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elfy-elf-imagines · 4 months

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— Elven Instinct | Legolas Greenleaf *✧･ﾟ

▹ Pairing: Legolas x Reader

▹ Genre: Fluff

▹ Words: ~2.1k

▹ Summary: When you know, you know. There's no other way to explain it.

▹ Note: I listened to Margaret by Lana on repeat while writing this, 10/10 recommend. Also, unedited because it's 2am and I want to SLEEP.

You’d met Legolas early spring when the winds were still bitter and the frost was beginning to melt.

The moon was high and the chatter was mellow, the defeat of Sauron still fresh in everyone's memory. He’d been wearing his ceremonial armor and you a white dress. The jewels you wore shimmered like stars and your eyes shone like moonlit water. A human woman from a minor noble house, you never expected catching the eye of the elven prince that helped save the realm.

Legolas’ eyes followed you intently, entranced by your sweet voice and the slight creases around your eyes when you smiled. It had been three times your eyes had met and after the third time, Legolas found the courage to approach, downing his glass and leaving it behind. His hands trembled and a lump formed in his throat, but he’d kick himself later if he didn’t try. The pathway to you seemed miles long, the rest of the crowd blind to Legolas; it was as if a single light was guiding his way to you. His blood rushed and his heart raced; tingles lit his body up.

It was no shock when Legolas was a few feet away. You noticed him approaching, of course, you were entirely too aware of him and his lingering eyes. Liquid courage was found in a glass of wine that was sweet and tarte all at once. The alcohol caused your cheeks to flush but you knew the prince's presence would make them flush brighter. The alcohol would be a good excuse for the blush you’d soon have.

The noise in your mind grew hush once the elven prince stood before you. He smelled warm and fresh, well groomed and oiled with a hint of a woodsy scent. The smoothness of his features were nearly off putting, but the shy grin on his face was anything but unnerving. The tips of your fingers fiddled with the fabric of your dress and Legolas’ hands were clasped in front of him. Nervous and awkward, neither of you were sure how to proceed.

It was silent for a moment, replaced by the fumbling of the two of you speaking over each other. With the realization, the words were cut short and silence fell over the air. Your eyes fell to the floor and your teeth worried your lips while Legolas’ cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink.

“Apologies, my prince--”

“I insist my lady, you first--”

Another bout of silence. Neither of you could remember how casual conversation worked. You peeked at him through your lashes, a small giggle slipping past your lips. It made Legolas ease his stiff posture, melting into the sound of your voice.

“May I have your name, my lady.” He couldn’t recall being so shy when speaking with a woman. All the confidence age and skill brought was drained from his body; he was an elfling fumbling over his own feet.

“It is Y/N. I would ask for yours, but I believe that question is redundant.”

“Am I so well known?”

Your grin widened in a way that would make your mother grimace.

“One of the heroes who saved Middle Earth and the son of the King of the Woodlands?” There was a hint of teasing in your tone, lips curled into a slight smirk. “I perhaps heard your name a time or two.”

Legolas laughed, eyes shut and head slightly tossed back. A stray ray of light hit his head, illuminating him with a halo above his head. “I suppose my reputation does precede me, but I feel like we’re standing on uneven ground. You know more of me than I do of you.”

Some of the nerves that made you feel fluttery and sick began to disappear. His easy and smile and comforting aura felt as same as the childhood nativity you clung to. He put stars in your eyes in a way no one else ever had.

“I’m afraid my life is dull in comparison to the other attendees of this party.”

The half smile on Legolas’ face contorted into a much softer appearance. Eye bright and voice low, it sent shivers down your spine.

“I dare say you are more so memorable.”

Your lashes fluttered and your breath got caught in your throat. Subtly, you pinched the side of your thigh, sending a prayer of gratitude to whatever god led you to this moment. A shy giggle bubbled from behind your closed lips. Emboldened from the haze the wine created, you leave a feather light touch over Legolas’ shoulder.

“A bold statement considering you’ve hardly known me a day.”

Legolas smiled at your quick retort, leaning towards your body, his head tilted down to see you better.

“They say an elves' instincts are never wrong.”

You raised a single brow in response, a coy smile tugging at the corner of your lips. All thoughts of formality and proprietary thrown out.

“And your instincts say I’m memorable?”

Legolas paused for a moment before continuing.

“Well when you know, you know.”

Unsure of how to react, a small bout of laughter left your mouth. The rest of the night was spent with Legolas at your side. Even as nobles singing his praises and vying for the favor of an elven prince, Legolas never strayed too far. With a polite smile and nod of the head, he would quickly dismiss the well-wishers in favor of returning his attention to you.

The night passed far too quickly, and with the blink of an eye you found yourself in the isolation of your room with your blankets pulled to your chin. Behind your closed eyes, your thoughts and dreams were nothing but Legolas and a life you were certain was too far from your grasp.

---

The crisp spring air was traded for balmy, long summer nights. The world began to return to normal, all that Mordor and Sauraman destroyed slowly being rebuilt. The coronation of the king was approaching, the heroes of Middle Earth lingering in Gondor, including Legolas.

You hadn’t spoken since your first meeting, but he was everywhere you looked. Walks through the city, visits to the Keep, or wandering through the gardens; it didn’t matter where you were, he was everywhere. To his credit, he made it seem as if he was a subject of fate and not the mastermind setting the chess board.

And the board was currently being reset in a small nook overlooking the city. The queen sat in front of a stone table with a book while the king lingered around the edges, unsure of how to approach.

“I began to think you were a ghost I’d imagined.” You spoke quietly and wet the tip of your finger. Flick. Your eyes began to scan the new page of your book.

From the corner of your eye you saw Legolas take the free chair directly across from you. His hands rested on the table, fingers intertwined.

“Why’s that?”

A slight smirk appeared on your lips, barely visible over your book. Finishing the sentence you were reading, you shut the book and set it on the table. Eye to eye, you took in Legolas’ appearance. His casual leathers had been traded in for formal attire, a delicate silver circlet resting above his brow. Gods did he look beautiful.

“You seem to be everywhere I am, yet this is the first time you’ve approached.”

Legolas stared at you a moment; a slight furrow of his brow in response to the tilt of your head and sly grin. “I approached you at the celebration.”

“The first and only time, if we don’t take this moment into consideration.”

Legolas narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, a grin pulling on his puzzled expression.

“You seem perfectly capable of starting a conversation and entirely aware of when we were in a room together.” The implication of his words weren’t lost on you, a slight flush betraying your embarrassment. You were entirely too aware of him.

“And how improper would that be?” You feigned a scandalized appearance, lightly swatting Legolas’ hand. “A minor noble woman approaching an elven prince? My mother would die from the embarrassment that scandal would cause.”

Legolas laughed; a short and sweet one that made his eyes turn to crescents. There was a flutter in your stomach and a misbeat of your heart. For a moment your eyes glazed over, not aware what Legolas was saying if he was speaking to begin with. He looked entirely too beautiful, his eyes too blue to be natural. Elves were supposed to be supernaturally beautiful, but none of the other elves wandering the keep were as beautiful as him.

“Ahh.” He clicked his tongue against his teeth, the sound pulling you from the spell he cast. “How foolish of me to overlook that detail. In the future I will be sure to start all conversations, lest the public get the wrong idea.”

“A relief to hear you have agreed to stop silently stalking me. And they claim chivalry to be a dying behavior.” You rolled your eyes, the grin on your face dulling any snark in your words.

Your eyes returned to Legolas, the easy silence hanging over the two of you. The air was calm, sans a nervous fog over Legolas’ eyes. What was there to be worried over? The war was over, Sauron was defeated. You tried to remember what could be a cause of worry, but your mind came up empty. Even the remaining orcs were being hunted down and slain.

“But I’m sure that reassurance isn’t why you’re here.” You broke the silence, Legolas’ attention snapping back towards you. “What worried you?”

“I am to return home soon.”

Your mouth was parted, unable to hide the disappointment on your face.

“Oh.” The word was uttered so quietly you weren’t certain it was actually said. Of course he would go home, he’s a prince with duties to his people. It’s not as if there would be anything to keep him here after the King’s coronation next week.

“I wish you a safe journey.”

The tips of your fingers tapped against the smooth stone.

“You mistake me. It is expected of me to return home shortly after Aragorn’s coronation, but I am unsure if it is what I want to do.”

A slight furrow of your brows betrayed your confusion, but before you could open your mouth, Legolas continued to speak.

“We have not spoken nearly as much as I would’ve liked during my stay here, a predicament I understand to be a making of my own, but I--” He cut himself off, eyes lowering to the ground as he shook his head.

Oh.

The realization came with a bright red hue painting your cheeks. All this time, you never once considered the elven prince had affections for you. Each time you’d been in the same room, same hall, or same street, it never occurred to you he was building the courage to speak with you again. Had your first meeting had such an effect on him? Could he possibly get as fluttery and nervous as you do?

“I would like the chance to get to know you, Lady Y/N, and in time perhaps court you.”

Like a starstruck idiot, you stared at Legolas with wide eyes and parted lips. You could hear the blood rushing in your ears and in the distance there were birds singing, or maybe you’d just imagined that.

Legolas began to drum his fingers against the table, nervous eyes unable to meet yours. You’d been silent for too long, you realized. He may be getting the wrong idea. To assuage whatever fears were building within his head, you reached your hand out and placed it over him. It brought his attention back to you; wide eyed and flushed face he looked ages younger than he really was.

“I would love for the chance to get to know you beyond the surface level.”

Like dawn brightening the landscape, Legolas’ face lit up. Any petty fears or worries were banished from his expression. He brought his free hand to rest it atop your other free hand. He squeezed your hand three times before pulling them away. After a moment you hear the soft pad of footsteps on the ground.

A chair skids across the ground as Legolas stood from his seat, outstretching a hand towards you. “Perhaps the lady would grant me a walk through the halls?”

Gently, you stood from your seat, placing your hand in the crook of his arm.

“Lead the way my prince.”

#legolas imagine #legolas x reader #lotr imagine #lord of the rings imagine #legolas #legolas oneshot #legolas greenleaf #tolkien #lotr #middle earth imagines #lotr movies #lord of the rings oneshot #lord of the rings #legolas fluff #mirkwood elves #lotr fanfic #lotr elves

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literainey · 1 year

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(Fem reader) legolas being clingy after spending the day away from reader. i want to see my doe eyes elf being pouty and acting like a touch starved bby please 🥺

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ pairing: legolas x fem!reader

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ word count: 0.5k

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ synopsis: a day spent away from you has left the prince in need of your touch now more than ever ( fluff, established relationship )

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ notes: omg omg i loved writing clingy legolas sm ty for the req !

˗ˏˋ 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 ´ˎ˗

One could have mistaken the woodland prince’s footfalls for a dwarf as they grew heavy upon entering his shared chambers with his beloved.

Rarely did the prince commit the careless act of allowing dirt to track the halls of the kingdom, yet his boots caked with remnants of the forest floor follow him as the door closes behind him. A sigh holding a handful of burdens departs from his lips at the sight of an empty room. His eyes glaze over the neatly made bed, staring at the smoothed covers as though they are taunting him. Moonlight leaks through an exposed window, and he frowns among the darkness that has overtaken the room. Whoever prompted the notion of elves slipping through the passage of time was sorely mistaken it seems, as it now feels to him that it has been an eternity since he last bid you farewell (which was this morning, soft kisses pressing onto your cheeks as you slept soundly). The possibility that the weight of your absence could evoke such a hold on him was something he failed to consider when he began courting you—and now the once tireless and perhaps even invincible prince finds himself in a poor state without the loving nature your touch provides as he transforms from a deadly warrior into a wounded bunny.

“Meleth nîn?” [ 'my love' ] His voice is quieter than his usual velvety tone, and his arms feel so empty without you tightly wound within their hold.

“In here!” You call from the bathing chambers, swiftly tying a robe over your waist before his steps follow your voice as though he's been coaxed by a spell. He smiles, relief in his eyes, shoulders relaxing as he greets the scent of woodland herbs that permeates within the bathing room. Strong arms pull you into an embrace and you are taken aback by his towering frame for a moment, shuffling slightly as he leans against you. His hand cradles the back of your head and he sighs, inhaling the scent of you while you bite back a laugh. “Hello,” you greet him softly and your head lifts to meet his gaze. His lips press onto your temple in a wordless reply and you sense that he is in extra need of your attention. "Long day?" You smile and his kiss trails to your lips.

"Lay with me." He says, and suddenly you are nestled next to him under warm covers with his face cocooned into your neck. His boots lay discarded at the foot of the bed, bracers tossed next to the fireplace that crackles lightly. Your hand works gently to undo his braids, delicate fingers running through his light tendrils. You are certain that he will clear both of your schedules tomorrow, and you are even more certain that you will not be able to leave his side for at least another day. And you have no objections, smiling as his hand finds yours and your fingers interlock with his.

#‧ ִ ۫ ༄ ˳ ⟡ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐙𝐄 :#legolas #legolas x reader #legolas x yn #legolas x you #tolkien x reader #legolas greenleaf #legolas thranduilion #lotr x reader #the hobbit x reader

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quess-art · 5 days

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Character Design for Princess Leah, mother of Silver

Design notes & Headcanons!

We very limited information about Leah so most of my choices are headcanons

Her princess design is based on King Henrik's colours which I assume are the colours of royalty

Since the Knight of Dawn's hair colour is Aurora's, Leah's hair is based on Prince Phillip's hair colour

Leah's dress is based on Aurora's and Aurora's mother's dresses in the Sleeping Beauty movie, especially the veil, dress cut, and accessory shape (modelled after Aurora's crown)

As the Princess of Dawn, many see Leah as a kind and beautiful princess who is always surrounded by butterflies attracted to her spirit

Although she isn't unkind, she has a sense of pride and petty vengeance. Many don't know that pretty-looking insects aren't the only critters around her

Like how Silver attracts animals and woodland critters, Leah attracts insects and arthropods. To an extent, she can communicate with these creatures. Thanks to this, crops grown on this land are bountiful and infestations are extremely rare

Leah is usually seen working in the castle so she uses the time surveying farmlands as moments of respite from maintaining the royal image (she also learned a lot of swears due to this)

Almost like Silver, when she sleeps, she's dead to the world. She's gotten used to waking up with her little friends crawling around/on her. When her future-husband was assigned to be her guard, he nearly had a heart attack the first time he saw this

She has 3 creatures she's especially close with: Albert XLI the silk moth, Ravanche the centipede, and Paon the jumping spider. She planted Ravanche multiple times on Henrik when they were younger when he was being stupid or annoying

She almost used her again when she saw Henrik antagonizing her husband but he stopped her. She constantly reminds him that he has already repaid the royal family for taking him in when he was younger but his sense of integrity and knighthood always seeks to repay the kingdom

But she is no knight or fighter. When the war ravaged the lands and fae-human relations broke in part due to Henrik's foolishness, she was separated from her knight and husband throughout the war

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst Leia #twst leah #twst silver #knight of dawn #lil' doots

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 3 months

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The Silver Dragon Chapter 1

The Bronze Bitch's Daughter

Prince Daemon Targaryen has grown tired of his Lady wife, the “Bronze Bitch” Rhea Royce. But he is not so easily rid of her. She survives not only his brutal attack, but his cruel violation of her. Though she remains broken and weak, she endures just long enough to deliver a child: a girl of silver hair and steely eyes.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC (Daemon and Rhea's daughter)

Warnings: Heavily implied rape

Author's Note: Here's the first chapter of my rework of The Silver Dragon! I'm keeping the old versions up, but they will be labeled "archived."

*Important Note* While he's not the villain of the show or book, Daemon is the villain of this story. We are seeing him through the perspectives of people he's hurt in various different ways. As such, he is not as morally gray as you may be used to. If you think this will upset you, don't read. Thank you!

Series Masterlist - Next Chapter

Rhea Royce lay prone on the earth ground of her beloved Vale. But she could feel neither the cold of the stone nor the dampness of the grass and stone as it seeped through her hunting leathers and onto her skin. As the heat of her body met with the chill in the ground, the runes of protection etched into her pauldrons became fogged over – rendered unreadable.

She knew she should hurt. The pain should be unbearable. Yorwyck was a mighty beast, like the Bronze King he was named for. The whole weight of the horse had come down upon her, so there was no doubt he caused her great damage in his fall. She had heard the sharp cracking of her own bones. Yet she felt none of it.

All she could feel was fear.

The cloaked man waited until her steed was out of sight. Rhea was well and truly alone, with only the distant ramparts of Runestone peering from between the hills as witness to whatever would come next.

He approached her slowly, casually, as if he couldn’t hear her desperate whimpers. She knew he just didn’t care. He ran his violet eyes along her body as he approached her head. It was not a gaze of lust. He looked on her with the same disdainful curiosity as one examining a woodland rodent crushed by a cart.

As he stood directly over her, he turned his eyes from her face – he had always avoided looking at the face he found so displeasing. Instead, he turned to her outstretched arm. He took another step, raising his foot above Rhea’s lower arm. The ghost of a wicked smile danced in the corner of his mouth, and he stepped down.

Nothing.

He raised and pressed his foot down again several more times. Not to be sure, but to emphasize to his victim that she was utterly helpless – precisely as he wanted her. Rhea knew the horrors his men had inflicted on the criminals of King’s Landing and the followers of the Crab Feeder. She knew the cruelty he was capable of and of his unparalleled creativity. He had hated her for years. In all that time, he must have imagined countless ways to torture her.

Rhea braced herself for what would come next. At least she would not feel the pain.

But his steps retreated.

All the fear in Rhea’s heart evaporated, swiftly replaced by rage. After these long nine years, this was all he had for her? For nine years, he traveled the whole of the Seven Kingdoms and beyond, slandering her and her family in the courts, then further insulting her with his brazen whoring. She had lost count of how often he had called her “Bronze Bitch” and accused her of ruining his life. She had been anticipating a reckoning from him.

But this?

This was an insult she could not stand.

Rhea knew she would be signing her soul over to the Stranger, but she would not let Daemon Targaryen have the final say.

“I knew you couldn’t finish,” she spat at her retreating husband.

He turned back, looking at her face for the first time. Rage twisted his face, but his eyes were wide with shock. He had not expected that. But she was, after all, his Bronze Bitch.

What he said next had Rhea’s blood running cold as she thanked all the Seven that she would not feel what was to come. “My dear, lady wife,” he said, breath heaving and voice dripping with hateful venom, “perhaps it is time we consummate our union.”

The Lady of Runestone was dying, nine months on from her “accident.”

The people of the Vale were told that it was a miracle from the Seven themselves that she had survived such a devastating fall from her horse. Even more miraculous still, her husband had swooped in on dragonback to rescue her before she succumbed. He had even used his mount, Caraxes ‘the Blood Wyrm,’ to find and dispatch the offending horse. A true Targaryen prince, rescuing his bronze damsel. It was no wonder when her cousin and heir, Gerold, announced to the court that she was with child. They cared little that their Lady’s rescuer had swept flown out of the Vale as swiftly as he had arrived.

Only her cousin, her Maester, and her ladies-in-waiting knew the truth. Maester Kerith had spent countless hours binding the broken bones that could be saved, and those he could not, he promptly removed. When Lady Rhea next sat the Bronze Throne, she made sure her ladies dressed her in her riding leathers rather than a gown that would hide her injuries. She wanted her court to see what she had survived, even if they could not know the truth.

When it became clear that the consequences of what her husband had done extended beyond mere injuries, Maester Kerith offered her moon tea, but she refused. With her health still declining and her body struggling to overcome the trauma she had faced, she knew she would not survive long. But again, she refused to let Daemon have the final word in their hellish marriage. He had insulted her, paralyzed her, and raped her, but she would not let him forget her.

She would leave him with an Heir of Bronze.

The babe was born as the sun rose, though the day remained dark beneath the clouds that so often surrounded Runestone.

Rhea wept for the first time, having felt no pain throughout the birth, when she saw that her daughter had the silver-white hair of her father. She had prayed for months that her child would look just like her, to be a constant reminder of his Bronze Bitch. But the babe was just another silver Targaryen. Her final revenge had failed.

Gerold sat at her side, cradling the girl in his arms, as her mother could not. Then, as the babe began to cry, he held her out so Rhea could see her.

“Cousin, look at her eyes,” he whispered, all too aware of the grim looks on the Maester and Septas’ faces.

Rhea turned her head, lifting her neck as much as her weakening body would allow to try and glimpse her child through her tears. She looked past the white hair at the small but wide eyes that beheld her.

The slate grey eyes of Runestone, the Bronze Kings, and the First Men. Royce eyes.

Rhea smiled. Perhaps her revenge would not be as sharp as she would like, but so long as her daughter remained, Daemon would never forget her. He would always remember that he could not break her.

The Lady of Runestone’s breaths came slower, and though the Septas flurried around her, she paid them no mind. She had known all these months that she would not live to see the look on Daemon’s face when he first met his heir. She knew these were her last moments. But she did not want to spend them afraid. She wanted to spend them with her daughter.

Fitting, she thought, that Daemon’s heir should be a girl. His young niece had usurped his claim to the Iron Throne, and now his claim to Runestone was usurped by his own daughter.

And what a beautiful daughter she was. Rhea’s vision began to blur around the edges, and the voices of the others in the room faded as she beheld the babe. Her eyes were bright, even as she cried softly, and the silver-white of her gently curling hair seemed to bring out a metallic shine in her grey eyes. They complimented each other, as her parents never had.

This girl was not bronze.

“Arianwyn,” Rhea whispered, naming her child as the life, at last, left her broken body. Lady of silver.

It was not Prince Daemon who came to Runestone to receive the child on behalf of the Royal family, but the young Queen Alicent Hightower. She came with the unwelcome news that the child’s father had already remarried. Less than a month after he became a widower. He had departed with his new wife, Laena Velaryon, to Pentos without leaving instruction on the care of his daughter – or even acknowledging her birth.

Alicent, despite her reputation as a fierce supporter of her husband’s family, was more than empathetic to the child’s plight. It seemed to Ser Gerold that the young Queen held a similar opinion to his own regarding Daemon Targaryen. She commiserated with him on the pain the prince had caused his family, especially Rhea and her daughter. It seemed that As long as the prince had vexed the Royce family, he had been equally maddening to his brother.

But what was most shocking to Gerold and the court at Runestone was the offer the Queen brought: to bring the child to King’s Landing and raise her there. Despite her father’s indifference, the child was a Targaryen. It was her right to live amongst her people, to learn the traditions of Old Valyria.

And at the Red Keep, Arianwyn would not be alone. The Queen had three children, each young enough to be peers to their newest Targaryen cousin, and more were anticipated from both Alicent and the recently wed Princess Rhaenyra.

The King had already given his approval, both to the fostering of his niece at the Red Keep and of Gerold serving as regent of Runestone until the girl had come of age. Indeed, all the arrangements were already made. The Queen had even brought a small contingent of attendants for the child, from nursemaids to Dragonkeepers, who carried a great, steaming urn containing a silver dragon egg – supposedly chosen by the Queen’s infant son – to be placed in Arianwyn’s cradle.

Gerold had only one caveat before he agreed to the King’s plan: that Arianwyn would not venture to the capital alone. A handful of attendants from Runestone delegates would be sent with her to educate her on the history and traditions of House Royce. So that even surrounded by Targaryens, she would not forget why her eyes were grey.

Queen Alicent, herself clothed in Hightower green, happily agreed.

After a long journey from the Vale, Lady Arianwyn Targaryen arrived at Red Keep, cradled in the arms of her aunt, Queen Alicent Hightower. As her attendants, including one of her late mother’s most trusted Lady’s Maids, continued on to prepare her rooms, the newest Targaryen was brought into the Great Hall.

A hush fell over the gathered courtiers when the doors to the throne room opened, and they beheld the silver-haired babe. But the chatter that so often filled the capital quickly resumed when they saw the blanket she was swaddled in. A burnished bronze velvet, carefully embroidered with the same ancient Runes that graced the ancestral armor of House Royce.

It was a slight on the Royal House that, in another court, would have undoubtedly caused a scandal. But in this court, where the Queen herself so brazenly wore the colors of her own house rather than her husband’s, it was immediately relegated to petty gossip. So the Lords and Ladies quickly resumed their conversations as the Queen approached the Iron Throne.

“My King, may I present your niece, Lady Arianwyn Targaryen,” Alicent said as she bowed before her husband as best she could with a squirming infant in her arms.

King Viserys’ eyes brightened, and he dismissed the Hand from his side. The King, having lost so many of his own children by his first wife, was always cheered when he had the chance to meet a healthy babe.

“Hello, my dear niece,” he cooed, reaching out to hold her, “what a delight you are!” His arms strained slightly at the weight of the plump child, so he pulled her into his chest. She relaxed into his against him, fussing softly as she reached for his long white hair.

Viserys laughed, running his fingers through her own hair. The exact shade of silver-white that graced nearly every member of his family. Though hers held significantly more curls than any Targaryen he had ever known.

“She is indeed a beauty, cousin.” A familiar voice drew the King’s attention. His cousin, Rhaenys, approached the throne. “It is a comfort to see our families flourishing.”

The King smiled and nodded, allowing his cousin permission to approach. She ascended the steps to the Iron Throne and ran the back of her fingers along the round cheek of her new baby cousin. “It is a shame her father is not here to meet her.”

Viserys heart sank. In his joy at meeting Arianwyn, he had momentarily forgotten the circumstances under which she arrived – without her father. Once again, his brother had shamed not only himself, but his family and the Crown itself. At least the child’s hair had put to rest any rumors that Rhea had been unfaithful.

Suddenly, the sight of the babe made his heart ache. “Alicent,” he called to his wife, “take Arianwyn to her rooms. I am sure she is tired from the journey.” He handed his wife the child and slumped back into the throne, readjusting himself to try and remain comfortable. Then, when Alicent was out of earshot, he again turned to Rhaenys.

“What has my brother done now?” He said, running his gloved hand over his face.

Rhaenys grimaced. “I am loathe to speak against him now, as he has so recently taken my daughter to wife,” she sighed. “But I feel confident in saying that none of us can ever say exactly what your brother is doing, much less predict what he may yet do in the future.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Viserys said, “I just pray that poor girl won’t suffer any more than she already has.”

When she arrived, the Queen’s three children were waiting inside the solar of their cousin’s new rooms. Aegon, now four years old, ran from his nursemaid, cackling as he swerved precariously between the servants attempting to arrange the room. Helaena, approaching her second nameday, stayed in her nurse’s arms, hands clasped tightly around her ears as she took in the unfamiliar space. And Aemond, only a few months older than his new cousin, lay peacefully in his maid’s arms as he watched servants haul numerous sparkling bronze trappings into the rooms.

“Come and meet your new cousin, darlings,” Alicent called to Aegon and the nursemaids bearing her other children, “She’s come a long way to be with us.” The Queen sat on a plush chair near the west windows of the room, gently lowering the babe into her lap.

Aegon reluctantly approached, sneering slightly at the child in his mother’s lap. “She doesn’t look like Daemon.”

Alicent sighed. “Nor did you look like your father when you were so young. Indeed, even now, I wager you look more like me. You have the Hightower nose.” She tweaked the tip of his soft nose – the same as hers - to drive her point home.

“I am a Targaryen prince!” Aegon insisted.

“Of course, my boy. How could any of us forget it with this on your head,” she said, ruffling his unruly mop of white hair.

Aegon grunted, looking back down at the baby. He gently reached out to touch her silver hair, both neater and curlier than his own. “What is her name?”

“Arianwyn.” The Queen responded.

“Ari…” Helaena started, her hands finally coming down from her ears. Alicent nodded for the maid to set her down, and the young girl approached her mother and the babe.

The Queen spoke slowly and carefully as she repeated, “Arianwyn.”

Helaena listened intently, then repeated the name several times, struggling with the pronunciation. “Ah-ree-an-win.”

“That’s it! Very good, my sweet,” the Queen said, placing her hand on her daughter’s shoulder, though the young girl winced at the touch.

Aegon continued fiddling with his cousin’s curls, “It’s a weird name.”

“Her cousin Sir Gerold Royce told me it is of the Old Tongue,” the Queen said, motioning for one of the nursemaids to bring her youngest babe closer, “it has some meaning, though I am afraid I forget what it is.”

Releasing Arianwyn’s hair, Aegon made a noise of quickly waning interest and stepped away, eager to resume his perpetual torment of his nurse. Had she not been holding her young niece, Alicent may have chased after him. But for now, she lifted the child babe to face her own.

“Aemond,” she said softly, “meet Arianwyn.”

As he beheld his bronze-wrapped cousin, he smiled, cooing and reaching a squirming fist toward her. A smile appearing across her own face, Arianwyn reached back toward him.

I'll be starting a new taglist for this, so if you'd like to be on it, please reach out to me or comment on this post.

#aemond #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond imagine #prince aemond #aemond x oc #house of the dragon aemond #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd aemond #aemond fic #hotd fanfic #aemond xf!oc #aemond x original female character #aemond x original character #the silver dragon

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ijuststareatstuffhereok89 · 2 months

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"Eden" - A Loki/Reader Drabble

You get lost in the woods and stumble upon a stranger in a secluded grove.

Pairing: Loki x Reader Genre: Sexy, Flirty Fluff (lusty descriptors but no sex) Word Count: 800 (quick read!)

MY MASTERLIST

“Are you lost?”

Absolutely, but you didn’t say a word. Your senses were too busy taking in the idyllic tableau you’d found by chance.

After wandering for hours, being mistakenly left behind by your small hiking party, you parted two large bushes to find an opening in the trees. Behind them, a small tributary wound a pathway up to a two-story waterfall, which was busy churning and rushing with the spring runoff. All around, the evidence of spring blossomed: trees birthed bright pink buds underneath their newborn leaves. Small birds chimed in chorus from the lush canopy above, and only together could they reach a noise capable of being heard past the roaring falls. Secluded, it had to easily be five to six miles from the closest point of civilization.

The source of the query that greeted you was standing at the top of the small cliffside that hosted the waterfall. Naked as the day he was born, he was unashamed of himself, letting everything shine in the sunlight. In fact, he seemed boastful, and he had every right to be from what you could see. Raven black hair blew back across his face until he took a moment to tie it back. Every pectoral, deltoid, and leg muscle was defined, given its own territory across his pristine surface to show off. Alas, that was all you could make out from your distance.

“Are you lost?” he repeated, his voice somehow able to carry clearly across the falls to you, on the far side of the glen.

You nodded, too enchanted to understand that such a subtle response would go undetected.

The figure smiled and placed his hands proudly on his hips, even thrusting his pelvis forward. Of course, this showed off more than just the sharp ‘V’ his abs formed. You only wanted a closer look for yourself.

“Stay put,” he said. “I’m coming down.”

He took a few steps back, until you could barely see his head. Then, at a moderate run, he leapt off the cliffside, performing a rigid, graceful swan dive below, making surprisingly little splash upon entry. He surfaced, whipping his soaked hair back over his head and gasping for air. His chest dripped, his breaths were deep and heaving.

As he casually swam down the creek, you shyly sat down by the bank, slipping your hiking boots off. The water did look nice, and indeed, your feet hurt from the past hour you’d spent searching for your friends. Upon dipping them into the river, you felt instant, cool relief bubble up from your toes as you stretched, enjoying the sensation.

He was athletic, more so than any human you’d ever seen. It only took him a moment to swim the distance to your place on the grass beside the water. He surfaced again, much closer to you, so you could witness him in all of his perfection.

Was he a mermaid? No, he’d clearly had legs when he jumped off the falls, and you’d plainly seen them (and what lay between them). Who, then, was this woodland god who seemed so eager to meet you?

You were met with two piercing blue eyes, fresher than the river water and just as sparkling in the sun peeking through the canopy. The ebony hair he’d shown off dripped in streams down his chest, forming small branches that circles around his nipples before rolling down his stomach.

“I…don’t mean to stare,” you whispered, embarrassed and suddenly self-conscious.

“It must be intimidating to find yourself suddenly in the presence of Prince Loki, but please continue to admire me,” he insisted smoothly, smiling with a tempting twinkle in his eye. “Then I will have an excuse to do the same with you.”

A Prince? In the woods?

His gaze moved away from you long enough to spot a small cluster of buttercups in bloom along the blank, about ten feet from your spot on the shore. Giving himself a moment, he waded downstream and plucked three from their tethers and brought them back. He didn’t ask your permission to tuck them behind your ear, but perhaps your own body language was already obvious: you wanted him to move in closer.

“Lovely, you shall be my new little companion,” he said softly, tracing your jaw with his finger briefly after placing the tiny flowers in your hair. “But I feel I should ask you one more time, sweet wood nymph, are you lost?”

You held out your hand to Prince Loki, asking him gently to come in just a little closer. He took your hand, bringing it swiftly to his lips and let his mouth linger for a deliciously long moment on your fingers.

“No, Prince Loki, I’m right where I want to be.”

Sorry this was just a drabble. I haven’t posted one-shots in a while and wanted to do one, but my muse is on staycation and it took a lot for her to get off the couch this morning. I kind of wanted to practice my descriptors a bit. Hope it's ok!

@acidcasualties @lokisgoodgirl @mischief2sarawr @loopsisloops @fictive-sl0th @smolvenger @joyful-enchantress @holdmytesseract @mochie85 @lcolumbia1988 @glitchquake @gruftiela @gigglingtiggerv2

#loki #fanfiction #mcu #mcu loki #loki fanfiction #loki x reader #mcu fanfiction #loki laufeyson #loki/reader #lost in the woods trope #waterfalls #naked loki #loki fluff #drabble #fluff #one shot #masterlist

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sotwk · 8 months

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Henry Cavill and Horses

Please enjoy this lovely assortment of Henry Cavill with horses whilst my mind brews up some headcanons regarding the role and history of horses in the Woodland Realm. For the uninitiated, Henry Cavill is fancast as a Mirkwood Prince in my fanfics.

#henry cavill #henry cavill pictures #horses #mirkwood #sotwk headcanons #crown prince mirion #sotwk fancast

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emilybeemartin · 5 months

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I have three more designs to go with Boromir's "The Captain's Kit" design! Behold:

The King's Kit

Aragorn's design features Anduril, the Evenstar jewel, the Elessar elfstone (just to pull the books in), the ring of Barahir, the crown of Gondor, and his ranger's gloves and pipe, surrounded by athelas flowers (props to @erynalasse for suggesting athelas!). I know his crown isn't really part of his "kit," but like I said in my previous post, he's basically just Dirty Wild Man with Boromir's Vambraces until he gets Anduril.

The Marshal's Kit

Eomer's design features his helmet, shoulder guard, breastplate, decorative buckle, and sword, surrounded by simbelmyne flowers. Side note: Eomer's armor is THE prettiest of anybody's by far, it's sooooo gorgeous.

The Prince's Kit

Legolas' design features his bone-handled knives, soft boots, bow and quiver, and a seagull feather, surrounded by forest leaves. I kept wanting to add symbolism that I've developed over the years in fic (I always associate Legolas with mountain laurel leaves and flowers, as a woodland evergreen re: "greenleaf," and I often give him antler-bone jewelry and a seal ring) but I made myself stick to book/movie imagery.

You can get these, and Boromir's design, on t-shirts, journals, pillows, transparent stickers, and as prints. If you'd like to see them on other merch, just let me know. Also let me know if there are issues with various items; I'm still not entirely sure how Redbubble handles it's clothing categories, so if you want it on a specific type of shirt and it's not showing up, I'll try to fix it.

Emily B. Martin on Redbubble>

#lord of the rings #aragorn #eomer #legolas #boromir #tolkien #redbubble merch

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cambion-companion · 1 year

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With a Dagger to My Throat

Inspired by the post "we've heard about missionary position what about mercenary position."

word count: 2500

Yes, the last few lines are from the Labyrinth :3

Aemond x fem!reader | 18+| Against the wall smut| Enemies to...enemies with benefits ig

You knew that look.

It was the glint of a hungry predator eyeing its next meal.

The keen gaze of the raptor before it swoops upon the mouse.

You didn't like seeing it in Aemond's lilac gaze. Or perhaps you did. Your traitorous heart stuttered within your ribcage, your throat suddenly dry as the Targaryen prince took a singular slow step towards you.

"Say that again." His voice was soft velvet, belying the anger in his rigid stance.

Never one to back down from a fight, you raised your chin in defiance. "You go too far, prince Aemond." He took another step in your direction. You did not waver. "Taking the Riverlands in so forceful a manner is beneath your dignity."

"And what," Aemond was drawing very close now, you could see the moonlight glinting off his eyelashes, "would you know of dignity."

The black stone hall was empty save for the two of you, fiery sconces adorned the walls casting deep shadows to the many corners of the room. You tilted your head up as Aemond halted his steps right in front of you, his hands clasped behind his back as he looked down into your face awaiting your reply.

You licked your dry lips, his eye followed the movement. "A great deal more than you, kinslayer."

With a hiss Aemond snatched your chin roughly with a movement to quick for you to parry. Your eyes widened momentarily as he brought his face down, you though for a wild moment he would kiss you. "You know nothing of what you speak. Drinking readily from the poisonous words dripping through the halls of Dragonstone." His eye was alight with a wildness you'd not seen before in your many encounters with the prince, however fraught with tension they'd been. "Tell me, little sparrow, what will you tell your traitorous masters of what you learned of my movements this time? How I succeeded in bending the Baratheons and the lands extending beyond the Reach to my family's rightful claim to the Iron Throne?"

"I will tell them you are a liar and a coward!" You knocked his hand aside, stepping back into a defensive stance as you withdrew your blade at your hip. "Nothing surprising in that." You sneered as Aemond's hand went to grip the pommel of his own weapon. "Raining fire from above while innocents perish below."

Aemond's silver blade reflected the moonlight as he slowly withdrew it and held the tip almost touching yours. "Such is the nature of war. You should ask those you serve what innocence they themselves have snuffed out needlessly."

You pushed aside the doubt his words sowed, letting forth a snarl from your mouth as you lunged for him.

Aemond easily parried your blow, stepping to the side as you overbalanced, barely managing to right yourself before falling. The sound of metal on metal rang through the bleak hall as you and Aemond exchanged strikes and blocks, each almost managing to land a hit.

"You started this unending nightmare!" You shouted at him, fury flushing your face as he blocked yet another swinging attack from your blade. "The events of Storm's End will haunt the world for centuries to come!"

You could see Aemond's cool facade slipping, that predatory gaze intensifying as his lips thinned into a hard line.

Not the gaze of a woodland predator stalking its prey or that of an eagle eyeing a rabbit from above, no. It was the way a dragon looked upon the world far below just before it opened its maw to engulf it in flame.

You were too slow, and too weak to resist what was to come.

Aemond rushed you suddenly, his black coat billowing behind him. The breath left your lungs as he locked his blade against yours, pushing you until your back hit the smooth wall with a crack. Your head hit as well, stunning you momentarily. In that moment he could have finished you, slit your throat, and you expected him to. Thus, it was with surprise you looked into his pale face now inches from your own.

Your noses brushed.

His breath tickled your parted lips.

"I am not the monster everyone believes me to be." Aemond's voice was a tense whisper, he held your arms still as you struggled to break away.

"You are." Your wrists were pressed against your heaving chest, the metal of your sword-hilt cutting into your skin. "You murdered your nephew. Brought his eye back on a platter of seaweed as a trophy."

Aemond's own eye closed momentarily, his nostrils flaring as his lips turned downward. When he opened his eye again it was filled with an emotion you'd not expected.

Anguish.

"I did not." He seemed to fight with himself a long while, so long your hands had began to numb when he spoke again. "I lost control."

Genuinely confused you almost forgot he was an enemy you were trying to kill. "You...what do you mean?"

"I lost control of my dragon." Aemond peered into your eyes before shaking his head, frustration written on his angular face. "Why am I telling you this? I should kill you now and be done with it. Live up to the lies they spread about me."

"Aemond-"

"No." Aemond cut you off, pressing his sword closer to your face.

A new emotion mixed with the hatred searing your chest as you tried to push back, his sword now far too close to your face for your liking. You felt doubt and perhaps a measure of pity. He had no reason to lie to you, and the emotions you'd seen play on his features seemed genuine.

With a last great effort you twisted your locked blades suddenly to the side, breaking free of his grip and swinging your elbow against the pressure point in his arm. His sword clattered to the ground and before Aemond could react you kicked it aside, sending it skittering along the uneven stone ground out of reach.

You almost had him, but before you could place the point of your blade to his throat Aemond ducked, grabbing your wrist and bending it painfully. Your own sword hit the ground and you were once again pinned against the wall, Aemond's weight bearing down upon your wriggling form.

"I am almost impressed." Aemond's hair was mussed, silver strands tickled your cheek as he leaned closer. "Who taught you to move like that?"

You didn't answer.

He chuckled. "What a shame it has to end like this." Aemond withdrew a dagger from his belt, pressing the cold edge against the skin of your throat. "I admire your tenacity, as well as your loyalty. Blind as it may be."

"Aemond." You hated yourself for the way your voice sounded so pleading, your eyes widening in mortal fear as the dagger bit into your flesh. "Don't do this."

He caught your gaze, his body freezing, even his breath seemed to stop in his lungs as he looked into your frightened face.

"Please." You pressed your palm flat against where his heart beat. "We've known each other since childhood."

Aemond's eye flickered over your features before locking once more with your gaze. "I don't want to, but you are my enemy and the enemy to my family."

His name left your lips again, softer this time, drawing his attention once more to your mouth.

It was no secret the feelings that lay between you. Hatred and love shared in equal measure. Disdain and lust warring with each other each time your paths and blades crossed. You had been friends once, long ago, within the protective innocence of childhood. He had not forgotten your kindness in the face of the crushing loneliness he'd suffered before and after his eye had been taken.

This time it was your name that fell from Aemond's lips just before they met yours. A surprised squeak left your mouth as he moved against you, your hands tangling in his hair as his free fingers gripped the back of your neck, bending you into him with his blade still against your throat.

In between the heartbeats of bliss you realized you would be unable to harm him. In fact, you wanted to shield him from harm, impossible as that might be.

You murmured Aemond's name against his lips as they melted against yours, he gripped the nape of your neck tighter in response, his mouth trailing a wet path down the side of your face to your throat just above where his dagger lay. Unheeding of the sharp metal you arched against his soft mouth as it caressed your skin, intermingling with his teeth as he sucked bruises with which to claim you.

"You are the traitor." He said it like a reproach, not angry, but resigned. His fingers deftly began to undo the clasps of your blouse, skimming his long fingers along the newly exposed skin as your shirt fell open. "Faithless in the face of death, you instead beg for your life."

You did not resist, heat pooling in your core as Aemond kept your chin aloft by the edge of his dagger. You could easily disarm him distracted as he was with the ties of your undergarment, but instead your hands busied themselves with undoing the clasps of his own garments.

"It seems to be working for me so far." You murmured, drawing back in momentary fear as Aemond brought the tip of his dagger to rest against your sternum. He smirked at you knowingly before cutting through your remaining clothing with one fluid motion.

"Hey!" Your protestations were swallowed as Aemond's silenced you with another rough kiss his tongue invading your mouth and tangling with your own. You let out an undignified moan, palming his evident erection with the hand you'd snuck inside his pants.

Aemond grabbed your wrist, withdrawing you from him, before flipping you around so that your cheek pressed against cold stone.

"Perhaps." Aemond's breath was hot against your ear, the sound of cloth hitting the ground as he freed the rest of your body from your clothing. "Or perhaps I have vanquished a valuable spy who now awaits proper punishment."

"Am I being punished for being on the wrong side of the war at the peril of my very life?" You tried to sound indignant but it came out too breathless as you felt Aemond's large hand caress and grip at the flesh of your hips before moving lower to coax your legs apart.

"No." His voice alone sent shockwaves ripping through your core. "This is penance for all the years wasted when you could have been warming my bed as my wife."

"Aemond." You were surely dripping now, his fingers caressing your folds and dipping into you with ease as he spread your slick to your clit. "I would take it all back and make that a reality if I could."

You gasped loudly as the dagger he still held ready slid dangerously against your throat, Aemond's body bending against yours as he bowed you downwards. You had to shuffle your feet a little to accommodate the new position, feeling his aroused member brushing your inner thigh.

"Lies." Aemond bit the soft skin where your neck meets your shoulder. "Sweet and beautiful but only uttered to save yourself."

You began to protest but your words choked into a strangled cry as Aemond pushed himself into your weeping quim, hilting himself in one rough movement. His silken hair tangled in your fingers as you reached around to drag his mouth closer to your face, craning your head to see his expression.

His lips were parted, brow furrowed and eye hooded as he began rutting into you. Your own face mirrored his, a droplet of drool gathering at the corner of your mouth at the feeling of Aemond's generous manhood filling and stretching you.

"How long I've waited to take you." Aemond groaned, closing his eye and tilting his head back, his grip on the dagger at your throat loosening as ecstasy overtook him.

You tugged him back to look at you, smiling softly when he yielded and laid his forehead against yours, his rough strokes easing into something more akin to the languid movements of lovemaking.

Feeling his gentle ministrations sent molten heat through you, your cunt clenching down around him, drawing a gentle gasp from his panting mouth.

"I want you to spill your seed inside me." You urged him, feeling your own release chasing you to a brilliant height. "Claim me and I will be yours."

Aemond pulled his face back just enough to see you properly, his deep distrust having given way to something almost tender as the dagger at your throat fell away at last. Somewhere amidst the moans and lewd sound of Aemond fucking you against the wall you heard it clatter against the stone floor.

His hand now free grasped your neck lightly, not enough to cut off airflow, but enough to coax you closer to your climax as he dragged your lips to meet his. His pace became punishing, his cock filling you completely, hitting that special spot inside until you were seeing stars.

Aemond swallowed your shuddering gasp as you came undone around him in a flood of wet heat. You felt his hot release fill you as he pumped into you several more times before halting fully sheathed and holding you possessively against his body, a hand splayed on your abdomen as you straightened up together. His other hand remained resting at your throat as Aemond kissed a path along your shoulder blades.

When he did remove himself from you, you could feel his seed dripping hot down the inside of your leg. Your knees shook as you turned to face Aemond, pulling him down for another kiss, more lazy than the previous, and filled with words you'd never gotten the chance to say to him.

Aemond withdrew slowly, his hands the last to leave your skin as his purple eye roved your body. "You belong to me now." He smirked as you picked up your ruined undergarments off the floor. "Whether you run back to Dragonstone or flee North of the Wall."

You shuffled your clothing back on as best you could while Aemond gracefully donned his own much quicker than you. "I will not flee."

"Then come back with me." Aemond extended a now gloved hand. "Just fear me, love me, let me rule you and I will protect you and make you my wife."

You stood like that for several long moments; Aemond with his arm extended to where you stood swaying with indecision.

Indecision melted away as you finally allowed yourself to give into what you truly desired.

Aemond.

His hand wrapped warmly around yours as you slipped your fingers against his palm.

And he smiled with genuine warmth.

"Good girl."

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shirefantasies · 3 months

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How would the fellowship confess to their crush??? 🤭🤭 ty<3

oh hoo yes ma'am/sir/friend 😌 the pleasure is all mine! Expanding this to everyone cuz I wanna as always & incorporating some TH fanon (?) lmao

How LoTR Characters Confess to You

Aragorn

Upon your ride into battle he would hardly be parted from you, and you him, so it suited you very well to remain alongside the Three Hunters. Gimli had quickly leapt from his mount, axe blazing in what little daylight remained, and Legolas had not strayed too far behind. Aragorn had become surrounded in that time, crowds of striking enemies surrounded. With a cry, you charged through them, alerting numerous other fighters to your rapidly growing cause. All but seeing red, you fought hard, leaving none spared until your dear friend was safe again. When you dismounted, Aragorn pulled you aside under the guise of checking your wounds. "What would you have done if none joined you?" At that question, you smiled. "I had faith. But had that faith failed, I still would have rode to you." Steady though his gaze was, his hand briefly faltered before it took yours. "As would I for you, my love," he replies and you feel a tug, giving in to the sweat and adrenaline and letting him pull you into his lips.

Legolas

"What are you thinking of?" The words almost startled you, turning your head swiftly to face the woodland prince striding over, that curious look alighting his dark eyes. Heat crept to your face, for your thoughts were hardly ones you would have shared with the object of your feelings. "The future," you replied. Not entirely a lie. Legolas's brows knit. "Uncertainty? Even in these times, there is hope. For you especially, I think there is brightness ahead yet." His words bring the pensive downward tug of your face back up into joy. "Really? And why is that?" You cannot help asking, unsure what Legolas sees for you when it is so unclear for yourself. "Meleth nîn, you care so deeply for others and yet so little for yourself. All that you bring into this world is that brightness. Whether it is to others or you keep it to yourself...or even a family." A look of...questioning? Bashfulness? illuminates the elf's face. "Perhaps I have my own dreams for your future. I am sorry." At once you rose, throwing your arms around his neck. "Do not be. Perhaps our thoughts were more alike than I realized!"

Boromir

“I thought I would never see you again.” “Don’t say that,” you shake your head, peering tearfully down at Boromir. His wounds were grave, far beyond anything you thought he could have survived, and yet there he remained. Hardly had you left his side, even sleeping there with his gloved hand in yours, hoping against all hope. By the Valar’s grace did he speak to you, his voice a low rasp that had you leaning in even closer. “No, it is true. For all my thoughts of Gondor, of laying eyes upon the white towers glistening in the sun once more, I thought of you also. At what pain would it be that I never see you again. I would be a fool if I never spoke my love to you.” Tears rush again to your eyes, this time with the soar of your heart as you grip Boromir’s hand tighter, leaning down to stroke his cheek and finally press your lips to his.

Gimli

“I…got you something.” Pausing, you swivel back to face Gimli, taking a step closer and seeing the way his eyes bore into yours. “‘Tis nothing so fair as you deserve, but, well, I hope you might think to accept it.” Your brows furrow a bit as you tell him whatever it is, you’ll surely treasure his gift. Smiling bashfully, the dwarf extends a hand and produces a beautifully engraved bead. The writing is unmistakable, a short Khuzdûl inscription, and on either end lies a tiny cut of your favorite stone. “Gimli, this is beautiful,” you breathe, eyes wide and shining. “Not half so as you,” he shoots back, lashes fluttering a bit, “do you know what it is?” You smile. “Yes.” “Are you sure?” “Yes,” you repeat, leaning down to rest your forehead against his.

Frodo

So long. So long has it been since he has seen you. He has no right to you, not such as the dear hopes falling almost silently from his lips that you had waited for him. Especially having been given nothing to wait for! Yet upon return to the Shire, much as Sam’s is of Rosie Cotton, Frodo’s first thought is of you. The first night he returns to the Green Dragon with his beloved friends, celebrating adventure and pain and wonder and darkness and light beyond their wildest nightmares and dreams, Frodo’s eyes meet yours. Before he can wonder what to say you’re dropping the spoon that was in your hand and rushing over to him, falling into his arms and nestling into his embrace. “I missed you,” you say, and those three words are all it takes for something to snap in Frodo’s heart. “And I you. More than missed you, I saw you like a guiding light, a beacon in darkness. All the time I was away I loved you.”

Sam

He’ll confess nowhere but the most beautiful spot he can find, that’s for certain! Sam leads you eagerly to the Shire’s finest garden, taking your hand softly to guide you beneath an arching trellis covered in sweet pea blossom. “I knew I had to take you here,” Sam tells you, reaching down to take both of your hands. You feel a flush of heat under his sweet gaze. “Why is that?” “Well, it’s the perfect place to tell you how long I’ve loved you. Surrounded by all these beautiful flowers and yet I’ve got the best one.” “I don’t know about that,” you tell him, almost losing your composure at the way his face falls before you continue, “I think I do.” Blooming across Sam’s face is the purest look of pleasant surprise, and you can’t resist cupping his cheeks before the both of you close the gap completely.

Merry

Beautiful accident. That was the phrase you had heard so often used, and such was it. One last stand had been gathered, one final fight for Frodo, and you were rising to the occasion, though not without protest. “They want me to stay behind,” you complained to your dear friend Merry, “but my leg is mostly healed. Only illness or grievous injury could prevent me from joining everyone I love in defense of this world.” At that, the hobbit grinned. “That’s why I love you.” Stunned, you gaped at his flippant confession, watching his own jaw fall open in shocked pause. Smiling, you grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him in for a searing kiss, uncaring of the way your armor clanked together or the jolt of pain in your side with the sudden motion. The feeling of Merry’s lips against yours claimed all your head and heart.

Pippin

Confesses his feelings quite unexpectedly in Lothlórien. Long have your days been and heavenly is it to have some rest. Pippin remains there at your side as you take in the astounding city in the trees, and again when you retire for the evening, taking to your makeshift quarters. You speak there, sighing and recounting without many words all that the journey has brought you through. "More than we ever would have dared imagine has happened, even just in the past few days," you comment. "Yes," Pippin agrees, fixing you deeply with his green eyes, "but one thing has come from that." "What?" You ask. "Telling someone I love them doesn't seem so scary now." He pauses, searches the surprise on your face. "You don't- you don't have to-" His words are utterly cut off, though, by the passionate fall of your lips upon his.

Faramir

What place is more wondrous than a library? None for you, thank you. Faramir was well used to finding you there and soon joining you, poring over books from his childhood and whatever dusty tome you insisted on dragging out next, grinning at the way he chuckles. He knows it’s the very place to tell you how he feels, having found the perfect way to do it. It begins with a tale of two lovers, simple as that. He means to ask your thoughts on it but you give them freely. “This is a favorite of mine. How I long to live in such a story as this one,” you sigh at the sight of it. “And how I long to give that to you,” Faramir replied simply, hand creeping toward yours across the illuminated pages.

Eomer

Comes running to you before anything else after a battle. Panting, he stops before you, eyes wide. Concern cuts across your face at the sight of him there, sweat still upon his brow and chest heaving beneath his armor. You say his name, ask it more like a question, and he slides his helmet off, giving you a better look at his intent visage. Before you can speak further, his hands are upon your waist, pulling you into him as his lips collide with yours. Even beneath the salt of his exhaustion, you can taste him, feel the fervor until he pulls away, eyes glistening with pride. “We won!” Hand on your hip, you fix him with a look. “Will you celebrate with me, my love?”

Haldir

Retiring to the meadows was a favorite pastime of yours, taking time to yourselves beneath the gentle brush of the breeze. Pensive as ever, Haldir stares off at seemingly nothing, brows knit. Laying a hand upon his arm, you stir him from his thoughts with a look as your gazes join. His eyes search yours, you nod encouragingly. Haldir tucks the flower he’d been twirling idly between his fingers and tucks it behind your ear. “You can imagine what has been on my mind, I trust.” Attempting to lighten whatever clouds rolled across his mind, you nudge him, smiling. “Not at all! You are a mystery as always. Proceed.” “Have I not made it clear that I am in love with you?” Feeling heat surge to your face at the intensity of his words, you let yourself get swept up in emotion, smiling and tucking a strand of golden hair behind his ear. “Well, perhaps we should make it even clearer.”

Eowyn

Eowyn is so giving and caring to you, you feel as though your heart might burst. She cooks for you even if it isn’t the best, bless her. She gives you extra blankets when you’re cold, defends you against the slightest of negative words. Never leaves your side, fights for you in every sense you could state it. So of course you thank her, tell her again and again that you do not know what you’d do without her. That her gracious heart is a true gift. But one day? One day you question instead. “Why,” you ask, “do you give so much? Sometimes I feel I have so little to offer in return.” “Do you not know?” She replies in earnest, blue eyes shining. “Are you not aware I love you?” Fear colors her words. She wants to be enough, you realize. All her actions were to show you that. Caressing her cheeks, you tell her that she is all you could have wanted and more, smiling into the kiss you share.

Arwen

Memories abound as Arwen makes her feelings known. “Do you recall when my father first summoned you here?” “Yes,” you giggle, “I told him his home looks like a painting!” “He was charmed by that,” she assured you, “as was I. When I first saw you, I knew you were different. Not just as one from outside our borders, but that you brought some quite splendor.” Heart struck by her words, you try to even half-echo Arwen’s compliments. “I felt the same. There you were practically glowing as you welcomed me, beauty and strength beyond that of this world. Now that I know you, such is only multiplied, tenfold when one sees your heart.” Blue eyes swimming, Arwen embraces you, whispering her love for you in her native tongue.

Elrond

This is a private conversation. Thus Elrond leads you upon the most peaceful night of the season to a bridge beneath the stars. Twinkle as they do from their home far above your heads, the stars are the last thing to gain Elrond’s focus, his attention affixed solely upon your eyes. “You have drawn my thoughts more and more of late, meleth nîn.” “Oh?” You inquire simply, summoning a chuckle from deep in Elrond’s chest. “Indeed you have,” he lays a hand upon yours, “for to know you has been one of the greatest honors afforded to me. I care about you.” You mirror his soft smile when your name escapes his lips, gentle as a wish. “Then it is as I could only have dreamed,” you reply.

Lindir

Playing the most heart-wrenchingly gorgeous melody you’ve ever heard, Lindir watches you the entire time. Heart aflutter, you send him a smile and he looks pleased. Upon finishing, he strides over, looking with amusement at the little applause you give him. Words pour forth from you before you even realized you’ve formulated them, gushing again and again about the way his song touched you. “To know such love…what a dream,” you sigh. Lindir almost starts at that, raising his eyebrows. “Well, the song was about you, you know.”

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welikeimagines-andfandoms · 3 months

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LOTR/ The Hobbit Preference: How You Met (2/4)

(1) (3) (4)

Kili

You and Kili meet during the quest to reclaim Erebor. Oddly enough you arrived on the quest right as the company were in the middle of fighting off a bunch of orcs. Gandalf was relieved to see you but the presence of such a cute human woman seemed to confused the rest of the company.

“Y/N! Thank the Valar you’re here!” Gandalf shouted as you walked into the fight.

Kili was confused and as he looked to see the sweet looking woman, he was awestruck. His awe and confusion only intensified as you were running towards him sword drawn.

“Get down!” He heard you shout as you pushed him aside, your blade landing in the guts of an orc.

Before he had the chance to thank you, you were off. Managing to slay just as many as the rest of the company combined, they all looked at you in awe.

“Guess I’ll be a good asset to the team.” You smile at the group of dwarves as you make your way back over to them.

“Especially to keep you safe.” You wink at Kili, causing the prince to smirk and blush.

Legolas

Legolas and you meet when he goes to Rohan to meet with his friend Eomer. You worked as a barmaid at one of the pubs in town and manage to make the sweet elf blush.

“Hello, your highness. The regular today?” You ask as you approach the table Eomer and Legolas sat at.

“Yes and please, just Eomer.” He politely replies.

“So sorry, and who is our lovely elf friend?” You ask smirking as you turned to a very cute blushing Legolas.

“This is Legolas. He is the prince of the woodland realm.” Eomer introduced.

“Would you like me to call you ‘your highness’ or just Legolas, sweetheart?” You ask the cute elf, now completely ignoring Eomer.

“Uh, ahem, a-ah, ju-just Legolas, is fine.” He shyly stutters out, earning a chuckle disguised as a cough from his friend, and sweet giggle from you.

“How long are you in town for, Legolas?” You ask him, your whole body now facing Legolas.

“Uh-ah, a-a couple more days.” He replies as a blush grows on his pale cheeks.

“Well I guess you’ll have to come back before you leave so you can take me somewhere nice.” You smirk and wink as you turn around, leaving a smirking Eomer and a blushing Legolas.

Lindir

Lindir and you meet when your friend Bard takes you to Rivendell for a spring festival. You watch Lindir play so beautifully that you become enthralled.

As Lindirs performance comes to an end you can’t help but enthusiastically cheer louder than the rest of the audience, embarrassing you slightly but leaving a light blush on Lindirs cheeks.

“You play so beautifully. We don’t have music like that where I’m from; your music sounds like something from a lovely dream.” You can’t help but gush at the sweet elf.

“We-well, thank you very much, I appreciated your applause. It’s not the response I usually get from other elves but that’s not necessarily a bad thing, my lady.” He confessed.

“I’m glad you appreciated it, I was a little embarrassed but I’m glad it brought you joy. I’m not very used to elven culture.” You shyly smile.

“Perhaps I could show you around the festivities, make you feel a bit more comfortable.” He offered.

“That sounds lovely.” You agree as you take the arm he offers.

#Kili #Kili x reader #Kili imagine #legolas #legolas imagine #legolas x reader #Lindir #Lindir x reader #Lindir imagine #lotr #lotr imagine #lord of the rings imagine #lord of the rings #the hobbit #the hobbit imagine

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 5 months

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Rook, Ortho: Princess Power

BRUH 💀 Go figure, giving the guy obsessed with beauty two of the least flattering screenshots in his background frames… But hey, his groovy is very different from everyone else’s so far! ^^ Very relaxed and peaceful.

Cbjssbjsjskendb new tidbits about pre-Pomefiore Rook?? He used to cut his own hair with a knife and focused on keeping his bangs out of his line of sight… and he wasn’t as confident about his style (mood). It’s also interesting to know that he started doing ballet on Vil’s recommendation, and that has helped a lot with his posture, working out muscles he doesn’t normally use, and appreciating the art of performances. We love Pomefiore out here breaking gender norms 👊

A Tale as Old as Time.

Rook drew out a longing sigh, gently easing into the quiet of the museum. The soft sound lingered, coiling around his fingers like thread from a spool. It, too, did not wish to part ways with the stunning beauty laid out bare before it.

A fair maiden was framed in shining platinum. Hair black as ebony, lips as red as the rose, and skin as white as snow... Truly, she was the fairest in all the land.

Her graceful frame was folded, kneeling on the forest floor to greet the woodland creatures that had gathered. The pale yellow skirt of her gown spilled out, blue bodice and puff sleeves fitted well by her figure. Her face round and gentle, in spite of the high collar encircling it, crowed by a petite red bow.

Here was pure innocence, a young girl reveling in nature.

“Beauté,” he marveled—to no one in particular, but such beauty warranted verbal acknowledgement.

“It seems that this painting has captured your interest, Rook Hunt-san!” a voice chirped. A neon blue light emanated from the darkness, accompanied by the silver flash of metal.

“Bonjour!” Rook greeted Ortho. "I must confess, I have been enchanted by this particular work of art! The brush strokes, masterful! The composition, immaculate!! The subject—oh, how it makes my heart quiver with nostalgia!! I am a man close to being moved to tears!!”

Ortho curiously glanced at the girl and her animal friends. No strong emotions arose within up from him. Perhaps he did not feel as much, or perhaps Rook felt too much. “Is there a sentimental experience or memory you have related to this painting…?”

“Oui! It is a tale as old as time.” Rook gestured to the snow white young lady. “They say that this maiden was a princess forced to flee from her home country, as a hostile presence threatened her life. She retreated into the woods and found comfort in a humble life there. Her tenacity is most admirable!!”

“Tenacity… That’s the value that Pomefiore was founded on!” Ortho, floating overhead, beamed at Rook. “I understand why you would like that story. It has a good moral that sticks with you.”

“That is the beauty of telling tales! They inspire those who hear of it, ensuring that the spirit of the story is never truly extinguished.” The huntsman’s eyes held a keep glint to them. “Tell me, Ortho-kun. What do you believe makes a princess?”

The boy blinked. A split second, and he had already input the term into an internal search engine, the formal definition loaded up to recite.

“Prin-cess, noun. The daughter of a monarch or wife to a prince. A woman having sovereign power.”

“An efficient, succinct answer!” Rook applauded, his cheer never faltering. “However, my desire is to know your interpretation. In Ortho-kun’s own words, what makes a princess?”

“My own…?” The words stretched, unsure, on his tongue. Ortho hesitated—seeking, processing, and analyzing. Rook’s heartbeat sounded where there was the space for the boy to think.

Then, finally, Ortho spoke.

“From what I’ve observed in movies and books, the princess is a pop culture icon. She’s usually presented as a role model for little girls. Someone who is beautiful, dainty, and composed, wearing a pretty dress and a glittering crown."

A pause. Ortho assessed Rook’s hard-to-read, bright expression.

“… Is that closer to the response you were looking for, Rook Hunt-san?” he asked.

To this, the third year’s lips quirked. “There is no correct or incorrect answer! I was curious to see your perspective. Everyone holds one that differs, lenses of all designs and colors with which to see the world through! You have my most heartfelt thanks for sharing your view with me.”

"Oh, I see! You're collecting data from a variety of sources to compare to a standard." The android (literally) lit up from within. "Let me ask the same back! Rook Hunt-san, what do you think makes a princess?"

"Mon dieu! You've set my own trap upon me," Rook teased.

The Beautiful Queen, the Fair Maiden, Vil, his peers... So many fragments of beauty in his collection. Plucked, collected, hoarded.

He ran a finger along his chin, contemplating. The thoughts assembled like a collage. Ideas taken, cut up, and pasted together into a new, glorious artwork.

"A princess can be many things," Rook declared with certainty. "They are a princess to their very core, even when their power is stripped from them or they are dressed in only ashes and rags. What defines them is not royal heritage or political influence, but the strength of their character, their values and virtues. They are not bound by a singular trait, but are aspirations to all in their own ways."

Ortho's eyes swelled. "Eh...? That's so broad! By your definition, anyone could be a princess—even you or I!”

The huntsman threw his head back and laughed. "Broad it may be, but I am of the opinion that we all have it in us to live up to the title~”

He indicated the woman in the platinum frame. Ortho’s gaze obediently followed. "Even without a kingdom to call her own, she remained kind-hearted rather than turn to cruelty. That is why she was, and always will be, a noble soul. A princess who puts out good into the world.”

“Rook Hunt-san…”

“Ortho-kun!” Rook dramatically extended an arm to him. He was practically sparkling in the dim room. “I, too, endeavor to put out as much beauty as what is gifted to me! That is my one true calling as the Hunter of Love: to not only seek out beauty, but to cultivate and to contribute to it!”

Ortho silently stared. Nii-san did warn me that Rook Hunt-san could be eccentric, but… maybe there’s some meaning to be found in it.

Cutting through the numbers and the formulas that governed him was a fuzzy warmth. Not the familiar jolt of electricity that powered his circuits. It was too wild, too unpredictable.

Something undeniably human.

Ortho let out a giggle. "Hehe. Then you must be a princess too!"

Rook's mouth formed a small "o". Unsubtle surprise—or perhaps purposefully exaggerated. "Me? Whatever makes you think that?"

"Strength of character!" Ortho parroted mischievously. "I've never met someone as uplifting as you are. Rook Hunt-san is the type of person that sees a princess in everyone."

The boy lowered himself to a few centimeters off of the ground, pretending to dip into a curtsey. "Your majesty!"

"Fufufu. You're quite charming yourself, Princess Ortho-kun!" Rook bent into a deep bow. "Most clever in all the land, computing complex problems in the blink of an eye!”

Upon straightening, the third year laid both hands over his heart. He lifted his head toward the painting of the fair maiden in the forest. A serene smile at his lips.

It was as if he was pledging his allegiance, making a vow. A worshipper at the altar to pray.

“May we all live happily ever after,” Rook whispered raptly, “like the princesses of old.”

Forever and ever.

#twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #Rook Hunt #Rook birthday takeover #spoilers #something no one asked for #twst scenarios #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #Ortho Shroud #I hope y'all notice but Rook was basically describing what makes a Disney 'princess'#since not all of them in the lineup are actually royalty

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reallydelicatezombie · 2 years

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NSFW Alphabet - Legolas

I blame "The Rings of Power" for getting me all riled up over this elfin dude. 😤 Also, NSFW Alphabets are one of my favorite types of smutty writings because they're a great overview of the character, and they're really good for getting me thinking about what scenarios and oneshots I could potentially write for the character. ALSO also: for the purposes of this fic, we're giving Legolas dark grey eyes. I do not like the blue contacts in "The Hobbit" at all, and in the books his eyes are grey, BUT since Bloom's eyes are dark brown, I decided dark grey would be a good medium. But you can imagine him with whatever color eyes you want! 😉

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

The literal Prince of Aftercare. Did you expect this soft, sweet cinnamon roll to be anything else but loving afterwards?? He worships you, giving you sweet praises in Sindarin and Westron, telling you how well you took him, while he strokes your hair and holds you tightly. He will get you whatever you desire, whether it be food or drink, or a nice hot bath. He loves gently bathing you as he sits behind you in the tub, leaning you back against his strong chest. He'll massage your sore muscles, rub soothing Elf ointment on you, and then cover you both in the softest blankets as you fall asleep in his arms.

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

Legolas absolutely loves your neck and bare shoulders. He finds these areas so intimate and alluring. Your beautiful neck is just begging to be kissed and sucked when you arch it for him during sex, and your bare shoulders draw his hands from his sides to caress them. He also loves your luscious hips and supple thighs. Elvish women are generally svelte, and you were worried when you first fell for him that he would find your womanly shape unappealing, but to the contrary, it enthralled him. He loves squeezing and stroking all your curves, and he especially loves that he can grip your hips to pull you back into him when he's taking you from behind. He can hike your thighs up higher around his waist so he can angle himself deeper when he's fucking you face to face.

On himself, Legolas is very proud of his hair, arms, and hands. He knows he has beautiful hair, and when you first asked to touch it, he blushed furiously, but was secretly very pleased that you found it so desirable. As for his arms and hands, he has spent a great deal of his life perfecting his archery and fighting skills, and has built up lithe but incredibly strong muscles. Muscles that he uses to hold you up agaisnt the wall.

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

Legolas has two places that he loves to come on you, although he will gladly come anywhere you wish. First, he absolutely loves coming on your face, watching the cum drip down your soft face and graceful neck, dip into you clavicle, and then down your breasts. He think it is the most beautiful, the most arousing sight he has ever seen. He was deeply ashamed to request trying this, so you took the initiative and knelt down to let his cum splatter onto your face. His reaction was one of such awe and pleasure that you simply had to do it again and again. His second favorite place is on your lower back/ass. Really, what these two places boil down to is that he loves seeing you covered in his cum; it's like marking that you're his, a sight only for him to see, and the sight drives him absolutely wild.

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

Legolas would literally rather die and never see the Undying Lands than ever tell a single soul this, but he has a particular dream of stumbling upon you completely naked in a woodland glade (for his eyes only, of course) shooting a bow--his bow, to be precise. He knows it is strange, but the thought of you absolutely bare, with every curve on display, using his weapon with your muscles tensed and taut, just absolutely ruins him. He has had many, many dreams about this exact scenario, and if for whatever you reason you found out and decided to surprise him by fulfilling this fantasy, he is positive his poor elfin heart would stop and he would die on the spot. (Spoiler alert: you do find out about it when, after one of his nights drinking too much with Gimli, he drunkenly tells you. You of course surprise him several days later by inviting him to meet you out in the forest, where you are waiting naked with his bow. He does not, in fact, die, but he is speechless for several long minutes. He then fucks you senseless and decides that he is the luckiest being in any of the realms.)

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

He is not experienced; he has had at most two flings before he met you, long ago in his early youth, and only a handful of times with each. BUT--this does not at all mean he is bad or awkward when you get together. Far from it, in fact. Not only is Legolas keenly observant (he sees with his elf eyes, after all), but Legolas has read some things. You see, the Elves have a lot of writing about a great many number of things, including sex. There is a great deal of early Elvish erotic poetry (complete with pictures) that Legolas just so happened to read in his teenage years. It has stuck with him ever since. As his father's library expanded, it gradually grew to include volumes of a similar nature, but from a human perspective. He, being the learned scholar he is, read that, too. Only he didn't think he'd ever need to use that knowledge--until he met you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He'd be hard pressed to choose a favorite position, but he absolutely loves taking you from behind when you're both laying down on your sides. This position allows him to be as slow and sensual as possible, and he can reach around and play with your nipples and breasts, or stimulate your clit; he can also kiss that lovely neck of yours, or turn your head so he can press deep, passionate kisses on your lips. For times when you both need it hard and fast, he holds you up against the wall, with your legs wrapped around his waist. He can hold you like that for multiple rounds, and can use the wall for leverage. He loves being able to kiss your lips, neck, and shoulders in this position, and his dark grey eyes bore into your e/c ones, making sure he's bringing you to the height of ecstasy.

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

Nothing about Legolas is goofy or silly, but he does have a unique sense of humor, and will say little things to make you smile or laugh, or even blush (which makes him smile and laugh), during your time together. There are times, however, when he is deadly serious and just needs you. He won't joke during those times, and you wouldn't think to, either.

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

He has very trim, tidy hair down there, and it grows like that naturally, so he doesn't have to do much grooming. He has a tiny little trail of faint golden hairs leading from his lower abdomen to his groin. You think it's incredibly sexy.

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

Legolas is deeply intimate, no matter the occasion. He believes that making love (or even the times when it's fucking) is a special thing, one that he does not take for granted. So he wants to show you how special you are to him. He reads you love poems, and erotic poems in Sindarin and Westron, and will light a few candles for soft lighting. He'll hold you close, whispering sweet phrases to you: Chin gelair chîn orthernir guren. (Your radiant eyes conquered my heart.) Thîr vain chîn darn thulen. (Your beautiful face halted my breath.) He will also write poetry and songs just for you, which is incredibly romantic.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Yes. Just yes. He does, and when he first fell for you, he was greatly surprised to find that he simply could not control his urges, which proved quite . . . distracting. You met when you joined the Fellowship, and during the various battles that followed, like the Battle of Helm's Deep, was not the most opportune time to get a boner. So he had no choice but to find somewhere and jerk off, otherwise he would have been too distracted during battle. So now that you're together, he doesn't need to jerk off so much, but since there are times he must be apart from you, he still finds it necessary. During these times, he just dreams his fantasy of you naked and wielding his bow. He also dreams of what he'll do to you when he returns.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

P R A I S E KINK. Your handsome elf needs to hear that he is doing a good job, he needs to know that he is the only one who can make you feel this good. He lives for your praise, for your sweet, lust-filled moans when he's taking you; tell him how strong he is, how handsome you find him, please. He will shower you in praise in return: "How well you take me, Miluis (lovely one). So beautiful for me, spreading your legs so good for me."

Hair pulling kink. He *loves* it when you pull his hair, whether he's going down on you or if he's balls deep inside you. It shows him how great he's doing. He likes the bit of pain that comes with such pleasure. He also likes to pull your hair. If he's behind you, he'll wrap it around his hand and pull enough to make your head snap back; if he's in front of you, he'll do the same in order to reveal your neck to him, so he can suck and bite on it. Speaking of which. . .

He loves it when you bite and suck on his sensitive ears. You rubbing and caressing the tips sensually is completely foreplay to him, and you know just how to rub them.

He also loves spanking your ass. He would never truly hurt you, because he loves you and knows he's much stronger than you, but he does love seeing the imprint of his hand outlined in red on your ass check. He likes to watch it jiggle when he spanks you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Because you two are travelling much of the time, you don't really have a fixed location exactly, but he loves any room you two share on your adventures. It's the intimacy of the space that he craves. He also loves any forest, meadow, glade, or dale, too. Seeing you exposed to him under the night sky with the stars, or under the bright sunlight, just does something to him.

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

In keeping with his fantasy, seeing you using his bow and using it well gives him an instant boner. Along that line, any fighting skills you posses and use will turn him on. If you pin him down during a sparring session using your thick thighs, he immediately stops fighting you, gets the cockiest grin on his face, a massive boner, and just lays back enjoying it. Seeing you in elfin clothes, with your hair beautifully braided (by him, of course), with a pale gossamer gown that dips low and shows off your neck and collar bones makes him fall in love with all over again (and also leads to you finding some private room somewhere to fuck). If you should happen to learn Sindarin (you do, of course) and you start to say something even remotely teasing, he is instantly a blushing, horny mess. (You do this often.) Bonus points are given if you say it in a low, sensual voice, just barely whispering it against the shell of his ear. He is literally putty in your hands.

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

Legolas would never take you in an environment he felt was dangerous (so like, if there are orcs roaming about), because as much as he desires you, he would never forgive himself if he didn't keep you safe. He is also not a fan of anything public. He is very private and reserved when it comes to things like that; as he is an elf of few words, being in a spot where you could get caught or within easy earshot of someone hearing him giving you pleasure would likely lead to teasing from the rest of the Fellowship, and that is a conversation he does not wish to have.

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

Have you heard ya boi roll his 'R's in Sindarin?? Of course he is amazing at giving oral. He absolutely loves the taste of you, like sweet water, and puts all of his linguistic skills to good use when pleasuring you. He has also eaten you out many times while you hovered over his face. Anyway he can give you oral, he would gladly do. On the other hand, he equally enjoys receiving. Not only is your technique superb, but in this position he can sit and watch your beautiful face as he cums all over it. You take his cock and his cum so well, and to be honest, this is something he had only read about in those erotic Elf texts until he met you. You literally stole the breath from his lungs the first time you wrapped your tongue and mouth around his hard shaft.

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

Generally, Legolas prefers to take his time with you, so slow and sensual is his preferred pace. This way, he can make sure to give you the maximum amount of pleasure: kissing, caressing, breast play, oral, before sliding into your wet heat, he loves all of it. But as said before, there are sometimes when he just wants to fuck you senseless and do it roughly, so he'll slam into you at a bruising pace, which you love.

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

Occasionally they're necessary because of time constraints, but he prefers the times when he can give you all of his attention instead of rushing through it, which is why you don't often have them.

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

Like the situation previously mentioned where there might be orcs or other malicious beings around, he is just unwilling to risk your safety. He doesn't have the drive to have sex where there's an added element of danger. And while he does love pulling your hair and spanking you, anything more that might break your skin or cause lasting harm, like knife play or whips or wax play--these are not risks he takes with you.

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

My dear, he is called the most tireless of all the Fellowship for a reason. You will most assuredly get tired long before he does, but honestly he prefers it that way, because the thought of not being able to satisfy for as many times and as long as you desire honestly makes him a little sad. He is always up for more than one round, but realizes that for your human body, that might not always be physicallly possible. So, he tries to go for as long as possible, like well over an hour as long as you're not too tired or sore. Your bones are usually limp by the time you're done.

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

Elves, unsurprisingly have several toys, but because mechanical and electric things have not been invented yet, these are stationary and usually involve insertion. You've tried them together, but they weren't anything special. You much prefer your fair Elf prince's fingers, tongue, and cock.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Also unsurprising: Legolas is a huge tease. He will somehow always manage to sneak up on you without a sound and then whisper something shockingly naughty against your ear while ghosting a light kiss over your neck. When you turn around to say something, he is somehow standing far away, grinning st how aroused he made you from something so simple. He will also make a big show of braiding and unbraiding his hair in front of you, knowing that you desperately want to run your fingers through it. Speaking of showing off, he manages to be practicing some martial art or other shirtless a truly absurd number of times. Even when it's freezing out. "Is it not a bracing day out, perfect for exercising, Miluis?" You would fuss at him that it's too cold out, but you know he doesn't really feel the cold and then you'd have to deprived of the sight of his muscles.

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

Not loud, but talkative. For someone who is generally quiet, he says a lot during sex. He is always whispering praises in Sindarin and Westron, as well as many swear words in both languages. He can't help it; he just needs to say how good you make him feel and how much he loves you. He won't mind if you make some noise, however. He lives for your moans and pants, your praises and screams. He'll do anything to get those out of you.

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

It is Legolas's personal goal to go through every position and technique he read about in Those Books (you know the ones) with you. He thinks you would both greatly enjoy it, and plans on asking you if you'd like to some day. You will of course say yes, and will have the best sex of your life.

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

He's long, not very thick, but veiny. His cock has a mushroom head, and gets a very fleshy pink when aroused. The anatomy is the same shape as a human man.

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

High. He wants you all the time, anywhere (so long as it's safe), any way. You can wake him up at 2:00am, and he's ready to go. He's ready after a long day of journeying, after a battle, after lunch--any time you want. He just loves you so much, and loves connecting with you physically and emotionally. You bring out all of his desire, and he has to show you that. If you don't have a high sex drive, though, he's of course very respectful and can content himself with plenty of jerking off to his favorite bow-wielding fantasy.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Elves vary greatly in their sleeping needs; for Legolas, he always makes sure you are safe and comfortable before even thinking about dosing off. Sometimes he'll immediately fall asleep, not from exhaustion, but just because of how comfortable he is. Other times, he might be exhausted, but he'll stay up, looking at you dream. He'll go over in his mind what you two just did and how much he loved it.

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