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#did... what is happening to Legolas by what I see in those tags
quillofspirit · 3 months
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2023 fic recs
If there's one thing to know about me, is that I love to read! and I love to share the good fics, so I figured I would put them all on one list💚
pssst! it's my first time doing anything like this, so if you have recommendations for the format, please do leave them in the comments or drop me a message! thanks xx
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Key 🍬 fluff 🧯 spicy 🌡️ smut ⛈️ angst 🌪️ all
For people I have tagged, please let me know if there is anything you’d like me to add or remove — like a link to another account. It’ll be my pleasure☺️
Lord of the Rings (and related)
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⛈️🧯Fuck the Forbidden pt. 1 by @entishramblings
Boromir x mermaidfem!oc Teens and Up but read the warnings carefully 9,500 words
Now I want mermaids in everything. why aren’t there mermaids in everything? The descriptions are so well done, everything is so vividly easy to visualize, oh I just loved it.
I am so hyped for pt 2!!
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🍬⛈️ Healing Touch by @ass-deep-in-demons
Boromir x fem!oc Teens and Up 4,350 words
My film studies degree was very happy about the descriptions of movement in this one - it’s a little specific but hear me out. It’s much easier to see the actors playing the scene when it’s described this well! THAT ENDING, I have to say I joined Legolas, and I don’t have excuses.
I cannot wait to read the rest of the adventures of Joanna!
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🍬 I Might Need to Kiss You by @fizzyxcustard
Thorin Oakenshield x fem!reader 400 words
I was squealing, this is so sweet. like the perfect little pick me up when you need a reminder, and Thorin is nothing if not a good king to his subjects 😇
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🍬 Sweet Conversations by @glassgulls
Haldir x fem!reader Teens and Up 5,360 words
did I almost break my mouse when I clicked on this? noooo
Would I do it again? approximately 5 times since ☺️
Who doesn’t love sneaking around and kissing pretty elves, especially when they propose the idea so nicely… Just read it, you’re welcome
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⛈️🧯Transformed by @sotwk
Thranduil’s son OC x fem!reader Teens and Up 2,400 words
There are at least two werewolves! When I tell you I read it three nights in a row, just to truly catch all the little things that made me go absolutely feral this so lovely to read. Yes, there’s gore (only a little bit) and there’s angst, but there’s also dialogue that would be made into gifs were it a movie.
Pirates of the Caribbeans
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🌪️Catch the Wind by eriathiel (@esta-elavaris)
James Norrington x fem!oc Explicit 418,000 words
101 chapters of epic, pirates, and sweetness. The definition of you will suffer and you will like it. I finished this in like two days, because I couldn’t put it down, like a child on Halloween night going through their whole bag of candy.
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⛈️🍬 Fallen Through Time by eriathiel (@esta-elavaris)
Catch the Wind AU Mature Ongoing; 34,000 words
12 Chapters so far, but it’s probably going to make me want to read everything about Theodora again. I am very normal about this character. 😌
Other fandoms
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🌡️One of Those days by @capricornafterdark
Jason Todd x fem!reader Explicit 750 words
Sometimes you need to be taken care of, and sometimes its easier to take care of others.
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🍬Patience by @velvetcloxds
Charlie Swan x fem!reader Just straight cuteness 600 words
A cute yet serious conversation with Charlie
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🌡️That Takes Trust Darlin by @capricornafterdark
Jason Todd x transmasc!reader Explicit 1,950 words
It takes a lot of trust to tell a person about your desires, and even more when you spend your time catching villains.
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🌪️ What Happens After You? by StrengthBeforeWeakness
Ominis Gaunt x fem!oc Mature 219,000 words
A badass Ravenclaw, sweet sweet Garreth, and dark!Sebastian. I am tempted to say it’s almost a Hogwarts Legacy AU because the lore in this fic is so incredible, it feels new again.
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These are my headers and dividers, please do not use them.
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lady-of-imladris · 4 months
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CHAPTER 9 - SOMEWHERE IN THE HAZE
Synopsis: Preparations for the imminent battle are made, but when they arrive at Dol Guldur, complications arise.
Word count: 2.1k
Pairings: Thranduil/OC
Warnings: Violence
Additional tags: it's getting angsty over here!
Link to the chapter overview
Lmao sorry I forgot to post this yesterday but what a lucky coincidence because I can now say: HAPPY BIRTHDAY @fenharel-enaste ! You live too far away for me to give you a physical gift so I dedicate this chapter to you my lovely friend <3
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It turned into something bigger Somewhere in the haze, got a sense I'd been betrayed Your finger on my hair pin triggers - The Great War (Taylor Swift)
The messengers from Imladris and Lothlorien returned fast and with news that was better than the King and Queen had dared to hope. Elrond, Celebrían, Celeborn and Galadriel were on their way. With their armies. Ana could have wept for joy that they would not need to face this threat alone. She had gone over their potential strategies again and again and again, consulting old maps of Amon Lanc, reports from scouting parties, reimmersing herself in battle strategies employed by their enemy. Thranduil was in awe. He had known for quite some time that his wife had been the mind behind some of their most successful assaults on Mordor during the Dagor Dagorlad, but seeing her in action was something entirely different.
The other four elven leaders arrived two days before the agreed-upon date of the attack for some last preparations. In Celebrían’s case, it entailed wrangling the twins, as well as Legolas, Elrond was examining the body of the elven soldier who had been turned into an orc and killed by Queen Anarríma. Celeborn, Galadriel, Ana and Thranduil busied themselves with the upcoming battle. The Lord of Lorien was beaming with pride. His daughter’s strategy was perfect. Their first evening together was celebrated with a family dinner full of laughter and joy. Legolas was beyond excited to have his cousins around and they spent the better part of the evening chasing each other around the halls.
The night before the battle looked different. Everyone was silent and withdrew to their private quarters immediately after dinner. Ana and Thranduil tucked Legolas into bed together that night, wanting to spend every last second with their son. “Nana, Ada?” the little elf asked hesitantly. “Yes, my little leaf?” The Queen sat down on the bed. “Why do you have to go?” Anarríma choked back her tears, and Thranduil sighed deeply. She felt his nails digging into her shoulders. He took over. “Ion-nin, that is a very complicated thing to explain, but we are doing this to protect our people. As King and Queen that is our duty. You will understand it one day.”
When Legolas had finally fallen asleep, Thranduil and Anarríma went to bed, lying next to each other, staring at the ceiling. Her hand found his. “Whatever happens tomorrow-” “Don’t.” Thranduil could not bear to hear it. They would outnumber the orcs. They would win. They had to. “Whatever happens tomorrow,” she tried again, “I love you.” “Please stop,” his voice was shaking. ‘Whatever happens tomorrow, I love you, my son.’ Those had been Oropher’s words the night before his death. The Elvenking was afraid. He could not bear to lose her. His Queen, his wife, the mother of his child.
Neither of them wanted to sleep, so they spent the night exchanging kisses and softly whispered words of love, chatting about entirely unimportant matters. It did not matter what they talked about, they just talked. Anarríma laid her head on her husband’s chest, letting Thranduil play with her hair and enjoying the vibrations of his chest caused by his voice as he told her of his childhood in Doriath, the first time he and Celeborn got drunk, of the day Celeborn first saw Galadriel and knew that he loved her, of Lúthien Tinúviel and her mortal lover, and many other things. In return, she told him about the few memories she had of Gondolin, of her happy childhood in Lorien, the time of the war against Sauron before they met and the battles they had never talked about before. The night passed too quickly.
They got up again before the sun had fully risen, eating a quick breakfast before getting ready for another war. Breakfast was quiet, no one knew what to say, so they just sat in uncomfortable silence. The Queen would have given anything to spend this morning with the soldiers instead. She found her mind going back to the mornings before important battles during the war against Sauron, sitting on the floor of a large tent together with her father and his soldiers, the tension so high it could have cut Mithril, until one of them, an elf who had fought in the War of Wrath made a joke. Anarríma could not recall the joke, but she would always remember the relief she felt when the tent filled with laughter. One look over at her father, who was sitting across from her told her that in his mind, he was there as well.
Fastening the straps of her bracers felt a bit like meeting an old friend and catching up, the Queen realized to her horror. She had not worn a full set of armour since the war. Thranduil was lounging comfortably on a chaise. She had promised to let him braid her hair for her and he was holding her to that promise. Ana smiled to herself as she sat down on the floor in front of him. Thranduil was horrible when it came to braiding hair. It always took him an insane amount of time and the braids often looked messy, even when he did it on her. With his own hair, the King was even more hopeless, hence he kept it loose. Anarríma winced slightly when his fingers tugged on a strand of hair a bit too harshly.
“Goheno nin,” Thranduil chuckled nervously, “and thank you. For putting up with me.” Ana reached up to put her hand on his thigh. “You are getting better at this. Give it another millennium or two.” The King grinned smugly. “Well, I think I did a pretty decent job this time.” Ana got up and walked to the mirror. Decent was an understatement. The two braids over her ears looked perfect and felt secure, as did the long fishtail braid he had created with the rest of her hair. “Thranduil!” Ana turned around and threw her arms around his neck. “How?” “I’ve been secretly practising on our son,” he admitted. Ana hid her laughter. “Thranduil, how could you? The poor child!” “Don’t worry,” he held up his hand in defence, “I bribed him with sweets and he was a very willing test subject.” Ana shook her head in disbelief. “We should finish getting dressed.”
“There’s one last thing missing,” Thranduil said, when Ana stood there, in her full armour, all her weapons secured. She looked at him expectantly as he set a box down on her vanity, taking off the lid to reveal the crown of dragon scales, gleaming in the candlelight like thousands of stars. “I killed a dragon for you, Ana. Let this serve as a reminder that whatever beast we encounter today, I will slay for you as well.” She bowed slightly, letting him put the crown on her head. Ana needn’t have bowed, Thranduil was much taller than her anyway, but at that moment, it felt right to bow to him. He might be her husband, but he was also her King.
Soldiers, servants and courtiers alike bowed and curtsied deeply as their King and Queen walked by, armed and ready for battle. Many had risen early to say their goodbyes, Celebrían among them. “I never understood how you can be comfortable in such a thing.” The Lady of Imladris gestured all over her sister’s ornate armour. Anarríma rolled her eyes. “It’s not designed for comfort, Brí, it’s supposed to protect me.” “By Eru, I hope it does,” Celebrían murmured and hugged her sister tightly.
“Shall we?” Galadriel and Celeborn emerged, armed to their teeth. Try as she might, the Lady of Imladris could not tell who of the four bore the most weapons, each of them carrying multiple blades openly. “Elrond is waiting outside already. Come back to me. All of you,” Celebrían instructed, hugging each of them for a moment longer than expected. “After all,” she continued, “my daughter will need her grandparents and aunt and uncle.” Ana could not believe it. Her sister was pregnant. Again. After a moment of shock, they congratulated her and Galadriel scolded her for dropping such big news on them when they were already running late, but Celebrían merely laughed and sent them off.
The armies advanced through the forest quietly and efficiently. It was almost muscle memory for all of them. Every single soldier who joined them had also fought in the Dagor Dagorlad. None had been keen to fight in another battle, but in the end, all of them had volunteered to keep their kingdoms safe. The journey was smooth and they effortlessly took out any orc scouting troops they came close to. Ana had predicted their general locations almost flawlessly. The armies got into position, surrounding Dol Guldur, remaining hidden in the trees. The King and Queen were no fools. They were well aware that the orcs knew of their coming. The only thing left to do was lure them out.
They looked every bit the warriors they were as they walked over the bridge. Thranduil offered Anarríma his arm as if he were escorting her to a ball. She gracefully accepted. They were halfway across the bridge when the enemy appeared before them. Three orcs, each looking more cruel than the other. “Do you have a death wish, elves?” one of them snarled. “We come to negotiate the terms of surrender,” Thranduil offered politely. The sound of laughter carried far into the forest. “Giving up your forest so easily, elfling?” Thranduil felt Ana’s grip on his arm tighten. His wife was angry. “Get out of this forest or by Eru, I swear we will destroy you.” Thranduil had never heard his wife speak like this. If he were the orc, he would run.
The orc grinned maliciously. “Do you really think we are not prepared? Do you really think we don’t know that you brought the Witch of Loríen and the Half-Elf with you? Maybe you should be the ones to run.” Thranduil shrugged. “I guess that concludes negotiations.” He raised his arm, signalling to his army. The three orcs fell to the ground, dead. The archers of Lasgalen were renowned for their skill. Their army advanced and the orcs started appearing out of nowhere. The King and Queen shared one last look before letting go of each other and drawing their swords. And then there was chaos.
Thranduil and Ana stayed together as long as possible but ended up being driven apart. Thranduil remained where the fighting was thickest, while Ana took her forces to more remote locations, watchtowers, dungeons, hidden passageways to try and drive the enemy towards them. She caught a glimpse of Thranduil when she looked out of a window, dead orcs littering the ground surrounding him. Galadriel and Celeborn had joined him. Galadriel met her daughter’s eyes for just a moment before refocusing her attention on the fighting.
Anarríma continued her raid of the ruins, rounding corner after corner at breakneck speed. She had reached the most remote part of Dol Guldur. The Queen was on her own now, she had left her soldiers behind to deal with the orcs. Something spurred her on, telling her to climb the tower. Her feet were moving of their own volition, carrying her up and up and up the winding staircase. The thought of returning to her soldiers crossed her mind, but was swiftly replaced by the compulsion to climb the stairs. As she walked by another window, she thought that she should go back outside and fight side by side with Thranduil, but when she was about to turn around and walk back down, she could not. Dread filled her entire body as she realized that there was only one way she could go. Up. She took a deep breath and walked up the last flight of stairs, sword clutched tightly and ready to strike as she entered the room at the top of the tower.
“Queen of Lasgalen,” a whisper arose around her. “At last, you have come to me.” She whipped around, trying to locate the source, but she was alone. Trap, it was a trap. She never should have come here. Ana sprinted towards the exit but was blocked by a wall of black smoke. “No escape. Not for you.” The voice was taunting her. “Show yourself, coward,” she demanded, willing her voice to be steady. “As you wish.” The black smoke took shape. It stood before there, towering over her, sword drawn, but Anarríma could feel that it did not need a blade. Whatever the being before her was, it could kill her with half a thought. It was merely toying with its prey.
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Please consider reblogging or leaving a comment <3
Everything Taglist: @thesolarangel @fenharel-enaste @sanfranciscocablecar @enaelyork @nevermcre
I AM SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG. I was sick for a while and I am still (supposed to be) working on my thesis 🙃
The good news is I have the next chapter mostly written because I felt that writing them in parallel might be a good idea for whatever reason. Thank you for putting up with me, ily <3
TGW Taglist: @queenmeriadoc @spnbandwagon1019 @somebirdortheother @some--morphine @hc-geralt-23 @legendary-maddie @elrondsevenstar @blumin8 @frodomyprecious @bookflowersnerd
You can join my taglist here <3
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valandhirwriter · 4 months
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Pick 3 of your favorite characters. Tell us when and how you fell in love with them. Inquiring minds want to know :)
Then tag 3 or more people, hopefully who aren't shy :D.
3 of my favourite characters.... that's quite the challenge I have to admit. Because I read a lot and had a lot of favourite chars accordingly. But, here we go, I will try to give this a bit of bandwith, because I have character types that speak to me much easier than others.
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Boromir of Gondor
When did I fall in love with this character? At about 13, when I first read Lord of the Rings. I remember reading through the story, and wondering why none of his companions would try and reach out to him. Legolas and Gimli waste time arguing whether bow or sword is the better weapon, while beside them their comrade is slowly drifting off into darkness. Boromir also had some vibes of Hagan of Tronege from the Niebelungenlied to me, also a character who is considered dark, fierce and also fiercely loyal. While many consider Hagen the bad guy of the story, I also liked him best. The early picture of Boromir that I had in my mind, was close to the book describtion, black hair, very tall, haunted grey eyes and a scar on his forehead. Naturally when the movies came along, my favourite actor Sean Bean had the role, and the picture changed around a little. Watching his interpretation of Boromir seeded the first ideas for a story arc about him in my brain, though it would take me another ten years to sit myself down and write the story. In that story i then explored many of the questions I had since first reading the novel: What drove Boromir to such extremes? What happened to Gondor? How did Aragorn leaving after the Umbar campaign impact Gondor long.term? Even after finishing that huge arc, I still love Boromir as a character. His story has been with me for a long time, and will hopefully remain with me for a long time still.
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2. Raistlin Majere
I discovered the dragonlance books by accident in my teens. And while the quality of the novels can be called into question, their humour certainly still echoes with me. That and... Raistlin. He was the character I found fascinating at once, and not just because he was the only one in the group actually using his brain. Unfortunately the authors had set up his split from the group and later his "fall" in War of the Twins, instead of really exploring the character with more depth. There was so much potential there, so much aspects to tell a story. Raistlin had the potential to be one of those compelling dark characters, who casn make the heroes torn, because while not with them on principle, their help is still invaluable. I sometimes consider writing a story about him, beginning from before his trials at the Tower of Wayreth and building the AU from there. But I would have to take huge liberties, and have yet to find just the right story companion for him. What draw me to Raistlin is his intelligence, also his detachment, his ability to see the situation for what it is, and not need delusions about hope or good, to sustain himself. He sees what is, and doesn't despair but come up with a plan. That nickname "the sly one" hit me hard when I first read about him, because it told me how judgemental those friends of his were.
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3. Eskel
Ciri arriving in Kaer Morhen, and getting frightened by one of Geralt's comrades, because his face is clawed up in some manner... I still remember reading that scene, some time in the 90ies. I was curios at once, especially as scarface, ahm Eskel, proved to be a nice guy in the few scenes he had in the book. I liked him, and I wanted to know more about him. I came up with several stories how he had gotten his scars, and who he was outside of just one of Geralt's brothers. Unfortunately the author never bothered to tell us more about him. Then came the games and I was only marginally enticed by them. Some aspects are good, others are meh... and I will honestly admit that I am still so-so about the Diedre tale. Then came Netflix... and wow was I pissed. Eskel needed his own heroic story I decided and well... it happened. He's still my favourite Witcher, and hopefully will remain so.
Honourable Mentions
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Lan al Mandragoran
Wheel of time was another series I devoured in the late 90ies (and on as new books came out), and Lan was my favourite character in them. I was sure he would die in Tarmon Gai'don, but that did not hinder me devouring everything about him. And what a confrontation in the last battle. Reading that, i was sure, so sure, he'd not come out of this alive, and so happy when he did. I would love to write a story about him and Tam meeting at the Blood Snow and upsetting the entire applecart of events.
Athos
Athos from the Three Musketeers is another childhood hero, from reading the books (Three Musketeers/Twenty Years After/ The Viscount of Bragelonne) when I was a young teen. I like Athos, is aloofness, his honour, is utter reality-defying sticking with said honour, and also his haunted past. He was one of my first fanfic subjects (cringe, the stories were so bad) and i still adore him to this day.
Tagging @regis-favorite-raven, @do-androids-dream-ao3acc, @lohrendrell and @eskel-loves-lilbleater to talk about their favourite characters and how they encountered them.
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tathrin · 9 months
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Ehehe, hello, I am here to feed the procrastination gremlin! Those prompts all sound fun, but 21 and 28 are speaking to my heart rn.
Maybe 36 to if you feel up for it but it's your writing and you decide how many you wanna do<3
The procrastination gremlin thanks your mightily! Because I tend to Get Too Long when I write thing, I'm going to preemptively separate these out into their own posts and just assume that I'll ramble too much for it to make sense to do them all in one lmao. Also I will definitely do all three because yes more gimleaf yes. This is an ask meme that I will literally always be accepting prompts for (although if somebody sees this in the tag in like a month or so and wants to send one in, maybe include some context so that I know what that random number I just got in my inbox means? lmao). So, prompt taken from this; anyone can feel free to send other numbers in at any time. Literally.
#21....on a place of insecurity.
Gimli stared at his reflection in the round silver mirror, his hands paused even though his braids were still half-undone. "Do you ever wish that we had crossed the Sea sooner?" he asked.
Legolas blinked at him, cocking his head in that familiar birdlike tilt of confusion that Gimli knew so well.
"Sooner?" Legolas repeated. "How could we have come sooner?" A frown furrowed his smooth, beardless face; a temporary crinkling of skin that would never show the faintest wrinkle. "You mean before Aragorn died?"
"You're right," Gimli sighed. He tugged at his braids, their once-bright copper laced so heavily with strands of silver that he sometimes felt like he had just walked out of a snowfall. "We could not have, of course. But...do you ever wish..."
"Leaving sooner would not have spared us the pain of his death," Legolas said quietly. "It would only have meant that we would not have been there for him when it happened; only have meant that we would not have been there for Arwen or their children either. Knowing of his death only from stories brought by later travelers would not have spared us anything, I do not think; knowing of his death without having been there ourselves would, I think, have only made it hurt the worse, my dear."
"Yes," Gimli said, "yes, of course. I did not mean—"
He stopped. Legolas had walked up behind him and bent down to look over Gimli's shoulder into the mirror. It should have looked awkward, the sight of Legolas's long spine arced at such an angle, but elves were spindly, lithesome creatures. Wood-elves in particular seemed to be as supple and spritely as saplings, and Gimli had yet to witness Legolas contort himself into a position that strained his pliant bones.
"Gimli," Legolas said, "what is wrong?"
"Nothing," Gimli said. He lowered his eyes and his fingers both, twisting his remaining braids into place as quickly as he could without mussing the pattern of the plaits or dropping strands. He scowled, even though he knew that doing so would only deepen the wrinkles that already lined his eyes. "Nothing is wrong."
Long, smooth fingers pressed gently on his own calloused ones until they stilled. Gimli looked down at the overlap of those long digits across his own, the one set brown and spindly as twigs yet unblemished by time or strife; the other pale as underground mushrooms and gnarled by both time and heavy forge-work.
"Gimli," Legolas said. "Tell me."
Gimli turned his hand so that he could enfold those long brown fingers in his own and gave Legolas's hand a reassuring squeeze. "Nothing is wrong, my love," he said again. "I am only feeling melancholy this morning, it seems. Think no more upon it."
He raised the elf's ageless hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to those smooth knuckles, then released it so that he could continue with his braids.
Legolas did not rise. Instead he dropped lower to fold his arms across the back of Gimli's chair, his bright eyes studying the sight of the dwarf before him in the mirror. Gimli avoided his gaze, focusing instead on the intricate plaits that hung from his chin, but he could feel the weight of Legolas's eyes passing over his face, searching for the answers that Gimli would not give him.
He did not find them.
"Will you not tell me?" Legolas asked at last. His voice was soft, his eyes full of sorrow. "Please?"
Gimli sighed and let the braid in his hands droop loose and unfinished down his chest.
He looked up into the mirror again at last and met Legolas's searching, worried eyes there. He looked at that smooth, beardless, beloved face waiting there behind him; unchanging and unchanged from the day they had first met so long ago and far away in Rivendell.
His eyes flicked sideways to his own reflection, to the wrinkles that time had carved beneath his beard; to the strands of silver that wove through the bright copper braids that hung before him. He reached out and pressed his fingers to the mirror, to the sight of the lines around his eyes, and sighed.
"I would not be so old," Gimli said quietly, "if we had come sooner; that is all. I only wonder if you wish, sometimes, that we had. That is all."
Time did not pass in Aman the way it did in other places; or if it did, then it did not feel as though it did, and it carried no trace of decay with it. Gimli had not aged a day since they had first set foot upon these white shores—but he had aged two hundred and sixty-two years before that.
He was still hale and hearty, for dwarves—especially the dwarves of Durin's line—often lived many years longer than that, and rarely weakened before the very ending of their days came upon them. But he was no spritely youngster of sixty-two, either, moping because his father had deemed him too young to go along on a Quest; nor was he a mature youth of not quite one hundred and forty, boldly striding forward at last upon a Quest of his own, all bright brown eyes and ruddy copper beard.
Gimli was old, now, and he looked it. He could see it every morning when he looked in the mirror to do his braids, or every afternoon when he caught sight of his reflection in the cooling barrels at the forge or in some clear, still pool that held Aman's crystal waters. He could see it, and he knew Legolas could as well; how could he not, when he was surrounded by the contrast of all the smooth, beardless, ageless faces of his people?
"Are you tired?" Legolas asked, and his light voice was a dry croak. Shadows as thick as Mordor's fogs filled his eyes, and Gimli turned from the mirror with a cry and caught Legolas's hands with his own.
"No!" he cried. He knew that Legolas was not asking after Gimli's slumber, or weariness from working the forge; was not asking about anything as simple as a day's ordinary exhaustion. He was asking if Gimli was tired of life; if he was tired of eternity. If he was ready, at long last, to claim the gift of his own mortality.
"Legolas, no," Gimli said, squeezing those spindly fingers so tightly that had they been the frail twigs they seemed they would have snapped beneath the pressure of his grip—but elvish flesh was strong, so much stronger than it looked. So were dwarven spirits, and Gimli had no intention of ever growing weary of the world, not so long as Legolas was in it. "I promise," he assured his elf, raising first one hand and then the other to his lips. "Never, Legolas. I am here with you, and I always will be."
Legolas's smile trembled, but it was a smile. Gimli counted it as a victory, and pulled the elf up out of his crouch and into Gimli's lap. He had too much leg to fit on such a short chair, of course, but the two of them were used to that problem; it was no effort at all to fall into the long habits that had his ankles curling sideways under the chair, his elvish flexibility making easy work of the awkward position.
"Then what troubles you?" Legolas asked. He snaked his long arms around Gimli's shoulders and leaned his beardless cheek down to rest upon Gimli's head. "My love, please. Tell me."
"I am old, Legolas," Gimli said. He unwrapped one hand from the elf's slender waist to press his fingers to the cobweb of wrinkles beside his eyes. "You can see it plainly on my face. Old, as no one else in Aman ever will be."
"Bilbo is old," said Legolas.
Gimli rolled his eyes. "Yes, all right," he said. "And Sam, too. But aside from them, everyone else here is an elf—"
"Or a maia," Legolas interrupted. "Or one of the Valar. Or—"
"My point," Gimli cut him off loudly, "is that age is writ across my face in ways that elvish faces do not age. I am only sorry, my dear, that I can do nothing to erase those lines, these streaks of silver; only sorry that you cannot spend eternity beside a dwarf in his prime of life, but must instead contend with these wearisome wrinkles."
Legolas drew away far enough that he could gape down at Gimli. "Wearisome?" he repeated. "Sorry? Gimli!"
"I know, I know," Gimli soothed, "it is a little enough thing, I suppose, and I am not ungrateful; I am only sorry for your sake, my dear—"
"Sorry!" Legolas said again. "Gimli, you everlasting fool of a dwarf! Is this what you've been fretting over all this time?
"...Yes?"
"Gimli!" Legolas squawked. "Oh, my beloved idiot! I feared you were growing tired of forever, and were going to have to leave me! Instead you've just been pouting over how handsome you are?"
"Handsome!" Gimli exclaimed. "Legolas, enough. I am sorry beyond words that I made you worry, but that is no call to mock me—"
"I do not mock," Legolas said. His lilting voice for once was as firm as stones. "I adore every inch of you, Gimli. Yes, even the wrinkles; yes, even the silver in your beard!" He shook his head, scowling down at his dwarf. "Perhaps especially the silver in your beard, for it gleams like mithril in the moonlight, even as the ancient lights of lost Trees are said to still gleam in the locks of the Lady Galadriel, oh Lockbearer!"
Gimli sputtered, heat rising fast in his cheeks. He tried to push the elf away, but Legolas tightened his grip upon his shoulders and refused to be budged from Gimli's knees.
"And your wrinkles," he continued in a softer voice, "are the signs that our years together have etched upon your face, even as your clever hands carve beauty into simple metal and plain rocks. How could I help but love them, when they trace our story out upon your face for all to see?" Legolas leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the sparkle of crows-feet that framed first one eye and then the other, then traced the deep tracks that lines Gimli's mouth and nose beneath his beard. Finally he raised Gimli's hand and pressed a long kiss to those ruddy, wrinkled fingers.
"Legolas, I...I feel I've been a fool," Gimli murmured. He found himself once again unable to meet Legolas's eyes, this time because of the blush that darkened his cheeks with a blaze of hot mortification.
"You have been," Legolas agreed, "but fortunately I knew you for a fool long before I knew you for anything else, my love, and so I am not bothered overmuch."
A watery laugh spilled from Gimli's lips, and he could not help but smile. "And you are as irritating and irreverent as ever," he retorted.
"Of course I am," Legolas agreed, and hopped up off Gimli's lap and the low chair upon which he sat and grinned down at his dwarf with a twinkling smile. "Some things do not change with the passage of time—but even though my face does not show it, I have very much been changed by knowing you, my dear Gimli, and I would not trade a second of it in exchange for a single lifted wrinkle or silvered hair."
"Well," Gimli said, "I am glad to hear it, and sorry now that I did not voice my concerns sooner."
"So am I!" said Legolas. "But I cannot hold it against you when I did not voice mine either, although in my case it was because I feared to pressure you into extending your time in life beyond your own comfort for my sake alone."
Gimli stood and took his elf's hands in his and held them tight. "Forever is only barely enough time to spend at your side, Legolas," he said, "but as it is all the time the world will give us, I will take it; but I will accept not a second less than that, and would not see that time shortened for any reason even if it was only for your own comfort, and not my own. I can think of no greater purpose for one's life than to bring comfort to one whom I so love."
Legolas beamed down at him, his pale eyes bright with unshed tears. "Well!" he said. "That is all sorted, then!"
"Indeed it is," Gimli agreed. He knew that the smile spreading behind his beard was the sort of soft, misty-eyed grin that Peregrin Took had always labeled "absurdly sappy," but he could not help himself; he felt as though he was fairly brimming-over with love, and he could not contain himself from letting it show upon his face, erstwhile sappiness be damned.
"In that case," Legolas said, his damp gaze dancing suddenly with dry mischief, "let me get you out of that tunic and into our bed and I will find all your other wrinkles and properly express my love for them, too."
Gimli decided he could finish his braids later.
29 notes · View notes
laneynoir · 9 months
Note
In response to your request for writing ideas:
Anything featuring Boromir
Young Legolas sees Rivendell for the first time
Gelir hangs out with Radagast (yes, they were friends and I still need to write HCs about this)
Sam interacting with Boromir (I also sent this suggestion to Callon recently)
And a big hug because everything will be fine! ❤️🫂
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I'm gonna write the rest of these in seperate posts and just tag but
Complete.
Boromir/reader Word count: 1001
Me on my way to drop this screw up: 🏃
Also this gets a little suggestive? I didn't mean to I swear.
Boromir just missed you.
The crack of wood breaking against wood echoes across the training grounds, multiple sparring matches stop and curious expressions are turned to the youngest who is similarly shocked, staring at the her opponent while holding a splintered training stave.
Breaths are quiet in the still morning, wisps of fog in the air more shallow than they've been since dawn. Suddenly the silence is shaken by a lifted chin as You speak, "Through that entrance ma'am, tell the man exactly what has happened and he will deal with you."
The short woman nods, only the faintest hint of a tremble wracking her body, it is quickly replaced by set shoulders and a steel exterior. When the door closes, You raise an eyebrow at the remaining students. "Standing still will not help you, back to the beginning, position one of Haradrin's style, now."
A flurry of movement answers your command, each studant eager to please, as well as desperate to not be sent off as well.
At the end of another hour, only one more trainee has broken his weapon, he looks near tears when he stiffly walks through the ornate door. Shortly after you announce the end of the session, and dismiss the tired looking youth.
With a sigh, you stretch your now sore arms, gather your gear, and head home. You too your head to the guards that you recognize in the halls, and grin when the two sent away from the training session catch your eye. "And how are the two of you?"
The young woman shakes her head. "Sore and recovering from severe fright, I thought I was being kicked out!"
"I did as well, that was a crule trick, splitting the swords so they would brake after striking in the right way enough."
You take on an expression of fake insult. "Hey now, those took a while to do properly! And really, I do like to see how my students can handle dissapointment, the wrong reaction in a fight can cost you your life."
A few moments later sees you at the entrace to your rooms. The door creaks when you open it -it always has, but since it is on pitch you never fix it- the area beyond empty, so you take the opportunity to pout at the absence of your husband.
At least he cannot poke fun at the length of the bath you take, for it is a good thirty minutes before the water has cooled ariund you and you drag yourself from the water. With vindictive pleasure you pull Boromir's largest sleep shirt over your head, after all he cant use it if he's not here.
With that depressing thought, you set to making a small dinner, and your hands are covered in flour when the sound of horns comes from beyond the window. There is a brief momment where you freeze, and then you are running to the door, slinging a cloak on against the cold.
There is a guard at the door when you arive, they do not speak, simply pulling at the handle and smirking as you race past. The paved pathways are a blur beneath your bare feet, and you take no notice of the occasional stones that prick at your toes.
The gates are already open and soldiers filter in on horses, there is cheering, but it seems quiet. Chestnut curls sway, snatching your attention instantly. You vault over the last flight of stairs, landing already in a dead sprint.
Boromir grins at your approach, steadying his mount, and when you reach his side he reaches down and pulls you up into his lap. He smirks, "Miss me?" You mumble a very eloquent 'shut up' before using his hair as a means to pull him into a deep kiss.
He pulls away, barely, and rests his head against your's. "And here I thought you wished never to make a spectacle of yourself?"
"I havent seen you in six months, heard from you in one and a half," You mumble, "For all I knew you could have been dead. I'm alowed one spectacular display under the circumstances."
"Well this display is one I wish not to see."
You grumble but accept Farimir's hand down. Boromir pulls him into a hug. "As you say my brother. I have missed you."
"Aye," Farimir smiles. "But you've missd y/n a bit more, and in a different way. I'll attend to your horse, you are long over due a bath."
"He's right." Boromir's second in command quips from behind you. "You smell like shit," He pauses and bows without loosing his grin. "My Lord." When Boromir frowns, he waves a hand. "I will take care of the report, tend to what's your's, unless you'd rather I?"
Without a word Boromir swings you out of your stance and into a bridal carry. You yelp, but he ignores your protests and continues in the same fashion until the door to your apartments is firmly shut. Once it is, he puts you down, only for you to find yourself pinned against it with a very very attentive husband attacking your lips. "You know he wouldn't have really. He was only goading you into taking some free time."
He makes a humming sound before nipping at your bottom lip. "Will you be joining me in removing the four from my hair?" You gasp as his attentions turn to your neck. "Do not sound so shocked dear one, as you come before me and my unit dressed in nothing but my shirt and cloak for all to see."
Oh. For you had, in your (compleatly reasonable) haste forgotten your currant wardrobe. " 'Suppose its all yours then," you place a finger against his lips, "Oh no no, it's your's after dinner." You wrinkle your nose. "And a bath, your brother's right you smell horrid."
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middleearthpixie · 9 months
Text
Promise Me ~ Chapter Eleven
Summary: Friends since childhood, Gabriella has long held back her feelings where Boromir is concerned, as she did not want to risk losing his friendship if he didn't feel the same. But, then he is summoned to Rivendell, and the night before he is to leave, he stuns Gabriella by confessing his feelings for her as well. 
But, war is coming and he cannot put off what he knows must be done. All Gabriella can do is wait for him and pray for his safe return. 
Fandom: The Lord of the Rings (AU, Boromir lives)
Pairing: Boromir x ofc Gabriella
Characters: Gabriella, Boromir, Aron
Warnings: none 
Rating: T
Word Count: 4.1k
Tag List: @sotwk @heilith @fizzyxcustard @evenstaredits @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @emmyspov @finnofamerica @lathalea @ass-deep-in-demons @quiall321 @mistofstars @justfollowtheroad @guardianofrivendell @glassgulls
If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!
Previous chapters can be found here.
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Gabriella managed to sit and listen as Boromir explained what had happened to him, to the Fellowship, after they left Rivendell. It wasn't easy, as he paused, sometimes for several long moments as he gathered his thoughts, and when he came to Amon Hen, and what happened with Frodo, she had to press her hands to her lips to keep from interrupting him.
His voice wavered. His eyes reddened. But he met her gaze as he said, “I tried to take it from him, and had he not used it, I’ve no doubt I’d have done whatever I needed to in order to do just that.” He tilted his head back to stare up at the ceiling, and drew in a slow, shaking breath. “And as soon as he vanished, I realized what I’d done, realized how much fear I’d put into him. He is almost literally half my size, Gabby, and a hobbit. He knew nothing of fighting or defending himself. And I knew that. I knew it and I used it to my advantage.”
“But you didn't harm him?”
He shook his head. “No. He vanished. Vanished and rightly ran off and I—I don’t know what happened to him. I don't know what became of him. I was supposed to protect him, Gabby. Supposed to keep him safe and see him to Mordor and I failed. I failed him. I failed Merry and Pippin. I failed them all. Because of my own greed, my own lust to be the one to end Sauron and restore order and protect my people. I wanted the glory of it all for myself. And look what happened.”
“Perhaps he made it to Mordor after all. I mean, Sauron’s armies were defeated here, perhaps that’s why. Perhaps he destroyed the Ring after all.”
“I have no way of knowing.” He began pacing then, walking from the front door to the ones leading to the kitchen and storeroom, the floorboards creaking with each step. “As I was going back, not to tell anyone what I’d done, but most likely to lie to them about it, I heard them and I—I knew I had to stop them.”
Her heart picked up its pace, her blood roaring through her ears as she knew what was coming next. Still, that didn't stop her from murmuring, “Stop who?”
“The orc pack that had been tracking us.” He paused his pacing as he met her stare and offered up a sheepish smile. “Had I not been trying to steal that blasted Ring for myself, I’d have been with Aragorn and Legolas and Gimli and I’d have heard them, we’d have seen them and been ready. But… it was just the two halflings and I have no idea how many orcs. And I got between them.”
Her eyes stung and her throat seized as he went on. “I never saw the first arrow. I’m not even at all certain I’d heard it. I simply felt it. Felt the burn, felt it spread and it served only to make me angrier. I ignored it. Drew my sword and swung at anything and everything in my path, and told those two fools to run. I was lost, but they—they weren’t. Not yet, anyway.”
He no longer met her eyes, but looked somewhere over her right shoulder, and her heart slammed into her ribs with such force, she wouldn’t have been surprised if a rib shattered. She knew what was coming and although she also knew how it ended, it still pained her to hear it. “Boromir…”
“I had to keep them safe, Gabby. I had to and I wasn't going to. There were so many of them… and the arrows just kept coming.” He pressed a hand to his chest, where directly beneath his tunic, the small bandage remained, and then did the same to his left thigh. “I could barely breathe and could see even less, but I held them off until I could no longer stand.”
Gabriella pressed her lips together once more, swallowing hard against the sob rising in her throat. She could imagine the scene and her heart ached for him. He looked over at her then, and another sheepish smile came to his lips. “I fell to my knees and all I saw was the filth above me, loading his bow. He took aim, between my eyes, I think, and I knew that was it. In a moment or two, it would all be over. My life would come to an end and do you know something?”
He looked over at her, and sensing he expected an answer, she shook her head. “No. What?”
“Do you know what I thought in my last moments?”
Her throat squeezed so tightly, she could barely force the word out, her whispered, “What?” breaking as she held his gaze.
“You.” His eyes softened, a hint of wonder creeping into them. “I was about to die and all I could think about was you.”
She pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling even as she breathed, “What?”
“I’d promised you I’d be back. And I was going to break that promise and it was my own stupidity that set those events in motion. My own greed. My lust for power.”
She stared at him for a long moment, then eased down from her stool and crossed to him, slipping her arms about his waist when she reached him. He stiffened, but she ignored it as she held him tighter, pressed her cheek to his chest, and whispered, “I am so very glad you are here, that you are here to tell me, Boromir.”
He said nothing at first, nor did he move, but then… he wrapped his arms about her. Wrapped his arms about her, pressed his cheek into her hair and when he trembled, she realized he was crying. There were no loud sobs, or theatrics of any sort, but she knew he cried just the same.
“We will find out what became of your hobbit,” she murmured, slipping her hands beneath his tunic to stroke his back gently. “And we will know soon enough if he was able to complete your quest.”
“I’m sorry…” 
“Shhh… I know.” She tightened her arms about him, as if to protect him from… from what? His own thoughts? His own fears? She didn't know, all she knew was she wanted to protect him from something. From everything, if that was even possible.
He went still against her. “I’ve disappointed everyone, let them down. I’ve failed in what I’d been entrusted to do.”
“You are human, Boromir, and just as flawed as the rest of us. You carry the weight of Gondor on these broad shoulders and you have for a long time, and you had a moment of weakness but for a noble reason. You wouldn’t have used the Ring for anything other than to keep Gondor safe and to see Sauron destroyed and I know you would not have harmed your Frodo, but would have stopped short of doing so.”
She pulled away then, and reached up to curve her hands against his face. “You did stop short of it and I know you’ll tell me it’s because he vanished, but you would have, regardless. Nothing you can say will ever convince me otherwise.”
“Because you refuse to see me as I am.”
“No,” she shook her head, “because I know you and I know you well. I know the pressure on you, and the weight you carry and how you wanted only to protect your people. And now, you must forgive yourself, for the people of Gondor need their steward. And before you argue with me again, know, I do see you as you are.”
He shook his head. “No, I am not the man they need. And if Aragorn lives still, then he is the rightful ruler, he is Gondor’s king.”
“What?” She shook her head. “We have no king.”
“We do. And should he return, I will gladly step aside and allow him to ascend his throne and I will offer my services to his army, should he require them.”
“Are you certain? You are Denethor’s heir.”
“I know,” he nodded, “but if Aragorn returns, as I said, he is the heir to the throne and will make a fine king. I won’t be needed. At least, not in the stewardship role. I can, of course, serve him by remaining a Captain-General in the Guard and I will do so willingly.”
“And they will be fortunate to have you still.”
“I am not so certain of that.” He said it with a smile, and catching her by the wrists, he tugged her hands from his face and linked his fingers with hers. “Tell me, do you expect your parents to return any time soon?”
“As in soon tonight, or soon in the near future.”
“Either one, I suppose.”
She offered up a long look. “What are you about, Boromir? I am not at all certain I trust that gleam in your eye.”
“What gleam might that be?”
“Boromir.”
“Gabby.”
“It’s all closed up above, it’s stuffy, and probably smells of musty linens.”
“I care not,” he told her, giving her hands a squeeze. “We can open a window.”
“You cannot be serious.”
“Love, I do not joke about taking you to bed.”
“Boromir!” The last syllable of his name whooshed from her as he playfully grabbed her about the waist and tossed her over his shoulder. She squeezed her eyes shut as her head spun from the sudden pressure change and slapped her hand against the firm mound of his left cheek. “Take care and mind your wounds.”
“My wounds are fine.” He trod toward the the kitchen. “Trust me.”
“Don’t you dare drop me.”
“I would never be so careless,” he assured her, striding through the kitchen, to the back staircase leading up to the apartment over the tavern. 
It was stuffy up there, but she forgot all about that as he playfully tossed her onto her narrow bed and smiled as he loomed over her, all broad shoulders and wide chest. He winked, then went to throw open the windows on the far side of the room to let in the cool, damp air and a few minutes later, the rain and the mustiness of a closed up apartment ceased to matter.
“This sheet smells like a wet towel that had been left in a corner to rot,” she murmured, tucking her head against his chest as he drew his arm about her.
His fingers smoothed lightly along her hair, murmuring, “I cannot smell anything but the lavender than clings to your hair. As far as I can remember, your hair has always smelled of it.”
“You know what my hair smells like?”
His fingers stilled momentarily. “You sound surprised.”
“I am.”
He pressed a kiss into the top of her head. “Why?”
“I didn't think men noticed such things.”
“We do.” He pressed a kiss into the top of her head. “Where certain women are concerned, that is.”
She sighed softly as she snuggled against him. Only the light sheet covered them, but Boromir truly didn't seem troubled by the hint of mustiness woven into the fabric. And truth be told, she didn't mind much, either. She was just happy to be laying there, entwined with him, her fingers tracing lightly through the golden hair curling away from his skin. A hint of leather clung to him and much like the lavender scent of her hair, his scent was unique to him and she would recognize it anywhere. 
Rain still pattered softly against the roof, and the sound was as soothing as the stroke of his fingers along her hair and the sound of his soft breathing. It was as perfect a moment as she had ever experienced, one she would forever treasure, and as she gazed up at him, his profile illuminated by the lone candle on the low chest of drawers, she wondered what he was thinking about at that very moment. 
“Boromir?”
“Yes?”
“What was Rivendell like?”
“It was beautiful. Peaceful.” The linens rustled as he shifted onto his side, propping his head on his fist. “And it was a far cry from what we found in Moria.”
“Moria?”
He nodded. “We originally tried to go over Moria, along the Caradhras, but Saruman tried to bring the mountain down on us and then tried to bury us alive in snow. Frodo decided we would instead go through the mines of Moria. And that was where we thought Gandalf had perished, at the hands of the balrog. Which was far worse than the orcs and their blasted cave troll.”
“They had a cave troll?”
“They had a cave troll.”
He said it with a hint of a smile and she reached out to curve her hand against his cheek. “I’ll wager you were a sight to behold, fighting off a cave troll.”
His eyes slid shut for a moment as she swept her thumb along his skin. “I don't know about that, but I did keep Frodo from falling into the abyss, kept the lot of them from doing so. I spent a good deal of the time carrying two of them about. And I tried to teach Merry and Pippin how to defend themselves with the swords Aragorn gave them. It was… I had to remind myself from time to time that they were not children, despite being young and small. They’re adults, but the size of nine year olds.”
“I can just see that as well.” 
“I was terribly uncomfortable, though. In Rivendell and Lothlórien, I mean. I found no peace there, despite how safe both places were.”
“Lothlórien?”
“Yes, in the North. The Lady Galadriel and her husband Celeborn oversee it and when we found our way out of Moria, they offered us shelter.” He smiled. “Actually, they captured us in their wood and Aragorn explained why we were there, and then they offered us shelter.”
The chain about his neck glinted in the candlelight, as did the bear medallion. “I’ve heard tell she is very beautiful. Lady Galadriel, I mean.”
“She is. But… she also makes me uncomfortable. She has a way of speaking to you, without using her voice. And yet, you hear her. As plain as I hear you now. She spoke of the fall of Gondor and my father’s failing rule and yet, she spoke of hope. And I hadn’t felt any of that both before and after she said the words.
“But,” he smiled down at her, “now I do. I think this is the hope of which she spoke. Not that my father would somehow restore Gondor to its former glory, but that there is a future for me. Here. With you. When I was on my knees in that clearing at Amon Hen, all I wished for was to be allowed to survive that and to come back to you. I would make it all up to the halflings in time, but I desperately wished to see you one last time.”
“You can still make it up to them. Did you and Pippin make peace?”
He nodded. “We did. And when Merry awakes, I will go to him on bended knee as well. And if he awakens, perhaps there is hope for Faramir, as well.”
“I think you’ve learned that there is always hope. Even when the night is at its darkest, the sun will rise come morning.”
“So I’m learning.” He leaned over then and captured her lips with his in a slow, lingering kiss. 
Her eyelids slid shut as he broke the kiss to nuzzle her, his goatee tickling along her sensitive skin, and she couldn't hold back her laugh.
“Are you laughing at me?” His whisper swept against her ear.
“Hardly. But I am ticklish, it seems.”
He nuzzled her again, his laughter mingling with hers as she squirmed to get away from him. Then, he pulled back, and reached to brush her hair away from her face, his green eyes tender as he whispered, “I do love you, you know.”
Her laughter died away as she held his gaze. “I know.”
“What is it?” he murmured, his fingertips brushing along her cheeks. 
“You walked all that way, and so badly injured… how?”
“I didn't walk the entire way. The elves had given us boats and I took one back, thinking water was far safer for me to traverse. But, I must have fallen unconscious at some point, for all I know is I found myself beached and had not the strength to move the boat back into deeper water. So, that’s when I began walking. And before you ask, I have no idea where I was. I only know is it took me about three days to get from there to here.”
“Stubborn man.”
“Determined man.” He carefully eased himself over her and smiled down as he added, “I had a very good reason to want to come home, you know.”
“And the elves offered no help to your Fellowship?”
“There was nothing they could do. But, they offered us food and shelter, and gave us cloaks that would help us blend with the forest and the like, so they did what they could.”
“So, that’s where it came from?”
His forehead furrowed. “That’s where what came from?”
“The beautiful cloak and clasp I saw in your apartment.” She couldn't resist teasing him. “For a moment, I thought I might have cause to be jealous. That perhaps you’d had your head turned by another woman.”
“I’m fairly certain the only woman whose head I could turn when I am a sweaty, scruffy, unwashed, bloodied mess is you.”
“I don't know about that. Perhaps this is wrong of me, but you happen to be very desirable when you’re a sweaty, scruffy, unwashed mess. Although, I could do without you being bloodied, to be honest.”
“You would think so.” He let out a soft chuckle. “Either way, I wasn’t interested in any women. All I wanted was to do what we’d set out to do and then return. I wished to see this war end and for peace to come about in its stead and to come back home alive and in one piece, as I had promised you I would. And now? Now, I wish to go back to my chambers, where we might sleep in comfort on sheets that do not smell of musty toweling and dust.”
“I cannot come back with you. People will talk.”
“No, they won’t.” 
“Of course they will.”
“Then I suppose I will stay here and ignore the mustiness and dust.” He dipped to kiss her softly. Kissing was something he seemed to thoroughly enjoy, as he never rushed a single kiss. Instead, he treated each kiss as if it was to be savored, as if her lips were a delicacy he feared he’d never sample again. Each one was slow and lingering, as much a caress as anything else, and when he broke it to brush those same teasing lips along the side of her neck, Gabriella couldn't hold back her sigh.
“Do I bore you?” His whisper came light along her skin. “Is that why you sigh?”
“Not at all,” she murmured with a smile. “Just enjoying your attentions, is all.”
His soft laugh echoed in her ear, his lips brushing the outer shell of it. “Did you truly think I would be looking at other women, Gabby? When I knew you were awaiting my return?”
“Well, elves are stunning. I doubt anyone would fault you.”
He drew back then, his eyes glittering in the candlelight. “They are, true. But, so are you, you know.”
She reached up to sweep back a lock of dark gold hair that fell over his forehead. “Compared to an elf-maid? I think not. I’ve heard they are all tall and thin and beautiful.”
“They are. But they are also rather dull, if you ask me.” He dipped toward her again, his lips just barely brushing hers as he whispered, “I prefer tiny spitfires who think nothing of putting me in my place, even when they are afraid to swing at me during sword practice.”
“I am not afraid to swing, I’m afraid I’ll hurt you if I do.”
“Hurt me? Love, I am not so certain you would actually hurt me at all. You are half my size and I am at least five stone heavier than you.”
“Has no one ever told you to not be fooled by size?”
“Gabby, you aren’t going to hurt me.”
She planted both hands on his chest (taking care to not hit his wounds) and shoved to flip him onto his back, then, she shifted astride him, grabbing both hands to pin them down on either side his head. “See?”
The sparkle his eyes brightened, but then those green irises darkened as he growled,  “I do, indeed.”
“Boromir!”
“What? It’s a lovely view, Gabby.”
Heat flared in her cheeks as his gaze slowly slid down her body and she bit back a smile as his body betrayed him. Or perhaps it wasn't a betrayal at all, since his gaze locked with hers and a slow smile accompanied that sudden pressure at the apex of her thighs. 
A hint of shyness swirled through her at that hungry gaze. After all, she and Boromir might have been friends since the beginning of time, but they were only recently lovers. They were already comfortable with one another, but it was something entirely different, being this intimate with one another. She’d never played with a man this way, never felt comfortable enough with one to do so. But with Boromir, it all flowed so naturally, she didn't second guess her words or actions or impulses, but simply gave into them. 
“What’s on your mind?” His low voice broke through her reverie as his eyes softened again. 
She released his wrists to sit back, almost smiling at his soft groan when her weight shifted and that pressure grew stronger. “It’s silly, is what it is.”
His hands came to rest on her thighs, his thumbs gently stroking the inner slopes. “Tell me.”
“You’ll think it—and me—stupid.”
“Never. And I have become quite the expert on stupid actions and words, remember.” He gave both thighs a gentle squeeze. “Tell me.”
The heat swirling through her worsened and had nothing to do with the way he gazed up at her and nothing to do with the fact that he couldn’t hide his growing arousal and everything to do with the fact that the last thing she wanted was him thinking she’d gone completely idiot. 
She drew in a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and instead of telling him what she’d truly been thinking, she said, “If I told anyone about this side of you, they would think me a liar.”
His lips pursed slightly, and she had the feeling he didn't believe her. But if that was true, he said nothing about it. Instead, his fingers tightened on her thighs once more and he said, “I’m allowed to be soft with you, Gabby. You won’t think me weak for it.” 
“You? Weak?” She shook her head. “You are the very opposite of that, Boromir, and I think we both know that.”
As she spoke, she traced gently along the bandage just below his collarbone. “Three arrows and they still couldn't bring you down. Three arrows and you walked back here of sheer will. You walked back here with those terrible wounds.” Her throat tightened as she slid her finger gingerly  over the edge of the linen still wound about him, as the realization sank into her as to how seriously he’d been wounded, that those foul creatures thought nothing of trying to end his life.
Her eyes stung as she gazed upon him now, his green eyes tender, his fingers light as they swept along her skin. No man ever gazed at her the way he did just then, and to think of him being gone—truly being gone—was too terrible to contemplate. She’d had a taste of what it would be like and had no desire to ever know it again.
“Gabby, I’m going to be fine.”
She nodded at his whisper, unable to bring herself speak. She didn't trust her voice. Didn't trust it to remain calm and steady, as her eyes filled and she ducked her head.
“Come here.” He caught her by one wrist to draw her flush against him, wrapping his arms about her as he whispered, “I am here and I am going to be fine in time, love. Shhh… shhh…”
She couldn’t hold back those tears any longer, burying her face in his neck, against the rough scruff where he had not yet shaved yet. His arms tightened further, and he brought one hand up to smooth along her hair, then cradled the back of her head. 
He said no more, but only held her, until she calmed against him. 
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roselightfairy · 11 days
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10 First Lines
Tagged by @sallysavestheday; thank you! I feel fortunate to get tagged in this one pretty regularly by writer friends, but it's fun to revisit every time. So - the first lines of my 10 most recent fics, looking for patterns . . .
It strikes me that this is an interesting question, actually, because I've written quite a few ficlets recently that I haven't put up, and I wonder if the ficlets are different from longer stories. So I think what I'll do is the first lines of the four most recent published stories, as I think those are the only things I've posted since I last did this, and then the last six ficlets, and we'll see what happens.
The Force is at one with the universe. (from Balance)
Birdsong eased Legolas from sleep to wakefulness: weaving into his dreams like the voice of a guide from one state to the other, leading him gently along a wooded path and out towards the eaves of the forest. (from a published ficlet)
Being the leader of a pirate band was not always the most lucrative position. (from The Rewards of Optimism)
Anduril II was, as planets went, a good place to lie low. (from Here and Now, and yes I did name a Star Wars planet after Aragorn's sword)
Every time he wakes up, Obi-Wan has to adjust to reality anew. (unpublished ficlet the last)
It was not the last time Aayla would walk through the palace of Theed, but it felt like it. (unpublished ficlet the penultimate)
“Breathe.” (unpublished ficlet the antepenultimate)
“It’s just not – ‘s’jus’not” – Anakin pawed at the table, rocking slightly back and forth as if for emphasis, “not fair.” (unpublished ficlet, but I am going to post this one eventually because I'm so amused by it)
“Come on, Obi-Wan.” (unpublished ficlet)
Rie was quiet this evening. (unpublished ficlet that I may or may not post as its own work eventually)
There's only one LOTR fic on this list, but it does crack me up how immediately obvious the stylistic difference is. I've been writing outside LOTR for so long now that sometimes I despair over the quality of my writing, but it's actually just because I'm a fic chameleon and LOTR fandom has such a distinctive flowery prose style. I miss it a lot, but unfortunately it's not where the brain-on-fire is happening right now. :( Still, it's very very fun to slip back into when I can. Like a comfy bathrobe.
Like sallysavestheday before me, I am big on the "in medias res" short first line, apparently. (I almost always follow it up with much more context-heavy explanation.) Dialogue, mantras, and quips abound!
Tagging @tathrin, @katajainen, @unnamedelement, and anyone else who wants to play!
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viking-hel · 1 year
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I posted 1,301 times in 2022
45 posts created (3%)
1,256 posts reblogged (97%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@whetstonefires
@legolas--thranduilion
@tubbylita
@riahchan
@jonsnowbrooding
I tagged 908 of my posts in 2022
Only 30% of my posts had no tags
#long post - 97 posts
#lol - 81 posts
#aemond targaryen - 34 posts
#tolkien - 32 posts
#lotr - 26 posts
#esc 2022 - 22 posts
#harald sigurdsson - 20 posts
#reblog - 20 posts
#vikings valhalla - 19 posts
#observations of hotd - 18 posts
Longest Tag: 123 characters
#i have gaps in my memory because i don’t even know if what happened happened because my half sis was good at gaslighting me
My Top Posts in 2022:
#4
For the Jonsa Halloween 2022.
Beast. Potion. Magic. 🎃
Jon couldn’t stop watching the way the fire danced with Sansa’s hair. Her glorious mane became the flames given true form, magicked into dancing as some hopeful lad of House Cerwyn tried his best.
He lazed back into his seat, a cup of ale held idly in his hands, a potion of false courage the Cerwyn lad mayhap guzzled too much of. He must have now felt it as Sansa gracefully twirled through his clumsy steps, a kind smile on her face.
Jon loved seeing her smile. She’d had so little to smile about before now. Here she was, Queen in the North, more regal and beautiful than any lady before, and he was a mere pauper worshipping at her feet.
Magic infused the air. Jon tasted it, sweet and heady, as he kept watch of Sansa as she twisted and turned with the cheerful lutes and drums. They had no worries now; no dragonqueens or lionqueens, and no rat faced bastards to chase down and hurt young women—
Jon’s fist clenched thinking of that snake. It had been so satisfying to bloody him, to hear the sound of bone striking bone. It was only Sansa’s sweet face that tempered that beast inside him, that would do anything for her.
He came back different, Jon knew. Perhaps a part of Ghost he took with him, some man left behind in the wolf. Whatever this was, it bubbled just under the surface. That beast inside that always sought to protect her - even when she believed he couldn’t - but now she was safe inside the walls of their ancient home and they had each other.
That. That was the true magic. That they were together after so long and so much, the world was right now in a way it had never been, even before they left.
Sansa picked out a mug of ale, held it up to her lips, and tipped her head to him in askance as her eyes took on a hint of mischief. Jon smiled back and gestured her forward. He’d shared her enough, the protective beast wanted his wife beside him. Carefully, Sansa wended her way to him, speaking briefly with those who wished her well as she moved. Tall and fire-touched, she was. Again, he was a worshipper merely wanting to bask in her presence.
‘Husband,’ she said, sitting beside him. ‘Are you well?’
‘Far better now you’re here, my love.’
She reached across the table and plucked up a grape. ‘Is something to your liking?’
He couldn’t keep his eyes from her slender throat as she moved. ‘There is.’ He gulped more of his courage potion, but found none left. ‘I always do when admiring my wife.’
Giggling, Sansa handed him her mug of ale, untouched. They sat back, Jon kept his hand around hers as the court made merry.
Yes, their life was some kind of magic. Jon would never question it.
67 notes - Posted October 28, 2022
#3
‘Next is Germany!’
Already? - Graham
79 notes - Posted May 14, 2022
#2
The Dance hasn’t even started yet and I can’t wait for Cregan Stark to come down and clean up the mess.
92 notes - Posted October 11, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
Don’t tell me people are shocked Rhaenys killed the common people. It’s perfectly normal for Targaryens to come in on their overgrown lizards and slaughter defenceless people. Daenerys did it. Aegon and his sisters did it. Practically a pastime.
116 notes - Posted October 17, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
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thenerdyalchemist · 3 years
Note
Thanks for answering my ask about Elladan's scar. The poor baby! A different kind of question: did you read The Mellon Chronicles and, if so, have they inspired you in any way?
Mellon Chronicles?
Okay I looked it up on google and it’s a fanfic series. No I can honestly say I have not. Tho I might check it out now :0
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A World Away
Thranduil x fem!human!reader
Requested: Anonymous
Summary: “I want a modern reader thrown into mirkwood forest. Found and thrown into a cell by thranduil. During an escape attempt reader sees an animal and decides to rescue an animal and get caught by thranduil. He takes an interest and reader is treated as a guest. Thranduil starts falling for her and sends her to live with humans. “What did i do? Why are you sending me away?” And then during the battle of five armies she meets with thranduil again and fluff”
Warnings: a little swearing (like twice)
Authors Note: Splitting this into two parts so everyone can suffer (joking lol)
Edit: Not me trying to schedule this and realizing it didn’t post 🤦🏻‍♂️
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__________________________________________
With every step, you could hear your heart pounding in your ears. Your adrenaline rush prevented you from noticing the sharp briars that tore at your skin and clothes. You could worry about that later. Your only concern now was making it out of this forest.
You had planned your escape from the Elvenkings dungeon for weeks. Today, the opportunity to put your plan into action had finally arisen. As you dodged fallen logs and low hanging branches, you thought of how you came to be here in the first place.
Your head was throbbing as you came to. You attempted opening your eyes, but the bright sunlight forced you to close them again. You could hear strange voices speaking in a foreign tongue. You attempted to move your hands, but they were bound. Forcing your eyes open a second time, you took in your unfamiliar surroundings.
You were in a forest, surrounded by men and women dressed in strange clothes. All of them had long hair that was intricately braided, revealing their...pointy ears? Okay, what on earth was happening here.
“Excuse me, but who are you people? Why am I here?” You voiced. One with blonde hair, you assumed he was their leader, snapped his head towards you.
“You were trespassing on our lands. You are now in the custody of King Thranduil. He shall decide your fate” You gulped. Oh lord, what had you done now?
You were ripped away from your thoughts when you tripped over something in your way.
“Shit!” You hissed at the pain now shooting up your leg. You turned and looked at what had caused you to fall. A small fawn lay trembling at your feet. It didn’t appear injured, but your conscience wouldn’t let you leave until you checked. You extended a hand to the fawn, but it flinched away. “C’mon, I won’t hurt you. I promise,” you reassured. As you were checking the animal over, the sound of a sword being drawn reached your ears. You turned to see the tall figure now standing behind you. You recognized him as one of the guards that had taken you prisoner when you arrived at this miserable place.
“I see we didn’t get very far,” the elf said sarcastically. You dropped your head in defeat.
“Damn my good conscience,” you thought.
___
The first time you were before the Elvenking, he had been perched atop his throne. This time, you met him in his private study. He was seated in a large chair, sipping a glass of rich red wine. He appeared unbothered. You weren’t sure if anything could sway him.
“Leave us,” he commanded the guards placed at the doors. He took another long drink of his wine, then placed it on the table beside him. Neither of you spoke, and the silence was deafening. Thranduil took a deep breath and gestured to the seat adjacent from him, ”Sit.”
You obeyed, the large plush seat nearly swallowing you. You fiddled with your hands-noting that they had been left unbound this time.
“Do you have any idea what the punishment is for those that try to escape my prison?” He questioned. You shook your head in response, not trusting your voice to remain steady. “A more barbaric king would likely have you put to death.” Thranduil noticed you becoming more anxious. “But do not worry, I don’t plan on doing such a thing.”
“O-Oh?” You stuttered.
“You must be quite clever to have out maneuvered my guards,” Thranduil continued as he poured another glass of wine. “It was surprising to learn that your escape failed because you stopped to help a fawn.”
“It wasn’t my greatest decision,” you admitted.
“Perhaps, but I think it’s ultimately been in your favor,” Thranduil hummed.
“What do you mean?” You questioned.
“What I mean is that I’ve reconsidered my original sentence. I believe I may have been quick to judge when you were first brought before me,” Thranduil paused. “I hear of all the happenings in this forest. Humans are typically uncaring of those around them. Despite your situation, you stopped to help another in need of aid. Quite a noble trait to possess, yes?”
“Yes, I suppose,” you replied. You had never considered yourself noble before. Helping others had always felt like the right thing to do.
“If it would be no trouble, I should like you to remain in Mirkwood-as my guest.” There it was. The point that this conversation had been leading to.
“I-Really?” You exclaimed. Just when you thought you were starting to understand how this world worked, you were blind sided once again.
“If you have family you would rather return to, I understand. We would be more than willing to supply you for your journey-“
“Oh, no,” you cut him off (which surprised him). “It’s not that. I just wasn’t expecting it is all. I appreciate the offer, and I totally except.” You were glad to finally move on from being a prisoner. The treatment in Thranduils dungeon was alright, but a prison is still a prison after all.
“Well, then,” said Thranduil, pouring a second glass of wine. “Let’s drink to the hope of newfound friendship,” he offered the glass to you. You accepted and raised your glass to him. A possible friendship with the king? Oh, this was going to be a story to tell.
___
Life in Mirkwood was very pleasant; spending your days exploring the endless gardens and library. You would share dinner with Thranduil once a week. Then twice a week. Then soon you would dine together most nights. You noticed how interested he was in your life-both before you came to Middle Earth and now.
What you didn’t notice were the whispers between the elves. Since the death of his queen, the king had been closed off. Now, he was showing such favoritism to a human woman. Sharing dinner with her. Strolling through the gardens together. Gifting her with clothes and her own dwelling. It wasn’t until Legolas brought it up did Thranduil notice how fond he had become of you.
“Ada?” Legolas asked one day.
“Yes?” Thranduil replied as he leafed through paperwork.
“I’ve seen you’ve become quite partial to (Y/N),” said Legolas.
“Hm, I suppose I have,” Thranduil paused from his work.
“Do you think you may have...romantic feelings for her?” Legolas hesitated before asking.
Thranduils eyes widened at what his son had said. “O-Of course not! Honestly, Legolas, I don’t see why you would say such things!” Legolas gave his father a look and turned to leave.
“If you say so,” Legolas teased before closing the door behind him.
Thranduil pondered over what Legolas had said. Yes-he could see it now. He had slowly become wrapped around your little fingers. Falling for you so slowly he didn’t even notice. He wanted to feel joy-could he have found a second companion at last? But he couldn’t help the guilt that clawed at his stomach. Many elves only married once. Though his wife was deceased, her soul still lingered in the Halls of Mandos. What then? Should he do you both a disservice and pursue his newfound love? Thranduil stood and paced the room, thinking of what he should do. Finally, he called to the guards outside the room. He had made his decision.
“How may we serve you, My King.”
“Tell Lady (Y/N) to pack her things. She must be gone by daybreak tomorrow. She is not to step foot in the Woodland Realm again, understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
Thranduil felt sick. This was for your own good, he kept telling himself. To be with you would only hurt you both. It had to be this way.
___
You wiped away your tears as you packed. You didn’t understand. Mirkwood was your home. Thranduil had become your closest friend, but now he was banishing you? You thought the Elvenking liked you, even entertained the thought that he more than liked you, but not now. Now you felt foolish. Of course it would never work. He was a stupidly handsome immortal king. You were a human girl from a different world.
You threw the last of your belongings into your bag. The guards escorted you out of the castle. Before the cart you were placed upon moved, you took one last look at the kingdom, trying to absorb every detail. The coachman urged the horses forward, and that was it. You would never see Thranduil again. As night fell, so did your tears.
Little did you know, you weren’t the only one who cried that night.
Tags: @themerriweathermage
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its-me-im-coraline · 3 years
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Consequenses // Thomas Raggi
words // 1590
warnings // smut ahead hehe and not even a full smut, just a snippet honestly
pairing // Thomas Raggi x F!Reader
author's note // if you want to be on the tag list let me know. ok please let me know on the taglist link if you have asked me to tag you and i havent right now... I lost some of the user names so yeah im so sorry 🥺
request // yes
summary // Reader has been breaking Thomas’ rules by teasing him for days. Thomas eventually is fed up and shows Reader what happens when you disobey.
tag list: @bieberhoodforever @tabi-toast @ginny-lily @moriro-da-regina @the-killer-queenie @makapaka11 @bidet-and-legolas @atremendousstrawberrycollection @otaculo @selenophiliaxx
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Music, throbbing lights and booze was the way Thomas and his partner decided to spend his weekend off. An average gathering made to feel like a party amongst the closest friends of the band and everyone’s partners. Of course the guitarist couldn’t resist bringing his lover along. He had not seen her in a while, traveling around and working on new music had made the relationship hard for the two of them, things only becoming harder when they started being unsatisfied with their more intimate relationship. The longing did not help much, instead it brought anger and anxiety, both resulting in ruining both of their moods.
The suggestion came from Y/N in the afternoon after Thomas took a break. They were sitting on the couch watching some tv show neither cared for, slowly trying to relax and potentially do more than sitting on the couch. The thought had occurred a few days ago, while the man was still not there, when his lover was maybe watching a bit of an erotic movie. “Maybe we should… switch,” was all she said. No explanation, no details, nothing.
Not much convincing was needed so here they were. Y/N being dominant was finding it a little hard to just sit there and listen. Thus the dom turned into a brat, choosing to tease the man during their first night together.
It was rather simple to get Thomas all riled up this fine night. They happened to have a small fight before the party (a disagreement over minimal things truly) so they were both in a very tense mood while at the party. Thomas was on the one side of the yard, talking with some of his friends, while Y/N was on the other, revealing clothing and lingerie (with certain movements it was visible to the man - and anyone else that paid attention, but not many did). The man was unable to take his eyes off his partner. See, she knew that the result would be pretty good.
“Keep this up and the result will not be very nice for you, amore,” he whispered in her ear when he finally approached her. His hand right above her ass, face too close for comfort.
“I am not sure I want to stop,” said Y/N, an evil smirk decorating her face. Her hips moved side to side, making sure the man could see. Back on her plotting she was.
At first things went smoothly: a bit of seductive dancing, a bit of drinking… The casual. But soon that would change as well. Ethan was sitting on a pool chair, joking about Y/N’s dancing, having a playful back and forth with each other until Y/N sat on his lap. It was nothing unusual for the two, it had happened plenty of times before, but both Thomas and her knew that this time was different.
By now Thomas is fuming. If he was in a cartoon his face would have gone comically red, smoke coming out his face in an exaggerated way. The cigarette and drink in his hand did little to help restrain him. For that, he downed the rest of his drink in an instant, smashing his cigarette on an ashtray and moving to his friends and partner. “Sorry to cut your fun short,” he smiled, trying to keep it together, “but me and Y/N need to go. Honestly, I’m feeling very tired,” he finished, taking Y/N’s hand in his and pulling her up and towards him.
Their friends did not say much, but rather voiced their goodbyes allowing the pair to leave the party.
Getting in the car was now the easy task, but one of them was dreading it. She knew that this would be so fun, but she was undeniably afraid of what could potentially happen that night. “What do you think you have been doing, dolcezza?” He all but growled, roughly turning her face towards his with his hand.
“Me? Nothing. I was just trying to have fun with my friends.” Oh, the innocent act. If Thomas wasn’t hot and bothered (more of the later) already, he certainly was now.
“I don't think so, baby. I think you have been very very naughty. I think you need a punishment.” His tone was playful but his eyes told a different story. Y/N was in for a long night, and they were still in the car. Thomas’ hands had already begun to travel all around his lover, faces dangerously close. And like that the vigorous kissing started.
“You shouldn't have acted like that tonight, amore,” he commented before he started driving back to their shared apartment. The ride was quiet but the tension and anticipation was loud as hell.
Patience was out the window the moment Y/N opened the door to their home. Thomas pushed her to the wall, attacking her neck with kisses. “I warned you enough times, my love, now it’s time for actions,” he commented, hand slowly traveling up to her neck, lightly squeezing, blocking the blood flow lightly making her lightheaded but so much more desperate for him. “Turn around and put your hands on the wall - just like that, good girl! Now, ass perked up.”
She was very well aware of what was about to happen and saying that she did not want it would be a lie. She was rather used to serving spankings to the man whenever he disrespected her - rather lenient - rules, taking such an adrenaline rush every time, but oh did she get a rush now, too. Thomas was getting more and more confident by the minute, Y/N getting rather aroused from it.
Thus she obeyed his demands, pushing her ass back, all there for him to do what he wanted. Thomas quickly got to work moving up her tiny little skirt to have her exposed to his will. Her ass looked amazing in that white lace thong she wore, making the man undeniably hard. “You know what you’re doing, don’t you? You planned for this to happen-” slap, “you knew I would not be able to hold back, didn’t you, puppy?” slap. “Answer me!”
“Yes, daddy,” Y/N responded very timidly, slightly flinching every time he struck her cheeks.
“Good, good. Now count for me, and you will thank me for each slap.”
“One. Thank you, daddy,” she began with his rhythm getting quicker and his force bigger by each slap of his palm. They reached around twenty five before Thomas decided on his next move. He said nothing but roughly turned Y/N around, pulling her towards their shared bedroom, lightly. After closing the door behind him - more out of habit than any actual practical reason- he pushed her to the bed, legs automatically falling open as he stared with lust in his eyes.
“Just sit there and do nothing,” he ordered, “no touching, or there will be consequences.” He did not go far after that, he only undressed and picked up the condoms and the lube, just making sure that she was entirely ready (not that he truly needed it at the moment - just a safety precaution) and knelt in front of his lover.
“Mhm,” he moaned, “you are looking delicious, but I’m not sure you can handle it. Maybe we should do this anoth-”
“No, no! Please, I can handle it! I can handle anything! Please, please!” she exclaimed, or more so whined, making Thomas smirk like a cheshire cat and proceeding with his actions.
“Anything, you say? Hm, we’ll see about that.” Oh boy was she about to regret those words.
His tongue started to tease her immediately as he finished his sentence. It was small short licks and little pecks on her clit, featherly but was agonizing in this case. The pace was slow, timid, really, all in an attempt to show his love in the most painful way possible. Her eyes were shut tightly, mouth hung open releasing heavenly (or rather sinful) noises - a pleasing confirmation of Thomas’ plan working perfectly. Y/N’s back was arched up as her head hung behind, chest bouncing in the attempt to gain more pleasure by Thomas.
“Thommy, please,” she whined, earning a slap on her thigh.
“You are being ungrateful, amore. I shouldn’t be giving you any pleasure at all. You’ll take what you can.” The lack of contact for the few seconds he spoke was enough to cause another fit of whines, but his breath on her heat made far worse ‘damage’.
He wasted no time moving up and away from his disheveled lover, moving to the dresser. Y/N simply sat there, mouth falling open, but this time due to confusion. It was clear that frustration had already started to pick up. Thomas on the other hand was enjoying the situation fully, finding it rather entertaining how he could make her melt so easily.
“Thommy. Come back,” she uttered in her usual dominating tone. Nothing. “Thomas, come back here-”
“What did you just say to me, puppy?” If he was pissed before, now he was livid, and it was clear as day. If this were some weird cartoon his eyes would’ve glowed red - a thought that did not help Y/N’s pleasurable fear. His hand had swiftly reached Y/N’s neck, not tightening up, yet making his stance threatening. “I think you have forgotten how things are going on around here, my love. You are not on the lead right now. I am. And you will pay for that.”
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deheerkonijn · 2 years
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I got tagged by @roselightfairy - and as she tagged me in this last year to no avail, this year I will put on some pants and explore my little writings. RLF, thank you for having so much worldbuilding fun with me this year!
2021 Year-End Fic Review
How many stories did you complete?
15 - somehow!!! I absolutely have never been one to write much before LOTR, and I do blame that entirely on RLF, who is so encouraging and thoughtful. 🥳
What is your total word count for the year?
A whopping 127,923 - that’s 1.3 Hobbitses! But the majority of it is collab words, so maybe a third of that is my actual total.
What fandoms did you write in this year?
LOTR, duh :) Mostly in like, comment, subscribe (our Modverse where Legolas is an internet man), which is my baby.
Did you write more, less, or roughly about what you expected?
If you keep your expectations low the outcome wi always be a pleasant surprise. 🤓 Just kidding - but I never expect to write, tbh. Sometimes I become possessed by a ghost who expects to write, but it’s never been a thing I’ve sought to cultivate in myself, really, and have never considered myself a writer.
But I do love to tell a story - and sometimes that is better done through words than through images. And when that’s the case, I write. 👨🏻‍🎨
What’s your own favorite story of the year?
One Thing Leads To Another - the one where a newly Sober™️ Legolas goes on a camping trip with Gimli and his PhD buddies, and then tragedy strikes. 😱 (It turns out ok though)
More specifically, my favorite part is the second chapter, which employs my absolute favorite trope of all time: “man wakes up after surgery and doesn’t remember his wife”. I love that trope sooo much, and when I realized I had the opportunity to use it in Modverse I basically fell all over myself to get the words out haha. 😊 I love that kind of creative energy and am always trying to recapture it.
What is your most underappreciated story of the year?
Hmm perhaps Meat’s Back On The Menu - even though I did not write a word of it, I just drew the picture haha!
Still, I love that one, and it features a headcanon of @roselightfairy ‘s about supposed elf vegetarianism (spoilers: they’re not, but with a caveat) that I thought was a fantastic morsel of worldbuilding from the moment I encountered it, and if I could wave a magic wand I’d politely ask everyone to read it because I think it’s an interesting and uncommon subject for a fanfic!! 🥩
And also I drew the picture haha. It’s of Legolas puking and he’s wearing a really cute blouse in it! 👯‍♀️ I don’t completely remember but I probably stole the blouse from Zara.
Biggest fanfic-related disappointment of 2021
I did not read nearly enough this year - between my schedule and my brain, I have not had any time to catch up on the fics that I can see coming into the tag. Maybe soon!! 📚
Biggest fanfic-related surprise of 2021?
Haha probably that I wrote so many! It’s maybe a point of self-consciousness if I squint - they’re basically all Modverse, and I sometimes overthink re: at what point an AU just becomes original fiction … but I’m having fun there, and as long as I’m having fun I’m going to keep doing it. :) Sorry if I clog up the tag haha! 🐖
Something you’re looking forward to working on in 2022?
Brain always go BRRR when a new piece of Modverse slots neatly into the timeline. I love those moments - and I hope there will be many more of them in 2022! We’ve got some pre-relationship stuff proofing, and I want to give a little more context to a few major events in the universe. Whatever happens - I hope yins will come have fun with us!🧝🏻‍♂️
I think I have observed basically everyone I know doing this roundup… so I will tag You. 🥸
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arrantsnowdrop · 3 years
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Informalities - Éomer x reader
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Request:  “Eomer x reader fic where the reader is from our world and Eomer listens to the stories the reader says of our world and he thinks that it is a grand place and so when they are finally getting together, Eomer feels kind of insecure cuz he feels he'll never live up to the reader's "standards" and the reader says that they are insecure because he is a prince and she has nothing"
Tags: @thewhiteladyofrohan
Warnings: mention of battles and death, about 2,200 words
A/N: Hoppy Easter lads and lasses, we are back from a many month writing hiatus. Hope y’all enjoy, I’m glad to be here :)
You genuinely had no idea how you’d ended up in Middle Earth.
It was one of those fever dream situations - one moment you were falling asleep in your own bed, and the next you were waking up at the bottom of a tree, surrounded by many bearded and concerned looking men.
Of course you’d been startled and so, so confused, but it had only taken you a few moments to recognize the characters from one of your favorite stories, and then you’d fully accepted your new reality.
By the time you first encountered the fellowship, they had already lost Gandalf at Moria and passed through the realm of Lothlorien. They were traveling in their fancy elvish boats when they’d spotted you from the river. You were extremely grateful for that - who knows what would’ve happened if the Uruk-hai tracking them had found you first.
Boromir and Gimli were quite intimidated by your presence, having been brought up in traditions that designated men for warrior roles. Aragorn and Legolas were much more accepting (female elves were just as badass as any male elf or man, and both of them knew that). The hobbits had all taken an immediate liking to you, and you’d been devastated to lose them during the Uruk ambush. Of course, this only gave you a stronger drive to track them into Rohan with Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli.
It was there that you met Éomer for the first time, after his riders surrounded your small group of assumed invaders.
He was handsome, there was no denying that, and you found his decision to protect Rohan even in exile extremely brave. He’d been startled by your presence (a group including a dwarf, an elf, AND a woman must’ve been an oddity for him), and thus had talked primarily with Aragorn, but you could not shake the way his eyes locked with yours as he offered you his condolences about Merry and Pippin.
You figured you’d never see the handsome blonde again, glumly complaining to Gimli about it several times throughout Rohan.
Thus, you’d been overjoyed when he arrived at the Battle of Helm’s Deep - half because he was saving your asses from almost certain death, and half because you’d get to see his face and hear his voice again.
You followed Aragorn after the battle, searching for Gandalf in the celebrating crowd. It did not take long, with his bright white robes being quite easy to pick out.
“Gandalf!” you screamed gleefully, weaving between the people around you to get to the smiling wizard.
“It is good to see you, (Y/n),” he said as you embraced him.
“Oh, it’s even better to see you,” you said.
“I have to agree with (Y/n),” Aragorn said from behind you. You pulled back, allowing Gandalf time to greet your friend, and quickly caught sight of a familiar face.
He had been laughing with some other men when his gaze fell on you, eyes locking with yours for the second time. You smiled a bit and offered an awkward wave, face flushing as he flashed you a smile.
“Ah, (Y/n), this is Lord Éomer, current heir to the throne of Rohan,” Gandalf said, noticing the two of you staring at each other.
“We’ve met before,” he said, walking towards you
“Indeed we have,” you replied as he stopped just in front of you. “It is a pleasure to meet you, oh-future-king,” you said, bowing a bit.
You could hear Aragorn slap his forehead from behind you and grinned.
“She’s not from around here, so do forgive her manners,” Aragorn said.
“Or lack thereof,” you added, straightening yourself once more and looking at Éomer’s amused face.
“I appreciate the informality,” Éomer grinned. You spun around and pointed at Aragorn.
“See? Someone appreciates me,” you accused.
You were extremely happy to meet Éomer. It’s not that you didn’t adore Aragorn and Legolas and Gimli, but they were also the only people you’d been around for quite a while. It was exciting to make a new friend, especially one so handsome and charismatic.
The two of you spent the entire ride to Isengard delving into each other’s lives, from childhoods to secret fears to favorite foods. Obviously, the two of you had led quite different lives, and he was fascinated by the world you had come from.
“These cars you speak of, are they like horses?” he asked.
“No, they’re much faster,” you replied. “They’re more like a carriage, since they have space for several people inside.”
“But it moves without a horse?”
“Yup!”
“Who steers in then?”
You were grinning ear to ear at the look of bewilderment on his face.
“One of the people inside,” you answered. “There’s a wheel to control which direction you go and pedals on the floor to control the speed.”
“That sounds terribly complicated,” Éomer said, brows furrowing.
“It’s not too bad,” you said, “I was even pretty good at it.”
Éomer shot you an alarmed look.
“You used to steer these...these things?” he asked incredulously. You laughed and nodded. “You have to be taught how to do it,” you explained. “It’s not like they throw you into it without any preparation.”
“It still sounds extremely dangerous,” he decided.
“I did break my arm in a crash once,” you said thoughtfully. He gasped.
“You can crash them?”
Éomer had quickly become one of your favorite people, which only made the continuous battles over the fate of Middle Earth even more stressful. You were terrified he would ride into a fight and never return, and even more terrified of what that meant.
You’d searched for him for hours after the Battle for Minas Tirith, heart growing more and more heavy as you continued. Every person you asked had no idea where he was, and by the time you returned to the White City, your hands were shaking with anxiety. Finding him outside of the makeshift infirmary that had been set up was the most relieving moment of your entire life.
You had gasped the moment you caught sight of his all too familiar golden hair, letting out a desperate sob as his eyes met yours, him rushing over to you and wrapping you in his arms. Your embrace was filled with all the emotions both of you were too terrified to say aloud.
“I thought you were dead,” you murmured into his chest, eyes wet and lips trembling.
“It will take far more than a few Oliphaunts to kill me,” he whispered, pressing his lips to the top of your head.
You wanted nothing more than to tell him in that moment how much you loved him, but decided against it. You knew the fighting was not over, the last thing you needed was for him to be distracted by you during battle and find himself impaled with some pointy object. If you both lived to the end of this, you would tell him then.
But then you were too scared to do it.
Of course you had won - the ring had been destroyed, Aragorn had led the crusade against the forces of Mordor, and Gondor was preparing to crown its long lost king. Everyone was staying in Minas Tirith until the coronation, but then everyone was leaving. All your friends would be heading home, but you did not have one of those here in Middle Earth.
Aragorn had already offered you a place in Gondor’s leadership, and thus a permanent residence with him, and the hobbits were more than happy to escort you back to the Shire with them, but you knew both of these options would separate you from the one person you wanted to be with.
All you wanted was to follow Éomer back to Edoras, but you were unsure if that would be best for him. He was about to be crowned king of Rohan, and probably had many ladies of Rohan’s nobility lined up to rule with him. It was selfish for you to think you had any right to his heart, especially when his duties and responsibilities were so much more important than an outspoken, title-less woman.
So you distanced yourself from him. You avoided him whenever possible, taking the longest routes you could to dinners and meetings. You tried not to be affected by his desperate gaze, or the way he called for you as you rushed out of a room. It hurt you more than anything, but you knew it would be better for him in the long run. You succeeded with your plan until the night before Aragorn’s coronation.
You’d been walking home from dinner (a huge, pre-celebration feast that qualified as a celebration itself) through an old, twisty corridor. You opened the door to your room only to see Eomer sitting on your bed, a worried look on his face.
You jumped slightly, startled by his presence.
“What are you doing in here?” you said breathlessly. “This is totally an invasion of my privacy and absolutely uncalled for at such a late hour, you almost gave me a heart attack-”
“Forgive me,” he interrupted, standing up from the bed, eyes fixated on you. You both stood there in silence for some time, the closest you’d been to each other for the first time in days.
“I missed you,” he murmured finally. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
You looked down at your feet and nodded. You did not want to see the look of betrayal that he was undoubtedly wearing.
“Why?” he whispered. You winced at the sound of hurt in his voice.
“You would not understand Éomer, but I promise it was in your best interest,” you replied.
“You are my best friend, (Y/n), how could ignoring me benefit me?” he asked incredulously. You looked up at him, trying to ignore the tears beginning to form in your eyes.
“Éomer-”
“Please,” he cut you off desperately, slowly walking towards you. “I have missed you more than you could possibly imagine.” “That is the issue,” you whispered, closing your eyes to avoid looking at him.
“How is that an issue?” he begged.
“Because you are about to be a king,” you shouted, eyes still closed. “And you will leave after tomorrow with everyone else, back to Edoras, where new responsibilities will be awaiting you and demanding your attention.”
“How does that have anything to do with you?” he asked, voice sounding a lot closer than before. You gulped, sensing him right in front of you.
“I would be a distraction,” you replied meekly. Éomer did not reply, but instead reached to grab your hands with his own, you gasping as he pulled you into his chest.
“(Y/n), you are not a distraction, how could you-”
“I do not want you to leave me here,” you interrupted, resting your forehead against him. “I am so scared I’ll never see you again, but your life is about to be so much more important than me.”
“I do not want to leave you here,” he said, wrapping his arms around your back. “I want you to come with me. You’re my best friend, how could I abandon you?”
“That’s exactly the problem,” you whispered, “even if I were physically with you, that would not stop me from...from…”
You stopped and bit your lip, terrified of the confession about to pour out of you. Éomer moved his hand below your chin, tilting your head up to face him.
“Stop you from what?” he whispered intensely, eyes searching your face desperately. You exhaled breathily.
“I love you, Éomer,” you said softly, watching as his expression softened. “So, so much.”
He blinked once, twice, registering what you had just said, and smiled, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours.
“I love you more than anyone, (Y/n),” he murmured.
“But, surely there are women back in Rohan who are far more suitable for-”
“(Y/n),” Éomer said seriously, pulling away to look you in the eyes once more. “I have the power to be with whomever I choose.”
“But why would you choose me?” you asked meekly. Éomer chuckled, brushing a stray bit of hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear tenderly. You leaned into his hand slightly, relishing in the way he cupped your face.
“I was more nervous that you wouldn’t choose me,” he admitted. You look at him in confusion.
“How could I not choose you?” you asked.
“You’re much more interesting than I am,” he shrugged. “You come from a world that is so much more exciting than mine, and the last thing I want is for you to settle for me.”
“Éomer, you stab people with swords and ride horses all day. And live in a castle. That is insanely cool,” you grinned, wrapping your arms around his midsection. “Of course I choose you.”
“And I choose you,” he murmured, pulling you closer to him. “Please come home with me.”
“Yes,” you whispered, nodding fervently. “Yes, please.”
Éomer grinned, tilting your face up to his once more and leaning down to kiss you. Your heart leaped, hand reaching up to grab the back of his head to intensify the kiss. He moaned softly, bending down to pick you up and twirling you around. You giggled and pressed your nose against his.
“I’m thinking we make my coronation far less formal than Aragorn’s,” Éomer said, “as much as I’ve been loving these dinners, I don’t think I could stand hosting them.”
“You know I’m fantastic at informalities,” you replied.
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elvish-sky · 3 years
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All Wounds Heal Eventually {Legolas x Reader}
Requested by Anon on Tumblr: Hi first off i wanna say I absolutely love ur account your fanfics are perfectttt (especially leggy ones <3)  Also i was wondering if you can write a legolasXreader where (female) reader does anything she can to make Thranduil like her and accept her but whatever she does he doesn't seem to accept her as part of the family and keeps judging Legolas for marrying her... but make it a happy ending??? This is so confusing I'm so sorry but i hope u get what I'm saying  :,)))
A.N: I sort of thought of the dance at the beginning as a formal one from high-society events in the early 1800s England, but you’re welcome to your own interpretation. The elves could have really liked hip-hop, who knows? Thank you so much for this request! I'm so sorry this took so long, Anon, and I hope you enjoy it and have/had a lovely day!
Word Count: 1,336
Summary: Thranduil does not accept you as his son’s wife.
Pairing: Legolas x Reader
Warnings: Blood, Wounds, Angst, Fluff, not being accepted by family.
**** All Wounds Heal Eventually
Your elven dress swirled around you as you twirled on the arm of your husband, Legolas. It was the yearly Feast of Starlight in the realm of the woodland elves, and as the newly married prince and princess, you were required to open the Feast with a dance. As you paraded between the rows of other dancers you glanced up at the throne of your father-in-law. 
King Thranduil had not approved of his son’s choice of wife and had made it very clear to not only you but the whole court. He was currently glaring at you with a glass of wine in his hand, sipping it every so often as he lounged on his throne. Your mind flashed back to your wedding day, to the ceremony that the king had not even deigned to attend. He had never blessed the marriage, and had in fact done his best to force his son to wed someone else. You had tried many things to gain his approval, from mastering all the dances known to the tutors in the court, to memorizing every law and rule of the kingdom, as well as proper manners, so that you would not embarrass him. Yet he still did not approve of your marriage to his son. All of these things hurt you, but you were willing to ignore the slights so that you could be with your love.
“Melleth nin,” Legolas’ words drew your eyes back to his, “What is wrong?” “Oh, nothing,” you forced a smile as he spun you into his arms. “Only, I am afraid I cannot recall the ending to this dance!” “Never fear. Just follow me.” You let your husband guide you through the final steps and dipped you, finishing in exactly the right pose on exactly the right beat. You glanced up at the throne to see if Thranduil approved, but he was just gazing at his people, looking bored. 
Walking off the dance floor to applause and compliments, Legolas steered you towards the refreshment table. “Wine, my love?” “Not tonight, I’d like to keep a clear head.” “Ok.” He grabbed two glasses of the fruity, non-alcoholic drink and led you over to a table near the side of the large, open feasting hall. Even after living here for centuries the beauty and majesty of it all still took your breath away. The open ceiling meant that this room was one of your favorite places in the whole kingdom, as it was one of the few where you could see the stars. 
You were drawn out of your reverie by a guard urgently approaching your table, bowing, and then addressing Legolas. “Your highness, I’m so sorry to bother you but there’s been an orc attack just outside the borders to the northeast. According to our scouts they are making their way into the kingdom.” He lept up, “I’ll go drive them out immediately. I’m sorry, melleth, I have to deal with this.” He bent down and kissed you farewell, but backed away as you stood. “I will join you.” You declared, and began to walk outside, the guard alongside you. Knowing it was futile to argue, Legolas sighed and hustled to catch up. 
After quickly stopping at your rooms to change into something that allowed for more movement, and to grab your weapons, you set off with your husband and a troop of soldiers in the direction the guard had pointed you. 
You jumped into the next tree, Legolas across from you on another branch, looking down at the orcs passing beneath you. He held up a hand to signify that you and the soldiers near you should wait to attack, then moved it in a circular motion. Getting the message, you all made your way to branches so that when you dropped you would have the orcs surrounded. 
As Legolas raised and clenched his fist, you somersaulted off the branch to land on the shoulders of one of the orcs, slicing its throat with one of your blades. The sounds of fighting quickly broke out around you as the other elves did the same. You made quick work of them, and turned to see how the rest of your troop was doing. Everyone seemed to have their fights under control, and were in fact just dispatching the last few orcs. 
Hearing a small gasp from behind a tree, you sprinted over to see an orc standing above an unarmed Legolas, sword poised to slice him in half. Crying out, “No!” you ran to put yourself in between the blade and your beloved. You felt the blade bite into your side, but still managed to drag one of your daggers across the orc’s throat as you fell, making it fall back and disappear from view. You collapsed onto the ground and heard Legolas’ pained voice whisper, “My love, no. We’ll get you back to the healers, it’s going to be okay,” as he gathered you in his arms, heedless of the blood now staining his clothes from your wound. You heard those last three words repeated as a mantra as you passed out from the pain.
The next thing you knew, you were lying down in a room with calming morning sunlight streaming in from the windows. You had been undressed at some point and were lying on a large bed with a sheet covering your body and wrappings on your torso. You turned your head to see, to your surprise, the King of Mirkwood sitting next to your bedside, his son slumped at a table nearby. “Your majesty!” You tried to get up so that you could bow, hissing in pain as you moved, but he placed a hand on your arm, guiding you to lie back down. “Stay still, Y/N. You passed out due to blood loss after saving Legolas from an orc.” 
As he spoke, you remembered the gut-wrenching fear you had felt at seeing Legolas in such danger. “Do not worry, my king. I care more for your son that anything, and will always protect him.” “I know you will, Y/N, and I was blind to not have seen it before. But please take care of yourself as well. Now that I have a daughter, it would not do for me to lose her as well.” Your eyes filled with tears as he named you daughter, “thank you, my lord.” “No, Y/N. A father-in-law should never be called their title by their daughter. Call me Thranduil.” “Thank you, Thranduil.” 
“No, Y/N. Thank you for saving my son.” Thranduil grasped your hand and as you looked into his eyes you could see the depths of gratitude that dwelled there. “Now, I believe we should let the doting husband greet his now awake wife.” As he spoke he glided over to where Legolas was asleep, face resting on his elbow. He shook his son awake and left the room. “I shall return to check on you, daughter.” 
As his father left, Legolas rushed over to your side. “You’re awake! How do you feel? Is there anything you need?” You laughed at his concern. “I’m fine. I thought you would be mad after that stunt I pulled!” “I’m furious!” he declared. “I’m just going to wait until you are healed to make it known.” “Oh, great. Something for me to look forward to.” He laughed at the expression on your face and settled onto the bed next to you, careful not to jostle your wound. “Seriously, thank you for saving me.” “Anything for you, melleth nin.” You snuggled into his arms, resting your head on his chest as he whispered “gi mellin.” “I love you too,” you responded, and sighed in content. Although you were hurt, you knew the wound would heal eventually, as all did. Even the one caused by your husband’s father not accepting you had been repaired, something you never thought would happen. You were just happy to be alive, with your Legolas, accepted, finally, by Thranduil. 
Everything tag💖: @boyruins @anjhope1 @entishramblings @itgetsatadhazy
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band--psycho · 3 years
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The Only One Who Ever Could-Aragorn x Reader
‘So idk why this idea came upon me hahah I'm sorry it sounds so chaotic. But what if Sauron had a daughter he didn't know of? What if she's a strider herself, immortal one, and she falls for Aragorn as she helps to destroy her father and the ring. ‘ Request by one of my absolute faves @little-diable , It’s quite long, so I apologise..I got a bit carried away but I hope you enjoy this my love!❤️
Y/ns POV
 I felt like I was standing in the eye of a hurricane.Silence. that’s all that surrounded us, apart from the sound of the rain as it dreaily fell from the sky, it seemed somewhat apt considering what was about to unfold. My eyes looked out into the distance, locking on to the flickering flames of our enemies as they approached ever closer. I scanned over the faces of the men of Rohan only  to see fear and apprehension (which was entirely understandable), before my eyes landed on a young boy, no older than twelve. I couldn’t help but notice the little sparkle of hope that twinkled in his eyes. I wondered what he must’ve been thinking of, was it his parents? His siblings? His favourite memory from before the world began to darken? I had a few thoughts rushing through my brain as our enemies got even closer, the main one being Eowyns words from earlier, no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t seem to shift them from my mind. ‘You do not command the others to stay. They fight beside you because they would not be parted from you. Because they love you’, I doubt she knew how accurate her words were, nor how it sent a rush of jealousy straight to my heart. I do not know when it happened, I couldn’t pinpoint a day when I began to fall for Aragorn, it just gradually happened over the years we spent as Rangers together,  not that he knew. He was completely oblivious to how I truly felt, mainly because I’d never let him see it. Gimli and Legolas loved him like a brother, but me, I loved him in a different way all together, but I daren’t show him that. I wouldn’t risk the years of friendship we’d built. He deserved to be happy, with someone worthy of his love, maybe that was Eowyn. The other thought was a somewhat overwhelming feeling of dread, as I heard the clanking of metal and heavy footsteps draw near. We could all die here tonight. We Could die here tonight and he’d Aragorn would never know the truth, but maybe that was for the best. There was something oddly poetic about that, something that I thought could only ever be in stories, not in real life.And if we lost this battle, this world would fall back into the darkness it was in before. There would be no joy left in the world, my father would see to that but I was going to do everything in my power to make sure he didn’t crush the goodness that was still in this world.  I was dragged from my thoughts when I heard the shout of the Urukhai. This was it. Men, elves, a dunadaine, a dwarf and a maia, against at least ten thousand Urukhais. It was torture, stanidng there, listening to the Uruks growl as they taunted us with the sound of their weapons coliding with the ground or the hitting of their own armoud, again and again and again. At the sound of this, everyone on our side got their weapons ready. A sea of archers and swordsmen all awaiting the fight. Without warning an arrow was shot, hitting an Urukhai directly in the neck. As soon as its body hit the floor, there was a chorus of growls, signaling the beginning of the battle as they ran towards us. I took a deep breath, readying my daggers, before glancing over at Aragorn, my heart hammering in my chest as our eyes met and he gave me a quick and reassuring nod.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
I felt my heart swell as I noticed the boy from earlier run straight into his mothers arms, a smile beaming on both of their faces. The odds had been stacked against us and if it wasn’t for Gandlaf and the Rohirim maybe our fate would’ve been different but by some miracle, we’d won. We’d won the battle. This one at least. There was an even bigger battle coming, we all knew it, but for now, I only felt relieved. My eyes landed on Aragorn as soon as he entered the room, I was going to go over and talk to him but I thought better of it when I saw Eowyn embrace him. So I limped off to a quieter part of the old fortress, where I didn’t have to pretend that seeing him with her didn’t break my heart. I was happy for him. Happy that he’d found someone in this world that could make him happy. I was foolish to think we could ever be anything more than good friends, after all being Saurons daughter wasn’t exactly helpful, not that I was anything like him, nor was I ever like him..but that type of a title is hard to shake off; That’s why I became a Ranger,  it was quite a lonely life, but I think sometimes we both preferred it that way, or we used to. The only reason we travelled together was because we both knew it was always better to have someone watching your back and neither of us wanted to become like the other members of our family. I knew the truth about him and he knew the truth about me, he accepted me, despite my  family; but I knew now that that was only as a friend, not as a lover.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I was sitting in the quieter part of the fortress, dabbing the cut on the side of my leg lightly. At first, I thought it was just a small cut, while I was fighting I’d barely even noticed it, but that must’ve been the adrenaline clouding my mind because it was quite a deep cut. 
“You’re hurt,” Aragorn stated, catching me off guard entirely. 
“It’s nothing, I’m fine,” I reassured, involuntarily wincing as I dabbed the cloth on the gash.
He sighed softly, shaking his head  as his hands gently grabbed the cloth from mine. “Let me.” If I had the energy maybe I would’ve argued, but I was too exhausted to even try, even if that meant allowing him to see the more vulnerable side of me I’d tried so desperately to hide over the years.  It was peculiar that his rough hands were so gentle as he cleaned and bandaged the cut, once it was done I expected him to go but he didn’t, he just stared at me like he was trying to work something out. 
“What?”I asked him, my voice full of confusion as he moved slightly, so he was now sitting next to me. 
“We could have died today,” he pointed out, staring off into the distance. 
“But we didn’t,” I reassured him, playfully nudging him. I saw a small smile creep onto his face, but it was gone as quickly as it arrived. 
“Aragorn? What’s wrong?” I asked him, wondering if this had something to do with the daunting realisation of the next battle. 
“I thought you’d died,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper as his eyes continued to look out into the distance. “You were right behind me one second and then, I couldn’t see you anymore and I thought you’d died.” I knew exactly how he felt. When the Urukhai blew up part of the weaker part of the fortress, I thought he’d died. I tried so desperately to reach him but there were too many Urukhais surrounding me for me to get the chance.
I turned to him slightly, so I was now facing him, “But I didn’t and besides this cut, I’m perfectly-” before I got the chance to finish that sentence he crashed his lips onto mine.I didn’t know what to think, I was so confused, I thought he was with Eowyn. Before my mind got a chance to process what was happening, he pulled away, sadness filling his eyes as confusion filled my own. 
“Why do you look so confused?” he asked, avoiding my gaze.
“You’re with Eowyn and you just kissed me,” his gaze met mie as soon as I said those words. 
“I’m not with Eowyn,” He answered, furrowing his brows slightly. His answer made my heart begin to hammer in my chest. 
“You’re not?”
“No, I think she has feelings for me, but my heart belongs to somebody else already.” I knew it was wrong to feel as much joy as I did when he said those words, but I couldn’t help the small smile that came upon my face, giving away just how I really felt. 
“And who might that be? Who’s stolen the Rangers heart?” I asked coyly, my smile turning into a smirk. A chuckle escaped his lips as he pulled me closer towards him gently, minding the cut. 
“The only one who ever could,” he whispered, our lips now inches apart from eachother.I swallow his words with my lips and I can feel him let out a sigh of relief against my mouth as our lips molded together in perfect synchronicity. His lips were coarse, as I’m sure mine probably were but neither of us cared in that moment. In that moment all I could think about was him and how he’d made all my dreams from the past few years turn into a reality. 
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Tagging: @glicabhainn00 @fizzyxcustard @gwen-ever @dumbassunderthemountain
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iwillbeinmynest · 2 years
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Drabble Spree Time!!
My workload has finally let up a bit!
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So I’d like to celebrate by doing some drabbles for y’all! I’m going on a mini holiday with my husband this weekend so I’ll keep sharing this and start responding to asks on Tuesday (I hope)!
Send me an ask with an original prompt (no cursing or smut prompts) OR a number from the list below ⬇️ and a character, and I will try and get to all of them as quick as I can :) Thanks y’all!
Characters I write for:
Marvel: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, Loki, Thor.
DC: Clark Kent, Arthur Curry
The Maze Runner: Newt, Thomas, Minho
LOtR: Aragorn, Eomer, Legolas
Other Fandoms: Adam (OLLA)
Prompt list:
1. “Is that what you’re doing? Trying to make me to hate you?”
2. “I’ve been in love with you my entire life.” 
3. “I’m not happy here.” 
4. “If he’s going to treat you like dirt I’m going to kill him.” 
5. “I just want to cuddle and watch Friends.” 
6. “You’re hiding something from me.”
7. “If I die, I’m going to haunt you.” 
8. “I want my best friend back.”
9.  “You better have a good reason for waking me up at the crack of dawn.”
10. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” 
11. “A wedding?”
12. “I just want to be alone right now.” 
13. “Don’t you dare to ever do that again!”
14. “Where would someone hide in a town like this?” 
15. “If I ever see you anywhere near her, you’ll have to deal with me!”
16. “I thought you were a dream come true.” 
17. “Everyone keeps telling me you’re the bad guy.”
18. “I came here to explain what happened, and I’m not leaving until you listen.”
19. “I made a mistake.” 
20. “H-How long have you been standing there?” 
21. “You can’t break my heart like this!”
22. “I wasn’t going to wait around for you forever.” 
23. “The skirt is supposed to be this short.” 
24. “I’ve moved on.” 
25. “This is why you don’t ever have any shirts to wear.” 
26. “Run, and don’t ever look back.” 
27. “Please tell me you didn’t do what I think you just did.”
28. “I think I’m in love with you, and I’m terrified.” 
29. “Please, don’t give up on me.” 
30. “When are you going to realize that I don’t care?”
31. “I may be an idiot but I’m your idiot.”
32. “When you love someone, you just don’t stop. Ever. Even when people roll their eyes or call you crazy… even then. Specially then!”
33. “Ugh…I feel I’ve been hit by a car.”
34. “Those things you said yesterday… Did you mean them?”
35. “I know that you have reached a decision, but given that it is a stupid decision I have elected to ignore it”
36. “I’m tired of being your secret.”
37. “Would you believe me if I said the dog did it?”
38. “Do you ever think if people heard our conversations they’d lock us up?”
39. “Let me tell you exactly where you can go.”
40.“Who gave you that black eye?!”
41. “After everything you did, you’re asking ME to apologize for snapping at you ONCE?”
42. “I miss her so much, and it’s killing me that she’s gone!”
43. “What are you doing here?! I told you I never wanted to see you again!”
44. “It must be hard to keep pretending your as amazing as you think you are.”
45. “Are you drunk?”
46. “I’m sorry, what were you saying? I keep getting lost in your eyes”
47. “You got her pregnant?! What were you thinking?”
48. “It’s OK baby, I’m here for you.” 
49. “You say hurtful things when you’re angry, so yes, I’m walking away from you now.
50. “I’m not as dumb as I act.”
51. “My parents asked about you.”
52.“Oh, gosh, you’ve insulted me! What ever shall I do? I’ll be mentally and emotionally scared for years!”
53. “You haven’t even touched your food. What’s going on?”
54. “Do you need me to get anything from the store?”
55. “They say I’m in here because I’m crazy, I think I’m crazy because I’m in here.”
56. “You’re hurting me, let me go.” 
57. “If you don’t want to talk about what happened, then say so. Don’t just lie and say it’s fine.”
58. “I was going to kiss him, but I chickened out.”
59. “Don’t say you love me.”
60. “It’s a hobby of mine to prove you wrong.”
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14 notes · View notes