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from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras · 6 months

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Turning Points

Pairing: Éomer x reader (who doesn’t want to imagine themselves hanging out with Éomer??). Plus an Elfhelm cameo because I love that dude.

Summary: Éomer’s lifelong best friend reckons with how much and how quickly his life has changed as a result of the war and wonders what that means for the life she had hoped to have with him.

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The clear, deep sound of horns rang out in the distance and alerted all of Edoras to the imminent arrival of the army, home for the first time since that urgent, panicked ride to Helm’s Deep more than two months ago. Although word of their subsequent deeds and victories in Gondor had already reached the city, many details were yet unknown, and the mood of those who gathered in the streets was celebratory but tinged with anxiety as hopeful eyes prepared to scan the returning éoreds for a first glimpse of deeply missed loved ones.

The terrace in front of Meduseld quickly filled with people, and you slipped easily into the crowd as the first few companies of horsemen began to climb the hill. The riders smiled broadly at the cheers and flowers that rained down on them, though some still bore clear evidence of painful wounds and fractures. Others led behind them riderless horses, the mounts of those soldiers who would never return. You whispered a quiet prayer of gratitude, knowing from the messengers who had gone back and forth from Minas Tirith that both of those most precious to you were safely in the host.

No sooner had you finished your prayer than a cry went up from the crowd–“Hail, Elfhelm, Marshal of Edoras!”—and your father came into view. As gregarious as he was popular, he played shamelessly to the crowd, doffing his stallion-crested helmet and waving a shield that had clearly been confiscated from some defeated Haradrim commander. When his eyes finally landed on you, he gave a joyful whoop and sprang from the saddle. Throwing the helmet and shield aside, he ran to you with the speed of a much younger man, and the strength of his embrace forced the breath from your lungs. He spun you around several times as you kissed his sunburned cheeks, and when he placed you on your feet again he grasped your shoulders and gazed for a long moment at your face.

“Many nights have I dreamed of just this view,” he said. “There is no finer one in all of Middle Earth.”

You gave his hands a squeeze. “I have not known a moment’s peace since you left. Now that you are back, I may never let you leave again.”

“I am at your command, my lady,” he said with a smile and an exaggerated bow. “But I do not flatter myself so much as to think that I am the only one you have been missing. The royal household will be arriving soon, and I am certain you are as eager to see the new king as he must be to see you.”

Your heart leaped in your chest at the mention of Éomer, but this was not the time or the place to open the gate that held back those feelings. “For my part, I shall certainly be glad to see him home and safe. But a man such as Éomer has many friends, and no doubt he desires to see them all.”

He burst into laughter. “Do you speak such nonsense on purpose, or have I really raised you to be so naive? I know that you do not admit it to others, and perhaps not even between yourselves, but I have watched the two of you for many years now and I know love when I see it. Let us not pretend you are just one friend among many, a single star in a crowded sky. You are his sun, just as he is yours. I may be old, but I am certainly not blind.”

Your face flushed in pain and embarrassment. If your father had perceived all of this, likely others had, too. It was true that you loved Éomer, and you had always believed he loved you back. You felt his devotion in the way he trusted you and watched out for you, in the look on his face when you walked into a room. But neither of you had ever stated it outright. Perhaps you had been wrong all along, reading a great deal too much into a cherished friendship. Or perhaps what he felt was no longer relevant given his new responsibilities and duties. Either way, when Éomer married another in a few months' time, your crushed hopes would be on display for the whole city to see and discuss.

“Things have changed, father. You know that. The Éomer that I have known all my life was Éomund’s son. He was not heir to the throne of Rohan and certainly not its king. His life is very different now from the one we might have expected just months ago when Théodred was still alive.”

He sighed. “Much has happened, I concede. He has gone from nephew to heir to king. He nearly lost his sister. He comes home with much to reflect on. But his heart itself has not changed.”

“Has it not?” Despite your best efforts, your voice broke and tears began to slide down your cheeks. “Then what of the news that has already made its way back here in advance of your return? Amongst word of your victories and the death of poor Théoden, it also said that Éomer is to marry the princess of Dol Amroth. They say she is considered a proper match for a king of the Mark, and that none less than the new king of Gondor himself proposed it. If I have heard this, surely you have, too.”

Your father reached up to gently brush a tear aside. “Anyone who would claim that you–the finest woman in all of Rohan–are not a proper match for our own king does not have sense enough to offer an opinion on the subject. I have heard this talk of Dol Amroth, it is true, but I have not heard any of it from Éomer’s own lips. And I will not believe it unless I do. His choice was made long ago. You will see.” He put a finger under your chin and tipped your face up to him. “Now, I would stay here and debate this with you all day if your mother were not surely waiting for me at home. And if she thinks I have not hurried there with sufficient speed, she will soon accomplish what all the swordsmen of Harad could not!”

You smiled in spite of yourself and kissed him one last time before he remounted his horse. He gave you a wink as he rode on, and you dried your eyes before turning back to the procession of riders making their way forward.

Before long, the king’s banner appeared at the bottom of the hill. Even at that distance, it was easy to identify Éomer among the many men of his household–you would always recognize his frame and the way he carried himself even if he were not wearing his distinctive horse-tailed helmet and sitting astride Firefoot, who had now been arrayed with a saddle and bridle that sparkled with the gold of a monarch.

As he came into closer view, you could begin to discern the new trappings of royalty–the beautiful green cloak trimmed with shining gold embroidery, the neatly braided hair, the fur-lined boots. But underneath these superficial changes, he still looked like your Éomer. The same man who shared with you a lifetime of confidences and mischief and private jokes. The one who cried in your arms when he missed his parents. Who doted on you whenever you were sick and angrily confronted anyone he thought had hurt your feelings. Who stole your breath every time he turned his hazel eyes and dimpled smile in your direction.

His company dismounted near the bottom of the terrace, and he moved toward the stairs, trailed by attendants, guards and throngs of well-wishers eager to greet their new king. The clamor presented a perfect opportunity to slip away now that you had confirmed with your own eyes that he was safe and unharmed. It was the coward’s way out, but even one more day before you had to directly confront your new reality would be a gift. Just as you began to turn away, however, the sound of his voice carried over the tumult, calling your name.

You froze in place as he approached, feeling immediately uncertain of everything–how to stand, where to look, what to do. A lifetime of affectionate greetings and easy companionship had not prepared you to meet under these circumstances, not as intimate friends but as ruler and subject. Beloved and left behind. Hearing nothing but the sound of your own blood pulsing in your veins, you bowed and looked down.

“Hail, Éomer King.” When you finally raised your eyes, you could see uncertainty written on his face as well. He took another step toward you but stopped, and tentatively reached out a hand before dropping it back to his side. He looked in both directions, where dozens of attentive faces observed his every move.

“I am glad to see you,” he said quietly. His eyes sought yours, and when you allowed them to meet he gave you a soft smile. “I have missed you.”

“I…I am much relieved to see you home. These have been long and anxious months.”

Before either of you could speak again, an armored man at Éomer’s side cleared his throat and nodded in the direction of Meduseld. “You are expected in the hall, my lord. There is much business awaiting your attention, including messages due both to Minas Tirith and Dol Amroth.”

The mention of Dol Amroth sent an icy stab of pain into your chest, and you shrank back several steps, seeking a swift retreat. “Go ahead, my lord,” you managed to say. “A king’s duties must come first.”

His thick brows drew together and he frowned slightly, but eventually he nodded his assent. Your feet carried you away and down a maze of small streets and back alleys, picking up speed as you got further from the crowd, until at last you reached the edge of the city and disappeared into the surrounding fields and paddocks. You cast yourself down in the tall, sweet-smelling grass, shedding tears until you had none left and then staring up dolefully at the flat, blank sky. No matter how you considered and reconsidered your position, only two excruciating choices seemed to lay before you–either to find a new way to love Éomer, shorn of all romantic possibility and content to exist on the terms available to you, or to lose him entirely from your life. The first option felt beyond your strength, but the second was utterly unthinkable.

Uncounted hours passed until it began to darken and torches and candles sparked to life in the distance. Miserable and cold but not yet ready to join the revelry of your family, you wandered back to the city and found yourself headed to the old tack room at the marshal’s stables. Ever since childhood, the abandoned little storage space had served as a private spot to meet your friends, talk or simply to think, and during the war you had spent many hours there alone ruthlessly poring over your fears and concerns.

Throwing open the door and expecting to find it empty as always, you instead walked straight into Éomer, practically bouncing off his chest as he stood just past the threshold. Gone were the outward adornments of royalty, and he looked as you were accustomed to seeing him—simple clothing, well-used boots, hair in loose waves on his shoulders. “Éomer! I mean….I’m sorry. Excuse me, my lord.”

He grimaced a little. “Please, that is not necessary here. Not when it is us. I would like one piece of my old life that is familiar, someone who will still treat me not as king but as myself. I thought you might be here and hoped we could talk as we always have.”

He sat on an old saddle trunk and looked up at you expectantly. Here now was the first opportunity to test your strength—to be there for him simply as a friend and see if you could endure it—and so you nodded and sat next to him.

He was quiet at first, looking around the room and seeming lost in thought. The issue of his pending marriage felt to you like a heavy, palpable presence in the room, but you did not have the heart to raise the subject yet. Instead, you clasped your arms around yourself and waited for him to speak, to give some indication of what he was thinking.

“Do you remember my fifteenth birthday?” he asked suddenly.

“Your…fifteenth birthday? Yes, I think so.” Fragments of distant memories quickly reassembled in your mind. “That was the night you dragged a stolen cask of ale in here, wasn’t it? And then you drank more than half of it all on your own.”

“Which meant you had to spend the rest of the night holding back my hair while I experienced the consequences.”

You smiled. “Yes. Though I experienced some of your consequences, too, if I recall. Those shoes were never the same again.”

He snorted a laugh, and for just a moment things felt almost normal again. Easy and light, as they had been when you were just those two coltish teenagers, having fun and testing the limits of your adolescent independence. But as the laughter faded, the awkwardness returned and his face turned serious.

“I am sorry about this morning.” He shook his head slowly. “That was not how I imagined our reunion, but everything has become so difficult and formal now. I have few moments to myself or chances to do as I once would.”

You could hear in his voice the strain of this adjustment to always being the focus of attention, to being one who is honored and deferred to instead of one who is engaged with. No wonder he was thinking of earlier, simpler days. You longed to comfort him, to take his hand or sit with your head against his shoulder. “Do not apologize,” you said instead. “I understand that you have new demands on you. I regret only that I was not able to tell you how sorry I am about your uncle. I will miss his kind heart.”

He nodded. “Thank you. I take comfort in knowing that he would be proud of what his death achieved.”

Another small silence ensued before he looked up and smiled at you. “But now I must apologize again,” he said, “for I have not yet asked after you. Please, tell me how you have been since we last saw each other.”

You gave a dismissive wave of your hand. “There is not much to tell, at least nothing to stand alongside the great tales we have already heard of your heroic deeds.”

“I do not ask for great tales,” he insisted. “I want only to hear about you and what I have missed, great or small.”

“Well, what you missed were endless hours of inventories and supplies and checklists and stockpiles. Many of the men who typically see to those basic concerns were injured or killed at Helm’s Deep, or they were called away to your muster. So I filled my days with work that they would have done…tracking stores of food and medicine and equipment, ensuring they were sent where they were most needed, planning for replenishments when stocks ran low. It was nothing I have ever done before, obviously, but I am careful with numbers and can keep good records, which is most of what was required.”

He chuckled. “Old Elfhelm has always been so proud that his daughter is one of the few in Rohan to read and write. I heard him bragging as much to one of Lord Elrond’s sons back in Gondor.”

You smiled and shrugged. “That certainly sounds like him. He has never lacked paternal enthusiasm. Or the confidence to share his enthusiasm with literally anyone.”

“That is true, but he is right to be proud. You should be proud as well. Hunger and disease often follow in war’s footsteps, even for the victors, and that has not been allowed to happen here despite the destruction of so many villages and farms and the absence of so many of the normal laborers. That is a service any king would value.”

Your cheeks bloomed a bright red, and he smiled at your discomfort with praise. In truth, though, you were quite proud of what you had accomplished, and it was only hearing the praise from his lips that sent waves of warm color to your face. “Thank you,” you mumbled at last.

He seemed on the verge of speaking again, but instead he leaned back against the wall and contemplated the floor for several long moments. His knee jogged quickly up and down, a nervous tic he’d had ever since boyhood. Before you could ask what was troubling him, however, he looked up with an unsettling intensity.

“May I ask you something? And you will respond to me honestly, no matter what?”

His earnest tone sparked a flare of anxiety in your chest. Was this the moment when he intended to tell you of his engagement? When you would have to somehow react to this news with the graciousness and dignity you knew were required? “I will certainly try.”

He took a deep breath and winced slightly in anticipation of speaking. “I have spent many hours now reflecting on things that Éowyn related to me before I left Gondor. How she did not feel that she was able to live the life she wanted when she was here. That she could not be who she was meant to be simply because she was born a woman. I am ashamed that I was blind to the causes of her unhappiness and that she did not feel that she could confide her true feelings to me earlier. But having failed her then, I worry now that I may have failed others in my life as well. Others who are equally important to me.”

He suddenly turned and grasped your forearms, repositioning you both so that you now sat face to face rather than side by side.

“If you have ever felt that same unhappiness or believed that I was not willing or able to understand your feelings, will you now forgive me? I would not want anyone else to suffer as Éowyn did, and least of all you.”

Your heart broke a little at his words. It broke for Éomer, who would sooner give his life than intentionally hurt someone he cared for, and it broke for Éowyn, whose full feelings had never before been revealed to you. But, hearing now how she had felt, something in her words resonated with a deep part of you, reverberating off a chord you had not always been consciously aware of. You thought carefully for several moments before responding.

“If you ask me whether I ever resented you or the life that I led, the answer is no. I have always trusted in you above all others, and my life never felt anything but normal to me. But I, too, have reflected on these last months, and perhaps I can now better understand Éowyn’s mind.”

He nodded, encouraging you to continue.

“Amid the tragedy of these days, I found some purpose and meaning in the work I did. It was gratifying to feel truly useful for the first time. I did not know it before, as you do not know to miss something you never had, but once that instinct is awakened it is difficult to ignore. It seems it was awakened in Éowyn long ago. But, for myself, I cannot deny that I will now be deeply saddened to lose my sense of purpose once the men are all returned to their old duties and the help of a woman is no longer accepted.”

“Maybe that is not what has to happen,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I would not come to a new understanding of the world, to learn a necessary lesson at a steep cost, only to ignore that lesson and rule my kingdom as though I do not know any better. This will not be a land that I want to rule if half the people must always limit their talents and hopes to fit within the meager bounds afforded to them by the other half.”

His words hung in the air as you struggled to make sense of what you had heard. A chance to share in the great works and deeds of the kingdom, just as the elven women had always done in their own lands? To learn and achieve and stretch yourself in ways that had never before been possible, and not just when dictated by the necessity of war but as a part of everyday life? You had scarcely the courage to even dream of such a thing, but now it was being offered to you. And you knew you wanted it. “I will be the first to stand behind you in any such effort,” you say at last. “But what you suggest is a radical departure from the way that things have been for all the years of our history, indeed from the way that they have always been in all the lands of men. There may be strong opposition to change.”

“I do not fear a difficult task if I know it to be necessary. I will see it done.” He paused and gently picked up your hand to hold it between both of his. “Though I would be aided by the help of a capable queen. One who will rule with me, not as a token or a symbol, but as a true partner.”

His touch sent a jolt of lightning through your arm, and you looked down at your hand to watch his thumb run lightly back and forth over your wrist. It left a trail of fire on your skin. “I…Well, I do not think I understand. Surely you mean Prince Imrahil’s daughter?”

“Imrahil’s daughter?” He looked startled. “Why would you say such a thing?”

“Because news of a royal engagement travels quickly, perhaps faster than you realize. Half of Edoras has already heard about you and the princess of Dol Amroth.”

“Then half of Edoras has heard wrong.”

A small gasp escaped your lips before you could act to hold it back. You looked up into his eyes and drew a shallow breath. “Then…then you have changed your mind?”

“I have not, but only because it never needed changing. I am certain that any daughter of Imrahil is a good and worthy woman, but I declined that match when it was suggested. Any report to the contrary is the result of confusion or rumor. It is true that I am ready for marriage, but I do not wish to bind myself forever to someone I barely know. To someone whose heart and mind I do not yet fully understand. Not when my own heart has long been reserved for one who I already know to be the best of women.” He drew your hand up and pressed it tightly to his chest, where you could feel the steady, strong beat of that heart against your fingertips. “If she will have me.”

All the world seemed suddenly still, as though you were balanced precariously on the crest of a hill, waiting for the last tip forward that would send you rushing headlong down into a new and joyous life. You opened your mouth to respond but found that no words would come. Instead, you raised a hand to his face, lightly tracing your fingers along his jaw before sinking them into his dark golden hair and pulling him toward you for a kiss that had been decades in the making.

It was worth the wait.

#lotr #lord of the rings #fan fiction #lotr fanfic #eomer #eomer x reader #hail eomer king #and Elfhelm too #i do apologize to the lothiriel fans #i’ve just always wanted to see him pick someone from the home team!

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anemoxlys · 6 months

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Thranduil x Reader Cinderella AU

The fat crush I have on this man (this is the 18th piece of writing I have done for him-

Can you tell I just watched Into the Woods?

Word Count: 2000+

“Please Valar…” You whispered before swinging your legs out of your bed and quickly rushing to put on your clothes, the cold of the morning startling you slightly. It had been a few hours since you’d been up before the rest of your household woke as well, buzzing with a certain energy that they only ever got during ball season. “Oh I simply cannot wait!” Angelica squealed, grasping her hands in Marjorie, her sister’s. “Yes, the prince is bound to choose one of you.” Your stepmother agreed, sitting down at the table before snapping her fingers to gather your attention. “Yes ma’am?” You hastily ask, dashing over to her. “Have our gowns ready for tonight, and remember you must feed the dogs whilst we are out.” She sighed, as if talking to you was this time consuming, wasteful task. “I-I was wondering if I may not join you this ball, ma’am?” You softly murmured, nervousness flowing over you. “You, join us?” Your stepmother cackled, clearly finding the prospect ridiculous, “My dear, if you were to come with us, who would clean the house in our absence?” She continued, patting your head before speaking again, “Now, tighten those corsets. We want to grab the prince’s attention after all.” She commanded. Dutifully, you did so, trying to withhold the tears from slipping down your cheeks.

You watched, silently as your ‘family’ rode away from you, their carriage spreading out of the gates without you. Finally, you let yourself cry, fat, ugly tears slid down your cheeks as you sobbed in the driveway. “My dear, why do you cry?” An unfamiliar voice asked. “Apologies, are you lost ma’am, maybe I can help?” You immediately responded, wiping your cheeks dry. “It seems as though you are the lost one, is there not a ball tonight?” She asked, resting her hand on your shoulder. “Yes, though I am not allowed to attend.” You smiled sadly, “Are you sure I cannot help miss, I have food if you need or water..?” You asked softly. “I shall make you a deal, you get me a loaf of bread and I shall make you go to the ball.” The strange lady offered. “Of course.” You responded, wholly unbelieving her side of the bargain as you hurried inside to get her the food she wanted.

“Here you go, miss, safe travels.” You smiled, handing over the loaf, alongside some extras that you packed. You moved to turn around only to be stopped, “It seems I have yet to uphold my end of the deal, do turn around dear.” She called, watching as you followed her instructions. -

“I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.” You whispered, clasping your hands together before the carriage door opened and you were forced to step towards the palace. “Miss?” A man’s voice sounded. “Yes, sir?” You asked, nervousness flowing through you. “May I accompany you inside?” He asked, a pleasant smile on his lips. “Me?” You started before realising how rude you probably sounded, “I mean, yes, if you wish.” You corrected, an embarrassed smile falling across your face. The man standing before you was horribly attractive, long blonde hair framing his face perfectly, a pristine black outfit hugged every muscle flawlessly, and his hands were so unbelievably soft when they gently took yours. “Tell me, what is the name of the most beautiful lady in this kingdom?” He interrupted you from your thoughts with his sweet, deep voice. “I do not know sir, to be honest I do not attend such events regularly enough to have an opinion.” You answered honestly, pure terror now overflowing you as you began to walk up the stairs, eyes falling on you as you did. “You look nervous?” The man beside you asked, concern in his voice as you felt his own eyes settle on you. “Just a bit.” You replied before a nervous laugh spilled out of your lips, “Who am I kidding I’m amazed I haven’t run off yet.” You smiled awkwardly, trying not to clasp his hand too tightly. “Don’t be, you look divine.” He whispered, just loud enough for you to hear. “That means a lot, thank you.” You grinned, some of the anxiety leaving you, “May I ask your name?” You questioned, noting the surprised look on his face, “Apologies, as I said I do not attend social seasons regularly.” You immediately backtracked, your face turning hot. “Not at all, my lady, I was simply taken aback. My name is Thranduil Oropherion.” He answered as your eyes widened. “My prince-” You began before he cut you off, “Do not say anything.” He began, pressing his finger to your lips before realising what he had done and immediately pulling back, “I enjoyed our conversation before. It was… refreshing to not be a soon-to-be king to everyone.” He elaborated, watching as your face grew a small bit less flushed. “Of course.” You murmured, taking in a quick breath as you reached the top of the stairs. “Don’t be nervous, just think that they’re staring at me.” He muttered into your ear before the doors swung open revealing a large gold ballroom, paintings covering the roof.

“Prince Thranduil Oropherion.” The herald announced as the room grew silent and all looked up the stairwell. “Should I have arrived with you?” You whispered as you looked down at the room full of people all staring as you began to descend the stairs. “Do not worry.” He replied before chuckling slightly, “Probably not though.” He continued as you shot him a horrified glare, causing him to laugh slightly more obviously. “Only now we are expected to dance.” He grinned, leading you towards the centre of the room. “You planned this all along didn’t you, my prince.” You hissed, mentally preparing yourself to step on his feet. “What are you accusing me of, my lady?” He smirked, outstretching his hand for you to take. “I’m not a good dancer.” You admitted, a slight laugh escaping you as his face turned mildly horrified, “I’m not going to leave with broken toes, am I?” He teased. “Quite possibly, your majesty.” You replied with a grin of your own.

You smiled softly at the memory, sweeping the floors as you recalled last night before you had fled the palace. “Wench!” One of your stepsisters shrieked, most likely calling you to prepare them for the second day of the royal balls. “Coming!” You replied removing your apron before running upstairs. “Corset.” She spat, bracing herself against the bed frame. “Of course.” You muttered, getting to work on pulling at the strings of her corset.

“I am glad to see you again, my lady.” You heard the now familiar voice of the prince. “To think, I came through a different entrance and everything.” You joked. “Indeed, one might think you were trying to avoid me.” He half-jested. “Indeed.” You agreed. “Why did you run last night?” He asked, taking a step towards you. You remained silent. “Do I scare you?” He started, this time you interrupting him, “You could never, my lord.” You hastily denied, “You wouldn’t want to be seen with me outside of this palace. Let us enjoy what we have here as it cannot exist anywhere else.” You murmured sorrowfully before walking over to get a drink, leaving the prince by himself.

“That bitch was there again!” You heard Angelica squeal before attempting to hit a high note on a song her and Marjorie were learning with their singing instructor. “I know!” Her sister replied before also attempting the same note. You were amazed your ears were still intact with how loud their screeches were, yet you survived the constant war against your senses. “Y/N!” You heard your stepmother call, breaking you from your thoughts. “Coming ma’am!” You called back, placing the broom against the wall before reluctantly walking to her study. You knocked before hearing the confirmation of you being let in. “What do you need from me, ma’am?” You asked, bowing your head as you shut the door behind you. “The stable boy has fallen ill, clean the stables.” She ordered before dismissing you with a wave of her hand.

“My lady.” You smiled as the prince’s voice came to your ears. “My prince.” You replied with a sad smile, knowing that this was the last time the two of you should meet. “May I finally learn your name?” He asked, taking your hands in his own. “I told you my lord-” You began before he interjected, “May I not know the name of the ellen who has taken my heart?” He pleaded, his eyes practically staring into your soul as he spoke. “I may give you a hint my lord.” You gave in, your own heart beating to the same rhythm. “Anything.” You opened your mouth to speak before noticing the clock as your face grew pale. “I must go!” You hastily muttered. “Please, your name is all I desire!” Thranduil begged, reaching for your wrist. “I am sorry, my prince.” You whispered, tears coming to your eyes as you slipped your glove off of your hand, leaving it in his and fleeing down the stairs. As you did so, your foot caught on one of the stones and you slipped down some of the stairwell- your foot sliding out of your shoe as you did. Glancing back up at the doorway, you saw the prince racing down the steps after you, watching with wide eyes as you quickly slipped off your other shoe and fled, leaving one behind.

“That whore took up the whole ball all three days!” Marjorie sobbed into your stepmother’s shoulder as you swept the fireplace, careful to not spill any ashes onto the carpet. “I know.” Your stepmother comforted before a knock on the door caused her to pause. “Shall I get it stepmother?” You asked as she glared at you. “Of course.” She responded, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Right away, ma’am.” You muttered, standing to move to the door, accidentally knocking over some of the cinders. “You stupid girl!” Your stepmother screamed, her hand coming to slap your cheek, “Clean those up, I shall get the door. Stupid child.” She spat, not caring as tears began to slip down your cheeks at the sting of her hit.

“We really must see every ellen.” An unfamiliar voice spoke as the sounds of footsteps came towards you. “My daughters are all you need to see, our housemaid does not leave the house much.” Your stepmother immediately shut down the idea as you continued to sweep. “No matter Elaron.” A familiar voice reached your ears. You forced your head to stay down, however your sweeping has ceased, the urge to look at his face one more time growing nearly overpowering.

A loud, piggish, squeal reached your ears as Angelica tried to shove her foot into your shoe. You watched out of the corner of your eye, a small smile on your lips as she was rejected- her sister taking her place as she also tried to shove her hoof into the clearly too small heel.

“I thought I said to clean that up!” Your stepmother hissed, stalking over to you as you hastily began to clean again. “Sorry, ma’am.” You softly apologised, flinching away from her as she raised her hand up. “There is no need to violence, miss.” Thranduil’s voice once again reached your ears, his voice sounding more hopeful than before as he carefully walked over to you. “What is your name?” He asked, voice full of desire. “I am afraid I cannot tell you, my lord.” You responded softly, a grin falling over your lips as he sharply breathed in. “Elaron!” He quickly called as the sound of more footsteps came. “May I?” He asked, kneeling down before you, shoe outstretched. “Of course.” You answered, finally looking at him. Carefully, he slid the shoe onto your foot, his face erupting in happiness as it slid further onto your foot without resistance. “You have the other?” He asked, “I would hate for my queen to walk with only one shoe.” He continued as you reached into the pocket of your apron- pulling out the second shoe which he carefully slid onto your other foot.

I hope you enjoyed, I know it's not as long as some of my other works but I like the length for this fic (I feel as though if it has been too long it would have been less enjoyable) Let me know your thoughts, and if there are any typos please let me know I do not proof-read...

#thranduil oropherion #thranduil #thranduil x reader #x reader #fan fiction #the hobbit #the hobbit x reader #lotr #lotr x reader #lord of the rings #lord of the rings x reader #thranduil oropherion x reader #cinderella au #xreader #disney au #lotr fanfic #the hobbie fanfic #hobbit

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 1 year

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The Ménage à trois series

First one-shot - Pleasurable torment

Pairing: Thranduil x Elrond x Fem. Reader

Themes: Smut | Soft | Aftercare | Established Poly relationship

Word count: 2k words

Rating: 🔥🔥🔥

Minors DNI | 18+

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"Come, come, my petal, surely you can take all of me into you."

Thranduil smirked as he lay there, all cocky and arrogant. He smirked even more when you had to grab onto his arms while lowering yourself onto him.

"But she listens so well," Elrond purred while he watched. "Does she not?"

"Indeed," Thranduil looked on wolfishly when you mewled. "Aww," he tsked. "Do you need my help, petal?"

As much as it embarrassed you to do so, you had to admit you needed help. Both Thranduil and Elrond had more size than many, and if you were honest with yourself, you liked it when either one of them, or both of them, took control of your body. "Y-yes," you whined pitifully. "P-please, my lord."

Thranduil growled and narrowed his eyes. He was going to enjoy this immensely. "Distract her," he muttered as he sat up and grabbed onto your hips.

Elrond grinned wickedly as he moved to you, kneeling beside you, cupping your chin, and making you face him. His lips grazed the corners of your mouth, his tongue flicking and probing before moving to your lips, forcing them apart. When you hummed and sighed into his mouth, Elrond groaned and deepened his kiss, to try and distract you from what Thranduil was about to do to you.

And how you felt it—his thick cock pressing deep into your throbbing cunt, his rich and deep moans spilling out while his fingers gripped tightly against your waist. Elrond's kisses muffled your whines, your little whimpers, his free hand snaking down to play with your clit. That jolted you even more, and the fire in your belly grew when his tongue danced against yours.

Thranduil kept still, letting you adjust to his size. You squirmed when Elrond kept playing with your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. You moved, rocking your hips slowly, and then Thranduil grabbed onto them. "Stop," he hissed, digging his fingers into your flesh until you complied. "Do not move, my little petal. Just sit still and keep me warm."

You would have whined had Elrond not opened his mouth over yours again. Thranduil rested against his pillows, content to watch while Elrond had his way with you.

And how he had his way with you, letting go of your chin so he could hook an arm around your waist, holding you tight as he played with your clit, forcefully this time, his mouth muffling even more of your whimpers. "So obedient," he pulled away to croon. "So pliant. I wonder how pliant you could be." Before you could even think of replying, Elrond sought your lips again, moaning ever so deeply when you sighed and melted against him.

Thranduil ran his hands up your torso, making them glide over the warm flesh before reaching up to cup your breasts. You shivered when skilled fingers played with your buds, moaning into Elrond's mouth when little jolts of pain mixed with pleasure flashed through your body. Please, you wanted to say. Please finish me.

Only the words never came. So overcome were you by the pleasures that kept washing over you that you seemed to have lost all control of your tongue. You could feel your walls fluttering again, pulsing around Thranduil's cock. You prayed that they would allow you to orgasm this time, and satisfy your release-starved body. Elrond had other ideas, and as soon as he heard your breath reducing to shallow pants, as soon as he felt your body stiffen, he pulled away, joining Thranduil on his side of the bed.

You panted, your hands splaying against Thranduil's torso as you fought to steady yourself. Your walls still throbbed around his cock, pulling him in deeper and you felt like sobbing a little. The king moaned when he felt it, his own urges finally overcoming him. He could wait no longer. "Ride me, little petal," he ordered, his hands landing firmly on your waist. "Ride your king."

But, before you could start, he had one final order for you. "But you are not to come, yes?" He cooed as you lifted your head and nodded. "Not until we allow you to."

"Yes, my l-lord," you whimpered, bracing yourself as Thranduil let his head fall back into the pillows, his mouth parted in a silent moan.

The pain and pleasure you felt every time his length sank deep into your hole and struck all the right places brought tears to your eyes. Thranduil's hands tightened their grip on your waist, holding onto you, guiding you, and bringing you down harder as his own hips started to slap against the insides of your thighs. You could only throw your head back as you bounced on his cock, your babbles growing more incoherent as they mixed with your moans and pleas.

"Pathetic, little petal," Elrond watched while he pumped his length. He kept his rhythm on a slow, even keel, eager to finish in that pretty little mouth of yours. "Mere moments have passed and already you're begging for his seed. Or is it rather that you want your release?" Elrond tutted and whimpered, his greedy eyes lighting up at the sight of your heaving breasts. "Is that it?"

More tears pooled around your eyes as the sensations you felt grew all too intense. "B-both m-my l-lord," you managed a stuttered answer. "B-both. P-please."

Thranduil forced open his eyes, groaning with delight when he saw your tears. He reared up and forced himself into a seated position, his feet tucked neatly under his calves. "You know you cannot have both at the same time, yes?" He ran his lips over the corners of your eyes, gently lapping at your tears of frustration. Thranduil released his hands and hooked both arms around your waist instead, moaning into your hair when your arms twined around his neck. "You will have to be patient, my pathetic little petal."

You couldn't speak, could barely breathe. Thranduil held you tighter, his cock ramming into you and making you see stars. " 's t-too m-much m-lord," you whined into his shoulder. "It's a-all t-too m-much."

Thranduil merely chuckled when he heard your soft mewls. "Come come, my petal," he cooed into your ear. "Pick up your pace. Let my cock empty itself in that sweet little cunt of yours."

You pulled your head back, your breath getting knocked out of your lungs when Thranduil crushed your lips with his, his tongue licking past your bruised and puffy lips.

His thrusts grew too intense. His embraces grew too intense. His kisses left you senseless, blind to everything but what he was doing to you. You felt it, his body trembling, his breath growing shallow and ragged with each passing second. You used every ounce of willpower you had not to come all over him right then and there. Elrond continued to pump his cock and watch, his mind growing hazy with thoughts of kissing his way all over your breasts.

And Thranduil didn't last for much longer. Mere moments later, he buried himself to the hilt, balls deep, making you cry out as pleasure mixed with little jolts of pain. He groaned long and deep and throaty as his cock spasmed, spilling its contents inside your throbbing walls. He held onto you while his chest heaved and the last of his seed was spent inside of you.

Only it wasn't over. Not yet. Elrond needed to be satiated, as well as you. Thranduil gently laid you down, saying, "Finish him off, petal," He huffed as he struggled for breath. "I will take care of you while you do so."

Elrond took your hand. "Come my petal," he cooed. "And wrap that pretty mouth of yours along my cock."

You made your way over to Elrond, wrapping a hand around his cock when you reached him. You settled into a rhythm that he liked, your hand tightening and releasing, your spine tingling with his moans, and then, when his muscles tightened, you took him into the warmth of your mouth, taking him as far as you could manage, your tongue licking its way against the underside of his cock.

Elrond's breath grew shallow and laboured as you started to bob your head up and down, your cheeks hallowing, and your moans were muffled when he grabbed onto your hair. He wrapped his hands around your locks, holding them out of the way for you. The warmth of your mouth was so sinful, your tongue so luscious as it flicked against his tip before warming the underside of his length, well, it nearly made him cum inside your mouth right then and there. Thranduil sneaked a hand under your belly, to play with your soaked clit, moaning when his fingers grew slick with both your essence and his.

Your body trembled and trembled when a finger slipped into your hole, piercing you and pumping you. Elrond started to gently thrust his hips while your mouth worked his cock, your moans growing as deep as his when he grabbed onto your hair, gently pushing your face down and making you take him even deeper into you. Thranduil inserted a second finger, curling them and stretching your walls, groaning in satisfaction when he felt your walls clench around them. He kept pumping you, inserting a third finger, hitting that sweet spot of yours, and making you draw in a sharp breath while you worked on Elrond's cock. His breath grew shaky, and he moaned deeply, his cock throbbing against your tongue. He pumped your sweet mouth, thrilling when you somehow managed to make your way down to the base of his cock. When you got that first taste of him, you took him as deeply as you could, not stopping until he moaned your name and you felt his warmth spray over your eager tongue. You swallowed all that he gave you, relishing his deep moans and pants. You pulled away, licking your lips, only to find yourself being pulled onto your back.

Thranduil kept his eyes on you, whispering sweet nothings while his fingers kept slipping into your slick heat. Your eyes crunched shut when Elrond placed his greedy mouth over a breast, fondling the other with his hand while he licked and laved, gently nipping at that soft bud and tugging it between his teeth. It felt so good, to submit to your lovers like this, letting them have their way with your body, take their pleasure from you. And they were so, so good to you in every aspect, never making you want for anything in any way.

"That's it, petal," Thranduil murmured when he felt your walls tighten. "Come for us. You know you want to."

You felt like you were pulled under as the world seemed to stop spinning, as your body felt like it had snapped like a coil while your orgasm ripped through you. You nearly sobbed as your body was finally sated, and you heard deep groans from both ellon when you poured onto Thranduil's hand.

The world went quiet while you struggled to steady your breath. After what seemed like an age, you felt yourself being carried, probably by Thranduil. From the subtle scents, you were almost certain you were being lowered into the bath.

The warm, fragrant water was soothing, as was the sponge that glided over your shoulders. "You did so well, my love," Thranduil crooned as he rubbed your aching shoulders.

"We're both so proud of you," murmured Elrond, seating himself on the other side of the tub and picking up your feet, so he could rub them. You managed a sleepy smile but your eyes started to droop, and one of them urged you to rest, saying that they would take care of everything. You don't even feel the rest, of being lifted, of a soft towel gliding over your skin. You didn't feel the soft nightgown being put over you, the brush that whooshed gently through your hair, or the strong arms that carried you to bed. Your eyes fluttered open when Elrond ran a thumb over your cheek. Thranduil held you as he always did, his chest to your back, one leg between yours and an arm slung over your waist. You closed your eyes again, thoroughly loved and content.

#elrond smut #thranduil smut #elrond x reader #thranduil x reader #x reader #reader insert #thranduil imagine #elrond imagine #lotr #the hobbit #lotr x reader #the hobbit x reader #fan fiction #writeblr

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teitho · 5 months

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WE ARE BACK!

We are very excited to be back with a new Teitho challenge for December/January!

Our challenge this time is SNOW.

Where will you take us with this prompt? Mountain peaks or cruel Caradhras? The frozen terrain of the Helcaraxë?

Or perhaps the snowy fields of Rohan. A blizzard in the Shire. Winter at the Havens.

Bundled up inside or braving the elements? A gentle fall of snow or a winter storm? Or perhaps snowed in?

It’s all up to you and we can’t wait see what you have for us this time!

Please submit your stories before January 31, 2024, to [email protected].

Happy Writing!

lotrfan and Sian22

#teitho #tolkien fan fiction #tolkien #tolkien fan art #fanfic #the hobbit #lord of the rings #the silmarillion #teitho challenge #new challenge #we are back!#legolas #lotr fanfic #aragorn #lotr fanart #snow #Dec/Jan

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dancerinthestorm · 7 months

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Fic Recs: "Didn't see that one coming" edition...

I've been wanting to start collecting my all time favorite stories in ages but never knew where to start, there are just too many talented souls out there. A lazy day of re-reading favorites makes me want to finally give it a try though.

Featuring today: stories that defy my usual hunting patterns but still became all time favourites against all odds. Stories leaving me utterly gobsmacked thinking "That was so, soo awsome... but how on earth did I end up in this fandom / character / trope tag of all places?".

@messy-insomniac-bookgirl Let's be honest: this writer is the spirit animal of this specific selection. Never heard of the fandom? Dislike the protagonist with a passion? Doesn't matter: she writes it, I devour and love it. The reason? Dense and hugely rewarding story-telling, perfect pacing, side characters you want to adopt on the spot, delicious slow burns with sooo much yearning. And, most importantly, the awesome female OCs. I am in love with each and every one of them, regardless who they share a screen with. It's almost impossible to select just one story for this list but let's go for "Keep Calm and Buckle Up" (AO3) for suddenly making me feel things when Steve Rogers entered the stage in "Infinity War". Steve Rogers x OFC, James "Bucky" Barnes x OFC, Steve x Bucky x OFC. Action, slow burn, emotional roller coaster rides. Rated E.

@batsingotham "Written in the stars" (AO3) I don't do Soul Mate AUs. I don't do Robert Pattinson characters. For me the best things about "The Batman" were Andy Serkis' Alfred and 3 hours of Niravana in a loop. But the undisputed goddess queen of slow burn domestic fluff overruled all of that. Bruce Wayne/Reader. Soulmate AU. Dorks in love. Bruce needs a hug and Alfred has the patience of a saint. Rated M.

"Sweet Conversations" by @glassgulls Lord of the Rings has been living in my head rent free ever since I was a teenager but I simply don't do Elves. Period. Yes, Glorfindel is very cool and Lee Pace's Thranduil is an absolute vision (the costumes, the voice and the make up, mind you, don't get me started on any other aspect of the Hobbit movies though...) but otherwise? Thanks but no thanks. Nevertheless: the award for best fictional kiss I’ve come across in ages goes to this gem. Amazing scene setting and character work for something so short. Leaves you weak-kneed and high as a kite on serotonin for the rest of the day. Haldir/Reader. One-shot. Rated M.

„Ownership of Mine“ by @amywritesthings . Okay, lets be honest, peeps: Prison settings for a romance story? Seriously? Who in their right mind would be able to think about romance and seduction when all of your freedom is taken away, you are crammed into a small and dark space with people of questionable character and put under constant surveilance. Well… apparently I can… with this story. Even if that tag is a big red NO GO sign for me otherwise. Amazingly dense story telling and atmosphere building in just 3 short chapters. Kino Loy/Reader. Rated E.

„Directions“ by @zinzinina . Probably a sure sign that I am getting too old for all of this but tags about age gaps, first love or first times usually make me run for the hills. Add a character like Poe Dameron (I mean: come on! Howww…?!) to the mix and there is not enough willing suspension of disbelieve in the world to get me immersed in the plot. Or so I thought. Unwisely. Until this beauty came along. Poe Dameron/Reader. Rated E.

#fic recs #stories to cherish and re-read for all eternity #fan fiction #steve rogers x ofc #james bucky barnes x ofc #steve rogers x james bucky barnes x ofc #haldir x reader #haldir survives lotr goddamit!#bruce wayne x reader #battinson x reader #kino loy x reader #poe dameron x reader #dancerinthestorm reads

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middleearthpixie · 10 months

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Promise Me ~ Prologue

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: Boromir

Warnings: Some angst…

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.1k

Tag List: @sotwk @heilith @fizzyxcustard @evenstaredits @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @emmyspov @finnofamerica @lathalea

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

“You can swing at me, you know. You are not about to hit me.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Gabriella grunted as she sat up. Her sword lay on the ground beside her, her arms ached from the effort of wielding it, despite the fact that it was made especially for her. Not only that, but it was commissioned by the man now standing over her, looking more than a little smug as he folded his arms over a broad chest.

“So, why don’t you?” Those thick arms unfolded and he held out a large hand with deceptively elegant fingers.

She lay her hand in his and let him draw her up. “I don't know. I suppose I fear hurting you.”

He chuckled. “I think it would take more than what you could deliver to hurt me, Gabby. Come, let’s try again.”

“No. I’m sore and tired and my arms might very well fall off if I so much as think about swinging that blasted blade even one more time.”

He moved to pick up the blade in question, then handed it to her. “I don’t know when the next time I’ll be able to spar with you will come, you know.”

“Don’t remind me, please.” She took the sword from him, carefully slipped it back into its scabbard, then looked up at him, squinting as the sun sinking into the horizon behind him temporarily blinded her. She blinked the spots from her eyes and looked instead at him. Boromir, oldest son of Denethor II, Steward of Gondor, and her closest friend in all of Middle Earth. They’d grown up together, and in recent times he was away from Minas Tirith more often than he was there. But when he did come home, he made certain to come by the tavern and see her. And if he planned to be around for more than several days, he found the time to work in a sparring session with her.

Come the sunrise, he’d be leaving. Rivendell was his destination and he would not say why he’d been summoned there, which meant it couldn't possibly be good. War was coming. She knew it. They all knew it. For the last several weeks, men had been working almost round the clock to attempt to fortify the city, to evacuate as many of the women and children as they could.

“You’re staring,” he broke into her reverie, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“At you? Hardly,” she snorted. “Why would I stare at you?”

A lie. Of course she stared at him. How could she not, when he was, quite simply, the handsomest man in all of Gondor? He was tall and broad of shoulder and chest, with hair the color of fresh honey and eyes the same green as a lush meadow after a spring rain. He was noble and proud and kind and strong.

And he saw her as nothing more than a friend. The sister he’d never had.

One dark gold brow rose ever so slightly. “Why, indeed.” He glanced up at the thickening clouds. “Let me see you home before the rains come.”

She nodded and they set off back toward the tavern not far from the inn. Her family ran said tavern, and lived above it and while her best friend Dora liked to tease her about someday marrying Boromir, Gabriella knew such a match was unlikely to happen. He showed little interest in any woman, and even less in the notion of marrying any time soon. Of course, the time would come when his father would decide it was absolutely time, and so would choose a suitable bride for his son.

And that bride would not be the daughter of the tavern keeper.

They made an odd pair as it was, but no one seemed troubled by it, and she valued his friendship above all else, so if friends was all they were to be, she would treasure it still.

“Do you truly have to go? It’s grown so dangerous to travel beyond the city walls.”

“We’ve talked about this, Gabby. And yes, I truly do have to go.”

She peered up at him as they walked. He was almost a head and a half taller than her, and always gave off that feeling of security. No matter what, she was safe with him and she knew it. He made certain she did.

“The side of my face grows hot.” He stopped and turned toward her. “Going to tell me you aren’t staring again?”

“Not this time, no.” She shook her head. “I am instead trying to find a reason to convince you to stay.”

“Gabby,” a hint of a smile pulled at the corners of his lips, “please stop. Staying is not an option. You know this, so please stop asking me to.”

“I know, I sound like a child and I pout like one, but I’m terrified something will happen to you. Something terrible.”

He caught her hands in his and her heart gave a mighty leap at the way the air seemed to crackle around them. His hands were rough from riding, and large enough that they swallowed hers. “I will be fine and when I return, you will laugh at yourself for being so worried.”

“And if you aren’t? If you don’t?” She looked up at him. “I know that sounds so ominous and dramatic, but—”

“Gabby,” he broke in gently, his normally guarded eyes softening as they met hers, “I will.”

Thunder rolled low in the distance as he held her gaze and her heart sped up as she whispered, “Promise me.”

“I promise you. And perhaps by then you will have finally worked up both the nerve and the strength to knock me down.”

“I most definitely will.”

He winked then. “Promise me.”

“I promise you.”

“Good.” He bobbed his head slightly. “Because I will be back. I have a very good reason to be, you know.”

“Well, yes, you have to take your place eventually as steward.”

“Yes, but that’s not quite what I mean.”

Her heart sped up again as his eyes grew softer still and the crackle in the air seemed louder now. Loud enough that she almost expected to see very real sparks shoot between them. The fine hairs along her arms stood and a slight, teasing chill ran along her spine.

He leaned over and their lips met in a gentle kiss that had her curling her toes in her boots and her fingers about his. His lips were so incredibly soft, much more so than she’d ever imagined, and she had to fight back the rising sigh as they moved against hers. The neatly trimmed hair of his mustache and beard tickled, but only for a moment as he tilted his head slightly, parted those soft lips, and the tip of his tongue eased between her lips to caress hers.

His one hand fell from hers to come to rest on her hip, then he eased that arm about her waist to tug her flush against him and her heart soared as his kiss deepened, as he bent her body back just enough. It wasn't her first kiss, but it was the sweetest she’d ever received and he drew back to press his forehead to hers, a sheepish smile playing at his lips. “I’ve wanted to do that for some time now.”

“I’ve wanted you to for some time,” she replied softly.

“So then you are not about to slap me?”

“Not this time, no.”

He chuckled softly. “Good.”

This time when he kissed her, there was no hesitation, and she melted against him as he wrapped her in his arms as if he’d never let her go.

The next morning, she slipped away from the tavern to head to the stables, where Boromir was readying his horse. She came around the corner, not wanting to startle him, and called, “I thought you’d be gone by now.”

He peered over one shoulder at her. “Trying to get rid of me, are you?”

“What do you think?”

He turned away from his horse. “I thought you’d be with the others to see me off, actually.”

“I will. But, I wanted a moment alone to give you something.”

“What’s that?”

“This.” She closed the gap between them and held out her hand. Coiled in her palm, on a delicate silver chain, lay a silver medallion with a bear etched into it.

He lifted puzzled green eyes to her. “Gabby?”

She smiled despite her heavy heart. “My father gave it to me when I was a child because I was afraid of the dark. The first night I slept in the dark alone, I was so scared, it took me forever to actually fall asleep. But, I remained in my own bed and left him and Mama alone and so he had this made for me. He told me it was a symbol of my courage and that the bear would watch over me on the nights when I was still scared.”

“I cannot take this.”

“You can,” she caught him by the wrist to turn his hand palm up, let the silver chain spill into the middle of said palm, then closed his fingers over it, “and you will. But, just so you know, I expect it back some day.”

“Are you certain?”

“I am.”

“Very well. If you’re certain.” His eyes softened once more. “Would you put it on me? I’d rather not mangle the clasp.”

“Of course.” She took it and, despite her heavy heart, smiled as he turned away from her. “You’ll have to crouch a bit, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, sorry.” He did as she said and bent his knees to bring him low enough for her to fasten the delicate chain about his neck.

He straightened up then and turned back to her, tucking the medallion beneath the neck of his tunic. “You are certain about this?”

“I am, yes. As I said, I expect it back, so now you have a reason to return.”

“I have more than one reason, Gabby. And I will return.”

Her eyes stung as she nodded slowly and whispered, “Promise me.”

“I promise you.” He bent to her, his kiss light and gentle and when he drew back, his eyes were soft. “I will be back.”

“You had better, Boromir.”

“I just promised you, didn't I?” He stepped back and caught the reins in one hand. “And I will be.”

She nodded, pressing her lips together to keep them from trembling. Her throat tightened. Her eyes stung. “Be careful, won’t you? It’s so very dangerous beyond these walls.”

“I will be fine.”

“I know. But I’ll still worry just the same.” She closed the space between them once more, easing her arms about his waist, and let her head come to rest against his chest. Beneath his tunic, his heart beat softly, and she desperately wished they had more time. She should have spoken up long before now, but she was so terrified of ruining their friendship that she kept her budding feelings for him carefully tucked away. But if she’d been brave enough to risk it, they would have had time to share more than a couple of tender kisses.

He folded her into his embrace and she bit down on her bottom lip at the gentle pressure of him kissing the top of her head. “I will be fine,” he whispered once more.

She nodded, although she wasn't nearly as confident and he held her for another moment or two, then, with a deep breath, pulled away. “I really must go now, Gabby. I’ve a long ride ahead of me.”

“I know.” She swiped at her cheeks, at the stupid, stubborn tears that refused to remain at bay.

“Don't cry,” he told her, reaching out to brush his thumb along her left cheek.

“I can’t help it. My stupid eyes will not listen to reason.” She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat and stepped out of his reach. “You should go. Everyone else is waiting to see you off.”

He bobbed his head and then swung up into the saddle. “I will see you soon, Gabriella.”

She managed a smile. “Promise me.”

He winked. “I promise you.”

“I’m holding you to it, you know.”

“I fully intend to keep it.” He clicked his tongue against his teeth, and his horse ambled down the path from the stable to the road.

She had planned to follow, to join the others in seeing him off, but as he grew smaller, she couldn’t bring herself to move. His scent hung in the air—leather and hints of horse and cloves—and as the silence settled about her, she finally gave up trying to hold back the flood of tears burning the backs of her eyeballs.

#Lord of the Rings #LOTR AU #Boromir #Boromir fic #LOTR fanfic #Lord of the Rings Fanfic #Fan fiction #LOTR fanfiction #AU #Boromir x OC #Is it hot in here?#Romance #Sean Bean

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whateverrr-duddee · 2 years

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𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐎𝐥𝐝-𝐅𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐨𝐲

pairing: legolas x reader

warnings: fluff! mentions of Frodo

summary: During the rest in rohan. Legolas becomes extremely clingy. And your determined to find out why!

“To Frodo and Sam” all cheersed and drank the ale. Being elves it didn’t affect you and Legolas as easily. You were currently sat with Aragorn and Eomer. “Are you excited to see Arwen?” you asked Aragorn he gave you a small smile “Yes, but i fear she made the wrong decision” he sighed. You looked up at him and grabbed his face “she made the decision that was right for her dont you ever forget that” he smiled as you spoke the reassuring words.

Suddenly, a pair of hands come on to your shoulders as the owner makes their way around the sofa to sit next to you. “Hello, nin mel” Legolas greeted you as he gave you a kiss on the forehead “Lass”Aragorn chuckled “i see you out drank gimli” Legolas softly chucked “it was indeed game over. although i did feel a slight tingle in my fingers at one point” Legolas’ soft voice carried amusement. “What’s in like your home countries?” Eomer asked whilst aragorn was explaining you felt legolas’ hands tighten on your waist drawing patterns. “ cin okaui nin mel?” you whispered because you knew his pride wouldn’t let him admit if he wasn’t.

He hummed and buried his face in your neck. You looked over to Aragorn mouthing “what’s wrong with him? he’s never this clingy?” he mouthed back “i have no idea, let me try something” Aragorn sat up and you began stroking legolas back out of instinct. “I don’t know what your going to do when we return Legolas” Aragorn sighed. Legolas merely replied with a muffled “What do you mean?” from your neck. “Well Y/N is the one of the most desirable girls in all of middle earth a lot of men and elves will want her” Legolas suddenly shot out of his little corner in your neck and faced Aragorn. “i have a plan” Legolas said with a emotionless face as per usual. “She is a very beautiful girl, The men here are tripping over their own feet after her” Eomer chipped in “And i will kill anyone who puts their hands on her” You Rolled your eyes at Legolas’ dramatic behaviour you grabbed his wrist “We are going to go to bed so Mr Gandalf the grey jr can get his beauty sleep” You mutters to Aragorn who laughed “Go night mellon”

“What’s wrong Legolas?” you asked as you go to your room in the castle. “nothing” Legolas lightly sighed walking over to you and kissing your forehead lightly. He led you over to the bed you expected him to spoon you. but the words that came out of his mouth made your heart ache for him. “can you hold me?” you knew Legolas was touch starved a lot. At the beginning of your relationship he was so cautious of touching you and was very worried when you hugged him for the first time.You didn’t say anything you just opened your arms up for him to lie on top of you. he wrapped his arms around your waist and nuzzled his head into your stomach. you played with his hair adding a few braids and twists into it before you broke the silence. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong now?” you softly spoke he propped his head up in your stomach and took a deep breathe “i fear i’m going to loose you” he said it was almost a whisper if not for your elf hearing you wouldn’t have heard it. you traced your fingertips over thr tips of his ears sending a shiver down his body “you never have to worry about that” you smiled shyly at him “and why is that?“ he asked still unconvinced “because i’m incredibly and eternally in love with you Legolas Thanduillion” he smiled and tackled you on the bed….

#legolas #legolas x reader #legolas fan fiction #legolasimagines #legolas imagine #legolas fanfic #legolas one shot #legolas oneshot #lotr #the hobbit #orlando bloom #orlando bloom x reader #legolas greenleaf #legolas thranduilion #legolas lotr #thranduil x reader

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lathalea · 2 years

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Thorin Oakenshield Masterlist

Here is the masterlist of my Thorin Oakenshield stories. Enjoy!

📜 ONE-SHOTS:

✨ The Lotus Flower and the Summer Wind (Thorin x Reader, rated T) ✨ Forest Gold (Thorin x Reader, rated T) ✨ The Winner Takes It All (Thorin x Reader, rated E) ✨ Boop! (Thorin x Reader, rated: G) ✨ Imbolc (Thorin x OC, rated: T, gothic fairy tale) ✨ Blacksmith Needed (Thorin x OC, rated: M) ✨ Far Under the Misty Waters Cold (Thorin x Reader, rated: T) ✨ To Home Afar (Thorin & Dis, my TRSB21 entry, rated: G) ✨ Strong (Thorin x Reader, hurt/comfort fic) ✨ A Good Night's Kiss (Thorin x Reader, rated: M) ✨ The Gift (Thorin x Reader, rated: G) ✨ Mistletoe (Thorin x Reader, rated: G) ✨ How Do You Shop for a King? (Thorin x OC, rated: G) ✨ Thistle. A Midsummer Night's Dream (who is the woman in prince Thorin's dream?, rated G) ✨ The Tinderbox (Thorin x OFC, rated: G) ✨ The Crossover (Thorin x Reader, rated: G) ✨ The Best Day of My Life (Thorin x OC, rated: G) ✨ Never (Thorin angst, rated: G) ✨ Dream Come True (Thorin x Reader, rated: G) ✨ A Kind of Magic (Thorin x gn!Reader, rated: G) ✨ A Pint Too Far (Thorin x OC, rated: G) ✨ Wild Strawberries (Thorin x OC, rated: E) ✨ The Arrival (Thorin x OC/Reader, rated: G) ✨ The Shrieking Monster (Thorin&Dis&Fili&Kili family fluff, rated: G)

📜 LONGFICS:

✨ The Weeping Willow (Thorin x Reader, angst, dark fairy tale, rated T, complete): [1] [2]

✨ All Is Fair in Love and Trade (Thorin x Reader, rated E): [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [Chapter 1 scene from Thorin's POV] ✨ Heart of Stone (Thorin x Reader, The Hobbit Pirate AU, an interactive story, rated M): [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] (to be continued) ✨ Third Time's the Charm (Thorin x Reader, rated T, complete): [1] [2] [3] ✨ Sun and Stone (Thorin x Reader, rated G, complete) [1] [2] ✨ Springtime at the Lonely Mountain (pre-Smaug AU, read the whole fic on AO3, rated E) ✨ How to Kiss a Fairy (collab with @avaria-revallier , Quest of Erebor with a twist, rated G, complete): 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 ✨ Blame It on Cider (Thorin x fem!Dwarf OC Yrsa, rated E): [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] ... 💎 Soulmates (Modern AU take on Thorin and Yrsa's relationship)

✨ If on a Winter's Night (Thorin x Reader, Modern AU): [1] [2] [] [] ✨ The White Raven (Thorin x OC, rated: T/E): [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] []

➡️Other Masterlists

Lathalea's Main Masterlist

Writer's Month 2021 Masterlist

Tarot Imagine Ask Game 2021 Masterlist

The Hobbit Advent Calendar 2021 Masterlist

Armitage Summer Splash 2022 Masterlist

You can read all of my works on AO3 (Lathalea).

If you'd like to be tagged in my fics, let me know! Do you like my writing? Would you like to read more? Feel free to show your support by having a Ko-fi with me! Thank you 💙

#thorin oakenshield #fanfiction #lathalea #the hobbit #thorin x reader #richard armitage #thorin #tolkien #lotr #thorin fic #king under the mountain #fanfic #thorin x oc #thorin imagine #fantasy #fan fiction #the hobbit imagine

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buthigor · 5 months

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#lord of the rings #lotr #lotr fanart #sauron #fan art #fantasy art #galadriel #sword #o senhor dos anéis #art #fiction #lord of darkness #j r r tolkien #tolkien fanart

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aackxrmxn · 11 months

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〘 Thorin Oakenshield 〙

It’s Over!

A/N: Haven’t been on this account for a while! I think it’s time I get back into writing, and what better way than to start off writing with Thorin Oakenshield! Thank you so much for 700 followers!

Warnings: Angst, Thorin through his dragon sickness.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ♛ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

“Am I not the King?” Thorin yelled, his voice echoing through the newly reclaimed Erebor. A lump formed in my throat as I looked down at the pavement; smooth and cold under my feet.

I had just woken up and I’m already being yelled at. I had had enough of this! My hands balled into fists as I fought back the tears threatening to spill. Balin stepped forwards then, and I had almost forgotten he was beside me to begin with. He placed a comforting hand in my shoulder and I look at him with teary eyes and smile weakly.

All this began with me asking him if he could come to bed tonight, seeming he hadn’t come to bed at all the past few nights. His chambers were luxurious but it was cold and too big for one person. Being a human, we always preferred to be outside rather than being cooped up in a mountain. I didn’t mind though, as long as I was welcome to stay at Erebor, that’s where I would stay.

A sigh fell from my lips as I gave up trying to fight with Thorin, he wasn’t budging and something about being surrounded by all this gold was making him sick in the head.

“It doesn’t matter, if he doesn’t want to spend time with me I might as well go back home.” I spoke to Balin, wanting Thorin to hear and be scared by the fact I was thinking about going home. I really didn’t want to go home, but if that’s what it took for Thorin to come to his senses than so be it.

What Thorin said next made my heart sink into my stomach. “Go then, go back home because I don’t ever want to see you again! Our courtship is over!”

“Thorin!” Balin exclaimed loudly, his hand slipping from my shoulder as he took the steps up to Thorin sitting on his throne. “Don’t say that about Y/N, she’s been nothing but supportive and helpful to us, to you! She helped us reclaim Erebor and without her we wouldn’t have been able to do such a thing.”

My gaze met Thorin’s, his once loving blue eyes had turned dark and unrecognisable. I wanted to believe the old him was in there somewhere but I couldn’t find it.

I tried my best not to cry, I really did, but a single tear fell down my cheek as I managed to keep my eyes on him. “Fine,” My voice shaky as the realisation came down on me - Thorin didn’t want to court me any longer. “I’m going back home then, and trust me Thorin, you won’t ever see me again.”

I spun on my heels, Balin calling out to me but I simply kept walking. My feet made a quick left where I almost smacked into someone, a gasp falling from my lips. I look up and see the whole Company standing there, Dwalin standing first.

They all had this look on their face, they were upset… upset that their once future queen was now leaving them. Tears filled my eyes again, this time I had no strength to hold them back and Bofur realised this and bought me into a hug, rubbing my back gently.

“I’m sorry, I-I can’t do this anymore… not with who he has become… I can’t.” I whispered the last part as all my strength and energy had simply vanished. “I really hope you guys have the best time here, I really do. I really want you guys to be at peace, but my peace isn’t here… not anymore.”

“To hell with him,” Dwalin spoke then. “You can be at peace without him, he clearly doesn’t want ya but that don’t mean you can’t stay here.” He had this fury in his eyes, more so than ever before.

I was stuck, I wanted to be here, I did, but I knew deep down it would kill me to live with Thorin and not be with him.

“I-I… I can’t, I’m sorry…” It hurt me.

Dwalin took a moment before he nodded his head. “I understand ya. We just… we’ve just grown to love ya like our queen.” He head hung, clearly sad but not wanting to show it.

I didn’t hesitate to hug him, he seemed stiff but he soon relaxed into the hug. “I’ll miss you and your grumpiness.” I laughed, trying to make everyone a bit happier. “I truly thought you wanted to kill me when we first met, but I now know you really want to kill everyone, not just me.”

He laughed at that, as did some others, but some did not. Fili and Kili both had a somber look to them. “We’ll miss you Auntie,” Kili said, bringing me into a hug.

I wanted to tell him I wasn’t his ‘Auntie’ any longer, but I didn’t want to make him feel bad so I smile at him and kissed his forehead. That’s when I heard a shout from Thorin who was still talking with Balin.

“Right,” I said then, trying my best not to feel sad anymore. “My bag is in Thorin’s room, I’m going to grab that and go while he is here.” I didn’t want to see him right now. I mean, I wanted to, but not like the way he is now.

I looked at the Company once more, tears coming to my eyes again, but I turned so none of them could see me and began to walk.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Someone snarled, grabbing my arm and yanking me to their body harshly. I winced, and out of instinct, I pushed them away. Hair fell in my face as I stumbled back into Bofur.

Thorin glared down at me, going to grab me again but I moved away. “No Thorin, you wanted me gone and that’s what I’m doing… going! You and your stupid gold filled mountain is yours and when you finally come to your senses, I hope you are filled with so much regret and guilt possible! You are changed Thorin!” I laughed then, tears streamed down my face. “You know I’m glad you said you didn’t want to court me anymore because I don’t love you! Not anymore!”

It was a lie, I loved him and I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving him.

“You can have your stupid coat back, you can have your stupid bead back too!” I grabbed the bead securing the courting braid in my hair and threw it at Thorin. It bounced off his chest and to the floor where it rolled and stopped somewhere off the side. “Goodbye Thorin.” I grumbled and turned on my feet and ran off towards his chambers.

The heavy and luxurious dress Thorin insisted I wore the night before fluttered behind me as I ran. I felt like I was suffocating in it, I wanted to tear it off.

When I got to his chambers I quickly packed my things, not wanting to see him again, making sure to leave the fur coat he had given me to keep warm on his bed.

The silence was deafening as I packed, tears sliding down my cheeks. I don’t know how I would get back home, perhaps I would ask the people of Laketown to let me use a boat in exchange for some gold. With all the gold in this mountain, I would take some for myself; it’s what I deserved after all.

Loud boots filled the atmosphere then and they gradually got louder. My eyes widened as I realised the familiar sound of Thorin nearing. I panicked and grabbed my belongings and hid behind the cabinet to not be seen, wondering what he would do when he was alone with me… I didn’t want to know the hurt I would go through.

“Y/N!” I held my breath as Thorin entered the room and I could see him staring at something… the coat on the bed. “Where are you?” He sounded distant, like he was talking to himself.

He sat on the bed, grabbing the coat and bringing it to his face, like he was smelling it. My eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

As he bought the coat down and I saw tears in his eyes. “Fuck, what have I done?” I wanted to come out, but I decided to stay hidden for a little while to see what he would do. The coat was thrown to the floor, and his hand covered his face and a broken sob came from his throat.

My feet moved beneath me against my will and they moved over to where Thorin was sitting at the edge of the bed. Tears filled my eyes as my hand reached up to move a piece of hair away from his face. He jumped, grabbing my arm and looking up at me.

“Y-Y/N?” He asked, his blue eyes red and puffy. “I-I’m so sorry.” He voice broke as he nuzzled the side of his face into my warm palm.

He sobbed then and kissed the inside of my wrist while his other arm snaked around my waist and bought me close to his body. “Thorin…” I started.

“Forgive me, please forgive me.” He cried, “I didn’t mean… anything. I didn’t-“

“Thorin.”

“Please, I’m sorry.”

“Thorin shut up for a minute.” He stopped, looking at me with teary eyes and his bottom lip quivered slightly. “You have been the biggest asshole to me, and for what? Gold? The throne? The stupid Arkenstone?”

“I’m-“

“No, you’re not getting forgiven Thorin. You didn’t realise the damage you’ve done to me, to our relationship.” I could feel his fingers playing at the string holding my dress together. “Thorin, you hurt me.” I mumbled as I wiped away fresh tears.

“Amrâlimê, I will do anything to make it up to you.” He whispered, both his hands running up and down my sides. I didn’t trust me voice and just nodded as he bought me closer and wrapped his arms around me.

I nuzzled into his neck and sighed, relaxing against his warm skin. I pulled away then, grabbing the sides of his face, noticing the crown still on his head. I frowned and grabbed it, taking it off his head and throwing it across the room. I smile warmly as I saw the same loving glint of Thorin’s eyes looking at me, grabbing the sides of his face again and leaning in for a kiss.

He smiled into the kiss, his hands placed firmly on my hips. “Don’t do this again, it’s your last warning.” I spoke against his lips.

“I won’t amrâlimê, I promise.” He said, not opening his eyes still, forehead against mine. “I will make you Queen under the mountain and treat you with such grace.”

You shifted in his embrace, “so…?”

“So what?”

“You don’t regret courting me?” I whispered.

Thorin pulled away from me slightly, “not ever.”

#thorin oakenshield headcanons #thorin oakenshield #lotr #the hobbit #bilbo baggins #thorin #thorin fanfiction #thorin x y/n #lotr imagines #the hobbit imagines #sad #fan fiction #bilbo baggins imagines #bilbo x reader #thilbo

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thebabydragon · 6 months

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True pain in the guise of lavish silks and gold. Agony speaking in a voice of strength and assurances. Arrogance playing as wisdom. The ultimate ruin and folly of Sauron. His eternal torment and condemnation for the world of men until the return of his one ring.

Follow me on Instagram for more art at the_baby_dragon

#digital art #drawing #the lord of the rings #tolkien #lord of the rings fanart #sauron #sauron art #the eye of sauron #digital painting #lord of the rings art #sauron fan fiction #sauron imagine #sauron fanart #tolkien fanart #lotr fanart #lotr art #lotr fandom #artists on tumblr

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from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras · 7 months

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Three Weeks on the Nimrodel

Well, here it is. My first (and oldest) piece of fic. I'm going against my brand here by posting something set in Lorien when Rohan is really my jam. But this is the first thing I ever wrote, so it seems fitting that it should be the first posted, too.

Pairing: Haldir x reader (The reader is gender neutral beyond 2 uses of the descriptor "beautiful", which is still neutral to me but your mileage might vary.)

Genre: Romance, I guess

Summary: Two elves who are frequently misunderstood by others find the joy of having someone really see and value them for who they are.

Inspiration: This all came from the well loved gif above, in which Craig Parker does beautiful work communicating a whole emotional arc (surprise, confusion, acceptance, appreciation) when Aragorn unexpectedly shows Haldir some loving affection. In that half-second of screen time, I see an entire book of backstory about Haldir's character--about being someone who is very reserved by nature, who isn't necessarily comfortable freely expressing feelings and innermost thoughts, but who still feels deep emotional connections to others that can come out under the right circumstances. As a very reserved person myself, I can relate--if you tend to keep your thoughts and feelings close to the vest, people will make a lot of assumptions and judgments about you that probably aren't right, and that can be exhausting. When someone finally does understand you and allows you to be comfortable enough to open up on your own terms, it's a life changing experience. So that's what I tried to write.

Word count: approx 3200 (~ 6 pages)

**********

It is still early when you arrive in the center of Caras Galadhon, joining the crowd of elves waiting to find out where they will be posted for the next few weeks of guard duty. Most in the group are veteran marchwardens, deeply familiar with each other and the daily routine of life near the borders. By contrast, you are a city warden, often dedicated to the direct protection of the Lady of the Wood. But you have been asked to serve a temporary rotation on the borders while several of the regular marchwardens are away with Lord Celeborn on a visit to Mirkwood.

The change of pace is not unwelcome to you. While you love Caras Galadhon and are honored to spend time in the service of Lady Galadriel, you frequently find yourself craving distance from the city in favor of the quiet outlying areas, where it is easy to hear clear birdsong, the rustling steps of small animals scampering by, and the patter of light raindrops falling on mallorn leaves.

The crowd begins to murmur as the deputy captain appears and begins handing around sheets of paper with duty assignments. As the pages spread through the crowd, the murmurs turn to both sighs of disappointment and quiet expressions of satisfaction.

“All I want is to avoid the Nimrodel,” you overhear the elf next to you mutter to a friend of his. You recognize him as Calendil, who, like many of his companions, is well known for carousing around Caras Galadhon any time he is home on leave. As a group, the marchwardens are a boisterous company who seem always determined to pack several weeks of fun into the few days of free time they’ve been given. “Three weeks posted with the captain is more than can be asked of me.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise at this mention of Captain Haldir. You know him a little–everyone in Lorien knows the leader of the marchwardens–and have never before heard a negative word uttered about him. Your path does not often cross with his, but you admire his impressive record of achievements and have never seen him treat another elf with anything but courteous respect.

“You speak truly,” replies Calendil’s companion. “I cannot spend so much time with someone who has so little to say. That much silence is enough to drive one a little mad.”

A wave of indignation rolls through your body. It is undeniably true that Haldir is very reserved. He says little that isn’t necessary to the conduct of his duties, and what he is truly thinking behind his large blue eyes is often a mystery. But that has never seemed a negative trait to you. Indeed, you appreciate that he does not talk simply for talk’s sake and that he does not seem concerned with always making his own opinions known. What’s more, you recognize a fair amount of his inherent reserve in your own nature. If you didn’t often force yourself to satisfy others’ expectations by taking on a more outgoing, sociable persona, perhaps your own wardens would describe you just as these elves have described their captain.

Calendil’s conversation comes to an abrupt end as a copy of the assignment sheet makes its way into his hands. Peering over his shoulder, you quickly find your own name allocated to a remote post near the edge of the Dimrill Dale. A glance further down the list confirms what you already know from the quiet groan that has just escaped from Calendil’s lips: he has been assigned to the Nimrodel post.

An idea quickly forms in your head, and you tap him on the shoulder. Why should he spend three weeks feeling miserable with his posting–and, no doubt, making anyone around him miserable as a result–when you have no particular attachment to your own assignment? Calendil can go to the Dimrill Dale, and you will spend your posting with Haldir instead.

“If such a trade is permitted within your ranks, I will gladly make the exchange,” you offer. “I have always loved the river. And I have no objection to the company of someone who takes his duty seriously and does not revel in idle chatter.”

Calendil’s face registers a moment of regret as he realizes that his prior conversation has been heard by others, but it is quickly replaced by a wide, beaming smile that reflects his rapid change of fortune. “It is permitted,” he says, “and I happily accept. Remind me the next time we are both on leave, and I will reward your generosity with some of my own!”

You doubt that whatever reward he has in mind will suit your inclinations, but there is no need to worry about that now. Calendil has already sprinted off toward the deputy captain to report the change, and you turn toward home to gather your supplies.

****

Two days later, you are approaching the Nimrodel post, which is located in a lovely old mallorn tree with twisted roots that hang over the river’s edge. You raise your hand to your lips and whistle the signal. The return call echoes off the trees before a slim rope ladder drops from the branches above you. You run lightly up the rungs, making easy work of the climb to the talan perched near the great tree’s crown, where it commands a wide view of the river and much of the western section of the border.

As you hoist yourself and your pack onto the platform, you look up to see a single figure standing a few feet away. It is Haldir, leaning against the wind screen with his bow slung loosely over his shoulder and his white-blonde hair blowing gently in the breeze.You are surprised to see him there alone; wardens generally keep watch in pairs or groups of three for safety. You are there to relieve Arthalion, who is due now to return home for a break, but there is no sign of Arthalion or his things.

“Mae govannen, Captain,” you say, placing your hand on your chest and bowing your head slightly. “Is everything well?”

Haldir returns the gesture with a small smile. “Yes. It has been blessedly uneventful. Perhaps it is the threat of the weather.”

This makes sense. Just last month, an orc party attempting a surprise attack during a thunderstorm found themselves nearly washed away by sudden flooding from the Celebrant. Since then, even the hint of rain has tended to keep them at bay.

“And Arthalion? Is he out on a task?”

Haldir shakes his head. “I sent him back early. You might have passed one another in the forest except that he planned to meet a small hunting party further north. As I said, things here were quiet, and he was anxious to join his friends.” He gives a small shrug and looks down. “I will do the same for you, if circumstances allow and you desire it. I do not wish to keep anyone from their enjoyments unless duty requires it.”

You permit yourself a brief moment to wonder what Haldir’s own enjoyments might be. You have heard that he is a talented artist, making detailed pencil sketches of the forest, but he does not often show his work to others.

“That is a thoughtful offer,” you say. “But I have no pressing need to return, and I would not have you out here alone, even if there is no other elf in Lorien better able to protect himself.”

He acknowledges this compliment with a modest smile and gestures toward a small shelf where you can store your belongings. His own are few in number but neatly stacked or folded with military precision. You note that he does, in fact, have a small bundle of pencils and a notebook, but, as expected, there is no sign of any actual drawings.

After stowing your things, you settle into a position opposite him on the talan, and a silence ensues. It is of no bother to you–you’re enjoying the smell of the damp air and the touch of the light wind on your face–but you soon notice that Haldir is looking increasingly discomfited as the quiet minutes slip by. His gaze shifts frequently between the horizon, his hands on his bow, and your face.

“Was…your journey here pleasant?” His face is studiously neutral, but his voice sounds strained and he picks at a splinter on his bow. You realize that he is trying to make conversation for your benefit, to fill in the noticeable silence with casual talk that clearly does not come easily to him. You feel a sudden rush of affection for him, this intensely quiet being who is making himself uncomfortable so that you will feel welcome. You wonder how best to put him at ease.

“It was very pleasant,” you reply. “I am so rarely outside of the city these days that any chance to enjoy the forest is a gift. I can understand why being a marchwarden is an attractive job, at least during times of relative peace.”

He looks up, reappraising your face, and nods his agreement.

You hesitate before speaking again, unsure about how directly to address his uneasiness.

“Captain,” you begin, “it sounds like we may have an uneventful tour here. If that is the case, please do not feel that you are obligated to occupy my time. I am quite comfortable with quiet activity and my own thoughts and would gladly afford you space for the same if that is something you wish.”

His cheeks and ears flush slightly but, despite his apparent embarrassment at being accurately perceived, he seems immediately relieved as well. “Thank you,” he says. “If you are as good a warden as you are a reader of people, I feel myself in safe hands indeed.”

The next several days pass by peacefully. Between occasional scouting trips up or down the riverbank and regularly monitoring the view from the talan, you mostly spend the time together in companionable silence. You take turns preparing simple meals, and during breaks in the intermittent rain you make minor repairs to nearby rope bridges and other hidden defenses in the area. In the evenings, you read a book by lantern light while Haldir sits next to his own lantern and sketches in his notebook, occasionally transferring completed drawings into a closed leather folio at his side. Every so often, you both glance up at the same time, and you give him a warm smile when your eyes meet before turning back to your respective pages.

*****

One evening, as you clean up the remains of your small dinner and take out your book again, Haldir lightly clears his throat.

“That book seems to engage you much,” he says. “May I ask what it is?”

Surprised, you hold it out to him, and he takes it, examining the cover and flipping through a few pages.

“I do not recognize this script,” he says, looking at it with curiosity.

“It is a representation of Rohirric,” you tell him. “My brother was a skilled linguist who passed on some small portion of his knowledge to me. He spent many months visiting a friend in the court at Edoras and helped them to start preserving some of their oral traditions with a system of letters. This is a copy of one of his first completed projects–the story of the founding of Rohan–which he sent to me as a gift.”

Haldir looks again with renewed interest at a few pages before handing the book back to you. “Your brother sounds like an impressive scholar,” he says. “Does he remain in Rohan?”

You hesitate slightly before responding. “In a way. Two years ago an orc band in search of horses raided a village near the Limlight while my brother happened to be visiting. They caught him and his hosts unaware. The Rohirrim buried his body in a place of honor with their people, though his spirit has surely gone to Mandos.”

You relate this with downcast eyes, tracing over your brother’s name on the cover of the book with your thumb. After a few moments, you look up again, expecting to see Haldir withdrawn from the conversation. You know that many elves are uncomfortable with death, which is an unnatural state for your kind, and there is nothing in your interactions so far to indicate that Haldir will want to continue such a personal discussion. You are surprised once again, however, to find that he is looking at you intently.

“I am deeply sorry,” he says. “Working as I do, I have known many elves who met a similar fate in battle, and it is never easy. My own brothers are a treasure to me, and I cannot imagine losing them. I hope I have not contributed to your suffering by unwittingly bringing up a painful subject.”

You blink back a few tears and smile. Through your sadness, you are moved by the warmth of his response and honored that he was willing to share something personal of himself. “Of course not,” you say. “Talking about my brother is one way to keep him with me. Thank you, Captain.” You reach forward and squeeze his hand. He flinches slightly at the unexpected touch, but then gently returns the squeeze.

“Please,” he says, “call me Haldir.”

*****

After that night, things are different between the two of you. You both speak more often, tentatively at first but then with increasing comfort. You trade stories about old adventures and talk about the joys and frustrations of your daily lives. You discover that he has much to say when he finally feels more at ease. He is even quite funny, with a dry wit that you did not expect but thoroughly enjoy. You walk together in the forest and rest your feet in the waters of the Nimrodel during the day, and in the evenings he asks you to read to him from your book. You happily relate tales of Cirion and Eorl and the coming of the Northmen to Calenardhon as he draws quietly, occasionally interjecting a question or a brief comment.

The time passes quickly and easily, and soon your rotation will be at an end. You realize there is a growing pain in your heart each time you think about your imminent departure. Your old life suddenly feels dull and uninteresting to you now. You do not want to go back to a time without his companionship. You debate whether to say this to him, but you cannot imagine how he might react to such a confession. Paralyzed by uncertainty, the last days of your assignment tick by.

On your final evening, you are preparing for one last opportunity to enjoy what has become your nightly routine. Just as he is about to settle with his notepad and folio, however, he notices your canteen is empty and insists on climbing down to fill it for you. As he reaches the ground and disappears over the riverbank, the wind changes direction and a sudden gust rips across the talan, flinging back the cover of the folio and sending papers flying out in all directions. You cry out in dismay and throw yourself desperately onto the pages whipping around you, seeking to hold them down long enough to gather them safely together.

It is only after you have retrieved all the loose pages and are preparing to neatly stack them that you first look at the drawings themselves and are stunned by what you see: beautiful illustrations of the stories you’ve been reading to him, the words of your brother’s book brought to vivid life in graceful pencil lines and delicate shading. You leaf through the stack in awed amazement only to nearly drop the whole pile again when you turn a page and find an image of yourself as you must look to him each night, sitting by your lantern with your book in your lap. You keep turning pages and find more of yourself…braiding your hair first thing in the morning, standing at the wind screen and scanning the horizon, unlacing your boots at the end of a day. Your breath catches in your throat as you absorb these images. You have never looked more beautiful than you do here, seen through his eyes.

A sudden noise behind you tears your attention from the papers in your hand, and you turn to find Haldir standing there. You are immediately overwhelmed by panic and begin to stammer out an explanation for how you came to be holding his personal things, violating his privacy. “I…the wind…they were blowing away and…”. Hot tears well up in your eyes and are soon spilling down your cheeks, partly from embarrassment at the situation but mostly as the feelings you’ve been keeping pent up threaten to come flooding out all at once. “I was not trying to…I…”. An involuntary sob robs you of the ability to finish your sentence, though you aren’t sure how you would have finished it had you been able.

At the sound of your sob, he moves forward, quickly closing the distance between you. He hesitantly cups a hand under your jaw and uses his thumb to brush a tear from your cheek. “Please do not cry,” he says. “I would not ever see you in pain if it were in my power to prevent it. I am not upset. These drawings were for you, for your book. You were meant to have them, except the last few, which I hoped to keep as a reminder of these days and how happy I have been.” Your eyes snap up to his face, searching for confirmation that you have correctly understood his words.

“You know that I am not much for talking,” he continues. “But I am a very good observer. I know that you see me for who I am, just as I see you. I see all of the ways that you are kind and interesting and intelligent and beautiful. I have no expectation that you return my feelings, and if all I ever have with you are these three weeks then I will cherish the memory of these weeks through all the long ages of my life. But I would….”

Before he can complete his thought, your body reacts on its own impulse, a pure release of elation. You throw your arms around his neck and bury your face in his broad chest, still crying but now with tears of joy. You hear a sharp intake of breath as he processes your reaction, and for a fraction of a moment he stands motionless and silent before breaking into a smile and wrapping you in his arms. You could live in those arms forever, and now perhaps you will.

#haldir #haldir x reader #haldir x you #lotr #lotr fanfic #lord of the rings fan fiction #haldir of lorien #tolkien fanfiction

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sullustangin · 2 months

Text

Fluffy February Day 11 - Quest

SWTOR

Pairing: Theron Shan/Eva Corolastor

Rating: G (this is stupid fluffy and cute)

Time: 39 ATC/ 3614-13ish (10 years from "now" in game)

“It’s getting late.” Eva leaned on the crew quarters door frame.

“Just let me read to the end of the questgiving,” Theron replied, and three sets of pleading, olive-gold eyes peered up at Eva.

Somehow, Theron, Argo, and Dyo were all crammed into the one armchair in the crew quarters. Bedtime was near, but apparently, they had just gotten to “the good part.” As they always did at this time of the night.

Ev had never thought she’d been the one policing bedtime, but that had been the case ever since Theron had started reading his swords-and-wyrms book series to the kids…mostly because skypirates had too much adult content that Hadrian probably shouldn’t have let Eva read as a ten-year-old. So Theron’s lute-playing potion guzzlers won out for bedtime reading for two kids.

“‘And so the fellowship was formed. The individual failings would be conquered by their collective strength, united by one mission: to save Kaelestria from encroaching darkness,’” Theron finished. He paused for dramatic effect, as his son and daughter hung on his last words. “And now you really need to get to bed, or else your mom will have you doing 0300 maintenance for her.”

The two little figures scattered to their beds on opposite sides of the room, giggling as they bounced into bed; 0300 maintenance was the rough equivalent of ‘monster under the bed’ on this ship.

“Good night,” Theron and Eva told them in unison as the lights were dimmed down very low (but not entirely out). The door slid shut behind them.

They padded quietly down the hallway back toward the lounge. “Argo mentioned to me at bath time that he might want his own room soon,” Theron murmured.

“We’ll put in the divider Corso made when he realized he and Risha would be sharing crew quarters. ‘Man needs a place to scratch without an audience,’” Eva delivered as a rough, twangy impersonation of Corso.

Theron laughed, a little. “They’re growing up,” he said, a little sadly.

“That’s the point,” Eva reassured him. Her childhood had been comparatively normal, up until the sixteen-year-old Captain part. She knew how growing up went.

Theron’s childhood had been anything but, and as a result, he tended to get a bit blue when the children exited a phase (getting rid of the tiny baby socks had been torture.)….and Eva let him. She let him be attached and subsequently mourn the loss of each stage of childhood. After fighting for so long not to be attached to anyone or anything, this…

This was a good thing for Theron.

All of this, as the lovers snuggled into the lounge booth together, a drink on the table for each of them, to linger until their bedtime rolled around.

@fluffyfebruary

@starlightcleric @ermingarden for high fantasy refs :D

#fluffy february #swtor fan fiction #theron shan #theron shan x smuggler #oc: eva corolastor #oc: argento shan #oc: dyominia shan #children of characters #yes i do headcanon theron as lotr nerd equivalent #yes he read the equivalent of silmarillion for fun

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 1 year

Text

Temptation

Pairing: Thranduil x Fem. Reader

Summary : Thranduil, ever the stoic ellon, finds himself tempted by his baser urges when he catches the way you eat flavoured shaved ice.

Themes : Slow burn | Smut

Word count : 2.3 k words

Minors DNI | 18+

This is the second part of three seperate fics, each with a different theme and a different character. The third, featuring Aemond, and titled Adoration, will be up tomorrow, same time.

Want to be tagged? Want to know the reader request rules? Read all here

Thranduil watched you.

He should have been focusing on his book instead, but he felt impelled to watch you.

You, on the other hand, were perched next to him on the sofa, enjoying a goblet of shaved ice. It was cold to the touch, its contents smothered in spiced plum syrup. It was a treat you allowed yourself even on cold nights, and it was a little ritual for the two of you. Thranduil would read, and you, you would indulge yourself in sweet decadence.

So content were you with eating that you failed to notice what the ellon next to you was doing. While you ate, Thranduil would leaf through his book, visions of licking the syrup from your skin haunting his every thought. He shook his head, determined to control himself. Such passions were the province of the young, and he, a much older elf, was determined to have better control of his baser urges. And he thought he did, until he caught you licking sticky red syrup off the pads of your fingers.

Oh, how he longed to lick those fingers, to run his tongue over your skin. Thranduil swallowed, forced his attention back to his book. He leafed through another page, his skin flushing when he heard you go, “Mmm, so good.”

He groaned softly while he watched you pour more syrup into the goblet, while you licked up syrup stuck to your fingers. His control slowly crumbled to dust as he felt blood rush to his loins. Thranduil forced himself to read his book once more, all while his need to sate the lust coursed through him like red hot fire.

It was absolute bliss you thought, as you savoured another morsel. When you savoured another mouthful, you heard a soft whimper. You turned to Thranduil and studied him. Why did he look flushed, his eyes so heavy and dark? “Meleth?”

Thranduil coughed and turned another page, making a great show of him reading. He tried hard not to look, to not make it so obvious he wanted you. He took a deep breath and muttered an oath when the scent of syrup tortured him, urging him to do indulge in a decadence of his own. And since he didn’t answer, you leaned over and tapped him on the shoulder. “Meleth? Is everything alright?”

Thranduil swallowed and made himself look at you, saying. “I--.” His gaze automatically drifted your hands, disappointment washing over him as they were clean and no longer had syrup all over them. “I’m fine, petal. Truly.”

“Are you sure?” you hummed when his eyes flicked to yours. There was something strong there, something dark and hungry and needy. And why did he look at your hands like that, like he wanted to eat them up? It thrilled you still, to see wanton need flash in his eyes.

Thranduil coughed again, determined to win against the vicious sexual tug pulling at him. “Yes, petal.” He leafed through another page, all too aware of your gaze on him. “I’m sure.”

You studied him, sure there was more than just reading on his mind. “Alright.”

Thranduil’s eyes may have been on his book, but his ears were tuned into the sounds coming from you and around you. He heard a stopper being pulled, syrup being poured, ice crunching between your teeth.

More shaved ice washed down your throat, the syrup sweet as it lingered on your tongue. Thranduil swallowed as he watched you again, his primal need slowly starting to win out against all else. When he caught you licking your thumb Thranduil finally yielded, his need to have you under him with his tongue running all over your skin proving too much for him in the end. He muttered “fuck it,” under his breath, snapped his book shut and tossed it onto the table.

The loud thud made you look up. “Meleth?”

Thranduil scooted over, took the goblet out of your hands. “Do you,” greedy eyes drifted to your fingers, stained again with plum syrup. “Do you need help with cleaning that?”

“What?” You look at your fingers, at his darkened eyes. Your throat went dry when Thranduil ran his tongue over his lips. Heat spread in your core. “Yes,” your hands trembled as the warmth in his pressed against yours. “Yes, please.”

When he dipped his head, tenderly pressed his lips against your index finger, you take in a sharp breath. A gasp rose from the back of your throat when his lips slid lower, past the first digit, pulling back with a soft pop before moving onto another. Your breath grew choppy when he moved from one finger to another, first with his lips, then with his tongue, dragging out sharp gasps when his ran his tongue over your palm. “Th-thranduil,” you panted, your pussy growing slick with each passing second. “Wh-what are you doing?”

Thranduil growled, pushed you onto your back. “I – I was hoping-” he mumbled, one hand picking up the bottle of syrup, the other hooking into your collar. “-I was hoping you’d let me indulge in a prurient fantasy of mine.”

Your eyes darted to the bottle, to him. A knowing smile spread across your lips, bringing about a near similar one across his. “Yes. My answer is yes.”

There was a sharp rip, of your dress being torn down the center. A large hand gliding over your torso jolted you, as did the cool syrup that was poured over your skin. Thranduil dipped his head, his mouth so hot against your cool skin. The air around you seemed to still as he licked and tugged and sucked his way over your flesh, first your navel, then your ribcage, then the soft swell of your breasts. He lingered here, tasting you like you were a delicious morsel, his lips tugging on your rigid buds, his teeth grazing, fingers skillfully tweaking, ripping his name from your lips.

His name. Oh how Thranduil loved it, hearing his name roll of your lips. He’d back away, sprinkle more syrup over your skin, dipping his head, his eyes occasionally snapping up to yours. When his tongue flicked over a nipple, you moan, “I love what you’re doing with your tongue, meleth.”

Thranduil groaned against your skin, need gathering in his belly when you slid your legs and rested them against his thighs. “It is a start petal,” he breathed as he moved up, capturing your lips with his. “But there will be more.”

You tasted him, the syrup, the spices, and the warm, sinful taste that was him, purring as his teeth nipped your bottom lip. “Your body feels hot and sticky already,” Thranduil crooned as he ground his hips against the insides of yours thighs. As one hand cradled your neck, keeping you steady, the other snaked over your waist, tracing its way over your legs before sneaking under your skirts. A smooth palm gliding over the insides of your thigh made you tremble, fingers pressing against cotton made you gasp. “Wet for me already?” Thranduil tsked as he continued to stroke your pussy. “My my, petal, you’re so weak.”

“Y-yes,” your back kept arching every time he pressed his fingers over your entrance, his thumb rubbing against your already throbbing clit. “S-so w-weak.”

“Pathetic, petal,” Having you neatly under his thumb now in every sense of the word, Thranduil smirked as he continued to watch you squirm beneath him. “I wonder how long it would take before I have you moaning my name again.”

It didn’t take long before his name rolled over your lips in a half-whisper, half-moan. When he pushed your panties to a side and ran a finger over exposed flesh, he chuckled as you whimpered. “Not long, I see. But keep mewling for me, petal,” His voice was barely over a whisper. “It’s like music to my ears.”

You couldn’t think, barely even speak. All you could do was feel. Your breath grew labored, your mind fuzzing up with each shudder that shot up your back. You felt a finger slide into your slick heat, making you arch into him every time it hit that sweet spot, making you see stars and moan even more.

Seeing your eyes squeezed shut, your mouth parted in half-moans made him want darker, more sinful things. “Touch yourself, petal,” He rasped as you continued to writhe beneath him. “Go on. Play with yourself while I watch.”

He bit his lip and groaned when you caressed your breasts, first one, then the other. It was pure instinct driving you to play with yourself, softly, gently, cupping your breasts, playing with your nipples. A large hand rested over yours and squeezed, made you whine. “Th-thranduil,” you whimpered when fingers stretched your walls, when a large hand put more pressure over your own, sending tiny jolts of pain along with waves of pleasure all over you. “T-too m-much. P-please…”

“Too much?” Thranduil chuckled and squeezed again, making you bow your back and buck into his hand. “Petal, I’ve just gotten started.”

The next time your body trembled, your walls clenched around his curled fingers, made him moan in sync with you. Thranduil pulled back his fingers and pushed in again, fucking you slowly, taking you to the brink with each thrust. Despite his skills, you were left unsatisfied with his fingers. “It’s n-not enough,” you plead.

He let go of your hand, propped himself up and dipped his head a little lower, his ash-blonde hair rubbing against your cheeks. “What’s not enough?”

“Your f-fingers,” your back arched as your pussy clenched around his fingers again. “N-not enough.”

“Pitiful, my petal,” he crooned. “I was hoping you’d hold out a little longer.”

You purred shamelessly. “I- I can’t.”

Thranduil groaned in ecstasy. He had been dreaming of his cock plunging into your cunt for quite some time now. “Well, in that case, petal,” he knelt up and pulled out of you, making you whimper from the loss of contact. You forced your eyes to open, find him undoing the clasp of his belt. “Hips,” he rasped, as he tossed the belt to the table. “Lift them.”

Your underwear was pulled over your thighs, your legs, achingly slow, before being tossed to the ground. Thranduil dipped his head, latching onto the hollow of your throat. It felt intoxicating, feeling his teeth graze over exposed flesh, leaving patches of purple and red to bloom in their wake. “M-more,” you plead.

A breathy chuckle was all you heard when that dark and sinful mouth marked its way down the cleft between your breasts before turning its attention to a nipple. More jolts of pleasure washed over you, made you tremble beneath him as his mouth plundered its way all over your body, gliding over your ribcage, your belly, before skimming its way back up again, colliding with your lips with a deep and hungry kiss.

You couldn’t wait. Not anymore. When his tongue licked past your lips you snuck your hands to his breeches, pulling it down past his hips, freeing his cock. “No, petal.” Thranduil grabbed onto your hands, pinned them down over your head. “Not yet.”

You whine, “please.”

In the mood to tease, Thranduil rubbed the tip of his cock against your sopping wet clit. “Not yet, petal,” he moaned.

It felt like you were being taken to the brink again. Your body trembled and trembled every time his cock rubbed against your pussy. “P-please,” you beg, and more desperately this time. “Pl-please th-Thranduil.”

Thranduil moaned long and deep when your legs hooked around his waist. “Please,” you almost sobbed.

Feeling your slick heat finally undid him. Overcome by the savage need to take, Thranduil sunk his cock into your aching cunt, his own body trembling in relief as your walls clenched around him. He kept your wrists pinned down with one hand while the other snaked its way over your quivering muscles before resting against your hip, lifting it, letting him plunge as deep as he could with each thrust.

“Is that what you wanted, petal, hmm?” Thranduil hissed as shallow thrusts grew deep and rough. “My cock inside your cunt?”

“Y-yes,” With your wrists were pinned against the cushion you felt caged in, unable to move, but all you could was arch your back every time his hips pushed in and slammed against you. “Th-this is ex-actly what I wanted.”

“Good, petal,” he half-crooned, half-moaned, as his body settled into a rhythm that drew the most lewd noises out of you. Feeling his hips grind against the insides of your thighs, seeing you bucking beneath him, your lips parted, your eyes squeezed shut, intoxicated him. He railed you, holding you steady at the hip, never ceasing, not even when he felt your cunt clench around his cock. “Cum for me,” Thranduil muttered as muscles in his own belly started to coil. “Cum for you king.”

The sofa kept creaking as he rocked back and forth, plunging his cock as deep as he could before pulling out again, leaving you empty and aching to be filled. Your heels scrabbled for purchase against his back and your own arched again, his name rolling over your lips again and again. You felt lightheaded, your body drawing taut like a bow-string. Thranduil plundered your lips with his, drowning out your moans, whimpering when your heels dug into his back, pushing him even deeper. It felt like a spring that had been released and waves ripped through you, making you forget everything, save for the man heaving over you, taking you to the edge of the cliff and over it. You could feel it, your walls tightening around his cock, your mouth parting in one final cry as your body shook violently. Thranduil didn’t last even a bare second, his own orgasm washing over him, deep grunts peppering the air as he came inside you, his cock spilling every drop of his seed until he was utterly spent.

After savouring his sated bliss for a moment, Thranduil dipped his head again, this time licking up tiny beads of sweat that had formed along your body. “Delicious,” he panted feverishly. He brought his body to rest of atop yours, his hands brushing back your hair, his lips brushing over your brow as you trembled beneath him. When you finally managed to open your eyes, a lazy smile tugging at your lips, you look around and mumble: “We made a bit of a mess, didn’t we?”

He chuckled in agreement, shifting his weight and you until he had you on top of him. “Yes, we did, petal. And I wouldn’t mind making more of a mess again.”

#thranduil #thranduil x reader #thranduil smut #the hobbit #thranduil imagine #one shots #writeblr #fan fiction #lotr smut

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