#lord of the rings reader insert

[ironmandeficiency]

the fellowship + romance

characters included: aragorn, boromir, gimli, legolas, pippin

word count: 1177

summary: just some soft shit bc these men are all sappier than any tree in the greenwood

a/n: there’s still an overwhelming lack of gimli content that needs to be fixed and i will do my part

aragorn 🗡️

aragorn’s quiet presence is the warmest blanket on a cold night, the first bite of a meal you slaved over for hours, every comfort you’ve ever experienced

he’s never been one for overwhelming displays of his affections; instead, he shows you in simple ways that add up - giving you the more full bowls of broth, laying his blanket over you if he notices you shivering during night watch, sharpening your weapons (this one had gimli nearly brought to tears by the devotion it spoke of), anything that helps your days pass easier

he grew up around stories of elves who committed astounding feats in the name of those they loved, fighting wars and risking their lives with alarming frequency. but none of them ever talked about the everyday ways they showed love. his mother taught him what she could about those things, stories of his father’s steady presence and stalwart love for his family. a young aragorn took these lessons to heart and used them when the time was right

it was why, when he caught his heart skipping beats around you, he let his actions do the speaking for him. without fail you would thank him with a soft smile, slowly coming to realize that aragorn felt something much deeper for you than camaraderie. when you woke up early one morning to find your weapons sharper than they were the day before (not for the first time), you went straight to aragorn and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. he nearly dropped your bowl of stew in his flustered state

having your affections secured didn’t mean he stopped his small acts of kindness, it did quite the opposite. it just made him bolder and more confident in his actions

boromir 🍻

this man is so damn tactile it’s ridiculous

if you’re the cuddly type like he is, it makes him all the more eager to always have some form of physical contact with you, no matter where you may be

unless you tell him to back off, he is always touching you one way or another. a gentle hand on the small of your back, your pinkies interlocked, an arm wrapped around your shoulder, anything to keep you close to him

his favorite time of day eventually becomes the end of it, because that’s when he can hold you close and whisper soft words of love in your ear while he holds you. he makes it his goal to give you a goodnight kiss every night you spend together

the best cuddle position in his mind is you leaning your back against his chest, one of his hands resting on your hip where his thumb rubs small circles above the bone, and his chin resting on your shoulder just right to where he can turn his head to kiss your cheek or burrow his face into your neck

gimli 🛡️

valiantly is the best way to describe how gimli approaches any situation he comes upon, including (and especially) matters of the heart

this is a dwarf who says what he means & means what he says, who does nothing that he wouldn’t be proud of the next day. because of this, you couldn’t find it in you to not believe him when he professed his love for you with such unwavering confidence you were nearly brought to tears. gimli never said anything just because his lips could move so you simply had to believe him

will do you favors big and small simply because he wants to help you however possible. you can’t remember the last time you carried your own pack or made your own bowl of soup. if you encouraged him (which you wouldn’t), this romantic fool would not let you lift another finger for as long as you both live

he grew up watching his parents with keen eyes, his adad showing him by example how a true dwarf treats their one. he embodies these lessons with every interaction with you, striving to be the one you deserve him to be. it ranges from the ferocity of his protection to opening doors for you. may mahal strike him down if he ever hurts you

he just wants to be a dwarf you’re proud to love, proud to call yours

legolas 🏹

physical affection can be difficult for him, but one thing legolas is good at doing is speaking his mind and his heart

if you thought his regular speaking pattern was overflowing with poetic descriptors, you’ve heard nothing compared to when he’s being truly romantic. no one you’d been with before had ever described you with such beautiful prose, never whispered soft poetry about your eyes to lull you to sleep

and he’s a cheeky bastard about it too! it’ll be a regular conversation between friends, nothing important, then BAM! he’s making quippy one-liners about your overwhelming skill/beauty/personality that catch you off guard and has your friends cackling at your flustered reaction to his flattery

even better, his praise will often include sindarin and on the off chance you don’t speak it, you’ll have to gauge the meaning from the silent looks shared between your dear elf and aragorn (doesn’t really work). eventually legolas tells you what some of them mean; after all, he needs to have an element of intrigue about him or his name isn’t legolas thranduillion

he carries a lot of pride for you and will brag about you to anyone who listens, his melleth being one of unparalleled skill and beauty and bright laughter that carries his soul on great wings

pippin 🥕

his already strong need to be silly and foolish grows exponentially when he finds out how happy it makes you

pip doesn’t care what it is you ask of him, he will do anything to hear your laugh. he’ll put baby carrots in his nostrils, respond to conversations exclusively in farm animal noises, he will even do his spot-on impressions of the rest of the fellowship and make them say all sorts of silly things

the best one to date is him doing an aragorn impression that consists of all the different ways he says legolas’s name

you’ve never heard such astounding colloquialisms from anyone until you met pippin - “don’t eat half the berries and say the pie shell’s too big,” “his cornbread isn’t done in the middle,” “if brains were leather, he wouldn't have enough to saddle a junebug” - and each time he says one, there’s always a not-so-subtle look to you so he can see your reaction. the ones that get the most laughs are used a little bit more, just enough to not lose their appeal but enough to hear your laughter all the more often

there is a single-minded determination to hear your snort when you laugh at something he says, and he will not rest until you do. his personal goal to do this resets each time you do actually snort, him now aiming for the next joke or prank that will bring it out again

[runesandramblings]

Violent Delights

Word Count: 6200

Pairings: Kili x reader

Warnings: Unhappy arranged marriage but nothing violent or abusive

Description: A forbidden romance blossoms between King Thranduil's arranged bride to be and the Prince of Erebor. (Loosely inspired by Romeo & Juliet without the death part.)

Will make a part 2 if you guys want it. :)

These violent delights have violent ends

And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,

Which as they kiss consume.

The breeze felt wonderful against your skin after being indoors for so long. You inhaled deeply, allowing the fresh scent of the forest to fill your lungs as you relished in the sounds around you. The chirping birds, the rustling leaves… The walls you’d been kept behind were quiet, far too quiet for your taste. You were used to the sounds of life in the forest, and to be surrounded by the familiar noises once again filled you with delight. 

“Lady (Y/N), we should probably get back.” 

Temporarily, at least. 

You turned to look back at your escort. Tauriel, the captain of King Thranduil’s guard, had been reassigned as your personal escort the day you’d arrived. She was around your age, both of you quite young for elves, and in spite of the differences in your position she’d grown to be a close friend. Your only friend, really. 

“You don’t have to call me that.” You reminded her once again. 

She smiled, and you knew she would continue no matter how many times you told her otherwise.

“You are a lady, are you not? Soon to be the queen?” 

You grimaced at the reminder.

“Unfortunately.” You muttered under your breath. It was probably loud enough for her to hear, but you didn’t care. She was well aware of your feelings on the arrangement. 

You had not come to the kingdom under your own will. Your father, a high lord of another elven kingdom, had desired an alliance between your people and the much more powerful elves of Mirkwood. In exchange for protection and trade agreements, he’d offered King Thranduil your hand. You were both surprised the king had actually accepted, and as soon as word arrived of his agreement to the terms you’d been sent off to Mirkwood the very same afternoon. 

It was well known to many that the king had tragically lost his wife in a battle against orcs many years before. You were as shocked as anyone that he’d agreed to marry again, after he’d been intentionally alone for so many years. Upon your arrival he had been quick to inform you that the marriage was one purely of convenience, as your people had much to offer Mirkwood. Outside of that one conversation, you had not spent any time alone with the king. You’d not spent any time with him at all, really. Aside from the occasional dinner, which was also usually attended by his son, you had only seen Thranduil a handful of times since you’d arrived in Mirkwood a month before.

He was not unkind. From the small interactions you’d had with him he did not appear to be cruel or malicious. You sensed his hardened exterior had a lot to do with the loss of his first wife, and you could not fault him for that. For the most part since your arrival you had been left to your own devices within the walls of the kingdom. Thranduil had given you your own private chambers. They were large and luxurious, with the finest silken tapestries and hand carved furniture you could imagine. Your time was yours alone, as the king never sought an audience with you, and you spent it as you pleased. You’d grown close to Tauriel very quickly, and Thranduil’s son Legolas was also good company. 

Though you could hardly complain about the lavish treatment and unending free time, it had grown into a lonely existence. Your chambers, though massive, felt cold and empty without someone to share it with. You’d explored every nook and cavern of Mirkwood, read every book and parchment in the library, and quickly grew tired of the same mundane routine you’d fallen into. Which, subsequently, led to your trip outside of the kingdom walls with Tauriel. 

Speaking of Tauriel. You felt her step closer to you as she whispered in your ear.

“It could be far worse, (Y/N). I know this is not what you wanted, but Thranduil is a fair and noble man. You will have a good life here.” 

You knew she was right. As a highborn lady in your home kingdom, you’d watched many friends married off to unsavory men over the years. Of all the arrangements you could have ended up with, you’d been matched to the King of Mirkwood. You knew you would live a good life, a luxurious life. But you also knew you were walking into a loveless marriage, and the prospect of being alone pained you. Elves lived long lives, and you couldn’t imagine being a wife in name only for a thousand years or longer. You desired love and true companionship. 

As you looked back at her, nodding your head in resignation of the truth you knew she spoke, she gestured over her shoulder towards the direction of the gate. Time to return. You relented in defeat, following her as she began winding her way back through the woodland trails. The forest was safe now, the spiders having been driven off for good shortly after the Battle of the Five. The king was still reluctant to allow anyone to leave, and it had taken some persuasion on Tauriel’s part to get him to allow the adventure. You hoped he would consent to regular walks in the forest, so long as you didn’t try to abuse the privilege. He did not strike you as a controlling man, but he was certainly protective of his kingdom and those within it.

You took one last, deep breath of the fresh air before you stepped through the heavily guarded doors behind Tauriel. As you turned to say your goodbyes for the evening, you were approached by a taller, dark haired elf. You recognized him as one of Thranduil’s personal servants as he bowed before you. 

“Lady (Y/N), the king has requested an audience.” 

You looked between the messenger and Tauriel, unable to hide the expression of surprise that crossed your features. Thranduil had sent for you? 

Tauriel nodded politely to you as she bowed, dismissing herself as the servant gestured for you to follow him. 

“You know where to find me should you need me, my lady.” She said before turning and departing.

You followed the servant down the winding corridors, through the only passageways you were still unfamiliar with in the kingdom. As you and Thranduil had separate chambers and living spaces, you hadn’t had cause to explore the areas surrounding his rooms. You were surprised to find he had summoned you into his private quarters, rather than his throne room or the dining hall you semi-frequently gathered in. 

The servant came to a halt in front of a large set of ornate doors and he knocked once before opening it, gesturing for you to step through. You stepped inside and the doors closed behind you. The servant didn’t follow you in, and as you continued on alone your mind raced with the possibilities of why Thranduil might have requested to speak with you. 

You were surprised to find his chambers were not much more lavish than your own. He’d clearly spared no expense on your living quarters, as his shared the same style of furniture and tapestries as yours did. The only visible difference you could detect was that his rooms were just a slight bit larger than yours. As you rounded the corner into the main living area you found the king at last. He was standing with his back to you, and as you approached he did not turn to greet you. You stopped a few yards away from him, standing awkwardly with your hands clasped together. He was a king, after all, and you were uncertain if you should speak first. Surely he’d heard you enter. 

After several long moments of silence, Thranduil finally spoke. 

“How have you been finding the kingdom?” He asked, his back still turned to you. His arms moved as he spoke, and from behind it looked as though he were fidgeting with something on the table he stood before.

“Fine, your majesty.” You said quietly, not bothering to elaborate. You didn’t think he’d care too much for the details anyway.

“Have you been treated well?” He continued, still not turning to face you.

“Yes, your majesty.” 

“You may call me Thranduil.” He finally turned, holding two goblets of red wine in his hands. He handed you one and took a long sip from his own before continuing. “We are to be wed, after all. Even if it is merely an arrangement.” 

You nodded wordlessly as you accepted the glass. You remained silent, uncertain of what to say. He paused for a moment before he pivoted on his heel and began to walk back in the direction he’d come.

“I have received an invitation from King Thorin.” As he spoke he paced around the room, sipping from his goblet. It was clear he was as uncertain of what to do in your presence as you were in his. “They are holding a celebration in honor of the anniversary of Erebor’s reclamation. Would you care to attend with me?” 

That was surprising. Despite the joint effort it took between the dwarves and elves to defeat the orc armies, they were still not on the best of terms. Thorin had, after all, attempted to keep the elves’ jewels to himself and nearly started a war between the two clans as a result. There was an uneasy peace between the two, now that the dwarves resided in the mountain once again, and you were surprised that Thranduil would be willing to travel all that way to be in the company of dwarves.

“Yes your ma- Thranduil.” You quickly corrected yourself.

He paused and turned to look at you, though he did not make a move to step closer. 

“I do not expect love to grow between us.” He said flatly.  “But we should be able to tolerate each other, should we not?” 

You nodded.

“Yes, I would say so.” 

He nodded in return as he held his wine glass out, indicating a toast. 

“Very well then. We leave in one week's time.” 

** 

The journey from Mirkwood to Erebor had taken two days, and with the lavish way in which Thranduil liked to travel it was not an uncomfortable trek as you’d anticipated. You arrived at the mountain kingdom well rested, and rather excited at the prospect of a feast. From what the king had explained of dwarvish parties he remembered from the late King Thror’s time, the feast could go on for days. You would be arriving at the tail end of the celebration, as Thranduil had planned. Dwarves were apparently a rambunctious bunch, and as Thorin had requested Thranduil stay and tour the mountain afterwards he had not wanted to spend more time with them than he needed. 

Erebor was as magnificent as you’d been told. It was amazing how the mountain had been transformed and rebuilt in merely a year's time. Though you were used to the splendor of elven realms, as both Mirkwood and your birth home were lavish and beautiful, there was something awe-inspiring about the kingdom under the mountain. The halls were endless, sprawling on in either direction as far as your eyes could see. The ceilings were impossibly high, and despite the kingdom being built into the side of a mountain there seemed to be an abundance of light flowing from any given direction. To look down at the winding staircases that led deeper into the heart of the mountain would make you dizzy, if you stared too long. The stone walls were carved and inlaid with intricate designs of gold and silver, telling the tales and the history of the line of Durin. You had studied many languages, and Khuzdul was one you were somewhat familiar with. You’d found yourself stopping every few feet along the walk to your chambers to read the inscriptions on the walls. 

Legolas, Tauriel, and a handful of others had made the journey along with yourself and Thranduil. The dwarves had spared no luxury for your group, as you’d each been housed in your own private chamber within the mountain. Dwarvish extravagance was very different from that of your elven home. Where the elves valued natural elegance, which involved a lot of carved wood and intricate silks, the dwarves had more of a rugged taste. Your rooms consisted of chiseled stone furniture and fixtures, inlaid with even more gold and a number of jewels you had never laid eyes on before. Though it was very different from your home in Mirkwood, it still felt comfortable and welcoming. 

The dwarf servant that had been assigned to your care had asked what could be provided to make your stay more enjoyable, and she was delighted at your request for books to read later in the evening. She seemed impressed at your ability to read and understand Khuzdul, as many elves didn’t care or bother to learn the language of the dwarves. You’d noticed the air of arrogance Thranduil and Legolas, and even Tauriel, had displayed since your arrival, and you made it your mission to change the dwarves’ opinion of elves, even if the others chose not to do the same. 

After resting and dressing for dinner, you’d met Thranduil and the others in the hall. He extended his arm out to you automatically, as though it were expected rather than something he cared to do. You’d accepted it regardless. As you walked along he did not look down at you, or even acknowledge your dress or appearance for the event. Was this the life you were destined for? Emotionless, cold… Doing things merely out of duty and not from love? You felt your heart sink as you walked along beside the king. It was a lonely existence. 

The feast was in full swing by the time you arrived. It was chaos. There were long, sprawling tables lined with food and more dwarves than you could count. As you watched, food flew from every side of the room, ale spilled across the tabletops and onto the floor, and dwarves moved about, falling over themselves and each other. It was clear the drinking had been going on for much longer than the actual feast. 

“They behave like animals.” Thranduil muttered under his breath. 

Despite having never been in the company of dwarves before, you found yourself surprisingly unbothered by their behavior. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, which was more than you could say for your royal escort. It was certainly more rambunctious than any elvish party you had ever attended, but at least they were having a good time. 

As your party approached a large table at the head of the room, one of the dwarves stood to greet you. He was dark haired with a matching dark beard. Streaks of gray peppered both his long hair and speckled his face, and with the gold and emerald crown atop his head you took him to be the king. As he stood he extended his hand in a greeting.

“King Thranduil.” He bowed his head out of respect to the elven king as he placed his hand across his chest. “We are pleased you could make the journey.” 

Thranduil nodded tightly in return, also bowing his head to Thorin to your surprise. 

“King Thorin.” He said politely, though you could hear the hint of tension in his voice.  “This is my betrothed, Lady (Y/N). You’ve met my son, Prince Legolas.” 

Thorin nodded at you both before gesturing to the dwarves seated on either side of him. On one side sat a woman, with dark hair similar to his own. They shared a stark resemblance, down to the neatly trimmed beard she wore as well. On his other side sat a younger dwarf, who also matched the seeming familial resemblance to the other two. He had wavy, golden hair with braids woven through. His braided mustache bounced as he nodded his head in respect. 

“A pleasure, my lady. My prince. This is my sister, Lady Dis. My nephew and heir, Prince Fili. My other nephew will be joining us shortly.” As he spoke he gestured to two empty seats on the opposite side of the prince. “King Thranduil, would you and your betrothed join us at the head table?” 

Your eyes traveled to the spot down from the empty spaces. You recognized the king of the newly rebuilt city of Dale, Bard. The one who had been responsible for slaying Smaug, if you remembered the story correctly. 

Thranduil’s increasingly strained smile caught your attention from the corner of your eye, and you couldn’t help but smirk a bit in response. You knew the last thing he’d wanted for the evening was to be sandwiched between the dwarves he still wasn’t overly fond of and the humans he held in equal disdain. However you knew his kingly pride would not allow him to turn down the offer. You, on the other hand, were excited to continue on with your mission of making the dwarves see the elves in a better light. 

“We’d be honored.” He said, forcing an even larger fake smile. As another dwarf servant appeared and escorted Legolas and the others to their table, Thranduil gestured for you to choose your seat first. Unable to resist the humor of making the king even more uncomfortable, you opted for the seat next to Bard, leaving Thranduil no choice but to sit and make conversation with the dwarven king and prince. 

“It’s a pleasure, my lady.” King Bard said as you sat, extending his hand to help you into your seat. “I was not aware that King Thranduil had taken a bride.” 

“It’s a new development.” You said, quickly attempting to divert the conversation away from your engagement. “How is the work on the city going?” 

As the two of you made light conversation and exchanged pleasantries, speaking of the rebuild of Dale and the newly reformed relations between dwarves, elves, and men, you began to lose track of time. Several courses came and went, and ale and wine continued to flow freely. Though the elvish tolerance made your kind more resistant to the influence of alcohol, the steady refilling of your goblet as you chatted and sipped away had your head spinning before you’d realized what had happened. You began to feel warm, and as you breathed in and out your corset suddenly felt overwhelmingly restrictive around your chest. 

Air. You needed air. 

Without thinking you turned to your fiance, grabbing his arm in an attempt to get his attention. 

“Thranduil.”

He turned to you, and as his eyes met yours his brief look of annoyance quickly turned into one of concern as he noticed your flushed and panicked face. 

“Are you alright?” He asked quietly, and you were surprised to find that he actually appeared to be worried for your wellbeing. 

You nodded in reassurance, not wanting to cause a scene as you felt the eyes of Bard and Thorin also turning to you.

“I’m just feeling a bit warm, I think I’m going to step out for a moment.”

Thranduil gave a small nod in return, and you quickly stood and excused yourself from the table.

You were uncertain of where to go, as you’d only arrived in the mountain earlier that day and had not had a chance to get to know your way around. The way back to your room felt somewhat familiar, and you decided a quick stroll there and back might help clear your head. As you wove through the crowd, deftly avoiding numerous drunk and stumbling dwarves, you found that a makeshift dance floor had formed directly in front of the entrance, and only exit, to the great hall. You were unfamiliar with the dwarvish music, but it was much softer and merrier than you expected. Dozens of couples twirled around, following footwork that was unknown to you but something they seemed to know by heart. You were transfixed for several moments, watching them move about with an ease and grace that you didn’t know came so naturally to dwarves. After a few minutes you remembered your desire for some air, and decided you’d still like a short break from the commotion before you returned to the table. You tried to move nimbly along the outskirts of the dance floor, trying to avoid crashing into dancing dwarves as you stayed as far out of the way as possible. As you turned back to watch momentarily, still intrigued, you felt yourself collide solidly with another body. Before you had the chance to correct your footing you found you were falling backward. You braced yourself for the impact, but before your body could crash into the stone floor a pair of arms wrapped tightly around you, and you felt yourself being pulled into a broad chest. 

Your gaze turned forward, looking for the source of your rescue in order to thank whoever had saved you from splitting your head open. As your eyes searched the space in front of you they spotted the top of a head of brown hair; the person to whom it was attached stood a few inches shorter than you. It was a dwarf, if you had to guess. He was still cradling you tightly against him, as though he anticipated you might fall backward again at any moment. You felt his grasp loosen as he leaned back to look up at you, though his arms still remained wrapped around your body.

He was young. The difference in how dwarves and elves aged was unfamiliar to you, but judging by his lack of a beard and softer features you assumed he was not an elder. He had wavy brown hair that was pulled partially back, save for a few loose strands and a fringe of bangs that framed his face and a pair of dazzling brown eyes. Though he lacked the fuller beard and mustache that most dwarves wore he did have a sprinkling of stubble across his face. The lack of a beard allowed you to fully appreciate his chiseled jawline and lips, the latter of which currently sported a wide grin. He was quite handsome, and you couldn’t help but stand and stare down at the stranger for several long moments. 

Too long, you realized. How long had you been standing in silence, staring at the nameless man? It would surely look bad if anyone from your party came strolling by.

“I’m sorry sir-” You started. As you stuttered out an apology you moved to step backward, and subsequently tripped again. The young dwarf immediately grasped your arm tighter to steady you and you felt a blush creep into your cheeks in response. So much for the grace and elegance of the elves. 

“The fault was entirely mine, my lady.” He said in return, his kind smile widening at your flustered speech and clumsiness. He didn’t appear to be bothered by your awkwardness; on the contrary, he seemed to enjoy it. His touch lingered on your arm, ensuring you would not fall again before he slowly released his grasp. 

“I’d hardly say so, you were merely walking by and I was not watching where I was going.” Despite your embarrassment you felt a smile spread across your face as well. The kind twinkle in his eyes was contagious, and you quickly felt your fluster fade the longer the two of you spoke.

“Well if you’re so inclined to make amends, you can honor me with a dance.” As he spoke he extended his hand toward you, and in the same motion he nodded his head toward the mass of dancing bodies. The music had slowed to something much less upbeat, something you were sure even you could keep up with. 

You paused. The nameless man had intrigued you, that was for certain. But would dancing with a random dwarf enrage your royal fiance? You craned your neck to look back in the direction of the table you had been sat at with Thranduil and the other royals, but from your position near the dance floor you could not see them. Which meant more than likely they could not see you either. Even so, would it really be that big of a deal? You were supposed to be making peace, after all. 

“That seems only fair.” You said as you turned back to face him. As you accepted his outstretched hand he grasped it tightly, as if he were afraid you’d disappear, and pulled you to the floor. 

The two of you came to a halt in the middle of the mass of bodies. You were surrounded by other dancing pairs on every side, safely hidden away from any watchful eyes. As you rested your hand on his shoulder and entwined the fingers of your free hand with his you felt his other hand rest on your hip. The light touch sent a wave of goosebumps up the side of your body. It was more contact than you’d ever had with the man who was supposed to become your husband. Every point of contact your body had with the stranger felt as though it were on fire. 

Seeming to know you were unfamiliar with the music he took the lead, tugging you gently back and forth until you became comfortable with the simple steps of the dance. You swayed together for a few moments, neither speaking but simply watching each other in a comfortable silence. Though he was a bit shorter than you it was not by much. He stood at eye level with your nose, and you wondered if he were tall for a dwarf, or if you were short for an elf. Thranduil and the others had towered over Thorin, so you expected it was the latter. You had often been one of the smaller elves wherever you’d gone. 

“So you are not from the Iron Hills, I take it.” He grinned up at you as he finally spoke, stating the obvious. There were many physical differences between elves and dwarves, but if your ears and impossibly long hair had not given you away your dress certainly would have. The high-necked and fitted gowns of the dwarven women were a stark contrast to the lower cut and flowing gowns of the elves. 

“I am not.” You confirmed. 

“Are you from Mirkwood?” He continued.

“I am living in Mirkwood, but I am from somewhere farther.” 

“And are all the elves as graceful as you?” He asked. As he spoke he attempted to keep a serious face, as though it were a genuine inquiry. He failed, and before you had the chance to respond to his prodding a smirk broke through his stoic expression. 

“Well I’ve often suspected I’m not entirely an elf.” You said matter-of-factly, playing along with his teasing. “Grace has never been my strong suit.” 

“Why do you say that?” 

“I didn’t know my mother. My father does not speak of her. And as you’ve so keenly pointed out, I do lack the natural elegance of the elves.” Why were you telling him this? You’d only just met the man, and yet you found yourself spilling out the innermost things you’d only ever wondered to yourself. 

“And the height.” He quipped, confirming your earlier thoughts. “But you are no less stunning.” 

You felt a warmth spread across your face, and you were certain you’d blushed a scarlet red. He was more forward than you were used to, and although you enjoyed the company of the cheeky dwarf you were also an engaged woman. To a king, no less. You’d become lost in the conversation, fully absorbed in the moments shared with the handsome stranger. To the point you had almost forgotten you were still in the center of a crowded dance floor. You realized the two of you had stopped moving and instead stood staring at each other again. His eyes were mesmerizing. His fringe of bangs had fallen partially to cover them, and you felt yourself drawn to reach forward and brush them away.

“Are you from Erebor?” You quickly asked, sidestepping his compliment. “Or have you traveled for the celebration?” You turned your gaze to the couples around you and tugged on his hand, indicating you should start moving again. 

Out of the corner of your eye you could see his lopsided grin return, fully aware that you’d avoided the second part of his earlier statement. He followed your lead and began to sway with you, though you noted his grip had tightened on your hip. 

“I live here.” 

“Did you live here before the…” You trailed off, uncertain of how the dwarves spoke of the years the mountain stood uninhabited. Was it a sore subject still? 

“Before the dragon?” He finished. “No. Why do I look that old?” His eyebrows furrowed together as he spoke, his expression unreadable. 

You’d offended him.

“N- no. You don’t. I didn’t- I mean-” You felt your face flush red again as you stumbled over your words. Of course he couldn’t have been old enough to have lived through Smaug. Could he? 

He laughed. 

“I’m only joking.” He assured you. As he spoke he stopped moving again, and gestured over his shoulder to the exit you’d been attempting to make it to before. “Would you like to take a walk? I could show you around a bit while everyone is in here. The halls will be empty” 

You felt a flutter run through your stomach at the prospect of being alone with the mystery man. It was a feeling you’d never experienced with Thranduil, and expected you never would. You checked over your shoulder again, still unable to see the head table from where the two of you stood. But again, would it be so bad? Accepting a tour of the kingdom from a dwarf? You had made it your mission to change their view of the elves, after all. You wordlessly nodded, accepting his invitation, and he grinned widely in return as he took your hand and led you nimbly through the crowd.

The halls of Erebor appeared impossibly larger while empty. The stranger led you up and down staircases, pointing out different areas of the kingdom and showing you various repairs that had been completed in order to reverse the damage done by the dragon. As you walked together you lost track of time again, and you wondered how long you’d been absent from the table. Had Thranduil noticed? Likely not. He never seemed to notice or care when you were gone. 

“So how did you come to live in Mirkwood?” Your escort finally asked, his attention turning from the newly rebuilt throne to you. “You mentioned earlier you were not from there.” 

“My…betrothed.” You started hesitantly. “He lives in Mirkwood.” 

You paused, waiting for the inevitable reaction. You were promised to another, and it pained you to tell him. You felt an undeniable draw to this man who’s name you did not know. There was a familiarity and comfort with him, something you’d never felt before and certainly did not feel with Thranduil. As you waited for him to excuse himself and leave you standing alone in the halls you held your breath, dreading the fallout. 

“Oh.” He sounded surprised at the revelation, but not upset. He made no move to run away from you as he continued. “You do not sound happy about the arrangement.” 

You breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that he had not fled at the mention of your fiance. Though you’d made no mention of your unhappiness with the king, he seemed to have noted that it was not a joyous engagement. You wondered if it were that obvious to everyone when you spoke of Thranduil. 

“I’m not.” 

“Does he not treat you well?” He asked. You noticed a look of concern that immediately furrowed lines in his face. 

“In order to treat me well or not well he’d have to spend time with me.” You said, offering him a sad but reassuring smile that your intended was not an unkind man. “And we do not spend any time together. He told me when I arrived we were to be together in name only.” 

“That sounds terribly lonely.” 

“It has been.” You continued quietly. Your gaze turned back to the designs etched into the stone floor as you walked. Who was this stranger? This man you’d known for an hour at most, but somehow you felt more comfortable with than anyone you’d ever met before. You wanted to know him better, but that would surely be impossible. 

The two of you walked on in silence for several minutes before he spoke again. 

“Has he seen you?” He asked suddenly. 

“What do you mean?”

“Has he laid eyes on you?” He asked again, a hint of urgency in his voice. 

“Well, yes, I’m here with him.” You stated simply. What was he getting at? 

The man shook his head as he turned from you back to stare ahead as you walked. 

“He is a madman, then.” 

“How so?”

“To possess a woman so divine and not spend any time with her…” He trailed off, shaking his head again as though in disappointment. “The only conclusion is he must be insane.” 

You felt your cheeks flush at his statement. This stranger had spoken more kind words to you in an evening than Thranduil had in a month. Who was this man? 

“I don’t know if I would say that.” You said quietly, keeping your eyes focused on the ground as you spoke. 

“I would.” He stopped suddenly and took your hand, pulling you to a stop with him. He tugged you around to face him, and kept your hand locked tightly in his as he spoke. “Tales will be written of your beauty some day. You are the fairest princess in the most wonderful fairytale. The most beautiful and elegant of all the elves in all of the realms. The most precious jewel under this mountain. If he is not insane, your betrothed is surely blind.” 

The way he stared up into your eyes sent another flutter through your stomach. Something you’d sorely lacked with Thranduil. Passion. You felt it as strongly as anything, the unmistakable feelings of desire and attraction swirling within you. It was as though the force of gravity itself had shifted, and rather than grounding you to the earth you stood on it was pulling you towards this stranger instead. 

“You flatter me, sir. I do not even know your name.” You whispered. As you spoke you felt yourself unconsciously pulling against his hand, tugging him closer to you. He stepped forward willingly, bringing your bodies only inches apart. 

“I am-” He began.

“Kili.” 

The both of you jumped at the unfamiliar voice that invaded the intimate bubble you’d enclosed yourselves in. You quickly released his hand and stepped backward, putting as much space as possible between you as the intruder approached. The young blonde prince you’d met earlier, Fili if you remembered correctly, was strolling toward the two of you. 

“My lady, this is my brother, Prince Kili.” He said by way of introduction as he came to a halt beside him. “Brother this is Lady (Y/N), the intended of King Thranduil.” It seemed as though he were offering a reminder to the pair of you, rather than an introduction. 

His brother. The king’s nephew. Of course it was. 

The stranger you now knew to be Kili was staring at you, the pieces falling into place as his eyes widened. 

“Thranduil…” He mumbled. “Of course.”

Fili raised an eyebrow in confusion at his brother's muttering before turning his attention back to you. 

“My lady, your fiance requested I come check on you. Are you well?” He asked. He was far more formal and royally appropriate than his brother had been for the past hour. 

You quickly slipped back into a more formal mode yourself, straightening your back and clasping your hands behind you. You nodded respectfully at the elder prince. 

“Thank you, Prince Fili. Prince Kili was just escorting me back to my room. Will you tell King Thranduil I am not feeling well and would like to retire for the evening?” 

He nodded. 

“I will. Brother, our king has requested your presence. Do you know the rest of the way back, my lady?” As he spoke he pulled on his brother's arm, indicating they should return to the hall as quickly as possible. You hoped nothing had been made of your joint absence, though given the fact you’d not been introduced earlier the connection would have been a longshot for anyone to make. 

“I do.” You said, giving the older brother a reassuring smile as he turned to leave. “It was nice to meet you, Kili.” You felt a pang of sadness. The evening had gone by far too quickly, and you knew you were not likely to see the handsome prince again.

“And you, (Y/N).” He took your hand in his and kissed it gently, allowing his lips to momentarily linger against the delicate skin of your hand. He released it and quickly stood, leaning in to whisper in your ear before following his brother. “I will find you again.” 

[strawwritesfic]

Legolas x Female!Elf!Reader: Adore

Summary: Gimli had better just get used to the fact that he’ll never understand Legolas completely. 

Rating/Tags: All (Gimli & Legolas; post-Return of the King; Mirkwood Elven Guard!Reader; some lingering Dwarves vs. Elves tension; pipe smoking)

Challenge: “160 Collective Drabbles” challenge by BobaPop on Lunaescence Archives.

Tag List: @imaginesfire​

Adore

Good was finally ending one long, uncertain journey to start another with a certain end. Better was a journey of companionship and seeing sights one could not rest for on the first. Better yet was being an honored guest in your companion’s home where your kin had once been prisoners and little else. Still, Gimli felt, one could grow tired of elves–and dwarves could grow tired of them more quickly than anyone, warm welcome or no. Better than all the rest was quiet, stars peeking through the Mirkwood trees, and a chance to get at his pipe.

Legolas’s feast would continue on for many hours more. No one could celebrate like his people. For all Gimli knew, he could rest for the next night and day and wake to continued revelry. There would be time enough for him to return. 

Gimli settled himself comfortably against the base a wide tree trunk to smoke at his leisure. He took his first breath in of sweet-smelling smoke and was in the process of blowing it in rings toward the leaves above his head when a slender figure stepped silently past him into the nearby clearing. Eyeing the figure's back, Gimli wondered if Legolas realized that he was there. The sound of singing continued in the distance behind them, but Legolas’s back was to the celebration, his head turned up to watch the sky.

Five minutes of that, and Gimli decided he had had more than enough. Patient dwarves might have been, but friends had no need to be patient with the sudden oddities of a friend. He cleared his throat. 

“Do you plan to join me, or do you intend to stand there like an Ent for the rest of the night?” Gimli asked.

Legolas made no sign that he had heard. 

Snorting, Gimli put his pipe back in his mouth. Now that he thought about it, this behavior of Legolas’s was nothing new. They had left Gimli’s family in high spirits, but as the road wound on toward Mirkwood, Legolas grew more and more introspective. The silent rides atop their horse had nearly driven Gimli to insanity, but he had hoped that coming home would lift his friend’s spirits. Clearly nothing had happened except to make Legolas seem less communicative than ever. 

Gimli ran a hand down his beard. Perhaps going back to the food would not be so bad. It would save him sitting there worrying fruitlessly over Legolas.

Just as Gimli made to put out his pipe, Legolas turned, stepping again toward the feast. Then his eyes fell on Gimli. Gimli blinked once at him. Whatever Legolas was thinking about, he did not want to share it with him. The elf blinked back, and his lips pulled up into a vague smile. He changed direction and soon was close enough for Gimli to touch.

“I had not realized you had left the celebration already,” Legolas said.

Gimli only squinted in reply. Was Legolas so truly out of sorts that he had missed Gimli entirely? Had Gimli been more familiar with any elf other than this one, he might have spoken with one of those here of his concern. As it was, all he could assume was that this was normal behavior for an elf and that coming home had turned Legolas more normal somehow.

“Aye,” Gimli answered gruffly. “I had thought my greeting five minutes past would have been enough warning for you, but I suppose you might have got into a bit of that Elvish wine.”

To his great surprise, the wan smile on Legolas’ face faded further. His eyes turned again to the stars. “Forgive me, my friend. My thoughts are elsewhere.”

This did not entirely discount Gimli’s suggestion that Legolas was simply drunk. Really, though, that would not explain Legolas’s silence over the many miles. Wherever his thoughts were still, Gimli was not wanted.

“Blasted elf,” he grumbled, though there was some good-nature in his tone, for at least Legolas was sorry. Mirkwood had not reclaimed him so much that they were no longer friends. “How about you tell me where your thoughts have been for the past fortnight? Perhaps that will make me more inclined to forgive you.”

“The past fortnight?” Legolas repeated. Gimli was pleased to see that this had at least got Legolas’s attention back to present. Legolas blinked again, then he let out a small sigh. “My thoughts are ever elsewhere, I suppose.”

“That is not an answer, of which you are well aware.”

“I am.” Another sigh. Though Gimli would not admit it, his attention was piqued. In all their time of knowing each other, Legolas had never acted in such a manner. “I am sorry, Gimli. I have been worried about returning here for so long that I did not realize that you had noticed my concern.”

“Concern about what? Either tell me or do not. So long as I can rest this evening knowing you will be leaving this place with me in due time, so much the better.”

Legolas’s smile turned sad. He did not look away this time, yet Gimli felt somehow that Legolas was no longer looking at him but rather through him. 

“What good does it do to dwell on that which will not be?” Legolas asked. “It only makes the absence that much more apparent, speaking of it more so to those who were otherwise ignorant of the absence to begin with.”

“The absence of what, pray tell?” 

It rankled, Gimli realized, knowing that Legolas wanted to keep secrets even after all this time. There had been no holding back during their visit to Gimli’s family. Legolas had been treated just as a dwarf, a dwarf prince even. Gimli had been treated well by Legolas' family, too, but he hardly cared about the niceties of elves when there was only one elf he truly cared about remaining in Middle Earth. 

“Spit it out, Legolas! Have we not been together long enough to speak frankly to one another?” he said.

“I do not mean to keep you in the dark. It is only that I received bad tidings from my father this night. I fear that coming home might have done me more harm than good. There is but one thing I hoped for on the way here, and now I know there is no chance of it happening.”

“You are more difficult to interrogate than an orc!” Gimli bemoaned. He threw up his hands in defeat. A long night of singing it was. “Keep your secrets, Legolas. I need them not. I only hope that you will be back to your old self by the time we make ready to leave.”

Legolas smiled a bit more sincerely at that. “I do not intend to speak in riddles, Gimli. It is only that–”

A snapping branch interrupted him. 

Gimli’s hand went straight to the ax at his hip, but Legolas was even faster, his bow strung and arrow drawn before the sound came again, louder and faster. There were still elves close by, but this was closer, and not everything in Mirkwood could have been fixed by Frodo and Gollum’s deed. 

Gimli could hear Legolas breathing in the dark; his own breath sounded too loud in his ears. They stood together like that for several minutes, ears straining as the snapping condensed into swift footsteps. A straggler rushing to the party?

No. Just when Gimli thought that danger might be upon them, a young woman burst into their clearing. She was so out of breath, so obviously exhausted, that it took him half a minute to realize that she was an elf. Thankfully, it took him less time to understand the look Legolas gave her–and therefore the whole of Legolas’s behavior this night and those before. The bow fell immediately to Legolas side, and there was something in his gaze that Gimli had never seen before.

“[Name],” Legolas breathed.

There were many odd things about this elf. Never had Gimli seen one so tired, not even Legolas after taking down an Oliphant. Stranger than this, however, was your reaction to Legolas. Your eyes widened almost imperceptibly, but at the same time, you lifted one hand to your mouth.

“Legolas?” you asked.

Legolas joined you in a single bound, leaving Gimli to stand on his own once more. This time, Gimli did not feel the faint burning of frustration in his veins. No, this time Gimli felt nothing but amused. He hid a smile in his beard as he leaned back against his tree. He had not been sent away, after all, and this was something he most certainly wanted to see.

“My father told me that you were away on patrol, too far away to get here in any short time,” Legolas said in a soft voice.

You stood just a little away, as though frozen to the spot. When Legolas continued to look at you expectantly, you looked down for one moment before looking back up at him. 

“I was,” you admitted, then: “I am. They told me you were here, and I…ran.”

That much, Gimli felt, was obvious. 

Perhaps Legolas did not feel it was so, because he lifted a hand to gently cup the side of your face. “You’re warm."

“I ran as swiftly as I could.”

Legolas let out a soft laugh. 

Laugh? To think that all this time, Legolas was mooning over some woman in the forest. Gimli did not know whether to be annoyed or entertained. Both, he decided in short order--short enough order, in fact, that you and Legolas were still busy staring at each other in the dim starlight by the time Gimli had come to his conclusion.

“Does my father know you’re here?” Legolas asked.

“No, and there are so few of us left to look after the border. I should not have left, but–I had to see you.”

Legolas beamed. 

What could Gimli do but clear his throat? Much more of this presentation and he was likely to fall ill. Thranduil would not take that kindly, he was sure. 

The two of you practically leaped apart at Gimli’s interruption, though to both your credits, each of you recovered quickly enough. The familiar crease of the brow that appeared whenever Gimli first met an elf appeared on yours as well. This smoothed away as Legolas stepped over to him. Gimli suspected shock, as was common when anyone came to know if his and Legolas' companionship.

“[Name]," Legolas said, placing a light hand on Gimli's shoulder, "this is Gimli, son of Glóin. He is my closest friend, and it is to him that any thanks are owed for my safe return.”

Frowning, you looked first at Gimli, then slowly returned your gaze to Legolas’ face. Gimli expected it to stay there, but soon you were looking at him again. Then you inclined your head toward him. “Thank you, Gimli. For keeping him safe when I could not follow to do so.”

“My pleasure, Lady [Name], and it is a further pleasure to know of your existence.” 

It was Gimli’s turn to grin. His doing so made Legolas smile as well. It was a nice change from the consistent frown he had worn of late. You simply threw Legolas an appraising look and came nearer to take his hand. 

“He needs looking after, this one. I appreciate any help that you are willing to give,” Gimli added.

You opened your mouth to reply, but Legolas beat you to it. Unsurprisingly, his attention was elsewhere once more: “You said my father does not know that you are here,” he said, leaning closer to your face. “If you were to join us, he would know for sure. I would hate to subject you to his displeasure, and yet…”

Gimli could tell Legolas wanted to leave his welcoming party. Well, it was not as though Gimli could not sympathize. He hated to be left alone with Legolas’s friends and family, but this seemed a more important reason to run off. 

With a shake of his head, Gimli waved you and Legolas toward the deeper recesses of the forest. “Go on. I shall make your excuses for you.”

There was the briefest return of Legolas’ smile. “Thank you, Gimli.”

You two did not wait for him to wave you away a second time. Gimli watched until you disappeared into the tree boughs across the way. As he turned back to the feast behind, it was with a considerable weight gone from his shoulders. Legolas would be fine. Furthermore, if–and Gimli certainly hoped it so–you joined them as they headed onward toward the sea, maybe you would prove better at conversation than Legolas had proved to be.

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐚𝐦𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐠𝐞𝐞'𝐬 𝐬/𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!  

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ            

🌿ISFJ 🍁Hufflepuff 📜Lawful Good 🔮Taurus Sun, Cancer Moon, Aries Rising

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・If either of you needs to leave the Shire, then the other always comes too

・Sam is infatuated with you and has been for a while. He’ll never get enough of you. 

・It was Frodo who got you guys together because neither of you would make a move

・Sam said he can’t move in with you until you’re married. But you don’t live too far from each other

・He brings you flowers every morning and has dinner with you every night 

・Merry and Pippin absolutely tease the sh*t out of Sam. They like seeing him annoyed 

・You made a bracelet for Sam, and he ALWAYS wears in. Only ever taking it off when he bathes because he doesn’t want it to fade/fray 

・Sam can get very jealous, very easily though. When someone gives you too much romantic attention (he knows when someone is being kind compared to someone who’s flirting with you). 

・He confessed his feelings to you the day after a fierce battle. He didn’t know if he would make it and all he could think about was you. 

・He’s a Ride or Die kinda person. He’ll defend you until his last breath. You never have to worry if he has hidden secrets or motives. Sam is completely honest about himself

・When you come to him upset, Sam will hold you close and grasp the back of your head, holding it again him. 

     “Shhh, hey hey. What’s the matter?” 

・He’s more of a comfort first, fix second type of person

・Sam looooooooooves dancing with you. He spins you round and round, both of you laughing, no worries in your mind

・Sam can be a bit naive when it comes to those in authority. He doesn’t realise that not everyone in charge knows everything. 

・Not many people have seen the inside of Sam’s bedroom. It’s on the south side, so it doesn’t have a window. For light, he has many candles that he takes the time to light at night (it’s a part of his routine). He loves bathing, and does so as much as he can (2-3 times a day) 

・Isn’t the best at reading, that’s why he throws himself into physical work 

𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝑷𝒆𝒕 𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒀𝒐𝒖:

Dear, Honey, Pumpkin. 

Sam has a lot of food-related pet names for you. It’s because he’s combined his two favourite things, you and food. 

𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑳𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆:

Acts of Service & Quality Time

It means a lot to Sam when you spend time with him. His insides are constantly fluttering, and you catch him staring at you dreamily a lot. He’s just a really loving guy! Sam also loves doing things for you - working on your garden, fixing anything in the house, etc. 

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈:

Only The Beginning of The Adventure by Harry Gregson-Williams

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔:

・Forever In The Honeymoon Stage

・Aggressively Supportive

・Troublemaker (You) x WHY DO YOU KEEP GETTING IN TROUBLE? (Sam)

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆:

It’s Always Been You

[make-me-imagine]

Altered Perception

Trope: Forced alliance leads to friendship (and then more); a.k.a Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Legolas Greenleaf x GN!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of violence/fighting.

Words: 1.6k

A/N's: Rhovanion is the area of Middle-Earth where Mirkwood resides. This is mostly in flashback thought style, and there isn't very much dialogue until the end.

-

Things were so different now, thinking back on it. On how your journey started. How different your feelings were now, you felt like an entirely different person.

It had been ingrained in you, how selfish and pious the Woodland King and his son were. Years of bias and hate forced onto you from a young age. And you fell for it. Just as the young Prince had done.

He was told you were just as arrogant and self-centered as your parents. A child with no skill or intelligence outside of riches and war.

When you met that day, at the council, one from each family gathered. Including the woodland prince. When you learned who each other were, you barely looked at one another, though, stole a glance every now and then.

You weren't sure what came over you, to join the company of the Hobbit to destroy the ring, but you knew it was more important than anything else. Even if you had to join with a decided enemy of your family.

The beginning of your journey was a mess of subtle insults, jabs and silence. Between you, the woodland prince, and the dwarf, tension was high. But you befriended the rest easily and quickly, expecting nothing to come of your time with the prince except a growing hatred.

But sure enough, you found that you could pick apart your families biased opinions fairly quickly. He was not selfish, not pious. At times he was arrogant, but never more than you. Silently you altered your opinion of him, wondering how your parents got it so wrong.

Legolas, on his own, was doing the same. You were not self-centered, nor nearly as half-witted as he had been made to believe. You were intelligent, clever, and skilled.

Slowly, your conversations involved more discussion than insult, questions before assumptions, and even shared stories of your youth. Slowly, the bias faded, and you no longer saw the Prince as anything other than Legolas, a loyal companion, just as you saw Gimli.

You decided that when you returned from your journey, you would not hide the truth from your parents. You would right their wrong opinions, and no longer share their hate. Because soon enough, Legolas was your friend. And even sooner than you were expecting, he felt like something more.

As you fought side by side in ever battle that came your way, you found yourself trusting him more and more. Never afraid to turn your back on him, never afraid to turn away from an enemy. Because he was always there to cover you, to help you, just as you were for him.

You both took blows meant for the other, both warned each other of oncoming danger. You became a team, and formed a bond before you knew it was ever there.

And at times of peace, when your journey was nothing but walking, traveling, sitting, resting, you found yourself watching him. Admiring his hair, his eyes, his voice. Smiling at his stories and jokes. Wanting him to tell you more about the forest of Mirkwood you were never allowed to see.

And Legolas, found himself always watching you. When you would run up a hill to check the view. Watch a bird fly over head. Talk to Gandalf about something in soft voices. He always wanted to know what you were thinking, what you were seeing. What did you see when you looked at him? What did you think of him, truly?

His eyes always sought you out first, he always made sure he knew where you were. That you were still there. And when your eyes met at the same time, they lingered, in a silent language you both seemed to understand, Words that remained unspoken, un-whispered, to either of you. He wondered what would happen when this journey was over. If both of you made it out alive, what would happen then? Would he ever see you again? Of course he would, he would make sure of it. In the days leading up to the final battle, he kept thinking what he would do.

And suddenly, before any of you knew it, the final battle was among you. You faced your enemy at their door, ready to fight to the death if need be.

During much of the battle, neither you or Legolas were far out of sight. But somewhere along the way, you looked around him, and saw him nowhere. You felt a rush of panic flow through you as you looked around, your eyes darting to every body on the grass, to every moving figure.

As more enemies charged forward, you knew you had to keep fighting. If Legolas was out there, he was alive, and you would see him again, at the end of all of this. And maybe then you would not be so afraid of your feelings.

Legolas felt his strength faltering as the battle raged on. And his fears where heavy on his mind ever since you vanished from his sight. He spotted Aragorn, and even Gimli amongst the battle, but you he did not see. His heart ached at the idea of losing you, of failing to see you fall. Guilt rampaged through him as the horrible though of failing to save you crossed his mind.

But suddenly, a face came into view. A figure swinging wildly at the orcs, taking them down. Your familiar eyes met his and he felt a heavy weight lift off of him.

Relief washed over you at the sight of his familiar face. Eyes locked, emotion and relief present, you continued to fight the enemies around you, while gradually getting closer to each other.

Slicing down one enemy, another appeared, but he was sliced down in front of you, revealing Legolas right beside you. Your eyes locked again, a silent greeting, lips quirking up in a relieved smile. As you continued your battle, you felt more courage than before, knowing you were side by side once again. Your past enemy, now your greatest ally.

But quickly, things changed. You were outnumbered, surrounded. You watched in horror as Aragorn fell, the giant standing over him. Legolas began to fight his war towards him as you sliced through enemies trying to help.

Suddenly a loud roar echoed through the sky. Your eyes shot up, spotting the Eye of Sauron glowing brighter, shaking violently. A chill seemed to run through the swarm of orcs. You watched in awe as the foundation of Saurons tower began to crack and crumble. As the tower fell, so did Saurons forces. Fleeing from the fight, leaving you all left, watching.

Relief washed over you as you understood. Frodo and Sam had made it. The ring was destroyed. But soon, the mountain was too. You watched, tears filling your eyes, falling in step beside Legolas, as you watched the mountain erupt.

Reaching out, you took Legolas's hand, his gripped yours tightly in return. It couldn't end like this. You had to hope beyond hope that they somehow made it out, made it to a safe distance.

You waited impatiently as time seemed to move so slowly. The battle was over, you would not know if Frodo or Sam made it out until Gandalf returned.

Your only comfort was riding alongside you, as you trekked back to safety. Everyone was quiet. A mixture of joy and sorrow sat over the company. You and Legolas shared glances every now and then, wondering silently what would happen next.

You would not have the chance to fully discus it until you made it back to Rivendell. Frodo and Sam were safe and healing. The company resting after their long ordeal.

You looked out at the mountains as Legolas sat beside you, leg pressed against yours. You weren't sure when you stopped staying at a distance from one another, and instead always seemed to be so close. As if you had slowly been puled together over time.

"What now?" You finally asked, breaking the silence.

Legolas looked over at you, studying your profile until you looked over at him. He shook his head softly. "I'm not sure."

You nodded, looking back out at the view. "I thought after so long I would be ready to go home, but...I'm not."

"Me either." Legolas admitted.

"But I'm not sure where to go." You added on.

Legolas felt his chest tighten as he looked back over at you. His heart was beating heavily in his chest. Taking a breath he spoke softly, but with certainty. "You can come with me."

You looked back at him, finding his gaze intently meeting yours. "Where?" You asked softly.

He smiled and he shrugged his shoulder. "I don't know. Anywhere. Everywhere. We can explore the places we have never seen. I can show you Rhovanion."

You felt a smile spread across your face, as sense of excitement washed over you. "It's a long journey back, are you sure your not tired of my company yet?" You asked with a joking tone.

You saw for a single moment, his eyes flick to your lips before he met our eyes again. His own smile grew. "Not yet."

You felt your neck grow hot as you stared at each other. You nodded softly. "Alright. I think I could do with another adventure."

Legolas smiled, reaching over, he placed his hand on top of yours. "A much easier one this time."

You let out a soft laugh as you looked down at his hand on yours. Turning your and over, you laced your fingers through his. Meeting his eyes, you smiled at each other, excited and ready for whatever came next.

xx End xx

Not sure how I feel about this, but I hope you enjoyed!

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @caswinchester2000, @imaginesfire, @rexit-mo

Lotr/Legolas Taglists: @ta-ka-shi-ma, @whimsical-daydreams

[skittlesfics]

Elf! Reader being reunited with their lover, Aragorn. (Reader is Arwen's sibling.)

Finally getting around to some of the non-stranger things stuff in my queue. This definitely flexed some writing muscles that hadn't been used in a while, very fun. Aragorn x Reader - 573 Words - A Homecoming

- There was a sort of longing that could not be expressed in words.

Your people were long lived and long loved, with separations that could easily span the lifetime of a mortal Man, and yet the ache in your heart refused to subside at an absence less than half that.

You found yourself dreaming often of his dark gaze and calloused hands, the brown of his hair as he receded into darkness, always close enough to see, never close enough to touch.

In your waking hours, you spent your time weaving banners and tapestries to keep yourself busy, contributing to the war efforts in the only way your overprotective father would allow.

It was never enough. Thoughts of him filled all the empty spaces, trickling in only moments after the ache seemed to subside. A darkened room left space for questions. How much of his life were you missing with each year of the war stretching long between the two of you? What risks what he taking in his journey that you would not be there to mend?

You had lived his life-span many times, and a mere handful of years apart should have felt like moments. Without him, the pain existed out of time.

Nearly fifty years had passed since you had plighted your troth to the man on the other side of your door, and yet it took great effort to stand and take the few steps to answer his knock. The heartsickness had become so constant of a companion that you had forgotten that it could have an end, if it could have an end. The hearts of Men could be more fickle, and you knew that your rogue had met with your sister first.

You took a moment to compose yourself, pushing the jealous thought away before it could take root. It wasn’t fair to either of them, nor to yourself. You straightened your shoulders, lifted your chin, and pulled open the door.

Aragorn stood on the other side, dressed in a clean simple tunic. His hair was adorned with the trinkets indicating his impending status as a king, but beyond that he was simply Aragorn. Your Aragorn.

Your composure fell the moment he took a step forward, the time and distance between the two of you slipping away like it had been nothing. He put on no airs, no pretentions, wrapping you in his arms the same way he had all those years ago. You melted into his grasp, your head dropping onto his chest as your arms circled his shoulders. He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, words escaping the both of you as you both took a moment to adjust. He was alive. He was here. He was with you.

You didn’t know that you were crying until Aragorn was leaning down to kiss the tears away, his hand coming to cup your face gently as if he might break you. Perhaps he could. The heartsickness had made you fragile, and it was only under his gentle ministrations that you remembered what it was to be whole.

You could already see a few new scars scattered across his arms – stories for him to tell when the words found you again – but for now it was all you could do to tilt your head to meet his lips in a long awaited kiss, your heart squeezing with something that felt a lot like coming home.

[justalittlehoneybee]

The casting for the company in The Hobbit is phenomenal

Graham McTavish (Dwalin) hitting the gym as soon as he got the part

Jed Brophy (Nori) trying to steal as much stuff on set as he can and Mark Hadlow (Dori) telling him to put it back

Mark Hadlow (Dori) texting Adam Brown (Ori) “Are you okay?” and mothering him all the time

Aidan Turner (Kili) and Dean O’Gorman (Fili) being the trouble makers on set and teasing all the other dwarves

Stephen Hunter (Bombur) constantly snacking on set

James Nesbit (Bofur) and his Irish humor

Richard Armitage (Thorin) constantly feeling the pressure of his role and responsibilities

[floatyflowers]

After Morgoth lost in the war of wrath, and the Valar punishing him, all after Sauron 'back stabbed him', the new dark lord rushed back to you with fake sadness.

Sauron returns to you with a facade of mourning for Morgoth, claiming he tried to save his master but was powerless against the might of the Valar.

Sauron convincingly portrays sorrow over Morgoth's downfall, but there's a gleam of triumph in his eyes, hidden beneath the facade.

He weaves a narrative of his loyalty, telling tales of the promises he made to Morgoth about protecting you, presenting himself as a faithful servant honoring his master's wishes.

Sauron, skilled in manipulation, gradually builds your trust by appearing supportive and protective, offering solace during your supposed loss.

While you cry in his embrace, he slides his hands all over your body.

Behind the comforting facade, Sauron's true intentions are to use the situation to solidify his influence and control, subtly manipulating events to his advantage.

Sauron's deceptive charm draws you in, and he plays the role of a sympathetic confidant, subtly guiding you toward dependence on him.

Sauron is a master of psychological manipulation; he might employ mind games, illusions, or haunting visions to dissuade you from pursuing freedom.

He might use your emotions by presenting false dilemmas or external threats, making you believe that staying under his influence is the only way for you.

Even if you manage to escape temporarily, the long-term consequences of defying Sauron could linger, with ways that reach beyond the immediate escape attempt.

[doodle-pops]

Modern AU: Sugar Daddy | My Sugar Daddy Loves Me

Headcanon: Maglor, Finrod, Ecthelion, Thingol, Elrond

Request: Hi Mina I hope you doing well could you please write a part 2 of your sugar daddy au? With Ecthelion, Maglor, Finrod, Elrond and Maeglin - Anon

A/N: Not gonna lie, I had a hard time envisioning Finrod as a sugar daddy since I link those who are Daddy/DILF material as a sugar daddy. He seemed so aloof as a sugar daddy and more like Friends with Benefits lol.

Warnings: a female-focused reader, smut, breeding/creampies

➽ Part 1 | Part 2

➽ Modern AU Series

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ. Maglor

➽ He’s a world-renowned pop star who is beloved by everyone, and you are his lovely darling he met during a backstage meet and greet when he slipped his number into your back pocket and whispered, ‘Call me.’

➽ Of course you called him because that’s how you receive gifts on your doorstep after every performance he has, world tours, or when his albums go platinum. You are the mysterious lover that his fans talk about because of paparazzi.

➽ For the most of your dynamic shared with him, you are kept a secret because, to him, it makes everything more thrilling. All those posts of him on vacation or tours with snips of your hands, legs or back, or the albums being written about you, make everything invigorating.

➽ On the days when he does return from touring, you are showered in affection abundantly. Necklaces and anklets with your name or his name, dozens of roses, lingerie, the latest fashion wear, a lump sum of money floating into your account and some days between the sheets.

➽ Plus, that pretty black credit card in your back pocket feels incredibly heavy with all the financial opportunities it’s allowing you to make. It doesn’t bother him with you swipe his card to make your purchases because he has lots of trust in you (please don’t rob him).

➽ The dynamic between you both differs from the others who would reward you for excelling at your job or studies. With Maglor, he’ll reward you for being silent as he takes you in the recording booth during breaks, support him during his concerts, and when he wins awards.

➽ Apart from dropping all the materialistic gifts on you, Maglor takes him time to worship you from head to toe. You are, after all, the inspiration behind his best-selling albums, and he has inserted your moans as background vocals on some of his songs.

➽ A passion lover you got as a sugar daddy with an oral fixation (best his mouth). He has to show you how talented those lips are; singing isn’t all that he can do with his tongue. Plus, he’s also a guitarist, so let the realisation sink in with those fingers.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ. Finrod

➽ Right off the bat, his type of sugar daddy isn’t for pleasure purposes and it’s the last reason why he was willing to care for you. He just wants someone to spoil and spend lots of time with because he’s rich and lonely in his mansion.

➽ Being spoilt is something you never have to question because he’s eager to be your sugar daddy even though he doesn’t consider himself as one. He’ll just tell you that he’s a good friend helping another friend out while handing you his unlimited credit card and a bunch of gifts.

➽ The adventurous type to call you up in the middle of the night and TELL you that he already booked you all a flight a trip to a tropical island for two weeks filled with various fun activities. The idea that you have classes or work tomorrow doesn’t sink in until you’re reminding him.

➽ It’s a frequent occurrence with him visiting/calling at early hours to check out new places in the city or for you to come over because his giant house is lonely. At some point, you are living in with him and all the maids have become familiar with you.

➽ If you’re a college student, you are funded, and yes, he does have an interest in your academics. However, he’s a lot more understanding if you fail a course because he’s the reason (making you miss classes with those trips); he might suggest dropping out and letting him permanently care for you because he can also get you a decent job without a degree.

➽ As I mentioned, pleasure isn’t something Finrod is interested in during the agreement. That’s something you would have to initiate one night as you’re relaxing in bed or returning from dinner. Take the lead and make him rethink his agreement to incorporate it often and scrap the ‘friends’ talk.

➽ He isn’t someone who becomes stressed, so if anything, you’re the one who’s getting the rough sex when you’re stressed. He is happy to help because if you’re keeping him company, he has to return the favour with an open mind. And trust me when I say, he’s good at what he does but acts casual as if he didn’t strip away your ability to walk.

➽ At least your time being his sugar baby will be fun and filled with excitement, something that outshines the finances and pleasure he blesses you with. His desire for companionship helps to make the dynamic between you two worthwhile.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ. Ecthelion

➽ Responsible for marketing some of the most valuable gemstones around the world; mostly invested in the diamond stock market. The first time you met him and stepped into his house, you noticed how much he was obsessed with the gemstone. You don’t complain because it’s what he gifts you whenever you perform well for him.

➽ He covers all your tuition expenses and living commodities and gives you one of his unlimited credit cards to shop for your heart's desires. In return, you must bring home good grades (he’ll tell you what’s good) and keep up your good reputation. He doesn’t want you to ever tarnish your reputation.

➽ Ecthelion is wealthy and educated, so he doesn’t mind getting involved and invested in your field of work or degree program. Depending on what it is, he’ll extend his knowledge, but if he doesn’t know, he’ll make attempts to get you good connections to boost your career.

➽ So long as you maintain your good grades and reputation, you’re in it for life. He’s taking you vacations to tropical islands, opera shows, shopping sprees, buying you the most expensive jewellery sets and clothes. You will be rocking the best designer clothes, Ecthelion isn’t standing for you wearing simple clothes.

➽ Of course, when you perform excellently for him, he will return the favour with more than just trips and money. He established in the beginning that he was seeking companionship during your deal, and as much as he wanted to keep things professional, something about the red lipstick you adore wearing sucked him in.

➽ Perhaps allowing you to give him a blowjob under the table in his office during a quick visit and leaving lipstick smeared all over his cock made him change his mind about keeping things professional. He was pleased when you agreed to make the relationship more intimate than hugs and kisses.

➽ He wastes no time whenever he’s stressed to relieve himself through you (with your consent). You’re his little stress reliever, and in return, Ecthelion doesn’t mind letting you use him to beat your stress. Sex is rough and steamy between you both. You are getting bent over countertops, work desk, pressed against the wall, he’s hungry beneath his professional demeanour.

➽ While he is a formal and sophisticated gentleman, and he would not touch you inappropriately in public, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t purchase you vibrator panties and plugs. You’re sitting beside him during a conference meeting and he’s causally playing with the speed on his phone, making you cum.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ. Thingol

➽ This sugar daddy is drifting over to the DILF side of things and do not be fooled by his silver hair, he isn’t old, he’s simply trendy and into the latest fashion styles. Giovani, Armani, Dior, Marco Polo, Ralph Lauren and the list goes on. Thingol is an old-money type of sugar daddy, and he adores showing off his wealth to you.

➽ To be honest, Thingol really want to be your sugar daddy because he saw you and liked you. At the time, you were a broke college student or young worker struggling in the business world who used the opportunity he was providing to build your career and status.

➽ Thingol doesn’t care about all that (at first), but he does ensure all your needs and desires are met. Tuitions paid, loans cleared, no negative credit score or empty bank account. You’re the rich student on campus or your job that everyone is jealous of because he makes sure the world knows you’re spoilt by rolling up in some custom Rolls Royce or Bently.

➽ Your unlimited credit cards weigh a ton in your pocket, but who cares because you’re rich and being pampered as you deserve? Of course, nothing in life comes for free and without payment. Thingol might carry some age because he has a fully grown child, but he isn’t old.

➽ He makes it clear that he would enjoy being intimate and seeking companionship in return for the wealth spent on you. Do you decline, of course not (you can’t, or you’ll end up poor again).

➽ Thingol is the definition of old is the new young. This man has the stamina to last for a lifetime and makes sure you’re always satisfied. He can be stingy and demand that you give him more attention (he’s a receiver more than a giver). You’ll have to catch him in the right mood for him to be on the giving end.

➽ But still, you can’t complain because you’re getting good dic—. Anyway speaking of spoiling you, he adores whenever you’re completely decked out in lingerie for him, i.e. just all the jewellery he bought for you and nothing else.

➽ He does have a slight breeding kink, but it isn’t intending to want children, so you have nothing to worry about. Thingol just enjoys the sight of prettying his sugar baby.

➽ Know that he’ll gift you some necklace or ring that informs everyone that you’re his and no one else’s. If you ask him if it means he’s proposing, he’ll reply with something along the lines of, “You’re already mine princess, wedding ring or not.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ. Elrond

➽ DILF number three and it makes perfect sense since he’s a descendant of many DILFs (Fingolfin, Turgon, Thingol). But Elrond doesn’t mind being someone’s sugar daddy, though his intentions are more for genuine purposes. If you want more, you’re gonna have to do all the work to show him that it’s more than paying your tuition and giving you money.

➽ Nevertheless, he covers all your expenses and demands that you perform excellently in your field of study or job. Elrond would even go out of his way to personally teach you (and no, I don’t mean bending you over the desk type of teaching) to ensure success is at your fingertips.

➽ This man is the most passionate and dedicated sugar daddy who cares about your well-being to a great extent. He’s well-rounded, so he’s fulfilling all your needs and wants, health, education, finances, basic commodities and living expenses. Please don’t disappoint him by failing your classes, he’s pulling all his money into the best tutors.

➽ In return for your devotion and passion for excellence, you are getting spoiled but not like the others. Elrond doesn’t mind giving you money or taking you on shopping sprees or trips around the world, he simply doesn’t want you dependent dependent on him to always provide since he’s building you up to become your own boss and financially secure.

➽ He’ll spoil, but not to that extent. Such a philosophical man, teaching all about life and how to be independent and headstrong.

➽ Now, as I’ve previously mentioned, if you want him to take you to bed, impressions are everything. Elrond’s the type to get impressed by your sense of elegance, sophistication and linguistics. Show him how skilled your tongue is, and he’ll be wanting more. No doubt he’s rewriting the contract in his mind.

➽ He has kids and knows how to ramp in between the sheets. In his state, he probably isn’t interested in more given his desire for companionship, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t going to be giving out creampies. The sight of it is his catalyst for wanting to give you more and keep you up all night.

➽ He’s a gentleman in the streets and will incapacitate you in the sheets. Tricks up his sleeves despite having an old fashion appeal about him. Give him a dance dressed in some pretty lingerie—nothing overly fancy, he likes elegance and simplicity—while he sips on whisky or brandy in a button-down shirt and his tie lazily discarded around his neck.

➽ Treat him well because running multiple companies is tiring, so relieve his stress while he relieves yours and you’ll be the happiest sugar baby ever.

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @mysticmoomin @rain-on-my-umbrella @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @ladyenchanted @mcwentfandomtraveling @involuntaryspasms @aconstructofamind @addaigio

If you would like to be tagged, click the taglist link.

[angelofthenight]

Legolas: Do I even weigh anything to you?

You: No, it's like holding a couple of grapes

[somedaylazysomeday]

A Boon - Part Six

A sleepless night looms ahead, but you don't want to fill it with conversation.

Thranduil x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI

Word Count: 3,800

Warnings: Teasing, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, emotional misunderstanding, emotional vulnerability

Previous | Masterlist

---

It was impossible to tell how much time had passed before Thranduil spoke again - minutes and hours meaningless in the darkness of the night. 

“Will you still not tell me what steals your slumber?” Thranduil’s low voice rumbled, perfectly fitting the velvet shadows filling the room. “Unburdening yourself may help you sleep.” 

You shook your head, knowing he could hear the motion as clearly as speech. “I doubt it. But perhaps you can help in a different way… if you are willing.” 

There was a pause in which you prepared to assure him that he was under no obligation to you. But then Thranduil’s hand released yours to grasp your waist instead. In a fluid motion, he had rolled over to loom above you in the darkness. 

“I would be a poor lover indeed if I allowed you to suffer when there is hope of providing respite.”

“So magnanimous,” you teased. 

“Always,” he agreed, a bare instant before his lips brushed yours once and again, deepening into something tinged with urgency. 

You melted eagerly into the kiss and wormed your way closer, welcoming every touch of your body against his. He was big and solid and so wonderfully warm, especially when he cradled your jaw in his hand to deepen the kiss further. 

You hadn’t given much thought to where his other hand might be, not until you felt it high on your thigh and moving steadily inward. You gave a pleased little mutter and parted your legs so he could have space to move between them. 

Thranduil’s hand was against the very heart of you, cupping your mound, but he had gone still. You could feel the way his middle finger was lying along your seam, but that finger was not pressing into your core and his palm was not pressing against your clit. Still, there was something oddly intense about the way he was holding you, his grip possessive as he claimed your mouth in a leisurely siege. 

When his fingers did start moving, they were slow and gentle as they stroked your folds, teasing the most sensitive part of you. You were squirming under that attention, but unwilling to pull your lips from his to make a complaint. Thranduil finally took pity on you, sinking a finger deep into your heat. 

Your body parted eagerly around the intrusion, pulling him deeper. The thickness of that single digit simultaneously felt like the greatest relief you had ever felt and not nearly enough for you. 

When he stopped moving, your hips lifted to impale yourself more firmly. The heel of his hand was barely short of brushing your clit, and you could feel the heat of him so close… The stimulation it promised stayed tantalizingly out of reach, no matter how hard you tried to get there. 

You were pouting into your kiss when Thranduil finally relented. That finger started pushing gently in and out of you, more of a stroking gesture than a true thrust, but it was enough to make your heart race. 

Thranduil was a patient lover. He always had been, and it was one of his greatest strengths. He took his time, carefully drawing every bit of pleasure he could possibly plumb from your depth before he allowed either of you to rest. He had teased you in the past about the desperate speed of humans and how they could only hope to achieve the intensity of elven practices. It was maddening. 

Fortunately, you had quickly figured out a particular quirk of Thranduil’s: when he was so deeply involved in teasing sensations out of you, he was susceptible to his own needs. He could fight off the draw of pleasure alone, but when that pleasure was dashed with just a hint of pain, it was as if his mind was taken over by the startling contrast. 

With the way he was tormenting you, you could hardly be blamed for giving him a long stroke - fingers at the precise level of tightness that made him weak - even as you delivered a sharp nip to his lower lip. 

Thranduil pulled away to release a harsh sound, a rough combination of shock and keen interest, and stared down at you with a sharp look in his eyes. Those eyes had a sudden wildness to them, the tremendous sense of age in them edged with something you could only describe as a blunt and determined sort of intensity. 

He was going to take you apart, and you could think of nothing you wanted more. 

When Thranduil started moving once again, there was nothing soft or gentle about it. His finger pulled free of you only for it to return with another. Those two fingers thrust deep without a moment’s hesitation, stretching you sharply as you gasped and arched helplessly against your pillows. 

“Thranduil,” you gasped, clutching at the sheets, his arms… anything within reach that could possibly help you ground yourself against the feeling of his teasing fingers. 

He glanced from between your legs and up to your face. His expression was light and joyful, utterly mischievous. “Yes, lover?” 

Now that you had his attention, you were uncertain of what you might want with it. The best you could muster was a soft and trembling, “Please.” 

Thranduil smiled, drawing another gasp  as his fingers twisted inside of you. “Do not worry, little one. I know precisely what you need.” 

With that vaguely threatening promise, Thranduil set to work pulling you apart. His fingers pushed and stroked, thumb teasing intermittently against your clit - no rhythm you could decipher with your preoccupied mind. That meant that you could not anticipate his movements, and you were left to Thranduil’s mercy as he worked you steadily toward an orgasm. 

And it was no accident that Thranduil was not known for his mercy. 

When you fell apart, you arched up off the bed, held in place only by Thranduil’s arm bracing your hips. Your hands were clutching desperately at his forearms, and it was a miracle that he didn’t seemed bothered by the way your nails were biting into his skin. Your legs slammed shut around his hand, holding him in place as your core worked to drag him deeper inside of you. 

Thranduil worked you through it, movements steady and inexorable until you were quivering and breathless beneath him. Weakly, you pushed his hand away - though you had to remember to release it from the vice of your thighs first.

“Well, my queen?” Thranduil inquired, leaning over to study you from a closer angle. “Do you find yourself ready for sleep?” 

You made a face at his teasing tone, but you did not truly mind it. He was subtly asking whether or not you wished to continue your activities. There were days on which you preferred to orgasm once (or not at all) and be done with things so that you did not become overstimulated. Fortunately, that tended not to happen with Thranduil. 

“I am afraid not,” you told him with a sigh. “Though I understand if you are too tired to continue.” 

It was a game between the two of you, just as much a part of your relationship as his proposals. Thranduil grinned at you, as delighted to play his part as he ever was. “Not so, little mortal. I am ever ready to ensure your satisfaction.” 

You smiled back, but it was halfhearted. The endearment he had chosen struck a little too close to your preoccupied thoughts for comfort, and your urgency was genuine as you pulled him back down for another kiss. 

There was a hesitation to Thranduil’s lips and you worried for a moment that he would pull away to ask what was wrong. That was a conversation you had no interest in having with him at that particular moment, so you slipped your tongue between Thranduil’s lips, dueling briefly with his until he seemed utterly distracted.

And then, just to be certain, you slung one of your legs over his narrow hips, repositioning yourself until you were straddling him. His length was pressed against you, insistent and impossible to ignore, but not breaching you. 

You intended to fix that. 

“Are- Are you ready?” you asked, trying not to openly pant. As was often the case with Thranduil, your orgasm had not quenched your thirst so much as piqued your hunger. The sight of him beneath you, his pretty hair spread across your pillows, made your body tighten with unmistakable need. 

“For you?” Thranduil asked, and even in the handful of seconds since you had asked your question, you had already forgotten it. “Always.” 

You pulsed your hips forward and back, the movements a mindless mimicry of the way Thranduil’s hips moved when he took you. Thranduil planted his heels on the bed and pushed upward, shoving himself more firmly against you until you remembered precisely what your question had been… and what his answer gave you permission to start doing.

When your hand wrapped around Thranduil’s length, he twitched and thrust into the air at the feeling. It took your full strength to push his hips back to the bed. Even then, you knew it was only because he allowed you to reposition him. 

Your fingers around the base of Thranduil’s shaft held him in place as you pressed the broad head to your entrance. As always, he felt impossibly large as you lowered yourself onto him. Perhaps it was the position that always made you feel the burning stretch. More likely, it was that you were unable to slow your pace when you took him this way. You needed him now, not when your body said you could have him. 

But he was barely inside of you before he was catching your hips, holding you in place and preventing you from sinking down in one desperate stroke. You made a wordless noise of frustration, opening your eyes to stare at him in confused irritation. 

“Slowly, love, slowly,” he urged. “I want to feel you. I want you to feel me.”

You tried to ignore that direction, but Thranduil’s fingers were firm on your hips, guiding you achingly slowly downward. Even as your irritation grew toward the elvenking, you could not argue that this was more intense. Thranduil’s shaft seemed even more impossibly long this way, fed slowly into you bit by bit until it felt like he was stretching up inside your torso, fighting his way toward your heart. 

The muscles of your core worked and gripped and twitched around him. Thranduil seemed as entranced as you were, his lips moving as if he was speaking softly, so softly that his words were completely inaudible to you. 

When you were finally fully seated on him, feeling utterly impaled on the thick intrusion of his length inside of you, both of you made matching noises of inarticulate pleasure. You were unaware that your hands were braced against his chest until he gently cupped his over the back of one. 

“Is there something you need to tell me?” you asked. 

Thranduil looked at you with confusion, then with dawning delight. “Why, my queen. Are you asking for me to tell you how lovely I find you? Because I am happy to do so, though I will expect you to refrain from implying that I am the egotistical one in our relationship in the future…” 

“No, you have full claim over any ego between us,” you countered immediately. It was difficult to think with his hardness buried so deeply inside of you, but this seemed important enough to gather whatever wits remained available to you. “I meant that you were saying something. I could not hear you, but I felt that I needed to.” 

A wry expression twisted its way across Thranduil’s face. Worry grew in your stomach, and your voice was quiet when you asked, “Is it something so terrible?” 

Thranduil shook his head, fingertips rising to keep your face aimed at his. “Not at all. I simply worry that you will realize that our shared pleasure is weighted in my favor. It is impossible that I can bring you pleasure equal to the pleasure you bring me.”

“Did we not just discuss ego?” you asked, trying to lighten the mood. 

“I believe you have no concept of the way you make me feel,” Thranduil said solemnly, light eyes locked with yours. You stilled, trying to decipher what he meant with this serious turn. You felt a stab of fear as you wondered whether Storr would be proved correct. This was just abrupt enough to be the start of the end of your relationship with Thranduil. 

But then, the elvenking smiled. “Perhaps I am lucky in that. If you knew how utterly entrancing you are, I fear the power you would gain from the revelation.” 

You chuckled with him, but you still felt odd. Unbalanced, somehow, by the unexpected gravity of the moment. Then Thranduil’s hand moved to your breast, thumb stroking over your nipple as he smiled gently up at you. “You are so beautiful. And clever enough to rule a kingdom while working on behalf of citizens who adore you. I knew you would be a wonderful queen, but I could never had expected so much.” 

Normally, praise made you uncomfortable, particularly when it was as effusive as this. For some reason, you soaked in Thranduil’s words and felt the weight of them impact your soul. You were a wonderful queen. And you were clever and beautiful enough to bring Thranduil to his knees. Proverbially speaking, of course - you liked him exactly where he was at the moment. 

The height difference between you could present a challenge in many positions, but you could lean forward at just the right angle to press your lips to his. Thranduil met you on the way, hungrily accepting your kiss and deepening it until you were drinking each other in.

Since you were already leaning toward him, it was simple to lift up on your knees before sinking back down onto Thranduil. In fact, it was almost easier to keep the motion forward-and-back rather than up-and-down. 

The feeling of his thickness sliding out of you spurred you on, and the pressure of his pelvis against your clit at the bottom of every stroke urged you to keep that momentum. Your thrusts sped fast and faster until you had to pull away from Thranduil’s mouth so you could catch your breath. 

It was satisfying to see that Thranduil was breathing heavily as well. His chest rose and fell under your fingers, and you could almost imagine that you felt his quickened heartbeat beneath the smooth skin. Every few strokes, the head of his shaft would catch at the perfect place inside of you, shocking your system with the sharpness of the sensations. Each time it happened, your body clamped down around Thranduil’s as he gave a low, urgent growl. 

When Thranduil caught at your hips, you half-prepared yourself to swat at his hands. He was clearly as close as you were, and you would be forced into violence if he intended to slow your pace once more.

But he only squeezed your hips, stroking over the sensitive skin he found there. “Lovely, lovely human. I shall not last much longer. What can I do to bring you with me?” 

Your mouth was dry from all of the panting, and it took you several attempts to force out, “Touch me, Thranduil.” 

“With pleasure,” he agreed, a wolfish smile spreading over his face. 

This was once of your most treasured traits of Thranduil’s: when you asked him to touch you, he did not simply lunge for your most sensitive places. He knew that you could find pleasure in every sensation. His hands traveled up your arms to your shoulders, then down the sides of your body, your body singing at the simple contact. He caressed your breasts like he had the rest of you, then continued over the flexing muscles of your stomach and down between your legs. 

The thrusting pace you had taken up left little space for him to reach your clit, but Thranduil managed, slipping fingers between you. He teased you mercilessly, following the movements of your body to keep the torment ongoing regardless of whether you were rising or falling. 

You had been steadily getting closer to the edge of your orgasm, but it had been a distant thing, growing like a cloudbank over the water before a storm. But Thranduil’s touch brought those nebulous sensations to the immediate forefront. 

You slammed yourself down on him, hands braced on his shoulders as you closed your eyes and took deep breaths. The chasm of pleasure yawned eagerly before you, and it was only by holding completely still that you could draw back without falling in. Your body relaxed incrementally, half a step back from the cliff.

Thranduil was unwilling to let you, however. He pressed his knuckle firmly against your clit, thrusting up into you at the same time. 

And you were gone. 

It was something of a miracle that your arms and legs stayed braced enough to support you. You had no feeling left in them, your entire being so consumed by the sensations wracking you that the world narrowed exclusively to the explosions in your body, the twitching pulses of Thranduil’s length inside of you, and the satisfied gleam of Thranduil’s eyes. 

As your body’s frantic spasms eventually slowed to soft squeezes around him, Thranduil’s eyes stayed on yours. You could not fault him; yours were just as blatantly locked on his. His hands on your arms kept you upright even when your muscles no longer wished to support you, and he guided you slowly onto the bed beside him. 

The room was quiet, the sound of the waves far below only now audible without the grunts and moans and sounds of sex filling the room. You could almost fall asleep, the worries of your relationship pushed from your mind by your recent activities. But the rustle of the Thranduil’s body against the sheets felt purposeful, a way of breaking the silence, and you knew a conversation was incoming.

“Tell me, my queen,” Thranduil said, gently pulling out of you. “When do you intend to accept my proposal?”

“When do you intend to stop asking?” you returned, lazily rolling your head so you could look at him. 

He smiled. “I believe I never shall. Some day, you will agree to have me as your husband.”

“Thranduil…” You knew you were meant to find that funny, but you could not quite summon a smile. Yes, there were serious problems that he refused to acknowledge, but you had never stated them as clearly as you should. Perhaps it was time to bring them up directly. 

You rolled onto your side, directing your gaze at him rather than the ceiling. “You will outlive me by a number of years. Why would you want to tie yourself to a wife you will have for the equivalent of a few weeks?”

Thranduil looked over at you and found that you were watching him steadily. He returned his gaze to the ceiling rather than hold yours. “Yes, I will outlive you. That much is a certainty, barring anything unforeseen. But I love you. I want to seize our time together, to spend as much of it bound as tightly as we can be. When you are gone, I will mourn you. I would do so if you left me tomorrow.” 

You might have teased him for that, asked if he had designs on your safety… but there was a frown on Thranduil’s face that said the thought alone was causing him distress. 

“But would you deny me the knowledge that you had belonged to me and I had belonged to you as much as any two can? That we swore before all kingdoms, all rulers, and every one of our subjects that we chose to be together? Not due to politics or trade or any such thing. But because we loved each other too deeply to live any other way but together.” 

Thranduil slowly shook his head. “I mourned my first wife for almost a decade and that was with the comfort of knowing we had been together without reservation. I already care too deeply about you to hope for any less grief, but I worry for that lack of solace…”

“So why do I wish to wed you?” he asked, turning to look at you directly. Thranduil’s eyes were bright with unshed tears, though he fought to keep them from falling. “Simply put: because I love you and I want the entirety of the world to know that I would have none other than you for my wife, my partner, and my queen.”

Whatever expression was on your face, Thranduil seemed to find it unbearable. He turned away, his back toward you. “Please save your objections for the morning. I find I am far too weary to defend my desires to you this evening.” 

“Thranduil…” you started. 

“Yes?” he asked, still facing away. 

Your mouth opened, but you found that you could not answer him. 

Thranduil turned toward you once more, his hands rising to cup your face. One of his thumbs rubbed the crease between your brows while the other smoothed the corner of your  frowning mouth.

“Yes?” he repeated, voice hushed. 

You took a breath, and it was shaky when you released it. “Ask me again.” 

Thranduil’s hands stilled on your face. “Will you marry me?” 

“Yes.”

His eyes widened an instant before he captured your lips with his own. With the activities of the last hour, you were not quite stirred to need, but your body perked with interest at the way he moved close and closer. You were pressed together, utterly entwined, until Thranduil let you go, pulling away only far enough to press his forehead to yours. The brightness of his beaming smile was near-blinding from such a close vantage point, but there was a mischief in it that made you wary.

“You realize, of course, that our people will not be satisfied with a recounted tale of an accepted proposal?”

You groaned. “Please try not to make your staged proposal too inane tomorrow. I don’t want to lose the respect of my subjects.”

“Never,” Thranduil promised. “I shall devote the entire afternoon to composing a proper proposal for their approval.”

“Afternoon?” you asked. “What about the morning?” 

His eyes were bright. “I had a rather different idea of how we would spend the morning.”

---

Author's Note - This pair has been a delight to write from the beginning, but these two chapters represent my final ideas for them. If I ever decide to add to their story, I'll make sure to link it here.

Meanwhile, I would love to hear what you thought! Thanks for reading!

[ironmandeficiency]

sending memes

pairing: legolas / modern!reader

word count: 2153

summary: it was remarkably easy to fall in love with the elven prince. unfortunately, it was somewhat harder to actually convey said feelings. that’s when you decide to use memes

req: can i have legolas x reader with "sender quotes a poem that reminds them of receiver"? -@micheleamidalajedi

a/n: leave it to me to turn soft romance prompts into bullshit 😂i had to tweak it just a smidge but i think it's fine. mistor is gn sindarin for strayer/wanderer, aluon is gn sindarin for wholesome, & meril means artist or poet in woodelven sindarin

in the beginning, the elves had no idea what to do with you. you were far too brash and loud for court and had very little formal training in just about anything useful. your clothes were strange and there were dozens of words in your vernacular they didn’t understand, and several of your mannerisms threw the elves of the greenwood into tizzies.

your consensus was that they tolerated you simply because you knew things you shouldn’t, like the events of the first age and personal details about king thranduil that never saw the light of day.

some elves surprisingly enjoyed your presence very early on and jumped on the opportunity to learn about where you came from. of this number was legolas, a very adept learner who was easy on the eyes (and your heart, but that’s neither here nor there).

you’ve been in middle earth for a few years now, having jumped on the chance to stay and never return to a world slowly deteriorating. once you told the elves about various tragedies that had struck your earth in the past hundred years alone, even thranduil was terrified at the prospect of sending you back.

so now you were somewhat fluent in sindarin and best friends with a prince; oh, how the turntables.

“mistor!” your elvish name was cheerfully shouted across the training arena. “watch this!” aluon’s voice was immediately recognized and it brought a smile to your face. he had been one of your very first friends in middle earth and despite his youth (for an elf), was placed on your royal guard for if you ever ventured beyond the greenwood. he was what you would call a cinnamon roll.

“okay, i’m watching!”

aluon was currently practicing with his throwing knives, his bow resting against the side of a training dummy. for all the praise a bow and arrow got from elves, he preferred his knives just a bit more.

he threw one last look over his shoulder to make sure you were indeed watching him before throwing the blade in his hand with a resounding “YEET!”

the knife landed directly in the bullseye because of course it did.

you could barely congratulate him on his aim and joke execution for your cackling, arms holding your stomach as if your body were truly coming undone. his laughter joined yours soon after, the two of you leaning on each other while trying (and failing) to catch your breath.

-

legolas has known you long enough to know that where boisterous laughter is heard, you’re likely the culprit. this is why his footsteps guided him to the training arena in the royal wing, the one reserved for himself, his father, and their most trusted friends and guards.

to his non-surprise, you and aluon were wheezing on the ground at some unknown joke. he approached you both with a smile of his own, sturdy hands helping you to your feet. “mellon nin, what lightens you so?”

“aluon was throwing knives and went ‘YEET!’ and he hit the center of the target!” the cackling returned with renewed strength as you mimicked the motion and raucous screech of the four letter word.

ah, the practice of yeeting. you explained the word to him very early into your presence here and he found himself using the term on the odd occasion, much to your delight.

but legolas, as polite and regal as he was, felt the embers of friendly competition light in his chest. it wasn’t about the aim of aluon’s throws, as logical but slightly unfounded as that claim would have been.

it was truly about your laughter. he wanted to be the reason you lit up with such mirth, he wanted to be responsible for the joy in your eyes.

with all the princely decorum he could muster, he armed himself with his bow, notched an arrow, and let it fly directly into the wooden handle of aluon’s blade.

then, with a straight face, he dabbed.

-

tauriel was a hard elf to get ahold of. as captain of the guard, she was always busy, flitting about while completing all sorts of duties.

but finally, two weeks after legolas made a show of dabbing in the training arena, you found her in a rare moment of rest. you knocked on the door to her rooms and when she opened it, you walked right inside and plopped yourself on the nearest chair.

“ugh tauriel! finally, i’ve been trying to talk to you for ages!”

she smiles warmly, always having been one to enjoy the mannerisms that made you so intensely human. “it’s good to see you too, mellon nin,” her chuckle is soft and sincere. “what do you need?”

you sighed, snatching a throw pillow from the chaise you were on and reclining back in a way reminiscent of a therapist’s office. “i need advice about legolas.”

her smile turned to a knowing smirk. “ah, so you finally see what the entire kingdom already knows.”

“what do you mean ‘the entire kingdom knows’? what do they know?!”

“ah, i see i was mistaken.”

your resulting floundering was amusing to the redhead.

“i’m serious tauriel, i need your help!” you thought it useless to play coy and being vague would get you nowhere, so you told her exactly what you needed to know. “i need to know how to go about asking him on a date, or whatever it is that elves do when they’re interested in someone.”

“well,” she began, “if i know him as well as i think i do, he wouldn’t want you to conform to elven traditions to please him.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” at this point, you were beginning to question why you came to tauriel for help, seeing as she was being ridiculously cryptic and strangely unhelpful. “in case you forgot, he’s royalty. i can’t exactly woo him with ridiculous memes and call it a day.”

she nodded. “why not? if that is a regular human courting tradition where you’re from, why would he not find it acceptable? it’s part of who you are, and one could only call themselves a worthy suitor if they appreciate those things about their intended.”

okay, she had a little bit of a point. not that you would tell her so, of course. “but i can’t text him memes at ungodly hours of the night, there still is a lack of cell phones to contend with.”

for someone so smart and otherworldly, tauriel thought, you were rather oblivious when your feelings got in the way of your common sense. “then do those things in a different way. as you’ve told me before, there’s more than one way to skin a cat.”

after a few moments of silent pondering, you realized what she was hinting at. “i can draw the memes! or, well, i can ask meril for assistance in the matter, since i’m not quite used to using quills and such.” tauriel thought she could see the gears turning in your head (if that was indeed the right analogy).

she shouldn’t have been surprised when you leaped from her chaise and wrapped her in a tight hug. humans in your world must be a bit more affectionate than the ones she was vaguely familiar with, “thank you thank you thank you! i’ll let you know how it goes! bye!” with that abrupt exit, tauriel watched you fondly as you sprinted from your rooms, probably heading to the library where you could find meril.

-

legolas was fletching arrows when a courier appeared in his line of vision with a bow. “my prince, a letter for you.” he accepted the outstretched letter with a nod, wondering what it could possibly be.

the parchment was familiar to him, being the very same quality that occupied his own writing desk in his chambers. the only momentary pause was seeing that the few words were written in westron, underneath a drawing of a radish with a tiny face.

“you’re… radishing?” it took him a moment to dissect the pun, shoulders shaking minutely when the meaning fully registered. then his eyes caught your signature on the bottom of the page and his smile grew wider. he folds your letter neatly and tucks it into a pocket. when he goes back to his rooms next, he will deposit it securely on his desk to keep it safe.

the radish is the first of many of these pictures he receives from you, he soon learns that in the world you came from, they’re called “memes” and can convey any number of things depending on the content and context.

during dinner one evening, you passed him a napkin that he unfolded to find another vegetable drawing, this time a smiling carrot, with the words “i carrot a lot about you” that turned the tips of his ears pink. if his father noticed the blush he gave no indication of it.

your memes varied in artistic talent (he would know meril’s penmanship anywhere) but all carried the same intention, which seemed to be making him flustered at the most inopportune times. another thing he learned about memes was that they were frequently sent back and forth between two people.

his own visit to meril seemed to be long overdue.

-

meril has lived for several thousand years in service to the greenwood. yet, in all her centuries of knowledge and experience, she’s never seen two beings dance around feelings with the same grace as prince legolas (or lack thereof, where you were concerned).

you taught her what memes were and provided descriptions of what you deemed “templates” for her to draw,  master copies of a certain type of meme where the meaning of the meme changed depending on the text. it was a very interesting affair, if she did say so herself. they became more popular throughout the kingdom thanks to your influence, so much so that the prince himself came to her one day with an odd request.

“i need you to help me compose a meme worthy of mistor’s laughter.” he looked serious as he ever did, grim determination set in every pore of his face. none would know that he was simply trying to make a meme.

“you need to be more specific, your highness. your dear mistor can find humor in nearly everything around them. in fact, yesterday afternoon, they spilled nearly a month’s worth of ink onto a single piece of parchment and laughingly called it the thirteenth reason.”

legolas smiled at the story before his mind fully processed what she said. “they’re not my- thirteenth reason for what? what were the other twelve?”

meril shrugged, walking towards what became your desk in the library soon after your arrival. many of the templates were strewn about its surface haphazardly, half-finished memes next to their matching templates. “you should find everything you need here, your highness. if mistor arrives before you’re gone, i shall keep them occupied.”

“thank you. i greatly appreciate your help.”

finding blank parchment and a quill, he dipped into your ink jar and quickly got to work.

-

you generally never got letters. any missives you received from various elves were dubbed simply as messages that just happened to be written, which is why being told there was a letter for you had you perplexed. it wasn’t like modern earth discovered how to send carrier pigeons to middle earth in the few years you’ve lived in the greenwood.

instead of asking the courier several questions about the contents of the letter, you simply bid him thanks and quickly tore into it.

the wax seal of the royal line was recognized in seconds. thranduil wouldn’t waste his time writing anything out that he could simply tell you in person with a summons to wherever he happened to be.

that left legolas, and the thought made you giddy just thinking about it.

you registered that there were words written to you, but paid them no mind for the moment. what truly gave you surprise was the fact he used a template. you knew this because you recognized the format; a young girl standing in front of several other people who were giving her audience, a display board just behind her.

this bitch sent you a lisa simpson meme.

after a moment of bewilderment, you actually read the words that were just behind her.

“mistor’s laugh makes the plants grow stronger and could replace the sun with their joy”

you could tell that towards the end he worried about having enough room for all the words in the square with how they got just a smidge smaller. but that didn’t matter to you in the slightest, not when he wrote such a romantic sentiment solely for you. your giggles were the furthest thing from dignified but you didn’t care.

you had a prince to find (and hopefully kiss, if things went your way).

[creepychan08]

Yandere Thranduil x Reader

It wasn't supposed to end up like this. You heart's desire becoming a nightmare.

And now there's no way home.

"Thranduil, you can't keep me here. Sooner or later I must return home." You once again plead your case as Thranduil frowned and hold both your hands protectively. But lately it feels like his gentle touches were slowly turning like handcuffs chaining you to him, unable to escape his grasp.

"Meleth nin (My love) please, this is your home. Have I not treated you well? Tell me what more can I do to make you stay by my side?" 

His grip tightened, not in a hurtful way, but just enough to prove his desperation for your continued presence in his kingdom.

"Its not that at all. You have been truly kind to me and for that I am eternally grateful. But I have my family waiting for me. I miss them Thranduil. Terribly." Your eyes glistened with unshed tears and his gaze softened, drawing you closer in an embrace. You welcomed the comfort he provided and lean your head almost close to his chest, the part you can only reach due to your unfortunate stature.

"Have you found some other way to return to your world?"

"How could I when you took away that book and refused to let me out of your kingdom?" The bitter tone of your voice breaks the moment of tranquility when you remembered it was him who didn't allow you to leave and travel to Rivendell to seek help from Gandalf.

Though your tone was bitter, you felt him relaxed more against your embrace as if relieved.

"You know there are threats coming from the orcs resurfacing in the forest. I can't very well allow my beloved to travel and place yourself in harm's way. No, you will stay here with me." His fingers slowly brush down your hair as you feel your anger boil inside.

"I will not allow you to keep me in here like a trophy! No more! I will go out and discover the way back- back to my real home- if you won't help me." 

Thranduil grit his teeth in frustration as he roughly tilt your head up to look at him. His eyes fierce and burning as it stare straight to your soul and your composure faltered, realizing how large he is compared to you and the power he has to crush you any time.

"I will say it again. You won't leave my side forever. You are mine as I am yours."

A whimper unconsciously left your lips as you began to fear and tremble before him. The dominance he was radiating made you feel weak, unable to do anything but submit to his will.

Upon hearing that helpless sound, his seething expression was immediately wiped off, dark glint in his eyes returning to a soft crystal blue filled with worry and regret when he behold the terror he accidentally inflicted on his beloved.

"My starlight, I am so sorry. Please forgive this ignorant King from his careless actions. I did not mean to make you afraid of me. That was the last thing I ever wanted." The sorrow in his voice made you want to reach out and comfort him.

You remembered how it all started. 

*Flashback*

Being a fan of The Hobbit trilogy movie, you were immediately captivated by the ElvenKing, Thranduil. The daily occurence in your life involves imagining random scenarios and plots with him and deeply wishing to somehow be transported in Middle Earth to meet him. And one day it did come true.

You have no idea of your last memory of how you came to this new world. Whether you were killed by a truck driver and get isekai'd, or if you were just dreaming or worse case in a coma, you have no idea how you are actually faring in the real world. But there was a portal which immediately closed as soon as your feet step into the grounds of the forest of Mirkwood.

Obviously you were taken by the patrolling group of elves and presented to Thranduil. It was not love at sight as you were already crushing on him way back on Earth but it sure did made your heart jumped with excitement as you eagerly and honestly answered each one of his questions.

You were detained in the dungeons for some time as the ElvenKing pondered on your statement to see if you were just lying to get yourself out of this mess. Perhaps it is dark magic then to how you were transported to this world? Are you a threat? But somewhere deep down in his cold heart, he could feel the sincerity radiating off you. And there was something else too- something foreign but pleasant that he felt when he first talked with you.

After careful consideration, Thranduil finally released you from prison and transferred you to a well-furnished room. He was still unsure of what to do with you. Strangely enough, the thought of assigning you to be a servant, a maid, cook, or a warrior didn't sit well with him so he decided to treat you as a guest and get to know you better.

As he did, he finds himself slowly falling for you. Unlike the other elleths (women elves), you possess kindness and genuine concern for other people. You interacted with his guards and other servants with much respect and he saw them slowly warming up to you. Everyday, he would look forward to seeing you first thing in the morning as your smile immediately brightens his day. And during the evening after he finish his work early, he would asks you to walk with him in the gardens.

It was no surprise when he ends up falling head over heels in love. He started properly courting you and sending expensive gifts everyday.

"You know you don't have to send me all these stuff, Thranduil. Its too expensive"

"Nonsense. I am the King and I can give you everything you deserve and more. Unless.. do you not like them? I can have another jewel be made to fit your taste-"

"No! No need, I really like this one. Thank you, Thranduil" You smiled at him gratefully and the corner of his lips lifted up as he stare at you.

"Anything for you, my starlight" He draws his arms open and gently pulled you to his embrace, his robe covering your form as you lean you head on his chest.

You wished those moments would have lasted more.

Thranduil was a gentle lover. Always kind. Always patient. Always caring towards you. He never once raised his voice at you and you greatly appreciated it. But as the days go by, you noticed him getting more possessive and obsessive over you.

"We were just talking! He is your guard long before I came here and he is just my friend" You defended yourself as Thranduil warned you against talking to one of his royal guards.

"I do not like the way he looks at you, meleth nin. You are mine, don't forget that. He should know his place."

"Everyone knows we are together so stop being suspicious of other elves! I am not fond of the way you're acting right now. I will leave you to cool your head first."

As you turn to leave, his arms reach out to wrap around your waist as he hug you from behind. His head bowed low so as to breath in the scent of your hair to calm him down.

"No, don't leave please. I am sorry, my love. I am just afraid of losing you."

You sighed, feeling your heart soften. You turn to face him again and saw the insecurities and doubt swirling in his eyes.

"Now what brought my King such worries? Haven't I told you I only have eyes for you? That my heart beats only for you?" You cup his cheek as he closed his eyes and lean towards your touch.

"I know and I believe you. Sometimes, I just can't help but fear that you'll find someone better than me. I can't live without you, YN"

"You'll always have me Thranduil. My heart belongs only to you." You reassured, hugging him tightly to show your devotion.

Maybe you shouldn't have promised that as months passed and you soon discover a way to open the portal again back to your real world while browsing the library. But you don't understand some of the text written as it was in Elvish language and from what you can read, it also needs the spells only casted by wizards.

"Thranduil, I finally found a way to return back to my world!" You excitedly said as you barge to his throne room, while carrying the book.

His eyes widened and he immediately walked down the stairs of his throne towards you.

"What did you say, my love?" The cutting edge of his tone failed to make its way to your ears as you were excitedly thinking of how soon you can probably go home once this works.

"I said I found a way to open the portal again to my world! But I need some help with the Elvish language and Gandalf as well to complete the steps here." You showed him the book and the pages where it was located.

He was quiet for a while and politely asked for the book. As you gave it to him, he immediately throws it to the ground and asked his servant to seal it in the forbidden section of the library.

"No! Why did you do that?!" You screamed, feeling betrayed by his action. You tried to get back the book but he tightly hold you against him before carrying you towards his bedroom as you continue to resist.

Once he locked the door, he put you down on his bed as you glare at him.

"How could you do that? That was my only way home!"

 His eyes hardened, frown marring his features.

"Exactly. I won't have you leaving me alone here, YN. You promised that I'll always have you, didn't you? And I promised to be yours forever"

You frozed as you remember the promise you said to him months ago. You meant it. You did. But that was before you learned that there is still a way back to your real world after giving up for so long. However, you did promised him and you can't go back on your word.

Bowing your head in shame, you nodded. "Yes, I did. I remember my oath that day, Thranduil." A feeling of frustration and mixed feelings made its way to your heart.

"You know I love you. I do. I just miss my family so much. I wonder what they are doing in my world. I wonder if they are grieving over me or still patiently hoping for my return. Am I selfish, my love?" You looked up at him as tears stream down your cheeks.

Thranduil felt his heart clench as he saw your sorrow. He can't stand to see the anguish in your eyes as it overflows with your tears. He gathered you in his arms and let you cry against his shoulders.

"I'm here, meleth nin. I'm here. Please don't cry." He whispered comforting words and before long, you felt drowsy and fall asleep in his hold.

Thranduil carefully put you in the bed and covered you with blanket. He placed a kiss on your forehead before leaving the room.

From that day on, he decreed an order that you are not allowed to leave his kingdom and that anyone who try to help you escape will be executed.

*End of Flashback*

"You've changed Thranduil" You gaze at him with such disappointment that he falters for a moment.

"No, please don't say that meleth nin. Don't look at me like that. I love you. I can't let you out of my grasp. I can't let you go. Ever." He pulled you closer and tilted your chin so you were looking straight at him.

The sight made you tremble. His eyes which were once full of adoration and pure love for you were now filled with dark obsession.

"Resist me no more, my starlight. Stay here. I will take care of you. I will love and worship you forever." 

He back you slowly into the bed and you didn't notice until you trip and lay sprawled against his bedsheets in a vulnerable state.

You tried to get up but he lightly pushed you down so he towers over you.

"No, no, I have to return home. I need to see my family again. I can still come back here Thranduil. I won't leave you forever." You tried to reassure your lover.

Shadows loomed in his face and when he finally look at you, something dark and dangerous radiated from his being.

You gasped, crawling away from him towards the center of the bed as he followed after you. You grab his pillow to defend yourself.

"Okay- stop. Don't get any closer, Thranduil. You're scaring me."

The blank look in his eyes shifted to that of a predator finally catching its prey as he reach you. A smile of dark insanity painted on his lips. He take hold of the pillow separating you two and throws it to the side.

"You know, I've always wanted to marry you, my starlight. In our culture there are two ways one can get married. First is by traditional exchange of vows and the other-" He paused, pushing you down once more as he hovered above you. "-is by being one in body, two souls bonded forever. If I may be honest, I much prefer the latter."

His fingers slowly slid down your body, touch as light as feather as it passes through your neck, the valley of your breast, down to your stomach and settling on your lower abdomen.

Your breath hitched as you watch him, goosebumps rising on you skin as you feel your heart thumping loudly.

"We will be one tonight, my love. And I will plant my seed inside your fertile womb. Since you miss your family so much, we will have one of our own- a much bigger family. We will have a dozen or more elflings running around the kingdom. And you will soon forget that silly ambition in your mind. I told you before. You won't leave me. Ever. For you are mine and I am yours."

With that he sealed his promise with a passionate kiss as he consume your being, leaving you breathless and gasping for more.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

I didn't expect this oneshot to be longer than what I originally planned lol. Anyway, I've been obsessing over Thranduil for weeks now and I thought if he'd be the one going yandere for me, I would immediately give in 😂

But yeah unfortunately he's just a fictional character sooo! Anyway thanks for reading up this far.

Hope you have a great day and stay safe guys! :)))

[strawwritesfic]

Aragorn x Female!DúnedainReader: Content

Summary: You could never tell him the truth or even admit it to yourself, but so long as you are near him, why should you need to?

Rating/Warnings/Tags: All (Set during Fellowship of the Ring but does not actually intersect with the events in-story; not Tenth Walker!Reader; exposition; does not explicitly ruin Aragorn/Arwen; not Anti-Arwen)

Challenge:  “160 Collective Drabbles” challenge by BobaPop on Lunaescence Archives.

Tag List: @imaginesfire​

Content

Choosing to become a Ranger meant giving up certain creature comforts that others often took for granted. The sky became your roof, the hills your bed, and the rivers your drink. When you took up the profession some thirty-five years before, you had not felt yourself to be sacrificing much. You loved the outdoors, and wandering Middle Earth beat sitting around waiting for the return of the rightful king of Gondor any day.

But the passing years changed you as much as they changed the forests you traversed. There were nights on which you could not help but wish for a proper roof, a softer bed, or a more tasteful drink. 

One such night found you out of doors as always, leading your horse along soggy paths. The thunder rolled in endless waves above your head while the rain poured down in sheets rather than in droplets. The sodden grass and heavenly tumult silenced the sound of your horse’s hooves. So loud was the sound of the storm that you did not even attempt conversation with your traveling companion.

Aragorn, son of Arathorn, did not share your desire for the comfort of an inn that evening. You had run into him entirely by chance three months prior on a serious errand of his own that had, much to your surprise, required an extra pair of hands. As you rarely had the opportunity to spend time with Men of your heritage, you tagged along with great enthusiasm. One errand led to another; now you felt yourself quite comfortably situated with him–at least until some future a job forced your inevitable separation.

Still, he never seemed inclined to stay in civilization longer than necessary. He asked his questions and left, frequently with you lingering outside the town to keep an eye out for any signs of being followed. As such, you were taken rather aback that night when you found Aragorn and his horse stopped in front of you, right in front of a large gate that led into a town. The two of them must have been stopped longer than you realized, because you had no time to ask what he was doing before a panel in the wood slid open and a pair of eyes appeared in its place.

“What is your errand in Bree?” asked the man to whom the eyes belonged.

“We are Rangers,” Aragorn answered. “We seek shelter at the inn.”

“Bit late to be out in this weather in’t? Even for Rangers.”

The panel slid shut once more. You thought that you had been rejected entrance into the town. It would not have been the first time. Aragorn was not terribly popular among those who did not know him. A moment later, however, the gates  opened. 

The man from earlier appeared in his entirety, carrying a lantern in one hand and peering into the dark beyond. He impatiently waved you both forward. “Well, come along, before you catch cold.”

“If there is cold to catch, we will already have caught it,” Aragorn replied. He was every bit as drenched as you were, with his hair flattened and stuck to face and his clothes equally stuck to his arms and legs. “But we thank you for your kind concern.”

Better to let him do the talking. You simply nodded to the guard as you passed with your horse, then followed Aragon in silence. It was only several minutes later–and after the two of you had gone much deeper down the vacant road through the town–that you gave voice to your concern:

“Why are we stopping? It is unlike you.”

“It will do no good for the horses to continue like this. Even if we do not fall ill, they might, and I dislike the idea of purchasing new mounts. These know our ways by now. A new pair might not be so easily trained.” 

All this he said with his eyes on the street ahead. When he stopped, he did so at the head of a path leading to a large building marked with a sign declaring it to be the Prancing Pony. At last, Aragorn focused his gaze upon your face and went on:

“If you will take the horses to the stable, I will get us a room.”

Having never visited Bree yourself, you acquiesced readily to his request of handling business matters himself. In the stables, you found a Hobbit, friendly and willing enough to house both horses once you explained the situation. You left your name so that he could find you for payment should Aragorn neglect it–not that he would–and walked the muddy road back up to the inn to arrive there not twenty minutes after having parted ways with your companion. 

Inside, you found him speaking with a plump, bald man you assumed to be the owner.

“Ah,” said the man upon your arrival. “This would be the woman, then?”

“Yes,” Aragorn said.

The man took your hand in both of his and shook vigorously. “Butterbur, Barliman Butterbur, if you please, madam,” Butterbur said as he released you, before promptly returning his attention to Aragorn. “I suppose you’ll be wanting supper and a hot fire.”

“The latter most definitely,” Aragorn said. “But not the supper. We have eaten on the road, and there is no need to rouse your kitchen staff at such an hour.”

Butterbur looked relieved at not having to expend more time and energy on Aragorn than necessary. Although the innkeeper’s words were polite, his body language indicated your friend’s presence unnerved him. Aragorn could have that effect on people. He knew how to handle them; it was one of the reasons you trusted him so implicitly. 

“I will have Nob prepare a room and a fire right away. Until then, you may rest in the parlor. There’s still a fire going there, and I doubt you’ll run into any other guests. Everyone else has long since retired,” said Butterbur.

Both of you murmured your thanks and moved down the hallway into another, better-lit room. You stood directly in front of the fire, close enough to see Aragorn’s face through the shifting shadows, but far enough away that touching him would have been difficult. Neither of you spoke for a very long time.

“We will leave as soon as the storm stops tomorrow,” he said finally, and stepped closer to you as he did. “Hopefully all signs of our prey will not be lost in the rain.”

“If you were so concerned with losing our ability to track him, why stop? It was not for the horses at all, was it?” you asked.

One corner of Aragorn’s mouth pulled upward. You could hardly believe it, and turned more fully toward him to get a better look.

“If you decided to take quarters because of me, I will be quite offended.”

“Then you’ll have to be offended,” he answered. “Though you may be comforted in that I did not lie when I claimed concern for the horses. They have not rested in as long as you have, and are equally deserving of doing so.”

“You do realize that I did not frequently stop even before I met you?”

“Of course.” Aragorn inclined his head. “You are unusual, [Name]. There are not very many women in the race of Man that would willingly take up the life of a Ranger, nor for so long.”

“I am not such a rarity as you believe.”

“Perhaps not.” He inclined his head once more, then allowed you an uncommon full smile. “I have been tired, too. Our mark is much more wily than I gave him credit for, and if we take sick as the kind gatekeeper expected, we will lose it longer than if we stayed on the road. We both will benefit from a rest. Please understand that I did not halt our course because I believed you incapable of continuing.”

You smiled back. Men like Butterbur did not have the opportunity of seeing Aragorn’s kindness as you did. He could be just as frightening with you if he chose, but underneath it all, you knew his demeanor was because of how deeply he cared-not just about you, but all of Middle Earth. When at last he returned to Gondor, he would wear his crown well.

“Are you happy now?” he asked.

“I am content,” you said. “Especially in that I have earned the respect of a man such as yourself.”

And you were: content out of doors just as you were content inside, content on the road and off. You had not expected how easy a journey could be made with company, even when you spent time in the company in silence–as both you and Aragorn did for another twenty minutes, until Nob came to lead you to your rooms and sweet, comfortable slumber.

[robsth0r]

Ears Of The Elven (Legolas x Human!Afab!Reader)

A/N: So I had this idea... and I needed to write it out so here it is! I love the sensitive elf ear trope so I of course had to write one too. For the “Afab Reader” that is because there is no mention of gender other than the reader being born female so if you’re transmasc that would work too. Anyways hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: Smut/Lemon (18+), Sex.

Word Count: 1089

Extra: There is some sindarin in this chapter so this is the translation of it; Meleth: Love. Meleth Nin: My Love

Legolas was laying in his bed peacefully slipping away into his dreamland. That was till his eyes snapped open as he felt a finger delicately run over the shell of his ear. A rush of pleasure went through his body and he let a shaky breath out.

"Aragorn wasn't joking." I said, in awe. Legolas and I had been dating for around a year or so and being in this position with me currently holding the most sensitive part of the elves body was something Legolas definitely hadn’t thought would happen. I was sitting next to him keeping a firm yet light grip on his ear.

"Quite sensitive?" I leaned down to whisper into his ear, my warm breath sending sparks up and down his spine causing him to shudder. Legolas raised his eyes to glare at me, his sharp gaze looking directly into my soul. My grin grew wider.

"Let… GO." He growled, trying hard to ignore the feather light finger strokes on his ear and how they were affecting him.

"Hmmm… No." I grinned again, reaching across his head to stroke his left ear. The result left Legolas squirming and breathless. The sight of the extremely horny elf next to me was enough for my heart to skip a couple beats. I wondered how it was to have such sensitive ears.

I continued teasing Legolas's ear lobe before leaning down to press gentle kisses all around his earlobe. Every time my lips touched Legolas's sensitive skin it tingled from head to toe, making goosebumps spread across his arms and legs. His heart rate increased dramatically as I moved lower down his body, kissing him along every inch of the way. When I reached the base of his neck Legolas arched into my touch, letting out a moan. I smiled against his throat and slowly began trailing kisses back up his jawline.

When I got there Legolas opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by another groan coming all the way from the back of his throat. I smirked against the side of his face before licking all the way up his long pointy ear, enjoying his gasps and moans.

"Y/n…" Legolas begged, his voice deeper than normally, taking shallow breaths from the pleasure. I hear the warning in his voice but that doesn't stop me. I swing my leg over his chest, securing him under me.

"Gotta say please, Lassy." I chuckled softly and ran my left hand down the side of his torso still keeping my other hand occupied at his ear. I knew the elves didn't like losing control over themselves as it is what elves pride themselves on.

I grinned darkly as my finger reached the tip of Legolas's ear, pinching it lightly earning myself a groan from Legolas. He felt his control snap... thread... by... thread. I hadn't made him lose control even once while we had been together. But if the stories Aragorn had told me about Arwen were anything to go by it could be an interesting night.

I took my hand off of his ear and trailed it down his chest, teasing his waistband. With a flick of my wrist my fingers unfastened it and pulled it over Legolas's hips before slipping his pants down. My hands found his shaft making him twitch. I lowered my head and licked along his length groaning against it and that was enough to make him explode right then and there.

He flung himself up and secured both my hands in a firm grip above my head, him leaning over me.

"If you do that one more time I'm gonna-" He was cut off by a loud moan escaping my throat as I arched my back letting the night shirt I had on fall exposing my breasts. His eyes darkened as his pupils dilated and he lustfully looked down at me.

Before I could react, he thrusted his cock into my warm core repeatedly, kissing and nippling the skin of my breasts. The pleasure was almost overwhelming but just barely, so I grabbed onto Legolas's shoulder to steady myself as I arched my back even more in pleasure. He grunted as he fucked me hard but with pure desire, my pussy fluttering around him.

He reached his hand down and circled my clit, letting small bits of pleasure seep through me. Legolas now kissed my neck, his tongue licking out over my pulse. Legolas’ fingers worked wonders over my clit as he throbbed within me. Legolas took a glance at me and he could see the pleasure trickling into my eyes as he rocked his cock into me.

“Legolas!” I moaned, my head falling back onto the bed. My cunt tightened and wetness flooded around Legolas’ cock.

“Legolas, oh, right there,” I moaned as he fucked into me a bit faster. His thrusts were rough and hard, his nails biting into my thighs gently as he grabbed my legs, spreading me wider so he could get deeper.

Legolas was bringing me so much pleasure that I couldn’t think of any words other than his name. I babbled it, along with a few expletives, about how much I wanted his cock, how I needed him, and eventually, how badly I needed to cum.

Legolas wasn’t far behind me. He wanted to sink himself so deeply into my body that he could never find the way out. Legolas released one of my thighs and pinched my clit. He rubbed it furiously, daring me to cum. His eyes were wild as he stared down at me, beautiful, throaty groans escaping his body.

“Cum for me, gorgeous. Show your prince how good you feel. Cum all over my cock, meleth.” Legolas grunted. He tapped my clit quickly, and with a shout of his name, I came all over him. My body writhed with pleasure as whiteness blinded me. His name fell from my lips, and as he heard me cry out for him, Legolas came inside of me. He filled me with his cum, pumping himself slowly inside of me.

I couldn't get enough of Legolas. I never wanted to leave him.

We both collapsed next to each other, panting heavily as our breathing calmed.

"I love you," Legolas groaned, rolling us around to make himself comfortable spooning me, "Please never leave me." The plea was laced with love and longing and I turned around in his arms. I kissed his forehead gently.

"Of course, meleth nin." I whispered, stroking his hair. "I'm never leaving you."

[shrubdaddy]

elucidative | l.greenleaf

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: elucidative |. /ih-loo-si-deyt/ | verb | to make lucid especially by explanation or analysis | y/n is only a little dumb

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: legolas x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.1k

a/n: Hiii - Sorry I've been MIA - work has been a bit more hectic and I've been having a hard time finding time to write! I could not stop thinking about the Bridgerton scene with Charlotte and George. Lightly inspired by @reality-warp 'Rávamë’s Bane Trilogy', quite literally one of my all-time fave fics and authors in this fandom and is a literal queen in world and character building so check out her fics if you haven't already!

copyright © | please do not repost my work.

“Manwë’s breath, how much higher can this wall get?”

Reaching for yet another tendril of the vines climbing up the wall, you attempt to climb higher up the stone wall.

It was a precarious situation — one in which you did not expect to be but were not entirely surprised to find yourself in.

You scaled the stone walls attempting to reach the top of the wall to escape yet another suitor. With flowing sleeves laced with snagged threads and leaves woven into your hair, you don’t quite know how long you’ve been attempting your half-scattered escape plan. At this moment, all you knew was that you’d been in this dreaded courtyard for over an hour and you would not be waiting another minute to be trapped and shackled for the next “prince” to come around.

As a ward of Lord Glorfindel, you were of course expected to adhere to the life of a lady in every way possible. You’ve studied every subject, attended every lesson from etiquette and mannerisms to reading and writing in Khuzdul, and attended each and every dreadful social event your father has encouraged.

Feeling your grip falter yet again, you stumble backward and glare at the very metaphoric yet also a very real wall in front of you.

You have always strived to be the perfect daughter in every way possible. However, in regard to love and courtship, you refuse to follow the ancient, decrepit tradition. Between the many years of dodging conversations and offers of marriage, you’ve reached way past the age of courtship, spending many years avoiding each and every suitor thrown your way.

Rather than bubbling with excitement, you felt the fear of the unknown settle in. Having so much to live for and not enough time to experience, you think of your time spent with the twins and the Rangers of the North — time spent traveling, exploring, and living.

You remember joining the twins and meeting Aragorn… meeting Legolas. He was an elven ranger you befriended through Aragorn. He was strong and sturdy, and for a moment you thought you were in love. The camp up North was a place where not many talked of their past but where they all focused on the present. It was a simple life but it was the life you were able to create for yourself.

Lost in the thoughts of the slow spiral of your sanity, you didn’t hear the footsteps coming up behind you as you reached yet again for the closest, protruding stone on the wall —

“What in the world are you doing?”

Without turning to even see who it is, you let go of one hand waving your intruding guest away.

“Please mind your own business, sir. You can escort yourself out — possibly, somewhere that is anywhere but here.”

You continue your ascent without a second thought but slipped down the wall as stone slowly tore up your hands. Stepping back, you place your hands on your hips and take a look at the growing annoyance in front of you. This stupid wall.

You hear an exasperated sigh behind you and felt someone lightly, grab your shoulder, pulling you from behind.

“Excuse me, sir. But you will unhand or you risk losing your… Legolas?”

Turning around, you were shocked by the familiar face of someone you were completely and utterly infatuated with over the past couple of years. Paralyzed and flustered, you couldn’t help but notice how clean and ethereal — you have never seen him this clean before; his muddied boots were somehow clean and the ragged pants you were so used to was exchanged for a less holey look. Somehow these fit even better. You feel your eyes gaze up but froze — you were staring too long.

“Lose my what?” he asked with a little smug grin.

“Nothing! Absolutely nothing. On the contrary, you can keep everything… It was nothing…” you rambled as you quickly turned around.

You hear him step a bit closer, coming behind you on your side to examine the wall you were so desperately climbing less than a second ago.

“What in Arda are you doing here, Y/n?” he said with his curious, blue eyes. Though a few feet away, just his presence causes your mind to go in a scramble.

“Me? What are you doing here?” you exasperated. Fiddling with your hands, you begin pacing back and forth, pretending to examine every bit of the wall, looking anywhere but him.

Look anywhere but his eyes, Y/n. That is how we’ll survive his cursed beauty.

“You are climbing a wall. If anyone should be questioned, it is you,” he bit back.

You quickly move your shoulder to release his grip and turn around.

“First of all, I live here. Second of all, please do mind your business, Legolas. I am quite a bit … oof … I’m quite a bit busy here. and I’m running out of time.”

Stepping towards the wall, you begin to attempt to climb yet again. If anything, it was to break free from his distracting grip on your body. Ignoring the growing warmth on your cheeks, you couldn’t help but notice how large and warm his hand was and how one touch made you feel like hot honey dripping down your body.

Shaking off the startling moment, you were determined to leave. And even he could not stop you.

“What in the world are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re doing something.”

“I am not”

“Yes… you quite obviously are are.”

“I am n o t.”

“Yes… you are,” he said firmly.

Relenting — you turn back around to face him. Beautiful face and all. You notice how his head is turned slightly down, his eyebrows furrowing just the slightest beginnings of a small smirk staring down at you.

“Fine,” you relented. “If you must know, I am trying to figure out the best way to climb over this disgustingly high wall and escape this dreaded meeting with this so-called ‘prince.’”

“You’re trying to what? With who? Whatever for?”

“Well, the first thing — hmph …” you grunt as you turn back around to attempt to climb for the fifth time in a row. “The first thing is that my dearest father has been parading me around to different suitors, a Lord here, a Duke there — and now, um, it’s apparently another ‘prince’.”

You take a step back because rather than focusing on climbing, you feel a sense of frustration overcome you. The situation of late has finally dug its claws into you... feeling a greater weight on your shoulder than you have originally led yourself to believe. You feel him standing behind you — the burning intensity of his stare on your back.

“No one has spoken of him… no one has spoken of this so-called Prince of Mirkwood?” You continued, “What if he has the personality of a gremlin and the looks of a troll? The Valar knows the little patience I have for men.”

“Gremlins and trolls aside — does what he looks he really matters to you? ” he asked.

“No… Of course not. It’s the not knowing and the fact that I do not know him or his heart that I do not like.

You take a step back to take a look once more at the wall in front of you. Glaring with all of your might, in hopes that your internal rage can burst a whole through these dreaded walls.

“Y/n —you must know... “ Legolas began.

Your eyes run through all the nooks and cranny’s vine-covered stone beast, ignoring Legolas’s words for only a second. There it is. A protruding stone just two feet away from the top. You found one last way you have yet to try.

“Thank the Valar! I think I found a way.”

You walk towards the wall once again, mapping out the new path of vines and protruding stones.

“I think if I can just reach this stone I can lift myself up! If you lift me just a little, I believe I can reach that vine and use these stones to climb up,” you said excitedly.”

“You want me to lift you up… so that you may… escape?”

“Yes, obviously. Did you not hear of threatening the gremlin-troll prince? Please, Legolas.”

“Your father will know that you are missing? The twins have just arrived as well?”

“Those are tomorrow’s problems, Legolas. The prince will be coming today,” you whined.

As you begin your ascent, you feel your foot slipping from the stone. Despite this, you stretched your hand above your head to grab the vine. As you reached, you feel the stone beneath your foot crumble and in a matter of seconds you find yourself falling.

“Lego—”

“Y/n,” he cuts you off. “I have no intention of helping you escape.”

Standing a little too close, you can feel the warmth emanating from his body. As you gaze up to his face, you see he’s wearing an emerald green tunic, soft and silky — something far nicer than the typical garb you always see him in.

“And why not? There is little time to —.”

Your finally glance up to look him in the eyes and —

“You’re wearing a crown,” you blankly stated.

Confused, you oh-so-slowly begin to piece the puzzle together.

“Yes, I am wearing crown,” a small grin appearing on his smugged face.

“Where in the world did you get a crown?”

“It was given to me,” he said as he looked around feigning boredom.

“By who?!” you retort.

“My father.”

“Your father? What does— is he like a king?”

“He is a king,” he said frankly.

“Which makes you a — “ you slowly piece the information together.

“A prince? Yes, a gremlin-troll prince to be exact,” he retorts with now a full grin and staring down at you.

“And you said nothing?” You frantically exclaimed.

“I figured you’d realize at some point,” he chuckled.

You stood there reflecting on all your life decisions at once. Every conversation, every hidden glance. He was a prince.

“I thought it was common knowledge and that you knew of my title,” he said quietly. “I apologize for not disclaiming it sooner.”

“So if what you’re saying is true…” you teased. “You just assume everyone thinks of you as royalty? That’s quite the assumption”

“Y/n, you know I did not mean it like that,” he groaned.

With a little giggle, you stepped away from him and asked “Should I call you, sir?”

“…Y/n, what?”

“Oh my, I’ve never bowed.” Your voice shifts into worry, “Is this grounds for beheading?”

“Y/n, no.”

“I should bow.”

“No— you should not.”

“I’ll bow.”

“Y/n — stop.”

“Please sir, I am merely a lowly peasant. Have mercy, your highness,” you exclaimed as you lower your head and drop into the deepest curtsy.

As he attempts to stop you, he reaches for your arm hoping to put an end to your jester.

As you back away and dodge, you look at him, batting your eyelashes, and cry “My liege, spare me from this punishment I only wish to live.”

Ears turning red with a desperate voice, he begs “Y/n, please.”

As you step back once more, he’s quicker this time and grabs your arm, pulling you close. your chest crushed against his, he drops one of his hands to your waist and the other to your back. You were so close you felt his breath caress your face. As you look up, you find him staring intently at you.

As you stare at each other, you couldn’t help but break into giggles over the preposterous situation. As you begin to giggle, he looks away trying to hold in his laughter, only to also laugh at the situation.

It felt nice — to feel free and silly, if only for a moment.

As both your laughter calms down, he looks back down at you asked, ”So what do you think of the gremlin-troll prince?”

“Nothing too horrid, he’s actually quite dashing,” you teased.

“Dashing, hmm?” he chuckled.

Unaware of everything around you, you were both startled to hear the courtyard doors open with footsteps following. Jumping from each other's arms, you separated a good distance away only for you to see your father and Elrond turn into the corner section you were standing in.

“Oh, good. You’ve met!”