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dork-empress · 3 years

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Singing In The Dead Of Night Ch 2

Harley and Barman set up a playdate for their wards.

forgive the long post, i'll edit and clean it up when im home. chapter can also be found on my ao3, url in the description.

Harley made it back home, which was actually the manor of some billionaire who only really used the house for tax purposes. Harley had taken it over when Lucy came to live with her, deciding she needed more room, and they quickly changed it to suit their needs.

“Luuuucyyyy, I’m hooooome,” Harley called out to the manor, heading through the living room/gymnasium.

Lucy was balancing on the beam by her hands. “Never heard that one before.” She went into the splits and stayed on one hand.

Harley looked over her form. “Point your toes more...there ya go.” Lucy did as recommended. “I got candy for dinner!” She dumped her stolen lollipops on the table.

“I already ate, Aunt Harley,” she said, “I made extra pasta if you want.” She pointed over to the kitchen, before switching hands and flipping herself over.

“Oh,” Harley said, going over to make a plate, but feeling like ants were crawling in her skin. “You know, you don’t have to call me your aunt when it’s just the two of us,” She said, swirling her fork through the noodles.

Lucy shrugged, “Force of habit. Plus it’s a good idea in general, ya know, in case someone’s secretly listening in or we mess up some other time.”

Harley shrugged her shoulders. “Makes sense,” and it did, but it still kind of hurt. “You can have the lollipops for dessert though. You like cherry?” She tossed her the red candy.

Lucy looked down at the wrapper a second. “Can’t, I’m allergic to the red dye.”

“Oh,” Harley said, silently cursing herself. That was something that mothers should know about their kids, allergies and crap. “Well. Lemon then?”

“Sure!” They traded the lollipops, and Harley sucked on hers between bites of the pasta. Sweet and savory combined, delicious.

Lucy swung her legs as she sat on the beam. “Does...my father have any allergies?”

Harley blinked at her. Did Joker have any allergies? It was hard to say. Even now, Harley didn’t know a lot about the Joker. That’s how he liked it. “Best not to talk about it,” she said instead, “In case of those listening things or whatever.”

Lucy hummed, but didn’t seem satisfied. “Hey,” Harley said, trying to distract her from the ‘dad’ talk, “You wanna go out with me tomorrow?”

Lucy brightened, jumping a bit, “Where are you gonna go?”

“I dunno,” she said, “Go lookin’ for trouble. Let the trouble find me. Punch out a couple people but only if they REALLY deserve it!” And maybe if they only kinda deserved it, Harley thought.

Lucy hummed again, thinking. “I dunno. I think violence often begets further violence, and while it is occasionally necessary, efforts should focus more on the community building and personal improvement area.”

Harley blinked at her. Right, she was a reader, Delia had mentioned that. Not unlike Harley at her age, really, although Harley had focused on psychoanalysis instead of philosophy. “Ah, of course,” she said, “Well, what do you wanna do?”

Lucy thought for a second. “Well, there was this girl I wanted to go inspire to fight her eating disorder.”

“Oh,” Harley said nodding. It was a noble cause, really, but...also seemed really, really boring. “I...sure!” she smiled.

The truth was, when Lucy came out to live with Harley full time, she had really thought they would be a lady dynamic duo, a proper partnership mother/daughter team. But Lucy wasn’t much like Harley. Or, she was but, she was different, a goody two-shoes. Or, a goody tutu. Ha.

More than that, she followed a strange sense of logic that was oddly reminiscent of...Harley didn’t even finish the thought.

“You don’t want to go, do you?” Lucy asked.

“Hmm? Of course I do!” Harley said, “I’d do anything with you sweetheart,” she gave Lucy a wink, then went to the kitchen to hide her facial expression.

She didn’t see that Lucy had followed her until she was directly behind her. “Oh, Jesus!” She said, clutching her heart, “Gotta look out there, sweetie. Almost brained ya!”

“Is Dad like me at all?” she asked, head tilted to the side.

Harley blinked at her. She felt like her bones were shaking inside her skin. “Why would you ask a thing like that?”

Lucy spun a little in place making her tutu swish. “I’ve been reading about him. People think he’s crazy. I mean, he says it. But that’s not what your records say.”

Harley frowned, backing away as though physical distance would get her out of the conversation. “What’re you goin through my records for? What, are you a snoop?”

“They got published after one of your arrests,” Lucy said, “Other people were more interested in the little notes you left in the margins, but--”

“Alright, stop.” Harley said, hand clutching her lollipop stick so tight it might break. “Look, Mr...your father is mean and cruel and manipulative, and nothing like you! He wants to drive other people crazy, and for some people, self included, he succeded. But I grew out of it as best I could and now...you don’t need to worry about him, ok? He ain’t ever gonna know about ya, and he ain’t ever gonna find ya. Got it?”

Lucy hesitated a second and there was something strange in her eyes. Something familiar. “Got it,” she finally said.

Harley lightened, smiling at her. “Why don’t we play a game or somethin? You like Monopoly? I make up my own rules!”

Lucy smiled, “That sounds nice,” she said, all bright again. As they set up the game, Lucy said, “You don’t have to come with me tomorrow, by the way. I can take care of myself.”

“You sure?” Harley asked. Lucy nodded. For the rest of the evening, Harley felt like something was…off.

She slipped the burner phone out of her pocket. She typed, ‘Wanna set up a playdate?’

“She called it a WHAT?!” Damian said, nose wrinkled in disgust.

“Aww,” Tim said, over by the batcave computer, “Little Damian’s got a plaaayydaaate.”

“I will end you, Drake.” Damian snarled, fingers twitching for his sword.

“Enough,” Bruce interrupted the both of them. “Damian, if it helps you can think of it as a mission.”

“I thought I was forbidden from Robin duties for the next two months.” Damian said, arms crossed.

Bruce groaned. “Harley has taken in a ward, her niece Lucy. She has some petty crime charges, but from my recon, she’s not a villain. Harley wants her to spend time with someone her age, and I need someone who will watch over her.”

“Watch out for her, or watch out because of her?” Damian asked, scowling.

“Oooh, good question,” Tim said, still at the computer. “Hey, how come you didn’t set me up with vigilante kids?”

“Because you found them on your own,” Bruce shot back, “Look. Damian, you just have to spend the day with her. Follow her around, help her out as long as it’s not hurting anyone. Don’t let her get killed. Invite Jon if you want.”

“Uggh, Jon’s off world with his Dad,” Damian said.

“Oh right,” Bruce said, massaging his temple. “Why do interdimensional crises have to happen at the worst times?”

“Why is it we need a plural for interdimensional crisis?” Tim asked.

Bruce gave him a side glance to let him know he was coming up on the line that breached from ‘annoying’ to ‘problem Bruce will deal with.’ “Damian…”

“Fine, I’ll do it,” he said, “But I won’t be her friend by you forcing us.”

“Fine.”

They met up with Harley at a neutral location downtown on top of a party goods store. “Hiya Batsy, Hey Bird Boy!”

Despite himself, Damian liked Harley. She was usually of a like mind about which villains did or didn’t deserve to live, but he didn’t tell Batman that. “Harley,” Batman said, “Where’s your niece?”

“Just doin some high-wire practice.” Harley said, “Lucy-goosey!”

From the side of the building, a girl faulted up from where she was hanging on the flagpole. A girl wearing a tutu and white paint. “Nice to meet you, Batman,” Lucy said, “Aunt Harley’s told me….a lot of mixed things.”

“YOU!” Damian said, before he could stop himself, and all three of the others turned to him.

Lucy trotted forward on her tiptoes. “Have we met?” She asked, tilting her head, and looking him up and down.

Damian swallowed. “Uhh….”

“Blackbird!” Lucy said, and swooped him up into a hug, “Oh, I knew you were a Robin, why’d you lie to me?”

“Blackbird, huh?” Batman said, and he couldn’t see, but he knew there was a very pointed eyebrow being raised at him.

Damian, still being swung like a ragdoll by Lucy, tried to gain his balance. “I didn’t...I mean I wasn’t…”

“We’ll talk about this later,” Batman said, “You kids go on, I have something to talk about with Harley.”

“Kids?!” Damian said, offended, especially that he was going to be left out of whatever this conversation was. But in doing so, he left himself vulnerable as Lucy pulled on his cowl to the edge of the building.

“Come on, birdy, whatever color you are. The city awaits!” And she jumped from the roof, grappling on outcroppings to reach the street safely. Damian grumbled, but eventually followed.

Harley looked to Batman, and her face fell. “He’s out there, isn’t he?”

Batman gave one slow nod.

Lucy skipped everywhere. It was very irritating, because it was faster than walking, but slower than running, so hard to keep pace. Also,it was just very perky, which made it hard to sulk.

Lucy claimed she had deliveries to make around town. Something about girls who were bullies in high school and were treating others poorly, but it was only because of the societal pressures that were put on young girls of America and...and thats about where Damian lost interest.

She carried a cartfull of boxes like a damn girlscout, and left them on the girls doors. Damian could have followed in his sleep...except there was something about one of the boxes….

“What’s in that one?” Damian asked as she brought it to the next home.

“Huh?” Lucy said, “Same thing as in all of them, some cookies, a letter, balloons of course and--”

“It’s beeping,” Damian said.

“What?”

Damian didn’t wait any longer, he grabbed the box out of her arms and tossed it as high into the sky as he could, tackling her to the ground. The box then exploded.

Lucy gasped in excitement, clapping her hands together. “Birdy, look at it! It’s fireworks!”

Damian growled, jumping off of her and taking out his sword. “I knew it, I knew you were up to no good.”

Lucy tilted her head. “Whatcha talkin about, Birdy?”

“You--” He pointed to where the box was still smoldering. “You were going to put a BOMB on that girl’s doorstep!”

“I didn’t put that there,” Lucy said, getting up with no care of the sword pointed at her.

“You-” Damian stammered. “What?”

Lucy bent down and picked up a scrap of paper from the ruins. “Change of plans for the evening, Birdy!” Lucy said, “We’re going puzzling!”

She tossed the paper at him and he grabbed it quickly. It read ‘I’ve the tallest of trunks and thickest of stumps, a switch in the breeze, but I’m no tree. What am I?’”

They came quickly to the elephant pasture at the zoo. Damian couldn’t help it, he held out his hand for the elephant. She reached out her trunk and wrapped it around him. He couldn’t help but laugh.

Her baby came forward this time, trotting on new steps. He was already the size of a small horse, but he stole Damian’s heart all the same. He tried to bowl Damian over like a large puppy, and Damian couldn’t help but laugh. “Didn’t know you could laugh, Birdy,” Lucy said, kneeling over a shady patch in the enclosure.

Damian’s scowl returned. “Stop calling me ‘Birdy,’” he said, “You can just say ‘Robin,’ if you want.”

“But aren’t there other Robins?” Lucy said, fiddling with something, “I’d love to call you something unique to you.”

“There’s already a Blackbird, you know.” Damian said, continuing to pet the baby elephant.

“There is?” Lucy asked, “Picking a superhero name is HARD. I’m still trying to get Commedia to stick. You know, like, Commedia del arte? But I’ll end up getting called ‘Tutu girl’ or something if I don’t watch out.”

Damian gently pushed the elephant away, seeing what she was doing. She was hands deep in another box like the one they’d found in her cart. “Careful, it could be another bomb.”

“Fireworks,” Lucy corrected, “and I already diffused it.”

Damian leaned down, looking. She had indeed done so, quite efficiently. “How did you know to do that?”

Lucy smiled, “An uncle of mine taught me. You’ll meet him.” She dug further into the box. “I wouldn’t mind some more fireworks, but I don’t want to scare the elephants.” She pulled out another slip of paper.

“This has all the hallmarks of The Riddler,” Damian said, “We have to be careful. He might have bombs all over the city.”

“Fireworks!” Lucy corrected again, “And, probably. See, we already have the next clue!” She waved the paper and read out “Can you hear me make a sound, only when you are around.”

“Of course you can only hear things when you’re around.” Damian said, frowning.

“But only when someone’s around does it make a...Oh!” Lucy said, jumping to her feet, “An echo! We have to go somewhere there’s an echo!”

Damian sighed, “I have an idea.”

Technically they weren’t IN the Bat cave. They were at a far entrance to it, another end of the cave system. So he wasn’t breaking any rules. “Hey, is that Wayne Manor?” Lucy asked. “I tried to break in there once, but they have some crazy rich person security system.”

“Funny that.” Damian said, trying to seem completely ordinary.

Lucy stood at the edge of the cave and yelled into it. “ECHO!” listening for the echo in return. She skipped into the cave, humming all the way, the sound bouncing off as she went.

“Lucy?” Damian said, following her, “Don’t go too far, there’s all sorts of--” He heard a squeal and rushed forward.

He stopped short, his flashlight falling on Lucy. She waved at him to put it down, squinting. “Look here!” She brushed aside some dirt to find some rusted over metal. “Isn’t it fascinating! This cave system must go on for miles! Maybe people hid treasure there!”

“It’s just the old mining system,” Damian said, truthfully. “It’s all blocked off.”

“That can’t be hard to undo,” Lucy said, intrigued by whatever lay beyond.

Damian grabbed her hand before she could continue. “We have to catch the Riddler. There has to be another package here.”

Lucy sighed, but nodded. She took his arm with the flashlight and swung him around the cave. “Ah! There.”

She took the package and skipped out of the cave. “Careful!” Damian urged. “Come on, just diffuse it.”

“Nope, not these ones.” She tossed the package high in the sky, and Damian saw the fireworks light up.

He felt his phone buzzing, no doubt Tim could hear an explosion out here, not to mention Alfred. They’d come investigating fast enough. He leaped up, grabbing the fallen slip of paper, and grabbed Lucy again to pull her along. He read it quickly and passed it to her as he made his way away. “Even in the city scape, nature comes to take its place.” Lucy read. “It must be the park!”

“No,” Damian said, still pulling her, “I mean, yes, that is the answer to the riddle, but that’s not where we’re going.” He texted the police to inform them of the location of the hidden package so they could diffuse it, and dragged Lucy away.

The original Gotham Ice Cream shop was one of the oldest remaining buildings in Gotham, although was clearly closed for the night.

Damian saw a flash of green from the kitchens and rushed inside, finding none other than the Riddler standing there. “Stand down, Riddler,” Damian said, holding out his sword, “We’ve got you now!”

Riddler snarled, backing into a defensive stance. “Robin! How did you possibly find me?”

Damian smirked, “The beginning of each clue was clearly spelling out your final location. I-C-E. I didn’t need to follow 5 more clues to figure that out.”

Riddler cursed. “Those clues weren’t for you! They were for--!”

Lucy came skipping up to join Damian. “Hi, Uncle Eddy!”

“Lucille!” Riddler said, immediately warming. “I had so many sights around Gotham for you to see, why’d you go skipping to the end?”

Lucy skipped up to him, and Damian was once again left dumbfounded. “My friend Birdy here isn’t much for riddles, I think,” she said, “Although he enjoyed the elephants! And he knew about the mining carts in the caves, I want to explore those later.”

‘Uncle Eddy’ hugged Lucy, and Damian came to his senses, “THIS is your uncle?!”

Lucy shrugged, “I mean, that’s what I call him. I met him when I was visiting Aunt Harley a few years ago.”

“I heard you had moved to Gotham full time,” Riddler said, “I wanted to be sure you saw the sights. But the bat-brats have to ruin everything I suppose.” Riddler glared at him, and he glared right back.

“I don’t-” Damian started, but cut himself off, “You can’t just be leaving BOMBS around the city!”

“Fireworks!” Lucy and Riddler both corrected.

“Whatever! They’re explosive and they’re dangerous!” Damian hated having to be the safety one. It felt wrong.

Riddler rolled his eyes. “He’s just as much a barrel of laughs as the big one.”

“Aw, he’s sweet, really,” Lucy said, coming over to Damian and linking their arms. “Aunt Harley and Batman set us up on our own little playdate.”

“It is NOT!” Damian said, squirming away from her, “It is NOT a playdate.”

“Uncle Eddy, can my friend Birdy have some Ice Cream too?” Lucy asked, ignoring him.

Riddler and Damian glared again. “Fine.” He pushed his own bowl of ice cream towards Damian and went to get his own. “It’s MYSTERY flavor!”

Damian looked at it hesitantly as Lucy sat down to enjoy. Riddler went back to the kitchen. “It’s coconut,” Lucy said, “But Uncle Eddy likes to think it’s a mystery, so I let him.”

Damian frowned at her. “You’re really weird.”

“Thank you!” Lucy said, patting the seat beside her. “Come on, even you had to admit you had fun today.”

Damian thought about the elephants, and skipping around with Lucy, and watching the fireworks at the mouth of the cave, and seeing her all excited about mining carts for some reason. “Fine,” he said, “But it’s NOT a playdate.”

“Alright, alright,” Lucy said, digging into her ice cream. “Just a regular date then.”

“I--” Damian started, his head exploding with so many protests that he ended up just short circuiting. Lucy continued chowing down on ice cream like she didn’t say anything of importance. So, Damian just sat beside her, and ate his own.

#lucy quinzel #damian wayne #batman #harley quinn #dc fanfic

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jovalencia · 2 years

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okay because I know you all care a lot and are simply dying to hear my opinion on heartstopper here it is. I’m gonna be a bitch btw be warned

I will preface this by saying I’ve read the comic like four times and I really liked it! it was very cute and I did plan on gatekeeing this show but. whatever I decided I don’t care enough but I can horde the urls of their instagram @‘s and maybe thats enough. if you’re mad at me too bad I already said I’m a bitch so sue me.

right off the bat. the acting needs work. like seriously every scene made me wanna rip my ears off like why are you taking like that and standing like that and looking at each other like that. it was painful. the dialogue felt so…unnatural so I guess the delivery was on par with that. anyways.

I know that some changes were necessary to make the comic into a show so I’m not gonna get upset about that, just the changes I didn’t like.

first of all the comic book editing was not very good. like it would have worked if it was consistent but it felt like every now and then they were like “shit this show is based off a comic let’s add some leaves”

now I’m sure this is a Super revolutionary take but WHY did they have that plot line with Imogen there was literally no fucking reason. I hated it and it was a cheap attempt at more drama and it wasn’t even that dramatic it was just bad.

#1 thing I hated about a change that they made in show was how they had Elle out nick to tao because like. maybe I just know my bff Elle better than the writers but like she would literally never do that like. WHY. anyways.

Tao my bff tao. I think I could talk about this for like a thousand words but I’ll try to keep it to a minimum. he is me and I am him and normally I wouldn’t excuse or support his type of behavior from a character, and certainly not a man, but he is me and I am him and I Get It. like they dialed every character trait of his up to a fucking hundred and I loved it. they just made him suuuuch a bitch. In a good way. the only thing I didn’t like was when he said he didn’t wanna be friends with Charlie but other than that. okay maybe I like him so much because as we have established I am him and he is me we are best friends but I literally would have acted the exact same way as him in these situations. the only time I’ve ever almost gotten into a fight was when I tried to punch a guy in the face because he said something mean to my friend and yes you needed to know that. he literally threw a ball at somebody and was mean to them bc they were mean to Charlie and him and got in a fight and threw apple juice on somebody. anyways sorry for being a tao apologist but somebody has to do it.

I have a theory that they took any potential personality that nick could have had and transferred it into tao. because tao felt so big and real but nick might as well have been a rock. like after the first two episodes I was like. tell me why I should care about this man. and then at the end I was like “okayyyyy so he literally could have been any guy and it wouldn’t have mattered okay” like why did they just decide to make him a brick personified I don’t get it.

Idk what the writers thought they were doing with Darcy but it did not slay. they took her chaotic-ness (I hate that word but that’s the only way I can describe it) and combined it with a complete lack of understanding or respect for boundaries and I was not a fan. I’m gonna be a Darcy apologist tho. I quite frankly I have no complaints about Tara tho I think they did a great job with her

the casting for Harry was some of the best I’ve ever seen it was fantastic. he was soooo English and such an asshole I laughed every time he was on screen I loved it. they made him not only hatable but also annoying and honestly might become a Harry stan in like an ironic way you know exactly what I mean

okay. was ben… not white in the comic?? if not. WHAT was the reason for making him not white. Okay. Uh. anyways.

oh Charlie my bff Charlie they made him even MORE of a bitch in the show I loved it. that’s why him and tao are besties. again he kinda lacked personality a bit but it was fine. (brief sh and ed mention in the rest of this paragraph btw) However, I know that this point in the comic that Charlie’s mental health wasn’t really that big of a thing but at least in the comic whenever he would say something about not eating it was emphasized. whereas in the show it really was just completely skimmed over. also I can’t remember that if at that point in the comic Charlie had told nick about his self harming but if he had I wish that was in the show.

rapid fire round for characters that were irrelevant to me. hey where the fuck was Oliver btw I loved that lil guy. tragedy of the century. tori was there no complaints about her tbh. Isaac was there as well and he was fine, aled didn’t really do that much in the comic so it’s whatever. Miss singh was great as was that art teacher sorry I can’t remember his name I just don’t care. They took away all of nick’s mom’s personality it’s rough out there for the Nelsons. Taos mom is the best btw I love her.

saved the best for last let’s talk about my best friend Elle. And I mean best friend. I am so happy with what they did with her in the show (aside from the aforementioned outing of nick). They have her so much life and maybe I have my heart shaped glasses on but god I love her so much. I seriously don’t even have any specific thoughts but like. GOD Elle argent is Thee character of all time

and time for the rapid fire round of things that made me raise an eyebrow. Isaac walking in on nick and Charlie almost kissing and it never being resolved or addressed. lol. having Imogen’s dog die although that was pretty funny I did chuckle. sports day. So silly. rugby existing what is rugby. take a shot every time they say “Hi” “hi” and you’ll be so hammered by episode three that you won’t notice that the show isn’t that enjoyable. the school is sooooo ugly if I went there I would be miserable those kids are so strong. this show is so hard to compare to riverdale and it’s concerning considering that riverdale is the cornerstone blueprint etc for all good television. making out in front of a claw machine😐move I want a turn. Nick NOT recommending that he watch but I’m a cheerleader with his mom after he looked up gay movies. not knowing who won the fight between nick and Harry I want to see nick beat his ass. also I’ve seen middle schoolers fight better.

rapid fire of things that made me want to punch a wall (in a good way!). Harry’s existence he’s so silly fr. commenting on the Elle smells bowling name. hi dani. the British accents which did make the show funnier. the soundtrack was good! I didn’t know or particularly like any of the songs but they fit the vibe. nicks house is so pretty on the outside I love ivy. the your mom jokes. me. 62% gay nick having his Isak valtersen moment. btw this show wants to be skam sooooo bad .Tao’s three story house. so silly. nicks tight ass uniform shirt a boy who plays rugby Would do that. Nick’s ugly ass bedroom decor. he’s here to represent bi boys with no swag. who also dress like elementary schoolers. all THREW of the running through the hallways scenes what if I started crying tears of joy huh then what. Tao’s “you clearly didn’t get hugged much as a child but if you’re craving human contact that badly you could just say so” noora m okay because I know you all care a lot and are simply dying to hear my opinion on heartstopper here it is. I’m gonna be a bitch btw be warned

I know that some changes were necessary to make the comic into a show so I’m not gonna get upset about that, just the changes I didn’t like.

now I’m sure this is a super revolutionary take but WHY did they have that plot line with Imogen there was literally no fucking reason. I hated it and it was a cheap attempt at more drama and it wasn’t even that dramatic it was just bad.

#1 thing I hated about a change made in show was how they had Elle out nick to tao because like. maybe I just know my bff Elle better than the writers but like she would literally never do that like. WHY. anyways

Tao my bff tao. I think I could talk about this for like a thousand words but I’ll try to keep it to a minimum. he is me and I am him and normally I wouldn’t excuse or support his type of behavior from a character, and certainly not a man, but he is me and I am him and I Get It. like they dialed every character trait of his up to a fucking hundred and I loved it. they just made him suuuuch a bitch. In a good way. the only thing I didn’t like was when he said he didn’t wanna be friends with Charlie but other than that. okay maybe I like him so much because as we have established I am him and he is me we are best friends but I literally would have acted the exact same way as him in these situations. the only time I’ve ever almost gotten into a fight was when I tried to punch a guy in the face because he said something mean to my friend and yes you needed to know that. he literally threw a ball at somebody and got in a fight and threw apple juice on somebody. anyways sorry for being a tao apologist but somebody has to do it.

Idk what the writers thought they were doing with Darcy btw but it did not slay. they took her chaotic-ness (I hate that word but that’s the only way I can describe it) and combined it with a complete lack of understanding or respect for boundaries and I was not a fan. I’m gonna be a Darcy apologist tho. I quite frankly I have no complaints about Tara tho I think they did a great job with her

okay. was ben not white in the comic. if not. WHAT was the reason for making him not white. Okay. Uh.

oh Charlie my bff Charlie they made him even MORE of a bitch in the show I loved it. that’s why him and tao are besties. again he kinda lacked personality a bit but it was fine. However, I know that this point in the comic that Charlie’s mental health wasn’t really that big of a thing but at least in the comic whenever he would say something about not eating it was emphasized. whereas in the show it really was just completely skimmed over. also I can’t remember that if at that point in the comic Charlie had told nick about his self harming but if he had I wish that was in the show.

rapid fire round for characters that were irrelevant to me. hey where the fuck was Oliver btw I loved that lil guy. tragedy of the century. tori was there no complaints about her tbh. Isaac was there as well and he was fine aled didn’t really do that much in the comic so it’s whatever. Miss singh was great as what that art teacher sorry I can’t remember his name I just don’t care. They took away all of nick’s mom’s personality it’s rough out there for the Nelsons. Taos mom is the best btw I love her.

and time for the rapid fire round of things that made me raise an eyebrow. Isaac walking in on nick and Charlie almost kissing and it never being resolved or addressed. having Imogen’s dog die although that was pretty funny I did chuckle. sports day. So silly. rugby existing what is rugby. take a shot every time they say “Hi” “hi” and you’ll be so hammered by episode three that you won’t notice that the show isn’t that enjoyable. the school is sooooo ugly if I went there I would be miserable those kids are so strong. this show is so hard to compare to riverdale it’s concerning considering that riverdale is the cornerstone blueprint etc for all good television. making out in front of a claw machine😐move I want a turn. Nick NOT recommending that he watch but I’m a cheerleader with his mom after he looked up gay movies. not knowing who won the fight between nick and Harry I want to see nick beat his ass. anyways I have seen middle schoolers fight better.

rapid fire of things that made me want to punch a wall (in a good way!). Harry’s existence he’s so silly fr. commenting on the Elle smells bowling name. hi dani. the British accents which did make the show funnier. the soundtrack was good! I didn’t know or particularly like any of the songs but they fit the vibe. nicks house is so pretty on the outside I love ivy. the your mom jokes. me. 62% gay Isak valtersen moment. btw this show wants to be skam sooooo bad .Tao’s three story house. so silly. nicks tight ass uniform shirt a boy who plays rugby Would do that. Nick’s ugly ass bedroom decor. he’s here to represent bi boys with no swag. who also dress like elementary schoolers.all the running through the hallways scenes what if I started crying tears of joy huh then what. Tao’s “you clearly didn’t get hugged much as a child but if you’re craving human contact that badly you could just say so” noora moment. nick is so much stronger than I could ever be if my mom gave me that fuckin 3rd degree when I came out I would have been pissed.

I’m conclusion I don’t think I would have liked the show if I wasn’t already invested in the comic and Elle and tao would have made a much more interesting main couple I’m sorry it had to be said. I just like them better and I Know you do to. regret staying up late to watch it.

#this is like 2900 words. sorry.#carmen.txt

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caught-in-the-filter · 3 years

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Emma Was Cold

A Neverland smut fic for @neverlandnewyear and @csjanuaryjoy

Summary: Emma Swan finds that Neverland nights get surprisingly cold. Luckily, Captain Hook has some experience in keeping warm.

4006 Words; Rated: E; AO3

A/N: This is basically Neverland PWP. It was inspired by something I commented in the CS Movie Marathon Discord a while back, and I never expected to actually write the thing myself. This is the first full smut fic I’m publicly posting with one of my urls attached, so I’m both excited and scared to share it. First, I need to give a huge shoutout to all the lovely people on the CSMM, CSNLNY, and CSJJ Discords for all their encouragement and assistance while I struggled to write this fic. Special shoutouts to @teamhook, @kmomof4, @hollyethecurious, and @donteattheappleshook for reviewing bits of the doc for me as I went along and being super supportive, and especially to Maddie for also giving it a last minute full review once I finished it and helping me with edits. Also a big thank you to the mods for running these amazing events and for working together to allow us to cross-post between the two.

Alright, here we go....

——

“Are you alright, Swan?” Hook asked as he turned toward Emma to find her shivering where she lay a few feet away from him, his question prompted by the fact that he could actually hear the clacking sound of her teeth chattering.

“I’m f-fine,” Emma answered, curling further into herself as she rubbed her hands up and down her arms beneath the threadbare blanket that provided her with such little warmth. Who’d have thought Neverland would get so cold at night? She wished she’d worn more than a thin tank top, which served her well during the blazing heat of the day but offered no protection from the cool temperatures she faced now.

“Are you sure?” he prodded with a smirk, “If you’d like me to keep you warm, love, you need only ask. I’d be more than willing to—”

“I said I’m fine,” Emma snapped, “and I’m not your love.”

“Suit yourself.” Hook rolled back onto his side. “Like everything else on this island, Neverland nights are not kind. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

——

Emma was cold, so cold that she couldn’t stop shaking despite her best efforts. Tensing only made it worse, but she just couldn’t relax either. She cursed herself under her breath, knowing she shouldn’t give in but desperate for the rest she knew she’d never find in such a state.

“Hook?” she whispered, padding over to where he lay apart from the rest, half hoping he would already be asleep.

“Hm?” He turned toward her once more, the smirk returning to his face and burning a hole right through her.

Emma wondered if the embarrassment that set fire to her cheeks would be enough to warm her, but she’d already gained his attention.

“Did you have a change of heart then, love?” Hook questioned. “Are you ready to warm up to me? Or with me, I should say.”

“Nevermind,” Emma rolled her eyes and stepped away from him in annoyance, hoping he couldn’t see her shivering.

“Swan—”

“No.”

“Swan, please look at me,” he pleaded, more softly than she’d have expected. She turned toward him impatiently, ready to go off on him if necessary, but found a gentle look in his eyes and let him continue.

“I may be a bit brash when it comes to making my interest known, Emma, but I assure you I am nothing if not a gentleman. Neverland is a cruel place and I would not wish to make it any more so. If we are to share warmth in a strictly practical manner, so be it.” He waved her over to him, his hooked arm outstretched in invitation to serve as her pillow. “You need rest, and I won’t let you freeze to death in your sleep before we rescue your boy.”

Emma approached him with caution, hesitating before she sat and turned her back to him as she rested her head on his arm. She wondered how he could sleep in that leather duster of his, but as he held her close, pressing his chest flush against her back but making a point to turn his hips away from her, and draped the thick material of the coat over her as well, she realized just how comfortable it actually was. She wouldn’t admit to the sudden and surprising sense of calm that washed over her as she settled next to him, but in the unexplainable safety, it didn’t take long before she was sound asleep.

——

Though it was still dark when she awoke, Emma felt as refreshed as if she’d had a full night’s sleep, a feeling and a feat she hadn’t achieved in a very long time. She huffed out a breath with a roll of her eyes when she realized she’d been pinned by Hook’s other arm which curled loosely around her middle. He must have turned in his sleep, somehow gently enough to not wake her. Her instincts said to shove him away, but he had been decent enough to respect her boundaries in his offer. And, after all, she was much warmer this way, which was the whole point of moving closer together.

He suddenly shifted in his sleep again, and Emma gasped when she felt his clothed warmth brush against her denim-clad ass. Wait, was he actually hard?! Before she could stop herself, Emma let out an involuntary moan when he rubbed against her again and she immediately froze, wide-eyed and praying he didn’t hear her as all the heat they’d shared travelled south, save for that which reddened her cheeks. After a moment had passed without a reaction from him, she allowed herself to relax again, only to be suddenly pulled closer to him.

“Sounds like you liked that, Swan?” Hook remarked and rolled his hips ever so slightly. She could sense the shit-eating grin returning to his smug face.

Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment as he did it again before she responded, “Please, you couldn’t handle it,” and returned the motion, surprising him with the unexpected reciprocation.

“I do love a challenge. But tell me something, love,” he said, his hand traveling down towards her waistband, passing over the zipper and slipping between her thighs as his lips hovered over her neck and his hot breath seared her flesh, “can you handle staying quiet?” He lifted her leg and draped it over his own, giving himself the space to cup her through her jeans. “Everyone else is still asleep, and in any case it’s still too dark to journey on.” He placed a kiss just below her ear and continued, his voice a low growl just above a whisper, “Just say the word, I can help you ease your mind for a while.” The corner of his lips twitched upward as he teasingly flexed his fingers against her and added, “And the ache you might be feeling, if that moan were any indication.”

Emma silently cursed herself for letting that sound escape from her lips, and once more for what she knew she was about to give in to so quickly. He was right, she could use a distraction from her racing mind now that she was more awake again, and he was a damn tempting one. Her breath hitched when he caught her earlobe between his teeth and tugged, eliciting another soft moan from deep within her, and her decision was made.

“Yes.”

“Yes what, love?” he asked, nosing down her neck until his mouth latched onto the space between it and her shoulder, nipping and sucking her flesh and laving over it with his tongue.

“Yes, I can stay quiet.” Her hand reached up to find purchase in his hair, encouraging him to continue his claim of her collarbone. “Yes, I want you to ease my… well, everything.” He chuckled at that, the vibration of his laughter against her skin sending a chill down her spine.

“As you wish.” Hook wasted no time popping the button on Emma’s jeans, pulling down the zipper, and slipping his hand beneath the denim. “Oh?” He said, his eyebrow raised in wonder at the soft, thin material covering his goal. He rubbed his fingers over it, feeling her arousal soaking through it as he teased her. “You certainly do.” Hook pushed her panties aside and sank two fingers inside her.

“Ohh fuck,” Emma choked back another moan, the sinful sounds as he plunged them into her dripping core again and again filling the air instead. His rings bit into her skin with every thrust, the cool metal a jarring, yet welcome counter to the hot friction they were creating. She rocked her hips to meet him each time, and his breathing grew ragged as he rutted himself against the curve of her ass in synchrony. As Emma’s movements grew frantic, Hook’s slowed to a stop, and Emma groaned in protest when he removed his fingers from inside her, dragging them through her folds to brush her clit for just a moment.

“Not yet, Swan.” Hook carefully slipped his arm out from beneath her head and gently turned her towards himself so that she lay on her back. Getting to his knees and stripping off his duster, he knelt between her spread legs. “I’m a fan of every part of you, and I intend to show you just how much of a fan I am.”

He slipped his hooked arm beneath her tank only to find his access to her breasts blocked by another bit of material. Lifting the top to reveal the offending garment, he looped his prosthetic beneath it, the tip of the hook scraping against her skin as he did, and tugged. He noted that the small scrap of fabric differed from the corsets he was used to removing from women he’d bedded in the past but assumed it would be no less easy to snap than the laces he’d encountered on them.

“Hey!” Emma caught his wrist before he could succeed in his efforts. “I need this! Let me just….” She sat up for a moment to take off her tank top and undo the clasps at her back so she could toss her bra aside. “There.”

“Apologies, love,” Hook said, “and thank you.” He guided her back down with his hand just beneath her now exposed breast, thumbing at her tightening nipple as his mouth tended to the other. “Bloody magnificent, these are,” he mumbled against her as he teased them to stiff peaks. Emma tried to relax as the throbbing between her legs became almost unbearable and she longed for more friction to soothe it.

When he was at last satisfied, Hook released her nipple from his mouth with a resounding pop, flicked it a few times with the curve of his hook for good measure, and gave the same treatment to the other, relishing the way she squirmed beneath him as he nibbled and sucked and kneaded.

Emma gasped when the cold air rushed over her wet skin as Hook finished with her breasts and slid his body lower between her legs, trailing sloppy kisses down her abdomen along the way until he reached the top of her jeans.

Glancing up at her, he kept his eyes on hers as he gently tucked his fingers and hook just under the edge of her waistband.

“May I?” he asked, waiting for her approval to proceed.

“Yes,” she answered, “god, yes.” He grinned at that and very slowly tugged her jeans down her legs, distracted by the view of the place where his hand had been, covered only by the thin strip of fabric that had grown damp beneath his touch, pausing for a moment to slip off her boots when he reached them before removing the denim completely.

“You,” Hook said as he took in the sight of her almost completely naked form, “are absolutely stunning, Swan.” He scanned her body a moment longer, watching the blush spread over her cheeks and across her chest as she flushed pink under his desirous scrutiny. He nosed along the creases of her thighs and up the material that hid his goal before taking the top hem between his teeth, pulling it down until it hung from his mouth and letting it fall beside her on the blanket beneath them.

Fuck, that was hot, Emma thought to herself as she watched him lower his head and raise his hungry gaze to hers. The smirk on his face made her wonder for a moment if she had actually said it out loud.

Any concern she had about her comment was swept away as he gently flattened his tongue against her slick flesh, never breaking eye contact as he slowly licked an inquisitive stripe along her folds, dipping it between them just enough to pass over her clit before departing. The shiver that passed through her whole body at the contact was enough to make him do it twice more before diving in as deep as he could and mapping her inner walls with his tongue. He mumbled soft praises as he worked her—“Delicious…. Exquisite…. Divine….”—without ever fully pulling away to say them, too lost in the taste of her, as if he couldn’t get enough and didn’t want to lose even a drop of her essence. Soon he found the spot that made her hips buck and her thighs pull together, pressing against the sides of his head, and he reintroduced his fingers inside her as he licked at the spot relentlessly, knowing she grew ever closer to her release.

His scruff raked against her skin as her legs locked around him, her heels digging into his back, and she knew the raw streaks of raised red would burn later as they continued through Neverland on foot. But with the way he was making her feel in that moment, she figured it would be worth it.

The shaking overtook her suddenly and her back arched as he gave a particularly strong suck on her clit, and she came as he continued to fuck her with his hand and mouth. He reached up to silence her by pressing the curve of his hook to her lips as an overwhelmed cry caught in her throat. Taking the prosthetic into her mouth, she gently bit down on it and laved over it with her tongue to distract herself from the way he tended to her dripping core in kind. He lapped at her entrance until her waves of pleasure receded and she relaxed against the blanket, their chests heaving in an attempt to catch their breaths. He crawled over her body, hovering above her looking absolutely wrecked before he’d even been touched, his chin glistening with her release and his eyes blown wide with insatiable desire.

Their mouths crashed together and he laced his fingers through her golden locks while her hands anchored in the hair at the nape of his neck. She tasted herself on him as she traced his lips with her tongue and opened hers in invitation for his further exploration.

“You, my wanton lass, are far from quiet.” Hook attacked Emma’s lips with his own, her false rebuttal lost before it could be voiced as his tongue dipped between them and pulled her bottom lip between his teeth upon its retreat.

Emma hadn’t seen him reach for the panties he’d discarded next to her earlier until he pulled away and sat back on his haunches as he replaced his tongue with the wet scrap of material.

“Any other time, I’d love nothing more than to hear how I make you feel, but given the circumstances…,” he trailed off with a glance in the direction of their slumbering company not too far away, before returning his gaze to Emma with a smirk. “Luckily, there are ways to assist you.” He leaned over her once more to whisper in her ear, “Perhaps another time we can meet on my ship, sail far from the shore, just the two of us, and I’ll make you produce all manner of sounds for only me to hear. Hm?”

If he were expecting an answer, Emma couldn’t give him one. She told herself this was a one-time thing, just a way to blow off some steam and clear her head before the next long stretch of their journey through this land of mysterious horrors she wished she’d never have had to encounter like this. She wished Neverland could have stayed a story, though she wouldn’t admit out loud that she did prefer this real version of the fearsome Captain Hook.

Well, that and she now had a mouthful of cotton.

Emma watched as he unlaced his trousers, and she found herself unable to look away when he took himself in hand and passed the tip of his cock along her folds, aligning himself with her entrance before he stopped.

“Swan?” Hook said, bringing her out of her distracted stupor and calling her attention to his searching eyes, all of his bravado gone and replaced with a serious, patient tone. “Emma, are you sure?”

She hadn’t expected him to ask again, and that consideration for her wishes she hadn’t often encountered, paired with his rare use of her first name, only increased her desire to say yes. Unable to actually speak it, she held his gaze, hoping hers looked just as soft, and gently brushed her fingers down his cheek before she trailed them down his arms and gripped his hips with an encouraging nod.

Emma bit down hard on her makeshift gag and her head lolled back as he slowly sheathed himself inside her, the stretch burning in the best way with every inch as her body responded to his entrance with slick heat until he was fully seated within her. The feel of her around him took his breath away, and Hook braced himself on his elbows at either side of her as his head fell forward next to hers and he panted over her shoulder.

“Gods, you’re fucking perfect,” Hook whispered in her ear through gritted teeth. He finally began to move, and she wrapped her arms around him, holding him close as he pulled back and slid home again and again. She pivoted her hips to meet him with each thrust, feeling a euphoric fullness every time she took him in deep that left her softly whimpering in protest upon his retreats.

It was too much and not enough and just right all at once. Emma’s hands slipped beneath Hook’s shirt and she raked her nails up and down his back before digging them into his flesh as she scrabbled for purchase to steady herself beneath him, and to draw him ever closer to her.

Her mouth grew dry as the material between her teeth absorbed what little moisture wasn’t being expelled from her body in arousal and sweat. She wanted to kiss him, but even if she could, his mouth was otherwise engaged, sucking a mark into the side of her neck before tonguing at the hollow of her throat on its way to brand her collarbone. She couldn’t be bothered to care if anyone would see the evidence of his claim, not while he was giving her nothing but pleasure as his hips snapped with purpose.

“Come for me, Emma.” Hook’s fingers returned to her clit to circle and tease it as they both neared their releases. “Let me feel you come on my cock.” He groaned louder than he meant to when her hands cupped his ass through his trousers. “I won’t last much longer, love.”

He almost lost it when she gripped him tighter and nodded with a downward glance before meeting and holding his gaze.

“Fuck, Emma,” he breathed, a lightheadedness overtaking him as everything inside him tensed and he slammed into her with abandon. Looping his hook under the edge of her panties that peeked out from between her lips, he tugged the material to remove it without wasting time to toss it aside, letting it drape over his prosthetic as he filled her mouth with his tongue instead in a hot slide.

“Killian,” she moaned in a whisper against his eager lips, finally able to speak to some extent as he ravished both her mouth and her aching core.

“What?” He said in breathless surprise, unsure of whether he’d heard her correctly or imagined it with his own pulse pounding in his head, his hungry and frantic eyes flitting from side to side as they searched hers. A soft smile spread across his face. That was the first word she’d spoken, not even his more colorful moniker she’d been accustomed to using, but—

“Killian,” she called him by his name again, feeling that same dizzy high he felt as she rocked forward into him. “Yes. Yes.”

Something inside him snapped, and he muffled his pleasured cries against her lips as he poured himself inside her, relentlessly thumbing at her clit to bring her to release. A rush of heat spread through her body as his cock pulsed inside her, and her walls fluttered around him as she rose and fell with him.

He pulled back for a moment and caught the thick whitish fluid that dripped from her core with the tip of his cock before pushing it deeper inside her with a desperate grunt until they both finally slowed their movements to a stop.

“That was—” Hook, the man full of innuendos, fell speechless as he carefully held himself above her, propped up on his elbows, and let his forehead drop to hers as he panted with hot breath over her lips.

A one-time thing, Emma wanted so badly to say, but she had trouble even believing herself then. The way he made her feel, the way she knew he felt, the way they felt together. None of it felt like a one-time thing. She knew what those were, but this right here with him, this could be so much more. And it both thrilled and terrified her.

“I know,” she said instead, trying desperately to process everything that had just happened, and everything she might have wished would happen in the future, if they’d have a future at all. Would they?

She subtly shook her head in an attempt to clear it and pulled him to her for another kiss before she lifted her panties off his hook and pressed her other hand to his chest where it was exposed by the low neckline of his shirt and vest, following his body with hers as she guided him back so she could sit upright. Flattening the material over her palm, she passed it between her folds and stared into the depths of his ocean blue eyes as she rubbed the damp cotton over his wet cock, making his jaw drop as his breath hitched in his throat.

“We can’t leave a mess, now can we?” Emma smirked. Pumping him with her covered hand, she took his cock into her mouth, and he hissed when she passed her tongue over the tip and groaned around him at the taste as it leaked a bit more of his release.

“Gods, Emma,” Hook stuttered as he leaned back on his hand for support before he stilled her by catching her wrist with his hook, and she released him with a soft pop and a mischievous smirk as she looked up at him. “Keep doing that, love, and there’s going to be a much more obvious tell.”

“Fine,” she conceded with a sigh, getting to her feet and slipping on her wrecked panties with a taunting wiggle of her hips as she pulled them up under the weight of his entranced gaze until he realized he’d been staring and cast his eyes toward the ground. She’d probably feel it later, the sweltering heat of the Neverland sun bound to leave her feeling stickier than its induced sweat already would, but knowing he’d know that his effects on her would be keeping her wet long after they’d finished their more enjoyable activities… well, her own potential discomfort would be a cross she’d be willing to bear without regret.

She continued to get dressed, and he gave her the decency of turning his back to her as she did and as he righted himself as well, an admittedly unnecessary gesture after the rather indecent act they’d just committed together, but oddly endearing nonetheless.

“Here, love,” Hook picked up his duster and held it open in offering for her to wear, but she waved him off with a smile.

“I’m okay now, thanks. It suits you better anyway. And besides,” Emma winked at him, “I think I prefer sharing it.”

Hook swirled it around himself with a dramatic flair to put it on, tucked his hand and hook in the pockets, and reached out to enwrap Emma in the heavy leather with him, eliciting a giggle as he held her close.

She certainly wasn’t cold anymore.

#csnlny #csjj2021 #captain swan #cs smut #cs ff #neverland smut #emma was cold #cs neverland new year #cs january joy #Captain swan neverland new year #captain swan january joy #csnlny2021 #csjj #kayla writes #my writing #my cs ff

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lillianofliterature · 3 years

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LOTR preferences || 2/?

main masterlist | imagines/preferences masterlist

DO NOT REPOST.

if gifs not sourced, they were found on google, lmk if they’re yours! I couldn’t make out the url on the elrond one or I would have linked it!

I wrote these sort of in an imagine style to make it more immersive since the prompt for this one is dialogue based.

some are longer than others (by a lot, oops) and some phrases or descriptors may have been repeated a few times, but there’s so many characters and I only have one brain and I didn’t feel like reading through all of them again to make them all perfectly unique. it’s been a long road writing these xD

elvish translations: melamin = my beloved/my love, melda = beloved/dear/sweet

tw: slight gore mentioned in aragorn’s

(more below the cut-off)

their first ‘i love you’ (confession)

aragorn | word count: 647

Aragorn was always quiet about his feelings and often times reserved, being an introverted person. Those three words came when he could no longer withstand the pressure of not telling you how he truly felt. The risk of your eyes wandering to find another had crossed his mind more than once and the possibility of something happening before he had had the chance to overcome his nerves was overwhelming. And one day, as he was in the midst of this inner turmoil, you slit your hand open while sharpening the blade of your sword against a whirling grindstone.

He had been nearby, working with the string of his bow, when your cry of pain pierced the air. The sword rattled to the ground as you stood and pressed your hand against the palm of the other in your best effort to quench the rush of blood. Without a second’s hesitation, he came to your aid and whisked you into the smithy shop where there was a store of medical supplies for such an incident.

In his panic, he chastised you.

“Why aren’t you wearing the guard I gave you? I explicitly told you not to use the grindstone without it!”

Tears burned in your eyes as he poured a stout smelling liquid over the wound. “I took it off because it was chafing my wrist when I pushed against the blade,” you said.

“It would have prevented this, (Y/n). Look at what you’ve done to yourself!”

“Aragorn, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean for it to happen!”

“You must obey my instruction when I give it to you. I do not speak just to hear my own voice.”

There was a tense pause in your urgent conversation as he rinsed your hand in a basin of cool water and examined the wound up close with gentleness. His relief was audible as he realized the cut was much smaller than the loss of blood had let on. With a slower pace, he began bandaging your hand with linens.

His voice softer, he spoke again. “I tell you these things to protect you, (Y/n), not to patronize you.”

“I know,” you sniffled.

He could see that his chastisement had startled you as much as the wound itself. He hadn’t meant to make you uncomfortable, but he needed you to know how serious this could have been, how badly you could have injured yourself.

“I apologize for my harshness,” - he caught your gaze with his own as he continued - “But I need you to take care of yourself. Especially when I offer you the means to do so.”

He knotted the linen and tugged at the cloth with his teeth before snipping it short with a pair of shears lying nearby. The heat of his breath against your fingers sent a wave of chills across your skin. When he glanced up at you, he saw a twinge of embarrassment in your expression.

“I always end up doing something reckless or clumsy, no matter how much I try to better myself,” you muttered. Avoiding his gaze, you stared at your wrapped hand as he released it from his grasp.

The next words that left your mouth caught him off guard.

“Why do you bother with me, Aragorn?”

He swallowed.

His eyes drifted downward to your bandaged hand. Carefully, he took it in both of his and cradled it between his palms. Your breath caught in your throat, searching his face for any hint of insincerity. Of course, there was none. When his eyes flickered up to meet yours, there was something glimmering in his eyes. Something quiet and untamed. Tender.

“I care for you, (Y/n). I care for you very deeply. So deeply, in fact, that I think there is no better word for it than love,” he confessed, gently tracing his thumb over your knuckles. “I love you, melamin.”

boromir | word count: 952

Boromir had never been one to display much emotion. He had been taught from a young age that a man was not a creature of sentiment or expressive feeling, so he was not well versed in the commitment of making himself vulnerable. It wasn‘t until he began to see how this pattern of detachment and stalwart solemnness began to affect your relationship that he worked harder to make larger strides in undoing the toxic misogyny his father had engrained in him since boyhood.

You of course knew that Boromir had an emotional side; a softer, sweeter disposition he bore around his younger brother and even around you on occasion – before he subconsciously corrected himself. He had begun to notice that whenever he puffed his chest or resumed that “manly” behavior, you pulled away from him. You grew quieter, you sought solitude, you became annoyed more easily. His arrogance, you knew, often acted as a wall of self-preservation. But you were tired of being on the other side of that wall, waiting to be let in.

It was after an argument between the two of you that he realized this wall of his was going to have to come down. Even though he had been defensive at first, he soon realized his refusal to be wrong, his hesitance at expressing emotion, his worry about becoming vulnerable – it wasn’t worth the risk of losing you.

You had since shown him that emotion wasn’t a weakness, it was a strength. He knew you understood where his hesitance and his way of thinking brimmed from, you always made the effort to understand. You weren’t asking him to change – you were asking him to grow.

To allow himself to be Boromir. Fully, completely, without restraint.

This was his moment, so to speak, in which he knew he was ready to give you everything. His pride had been holding him back for so long under his father’s approval – it was finally time for him to trust you and allow himself the comforts of self-expression.

He was ready to say it first. He was ready to be the one to get vulnerable first.

On the evening he decided to take his first big step into that growth, Minas Tirith basked in the white hue of moonlight. He sat beside you quietly, allowing himself a moment to gather his thoughts. Twirling in between your fingers was a pale blossom from the White Tree that he had plucked for you. Patiently, you waited. You could tell by his calm demeanor and open countenance that something had shifted within him since your last talk – his shoulders were relaxed as he walked, he had let himself stroll along slowly beside you instead of marching quickly like a soldier. He seemed relieved. At peace.

“I have something I must ask of you, my dear,” he began.

Your attentive gaze gave him permittance to continue.

“Your forgiveness,” – his hand covered yours as his voice softened – “I want to apologize for my arrogance throughout our courtship thus far. It was not my intention to hurt you with my attachment to my own pride.”

You leaned forward to interrupt him, but he held up his hand to stop you. You hadn’t wanted him to apologize – you didn’t blame him for a learned behavior he had had no choice in being raised into. But evidently, Boromir felt in necessary to express his remorse. Shutting him down was the last thing you wanted to do, especially if this was what he felt was right. You decided to listen.

“I never knew that I would find someone who would open me up like you have. I never even knew there was such a possibility for me to learn to allow myself to feel as you have. You know I was never allowed to show weakness as a child, or what my father perceived as weakness,” he glanced down at your intertwined hands as he swallowed over his next words, “I was not even allowed to cry. It was not the way of a soldier, or a steward’s son.”

When his eyes lifted to meet yours again, you could see the glistening of his tears in the moonlight. You tightened your grip on his hand, covering it with your other.

He seemed comforted by this as he continued. “But I am able to do so now, to allow myself to feel and become vulnerable. I owe you my thanks for that, (Y/n). If it weren't for you, I fear I never would have allowed myself to grow, to become a better man. A stronger man.”

He leaned forward suddenly, his peaceful expression shifting into excitement. “I love you, (Y/n), with a passion that even the fires of Mordor could not compare. And I thought that I would have to swallow my emotions to be the man you wanted, but instead you had given me freedom I have never been offered before.”

“Oh, Boromir,” you murmured. The image of his smiling face blurred as your own tears gathered and spilled over your cheeks. Your eyes fell to the blossom in your hands and the promise it held of everything to come – of what you already had, here, in his company.

His thumb gently tugged at your cheek as he wiped your tears. When you softened to his touch, he cradled the curve of your jaw in his hand. You leaned into him, covering his hand with your own.

This is all you had ever wanted.

For Boromir to be free, for his heart to be opened, for him to accept your love.

“I love you, too,” you whispered, pressing your lips to the palm of his hand that caressed your face.

faramir | word count: 522

The complete opposite of his brother, Faramir had little to no trouble in connecting to his more emotional side. In fact, he was always eager to shower others in kindness and compassion. It had long been the thing his father hated most about him – Faramir was weak in Denethor’s eyes. Luckily, Faramir’s gift for sentiment could not be so easily squelched. It was what you loved most about him.

Faramir adored you all the more for your acceptance of his openness and empathetic abilities. He never had to filter himself around you or attempt to not be “too much”. He was expressive, kind, and vulnerable. He wasn’t afraid to cry, he wasn’t hesitant in displaying his softer side. He was just Faramir, the way Faramir was supposed to be. And in your eyes, he was perfect.

Those words of declaration, those three tender notes of sweet promise, when they finally came, did not necessarily come as a surprise. He had always been upfront with his feelings towards you – and respectful - with his affection and doting words of affirmation. Shy, but honest. But that did not mean they meant any less when you heard them spoken for the first time.

Faramir, though he had long known that he loved you, had not planned the moment he would confess to you. He knew the right moment would happen along, and happen along it did.

One fine afternoon in the sunlit halls of the library halls, your laughter echoed with an unkempt ferocity that made his heart melt. Evidently, the way he had attempted in retelling his brother’s joke was far funnier than the actual content of it. You had laid your hand upon his shoulder as you doubled over in a chortling fever of amusement. In seconds, his embarrassment had been assuaged your beautifully wild laugh that in turn encouraged his own to spill forth.

There you both stood under the setting beams of the warm sun that filtered into the halls, leaning into each other for support as you felt your sides begin to ache. His gentle hands gripped your forearms as you gasped for breath between cheerful bouts of laughter. He had been able to calm his jovial fit much sooner as his admiring gaze fell almost blissfully solemn.

He couldn’t look away from your lips that were split into a wide smile, unconcerned whether your laugh was ladylike or if your posture was stiff. Those little crinkles in the corners of your glimmering (e/c) eyes were like the fine details of a painting. Oh, how deeply he had fallen for you.

When you finally began to catch your breath and your laughter had quieted enough for a lower octave to be heard, the words slipped effortlessly between his smiling lips with a soft chuckle. “I love you.”

Your boisterous laughter faded into breathy vowels as you asked, “What did you say?”

“I love you,” he repeated.

His smile didn’t waver. He was so sure, so sincere.

You could only smile up at him graciously, a light laugh of merriness flowing through you.

How perfect this moment was, how blissfully perfect.

eomer | word count: 413

It happened one the eve before a long patrol - that could result in battle - that he and his men were preparing for. Eomer, knowing he could promise himself a certain outcome, did not want to leave you waiting until he returned to say all that he needed to. He wanted to be sure he left no loose ends fraying in his absence. He wasn’t one to leave things to chance.

As he walked out to the stables to prepare his supplies and brush out his steed, you followed along with him, eager to spend every minute you had left together before his departure. There were inquiries and concerns exchanged while he filled Firefoot’s bale with oats and cleaned his shoes of any muck. When he was reassured that you and Eowyn would care for each other in his absence, he felt one last thing needed to be said.

His hands wove through Firefoot’s mane as he considered his next words, soothing the horse’s nervous anticipation. The lull in conversation reminded of you how close dawn truly was. He would be gone soon and you would be left to worry and pray for his safe return. Busying yourself with tasks that would seem miniscule in comparison.

He patted the broad neck of his steed before wiping his hands clean and stepping nearer to you. “There’s something I think you should be aware of before I go,” he began.

His tone made you worry.

“I think we are both aware of our feelings for each other since our courtship began,” he took your hands in his as he paused for breath, “It’s no surprise to you that I feel passionately for you. I don’t think it would be news for you to hear these words, but I would feel better having spoken them before I take my leave.”

You waited on baited breath. Was he truly going to say it after all this time?

“I love you, (Y/n), with every inch of my being, and I plan to act on that knowledge when I return.”

Yes, you already knew he loved you, and he knew you loved him. But to hear those words spoken aloud after the years you had pined for each other and in the months you had courted, it was the last bit of resolve you needed to face the world while he was away. And evidently it was the last bit of peace he needed to carry himself forward.

eowyn | word count: 312

Eowyn had long been sure of her love for you, but had lacked the courage to admit it. of course, she had no qualms with being the first to say it – of course a woman could say it first just as easily as a man and with just as much meaning. But when would the right time occur? How could she be sure you felt the same? That she would not be left with a gaping pang of regret?

But Eowyn, against all of her worries, knew the moment when it came.

And of course, her bravery shown through.

Her confession did not happen under the moonlit stars or in the halls of her uncle, nor even in the walls of her homeland. It happened in the uncomfortable, sweaty musk of battle as arrows pierced hide and swords battered shields. It happened as an enemy blade came bearing down on your armor as you lie defenseless in the wreckage, your weapon thrown own of reach.

You had accepted your death just as the thudding of boots came nearer and the Uruk’s bloodthirsty gaze drifted upwards, its blade halted. The beast stepped over your impaired body and poised the tip of its blade toward the approaching figure with a twisted smirk – and it was then that the sharp twang of her blade meeting the Uruk’s pierced the air. She parried quickly, shoving the beast back into a stumble. She stood over you, wielding her shield and blade with grace and courage enough for a hundred men – or perhaps a thousand.

“You will not harm the one I love!” she shouted.

Your heart raced in the frenzy chaos of the moment – both from adrenaline and from the realization that Eowyn, the great lady warrior, the bravest heart you had ever met, had confessed her love for you while protecting you with her own life.

elrond | word count: 928

Elrond was extremely mindful of his feelings and how he attached himself to others. He was quiet, reserved, and did not care for taking unwise chances – especially when it came to feelings such a love. He had given much thought to the subject and took his time in considering what his feelings might be – if it was simply the fleeting sensation of infatuation, a connected sensation of friendship, or truly the sensation of love itself.

When he found his every thought resolved itself back to you and nearly everything he saw or read prompted him to share it with you, he knew that he had fallen in love. And thus, it soon came time to be honest with you about his earnest feelings for you. It was time to finally say it.

During a private dinner with him, Elrond had prepared his words carefully. As he dotted the corners of his mouth with a red satin cloth, he cleared his throat. But before he could speak, your voice incidentally interrupted him.

“Elrond, do you think I’m a witless human?”

The words he had almost spoken caught in his throat. He lifted his gaze to yours across the table, studying the remorseful expression that had overcome the smile you had worn only minutes ago. He had felt that something about you was off that evening; your spirit seemed dampened like the fallen leaves of autumn when drenched with the harvest’s cool rain.

“Of course not. Why would you ever think that?”

He watched as you toyed with a piece of warm pastry, poking at the flakey crust distractedly. “I suppose I- I…I worry that I am unworthy of your company. You are a great lord and I am nothing but a wanderer who happened upon your halls years ago. There are many who are still uncertain of me, many who would rather I leave your courts and make my home elsewhere.”

“Anyone who say such things about you must be the witless creature, (Y/n), not you,” he reassured.

Your eyes met his. There was an urgency to your tone, an urgency that taunted him unintentionally. “I am dull and plain, milord. I do not belong in your world of elegance and majesty. I am like the dust of the earth and you- you are like stardust.”

Still silence fell as Elrond processed your words. You had returned to formalities, which you seldom did unless the situation called for it. This time, in the comfort of your shared solitude, it was not expected of you. Where had this all come from? Had someone chastised you? Spoken ill of your character?

He rose slowly from his chair and made his way to you. You kept your eyes on your plate, suddenly overwhelmed by a bashful sense of embarrassment. Every step he drew nearer, your pulse quickened.

The warmth of his hand stilled the nervous fidgeting of yours.

As near as he was to you now, knelt by your chair, you wondered if he could see the tears burning in your eyes. You blinked, dissolving the blurry liquid from your vision. You held your breath very still, only taking shallow breaths –you feared anything deeper would encourage more emotions to present themselves.

When his other hand swept your hair from your face, your breath caught in your throat. “You are the furthest thing from dull, melda. Do not compare yourself to the dust that is trampled by the feet of beasts – you are far more precious than even the light of the stars. You are worth far more than you give yourself credit for.”

The soft touch of his finger pulled your chin towards him, warranting your gaze to meet his. “I have spent these last two months considering how I might tell you this, and I find that is more perfect a time than ever,” he paused only to admire your eyes and the loveliness that reflected in them, “I am in love with you, (Y/n), and I fall more in love with you each day that passes.”

Your (e/c) widened and you felt your chest tighten – how could this be possible? How could he, the great elven lord of Rivendell, think of you as anything more than a wanderer? No matter how much you doubted yourself, you knew you could trust his words, despite the shock they invoked. He was never one to speak with haste or make himself vulnerable to anyone apart from his children. You were stunned to silence, waiting for him to take it back. But he never did.

In fact, his brows drew together in an expression of absoluteness and he spoke again in a calmer, more pronounced tone. He took one of your hands in his and pressed it to his heart. “You are the most marvelous creature that has ever walked into my life. I am the one who has been graced by your presence. You have enriched my life when before it was simple and lonely…you are stardust, melamin, not me.”

Your sorrowful tears turned to joy as they poured from your eyes and spilled over your flushed cheeks. When you leaned forward to embrace him, he opened his arms to accept your human display of affection. A little too enthusiastic, it might have been – you wrapped your arms over his shoulders, pulling yourself to the ground where he knelt.

His chuckle reverberated against your body and you found yourself wondering how you had ever doubted your belonging here with him – there was no other place in Middle-Earth that could hold your heart.

arwen | word count: 420

Arwen had known from the moment she had met you that something was meant to last between the two of you. Call it instinct, desire, or elven wisdom – whatever it might’ve been, she felt it clearly much like her father’s visions. Although she hadn’t been sure if it was the bonds of friendship or kindred spirits for some time, until her connection to you was proven by your shared desire to be near each other whenever you could.

She confessed to you on the morning of your departure with part of her father’s guard to oversee the treaties between your peoples. There was much riding upon the success of your deliverance and the treaties themselves – there was much hanging in the air, stiffening the backs of many anxious elves that mounted their steeds alongside you. Just as you finished loading your saddle, her voice carried across the yard of the stables and met your ears, drawing your attention towards you.

“I thought you were supposed to be with the farewell party at the gates?” You inquired. The smile her presence brought onto your lips warmed her heart.

“I am,” she drew near until she was within arm’s reach of you, “I came to say goodbye personally. I have something to tell you before you go.”

“Oh? What is it, my lady?”

“I want to offer you this,” – she took your hand in hers and discreetly place something within the grasp of your fingers, folding them back over it – “If you would but promise to take great care of it.”

Opening the palm of your hand, you found the cool glint of the Evenstar glistening back at you. To say that you were stunned was an understatement – surely this was not what it seemed to be. Was she offering her heart to you?

“Arwen, are- are you asking…?”

“I am offering you my heart with this jewel, that you may carry me with you while we are parted.”

You searched her eyes for any hint of uncertainty, but you found none. She knew what she was doing, placing this jewel in your care. She was offering you her love, her fidelity, her loyalty. Herself.

“But this must mean that-“

“That I love you,” she murmured, taking a step closer. She curled your fingers around the Evenstar again, this time enclosing her hands around yours. Her eyes flickered down as she placed a soft kiss to your knuckles, sealing her promise. “And I will be waiting for you when you return home.”

legolas | word count: 259

It came in during one of the many nights that you sat close by him during the Feast of Starlight in his father’s halls. When he had seen your ceremonial gown laced with silver ribbon and your hair flowing free of any braids or decorum, he felt as though every thought and feeling he had harbored for you in his heart had been sealed by that moment. The need to confess his feelings came on so strongly that he could hardly speak throughout the feast, knowing the next words that passed through his lips would be ones of affirmation and promise.

It happened in the basking glow of moonlight, just after you pointed out the constellations that glimmered brightly above you. He had placed his hand over yours gently, his fingers trembling slightly with anticipation.

You glanced at him as his fingers enclosed around yours. His glimmering blue eyes narrowed down at your delicate hand, not yet meeting your inquiring gaze. His brows dipped together as though he were working very hard at thinking of what to say.

“Legolas?”

He swallowed back his nerves before looking up to say, “(Y/n), you have been like my very own star, illuminating every part of my being with your passion. I think it must be time that I tell you just how much I care for you,” - his other hand came to cup the hand he held, encasing it in the warmth of his touch - “I love you, (Y/n), with a fire that burns brighter than the sun itself.”

galadriel | word count: 207

The lady Galadriel, even in her vast grace and eloquence, could not find the words to say all that she felt for you. In the dusk of a summer evening over a private supper, she handed you a carefully folded letter that had been sealed with silver thread. You took it gingerly, looking up at her with curious eyes before unfolding its contents and delving into her written speech.

In it she had poured everything - from the moment she had met you to the very minute she had realized how her heart was binding itself to yours with the slow cadence of the changing seasons. She expressed that though her life had spanned a great millennium, you had brought a youthful curve to her smile, a liveliness she had not known for some time. At the very end of her confession that had been penned with her delicate penmanship were the concluding words of affection. She was in love with you.

When you looked up at her, the letter quivering in your hands, she glanced away momentarily before saying, “Every word I wrote is but the truth I feel in my heart,” her smile was as dignified as ever, “and I cannot deny it any longer.”

haldir | word count: 365

He will have thought about it for a very long time and have every word prepared to the syllable. The setting was carefully planned, the way he spoke and carried himself was rehearsed - for declaring your lifelong love for someone was no lighthearted matter. It could determine the course of his existence, as well as yours. Haldir wanted nothing less of himself than utter perfection, knowing well that you were worth every bit of his effort (and so much more).

So there he waited in the beauty of the Lothlorien moon glow for your arrival. He had your favorite delicacies made in the kitchens by the skilled elves in the upper palace. There were pastries filled with tart berries and lathered with warm crème, a centuries-aged mulled wine, and votives shimmering in the grass. All to tell you that he loved you - to declare his heart as yours.

But all of that changed when you arrived suddenly and rushed up the slope to meet him. Unexpectedly, you took him in your arms and held him there without warning. There was a quiver to your body that he felt against his skin. He returned the gesture without hesitation.

“Melda, what is it that troubles you?”

You spouted off about how horrible your day had been and how glad you were to have had this meeting with him, how it had kept you going throughout the gradual disappointments that had taken place since that morning. You went on to tell him how much he meant to you - all without explicitly saying ‘i love you’, but somehow he knew that had been what you meant.

Without thinking, he said it over you shoulder in a whisper just loud enough to be heard by your human ears. It hadn’t been the way he had carefully planned out, but somehow it had been sweeter this way than any other way he could have imagined. It was natural, pure, and made his heart full.

“I love you too, Haldir,” you murmured in return. He permitted himself to succumb to your human expression of affection completely as he tightened his embrace and gently nestled his chin over your shoulder.

gimli | word count: 346

The saying “the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach” must have applied to dwarves as well. For one night as you and the other members of your Fellowship bedded down for a meal and a few hours’ rest, the savory flavor you managed to infuse in the meager ingredients you rationed had done just that to Gimli, son of Gloin. It had been only a brief moment between handing him his own helping and sitting down next to him with your own that the words of adoration escaped his mouth.

“My love be yours, lass! This brew is delicious!” He had proclaimed, his voice rising higher above the hushed sounds of delight as the others enjoyed your cooking. Then his own words registered in his hungry mind - as they did to the rest of the group.

The spoon halted in his mouth as he froze stiff under the several inquiring looks from around the fire. Legolas’ expression was contorted in such a confused way, Gimli would have make a jab at the elf had he not been the object of attention himself. He hadn’t thought it possible for the dwarf to harbor feelings - well, positive ones, at least.

Your smile drove the dwarf’s cheeks into a reddening fit. “Your what be mine?”

“Uh, ah,” he swallowed quickly and slurped in another mouthful of broth, “I dedn’t say anythin’.”

“Oh, I think you did, Gimli,” Aragorn chimed in with a wide grin on his face.

“I think he might ‘a said he loved her!” One of the hobbits proclaimed, encouraging a roar of laughter around the fire.

Gimli muttered something over his bowl of stew that he cradled close to his beard. You smiled at him, knowing he was too embarrassed to even offer a rebuttal. It may not have been outright or plainly spoken, but you could see through the hard-pressed and unfeeling exterior he always wore that there was something soft not too far below the surface. You were happy to hold the affections of a certain red-haired, axe-wielding dwarf.

frodo baggins | word count: 612

Frodo loved nothing more than a peaceful day spent in the flickering shade of the forests and crossing through little creeks and rivers - especially if you were with him. He often invited you to tag along with him on his adventures to find a good reading spot or explore some hidden oasis of the Shire he had yet to discover. He always wanted to be with you.

On one such day, Frodo couldn’t stop thinking about you. Every thought turned and found its way back to you. Each time he tried to concentrate on the book he cradled in his hands, his eyes wandered readily to find your peaceful face indulged in your own little world, just content to have his company without the need for conversation.

He adjusted himself where he sat in the forked trunk of a comfortable tree and tried one last time to immerse himself in the paragraphs printed on the yellowed pages of his book. It was no use.

Minutes passed and Frodo couldn’t try any longer. His eyes settled on the texture of your (h/c) hair that you had left down that day with no braids or ribbons tying portions of it back. The midday sun that filtered through the canopy of trees sent waves of gold across those soft tendrils he loved tucking behind your ear. You sat primly at the base of the tree, weaving the stems of flowers together.

Quietly, he admired the contour of your nose, the curve of your cheeks, the delicate shape of your lips and the pink tongue that poked out every now and then as you tried to concentrate on your pleats. A dreamy smile took over his quaint expression. The contented sigh that passed between his lips pulled your gaze up to meet his.

His sweet smile encouraged your own to make an appearance. Both of your hearts fluttered. “What’s that look for?”

“I was just admiring how beautiful you are with sunlight in your hair,” he said. His voice was sugary and tender. It reminded you of the rich pastries his uncle offered you each time you came for a meal. So delicately ruch with sweetness that it sat in your belly and warmed, mixing perfectly with the twang of a hot berry tea. Frodo was like that - the perfect mix of everything natural and sweet. Pure.

Your blush overtook your expression and your averted your gaze bashfully. As your thoughts rushed with anticipation, wondering what was to come next, if anything. Perhaps he would say something else or return to his book, you couldn’t be sure.

There was the definitive sound his book snapping shut and the scuffle of his feet as he hopped down from the tree. You teased him with a glance when he sat next to you and tucked his legs underneath him, turning your fingers around the stems of budding dandelions. His eyes studied your face for a moment longer before he wandered down to follow the steady work of your hands.

“What are you making?”

“I’m weaving a bookmark for you,” you answered. “After it dries, you can take it out and use it for other books.”

There was that fluttering in his heart again.

“You’re marvelous,” he whispered.

A short chuckle escaped you and your eyes widened with a mix of shock and curiosity. “I’m just weaving flowers, Frodo. It’s nothing special.”

His hand covered yours. Your fingers stilled.

“Of course it is. Anything you do becomes special.”

“Frodo, I-...”

“I love you, (Y/n).”

“You- you what?”

He traced his finger along your cheek, tucking your hair behind your ear like he always did. “I love you.”

samwise gamgee | word count: 1,084

Sam had planned every minute of his confession. He would invite you to supper, cook every bit of it himself, and put it all in a picnic basket to be eaten in the quaint garden of his home. He had rehearsed his words over and over again, both to Frodo and the looking glass that hung by the front door.

When you arrived that evening, it was obvious that something was turning in that head of his (he was never any good at being discrete), but you didn’t let on as if you suspected anything. You figured that if Sam had planned something special, he would enjoy the surprise on your face better than the curious questions that would deflate his excitement. With a basket in tow, he led you back out the front door and onto the stone steps of his beautifully gardened walkway.

You paused to admire the lilies and tall-reaching sunflowers as he bickered with the key in the lock. Unfortunately, both of you were too distracted to notice the picnic basket slipping from his grasp. Before either of you could react, the beautifully packed picnic had tumbled out onto the dusty stones around your feet.

A loaf of bread that had been carefully wrapped in parchment seemed unscathed, as did the little pot of warm stew that had been tied shut with a thick ribbon over the lid. The jars of honey and jam clinked as they rolled into each other, a packed cheese board tumbled out and into the grass, and a lovely golden pie feel top-first onto the porch step with a splat.

Your first instinct was to clasp your hands over your mouth and stare idly at the unfortunate mess. Your eyes flicked to Sam, who stood with his back to you and his hand still on the key that stuck out of the door. His shoulders sank and an audible sigh of remorse left his lips.

“Oh, blast it!” he exclaimed under his breath, bending over to turn the basket right-side up.

Poor Sam.

“Oh, Sam! I’m so sorry!” You stepped forward out of your daze and tucked the jars in your arms. You picked up the stew that had only barely spilled a few drops when it tipped, careful not to knock the lid off anymore. When you set them down by the basket, you noticed the pie that had been smashed had splattered onto Sam’s feet and trousers. Helplessly, he tried to shake the gooey tart off, but to no avail.

“Let me go inside and get some towels,” you offered. Scooting between him and the doorpost – and narrowly avoiding the pie yourself – you took the key from his fingers and twisted it back, opening his front door wide open and quickly heading for the bathroom.

When you came back, damp towel in hand, Sam was slumped by the grass, picking up the cheese and berries that had hopped out like little frogs. You sighed at the sight of it, knowing he had most likely prepared and cooked every bit of this meal himself. You couldn’t help but notice that he looked rather defeated.

Approaching him, you could hear him muttering under breath, things like, “Samwise, you blundering fool” and “now the night’s all ruined because of your clumsiness”. Gently, you placed your hand on his shoulder and bent over to capture his attention. He stood and looked at you, a frown drooping his eyebrows together. It was enough to make your heart break right then and there.

“Here, leave that to me and let’s get you cleaned up.”

Taking his hand, you led him to the little bench by the potted tomatoes and gestured for him to sit. He sat down with a groan and reached for the towel, which you pulled out of reach. “It’s alright, Sam, I can clean it off.”

“You don’t have to do that, (Y/n),” he interjected. There was an embarrassed twinge in his tone.

“I know I don’t, but I want to help. You went to all this trouble to give me a lovely evening out and I want to do what I can to help make it happen still,” you reassured. You knelt by his feet and began wiping the crème and berries from his trousers, letting the water soak in and draw the hue out.

“Oh,” he sighed, rubbing his face tiredly with his hand, “This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.”

You glanced up at him curiously, quirking a brow. “Sam, it’s alright. It’s just one date – we can always try again and next time I’ll lock the door for you. Or I can carry the basket, although I can’t promise I won’t be the one to drop it.” Your snickering didn’t seem to assuage his deflated excitement.

“No, tonight was-…I was going to- to-...”

You leaned back on your haunches, your hands still. He was going to what?

“Sam?”

His silent anxiousness worried you. Tenderly, you placed a hand on his knee and bent forward to try and catch his gaze again. Bashfully, his eyes darted up, but they did not meet yours. Instead he focused on your hand that settled on his knee and found himself smiling softly, despite the tears that had welled in his eyes.

Following his gaze, you realized what you had done – the heat rose in your cheeks and you began to pull away, but his hand stopped you. With a sweet touch, he wove his together with yours and looked up at you. Your pulse quickened - you had never seen that look before, in his eyes. The one where they shimmered almost like stars and his smile tipped to the side. He looked almost blissful.

“I had planned on telling you I love you. I had everything planned, including baking your favorite pie with little hearts woven into the crust. I wanted tonight to be special, so you would remember it when we’re old and grey and start forgetting what we ate for second breakfast.”

Sam watched as your smile grew, shrank into shock, and then grew again. When you sprang forward and enveloped him, it took a moment for him to register your sudden warmth pressed against him. But when he did, he happily returned the gesture and wrapped his arms under yours, tucking his chin over your shoulder. He could smell the sweet scent of lavender wafting from your beautiful hair.

“Sam, I’ll never forget this night for as long as I live.”

merry brandybuck | word count: 409

With Meriadoc Brandybuck, nothing was ever subtle. The young hobbit had planned his confession like he might any other adventure or trip across the country. From morning until night, Merry had something in store for you to slowly build to the moment he was prepared to confess his truest feelings.

It started with pulling you out your door at the crack of dawn to watch the sunrise over Bywater Pool with a quaint breakfast in the square (which you forgave him for when he presented those deliciously warm muffins) and was then followed by a light frenzy of morning shopping from the markets that were selling sweet-tasting goods and homemade wares. He had seen the way you had eyed that little locket with the (f/c) jewel dangling from it and bought it when you weren’t looking, slipping it into his vest pocket.

Not long after you had visited your friends in the Green Dragon Inn, there had been a lovely wagon-ride through the rich Green Hill countryside to reach the borders of the Shire, followed by a lunch under the trees of the forest in the curve of the hillside shadows. He watched fondly as you went about collecting flowers to braid into a crown for the two of you. After your meal had been finished (along with a day full of snacks and goodies he had brought along), he had led you on a hike the rest of the way to Tuckborough where the Great Willow sat patiently waiting for dusk.

There, underneath the swaying loveliness of the weeping branches, he turned out his pocket and clasped the necklace around you from behind.

A gasp escaped your surprised smile, “What is this?!”

“I saw you eyeing it this morning when we were in the square,” he planted himself beside you, tucking your hair behind your shoulder, “And I thought you should have it.”

“Oh, Merry,” you looked down and marveled at its glimmering beauty, pressing your fingers to the chain, “You really shouldn’t have! This cost a few good silver pieces!”

There was pure adoration in his eyes when you looked at him, a look you hadn’t seen so fully expressed before. It was then, in the pause between phrases, that he said it all with just a look. You had never felt such butterflies before.

“No price could ever compare to the amount of my love for you, (Y/n).”

Oh, he was smooth. He was very smooth.

pippin took | word count: 430

Pippin mightn’t have been the most creative when it came to planning elaborate dates or settings in which to confess his innermost feelings with, but he was no less sincere. When the quick knock had come at your door one morning before you had even had the chance to devour your first meal of the day, you hadn’t expected to find him standing anxiously on the other side.

He wore that same crooked smile that alighted his whole face and held tightly in his hands was a bouquet of wildflowers. By the looks of them, he must has run up the lane carrying them - some daisies had lost a few petals and you spotted the dirt-knotted roots hanging from his hands from where he had pulled them from the earth. It was messy and imperfect, but it was Pippin.

There was something so endearing about his childlike naivety when it came to the “proper” way of presenting things, such as the mop of unkempt curls on his head, the bruised flowers in his clenched hands, and the wide-eyed energy he never went without. You loved every bit of it.

You certainly hadn’t expected him to suddenly become shy when he began to explain the bouquet he placed in your hands, his fingers lingering over yours a little longer than necessary. He was never one to be slow to speak.

“I-I, uh, I thought you might like these pretty flowers, y’know, because pretty things like other pretty things,” he smiled for a moment and bounced on his feet, until he seemed to register his own words and how they might be taken, “Uh, not- not that I see you as a ‘thing’ or...anything.”

“I know what you mean, Pip,” you smiled at him through the blossoms as you pressed them to your nose, inhaling their sweet scent.

“I also came to- uh- to tell you about my feelings.”

“Your feelings?”

“Ah, those,” he giggled and spared a glance at his feet, “I just meant that I have feelings for someone. For you, that is. I mean. And, uh, I wanted to come out and say it. Like that.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Oh, Pippin, that’s wonderful becau-”

“I love you, that is,” he concluded before adding a rushed, “You don’t have to say the same, of course. I was just putting it out there.”

You tucked in your widening smile and concealed your blush behind your daisies. “I do feel the same way. Would you like to come in for breakfast?”

You knew he never turned down a meal.

tags: @moony-artnstuff @wellfuckmyexistence

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