#lotr oneshot

[elfy-elf-imagines]

Tolerate It | Thranduil

▹ Pairing: Thranduil x Human!Reader

▹ Genre: Angst

▹ Words: ~2k

▹ Summary: A political alliance makes you the new wife of the elven king Thranduil, trapping you in a gilded cage of elven craft.

▹ Notes: I couldn't get this idea out of my head.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The banquet hall of Eryn Galen was buzzing with high energy. 

The lights were bright, the drinks flowing. Each guest was too deep in their cups as the band played jaunty tunes that kept spirits high. You sat at the end of the table, to the direct right of Thranduil, Legolas seated directly across from you to the king's left. 

Everything was beautiful, similar to what you imagined heaven may look like. The celebration had been highly anticipated, the steward meticulously planning for months to ensure the night would be perfect. 

Each guest had dressed to the nines, and you had been no exception. Silks that flowed like a languid river, braids woven throughout your hair, and glittering jewels that rivaled the stars in the sky. You’d felt quite pretty after your handmaidens finished, taking in your appearance with rapt attention. 

Yet as the king - your husband - met with you, he barely paid you more than a glance. Not a single compliment or acknowledgment slipped from his lips, just the stiff offering of his arm and a cold demeanor you’d never been able to break through.

Not even the bitterness of the red wine you drank could ease the pain festering inside you. You glanced at Thranduil, his attention on his steward whispering something in his ear. Regal and commanding, you’d thought marriage to the elven king would be something out of a fairytale. Yet your story became twisted, and instead of a happy ending, you were trapped in a doomed marriage. It was like a wall separated you from him; you’d tirelessly beat against it with a hammer; Thranduil was on the other end, reinforcing the stone. 

You glanced down at your dress, the pale green fabric, Thranduil’s favorite shade. Even still, you were desperate for his validation and approval, like a child tugging at their father’s sleeves. A stray hair fell in front of your face, and you pushed it behind your ear, hands ghosting over your rounded ears. Maybe if you’d been an elf and not a human, he might view you as an equal and not a consolation prize. 

One hand below the table closed into a tight fist while you downed the rest of your wine in one gulp. 

Legolas met your eye from across the table with an almost apologetic grin. You returned it with a tight smile you tried to make pleasant. Legolas knew all too well the neglect his father could inflict, so he often preferred the forests over the palace. There was an understanding that made your pain more bearable. 

The handmaidens you brought from home and your stepson, who was older than your eldest living relatives, were all that kept you from falling into true despair. 

Like clockwork, a servant filled your chalice, and you gladly drank. This wine was sweeter and less sharp than the red you were expecting. Once again, you looked towards Thranduil, no longer speaking with his steward but quietly watching the party play out. You reached out, delicately placing your hand over his, only for his to push it away, not bothering to pay you a glance. 

The blatant rejection stung, always taking up too much space and time. Would Thranduil even notice if you’d stolen away into the night? If you pulled the dagger your marriage embedded in you, breaking free and leaving this miserable life behind. What might it be like to shed the weight of Thranduil’s cold disposition and an overly suspicious, judgmental, elvish kingdom? You’d be free and weightless for the first time in years. 

Yet, just as soon as the fantasies came, they fizzled out with the weight of reality. You had no money of your own, no survival skills, and nowhere to go. If you returned home, your father would ship you back to Thranduil. The dark forests and the creatures that lurked within would kill you. There was nowhere to go. No freedom to be found. 

You didn’t bother hiding the frown on your lips; no one in the room paid you much mind. They looked through you as if you were a phantom that clung to the residence of its former life. How was it possible to be in such a crowded room and yet still be so alone?

"How much longer do you believe this will go on for?"

At some point, Legolas had moved from across the table and was now seated to your left, watching the crowded room with thinly veiled discomfort.

" I hope for not much longer. I've never been amendable to crowds so large as this one."

Legolas laughed, the noise swallowed by the noise of the room. "And yet you are queen; should you not be used to such raucous parties?"

You tilted your glass towards him, a slight quirk on your lips.

"I could say the same about you, prince."

He nodded in silent agreement, quickly drinking from his glass, which you noticed was filled with water and not wine.

"I get to run off to the forest. How do you deal with all of this?" The smile on your face fell as your eyes dimmed, a reminder of your current standing.

"No one pays me mind. A blessing, I suppose." You attempted to laugh it off, but you couldn't keep the somberness from your tone. You were trapped in a gilded cage, a prisoner in your own home.

"Then I suppose I'll need to take more respites in the castle."

"You don't need--"

"I insist; what kind of friend would I be if I didn't check on your wellbeing."

So warm and inviting, it made you wonder how Legolas could be the son of Thranduil; he must take after his mother. You wondered, if only for a moment, how different your life might be if you'd been married to Legolas instead of his father. He was the more age appropriate option and if he didn't love you he'd at least respect you. But those thoughts were pointless; you'd been married to Thranduil and not Legolas.

"I think I'm technically your stepmother."

"But you feel more like a friend."

You didn't bother to argue, placing down your wine chalice to take a cool water drink. It was refreshing, soothing the burn the wine had created.

"Then I am glad we are friends."

Before he could respond, a member of his guard called his name. The elf enthusiastically waved him over, yelling something in elvish too slurred for you to understand.

Legolas shook his head, refusing the call, but you placed a single hand on his shoulder.

"Go, enjoy the night. I'll be fine over here."

He tried to discern if you were being dishonest but found nothing but sincerity. Just because you were miserable didn't mean he should be. With a single nod, Legolas left the table to join the group forming in the corner of the room.

Left in the chaos with no one to speak with, you picked up the chalice with wine. At some point during your conversation, Thranduil wandered off, talking with some of the higher-ranking nobles.

Thickly, you swallowed, hiding your face as you slowly drank from your glass.

When would this torment end?

---

The night dragged on at an impossibly slow speed. Your sorrow brought time to a near halt. By the time the crowd began to thin and Thranduil had escorted you back to your shared chambers, you’d forgotten how many glasses of wine you consumed. You managed to keep your composure and pride, not letting you show how light and lethargic the alcohol made you. 

Now, you sat before your vanity, preparing for bed as did Thranduil. There were so many pins placed in your hair that you struggled to pull them out without ripping your hair. Your head throbbed, and your frustration was building; you just wanted sleep. A cold hand pushed yours away, tangling in your hair. With practiced and fluid movements, Thranduil began to take down your hair. He was quick and efficient, his hands in your hair almost soothing.

The action was oddly domestic, and it caused a pang of pain in your chest. If the gods had been fair enough to bless you with a husband who loved you, this would be a nightly occurrence, not a rare show of care. 

“There’s too many pins in your hair.” Always critical; nothing would ever be good enough. 

A beat of silence passed; did he even want you to speak?

“It was a special occasion; I wanted something different done to my hair.” 

Clink. He placed the last pin on the table and stepped away from you.

“It was a bit gauche.”

Expression tight, you stared at your reflection, focused on your dark hair that tangled too quickly and your nearly pallid complexion. Gauche and graceless, the elves would never view you as their own. 

“I thought it looked nice.” 

His answer was to silently turn his back to you, moving to the other end of the room. The silence was maddening. Your attention never moved from your reflection, lips downturned as your eyes hardened. Pain turned to rage, pity becoming an all-consuming fire that threatened to turn all in your wake to ash. 

“Why marry me?” Your tone was harsh, firmer than you could remember speaking.

Thranduil let out a sigh, seemingly annoyed at your mere presence. Normally, his disregard made you shrink, and maybe it was the wine, but it only made you straighten your back, meeting his eyes through his reflection in your mirror. 

“To seal an alliance with your kingdom, you know this.” He was always condescending; he was so much older and wiser. 

“I understand political marriages, but why marry me? You’ve managed political alliances without offering your hand in marriage; you even have a son to marry off. So why--” You slowly stood from your chair, turning to face him directly. “-marry me?”

“Would you have preferred to marry Legolas?” 

“I’d prefer you answer my question. So I’ll ask once more: why marry me?” You strode towards him, eyes narrowed.

“To ensure an alliance with your family.”

“That is it? For no reason other than that.”

Thranduil looked down at you, his lips tight.

“Did you hope to hear differently?” He tilted his head, eyes ice cold and bitter. “Ours was a marriage of convenience, not love.”

You clenched your jaw, swallowing thickly. All of it for nothing, a marriage he knew would never succeed. He may have been content with a loveless life after the passing of his wife, but he knowingly dragged you into it. To turn your life into a void--

You wanted to scream, to yell obscenities at him, to spit all the vile venom his careless behavior filled you with. But it would do no good. An emotional breakdown wouldn’t mend your rift; there was no foundation of respect to rebuild. It was just endless nothingness. Standing at the precipice, you would simply fall into a never-ending pit. 

“I see.”

A hint of shock made his eyes widen a fraction, expecting an outburst like the one you fantasized about. Humans weren’t known for patience, yet it wasn’t patience that kept you silent. It was dejection; you'd given up hope of anything better than what you had.

You dared not move, not even blink until Thranduil turned towards the door.

“I think I will ensure the keep is secured. Goodnight.” 

Head turned, yet your eyes remained where he once stood; you remained silent. The door opened and quietly shut behind his retreating form. Only then did you exhale the breath you’d been holding. 

The bed was plush under your body, and the comforter was like a cloud, yet you’d never felt more miserable. You turned your back to the side Thranduil would take when he returned to the chambers. Eyes shut, soothed by the darkness, you dreamed of something more.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Tags: @jmablurry | @lunatichaotiche | @aearonnin | @emiliessketches | @vibratingbones | @moony-artnstuff | @ranhanabi777 | @kenobiguacamole | @ceinelee | @thranduil | @samnblack | @abbiesthings | @Strangebananabatranch | @bitter--fruit | @keijibum | @lifestylesleep | @themerriweathermage | @im-a-muggleborn | @sweetheart-syndrome | @boyruins | @AwkwardBecomesYou | @delyeceamaitare

#thranduil imagine #thranduil x reader #thranduil #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit one shot #the hobbit #lotr imagine #lotr oneshot #lotr fanfic #lord of the rings imagine #middle earth imagines #lotr #tolkien #lord of the rings #lord of the rings oneshot #mirkwood elves #lord of the rings fanfic #king thranduil

[cosmic-glow]

hello !! hope you have a nice day <3

can you please write a soft/fluff Legolas x Reader with the drabble 2 ?

Notes: I swear the ending is cute!! But there's a silly fight first😭 it's my first time writing for Legolas, I hope you like it, good reading!

"I only think about you" - Legolas

Warnings: Legolas x gn!reader; reader is children of Elrond; mention of quarrel and fight; Legolas confused by his own feelings; SFW.

- I still don't understand why this would be my responsibility - the son questioned his father.

- Because I'm ordering! - Thranduil spoke already irritated - They are children of Elrond, and if they don't return safely from this journey, you will regret it.

And it was with this conversation that Legolas stuck with you on this long journey. You were Elrond's youngest heir, the youngest, and most irritating to Legolas. You always got into trouble, it was obvious that you would need protection. The elf prince only regretted that he was chosen for this. It wasn't enough for you to disturb his thoughts from the first time you met at the ball - your beauty able to leave him breathless and your attitude overflowing with confidence - now he was forced to put up with your physical presence too.

- Let's stop here, it's already getting dark, let's take advantage of the remaining light to set up camp - said the blonde.

You agreed, and after everything was ready, you asked for privacy to bathe in the nearby river. Legolas warned that it wasn't a good idea, but you, stubborn as ever, didn't listen and assured him that you'd be fine on your own. It was only a few minutes before the elf heard the sounds of fighting coming from the direction you were. As he approached, he soon recognized the figure that had his back to him trying to approach you in the river, it was a goblin. Without hesitation, Legolas shot an arrow right through the center of the creature's skull, which landed in front of you, revealing your traveling companion close behind.

- I told you it was a bad idea! - he approached, irritated by your carelessness.

- You didn't have to come, I had everything under control! - you shouted back.

- Really? Well, it didn't seem that way, do I always have to watch out for you?!

- If it bothers you so much you didn't have to come, you can leave, then you won't have to think about me anymore!

- I'd love not to think about you all the fucking time!

Legolas shouted from the bottom of his lungs, stressed and tired, not just from the journey, but from the feelings that were growing for you and consuming him more every day. You kept quiet, surprised because you had never seen him like this, sinking a little deeper into the water to hide your naked body more, realizing your shame only now. Legolas, who had only just realized it too, turned around to give you some privacy, but also before you could notice the blush growing on his cheeks.

- I'm sorry... That's not what I meant, I'm just tired... Let's go, if there's a goblin here there must be others nearby.

Silently, you agreed and obeyed, and after getting out of the river and changing, you broke camp and moved on.

The trip followed in silence, now an awkward atmosphere between you two, more distant than ever. Feeling responsible for that, Legolas decided to break the silence when you stopped to eat.

- I shouldn't have screamed, I'm just worried because I'm responsible for you, so if something happened to you...

- No, I understand, it was my stupid idea and... I understand if you don't want to continue the trip, I don't want to be a burden for you.

- You would never be a burden - he spoke automatically, without filtering before how revealing the words could be - Even if I left, I would keep thinking about you - and with that he decided to shut up, realizing how the words accumulated in his mind now just leave without him being able to control it.

- Really? Would you keep thinking about me even after all the stress I've caused you?

- You don't understand, I only think about you. My worry and stress would only increase if I left, because... Because I really like you - the last sentence came out as a whisper.

The blush had returned to his face, his anxious heart beating harder, his eyes unable to face you now. Legolas tried to stand firm, but he was crumbling under your lingering gaze.

- Oh, that's good to know - you smiled - because you have also been tormenting my thoughts, Legolas.

Prompt: "I'd love not to think about you all the fucking time!"

Sorry for any typos;

Buy me a coffee?

Masterlist

#legolas x reader #legolas x gn!reader #legolas #lord of the rings #lotr #legolas lotr #lord of the rings imagine #lord of the rings oneshot #lord of the rings drabble #lotr imagine #lotr oneshot #lotr drabble #legolas imagine #legolas oneshot #legolas drabble #legolas fanfic #the hobbit x reader #lotr x reader #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit oneshot #the hobbit drabble #the hobbit fanfic #lotr fanfic

[gossip-girl-of-middleearth]

HI I don’t know if your request are open so I figured I would send one anyway and then if they were closed you could just ignore it lol

BUT I had this idea and it’s been in my head for days and I don’t feel like writing it myself soooooo

Do you think you can do a one-shot or, yk, whatever you’re comfortable with, for a Legolas x Reader where the reader is kinda like Jaskier? Like they’re dramatic af, are a bard, and isn’t an elf but has somehow just been alive and in peak condition for way longer then they should’ve been? Like Legolas and Reader don’t really get along at first when they met because Reader was traveling with Thorin and Company and stuff and even after he figured out they weren’t bad he was still like “my GOD are they annoying.”

And then Gandalf seeks them out after the fellowship is formed they’re actually super useful bc they know like 10 languages, have traveled almost everywhere, and is actually very good with a sword. Gandalf brings the fellowship to a seemingly random tavern and Legolas just stops bc he recognizes them immediately and is just like “oh my god, PLEASE NOT THEM FU—“

But yk after that they like fall in love and shiz 🙄

SORRY THIS IS LIKE SO SPECIFIC OR UR NOT TAKING REQUEST it’s just I love ur writing, no other lotr blogs I’ve found are taking request, and also you seem to like Jaskier so I figured u might enjoy this a little ?? 😭😭

ANYWAYS EVEN IF YOU DON’T WRITE THIS THANKS FOR READING IT AND I LOVE UR WRITING SM ITS SO GOOD 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Sing Me A River (Legolas x Bard! Reader)

Author’s Note: HELLOOOO, FELLOW DEAR HEART! My requests technically are always open, it’s just a matter of if I ever get around to them lmao. Naturally, I get a lot of requests. Even more naturally, someone requests something and throws the word ‘Jaskier’ in there I’m writing this baby ASAP. Now, this thing grew legs of its own so you’ll probably have to request a part two in the asks so I can get that to you. I just really wanted to put something out tonight, so boom, two-parter. Maybe three. Hey, let’s just see where it goes. Now, believe me when I say I tried to find a gif that wasn’t Jaskier, but apparently if you type in ‘medieval bard lute gif’ into Google images Jaskier is the golden child of the hour. Anywhooooo hope this is what you were going for! I’ll get onto part two soon — you just gotta put it in the asks!

Warnings: Crude jokes made by reader all for the sake of the guts and glory of an epic banger of a song. Mentions adult content. (Bards will be bards).

Synopsis: Like all relevant characters of Middle-earth back in the day, you joined the Company on their Go-Fund-Me campaign to reclaim Erebor. You were a nobody bard back then but the success of your relations with kings and stories of defeating dragons made you a big hit. Speaking of hit, you and Legolas don’t get on. You made one too many hits about him that painted his royal family in a bad light. Oops. Now, Sauron is back and the Fellowship may just need your help. It’s mostly just Gandalf vouching for you, though. Oh, and fangirl Boromir ofc. They find you singing a frankly defamatory song about Legolas in a lively tavern at the height of your fame (you’re essentially One Direction circa 2012 big in Middle-earth in this fic). Tension brews as you’re ultimately asked to join a second Go-Fund-Me campaign.

The evening was late in hour but early of chores, as Gandalf and Elrond poured themselves over maps of Middle-earth. Various members of the newly-formed Fellowship hung about the open-aired room, pondering each other with curious glances.

Everyone shifted uncomfortably, wondering who’d prove to be the best travel mate for the next few months. It was as if no one knew what to do with their hands or feet, as they stood about awkwardly.

What was there to talk about, anyway? Economic investments and the rising housing crisis in the wake of the upcoming war? With so many races in the room, it was hard to navigate cultural customs, let alone figure out who was of what social standing based on clothing alone. A prince certainly had no place discussing such mutual matters with a gardener, nor a Captain of Gondor with a ranger.

No, it was best everyone waited until Gandalf and Elrond announced a travel route.

“This would steer you best from the path of both Isengard and its scouts,” Elrond concluded, pointing and dragging one finger down the tattered map.

“That’ll bring us into long-overrun townships,” Gandalf pointed out. “Middle-earth is no longer the safely presumptuous-centric land it used to be. People from all over Arda have now flocked for its resources and previously-thought safety.”

“Secrecy is best bought when surrounded by languages that cannot understand you nor you them,” Elrond countered, raising a brow and looking up at the wizard.

Gandalf raised a hand and scratched at his wiry beard. “No… But perhaps we could benefit from an additional team member for the passage? One who knows, say, ten languages across the seas and land underfoot?”

Elrond’s face quickly fell into disapproval. He moved back from the map as if standing too close to it would conjure up the bard’s presence alone, for said bard certainly dwelled somewhere within it, if the local posters unceremoniously plastered on historical podiums in Rivendell detailing the latest show were proof enough alone.

Legolas noticed this behaviour and kicked himself off the wall. He’d had run-ins with bards before – or, one, at least, and one was certainly enough. He quit twirling a knife in his hands, a gift from his father for his begetday long ago, and paid close attention.

“Ten languages would most certainly aid you, but…” the usually reserved lord made a face of cringe, “must you really bring along your friend? Do you even know where they are?”

Gandalf suddenly looked bashful. He reached into his satchel and removed a flyer. It had your pouty face on it and colourful words detailing where your next show was and the date. “I meant to visit them for one of their shows, before getting side-tracked…”

Elrond tried to not judge his friend, as he glanced up from your poster and back to Gandalf. He raised his brows and sighed, resigning himself to the idea. You had certainly grown in fame over the last few decades since your efforts in fighting the dragon fueled your reputation and songs, and certainly the fame had added to your already eccentric ego.

“Very well, if that is your will, I will support it… Just, don’t invite them back for a concert, please; my sons are still recovering from the last one, as is my winery.”

Gandalf nodded at the lord and smiled. “Nonsense, our bard is of the utmost integrity. I have nothing but faith.”

Legolas looked between the lord and wizard, quirking a brow. He tried to view the poster before it was placed back inside the satchel, but alas Gandalf unknowingly blocked his view.

But then, the prince suddenly recalled you in full detail from the fight against the dragon, and your time spent in the Mirkwood dungeons. You were clearly mortal, and that was many years ago.

Satisfied with the thought, Legolas nodded to himself in reassurance. There was no way you were still alive and kicking. With any luck, you were fast asleep in a chair somewhere, millions of leagues away.

~

Oh, you were in a chair alright. Except standing on top of it, one foot on the backrest and one on the seat. You certainly weren’t asleep, either, nor was your performance lulling anyone into such a slumber. There would be no lullabies here tonight, good sir.

Instead, on top of the chair, you belted out lyrics to the song you wrote about your time captured in Mirkwood with the Company, using the foot on the backrest to push the chair downwards, where you dramatically landed on the floor and kept on playing around the lively tavern with your lute.

Folks of all nationalities and origins joined in, for how could they not? You knew how to play the song in over ten different languages and were finally onto the Common Speech version. Everyone sung along as you made your way around the floor, illuminated in a thousand different arrays of golden candlelight.

You alluded to the Mirkwood Elves being absolute idiots, to put it lightly. It was only unfortunate that the Fellowship, led by Gandalf, walked in the moment you made a crude innuendo about Legolas’ hair being nearly as pasty as the spider’s webs surrounding his forested home. Something about incest, too.

It wasn’t very nice, but what could you say? You hated the pretentious white-haired family and they you. Perhaps composing a ballad with the dwarves about the elves’ wine-stained teeth in the dungeons planted the seed of distaste in the first place, but alas.

Gimli clapped his hands merrily and tapped his foot. “Oh-ho-ho! ‘Tis a CLASSIC back home! I’ve been meaning to meet the bard from my father’s tales for many years now! What an honourable night. Let us drink to it!”

Pippin nodded faster than light at Gimli and then Merry, speaking before racing off with his cousin and dwarven friend to the bar.

“Aye! We’ve heard this one, too! Even all the way out in the Shire!” Pippin looked up at Legolas, who’d just walked in with Aragorn right behind him. “Funny, I didn’t know there were other white-haired elves such as yourself and your father in Mirkwood, your highness. What are the chances of that!”

Just then, you sung of Legolas by title and name, confirming every crude lyric to be indeed about him towards the end of the song. Something mean about his father, too.

Pippin’s mouth parted and his brows shot up in surprise. He quickly shrugged it off, though – looking up at the elf casually before joining Merry and Gimli by the bar. “Oh, they are singing about you! That makes more sense!”

Legolas furrowed his own brows, looking away from the departing hobbit and across the tavern right as you came to the finale of the song, earning rapturous applause. And then, his eyes grew wide.

Gandalf looked bashful as he stood with Boromir. The captain was grinning at your performance – whistling as you took a dramatic bow as the cheers carried on. Frodo and Sam looked between each other but shared a silent nod, and afterwards, they joined the rest at the bar.

Seething, the prince snapped his gaze up at Gandalf. “THEM? Are you SERIOUS? How could you possibly not tell me?! They are the most arrogant, dim-witted, crude, annoying—”

“Now, now, Legolas,” Gandalf cut in, placing a hand on the swiftly rising elf’s shoulders. “Y/n and yourself may have an… adverse history, but that whole Mirkwood incident was put to rest years ago. If I recall, you both parted ways amicably at the end of the battle. There may have even been a smile, too, if I recall very well!”

“Overjoyed to be rid, as I remember it,” Legolas rolled his eyes, landing them in your direction. You took a sip of ale and felt a gaze, or, glare, lingering in your direction. When you locked eyes with the angry ones of the prince, you widened them for only a moment, before narrowing them and smirking mischievously.

Oh, he didn’t like that.

Hoisting your sloshing ale out to the side, you widened both arms. You were stood atop a tavern table, now pointing in the prince’s direction.

“Oh, my stars! Do my eyes deceive me?” Your naturally loud voice caught the attention of the tavern again, who all no doubt were hoping for an encore. “Ladies and gentleman, if it isn’t the star of the hour! Well, besides me, of course – but no, I should share the limelight; it’s the muse of my song, Legolas of the Woodland Realm!”

Everyone all looked in his direction. Many laughed loudly, some whistled appreciatively, and others who believed the lyrics muttered behind cupped hands to conceal their words and grins.

Aragorn shifted uncomfortably. It wasn’t good to bring this much attention to themselves, especially given the circumstances. One look from Aragorn sent up at Gandalf voiced his concern. The wizard nodded back and drew you over with a beckoning hand.

You finished off the rest of your ale and encouraged other bards to pick up the music again. Once the sound of flutes and lutes filled the air, you made your way through the crowd, placing your hand over your heart and responding earnestly to every compliment as you walked past.

"Y/n! I saw you play when I was a child!"

"My niece is a HUGE fan!"

"Do you sing at weddings?!"

And soon enough, you were in front of the trio.

“Gandalf the Grey,” you grinned up, slinging your lute across your back.

He responded warmly, throwing your bard title in as he did so. “You’ve exceeded your previous standing upon the pedestal of fame. Apparently, this song has been heard all over the land.”

At the mention of the song, you turned to Legolas. “Ahh, has it now? Judging by the star-struck expression upon your oddly fine-tuned visage, I’m guessing this is your first time?”

Legolas narrowed his eyes and kept them locked on yours. “First and last time.”

Without missing a beat, you replied, “Aw, buddy. Don’t worry. Being a two-thousand-year-old virgin isn’t that weird. Don’t count yourself out just yet.”

His face dropped. “Wha—No! That’s not at all what I—”

“I must say, dear bard,” Boromir cut in, firmly shaking your hand. “My little brother and I have seen you perform in Gondor before, and we are both great admirers of your work. Might I please trouble you for a signature made out to ‘Faramir’? I might not get this opportunity again.”

You shrugged it off coolly. “Yeah, sure! Always happy to meet a fan!”

Legolas stared in horror at the interaction for a moment. “What is happening right now..?”

Aragorn placed a hand on his shoulder and stepped in. “Y/n, I’m afraid we have not only come for review of your work tonight.”

At that, he looked up at Gandalf urgingly. The wizard sighed and nodded. “Indeed not. Might there be somewhere more private we can talk?”

Briefly looking up from the signature you were writing on a handkerchief, you nodded your head from side to side in thought and pursed your lips, speaking as you wrote. “I’ve got a room here. I’m not sure we’ll all fit, but I suppose we can figure something out."

You sent a wink Legolas’ way, whose face was still frozen somewhere between contemplation, shock, and horror.

“You should be dead,” he decided upon moments later.

Feigning alarm, you looked over your shoulder. “Why? The song really that bad? You hired the world’s worst assassin to take me out and they couldn’t even finish the job?”

Learning how to dance with your words again, Legolas replied straight to the point. “You look the same as you did all those years ago. You’re mortal. You should be dead, or very, very elderly, at the least.”

You blinked back at him. “Was there a question in there somewhere, or…?”

Noticing all the attention you were drawing, Gandalf and Aragorn decided to usher this meeting along elsewhere.

“Ah, Y/n,” Gandalf slid in, smiling tensely as he noticed Legolas’ fingers curl backwards, as if instinctively reaching for his bow. “Perhaps we should continue this upstairs? We have much to discuss, as mentioned before.”

You raked your eyes over the prince’s face for a further few seconds. He all but glared back. You dropped your eyes to his hands, noticing the way they curled the same as the wizard did. Smirking, you looked back up into the prince’s eyes – locking them there as you responded to Gandalf.

“Great idea.”

#oh to be a sexy medieval bard with the power to influence the masses on political figures #do you think legolas was a political figure? #I mean #he was a prince #what would you ransom him for? #personally I wouldn’t settle for less than half a Mirkwood armada’s worth of armour #but that’s just me 💅🏻 #Tolkien’s just praying every day I end up in hell #Legolas x reader #Legolas x y/n #Legolas x you #fellowship x reader #fellowship x you #lotr fanfic #company x you #company x y/n #company x reader #fellowship x y/n #lotr oneshot #lotr fic

[heliads]

Hello dear friend!!🥰 I've just seen that you enjoy writing for the hobbit and I'm currently in my hobbit phase so here I go requesting again:)

I've been daydreaming this for some time now and it's kind of complicated: reader x kili

I'm sorry if it doesn't make sense: Reader is an elf with magical healing powers. (Slightly different than the usual elvish powers) Reader is their father's child (their father being known for his powerful healing magic, power bestowed on his child now.) The power works like this: their blood is the healing factor. The blood used in potions or incorporated in objects -like a sword dipped or a necklace that contains the liquid- will save someone's life at a great cost- draining the blood will kill these two elfs.

Reader's father died, having been hunted and drained of his blood, so Gandalf and Elrond took maters in their own hands, adopting Reader. Years later, they join Thorin's company because of a secret prophecy. Reader is bound to a curse - "you must help another gain their home, to pay for the loss of your own, even at the cost of life." - the prophecy implies that Reader might lose their life at the end of the quest.

So, on this journey Reader and kili fall in love, and reader gifts each dwarf with an object drenched in their magical blood. (Having become close to all of them)

We reach the end, the battle of five armies, and Durin's line survives but did reader?

I'm gonna let you decide the plot in general, on what you're gonna focus and the end of course. I hope you like the idea and I hope it makes sense:)))

Thank you so so much🥰🥰 Lysm❤️❤️

oh this is SO GOOD. omg your ideas are fantastic every time. i will be thinking about this for the rest of my life

masterlist

Rumor has it that a quest will be coming soon to Rivendell. You have been sensing it for weeks now, the journey itself pacing closer and closer with feather-light footsteps on your skin. It takes only the arrival of the dwarves to this golden city of the elves for your suspicions to be confirmed, and even then, you are not truly sure of your role in it until an audience is to be held.

No one quite knows what to make of the company of Thorin Oakenshield. It is doomed to fail, of course, but the troubling odds could lend it the favor of Fate, and thus allow them to succeed after all. The future has a penchant for hopeless causes, you’ve noticed, and oftentimes the worse the chances of survival, the more likely it is that a ragtag group of heroes will make it through in the end.

Not all of the Rivendell elves share your sentiments. They could be biased due to their natural hatred of dwarfkind, but even then, you can’t deny that the journey to retake the Lonely Mountain may only meet with peril after all.

Still, the dwarves will try, and that alone must give them at least some credit. Lord Elrond is meeting with Thorin at the moment, accompanied by Gandalf the Grey in the hopes of entertaining more rational ideas.

They only speak for about half an hour before a messenger appears with a summons to meet them. You were wondering how long it would take until then, until the moment when the stars would start to align and they would realize that Thorin’s goal of reclaiming the title of King Under the Mountain sounded an awful lot like the answer to a goal of your own.

There are two characteristics about you that would make you so interested in a quest like this. The first is that of your bloodline. Your healing abilities have long since exceeded those of a normal elf’s ever since you were born. It is in the L/N family history that all in your dynasty share marvelous powers to cure any ailment, eliminate any wound.

The answer lies in your blood. One drop is all it takes, even to bring somebody back from the brink of death. You’ve seen it done before. Your father had taught you the joys of being able to give life to those in need of it. Now, he lies in an unmarked grave not even you can find, his corpse discarded by mercenaries after they drained him of his blood one dark night when the two of you were on opposite sides of the countryside.

You had been only a child then, and learned the news when it was delivered to you by Gandalf. By then, the mercenaries would have been after you for the same fate that befell your father, so the wizard took you to Rivendell. Lord Elrond accepted you into his ranks without another thought, and you’ve been living here ever since.

All this time, however, you’ve been waiting. The world likes to balance out its scales, you’ve noticed, and your family could never be host to such a wonderful gift without having to pay its price quite literally in blood. The ability to heal so successfully has to be carefully guarded, not only for your own life but for that of your family as well. Had your grandfather still been alive, the death of your father would have killed him, too. 

So it would go all the way up the bloodline:  for any ancestors that were still alive when a child was drained of their blood, they would die as well. If they could not protect their own, they would not deserve the gift.

The children are punished too, even if the death of their father would not kill them. There exists a prophecy, carved in stone somewhere on a cliffside long since fallen to rubble. One elf of your bloodline must embark on a quest to help another gain their home, to pay for the loss of their own even at the cost of life.

It could be your life. It seems the most likely, anyway, as your father has already died, leaving you with no surviving relatives who could otherwise take on the prophecy. Others in your history have tried to fulfill the prophecy, because the story goes that finishing that oath may remove the curse set upon your bloodline, but none have been able to succeed in all their centuries.

However, it appears that you may have a chance today. Thorin Oakenshield’s quest certainly does seem to fulfill the requirements of the prophecy, as to take back the Lonely Mountain would indeed gain him and the dwarves their home.

The only question lies with convincing one of the proudest dwarves to accept the help of an elf on his journey. Thorin takes some arguing, but in the end, he consents in a show of great reluctance. You don’t believe that he truly finds fault with your presence, however, and neither do the rest of the dwarves.

You are introduced to the rest of the dwarves later that night, and find them to be a raucously fun bunch, if lacking a little in proper decorum. This is to be expected, of course, and you have a feeling that you’ll be grateful for their candor over the duration of such a difficult journey.

This is especially proven true in your friendship with one dwarf in particular. You grow closer to Kili, nephew of Thorin, in far less time than you expected. He is kind, with a good heart, and seems eager to make you smile whenever possible. If he only does it to prove that elves are capable of typical emotion, well, that’s between him and himself alone.

Such conversations find you one night, late into the dusk, camped out in the rocky bluffs a few days’ travel from Rivendell. A campfire is burning in the center of the encampment, although disguised behind a great deal of rock and protective coverings to ensure that no one could spot it from across the mountains. Most of the other dwarves are asleep, but it’s your turn to be on watch. Instead of going to sleep when Kili’s shift was up, he has elected to speak with you instead.

His face always seems to grow more sharp in the dark, with the occasional tongue of flame providing just enough light to see the cleft of his jaw, the sharp flash of his dark eyes. “I must confess, although you’ve spent more than enough time explaining your abilities and prophecy, I still have a few questions. Do you mind answering them, or have you tired of our prodding?”

Kili says it with a smile, although you can tell that he asks in earnest. You smile at him in return.

“Ask away,” you say, “although I’m afraid I don’t have much additional information to share. All I know is what my father managed to tell me before he died, and that was a long time ago.”

Kili frowns. “It still doesn’t make a lot of sense to me. Why is it that you wouldn’t die when your father was murdered?”

“It only kills those higher up in your bloodline,” you explain, “For example, when my father passed, no one older than him was still alive, so he died alone. Had he survived and I was drained of my blood instead, he would have been killed as well.”

Kili’s brow furrows, the light from the stars glancing off of it as you watch. “That doesn’t seem right. Why should so many in your family be forced to die for someone else’s greed?”

You tilt your head up to the sky. Out of your corner, you can see Kili shift so he can look at you more easily without your noticing. “It is imbalanced, but somehow quite fair. If a father could not protect his child, why should he be suffered to live? The system is brutal, yes, but fair. Is there not nothing you would do for your family? Why not die for them?”

Kili nods solemnly. “How does your family survive with this sort of curse on your bloodline? How could any generation live long enough to continue on the line if one child dying could wipe out every ancestor? Surely they would have died out long ago.”

You shrug. “Secrecy, I suppose. If you stay on the run long enough, you can make sure your child stays alive long enough to take care of themselves when the parent dies. It never works well for any of us, though.”

Kili’s gaze is contemplative. “We’ll take care of you, then. We’ll keep you safe. Even after the quest,” he says, voice suddenly serious, “I mean it, stay with us. We wouldn’t be happier than to keep you with us.”

You smile at the thought of it. “I would rather think that you’d be sick of me by the time the quest ends. You may want to wait on that invitation until you’re more certain of my character.”

“I know enough of your character to know that I would not want to leave you so easily as a stranger might,” Kili says simply, and for some reason, the intimate truth in his eyes leaves you silent for the rest of your watch shift.

It is not only Kili that grows on you, despite your admitted preference for him over the others. As the weeks turn into months, you realize that what Kili said had been true. The dwarves of Thorin’s company are more than willing to lay down their lives for you, and in turn, you feel the need to do the same.

There is one more aspect to the curse upon your bloodline, one more thread to the tapestry that has hung over your head all this time. Your blood can also be used as a more physical safeguard. If you drench a talisman in your blood, it can be used to save the life of the wielder. It comes with a severe cost, as all forms of your gift must surely follow suit. If someone comes back to life due to a talisman covered in your blood, you will die in their stead.

It is only fair. To rob Death of a victim would be far too great a gamble. Like you said, the world likes to balance itself out, and everything must have its consequences. You have accepted this truth a long time ago, although it takes the dwarves of Thorin’s company far longer to reach the same point.

You still insist on gifting them all with a talisman coated in your blood. By now, they’ve become far too dear to you for you to risk their lives, and this feels like a natural step. If anything, by dying for them if they use their talismans, you’ll be fulfilling the prophecy, and at least then the ghosts of your ancestors can rest easy knowing that their great responsibility has been answered at last.

The one hero who has the greatest problem with accepting a talisman is Kili. He staunchly refuses to take anything that might have a cost to your life, and you end up having to convince him over the course of several days to even entertain the idea.

He still seems unhappy with it, despite your strongest reasoning. “I can’t ask you to do this, Y/N. I can’t ask you to put yourself at risk for me.”

“And I can’t ask you to die for me, Kili. I want to do this, I swear. It’s worth it. No one else would die, only me. How could I possibly object to this fate, dying to save a friend? Who could ever object to such an honor?” You respond.

“I could object,” Kili sighs, “I could object to anything, if it meant losing you.”

You meet his gaze earnestly. “Then you would have to admit that I feel the exact same way. There’s no guarantee that you’ll even have to use it, right? Just take something, please. For me.”

Kili looks around for some sort of last defense, but relents in the end. “Fine,” he says, “for you.”

You nod and reach into your pocket to grab a thin gold chain. Cradling it in your palm, you raise a knife in your other hand so you can summon up the blood necessary to complete the talisman. Just before you can cut your skin, however, Kili holds up his hand.

“Wait!” He says urgently.

You look at him in confusion. “I thought you were alright with it.”

“I am,” Kili agrees, “but I would rather use something else for the talisman. Here, take this.”

You recognize the smooth stone even before he presses it into your palm– his mother had given it to him, Kili had told you about it earlier. 

He sees your surprise, but keeps your fingers firmly folded around the surface of the rock. “It represents a promise I made to my mother that I would come back to her,” Kili whispers, “I’d like to make a similar promise to you.”

Your breath sparks in your lungs, standing here with his hand so resolutely on yours. It takes a moment to collect yourself long enough to nod your assent, and even when Kili removes his touch from yours, you swear you can still feel a ghost of it on your fingers.

In the end, Kili accepts the gift of your blood just as the other dwarves do. You feel better knowing that they’ll be safe if anything should happen. The fact that you might die to save them is insignificant; you have been destined for an early grave ever since the day you drew your first breath. At least now you have some sort of safeguard in place for the rest of them.

Despite your reassurance to Kili, it appears that they might have some use for the talismans after all. Your party manages to make it to the Lonely Mountain after all, and Smaug falls after a night filled with burning smoke and the screams of the people of Laketown rising to your ears. Your quest is technically over, as you have delivered Thorin’s company to their home, but you have no way of knowing if the curse is lifted without dying. You feel no different, and the call to protect your friends is far stronger an urge, so you stay beside them without question.

The dragon is not the only problem to befall Erebor, however, nor Thorin’s onset of madness. Thranduil, king of the Mirkwood elves, arrives with an army, and you find your company plunged into warfare. The Mirkwood elves are joined by another enemy soon enough:  Azog and the forces of the orcs descend upon the valley, and all of a sudden everyone must fight to the death in the hopes of making it out alive.

As the battle progresses, you find yourself increasingly separated from the other members of the party. Azog stabs Fili through the chest– the sound of Kili’s scream may never leave your ears– and soon enough Thorin leaves the company to pursue the lead orc himself.

For now, all you can do is try to stay afloat in the midst of such a terrible battle. Kili is by your side, joined soon thereafter by Tauriel, and you can see snatches of your other friends in between slashing swords and terrible death cries. You almost think that there is a chance of success, and then you turn around and see Kili just as he is impaled by the sword of one of the orc captains, Bolg.

You are not entirely sure of what happened after that. You can remember two moments quite plainly:  one, watching the sword pierce Kili’s heart, and another, blinking yourself back to reality to find your weapon far more bloody in your hands. Bolg is nowhere to be seen, and you think you might remember stabbing him before Tauriel knocked him off of the stone platform of this ruined watchtower.

What matters most is dying in front of you. You drop wordlessly to the ground by Kili’s side, reaching for him even though you know it doesn’t matter, there is nothing more you can do. Not even your spells or chants can help him now, as much as you wish they could.

His arms lose the last of their strength, even when it seemed like such fortitude could never truly abandon him. It is now, when he lays dying, that you can see it in his hand. The stone from his mother, the promise Kili never should have had a chance to break.

Death strikes at last. He lets go of the stone and it drops soundlessly to the ground, where it cracks upon the impervious surface of the watchtower flagstones. Although the blood had dried long ago, it slithers off of the stone again, dripping off of his hand in serpentine trails of red.

It is done, then. You stagger away from Kili at last. You don’t have to look at him for this, as the sight of his body will be burned into the back of your eyes until the end of time. Or, that is, just until now. You’ve done your part, and it is some comfort in knowing that Kili, at least, will be alright.

The tears sting, made brutal by the harsh, cold wind. You close your eyes and take your final shuddering breath. You think you can hear your father’s laugh somewhere, carried to you on this deadly wind. You reach out to him with trembling hands, and think you might be home at last. All is quiet.

Across the battlefield, Thorin struggles to his feet on the ice, barely able to stand but somehow still alive. He pays no mind to the corpse of Azog by his feet, more interested in the place where the orc’s blade had run him through. Thorin’s hand reaches under his torn mail shirt to pull out a medallion, formerly drenched in blood. It shatters beneath his fingertips.

Fili opens his eyes under the ruin of a bridge. A fall of this magnitude should hurt, as should the piercing wound through his chest, but for some reason, he doesn’t feel a thing. It isn’t the oblivion of a deathbed, he notices, but that of complete and utter health.

Kili is kneeling on the stones of the watchtower, watching blood sink into the snow and dye it a fresh crimson. He should not be alive, he is certain of that much, and slowly he looks up as a thought occurs to him to wonder why.

The three last vestiges of Durin’s folk come to a realization at the exact same time, despite the distance between them. All three stare at tokens that had been imbued with your blood some time ago, tokens that are now breaking to ruin before their eyes. It hits them in one shared moment what this means, how they could possibly be still alive despite their deaths.

Your blood saved them, which means that you must now have died in their place. One last sacrifice from someone who stayed on to protect them, even when they could have left with a clear conscience. It is their fault, then, their burden to bear, and three hearts crack in unison with what must be the last beat of yours.

Kili remembers seeing you before he breathed his last. He scrambles to his feet, ignorant of the jagged pieces of his promise stone crunching underneath his boots. You are not in front of him anymore, and he casts his gaze around wildly before he sees a body on the ground a short distance away.

He runs to your side in an instant. There’s a smile on your face, one far more still and quiet than any of yours had ever been. Kili shakes his head, crying something out for you to wake up, to come back to him. He doesn’t know the exact words he’s saying even before they burst forth from his mouth.

You had always accepted the way the curse works, but Kili had never gained your complacency when it came to the all-important matter of your life. He hates it now, this foul system, that the world could be so twisted and blind in its justice that it would let an innocent life such as yours die to fulfill its own bored want for punishment.

It is in the middle of this deep storm of loathing and silent tears that he feels something. Kili’s hand had been clasped around yours, and he doesn’t realize the twitching of your fingers for what it is until it happens again. It is only then that he is able to look up, to search your face for some sign of life and see it there, in the fluttering of your eyelashes, the soft breath that comes once from your lips.

Hardly daring to believe it, Kili leans over you, and so he is treated to the sight of you coming back to him at last. Unable to say a word, he presses your entwined hands to your lips, and smiles.

You smile back at him through cracked and bloody lips. “Did the talismans work, then?”

He wants to cry and laugh at the same time, and instead settles for a choked sort of gasp. “Yes, they did. I’m safe. You are too,” he adds more doubtfully.

You nod, an expression of amazement on your face. “This must mean that the curse has been lifted. Defending your home from the orcs must have done it.”

Kili’s face turns somber. “That means you’re free. You could go anywhere you wanted.”

Your gaze softens. “I think I’m already exactly where I want to be.”

“Really?” Kili asks, expression written over in a child’s free hope.

You laugh. “Only if you’d have me.”

His smile is something to be beheld. “I could think of no other fate I’d rather have.”

His kiss seals the promise, and just like that, you are well and truly free. There is no curse hanging over your head, no fear to haunt your steps. Instead, you have a future that you have wanted more than anything:  someone to love you, a place to call your home. All this, and more. No greater future has ever been promised to you, and yet you still have the delight to believe in it.

lotr/hobbit tag list: @rogueanschel, @retvenkos, @gods-fools-heroes

requested by @zaypay, i hope you enjoy!!

#kili #kili imagines #kili x reader #kili oneshot #hobbit #hobbit imagines #hobbit x reader #hobbit oneshot #lotr #lotr imagines #lotr x reader #lotr oneshot #the hobbit kili #the hobbit kili imagines #the hobbit kili x reader #the hobbit kili oneshot #the hobbit

[homeofthelonelywriter]

RW: Nin nethel? - Aragorn x Reader

(A/N) Another request by a lovely Anon! I really hope you like it! I used two elvish translators, but I can’t promise that everything is correct. Translations are below!

Pairing: Aragorn x Reader, Legolas x sister!Reader

Translations: Cin a nin nethel? - You and my sister? nin mel - my love hanar - brother ada - father

Warnings: nursing, fighting

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Cin a nin nethel? Tell me this is a just a rumor Aragorn.” My eyes widened at my brother’s words directed at my secret partner. The wrath in Legolas’ face was unmatched and the fear that coursed through me was worse than the fear I felt during all the battles I’d fought.

How did he find out?

“Legolas…”  My brother’s fist connected with Aragorn’s jaw, sending the Dunedain falling to the floor.

“Aragorn!” There no longer was a point in hiding my feelings, so without hesitation, I rushed to his side, carefully cradling his face. “Are you alright, nin mel?” Aragorn nodded, smiling softly at me. I couldn’t help but smile back.

Then I turned to my brother.

“Legolas, listen to us, please.” My voice was pleading, something that pulled Legolas’ mind out of the rage it was consumed by. His face softened and turned from plain enraged to a concerned frown. He turned to me.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I shook my head, slowly getting to my feet.

“I didn’t dare hanar…I know how protective you are of me. Hell, you scared away every suitor I’ve ever had. Although you are no comparison to ada.” The last line made Legolas’ chuckle in agreement.

There was a pause where a heavy sigh left his lips before he approached his long term friend who was still on the floor. He hesitated before reaching out his hand, pulling Aragorn back to his feet.

“I am sorry…it was rage that spoke and acted through me.” Aragorn nodded and pulled Legolas in for a hug. I sighed in relief that the two of them had made up. The last thing I wanted was to tear the two apart after all those years of friendship and companionship. One of the reason Aragorn and I agreed to keep our relationship secret.  

A few years later:

“Where is my favorite little niece?” The giggles echoing through the clearing brought a smile to face as I watched Legolas chase after Y/D/N. Butterflies and bees rose from the flowers as the two of them ran by.

The sound of quiet mewling brought my gaze back to the bundle I was holding in my arms. My smile grew as I watched my son’s eyes move around, trying to take in the scenery above him. I moved my hand and gently stroked his cheek making him turn his face and latch onto my finger. Aragorn chuckled beside me.

“I think someone’s hungry.” I agreed with a laugh and quickly freed my left breast, watching my song drink happily.

Before I knew it, Legolas returned, carrying the small princess on his shoulders. Aragorn got to his feet and picked up his daughter, spinning around in circled while holding onto her tight. Her laughs echoed around us and caught Y/S/N’s attention as he stopped nursing and instead turned to look at his sister and father.

A smiled spread on his little chubby face and he started to flail his arms around as if, he too, was being spun around. I chuckled as I watched him before quickly covering myself again.

Legolas sat down next to me and used a small twig with a few leaves on it to catch his nephew’s attention. I chuckled as my son reached up trying to catch the leaves that were being held just outside his reach.

“You know…I still think about the day I punched Aragorn sometimes.” I turned to look at my brother and frowned.

“Why?” Legolas looked at me, a soft smile on his lips.

“Because I can’t believe that I was actually trying to prevent this future. Your future, with him and your children. And me. I am happy everything worked out.” I smiled at my brother before I let my eyes wander to my husband and daughter.

“Yeah…me too.”

#aragorn #aragorn fanfic #aragorn fanfiction #aragorn oneshot #aragorn x reader #aragorn imagine #lord of the rings #lotr #lotr x reader #lotr fanfiction #lotr fanfic #lotr imagine #lotr oneshot #request wednesday #legolas #legolas x sister!reader

[weird-addiction]

Nothing gets to me in this forest that you call home

-} Legolas x male!reader [or GN if your uncomfortable but its mostly gonna be male]

-} Warnings: spiders | gore | reader manipulating legolas (slight) | power dynamic |

-} Summary: Legolas and all other Sindar elves have heard the legend of the elven sorcerer, but they are so much more then legolas has expected.

_🌹

`This was the Greenwood the Great. But that was in the past, what good memories I had here. And this will be the exact place I will be exiled in for the next 10,000 years of Middle-Earth.’

_🥀

Ever since the Sindar elves have resided inside Greenwood, they have been very connected to nature in a way. As they expected the one who created them blessed them with it. Little did they know it was not Illuvatar who created but it was who gave him the power to create such blessed beings. Someone way more powerful, and yet was an outcast among the gods.

IF they were ever told the truth of their creator, none of them would believe it. As they have been this way for the thousands of years. And yet, their arrogance only grew over the years.

As any other elfing at his age, his curiosity was at its peak. He has heard the legend of the elven sorcerer that once served Mordor, and exiled its self in their forest.

Thranduil always told him if he went looking for the one that resided in the darker side of the forest, he would never return to the palace again. He would be snatched away and never heard of again.

As a elfing he believed it all as he was scared to be gone from his Ada’s side, but it changed over the years.

As if he were man, as he matured over the years he grew to think back to stories that Thranduil used to tell him.

He thought his father was just trying to scare and keep him out of the forest but now that he is fully grown and the fact Thranduil barely pays any attention to him anymore, he went into the forest only with his bow and arrows trying to see if the legend and stories were real.

But little did he know, and the deeper he walked into the forest the dizzier he got.

He has been through these paths thousands of times when taking out the spiders so why is it now that he is feeling unwell.

‘What is happening to me?’

He thought as he continued to walk, was it the forest or was it him. He continued to follow down the path that was made long time by his kin, but after a while he came to a stop.

This was the first time he has seen this on the path, the path divided into two, one was the one that they normally used but the other led somewhere unfamiliar.

The path ahead was turned into a dark corner of the forest that no one or rather elf has explored, that way was forbidden to everyone by King Thranduil.

“Only the ones that had death wishes would go in there, if you do not wish to die a most painful death then walk the right path.”

Legolas thought back to his father’s words, but right coming all the way out here was to achieve exactly the opposite of what his Ada and the rest of his kin would do. And that was to avoid the area at all costs.

He refused to back down, he needed to see if the legends were true. If they were, could this elven sorcerer that was a god once revive their forest? He needed to see, or at the very least try.

He walked into the darkened part of the forest, not know a pair eyes was laid upon him. Watching his every move.

“Hey! Over here!”

He looked around confused to who just spoke to him. “I’m going crazy aren’t I….” He continued to walk deeper into dark forest.

Legolas did not realize the purple smoke that surrounded him, messing with his mind. “What..is this…”

“Hehe, aren’t just a cute little elf that decided to wander into the parts of the forest that you weren’t supposed to go into. Let’s see if you make it out alive..”

The headache grew on Legolas, and soon he collapsed.

_🍃

The young elf woke up confined in webs, trying to move his limbs around only to find they were stuck to his side from the webs.

After moments of struggle, he finally reached one of his smaller blades and tear the webs apart.

But that seemed to catch the spider’s attention realizing that they’re prey was about to get away, moving they’re long legs to try and catch up to Legolas.

Legolas being fully awake jumped and ran expertly through the trees, avoided the attacks that went towards him and shooting arrows whenever he can. But one spider caught him off guard as it bumped into him and knock him into the ground below the trees.

‘Take him to me. Alive.’

The spider closed in on Legolas as he begin to back up, the spider bit a part of his clothing and dragged him to a opening.

Legolas looked ahead to see where he was, he saw a house covered in leafs and moss. The spiders retreated back into forest to where they came from, while he was left there to handle whatever came out of the house. But the next thing that happened left stunned.

A black smoke came out from under the door, surrounding the young elf once again and messing up his mind. The smoke then turned into a male elf.

“who are you.”

“I’m Legolas Thranduillion….coming here to find the elven sorcerer that has been exiled in these woods.”

The male elf that was standing and slightly towering over him curved around him in a curious way. “To find me? What gave you that idea Son of Thranduil?”

Legolas stumbled a bit before speaking. “Our forest is sick, I hoped to find you to help us.”

“And what makes you think I’ll help you?”

“I’ll….do whatever it takes….”

“Oh really? Let’s see how long you’ll last.”

-🍂

Legolas woke up in a cold sweat, looking at his surroundings confused to where he was. Realizing he was a cave like house which is not one he recognized at all, he put up his guard immediately just in case if anything were to jump out at him he could be prepared.

He saw his gear, well at least his bow and arrows in the corner of the room. He took them and went through the only door that led to his room.

Running through cave like hallways in this cave like system, saying he was already lost was a understatement at the moment. For all he knows this place could be massive, as he didn’t have a map of the place he could just be going around in circles.

He continued to walk around until he found a room that had a candle that was lit, that meant someone could be around or was around a while ago. This gave him hope as he walked through without another thought.

That was his first mistake.

Rule number 1: never walk into a room that has a candle lit.

He looked around confused, it looked to be some sort of lab. There were papers scattered everywhere, test tubes filled weird substances that seemed to be under experimentation and were dangerous to say the least. Different reports around the walls, the blackboard filled with images and writings to prove the evidence that was found. Along with question marks and circles around different images and writings.

He saw a different door that possibly led out of the room and into another hallway. But this looked different.

The hallway held some sort of aura that was to make someone uncomfortable with the atmosphere around them.

Legolas walked through the hallway, seeing this one was very long and had more color and details on the walls. This possibly led to someone’s room or office. As the young elf walked through this hallway, he realized on the walls there were many different paintings and they have been covered with cloths. As to prevent anyone even the owner and creator to see their greatness.

Getting to the end of the long hallway, he opened the door. That was his second mistake.

Rule number 2: never open a door at the end of a detailed and fancy hallway.

He walked in anyway and realized this was someone’s office along with two doors that led to the bathroom and bedroom, the three rooms that were connected were all luxurious. If you didn’t think about it being in a cave like system, you would think you just walked into a palace.

As Legolas walked through, a glass panel decided to break as if alerting him about incoming danger. But luckily he got that warning. And went back the way he came.

That was his final mistake.

Rule number 3: never turn back, that would lead to your death

Running from the office, back down the hallway but now all the paintings have been revealed to him. He stopped to look at them as if they told a story of middle-earth and of Arda that no one knew.

One showed four people, or rather four brothers standing together. While another showed the One Ring being worn on multiple people’s hands. While the one from the beginning of the hallway it showed a tree. A willow tree that was white as the branches connected certain people. This was a painting of the relations of Valinor. To show the gods, as they connected to the one that ruled over this entire world. But some of the ties were broken as if they were never supposed to exist.

Legolas looked at it for just a moment before he renters the lab once more.

But this one time he was stopped but something or rather someone. You.

M/n stood there, in the far side of the lab. Clipboard in hand as he wrote information down with his quill. But he already sensed Legolas’s presence in the same room with him.

Legolas tries to sneak past him. Keyword: tries.

“I know your there Legolas, show yourself.”

The elf prince was stunned, no one has ever found when he was being stealthy so could you?

“If your wondering how I know you are here, come out and I’ll tell you.”

Legolas closed his eyes and spoke slowly. “And how can I trust you?”

“Because I was the one that brought you here, if I wanted you gone I would have done so already.” M/n whispered next to his ear.

Legolas turned around shocked as he didn’t realize how he moved that quickly.

“How did you…”

“I’m a god darling. You really shouldn’t try.”

“A god…so your the elven sorcerer? If your a god than prove it.”

“Or what?”

“I’ll stab these into your heart” Legolas threatens with his arrows.

M/n quirked a brow before laughing.

“Do you actually believe those tales? How foolish.” M/n then disappeared into thin air.

Legolas looked around confused before he felt a pain in his side. Kneeling down, holding the Side that was kicked while M/n towered over him from behind.

“Is that anyway to talk to your new Master Legolas? Or should I say servant?!” M/n yelled the last part.

“What do you mean by-”

“When we were outside I asked you what you were doing here and you said you wanted me to cure your forest. And you said you’ll do whatever it takes. So, if you still me to cure your forest. Become my servant and serve me, depending on your performance I’ll think about saving your home.”

Legolas looked down, not knowing what to say to that response. He couldn’t.

For the first time in his long life, he was truly speechless.

“Well let’s how you do than. What do you say pet?”

“Yes…Master.”

————————————————————————————————————————————————

No part 2

#lotr x male reader #x male reader #lotr x reader #legolas x reader #legolas x male reader #legolas greenleaf #legolas lotr #mirkwood #tolkien #male reader #male y/n #legolas thranduilion #oneshot #lotr oneshot #legolas angst #dark concept

[animatorweirdo]

“It’s okay to cry,” with Glorfindel

Summary; You have been a faithful guardian of middle earth, despite being a half human and a half something people hated. You were used to feel like an outcast and get discrimination with no good reason, but sometimes you just don’t have the energy to deal with the world. It has always been tragic and grey. Glorfindel is adamant to change that and see your smile. 

(Excuse my use of elvish if they’re not accurate. I tried to check them twice. Arodeth means Noble one. Amlugnim means a white dragon, and Gwaebereth is supposed to mean sky queen or wind queen,)

Warnings; Angst, comfort, confession, love

Enjoy!

----------------------------------------------------------------------

“There you are,” Glorfindel said as he approached you from behind. You huffed, sitting on the balcony railing and drinking from the bottle of wine you grabbed for yourself. The liquid ran across your throat, numbing the painful pricking you felt across your body. Your body swayed a little, but you managed to hold your balance. Hundreds of years of practice helped you grow a strong resistance against liquor. So, you didn’t get drunk easily. You were sober as a day.

“Are you alright?” Glorfindel leaned on the railing beside you. You huffed sarcastically. “Define, alright?” You asked before taking another sip from the wine bottle. 

Glorfindel stood silent for a moment. “If you’re thinking about those ellons who said those untrue things about you. You do not need to worry about them anymore. Lady Galadriel had given them a proper punishment for their actions,” He explained. 

You thought about the incident with those elves who called you a filthy serpent and a freak of nature. You learned not to take comments like those to heart since it’s not the first time people called you names and slandered you for what you were, but sometimes you don’t have the energy to deal with it, especially when some things they said were true. 

“Well, they aren’t technically lying now, aren’t they?” You asked. “I mean, look at me. I barely look like what I used to be, and I hate what I am,” You explained, motioning your whole appearance. Your white transparent scales flickered in the light. “I have to drink alcohol to keep the pain away, and I’m still suffering from some anger issues,” You stated. “I’m not normal, especially when I can turn into one of the most hated creatures of middle earth, so it’s easy to call me a monster,” You said, looking away. “Maybe I am, and I’m fine if people hate me. You probably hated me too at one point,” You pointed out.

“You are not a monster,” Glorfindel wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his embrace. “Anything but a monster,” He said, leaning his head upon your shoulder. “And I never hated you, and I will never grow to hate you,” He said. “You might not show it, but I know you have a gentle heart. You’re are too gentle to hurt anyone, unlike those who served Morgoth and willingly caused terror,” He added. 

You hummed. You would never allow someone else to get this close to you like Glorfindel, and since it was him. You just enjoyed the warmth his body provided to your ever-cold human corpse. 

“I might not be able to cure the pain you feel every day or heal the scar Sauron inflicted upon you, but I want to let you know. I’m here for you. You don’t have to be alone again,” Glorfindel said, looking at you in the eyes. You sighed, looking away. Many people said the same thing, yet they ended up leaving you anyway. 

“You shouldn't lie to me,” You said, taking a sip from your wine before realizing it was empty. You sighed in disappointment. 

Glorfindel gently turned you around to face him. “I am not lying to you. I swear I am always truthful to you,” He said. “Dragon or human, you have done so much for the people of middle earth since the first age of Beleriand. You deserve to rest and be happy,” He said with a smile. “It’s what I wish for you, Arodeth Amlugnim, the most noble of dragons,” He stated, stroking your white hair with a gentle touch. 

You closed your eyes, feeling his hand across your hair like a touch of a feather. It was so warm and gentle. You would have allowed a purr to leave your throat from the peaceful sensation. 

Your eyes began to burn. You squinted them shut because it was a habit not to show weakness before people, especially in front of the golden-haired balrog slayer. 

Glorfindel hushed. “It’s okay to cry,” He said, then you held on to him, showing your face into his neck as tears began to fall like rain droplets. He hugged you, whispering comforting words on his tongue as you wept in his embrace. Time passed, and you managed to shed your last tear. Your eyes merely burned from the dryness they suffered. “How do you feel?” Glorfindel asked, rubbing your arm. 

“Better, just a little,” You said, making him chuckle. You were always so guarded and silent, so he enjoyed you felt comfortable being open with him. 

You looked at the night sky, the stars shining brightly. “Have you ever been at the peaks of the white mountains? You could almost see the sun and moon from there. I enjoyed traveling a bit when Morgoth was banished but lost interest when the world became dull,” You explained. “It’s one of the highest peaks in the world,” You added. Glorfindel smiled. “I have not, but I trust that it must be one of the marvelous views in the world,” He said. “Would you like to come with me there? I can take you there to see it, “ You asked. He looked at you, surprised for a moment, before smiling. “I would love to if it makes you happy,” He said. 

“I meant every word when I said you deserve to be happy, so I’m willing to do anything to make you smile and make this world bright for you,” He gently took your hand and looked you in the eyes with a fond smile. “You have my word for it,” He said, kissing the knuckle of your hand.  

Your heart fluttered when he did that, then you realized what your other friend had been trying to tell you, and you couldn't help but embrace the feeling. 

You wrapped your arm around his head, bringing him close to you. “If you mean it, then can this Amlugnim be selfish for once because the only thing I’m greedy for is your affection?” You asked. His eyes dilated for a moment, and he sucked his breath. “You knew?” He questioned. You smiled, shaking your head. “Lady Galadriel has a terrible habit of sharing her thoughts with mine,” You said. 

The golden-haired ellon then smiled, which brightened your world. “If that’s what you wish,” Glorfindel said. “Wish? I’m out of wine, but now the only thing I’m drunk for is you,” You said. You both stared into each other for a moment before Glorfindel made the first move and brought his lips to meet yours. You pulled him closer to you but carefully allowed him to explore because you didn’t want accidentally hurt him with your sharpened teeth. 

You turned around and stood up from the railing, standing taller than him. Glorfindel never found your height intimidating. On the contrary, he found it endearing because you weren't like other maidens. 

You broke off the kiss to catch some air, then just stared into each other's eyes, your foreheads gently touching. Glorfindel marveled at your beauty because, at that moment, your snow-white hair and scales shone bright like fragments of white gems were scattered among your body. 

“Those elves were fools. How can you look like a freak of nature when you shine this brightly like a star of Varda?” Glorfindel asked. “Stars are most beloved among the elven kind,” He added, making you chuckle. “And Arodeth, none of them share a name that almost shares the title with the king of Arda,” He said, then smiled. “Or should I say, Gwaebereth, the sky queen,” He said the name people gave you when you defeated Morgoth and his armies. 

“Please, call me (Name). It has always been my true name,” You said, holding his eyes on you. “If you wish, (Name),” He smiled, and you both gently touched your foreheads, basking in the moment of peace the night offered for you.

#glorfindel x reader #glorfindel #silmarillion #silmarillion x reader #hurt #comfort #tolkien #lotr x reader #dragon reader #silm fic #glorfindel oneshot #silmarillion oneshot #lotr oneshot #middle earth x reader #middle earth

[ohnonotnow]

my library

here's some of the best the hobbit/lotr fanfics I've read cuz they can be quite hard to find and I wanna help

will update the list as I read

Thorin

Smoke, iron and Thorin

Fire and Gold

Learning Khuzdul

Braid of Gold

Thorin being soft

The Beauty of Chance

Those Hands

Misunderstanding

The arrival

A king's crown

Covered In Steam

There's just inches in between us

Thorin after a long day of training with his nephews

In This Moment 

Agreement

Symphony of your life

Oh so quiet

Confession

Find Your Way Back

Fili

fili oneshots

Moonrise

The Most Unpleasant, Defective, and Abominable Incident

Stay with me

The Redeemer

Durin's Garage

Restless

Kili

The book keeper

insecurities

The beauty and the Beast

getting back at Kili for teasing

My Treasure

Madly in love

It's in his kiss

Love Bites

Sway With Me

Wood Carvings

Softly. . .

Sweet like nectar

A Shot in the Dark

Beorn

Early Mornings

Beorn takes care of you when you're injured

Linger

Legolas

Watcher of Wanderers

The Innocence of Brutality

Blessing

Sensitive

Being best friends with Legolas

Hazy Memories

Spellbound

Thranduil

Bookworm

Relax

Best friends father

Fascination

Flower On My Skin

To Meet Under the Stars

Passenger Princess

Autumn Thunderstorm

I Could Love You With My Eyes Closed

Haldir

Gentle Dark

Lindir

My Heart Is In Your Hands

Moonlight

Just a Little Help

Warriors Great Tales

The Fountain

Return to Me

Èomer

Burnt Bread

A Helping Hand

Wildest Dreams

Falling In Love With A Librarian

SFW alphabet

Happiness

A Roll in the Hay

Blessing

Turning Points

More characters

various characters oneshots

Imagine: elves having highly sensitive ears and you finding out by accidently touching them.

Journey to Erebor

Hair braiding

Elves + Braiding

What Type of Kisser is Each LoTR Character?

The Hobbit Characters + Physical Affection (Suggestive Version)

A Headcanon For Each Member of Thorin’s Company

Cuddling With Thorin's Company

Imagine some of the elves of Middle Earth find out how easy it is to make you (a human staying in Rivendell) blush and become aroused.

The LOTR characters reacting to a modern reader

#fanfic #thorin oakenshield #the hobbit #the lord of the rings #lotr #jrr tolkien #kili #kili durin #fili durin #fili and kili #x reader #the hobbit thorin #thorins company #some smut #oneshot #bilbo baggins #lotr x reader #the hobbit x reader #lotr fanfic #the hobbit fanfiction #thorin x reader #fili x reader #kili x reader #lindir x reader #lindir #eomer of rohan #eomer x reader #beorn #beorn x reader #thranduil x reader

[iheartlegolas]

𝐚 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ pairing: legolas x fem!reader

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ warnings: alcohol consumption, smut (MDNI pls), very light breathplay/choking

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ word count: 2.9k

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ synopsis: there's no better place to be than in the bedchambers of the elven prince, as he eagerly yearns to give you a night you'll ask him to relive

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫note: it's time ! my first smut to ever be written & shared, thank u all for ur patience, please accept my apologies for posting the preview and then dipping without a trace…lol i largely underestimated my ability to write smut so i truly hope that you enjoy (and that it’s readable) ok ily bye enjoy!

The chill of the autumnal night establishes itself upon your skin, its reluctant air depriving you of warmth as you stifle a shiver that forces its way to your spine. You stand, leaning onto a tree carved into a grand pillar, concealed from the crowd's gaze with a clear view of the crisp sky in front of you. Your head turns to the elves glittering about in the grand hall, their hands holding glasses filled with wine. Elven wine. A sheepish smile finds you, the gilded rim of the glasses delivering memories of your first time of having made the soon to be realised mistake; the consumption of the potent liquid. 

Your head snaps back to the stars as recollection inches closer, taste buds reminded of its lightness and sweet taste of berries which proved to be a mere facade. Ignoring the gentle warnings Legolas whispered to you as you were handed a drink, playfully brushing them off as you welcomed the wine into your mouth. The faces of bewilderment and suppressed laughs as you drunkenly clung to the Prince all evening, plastering his neck and face with kisses, speaking incoherent nonsense into his ear, his arms catching you every time with an all too familiar ease as you tripped on air over and over again. 

Your eyes are struck by the face of the moon, feeling a shudder come over you. The moon being the only other witness to the night that followed as the Prince ended your attendance to the party prematurely—the moment you began tugging at his tunic, your whispers becoming coherent and too indiscreet for any ear not belonging to him to hear. His hands claimed you once your eager pleas were out of the average Elf's range of sight and sound, his mouth beckoning you to be quiet with his kiss. The warmth of the summer air and its moonlight draping your nude form as you laid atop his discarded tunic, a makeshift bed on the forest floor. 

You tighten the grip on your chalice filled with non alcoholic drink, the aching heat in your core daring to consume you as you recall the way his head dipped in between your thighs, his tongue softer than the moss you clutched. You sigh at his absence, pulling away from the moon's trance as an unavoidable wave of longing claims you, staring into the liquid of your drink. You bring it to your mouth, the brim of the chalice is cool on your lips as you force a swallow and your insides cringe at its lack of something stronger. Then, drinking more as your attempts to not think of him fail, your mind on the tips of his fingers grazing across your back, his eyes resting as his arms held you against his chest, his calmed heartbeat lulling you to sleep. You swallow the final sip, setting the chalice down. Thirst crawls its way back to your mouth.

The overwhelming sensation of sobriety prods at you with the sharpness of a blade.

Your memory becomes clouded with interruption as a gentle pair of arms envelop you from behind. A smile eases onto your lips as his chin rests on your shoulder, smelling traces of wine in his breath. Your shoulders relax as they lean into his embrace, "At last, the Prince has graced me with his presence." You speak with words drenched in playful sarcasm, drawing out a deep chuckle. 

"I have been searching for you." 

You turn to face him, your eyes failing to resist the temptation to become distracted by the moonlight that comfortably rests upon his porcelain skin. Seconds pass and you finally allow yourself to blink, your lips pursing with accusation, "And it appears you got lost in a wine cellar." 

His forehead inches to rest against yours, dwindling your yearning into a distant memory as he hums in response. "I've missed you." He breathes, sliding his hand from your waist to the side of your neck. You lean into his touch, his hand feeling irresistibly soft despite lifetimes of yielding his bow. 

"I must insist that you disobey the King's orders the next time he dares to pull you away from me for longer than a fortnight." You brush your lips against his, exchanging breaths. Silence fills the air, freeing you of the sounds of the King's autumnal celebration, harps echoing away from your ears. Your lips meet his—the kiss you’ve been waiting for, warm, soft. An urge strikes you and you depart from him before he grasps the opportunity to light the kiss ablaze, "Unless you'd like me to beg." 

A hand slips into the back of your neck, bringing you back to his mouth. You taste berries on his tongue as it enters your mouth. You moan into him, hands flying to grip his shoulders for strength against your weakening knees. 

The noise of the guests pull him away, his vision scanning for a pair of eyes lurking, a wandering ear to hear your desires meant only for him. A stream of cheers and refills invades the invisible shield you created for the both of you, proving to be ineffective. You tug at the thick, velvet-like material of his tunic, feeling spoiled as his face turns to yours with concern, albeit realising as he catches your parting lips, sensing your want. 

His hand reaches for yours, leading you into the dimly lit forest on a path most familiar. You trail behind him, his quickening pace and strong grip failing to pay any notice to the fallen leaves that stick to the silken material of your dress, the thorns from the bushes tearing almost too easily into the delicate cloth. The path brightens as you near a reentrance to the Elven King's halls, the forest pathway discreetly allowing the quickest way to your destination. Footfalls become more hurried as you smile with glee, a fistful of your dress clenches in your hand to prevent a fall into the moistened ground. You yelp above a tree vein with a mission to bring you to the earth's floor, "Legolas!" You laugh, eyes dashing to him as he falters. His frame towers over you, blending in with the surrounded oaks. 

His hand softens into yours as he halts, placing his other onto the side of your neck, a thumb strokes your warmed cheek, "Forgive my eagerness, my starlight." 

Your mouth opens in response, only allowing for a gasp to escape as his arms lift you from the ground, carrying on with haste until you are brought to his bedchambers at last. A sharp inhale penetrates you as his lips collide with yours, the shutting of the door reverberating through the room as you allow his hands to untie the cords of your dress, pulling you closer to him as it loosens against your skin. He releases himself from your lips, his kiss drifting to your ear. 

His hands move to the sides of your face, "My little star," He whispers, his lips brushing against yours as you shiver, "Will you grant me my desire to please you tonight?" 

His hardened length dares to distract you from his words, "Yes," you say, before your breath bids your lungs farewell as the simple act of breathing becomes a foreign concept. Your dress inches off of your shoulders under the command of his careful fingers, an eager gaze following his every move. Goosebumps rise as more of your skin is revealed to him, impatience stirring within your dampening core as he stops to plant kisses along your collarbone. "You cannot rush me into your chambers and undress me so slowly. It is torture." You whine. A deep chuckle vibrates against your neck before his hands grip your dress, pulling. The fine fabric you once adored turns to an unshapely mess as it hits the floor, and a sigh of relief waiting to be freed withdraws from your mouth. Strong arms hoist you up with the haste you crave, his mouth back on yours as he plants you onto the soft covers of the bed. Your hips raise to meet his cock, resulting in a groan and his tongue enters your mouth. His palm grips your thigh, and you watch with half lidded eyes as his mouth leaves yours to venture to your chest. His tongue caresses your breast, a gentle massage that sends your hand flying to his tresses and disturbs the neatness, moaning as his tongue swirls around your hardened nipple. His head rises, a lustful gaze searching for your eyes as they open, fondling your breast with his hand. He flashes you a smile and leaves a hot kiss on your neck, rising from his position above you to sit against the head of the bed. You prop yourself up on your elbow and look at him, unsure of why he stopped, mouth opening in question.

"Come." 

You lift to your hands and knees, your gaze falling to the outline of his cock as you crawl. His hand grabs your wrist before it reaches and he turns you away from him, your back sinking into his chest. His hand is on your neck as you settle onto him. Your breath becomes uneven, watching his free hand slide down to your core and reach the hem of your undergarment. You help him remove the final piece, entirely exposed as your bare body warms against his attire. 

"Tell me, my little star," He whispers into your ear as his fingers find your clit, sliding his tongue across the tip of your ear while you melt deeper into him, "Did you touch yourself while I was away?" 

You shudder, feeling his fingers glide across the wetness that gathered in your core, whimpers escaping from your lips as his slickened fingers begin to circle your clit, hips lightly jolting to swallow his touches. You moan, throwing your head back into his chest. His grip tightens around your neck, fingers pressing gently to the sides to coax an answer.

You whimper, the sounds of your wetness brought to your ears, "Yes." You moan, gasping as his pace quickens. 

You feel a smile against your skin, writhing against his strong hold, arching as the incomings of an orgasm begins to burn within you—then he stops. Your hand falls to the sheets, a whine forming in your throat.

“Show me.” Legolas says, his voice low, fingers rising from your cunt to rest upon your breast, “Touch yourself.”

You hum softly, turning to face him with a look of question, your cheeks burning with heat at his command. He’s serious—lips curled into a subtle smirk, his eyes exploring the expanse of your shivering body—all while his hand remains wrapped around your neck. Your hand rises, fingers grazing your abdomen, lowering slowly to your aching cunt. A deep inhale enters you as your eyes close, leaning your head back into him as you start to pleasure yourself. Heat overtakes your entire body as it burns against his, soft moans slipping out of your mouth as his words of encouragement—“good girl” “just like that, little dove” “show me how good it feels”—spill into your ear, prompting you to hasten your touches. His hand travels down to your clit in favour of replacing yours, which you gladly retract as it flies to grip the sheets, surrendering under his fingers. A wave of pleasure washes over you, gasping as an orgasm arrives. The Prince is intent on driving you mad with pleasure as he continues circling your delicate pearl, but your trembling hand seizes his wrist, whimpering with a weak effort to bring a pause to his pace, "Legolas." 

His fingers settle down into a leisure pace while your heartbeat struggles to calm itself in its enclosure. "Were you not eager for me to pleasure you?" He toys in a deep tone. 

"I want you inside of me." You breathe, your grip loosens on his wrist as your muscles remember how to function, the tenseness possessing your body finding relief as his fingers stop. You shift, turning to face him, cheeks heating at the sight of his face. You resist the urge to grind against his lap as you work on removing his attire, straddling him with a timidness that he finds irresistibly adorable. You avoid the wolfish smile tugging at his lips, your mouth watering as his tunic comes undone, unsteady hands reaching to explore his toned chest. 

"After all the moments we shared," He inches closer, fingers raising your chin. Your eyes meet his, weakening under his gaze, "You still remain coy as though it was the first time." 

Vision blurs from his face to the ceiling as he flips your body to lay against the soft covers of the bed. He rises and stands at the foot of the bed, gaze towering above your splayed form with a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. You engage in the act of watching him as he takes the role of undressing himself, staring in awe while your insides flutter as your hand awaits restlessly to feel his cock. His return to you is quick, gratefulness erupting within when his mouth devours you with a fervent kiss. A tongue caresses yours before interruption strikes him with a moan, a sensual stroke of your hand treading dangerously along the length of him. Your fingers curl around him, raising your hips to tease his cock with the wetness of your dripping pussy—but he stops you, restraint apparent on his clenched jaw as he resists the desire to sink his cock into you, dragging his lips to the expanse of your chest, then lowering as his hands stroke your thighs, parting them. You watch as he presses kisses to your inner thighs, reaching to grab hold of his hair. His mouth moves to your core, his warm breath fanning over your cunt. You throw your head back and moan as his tongue licks along your heat, tasting the remnants of your orgasm then trailing up to suckle on your clit. His hand slides up to your breast as he slips two fingers inside of you, curling in upward motions and sending you into bliss. His name releases from your mouth through soft whines, his tongue bringing trembles trickling into your thighs. Your hips roll into his mouth with delicate force, clutching the covers as you moan through the orgasm he brings you. You loosen, laying slack as you take deep breaths, the wondrous exhaustion of being sent to heaven a second time has caught hold of you. He kisses your thigh with tender touches of his hands, then rises to meet you. Your arms wrap around him in embrace, pulling him into a kiss while his cock prods at your thigh. He reaches down to align himself with your core, saturating his length with your wetness. You rock your hips against him as it slides along your slit, whimpering in desperation for him to fill you whole. The head of his cock pushes into your cunt, and a moan leaves his mouth as he buries himself into you, reaching for your hand and enclosing his fingers with yours as he pins it above you. You moan with him as his thrusts grow deeper, pulling him close. A cry escapes your lips and your walls clench around him, raking your nails across his back with quivering lips. You love the familiarity of it all—how he knows every delicate spot to drive into over and over again, the control over your body that he masterfully possesses. His thumb trails across your lower lip as his eyes drink in the sight of you beneath him, your writhing body and nipples brushing against his chest, clinging onto him with your arms while you fill the room with sounds of your pleasure as he pumps in and out of you. 

Moments like this are dragged to a wish for eternity as his palm cradles your cheek, his thrusts slowing in an attempt to prolong your bliss—and all you can do is stare into those captivating hues as your vision blurs before your eyes shut. Your mouth parts, soundless save for the shaking of your breaths, a trembling hand reaches for the back of his neck as you shudder into your climax, the walls of your heat convulsing around his girth. "Fill me." A beg cries from your tongue, “Please.” You whimper, cheeks burning.

Your words bring a groan to his lips as his composure crumbles. His cock twitches inside of you, spilling his seed into you, dipping his head down to meet your lips for a kiss—messy, with broken breaths in between, pressing his forehead against yours. 

The subtle tremble of your thighs remains as he finally pulls out after a tender moment with his head rested in the crook of your neck. He pulls the covers to your bodies, reaching to bring you closer. You nestle into him and sigh with contentment, cheeks stamped with heat that has finally begun to cool. His fingers graze the expanse of your back under the covers, lips pressing light kisses into your neck. Your eyes close, heavy with sleep, releasing calming breaths that mingle with his as he gazes upon the sight of your face, “Gi melin.” He says and kisses your forehead, resting his chin above your head as sleep claims you. 

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ translations

elvish - english

gi melin - i love you

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ taglist: @actualnymph @celestialuna13 @silversword7000 @starbirdfinch @summerannabelle @quackquackmfs @legolaswhore @iaur @straysugzhpe @idk-whatamidoinglmao @desert-fern @suddenlyperson @zealousfartsandwich

(some usernames aren’t able to be tagged so if you joined the taglist and didn’t get tagged pls lmk)

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ did u enjoy?

♡ pls leave a like, comment, or reblog ! ↷　

#legolas x reader #legolas greenleaf #legolas smut #legolas x you #legolas x y/n #legolas #legolas fanfiction #lord of the rings #lotr x reader #the hobbit x reader #legolas thranduilion #legolas oneshot #legolas imagine

[fantasyworld4ever]

Thranduil NSFW alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Gentle and sweet. He’d caress you and assure you he loved you and that you were absolutely perfect. Maybe just a little smug though

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Your waist, he loves to rest his hand on your waist as it is a subtle motion and he’s able to comfort you without it being seen as “overly affectionate” as he is a king.

His hands, he loves to see how much pleasure he can give you just from his fingers alone and he enjoys the way you tremble beneath his touch.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He WILL cum inside you. He doesn’t want a drop to be wasted. He’ll last a few rounds, at least 3 rounds but he can go longer if you wish it. His cum is a milky white and there’s a LOT of it.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He loves when you ask for gentle and tender sex. He feels honored you feel that safe with him to allow him that.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Very experienced. He had a wife so he obviously knows what to do. He knows exactly what to do to get you begging for more.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary. He loves to look at you as he fucks you. Loves to wrap his hand around your throat and watch as you come undone beneath him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Serious. He wants to make sure you realize that he’s present and there for you. He can be goofy at times but he is mainly serious.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Hairless everywhere (except for his head ofc, he loves his elegant, long hair)

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Praise. Just praise. He loves to praise you. “Look how good you’re taking me.” “You’re so beautiful like this” “You feel so good, Meleth. You take me so well.”

He’ll degrade you as well, a smirk on his face as he does so, knowing you love it. “Such a pretty little slut for me, only good for this.” “That’s it. Such a good whore for your king, hmm?”

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He doesn’t do it often. He doesn’t like to unless you’re watching then he’ll gladly do it. However, unless he’s away on a long trip (war etc.) he won’t do anything.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He loves to degrade you. He definitely has a bit of a choking kink, watching you submit completely to him really gets him going.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He loves to take you on his throne, gives him a bit of a thrill to see you lain across his throne, moaning as he thrusts into you.

His chambers would be his top place though. He loves the privacy of his room, it creates a certain intimate atmosphere unable to be found elsewhere. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Piss him off. Challenge him.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He would never share you. Never. Not once in a million years. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He prefers to give, he loves to please you and watching as you lose yourself beneath his tongue increases his smugness. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Rough and hard. He’ll grip your hips so tight until there’s bruising the next morning. He wants to hear you scream his name. He wants everyone to knows who you belong to.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not fond of it. He wants to pay proper attention to you. But, if you really want to, he’ll do it, for you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Open to experimenting as long as he isn’t the one in submission.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Quite long. He’s a warrior, what do you expect? He does love to drag out the foreplay though.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t like them. He wants to be the only one pleasing you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Not too much of a tease as he doesn’t have the patience for it nor does he particularly see the appeal in teasing for too long.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Loud. Just loud. Moans, growls, everything.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

If he’s away for a long time, he’ll write you letters detailing every single thing he dreams of doing to you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Larger than average length with a nice thick girth. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Not too horny but if you ask he’s immediately in the mood for it.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He always makes sure you fall asleep first. No exceptions.

{As always requests are always open! Hope ya’ll enjoyed!!}

#requests #lotr #the hobbit #thranduil #x reader #thranduil x reader #smutty #smut #oneshot

[thewulf]

Entwined Realms || Legolas

Summary: Request: So I thought about this idea with Legolas x reader where the reader is the daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn (which makes her princess of Lothlorien and a very high elf) and she is nervous because its commonly known that Galadriel and Thranduil dont like each other (she is still his superior but you get the point) and the reader and Legolas have a dinner or some council or something together with their parents.

A/N: This was one of my favs to write. Just love everything LOTR... please keep them coming! Thank you for the request @lillisummers

Pairing: Legolas x Female Reader

Word Count: 4.1k +

TW: Talks of war/death

In the timeless realm of Lothlórien, you, the daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn, walked among the golden trees with a heavy heart filled with the weight of ancient grudges. It had been many years since you last tread upon these familiar paths, for you had spent much of your time in Rivendell, aiding in the healing of those who bore the scars of war.

As a princess of the high elves, you bore the burden of your lineage with grace. Yet the tension between your mother and Thranduil, the Elvenking of Mirkwood, weighed heavily upon you. The animosity between them was no secret, and you often found yourself caught in the midst of their disagreements. You were torn between loyalty to your mother and the desire for unity among your people after the war of the ring. Your return to Lothlórien had been sudden, called back by your father during the darkest days of the war. The news of battles raging across middle earth had filled you with dread. Yet, you knew that your place was by your family's side, lending whatever aid you could in the struggle against the darkness.

Despite the discord that lingered between your realms you held onto hope, believing in the power of unity to overcome adversity. The memories of Celebrian's capture and torture haunted you still. She drove your determination to see an end to the suffering that had plagued your people for so long.

As you walked beneath the golden canopy of the trees, you found solace in the familiar sights and sounds of Lothlórien. The gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze, the soft glow of the evening sun filtering through the branches. They spoke to you of peace and beauty, reminding you of all that was worth fighting for in this world. Your steps carried you towards a familiar spot. The quiet glade where the gravestones of those fallen in battle lay. The air was hushed. The only sound was the soft whisper of leaves and the gentle trickle of water from the nearby streams.

Stopping by the gravestones, you traced your fingers over each weathered stone, feeling the weight of loss settle upon your heart. Here, beneath the earth, lay the brave souls who had given their lives in service of a greater cause. A cause that you had fought for alongside them. Your thoughts turned to Haldir, the gallant Marchwarden who had stood by your side in the darkest of times. His laughter, his kindness, his unwavering loyalty… they were memories that you held dear, memories that would live on long after he had passed from this world. At one point you were convinced you would marry him but that was before he was taken so suddenly from you.

Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself a moment of silence. A moment to remember those who had been taken from you too soon. Their faces flashed before your eyes, friends, fighters, and loved ones alike. Each one leaving behind an indelible mark upon your soul. And yet, amidst the sorrow, there was also hope. Hope for a future where their sacrifices would not be in vain. Where the darkness would be banished for good and the light would shine so brightly once more. With a silent prayer upon your lips, you vowed to carry their memory with you always, to honor their legacy in all that you did.

As you stood amidst the gravestones, lost in memories and reflections, a soft voice broke through the silence. She was calling your name. You turned to see your mother, Galadriel, approaching with a gentle smile upon her lips. Her eyes, always so wise and knowing, held a depth of understanding that eased the ache in your heart.

"Y/n," she said, her voice like the gentle rustle of leaves in the wind, "I have been searching for you. It is good to see you home again. You look well my love."

You returned her smile, feeling a sense of warmth and comfort wash over you at the sight of her familiar face. "It is good to be home, Mother," you replied, stepping forward to embrace her.

Galadriel held you close, tight. Her arms a reassuring embrace amidst the turmoil of emotions swirling within you. "You have been missed, my dear," she said softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

As you pulled away, Galadriel's gaze softened. Her eyes filled with a mixture of pride and affection. "There is much to discuss," she said, her voice taking on a more serious tone. "But first, I have news that I believe will bring you much joy."

Curiosity piqued, you listened as Galadriel spoke of the upcoming marriage between your niece, Arwen, and Aragorn, the King of Gondor. The news filled you with a sense of anticipation, the prospect of a wedding bringing a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness that had shrouded middle earth for so long. "I would be honored to attend," you said. Your heart swelling with love for your family and excitement for the joyous occasion to come.

Galadriel smiled, her eyes sparkling with pride. "I had no doubt that you would," she said, her voice tinged with warmth. "Come, let us return to Caras Galadhon and begin preparations. There is much to do, and little time to waste." She motioned you to follow her.

With a nod of agreement, you fell into step beside your mother. It felt as though the weight of grief and loss lightened by the promise of love and celebration on the horizon. As you walked the golden light of Lothlórien illuminated your path guiding you towards a future filled with possibility.

Too quickly the day of celebration arrived. The grand halls of Minas Tirith were adorned with banners and flowers, filling the air with a sense of festivity and anticipation. You, dressed in your finest elven attire, mingled with the guests. Your heart was aflutter with excitement and nerves for your niece and the King of Gondor. Amidst the bustling crowd, your eyes scanned the faces of those gathered taking in the sight of strangers and acquaintances alike. And then your gaze met that of a mysterious elven stranger across the ornate courtyard who you did not recognize.

His eyes were a captivating shade of blue. They held a warmth and kindness that drew you in, sending a shiver down your spine. For a brief moment it felt as though the world around you had faded away leaving only you and this enigmatic stranger in a universe of your own making. But as quickly as the moment had come, it was gone. Broken by the sound of laughter and music drifting through the air you tore your gaze away. Your cheeks flushed with a mixture of curiosity and excitement, heart racing with the memory of that brief but electrifying encounter.

Though you knew not who he was, nor what fate had in store for you. You couldn't shake the feeling that this chance meeting was somehow significant. And as you allowed yourself to be swept away by the joyous festivities you couldn't help but wonder about the identity of the mysterious elven stranger who had captured your attention with a single glance.

As the celebration unfolded you found yourself standing beside Arwen, basking in the glow of her happiness as she greeted guests and well-wishers. The air was filled with laughter and music. The joyous atmosphere infectious as people celebrated the union of Arwen and Aragorn. But amidst the revelry your attention kept drifting back to the beautiful blonde elf who had caught your eye earlier. He stood amidst a group of guests, his presence commanding and his gaze holding a quiet intensity that seemed to draw you in.

Unable to contain your curiosity any longer you turned to Arwen with a hint of nervousness in your voice. "Arwen," you began, pointing subtly towards the mysterious elf, "who is that?"

Arwen followed your gaze, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she noticed your interest in the stranger. "Ah, him," she said, her tone tinged with mystery. "That is Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood."

Legolas. The name echoed in your mind. Though you knew little about him there was something about the way he carried himself, the way his eyes seemed to hold a thousand untold stories that intrigued you beyond measure. As Arwen spoke of Legolas' exploits and noble deeds you found yourself captivated by the tales of his courage and valor. And though you knew it was foolish to be so taken with a stranger, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to him. Something that called to you on a level you couldn't quite understand.

With a grateful smile you thanked Arwen for indulging your curiosity. Though your mind was already consumed with thoughts of the mysterious Prince of Mirkwood. And as you turned your attention back to the festivities you couldn't help but wonder what secrets lay hidden beneath the surface of the captivating blonde elf who had captured your attention with a single glance.

As the evening wore on, the atmosphere grew more relaxed. You found yourself drawn into the lively conversations and laughter that filled the air.

As if he had known your every thought, he had come right up to you. A charming smile playing on his lips as he offered you a goblet of wine. "Care for some wine, my lady?" he asked, his voice smooth and all too inviting.

Grateful for the distraction you accepted the goblet with a smile, the cool liquid soothing the nerves that had been fluttering in your stomach. "Thank you," you replied, taking a sip and relishing the taste of the rich, fruity wine.

As you savored the wine, Legolas took a seat beside you. His eyes alight with curiosity as he extended his hand in introduction. "I am Legolas," he said, his tone warm and genuine. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

You felt a rush of excitement at the sound of his name, "And I am Y/n," you replied, your voice betraying a hint of nervousness that you quickly tried to mask.

Legolas smiled warmly at you, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes as he raised his own goblet in a silent toast. "Well then, Y/n, here's to new acquaintances and delightful conversations," he spoke.

As the evening progressed, you found yourself drawn into conversation with Legolas. His easy charm and quick wit putting you at ease. Despite your initial nervousness you soon found yourself laughing and chatting with him as if you had known each other for years. With each passing moment you felt yourself growing more and more enchanted by Legolas. His presence filling you with a sense of warmth and belonging that you hadn't felt in a long time. Not since before your sister had set sail. And as you shared stories and laughter with the captivating Prince of Mirkwood you couldn't help but wonder what adventures lay in store for you both in the days to come.

When the topic turned to your family, you couldn't help but feel a pang of apprehension, unsure of how he would react upon learning the truth. "Your parents must be proud of you," Legolas remarked, his voice sincere as he glanced around at the grandeur of Minas Tirith. "To have a daughter as kind and courageous as you."

You smiled, touched by his words. Though a part of you hesitated to reveal your true lineage. "Thank you, Legolas," you replied, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "My parents... they are indeed proud, though our family is not without its complexities."

Legolas cocked his head with curiosity shining bright in his eyes. "Complexities?" he asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for his reaction. "My parents are Celeborn and Galadriel," you confessed, watching closely for any sign of recognition or judgment in his expression.

To your surprise, Legolas' eyes widened in genuine surprise, his gaze softening with understanding. "Galadriel," he murmured, a hint of awe in his voice. "The Lady of Light herself. And Celeborn, the Lord of Lothlórien."

You nodded, relieved by his reaction. "Yes, though our family is not without its challenges," you admitted, your voice growing quiet. "There are... tensions between my parents and certain others in Middle-earth." You knew he knew, and he knew you knew. The two of you were dancing around your parents disdain for the other.

Legolas' expression grew somber. A shadow passing over his features. "I understand," he said, his tone tinged with empathy. "My own father, Thranduil, can be... difficult at times."

You felt a surge of empathy for Legolas knowing all too well the challenges that could arise from strained familial relationships. "It seems we are not so different after all," you said. A small smile playing at your lips.

Legolas returned your smile, his eyes warm and understanding. "Indeed," he said, his voice gentle. "But perhaps together, we can find a way to bridge the divide between our families."

Touched by his sincerity you could only keep grinning at him like a fool. "I would like that, Legolas," you replied. Your heart swelled with gratitude for the bond that was beginning to form between you.

As the night wore on into the wee hours of the morning you and Legolas found yourselves drawn deeper into each other's company. The hours quickly slipping away unnoticed as you laughed and talked beneath the starlit sky. The connection between you grew stronger with each passing moment. A bond of friendship and understanding blossoming into something deeper and more profound. Unfortunately, the celebration began to wind down. You found yourselves reluctant to part ways. The prospect of saying goodbye filling you with a sense of melancholy. "Perhaps we could extend our stay in Minas Tirith," Legolas suggested, his voice tinged with a hint of worry as if you wouldn’t accept. "There is still so much more to see and do. I have not seen this city without war disparaging it."

You nodded eagerly, the idea of spending more time with Legolas filling you with a sense of joy and excitement. "I would like that very much," you replied, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "There is still so much more we have yet to see. You distracted me tonight."

And so, you and Legolas remained in Minas Tirith for longer than planned, seizing every opportunity to steal away moments alone together amidst the hustle and bustle of the city. Whether wandering the streets hand in hand or sharing quiet conversations in secluded corners. Each moment spent in Legolas' company felt like a precious treasure, a memory to be cherished for eternity.

As your extended stay in Minis Tirith came to an end the bond between you and Legolas deepened further than you could have imagined. Your hearts intertwining in a dance as old as time itself. One evening beneath the stars after your going away dinner the two of you sat together in the quiet solitude of the gardens, surrounded by the scent of blooming flowers and the gentle hum of crickets. The words you had been longing to say spilled forth from your lips.

"Legolas," you began, your voice barely above a whisper, "there is something I must confess to you." It truly was now or never for you did not know the next time you would see the elf that had captured your heart so quickly.

Legolas turned to you, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. "Yes, Y/n?" he replied, his voice soft and reassuring.

"I know this is quick,” you began, your voice soft and hesitant, "And we tend to do this slow, but I must admit... I really like you. More than a friend would."

You glanced away, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as you awaited his response. But when you dared to meet his gaze once more you found Legolas looking at you with a tender smile. His eyes filled with a warmth that mirrored your own feelings.

"Y/n," he said softly, reaching out to gently take your face in his hand, "your honesty means the world to me. I too have come to care for you deeply as well. As more than a friend would."

Your heart soared at his words. A sense of joy flooding through you at the knowledge that your feelings were reciprocated. And as you sat together in the quiet beauty of the gardens you knew that your bond with Legolas was something truly special. It was the beginning of a love story that was just beginning to unfold.

You didn’t want the night to end so you kept your wandering through the gardens. "Legolas," you began, your voice tinged with concern, "what do you think about... our families?"

Legolas glanced at you. His gaze thoughtful. "Ah, our esteemed parents," he replied with a wry smile. "Stubborn as ancient oaks and twice as difficult to move."

You couldn't help but laugh at his analogy, feeling a sense of relief at his lighthearted approach to the situation. "Yes, that's one way to put it," you agreed. A smile playing at the corners of your lips.

"But," Legolas continued, his tone turning more serious, "I believe they will come around in time. After all, love has a way of softening even the hardest of hearts."

You nodded feeling a flicker of hope kindling within you. "I hope you're right," you replied, leaning closer to him. "I just want them to see... how much we care for each other."

Legolas placed a comforting arm around your shoulders, drawing you closer to him. "They will, Y/n," he said softly, his voice filled with quiet confidence. "And until then, we'll just have to prove them wrong together."

As your time in Minas Tirith drew to a close, you couldn't shake the feeling that it was time for your parents and Legolas to meet. Despite the tension between your families, you were determined to show them that love knew no bounds, and that their differences could be set aside in the name of happiness.

On the morning that both of you were to depart you knew what you had to do. "Legolas," you began. Your voice tinged with nervousness, "I know it's unconventional, but... what if you and your father were to visit Lothlórien?"

Legolas blinked in surprise, clearly taken aback by your suggestion. "Visit Lothlórien?" he echoed, his brow furrowing in thought. "It's an... intriguing idea, Y/n, but I'm not sure how my father would feel about it."

You nodded, understanding Legolas' reservations. "I know it's a risk," you admitted, "but I believe that if he could experience the beauty and hospitality of Lothlórien for himself, he might begin to understand... and perhaps even appreciate our way of life."

Legolas considered your words for a moment before a smile spread across his face. "You may be right, Y/n," he said, his eyes alight with excitement. "Let's extend the invitation to my father and see what he says."

With a renewed sense of hope, you and Legolas set about preparing for Thranduil's visit to Lothlórien. You knew it wouldn't be easy, but you were determined to show both him and your parents that love could conquer even the deepest of divides. And so, with hearts full of anticipation and determination, you bid farewell to Minas Tirith. You knew that a new chapter of your journey was about to begin.

As Legolas and an initially reluctant Thranduil arrived in Lothlórien, the tension between them was palpable. Thranduil's expression was stoic and reserved, while Legolas wore a strained smile who was clearly uncomfortable with the situation. You greeted them warmly, hoping to ease the atmosphere, but even your efforts seemed to fall flat in the face of the lingering animosity between your parents. The initial interactions were awkward only filled with polite but strained conversation and forced smiles.

But as the evening progressed and the wine flowed freely the atmosphere began to shift. Your parents, Thranduil, and Legolas found themselves gradually relaxing in each other's company. The rigid barriers between them slowly melting away under the influence of hope after the war and shared experiences. You watched with a mixture of joy and relief as the tension dissipated, replaced by laughter and genuine conversation. Thranduil who had initially been so guarded found himself opening up. He began to share stories and jokes with Celeborn and Galadriel as if they were old friends.

And Legolas, too, seemed to come alive in the warmth of his father’s acceptance. His smile growing more genuine with each passing moment. It was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders finally allowing him to truly be himself in their presence. He chuckled at one of Thranduil's jokes and clinked glasses with Celeborn, a genuine smile gracing his features.

In the midst of the conversation Legolas turned to you, his eyes sparkling with affection. "Meleth nin," he said softly, his voice filled with utmost warmth.

As Legolas inadvertently uttered the Elvish endearment, my love, the words hung in the air laden with the weight of unspoken emotions. Your heart skipped a beat at his slip-up, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement coursing through you.

"Really?" you exclaimed. Your eyes widened with surprise and utmost delight. For a moment you almost forgot that your parents and Legolas' father were present too caught up in the rush of emotion that swept over you.

Legolas blinked, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he realized what he had said in front of the parents. "I... uh, I mean..." he stammered, clearly flustered by your reaction.

But before he could finish, Thranduil let out a soft chuckle. The elvenking’s eyes twinkling with amusement. "It seems our children are more than just friends," he remarked to your parents. His tone surprisingly light-hearted.

You turned to your parents with a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I guess we should have mentioned that sooner," you admitted feeling a surge of relief as you saw their understanding smiles.

Celeborn and Galadriel exchanged knowing glances before Celeborn spoke up. "Love has a way of revealing itself in unexpected ways," he said, his voice filled with warmth. "We are happy for you both."

Thranduil let out a small chuckle. His eyes crinkling with amusement. "Young love," he said before shaking his head in mock exasperation. "It seems like only yesterday that Legolas was just a boy chasing after butterflies in the woods."

Legolas rolled his eyes playfully at his father's comment. "I assure you, Ada, I have grown up a bit since then," he spoke. His tone teasing but affectionate.

Celeborn chuckled softly his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Indeed," he agreed, his voice warm. "But some things never change." He motioned to you with a knowing grin.

And as the tension melted away completely, replaced by laughter, and shared understanding, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unwavering support of your parents. With their blessing and acceptance, you and Legolas knew that your love story was only just beginning. You were finally destined to have a beautiful and unforgettable journey filled with laughter, joy, and the sweet promise of a future together. You had waited a long time for this. A very long time.

As the night grew deeper and the fire crackled softly, you and Legolas found yourselves immersed in a comfortable silence. The two of you basking in the warmth of each other's presence. Legolas turned to you with a playful glint in his eyes, taking your hand in his. "Well, my dear, it seems the hour grows late," he remarked, his voice soft and warm.

You nodded feeling a surge of affection for the elf beside you. "Yes, it does," you replied, a smile playing at the corners of your lips.

With a gentle tug on your hand Legolas rose to his feet pulling you up with him. "Allow me to escort you to your room," he said. His voice filled with gentle sincerity.

You followed him, the touch of his hand sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. As you reached your door, Legolas turned to you. His eyes sparkling with mischief. "Until next time, meleth nin," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before turning to leave.

A faint blush coated your cheeks at his actions. “Until next time, meleth nin.” You repeated. You watched him go with a smile playing at your lips as you realized that no matter what adventures lay ahead, you would face them with him. Oh, what a life.

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[elfy-elf-imagines]

To Meet Under the Stars | Thranduil

▹ Pairing: Thranduil x Elf!Reader

▹ Genre: Fluff

▹ Words: ~3k

▹ Summary: In light of the stars, Thranduil finds himself entirely enchanted by a mysterious masked woman.

▹ Notes: I love masquerade balls, that is all. Unedited because we die as men.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The light of starlight was something sacred to the elves. 

In the times of old, before the moon and sun had been created, Varda placed the stars in the sky, illuminating the world for the elves to see. For all other races, stars were just light that guided their way at night, but they were so much more for the elves. They held the promise of life unsullied by the evil of Morgoth. A beautiful display of glistening diamonds that held the light of creation. To honor the stars was to honor Varda herself.

Under the canopy of stars, the wood elves of Eryn Galen celebrated the first night of the autumn equinox. The moon was full and high in the sky as lords, ladies, and commoners alike gathered for the party. The echo of minstrels ensured there would be no corner of the kingdom not lit with joy. Dragonflies darted across ponds, and crickets hid in the forest, chirping to the beat of the lute. There were festivities all throughout the kingdom, but the main attraction was the masquerade ball held within the palace of King Thranduil. Only guests of high esteem were invited to dance under the lush canopy in the company of the royal family. 

And there you were, with summer in your hair and winter in your eyes. Dancing through the crowd, illuminated in the silver light of the moon, you were the vision of a goddess. A soft halo shone upon your silver-gold hair, pinned in an updo with stray pieces that cascaded down your back. Flowers in purple, blue, and silver hues were placed upon your head like a crown, creating the silhouette of a queen. A silver mask encrusted with enough jewels that it glittered under the light concealed the top half of your face, two holes allowing your eyes to glow in the dark. A grin born of pure ecstasy was outlined by the lipstick on your lips. 

No one could recall who you were nor when you’d arrived at the celebration. It was as if you were always there, lying in wait and dancing with the ghosts of the open-roof ballroom. A laugh rivaling the minstrels' songs hung in the air where you stood and followed your every sweeping move. 

From the high table, with a glass of wine precariously hanging in his hand, Thranduil watched you. He couldn’t help it. It was as if you were weaving some sort of spell, casting it upon all who watched, paralyzed by your song and enraptured by your dance. You were beautiful, quick as a whip, and light as a feather. Each step seemed calculated and purposeful, yet so loose it could only be natural.

Thranduil couldn’t recall ever meeting you, so certain he’d know your laugh even if he couldn’t see your face. His advisors tried to make idle conversation as Legolas spent his time with the other members of the guard, drinking and laughing. Thranduil couldn’t be bothered to even pretend to listen, intently focused on the way your summer blue dress flowed like water around you. It nearly felt sacrilegious to directly look at something so beautiful, like staring at the face of Varda herself. 

“It is a beautiful--” his advisor beside him began to speak, talking so slowly it made Thranduil’s lips curl in slight irritation that was hidden by the goblet he held. He watched as you threw your head back in laughter, finding amusement in whatever the elf lord you were speaking with said. It took all his willpower not to roll his eyes as he drank more sweet wine. 

The elf lord offered you his hand, which you gracefully accepted. Instead of dancing through the crowds alone, you twirled in the arms of another man. It made Thranduil’s stomach turn in a way it hadn’t for centuries. 

You and the elf lord you danced with would flit in and out of his vision, yet the merriment never left your expression, and when the face of your dance partner would face Thranduil, he could see just how enchanted the man was by you. His grip on the goblet tightened, knuckles turning white. 

The song seemed endless, drawing out the end of it for as long as possible. Part of Thranduil was tempted to bark at the minstrels to begin a new one in hopes you would once again be left alone, but he didn’t. A king needed to maintain his composure, even if everything inside was screaming not to. It seemed silly to be so taken by a woman whose face he couldn’t even see. 

“Have you tried one of these cakes yet? They’re quite--” 

“Galion.” Thranduil interrupted the man previously speaking, gaining the attention of his butler. The advisor that had been interrupted scowled yet said nothing else as Galion stepped closer to Thranduil. 

“Yes, my king.”

Thranduil pointed at you, Galion’s eyes following his finger. “Who is that?”

His eyes narrowed as Galion leaned closer to try and get a better look at you. Yet not a glint of recognition twinkled in his eyes. Did anyone here know who you were?

“I’m afraid I am unfamiliar with who she is. Would you like me to fetch her, my king?” Galion asked, his attention returned to Thranduil, whose eyes furrowed in mild annoyance. 

“That will not be necessary, Galion.” He waved his hand, and Galion returned to his previous seat. It would be easy to bring you to him, he was the king, after all, but he didn’t want your meeting with him to seem forced upon you. He already had enough of a reputation as a cold, unfeeling man; it wouldn’t do any good to give you a reason to believe them. 

The song ended, and you stepped away from your partner, lowering into a curtsey that he returned with a bow. Thranduil stood, the legs of his chair scraping on the floor; he didn’t bother giving a weak excuse for his exit. If he doesn't act soon, you might slip from his fingers. Thranduil took long strides down the platform and disappeared into the sea of elves. 

He pushed his way through the crowd, most too lost in the magic of the music to pay their king any mind. He could see you, dancing alone with your eyes shut. The grin on your face was wide, never wavering in the slightest. The distance separating him from you was dwindling, the anticipation making his palm sweaty. The crowd parted, and he could’ve pulled you into his arms if he wanted to. 

But as he opened his mouth, you disappeared into the crowd, so preoccupied you never saw him coming. Thranduil’s eyes narrowed, his misty eyes searching the crowd for you, but you were nowhere to be seen. Had you merely been a figment of his imagination conjured by the trickster spirits rumored to hide in his forest? Perhaps you had been, but Thranduil was determined to comb through the crowd hoping to see you again.

Then, a flit of blue brightened the corner of his eye. He turned, seeing you dart from dance partner to dance partner, now on the other end of the room. A cat-like grin appeared on the edges of his mouth; he’d found you. Once more, he pushed through the crowd, not moving his eyes from you for one second, afraid you’d disappear without a trace if he did.

The crowd would pulse, and you would get closer to him before suddenly spreading out towards the treeline. Thranduil would get close enough to smell your floral perfume, but you'd dart in another direction before he could take your delicate hands in his. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was on purpose; you probably hadn’t even noticed him. Your eyes never locked with his that never strayed from you.

But the gods seemed to smile upon him that night, and as the crowd came closer, Thranduil snatched your hand. Your body twisted to face him, the grin on your face never faltering. The perfume you wore was distinctly jasmine, vanilla, and something sweeter, tantalizing enough to bring him closer to you. His hand was rough in comparison to yours, much larger too. 

“May I have this dance, my lady?” His voice was velvet smooth. Thranduil stood out like a sore thumb as the only one in the crowd without a mask. 

“You may, my king,” you curtsied before placing your other hand on his shoulder as his hand found its place on your waist. Wasting no time, the two of you twisted and spun through the crowd in an airy waltz. You had the grace of a swan, maintaining a poised elegance with a child-like grin. Thranduil felt himself falling deeper into whatever spell you had cast. 

A witch, that’s what you had to be. There was no other explanation for the hammering of his heart or the delight your touch elicited. 

One step back, one step forward, one to the side, and repeat. Another spin, extra flourish added for flavor, and the movements continued. Neither of you spoke, eye to eye, unable to look away from one another. Thranduil found himself counting the flecks in your eyes, convinced they held a thousand little stars in them. 

Perhaps you hadn’t been an illusion placed to taunt him but a gift from the Valar themselves. 

All too soon, the song ended, and the dance was finished. As he watched you do before, you stepped back from Thranduil and lowered into a sweeping curtsey. He wanted to ask you to stay with him, not only for the night but the rest of eternity, but he found himself tongue-tied.

“It was an honor to dance with you, my king.” Your voice was soft and warm, like the spiced tea he would drink before bed. He wanted your name, to lift the mask you wore and lay his eyes upon your face entirely. He needed to see the face of the woman that would surely haunt his every dream. 

Thranduil blinked, and in the brief time, his eyes weren’t on you, you’d disappeared. He half expected for there to be stardust left where your feet had been, but the only proof you’d existed was the imprint of your heels in the grass. His eyes scanned the crowd, twisting his body and craning his head, yet you were nowhere to be seen. But this time, instead of seeing flashes of your dress or silver hair, you were nowhere to be seen. You’d disappeared entirely.

Thranduil stood in the crowd a moment longer, hoping for a glimpse of you before deciding to return to his seat at the table. Perhaps from the high crowd, he could ascertain where you were. Thranduil returned to his seat, acting as if he hadn’t suddenly rushed from the table to dance with you, ignoring the questioning glances from his advisors. His goblet of wine in hand, eyes on the crowd, Thranduil sunk into the music and lost himself in thought. All of them were plagued by you. 

And there he stayed as the hours ticked by, seemingly in a trance. No one at the table bothered to strike up a conversation with Thranduil anymore; it was like trying to converse with a brick wall. So they settled in silence, occasionally remarking about the party with the other guests. 

“My king,” Galion returned to his side. “The lady you danced with has stepped away to the gardens.” Galion’s tone was even as if he were merely commenting on the weather. Thranduil side-eyed him, noticing the tinge of mirth on Galion’s smile. Thranduil tilted his head to the side, then slowly nodded. 

“Perhaps I should ensure our guest is enjoying the festivities.” 

Thranduil stepped away from the table and followed the path toward the garden’s you just slipped into. He took long strides to reunite with you sooner. This time he was determined to get your name and to peek beneath the mask you wore. 

When he finally stepped into the garden, he saw your back turned to him, fingers dipped in the fountain's water. Your posture was relaxed, hair loose and flowing, no longer pinned in the updo it once was. It flowed like liquid silver, furthering his conspiracy that you were a celestial being born of the gods. Precariously hanging in your hand was the mask you’d been wearing, thumbs rubbing against the ribbon that tied it in your hair. The minstrels were now a distant hum, the flowing water, and the chirp of crickets the only song in the gardens.

He stopped a few steps from you, trying to find the words to say. It’d been so long since he’d been made to feel like a shy elfling, nervous about approaching his first crush. A king should be dignified and confident, but he felt all of that crumble in your presence. 

Your ears twitched as Thranduil shifted in his spot, head raising at the sudden intrusion. Slowly, you turned, unsure who to expect would intrude upon your solitude. But of all the people you imagined stepping into the garden, you never anticipated it would be the king. He nearly seemed awkward and unsure in his place, fingers smoothing wrinkles on his robes that weren’t there. 

Immediately you lowered into a curtsey, but the king didn’t acknowledge the movement. His eyes were wide and mouth slightly agape as he stared at you. As he looked upon your face, this must’ve been how the first elf to gaze upon the stars felt. The curves and lines of your face were soft and delicate, the vision of beauty. Your eyes seemed even brighter in the dim lighting, an unsure, shy smile curling on your lips.

“My king.”

He remained silent, too wonderstruck to speak. 

“If you require to be alone, I can--” You began to walk towards the exit, but as you passed Thranduil, his hand reached out and caught your arm. You turned to face him, uncertain. Thranduil’s hand trailed down your arm and intertwined with yours, a soft smile on his lips.

“Of all the people who desire my presence, yours is the one I desire most.”

You swallowed thickly, your mouth suddenly dry. You’d been close to the king only hours ago, sharing a dance with him. Yet the privacy of the gardens and the sweetness of his words, it all felt much more intimate. 

“Then I shall stay.”

Thranduil’s grin widened as he guided you further into the gardens. The flowers were vibrant and lush, a true testament to the skills of the elves. A canopy of trees diffused the moon's light, reflecting off the fountain and casting a spotlight on you. 

“I have a confession.” Thranduil suddenly stopped, eyes intently watching your face, noticing how your lips slightly parted and your eyes glowed with curiosity. “I have found myself quite enchanted with you, my lady. It seems foolish, not knowing your face until this moment and not having your name.”

“It’s Y/N, my king.” You interrupted, a charming smile curling your lips. The hammer of your heart matched the tempo with Thranduil’s. 

“Y/N.” He muttered your name quietly, your name on his lips making your stomach curl. Of all the ways you anticipated this night's end, strolling the garden with the king was not what you could’ve predicted in your wildest dreams.

“Y/N. If I may be so bold, I would like for this to not be the last time we meet. I desire more of your company.” 

Thranduil stepped closer, the heat he radiated warming your chilled skin. Gossebumnps followed where his hands touched, a shiver rushing down your spine. Subtly you pinched the back of your leg, convinced this was nothing more than a dream. Yet you didn’t wake; this moment was real. 

“If I may speak freely, my king?”

Thranduil nodded his head. “Please, you may call me Thranduil. No need for such formalities.”

You tipped your head at him as the smile on your face brightened. 

“If I may speak freely, Thranduil.” You corrected, with an almost mischievous lilt to your voice. “I would much desire more of your company as well. I have heard many rumors of your cold and detached demeanor. I’ve heard of how harsh you can be, yet I have seen nothing of that.”

“I’m glad the whispers of the court haven’t scared you away, my lady.” 

The smile on your face curled into a teasing smirk, eyes illuminating. “You’ll find it’ll take more than malicious rumors to scare me away.”

Thranduil's finger twirled around a lock of hair that framed your face. He seemed relaxed and more at ease than you'd have imagined. 

"A strong will and a fair face, Varda herself must've crafted you."  

His words made your face flush red, so deep it was seen in the dim lighting of the garden. 

"Pretty words you speak, my king; I'm eager to learn if your words match your heart." 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

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[cosmic-glow]

Notes: What will Bilbo's reaction be when he discovers that someone has bought his house without him knowing?

Warnings: Bilbo x gn!reader; a little scary with a little plot; soft angst; SFW.

Bag End was a peaceful place to live, the hobbits were friendly and rarely started fights, the grass was green, there was a sparkling lake behind the hill, there were no wolves or dragons around... It was all the peace you needed after so many adventures. All the gold you got throughout your life, you spent to buy that house at the top of the hill, it was a difficult bargain, but it was worth it. The house was beautiful and huge, the coziest den you've ever been in, with round windows that allowed you to see the entire length of Bag End.

The house was perfect, the only problem was that strange things happened. First, your paintings kept falling off the walls, then you started losing things that were right under your nose, they suddenly disappeared and appeared in another place you hadn't left them, but the strangest thing was when started knocking on the door in the middle of the night and whenever you went to see there was no one. You tried to ignore it, coming up with an explanation for everything, hobbits love jokes like this, they must have just been trying to scare you into laughing a little. But the problem was when you started hearing footsteps and voices inside the house when you were sure there was no one there but you.

One afternoon, you were in the living room reading a book when you heard a loud bang coming from the kitchen, as if all the pans had been knocked over at the same time, glasses were being knocked down one at a time, the sound of glass breaking gave you goosebumps, but as soon as you arrived in the room, ready to catch the person who was tormenting your days, you were floored by the vision you saw. There was no one in the kitchen and there wasn't a single cutlery on the floor, all the dishes were stored in the cupboards and drawers as you had left them, was it all a figment of your imagination?

- Who is doing this?! Show up! You don't scare me, I'm not leaving! - you said, turning around and looking everywhere.

- This is not your house! - an enraged voice shouted from behind you.

When you turned around in fright, you found a small hobbit, wavy red hair and an angry face staring into the back of your eyes, how did he get in? Where did he hide? Or how did he pass by without you seeing him? And better: who was he?

- Who are you?

- The real owner of this house, Bilbo Baggins, and I should be asking who you are, intruder!

- I bought this house! I'm not an intruder! Get out of here!

- You get out of here! Now!!

Bilbo screamed and the walls and floor shook, you felt much smaller than the enraged hobbit, the residents of Bag End were usually peaceful, but that man seemed different, something told you that you had no idea what he was capable of.

- Look, there must have been a misunderstanding, I spent all my money to buy this house, and it was completely empty when I entered, I don't know if they lied to me, but if that was the case, they deceived us both.

- Sackville-Baggins, they must have been the ones who did this, those damned gold-thirsty... - he looked away from you and cursed under his breath.

- ... Well... And what do we do now? I have nowhere to go... - you started, afraid of irritating him again.

Bilbo was silent for a while, he shook his nose and walked past you to the living room, still silent, you followed him and when you arrived he was already sitting in an armchair with his back to you. A cloud of smoke beginning to form on the ceiling from the pipe he was smoking, the fireplace crackling in the background. He was fast.

- Bilbo...? - you called and he sighed.

- I don't know, it's not fair for me to kick you out when you were as deceived as I was... - he thought a little more and you waited - Stay, the house is big, we can share - he looked at you and smiled, now looking like a hobbit very different from what you had meet.

- Thank you, Bilbo.

[...]

The days passed and, to your surprise, it was very easy to get along with Baggins, after the anger disappeared, he revealed himself to be very friendly and kind, he committed himself to helping with the tasks and was very attentive, you never imagined you could have such deep conversations feelings with someone you had just met, but with Bilbo it was so easy, it was so comfortable to talk to him, you soon developed a deep affection for him.

- I never wanted to share my peace of living in Bag End with anyone, so I find it very interesting how you ended up becoming an extension of that feeling, and not a division, Y/n - he told you one night, a little before of you sleeping, taking you by surprise.

- You also brought me peace, Bilbo... - you smiled at him and, without thinking too much, kissed his cheek - ... Thank you for everything.

- Good night, Y/n - he said with the happiest smile you've ever seen on his face.

The next day you woke up early, Bilbo was already in the kitchen making coffee, you managed to get close enough in silence to scare him with a hug, he smiled when he saw it was you.

- Good morning, sleepyhead, did you have good dreams? - you confirmed without opening your mouth, still sleepy - I know you're sleepy, but can I ask you a little favor?

- Say...

- We ran out of nut cakes and I don't even have flour in the pantry to make another one, could you buy it at the market? People don't like me and the more I avoid them the better I get - you laughed and stretched.

- Okay, I'll go, but don't start eating breakfast before I get there! - you demanded.

- No way! - he joked.

At the market, you stared at the cakes in the window, unsure of which one to get while the bag of flour weighed under your arm. You didn't like nut cakes, but Bilbo did, so here you were.

- Can I help you? Oh! These were baked this morning, would you like to try a piece to choose? - the baker said.

- Oh no, it's not for me, it's for Bilbo, I don't particularly like walnut cake.

- For whom? - the baker asked with his eyebrows now drawn together.

- Bilbo, Bilbo Baggins, he's still living in the house on the hill - you were confused when the baker turned pale.

- I'm sorry but you must have been confused, as Mr Bilbo Baggins died decades ago.

- What? - now it was you who was confused.

- Yes, that's why the house was for sale, I don't know why Sackville-Baggins didn't keep it, as they always wanted it, but Mr. Baggins passed away and his grandson moved out, so the house was empty.

You left the bakery without saying anything else and without buying any cake. It wasn't possible, surely the baker had gotten confused, you had just spoken to Bilbo, touched him, he was making coffee in your kitchen, you were sharing the same house, how could he be dead? You entered the house, opening the door with force, causing it to slam against the wall announcing that you had arrived, the sound echoing throughout the house.

- Bilbo?!! - you called.

The house was silent, nothing, no one responded. You dropped the bag of flour at the entrance and started looking for the hobbit, the house becoming almost a maze for you. It seemed like every time you called his name it was like you were denying the reality that haunted you, it couldn't be true. When you entered his room, the room you left last, without even bothering to knock on the door first, it seemed like the truth was forcing you to accept it. He was gone. No, he had never even been here with you.

When hot tears came to your eyes, looking at the now emptier room, an item caught your attention, it was a red book on his desk. You picked it up and read the title: "There and Back Again". When you opened it, a small piece of paper that was inside fell out and landed on the bedroom floor, near the trunk. You took it and the tears finally fell when you read what was written.

“You were my best adventure, Y/n.

Love, Bilbo."

It was the only proof you had that everything you had experienced was real and not a lucid dream.

Sorry for any typos;

Buy me a coffee?

October Calendar;

Masterlist

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[lady-adaneth]

Sleepless Nights ⋆.˚ ⭒₊ .

For those out there struggling to sleep, I present to you...

Synopsis:

An elf from Rivendell, you eagerly joined the fellowship. However, many harrowing months into your journey, you constantly find yourself struggling to sleep.

Maybe a confession and a certain blond elf can help soothe your insomnia...

Legolas x gender-neutral elf!reader

No use of y/n

Prequel to Romantic Inclinations, but can also be read as a one-shot

Want to feel truly immersed? Listen while you read Encampment | Forest Sounds 

Content Warnings:

Spice scale: it’s spicy…but like it could also be spicier

Intimate physical touch + allusions to more

Word Count:

1.5k words

Translation Dictionary:

Meleth Nín = My Love

Mellon Nín = My friend

Aman = Blessed Land

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

On tumultuous nights in which Legolas would undertake watch, the Fellowship and seemingly the entire forest would fall into a deep, weary slumber. Despite dozing constantly during your trek across the foothills, much to Gimli's envy, when day finally welcomed the night your worries continued plaguing your mind. You had laid staring up at the stars, knowing exactly which ones would lead you home to Rivendell. Despite the stick digging into your shoulders, it wasn't the thought of a snug bed and safe fire that tempted you, but rather those that you'd left behind. Before you joined the fellowship, there had been whispers of exodus. In the moment you had been hungry for adventure, ignoring the signs, but what if you'd made a mistake? You couldn't help but picture your kin sailing to the Grey Havens, escaping the torment that kept you from a good night's rest.

"Having trouble?" a kindly voice whispered. You briskly shot up, turning towards the source.

He sat back to a tree, vigilantly carving away at a piece of wood with his dagger. Despite your weapons lying comfortably around you; daggers by your ankle and spear by your side, Legolas's bow and quiver remained strapped to his back.

"Well that can't be comfortable," you teased, imagining the feel of a bow poking into your back. Suddenly you felt better about the stick.

"I could say the same thing about your arrangement," his head pointed towards your spot on the floor, eyes transfixed on his work.

"Hm, touché," you smirked, a pleasant silence falling between you.

The woods were immensely calm; the stridulation of insects a harmonious melody drowned out by a singular frog and its stark croak. The tranquility reflected in your companions, whose soft huffs of air you could hear below the crackling of the firewood. Maybe it was your expansive hearing that kept you from a restful sleep. You suddenly couldn't help but envy your newfound friends. Your thoughts were interrupted by the carving of wood as Legolas began to struggle with a corner, sawing forcefully at the bark.

"And what, exactly, are you making at this ungodly hour?" You stared at him with the corner of your eye, feigning annoyance.

"Wouldn't you like to know," the sawing continued.

"Mhm, what an astute observation" you mocked, standing and taking your place next to him, letting your head rest against the tree's homely bark.

After only a few weeks spent together you and Legolas had become settled in each other's presence. Through all of your teasing, you found it incredibly difficult to find anything about him to dislike. This unnerved you in a way, that is, how effortlessly you felt yourself falling for the princeling.

The silence returned once more, but the sawing had halted. You turned your head, finding Legolas already staring at you. His eyes were fawn-like and the tips of his ears began turning pink. Despite his curious embarrassment at being caught, he didn't shy away.

"What's on your mind?" you can feel your cheeks blossoming as the question leaves your mouth, your effort to prevent the blush only making it worse.

"How about you tell me what's keeping you from a good-night's rest," his eyes shone with genuine concern as he returned to his work. You felt the tension loosening, your playful demeanor returning once more.

"And what do I get for revealing such a thing, Prince?" You crossed your arms as if it could shield your fluttering heart.

"Whatever you want," the string was being pulled tighter once more.

You tried to keep your composure, confused as to how he was flustering you so.

"How about...you tell me what you're carving and why?" His eyes seemed to widen nervously at your proposal, only adding to your curiosity.

"Hmph, deal," he reached out his hand, and you leisurely reached your hand out. His handshake was gentle and his palms sweaty.

"But earnestly, mellon nín, what is plaguing you?" he said softer than before, suddenly aware of the others sleeping around the fire.

A sigh escaped your chest before you even registered it. You never told anyone about your troubles, and yet somehow it felt natural with Legolas. You weren't sure how much to say.

"I just...haven't found my sleep to be restful. Not since we left-," you swallowed hard.

You glanced at him as you attempted to compose yourself, expecting him to encourage you with his words. But he sat silently, knowing present in the depth of his stare.

He silently nodded, urging you to continue speaking.

You continued.

"When we first left, I had no hesitancy. And yet, as we continue, both our struggles here and those at home...trouble me," a breath enters your lungs. "I anticipated that this journey would be difficult, yes, but not impossible. The latter grows more apparent every day," you worried as to his response, and suddenly you found the ground to be rather intriguing. You began sifting the dirt through your fingers, soothing yourself as your cheeks turned red in shame. It was unlike you, let alone any elf, to be so vulnerable with another.

Suddenly, you felt a hand on your shoulder; urging you to look up. Legolas's face came into view, eyes soft and glowing with firelight.

"I'm glad I am not the only one who feels this uncertainty," he smirked, though his eyes appeared more sorrowful than anything. You breathed a sigh of relief, shoulders relaxing all at once.

"We're not meant to lose hope at the prospect of another day not appearing before us-" He halted himself.

"-But, if it's any consolation, I'm glad my last day would be spent amongst all of these wonderful individuals," you chuckled at his words, fighting back a tear. "And if I could visit Aman with anyone...," he paused, seeming to collect his thoughts.

"...I would want it to be with you," his eyes lingered on your face, his demeanor more nervous than you had ever witnessed.

He searched your face for any sign. Disdain, perhaps? Or maybe acceptance.

Your breathing hitched as his eyes dipped down to your lips. Your arms could no longer muffle the sound of your hammering heart.

You were suddenly made aware of the hand on your shoulder, the way Legolas's hair seemed to burn more so than glow, the way his eyes sparkled with moonlight as they looked at you with the reverence of a thousand worshippers.

"Seems we have the same wish," you said quietly. Your words lingered as neither of you moved. Legolas sat motionless, not wanting to back away...or overstep.

You noticed.

Raising your hand to his cheek, you steadily moved your face closer to his. Your lips lingered over his for a second, before you moved back slightly; glimpsing into his eyes, searching for permission, before returning fluidly to his lips.

His lips encompassed your bottom lip gently, before pulling back to look at you. Your heart fluttered as he peered at you with an indescribable sense of wonder; impressing a sense of fey upon him. A smirk appeared on his face as he leaned back into your chest, his lips smashing against yours.

You could feel the string in your heart snap, all semblance of control leaving your body.

His arms wound around the back of your neck, and without a thought you moved your legs around his waist; straddling him as his back was pressed against the tree.

A small grunt escaped his lips as your hips gently made contact with his, the angles of his face sharp beneath your calloused fingertips. He gently pried your hands from his face as his lips trailed down your cheek,

then your jawline-

and then to your barely exposed neck.

You let out an audible gasp as his teeth gently bit into your skin, your hands finding their place in his hair. Legolas began shifting his hips, a pleasurable moan escaping your lips.

"SHHH," the sound emanated from the campfire.

His face leapt away from your neck, searching for the source.

Your hand covered your mouth as you fought back a roaring bout of laughter. Legolas's face was blooming as he held his breath.

Had they heard you? If Gimli had spotted the two of you neither of you would hear the end of it.

You both waited for a moment, searching for any sign of movement amongst your supposedly slumbering friends.

You couldn't believe what just happened. Next time, you resolved to find a more private location.

You let out a sigh, slumping into his chest; arms wounding around his neck as his arms found their way around your waist.

"So...who taught you that," you whispered, giggling to yourself at the thought of his lips on your neck...the claim his teeth had made on your skin.

"A certain, close source, that I shall not divulge," his hot breath lingered on your ear, his voice coarse.

"Hm, so that's how Arwen got those marks,"

"I hope you don't mind, meleth nín,"

"Not in the slightest-" you pulled back slightly, forehead resting against his.

"-I shall wear it like a badge of honor," you kissed him on the forehead.

A certain twinkle shone in Legolas's eyes as he leaned in to kiss the bite mark with enough gentleness to make you cry yet again.

"I think we may awaken the entire forest if we continue," a blush formed on your cheeks.

"Let's get some rest then," he smiled, his cheeks painted crimson at the thought.

You stood slightly, unwinding your legs from his hips. You slid to the floor, resting your head on his now outstretched legs. Without a word, he grabbed the blanket from his side, placing it around your drowsy form.

Legolas began to hum an unfamiliar tune, fingers making lazy strokes across your face. All you could hear was his steady heartbeat and voice, drowning out all else.

Your heart swelled with warmth as you fell asleep in Legolas's arms for the first time.

✩✩✩✩

If you have any criticisms or requests please send them my way! Have a restful day/evening <3

#legolas #legolas greenleaf #legolas fluff #Legolas greenleaf fluff #legolas oneshot #legolas x reader #legolas x you #legolas x y/n #lotr fanfic #lotr fic #lotr requests #Legolas x elf!reader #Legolas x gn!reader #Legolas x gn!y/n #gn reader #gn y/n #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n #Legolas blurb #legolas x fellowship!reader #sleep fic #insomnia fic #legolas x gnelf!reader #legolas x gn!elf!reader #legolas x gn-elf!reader

[heliads]

platonic!aragorn x reader? i requested a bunch of these a while ago and i just adore how you write him. perhaps something in rivendell where the reader is overworking themselves because their productivity is really low so they work longer (bonus points if reader is a writer) and aragorn gets them to relax. ooh and sibling-style banter pls!!!

bonus points?? i didn't realize i was getting points at all this is fantastic

masterlist

Spring is a soothing time, it always has been. Winter is dark and dangerous; the sun sets early and tempers snap quickly, even amongst the elves. Those who claim to only proffer peace can lose it faster than you think. Grey skies spell trouble, early frost kills each and every bloom that thinks itself tenacious enough to come out before its time.

Every winter you think the cold will never end, that warmth and light will stay dead forever. Every spring, you are reminded of the one truth in this world that everyone seems to forget:  it will get better from here on out. There will, at some point, be a surrender of darkness, and you will heal. We all will, and we will do it together.

You are remembering that now as you walk through the gardens of Rivendell. Stormy nights made the stone and wood structures look cold with gloom, but with the way the sun shines upon them now, you would think yourself in a wholly different place. This is your home, it has been for the last ten years. You were not an elf born, but you came to their city and they welcomed you anyway. Swords can only do so much good. Sometimes poets and scholars are more necessary than guards.

So you found a place tucked away in glen thickets and stone walkways, so you learned to pursue your craft of words and thoughts until a foreign place felt like home and accepted you as one of its own. No life is easy, not while monsters like orcs and trolls still roam the uncharted territories in between cities, but Rivendell is a peaceful life, and it does good by you.

If you cannot find strife in the danger of fighting for your life, however, you will make it yourself. Resting is a difficult thing, even though it shouldn’t be that way. If you rest too long, you start to think, and if you think, you start to realize that you are technically an outsider here, not born within the stone spirals of Rivendell but of some other place, and that means you must prove that you deserve to stay here for longer. Those who stay must have meaning. What, then, could possibly be yours?

You’re a writer, then. Fine. Could your writing compare to those around you? Even the least of the elves still have centuries on you, so much time to hone their craft. By comparison, your scribblings must look juvenile at best. You’re trying, sure, but effort can only get you so far.

You’ll have to catch up on time, then. That’s doable. It should be, at least. You pour hours into the study of manuscripts and texts in the library, force your quill to paper so many times you think you might as well never lift it up. You may not have time as your virtue, but you can force it to work for you anyway.

The problem is getting your brain to cooperate half as well as your hands. Your pattern of frantic writing starts to wear away from you as you attempt to keep up the pattern from dawn until dusk day after day after day. It is exhausting work, but it shouldn’t be– isn’t this writing, what you decided you wanted to do forever? If you were truly gifted at it, this wouldn’t take so much effort, and it certainly wouldn’t drain you the way that it does. Maybe that is another failing, one more thing that separates you from the elves.

You hadn’t realized others were aware of your inner strife until you got a visitor one month after winter ended. He comes with bloodied hands washed clean, armor placed in an unlocked box for quick access, sword still within reach. Peace does not come easily to him either, son of the North, but it does not come easily to anyone. Aragorn might disguise his torment better than you, though. Or so he pretends.

You were not aware that he was stopping by. Perhaps you should have known, if you had spent more time outside of your study instead of unsuccessfully trying to burn through the latest chapter in your work. Regardless of what you could have learned, the result is the same:  your old friend stands in the doorway, shaking his head with mock solemnity even as he fails to hide a grin.

“Y/N, friend, have you ever been able to let yourself enjoy your time here, or must you always suffer yourself to your pages?”

You stand up with a smile and walk over to greet him. “Aragorn, how lovely to see you. What brings you this way?”

He lifts a shoulder. “Tracking business. There are rumors I don’t like about goings-on near Mount Doom, but that’s neither here nor there. Also, I heard that you weren’t doing as well as I would care to imagine.”

You stifle a groan. “You’ve been in contact with Arwen, haven’t you? Tell her she has nothing to worry about.”

“I would if I believed I wasn’t telling her lies,” Aragorn muses, “you seem too tired, my friend. Your brow is lined, your eyes are weary. What is the meaning of this?”

He does not say it angrily, or in any demand for information, just a concern for his friend. It is this and this alone that finally convinces you to open up.

“I need to do it,” you tell him at last, “I need results. I need pages of writing to make up for the fact that I lack the experience of the elves. I may be tired, but I feel like I have to prove that I deserve to be here.”

Aragorn shakes his head, looking surprised. “That cannot be. Who has told you that a person cannot merely live and have that be enough? Not every task must be proven right or proven useful, Y/N. You do not have to outwrite the elves, that truly is impossible. You are here to follow your own path, not theirs.”

You sigh. “It is difficult to not compare my writing with theirs when we live in the same place.”

“I remember that,” Aragorn says thoughtfully, “growing up and learning the way of the sword from elves with many decades already more than me was challenging, but it teaches you things that you would not know from mankind. Do not let them affect you, Y/N, intentionally or not. Only do what you wish to do. That is why you are here, not to do what they can but what you can. That way, they can learn from you as well.”

You run a tired hand across your face. “So you really came all this way to tell me to relax?”

His face splits in a familiar grin. “I figured you would need some advice. Besides, it truly is good to see you. It has been too long since we last spoke.”

You agree with that. “That means you could visit more often, you know, instead of tracking random animals through the wilderness.”

He frowns with pretend indignation. “My tasks are more important than that.”

“I wouldn’t know,” you tease, “you never visit long enough to tell me. And when you are here, you spend all your time following a certain Elf-maiden around. It makes for difficult conversation.”

He laughs. “You’re impossible.”

“Of course I am,” you say gleefully, “that’s why we’re friends. Thank you, though, for your words. I do appreciate them.”

“They are true,” he reminds you, “it is okay to rest. It always will be.”

It is a good message, this. Hard to remember and even harder to practice, but still good. You will try to apply its power in the days to come.

lotr tag list: @rogueanschel, @retvenkos, @gods-fools-heroes

#aragorn #aragorn imagines #aragorn x reader #aragorn oneshot #strider #strider imagines #strider x reader #strider oneshot #lotr #lotr imagines #lotr x reader #lotr oneshot #tolkien #tolkien imagines #tolkien oneshot #lotr aragorn #lotr aragorn imagines #lotr aragorn x reader #lotr aragorn oneshot

[htchnr]

♰ drink you dry ༻ THRANDUIL.*ೃ˚

➻ masterlist.➻ buy me a coffee! ➻ 1K drabble event!

CW ➻ smut ⋆ piv ⋆ unprotected sex ⋆ creampie ⋆ blood sucking ⋆ wound licking ⋆ MODERN AU! Vampire!Thranduil ⋆ if i missed anything, lmk!

SUMMARY ➻ edited my old Graves vampire fic to be a Thranduil fic to see how i like Vampire!Thran ... safe to say i will most likely write a full thing for him now .. WC ➻ 0,7K.

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐇𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐑. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦, 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!

you lean against the windowsill, leant forward ever so slightly as you looked out at the dark sky — stars spattered around like a messy painting.

a full body shudder wracked through you when his hands smoothed over the swell of your hips, long and slender fingers dragging up the curve of your waist — then smoothing back down.

his breath is hot against your ear when he leans in to speak, a shivering - "well, hello again sweetheart," - coming from his lips.

you whimper in pleasure as he dips his head down, his long silvery blonde hair cascading over your shoulder, his nose dragging against the soft skin of your throat — breathing in deeply through his nose as he drowns himself in your scent.

"oh how i've missed your pleasurably sweet scent," he breathes, lips brushing against the skin, his hot breath trailing as his lips are slightly parted in pure pleasure.

your breath hitches, your hands moving to cover his that have found purchase on your hips, your smaller hands gripping around his as his lips drag across your throat so euphorically.

oh how you've missed him — missed his large hands, missed his strong yet lean body against yours, missed his sharp teeth scratching down your skin — threatening to sink into your flesh and drink you dry.

he grins against your throat, sharp teeth scraping around in such a pleasuring way — if it was anyone else you'd almost be embarrassed at how wet his teeth got you.

he grins — his teeth pressed against your throat. "you missed me too, huh honey?" he coos, voice low and almost mocking.

though, how could you ever hate him when the endearing names roll off his tongue like sticky sweet honey, just waiting for you to give in and have a taste?

you close your eyes, clenching them tight as you shiver in anticipation — his hands dragging their way up your hips, slowly gliding up your waist — how were you ever meant to resist him?

you whimper, squirming against his hold as he pushes in — his teeth still dragging across your throat as he bottoms out.

moans fill the otherwise silent space of your attic, the erotic sounds spilling out the window and into the stars as he slowly pulls out — only to forcefully push in again.

"i've missed you so much, my dear," he moans — it almost sounded pathetic coming from between his sharp teeth. the chance of him missing you was slim, you knew he had plenty of places he went to drink and let himself go.

your breath catches in your throat as his pace quickens, your brows furrowing as you clenching around him, only getting even more aroused at the sounds he's making against you every time your walls tighten around him.

"are you gonna be a good girl for me?" he pants, his tongue licking a short stripe right over your pulse.

"you gonna let me taste you again? hm?" his sharp teeth threatening to break your soft skin if you move more than an inch.

you clenched around him, involuntarily showing him your answer. though, he knows you'll let him have you anyway.

"you love it, don't you honey?" he moans, savouring the sound of your whimpers as his teeth starting slowly sinking into your flesh — blood starting to slowly drip.

he drags his tongue across the small wounds, his pace having slowed to halt as he moans at the taste of your blood. he groans, leaning in to wrap his lips around the flesh.

you whimper and moan, your walls fluttering around him as you buck your hips against his. you would never admit how good it felt — how down right euphoric it feels as he wraps his lips around your punctured flesh and drinks your blood.

he sinks his teeth in a little deeper — his mind clouded with the taste of you as he seeks more. the obscene moans that are being muffled by your throat as he grinds into you.

you shut your eyes, the wave of euphoria crashing closer and closer the more he drinks. you were sure you could get off on his lips alone.

"oh shit-" you gasp, shaking against him as you orgasm hits you like a tsunami — blinding you with pleasure as you shake in his hold.

"oh just like that, you taste so good sweetheart-" he moans with your blood coating his teeth, bucking into you in a haze, chasing his own pleasure.

it doesn't take long for him to come, buried inside you with his lips wrapped around your wounds. he let's out a long, euphoric groan — painting your walls white.

he leans forward a little, holding you up as he catches his breath. and with that stupid, sharp and bloody grin whispers — "i'll come find you again my dear, you better stay put."

and though you're kind of curious about what would happen you you didn't stay put, you know you could never willingly walk away from him.

you let out a stuttered breath as he pulls out of you, his warm cum dripping down your thighs and onto the old wooden floor. and as if he disappeared with the low howl of the wind — he was gone as quick as he had arrived.

'what if i left?' — who are you even kidding? you'd always find your way back to him.

#⋆୨🩷©2024 htchnr #⋆୨⭐️thranduil #*⁀➷ vampire!thranduil. #thranduil x you #thranduil imagine #thranduil oneshot #thranduil x reader #thranduil smut #thranduil #vampire thranduil #lotr x you #lotr x reader #the hobbit x you #the hobbit x reader