Notes: Invited to spend Halloween night (Samhain) with Bard, he didn't expect it would end with a declaration.
Warnings: Bard x fem!reader; reader gets along well with children; mention of burning; SFW.
It was Samhain day, if it weren't for Bard's invitation you would be in your house eating all the good things your salary allowed you to buy, which wasn't much. But luckily for you, you were now together with the children trying to cut the pumpkins to make lanterns, the task being more difficult than you imagined and making everyone laugh. You were too focused on trying to draw a smile on the pumpkin to notice Bard looking at you with a discreet smile on his face. The children adored you, and the feeling was reciprocal because even if they weren't your children you would die for them. You knew that life in Lake City wasn't easy, every day you woke up early to work and got home late at night, but even so you were kind to the children, never taking away their hopes of having a better life one day. And with each passing day, Bard's admiration for you grew.
- Okay, everyone finished? On three, everyone shows how it turned out... 1..2..3!
At the same time, the children who were sitting in a circle around you turned the pumpkins with you and the room was filled with laughter once again when they saw the result of the lanterns. Some had missing teeth, one eye bigger than the other and crooked smiles, it was a disaster and that's why they were perfect. When they managed to recover from the laughing fit, you turned to Bard, your cheeks still red from laughing so much.
- Can you get us some candles, Bard? We have to put up these lanterns to ward off the spirits before nightfall - you joked placing your pumpkin in front of your face, a crooked smile and cross-eyed eyes staring back at him.
- I think you outdid yourselves this year, this will be the most protected house in the city during the night of Samhain - he laughed - I'll be right back with the candles.
As promised, Bard didn't take long to return with the candles and handed one each and you a matchbox. You promptly placed the candle at the bottom of the pumpkin and lit the match to light the candle, teaching the children, but when you held the match at an angle in the small space to light the wick, the flame grew and burned the tip of your finger. The response was automatic, pulling your hand away and letting out an "Ouch!" before extinguishing the match. Hearing, Bard turned and walked over to you when he saw what had happened.
- Are you fine? Let me see - he carefully took your hand and checked the burn - Luckily it's nothing serious, wash it with water and bandage it, help her Sigrid, I'll turn on the flashlights - he smiled to calm you down.
When the lanterns were lit and placed in the windows and you had already wrapped your finger in a piece of cloth, you went with the girls to the kitchen to finish preparing the Samhain feast, with sweet breads, cakes and other treats. Bain wasn't there because he's a disaster in the kitchen. Taking advantage of the privacy of being alone with his father in the living room, Bain broached the subject.
- You like her, right?
- Who? - Bard asked, suddenly caught.
- Her, dad - the boy pointed discreetly to the kitchen - I noticed how you look at her.
- Y/n? No, the only woman I've ever loved was your mother and you know it - he sat back in his chair to get away from the subject.
- It's okay if you like her, dad. She's cool, Sigrid and Tilda like her too... And if she makes you happy you have to tell her soon, it's not like you're the only suitor.
- What? - Bard frowned.
But before his son could say anything else, Tilda entered the room to call them to dinner. You thanked, ate and laughed amid conversations, Bain's advice not leaving the archer's head throughout dinner. After they were done and everything was cleaned and put away, you helped Bard put the children to sleep by telling them stories. When they fell asleep and you turned out the candles in the room, the two of you left. The silence seemed thicker, which found you strange, the atmosphere between you didn't used to be like this. You absentmindedly looked out the window.
- The sky is beautiful today... You can see all the stars.
- Do you want to go out to see better?
- I’d love to - you smiled.
The wind outside was cold, the night was calm and silent, the clear dark sky filled with stars like thousands of fireflies, the sound of crickets in the distance. You sat on the steps of the house stairs and Bard sat next to you. He remained silent for a while, thinking about how to tell what was weighing on his mind. It was true that you were the only one in the city that Bard considered a true friend, that he felt comfortable around and could forget about his problems for a moment when you smiled. Deep down he knew he liked you, but he felt guilty about it, he shouldn't fall in love again, he had already gotten married and he had sworn to himself that he would never get married again after he lost his wife, he couldn't handle feeling the pain again. Besides, now he had children to raise, what woman would have a relationship with a man who is already the father of three children? But you didn't seem to care about any of that, you took care of the children and always helped him, they loved you and now he did too. The man called your name breaking you out of your trance.
- There's something I need to tell you.
- You can talk, Bard.
- I wanted to thank you for everything you've done for the children, for our friendship, it's good to have someone to trust.
- I think I was the one who should be saying that, inviting me to spend the night with you and the children, helping me when I needed it most, I'm happy that you consider me so much - you smiled.
- I don't know how to say this, but - he adjusted his posture, nervously - the children like you so much and so do I that I would like to know if you don't want to... stay with us forever? - you blinked your eyes at him.
- Like what...?
- I would love for you to be my wife, Y/n - he found the courage to say - I understand if you don't want to, if you think it's too much responsibility because of the children or - you silenced him by sealing your lips with a kiss that surprised him , but he soon reciprocated, the desire warming you both on that cold night.
- You don't know how many times I dreamed about this - you smiled at him.
Bard also smiled, after all, since you met, your smile always made him feel better.
The Kings of Middle Earth - Thranduil | Thorin | Bard
pairing: Thorin x reader, Bard x reader, Thranduil x reader | gender neutral! btw lol
wordcount: i was too lazy to check
triggerwarnings: there's two sentences with gen z exaggeration indicating suicide, and i just want to say that this is not meant to in any way downplay suicide and suicidal thoughts. please don't take it seriously. if you have to fight those thoughts yourself, remember that there's telephone numbers and websites where you can ask for help
here are three gifs because christmas.
no im lying its because google wouldnt give me one of all three of them in one so i had to do them separately.
stan my kings or come die at their hands,, because you will, i dont make the rules- i’d say “or come die at my hands” but thats very unrealistic tbh, i wouldnt be half as good at fighting as them and also they can look out for themselves very well. mostly. partly. what im tryna say is fuck you if you dont like them
Being ambassador was fine. Usually. Fine when there weren’t three grown men, kings at that, gushing and fighting over you like teenage boys. And the fact that your family had mixed to the point where you had all their kin’s blood flowing through your veins - which had really got you this position in the first place, seeming like a good idea at the time and a very questionable one now - made it a ton worse. You had been fairly sure that you could play some kind of helpful role in the negotiations after this war, but all you had got yourself into was a mess that rather ensued another one instead of solving the first. In a way you were naively proud of it, flustered and bemused and all giddy because of it, but far more than that were you annoyed. They got on your nerves all the time and made your job so, so much more complicated than it had to be and than it initially had sounded like.
Today had been especially exhausting to say the least. Normally you ignored their behaviour, dismissed all they said that had nothing to do with negotiations, and quickly slipped out of the room before anyone could stop you. You didn’t quite know either why you were so disinclined to spend more time than necessary with them - certainly every other person in your place would enjoy it far more. But today of all days you were in no mood for another of those meetings, for negotiation and talk of war and their tiring attempts at snatching your attention away from the parchment you always had draped over your lap. You’d woken up in a bad mood already, then spilled your breakfast on your newly put on clothing and had to change it. Your horse seemed to be in the same kind of gloomy state you were in, because the second you’d slipped into the saddle it had thrown you right off again. Luckily it wasn’t a rainy day at least, so you’d only fallen onto grass and dirt and not mud to stain your shirt again.
You lived in a little house in Dale at the moment, one of those that was safe enough to sleep in without being crushed by a breaking ceiling. That really would’ve fit your mood though. Thorin had offered you chambers in the mountain, Bard and Thranduil had offered you one of their tents, but you’d declined both and declared that you’d gladly stay on your own down there in a house far enough away from all three of them that you didn’t have to see none of them even when you rode up to the mountain when there was a meeting to attend to. Because they did usually happen in the mountain. Only rarely did Thorin come to Dale, and then only when the two other kings had complained so badly about their rides that he had no other choice but to offer a meeting in their tent. Because he was certainly not about to offer chambers to them. And they would not have accepted anyway, neither of them, for very different reasons.
“Are you even listening?”
The pen you’d been holding slipped, drew a dark, black line down the parchment and fell to the ground with a thud. You cursed as you bent down and reached for it before surveying the damage it had done - this was one piece of parchment you would surely not be using further.
“I was, in fact, not”, you muttered, crumpling it in your hand and throwing it to the corner of the room - where you would absolutely have to go pick it up again once you were done, but couldn’t bother thinking about now. You’d been gloomily, silently sitting in your chair, staring at the parchment and your pen and not listening to anything the three of them had said. It was a wonder they spoke without your assistance anyway. Now you looked up to behold the mostly bemused face of Thranduil and the somehow a mix between worried and amused expressions of the other two. You straightened your back, ran one hand through your hair and tilted your head to the side a bit.
You might have been in the presence of three kings, but you certainly were not going to act like someone had shoved a stick up your ass, especially not after three months, three months!, of these ridiculous negotiations that could have been settled after one. And, despite the utter respect both Thorin and Thranduil were used to being shown, none of them had once commented on your less royally-fit behaviour. You were you, and the kings were also just men, with emotions and thoughts the same way you had them, so there really was no need to play the cowering animal. Yes, they had done great things, yes, they had a ton of influence, yes, they could probably have you executed or thrown into a cell in a matter of minutes, but they were not god-like beings that you should fear. Really, who could actually be afraid of these three absolute, jealous idiots?
So you leaned back in your chair and stretched your legs out on the stone floor. “I seem to have missed the entirety of the conversation, though I do have to admit I’m shocked there was one at all.”
Thranduil, who was in the chair opposite you which he’d claimed his ever since the first meeting, smiled, and it was a soft smile that you couldn’t help but return. If any of them were to be feared, it was him - but not by you, not when that lovely smile was so often directed at you, not when there lay something beautiful in his gaze that you could always spot when he was looking at you.
But it was Thorin who replied, and you tore your eyes away from the elf and towards the dwarf, who sat, of course, at the head of the table, lounging in his chair that was just slightly bigger and slightly more decorated than the others were. He was as proud as Thranduil was, but this was his home after all, and so he had all the potential to show it. Not that you minded - it was never his behaviour that was affected by it, not around you at least, it was pride for his people, pride for his kin, just the same way you knew Thranduil had it, too. It was strange how much the two had in common, though it led more to argument and difference than similarity.
“What is it that is on your mind so much you cannot pay attention to the one talk that happens without you?”
He was grinning a bit, though he tried his best to hide it. You did not - you laughed out loud without restraint, actually laughed for the first time today. As much as you cursed the lot of them, you loved them too, for they could cheer you up in a matter of seconds and have come close enough for you to throw away all reason more than once. You knew that if you were not here for work, you would not have denied them your blush and giggle and become as lovesick as you sometimes felt you wanted to be and had never been.
“Horrible morning, I have to be honest with you. But - The moment one sits down to think, one becomes all nose, or all forehead, or something horrid”, you quoted with the ghost of a smile on your face. “Thinking makes age a quick thing and beauty lingers only in youth. I don’t like losing all sense of reality, so I do dearly apologise.” You chuckled quietly as Thorin raised his eyebrows, looking only a little bewildered.
“Because we never get back our youth. The pulse of joy that beats in us at twenty, becomes sluggish. Our limbs fail, our senses rot. We degenerate into hideous puppets, haunted by the memory of the passions of which we were too much afraid, and the exquisite temptations that we had not the courage to yield to.” You laughed, almost snorting as you beheld the face of utter confusion and perplexity of the dwarven king. “It is in the brain, and the brain only, that the great sins of the world take place.”
You turned your head back only to see that Thranduil had raised his eyebrows all the same, and Bard was smiling faintly, eyes fixed so piercingly just on you that for one second you had to blink. It was no predatory gaze, no stare that could have made you uncomfortable, yet he seemed as though he could read you like an open book, and you had to admit you’d thought more than once that he knew you well without actually knowing you well. It was strange in itself that you were in this situation, kings so alike and different all the same, and while they took the same interest in you for whatever reason that you could not tell, they looked at you and spoke with you so uniquely that sometimes you wondered how they all held the same title.
“It’s a wonderful little book, one of my beloved favourites, but hauntingly real in a way that left me breathless upon first reading and still does whenever I open it, though now I can recite half of it”, you explained, rolling the remaining parchment in your lap to make it a scroll and putting it onto the table together with the pen, not believing that you had been here for hours and written down two sentences collectively, which now were gone as well, for you had crumpled them and thrown them away. You were well aware that you were not here to speak about books you enjoyed, and had someone told you half a year ago that you would care so little that it were three kings you would open up to so easily, you would have laughed at them.
“I don’t remember ever having read anything like it.”
You tilted your head to the side and looked at Thranduil, knowing well that the small smirk on his face was a mirror of your own, but only bothering to consider it for the sake of Thorin’s scowl you could see even out of the corner of your eye. It had become normal at this point, even though you still checked twice when it were not the elf nor the dwarf, but the human king, who was usually, though more expressive than Thranduil, less likely to show jealousy, jealousy of all things!, like that.
“I would have been shocked”, you admitted. “It’s human literature - the kind that no one reads anymore, I would have been surprised even if Bard had recognised it. But he does not strike me as the type who owns too many books anyway. Or do you?” You turned your head to look at Bard once again, ignoring wholly the way the elf tensed. You liked the three of them, but you simply could not bring yourself to be less annoyed by the constant competition about you. You, of all people. What reason was there for you to be fought over? By kings, dear god! No matter how much you did not want to consider their titles, there was life to be lived, people to be tended to, courts and lords and ladies to be satisfied - indeed, as much as you did not want to worry about it, as much as you did not want to see them in that way, they were kings, after all, and you were no ruler, not even born royal, and certainly not suited for a crown, even if it was one won in battle the way Bard had.
Your expression fell once more today, and you slumped back into the chair, barely noting the shake of his head and the answer he readied himself to give turning into silence as he frowned. Of course it was today that you managed to also pull yourself down further. Hadn’t they just managed to cheer you up? And hadn’t you recited about how horrendously thoughts could poison the own mind a literal second ago?
“What is it?”, Bard asked. You couldn’t bear the sheer worry that was laced with the simple question, about to crush your very skull. What had you got yourself into this time? Three kings, three charming kings, each so wonderful and wondrous in their own way, and somehow you were stuck in the middle of it all and toying not only with them but yourself, knowing fully well that there was no future for any of it, no matter a decision or none. You couldn’t rule a kingdom even if their interest were to be serious, and certainly you could not rule three. You pushed yourself out of your chair, ignoring completely the pairs of eyes that bore into yours.
“Excuse me”, you said through gritted teeth, dragging your gaze to the ground and, just to busy yourself, pulling the cloth you used as a hair tie from your wrist and prodding your mane with it, trying to make it into some kind of presentable bun while taking three steps collectively before you were stopped.
“I- We will not.” Thorin blocked your path with an arm to your waist, and you looked at him despite yourself, instinct taking over. All of this was shit. All of it was hell, and you had run right into the arms of trouble once again, just as you had always done, your whole life. For once you were happy, and after all it was just an illusion anyway, just a moment, something with only present and neither past nor future. It was definitely the wrong decision to lift your gaze though, because the second you saw the expression on the dwarf’s face, you were inclined to either throw yourself into his arms or off a balcony. Never before had anyone looked at you with as much care, as much tenderness and worry as these three kings did, and you could not keep it, not a single one of them. Though at this point you were not sure if you could and if you even wanted to decide if you had to, which you would not, because this thing was nothing but the blink of an eye for them, nothing serious, even if it was real.
“You will tell us what is wrong”, Thranduil demanded, though... it was as much order as it was plea. A king speaking and a lover asking. Perhaps the throwing off a balcony idea was one you could actually make use of. It took all your willpower, all your concentration and determination, but you turned around slowly, did not whisk and jump over. the table and neither did you cry. You would not. This was work for you, negotiations for them... they were kings, you would not behave like a two year old in front of them, though you felt like one. And you knew just as well that you would crawl before them and beg if it came down to it, the stars knew for what.
Thranduil's lips were a thin line, his stare as icy as it was soft, and you could not even bring yourself to wish you had never come to this war, because... as stupid as it was, you were more, far more than happy that for once there was someone who cared, that there was someone you did not mind being just yourself around, who teased and joked and still accepted all that you were. It was not your and not their fault that they were kings.
“I’ve had a bad morning”, you repeated again, and indeed it was true- just not the whole truth now. Though the elf’s gaze softened, and Thorin to your left grabbed for your hand and gave it a light squeeze in reassurance - which was so unbelievably unusual in itself that you had to look down at your intertwined hands and brush your thumb over his skin in amazement. Thranduil did scoff this time, but the way your face lit up made up for it. He watched, not without the hint of a smile, your eyes widen and some of the life returning to your cheeks. Some of the heat, too. You hid it well normally, but never good enough, always just so much that they all still noticed it, and now that you made no point at all trying to conceal it, he found himself enamoured by it, wishing that it was him and not the dwarf who caused it, but content regardless, and promising himself that he would have you blush far more often in the future.
“But it is more than that.” You turned around once again to look at Bard, brushing a strand of hair out of your eyes that had fallen from your bun. You nodded, perhaps more gravely than before, which had Thorin strengthening his grip on your hand. Like a desperate man, you thought, and it brought a bit of a smile back to your face, if only for a second. Who cared that these men were king? Who cared that they had a crown and a title? Who cared? For in this moment, you decided that you did not. And it was a burden that fell from your shoulders, one that you had only subconsciously acknowledged, one that you’d ignored the way you’d ignored all that was too far from the topic of war and negotiation. They were here, they were right here right now with you, and there lay fondness and genuine interest in all their gazes, and everyone could go to hell if you could not savour that. If this were to end in heartbreak, then so it be, and as long as it did not, you would enjoy the present that this one was. Enjoy the interest of not one, but three kings, in such a person as you, of no name and no influence, with no promises and no obligations.
“Perhaps”, you said, and the corners of your lips tugged up. How ridiculous everything was, and how little you were to care for it. “Or perhaps not anymore.”
Plot: Anon: Can I request a Bard the Bowman x reader where there's a considerable age difference between them, but she thinks the little grey streaks in his hair are totally adorable; they are very much in love and things get very smutty?
-
Oh shoot, hmm well if you don’t know, I’m not exactly comfortable with huge age gaps. and I am not considered good with smuts.
How about this: Reader is 30 and Bard is 37 ish, but the reader doesn’t really age? with a light smut? And I changed the places of speaking about grey streaks and smut but I guess that’s okay.
Warning: Implication of smut
“How’s it going? How are we doing?” I asked placing a plate of food infront of Bard, who was looking at the reports from all over the town.
“We are… progressing… I think once we get through this, everything will be alright.” I peered from the small make-shift window to the little village in front of my eyes and back to the destroyed Lake Town. I watched the boats taking off one by one to clean and rebuilt our ruined city.
“ We’ll need to move out, sooner or later. You know, get our house back.” Bard came behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.
“Everythings going to be alright. Just wait and see. We’ll make this town better than ever.” He kissed the side of my head and spun me so I was facing him. I pushed him back to his chair and sat on his lap while making out with him.
His breath fanned over me as he picked me up and brought me to our bed. We kept on lip locking and his hand roamed my body. After a steamy sex, we laid there, a blanket draped over us. He brushed the side of my cheek with his thumb and let out a sigh.
“You are really beautiful. Your beauty is absolute.”
“You are not so bad yourself.” I said twirling a piece of white hair around my finger.
“You don’t think my grey hair is… odd?” I smiled at him and pecked his lips.
“They frame your face really nicely. They look good on you. That is your style. And a few grey hair isn’t going to make me stop loving you.”
Imagine meeting Bard on the battlefield and having love at first sight, before Thranduil, your King, calls you back
Request for: anon
Original request: "Could I request a Drabble of Bard and a elf reader where at the BOFA they meet and she could save his life and he just admires her skill (she could be handling orcs gracefully and such) then she and bard talk and if it could be fluffy but Thranduil calls her back because she's the captain of the guard and must go but Bard doesn't want her to go so it's like love at first sight. She could maybe say she'll return and give him something? Thank you if you do this, I love bard and your writing! x"
Pairing: Bard x Reader
Word count: 801
The horrific wails and howls of orcs, men, dwarves and elves alike filled the air. You grimaced at the sounds, yet your sneer was quickly replaced with an satisfied albeit angry grin and you gracefully slid your silver sword across another orc's throat. The orc dropped to the ground, blood spilling from his fatal wound.
Another orc raced at you from behind, and you quickly whipped out your dagger. The orc ran straight into your dagger, a squawk coming out of its foul lips. Looking up, you saw no orcs in your immediate vicinity so instead of using you daggers and swords, you drew your bow instead.
Arrow after arrow you shot, each one hitting its mark. Orcs dropped to the ground all around you, writhing in pain or simply dropping dead. You smirked with malice as your expert eyes scanned the area for further danger. You heard a set of footsteps from behind you, and you wasted no time in aiming an arrow at the intruder.
The intruder was a man, a human man. He wore clothes that elves would consider as rags, however his chain mail was clearly Elven. The man was covered in grime and dirt. He wore his hair with half of it pinned back and the rest falling just short of his shoulders. He bore a rough moustache on his upper lip, nothing more than stubble, and a long-bow on his back.
Seeing your hostile greeting, the man raised his hands in surrender. "I mean no harm," he spoke quietly, having no doubt he would be heard, "I was simply admiring your fighting, you are a highly skilled warrior."
"Thank you, mellon," you said gratefully, hoping the human knew what your Elvish meant, as you lowered your bow, "There is a reason for that. I am the captain of the guard in the Woodland Realm."
The human looked at you with admiration, "It would make sense, I have never seen fighting as exceptional as yours."
"What is your name?" you asked him softly, firing an arrow at an orc that appeared behind him.
"Bard," he replied, spinning around in confusion.
"Bard?" you inquired when he turned back around, "The Dragonslayer?"
"Yes, although I deserve no such title," Bard told you modestly, looking to the ground.
"Nonsense. Your modesty should be highly valued, however it is not necessary when you have such a title. Not many on Arda get to claim such deeds; rejoice at your triumph, dear Bard," you walked over to him, placing a cool palm on his cheek.
Bard looked up at you through his dark lashes, his eyes gazed fondly into yours. "I always thought the elves of Mirkwood to be cold, like their king. However you have the warmest heart of all."
"You speak such kind words," you laughed lightly. Your eyes landed on a dead member of your kin, "Such loss for what cause?"
"It is terribly tragic," Bard agreed sadly, "My children are in this city, under the care of the vermin of my town: Alfrid. I am deathly afraid for them."
"I believe I have seen you with your children, a couple of hours ago. The older ones are very protective of their sister, I believe they will be safe," you paused, thinking, "Where is their mother?"
Bard froze, his face falling. You immediately realised your mistake, "Ed’ i’ear ar’ elenea! Amin hiraetha!" you exclaimed in Elvish. "I mean . . . sorry," you apologised quietly once you finished ranting in a language that Bard had no knowledge of.
"It is fine, my lady," he smiled with a hint of sadness.
"Y/N."
"Excuse me?"
"It's my name: Y/N," Bard made an ‘o’ shape with his lips and then chuckled to himself.
“It’s a beautiful name, very elegant,” Bard commented, causing you to blush. Neither of you said anything for a moment, just enjoying the moment. The silence was broken, however, when you heard the smooth voice of your king.
“Y/N, part from him and fulfil your duties,” Thranduil ordered. You turned your pleading eyes to him, but then took note of the logic in his order.
“Yes, my Lord,” you smiled sadly at Bard and turned to leave. You felt a gloved hand cover your wrist and pull you back. His eyes were pleading, begging you not to leave. You frowned, your stomach swirling with unknown emotions. You didn’t say anything, instead you handed him your dagger. It had been forged in Gondolin, by the high-elves, and had been passed through your family and down to you. It was most precious to you and you had often refused to part with it.
“Your sword looks as if it has seen better days,” you smiled, “I promise, my dear Bard, that I will return to you.” And then you departed to the fight.
Ed’ i’ear ar’ elenea! Amin hiraetha! - By the sea and stars! I am sorry!
