’t just from the wine, or the fireplace, and instead a warmth because he felt comfortable.

✧ Around you, he could be himself. Not much changed, of course, but something about being near you felt freeing, and as though he was understood.

✧ A feeling he had not felt in a long time, but a feeling he nonetheless welcomed - especially when it was you that warmed his heart.

𝐓𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥

✧ Both of you had managed to get into the royal guard - you getting into the king’s guard, while she began to work with the prince.

✧ It was while she was taking a break, eating in one of the soldier’s halls, when Alinar (a fellow guard) had come up to her with a grin. “So, you and them, right?”

✧ Trying not to sigh, Tauriel gave a quick answer that no, she was not interested in the prince before Alinar began to laugh. Explaining he hadn’t been teasing about her and Legolas, but her and you.

✧ “Anyone with eyes can see you look at them like they’ve got a fourth elven ring, Tauriel. You’re really not subtle.”

✧ She continues to deny, swatting him away, although this time it’s more on principle. Not because she doesn’t like you.

✧ Because… she does look at you that way. You are magnificent, and wondrous, and she does want to be more than your friend.

✧ As you walk into the hall, you look over to the empty space besides her and immediately come over - and she wonders if she normally blushes this much when you smile at her.

𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐫

✧ Staring at the new poems he’s written, Lindir wonders to himself when his inspiration went from nature and the Valar to… love.

✧ He can still recognise the work as his own, the same metaphors and adoration for his subjects, but he never considered writing romance. Or writing about someone romantically - because he knows that all his works have a muse.

✧ Re-reading the lines over, he tries to imagine the different elves of Imladris fitting into this prose but none of them do.

✧ Deciding to leave it for later, Lindir takes the scrolls and keeps them with him - resolved in going to the library.

✧ On his way there, you cross paths with him - immediately smiling and asking how his day was.

✧ It’s there, looking ethereal against the backdrop of Imladris and roses, that Lindir realises the subject of his new writings.

✧ You are his new muse.

𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐫

✧ Haldir had felt a spark from the first moment you had interacted, your bow drawn - placed in front of your allies and standing as though it would need a thousand warriors to fell you.

✧ These feelings hadn’t even gone away as you let the arrow fly, only afterwards realising he’s not a threat and batting it out of the air.

✧ When you start to apologise he easily stops you, stating that it’s a relief that the Fellowship is travelling with a skilled warrior like yourself.

✧ Watching you go to the Lady Galadriel, he tries to untangle what he’s feeling for you. Is it simply admiration? Or is it something more?

✧ Seeing you alone and clearly wanting to move, he approaches you after the meeting - offering to show you around Lothlórien.

✧ It’s for a somewhat selfish motive, as he wants to try and realise what his feelings are.

✧ And, as his heart seems to lift when you look around and finally seem happy, he understands what his heart wants.

𝐄𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐧

✧ It’s the day after their birthday, finally in their first century, when Elrohir wakes his brother up by poking him.

✧ Elladan is still sleepy, but he’s aware enough to ask what his twin thinks he’s doing.

✧ “I want to know why you didn’t confess, brother dearest.”

✧ The sing-song voice is annoying, but Elladan still gives the question some thought. Confess? About what? Or confess to someone?

✧ Seeing his brother clearly isn’t going to get it, Elrohir lets out a sigh before directly name-dropping you. He’s instantly rewarded with seeing a heavy blush, before poorly spluttered denial about you simply being a friend.

✧ Looking directly into Elladan’s eyes, he speaks again. “Brother, I have watched the two of you dance around each other for almost a century. Sometimes I think I’m the one suffering because of your love. You could at least acknowledge your feelings to yourself.”

✧ He can still see the blush on Elladan’s face, obvious against his hair. But he can also see acceptance and realisation in his brother's eyes. The realisation that he wants you as something more than a friend.

✧ “Took you long enough.”

𝐄𝐥𝐫𝐨𝐡𝐢𝐫

✧ Elrohir was never sure if he believed in love at first sight. It was never something discussed among the elves, where feelings tended to develop over years of emotional connection. But it also seemed like a real thing to mortals - and not just in the tales of old.

✧ As a son of Elrond, where did that leave him? Would his feelings come after decades with a lover, or from a glance across the forest?

✧ And then you arrived.

✧ Instantly, something skipped in his heart - and he felt almost exactly what he’d always thought true love would feel like.

✧ But it wasn’t quite the blazing fire that some of the tomes described, more like a spark.

✧ Then he met you again, desperately trying to do the best you could to keep your city safe. And then again in Gondor’s war council, fearlessly pledging your allegiance to the new king and winning over others with honeyed words and promises.

✧ It was then when his heart was set on you.

✧ So, not quite love at first sight, it had taken a little more time for him to be completely sure.

✧ Yet he was still completely enamoured by you, at the latest, by at the end of your third meeting.

Hope you enjoyed! So sorry this is late, I had it completed and then forgot to post it - was just sitting in my drafts. Soo... yeah, I am very sorry about that. Thank you again for your support! Requests here.

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thank you for reading *･༓˚✧ wish to be tagged?

[foldingfittedsheets]

Tonight’s DnD session went off the rails. The party was called in to deal with a black dragon masquerading as an orc. She’s warmongering and causing havoc, but we cannot out her as a dragon for political reasons. So we need to neutralize her. Our goal is to humiliate her and lose her following.

We challenge her to single combat. We waffle on whether the party half-elf fighter/cleric should face her or our bunnyfolk barbarian, but we know she’s an adult dragon so it’s dicey to face her one on one.

Then I say, “What if… I use Greater Invisibilty on the barbarian?”

This causes much hilarity. The dragon would have blindsight and know that he was there but would look insane shouting about invisible rabbits. We decide he should sit atop the half-elf’s shoulders.

“But what if she knocks him off?”

We consider this. Then the DM goes, “You guys have that saddle…”

And we do. We have a magic saddle that you cannot be unseated from. But then we’d need the half elf to wear the saddle on her shoulders which would give the game away unless we could disguise it. A conundrum. Except!

The DM gave our characters a magic bond. We can cast any spell on each other regardless of distance. So my bard used Disguise Self to make the saddle disappear, we put the barbarian on the cleric with Greater Invisibility and send them into battle.

Midway through the dragon just calls in an owlbear. Not to maul our cleric but to just indiscriminately attack all parties. So there’s a bunnyfolk riding around on a half elf fighting a dragon disguised as an orc while an owlbear ran around mauling people until our Druid made friends with it from the sidelines.

The barbarian took a feat to get some on brand spells and at about 1/3 of her health he used Command to get her to submit. It was really low odds she’d fail her save but she rolled a nat one.

She dropped her weapon and kneeled. The party started screeching victory and her horde promptly forsook her and we were all utterly delighted.

[brekkie-e]

Im not saying we were robbed.

But.

Y'all we were robbed blind. Highway robbery. Full blown burglary.

Our party is made up of three posh noblemen, all of whom discuss the former parties they've attended several times. And not once do we get to attend a ball or a gala or a soiree in this game.

We can attend Gortash's coronation, but not infiltrate the super fancy celebratory ball afterwards? With our squad that for some reason forces the bard to play in the band and Karlach to try and pass off as a waiter while Astarion and Shadowheart infiltrate the guests? Oh no! Gortash realized youre there, now you're dancing to intense regency era music while you try to out maneuver eachother in a battle of wit. Your love interest is stressed for your life and also jealous as hell it isnt them.

Wyll is the son of the Grand Duke!! You can't put him in a political soiree that absolutely takes advantage of all the trauma he's been trying to bury because 1. Attending a ball full of patriars after being banished for 7 years??? Awkward and painful. 2. Attending a ball full of patriars after being banished for 7 years but showing up as a devil??? The poor man.

Astarion flat out says Cazador would have lavish balls! Can you imagine a pre-ritual infiltration quest where you have to sneak in to one of his balls to try and make a "take Cazador down" plan with the other spawn? Or figure out where the ritual would be held. And oh nooo along the way you find out so much about Cazador and actually have your own conversation with him as opposed to just the 15 seconds we ended up getting in the end.

Bonus points all of these scenarios involve the opportunity to dance with your love interest in cute outfits. Also no rules AGAINST a masquerade twist to it.

Dont talk to me, I'm mourning what could have been.

[itsonlydana]

Noisy Neighbors | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader x Bard 👑 [king's special]

Your new neighbors have been the bane of your existence - or rather sleep - for the last few nights, always keeping you up with their extensive love life. When you go up to confront the couple, you find another solution to the problem.

warnings/tags: NSWF! THIS IS ADULT CONTENT ✋️| [modern!AU] threesome, oral (f receiving), anal sex (m receiving), unprotected p in v, slight choking, brats (reader & Thranduil), mocking & dirty talk, Thranduil being a snarky bitch, he bites a bit, spitting, one ass-slap, praise, pet names, dom!bard, [reader is described with hair no further, no use of y/n]

word count: 6,2k

an: *lifts hands into the air* I'm sorry but writing Thranduil bitchy in this trio is what comes naturally, alright? I've been powering through this whole Sunday and between watching f1 and eating watermelon and packing up for a vacation, this surely made this day better. (not proofread, just wanted this baby out)

+ masterlist + rules + 🌿 reposts and comments are much appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

They’re at it. Again! 

Another night and you’re yet again held up by your neighbors fucking for the second time; on a Tuesday no less.

It’s 1 am and nearly seventy-three minutes – timed and noted down in your frazzled brain – after the noise had stopped the first time but now the moaning upstairs continues; this time accompanied by the banging of probably a bed frame that, if the force is anything to go by, is close to smashing in the walls. 

You haven’t seen the new neighbors that had moved into the apartment above you, there had been moving trucks, a handful of handsome and very good-to-look-at guys carrying furniture around the garden and blocking the elevator for hours, leaving cigarette buts around and ringing at yours so often you doubted it was an accident every time, but there had been no one who introduced themselves.

Well, not personally. 

Or rather in person, because what you hear every night is as personal as it gets. 

As you lie in your bed, alone one might add, you wonder who this couple is. 

Not that you have anything better to do. They’re the reason you’ve been either sleepless or fallen asleep to a lovely ASMR of two guys moaning that slowly snuck itself into your dreams; if anyone dares to say it isn’t appropriate or normal to think about the – sex – life of your neighbors you could counter that you had every right! Especially you. 

They’re probably young, you figure, not by the number of times they’re going at each other and the length, god, it has been a good while, that stamina is astounding, but by whatever coherent words you can understand now and again, their voices delimited the range of possible ages. 

And you had seen a pair of laced-up thigh-high black boots walking up the stairs after you had once heard the front door open and raced to peek through the peephole. Another time there had been a pair of very shiny and tight boxers left in the washing room downstairs and while you felt like a creep expecting them hanging on the line a few feet away from you, your basket clutched into your hands as you thought of the other renters here and how often you had seen their underwear, you concluded this must be one of theirs. The shoes as well as the boxers could belong to some older couple but that was most unlikely adding the different factors.

The names on their doorbell say ‘Oropherion & Bowmann’, though no Google search has brought up anything forth that could be them, nothing around this area anyway. 

Another moan rips through the night, guttural and raspy, and by now, that sound’s imprinted into your mind as well as the gasp and shout that follow. A few seconds of bed rattling later the boyfriend/husband/lover roommate with lots and lots of benefits reaches his peak as well in a deep moan that reverberates in your bones and sends a heat to your face and much lower. 

When silence falls, there’s an embarrassing moment of clarity as you release a shaking breath and quickly stand up on shaking legs to open your window, inhaling the cold air outside to fight against the urge to look up some porn and follow their example. 

They’ve gotten to your head, twisted up whatever the stress at work had left to be corrupted into this perverse lust. On the one hand, you’ll do anything for a night of full sleep but on the other hand… what you wouldn’t do to – no, no, no, this route is just a spur of restlessness. Leftover frustration over the last few exes, and dates being unable to bring out whatever your neighbors clearly had no problems with. 

They’re so vocal in their pleasure, that the last experiences of grinding against jeans in dingy club bathrooms or hookups ended in an unsatisfied call to a cab firm makes laying there, listening, fantasizing, even more unbearable. 

Not just because of the few residues of your consciousness, the blaring ‘this is so wrong’ -sign lighting up neon red in your head, but taking in their noises travels a long way through your body and you’re short of actually snapping and resolving the issue of the throbbing inside your pants yourself. 

The silence and air luckily help the cooldown; body and mind alike, and you wait, breathing in and out, calming down. Being up this late (or early) grants you the advantage of hearing the cicadas, the constant clicking, the low buzz of the aircon, and the distant rush of cars passing by. Somewhere there’s laughter, across the street, a TV light flickers through the white curtains fluttering in the opened window. 

People and animals are still up. Life’s going on. Another night of losing sleep isn’t the end of the world, even if the long day ahead will try defiling this feeling of peace that you conjure, brain hooked on the few meditation videos your friend has shown you recently. The stress of this situation manifests in an uncontrollable grumpiness that slips over your tongue and spills out of your eyes like thunderous weather clouded once bright skies – suddenly, one sentence meant nice gets on your nerves. 

You sigh and trot back to the pushed-back covers of your single bed, slipping your naked legs under the thin sheet. This is fine. Completely fine. You just need to close your eyes and concentrate on those damn sheep you had been counting before the rude interruption.

One sheep …. your shoulders sack into the pillow, relaxing slowly.

Two sheep … a heavy yawn breaks through your lips.

Three sheep … finally, you’ll be able to fall asleep. A few hours aren’t preferred, yet they’re better than no sleep at all.

Four sheep — and is that another. fucking. moan?

You sit up in your bed fast enough for dizziness to take over but that isn’t stopping any of the rage that switches your body to autopilot. In seconds after the godforsaken long moan echoes, you’re taking long and hard steps across your apartment, not caring one bit that you’re wearing neither shoes nor a long enough shirt to barely cover your ass and you haven’t even met them so this was neither an appropriate outfit nor emotion to confront them for the first time but fuck propriety!

“Fucking men,” you mumble underneath your breath as you waltz through your front door, – taking one step back to carefully push a sandal in between door and frame –, and then you’re up the stairs. Each step is fueled by that anger, the restlessness that pushes you over. In no other world would you have gotten this infuriated to completely ignore the otherwise introverted side of you, though they have taken it too far, “Just you wait.” 

You basically fly across the corner of the stairway, rushing up the last few steps until you see the dark door, boots standing in front of it, and before you can even think about what you’re about to do, your fists already collide with the wood once, twice, three angry times.

Four for good measure.

Five just because they’re surely taking their time.

Before your hand knocks another time, the door is being ripped open and you’re suddenly face to face with the nightly disturbers of your peace. Or rather face to chest. You’re certain your eyes are still angry because when you lift your chin to look away from those sweaty chests and find their faces, the man closest to you flinches the tiniest bit.

“You’re fucking loud,” you point a finger firstly at them, then down, pronunciation making it clear that you aren’t swearing per se, “I’ve been trying to sleep for so fucking long and I’ll give you one guess why I’m still up and about? Huh? Ever heard of compassion for neighbors or– I don’t know, holding in some of the noises?” Your chest heaves at the row of complaints that spills over your curled lips, cheeks hot and very possibly just as red as they feel.

There is a second of silence where your voice carries through the hallway, bouncing along the walls. 

You take the opportunity to give them a quick once-over, adding a wealth of new details to the mental picture you've been building. The man in front has dark brown, messy hair pulled into a ponytail, with some silver strands curling and sticking wetly to his forehead and temples. He sports a scruffy beard, with stubble on his pinkish cheeks and a thicker mustache over his lips. His body hair trails down, covering his defined chest, and extends further into the tight black boxers you saw in the basement.

The other one is strikingly different. Tall as well, towering over you though this has to do with the ice-cold and annoyed look that bores into you out of blue-grey eyes under heavy eyebrows. Long blonde hair falls over his lean chest, slightly ruffled but that’s no wonder after the two-and-a-half rounds in their bed. His lips are stuck together, adding to his attitude.

Both of them are gorgeous, dressed in nothing but boxers, and their bodies are marked by fingerprints and scratches. And while they surely are a bit older than you, that gap couldn’t be much.

“Wow,” the blonde, the one leaning against the wall behind his partner, the one being more long legs than anything else, rolls his eyes, “Aren’t you lovely?” 

You swear you nearly feel a vein pop. 

“Lovely?” you bring out between clenched teeth. 

The brunette shoots a look over his shoulder, getting a shrug out of the taller one in exchange that most likely means he doesn’t care one bit, and then he turns back to you, offering a crooked smile that sinks in the edge of the right corner, an apology pulling the plush lips down. “I’m sorry,” he starts and nudges his head back, “an’ excuse Thranduil, he can be very – bratty.” The thick accent that curls around the words slightly surprises you but you’re back on track fast.

One eyebrow raised you stare at them. “Sure,” sarcasm drips over your tongue, “and to shut him up you dick him down or what?” In the morning, you’ll probably very much regret this crude language, the dismissive tone that resembles more a hiss than anything else. 

“Yes, actually,” Thranduil cuts in and pushes his sharp chin up, looking down at you over the bridge of his nose. One of his hands, gods, they’re huge, lazily pats the broad shoulders of his partner, long and ringed fingers clanking together. He’s laying down heavily on some possessive shit you couldn’t care less about.

“Bite the curb or turn the moaning down,” you snap back, brows furrowed together. 

“Maybe –” 

“I’m Bard, by the way,” the brunette interrupts him and holds out a hand for you to shake. Hands, that had been who knew where a few minutes ago. Both of you seem to realize this at the same moment and while he cringes and pulls back, you offer your name, only looking at Bard and ignoring Thranduil, draped over Bard's back like a prying cat.

“Nice to meet ya. Thought about coming down a few times but never caught you home,” Bard says, attempting small talk. His effort is overshadowed by the sharp look-over Thranduil gives you, and it's clear that this is not the time to play the friendly neighbor.

You make that clearer by crossing your arms in front of your chest, unconsciously bunching up your shirt, and revealing the black string of your panties. Bard swallows, heavily.

“Well, nice to meet you,” you echo back dryly and cock your hip, “Can I go back to sleep in peace now? Are we done with this?”

Bard’s smile is pained, a bit embarrassed if you have to guess. “Sure, sorry again.”

“I’m not.” 

Thranduil hasn’t even looked at you as he whispers loud enough into Bard’s ears that it’s definitely meant for yours as well. And that piece of shit has the gall to flutter his lashes, his mouth ghosting over the hickey right against Bard’s neck, the offending lips curled into a smirk you want to wipe off. 

The sigh that leaves Bard is deep and deflates his whole chest, his shoulders following the drop of his arms. “Thran–”

“Oh, is that right?” On the contrary, you push your shoulders back and tip your head, sizing up the neighbor who, in your opinion, can move right back out again. No matter how pretty and unfairly sexy he is, that mouth of his ruins it. “Where do you pull out this fucking behavior? I just came here because you two have been going at it for hours and haven’t bothered to think about anyone else. I'm so sorry that –”

“Apology accepted,” Thranduil grins. His grey eyes are gleaming in amusement at your noticeable anger and he makes a high sound out of the back of his throat that sounds a lot like a giggle.

“Fucking hell, Thran!” Bard slaps his hand back, the flat of his palm meeting flexing muscles of Thranduil’s thigh, and lowly, sensually, Thranduil moans. This man is the walking definition of shamelessness.

That sound, the low vibration that usually comes through your walls, shoots to your core so fast that you sputter on the next breath. Hot curling heat makes itself comfortable in your lower stomach and you can’t help but blush – a feast for the unabashed man.

“If I had known we had such’ prude for a neighbor we would’ve found another place,” Thranduil says, most likely just to tease, because in the few minutes you’d known him, he’s definitely a teasing brat.

Ready to fight for yourself you shake your head and furrow your brows further.  “I'm not prude –”

“It’s okay” A Cheshire cat-like smile disproves the false compassion, making it all sound much more patronizing. Thranduil has gotten under your skin, an itch you yearn to scratch however you can, “Nothing to be ashamed of.”

“No, but I’m not a prude!” You lick your teeth, stepping closer to their door as if that will make your point more convincing than the tight vintage shirt you’re wearing, with a fading Care Bear printed right over your tits.

In mocking, Thranduil rests his chin on Bard’s shoulder, holding your slowly wavering gaze. “Not everybody is comfortable with such an active sex life.”

With ease he smothers every bit of self-control you have left, thinning out your resolve to stand higher than him. You glower, all the thoughts of failed one-night stands pressing onto your tongue and loosening it faster than you can realize what you’re spitting in front of their feet – one statement powerful enough to change the entire atmosphere into another type of tension:

"I would be if I would get it!" 

“Woah, let’s take it a notch back, shall we, hun?” Bard’s soothing voice could have been directed at each or either one of you two, and you notice how heavy your breathing has become, how much your hands twitch pressed against your breasts, and how Bard’s eyes flicker over where the shirt stretches tighter. 

Interesting…

The hand on Thranduil’s thigh wanders higher, immediately capturing your attention and it's the tanned color of it against ivory white that gets you. The difference in softness and hardness, obvious callouses moving over smooth skin. 

As subtly as possible, you shift your weight to squeeze your thighs together, heightening the throbbing evoked by every inch of skin in front of you. 

Neither Thranduil nor Bard misses it. You can tell it by Bard’s eyes darkening, Thranduil’s smirk widening dangerously and their stance, Thranduil’s arms slinging across Bard’s taut stomach, fiddling with the silky band of his boxers, as well as Bard leaning more right – opening up the way into their dark apartment.

“What if –,” Bard starts, fingers digging into Thranduil’s thigh.

Ice-cold eyes that suddenly burn with hot interest look you over, stopping right where the hem of your shirt exposes your underwear, “You could join us?” 

The offer shuts down your body as soon as your mind comprehends what Thranduil’s lowered, honeyed voice had presented to you and unfortunately, the inquiring “huh?” sounds much more like a whimper than originally planned. This question, this golden opportunity presented on a silver platter is fuel to the aching arousal pooling in your stomach and you can’t deny that, while lying in bed at night, listening to their intimacy, hadn’t evoked that dirty thought in you. 

Flushes of heat spread from your pelvis. You lick over your teeth. 

“What?” you laugh nervously. 

“You’ve heard us right,” Thranduil’s hand stills over the v of Bard’s hips. That he doesn’t move is nearly as taunting as the constant toying, wandering, and scratching he had done till then. 

“Pff as if –,” you stutter stubbornly, even if the pooling of wetness in your underwear betrays you, “as if.. as if I'm gonna waltz into the apartment of two strangers.. two men! You could do whatever to me!”

“Yeah, and you heard exactly what we could bring out of you” 

Their moans and the bed slamming against the wall are pretty good arguments against a case already won in their favor, despite how you’re still trying to grasp for straws.

“My organs when you strip me to the bed and murder me silently?”

“Jeez, you have an imagination woman. Is the stick this far up your ass that –”

“Babe!” Bard’s elbow lands in Thranduil’s side, warningly and soft just like his voice.

“No, let him finish” you glare at Thranduil, “I’d like to know what he thinks about presumed stick in my arse and its results.”

“I think you are prude and underfucked, jealous and so stripped up tightly you won't admit that a good fuck – and honey, I’ll deliver nothing less – would loosen you up,” Thranduil finishes his speech with a tip of his head forward, daring you to talk back and gosh, you wish you had some comeback, anything to prove him wrong, however, the wetness that sticks syrupy between your legs strikes out all other thoughts except:

You want them. You want both of these men.

“So—so what?” you retort, knowing they're right, a pout forming on your lips and a persistent crease of defiance. “That's such a testosterone-driven answer; typical man, thinking their cocks are the miracle cure to a woman’s dry spell.”

Even Bard tuts now, his soft eyes falling to your underwear. “You sure? Hun, you can whine all ‘bout but I can see your cute little panties being all wet – oh come on, don’t blush, I see them alright?” And sure, the material may cling to your cunt and the breeze in the hallway coming from an open window enhances that feeling, but– “Darlin’,” Bard chuckles, “Stop thinking, ‘s not that hard to accept you want it. Come on in, let Thranduil apologize sincerely for his hissy fit.”

You huff. 

Thranduil breathes a kiss toward you, pink lips forming a cute heart, and you only think: “Fuck it.”

Thranduil’s mouth, as he proves a few minutes later, is quite good at apologizing, fantastic even.

You’re spread on your back across their bed – ironically you find out it’s directly above yours –, legs opened up by his large hands, the metal of his rings biting ice-cold into the heated flesh as he kneads his fingers into your thighs and teases you most annoyingly by kissing all around your clit. His arms are wrapped around you in a way that's confining you to lie there and take whatever he decides to give you, or not in some moments.

“Pretty girl –,” Thranduil murmurs into the sensitive and practically vibrating skin, “Should’ve known there’s something sweet about that sour tongue.” His tongue is just as bitter, licking straight through your folds, gathering the absurd amount of wetness and ending shortly before your clit to press a wide opened mouth kiss into you. 

Your hips buck upward in desperation and at the same time exhilaration and Thranduil’s biceps flex to pin you down again; giving you no wiggle room.

“Better lie still,” Bard whispers and tilts your head back by the hand he wraps loosely around your throat. It’s not hard enough to blur your vision, but just hard enough to remind you of the power he holds over you. His fingertips close in together, putting the right amount of pressure on your windpipe for you to gasp for air; then he pounces in and takes over your lips in a heated kiss.

Your behavior, because you do in fact give it your best to stop your legs from crushing the head between your legs, is rewarded by Thranduil with the assistance of his tongue finally flicking over your swollen clit, first playfully then in earnest. He closes his lips around the bundle of nerves, grazing his teeth slightly over it and your head would’ve fallen back if it isn’t for the hand holding you to Bard. “Oh fuck,” you whine and grasp down. 

The second you burrow your hands into Thranduil’s hair, twirling some strands around your fingers for a better hold, he moans into you. Hot air meets the wetness of your pussy and the tips of your nails dig slightly into his hair roots. It turns him on more, that you grind yourself desperately against his face, your hands weaved into his hair to get back control and Thranduil’s tongue swipes over your pussy, diving in to plunge the tip into your entrance. 

“That’s it,” he gasps, sending the words straight through you while he fucks his tongue back into you a few times. Then he switches back to sucking on your clit and doesn’t stop; no matter how your thighs shook and fought to shut close, he stayed on his task of taking you completely into his mouth and rolling his tongue in figure-eights, circling in closer and closer. 

The sounds of Thranduil eating you out are pornographic, slickness from your spit and wetness, his ever-constant breathing and relentless swirls through your pussy that have your back in a wonderful arch. Bard’s lips swallow most of your whimpers up, and when he starts to lick his tongue against yours, teeth playfully tugging on your lower lip, you feel the stars before you see them. 

It starts up fast, heading toward you at full speed and you choke out your orgasm in a broken wail, fingers tightening in Thranduil’s hair. When he doesn’t stop and stimulation becomes overstimulation, your eyes flutter to escape the nearly drunken stare of his gray eyes hidden under long lashes and finally, he slows down. Bard too, leaves your lips in one last, dragged-out kiss that you want to chase after; his mouth is too sweet and gentle, a perfect harmony of caring and hunger.

“All attitude until the attitude drips down her legs and messes up our bedsheets,” Thranduil laughs huskily and wipes the back of his hand over his glistening lips and chin. He puckers his mouth, a wide grin on his face as he crawls up to you. “Now, how do you want this?”

Breathless, you look up to Thranduil and Bard, the latter already moving to shed himself of his boxers. When you see what Bard packs under the tight black underwear a wheezing laugh escapes your throat.

“Yeah,” you scoff at his arched eyebrow, “I would be fucking that multiple times as well.” 

His cock stands heavy against his stomach, thick and bobbing, white precum rolling down the veins. “Like what you see?” Bard teases, one hand wrapped around himself, leisurely stroking up and down. “I’ll let you have a taste if you’re good.”

A large palm spreads over your abdomen and Thranduil slides two fingers down to pinch your still sensitive clit so you yelp and scowl at him. “You won’t be getting any of that tonight,” his voice sounds threateningly possessive, and at the sight of his much taller body towering over yours and that look in his eyes, your stomach flips. “Don’t think I’ll let you hop on there after you disturbed us. Tonight –,” Again, that word that emphasized like he did promises more nights after this, “tonight he’s mine.” The last bit he whispers into your ear, the soft locks of his hair brushing your still-covered chest. 

All that Thranduil had time to undress you for, had been your underwear and those had landed ripped into two somewhere in the darkness of their bedroom. This meant you would have to borrow some of theirs or rush downstairs with your cunt on display and after this should be over, you have no idea if you would even be able to walk. 

Thranduil, by the feeling of his bulge pressing into your stomach, isn’t small either. That cockiness had to have a source somewhere and they don’t call it that for no reason.

Bard’s laughter interrupts the staring contest you two have going on, otherwise you’re not sure how long it would’ve gotten on or who would’ve quit first; not you, he could poke his cock into you however he wants. The other man walks around the bed, heading to the end where Thranduil’s long legs hang off and by the sudden twitch in the body crowding yours into the mattress and the cry Thranduil lets out, you strongly think there has been a tickling involved. 

You laugh as well, the sound dying swiftly when Thranduil turns back to you and grinds his hips into you. All that comes out then, is a straggled whine. 

“Fucking asshole,” you grumble and pull on his hair again, forcing his head down for you to kiss his wet lips. 

Able to taste yourself on his tongue, you greedily open your mouth further, and Thranduil wastes no second to dominate. He takes over the kiss, distracting you just enough that you don’t notice Bard taking off Thranduil’s boxers until the cock against your stomach twitches at a particular noise out of the back of your throat and precum dribbles onto your skin. 

“Someone’s eager,” you tease.

Thranduil promptly bites you in return. “Says the slut moaning under me,” he retorts, scratching his canines across your neck. “Now, take that skimpy shirt off or I’ll rip it like that sad excuse of underwear.” 

You roll your eyes but follow his demand, pulling the tight shirt off and flinging it away. Free for him to touch, Thranduil’s fingers of one hand find your right tit, and, putting the rock-hard pebble in between them, he steals the air out of your lungs pulling and twisting your nipples. “At least, oh fuck you –!” 

Your attempt to speak gets drowned out by a cry of need and suddenly, you’re getting crushed into the mattress by Thranduil’s heavy weight, his fingers still tight around your nipple and his mouth close to your ear. His ass is the only thing not forcing you down. 

Bard, who has been silently chuckling and observing until now, decided the time’s right to move this forward and over the head of blonde hair pushing itself into the crook of your neck, panting hotly and frustrated, you see Bard circling his rim with two fingers. 

“So that’s what shuts you up,” you whisper for Thranduil to hear. 

He lifts his head slightly, though the angry eyebrows fall quickly at another moan.

Behind Thranduil, illuminated by the moonlight outside, Bard looks positively majestic and dominating, his shoulder-length hair free from the ponytail, falling ruffled into his face as he inhales and forcefully spits down to where his fingers are slowly pushing further into the ass presented to him. 

“That’s good, Darlin’,” he praises and Thranduil keens, eyes full of hearts, “Push back a bit, makin’ it easy for me, aren’t you? Go on, sweetheart.” At your gasp – you’re not unaffected by the praise, not at all and if you weren’t coming down from a sensational orgasm that had your clit in flames.. – Bard looks up and winks at you. “Go on. Wonderful, you’re just the best. Look at you, beautiful.” He’s obviously talking to Thranduil but you follow his command despite it; the aura around Bard makes it impossible to do anything less than obey. 

Lying there under these two men, feeling their weight, hearing their moans and the rasps of their deep voices, and being clouded in the smell of sweat, cum, and body odors mixing, is fulfilling fantasies you hadn’t been creative enough to think up.

“Oh – Bard, can you – hah, yes, there –” Thranduil arches into the touch catlike, his back up in the air and the curve of his spine glistening, now that a few drops of sweat are decorating the skin, marked in pink trails of fingernails of a hand that twists slightly and adds another finger. 

Your chest is full of blonde hair, platinum after another inspection, strands perfect to comb your hands through. Thranduil’s lashes flutter beautifully. His lips open up, puffing out airy breaths, pink plush lips coated in spit after he runs his tongue over them. 

Biting down a comment of how he had been right about the ‘shutting up and dicking down’, you act without thinking. The kiss is much slower and sensual than the last, maybe to distract Thranduil from that pain/pleasure that Bard afflicts on him, opening him up four fingers at one time. Soon though, the grind of Thranduil’s hips becomes too much to endure, he already left a wet trail of precum all over you and while you’re still gasping into his mouth, you blindly reach between your bodies. 

“Goddamit,” you grunt, angling your hips slightly, “You’re no help at all.”

“What?” Thranduil groans and everything vibrates, “I’m the one having four fingers up my arse, can’t you just wait a fucking second?” 

“Mhm, no.”

“You’re such a brat,” he leans down, hair fanning over you and trapping you in a bubble where it’s just you, his panting breath and the fire in his eyes; he’s gorgeous. “I’m sorry but –”

“Apology accepted,” you cut him off, smiling sweetly.

A second later you swear you’re being ripped apart; immediately tears spring into your eyes, hiding Thranduil’s satisfied smirk behind a watery curtain as he pushes his cock in further, stretching you past known limits. The only proof that you’re still breathing is the pitchy moan, the whine that follows the stretch of inch after inch.

“Fuuck–” 

It’s going on forever. The rocking of Thranduil’s hips. The slow drill of his cock pushing its way through you, carving a spot into your clenching walls. Surely it’ll come out of your throat. 

You blink fast, regain your vision, and look down.

“Oh my fucking god,” you slap a hand against Thranduil’s shoulder, trying to get a grip on reality, “How are you this big?”

“He’s a mouthful,” Bard pitches in, grinning, and finally reaches a point where he has prepared Thranduil enough. He spits again; once into his hand, which he immediately closes around his cock again, and once between the globes of Thranduil’s ass, watching it trail down. Bard gathers some of Thranduil’s long hair to gently push it over his side. “Are you ready, my love?” he bows down for a soft kiss to the protruding bones of Thranduil’s arched spine.

Ironically, that's what finally gets you and Thranduil on the same page. 

A page that was full of unintelligible curses, punctuated by groans and underlined by hands grabbing for each other. 

Your hand digs itself into Thranduil’s back as he finally bottoms out, buried so deep you can feel him in the back of your throat – or that’s the pressure from that massive cock bullying your insides – and he stills, hipbones digging into you as well as if he hasn’t already marked you up enough with his girth.

Bard reaches forward, thus pushing in faster than Thranduil expects it and your fingers intertwine over the blonde's back. Electricity zips through you, starting from your toes pressing into the sheets, up your shaking thighs to your clenching cunt, and higher up your spine into your head.

Thranduil, fully sandwiched between you, can do nothing except follow the unforgivable rhythm Bard sets. 

The bed creaks as he rocks into you, just when Bard pushes in. The start is messy, lots of “There–” and “Fuck, slower–” until they change it up. 

Thranduil’s breathing is ragged and erratic as he moves against you, his hips pistoning against yours in a steady, firm rhythm. His arms hold you in place, his body covering you completely, lips moving along your neck and shoulder. You, being just on the receiving end, take everything he gives.

“Finally out of complaints, aren’t you?” he angles his hips to thrust harder. “A – ahh – all you needed was a good cock to shut you up.” 

You almost gag on a whine, proving him just right. “No– so-ohh – not true.”

A fleeing look to Bard and you’re silently begging. For what you don’t know. Maybe his support. Maybe to fuck Thranduil hard enough he swallows his words.

“Oh, Thranduil,” Bard starts and you truly think he’ll be on your side,  “If she’s still trying to mouth back you’re doing something – fuck – wrong!”

Thranduil laughs, fucking laughs. Each snap of his hips fills the room with shameless sounds, and as painful as it is to admit, his low baritone causes your pussy to clench tighter, dripping arousal. The fire they started burns higher when he wedges one hand down between your legs, somehow landing on your clit perfectly despite the brutal pace of his and Bard’s thrust. 

“You should’ve come up the first day you heard us,” Thranduil spits out, “Could’ve had this cock making you happy every night. You needed this, right? Someone, to fuck you stupid? Did you lie awake all night and listened to Bard fucking me, fiddling with yourself as if your dumb little fingers could ever come close to this?” His middle finger demonstratingly flicks your clit up.

“Please, oh– please, please,” you sob, the messy circles he’s rubbing with his thumb dumbing you down to a mumbling mess. Pleasure dances in every vein, lights up nerve endings in white-hot fire. 

"Gosh, I think I’m feeling that stick I had been talking about,” Thranduil rasps, pressing his palm against your lower stomach, bringing out another wail, “Oh wait no, that's just me giving you exactly what you needed." 

You’re wringing out his cock, every stroke sends him deeper and deeper, crushing your g-spot, urged on by the slaps of Bard’s balls. He’s taking it slower, staying against Thranduil’s prostate and spreading his hands in the long hair to control when his boyfriend slams into you. 

“C’mon, honey. Be good and come on Thran’s cock, won’t you? He’s so sorry for his bratty behavior but as you can see –” Bard sends his hand down swiftly, shocking you as his palm lands flat on Thranduil’s right cheek with a loud ‘smack’; a scream of pleasure and Bard pats the already reddening skin, “he’s insatiable.” 

That’s what does it for you, in the end. 

Already spiraling toward the edge with Thranduil’s pace and his fingers slipping, rubbing, flicking in all directions, it’s the calmness in Bard that sends you over. The relaxed hold in Thranduil’s hair, how he thrones above you, patiently waiting for his turn because he’s already fucked Thranduil twice tonight – what are another few minutes of watching you slurring their names?

If Thranduil’s cock broke you in half, the orgasm that spikes through you angrily and into every cell splinters whatever’s there to shred. It’s blinding, hot and cold, a wildfire and ice bath. It’s the strongest you’ve cum in a while and your brain shuts down. 

Thranduil groans as you clench around him, but, sensing – or seeing it in your fucked out expression – that you can’t take anymore, he drags his cock out of you. 

Half conscious your head drops to the side as you try to catch a breath that isn’t sweat and hair. Through blurred eyes, you have a front-row seat to the change in Bard. He swiftly lifts his head once, shaking back his hair and exposing the long column of his throat and the muscles that flex in his shoulder, before he’s sprawled atop Thranduil, grabbing the red and heavy cock wet with your cum and fucks him. 

Raw and unapologetic. 

Fingers pull on Thranduil’s hair, forcing his head back into his neck and Thranduil groans, arching his back closer to Bard. It’s a glorious sight, their hips meeting again and again, Bard’s hand wrapped around Thranduil’s cock, pulling and jacking him off in that same rhythm that Thranduil had rubbed you earlier.

Bard’s panting as well now, grinding more than thrusting and watches himself disappear inside Thranduil. “You feel so good, Thran–” he mumbles, “one more time for me, alrigh’ gorgeous? You did perfectly tonight, taking me three times.”

The praise continues to rain, hailing down like the short and precise twitches of Bard’s hips and when Thranduil hits the bed in a low moan of Bard’s name, coating the bedsheets underneath him white, Bard follows shortly after; buried deep inside his boyfriend.

For a while, the room is filled with efforts to catch your breath. Sweat clings to your body like a second skin, glistening on Thranduil and Bard lying close to each other next to you as well. 

“Oh my god,” you whisper, “the neighbors are gonna hate us.”

[grimm-writings]

HI ITS BARD ANON I MISSED YOU!!! insane request but what about a situation where the party + kabru + chil’s family orchestrate a date between chil and reader? like setting them up… i think that’d be so cuteeee

for the dancing and the dreaming

…ft! chilchuck x gn! reader

…tags! fluff, post-canon spoilers, chilchuck’s wife remains nameless, i love chilchuck's family can you tell

…wc! 1887

…notes! BARD ANON I’M BACK FROM WAR (burnout) !!!! these two requests are similar so i decided to make ‘em a wombo combo!!! enjoy my loves!

The woman gives you a kindly smile as she waves you off, you and her ex leaving the tavern.  She sighs and leans back, crossing her arms.

God, Chilchuck is more stupid than she remembered.

How could he possibly miss the affection in your eyes when he called out to you both before you left?  Or how you clearly wanted to ask if you can stay with him longer?  He’s just going to ignore that and consider it all platonic?

What an idiot.  Do I really have to step in for him again?  Just like old times, huh…?

The half-foot taps a finger against her cheek in thought.  Maybe she can push you to confess?  No, you’d probably wave your hands around and insist against having feelings for Chilchuck in the first place.  A heavy sigh escapes her.

Looks like she has to do things the old-fashioned way.

Step 1 – Family

The quickest way to alert someone is to see who the people closest to you know.  Flertom is rather in-the-know about any gossip.  Usually, as a mother, the half-foot really doesn’t want to encourage such things, but for now…

“What’s trendy in dating circles nowadays?”  She asks offhandedly, eyeing a bouquet Flertom bought to gift a possible suitor.  “Is the man still expected to be the one to initiate everything?”

She could nearly scoff at her own words.  Only reason she and Chil got together was pure happenstance.  Practically a blur by now.  He’d be hopeless at actually trying to start anything with you.

The younger woman hums in curiosity, before stopping to think.  “Not really nowadays, no…  If you have enough charisma, you can charm any man into taking you out for a drink.  Why do you ask, Ma?”

Flertom squints as she watches her mother laugh and shake her head in response.  “Oh, I just think your old man might need some… encouragement with a new flame is all.”

Just as she expected, Flertom was immediately on the ball with planning, rushing out to the town in order to visit her sisters and inform them of the operation.  She practically commanded her old mother to see if she could look for any clues about Chilchuck’s possible beau.  With a knowing smile, she remarks that she’s very happy to pay a visit to Melini.

Step 2 – Friends

“You really think something that elaborate could work?!”  Marcille Donato leans forward in her chair.  Her eyes shine with a certain kind of joy at the idea of playing Cupid that amuses the matured half-foot significantly.

She nods.  “I don’t see anything else coming close to pushing them.  Force might be the only way.”

A female tall-man, Falin if recalled correctly, squints and hums, tapping her finger on her chin as she tilts her head.  Her brow furrows.  “From what I know, Chilchuck seems to be more open, but… I don’t know if he has the courage to be truly vulnerable in front of someone like that.”

“No need to tell me twice,” his ex scoffs.

“Oh!”  The king, of all people, seems to have an epiphany.  “We could hold some sort of ball, encourage him to invite a plus one.  That can work, right Kabru?”

All eyes turn to look at the advisor standing to the side, clearly enjoying the conversation but not wishing to intrude.  He startles at the sudden attention, before clearing his throat behind his fist.

“It will take some time to plan, but it could work…  You mentioned having three daughters, ma’am, you can take one as a plus-one, and the two will take each other.”  He’s calm with his conclusion, which the half-foot woman can definitely respect.

“A banquet of all their favourite foods,” the dwarf Senshi, as food-brained as ever, sighs in daydream.

Kabru takes a step forward.  “Though I have to ask,” he enquires, “is it really necessary to call upon all of the king’s advisors and himself for a Cupid scheme?”

Silly boy.  He doesn’t yet realise the stakes.

If Chilchuck and you don’t say something soon, then you may stay silent forever.  This idea might be the best shot they have.

Step 3 – The Preparation

“What’s even the occasion…?”  Chilchuck sighs as he adjusts the sleeves of the formal outfit he’s wearing.  He’s definitely unused to something so high-class.  Being invited as a guest of honour certainly isn’t doing any favours either.

Not to mention, Laios was stupid enough to not even bestow upon you a guest of honour title!  Chilchuck has to go through the means of inviting you as a plus one due to some ‘organisational issues’, as Kabru put it.

What a load of crap.

“I ‘unno!”  Puckpatti peeks her head around the corner to look at her father.  “Royals just seem to like their balls!”

“This isn’t one of your period romances…” Meijack’s voice rings from the other room too.

You sit with them, talking amongst one another.  Flertom’s plus one remains a mystery to you, though she assures you that you’ll meet with her when you get there.  You can only assume it’s the girls’ mother but you have no clue why she’s so giggly and secretive about it.

“On the contrary!” Flertom announces.  “I think it’s exactly like a period romance.  Maybe one of us will be swept into a dance so beguiling, you forget there’s a whole ballroom of people!”

You squeal in surprise when Flertom takes your hands and pulls you out of your chair.  You dance together in a fit of giggles.  You only barely miss Chilchuck walking out to meet with you all, a fond smile on his face.

Little do you know, he’s thinking about what it would be like if joy like this could be shared in a household with the two of you.

“Come on now, settle.  Apparently there’s gonna be a carriage taking us to Melini.  I couldn’t fight against the theatrics, according to Marcille…”

“Oh Papa!”  Puckpatti sighs blissfully.  “We truly are living like nobles now!  Maybe you can… ah…”

Both you and Chilchuck spy her eyes darting towards her sisters with unsureness.  How strange.

“You can find… someone nice there!”

“No, Patti.”  Chilchuck shakes his head with a sigh.  “I’m not gonna marry some rich dwarf.”

“You are too cruel, Papa,” Flertom points out with a pout.  “No one will want you if you just keep saying no.”

As the three bicker, Meijack spares you a sympathetic glance, and she rolls her eyes.  Her sisters hardly know subtlety.  Finally she stands up and walks to your side.

“I’m glad you’re here with us,” she says with uncharacteristic softness; she’s similar to her father like that.  “Papa has good taste.”

You go red just as much as Chilchuck.  For a moment, Flertom and Puckpatti wonder if their less romance-focused sister has some secret charisma she’s been hiding up her sleeve this whole time.  It seems to work though, as they chorus their agreements loudly.

“Very good taste!”

“Their formal wear matches yours fashionably well!”

“Just as pretty as Ma too!”

“If not prettier!”

The entire carriage ride to Melini was full of this type of chatter, asking questions about you and Chilchuck’s time together the whole way.  A few times you had to clarify that you are only as close as the rest of your old party were close, but were only met with a few smug “mhms” and “sures”.

Chilchuck can only roll his eyes when he gets the chance to comment on it privately with you.  “I have no idea what’s up with them.”

“Oh, cheer up!”  You laugh softly.  “I’m flattered that they like me.”

Chilchuck can’t help but hear your laugh and chuckle along – music to his ears.  “...Yeah, I’m glad they like you too.”

“Come on!  Ma is here to greet you two!”  Flertom’s voice calls out.

The mastermind has been watching you and Chilchuck the whole time you approach.  Her expression remains neutral, with the smallest sliver of a smile.  Seems like the proximity has been lending itself quite well.

“Well, aren’t you two a pair,” she greets you both.  “Ready to take the ball by storm.”

“Your jokes haven’t gotten any better,” Chilchuck replies.

“And you’re still wearing the same shabby suit from sixteen years ago.”

Chilchuck flushes red once again and you can’t help but laugh, patting his shoulder sympathetically as he hooks his arm through yours.

The watching half-foot knowingly grins.  Yes, you two are definitely going to take it up a level after tonight.

Step 4 – Profit!

The ball came and went.  It goes as typical as the dark-haired half-foot expects.  What really is supposed to be a high-class noble event is a mask for foodies, romantics, and those looking for a fun time.

Senshi’s food was as wonderful as promised, and even if this was all done in the name of romance, Flertom and Puckpatti had to be held down from trying to approach the dwarf with lowered eyelids and twirled hair.  Chilchuck doesn’t need more heart palpitations than he already did.

She did her best to encourage Chilchuck to drink.  She knows better than anyone that his tongue only loosened when he got enough alcohol in him.  It hurts just a little, knowing that this is one of the only ways Chilchuck can be open with someone romantically.

The temptation did cross her to ask how Chilchuck views her now, but she stood against it.  It’s not the night for that.

By the time the party drew to a close, people were exhausted, drunk, in a food coma, or all of the above.  The King had to be dragged over to his quarters, and Marcille had since passed out on Falin’s shoulder, who’s bidding farewell to guests.

The dark-haired half-foot swirls the last of her wine in a glass as she stands outside, making small-talk with the tall-man.  It’s not until you stumble out with Chilchuck clinging to the fabric on your hip that she looks up.

“Do you—”

“No need for help!”  You reassure her with a grin.  “He always seems to get clingy with me when drunk, so I’m kinda used to it at this point!”

Your laughter meets a knowing smile, not knowing exactly what she’s so smug about.  “Yes, he seems to really like you.”

“I sure hope he does, considering he’s accepted my request to go on a date with him.”

Falin perks up enough to wake up the elf on her shoulder.  “A date?”

The half-foot across from you is stunned into silence.  It actually worked.  The atmosphere and passion of it all actually egged you both on!

“Congratulations.”  You’ve seen more emotion from the dark-haired woman than ever before.  Her smile relaxed but her eyes shining, the lines underneath crinkling with happiness.  “Treat him well, okay?”

“Of course,” you reply, and you lean forward a little.  “Thank you for your help.  Kabru couldn’t help but gossip to me.”

You wink and lean up again.  Chilchuck at your side whines for your attention and you laugh, walking towards a carriage.

Safe travels were promised, and the dark-haired half-foot turns to the two blonde women.

The elf blinks slowly, red-faced from drink.

“Did we win…?”

The two other women laugh.  Stories must be exchanged the next time you all meet – especially on your end of things.

[windcarvedlyre]

Wait Venti “mixes things up in canon”? Like, confuses which time he’s in??

I don’t think I’ve noticed. If you want, could you give some examples?

Yeah! There are 1-3 examples of this: 1 that only has time-related explanations, 2 which can be interpreted that way.

The first one is these two lines from different parts of the prologue, in both scenes where we meet Venti at Windrise.

He says exactly the same thing twice and notices that the second time. The delivery is almost identical too (at least in Chinese).

It's too long and flowery to be a coincidence imo, even from him; I believe it's much likelier that he messed up a script due to stress. As he points out himself, he only says 'these things' whenever he's 'down on his luck'.

There are two explanations for this that make sense to me:

He interacts with time nonlinearly. The specific nature of that could vary from simple time travel to jumping around branching timelines to experiencing more than one point in time in parallel; at this point I have no way to narrow that down.

He's in a time loop. He's been through the prologue before and he's partly on autopilot. Maybe Teyvat gets reset and he remembers previous loops, maybe it's something shorter.

Tangentially, if loop theory is true and Teyvat's on its fourth loop then the way he introduces himself will retroactively be even funnier:

Though his infamous song line would be slightly more consistent with intepretation one, as would a text about wind and time I can't locate that describes wind as 'moving between the pages of a book' (considering Teyvat operates on story logic) vs time being more destructive. Interpretation two is still possible if he knows 'future' songs from later in previous loops.

Anyway, the other two mixups concern the traveller.

The first is his infamous introductory voiceline:

Which isn't subtle. The second is from his story quest as he flees Angel's Share:

In which he refers to the statue's hands as 'the usual place' despite us never having been there with him. The dialogue immediately afterwards confirms this is intentional, not something implied to have happened offscreen. Like the Windrise lines, he says this while not at his best emotionally.

Venti also really, really likes the traveller in general- a bit much for someone who hasn't known us that long. His voiceline about his greatest wish puts us on par with Nameless Bard.

Both of the above have a non-time explanation: Venti may have befriended the traveller 500 years ago, the traveller has forgotten everything, and for unknown reasons Venti is trying to hide this from us. However, time travel, experiencing the future and present simultaneously, or knowing them from prior timeloop resets are also viable explanations for why he knows them and has spent time with them already.

Sooo yeah! Venti's hiding something big either way, but he's not as slick as he wants to be.

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon - Witcher Senses: Taste

Geralt has an enhanced sense of hearing and smell, so Jaskier reasons that of course his sense of taste would be enhanced as well.

Jaskier is maybe just a wee bit envious of Geralt's better sense of taste. It must be marvelous to taste food and drink on a whole deeper level than a human.

Even when the food at an inn or tavern is blander than h*ll, Geralt still appears to savor the taste, while Jaskier has to settle for suffering through the meal, or maybe be lucky enough to have a little salt in his pack.

And when the food is amazing? Jaskier wishes he could taste the food the way Geralt does. The food is absolutely delectable. The best thing he's ever tasted. Surely it is fit to set at the table of the gods themselves!

Jaskier is at a loss for words to describe the flavor. He looks at Geralt, and is instantly jealous of the Witcher's taste buds. The expression on his face suggests that the food tastes like pure sin.

Lucky b**tard

But Geralt's enhanced taste buds aren't just for enjoying food. Jaskier has seen him use it to keep both of them alive.

Geralt: Hm. Wine smells off. Let's see...

Jaskier: just the tip...of the tongue!

Geralt: *eye roll* Hm. Poison.

Jaskier: :O

Dead deer on the road with not a mark on it? Geralt's got it covered.

*nibble nibble*

Hmm. Wasting disease. Better stick with rabbit for dinner tonight.

Jaskier is impressed. The versatility is amazing! There are so many uses! He discovers another use for Geralt's tongue several nights later.

It's been a long day of travelling, and Jaskier has been taken over by inspiration and spent almost the entire day scribbling in his notebook and strumming on his lute. Geralt has not made as much progress has he'd like, but Jaskier is too distracted to keep up a steady, quick pace.

Oh well, there's really no reason they can't make camp early.

Jaskier is just sitting there later, minding his own d*mn business, when Geralt throws him for a loop.

He's been feeling off for the past few hours. Shaky, and a little sweaty.

He's staring at his notebook, glaring at the half-baked lyrics he's scribbled down.

He's getting worried. Had the meat pie he'd eaten earlier been spoilt? Was he going to die from eating rotten meat?

Geralt is abruptly at his elbow, grunting a concerned 'Hm'. His companion smelled off.

"What?"

"You don't look good."

"Excuse you, but I always look good!"

"You look like sh*t, bard."

"That's rude! Just for that, I'm sleeping on the other side of camp!" *Stands and stumbles*

Geralt grabs Jaskier's arm to steady him, but then doesn't let go. Instead, he starts snuffling at his skin.

Jaskier: *light-headed* Er...?

Geralt makes a thoughtful sound, then starts licking Jaskier's forearm.

"What the ever-loving--?!"

Jaskier can't complete his sentence because 1. Geralt is licking his arm. And 2. Geralt's tongue is scratchy, like a cat's, and he is having thoughts about it.

And goodness, some of those thoughts were making him blush!

Geralt apparently finds what he's looking for because he makes a satisfied grunt and lets him go.

Jaskier snatches his arm back, and stares at him, metaphorically clutching his pearls.

"You need to eat." Geralt says simply. "I can taste it in the sweat on your skin."

"You can...whAt?"

"I can tell from how your sweat tastes. It tastes bitter. Eat."

"But I ate earlier,"

"That was hours ago Jaskier."

Jaskier paused. Now that he thought about it, he'd eaten that pie for breakfast when they'd left town. It was now late afternoon!

"Well, f**k me running!" Jaskier exclaimed, feeling relieved. He wasn't going to die from a spoilt meat pie!

He took the dried meat, cheese, and nuts Geralt handed him and chewed contemplatively for a few moments.

Jaskier: *grinning suggestively* So, you can tell what's wrong with me by how I taste?

Geralt: *annoyed at the suggestive remark* Hm.

Jaskier: Do you have to lick my arm, or can it be any part of me? *eyebrow wiggle*

Geralt: Hmm (exhasperated)

Jaskier: Because, you do know that your tongue is interestingly scratchy, and it's making me rather curious as to what it would feel like on my--!

Geralt: *Shoves chunk of bread into Jaskier's mouth* Eat.

Jaskier: *muffled disappointed bard noises*

Geralt sighed to himself. Jaskier was going to be an insufferable menace this winter.

[thesummerestsolstice]

My Headcanon Crafts for the House of Feanor:

Nerdanel: a sculptor; about the best in all of Valinor. Many of her early sculptures were praised, but also seen as a bit strange because they looked so real, but no one could identify any model they'd been based off of. Later, it would be recognized that she'd sculpted several of her own children, long before they were born.

Maedhros: an actor. Back in Valinor, he often played romantic leads in comedies and tragedies alike. He was very dramatic back in the years of trees, but got more subdued in Middle-Earth for... obvious reasons. A few of the posters for plays he was in made their way to Middle-Earth and got passed around Himring like contraband.

Maglor: a bard. While he often composed his own songs, he was also one of those charged with memorizing the old oral history of the Quendi– the elven equivalent of like, being able to memorize and recite the Iliad. Much of this early Elvish history was almost lost by the end of the First Age, and Maglor attempted to preserve it by writing it down. Eventually, those books ended up saved in Rivendell's library.

Celegorm: a hunter in Orome's train. Was famous for his ability to hit quickly moving targets through the thick forests of Valinor, even when mounted. He also enjoyed making various things out of the pelts, teeth, claws, and antlers of his kills. He's made very nice fur coats for several of his siblings and cousins.

Caranthir: a fiber artist; mostly focusing on weaving and embroidery. He's not sure whether to feel flattered or vaguely worried by all the Miriel comparisons. He insisted on making most of his family's formal clothing because all of Feanor's kids can get at least a little craft-related hubris. As a treat.

Curufin: a smith. His father was most famous for his jewelry, but Curufin would come to be known mostly for his weapons. They were so reliable that many of them lasted until the Third Age. There are rumors he poured some of his soul into the weapons he made for his brothers. But those are only rumors.

Amras & Amrod: painters. They specialized in incredibly detailed landscape paintings. I say "they" because all their works were done together; Amrod would make the sketch and darker linework and Amras would add the colors and shading. Their work was often very nostalgic and peaceful, with bright watercolors and gentle shadows.

Bonus! Feanor saved a lot of his kids' work from when they were really young and just starting their crafts. It's all what you'd expect from a small child's art, but Feanor still acts like they're masterpieces. His kids all think it's super embarrassing but he's really proud of them.

Headcanons for Finwe and his Children, the House of Fingolfin, the House of Finarfin, and the rest of the House of Finwe. Thanks for asking about Finwe's grandkids @hyperlexia-1 :)

[themissinghand]

Genshin Impact: The Overworked God [2]

Part 1

Summary: In which one of the lore writers who help write the world of Genshin Impact was suddenly thrusted in the very world they created. 

Well, testing characters is one thing, but playing God, and raising 7 children at a time? 

Oh boy. He just wants to go home and sleep.

Note: Finally back from break!

Part 2 of the Overworked God! Creator! Male OC!

What if we had a smarter Creator that never forgot his initial wish of going home?

Warning: Genshin and SAGAU themes, some OOC and angst.

★・・・・・・★

Tempus, or Kai has been in the world of Genshin Impact for a very long time, since its creation where it was just him and Celestia. 

He struck a deal with Celestia, promising to be the Creator and consequently the God of Time to help create Teyvat, but on his own terms. Doing what he can to save his creations from unnecessary pain and suffering. 

So, he’s still overworked, stressed and sleepy all the time, especially now that he has to take care of 7 children too.  

But finally…today is the day he could finally go home. 

Home sounds foreign to him, after all, he spent more years in Teyvat than on Earth, but he has never given up on returning after fulfilling his duty as the Creator. 

It’s going to be a difficult announcement to make, considering how attached his children could be, but perhaps, he could twist the narrative just a bit to appease them.

“Tempus!” Speaking of, two bundles of mass hopped towards him as usual, and he caught them with both arms as if it was a routine. He stumbles a bit, sighs, but pats them on the head. 

“It’s been so long since you visited Monstadt! I missed you~” Venti hugged his waist as he peaked up with puppy eyes. Before Kai could respond, Furina beat him to it. 

“It’s because he likes Fontaine better! He’s been in my country the longest!” Furina quipped back with a proud expression on her face. 

“That’s because you suck at ruling your country!” 

“Says you, Mr. Drunkard Bard!” 

At least they both have trustworthy people like Neuvillette and Jean to take care of their country…

“That’s enough, you two.” A spark of lightning scared the two to cling onto Tempus even more, but Ei easily picked the two off. 

Ah, one of the more responsible leaders…

“Please ignore these two, Tempus.” Ei says stoically, as she sends a deadly glare that shuts the two up. 

“It’s fine.” Tempus greets every single Archon with a nod, before taking a seat at the head of the table, his expression showing his tiredness despite the light-hearted banter that usually happens during these meetings.

“Have a seat everyone.” All the Archons did a curt bow before taking their respective seats. 

Materializing snacks resembling that of an English afternoon teatime, he smiled when even the stoic Tsaritsa seemed to enjoy his food. 

It’s a shame though, this will be his last time. 

“Tempus.” He turned to the Tsaritsa, who seemed to notice his distress.

“I’m fine.” He brushed it away, before he felt a cold hand on his. 

“Let us know if anything is bothering you.” Zhongli added on, and Tempus shook his head. 

His children could handle Teyvat without him, what else would he be worried about? 

“Tempus, are your worries the reason why did you call us all today?” Sharp as always, Nahida asks, gaining everyone’s attention all at once. 

In the end…Rukkhadevata chose her fate. There are things that could not be changed…

“Yes.” Feeling everyone’s eyes on him, he felt even more estranged. 

"As you know, I've overseen Teyvat, guided you all, and tried to make amends for the mistakes of the past," Tempus continued. 

“After much thought, I believe it’s time for me to rest.” 

Multiple teacups fell onto the table with a loud thud. With a wave of his hand, the spilled tea disappeared. 

“T-Tempus! What, what do you mean?” Murata stood up abruptly, knocking over a flower vase, which Tempus easily dissolved to nothing. 

“Tempus, how could you abandon us!” 

“Calm down.” But it seems to have no effect, instead, he felt the cold hand squeeze his own, sending a shiver down his spine. 

“Tempus, you belong to us.”

“As I’ve said, I will be going into deep slumber-” Suddenly, many eyes shot towards the Bard who looked very pale. 

“-to take a break.” A teacup shattered, but Tempus paid no mind to it. 

“My decision is final, and I hope you can take care of Teyvat while I rest.” For eternity. 

“Tempus.” Scoring golden eyes burned into Kai’s soul, and he forced himself to remain neutral as he stared at Zhongli-Morax. 

“Please stay. I’m begging you, please, Your Eminence. Please don’t leave us.” 

"But what of Teyvat? You've become integral to the stability and well-being of this world, and us." There were many nods that followed. 

“We need you.”

There was desperation in his voice, and while it did hurt Tempus to leave them, he doubted he could stay any longer knowing that he could finally leave. 

“All of you are strong and are capable enough to rule your countries, which I am very proud of. Teyvat will be in good hands." Some Archons smiled briefly, but it was short lived. 

"Which is why it's time for me to step aside and take a break."

They had grown accustomed to Tempus's guidance, his wisdom, and his tireless efforts to steer them towards a better path, so for them to lose his support is like fighting without a weapon. 

“W-Where, will you be resting? In Temporium?” Furina’s shaky voice filled the silent room. 

“Stay here, the Fortress of Meropide will keep you safe. Fontaine and I will keep you safe.”

“Yes.” 

“For how long?” Venti asked, anxiety in his voice. 

“I’ll find you, I’ll find you no matter where you run.” 

“I do not know, for as long as my body needs.” Their faces became pale at thinking of the possibility of not seeing Tempus again. 

With a sigh, he stood up, making others rush to stand too. 

“Come here, each one of you.” In an instant, they rushed over and Tempus pulled them one by one into a hug. While he made himself tall and muscular, he felt small in the group hug that lasted an incredibly long time. 

He felt arms around his waist, chest, arms and back, being hugged by 7 people at once was somewhat suffocating. 

“You all will do great. I will miss you all.” This was not a lie. 

“Time flows like water, and perhaps I will wake sooner than you all expect.” This was a lie. 

Tempus heard sniffles, and felt hands grabbing his robes and weaving through his long hair. 

“Tempus…do you have to leave us?” Nahida asked, tugging his heart strings as he saw such a wise person tear up. 

Did she read my thoughts? 

Tempus got rid of that idea as he forbade her from doing so, and with his current power alongside Celestia’s authority, she should be blocked from doing such a thing. 

“I am not leaving, Nahida. I am merely resting.” 

Finally, with some coaxing, he managed to peel them off one by one. 

“I leave Teyvat in your hands.” 

With that, Tempus bid farewell to the Archons and quickly prepared to depart from Celestia. The longer he stayed, the more unbearable this would become. 

However, once he left, the atmosphere shifted once more. The Archons, loyal to their Creator beyond measure, exchanged anxious glances, and a heavy silence settled over the chamber.

“Tempus lied.” Nahida said, as tears rolled down her cheeks. 

“Nahida?” All of the Archons felt their heart drop at her words. 

“He may be resting in Temporium, but there’s more to it. I can’t read his mind completely, but…he’s going to leave us if we let him go.” 

“What are we waiting for then?” Suddenly, the atmosphere turned cold. The Tsaritsa stepped forward with her Ice scepter, Permafrost. Like many other Archon’s weapons, they were gifted to them by the Creator himself.

“If Buer’s words are true, then while his body remains in Temporium, his soul is elsewhere.” 

The Archons soon came to a consensus. 

“We cannot let him go into slumber.” 

Or they will lose him completely.

[Are you ready, dear Creator?] 

Tempus laid in his resting chamber on the edges of Temporium, in a makeshift mountain. He created this place in secret, so no one else by him knows. 

He felt bad for his kingdom, as he told the royal family that he will be gone doing his Godly duties for a long time, but never informed how long. 

Regardless, they should be able to live without a god, considering the technology and time Tempus gave them. 

[Yes]

As he lay in his comfortable bed with minimal decorations or other items, he shut his eyes and reminisced about the past. 

Although it was a very long time, he was never really alone. 

But he has seen much more than a normal human on Earth, from war to life and death, to the repetitions of stories by going back in time many times to fix his mistakes. 

“Stop him! He’s going back in time!” 

Truly, it takes a mental toll on his mind. He can’t let his emotions take over, otherwise, he would have to redo everything again. 

[Thank you for your work, dear Creator]

[Just make sure you fulfill your side of the deal]

[Of course]

When he shut his eyes, he felt safe, comfortable and oddly relieved, relieved of his duties at last. 

“Tempus!”  

His eyes snapped open and saw his chamber shake with vigor. All of his protective mechanisms activate, indeed, he prepared for this.

“Tempus!” 

Voices slowly became louder and the earth seemed to roar. 

How did they find him? Was it Buer? It must've been.

“Tempus!” 

There was desperation in their voices, and Kai assumed that they seemed to have figured something out. 

Perhaps honesty was better, but in the end, this was always the outcome. 

Yes, Tempus already knew that no matter what he did, the Archons would rebel, would seek him out.

Even if the walls seem to crumble, it did not affect Kai’s chamber, after all, it was sealed and protected with his powers.

But perhaps with a bit more persistence, they would soon destroy the mountain all together, leaving him and his chamber exposed. But, Tempus was not worried, after all, he had prepared for this moment too long ago. 

[Farewell, dear Creator] 

Suddenly, he felt a bright light engulf him as he felt incredibly sleepy. 

Through his blurred vision, he could see the stormy skies, and all seven Archons rushing towards him. 

“Tempus!” 

“You can’t leave us, Tempus!” 

Seeing them in their prime, in their Archon outfits was a little nostalgic. 

Hearing a crack in his chamber’s shield was somewhat surprising, but also, incredible. His children have grown up well. 

[Farewell]

With a fleeting smile, Tempus bids farewell to his second home. 

“Tempus!” 

His eyes close, just as the light takes him whole. 

“Tempus!” 

Morax and Murata pierced through the tough protective layers desperately, and Ei and Venti whiz past them to reach their Creator. 

But, they were too late. 

“No, Tempus is…he’s-” Barbados was crying as he held Tempus’s hand. 

“Kai! Kai!” Furina bawled her eyes out, calling his real name repeatedly as if it would bring him back. 

But he won’t come back. 

Bal held his body as she froze in shock (in regret), as if she was reminded of her past. 

“Tempus, you’re cruel.” Buer, the one who got them so far and so close but not enough. She knelt down beside him and cried while pressing his hand into her face. 

“You’ve left us with death, not slumber. You lied, you lied!” 

It was like they lost a part of themselves. 

After all, Tempus was there whenever they needed guidance, he sacrificed his own personal time to make sure they were alright. 

“K-Kai…” Morax stumbled towards the still body that used to be his friend, mentor, benefactor, love, and everything. 

Even in death, he was still so beautiful, kind and holy. 

Tempus was their everything. 

The Tsaritsa dragged herself towards Tempus with her scepter. She was known to not show her emotions, even when Tempus encouraged her to do so to stay emotionally healthy. He was the only one that saw her vulnerable side, and knew who she really was, and never judged her for it. 

“Tempus. How dare you…abandon us like this?” She stood by Tempus’s feet and her eyes did not leave his body at all. 

While others wept, her tears were turned into weapons. 

Murata stood by her with the same dark, solemn expression. 

It’s not fair. 

How could he treat them like his everything, and then leave them so abruptly? 

If only he could open his eyes again and say it was nothing but a terrible joke. 

But Tempus is gone, leaving his lifeless body as his final memory and gift. 

[wisteria-lodge]

Since you’ve talked about Molly and Draco, can you talk about Snape as well? When you said that there was a disconnect with Snape’s character I honestly wasn’t sure if you meant the audience was supposed to like him more or less than they actually do.

This is a complicated one, because Book 1-3 Snape and Book 5-7 Snape are written so differently that I actually want to talk about them as two separate characters. 

Book 1-3 Snape… kind of sucks. Maybe he sucks in a way you find funny (which I completely get. A lot of comedy - especially British comedy - revolves around finding the humor in really *mean* people. Snape is *written* to be funny in a dry, acerbic, Roald Dahl kind of way.) But maybe Snape sucks in a way that’s not fun for you, he’s just upsetting and cruel. Either way, he’s petty, unfair, a bully, completely unreasonable, and doesn’t really appear to have any redeeming qualities. Snape protects Harry in Book 1 only because James Potter saved his life and, according to Dumbledore:  

“Professor Snape couldn’t bear being in your father’s debt. . . . I do believe he worked so hard to protect you this year because he felt that would make him and your father even. Then he could go back to hating your father’s memory in peace. . . .” 

Later on, Snape’s motivation will become “Protect Harry because you couldn’t protect Lily.” But there’s no hint of that here.

I actually think it’s very likely that ‘Snape was in love with Lily’ is a plotline added during Book 4, because 1-3 Snape’s motivation is so completely focused on JAMES. He hates Harry because he looks like James, he hates James because (according to Lupin) he’s “jealous, I think, of James’s talent on the Quidditch field.” Within the context of the series it’s easy to say that Lupin is lying, and with good reason… but in the context of the first three books, I think that’s just meant to be true? Snape, as we know, is a stealth quidditch hooligan the way McGonagall is. Also… James’ characterization shifts around. He’s not a bully in the first three books, he’s Head Boy… and that Head Boy thing doesn’t quite gel with what we hear from Sirius later: 

“No one would have made me a prefect, I spent too much time in detention with James. Lupin was the good boy, he got the badge.”

(I know JKR plans things out in advance, but she absolutely does change things on the fly. Arthur Weasley not getting killed by Nagini is an easy example that we definitely know about. And come on - the entire last book is a Deathly Hallows fetch-quest. Was there really no way to slip in a reference to Beedle the Bard - or a super-powerful semi-mythical wand - anywhere in the first six books?) 

So, in books 1-3, there's no hint that Snape is a potion prodigy, particularly powerful, or even particularly clever. He wrote a logic puzzle and “knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts.” But that’s it. “Potion Master” isn’t an advanced rank, it’s just the posh British boarding school way of saying “teacher.” (Like headmaster = head teacher.) Early Snape is also a lot more *emotional* than he is later on, when his ability to “Master yourself!... control your anger, discipline your mind!” becomes extremely plot relevant. Like, can you picture 5-7 Snape (or Alan Rickman, who plays a distinctly later-books Snape) doing any of this? 

Snape was beside himself. “OUT WITH IT, POTTER!” he bellowed. “WHAT DID YOU DO?”  “Professor Snape!” shrieked Madam Pomfrey. “Control yourself!”  “See here, Snape, be reasonable,” said Fudge. “This door’s been locked, we just saw —”  “THEY HELPED HIM ESCAPE, I KNOW IT!” Snape howled, pointing at Harry and Hermione. His face was twisted; spit was flying from his mouth.  “Calm down, man!” Fudge barked. “You’re talking nonsense!”  “YOU DON’T KNOW POTTER!” shrieked Snape. “HE DID IT, I KNOW HE DID IT —”

In Movie 3, Snape gets a cool protective moment where he shoves the kids behind him during the werewolf attack. In Book 3, Snape is unconscious during the entire werewolf attack because Harry, Ron and Hermione simultaneously decide he’s too dangerous, and too much of a liability to keep around. Here are are some bangers from Book 3 Snape: 

- “Don’t ask me to fathom the way a werewolf’s mind works.”   - “KEEP QUIET, YOU STUPID GIRL!” Snape shouted, looking suddenly quite deranged. “DON’T TALK ABOUT WHAT YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!” - “Up to the castle?... I don’t think we need to go that far. All I have to do is call the dementors once we get out of the Willow. They’ll be very pleased to see you, Black . . . pleased enough to give you a little Kiss, I daresay. . . .”  - “I’ll drag the werewolf. Perhaps the dementors will have a Kiss for him too —”

If you sort of squint you can maybe say - okay, maybe this is a PTSD response. Like I’m writing a Snape POV fic right now, you can make it work. But it’s not work the books do for you, and it’s not the characterization choice they make in the films. 

BUT. Snape goes through a little bit of a revamp/retcon in Book 4. It’s totally deliberate - he’s Book 1-3 Snape at the beginning, then he basically vanishes from the narrative… the reader kind of forgets about him…  until it comes up during Karkaroff’s trial that Dumbledore ABSOLUTELY trusts him, even though he was a Death Eater. So now when Snape turns up at the climax - he’s a figure of intrigue, and it makes sense that he’s one of the two people Dumbledore brings with him to deal with Barty. Honestly, it’s a pretty cool magic trick. We buy it when - instead of hissing and spitting and hopping around like he does when he confronts Fudge at the end of Book 3 - Book 4 Snape deals with Fudge like this: 

Snape strode forward… pulling up the left sleeve of his robes as he went. He stuck out his forearm and showed it to Fudge, who recoiled.  “There,” said Snape harshly. “There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour or so ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. (...) This Mark has been growing clearer all year. Karkaroff’s too. Why do you think Karkaroff fled tonight? We both felt the Mark burn. We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff fears the Dark Lord’s vengeance.”

Calm, collected, focused. This is a character who you’re supposed to take seriously, a character who you are supposed to respect. 

I think it’s very interesting that after Book 4, we don’t see Snape *bully* the students during class again. He’s strict, and he’s a hard grader, and Harry still thinks he’s unfair, but like… the narrative framing is on his side now. 

“Tell me, Potter,” said Snape softly, “can you read?”  Draco Malfoy laughed.  “Yes, I can,” said Harry, his fingers clenched tightly around his wand.  “Read the third line of the instructions for me, Potter.”  Harry squinted at the blackboard(… ) His heart sank. He had not added syrup of hellebore, but had proceeded straight to the fourth line of the instructions after allowing his potion to simmer for seven minutes.  “Did you do everything on the third line, Potter?” “No,” said Harry very quietly.  “I beg your pardon?” “No,” said Harry, more loudly. “I forgot the hellebore...”  “I know you did, Potter, which means that this mess is utterly worthless. Evanesco.” The contents of Harry’s potion vanished; he was left standing foolishly beside an empty cauldron. “Those of you who have managed to read the instructions, fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, label it clearly with your name, and bring it up to my desk for testing.” (...)  “That was really unfair,” said Hermione consolingly, sitting down next to Harry  (...) “Yeah, well,” said Harry, glowering at his plate, “since when has Snape ever been fair to me?”

Like he isn’t nice, but he also isn’t asking Harry questions he can’t possibly know the answers to, threatening to kill someone’s pet, or calling Hermione ugly. He didn’t even take away house points. And - during the next lesson, we are told that the approach Snape took with Harry actually worked?

Determined not to give Snape an excuse to fail him this lesson, Harry read and reread every line of the instructions on the blackboard at least three times before acting on them. His Strengthening Solution was not precisely the clear turquoise shade of Hermione’s but it was at least blue rather than pink, like Neville’s, and he delivered a flask of it to Snape’s desk at the end of the lesson with a feeling of mingled defiance and relief. 

I want to do one more close read, on a excerpt from Book 5: 

Harry realized how much Professor McGonagall cared about beating Slytherin when she abstained from giving them homework in the week leading up to the match. (...)  Nobody could quite believe their ears until she looked directly at Harry and Ron and said grimly, “I’ve become accustomed to seeing the Quidditch Cup in my study, boys, and I really don’t want to have to hand it over to Professor Snape, so use the extra time to practice, won’t you?” Snape was no less obviously partisan: He had booked the Quidditch pitch for Slytherin practice so often that the Gryffindors had difficulty getting on it to play. He was also turning a deaf ear to the many reports of Slytherin attempts to hex Gryffindor players in the corridors. When Alicia Spinnet turned up in the hospital wing with her eyebrows growing so thick and fast that they obscured her vision and obstructed her mouth, Snape insisted that she must have attempted a Hair-Thickening Charm on herself and refused to listen to the fourteen eyewitnesses who insisted that they had seen the Slytherin Keeper, Miles Bletchley, hit her from behind with a jinx.

This has a very similar structure to the sequence when Snape refuses to punish Draco for enlarging Hermione’s teeth. Slytherins and Gryffindors having an altercation, Gryffindor girl gets caught in the crossfire. BUT a few key things have been changed. One - the section is told in second-hand narration, which makes it less emotional than the teeth-scene. Two - the section begins with comparing Snape to McGonagall: she’s being biased/helping out her students too, so it’s only fair if he does it as well. Three - his insult isn’t “Your face has always looked like that,” it’s “You must have messed up a spell,” which is a lot less personal, and a lot less mean. (If anything, Snape is subtly insulting her for casting a cosmetic charm/being too girly… and being a girly-girl is an inherently suspect characteristic in JKR’s world.) Everything about this passage is set up to create a “Snape the Bully” moment… that kind of excuses Snape. 

So, what do we have? There are the people that think Book 1-3 Snape just went too far, and you can soften the narrative framing around him, and you can add in as many tragic backstories as you want, and it doesn’t really matter. THAT is definitely not what JKR wants you to think. She wants to bring you along for the ride, and (as you can tell from the framing) she's started to like Snape a lot.

HOWEVER. I do not think that the fan who likes 5-7 Alan Rickman Snape is… quite seeing the same thing she is. I get the sense that in the text, Snape’s tragic backstory is not meant to *explain* his bad behavior so much as it is meant to *excuse* it. He stays mean and bad-tempered… but he’s allowed to be, both because he is always acting in service to a Good Cause, and because he was abused at home, bullied at school, etc. A big part of why I think JKR likes writing Snape so much (and why she’s so protective of him) is because she finds something cathartic in letting a character be nasty… but for it to be allowed because they’ve suffered, and also because they're in the right. Sadly I think this describes a lot of her current online interactions. 

JKR also loves the idea of *pining.* (It is crazy how long the main characters’ pining/longing/will-they-won’t-they thing in the Cormoran Strike books has lasted.) It’s a very safe kind of romance, and (again, sadly) you can tell from her writing that romance is not generally something that feels safe to her. Snape is sometimes characterized by those who dislike the character as an incel-type who wants to possess Lily, and I just don’t think that’s in the text. If anything it’s the other way around. Snape has some unconsummated, medieval courtly love thing going on, where he has decided to live his life in Lily’s service. 

I wrote about why I think Draco Malfoy (unintentionally) appeals to fans. With Snape…  I actually think a lot of his current (unintentional) appeal comes from the way a softer Snape reframes the narrative into something more complex, and especially the way it reframes Dumbledore. Manipulative/Morally Grey Dumbledore is a *very* popular fan interpretation, and the way you get that is with a sympathetic Severus Snape. 

“You disgust me,” said Dumbledore, and Harry had never heard so much contempt in his voice. Snape seemed to shrink a little. (...)  “Hide them all, then,” he croaked. “Keep her — them — safe. Please.”  “And what will you give me in return, Severus?”  “In — in return?” Snape gaped at Dumbledore, and Harry expected him to protest, but after a long moment he said, “Anything.”

The implications here are really far reaching. Because to me, the main question when it comes to Snape is - why does he STAY at Hogwarts? He clearly hates it, why doesn’t he just leave? If you’re talking about 1-3 Snape, it's because he’s eternally holding out for the Defense Against the Dark Arts job, and he’s just kind of a twisted miserable guy who would probably be equally miserable everywhere. 

But books 5-7 add the context that he’s brilliant, he’s brave, he’s principled, he’s got a sense of humor. He seems close with the Malfoys. He has *options.* So now the (unintended?) implication is… he doesn’t leave because Dumbledore won’t let him. The fact that he keeps applying for the DADA job becomes dark and borderline suicidal when we learn it’s cursed, and that Snape knows it’s cursed. If he takes it, he’ll leave (or die) at the end of the year. That means, every year, he’s tacitly asking Dumbledore “Can I leave?” And Dumbledore is answering “No.” 

That’s such an interesting, juicy character dynamic. Snape is being kept miserable on purpose because… he’s easier to control that way? And if that’s true… then oh boy is it sinister that Dumbledore left Harry with the Dursleys. He knew he was raising Harry “like a pig for slaughter” (as Snape puts it.) And if Harry doesn’t have a support system, if he’s miserable, if Dumbledore can swoop in as his savior… then doesn’t that make him so much easier to control? 

[rivendell-poet]

*･༓˚✧❝𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐋𝐨𝐭𝐑)❞‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧ « scenarios »

○ Aragorn ○ Legolas ○ Frodo ○ Sam ○ Merry ○ Pippin ○ Boromir ○ Faramir ○ Éowyn ○ Éomer ○ Bard ○ Thranduil ○ Tauriel ○ Lindir ○ Haldir ○ Elladan ○ Elrohir ○

GN!Reader | Wordcount : 4k (each individual around 230~ words) | Read on Ao3

TWS : Faramir worries if the drunken kiss was consensual (it was)

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𝐀𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐧

✧ Although you and the hobbits have been travelling together for a week, the two of you are yet to spend actual time together (the marching order has been established with you at the back and Aragorn at the front to keep the hobbits safe).

✧ When you get to Weathertop, you both breathe a sigh of relief that you’re somewhere that’s hopefully safe to stay - at least for a little while.

✧ When Aragorn asks if you’ll scout ahead with him you’re surprised but agree, after all you do need to get to know the person you’re travelling with.

✧ The two of you bond surprisingly quickly - talking of Dúnedain customs and easily working well together - although you're curious about some of his elven techniques.

✧ He’s enthusiastic about showing them to you, glad to be able to not only bond but bond over something practical. It’s even better when he sees you begin to pick the first technique up rather quickly.

 ✧ You two only stop when you look back to Weathertop and see a fire there before it’s suddenly put out.

✧ There’s no words exchanged as you start running back to the hobbits - trying to get to them before the Nazgul do.

✧ Aragorn barely notices anyone in the fight, focused on protecting Frodo, but once the threat is gone he immediately looks to you -  checking if you’re ok.

✧ The fact he spares you the gesture makes you feel better, even in this situation.

✧ Later on, once the hobbits are settled and Frodo has been treated the best he can be, you thank him for checking on you and he smiles, offering to continue training later.

𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬

✧ You and Boromir are some of the first to arrive at the Council, aside from its hosts, and when Legolas arrives with the rest of the elves a small part of you relaxes. You might have a second ally here.

✧ As the ring is brought out, and the council devolves, you can’t help but wonder if Faramir sent you here purely so Gondor could show it had at least one reasonable citizen.

✧ On his part, Legolas is glad to have moments of reprieve from the seriousness when he looks over to you - doing a remarkable job of sinking into your seat while trying to be formal (disappearing more every time Boromir speaks).

✧ The both of you volunteer, you hopeful that your scouting in Mordor can help if once you get there.

✧ After the Council is dissolved for the day, you make a beeline to him and apologise for Boromir.

✧ There’s a smile on Legolas’s face as he reassures you it’s ok, and he doesn’t hold anything against you.

✧ “I’m glad you’re coming with us, the higher quality our allies the better chance we will have at success.”

✧ You thank him before looking over at Aragorn to say something, and he laughs before pushing you towards your future king (only mildly fearing the death glare you give him).

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐨

✧ For being on the floor with your bedroll (hobbit beds weren’t made with humans in mind), you have a surprisingly good sleep - only awoken by the smell of cooking.

✧ It’s earlier than you expected for hobbits, although that doesn’t stop you from getting up.

✧ As you become awake you can hear the sound of pots and pans clattering before picking up Frodo’s voice.

✧ “You might wake them up, uncle. They’ve probably not had the best sleep so we need to be quiet for now.”

✧ You don’t see Frodo’s face turn slightly red as he says that, especially when Bilbo gives him a knowing grin.

✧ Eventually, there’s a tentative knock on your room’s door as Frodo invites you to have breakfast.

✧ The array of food is one of the largest you’ve seen, and to thank him you pretend not to notice both hobbits anxiously watching you to make sure you like the food.

✧ Talk flows easily over breakfast, and you feel regret when you say you need to leave for the rest of the day.

✧ Frodo offers to walk you to the door, anxiously asking if you'll be back and you assure him you will.

𝐒𝐚𝐦

✧ Your second meeting is only two days after, while walking home from a friend’s house you spot him in the garden of Bag End.

✧ He sits up as you come into vision, and the two of you make eye contact so you call out to him - hoping he remembers you.

✧ For Sam, although he’s not ashamed of his job he is slightly embarrassed, and quickly stands up while brushing loose dirt off him.

✧ It’s a massive relief when you don’t seem to mind, and the smile on your face doesn’t fall as you see his messy clothes and gardening equipment.

✧ You greet him and the both of you talk for a while, realising that despite how much time you spent together you know so little about him.

✧ The topic of your favourite flowers manages to come up, which is what suddenly pulls him back to the fact he’s supposed to be working on Mr. Frodo’s garden.

✧ He quickly apologises to you about cutting the conversation short, but you tell him not to worry and that you hope to see him soon.

✧ Sam watches you leave with that same smile, keeping it on and waving until you’re completely out of his vision.

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲

✧ Midway through eating breakfast and looking forward to meeting Merry, you realise that he never told you where he lived - or a meeting point.

✧ For a second you wonder if this was all an elaborate joke, but when you remember the smile - and the spark - between you two you resolve to give him a chance.

✧ Finishing your breakfast, you decide to wander until you can meet someone (as to ask them where Merry Brandybuck is).

✧ When you finally encounter someone who knows, they give you a smile and ask your name - saying that he was asking around for a hobbit of your description and her residence.

✧ In the end, you have to race to meet him outside your own house just before he knocks.

✧ There’s clear relief on his face when you show up, and he apologises for the miscommunication before beginning to show you the Shire.

✧ You get quite far into your tour, but not to the whole town, so Merry eagerly asks if you’d meet with him tomorrow.

✧ (This time with a specific time and location in place).

𝐏𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧

✧ Pippin’s simply wandering around Rivendell, head tilted back to properly admire the architecture (and not so subtly trying to figure out where the food is), when he bumps into you.

✧ There’s no damage to either of you, but you can tell the poor hobbit is mortified as he apologises to you.

✧ After reassuring him for the sixth time that you’re okay, you ask if he’d like to be shown around Rivendell.

✧ He agrees eagerly, and so you begin your guided tour.

✧ Pippin’s a genuinely good tourist, listening and absorbing all your information while also constantly asking interesting and genuine questions - the fascination with the place clearing coming through.

✧ (Of all the things you’ve shown him he still thinks you’re the most wondrous one.)

✧ It’s only an hour into the tour, while you're walking past the hobbits, that they ask why Pippin wasn’t at breakfast.

✧ You then remember he hasn’t eaten yet, and it’s your turn to apologise while he reassures you.

✧ The pantries are quick to be raided by you, and although Pippin feels slightly embarrassed to have you get almost everything off the shelves for him you don’t mind.

✧ In the end, the two of you simply sit on the floor while you eat before his friends pull him away for the rest of the day.

𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐫

✧ A large part of you would be happy to never see Boromir again, you don’t think you’ll ever live that down, but a smaller part truly does want to. He has the caring and compassionate side of Faramir that makes you love your commander, and also another spark that makes you fascinated.

✧ You're informed beforehand you’re going to be meeting him again, in a semi-formal setting to discuss tactics, and this small part of you makes itself known with a light blush.

✧ You elect not to tell anyone precisely why, although when Faramir looks at you out of the corner of his eye you can feel it deepen slightly.

✧ You arrive first, and to your surprise Boromir arrives second.

✧ There’s a moment of recognition before he smiles, grasping your hand and pulling you into a half-hug, expressing he’s glad you're here.

✧ When you ask why, he says that it’s refreshing to have someone who isn’t his brother to challenge him on his opinions.

✧ You smile with him, before reassuring him jokingly that you will certainly tell him if he’s wrong.

✧ He laughs with you, a cheerful look in his eyes before he turns back to you, promising that he can take the criticism - and if you see flaws you should say them.

✧ For one of the first times you feel truly welcome in a military meeting between rangers and the soldiers of Minas Tirith, and for that you’re grateful.

𝐅𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐫

✧ Waiting was bad enough, especially with a hang-over and a potential marriage on the line. Apparently your father was rich enough to skip most of the queue, but not rich enough for the Steward to glance over at you for more than the minute you had been introduced.

✧ It was nice, honestly, and gave you more time to try and place the mysterious figure you remember from last night.

✧ You feel you’re getting somewhere when the door opens and the two Steward’s sons appear - and then it hits you.

✧ On his part, Faramir doesn’t want to be here either. He doesn’t agree with this thing, he has a headache, and he feels guilty about the previous night.

✧ He’s already resolved to go there again, and this time not try to get drunk, so he can apologise to the stranger he kissed - the drunken stranger.

✧ And then, as his eyes scan the hall of waiting people, he recognises you.

✧ His first thought is how beautiful you look in your finery (it’s clear why his drunken self went to you for affection), and the second is panic as to what he’s going to be able to do about this.

✧ When he accompanies his father, memorising the names of people who may become his in-laws, he stops when you introduce yourself.

✧ Boromir can tell something is different about this meeting, as can his father, but there’s no additional time spent with you. Faramir cannot even say a word to you before he’s moving.

✧ It’s only in their chambers that his father congratulates him for finally taking an interest in the event, and that he may also conduct the interviews with potential in-laws.

✧ The only name on his list that matters is yours.

𝐄𝐨𝐰𝐲𝐧

✧ Despite travelling together, you haven’t truly seen Éowyn - or looked out for her - until you see her handing out stew to the Rohirrim.

✧ Reminded of your hunger, you smile and catch her eye, glad she turns to you and not your brother.

✧ Approaching, she offers you the bowl and some of the stew which you eagerly take, stopping briefly to look at it.

✧ It isn’t the most appealing thing you’ve seen, but you’re also a ranger from the north, so it isn’t like you can be judging food.

✧ As you taste it, you’re suddenly hyper-aware of Éowyn’s eyes on you. And the fact she’ll see if you spit it out.

✧ Forcing yourself to swallow, you look back up at her and think back to the conversation you had with her previously; perhaps small talk can save you from the food.

✧ Eyes landing on Gimli, you ask if he’s already told her the dwarven woman story - glad when you make her laugh. Keeping going, you share a tale of your own.

✧ Smiles are given again, and when you keep talking you find you're talking not to keep her mind off the stew, but because you genuinely enjoy her company.

✧ When she gives another laugh, a thought briefly hits you that - perhaps - this was worth the stew.

✧ As she leaves, a sudden burst of inspiration hits you. “Aragorn was out of rations, last I checked. I imagine he’ll appreciate the food.”

𝐄𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫

✧ Not too long after your first meeting, Éomer sees you again outside of his sister’s rooms.

✧ With a bit of reflection, he realises he’s seen you in this same spot before, and is slightly annoyed at himself for having not introduced himself to you sooner.

✧ When he walks over to you, this time, he makes his footsteps echo more so as not to startle you.

✧ You look up instantly, and he’s relieved when you recognise him with a smile.

✧ He’s glad he could meet you again, and tells you as much, not noticing the blush that creeps onto your cheeks.

✧ Unsure of what to talk about, you resort to asking him about his day.

✧ Éomer instantly brightens, and begins to explain about the recent troop that has gone out, and the new saddles that are to be fitted later today.

✧ With his enthusiasm and level of detail it’s almost like you’ve asked him the best question of his life, and the worry you have of being able to carry a conversation fades away.

✧ This time when Éowyn interrupts you, the disappointment makes itself just a little more known.

𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐝

✧ When Tilda suggests making cookies for Sigrid’s saviour, Bard agrees that it’s a great idea and is happy to spend the morning baking with his daughter (and the rest of the kids, once they realise what he’s doing).

✧ It’s only once the cookies are made that he realises he has no idea where you live, or even where you work.

✧ He’s resigned to your fate of not getting the cookies until the kids insist they should try and find you - and the three drag him out of the house to search around Laketown.

✧ He’s just beginning to give up hope when, out of the corner of his eye, he sees you on duty.

✧ The kids latch on and immediately run to you, dragging their father along and making him give you the cookies while telling you everything you could possibly want to know about them.

✧ It’s honestly very sweet, and the sincerity in their voices makes you smile.

✧ You shake off Bard’s worries that they’re being annoying, and thank him for going out to search for you.

✧ He still insists it’s no big deal, and at the end of the day - Tilda eventually needs to go home - he has no regrets.

✧ Except that he never found out your patrol route.

𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐢𝐥

✧ After getting the job, it takes you almost a week to meet the king again - although his son is quickly enamoured by you.

✧ You finally encounter him again when Legolas insists he cannot read from any book except Glaer tathren, and you’re exasperated enough to go with him to the royal library so he can pick it out.

✧ Predictably, the guards refuse to let you inside, so you make one of them go with Legolas and promise to be back soon.

✧ It isn’t until the guards next to you bow that you realise your king is behind you, and when you turn around to greet him he’s really too close to bow too.

✧ Seeing your obvious internal struggle amuses him, and he reassures that it is ok not to bow before enquiring what you are doing.

✧ Once you explain he opens the library doors, before bidding you to follow him - giving you full permission to browse through here even without one of them.

✧ When you get in Legolas instantly runs up to you, holding his book and demanding to be read too before he notices his father.

✧ You then spend the next few minutes trying not to die inside when Legolas insists you're a much better story reader than the king is (“because they do voices, ada. You’re boring!”)

𝐓𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥

✧ The next day you begin to head to the training grounds again - eager to put yourself back in the lead - before you realise that Tauriel may not be there.

✧ It’s strangely disappointing for you, especially considering you’ve only met her yesterday, but good sparring partners are hard to find.

✧ With the disappointment your blades feel dull in your hands, not as polished and good as they could be, so you decide to go to the armoury and get them touched up.

✧ “I hope I didn’t damage your weapon too badly.”

✧ Tauriel’s voice is instantly familiar, and you grin at her when you see her also sharpening her sword.

✧ She quickly tosses a whetstone to you before moving up along where she’s sitting, inviting you to sit next to her.

✧ The noise of sword against sharpening rock doesn’t make for the best conversation, but you enjoy sitting with her in silence for the time it takes your blades to get up to scratch.

✧ Finishing earlier, she begins to head out before turning to face you and asking if you could train together two days from now.

✧ You eagerly agree.

𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐫

✧ Staring into Rivendell’s gardens, you wish you could appreciate the beauty of it without worrying about the hurt elf.

✧ There’s footsteps and you turn around to see Lord Elrond, who greets you before confirming you are the one that saved Lindir.

✧ When you say you are, he smiles and tells you that he is awake and asking for you.

✧ You don’t bother to hide the relief on your face, but do try to refrain from running into the healing ward and making a horrible first impression. (Or second impression, depending on if the same elves are still there.)

✧ Lindir is surprised when you walk through the door. The elegance of the bowshot, the quickness at which you dealt with the orcs, he was sure you were an elf.

✧ You see his slightly bemused expression before he hastens to reassure you it isn’t disappointment, simply unexpected.

✧ On your end you’re highly honoured, and try to keep your smile from being too wide while he’s still bearing a massive wound.

✧ There’s some silence before Lindir remembers to thank you, showering you with praise and apologising for his breach of etiquette.

𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐫

✧ After the meeting with Galadriel you still feel uneasy, unworthy to gaze into the eyes of the greatest elves in Middle Earth or to keep company with Legolas, the prince you are charged to protect.

✧ When the lament to Gandalf begins, the rest of the Fellowship begins to drift into smaller groups and you decide to leave to explore Lothlórien.

✧ The trees are beautiful, and remind you of your homeland of Mirkwood - although without Sauron’s taint.

✧ You’re so absorbed you don’t even notice the marchwarden approaching behind you, eager to speak after you had only exchanged a few words.

✧ “Consider these words as a warning for my arrival, if only so I don’t end up with an arrow in my side.”

✧ Upon hearing his voice you turn around, glancing guiltily at your bow, and again ask if there’s nothing you can do to apologise.

✧ Haldir again insists you’ve done no wrong, and instead offers you a tour of Lothlórien with him, only expressing sadness that you cannot see it while the leaves are golden.

✧ As the two of you walk he asks you about tales of Mirkwood and the halls of the Elvenking, which you gladly share with him.

✧ The two of you walk for so long you lose track of time, only noticing when dawn begins to break through the tree-line.

✧ This time it’s he who apologises to you for keeping you so long, and you reassuring him all is forgiven.

𝐄𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐧

✧ As you walk into Rivendell’s library, you begin to wonder what your next book to borrow will be. You’ve been steadily working through Elladan’s reading list, or at least the books he’d recommended, and all of them were wonderful.

✧ You hoped the two of you could meet again - if only so he could give more advice in the library.

✧ There’s almost complete silence in the library, but you can hear the quiet sound of soft breathing - as if someone is asleep.

✧ Following it you come across the sleeping half-elf, form gently slumped over a piece of script and surrounded by books.

✧ Elladan looks so peaceful and you let out a soft laugh, instantly feeling bad when he awakes and looks around sleepily.

✧ Noticing you, he immediately begins to defend himself (rather terribly) before taking a second to look at you again and realise who you are.

✧ This time, he briefly runs his hand through this hair before asking if you’d like to join him in reading.

✧ Soon enough you begin talking, sharing interesting details to each other from the books you’re currently reading while Elladan asks if you liked his recommendations.

✧ And if, in the morning, when Elrond comes into the library and sees the two of you asleep together. Well, he simply smiles and leaves you alone - instructing others not to disturb you in the library.

𝐄𝐥𝐫𝐨𝐡𝐢𝐫

✧ It’s only after meeting Aragorn in the Houses of Healing that Elrohir remembers your promise to him, and his horse.

✧ Some confusion must show on his face as Aragorn inquires the matter, and Elrohir confesses what he’s done. A small smile starts on Aragorn’s face, before Pippin speaks up and gives a description of you - asking if you’re the person Elrohir speaks of.

✧ When he confirms Pippin explains you were in here only a half-hour ago, checking on the condition of your twin before heading back out to look for the wounded.

✧ Spurred on by this fact, Elrohir decides to wait outside the houses until you arrive again - riding in with a man and looking almost dead.

✧ As the wounded man is taken away, he holds onto his horse before you leave and asks if you’re alright.

✧ You respond that you’re fine, and he asks you when you last rested. The guilty look on your face betrays you, and Elrohir has no problem guilt-tripping you into sleeping - promising he’ll continue helping with the wounded.

✧ Still not trusting you, he escorts you himself to some new rooms and makes Pippin promise to keep you there.

✧ At the time you’re annoyed at him, you outrank him in Gondor, but as your head hits the bedroll laid out for you, you can’t help but be thankful for his kindness.

Hopefully your enjoying the storylines so far. Here are the details about requests, and again thanks for reading!

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