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itsonlydana · 7 months

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"Flower On My Skin" | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x human fem!reader 👑

Thranduil gets his hair braided and thinks too much.

warnings/tags: bittersweet, more fluff tho, swf, King Thranduil needs a break

words: 1,9k

an: this is a gift for the lovely @tigereyesf who always comments on my posts on ao3 🤍 the lyrics are from Noah Kahans song "Your needs, my needs'

+ masterlist +

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

Thranduil understands that permitting you to be near him might not be wise. It could very well rank among the least advisable decisions he's made in ages.

But he did, he invited you again and again, sending horses and carriages to transport you ever since he found out you traveled all the way from Dale by yourself whenever he sent a letter.

Until he didn't need to anymore.

Not because you wouldn't come, but because you didn't leave.

Never in a million years would anyone have guessed that the stoic Elvenking would invite a human to his palace on more occasions than his own kind and surely no one would have ever thought that he would start courting them.

Yet here he was, sitting in one of his many blooming gardens, swatting away the hand that was currently trying to gather his hair.

"Stop this," Thranduil's stern voice would've had any other shiver in fear of losing their head, though it only makes you giggle.

"Please, let me braid it again," you stable yourself with your hands on his shoulders and lean over, chest pressed against his strong back.

"No, you little nuisance. I shall not! You know of the meeting I will attend later, we do not have the time."

Even though he can't see your face, he knows you roll your eyes at him, he can feel it in the huff you let out before letting go of him. The warmth of your body disappears as you stand up from the bench and throw one challenging look over your shoulder.

Thranduil watches how you lift the skirts of the gown you're wearing, the finest of silks that you've adorned with little handmade bows from the village, and flop down into the grass. There is not one care on your face that the hems will surely stain and that there are perfectly suitable marmor benches all over the garden and only one of those occupied by Thranduil himself.

You seem to ignore them every time you two spend time out here, he noticed you are much more content with your naked feet buried in the high grass and your hair intertwined with the flowers that grow here.

At first, he couldn't understand the fascination you harbored with nature.

Of course, he had a deep appreciation for the forest surrounding his kingdom, the strong resistance of the trees had been an inspiration for the winding halls, the water flowing through the roots and gifting life and the ever so steady wind reminded someone who lived a thousand years that some things, though they change, never completely disappear.

You, on the other hand, could not be separated from nature in any way whatsoever. There had been the flowers, first only on your side of the bed when he'd invited you to sleep next to him, and one day he woke up to find a vase filled with Astilbe flowers on his nightstand and on his vanity as well.

You also spend most of your day either wandering through the woods (which left him restless and worried until you accepted the sword he had his blacksmith forge for you) or meeting him here in the gardens. He would never tell you but before you, he hadn't walked or maker-forbid, sat there for decades.

Now, he found himself soaking sunshine more days than not, reading Elvish poetry to you while you rested curled into his side with one of his hands brushing your hair, or, chasing you on his Elk through the forest, following the sound of your horse and your laughter.

Your infatuation with nature and the stubbornness of pulling him along made him fall for you, deeply and most ardently and he knew that one day he would need to survive the sight of forests and gardens and flowers without the urge to burn them to the ground for outliving you.

As he watches you examine the colorful flowers and gather them in your lap, he isn't sure if he will be able to contain that anger against the gods if the time comes.

You are oblivious to the dark clouds hanging onto his thoughts, he makes sure that you'll never see the heartbreak he lives through while loving you because he knows, he knows that you would do everything in your power to make him happy.

This is who you are, a human that lives and loves and pours all that you are into those around you, he sees it in the gentleness of your hands cupping the flowers before plucking them, in the way your tongue learned a new language for you wouldn't accept not studying it for an answer if you lived here.

You live to love and love to live.

Thranduil shifts, forgetting that there are guards stationed around the gardens who could see their King doing the unthinkable but he doesn't care.

Not with you sitting a few feet away from him, your dress spilled around you, a full smile on your face as you collect the flowers growing there for you, their little heads turning to you as if you are the sun for them as well, and not just for Thranduil.

If you notice him standing up, you give no sign, you don't even stop humming, and the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth at this stubbornness is far too strong to stop it.

"Melethril nîn," he says quietly and his shadow falls over your body. The symbolism and fear of him taking away the sun from you has him clench his jaw. His pain is impatient as if it doesn't know he's going to live longer than he wants to and that it has all the time to break him down.

He quickly shuts those thoughts away behind the sight of you tipping your head back to smirk at him.

This is not the time to dwell on the future, not if he can exist in the moments he shares with you instead of fearing the time when he'll have to think back on them.

"Don't tell me you missed me," you tease.

He scoffs and –surprising you enough to let out a squeak– lowers himself onto his knees next to you.

Eye to eye, he feels much more comfortable, despite the stains that he knows now graze his robes.

"You know," he starts and lets his gaze wander over the flowers in your lap, however, you managed to collect this many of them in such a short time awes him, "the meeting can wait."

You catch onto the meaning instantly, your eyes lightening up even more. The golden rays of the setting sun reflect in them and he reaches forward to cup your face in the palm of his hand and gently leans towards you, capturing your lips in a long kiss that has you gasping.

"Now," Thranduil swipes his thumb over your lower lip, as you separate, tugging playfully at it and giving into another kiss before he continues, "Have your way with my hair, my love. I know you did not collect those flowers for any other reason."

You gasp ingeniously. "You are by far the wisest Elf I've ever met," you say and scoot –maker, he makes a note to get another dress just like this made because surely this will be ruined by the time you leave the gardens– behind his back.

While you gather his hair in your hands, this time without him trying to stop you but relaxing into the soft tugging, you mumble: "So wise, they should make you King."

He chuckles at that. "Ah, but I would need a Queen by my side. Do you know where one could find on–ahhh," his teasing words get swallowed by a sigh as your fingers collect some fine hairs on the side of his head and surely completely on accident run over the shell of his ear to the delicate tip.

"Ooops," you sing and just as his body calms, you repeat the action, even have the gall to scratch the skin with your nails and he melts into a puddle.

His ears burn, not just the one your breath hits but the other one as well and he can feel the blood shoot into his face as well, crumbling the stoic and straight-laced composure of the King who is already on his knees.

"You witch," he presses out between his clenched teeth and hears you giggle. "I should have never told you about that," he murmurs more to himself, trying to regulate his heart beating inside his chest like a wild rabbit on the loose.

You laugh once, a "Pah!" while you tug on his hair, "You didn't tell me," you say and he feels something get pushed inside the braid you are working on, "I found out all by myself."

Thinking back to the night that started this completely outrageous behavior trait of you fiddling with his ears whenever he doesn't pay you enough attention or he says something that teases you a bit too much, he can't tell if you are right or him.

A few years ago he would have shut you down completely because the King would never be wrong but now he grumbles under his breath, agreeing that you must be correct.

Then again, there are many new things that you brought into his life.

He laughs more freely, and not just out of spite of viciously.

He cares more, for you, for his son, for nature and sometimes even for the dwarfs he trades with.

He is formed by you, shaped by your untamable ways of never letting a rainy day ruin your mood.

He is nothing but wax in your hands.

Here, sitting in the gardens and letting you weave flowers in his precious hair, he is no King, he is just a soul yearning for your touch, a flower reaching to bloom in your golden light.

Thranduil's eyes flutter shut as you braid and weave and run your hands over his scalp and through his hair.

He may have fallen asleep, lulled into a trance by the warm sun caressing his face and your voice humming a melody as sweet as any words that you speak, because when you let go of the delicate braids and let them fall into the rest of his hair, he opens his eyes to a pink and purple sunset.

The birds sing their last song and the trees rustle, shaking their branches and leaves as if they would ready themselves for the animals coming to rest in them.

There is a pleasantly chilled breeze that comes with nightfall, one that brings the smell of flowers and grass.

"There," you press a gentle kiss to the skin right behind his left ear, "all done."

For a moment Thranduil is disappointed that you are finished but then he turns to find your smile and all is right.

"Thank you, meldanya," he says, already closing in to express his gratitude with a soft kiss.

You nudge your nose against his, eyes shut in contentment. "Thank you, for letting me. Le ni meleth," you say quietly.

"Always," Thranduil's gaze wanders over you, bathed in rosé and golden hues, the cheeks flushed from the air, your hair wild and untamed, and flowers all over your lap. He grabs a few of them, inspecting the stems and probing them with his sharp nails.

"Let me repay the favor," he effortlessly lifts you, smiling wide at the laugh bursting out of you as he sets you between his legs and onto his robes.

"I want my Queen to wear a fitting crown."

#thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit x you #lotr fanfiction #lotr x reader #lotr x you

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undreaming-fanfiction · 6 months

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Established Steddie, they have been living together for over a decade, did their best to heal their wounds from the Upside Down and learn to enjoy life again. It's not easy but they do it.

When the Lord of the Rings movies come out, it's actually Steve who suggests watching them to Eddie. He really tries engaging with Eddie's passions, but his focus is not the greatest when it comes to books. That doesn't mean he doesn't listen to Eddie ramble about them though - he knows all about hobbits, second breakfasts, the culture of smoking in the Shire...Eddie admires a lot of characters from the books, but ever since experiencing the Upside Down fuckery, he actually admits that the hobbits had a point. Good food, even better company and good tobacco? What else does one need? It also inspires Steve a few years later to prepare a full day of hobbit-inspired meals for their trilogy marathon when the extended editions come out. But this is about their first time watching the movies.

They both go to the movie theater excited. Steve is familiar with most of the characters, including Eddie's self-admitted crush on Aragorn. And Steve can see why, he can see so much good in all the members of the fellowship. After the first movie, he's wiping his eyes because Boromir deserved better. Eddie has a lot to say about what was lost in adaptation, but Steve knows Eddie loves those movies and would cut off his only remaining nipple before missing the next ones.

The Two Towers have Steve rooting for the ents and he feels strangely touched about how everyone underestimates Pippin, yet it's him who gets the ents to march. He really can't pick a favorite character. He can't wait for the third movie.

They go to the premiere of the Return of the King with Eddie. They secretly hold hands in the last row, and Steve watches the ride of the Rohirrim with bated breath. He clenches his hand in Eddie's when Theoden gets gravely injured, but then Éowyn is there and...oh.

He is staring slack-jawed at the scene. Éowyn's large, terrified eyes, the towering frame of the Witch King. Her posture was fearful, crouched, but still she faced him. And something surfaces in his head, something he's long forgotten.

He's unusually queit when they come back home, he still loves the rest of the movie, almost cries at "my friends, you bow to no one,", then definitely cries at Frodo leaving the Middle Earth. But there is still that something and Eddie can sense it. When they're falling asleep together, Eddie finally asks him. And Steve's had enough time to process what he felt.

"When Éowyn faced the Witch King...it reminded me of what it felt like. I mean, for the first time. I know it's stupid because saw so much unnatural shit, but...it's the first time that I have hard time forgetting," he admits quietly. "She reminded me of me in 1983 so much. I had no clue what I was getting myself into. I thought I'd do the right thing, but then I had a gun pointed at me, they both had blood on their hands...and then it appeared."

Eddie doesn't speak, he only holds Steve closer.

"It was so tall. I remember that petal-like mouth, those teeth, but mostly...I remember the crippling fear. I felt absolutely terrified. I couldn't move. There was even a moment when I thought of running away, but...I couldn't leave them there. Seeing someone go through something similar and being praised for being a hero...it makes me think. I used to be so ashamed for freezing in that moment. For even considering running away. But Éowyn...she was like me." There's awe in his voice and warmth, relief. "She had no idea what she was getting into. She froze. She didn't do everything perfectly and gracefully like Legolas or something, but when it mattered...she did what she had to."

He holds Eddie tighter and asks, almost shyly: "Will it offend you that I think she's my favorite character? Not Aragorn or Sam?"

Eddie just shakes his head and drops a kiss to Steve's hair. "Nah. She suits you well. And you're both amazing."

And if it becomes a silly endearment in their household, that Steve is sometimes called the Shieldmaiden of Hawkins? ("I'm not a maiden, Eddie!" "I'm not calling you a shieldboy or shieldbachelor, Steve!") Then Steve feels a hint of something that he thought he'd renounced, but now, for the first time he feels it's deserved - pride.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #steddie drabble #lord of the rings steddie #not proofread I'm sleep deprived af

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marvelouslizzie · 1 year

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You're My Desire - Co-written with @notafunkiller

Summary: Your best friend drags you out on a double date. You were supposed to be Steve Rogers' date, but plans change pretty quickly and you end up in Bucky Barnes' arms.

Pairing: 40s Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ NSFW MINORS DNI, first date, public sex, ripped clothing, teasing, rough sex, dirty talk, praise, pet names, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 5.5K

A/N: We really don't have an excuse for this one. We just wanted 40s Bucky to have a good time, you know? This is basically smut with little bit of plot.

Please give my lovely co-writer @notafunkiller a follow. She's also a Bucky Barnes writer and her stories are amazing.

All work is ours, please do not repost or translate without our permission.

Every like, comment, and reblog is highly appreciated. Don’t hesitate to message us. Unless it's hate. That's never welcome.

Read more tag starts after the first paragraph of the story.

Even though you really didn’t want to, you find yourself on a double date with your best friend. She literally begged you to come because she promised she would bring someone for her date’s best friend and apparently she really doesn’t wanna disappoint the handsome soldier.

You're shocked, though, when you arrive at the fair and see Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes in the flesh waiting for you two at the gate.

You were pretty sure she brought you here for Bucky Barnes but it turns out your date is actually Steve Rogers, aka Captain America himself.

You don't know what to do at first, awkwardly watching your friend hugging Bucky as if they knew each other for ages. Even though they met just a day ago. Steve extends his hand politely, which you immediately shake.

It doesn’t take long for you to go inside the fun fair together while chatting casually. Your friend, Cassie, starts asking questions about the war. She loves front-line stories, but Bucky doesn’t seem like he enjoys telling them.

Steve, on the other hand, is very excited to do it, answering all of Cassie's questions as you quietly watch them. You wonder why you said yes to this date. You've never been into soldiers and even less into war discussions. But you love your friend very much even when she ignores you.

You find yourself looking at Bucky while Cassie and Steve start to chat and exchange stories. He kinda seems amused by this development. You shrug looking in his direction, waiting for him to say something. After all, you are both already bored and your friends don't even seem to care or notice you anymore in the first place.

Bucky just smiles and then tries to change the subject. You think he actually handles that topic change pretty smoothly and it sticks for a while until Cassie gets bored of talking about books.

You remark Bucky's sad face, but you don't say anything. Instead, you subtly start to walk slower, hoping he'll do the same. As Cassie keeps talking to Steve, Bucky notices you are getting behind and just slows down a little.

"You're okay? Are your legs hurting?" Bucky asks concerned while looking at her shoes.

“No, no, I’m fine. Just got tired of the war stories, that’s all.” You keep walking slowly.

"Me, too." He sighs. "It's a never-ending subject at this point."

“Well, where there's life there's hope.” You quote the Hobbit instinctively. You hold on to the hope, one day you won’t have to talk about this war.

Bucky gasps, looking at you in a way you never experienced before. "What did you say?"

“I just said where there's life there's hope.” You repeat, surprised by the way he probably recognized the quote. People usually have no idea what you are referring to. Not him though.

"You're a fan? Oh god!"

That starts your actual conversation with Bucky Barnes. It turns out he’s a big bookworm himself. He reads as much as he can, always buying more books that he manages to read.

You didn't even realize how close you are until your shoulders slightly brush. You blush when he smiles, clearly not minding. Still, you feel very conscious about your closeness and quickly look toward your friend, feeling guilty that you are enjoying the company of her date, but she doesn’t seem to care one bit. On the contrary, she’s actually holding Steve Rogers’ arm while talking and laughing.

"You're very beautiful." You hear Bucky murmur shily.

His compliment catches you off guard. You were about to apologize on behalf of Cassie. Yet you find yourself blushing.

"And you love reading. I am a lucky man. I get to talk to you."

“I could say the same thing myself, Sergeant. I much rather talk about books instead of the war.”

"Then you got the right company." Bucky smiles and looks around. "Should we get some ice cream?"

“That would be amazing.” And that’s how you end up separated from Cassie and Steve. Bucky informs them about their plan and then leaves without waiting for them.

You spend the next hour talking and walking around the entire fair. James even won a teddy bear for you. Once in a while both of you act like you wanna find Steve and Cassie, but you definitely don’t care.

"I don't remember the last time I felt so comfortable and good with someone."

“I’m glad I’m not boring the shit out of you.” You know it’s not ladylike to speak this way, but you feel comfortable around him. It’s crazy when you consider you just met him maybe two hours ago.

Bucky smiles. "I can say the same. Steve says I'm quite boring."

“He’s quite boring himself.”

"Is he?" He snorts.

“Yeah. Who knew Captain America would be into war stories?”

"Doesn't the name say it?" He continues in the same joking tone.

“The name suggests he’s heroic and boring but he’s more boring and less heroic than expected. Stealing his best friend's date doesn’t scream honorable to me.”

Bucky is shocked to see her indirectly standing up for him. "Maybe I stole his date, though."

“His date was uninterested from the start and just being nice to her best friend.”

"Is she still uninterested?"

“In him? Yes.” You act like you don’t understand what he is actually asking.

"Well, the feelings are mutual. About the date and now…"

“You were uninterested in Cassie?” You say it in a way that shows you don’t believe him.

"Wasn't it obvious?"

“Nope.” It definitely wasn’t when they hugged each other the moment they arrived.

"I was trying to be polite. She insisted on this… meeting because I helped her out. I was relieved I could bring Steve."

“She sounded very interested in you until Captain Rogers started with war stories.”

"She was staring at his… back ever since we arrived."

You burst out laughing and he joins you right after. It sets the tone for the rest of the night and makes you notice you both don’t give a shit.

"I want to show you something," you say after a few seconds and quickly drag him after you until you reach a darker alley close to the last attraction. You drop the teddy bear carefully at your feet. "Hi."

“Hi.” He still seems a bit confused, but it’s so cute. He looks at the teddy bear and then his eyes turn back to your face. You can’t help but smile.

"You're so cute. Has anyone told you that?" You smile in return.

He acts like thinking for a second. “No, not really. Just cute?” He fishes for more.

"And smart." You touch his chest shily. "And kind."

“Hmm, those are not what people notice first.” He moves a little bit closer. “You have something…” He doesn’t finish his sentence, instead, his thumb brushes the corner of your lips. You wait for him to wipe off whatever you had on your face before opening your mouth and letting your tongue touch his finger shamelessly.

You watch Bucky’s eyes widen out of surprise. He didn't expect that at all. You grab his hand, bringing his finger inside your mouth, and notice how his breathing quickens. Yet he doesn’t stop you.

You let your tongue play for a few seconds until you let his finger go with a small bite. He lets out the lowest moan but not only do you hear it, but you also love it.

"Wow, I…" He doesn't know what to say, all red and excited.

“You what? Do you feel uncomfortable? Excited? I mean, I can stop if you want.”

In response, brave and happy, Bucky kisses you. His tongue is already on your bottom lip asking for permission, which you grant by opening your mouth without realizing it.

The kiss isn’t shy like you expected, and he definitely knows how to kiss. The way his lips and tongue move makes you want more, right then and there.

Your hands go to his neck as you let yourself enjoy the kiss even more. You keep kissing until you feel breathless. When Bucky breaks it, he doesn’t move away. His forehead touches yours as you try to catch your breath.

"This was…"

“I wanna do something if that’s okay…” You say while suddenly getting on your knees. You are wearing your favorite nylon stockings and you're sure they are gonna get ripped, but you don't care.

Bucky thinks he's daydreaming because how can this happen? How?

"What? What are you doing?"

“I think you know what I am doing, Sergeant. Just tell me to stop if you don’t want it, okay?” Your hands move to his belt but you wait for a reaction first.

"Stop. That's not… you don't have to do this. We are having a great time anyway."

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to. Is that okay for you?”

He can only nod, totally shocked and excited at the same time.

You unbuckle him slowly. Even though you are in a public place, you're in no hurry. You unzip him while looking into his eyes. When you finally take him out of his pants, he seems speechless. He’s already hard, but as soon as you start to move your hand, he gets rock hard after maybe four pumps.

"Jesus, you're so pretty. You look like a doll on your knees."

You smile proudly. “Tell me what I look like when I do this,” you say before taking him inside your mouth.

He closes his eyes, groaning. Your mouth is so wet and warm. You take it slow at first. Your mouth moves gently while you swirl your tongue around the head.

"Please." You hear him whisper, his left hand resting against the wall behind him.

You move your mouth away from him just to ask “Please what?” Your lipstick is already a little smudged.

"Oh god, keep going. Please, you're such a pretty sight."

“Tell me how I look when you're inside my mouth and I'll continue, promise.” You wink and remind him he still hasn’t fulfilled your request.

"Like a dream. Like a goddess."

“Hmm…” You go back to taking him inside your mouth without making another comment. This time, you move a bit faster than before and start using your hand.

"Your mouth will be the death of me."

That makes you smile but you don’t stop, moving your hand and mouth at the same time, hoping for a good reaction. His hand finds its way to your hair, wrapping it enough to pull a little. That encourages you to go faster, in need for a tighter grip. And you get it: soon, he wraps more of your hair around his whole fist, moaning your name.

“I think I'm gonna…” He sounds so breathy. “You should pull away.”

You look at him, acknowledging his warning, but showing him you are ignoring it. You keep moving fast, making sure your tongue flicks around the right spot every time until he spills inside your mouth. It’s a lot more than you are used to, but you still keep going until he completely empties himself. You take your mouth off, looking into his eyes before swallowing.

"No." He covers his eyes while groaning. "You can't do this to me, doll. Jesus…"

“Do what?” You innocently ask.

He doesn't answer you, taking you by the back of the neck and kissing you sloppily. You don’t get a chance to warn him about the taste and he doesn’t seem to care one bit. He groans into your mouth when he feels your hands on his ass and breaks the kiss just to suck on your neck.

Then you feel his hands between your bodies, trying to pull up his pants again.

You break the kiss to ask: “What are you doing?”

"I'm putting on my pants," he sounds like a kid. "And I wanna get on my knees for you, too."

“Maybe I want something else that doesn’t require you to put your pants on.”

He nods, without understanding what you mean. "Alright. I'll just-" He drops his right hand until it reaches her skirt. "Is it okay?" You nod with a smile. Even though it’s not what you meant, it’s fine.

His fingers immediately go to your underwear and push it aside.

"Fuck me. Look at that." You are really wet and his curses don't help either. "Soaked. Is that for me, doll?"

“No, it’s for Captain Rogers, who bored the shit out of me.” You joke.

You feel his fingers stopping on your slit as he lifts his head. "What did you say?"

“I said it’s for Captain Rogers, who bored the shit out of me. You know that gets the girls wet.” You hope he won’t be offended by this. It’s just a silly joke.

In response, Bucky pushes a finger inside you quickly, his lips curling into a smirk. "Should I start talking about war, too? Bet that would get you even wetter."

You let out a deep breath, relieved. Thank God he isn’t offended. “That would get me dry as a desert, Sergeant Barnes.”

"Should I dye my hair then?" He snorts, moving his finger faster.

“Maybe you should get a shield. It would definitely look better on you.”

"A shield, huh?" Bucky adds another finger, trying to scissor them inside you a couple of times. "Is it too much?"

“Nope,” you say after a moan. “It’s not enough.”

"Fuck, you…" he closes his eyes. "You want another?"

“I want something else.” You smile, hoping him to understand this time.

"Yeah? Like what?"

You grab his cock and gently rub it without saying a word. You are not surprised he’s hard because his erection has been pressed on your leg for a while.

"Fuck. You want my cock, baby?"

“Yeah. Why do you think I didn’t let you pull your pants back up?”

"I don't-" He moans. "I didn't think."

“Come on. You are making me wait while I’m soaking your fingers.”

"Wanna make you…" Bucky interrupts himself by adding a third finger, his other hand going to your clit. "Happy."

“Fuck.” You throw your head back, that felt so good.

"You like this?" He rubs a little more, paying attention to your body. His fingers inside you keep the same pace, though. He isn't slowing down now even if it's the end of the world.

“Yeah, that.” You breathe out. You already feel your legs shaking and you're afraid your knees might give out, but it feels so good, you can’t seem to focus on the concerns.

"Hold on to me."

You put your hands on his shoulders and it helps you relax a bit more. After that, your orgasm comes crashing in like a big wave that leaves you breathless. He doesn't stop moving his fingers until you finish coming, then he slowly pulls them out, making sure to lick them before kissing you.

“You are such a dirty soldier, Sergeant Barnes,” you say with a smile.

"What is dirty about this?" He shrugs. "I'm a good soldier, of course."

“Doing this in a dark alley with me and licking your fingers clean like that. Very good soldier, indeed.”

"Ihm." He buries his head right onto your shoulder and breathes in. "Thank you."

“For what?” You find yourself kissing his hair while asking the question.

"For this evening and this. Thank you for trusting me."

“You are something else, Bucky,” you say while caressing his hair.

"Hmm?"

You kiss his hair and his ear, then move your lips to his neck. “You can thank me later. We are not done yet.”

"Changed your mind?" He smiles. "Want me on my knees after all?

“Maybe later.” You wink. “Now don’t act like you don’t know what I want because I know you want it, too.”

He freezes. "Wait, you're serious?"

“Of course I am serious. Just don’t finish inside, okay?”

He looks at you again all serious. "Are you sure? We don't have to, I can use my tongue."

“Don’t worry, it’s not my first time and yeah, I’m sure unless you don’t want to.”

Bucky looks at you with puppy eyes. "Uhm, it's my first time."

“Oh god.” Your eyes widen. “I… didn’t consider… that possibility. I’m sorry.”

Bucky starts laughing at your worried expression and kisses your cheek. "My first time with a bookworm doll."

You punch his shoulder. “You worried me!”

That makes him laugh even harder, and you can't help but smile. Because he's extra beautiful like this.

"Why? Do you have something against innocent boys, ma'am? Shame!"

“No, nothing against it. Absolutely would love to teach and corrupt but wouldn’t want that to be your first time.”

"You don't want to take advantage of me, huh? Such a good girl." He surprises you by suddenly lifting you and helping you wrap your legs around his torso.

“Would you like me to take advantage of you?” You kiss his jaw and cheeks.

"Fuck, yes. Yes."

“Then you have my permission to take advantage of me, too.”

He doesn't ask you again if you're sure. Instead, he lifts his right hand to your blouse and starts unbuttoning it as fast as he can. He's so impatient he even manages to rip a button. You just watch him work and smile, hoping the gentleman side of Bucky finally stops holding him back.

He groans at the sight of your hard nipples and quickly leans in to take one in his mouth.

“Oh fuck,” you whimper while he uses his tongue to play with your nipple. It feels so good you don't even notice when his hand drops under your skirt. Until you hear the ripping sound.

“What the fuck?” You can’t believe he's just ripped your nylon stockings. They are so hard to find and so expensive!

"Whha?" He doesn't even take his mouth off your nipple as he speaks.

“Do you know how expensive those stockings are?” Your surprise is so clear in your voice. “You owe me a pair of nylon stockings, Sargeant.”

"They were in the way, baby."

“Getting impatient?” You mock a little.

He pushes his hips a little more. "Can't you feel?"

“You still owe me a pair.”

"What about these?" His hands are now on her panties. "How many do I need to buy you so I can rip these off?"

“Just one pair, but if you wanna rip that one, too, this cycle might never end.”

He sighs, contemplating, but he finally decides not to, only pushing your underwear aside. "How do you want it?"

“What do you mean?”

Bucky takes another step until your back barely brushes against the wall. "How do you like this? The sex."

“Don’t try to act all kind and push aside what you actually want to do. That’s how I want it.”

"Do you uhm… like it fast or slow? The pace I mean." He's slowly pushing inside you while he asks, trying to be as gentle as possible.

“That’s exactly what I meant. Do it however you want and we will see how I like it. Don’t be too gentle like this.”

"Talk to me, okay?" He's halfway inside you now, staying still for a few seconds as he leaves small kisses on your neck.

“Oh, I will, don’t worry, handsome. No one can stop me from complaining if I don’t like something.”

"Good girl." He tries different types of thrusts and angles at first, wanting to see what you respond to the most.

“Fuck. Why do you keep saying that?” She moves her hips to make him thrust faster.

"Because you're my good girl. Dirty too." He moans when he feels you. "God, you want it faster, baby?"

“Yes, yes, I do. Please. Move faster.”

And he does, his grip on your ass tightening as he starts thrusting just the way you want. "Fuck, you're soaked. You feel so good around me."

“You feel good, too.” You moan in between words. “And you are strong. Really strong,” you remark because he doesn’t look tired while holding you.

But he doesn't seem to acknowledge that. "I'm so fucking lucky, Jesus." He groans when he feels your lips sucking on his collarbone.

“You didn’t think your double date would end this way, huh?”

"Deep inside you? Not a chance." He smiles, speeding up.

“Maybe deep inside someone else.” You tease on purpose.

Bucky immediately stops thrusting. "What?"

“I was just joking about how we were meant to be on a date with other people.” You hate that you can’t shut your mouth sometimes.

"Oh," he nods, restarting to move. "Well, I can assure you, he wouldn't have done this tonight." He jokes back.

“Fuck me against the wall like this?”

"Fuck you at all. But especially like this. And the language?" He laughs. "Never."

“Oh, so honorable of him.” You keep joking. “Poor Cassie.”

His right-hand flies behind your head to protect it as his thrusts become way too quick. "Fuck. You feel like heaven, I swear."

“God, how do you do that?” You are surprised that he can carry you with one hand. “Are you sure you aren’t a super soldier yourself?”

Bucky shakes his head amused. "That will go straight to my ego."

“You're carrying me with one hand while protecting my head with the other, and you keep fucking me at the same time. I think it should go straight to your ego.”

He groans. "Lower one of your hands now."

“Lower it where exactly?” You don’t understand what he wants.

His hand moves from the back of her head for a few seconds just to bring her fingers to her clitoris. "Right here. Can you rub this for me?"

“Ohh.” You finally understand what he’s trying to do, so you listen and start rubbing yourself while his hand goes back to your head.

"Good, good girl. Look at you." He doesn't even realize how deep his thrusts are because his focus is on your fingers.

“Oh god… It feels so good.” You have never done something like this before. No public sex, no touching yourself during sex, no good girl whispers next to your ear. They all make you feel dizzy.

"Yeah? Just good?" His mouth finds your breasts this time, and you just know he's leaving a few marks there by the way he sucks on your skin.

“You wanna hear how good it makes me feel?”

"Ihmm."

“Oh, you are even dirtier than you are showing, aren’t you, Sergeant Barnes?”

He looks up immediately. "Say that again." He demands.

“Sergeant Barnes?”

"Fuck, you need to rub faster."

“You need to fuck me harder.” You say while listening to his order.

"Harder?" He repeats, shocked, not expecting that in the slightest. But he does as you demand in a heartbeat, biting his tongue because it feels so good.

You have a hard time holding back your reaction because it feels just perfect. You can feel your orgasm approaching.

“Shit, you need to cover my mouth,” you say as quickly as possible.

"Just use me. Bite my shoulder," he suggests quickly, keeping the pace exactly the same.

You wanna say no, because you don’t wanna hurt him but there’s no other choice left. You sink your teeth in somewhere between his neck and shoulder and try to muffle yourself. The orgasm hits you so hard that you are afraid someone is gonna hear you even like this.

"Fuck," he groans, the pain feeling amazing as you keep coming, your legs wrapping even more tightly around his ass.

“Please, don’t stop,” you manage to say and go back to biting him, very aware of the hickey you are giving him, but that doesn’t stop you because you don’t want to get caught like this.

"Can't stop." At this point you wonder how no one noticed you by now. The sound of your skin touching and your groans are not quite silent. But even if they did, you know you wouldn't stop. How could you?

"Keep rubbing, I want you to find pleasure again."

“Again?” You sound shocked because you've literally just come.

"Again." He tries to lift one of your legs a little more. "Please."

“I don’t think I can, but keep going, okay?” You already came twice in a short amount of time. How much more can you do?

"Well, I think you can." He smiles. "Gonna mark me up, baby?"

“I think I already did.” You can see your teeth marks on his neck. You are sure it will turn into purple really soon.

"I'm your property now?" The hand he has on the back of your head quickly grabs your hair and wraps it around his fist.

“Are you?” You like the sound of that and how he’s pulling your hair.

"I am." He's frantically thrusting in and out of you. "Rub faster."

“Fuck,” you mumble while rubbing yourself. You aren’t sure if it’s gonna do anything, but it feels good. “Can I keep you then? You know, kidnap you and hide you in my apartment so you don’t have to go back to the war. We can just do this every day.”

"Fuck, do it." He smiles. "I dare you."

“Should I tie you up so it looks more realistic?” And suddenly all that rubbing starts to feel different, more pleasurable.

"On your bed? Go ahead."

You laugh at how easily he’s convinced, but your laugh is interrupted by a moan.

"Gonna come for me, dolly?"

“I am not sure.” You struggle to speak. “It feels like it.”

He pulls your hair hard. "Please, please."

“You beg so beautifully, how can I say no?” It’s not like your body is saying no, either.

When you finish coming again, you watch with your eyes semi-closed as James takes himself out without dropping you even a little and comes right on your thighs and ripped stockings. You feel the warmth of his come while you both are trying to catch your breath.

"This was… wow."

“This is a hell of a first date.” You find yourself giggling. Did all that really happen? The soreness between your legs says yes.

Bucky slowly puts you down. "You think?" He snorts.

“Oh yeah, very memorable.” You notice that your stockings are completely ruined so you have no other choice but to take them off.

"Fuck, you're dripping." He doesn't look like he's sorry and he can't say he is, either. He's actually very proud.

“Yeah, I am aware.” You laugh while taking them off and using them like a washcloth to clean yourself up.

"You have no idea how lovely the sight is." He winks at you while zipping up his pants.

You bite your bottom lip while looking at him. “Likewise. You look satisfied, Sargeant. Did something happen while you were gone?” You pull your skirt down.

"I got touched by an angel."

You laugh. “So cheesy. You are lucky that you are a bookworm. A really good-looking one, who is also good at bed even though we didn’t even need one.”

"Next time. Maybe we'll break it." He sounds so confident, but not demanding at all at the same time.

“When are you going back?” You find yourself asking. If he’s promising you a second time, you are gonna take it.

"In one week."

You make a sad face without realizing then take a deep breath to help yourself focus on the positive side. “That’s a lot of sex.”

He immediately lifts your chin and presses a kiss on your forehead. "I was joking. We got two months."

“You are such a liar.” You punch him in his shoulder.

Which only makes him laugh. "You like it hard."

But your attention is on his neck, on the spot you bit so hard. The purple spot looks really old and mostly faded already.

"No comment?" He snorts. "We're gonna have a lot of fun for sure."

“I have a question.” Your eyes are still on that same spot. “Does Steve heal quickly?”

"Why? You plan on kicking his ass?"

“Just answer the question, please.”

"Yeah, he does." Bucky shrugs. "One of the perks of the serum."

“Even the small scars or purple spots?”

"Yes." Bucky doesn't even think about it. "Which is great. Why? You think your friend will want to know?"

You don’t comment about his question, instead, touch the spot you bit down so hard. “You are nearly completely healed. My mark has vanished.”

"What?" He asks, confused.

“I bit down on your neck so hard, it was dark red. Now it’s gone.”

"I don't get purple easily. Never did. I guess you have to suck a little more." He smiles leaning in to kiss you again.

“I fully bit you,” you say before he does.

"I noticed." He giggled.

Since he doesn’t take it that seriously you let it go. “Fine. I will prove it to you later.”

"Prove what?" He gives you another kiss.

“That you heal quickly.” You try to fix yourself while you kiss him back.

"Oh, I feel healed every time I look at you."

“You are so cheesy.” Yet you can’t help but laugh. “How do I look?”

"Good boy version or?" He pauses dramatically.

“Both.”

"Good boy version first: you look like an angel." He smiles cheekily.

You snort. “I’m asking if I look decent, Bucky.”

"Angel,” he repeats before dropping his hands to your ass and squeezing. "They won't know you've got fucked against the wall if that's what you're afraid of. But you look strangely content and happy."

“That’s because I had a good date.” You scrunch your nose cheekily.

"Me too. The best date ever."

“Should we try to find our best friends?”

"Oh, sure." Bucky leans in to get the teddy bear before handing it to you.

"Ready for more war stories?"

“No, I’m not.” You hug the bear. “I gotta wash this.”

Bucky snorts. "Poor bear. Got traumatized."

“Traumatized and all dirty.” You don’t notice how close you are to Bucky until you feel him next to you. “Should we keep this a secret from our friends?”

"Do you want to?"

“I meant the having sex in a dark alley part. I don’t think my friend needs to know that.” She definitely shouldn’t know all this.

"We should totally keep that part to ourselves." He smiles.

“I could say that you kissed me or something. I don’t know. Is that too forward for the first date?”

"There's no such thing. You can say I kissed you."

“I was genuinely asking.” You smile. “I normally don’t even kiss on the first date.”

Bucky giggles, his hand squeezing your hip. "I am a lucky gal." You smile back at him until you notice a familiar face.

“Oh, is that Steve?” You point to the tall blonde guy.

"Yes, that's him. But where is your friend?"

“Right in front of him. I can see her dress.” It’s sticking on the side.

"Oh, yes. Gonna drive you home after that if that's alright with you." He sounds so casual like he already did that many times, but you notice something else.

“You have a car and you didn’t think of using it until now?”

"Oh." Redness takes over his cheeks. "I got… distracted."

"You are such an idiot." You start to giggle while walking toward your friends.

"Your idiot now. You got stuck with me for at least two months." He laughs.

"Just for two months?" You test his intentions.

"I can't assume you'd want to wait for me, can I?"

"I will tell your best friend to bring you back home in one piece. He's the hero after all. That should be easy, right?"

Bucky looks at her with a soft expression before kissing her hair. "Guess you really got stuck with me."

"Oh shit, Steve saw you kissing my hair." It’s going to be hard to keep this thing between you two.

"Does it bother you?"

“No, no, no.” You quickly try to explain. “It’s just I’m worried that they might think the worst of me. I mean… questioning our closeness.”

"I dare them." She is surprised by how serious and determined he is as he speaks.

“I would kiss you right now if I could.”

"I won't stop you." He giggles like a kid.

“Our friends are,” you whisper and look at your best friend, who is coming toward you. Cassie is holding Steve’s arm proudly.

"Oh, hello," Steve says. "Where have you been?"

"Here and there." Bucky shrugs. "Did you have fun?"

"Yes!" Cass immediately giggles, joining the conversation. "He has the best, best stories. What about-" She cuts herself off when she notices your appearance. "What happened to your stockings?"

“Oh.” You blush a little, thinking about how they got ruined. “I tripped and ruined them. They looked so horrible I had to take them off completely.”

"Yes, they got really dirty," Bucky confirms with the biggest grin Steve has seen in ages.

"Oh, really?" He lifts his eyebrow. "What a shame."

“Yeah. Sergeant Barnes promised me a new pair. What a gentleman he is.”

"A gentleman indeed." Steve shakes his head, well aware of what you two have done.

You bite your lip and give Bucky a look, hoping at least Cassie has no idea. You are sure the three of you can keep a secret. For now…

You may wanna read the next part: Trust In What Tomorrow Brings

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faeriichaii · 8 months

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Greetings 🤗 could I requested how the fellowship would realise their feelings for reader and how would their behaviour change towards them? Thank you! <3

The Fellowship and how they would realize their feelings

A/N: I am finally back!! I am so happy to be able to write again and I apologize that you had to wait so long for your request :( omg I never got like a headcanon (??) request and like I am so excited!! Especially cause it's kinda a big group and like I never wrote anything for the hobbits or like for Aragorn or Boromir hihi <33 (Tbh it was like so hard cause I really noticed I don't really know much about their characters or well I don't really know much about them?? idk idk... so some could be a little bit off so I apologize!!) But I still hope you like this!!!

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Warnings: fluff (maybe some ooc behaviour) ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Words: 1.3k in total ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Request: Yes (thank you <33) ࿐ྂ

Aragorn:

I think he would notice his growing feelings for you rather quickly. He would probably notice this after watching you argue with passion about some kind of topic with another person. The way you stand behind your opinion and fight for the things you love and adore. The passion that lines every single word that passes your lips. The way your eyebrow raises at your opponent and their silly sentences, that absolutely make no sense to you. Honestly, I doubt that much changes from his behaviour because he already is a caring person. Maybe his hand would sometimes hold onto your hand to make sure you know that he stands behind you and your decisions. Maybe he also tends to polish your weapons for you and maybe he also prepares a few arrows for you if you decide to use a bow. And maybe, just maybe he shows you a few tips and tricks with the sword in order to make sure that nothing could harm you. Because he knows, that you can handle yourself in any kind of fight. But practice still helps to ensure your safety, especially in the case that the both of you get separated.

Legolas:

Like Aragorn, he would catch onto his growing fondness for you rather quickly. He probably would notice his feelings after catching you being so incredibly sweet and kind towards one of the hobbits. The way you immediately tried to help Frodo through his doubts. How you tried to cheer him up by telling him that he will make it. That all of you will make it and finish the quest at hand. You always try your hardest to brighten everyone’s day with your positivity and your cheerfulness. Legolas couldn’t do anything else than fall for you head over heels. The warmth that you always spread around captured him and his heart. He would probably (definitely) ask to braid your hair (in case you are totally unaware of the custom behind it). But he would probably also try being constantly close to you. Not in a clingy way. Well, more like a moth that was drawn to a flame. (Maybe a tiny bit in a clingy way). And oh as soon as the quest is over he will try to find any kind of artistic measure to capture your heart with.

Gimli:

Listen, he definitely takes a while to realize his feelings. But he would totally notice some kind of admiration after you beat him in battle. The way you just jump from one enemy to another and rip them apart. Your strength and the way you just push through them with ease. (He still will huff after you declare that you definitely killed more enemies than he did). He would also try his best to deny his feelings and try to act indifferently or like ‘he doesn’t care’ (Even though he definitely cares). He would definitely clean your weapons and sharpen them for you. After returning home he will forge an axe or sword for you. Maybe even a courting bead if the time has come for him to stop battling his feelings and just face them.

Boromir:

I think he would take a little while to notice his feelings towards you. Probably due to the fact that he mostly is being occupied by the power of the ring or maybe due to the pressure of the quest that lays heavily on his shoulder. He knows it is an important journey. So his heart did stutter after you reassured him with your kind words. The way you spoke with him and the way you just would listen to his worries. It felt like you really cared for him and his wellbeing and he really just needed someone to talk to. Someone who was willing to listen to him (especially because I feel that some people tend to misunderstand him). And you just happen to really want to listen to his worries and try to push him through it. Try to show him that you would be by his side while he follows the path of the journey. After he realized his feelings for you he would definitely try his best to take care of you the way you did for him. He would support your decisions and if you happen to have a bad day he would stand by your side and listen to your worries and just do the same things you did for him. Care for you and give you the support you need.

Sam:

Oh he would totally catch onto his feelings quickly. Probably after receiving your praise for how well he had prepared dinner that night. The way your eyes lit up at the first taste of the soup and how you hummed in approval at the flavour. He definitely would blush and smile dumbly while stirring the pot (definitely lost in the thought of your beautiful smile). He definitely would be more fidgety and bashful around you. He would probably also share some of his portions of food with you (In case you are hungry or you already finished your food for the trip). And maybe he would give you just a little bit more food if he was the one preparing the food (either for breakfast or dinner or the portions for travelling idk idk). (And maybe just maybe he would carefully prepare like a cute flower crown or smth for you.)

Frodo:

His feelings for you were definitely the last thing on his mind. He would definitely notice them however, after you carefully hold him close to you after another one of his nightmares he had. Gently stroking his hair while holding him towards your chest, mumbling to him that everything will be alright. He didn’t even notice the way he had clung onto you. But you didn’t mind that. All that you wanted to do was reassure him and try to give him the strength he needs to push through this. His heart filled with warmth at your kindness and at the support you lend him. Every time when he struggles, he just looks at you and he immediately feels better. He will definitely try to reassure your worries and try to be there for you the way you always seem to be there for him.

Merry:

I think he would be a little like Pippin when it comes to the realization of his feelings. Like, he would definitely not notice his feelings at first, but after you did protect him from a few Orcs, he couldn’t help but admire you. He wanted to get stronger (and maybe protect you too yk?) So he will definitely learn a few sword fighting skills from Boromir and Aragorn, but he will mostly try to practice with you. To understand the way you swing your sword and to understand the fighting tactics you use. (He also just wanted to spend more time with you) And maybe just maybe when the time has come, he will raise his sword against an Orc and protect you.

Pippin:

Oh he would definitely take his time realizing his feelings. But he does realize them, after he notices that you seem to be one of the only people who was not completely mad at him for his constant clumsiness. Yes, he made mistakes. But that is normal, isn’t it? Everyone makes mistakes and you try to explain that to him. The way you try to make him understand that even Gandalf or Aragorn took wrong turns in their lives made him feel a little bit better. You would explain to him that mistakes need to happen in order for him to grow as a person. Nobody is perfect, is what you told him with a beaming smile. But he couldn’t believe your words if you sat in front of him and just existed. He would definitely try and make you laugh as much as possible. Especially if the days or nights are rough and maybe everything is grey, he definitely still will try to brighten your day with either very silly harmless jokes or pranks.

#lotr x reader #legolas x reader #aragorn x reader #boromir x reader #gimli x reader #frodo x reader #sam x reader #pippin x reader #merry x reader #the fellowship x reader #listen i tried ok

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sillylotrpolls · 8 months

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(Relevant text below the poll)

Inspired by this post by @roselightfairy and replies by @herrhasen, @enide-s-dear, @unnamedelement, @dragonfirez, and @carlandrea.

If you'd like to refresh your memory of the Fellowship at its bitchiest (and Boromir at his best), the relevant text is below the cut.

Excerpted from The Fellowship of the Ring, Book II, Chapter 3: The Ring Goes South

Gimli looked up and shook his head. 'Caradhras has not forgiven us.' he said. 'He has more snow yet to fling at us, if we go on. The sooner we go back and down the better.'

To this all agreed, but their retreat was now difficult. It might well prove impossible. Only a few paces from the ashes of their fire the snow lay many feet deep, higher than the heads of the hobbits; in places it had been scooped and piled by the wind into great drifts against the cliff.

'If Gandalf would go before us with a bright flame, he might melt a path for you,' said Legolas. The storm had troubled him little, and he alone of the Company remained still light of heart.

'If Elves could fly over mountains, they might fetch the Sun to save us,' answered Gandalf. 'But I must have something to work on. I cannot burn snow.'

'Well,' said Boromir, 'when heads are at a loss bodies must serve, as we say in my country. The strongest of us must seek a way. See! Though all is now snow-clad, our path, as we came up, turned about that shoulder of rock down yonder. It was there that the snow first began to burden us. If we could reach that point, maybe it would prove easier beyond. It is no more than a furlong off, I guess.'

'Then let us force a path thither, you and I!' said Aragorn.

Aragorn was the tallest of the Company, but Boromir, little less in height, was broader and heavier in build. He led the way, and Aragorn followed him. Slowly they moved off, and were soon toiling heavily. In places the snow was breast-high, and often Boromir seemed to be swimming or burrowing with his great arms rather than walking.

Legolas watched them for a while with a smile upon his lips, and then he turned to the others. 'The strongest must seek a way, say you? But I say: let a ploughman plough, but choose an otter for swimming, and for running light over grass and leaf or over snow-an Elf.'

With that he sprang forth nimbly, and then Frodo noticed as if for the first time, though he had long known it, that the Elf had no boots, but wore only light shoes, as he always did, and his feet made little imprint in the snow.

'Farewell!' he said to Gandalf. 'I go to find the Sun!' Then swift as a runner over firm sand he shot away, and quickly overtaking the toiling men, with a wave of his hand he passed them, and sped into the distance, and vanished round the rocky turn.

The others waited huddled together, watching until Boromir and Aragorn dwindled into black specks in the whiteness. At length they too passed from sight. The time dragged on. The clouds lowered, and now a few flakes of snow came curling down again.

An hour, maybe, went by, though it seemed far longer, and then at last they saw Legolas coming back. At the same time Boromir and Aragorn reappeared round the bend far behind him and came labouring up the slope.

'Well,' cried Legolas as he ran up, 'I have not brought the Sun. She is walking in the blue fields of the South, and a little wreath of snow on this Redhorn hillock troubles her not at all. But I have brought back a gleam of good hope for those who are doomed to go on feet. There is the greatest winddrift of all just beyond the turn, and there our Strong Men were almost buried. They despaired, until I returned and told them that the drift was little wider than a wall. And on the other side the snow suddenly grows less, while further down it is no more than a white coverlet to cool a hobbit's toes.'

'Ah, it is as I said,' growled Gimli. 'It was no ordinary storm. It is the ill will of Caradhras. He does not love Elves and Dwarves, and that drift was laid to cut off our escape.'

'But happily your Caradhras has forgotten that you have Men with you,' said Boromir, who came up at that moment. 'And doughty Men too, if I may say it; though lesser men with spades might have served you better. Still, we have thrust a lane through the drift; and for that all here may be grateful who cannot run as light as Elves.'

'But how are we to get down there, even if you have cut through the drift?' said Pippin, voicing the thought of all the hobbits.

'Have hope!' said Boromir. 'I am weary, but I still have some strength left, and Aragorn too. We will bear the little folk. The others no doubt will make shift to tread the path behind us. Come, Master Peregrin! I will begin with you.'

He lifted up the hobbit. 'Cling to my back! I shall need my arms' he said and strode forward. Aragorn with Merry came behind. Pippin marvelled at his strength, seeing the passage that he had already forced with no other tool than his great limbs. Even now, burdened as he was, he was widening the track for those who followed, thrusting the snow aside as he went.

They came at length to the great drift. It was flung across the mountainpath like a sheer and sudden wall, and its crest, sharp as if shaped with knives, reared up more than twice the height of Boromir; but through the middle a passage had been beaten, rising and falling like a bridge. On the far side Merry and Pippin were set down, and there they waited with Legolas for the rest of the Company to arrive.

After a while Boromir returned carrying Sam. Behind in the narrow but now well-trodden track came Gandalf, leading Bill with Gimli perched among the baggage. Last came Aragorn carrying Frodo. They passed through the lane; but hardly had Frodo touched the ground when with a deep rumble there rolled down a fall of stones and slithering snow. The spray of it half blinded the Company as they crouched against the cliff, and when the air cleared again they saw that the path was blocked behind them.

'Enough, enough!' cried Gimli. 'We are departing as quickly as we may!'

And indeed with that last stroke the malice of the mountain seemed to be expended, as if Caradhras was satisfied that the invaders had been beaten off and would not dare to return. The threat of snow lifted; the clouds began to break and the light grew broader.

As Legolas had reported, they found that the snow became steadily more shallow as they went down, so that even the hobbits could trudge along. Soon they all stood once more on the flat shelf at the head of the steep slope where they had felt the first flakes of snow the night before.

#lotr #lord of the rings #poll #polls #legolas #it came from tumblr

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thewulf · 6 months

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Brighter than the Stars || Legolas

Summary: Request - Second, could you write a reader x Legolas where after the two grew close on their journey w/ the fellowship, Legolas (and eventually the rest) noticed how the reader would look at Legolas whenever the two were together/talked... Read Rest Here

A/N: I love sweet boy Legolas. Really like how this one turned out. Let me know how you like it :)

Pairing: Legolas x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.4k +

TW: Insecurity, Slight angst, Pure fluff? No LOTR triggers

The journey of the Fellowship was one fraught with danger and uncertainty yet amidst it all, a tender bond began to blossom between you and Legolas. Gandalf had brought you along as the healer, but it was Legolas who captured your attention with his ethereal grace and unwavering kindness towards you. From the moment you laid eyes on him, you felt a pull towards Legolas that you couldn't quite explain. Perhaps it was the way his eyes sparkled like sunlight filtering through the trees, or the gentle softness of his voice as he spoke of the wonders of middle earth. Whatever it was, you found yourself drawn to him more and more every day.

At first, Legolas treated you with the same courtesy he extended to all members of the Fellowship. Yet, as the days passed, and your interactions became more frequent he couldn't help but feel a stirring in his heart whenever you were near. It was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a newfound depth to his feelings that he hadn't realized before. As the days turned into weeks the subtle shift in dynamics within the Fellowship did not go unnoticed by the other members. Aragorn with his keen perception honed by years of ranging across Middle earth was among the first to pick up on the blossoming affection between you and Legolas. He observed the lingering gazes, the gentle touches, and the shared smiles that passed between you. Though he said nothing, a knowing look passed between him and Boromir whenever your eyes met.

Gimli, ever the gruff but good-hearted dwarf couldn't resist teasing Legolas about his newfound fondness for the human healer. "I see you've taken quite a liking to our healer, Master Elf," he remarked one evening with a twinkle of amusement in his eye. Legolas merely responded with a raised eyebrow and a secretive smile, neither confirming nor denying Gimli's suspicions.

Even Boromir, burdened with the weight of his own quest and the responsibility of protecting the hobbits couldn't help but notice the subtle shift in Legolas' demeanor whenever you were near. He observed the way Legolas would seek out your company during their brief respites. For you there was a softness in his eyes that betrayed his usual stoic gaze.

Yet, it was the hobbits who truly brought the matter to light as their curious natures were unable to resist the opportunity for a bit of mischief. Merry and Pippin in particular took it upon themselves to play matchmakers. Much to the amusement of the rest of the Fellowship sans you and Legolas.

"I say, Pippin, have you noticed the way Y/N looks at Legolas?" Merry whispered conspiratorially one evening as they huddled around the campfire. The two of you were lost in conversation. So much so that Legolas wasn’t even paying attention to the comments around him. His focus was solely on you.

Pippin, his eyes wide with excitement, nodded eagerly. "Aye, Merry, it's as plain as the nose on Gandalf's face! She's smitten, that's for certain." Earning the laughter of the hobbits at that remark and a smack on the back of the head from Gandalf.

Armed with their newfound knowledge, the hobbits embarked on their mission to uncover the truth. And though Legolas and you remained oblivious to their antics, the spark of romance that had ignited between you could not be denied. Sam and Frodo, ever the loyal and steadfast companions watched the unfolding dynamic between you and Legolas with a mixture of amusement and quiet support. While they appreciated Merry and Pippin's enthusiasm they also understood the delicate nature of romance amidst the perils of their quest.

At first, Sam and Frodo exchanged knowing glances whenever Merry, and Pippin attempted to prod you or Legolas about your feelings. However, as the hobbits' antics grew more persistent they decided it was time to intervene albeit in their own subtle way. "Perhaps it's best to let them be, Merry," Sam murmured one evening as they watched you and Legolas share a quiet moment by the fire. "Love has a way of finding its own path after all."

Frodo nodded in agreement. His gaze thoughtful. "Indeed, Sam. And if Legolas and Y/N are meant to be, then nothing we say or do will change that." While Merry and Pippin continued their matchmaking schemes with gusto, Sam and Frodo opted for a more hands-off approach. They were content to watch the budding romance between you and Legolas unfold organically.

Gandalf the wise and enigmatic wizard, had a keen intuition that often surpassed the understanding of those around him. When he insisted on bringing you along as the healer for the Fellowship he did so with a subtle knowledge of the bonds that would form among its members. This included the burgeoning connection between you and Legolas. Though Gandalf didn't overtly push you towards Legolas, his gentle guidance and sage advice often served as a catalyst for self-discovery. He recognized the spark of potential between you and Legolas, understanding that love knew no boundaries, not even those between different races.

In quiet moments by the campfire or during their long marches across middle earth, Gandalf would offer words of wisdom and encouragement as he nudged you towards introspection and self-awareness. Through his guidance you began to unravel the complexities of your own heart slowly coming to terms with the depth of your feelings for Legolas. It was during one such conversation with Gandalf that the truth finally dawned on you. As you confided in him about your confusion and uncertainty regarding your growing affection for Legolas, Gandalf listened patiently, his eyes twinkling with a knowing light.

"My dear Y/N, love is a powerful force that transcends race and circumstance," Gandalf said, his voice gentle yet firm. "Do not shy away from the feelings that stir within you. Embrace them, for they may lead you towards a happiness beyond your wildest dreams."

And as you gazed into Gandalf's wise eyes, a sense of clarity washed over you as if a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. In that moment you understood that your feelings for Legolas were not a mere fleeting fancy, but a deep and profound connection that had blossomed amidst the trials and tribulations of your journey.

As the days stretched into weeks and the Fellowship journeyed through the untamed landscapes of middle earth Legolas found himself increasingly drawn to your side. There was an undeniable magnetism between the two of you. A pull that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. He savored the moments when you tended to his wounds, relishing in the gentle touch of your hands against his skin. There was a soothing quality to your presence. A warmth that seeped into his bones and chased away the shadows of doubt that lingered in his heart.

Yet, it wasn't just your healing abilities that captivated Legolas. It was the way you listened intently as he spoke of his homeland, your eyes alight with genuine interest and curiosity. In your company he felt understood in a way he never had before as if you saw beyond the facade of the stoic elf prince into the depths of his soul. And as he watched you laugh and joke with the hobbits a soft smile tugged at the corners of Legolas' lips. There was a lightness to your presence that filled him with a sense of joy he hadn't felt in ages. It was a feeling that he couldn't quite put into words.

It was during one such quiet moment by the campfire that Legolas finally admitted the truth to himself. As he watched you interact with the hobbits a surge of warmth washed over him igniting a fire within his chest that he couldn't ignore any longer. It was then that he realized he wanted more than just friendship with you; he wanted to explore the depths of this newfound connection, to see where it could lead.

As the night settled around the campfire, casting its warm glow upon the Fellowship. Merry and Pippin seized the opportunity to indulge in their mischievous tendencies. With conspiratorial grins and playful nudges, they pulled you aside, their eyes dancing with excitement. "Alright, Y/N, spill the beans," Merry said with a lopsided grin, leaning in closer as if sharing a secret. "What's going on between you and Legolas?"

You blinked in surprise, caught off guard by their sudden interrogation. "I... I don't know what you mean," you stammered, your cheeks flushing crimson with embarrassment.

Pippin chuckled, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "Oh, come on now, Y/N. You can't fool us! We've seen the way you look at him."

Your heart skipped a beat as you fumbled for a response, desperately trying to come up with an explanation that wouldn't reveal the true depth of your feelings. "I... uh...I just...admire his...hair," you finally blurted out, the words sounding feeble even to your own ears.

Merry and Pippin exchanged incredulous looks before bursting into laughter, their mirth echoing through the quiet night air. "His hair?" Merry exclaimed between bouts of laughter. "Is that all?"

Pippin nodded, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "Oh, Y/N, you really are something else."

You couldn't help but join in their laughter, though a part of you cringed at the absurdity of your own words. How could you have been so foolish as to think that admiring Legolas' hair would suffice as an explanation for the complex emotions swirling within you?

And as you glanced across the campfire to see Legolas with his back turned to you chatting with Boromir did a sheepish smile playing on your lips. You couldn't help but wonder what he must think of your clumsy attempt at deflecting the truth. Little did you know, he had overheard the entire exchange. His own heart swelling with affection at the realization that your feelings for him ran deeper than mere admiration for his hair.

As the laughter subsided and the hobbits' playful teasing continued, you found yourself squirming under their scrutiny. Merry and Pippin exchanged knowing glances, their mischievous smiles widening as they prodded you further.

"Come now, Y/N, there's no need to be shy," Merry teased, nudging you with his elbow. "We all know there's more to it than just his hair."

You sighed, feeling the weight of their relentless questioning pressing down on you. "Alright, fine," you admitted reluctantly, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. "Maybe I... maybe I do like him."

Merry and Pippin exchanged triumphant looks, their grins widening into smirks as they teased you mercilessly. "Ha! We knew it!" Pippin exclaimed with a grin. "You fancy the elf prince!"

You flushed even deeper feeling the heat of embarrassment spreading through your entire being. "It's not like that," you protested weakly though the truth of your feelings hung heavy in the air.

But beneath their teasing, there was a genuine warmth in Merry and Pippin's eyes, a silent reassurance that they meant no harm. And yet despite their best intentions a seed of doubt had already taken root in your mind. Why would an Elven prince like Legolas with his ethereal beauty and noble lineage ever be interested in a lowly healer from Eriador? It seemed like a fantasy too far-fetched to even entertain. It was a cruel trick of fate that mocked your deepest desires.

The hobbits noticed the shift in your demeanor, their playful teasing softened into genuine concern. Merry and Pippin exchanged worried glances, their smiles fading as they realized the depth of your insecurity. "Hey, Y/N, what's wrong?" Pippen asked, his voice gentle as he reached out to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Did we go too far with the teasing?"

You shook your head, trying to force a smile despite the heavy weight of doubt pressing down on your chest. "No, it's not that," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's just...I can't get my hopes up, you know? Legolas is an Elven prince, and I'm just a lowly human from Eriador. He could never feel the same way about me."

Merry’s eyes widened with understanding. His expression filled with empathy. "Oh, Y/N, don't say that," he said softly, his voice tinged with sadness. "You're worth more than you know. Legolas sees something special in you, I'm sure of it."

But your heart felt heavy with doubt, the weight of centuries of tradition and prejudice bearing down on your shoulders. How could you ever hope to compete with the storied history and timeless beauty of the elves? It seemed like a fool's errand. A futile pursuit that would only end in heartbreak. As you poured out your heart to Merry and Pippin, unaware of Legolas' keen ears tuned in to your conversation the Elven prince's own heart ached with a bittersweet mixture of longing and sadness.

Though he had overheard snippets of your conversation with the hobbits, it wasn't until now that the full extent of your insecurities became painfully clear to him. As he turned away from his conversation with Aragorn, his attention fully captured by your words. A pang of empathy pierced through his chest. To hear you speak of yourself with such self-doubt and resignation broke Legolas' heart in ways he couldn't fully articulate. How could you not see the radiant light that shone within you? the kindness and strength that had endeared you to him from the very beginning?

Legolas felt a fierce determination ignite within him. A resolve to show you just how extraordinary you truly were. He longed to sweep away the shadows of doubt that clouded your mind and to replace them with the unshakeable belief in your own worth that you so rightfully deserved.

With a silent vow in his heart, Legolas turned his gaze back to the campfire. His mind ablaze with thoughts of how he could show you the depth of his feelings and the true beauty that lay within your heart As Legolas listened intently to your conversation with Merry and Pippin his heart swelled with a mixture of sadness and determination. He couldn't help but feel the weight of their shared concern for you.

Across the campfire, Merry and Pippin exchanged knowing glances. Their expressions filled with a silent plea for Legolas to intervene. With a subtle nod and a meaningful look they motioned for him to join them, hoping that he could offer you the reassurance and support you so desperately needed.

Legolas met their gazes with silent understanding. His resolve strengthening with each passing moment. With a graceful movement he rose from his seat by the fire. His footsteps were light as he made his way towards you. He was careful not to draw attention to himself.

As he approached Merry and Pippin stepped aside, their eyes flickering with a silent message that Legolas understood all too well. With a grateful nod he took their place by your side, his presence a comforting presence in the midst of your turmoil. Though you remained unaware of his silent exchange with Merry and Pippin, Legolas couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude towards the hobbits for their unwavering loyalty and support. And as he settled in beside you his gaze met yours with a tenderness that took your breath away

“Y/N,” he began, his tone gentle as a whisper of the wind through the trees, "I couldn't help but notice that something seems to be troubling you.."

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the realization that Legolas had sensed your inner turmoil and you couldn't help but feel a pang of self-consciousness. "I'm sorry, Legolas," you murmured, your gaze flickering away from his intense gaze. "I don’t mean to burden you with my concerns."

But Legolas reached out to gently tilt your chin upwards, his touch sending a flutter of warmth through your chest. "No need to apologize, mellon-nîn," he said, his voice filled with a tenderness that melted away your fears. "I want you to know that you are worth more than you could ever imagine."

Your heart swelled with gratitude at his words, a flicker of hope igniting within you as you met his gaze. "That is kind of you to say." you whispered, unable to contain the doubt that still lingered in your heart. "But I'm just a human healer, and you're... you're an Elven prince. In another life we would never have even crossed paths.”

Legolas smiled with a softness in his eyes that spoke of a depth of feeling you had never known before. "We do not choose who we were born to," he said, his voice barely above a whisper yet filled with a quiet intensity, "you are kind, and brave, and full of a light that shines brighter than any star in the sky."

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest at the sincerity in his gaze. As you looked into his eyes, you felt a flicker of something stirring deep within you. A longing that you couldn't quite name.

"But," he added with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "if it's my hair that has caught your fancy, I must say, I've spent centuries perfecting it."

As Legolas spoke, his words carrying a playful yet genuine warmth, your mouth dropped open in realization. A blush flooded your cheeks as you processed his teasing remark, a mixture of surprise and embarrassment washing over you. How could you have forgotten that Legolas possessed such keen perception, his senses far surpassing your own?

Feeling a sudden urge to hide away from him, to shield yourself from the intensity of his gaze, you instinctively turned away. Your gaze fixed on the flickering flames of the campfire. It was easy to forget that Legolas was not just a companion but an elf prince with abilities and perceptions far beyond your own. Even as you sought to hide your embarrassment you couldn't help but feel a flutter of warmth in your chest at Legolas' playful teasing. There was a familiarity in his words, a shared moment of levity amidst the weight of your doubts and insecurities.

As Legolas noticed your sudden shyness a playful yet tender smile graced his lips. "Don't hide away from me," he said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that enveloped you like a comforting embrace. "If it makes you feel any better, I quite like your hair too. In fact, I like so much about you..."

You turned back to him, your heart racing with a mixture of apprehension and hope. "You do?" you asked, unable to hide the hint of surprise in your voice.

Legolas nodded. His gaze unwavering as he met your eyes. "Yes," he said, his voice steady and sincere. "I've admired you from the moment we met. Your kindness, your bravery, your unwavering spirit... They've all captured my heart."

Your breath caught in your throat at his confession, a rush of emotion swelling within you. "Legolas..." you whispered, your voice filled with awe and disbelief.

He reached out to gently cup your cheek, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "I know that our paths may be uncertain, and the road ahead may be fraught with danger," he continued, his gaze soft yet determined. "But I want you to know that my feelings for you are anything but uncertain. I care for you deeply, Y/N. I want nothing more than to explore this connection between us."

Tears welled up in your eyes at his heartfelt words. A sense of overwhelming joy flooding your heart. "I... I feel the same way," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

As Legolas leaned in closer, a tender smile gracing his lips he pressed a soft kiss against your cheek. It was a gentle lingering touch that spoke volumes. A silent promise of the love and affection that lay between you. Feeling the warmth of his lips against your skin sent a rush of butterflies fluttering in your stomach. It was a sensation that felt like the soft caress of a summer breeze. You closed your eyes savoring the moment. You let yourself feel the depth of his emotions conveyed in that simple gesture.

And as Legolas wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close in a comforting embrace, you nestled into him, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your own. In that embrace, surrounded by the soft glow of the campfire and the tranquil beauty of the night, you felt a profound sense of peace wash over you letting you know that everything would be quite alright.

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runesandramblings · 1 year

Text

The Heir

Word Count: 2200

Pairings: Thorin x reader

Warnings: None

Description: Your pregnancy creates questions over the line of succession.

You couldn’t recall the last time you’d seen your toes.

As you waddled, quite literally, down the stone corridors of Erebor you realized you could not remember the last time you’d been able to see your feet. Sometime around the middle of your pregnancy it felt as though your stomach had doubled in size overnight, and you’d only grown since then. Dwarves were small, of course, but hobbits were even smaller and you supposed that was why your belly protruded far enough out that you felt it could tip you over at any moment.

“(Y/N), what might I ask are you doing out of bed?”

You turned slowly around, carefully as to not lose your balance, to find Bilbo standing behind you. His arms were crossed over his chest as he gave you a knowing, reprimanding look.

“You should be resting. Didn’t Oin order you to bed until the baby comes?”

Oh Bilbo, ever the worrier. Yes, Oin technically had asked you to remain in bed until you gave birth. Mostly due to your small size and the fact that you were now two days past his original estimation of your due date. But you’d grown restless. There was nothing to do, besides read, and you’d exhausted every book that Ori had been kind enough to bring you. There was also a big decision ahead to be made, and you couldn’t stop troubling yourself over it.

“Has he made an announcement?” You asked quietly.

Bilbo’s frown only deepened as he shook his head.

“No, I don’t believe he has.”

That did nothing to ease the anxious pit in your stomach. Your child could come any day now, and Thorin had still not announced what would become of the line of succession. You felt your heart torn in two directions as you thought of both Fili and your unborn son or daughter. Of course, you wanted your child to have a place in the line. But you also did not want to take away the birthright Fili had held since he himself was a baby. Thorin had never anticipated he would one day take back the mountain. He’d also never anticipated falling in love and finally marrying, after all these years. Fili had held the title of heir for over 80 years now, and it didn’t feel right to take that away.

“Ghivashel.”

You looked up to see Thorin strolling toward you, followed closely by Kili and Fili on either side. Both nodded, bowing their heads to you out of respect. Kili met your gaze with a smile as he lifted his head. You frowned as Fili forced a smile, but would not look you in the eye. The decision that lay ahead had forced a rift between the two of you. It pained you deeply. You’d grown incredibly close to Kili and Fili both on the journey to Erebor, and as your nephews by marriage your relationship had remained close in the years that followed. But the news of your pregnancy had raised the same question in Fili’s mind as it had the rest of the mountain: who would be the heir to the throne?

You couldn’t blame him for worrying. He was not upset with you, as he’d told you numerous times over your pregnancy. But the closer your due date grew, the more distant he became. You knew it was weighing heavily on his mind, as it was yours.

Both brothers excused themselves as they continued down the corridor, leaving you and Thorin to speak privately. Somewhat privately, that was, as you could still feel Bilbo lingering behind you. Ever your protector, as he had been for years.

“What are you doing out of bed? Shouldn’t you be resting?” Thorin placed his hand tenderly on your belly as he spoke.

You rested your hand on top of his as you also looked down at your bump. In spite of the questions, the doubts, and the decisions left to be made, you couldn’t wait to meet your little one. Watching Thorin prepare for the birth of your child had reminded you of all the reasons you fell in love. As crass and cold as he often came off to those who didn’t know him well, you knew there was a hidden soft side underneath. The caring, gentle man that you’d grown to know and love over the course of the journey to Erebor.

“I was just checking to see if you’d made a decision, yasthûn. It’s making me restless.”

He shook his head as he turned his gaze from your stomach to look into your eyes.

“You don’t need to trouble yourself over that, my love. You need your rest. I can’t have you going into labor in some obscure corner of the mountain.” He looked behind you to where Bilbo still stood. “Master Baggins, would you escort the queen back to our chambers?” He leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. “I will see you later this evening. Rest.” He said sternly, his serious expression cracking into a smile as he turned to follow in the direction Kili and Fili had gone.

You sighed in defeat as you accepted Bilbo’s outstretched arm. The two of you walked in silence for several minutes as he steered you back towards your rooms.

“Never thought we’d be here.” He said finally, breaking the silence.

“You mean with myself as a queen and you as a royal advisor to a king?” You asked as you waddled along beside him. You hadn’t either.

Bilbo had been your neighbor in Bag End. He had taken notice when you moved in as you were very young and lived alone, and he’d taken it upon himself to look after you. The pair of you had become close friends, often gardening together and exchanging stories over daily tea and cakes for years. On the fateful night of the dwarves' arrival to his home, you’d just so happened to be over for dinner. Gandalf had not anticipated getting two hobbits in the place of one, but he had willingly accepted your offer to join the party. During the journey something had sparked between you and Thorin, and although he was the holdout he eventually confessed his feelings after you’d defeated Smaug. The two of you had married shortly after the battle against Azog and his armies, and the rest was history.

You felt yourself growing tired as you neared your chamber door. It was amazing how such little effort wore you out nowadays. The baby could not come soon enough.

“Thank you, Bilbo.” You said, stopping before your door. “I’m always grateful for you.”

He smiled in return as held it open for you.

“Anything for you, dear friend.”

Your walk that afternoon seemed to have done the trick, and later that same evening you went into labor. Thorin had remained by your side through the entirety of your twelve hour labor, and you’d given birth to a baby girl. After a few days of debate over a name, Dis had actually been the one to help you decide.

“Rosina is such a beautiful name, (Y/N). How did you come up with it?”

Tauriel held your baby girl in her arms, rocking her gently. Oin had instructed you to have no visitors for the first two weeks, with the exception of Dis and Thorin. It was winter, and sickness often spread much more quickly in the cold months. After the ban on visitors had finally been lifted Tauriel had been the first to come and see your daughter, and she’d been spending every afternoon in your chambers since.

You smiled as you watched her with your newborn, wondering when she and Kili would have a little one of their own.

“Rosie is a popular name in Bag End, and I’ve always loved it. Dis altered it into Rosina, actually.”

“Well it’s a perfect fit for a little princess. I think she looks just like you.” She said, beaming down at your infant as she spoke.

The mention of the word princess instantly drew your thoughts back to Thorin, Fili, and the decision still at hand. It was nearing the three week mark since Rosina’s birth, and Thorin had still not made an announcement on his succession.

“I think she looks like Thorin.” You said, trying to turn your thoughts away from troubles that continued to plague you. “Especially when Dis holds her. You can really see the Durin resemblance.”

A gentle knock at the door interrupted your conversation, and after you called out that it was safe to enter Kili stepped into the room.

“My queen.” He greeted, nodding. His grin widened as he turned to Tauriel. “My love. (Y/N), are you feeling well enough to join us? Thorin has an announcement he’d like to make.”

You felt your pulse quicken as you quickly stood from your chair. This was it.

Tauriel offered a reassuring smile as she placed Rosina back in your outstretched arms. She knew as well as Kili did of the tension surrounding the impending decision.

Your heart continued to pound in your chest as you followed Kili down the endless corridors. The walk to Thorin’s meeting space had never felt so long. What had he decided? Would Fili resent you and your daughter forever? Would your child ever take the throne?

You entered the room to find Thorin sat at the head of the table. Fili sat on his right, followed by his wife. Bilbo, Dis, Balin, and a handful of other advisors sat around them, all watching you expectantly as you walked through the door. The seat on Thorin’s left was open, and as you made eye contact he smiled warmly and stood to greet you. You felt all eyes in the room follow you as you moved to stand beside your husband. As you approached he reached out and gently took the baby from you, holding her in one arm as he pulled your seat out with the other. He beamed proudly as he stood at the head of the table, holding her out just far enough for the others to see.

“First things first. Please meet the newest princess under the mountain, my beautiful daughter Rosina.”

The room was filled with happy murmurs and whispered congratulations as the faces around the table exchanged smiles and compliments toward your newborn. You saw Fili smile up at her as well from his seat next to Thorin, though you could see the hint of sadness behind his eyes. Another pang of guilt and worry shot through you.

“I know there have been many questions and concerns over the line of succession in the past months.” He began, rocking your daughter gently as he spoke. “I never expected I would marry, or become a father.

“However, there is no doubt in my mind that I made the right decision in naming Fili as my heir. He has remained my faithful right hand for many years. He’s learned and absorbed everything I’ve had to offer. It is not merely a name that makes a king, and whether or not he is my son by birth he is willing and capable of leading Erebor one day.”

You exchanged a glance across the table with Fili as Thorin continued.

“Therefore, the line of succession will continue as follows. Upon either my death or retirement, Fili will become king under the mountain. But in order to remain fair to my own children, upon Fili’s death or retirement, the line will revert back to my daughter, and any future children she may have.” He paused, looking around the table. “Does this please you all?”

There was a chorus of affirmations and nods from around the table. Thorin turned to his nephew.

“Fili?”

The worried lines that had furrowed his brow for many months now had dissipated. You could see the relief and surprise across the young dwarf’s face.

“I am more than pleased, Uncle.” He said. “You honor me.”

“Fili will make a wonderful king.” You spoke up, smiling across the table. The decision had not been one you’d even stopped to consider, and you were thrilled. Fili would not lose his position, and your daughter would not be snubbed. It was a win for everyone.

Fili beamed back at you in response.

“Rosina will make a wonderful queen one day as well.” As he spoke he gestured to your daughter in Thorin’s arms, indicating he’d like to hold her. As he cradled the baby against his chest you felt your heart swell. Seeing the two of them together filled your mind with so many visions of your future as a family. You could see it now: Fili taking his little cousin under his wing as she grew, he and Kili both teaching her to play pranks on Thorin as they had. Maybe even little ones of their own for her to play with in the future.

“The first queen under the mountain.” Fili continued, smiling from your daughter up to look at you. “She’s going to make history.”

Yasthûn - husband

Ghivashel - my treasure

#the hobbit #lord of the rings #the hobbit oneshot #the hobbit trilogy #the hobbit movies #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit x reader #thorin x reader #thorin oakenshield #thorin #thorin x you #Thorin Oakenshield x reader #Thorin Oakenshield x you #thorin x y/n #king thorin #thorin oneshot #Thorin imagine

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rivendell-poet · 1 month

Text

*･༓˚✧❝𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐭 (𝐋𝐨𝐭𝐑)❞‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧ « scenarios »

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

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

TWS : Drinking, implied arranged marriage that doesn't happen & isn't between reader and Faramir (Faramir), nothing else

« 1, 2, masterlist »

𝐀𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐧

✧ As one of the Dúnedain rangers who looked after the Shire, you had instantly gone to Frodo's side once Gandalf showed up. Although you didn't know the full details of the plan (they hadn't yet trusted you with the secrets of the ring) you agreed to escort them to Bree so they could meet with Gandalf there.

✧ Aragorn noticed you first when you entered The Prancing Pony, carefully herding the hobbits in and making sure that they didn't run off, or get into trouble.

✧ When you look around to try and spot Gandalf he begins to slip into the shadows out of habit, but stops himself and stays easily seen. Aragorn doesn’t know why he lets you see him, but the tension even slightly leaving your eyes seems to make it worth it. Even in the light, you both recognise each other as Dúnedain.

✧ After Aragorn takes Frodo to a separate room, he barely has time to begin his greetings before you swing open the door with the other hobbits and a sword to his neck demanding you release him.

✧ Normally he’d be intimidated, perhaps on guard with you, but even with a sword to his neck the first feeling he gets is admiration - it’s rare to catch him off guard like you have.

✧ The two of you work well together, even though you're slightly suspicious of him, and when Frodo decides to place his trust in the ranger you give it to him as well.

✧ While setting up the fake hobbits together there's some debate over who will keep watch and eventually both of you stay up together (sitting in a comfortable silence).

𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬

✧ Even if Denethor hadn’t approved of Faramir going to Rivendell, he did allow you to accompany Boromir to the valley. (You had gone because Faramir asked you, saying your job - a ranger who often scouted Mordor - would be valuable, even if he didn’t know why).

✧ When you had finally arrived in Rivendell you didn’t immediately admire the scenery, instead focusing on finally being (truly) clean after over a hundred days of travel.

✧ Once you were happy with yourself you thought it only right to look at the beauty of Rivendell, wandering aimlessly.

✧ It was then, after taking the same turn for the third time, that an elf suddenly appeared with a pitying look and asked if you had ever been to Rivendell before.

✧ Legolas is delighted when you take him up on his offer to show you around (Mirkwood is not exactly the best place to roam) and takes great pleasure in showing you different places.

✧ At almost every turn he asks you which places you’d prefer to see, taking you on a rather haphazard tour (although he doesn’t seem phased by it).

✧ He doesn’t recognise your Gondorian accent at first, but once he does he’s eager to ask more about it and your opinions.

✧ Eventually, as the stars and moon begin to light your walk, you apologise and explain you must be up early in the morning for an important meeting.

✧ Realising you’ll also be at the Council of Elrond, Legolas wishes you a good night’s rest and that he will see you soon.

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐨

✧ Gandalf, over the years, employed many people to subtly watch over the Shire - and you were one of them.

✧ Traditionally based in Bree, you had been honoured to be chosen by the grey wizard and kept a close eye on the Baggins family.

✧ Eventually, after being slightly careless the day before, Bilbo manages to find and confront you about your intentions (albeit aided by the one ring).

✧ After learning you're a friend of Gandalf, he quickly invites you in to talk about it over luncheon.

✧ Frodo is surprised when you suddenly appear with his uncle for food, but he accepts it.

✧ The two of you are quick to bond when you talk about your travels - even if most are only a few days away from the Shire.

✧ He's completely enamoured by you - and Bilbo eats quickly to excuse himself and let you two be alone.

✧ You reinforce his ideas of going on one of Bilbo’s grand adventures, and after luncheon is over Frodo asks you to stay so that you may talk some more.

✧ The two of you spend the rest of the day pouring over old maps as you tell him the facts you’ve learnt about those places from the wild, while he shares the facts that his beloved books tell him.

✧ When you realise the time you try to excuse yourself, but Bilbo insists you spend the night in a guest room.

𝐒𝐚𝐦

✧ Like most of the Shire, you were out in the summer festival - enjoying the field that had been cleared to make way for food, dancing, tents, hobbits sitting about, and more food.

✧ Predictably, your friends had dragged you into dancing, they wanted to as well but were too scared to go alone, and then had left you without partners you knew.

✧ The first few spins had been fun, but eventually you needed to take a break and actually enjoy what else the festival had to offer.

✧ As you stand close to the dancers, a hobbit with darker curly hair (the younger Baggins) comes up to.

✧ You ready yourself to say no to dancing, but instead he asks if you’ll dance with his friend.

✧ The words ‘no’ die in your mouth as you see the hobbit next to him, shy but looking on hopefully at the dancing before casting a glance to you.

✧ “Gladly.”

✧ To your pleasant surprise, he’s a decent dancer, and when you both run out of energy to go again Sam rushes to get you both food and seats.

✧ It’s a small gesture, in the scheme of things, but over the food he’s collected and the cheer in the air you can’t help thinking of just how sweet Samwise already is to you.

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲

✧ Being a hobbit from Bree meant you didn’t often travel to the Shire - it was a rather long distance after all - but it was always nice when you did.

✧ Like travelling to the harvest festival for when the crops started to become bountiful, and everything would be freshly picked and perfectly cooked. You could celebrate in Bree, but food based festivals are always better when done by hobbits.

✧ You’re stuck on what stall to eat from first, overwhelmed at all the options, when a young hobbit suddenly taps you on the shoulder and asks if you need help in choosing something.

✧ Deciding to trust the locals you say yes, and it’s rewarded by a large smile from the hobbit before Merry introduces himself then instantly begins to drag you to a further away stall - talking about all the different options, before trying to guess what flavour you’d like.

✧ He gets above five flavours in before stopping, and saying you should choose what you want - not what he thinks.

✧ When you decide, his eyes seem to light up even more as he tells you that’s his favourite too.

✧ The two of you spend the rest of the night together, and he eventually asks if you’re from Bree.

✧ You say yes but that you’re staying for a while, to which Merry immediately offers to show you around the Shire - offering a date for tomorrow.

𝐏𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧

✧ As one of Elrond’s advisors, you’re aware that something big is going to happen soon. Any elf in Rivendell can feel it, especially when you’re privy to whispers of information such as ‘Sauron’ and ‘the one ring’.

✧ What you aren’t expecting is for this ‘something’ to be in the form of hobbits, one brought by Arwen - and the other three to be brought by Aragorn.

✧ Knowing the Nazgul’s attack on them, you wait on the borders of Rivendell for Isildur’s heir and his company.

✧ When Pippin sees you, almost silhouetted by the falling sun, he believes for a second you might be an angel.

✧ Even when you move to where he can see you (and begin admonishing Aragorn in Elvish) he still can’t shake the feeling that someone like you is too good for him and the hobbits.

✧ He doesn’t realise he’s staring, or blushing, until you come in front of him and gently kneel to check his forehead, asking if he’s ok.

✧ It takes him a second to respond - which probably doesn’t give too much confidence - but you accept his answering, welcoming him to Rivendell.

✧ The place is beautiful, but when you leave them to inform Lord Elrond of their arrival he can’t help thinking the place is already not quite as good.

𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐫

✧ It was at times like this, when you’d been called away from the crucial stronghold of Osgiliath because of ‘important meetings’, that you wished the rangers didn’t have to listen to Boromir, Captain of the White Tower, and could instead listen to his younger brother, your actual commander.

✧ This thought was probably shared among a lot of the rangers, but you were the only one brave enough to say it, which is why you were currently in what reminded you suspiciously of a school’s detention room.

✧ Apparently this was a good deterrent, seeing as only you were in here, holding a small slip of paper that says ‘Disrespectful to the Captain of the White Tower’.

✧ The door opens, finally, and you’re just about to express your thanks to them for actually showing up when you realise who it is.

✧ Boromir, Captain of the White Tower, stares back at you just as you realise you’re going to have to tell this man what you did.

✧ Trying to master the art of vanishing from Middle Earth, you can feel yourself blushing when you hand him your write-up slip.

✧ There’s a second of silence before a small laugh escapes him, and he looks at you more directly before asking what you said.

✧ You’re honest about it, and to your surprise he asks you for clarification and follow-ups, actually listening to your suggestions.

✧ In the end, it’s a bell chiming that snaps you out of your discussions and when the two of you get up to leave he opens the door with a smile, wishing you a good day.

𝐅𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐫

✧ For the last three years, the Lord Steward had tried to find a betrothed for his eldest son, Boromir. For the last three years you had consistently refused to go. This year, however, your parents had finally put their foot down and made you attend the ceremony.

✧ It was a very small chance he’d choose you, and a (hopefully) even smaller chance the engagement would become anything.

✧ But on the chance it would, you decide to do what anyone would do, and get slightly drunk in a tavern to try and hook up with someone.

✧ With incredible wisdom, you had taken up a spot in a dark corner where literally no-one was approaching you.

✧ And then someone does.

✧ You’re shocked he hasn’t already found someone; not many people would turn down the man in front of you.

✧ In the tavern light his grey eyes seem to shine, his hair a gorgeous colour that reminds you of sweet caramel and looks incredibly soft.

✧ Moved, not entirely by the drink, you find yourself going over - saying a comment and trying to smile, laughing at his response.

✧ There’s a second of silence between the two of you and you realise how close you are.

✧ You close the gap, and the two of you are kissing - you’re going back against the wall and your hands reach out to pull him closer - then it stops.

✧ A muttered apology is all you get before he leaves.

✧ And in the morning you’re left with the vague memory of a kiss, a memory of a semi-familiar man, and a hangover.

𝐄𝐨𝐰𝐲𝐧

✧ As Aragorn’s younger sibling, you’re no stranger to people fawning over your brother. That does not mean, however, it doesn’t amuse you and you don’t tease him incredibly.

✧ You watch Aragorn leave the stables, having just enough time to congratulate him on his new horse, and his new admirer, before said admirer appears.

✧ Although you tease your brother you’re still good to the people who fall for him, and you give a respectful nod to the girl - Éowyn.

✧ She smiles back at you, before her eyes flicker between you and your brother. It’s a tale as old as time, and you sit up slightly straighter.

✧ What you don't expect, however, is for her to compare you in terms of spirit - how both of you seem elven, and noble.

✧ Normally people make a shallower comparison, or just go to you to confirm facts, and it’s refreshing and nice to hear that instead.

✧ You confirm your relation to him, before focusing your attention back on her. That her nature seems noble as well, and that it seems like her uncles.

✧ When she glows at the compliment you smile, and the next few minutes of small talk are pleasant before you’re pulled away.

𝐄𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫

✧ You first see Éomer while waiting for his sister to arrive, humming to yourself in the great wooden halls.

✧ To your credit you only jump a little when he appears out of no-where, and on his part he is most apologetic.

✧ From his perspective, he came because he heard the sound of your humming - better than the songs sung over festivals in this hall - and wishes to know from whom it came.

✧ He’s silent at first, scared to move in case he startles you too badly - and not wanting to be loud and disrupt the song.

✧ Hesitantly, he asks who you are - and if you are the friend his sister has spoken so highly of.

✧ When you confirm that is you, he says it’s an honour to meet you and he’s glad you’ve been such a good friend to his sister.

✧ There’s a pause again, and just when you’re about to speak Éowyn appears by your side and ready to go.

✧ As happy as you are to go with her, something in you is regretful you could not spend more time getting to know Éomer.

𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐝

✧ In jail for assaulting a counsellor, especially as a guard of Laketown, is not exactly how you expected your Friday shift to go. Still, when you stare at the girl next to you (Sigrid) you can’t find it in yourself to feel bad about doing what you did.

✧ You had simply seen Alfrid towering over her, her being clearly uncomfortable - and you had pulled him off when things got physical. It was bad luck Sigrid had punched him at the same time, landing you both in jail.

✧ The girl seems more apologetic around you being here than her actions, to be honest, and she keeps reassuring you that her dad will come soon to sort things out.

✧ On Bard’s part, the news that his daughter is in jail for punching a counsellor is not what he wanted to hear but he goes out immediately. He’s about to head off when Sigrid tells him about you, and of course Bard realises he needs to get you out as well.

✧ When a drop-dead gorgeous man appears outside your cell, your mind begins to debate the merits of flirting your way out before he introduces himself as Sigrid’s father.

✧ Once you get out he thanks you profusely, as well as apologising for his daughter, but you wave him off with a smile.

✧ Bard can barely believe someone with this much honour still exists in this place, and makes a small note to thank whatever’s out there for having you look after his daughter.

✧ Eventually, you manage to convince him to stop thanking you and to let you go home - although when the man gives you one more piece of sincere praise you can’t find yourself annoyed.

𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐢𝐥

✧ As you sit at a beautifully carved, uncomfortable desk you realise you’re not as nervous as you probably should be to meet the king.

✧ You’ve seen him before, of course, looking at him when all the elves of Mirkwood are out - or gossiping with the other single elves about what are decidedly fantasies. But you’ve never spoken.

✧ As a private tutor, in written work and fighting, you had jumped at the opportunity to mentor Prince Legolas.

✧ The door opens and you rise to your feet immediately, going into a deep bow.

✧ As Thranduil bids you to rise, you can feel his eyes sweeping over you and looking for any imperfections.

✧ Instead of cowering you meet his gaze, and you swear you see the ghost of a smile on his face before it becomes more serious.

✧ The interview, one of many, is surprisingly pleasant and you find it easy to talk to him.

✧ When you are made to leave, he watches you exit, thinking about saying something before thanking you for your performance and interest in the role.

✧ It’s a small gesture, but to be thanked by the king? It puts a bounce in your step for the rest of the day.

𝐓𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥

✧ As the tenth shot in as many minutes hits the target perfectly, you can’t help but wish to use your sword, and against something that isn’t a training dummy.

✧ Elves are known for being archers, and although you’re skilled with a bow it’s easier to stand out with exceptional sword-mastery than exceptional marksmanship.

✧ Then, a voice behind you asks if you want to spar together - an offer almost too good to be true.

✧ Turning around you vaguely recognise the elf in front of you, her hair is distinctive, and you ask if she too is trying to join the royal guard.

✧ Tauriel confirms it, and then the two of you get into position.

✧ There’s something incredibly satisfying about a good match-up and the two of you fight well together.

✧ You’re mostly evenly matched, and it takes a lot of effort to push on the offensive and get her closer to the wall.

✧ Eventually, she wins the first fight. But as you both stand there, catching your breath and smiling at each other, you bear no grudge.

✧ You only ask if she wants a re-match.

𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐫

✧ Anyone wanting to become a healer knows that the halls of the elves are the best places to go, if you wish to learn, so here you are. Three weeks travel deep into your route to Rivendell.

✧ Whilst riding you can’t help feeling something is off about the place - almost as if you’re being watched - but you chalk it up to elven magic.

✧ Then you see an elf, near the borders and picking some kind of flower. He has long, dark hair and you’re reminded just how ethereal the elves are compared to the race of men.

✧ And then all hell breaks loose.

✧ Just as you’re about to call out in greeting, a small band of orcs come out of the trees - you recognize the monster as what they are, instantly drawing your bow.

✧ Lindir sees the orcs approaching, quickly getting out his dagger while cursing his luck.

✧ As an orcish blade pierces him, blood instantly spilling from his side, he begins to wonder if this could be the end before an arrow suddenly goes though the orcs head.

✧ There’s barely time to react as a horse with a rider gallops past him, holding their hand out and pulling him up before wheeling back around to finish off the last orc.

✧ You barely have time to celebrate your victory when you feel the elf beside you slump into unconsciousness, clearly from the bloodloss.

✧ You wish you could say you entered Rivendell in a better way, rather than with a highly wounded elf at your side, but enter Rivendell like that you do.

𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐫

✧ Haldir had been alerted of people in the woods of Lothlórien by the Lady as soon as they had arrived, and had found them quickly.

✧ He was rather disappointed in how easily his troops went undetected, not even by Isildur’s heir or the elves from a distance.

✧ You had been uneasy as soon as you walked into the woods, convinced something was watching you. As an elf you of course knew of Galadriel’s powers, but whatever you could sense was more imminent.

✧ Then, with the quietest of sounds, you hear bows being drawn and arrows knocked into place.

✧ On instinct you draw your bow at the same time as your prince does, except you're quick enough to fire the arrow.

✧ The second the arrow leaves your bow you recognise the elves, and instantly you attempt to bat the arrow down again - wincing as you knock it just enough off target to miss the lead elf.

✧ As Haldir feels the arrow whistle past him, his first thought is that of admiration - the intensity in your eyes to protect this band of people.

✧ Opening your mouth to apologise, he holds a hand to stop you and congratulate you on your shot before turning to the more serious matters of the Fellowship.

𝐄𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐧

✧ As one of only a handful of elves still in their first century, it’s no wonder that you were eventually introduced to the Sons of Elrond.

✧ It had been in one of Rivendell’s great libraries, and although both looked interested to meet you there was one you were more interested in meeting.

✧ Elrohir had been the one to make introductions first, declaring their names before politely asking yours.

✧ Elladan on the other hand hung back slightly. You were beautiful, a full elf, and something about that made him slightly intimidated.

✧ It wasn’t until you had all sat down and you were looking around the library he realised just how compatible you were.

✧ “What books would you recommend?”

✧ The question is simple, but Elladan immediately latches onto it and begins to ask questions - what genre are you looking for, would you like something sad? Would you like a story or a historical account - and if so from which time period?

✧ He speaks fast enough that his elvish begins to flow together, but you keep up with him just as well.

✧ In almost no time the two of you are off the chairs, and he eagerly leads you to the section you're looking for.

✧ Your eyes widen as you gaze upon the piles of stacked books, neatly organised and in shelves.

✧ From the sidelines Elladan watches eagerly, and for the first time since his brother he feels he has finally found a kindred spirit.

𝐄𝐥𝐫𝐨𝐡𝐢𝐫

✧ When Elrohir rides into the Battle of Pelennor Fields with the army of the dead he can practically feel the relief of the soldiers, and wonders if there are many greater feelings in life that this.

✧ Almost two hours later, as the fighting dies down and he begins to look for the wounded he decides there probably aren’t.

✧ He doesn’t realise someone is calling, or at least calling specifically him, until the person yells for the ‘half-elf with the horse’

✧ Elrohir has no idea who the person is, but the fact they don’t refer to him as an elf already makes him love them.

✧ Going over, he sees you crouching beside a clearly wounded soldier - one of their legs incredibly damaged.

✧ Looking up you ask if he can transport them to the Houses of Healing, as not to aggrevate the wound further.

✧ He instantly agrees before hesitantly asking where they are.

✧ Upon seeing the slight despair in your eyes, he holds out the reins of his horse to you.

✧ “Fly swift with him. I’ll keep searching for wounded and sending more up. Return him to me when he’s no longer needed.”

✧ You can hardly believe your luck - but it isn’t for you to question, instead thanking him on behalf of Gondor before going as quickly as you can to the Houses.

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minaturefics · 9 months

Text

Watching, Wanting

A/N: Hello! (its been awhile) I just wanted to indulge in my love for Boromir (ft some faramir bc i love my brothers). Very vague plot if you squint. It's a bit spicy, but nothing explicit!

Reader gets sent out in a storm by Faramir and turns up at Minas Tirith soaked.

Boromir x Reader

Gender-neutral reader

Rated: TEEN

2.3k words

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The low hills of Emyn Arnen at your feet gave way to soft fields and in the distance the Anduin meandered through the landscape. There were dark clouds on the horizon, grey and heavy, and the faint earthy scent of coming rain was in the air. If you rode fast, you could make it to the city in a few hours, but judging by the clouds, you would be riding right into the storm anyway. You sighed and turned to Faramir. “Are you certain this is of such vital importance that I have to risk getting soaked to the bone?”

He nodded. “My brother requires these maps. I would have sent it with the trade carts this morning but it slipped my mind.”

“Rather uncharacteristic of you,” you muttered, raising your eyebrows at him.

He shrugged, an easy smile on his face. “My mind has been occupied of late. It is no easy feat, establishing a settlement.”

You softened at his words. Eowyn and Faramir had been working from dawn to dusk the past few weeks and the spring rains had been slowing construction and delaying the new workers and settlers journeying to Emyn Arnen.

“Very well.” You tucked the long, flat wooden box into your pack and buckled the waxed canvas securely. “I’ll be off now.”

“Safe travels, my friend,” he grinned and waved.

You swung onto your horse and, with a flick of the reins, started off down the road. As the grass and trees sped by, your thoughts drifted to Boromir.

You had become friends with Faramir first and, in the months Boromir had been away from Minas Tirith, you had helped coordinate the Ithilien Rangers from the city. Boromir had been civil to you when he returned, respectful of your battle and logistical strategies, but distant outside of the war rooms and planning councils. But something shifted one evening.

It was one of the many victory dinners, a smaller, more intimate one for The Fellowship and close companions. The hobbits had pulled you into their game of roughhousing and somehow you had ended up sprawled on top of Boromir. He had been large and solid underneath you, his hands heavy on your waist. You looked up into his grey eyes and your breath caught in your throat.

After that, it seemed as though his eyes were always on you. Across dinner tables, across courtyards, even, once, from across the throne room in full view of everyone.

You thought that with the end of the war, there would be no need for much contact between you and him, that all you would ever do is look, but Faramir had unofficially appointed you as a representative between the city and Emyn Arnen.

There had been so many afternoons spent with Boromir, shoulder to shoulder, pouring over maps and trade routes, so many nights spent eating across from each other in the low light of his private dining room. Yes, he was brave and proud and a fantastic tactician, but all that seemed to vanish when you saw him.

Really saw him.

Him with sleeves rolled up, exposing his strong forearms. His hair tied up, the pale column of his throat on full display. And those training breeches, somehow loose and tight at the same time…

What would he look like sprawled on your bed? Eyes glazed and chest heaving, hair mussed and lips parted. His breath hot in your ear, his voice low and raspy.

Thunder clapped overhead and rain started to fall on your overheated skin. The drops were cool and refreshing and you tipped your face to the sky.

How were you to spend another evening, another moment, in his presence? It was maddening, the way his eyes would blaze, the way he would draw close to you but never touch.

Why would he not act? It is true that you did not hold as high a standing as his family, but the brothers never seemed to care about such a thing. Even though that may be true, surely he understood that it was not as if you could do anything — it would be far more impertinent that you, of a lower standing, should be the first to move.

You shook your head and tightened your grip on the reins. You would ride back tonight to Emyn Arnen, even if you had to make the journey in the dark. It would be too much to spend another night near Boromir only separated by a few doors.

Boromir rushed down with the panicked servant who had burst into his study. What was his brother thinking? Sending you to Minas Tirith in the storm? He rounded the corner and found you shivering and dripping onto the polished marble. Someone had already taken your cloak and pack and you stood in your soaked clothes and saturated boots, clutching a wooden box. He swallowed at the sight of the fabric clinging to your form and strode towards you.

“Riding in such a storm is madness. What was so urgent it could not wait until morning?” You shoved the box into his hands and he stared at it for a moment before shaking his head. “Come, let us get you warm and dry first.”

He led you to his rooms and sat you down before the fire. “You cannot stay in those clothes,” he said, handing you some towels and a blanket along with some of his spare clothes. “You will catch your death.”

“But, Boromir, it is not proper —”

“I do not care. I would rather some impropriety if the alternative is illness or death.” He turned around and faced the wall. “I will not look until you are sufficiently… dressed.”

For a moment, he thought you were about to protest some more until he heard the slick swish of your clothes. He could imagine you, peeling off your layers, bare skin tinged orange by the fire. Heat crept up his neck to his ears. By the gods, he needed to control himself. He squeezed his eyes shut and drew a ragged breath in.

What sort of delightful torture was this? How many days had he spent beside you, close enough to breathe in your scent? How many nights had he spent staring at his bedroom door, willing you to walk through it?

He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the sound of your wet clothes hitting the floor. He had to be proper. A gentleman. A man of honour. He had to be mindful of his position and standing. Yes, his brother had appointed you various titles and responsibilities, but whatever they were, they were still ranked below his own title of Captain of Gondor.

He had heard too many stories of people being swayed and persuaded by the nobility — he would not allow you to feel obligated to reciprocate his own selfish desires simply because he was ranked higher than you were.

There was the rustle of cloth, the whisper of cotton on skin, and he fought the images of you donning his clothes. Oh, how will he ever wear that tunic ever again and not think of you?

You were wonderful and smart and were filled with endless ideas for new laws and trade. But in his quiet moments, he wondered what you would feel like under his touch, wondered what sort of sounds you would make.

How would you say his name? In a whisper? A gasp?

In a cry of pleasure?

He spied the wooden box you had brought with you on the side table and shook his head. Damn Faramir for putting him in such a position! What could possibly be so important?

“I, um — I’m just going to look at what my brother sent. Do not be alarmed by my movement,” he said and heard you hum in assent.

With slow, measured steps, he made his way to the box and opened it.

“Faramir said you needed maps,” you muttered behind him.

There were maps indeed, but they were just the regular sort that anyone could buy at the market cartographer. He frowned, rifling through the parchment, and pulled out the envelope tucked in between the papers.

Brother,

Forgive my deception, but I hope my interference will be forgiven. Aragorn has written to me saying he is on the verge of tearing his hair out at the sight of you two. Eowyn and I are not faring much better here in Emyn Arnen with the constant pacing and faraway looks my, our, friend has whenever they return from the city.

I pray you spare all of us any more heated longing stares.

Best of luck,

Faramir

The nerve of his brother! To send you out in the storm simply for the purposes of… of… matchmaking! The paper crinkled in his grip and his eyes wandered down to the scrawl at the bottom.

P.S. I am not so foolish as to send them out in anything threatening. Spring storms may be chilly, but hardly dangerous.

That mollified him little and he grumbled.

“Is anything the matter?” you asked. “Were they damaged in the rain?”

“No, not at all. It is nothing. Simply my brother being… my brother.”

He read the letter again. Pacing… faraway looks… heated stares… Was his brother implying…? No, that could not be, could it? But, then again, perhaps he did not imagine the way you would linger in the sitting room after dinner or how he would feel your eyes on him sometimes. Your expression was always unreadable, careful and controlled, that he could hardly be sure of what you felt for him. If you felt anything at all.

And yet, Faramir’s letter…

Your bare feet shuffled on the stone. “You may turn around if you wish.”

He folded the letter away and replaced it along with the maps into the box. He turned and his stomach clenched at the sight of you.

You were bathed in the warm light of the fire, your skin aglow, incandescent in the dim light. His tunic was loose on you and the front ties of the collar were undone, revealing the skin of your chest. His eyes wandered down to the pile of wet clothes on the floor and he spotted, what were unmistakably, underthings, heaped on top.

Heat flared low in his belly and he glanced away.

You. Naked under his clothes. Valar help him.

Boromir had that look in his eyes again, all aflame and intense, except he was directing it at one of the tapestries on the wall. You glanced down at the wet clothes at your feet. Well, he could not have reasonably expected you to keep your underthings on, could he?

He was still staring at the wall. His jaw was tense and his hands were clenched by his sides. You took a step forward and he stood straighter. His eyes cut to yours for a moment, smoldering with want, before they went back to the wall. He took a shuddering breath and you took another step.

Perhaps if you couldn’t act, you could make him act first instead.

You fought a smile and walked to stand before him. You could smell him fully then, his familiar musk mingling with cedar from the scent he favoured.

“Boromir,” you whispered.

His eyes snapped to you and he swallowed.

“Boromir.”

You tipped your head to the side and parted your lips.

“Boromir.”

He crashed his lips against yours, his hands coming up to cradle your face. He deepened the kiss, his chest rumbling in a low moan when your fingers curled into his shirt. He tasted like the bitter tea he favoured after dinner. His hand drifted down, skimming your waist before coming to rest on your hip. Your nails scraped at the nape of his neck and he groaned.

His body was warm, hot even. He pressed himself closer to you and you could feel him, hard, against you. Heat pooled in your stomach and you moaned his name. His hand slipped under the hem of your shirt and he pulled back for a moment. “Is this alright?”

You nodded and tipped your head back. “Don’t stop.”

“I’ve… wanted this… for weeks,” he said, kisses drifting towards your jaw. The delightful scratch of his beard was followed by soft, warm lips as he worked his way down your neck. “Wanted you.”

“You should have done something.”

He smiled against your skin. “I’m doing something now.”

His lips paused at the curve of your neck and shoulder, sucking for a moment, as his hand slid up your side, his touch gentle but demanding. Your fingers fumbled with the ties on his tunic and tugged on the fabric. He pulled it off and tossed it to the side and he stood flushed and grinning before you. You trailed your fingers down his solid chest, past his stomach, following the light dusting of hair down.

“Maddening man, you —”

There was a knock on the door and you yelped, startling away from him.

“Who is it?” he asked, voice low and rough. He cleared his throat. “What is the matter?”

“Should we prepare a hot bath for your friend in the spare room?” The servant’s voice was muffled through the door.

His eyes darted to yours before a smirk spread across his face. “There is no need for that, thank you.”

There was the sound of retreating footsteps and you exhaled. Boromir let out a relieved chuckle and pulled you towards him.

“Sending my warm bath away?” You threw a challenging look at him. “How ever will I get warm?”

“I can think of a great many ways.”

“Will I like any of them?”

“I think you will find that you’ll like all of them.”

He dipped his head, capturing your lips, and tugged you in the direction of his bedroom.

---

I never realised just how quick things can head into a mature rating until I wrote this lmao. Not sure if I will ever write smut but well ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (maybe)

Tags: @sotwk @ass-deep-in-demons @thetempleofthemasaigoddess @hippodameia

#boromir x reader #boromir x y/n #boromir x you #lotr fic #lotr fanfiction #lotr fanfic #boromir

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itsonlydana · 5 months

Text

Find a cure for my heart | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x human fem!reader 👑

On the eve of the battle, you and Thranduil spent a night that spurred a flurry of letters while Dale grew as a city and you both grew too, first apart, then closer again. However, you couldn't bring yourself to burden him with the truth that your health was deteriorating with each passing day.

warnings/tags: sickness, angst, mentions of death (reader is actively dying but only realizes after Thranduil helps) hurt/comfort, happy end

words: 5,6k

an: finally finished this fic after working on it since January. If you are interested in being tagged when I post new fics– comment that under this post or send it to me in my inbox!

+ masterlist + rules

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

Contrary to general belief, the elves did not return to their forests immediately after the battle.

In the stories told, there would be remarks, on how the Elvenking offered his help to the yet-to-be-crowned King Bard once more, bringing aid with however warriors he had left for disposal to search the endless chaos and ruins of Dale for survivors until many sunsets later.

They would speak about the sorrow of losing friends and family and neighbors to a war that had been won at costs no one could comprehend yet, and they would mention how the great Elvenking guided them through the darkest of nights for he had experienced this all before; the grief, the helplessness and the colossal question of What now, who's to say we haven't lost ourselves as well as those we have to bury?

Many had their own experience with the Elvenking, whether it was a hand pulling them off the ground, a loaf of bread delivered to them after days of fighting, or a warm blanket to huddle under to finally lay their body to rest under the watchful eye of Elves that had sworn to protect them.

You had your own story. A different one.

But it wasn't one with the Elvenking, no; the night before the battle, where the air was filled with the sound of blades being sharpened and children crying for their parents, you had met Thranduil, King of the Woodland Elves but most importantly: a set of strong arms that caught you as you stumbled out of Bard's tent.

You needed to run away from the discussions over how to draw the dwarfs out of the mountain.

You'd been a friend to Bard for many long years but standing in that luscious tent, being offered wine as the Wizard, Bard, and the Hobbit pondered over what was about to happen while you weren't sure your mind caught up on what had happened already, there was no room for friendship inside your panic-riddled chest.

Just as you flung open the tent flaps and tried to dash away to get some air, your foot caught on a root, and had it not been for Thranduil's fast reflexes, you surely would've planted your face into the dirt and mud.

Up until now, you had no idea what had transcended between the two of you at the moment where his arms held you up, his softening face looking down at your widened eyes filled with tears and your tongue too tied up and heavy to say anything other than: "Air– please"

Whatever it had been, likely an unspoken wish – by Thranduil or you, or maybe you both; it didn't matter – for someone who would not pass judgment over the urge to disappear from your skin and role and crown for one night, a fallen star flung across the darkened skies at the right time.

It felt as though Thranduil had pulled a sheet over your heads; your world narrowed down to this other soul and how beautiful and divine his body felt on yours as you found a way to survive the night before life as you knew it turned once more and the solid ground beneath your feet shifted and broke.

A few nights, while unforgettable and brooding with feelings neither of you admitted to, did not change that you had to move on somehow.

Although the Elves did not depart for Mirkwood immediately and Thranduil and you were given time in the aftermath to find the other in the cover of the night and under the pretense this was nothing more than mere distraction, a wishing star could only do so much shining before dimming out.

The day you awoke to a sunrise bathing the debris of Dale in a pinkish and warm light, pillars being rebuilt dipped into molten gold, and the cracks glued together, Thranduil's strong arms were wrapped around your middle as if he wanted to hinder you from sneaking away, you knew it was him who would leave you before the day was over.

And so he did.

Sunrise came and went and soon enough all the tents were packed up on horseback and wagons, leaving flattened grass as the only reminder they had been there at all if and there were goodbyes, political between Bard and the Elvenking who parted from the weary man and his children with the promise of support, and between you and Thranduil in the form of a slow nod.

Thranduil sat high on a dark stallion, dressed in silver and long robes that hid fingerprints that spoke of an attempt to cling to transience. His chin lowered, though his eyes were fixed on you.

You knew that nod carried the conversation you had whispered into the morning mist.

And it was all that wasn't said that motivated you to step away first and turn your back on the caravan that took away a King and a Lover.

There was much to do, the looming task of building up Dale needed everyone's full attention, and that included you.

Especially you.

There were houses to plan, accommodations to be made so that no one needed to sleep under the stars.

No one could ever pry the reason why you were keen on getting a roof under everyone out of your hands; a lonely part of you wanted the stars to remember you and Thranduil lying in the grass. And no one else.

The first letter arrived a few weeks after you hadn't had the heart to watch him go and threw yourself into one task after the other, dismissing even the smallest hint of sickness, like the heaviness inside your chest every time you lifted something heavy, or tiredness crashing down onto you in moments to catch your breath, to continue working, that you wouldn't find a moment to admit how much you missed him.

That utterly ridiculous mindset stopped as soon as the messenger Elf rode into the city and hand-delivered you the first of many envelopes with the nearly indecipherable handwriting of Thranduil.

Or the Elvenking.

Because the first letter, despite being addressed to you as well as Bard, who wouldn't have been able to read it in the first place, was a list of things the King would send and a question of what else was needed that he could provide.

"It's fine," you said to Bard through a smile that didn't reach your eyes as you read aloud the letter twice, from the greeting to the last paragraph that was signed 'the Elvenking Thranduil Oropherion, Lord of Mirkwood and friend of Dale'.

In the flickering light of the candle dripping wax onto the table between you, the dark circles under Bard's eyes were all the more prominent than when he was running around the city and there was a bottomless pit in your stomach that wouldn't want to add to the many things he was already worrying about.

"It's totally fine," you said to Bard when he asked if you had skipped over a private note from Thranduil or if there truly wasn't one (there wasn't, you had turned the letter over and over in your hands until the edges became soft and wrinkled) and you both knew that to be a lie.

You answered the letter in the same professional manner because even though you wanted to, you couldn't send a letter to a King helping however he could and expecting nothing in return with a smeared "I wish for your heart and our nights and for your voice to tell me we are alright" written under tears in another sleepless night.

The next few letters follow the same pattern, Elvenking Thranduil Oropherion would inquire if there was anything Dale needed and answer Bard's question on leadership and share his knowledge of what was fundamental for a new King, and you would write for Bard on the other side.

The weeks passed and so did the hope of rekindling that fire you had thought to burn in the both of you.

That Thranduil didn't see the need to reach out was a punch to the gut that left little room for anything else but disappointment of putting your effort into pulling on a rope that wasn't attached to something on the other end.

Why waste the dwindling energy of your exhausted body on someone who would live longer than the memory of you?

Every time a new letter arrived by messenger you would find Bard until one late evening you opened the letter by yourself and saw your name written in that beautiful sharp handwriting, not Bard's added in front or behind; only your given name and not your title.

Your hands shook as you stood in the frame of what was to be your house and the ink glued together the cracks of your heart.

'Forgive me for not writing to you sooner and for how sentimental I must sound. It has been weeks since I last saw you and every time I wander through my familiar halls, I find there is no soul around that could understand me how you did, whom I could tell what plagues my mind. The time we spent together has not left my thoughts. Neither has the promise to not grow apart too much and I apologize for not contributing to that. Now, if you would still have me, I would like nothing more than to hear how you are faring. As for me…'

Nothing had the power to stop you from running off that giddy feeling that spread through your chest as Thranduil, finally Thranduil, wrote about the happenings in Mirkwood; not even the cough that sat deep where suppressed laughter spilled into the grass you fell into– the letter clutched into your hands.

Thranduil and you fell into a routine then, one that was no obstruction for the many tasks at hand but made room for each other to hold on to the promise.

You would send out two letters, one on behalf of Bard whom you taught his signature as well as a few more words every fortnight you sat down together, and one addressed to Thranduil, filled with all the thoughts that ran through your mind that you wanted to tell him.

It was by no means as precious as the talks you had now many weeks ago, not when there were days you had to wait for a response instead of seconds.

You appreciated them all the same, every bit of himself that Thranduil wrote into his messages was countered with a confession of your own.

When he said he wished to know where his son had disappeared to or rather if he followed the direction Thranduil had given to him, you admitted to the nightmares that still plagued your mind, the dreams of fire and a monster that still rested in the lake.

You offered piece after piece, chipped bits of your heart into every letter that you sent away, and after a few weeks had passed, and Dale was taking shape with its houses raking their roofs to the sky and its people planting seeds and flowers, rooting themselves into what now was theirs, there was not much left of your heart that was completely yours and not Thranduil's and the letters of his proved that the same could be said about him.

What you did not mention, not with one drop of ink, was that the nightmares were no longer confined to the few hours of sleep you fell into.

There was a dragon, not just in the cold lake where your old home lay in ashes and was drowned in the ruthless darkness, but by the heavy weight on your chest, it felt like there was one inside you as well.

You were coughing as if there was smoke blocking your lungs, blackening out what little air you heaved for when a coughing fit took over your whole body.

It started small, a cough then, a sleepless night there; both accumulated to an uncountable amount and it got only worse as the season changed and the autumn winds lost their last warm touches and the trees bared their wooden arms.

You waved it off as a common cold, nothing that would hinder you from your tasks to becoming a liability the city didn't need in its time of growth.

Then, the coughing got worse, rougher, sometimes taking your voice for a moment until you found some water although that only helped for a small moment, like trying to extinct a burning building with just the water your bare hands could carry.

The worst part was the blood that stained the cloths, the sweats that not only held you awake at night but weakened you at day as well.

"I'm better!" you promised Bard on a night when he had to sit next to your bed, wringing out the cold cloths that lay on your fevered forehead.

His voice was a low whisper when he dabbed away the sweat, pushing your wet hair back with hands that were far too gentle for what you deserved for rotting in bed and not pulling your weight, "You're not, an' that's clear for everyone but you. Did you tell him?"

"Yes," you lied through your teeth, eyelids dropping close from exhaustion but you knew sleep wouldn't come, "he said it would pass, nothing to worry 'bout."

Three days later you were on your legs again, if not a bit shaky and needing more breaks than ever.

You sat in Bard's kitchen, a warm bowl of soup in front of you that tasted like ash and firewood, and ignored the silent pleading in his eyes to tell him what was going on and why you could barely lift the spoon of a soup that you clearly did not enjoy.

Winter wore your body down like rough sandpaper on soft oak, the cold winds and dark hours an enemy far worse than what you had to encounter on the battlefield. This had no logical explanation, nor was there an enemy you could see.

Your own body betrayed you and you had no idea what you had done to deserve it.

You knew that somewhere was a solution to it all, that was the string of hope leading you through the snow outside and the fire in your blood and bones, singing down what little fight was left on the days when the sun pushed away gray clouds and you felt normal and healthy.

The sole reason why you lied in letters filled with otherwise honesty as pure as heaven's snowflakes was that you did not want to be a bother.

Thranduil wrote how much of his time the dwarfs and their trading demands swallowed; he did not need another burden and you would be damned if he came because you had a small cold you couldn't get rid of.

You had promised Thranduil to visit him in spring when the soil was rich enough for the seed to take and the livestock could roam the meadows. If you weren't better by then you would ask him.

Until then work demanded all of you. Even if that was through a white knuckle grip on the last bits of health in aching bones.

⸺

Spring brought forth daffodils pushing through the cobblestone streets. Tilda, the youngest Bardling and a wonderful distraction on the days when getting out of bed was the hardest bounced excitedly beside you and pointed at the flowers.

"Like stubborn trumpets proclaiming winter is finally over!" she said as you followed her outside. "Spring is finally here!"

You disregarded the pain echoing through your body, the weight of guilt forcing you to spend the day with the girl.

She had been knocking on your door every morning, angelic eyes asking if you wanted to come and play with the lambs that she had taken too and this morning, you couldn't disappoint her.

"Aren't they just so pretty?" Tilda crouched down, gently cupping one of the blossoms in her small hands.

Lowering your gaze from the burning brightness of the sun you got a short glimpse at the yellow dots decorating your doorstep.

Then, suddenly, black spots appeared on the edge of your vision, taking you by surprise though they have been your companion for the better part of the last few days.

"Tilda–"

You tried to hold on to your doorframe, bruised hands frantically searching for a grip on the warm wood but they slipped and caught only the edge.

The last thought that crossed your mind was that you should bring Thranduil some of those flowers before you blinked and crumbled to the ground.

⸺

You woke up to the confusing taste of grass on your heavy tongue and the dizzying realization that you were not spread out on the street but tugged inside your bed.

Above you, moonlight fell through the opened window in the slanted roof above your head and you immediately closed your eyes again.

This had to be a dream.

Though your dreams had not been like this in a long time.

Peaceful. Comfortably warm. Silent except for the croaking of toads, the buzzing of insects outside, and the laughter and clattering of your neighbors probably enjoying the night more than you.

A groan passed your lips as you tried to sit up; a seemingly impossible task with the heaviness of your bones as well as the mountain of blankets that covered you.

"What do you think you are doing?" a voice you knew all too well sneered.

For a second you thought it to be a hallucination, a projection or your dazed mind still lulled in the fog of unconsciousness.

The bones in your neck cracked as your head snapped to the other side. There was no way you did not imagine the tall figure that should be across the woods in his palace; not in your bedroom.

"What are you doing here?"

"Merely strolling through the neighborhood," Thranduil's voice dripped with sarcasm, yet a subtle tension marked his stance beside the bed. "Now, enlighten me. Did you conveniently forget to mention this sickness in your letters?"

Ah, straight to the point.

"It's trivial," you waved it off, attempting to assert yourself by sitting up.

Naturally, consciousness promptly slipped away once more.

This time you were not that surprised by the sharp taste of grass on your lips when you came to your senses once more, pushed back into the pillows that had never felt this stuffed. You were still unable to move your leg more than from one side to the other under the blankets and Thranduil was still there, glaring at you through dark furrowed brows and hardened eyes.

You wanted to say something to break the heavy silence but all that passed your lips was a giggle that was more desperate and closer to insane than amusement.

One brow lifted. "Oh, how glad I am you are entertained by this," said Thranduil. He was as rigid in a frightening calm way but all of that was overshadowed by the cloud of confusion that muddled your thoughts.

"Noo," you drew out the word and continued giggling. This had to be insanity. "You jus' look very out of place here – wait. Turn around? I need to make sure you're really here."

He didn't fit into the cramped space of your house, his fine clothing stood out against the poor backdrop of crooked furniture, used towels hanging over stools, and the small layer of dust that covered the areas you hadn't been able to clean in a while; which was most of the bedroom and you didn't dare think about the state of the kitchen.

Where he deserved a throne out of gold you could only offer the chair next to your bed, the one that was crooked and leaned heavily to one side.

That being said, nothing took away the sheer amount of power he radiated.

It easily filled every nook and cranny or tight corner of your humble house, his voice as well as the image of Thranduil, King of the Elves, towering over your bed in long robes and bathed in the light of the night sky, glittering silver like the moon knew the importance of the Elf in front of you.

Thranduil remained stoically still. "I will definitely not do that," he said. "I am here. Where I should have been a while ago."

The accusation would have hit harder if you weren't drugged up on whatever medicine he had apparently fed you while you were out cold.

You shrugged your shoulders as well as you could with your arms bundled under the blankets. "I saw no reason, it was just a cold. Nothing I couldn't manage."

Well, you hadn't managed to handle it, that was the worst realization of the whole lie.

"Clearly," Thranduil said sarcastically and ground his teeth against each other. His arms were behind his stiff back and the way he tilted his head down to you made you feel like a child being admonished for bad behavior. "Do you know how much despair I felt when Bard's letter arrived this morning?" His voice was even but there was a resonance in it – a deep rumble akin to the ominous approach of distant thunderstorms over the sea. "Nearly indecipherable scrambles where he begged me to come; telling me that you have been asleep for two whole days?"

A crack in the form of a small tremor broke through the mask of the all-mighty Elvenking.

"This morning?" you asked, caught up by the first part and ignorant of everything that followed after, and you huffed while running the calculations through your head. "Thranduil, this can not be, the journey is not manageable in one day."

"Is this truly the point you consider most important?" He closed his eyes as a pained expression passed over his face. "You deem it impossible, yet I assure you, nothing could have hindered my arrival here; the boundaries of possibility, for once, were not a barrier but an aid. It reveals your scant regard for your circumstance if your worry fixates on my journey through the land. Not on the sickness that nearly stole you from this world. Two days –" Thranduil took a deep breath, "two whole days where those around you had no idea if you would ever awake again."

"But –"

"No, you can speak when I am finished," he commanded sharply. "You were reckless. Ignorant of your health as if your life was not precious." Thranduil spat the words out cold yet they burned. He was blind to the way you flinched and lowered your burning eyes to the blankets.

You shrunk deeper into the pillows, a hollow ache inside your chest that had felt empty from the pain ever since you awoke the first time.

"But –" you repeated helplessly. This time, he allowed you to continue and you did so in a whisper: "I didn't want to be an inconvenience."

"An inconvenience?" he sneered back at you, the flickering lights of a few burned-down candles casting shadows over the creases of anger edged into alabaster skin.

He took a step toward the bed and you saw a twitch in his lips that had you blanching.

The fury brooding inside him was not new, you had seen it on the battlefield before. In ice-cold cuts of his sword as he flawlessly executed the most brutal movements while his face resembled a mask of the most dangerous kind of rage – stillness.

Now, there remained little of that stillness.

"You were a greater inconvenience by nearly throwing away your precious mortal life, all because of your unfathomable stubbornness!"

"There was lots to do!" you snapped back. Shortly but surely, you were fed up with his anger and the insults he was throwing at you. "This town was suffering far more than me and don't you dare tell me I'm wrong," you had to bury your teeth into your lower lip to stop it from shaking. "Dale needed me!"

The pale skin was flushed red around his heaving chest and delicate ears. "And I do not?" Thranduil road and his voice boomed through your little bedroom loud enough for the cicadas outside to fall silent.

Immediately, your eyes watered. You felt trapped under his gaze, engulfed in pure heat hotter than any dragon fire.

You searched for a response inside you but found none.

All there was was chaos – the loud beating of your heart against your chest like iron being beaten and shaped though all that was formed was pain sharp like a sword edge; cutting through the layers of protection you had wrapped around your heart.

Thranduil slightly lifted his nose, staring down at you through thick eyebrows and a clenched jawline. "You were dying," he said and his nostrils quivered. "I can not fathom how you through that would not have been a greater inconvenience.

His expressions made up in sound for the lowered voice he'd used to speak about what you previously refused to acknowledge.

Never before had you seen him this out of control of his emotions, not even on the nights he had bedded you where he still had a hold on himself.

The way he stood before you, dressed in fine robes not fit for riding, the hem of them stained by dirt, his boots muddy, and his face full of anguish, it was as if he could have been kneeling at your feet.

You ignored the tears slipping silently down your cheeks. "It wasn't that bad, was it?"

"It was indeed, and far beyond that."

The tears made it impossible for you to continue looking at him and your head dropped down as a sob broke through you. "I didn't know," you panicked, "It didn't happen fast so… so I thought it'd pass but – and then it got worse and worse and I was so afraid to speak to anyone about it." The words tumbled into your lap, where, under the blankets, your hands were balled to fists now that the strength to do so had returned to your body, "I – I couldn't," the night air stung as your breaths turned into gasps, "They – Bard was exhausted and –"

Thranduil's face softened ever so slightly, pushing away the furious frown. "You are too pure for this world," he said quietly and – dealing a fatal blow to your ever-fragile heart – slowly went down on one knee next to the bed until you were eye to eye and his cold long fingers could gently caress your wet cheek.

He stopped, most of his fingers covered in the glistening tears he'd freed you from and his thumb rested on the plushness of your lower lip. "The world would have lost its sunshine had you perished," his robes rustled as he drew closer, silver hair falling onto the blankets like stars flying across the skies, "You must promise me to be more careful or darkness shall be my companion from that day on."

How could you do anything else but break into tears once more?

They flooded your face too fast for Thranduil to catch them with his hand and he did what seemed more reasonable yet utterly out of character: he rose to push away some of the blankets and sat down on the mattress.

While his face showed some revelation of his thoughts at the meek bed of hay that surprised him, he said nothing except for a lowered: "Hush now, shh." while his arms found your shaking body and pulled you into his side.

He cradled you until there were no more tears to cry, until your cheeks hurt and your lashes clung together awfully damp, and then some more, his hands on your back, cooling down the firing heat that spread through you and the other in your hair. With tenderness, he massaged his fingertips into the areas where your head throbbed uncomfortably.

You cried for all the nights where you had suffered, drawing closer to a death you hadn't seen coming.

You cried out of relief that this was finally over, that you could breathe and inhale only the rich scents of Thranduil instead of smoke.

You sobbed uncontrollably long into the night, not caring one bit that by the time the wailing grew quiet and exhaustion rendered you weak enough to fall into his chest even more, Thranduils robes needed to be padded dry.

"Thranduil?" you asked and burrowed your nose into a spot of fabric that wasn't salty. "Can you tell me what was happening to me?"

He didn't start directly. Thranduil waited, his heart stuttering for a second that made you marvel that the muscle was affected by you at all despite the many proofs he had laid to your feet.

Were it not for the pounding headache you fostered and tried to push away by shutting away all the lights and leaving your eyes closed, you would have looked at his face to check for those minuscule expressions he only showed to you.

"At first I could not figure it out," Thranduil admitted at last and his previously stilled hand continuing the circular movements against your scalp, gathering hair between his fingers, "and that frightened me more than anything else. There was not a scratch or a wound, nothing that explained why you were hardly–" he flinched and his other hand held your waist tighter, "hardly breathing. Bard was the one who explained how much you fought against this illness all winter, ever since autumn to be precise. He spoke of the meals you denied, the coughing and shaking, the blood-soaked cloths, and how.. how you rarely slept and if you did, he told me he heard your whimpers and sobs whenever he passed your door."

"He noticed it all?"

"He loves you," Thranduil said, "He loves you just as much as his offspring."

You shut your eyes even closer, turning your head more into his chest as another layer of protection against the feeling of pain that flinched over your face like a stone skipping on water, leaving ripples of agony at the memory of the many times Bard had pleaded you to talk to him. "I never wanted him to hurt at my expense."

"He is aware you thought it to be better this way," Thranduil lovingly stroked your hair – and it was love, soft and beautiful like the elf who abandoned his kingdom to race to save you – "To go against his word to you declares him a strong man and leader, Dale will flourish under his guide and your gentle hand will provide your people all they will ever need."

"So what was it?" you asked the question eating away at you, "This sickness?"

Thranduil's fingers twirled a lock of hair as he hummed lowly, "The beast in the lake is at fault," he said, "and its body infesting the in any case dirty water that you used to still your thirst."

You lifted your head at that, staring up at Thranduil whose gaze was already on you. "The dragon?" you repeated perplexed, "I got sick because of that damned dragon?"

Thranduil nodded, "I sent out the order to have its carcass removed this instant, so no one else has to suffer this fate."

You drew your eyebrows together, the hard crease between them immediately found by Thranduil for him to smooth the frown away with his thumb and a soft click of his tongue.

"So I was the only one?" The conclusion was confirmed by another nod that sent you down another spiral of confusing thoughts and loose threats of a riddle that made no sense to you.

"A mystery," Thranduil said as if he could read your thoughts, "There is no explanation as to why you solely were affected and quite intense at that. I was glad to have brought Asëa aranion with me – although you required more than a handful until your heart finally calmed."

In a moment of contemplating silence, you barely managed to stifle a yawn.

Now that your body seemed to be fine again, all your muscles yearned for the sleep that had evaded you for the longest time.

Thranduil's pleasantly warm body around you lulled you into a state of calmness, his body heat and the memories of his touch you replaced with the feeling of his strong chest in your back, and his hands threading hair through his fingers.

He was curled up in your bed, in your home, not some tent under the stars though you could see them if you looked up and through the window.

As you did so, your eyes didn't travel further than Thranduil and the watchful look on his face.

"You're as beautiful as the day you left," you remarked in a whisper like a slip of your tongue but you meant every word.

While your body ached and wore new scars his hands and mouth hadn't explored yet, he could've been away for a day or less.

You lifted a hand to stroke over his left cheek, over the faint scarred muscles that you knew by whispers hid what he deemed hideous.

Thranduil caught your hand before it reached his cheekbones and his lips pressed a light kiss against the calluses, the signs of hours of work.

"Rest, meleth nîn, you need it."

There was no denying that the elvish words had meant something important, that was clear by the way his tongue had wrapped around the words and breathed them out like a kiss but his lowered lashes and downturned lips hindered you from asking what he had said.

This was not the time to question what was probably just for him.

Later, when you were not falling into the depths of sleep cuddled against Thranduil's chest, when you would step outside your house with his looming presence in your back ready to help you with every foot you set on the grounds, there would be stories awaiting you.

Stories of the Elvenking storming into the city on horseback and all alone, the wind seemingly carrying him faster than possible and the fury and worry on his face lowered all citizens to the grounds as he yelled for their King.

They would speak about the way he nearly broke down Bard's door and how he carried your unconscious body in his arms to your house, demanding for the crowd to make themselves rare before he had them all seized and locked into his halls for obstructing his path; and even though he had no authority, Bard was close on his heels and no one dared to object.

You would hear about the day he sat by your side, caring for you and barking out orders for more water, not the one from the lake but from the springs, and how Bard and his children were the only ones allowed to visit – explaining the yellow flowers that took up every single glass your house had to offer.

Thranduil would tell you the meaning of the words he had said that first night he had spent in your bed, fully awake and watching your sleeping form in his lap until the birds woke you up in the morning; and he would say these words on all the nights that followed.

With him in Dale, or you in Mirkwood – never apart from then on.

#thranduil x reader #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x you #thranduil #thranduil oropherion #king thranduil #king of mirkwood #the hobbit x you #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit fanfiction

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dailyreverie · 10 months

Text

Christmas Valentine

A/N: This one was requested by @writingsoftheloser, and I loved it so so much! Thank you so much for requesting! I had the idea for it and then I came across the song Christmas Valentine by Jason Mraz & Ingrid Michaelson and it is so Bucky and gave me all the feels and ughh... just give it a listen please 🥹🥹I really hope you all like it!

2. "You shouldn't have"

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (no pronouns, reader is called doll)

Word count: 1k

Holiday prompts ⛄

'Twas the night before Christmas, when every corner of the common room was bathed in the warm glow of sparkling colored lights. The chimney crackled, casting a cozy fire across the room. Everyone was dressed in their festive best, and joy permeated the air… and Bucky would much rather be in his room.

He remembered Christmas, he truly did, Steve made sure of that, and it’s not that he didn’t like everyone - he liked Steve, and Nat sometimes, and Sam could be somewhat tolerable every now and then. Yet, this Christmas, his first after everything, he preferred observing from a distance. A bottomless glass of scotch kept him company, the amber liquid warming him as he contentedly watched from afar, even if it meant being away from you.

“Merry Christmas everyone!” Ah, shit, you. How could he forget to include you on his mental list of people he enjoys? Bucky caught himself smiling into his glass when you entered the crowded room with your cheerful exclamation. Nat hugged you, Wanda playfully placed a Santa hat on your head, and despite the festive welcome from others, you still searched for Bucky and shared a quiet smile across the room.

God… the way he felt for you. He never thought after all those years he would be able to feel something like that again, something that felt so warm even though it must be snowing outside.

The night went on, food and drinks came and went, and the two-week-long Secret Santa that had been going on was finally revealed. It was right after the gift exchange when you began walking towards him, with a beautiful ear-to-ear smile on your face courtesy of the festivities and the sweet drinks Wanda kept giving you.

“Merry Christmas,” you greeted him. “I’m sorry I didn’t come by before, I was dragged to the whole thing as soon as I arrived.” You laughed slightly, remembering to the way you were engulfed by your teammates.

“I could see that,” Bucky laughed too, more discreetly, but laughed too. “Merry Christmas, by the way.” He knew he sounded awkward when he said it, almost as if he wasn’t quite sure if those were the words he wanted to say, but when your cheeks heated up and your smile got shyer, he knew he had to be doing something right.

“Hey, listen I- uhm-” It was your turn to be awkward as you fidgeted with the gift bag on your hands. "I know you didn't want to be part of the Secret Santa thing but I can't let you celebrate Christmas without a gift." Bucky decided to keep the image of your reddening cheeks forever in his head, perhaps for a rainy day.

"Oh, doll. Why did you bother yourself with this?" The festive paper bag in your hands reached the top of the table, and Bucky hesitated to reach for it.

"You are never a bother, Buck. This is the least I could do to thank you for all the training."

Bucky chuckled to himself as you pushed the bag towards him, finally grabbing it, and once he opened it, his cautious smile turned into surprise. "You shouldn't have."

"Nonsense." You shrugged as he revealed the first edition of The Hobbit you had gifted him. "Remember that time you called me a Hobbit because I kept referring to your missions as adventures?”

"Of course I do." Bucky laughed softly. "Of course, I do," Bucky laughed softly. The gift, a first edition of The Hobbit, left him genuinely touched.

“I also may have overheard you say to Sam that you read it when it came out. I though maybe you could have a little thing from back then, now.”

"This is… this is wonderful." You took this thankfulness with a smile. Contrary to his words, though, he groaned. "Well, now this is embarrassing, but I might also… uhm…" He reached down his chair, pulling out a gift bag. "I also got you something but it's not nearly as good as yours."

You gasped dramatically at the sight of the bag, making grabby hands for it. "For me?!" Bucky nodded, silently confirming your question and watching you intently. Every move you made tightened his stomach into a tighter knot, not sure if you would even like it - opening the bag, taking out the little box inside it, untying the ribbon from it… every second felt like torture for him.

You took in a sharp breath when you opened the box, admiring the beautiful necklace Bucky had gifted you; you had seen it before, that one time you went downtown with him. You thought he wouldn't have even noticed, but he not only watched your eyes shine at the sight of it, he also went back that same afternoon to buy it to make sure no one else got it first.

"Bucky, this is- this is gorgeous.” Your fingers ghosted delicately above it. “You shouldn’t have.” You repeated his words, making him chuckle slightly.

“How could I not? You kept going back to look at it.” He freed your hands from it, standing up right in front of you and circling your neck with his hands; his lotion made you take a deep breath and hold it as he kept moving closer, you had never seen him move so gently as he placed the chain around your neck and clasped the lock, making sure it was straight before taking a step back again.

“It's beautiful.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, your fingers toying with the charm as you looked up to smile at him.

Bucky nodded, a quiet “yes, it is” confirming what he saw right in front of him.

“Buck, I-” A call for your name interrupted you.

“Go, I’ll come find you later,” Bucky promised, hoping your thoughts mirrored his. Before leaving you kissed his cheek and squeezed his flesh arm, your way of telling him he better come find you soon.

“Would you look at that, the robot has feelings.” Sam sneaked up on him, patting his back and walking past him to get a drink.

“Leave him alone, Sam.” Steve warned, not without his own squeeze to his shoulder with an encouraging “Good one, Buck”. He had never seen his friend happier, his eyes lost in the crowd not able to stop looking at you. Bucky remembered Christmas, he was sure he did, but he had never loved Christmas lights as much as he liked them reflecting in your eyes right then.

🦾🎄🦾🎄🦾🎄🦾🎄🦾🎄🦾🎄🦾🎄🦾🎄

Thanks for reading! Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed it!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #boyfriend!bucky #bucky barnes #soft bucky #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan

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