#Elf!reader

[weclassygirl]

visions

⋆˙⟡ sauron x fem!elf!reader (witch) ⟡˙⋆

summary: the high king makes his judgement, a new path opens

warnings: none

word count: 2,3k

author’s note: here we go, part two for bound… and soon more to come, let me just get their story straight. enjoy!

”The Woodland Realm has exiled you, why should we aid and welcome you in Lindon?” no greeting, no smile, you already feel that this conversation will take a toll on you.

“Did you believe me to be dead? Or did you wish for it?” you ask and curse yourself for your tongue speaks quicker than your mind. Gil-Galad looks at you with disdain. You try to calm your growing anger. “Whatever Oropher told you is not true.”

“Is it not?” he questions and steps closer. The guards watch your every movement, waiting for you to slip up, to give them a reason to attack. “Were you not the Elf that nearly killed a fellow companion because her anger grew into rage?”

An accident. A mere accident that decided the fate of your life.

“I never meant for—“

“But you did.” he cuts you off. You look to Galadriel who stands next to Elrond, he turns away from your sight but the Commander watches the scene unfold.

You wrote to her, countless times to seek her aid. Elrond as well. All of your letters went unanswered and you thought that perhaps an order was given to burn any passage written by you.

Gil-Galad regards you. “You sought out that which is forbidden. Lindon, Greenwood or any other Elven realm will not stand by it.”

You look up at him, the golden crown that adorns his head, gleaming in the sun. He looked like an emissary from the Valar themselves. Your eyes travel to your hands, so much harm they once caused. Gil-Galad waits as you try to gather your words.

“If you wish to punish me, do so when the blade at my neck is yours. I will not be humiliated. Not again.” you say through your teeth.

The Elves whisper around you.

Witch.

Traitor.

Morgoth’s servant.

Banish her.

Send her away.

You hear another whisper, so quick you almost miss it. Almost.

“Defiance does not suit you.” Gil-Galad states. He looks down at your hands, the dark fingertips as if dipped in black ash. The marks on your body, some symbols and some written in Black Speech. The sight disgusts him and for a moment he pities you and what you’ve endured for centuries. “You will fulfill your punishment in Eregion.”

You gawk at the High King as he makes his decree. “Eregion?”

He returns to his place by the Tree and the guards flank your sides, ready to take you away. “Be glad it’s not my blade at your throat. You will be confined in chains at all times, ones that will subdue your magic. Lord Celembrimbor will see to it. He makes them as we speak.”

Chained once again. You don’t know whether to laugh or cry, perhaps it’s best not to show any emotion while the others are looking. You let the guards take you away and you cast one last glance at Galadriel and Elrond. He meets your gaze finally and bows his head. You don’t know when you will see them again.

The guards chain you and tie your hands to the reins as the company gathers. You in the middle while four of them surround you. Most of the supplies for the journey were given to you, to weigh down your horse should you try to escape.

The road goes ever winding and after a few weeks of constant travel you reach the gates of Eregion. The Elves gather on their balconies, look through the arches to catch a glimpse at you.

The word has reached here as well.

You wonder why they take such interest in you but it is quickly dismissed. You dabbled in the dark arts, once made a mistake that scarred your path and were a prisoner of Morgoth, but you never served him faithfully, only to survive. The Elves had become paranoid.

The spell you cast was an accident, your companion was alive, received a wound in the process but survived.

Your curiosity however, you could never contain it and the darkness was alluring. It’s a shame to admit to it but it's a necessary truth.

However you don’t think yourself evil, yes you were quick to anger but who wouldn’t be after years of torture?

Celebrimbor stands in front of the gates with a man by his side, he holds a wooden box. When the guards help you come down from the horse you think of making a run for it but that would only prove your actions further.

Guilty and convicted.

One of the guards gives Celebrimbor a scroll, he reads through the letter from Gil-Galad with further instructions. He nods and twists the scroll back. He looks you up and down, your dress dirty at the hem, your wrists bound in shackles once again. You looked clean, no blood, no dirt, you never attacked the guards that accompanied you.

“Well then, I assume you never were to Eregion?” he asks out of pure curiosity.

“Once. Merely passing through.” you say and look around cautiously, Celebrimbor notices.

“Be at ease. You’re here in a form of punishment but I would like to see it as a form of shared work.”

You raise an eyebrow at his statement. “What will my duties be here?”

“You,” he starts and grabs the wooden box from the man beside him. When he opens it you notice two identical bracelets made of silver. “You will be an aid in my forge, however some… requirements must be fulfilled.” he explains and takes the bracelets. He steps closer and silently asks you to give you his hands. You do so hesitantly as you cling to your magic one last time.

He puts the bracelets on your wrists and tightens them ever so slightly, you would have to cut off your thumb if you wanted to free yourself and you did not want to witness that sight.

“This will hold your magic, you can still heal yourself and others should the need arise but until the High King gives a different command, they have to stay.” he taps them slightly and you think back to the way Sauron tapped your chains so often when coming up with another ways to seduce you into darkness.

He was persistent but you were glad you had someone to talk to, even if it was Morgoth’s right hand.

A shiver runs through you and your head whips back when you hear Black Speech in your ear. Celebrimbor looks the way your eyes fell but sees no one. “What is it?”

You shake your head and slowly turn to face him. “Nothing, I…“ you look back to where the sound came from. “…thought I heard something.”

The guards look at you as they mount their horses, ready to return to Lindon. One of them stays as he awaits a letter from Celebrimbor. He gives it to him, previously written since he knew you would not resist.

The Eregion guards take over and lead you to your chambers, as you settle and clean yourself up. You stand under a stream of water and look over at the bracelets, you try to tear them away, bent them out but the metal is sturdy. A perfect craftsmanship, you would expect nothing less from the grandson of Fëanor.

A knock comes at the door, the man that accompanied Celebrimbor at your arrival.

“If you’re finished I’ll take you to the forge.” he informs you and you follow him through the halls. You’ve put on a newer dress, the old one was the only piece of clothing you were left with on your journey to Eregion. The darker shade of blue fabric clung to your body and flew behind you with each step you took.

You visited Eregion briefly, a stop on your journey to Greenwood. You used to craft as well but never bore the talent such as Fëanor’s. You used magic to create whatever your heart desired, you used it when building your home in the north of Greenwood.

The woodwork became your craft rather than precious metals and as you enter the forge you begin to miss the comfort of your home.

The Elven smiths glance at you as you enter but continue with their work. Celebrimbor comes down from the gallery to show you around. “I believe you’ll come to enjoy it, I heard you once tried to create something as well.” he asks and you look down to the beaten ring you’ve made centuries ago. The black stone inside it broken but still held within the grasps of the uneven metal.

“A foolish attempt.”

He places a hand on your shoulder. “Not foolish. Perhaps with a bit more practice…” he says, leading you to a desk where a few jewelry pieces lay. Ring with green emerald, a necklace that shone like starlight, a golden bracelet with the most detailed design you’ve ever seen. Weapons laid there as well, shining metal in the dim light, handle wrapping around the blade. You stare in awe.

“Are you certain you have not bested Fëanor yet?” you ask genuinely but think that a bit of flattery on your end might help get out of your chains quicker.

Celebrimbor smiles and gestures to the forge. “Come, we have work to do.” and you follow.

You work for years under Celebrimbor, the Elven smiths have taken to converse with you even if at first they were avoiding you like a plague. With time you have learned to enjoy the craft, a slow process but it kept your life steady. No Morgoth, no torment, a temporary home.

The only pain you felt was the lack of magic in your life. You worked as a healer from time to time but it never compared to the dark arts. Your hands trembled at times as if trying to contain the power from bursting within you. And the visions didn’t help.

They came gradually, growing more persistent with each month of your stay in Eregion. A shadow, always the same and always cunning. It whispered into your ear, showed you the power you could possess. You almost gave in the first night it came.

But you felt it the most one day in the forge.

The same piercing pain you felt when you left Forodwaith. You hold to the table you’ve been working on, the saw and the pliers forgotten on it. The sound they made drew the attention of Mirdania.

“Are you alright?” she comes to your side as you claw at the fabric above your heart. You don’t hear her and shut your eyes as the ringing in your ears grows.

Celebrimbor hears the commotion and quickly comes to see the problem. When he sees you with your hands covering your ears his sight falls on the bracelets that subdue your magic. Could they have weakened?

But there’s nothing that would indicate that you used it.

Mirdania steps aside as Celebrimbor replaces her. His hands rest on your shoulders as you open your eyes. His voice is muffled as he calls your name.

“What’s happening?”

You shake your head, unable to answer and for a split second you see the same shadow behind him, it seems to be smiling.

Celebrimbor sees your frenzied eyes and tries to point where you’re looking at. The Elvensmiths gathered look helpless as no one knows how to help you.

The shadow vanishes as quickly as it came and the ringing in your ears stop. A drop of blood flows out of your nostril and you hear it as it falls to the ground. Your hand goes to your mouth and wipes away the blood, it’s then you notice your fingers. Where once they started to fade from the lack of dark magic, the mark showed up again.

Celebrimbor looks warily, the bracelets he forged would contain your power, he would know you used it even if done so unconsciously. The situation troubles him, the High King must be informed.

You grab him by his tunic as he stands up, the look on his face telling you his intention. “Don’t tell him, please. I didn’t use it, I swear.”

“How do you explain it then?” he points to your fingers curled around the fabric.

“It’s not my doing.”

“Then who’s?” he kneels down at your eye level.

You think over his question and dread the answer. You suggest Morgoth but would his influence still remain after all these years? You think of Sauron but you witnessed his death. Forodwaith is the only answer, centuries you spend there have left a mark, for you it’s the only explanation. You could not escape darkness even if you wanted to.

“He must be informed.” he leaves you with these words and you storm out of the forge. The guards close behind you as you run to the gardens and cover yourself underneath the shadow of a tree. It’s nearly dusk and you curse under your breath in every language you know. Black Speech makes its way on your tongue unconsciously and the guards tense up.

You stay there for a while until the cold wind beats against your skin. You look down at your hands and notice the black starting to fade once more, your head rests against your knees as you look ahead.

You close your eyes when you see it again, out of the corner of your eye but ever so watchful. It takes a form this time, not of a shadow but a man. You look away and his hand slithers under your chin to make you look up at him. When you do, you see perfectly green eyes and the stubble adorning his face, he looks at you so gently you nearly forget he’s the reason for your hauntings.

“Let it in.” he whispers. “A witch should practice her craft.”He returns to shadow and passes through you.

Your breath catches in your throat as you wake up in your bed. You look around and hold your head in your hands.

What is happening?

next part -> deception

[dreamlandcreations]

Imagine Annatar making you drink his blood..

Imagine Annatar making you drink his blood without your knowledge, putting it into your glass for the celebratory drink after the Seven were finished.

His purpose was simply to corrupt you from within so you would be more inclined to willingly be his after his true identity was revealed. He did not expect you to start craving blood afterwards...

His blood slowly turned you into a vampire but unlike those early bat-like creatures of Morgoth, you did not lose your beauty. Only the sun started to burned you as your skin got colder and paler each day until finally your eyes turned red right after your fangs fully grew out, completing the change.

It was not his plan but, if it is possible, he likes you even better this way.

[elfy-elf-imagines]

— In the Fields of Poppy | Thranduil *✧･ﾟ

▹ Pairing: Thranduil x Elf!Reader

▹ Genre: Fluff and Angst (mentions of death and the aftermath of war)

▹ Words: ~2k

▹ Summary: In the aftermath of the Battle of the Five Armies, you have a chance encounter with the King.

▹ Notes: This is unedited because we die as men! Also because I'm sleep deprived rn. Let me know what you thought!

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

The carnage had been terrible; the aftermath of the battle more brutal than any recount would ever fully capture. 

Broken stained glass mosaics formed with blood from all sides of the battle glistened in the sun. There was a heavy fog that clung to the ground, the wails of survivors finding the corpses of their loved ones. You couldn’t focus on it, blocking out as much of the noise as possible. Later you would feel the weight of the lives lost, you were certain, but for now, there was work to be done. 

You kneeled before the squirming body of a dwarven soldier, too delirious off his own pain to scorn the healing of an elvish maid. There was a cut on his leg that was bleeding profusely, his skin showing the beginning signs of infection from the poison the orcs used. He was muttering in Khuzdul, his eyes staring blankly at the sky. His eyes were locked on the sun, and if there weren’t other grievous injuries taking priority, you would’ve reminded him to not stare at the sun. But who cares for blindness if you’re already dead?

With ghost-like touches and careful concentration, you placed the healing salve on his leg, cleaning the wound as best you could beforehand. He hissed in pain from the contact, his eyes no longer looking at the sun but at you. He continued to speak in Khuzdul, this time at you, with spite and pain written on his face. You weren’t concerned, continuing to work as you numbed yourself to your surroundings. 

A group of elven soldiers marched past you, carrying the body of their fallen comrade, faces stricken with grief. Your eyes darted away from the sight and returned your attention to carefully wrapping your patient’s leg with bandages. 

“I don’t have anything for the pain, I’m afraid,” you said to him, briefly meeting his eyes that went back to looking at the sun. He muttered incoherently, and while he spoke Common this time, his words were lost on you. 

Tying the final bandage, you then began the same work on the rest of his wounds. More wails and more dead bodies carried from the battlefield, but you blocked it all out. There was no time to be swallowed in the suffering. Once all his wounds had been tended to and your dress was drenched in the blood of another patient, you stood from the ground. A dwarven soldier rushed forward to bring his comrade to the tents where the injured were resting. Words of thanks fell from his mouth, but you had already turned away, moving towards the next person. 

This time it was an elf, so young he couldn’t be more than a century old. Old enough to serve in the guard but too young to die; it made you sick to your stomach. There was a gash near his neck, the veins around it turning black. The poison had already gotten into his system; it was only a matter of time before it took him. Yet you kneeled beside him and gently placed his head in your lap as you began cleaning the wound. 

Unlike the dwarf from before, his eyes met yours, a grin on his lips. It looked out of place on his face, contorted into pain. He spoke softly in elvish, reciting an old song that mothers usually sang to their children when putting them to bed. As the cold salve touched his neck, he froze up, twitching slightly at the sensation.

Silence enveloped the two of you, he no longer sang, yet his eyes stayed on you. A stray piece of hair had fallen from your messy braid, the elf reaching up and grabbing it. He held it between his fingers, mouth parted and eyes a thousand miles away. 

“Naneth--” he trailed off, muttering more incoherent words. You swallowed thickly, forcing yourself to continue working as a spark of pain reactivated your cold heart. He called you mother; the poison must’ve already reached his head, making him see things that weren’t there. 

Tears pricked in the corners of your eyes as you looked away to reach into your healer���s kit. He must’ve been so terrified as death came closer, seeking comfort in a mother that wasn’t even here. You didn’t have the heart to correct him. Let the boy have a small bit of comfort. 

With a strip of bandage in your hand, when your eyes went back to his body, his eyes were shut, and his breathing ceased. Dead. 

Your hand fell limp at your side, eyes unmoving from his face. He looked at peace, expression no longer twisted in pain. A shuttered breath escaped your mouth, the chill in the air allowing you to see it blow away. You stood with shaky legs and trembling hands, two soldiers approaching to take his body away.

You’d been a healer for as long as you could remember, training for this since you were a little elfling running wild. Time allowed you to become numb to tragedy, keeping a clear head to do what needed to be done. But the elven boy’s death managed to stab a needle right through your heart. He was so young and vibrant, his potential severed by senseless war. It left a bitter taste in your mouth, like the ashes of the bodies the humans were burning. 

The mud squashed beneath your feet, eyes unseeing. You were a ghost on the battlefield, blood-stained dress blowing in the wind. How did the other healers seem so emotionless? Was the bite of death something that lessened the more you were near it? In a few years, would you have a disposition that was nearly mechanical? A part of you hoped for that release, while the other part of you was terrified by it. 

You turned, eyes meeting the misty blues ones of King Thranduil. He stood a few feet away from you, a vision amongst the dead. Tall and noble, he looked every bit the king he was. Golden like the dawn, his hair was loose and messy, and his previously pristine armor was dirty with mud and blood, cuts and minor wounds marring his body. Yet he looked eerily perfect. 

His stare was heavy, yet you refused to be the one to look away. A hint of a smirk appeared on the edges of his lips as his head tilted to the side. Long and sure strides brought him closer to you while you stayed locked in place. The king stood before you, towering over your smaller form. You may have been on the taller side; he made you feel as though you were a hobbit.

“What is your name?” 

You lowered your head in a half-bow, a pathetic attempt to show respect, not entirely accustomed to the presence of royalty. 

“Y/N, my king.”  

He nodded, mouthing your name as if to commit it to memory.

“Do you live in Eryn Galen? I have never seen you.”

“I grew up in Lothlorien, where I spent most of my life before training to be a healer in Imladris. I have only recently moved to Eryn Galen.”

Thranduil raised his eyebrows and clasped his hands behind his back. 

“How lucky we are to have a student of Lord Elrond among us.” You could discern if his words were patronizing or genuine, his tone not betraying his intentions. 

“I did not train under Lord Elrond personally.” You felt the need to correct him, not wanting him to think you of a higher station than you were.

“But your teachers were overseen by him, were they not?”

You nodded.

“Then you were trained by Lord Elrond, even if he himself didn’t oversee your education.” 

A small smile appeared on your lips, and you nodded. “I have no choice but to agree; who would I be to disagree with a king.”

A coy smile pulled on the edges of his lips as his eyes shone. 

“A foolish woman is who you would be. Walk with me?” It was phrased as a question, but he didn’t wait for your answer. His long strides carried him towards camp, and you had no choice but to follow.   

“Tell me, do you plan on staying in Eryn Galen long?” His voice was crisp but quiet enough that only you could hear them.

“I do. I have grown fond of the people and its forest.” You spoke genuinely and truthfully. The wood elves were reclusive and suspicious, but once you broke through those barriers, they were full of merriment and loyalty. You cherished the relationships you had already formed and were eager for more. 

“Even in its sickly state,” his tone was sardonic but not enough to hide the pain in his voice. How terrible it must’ve been to see his home twisted into something so evil while powerless to stop it. 

“I believe there is still hope for it to be returned to health.”

Thranduil stopped in his tracks, eyes meeting yours. You stopped as well, patiently waiting for what he may say next. His expression was unreadable, eyes searching yours for the answers to questions you didn’t know. 

Wherever he was searching for, it sent shivers down your spine and made goosebumps form on your arms. The moonlight was kind to him, bathing him in a silvery light that made him look like the elves of Lothlorien who always seemed to shine. You felt your heart stutter as butterflies formed in your stomach. 

It could’ve been a trick of the light, but you could’ve sworn there was a hint of affection in his bright eyes. After the death of his wife, rumors spread of his cold demeanor and harshen disposition. But now, before you, none of those adjectives seemed suited for him. As soft as the stars and as beautiful as the moon, how could he be anything but good and kind?

“I hope that you are right.” He finally broke the silence, eyes raising to the sky before he continued walking, and just as before, you matched his strides. Neither of you spoke, relishing in the silence after a terrible day full of death and terror. 

Finally, the both of you stopped in front of the tent that was yours.

“It was good to meet you today, Y/N. I hope to see you again; I find your company pleasant and your conversation enjoyable.”

A red flush made your face warm, and a child-like grin appeared on your lips. As light as a feather, you would’ve floated away had the king not grabbed your hand, delicately placing a kiss on your knuckles. 

When he released your hand, you lowered into a half curtsey, the movement not as fluid due to your dress that was stiff from the dried blood covering it. 

“It was an honor to speak with you, my king. I wish you a good rest tonight.” 

He smirked in a way that made your flush deepen.

“And if I find it difficult to find rest, will you brew me a tea to lull me to sleep.” 

“Herbology happens to be my specialty.” 

Thranduil gave a single, firm nod, yet his eyes never moved from yours. The affection you’d seen before was brighter, easier seen in the dim lighting. And you were certain your eyes portrayed the same attraction. Could this be the beginning of something wonderful?

“Then I shall know who to call upon in my hour of need.” He lowered into a full bow, his cloak billowing around him. You took a step back, a bout of giggle escaping your mouth. Who would’ve thought the stern king had a sense of humor?

“Farewell, my lady.” 

He then swept off further into the camp, and you stayed in your spot, watching his form disappear, only moving once you could no longer see him. You turned and entered your tent, hand placed upon your flushed cheek. As you readied yourself for bed, the encounter with Thranduil replayed in your mind. And suddenly, you found yourself dancing alone, unable to push back your excitement. 

And as you lay in bed and shut your eyes, you desperately hoped this would only be the beginning and not where the story would end. 

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

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

[shokoxbunny]

(image source: my sister sent this to me idk)

This could be us but I would never actually approach you due to social anxiety.

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Fili- Loved You Before

Number 3 from this post, requested by @bunniesbearsandhobbitadventures

Being an elf brought back to life after thousands of years was strange at the best of times, but not being able to remember anything from your previous life was something that perplexed even the wisest elves. You had Glorfindel who could empathise and your new life was filled with friends, joy and people who loved you, but something still felt empty.

Lunch with Lord Elrond wasn’t necessarily rare but royal dwarf guests were. You heard whispers from the other elves as you approached the outdoor dining area. You didn’t gather much but it was enough to pique your interest.

Walking in it seemed you were the last guest to arrive and all eyes were on you. Not wanting to keep everyone waiting any longer you kept your head down and took your seat between Glorfindel and Elladan. If you would have looked up you would have seen a certain dwarf prince looking right at you.

It was about 15 minutes into the meal before your eyes finally glanced up, feeling someone had been looking at you for some time. Once your eyes met you audibly gasped, almost dropping your wine glass.

Seeing those soft blue eyes and wavy half braided blonde hair, your world stopped. For the first time since you’d come back, you felt truly at home. Looking into his eyes you felt a warm familiarity, like you’d spent a life together.

His eyes felt like home, they felt like a thousand memories at once. You’d never met him before, and yet you could almost feel his curly locks between your fingers, like you’d ran your fingers through them every night for years.

You couldn’t even recall his name but some how you knew how warm he felt in the middle of the night, and how he smelt at the end of a hard working day.

Hearing your name being called broke both of you out of your trance. Looking at Lord Elrond, you felt a small tear fall. Quickly blinking you quietly excused yourself and ran out of the lunch, leaving shocked faces and whispering voices.

Not bothering to turn around as you ran through the many halls and into the beautiful garden, you didn’t notice Fili quickly following you. As you reached the garden, you collapse onto the stone bench, tears running down your face. Your tears a mix of both happy and sad.

“Amrâlimê?”

Hearing that deep but calming voice, your head whipped around. As if in second nature you took his face between your hands, your forehead leaning against his, eyes closed and breath laboured.

“Meleth nîn.” You cried to him, lightly shaking as you further push your head into his.

His thumbs came to your hand, rubbing them lovingly.

“I don’t believe I have ever met you but I feel connected to you, like I am meant for you and you are meant for me. I hope that doesn’t sound crazy.” He whispers lovingly to you.

“That does not sound crazy at all, darling.” You smile as you look into his beautiful eyes.

[ivorydragoness44]

Bernard the elf x elf!Reader: Delicate Word Count: 381 Summary: (Toy)Santa had upset you, so you go in search of Bernard for help.

~~~~  ~~~~

  It had been quite a while, but you were determined. Turning another corner, you finally found him.    “Oh, Bernard! There you are. I need to talk to you.” You called out as you caught up to him.    “Not right now, please.” He paused to acknowledge you. “I have to go check in with the reindeer. I’m sorry. We can talk about this later.”    For the head elf, he seemed more stressed then usual. He gave an apologetic smile before turning and walking a few paces away.    You sighed as you watched him. “It’s about Santa.”    Bernard stopped in his tracks, pivoting around and frantically scurried back to you. Quite close in fact; you could smell the peppermint off of him. Panic shown in his eyes though he visibly tried to remain calm and composed.    In a hushed voice, he was a flurry of words. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

   “I made a humorous comment, as I usually do with Santa,” you began, receiving a nod from Bernard. “But…something’s different. He said that if I were a child, he would put me on the Naughty List so fast that my pointy little ears would fly off. And he laughed. And not his usual jolly and fun laugh. This one sounded…strange, disturbing even.”    Bernard’s mouth opened and closed more than once before he could find the words. He obviously saw how hurt you were from Santa’s words.    You did not recall a single Santa who had made such a remark to an elf, much less you personally.    Bernard proceeded to gently hold you by your shoulders. “I know that Santa has been acting a little…new, but I swear I’ll talk to him. Even though he’s Santa, that is no way to talk to someone. I’ll fix this, okay?”    “And…Bernard?” Your voice small.    “Hmm?”    “You don’t think there’s anything wrong with my ears, do you?”    He gasped in his shock. Reaching upward with his hands, he delicately touched your ears with a feather-light touch. “No. Never,” he shook his head with a smile. “They are the most perfectly pointed elf ears I’ve ever laid eyes on.” His kind eyes twinkled as he gave you a reassuring and caring smile. “May I see you again later?”    “Yes. Thank you, Bernard.”

~~~~  ~~~~

Thank you for reading!

Reblogs are appreciated

[epilogue-and-prologue]

Ship: Thorin x Elf!Reader

Trope: Childhood friends to enemies to lovers

Length: 3 376 words.

Warnings: Injuries, violence, guilt, guilt trip. Thorin being Thorin, Thranduil being Thranduil. Angst with a happy ending.

Note: @sorisooyaa I have something for you. I made a thing. I don't know what to make of it. But I have made a thing. Tags - if I forgot someone sorry and please tell me so I can not forget you next time: @heilith @sotwk @asgardianhobbit98 @middleearthpixie @glassgulls @evenstaredits @fizzyxcustard

Vocabulary point: Nethig = Sister, little sister (diminutive) - Sindarin

You were here to help.

Of course, you had come to help.

The battle of Erebor would be known as the one where great elven and dwarven warriors perished. It would still be an understatement before any of the gods who listened. The Durin line barely survived by the skin of their teeth. If you had not been there to prevent the massacre... Thorin stopped the thought there, fearing what it would bring to mind.

You, whom he had known since he was a mere child, your parents and his - if not in agreement - cordial to one another. At the time, you knew Erebor's halls almost as well as he did, despite having grown in the shadows of the Greenwood. Often, you would meet, in secret, away from the prying eyes of both your families, running away, chasing dragons and seeking battles made out of air.

Now, he wished for these times to come back.

The dwarven king owed you his life and the life of his nephews.

That was why he was at your side, watching until you woke up. If you were to wake up.

Why was he waiting? He knew not. Or, he knew as he had known for years, yet stopped himself from hoping you would know too. He was not the young dwarf he once was, careless with his words and promises, careless in his affections. The sovereign he had become could not make foolish choices as Kili had the luxury of making. Nevertheless, the hope in him would not die, not until you gave him an answer to a question he would not dare ask.

You were there. You were there when his grandfather had refused your brother and your people what was owed to them. The look of confusion and disappointment on your face had not left his thoughts in all those years. Where the regret and sorrow as you followed your brother away from the dragon’s massacre felt like a heavy scar, this first betrayal was still bleeding through the walls of his mind more vivid than it had ever been.

For since the battle, you would not wake. And he would not sleep.

Maybe, this was his atonement for not having intervened sooner in the feud between the elves and his people. Maybe it was punishment for not having told you, as a child, what those feelings were, leaving you blindsided for the rest of your life.

His breath came to a halt when you stirred in your sleep. His surroundings were dark, only lightened by the moonlight shining in the room. Everything was so pale, the sheets, your gown, the light. He felt sick for a moment, in pain with each breath. Thorin was sitting in the most uncomfortable seat he had ever been in, his back hunched over, elbows on his knees, rubbing at his face to erase the deep sleep in his bones.

Thranduil opened the door. His eyes racked over the dwarf’s figure. The deep circles under his eyes and the hollow of his cheeks were clear indicators of his state. Your brother would have been blind not to see your injuries’ effect on Thorin.

Despite what people knew of him, the elven king was not as heartless as he seemed. He had sustained many injuries over the years, many terrifying experiences, and too many meaningless deaths. His heart was a closed sanctuary now, only opened for those he trusted. Even if he was not trusting Thorin, he trusted you. You, who had sought him out all those moons ago, trying to stop a raging war between your families. He had refused to listen and what it had cost him would never be counted accurately. The elf was old and weary of war. He wanted this to end, almost as much as you did. When you were playing in Erebor’s halls, he was with his guardian, resenting you for not having to attend all those boring meetings nor being with him when he had to learn all those awful words in Khuzdul. No. You had learned with a friend. The ultimate betrayal for him was that you were allowed to. No one saw the harm in the shenanigans you orchestrated. You were children, what was the harm? Only when you grew, beautiful as a newborn star, people started talking. He dismissed them all in public. Chastised you in private. “Behave as you were born”, those were his words. It was then that Thranduil had known. It was too late for you. You had fallen for him, having known him for so long. His stubbornness familiar to your equally stubborn mind, the wits of his tongue matching your own, your secret kisses shared in the mistrusted shadows of the woods or the corridors of the dwarven city. You would not let him go. But, soon, even Thorin dismissed you, in favour of dwarf women more suited to be by his side. Your heart was misplaced. Lost with someone who had no use for it.

After that, heartbroken and deep into your mind, you let yourself perish to the brink of death. Thranduil’s wife and son became your only solace, throwing yourself into the family life you yearned for, but could not have for yourself. With your brother, you would not talk of love for the prince. Only a “misplaced trust” as if it was enough to describe what it was you were left with.

That “misplaced trust” was all that was needed for Thranduil to care.

“Thorin Oakenshield.”

His face barely rose to meet the elven king’s eyes, falling back again in an impolite manner, now familiar between the two.

“It’s you.”

The elf had a hard time not snapping at him. But even he knew, the pain he was in. Your brother kissed your brow in slow motion. Nothing moved in the air, as he was adjusting your pillow, smoothing your sheets, sitting down next to you, eyes lost on your face. The room reeked of balms and healing herbs. Thorin ran a hand over his face once more, the stiff figure in front of him immobile and solemn. 

“I remember.”

The sound of his voice was barely above a whisper, yet it took up all the space in the room. He had that effect, your brother. You used to be so proud of him when you were little. Trying to get his affection every time you could. He wondered if you would still look at him that way.

“When you were young. Both running around in our legs, trying to get some attention, only to run away just as easily.”

Thranduil might have seen a soft smile appear on Thorin’s tear-stained cheeks if the darkness was not so thick. He did not see.

Instead, the elven king grabbed your hand, ever so cold, between his own seizing your fingers, growing accustomed to your unresponsiveness. All those hours spent in silence by your side had made him weary. The loss of his wife was an everlasting memory at the back of his mind, as he was praying to anyone who would listen for your recovery. Not again his mind would say. Not her his heart would scream. 

And maybe it worked somehow, after all those days, all those weeks, because then you opened your eyes.

The light was faint. You could make out parts of the walls and ceilings. It was home. A breath of relief left you, making your chest ache. You winced, eyelids shut close, brows furrowed. Your hand was captured in someone else’s, warm, alive. You were alive. Every part of your body was in pain, sharp, akin to the edge of a fine sword twisting your guts and bones. Soon, you could hear a voice. Voices, you realized. You turned towards the tall figure holding your hand. It seemed to be calling your name.

“Nethig?”

Thranduil. His face came to a focus, his forehead meeting yours as you were holding his hand to your chest for dear life. Tears streamed down your face, not being able to stop them in any way.

On the other side of your bed, Thorin had not moved. His mouth agape, he was waiting for you to see him, to look at him. The minutes and murmurs exchanged with your brother were lasting, echoing in his mind. The chuckle escaping your lips was a balm to his undone heart. King, he was, yet he would have been on his knees and given it all up in a heartbeat if it would keep you from crying as you were.

You could not see past your brother and you did not want to. How stupid could you have been to throw yourself and your soldiers into this death trap? For what? An old flame nothing could light again? Thorin’s affections for you were long past, a mere child’s play you took to heart when he did not. The young and everlasting hope in your chest would not die. In the end, it almost had you killed. Deliberately, Thranduil pulled himself away, his protective gaze still on you. His eyes met someone else’s over your shoulder before coming back to your face. He helped you sit up, one movement at a time.

Upon seeing who it was, you started crying again. Not of joy, nor pain. In relief. How your heart could be a trickster. The moment was clear in your mind, despite the anxiety creeping up your spine. The moment you thought he was going to die in front of your eyes. It was without a second thought, you had pierced the chest of the orc before Fili or Kili could be harmed. For Thorin, your heart had lept in your throat as the menace of losing him became more and more obvious, the more the fight went on. The prince you remembered, the one you had loved, was brave beyond any elven or dwarven standards. He still was. You had hesitated, the ever-nagging thought of him being upset upon being defended by you. Until the last minute. When you had jumped from your vantage point, it had been all a blur, the only thing remaining the clear sky above you, the sun on your skin. The edge of the sword had pierced through armour and flesh, close to your heart. As if hurting it more was a feat anyone could accomplish. In a last stroke of luck, elven warriors had flooded the place, while you were still staring at the sky becoming darker and darker with each passing moment. You could hear yells and angry cries, strong arms cradling your head, and a soft, profound, grave voice begging you to stay alive. In your haze, you had thought… you had thought it belonged to him.

The sobs had stopped. Thorin stepped closer to you, his right hand outstretched. His palm touched your cheek sloppily, checking if he was not dreaming. Yet, you were swiftly pulling him away, careful not to touch him for too long. You exchanged a few words with Thranduil, and he stepped away, one final hard stare at the dwarf before leaving the room.

“What are you doing here?”

It was more to yourself than to him that you asked this question, in a hoarse voice you did not recognize. His arm lingered in the air, in your vicinity. How much you wanted to bury yourself in his chest and never let him go again. The harm he had done to you, on the other hand, was too heavy on your heart to let go of.

He swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat. The rejection was bitter-sweet. He knew his faults all too well. Against his first instinct, he got up to his feet, grimacing under the weight of his flesh wounds. Seeing you in pain was so much worse than that.

“I…”

Around you, the night lights were shivering, dawn simmering under the cover of the clouds. It was now or never.

“I have something for you.”

A snort escaped you and you coughed. Startled, he approached, but you stopped him with a gesture of your hand.

“If it’s not an apology, I do not want it Thorin.”

There. Plain as day. The look on his face, you never dared to hope he’d show for you. His gaze softened as you mouthed the name you had not spoken of in years. His name. Delightful to hear you say it, if only it had been in different circumstances. Alas, it was not. He had to make the best of this. Even if it killed him. Because a life without you was only worth death, the unmerciful kind, slow and feverish, agonising. He could not bear it anymore.

“I hoped you would agree to listen first and see what to do afterwards. Yet, you stay faithful to yourself.”

His voice resonated in the room even as he claimed the words one after the other, softly, trying not to scare you away. He smiled. One of those precious smiles you came to banish from your mind, year after year, as it plagued your waking hours almost as much as your dreams. You turned your eyes away from him, a heat blooming in your cheeks. Although you could not see his face, you heard him, coming closer to you, sitting near your calves, hands on his knees. He was loud as dwarves are. Sometimes, you dreamt about that noise. Dreamt of him coming home to you. You shook your head a little, the world blurry for a moment before your eyes.

“Could you… would you, at least, look at me?”

His voice was pained, smooth around the edges of his sorrow. He did not recognize that voice as his own. It was the voice of heartbreak. A sweet relief came over him when you finally looked at him.

It was short-lived. Your face, he remembered. Ever-lasting as the poets said. Engraved in his heart, beating erratically with every minute spent in your company. The bruises, the sharp cut going from your cheekbone to your chin. The edge and the indifference. All of that he did not know and wanted to rub off. His hand twitched in his lap, fingers extending into nothingness.

“I am incredibly happy you are alive.”

His words were met with pure harshness, almost hostility. Sorrow in your eyes, a headache growing behind your eyelids.

Thorin licked his lips.

“I came here to thank you. Personally.”

A snicker stopped him. You sniffled again, ungracefully wiping your nose in your sleeve, wincing at the effort it took you. His palm felt warm on your knee. You were not one to bet, but if you had to, you would have assured a tattoo of his palm was to appear on your skin at how hot it felt. How right. Still, unnerved, you did not move.

“I came here because… When we thought… When I thought I lost you, I came to realize how much of an imbecile I had been.”

You bowed your head. Biting your lips, your hair hiding the desperation in you. You could not bear it. Could not bear hearing him say the words without meaning them. He had done so before, what was stopping him from doing it again? It would destroy you.

“Stop. Just stop!”

Tears formed at the corners of your eyes. You did not try to stop them from falling. His hand reached you before you could stop it, meeting your cheek, and wiping away your tears. Stilling your heart in its ribcage, prisoner of his touch, again. His beautiful eyes were worried, brows furrowed, lips pinched together.

“Why are you torturing me so? Telling me what I want to hear? After all those years? Am I just a toy to you?”

You bit your lips harder, drawing blood. Without saying a word, he smoothed the skin there, smearing blood on his fingertips, unbothered merely grateful he could do it at all.

“Never. Amralimê, never.”

He frowned. Only then did you notice how close he was, the word in his mouth settling near your heart, his forehead a breath away from yours. Blue eyes boring into yours, lips parted, his cheek covered by a white and black beard. He had aged, as we all do. How could he still make your heart beat so loud and your stomach flutter so even after all these years? It was uncanny. Impossible. You wanted to take his hands off of your face, gripping his wrists in a vice grip.

He held on, gritting through the pain shooting in his arms, your face cradled in his warmth.

“I have been wrong all this time. I thought I was better off without you. Hoping you would find happiness without this love we did not see coming. But, no one can stop the sun from rising and I could not stop myself from loving you.”

A whimper escaped you when he pulled away, reaching into his coat for a small thing, wrapped in grey cloth, worn with time and travel. Carefully, he grasped your hand putting the itchy material in your palm.

“I should have given you this, at the time. I am giving it to you now. I hope you keep it.”

His words were ringing in your ears as you pulled the package open. Inside was a trinket you recognized immediately. You smiled, half expecting it to be a fever dream.

“A courting bead.”

Clenching your hand around it, you felt the walls around your heart beginning to give. Taking your hand in his, one more time, he pried the cage your fingers made one after the other, relinquishing in the feeling of your fingertips.

“Not exactly.” Giddy with excitement, he leaned close to you, as if in confidence. “It is an engagement bead. I figured we were past the courting steps at this point.

- Are you serious?”

The question had escaped your lips in a bewildered whisper, not quite wanting to believe him. Thorin became self-conscious again, nodding, bashful. He was shy. Thorin Oakenshield had gone soft. The world was going to collapse.

“Why now?

- After this close call with death, I don’t think I have anything more to lose but you.

- What of…?

- The others? I do not care. Not anymore. If you’ll have me, I’ll be there. Whenever you need me. As who you want me to be.”

Without thinking, your hand reached out to his cheek, bringing him impossibly closer. In a familiar gesture, your lips met his. 

Thorin had become tender with the years. Surprised and inhaling sharply, his fingers gripped your gown at the waist, in a desperate attempt at getting you flush against him, your warmth comforting his melting heart through your skin.

The pain shot through you interrupting you both.

“My apologies, I’ll be more careful from now on.”

You smiled against his lips, pushing yourself a little bit further into his embrace.

“I doubt that.”

He arched an eyebrow.

“You were rough once. Harsh even. Don’t stop now on my account…”

You bit your lip and saw his pupils darken, a thin line of blue at the edge of it all, holding you down under this lustful stare.

The kiss he gave you next was nothing short of hungry, wild and powerful. You felt the fragility of your body in his hands, even more than you had during the battle. His palms spread a heated river down your waist, straight between your legs. Yet, it would have to wait. Only for a night or two, you thought. If you would restrain yourself. As if reading your thoughts - he had always been good at that - he replied.

“We have all the time in the world for this, now. If you’ll have me.”

He was worried. Still. You could not blame him, after all these years you had spent avoiding him only to find out he felt the same for you as you did for him.

“Yes. We do.”

Your tone left no doubt. Affirmed and self-assured, you knew this would be the beginning of something new. This was a new chapter in a lifetime of stories, you could not wait to find more about.

[braindead94]

The sound of rolling dice, is music to my ears

Reader is a small Elf whos task is to delivering important male to Jack Skeleton when she accidently tripped and lost a few letters.

But when she tries to get it back from the Boogeyman that the entire Halloween town warned her about, he offers her a game to win them back.....

(Merry Christmas yall!!! TW:Kidnapping, Gambling, blow job (female receiving), PIV, bugs)

The crisp air of snow and peppermint filled the air along with the sounds of merriment and laughter from the elfs. You smiled brightly as you stroll along the path with a pirk in your step, waving and greeting other elfs that crossed your path in Christmas Town. The bell on your longstock hat jingled as you spun around in the town square, twirling your green skirt with white fluff on the ends while catching snowflakes on your tongue before dashing off to the end of the street and towards the beautiful forest.

Santa had a new idea for Christmas that involved working with Halloween Town favorite resident, Jack Skeleton. Of course, many people here didn’t take up the idea of mingling with the likes of him because… well, their beloved skeleton kidnaps your town's leader for Saint Nick sakes!

But you took it with a cheerful smile and a happy beat in your heart. You were very curious about the folks in that scary town and for the most part, half of the rumors the elfs spread were ALMOST right.

The monsters and ghouls do eat out of the skulls of animals. They do dress in all black and have slime oozing out of them. Half of them are even dead and walking. But what surprised you the most was that they are all so inviting and open to you.

They were curious about you and your town as much as you are of theirs. The idea was that Santa would take the good children letters and the naughty letters go to Jack with little backstory of their bad behavior. He thought it would be a good idea that the Pumpkin King take up the title of Krampus (minus the whipping and kidnapping). All he had to do was scare them a little, just a little and leave coal.

The tall, bony man was thrilled to be part of this fun idea and always greeted you with a wide grin and a spark in his empty eye sockets. Sooner than later, he and many of the residents became good friends of yours. 

Well, except from those oddball kids, Lock, Stock, and Barrel. You paid them no mind when they made fun of your pointy ears and how short you are (you held it in the fact that THEY are short as well). The odd thing was that there would be few bugs around them whenever they appeared, and only to disappear after they left. Or how the insects in Halloween town seemed to follow you about.

You just turn the other cheek and move on when they come onto your path.

Perhaps you could invite some of your friends over to Halloween town one day. Then your whole friends could become one big group so you’ll never have to separate anything anymore.

You hummed a jolly tune as you made your way through the pine trees that slowly dwindled down from thick with wide trunks and brimming with pine leaves to thin and spices. Hiking up your heavy backpack full of tightly packed letters and a box of your homemade Christmas cookies (both chocolate chips and swirl cookies), your wide eyes scanned for your destination.

Seeing the familiar sight of the Holiday doors, you nearly ran over to the pumpkin door and knocked on it, one two three, one two three, one two three four five.

You didn’t have to, but you felt it was only polite to do so before opening it and eagerly jumping in with the brightly colored leaves of red, orange and brown swirled around you and you disappeared into the darkness.

With practice and with muscle memory, you curled up into a ball just when you felt something hard and flat hit your feet, rolling forward and plopping open in the dark and scary forest.

You just got up, dust yourself off and stroll into the well beaten path to the spooky town. The moon was full and bright, almost hurting your eyes as it lighted up your path. The trees around you were tall, lanky and dead with the smell of dried sap and fresh dirt. 

You happily stepped on crisp leaves with your curled up shoes, the bell on your long hat jingled, almost skipping on when you saw you were getting close to the three thick or treaters tree house.

Your lips almost made a scowl but pressed on with lead feet, hoping they weren't home to taunt you or throw rotten apples at you again. You were almost passing by the hill when something hooked on the curl of your green shoe and made you trip.

“Wahhhh!!” You crashed hard, your chin hitting the dirt hard. You cringed in pain as you slowly sat up on your knees, only to see your backpack opened and spilling letters out. “Ohhhh no no no no no!” You muttered as you began to snatch them up and shove it in the pack, never bothering to straighten them out or even if they were getting crinkled with the carelessness of stuffing. Thankfully your cookies were still inside.

You turned to your left to gather more, then to your right to get the rest. 8 letters, 5 letters, only 4 more letters to go-

A gust of wind brushed through your exposed hair and picked up the 4 remaining letters in the air. You could only look in disbelief when it landed only a few feet away from the dreaded treehouse. “How on…” You didn’t bother finishing it when you clamped the pack shut and rushed out to grab the remaining envelopes.

But they moved out of your grasp, very comically like an old silent film actor getting his hat. It was as if they were moving on their own. You huffed in annoyance as you unknowingly got closer and closer to the tree, right at the base where the trunk meets the ground… except you stopped at the unexpected moat that dipped down into darkness.

You halted your progress, almost falling off the ledge as you saw the letters getting carried in the air and through an open window by…

Your eyes widened as you saw many beetles clinging onto the white envelopes, their wings buzzing hard as they slipped into the crack of the window just enough for them.

Blinked at how ridiculous this looked, you sat back on your feet and stared at the trunk. Looking through the glass, you saw nothing but darkness. 

Welp, this is going to be a problem.

You lean your body back to look up at the treehouse, debating whether or not it’s worth bothering the little deviants and ask to look into their basement, or living room, or whatever it is. But the more you think about it, the more scenarios pop up with unfavorable endings.

You think if Jack would be of assistance but then again, he is a busy skeleton and it would only make things worse when they get caught, they would probably heckle you even more later if that were to be.

You nibble on your thumbnail, your mind racing until a new idea pops up. ‘What if I just…. Sneak in?’ You thought. “No, no, breaking in is bad! And besides, I’m sure those letters are not that important.” You reasoned. ‘But Santa does it once a year for Christmas, for a good reason. And he explained that these children are growing up worse and worse each year with no consequences, they would have to learn to behave for the betterment of their adult years and to others.’ Says the reason in your mind.

A small sigh left your lips as you looked at the dark window, then to the darkness of the moat. Luckily there was a rope that hung from the branches above, so after you made sure to secure your pack, you clamped onto the rope and climbed down to the glass. Luckily it wasn’t locked and you gently let yourself in.

‘Ohhhhh, this still feels wrong. ’ You think as you waved your arm in the dark to feel the walls. Your hands grasp something long and hard. Your brows frowned at the feel of it, how smooth and wrong it felt. Almost familiar though.

You hung onto it and found more things similar to it on the wall and slowly climbed down until your feet touched the floor. Now with the safety of the ground, you looked around to see… still nothing but you can hear a lot of scuffling. Like lots of tiny little feets scampering about all around you.

Quickly thinking, you reach for your bell and with a small blow, you ring it with a golden chime echoing the room and it begins to glow.

The light wasn’t enough to fill in the whole thing, so you saw it was a big room. Wider and bigger than Mr. and Mrs. Claus' own house. You turned around to the wall you climbed down-

You scream when you see skeletons hanging by their wrists and ankles stretching them out without breaking them apart on chains. Their bones covered in disgusting paint as their skulls looked down at you with their jaw open and their sockets looking at you dully.

You tumbled backward before trying to calm yourself down. ‘It’s okay, it’s okay.. It’s just skeletons, you’ve seen them around Halloween Town, you are friends with one. Everything is fi-’ 

You let out another scream when you look down to see bugs of many sizes and shapes skittering all over the floor, some on your green shoes and almost crawling up your red and white stockings.

Immediately, you stomp and kick at them when you hear a deep chuckle behind you. With a snap, the room began to glow bright and the bigs seemed to be repealed by the light. Within seconds, they disappeared into the cracks of the walls before you.

“Don’t pay them too much, little lady. They are only takin’ a good look at cha.” Said a deep, southern voice behind you.

You turned to see the whole room and blinked in surprise. It was a large game room with a wheel with sharp edges and another skeleton strapped in the middle. The floor you were standing on was a circle with red and black boxes with golden numbers and skull painted on the ends and the middle had cracks that indicated that it was holding something inside.

Further ahead of you was a large throne that was built with big dice and coins with insects crawling in and out of it, and on that throne was a very, very large man who looked at you with keen interest.

His face was plump with a wicked smile on his cupid lips, his teeth all crooked and jagged like broken bottles while the ends of his mouth had stitches that extended his smile. He had a thick mustache with a soul patch on his chin with stitches lining underneath that chin all the to the sides of his face until it hid under his ears. He wore black glasses that glinted in the light. 

His black hair groomed back, and his pale skin nearly popped out of his dark, burgundy suit that looked like it was stitched in thick string with a black shirt with a striped, orange and black tie. You looked at the big, stitched up man with a feeling of meeting a hungry lion when you saw him holding the 4 letters in his hands.

“Oh! You have my letters! I’m so sorry for breaking into your home, sir.” You called out as you started to walk towards him, the feeling did not go away as you came closer. “I tripped and lost some of my letters, and for some reason some bugs carried them here. If I may have them back please, I’ll leave your…” You looked around the whole bizarre place for a proper word. “Lovey home.” You finished, now standing in front of him, but still a good few meters away.

Even from this distinct, you could still see how tall he really was, and say how his suit looked a bit tight on him, especially around his belly. He raised a thick eyebrow as he looked over the envelopes in his hands, fanning himself while thinking before giving you a smirk. “No.” 

You blinked with your mouth agape.

“I’m-I’m sorry-”  “Listen here, darlin’,” He began, his southern drawl laying his voice thick as he crossed his leg over the other, his face never losing that hidden sense of humor. “I know you and your boss loves ta break in and all. But here in Halloween Town, we don’t do that. Especially if ya don’t know what type of surprises linger in our homes. ‘Sides, you don’t have anything to trade for these.” He added as he sat back with a lazy grunt.

Your mind becomes jumbled with excuses for Santa and for your rude intruding as you try to apologize to him when you think of the cookies. “Well, if it’s a trade you want sir, I have some treats with me that you could have.” His eyes, so very human for a resident living in a monster filled world, light up at the word treat. “Well, present them here, cutie.” 

Your cheeks turned red as he called you that, nearly fumbling the box out of your backpack. Placing the bag down, you walked up to the man in the chair. It feels odd, so vastly different from Santa Claus, surrounded by kind people and how many children line up to ask him for presents, how his face glowed with warmth and giving. Always have a smile that makes you light up.

This man is the opposite in this lonely game place, letting out a feeling of cold and selfishness, his dark eyes pierced through your soul and even looked at your box with a wide smile as he placed the envelopes on his wide lap as you came up to up. You noticed how your shoulders were just almost taller than his knees. ‘Goodness, he might be taller than Santa himself. ’ You think. 

The man reached out and instead of taking the box off your hands, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you closer between his now open legs (you saw morse stitches on his hands, one ending on the palm of his hand and around his wrist and on the other around his ring finger). You felt your cheeks becoming warmer as his skin, which felt callused and coarse, still held onto you as he opened the box and let out a delighted ah.

“Well ain’t they just the most de-licious looking treats. Did ya make these yourself?” He asked as he just took one and munch on a chocolate chip cookie. 

You cleared your throat and answered yes, waiting for him to let you go. But he didn’t, he ate another and another, all while still holding onto you. 

“And look at these funny little men with buttons on them! And you get to eat them? You Christmas folks must be darker than I give ya credit for.” He smirked as he took a gingerbread man. You stood awkwardly as you waited for him to finish, mentally sighing and promising to bake more for Sally and the little dead boy with his bat friend. 

Once the tall man in stitches finished all the surgery cookies, he finally let go of your arm and sat back with a consent smile on his face and a few crumbs on his patch. “Well shave my legs and call me Bessy, those are one of the best damn things I’ve ever tasted. What are they called?”

You stepped back with a wayward grin and answered him, then explained how you made them though it looked like he didn’t care about the making process of them as he just wiped away the crumbs with a raggedy rag from his jacket pocket.

“So…um, now that you’ve had your cookies, I’ll take the letters back now-” “Now hang on a minute, little sugar. I never did agree to give them to you if I ate any of your delights. You just walked on up and offered them to me like a present. And isn't that what you folks are all about, given shit away for free?” 

You stood there flabbergasted, trying to bring up reason but thinking back, he never did verbally agree to give them to you. But the way he was implying should have been enough, right?

“Um…” Was all you could say as you fumble with the red box in your hand, trying to come up with something to get those papers back. “You're really dead set on getting them back, huh?” He chuckled, then a gleam of an idea flashing in his eyes and his smile grew, nearly popping the stitches on the sides.

“How about this, you play a game with me. If you win four times, you get your letters back and you get to leave. How does that sound?” You nodded eagerly before you paused. “Wait, what happens if I lose?”

He let out a laugh as he sat back on his throne. “Well that was quick! Most folks would just play my games before even askin’ that question! Well, little missy if you lose,” He leaned back down to you, his body towering over you. The gleam of his glasses shined before his dark pupils almost glowed green in the shadow. “You get to stay here with me.” He whispered. 

You balked at the mere thought of just staying here in this-this empty room of games, stepping away from him. He smirked when you almost tumbled backward that caused you to drop the box. “That-that’s not a fair trade! They are only just papers-” 

“Papers that you are so very anxious to get back, like a kid with fire ants in his pants. Are they really that important to risk your own life to break into an unknown territory and just stroll in without knocking the residents first?” The man exclaimed in his heavy southern drawl, collapsing his hands together. “If ya ask me, that just seems mighty rude to me. Almost naughty. And here I thought all pretty little elfs were supposed to be fucking nice.”

Your face nearly crumbled with shame as you fiddled with your hands. “I-I-I’m so sorry sir-I honestly was just-” that did it, you turned around to the window with tears nearly drawn out of your big eyes. “I’ll just leave you alone and never bother you again.”

“Now hold on there, who says you were a bother?” He asked. You halted as you turned back to him. His smirk still present on his face as he held up one paper. That is out of the envelope. “I am very curious about this,” He reads one of it, raising his glasses on his crooked nose. “Kid named Daniel. What’s so special about him, huh? Causing a ruckus with his family? Need someone to discipline him? Maybe I could pay him a visit and teach him a thing or two.” He drawled on as you made your way back to him with rushed steps.

Your bell jingled as you tried to reach out for the paper but he only sat back and held it higher with a laugh. “Give that back! That is meant for Jack Skeleton!” 

With the mention of the skeleton name made him stop. The air became tense as you heard thousands of bugs scuttling in the walls as if they were retreating. “Jack Skeleton, eh? What, is that big old oaf of a red lobster asking him to deliver presents again? Or just scare them into being good? Well,” 

He smiled wider, wider until the side stitches unravel and his mouth showed more jagged teeth. The glow of his dark eyes showed again as a shadow passed over his face. “Perhaps I could pay the tiny tikes a visit. Scare the living shit out of them myself into being good children.” He whispered, his voice deeper with more voices joining, making him more demonic.

Ice turned your blood cold as your stomach squeezed as he loomed over you. There was no way you could just leave now without those letters. If he knew more about those naughty kids, he could hurt them or worse!

“Let's play a game then!” You squeaked out. “If I win four times then I’ll leave you forever! You won't ever have to hear from me ever again!” His eyes blinked before his side stitches closed up again as leaned back, more calmer but with that same gleam in his eyes.

“A smart decision, little darlin.” He snapped his fingers and a spotlight turned on behind you, pointing to a table and two chairs on each side that popped up behind you.

‘How-when did that-’ The man got up, up and up, startling you to step back as he made his way over to it while stuffing the paper into it’s container. “Now then, what games do you know about, Miss Y/n?” You think as you walk behind him from a safe distance. “Well, I know Uno. That’s a-wait,” You paused, thinking how he was quick to anger when you mentioned Jack just once. 

“Maybe not that game. How about Go Fish? I’m good at Go Fi-” “Sugar, I’m asking for a grown-up game, not some” He waved his hand as he sat in one chair. “Child's card game that’s meant to entertain a pathetic 5-year-old. Nah, I’m talking about a real man's game.”

You felt bristled when he insulted a child but kept it to yourself as you went to your chair and climbed up it, slightly pleased that had the right size to let you be seen from the other side of the table, but it did make it harder to climb up it. You made a hum as your mind raced to think of a new game. ‘Alright, so perhaps he might be interested in board games. Maybe he has Sorry?’

“How about Blackjack, do you know that one?” He asked, whipping out a pack of cards out of nowhere. You blinked as he began to shuffle them in a flashy, elegant way over the table with the green velvet feel, like a magician showing off his magic. Your eyes are drawn to how he flicked one card up into the air and caught the rest.

“Or maybe Poker? I’m always a sucker for Poker. If that aint’ your style,'' He rolled his wrist and out appeared two red dice with skulls on it rolled onto the table. “We can play some roulette. The choice is yours to pick, Y/n.”

You think hard, frowning at the table. “Um… I haven’t played any of those games. I’m sorry…” You said sheepishly. His smile widened, and not in a friendly way. “Well that’s alright sweetie, I’ll teach ya. Lets go with Poker then, always a good one to start off with.” You nodded, at least trusting the process of getting those letters back-

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.” You added. “That you didn’t, my apologies. Around these parts, they call me the Boogeyman, but my real name is Oogie Boogie.” You felt a tingle of recognition from the name in your mind. The people in Halloween Town have mentioned him but never gotten into too much detail. But they did tell you to never trust the Boogie Man, not even with a little penny or your life.

Well, that isn’t a great start off but you had no choice. “Ok, Mr.Boogie. Let’s play Poker.”

So he spent a few minutes teaching you about the game, sprinkling some bits of it’s…. colorful history. It was kinda hard to understand how it works because of his accent but you slowly understood how the game operates, not that he slowed down for you to catch up when he started to deal with the cards out.

Mr.Boogie was even kind enough to play a few practice rounds before playing the game for real after you won some fake rounds (which he gave you begruttle praise for). 

Then the game really began.

He placed down one envelope in the center of the table with the green velvet on the top. Then he dealt the cards out until you both got an even 5. Following the rules, you peeked at the first two cards.

They were two threes, one diamond and another a club. 

That round was rather short but you managed to win that first round easily with the rest of the three being 6s, two spades and one club. 

Oogie just smiled widely at your winning before dealing for another round while you eagerly get the first letter back.

The next round was a bit harder as you tried to keep your face neutral when you saw you got two aces. You looked at his face, really trying to study him as he looks at his own. He rubbed the soul patch on his chin, deep in thought before going in. You placed it down, then flipped up the rest of the cards when it showed that his cards were just as good as your aces.

It was three more aces.

You let out a cheer of glee as you picked up the second letter while you spun around on your chair, the golden bell at the end of your hat jingled along with your laughter. Oogie patiently waited until you sat back down with a bright smile on your face.

He had his own smile that didn’t look right.

“Why don’t we make this more interesting, sug.” he said. Still riding on that winning high, you nodded eagerly. “How ‘bout we throw in some strip poker fer a few rounds?”

That…. Threw you off that high ride. “Strip? As in… stripping wallpaper off?” You asked. The man in stitches let out a belly full laughter, tilting his head as he did so while you felt even more confused and peeved at his bizarre behavior.

After he calmed down enough, he stared at you with a glint inside of the dark pools in the middle of his eyes with a glowing but of green inside of them and said “No little doll. After you lose a hand, you have to take one article of clothing off of you until you're completely naked.”

Your face reddened hard while you dropped your cards on the table as if they caught on fire. “No, no way! Absolutely not! That is very inappropriate and really weird! Why would you want to add that in? Why would anybody play strip poker?!” You shrieked as you crossed your arms.

He just shrugged nonchalantly. “To enhance the experience! It gets folks on the Human side all riled up, make it interesting! Otherwise this whole game would be dull, and you are having a good time ain'tcha? You don’t want to ruin that with just two more rounds, right?”

Your cheeks felt warm but you did pounder on his words for a bit.

The game was starting to get good, and you felt like you had a winning streak going on….. Pulse you have layers of clothing on sooo….

You square up your shoulders, clearing your throat before agreeing with him with a soft okay. 

Oogies face broke out in his grin and his eyes flashed green again.

The first round went quickly as you got new cards, but it ended up with you losing to him. ‘No worries. I have tons of layers.’ You think as you took off your thick red coat and placed it neatly on the back of your chair neatly.

The next round, you lost again, and you slipped your curl toe shoes off and let both of them fall onto the floor limply. The man in front of you huffed in amusement as you continued on with a determined look on your face.

You managed to win the next round with a royal flush, and you squealed in delight and stuck out your tongue at him. Oogie simply smirked at you as he undoes his necktie and plop it onto the table. The next round you won again and gosh! This Poker game is really something else! You let out a whoop when you won the next round.

“Ha! By the time I’m done with this game, I’ll be the Queen of Po-po-poker…” Your excited words trailed off when he sat back and slowly unbuttoned his jacket and instead of taking it off, he slowly unbuttoned his dress shirt. Slowly, one…. By… one as if he was teasing you. 

The stitches from under his chin led down his throat and continued on until he fully opened up his shirt, leaving his plump chest and big belly out for all to see.

You stare at the lines between his pecs and two more split on his belly like a peace sign. Oogie Boogie rested his hands on the table and waited for you to speak up. After a full minute had passed by, you leaned forward and looked him in the eyes through his glasses. “Did that hurt?” You asked with concern.

He looked surprised, as if no one had asked him that before he chuckled a bit, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to grab something. “Nah, sugar. It didn’t hurt me at all.” You nodded, not bothering the thought that he never took off his jacket for the strip poker and continued on. 

Now, you were really taking your time after you lost your candy cane stockings and the only thing that is keeping you properly covered up is your green dress. Your hat is the last article of clothing is your hat, but the bell is your best chance of escaping out of here in case something goes wrong.

“Can we get back to the letters please, I would like to end this soon so I can leave you in peace.” Oogie smirked, his thick eyebrow raised in a teasing manner. “Why so anxious to leave little o’ me? Am I really that unbearable to be around with?”

You paled as you shook your head no. “I’m so sorry to give you that impression!” You lied, your ears lowering out of habit. “I just don’t want anyone to worry about meEEEE!” You shrieked and you felt something crawling up your bare leg. You shiver and try to shake it off but it held on as it climbed higher and higher-OH NO! It’s a black widow!!

You stood on your highchair as you try to think of a way to get it off without touching it when a large hand reached out with his palms up next to your waist where the creepy crawly stood. “Come along now darlin’. You’re givin our special guest a fright.” He drawls in his thick southern accent. The spider excitedly hopped on his hand and Oogie raised it up closer to your face before withdrawing it onto his seat.

Your heart was still pounding when you began to sit, then froze as you watched the big man bringing the Black Widow to his belly.

The seams on his belly came undone, then slowly his skin split open to reveal darkness with the sounds of lots of something small and slithering and skittering inside him. The spider crawled out of his hand, over his skin and joined in the rest of the sounds, it’s body seemingly mingling with the rest of the dark.

You watched on with disgust as the skin closed in on itself and the seams stitched itself back together and his belly became whole once more. Your skin felt cold as you just stared at his torso before looking up at him. He sat there leaned back with a smirk. “Enjoying the view, little lady? Well, if ya like, you could unwrap me yourself if you're curious about me.” He winked.

You shudder as you pick up your scattered cards and put your focus into the game.

Unfortunately, your mind was not in the same space as it was before and soon you’ve lost another round. He held out his hand for a letter and, with hesitation, you gave one back to him.

The next hour was spent alternating playing poker then strip poker when you felt you couldn’t handle losing a letter. He took off his jacket, leaving his shirt on and unbutton while you took off your fingerless gloves, necklace and after making an uneasy decision, took off your green dress rather than your hat.

If something were to happen, you’ll ring it for a quick emergency.

You could feel the man with the bugs eyes burning onto your bare skin as you shimmy out of it, your cheeks and the tip of your ears blushing hard as you folded it neatly and put it on your lap. Something told you that he might try to take your dress if you leave it unintended. Now you were just wearing a tank top that rested over your bra and stripped panties.

Of course, that decision didn’t go unnoticed.

“Now why take that dress rather than your hat. Granted, you look more adorable, tasty then a slut in the best whorehouse in the world, but I’m just wonderin.” Your face grew red as you stayed silent and picked up your cards again.

He let out a deep chuckle and looked at his cards. You looked into yours and nearly broke out in a grin. It was another royal flush. You nearly wiggled in your seat as you eyed up the very last, nearly crumbled letter that sits too close to Oogie Boogie. You are almost home free!

But then you started to notice the discarded pile and how high it is. You recounted the mount of times he redealt the cards after three rounds, that should have been enough to mix the cards up, right?

You then remember you’ve played an Ace of clubs in one round then the very next one, HE had an Ace of clubs in his winning deck.

“Wait a minute…” You placed your cards down as you leer at the tall man across from you. He glanced up, a knowing look placed in his eyes behind his glasses.

“Are you… cheating?” You asked with a hushed voice. Oogie Boogie just paused before his face broke out in a wide, wide grin. “Took ya long enough.” He said, nearly snickering as he dumped his cards on the table.

You slam your fist on the table, red bloomed on your face as you stood on your chair to scold closer at him. “That isn’t right!? Do you know how dishonest that is? How it ruins the game?! Now this isn’t even a real winning!!” You yelled, your voice nearly breaking from the lack of how much you’ve let your anger go.

“Well then I guess I’ll have those letters back then.” He pointed out, raising a hand with a smile. You blinked, then looked back at the envelopes and paled. Oh no…

“I…” You stutter out but your shoulders crumble downward. He’s right, you didn’t properly win them. So with a heavy hand, you gave it back to him, which he eagerly accepted. But his hand got a bit too close to yours, nearly grazing skin to cold skin.

“How about this, doll face,” Said Oogie with a mocking look of symphony as he collapsed his hands on the table. You waited as you sat down and crossed your arms to warm yourself up. ‘Fudge, I’ll need to get dressed quickly-’ 

“Let’s play a different game, no tricks, no cheating. Just an honest game of chance.” He said. You blinked at him again. “Y-y-you’re serious?” “As serious as a heart attack, sugar.” He quipped back.

You think about it, really think hard on it. 

He’s been cheating, probably from the very beginning. Maybe he didn’t even teach you all the rules of the game and you completely fell for it like a cotton headed ninnymuger!

“Alright, but it has to be with a game I know.” You demanded. He shrugged and sat back with a small grunt. “So, what do ya reckon? Miss.Y/n?” 

You ponder… and ponder… then a game up with a game that both Humans and Elfs play. If your kind and Humans know how to play it, then surely he might know. “Do you know the game Passage?”

He smiled wider as he took out his 6 pair of dice he showed you earlier and proceeded to do fancy tricks on his fingers. “I sure do, Y/n.”

You beamed, glad to have something going in your favor. “Good! Then if I win, I get the letters back, not one by one, all of them. And if you win-” “Then you get to stay here with me, little lady.” He smirked. A shiver slither up your spine as the cold settles in your blood. You swallow your fear as you nodded with a firm look on your face. 

“Deal…. but why-” He cut you off when he cleared the table by swiping his arm across the table, totally disregarding the nice-looking cards and set the dice on the table. Oogie just smirked at your shocked face as he held out his hand with two dice with snake details on it. “Ladies first.”

You both play the first round with no issues so far. You gained 3 points, then 5, then Oogie get 7 points. 

“Well well well, looks like you are losing pretty quickly, Y/n. If I were you, I’d start praying for a Christmas Miricale.” He taunted, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. You just huffed and started to roll with great vigor, anxiety riddled your mind when it dawned on you.

You’ve never told him your name.

Your body froze at the revelation. Your heartbeats almost stopped. Oogie Boogie looked confused, raising an eyebrow. “What’s the matter? Lost interest in getting these babies back?” He asked. You only stare back at him as you slowly gather up your courage and ask “How did you know my name?”

The second you asked, he grinned wolf like with jagged teeth. “Hehehehe….. You are way smarter than you give off, sugar.”

Your body jerked to get off the highchair, landing awkwardly as you stumbled to get away from the man in stitches getting up from his seat, your body hurting from the fall, no doubt you’ll be getting scabs from crawling back. 

“How-how did you know my name?!” you demanded, shivering as your ears lowered down until your hand felt something slimy. You let out a shriek and stopped when you saw a whole menagerie of bugs crawling behind you as if to keep you from reaching to the wall, the only escape from HIM.

His footsteps were loud compared to Santas as he strolled leisurely to you, his black shirt still unbuttoned and his hands in his pockets. “Why, with my little friends, of course! I like to keep in touch with my ‘neighbors’ above, just to stay in the know-how. So imagine my surprise when I see cute little you strolling in with that little bell hat chatting with the Halloween folk, being all buddy buddy with them for the past few months. I’ve been keeping an eye on you for a long time now, and just the mere sight of you,” He let out a low whistle with a smirk, eyeing your body as a patron would at a butcher shop. “Just gets me all riled up.” 

You suddenly remember the golden bell, your only chance to get out of here! Your hand shot out to grab it when something slithered around your hat and tugged back. With a yelp, you turn around to see a large snake in yellow and black stripes slinking backward to the rising crowd of bugs, beetles and flys swarming around you as you try to make a grab for it. Only to have a pair of large, and stitched up hands slip underneath your arms and lift you up, up, up and up.

“Now, let me get a proper look atcha.” He grumbled with delight as he brought you chest to chest with him. Your legs dangled underneath you as your arms were pinned against his bare chest. You could only look up at him with your widened eyes colored in fear, which only made him chuckle. 

“Now if you ain’t just the cutest sight, I don’t know who is.” Oogie muttered, bringing your back to the table with ease. You only wiggled, really that all you could do as you pleaded with him was images of his stitches opening up to release his inner army of bugs crawling and feasting on your flesh and bones flashed through your mind. “Please! Please don’t eat me! I’m not that tasty!” You yelled, shutting your eyes as you tried to kick his stomach.

But that only made him laugh.

“Oh I do intend to do just that, sugar. But not in a way your thinkin.” He giggled as he rubbed the back of his hand over your cheek, his eyes just lighted up in excitment. In the haze of your fear, you felt…..confused by that statement. 

“Wha-what do-” You let out a yelp when he plopped you to the table, the thumb of your body made the dice roll over the table, but Oogie paid it no mind. “Just follow my lead, dollface.” He drawled as he planted his hands beside your head before leaning down to kiss your gasped lips.

You let out another yelp in the kiss as his tongue dominated the kiss, cold and slimy as his jagged teeth grazed over your lips. Your heart bounded in fear and sorrow, almost morning over the loss of your first kiss. You try to push him away on his shoulders but he only pressed his body against yours, further trapping you. 

Your breathing became ragged, feeling more trapped as he nipped and sucked at your lips, nearly breaking skin as he continued down your neck, suckling and leaving big red marks. You felt scared, you wanted OUT but….. Why was this feeling so good?

“Why? Why are you doing thi-” He placed his hand over your mouth, shoving his thumb in your mouth. “Don’t ask such questions, Y/n. Just focus on how nice it feels. Doesn't this feel good? Have you ever been fucked before?” That was a word you’ve heard while visiting the Human side, so vulgar, so vile… but why does it feel okay?

“Have you ever been kissed?” He asked, his smile widening then before. You shut your eyes as you shook your head no. “Awwh, well then,” His face came back up to yours, his eyes glowing green as he peered into yours. “ You are in for a treat.” Oogie hissed delightfully before you felt a hand slip into your underwear and rip it off.

You shriek on his thumb as the man leaned back, appearing to sit down at his chair again and kiss at the base of your mound, his beard scratching the delicate part of your skin. Your hands scratched at his hand that was holding you down until something slithered around your wrists and yanked them back.

He parted your shivering legs and cooed at you. “Aw, what’s the matter, little elf? Feelin nervous? Well, don’t worry your pretty mind over it.” You looked down to plead with him to stop, trying to ignore the hot feelings that refused to leave when you froze when his mouth widened up again. The stitches become undone and two black tongue-like appendages slithered out to lick his teeth, one red and black stripped, the other yellow and black. “I'll calm those frenzy nerves of yours down in no time.” 

His hands gripped your thighs hard as he lowered his lips to your folds and-OH GOODNESS!

Ecstasy pounded into your veins, a newfound experience that you felt for the first time as one tongue licked up and down your clit while another gently poked into your pussy. Your skin felt warm, your stomach felt warmer still with something tightening. Your cunt clenched around that one tongue as he ate you out harder, harder, sucking on your clit as the other just slathered drool over your folds.

You began to gasp in more air, your back arched in pleasure while his huge hands ghosted up to your hips to hold you still with a bruise like grip. You whimper as you felt the core in your belly grew tighter, tighter, tighteerrr-

Oogie chuckles rumbled through his body and into yours and he thrusted one tongue and sucked HARD and you snapped.

You scream loudly while you arched up as pleasure bloomed through your mind and body, almost trembling when he sat up straighter with juices from your pussy and drool connecting to your throbbing folds. The black and yellow tongue licked around his lips and his mouth closed a bit until it looked ‘normal’ as he look at your trembling body with sickening pride.

“Ya like that, little doll?” You blinked away your tears, your face and body almost red as you panted to regain your breathing back. He laughed as he slid his hands under your tank top and under your bra until his fingers gripped your breasts. You shivered-Oh wow, his hands are MASSIVE!

“God, I’ve wanted you the moment I saw ya when you stepped into the courthouse. All dressed up in that pretty little outfit, that stupid bell ringing with ever’ step, fuck I wanted to just sneak into your town and snatch you up myself.” He confessed as he kissed your neck, nipping again.

“But I waited fer the perfect moment, the right timing to snatch you up and now you’re here. Mine fer the taken, mine to have…” He trailed off as his slick lips trailed up to your own. You turned your head away in disgust, but he caught your lips and kissed you hard again as lovers would go after never seeing each other.

Oogie then ripped your top apart along with your bra as he muttered obscure things. “Gonna stuff ya until you burst, gonna fuck your tiny cunt-fuck!” He sat up, his glasses slightly crooked on his own crooked nose as he unbuckled his pants with hast.

Your eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets when his hard dick sprung out. His handsome, plump face smirked, almost preemed when he saw your expression. “You really must be a virgin, huh little elf?” You shivered at the excitement in his southern voice as he lowered his body over yours, angling his thick cock to your cunt while placing his hands over your trapped ones.

“Don’t fret, Y/n…” He purred, grinning like a shark. “I’ll be gentle.” You felt him lie as he suddenly snapped his hips forward and-

You screamed at the foreign and painful feeling of having something in your pussy, the feeling of getting practically FULL nearly blinded you, but it felt so, so GOOD! Your body, already overstimulated, began to shake under him again.

Your face scrunched as your body was trying to adjust to him as Oogie cackled, throwing his head back and his mouth widening again. You froze when you saw he stitches his between his chest slowly opening, going down until his belly and you whimpered when some snakes and thick centipedes slithered out and dropped on your body.

“Don’t focus on them, sugar, just focus on how good I’m makin ya.” Oogie whispered in your ear as he began to thrust slowly. You moaned as the feeling of pain left and was replaced by ecstasy and hot. The gross animals on your body began to move all over your skin, slithering and crawling, making your over sensitive skin prickly and warm.

You whine as he nips and sucks at your neck again, his mustache and soul patch rubbing against your skin in the right way as the snakes wrapped around your tits and squeeze gently. The centipedes formed a line around your waist, their tiny feet almost tickling that would make you giggle if Oogie wasn’t kissing you again, and wrapped themselves around and around until they covered your entire waist and squeezed too.

The big man's thrusting began to get harsher, rougher as if he was impatient. Oogie grunted as he held your face with his hands and kissed harder and harder. You mewled in the kiss, tasting your cum, your body feeling so many things at once, the centipede's tight hold managed to hug your waist even when his dick was stuffing your cunt until it bulged.

“I’m so-so close, sugar. Fuck, your pussy is so tight! ” He growled, biting your lip. His thumbs wiped away the tears streaming down your face as the snake's head rested on top of your chest and licked your nipples.

“So tight fer me, so good fer me, I’m going to stuff your cunt until your full!” His thrusting became harder as your core began to get tighter again. Your mind was blank, nearly gone by just how good this all feels.

Then he snapped hard one last time and you felt something warming your inside as you became undone again.

Your ears started to ring while your body felt floppy, loose on the table while Oogie Boogie panted over you. The snakes and the centipedes unwrapped themselves and crawled off of your sweaty body and towards the middle of your chest when you felt Oogies belly opened up and they disappeared inside.

He stood up and started to button up his black shirt, smiling as if he just won the prize at the carnival fair. You just lay still and just breathe slowly as your mind felt empty, clouded by the leftover high and passion. He chuckled as he buckled up his pants as his eyes wandered over your small body. Over your curves, the dips of the hips, how wet your cunt looks, and how glazed your big eyes are.

“Yeah…” He muttered to himself as he scooped you up, his big hand brushing into your tangled hair to cup your head before he turned around to his room. “I think you’re gonna stay here fer a really long time, little sugar…”

[futuristicyouthvoid]

Kili x Elf Reader

BLURB

While the days were going very calmly and peacefully in Rivendell, the visit of the dwarves accompanied by Gandalf interrupted this.

As you followed Lord Elrond and Gandalf, you smiled at their little banter about 'dressing appropriately'. While they were settling down at the table, you walked over to your cousin Lindir and gently clasped your hands in front of you. "Your face looks like you're in pain..." you said loud enough for him to hear. He glanced at you briefly. “It's not wrong… I'm just… wondering how this would turn out.” You wanted to laugh at his attitude but you didn't, yet you couldn't help but try. "I honestly expected better from you, your expression is still a bit soft. Try not to waste yourself too much." You gave a small smile as he shifted uneasily.

You watched the surroundings, or rather the dwarves, throughout the meal. You weren't very familiar with them, so you wanted to observe. In any case, it was not difficult to predict that things would explode at some point. They were quite rambunctious… in one word, attenuated.

You were talking softly with Lindir, at this moment you came face to face with one of them. It was obvious that he was much younger than the others. When you didn't look away for a while, he smiled at you and then winked. You were amazed at first by his bold attitude, but then you reminded yourself that he was a dwarf. Of course it would happen. He looked surprised when you went beyond your limits and gave him a small smile. He never thought that you would respond to him, especially after a few unsuccessful attempts... Your sensitive ears had heard his conversations with his friends, which were louder gossip than they thought anyway.

At some point things really broke out. Suddenly all hell broke loose, a food fight broke out between them, accompanied by the dwarf who climbed onto the table and sang. You'd never admit it, but it seemed kind of fun. Poor Lindir's horrified expression amused you even more, and you almost laughed, but held yourself back again.

As you were about to turn around, you froze in place as a piece of food hit your chest. The front of your light-colored dress and the curls hanging down the sides of your face were stuck. There were some dwarves who noticed this. One of them was that young dwarf...

[art-estrange]

Ok so after seeing alot of people be like “OMG THE SAG LOOK IS GIVING PERIOD PIECE SOMEONE PLEASEEEEE WRITE A PEDRO PERIOD PIECEEEEEEEEE” I decided oh… so… I write? And then, just now, while watching the hobbit for the MILLIONTH time, I decided I WRITE!!!! Im gonna bring 2 things Im super passionate about, LOTR/Hobbit and Pedro pascal, together and hopefully make a super romantic fantastical story. I havent thought of plot but all I know is i will have his handsome ass on a horse at some point….fuck why do i do this to myself😭😭😭 ᵒʰ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵃᵈʰᵈ

Anyways… lets hope I actually write it instead of writing like 2 pages and just abandoning it.😬😬

NOTE: they’re black… im making the main character melanated im sorry guys but… theres barely any brown people in the LOTR and… the idea of an elf with locs? I mean like think about it… thats so fuckin hot like think about it!!!

[weclassygirl]

bound

⋆˙⟡ sauron x fem!elf!reader (witch) ⟡˙⋆

summary: reader is captured from the comfort of her home to serve the Dark Lord, Morgoth. his loyal servant lures her further into darkness

warnings: some fighting, but nothing really

word count: 2,3k

author’s note: i had an idea in my mind for weeks now and really wanted to write a witch!reader but i’m not sure how it will turn out if i start writing more for it. consider it a one shot for now

The chains dug mercilessly into your neck and wrists, every movement reminded you that you would not be so easily free. You cursed yourself for being so reckless, for becoming too careless, too comfortable in your own home. He needed a healer or so they said when they stormed in the middle of the night and dragged you away from Greenwood. Your body covered in wounds, dried blood clinging to your clothes as they threw you into a cell and laughed as they left.

You were aware of who Morgoth was, how could you not? Forodwaith was a fortress that not many dared to cross into and not many managed to leave unharmed. Every fight, every battle you tended to him, much to your dislike. He nearly killed you the first time you refused and left you unconscious for days from one single blow. The next time you didn’t fight back, you told yourself it would be easier to stay compliant until the opportunity arose and after centuries of waiting it did.

Morgoth was defeated, you should rejoice, then why didn’t you? Years of torment left you numb and still chained in your cell with no light of hope for freedom.

You awaited your end and as the last bit of light shone into your cell you heard it, an orc staggering through the halls, his steps uneven as if he drank too much ale, and perhaps he did. You move to the shadows and wait, your hand lingers by the bars as the orc passes through, one precise cut is all it takes for him to stumble onto the ground.

Your hand holds a bone, carved to a sharp point and for a split second, you think back to that faithful day when it landed in your cell. Months it took you to carve it, your nails broken, your hand cut by the many stones you used to chip away piece by piece at it.

The orc crawls to you but you drive the weapon into his neck, his scream dies as it pierces his throat, you grab the set of keys at his side and retreat your weapon. You unlock the cell and your chains, a breath of relief goes through you as the weight is lifted but your moment of joy has to wait, you’re not free yet.

You toss the orc into your cell and hide him in the shadows, his legs peeking in the light, a small diversion should anyone look for you. You grab his weapons and lock the cell, you step quietly on the stone and hear an orc at the end of the path, you hide in the shadows but they do nothing to shield you from his view.

The orc attacks you and another joins, you stumble back as he kicks you in the stomach and you duck to avoid his blade. Your eyes flash with anger as you cut at his calves and stab him from behind, the other orc receives a dagger thrown at his head, both of them land with a thud. A moment passes as you compose yourself when you hear the orcs coming to inspect the noise.

You do your best to hide and cover yourself with a piece of fabric that was tossed on the floor, a foolish hideout but your mind did not cooperate how you wanted it to.

Morgoth took whatever rational thinking you had left and shattered it to pieces, he prided himself that a Silvan Elf could be so easily broken.

The orcs leave and you walk away as quietly as you can. The halls continue to stretch as you walk down and you hear a voice and chatter of orcs, you realize it’s the throne room but where Morgoth usually stood, another took his place, his most loyal servant. You hear him before you see him as you take a glance from the column that shields you on the gallery.

“For I seek a new kind of power.” his voice commands in the place but you see his hands fidgeting slightly. “Not of the flesh, but over flesh. A power of the unseen world.” you scoff under your breath.

Those were your words.

As you laid in your cage he visited you, a strange occurrence it was as no one has talked with you in centuries. Not a real conversation at least.

“I see why he has kept you around.” he says as he strides towards your cell. The cut that previously adorned his face now completely healed. “No healer of his has ever survived that long.”

You do not answer, your mouth too dry to fire back any response. He had no orders to come to you, his curiosity got the best of him for he knew you were not simply a Silvan Elf, something else resided in you, something that he could use.

“It is not very often that an Elf would separate from their people… I wonder what caused your decision for such an act?” he says and you look up at him, his red hair neatly combed, not a mess you saw after the orc brought him to you.

“Why did you let Morgoth corrupt you?” you ask suddenly and he arches an eyebrow in amusement.

“She speaks.” he responds. “What makes you think he corrupted me?”

“You used to serve Aulë, the very smith of the Valar. How can one turn to darkness so swiftly?”

He waits before he speaks. “Shouldn’t you know?” a breath catches in your throat, for that single question makes you rethink some of your choices. It’s no secret to why you left, you have all but became a whisper on their tongues, a passing shadow.

No respected Elf should dabble in the dark arts.

“You may have reached for it but you do not know how freeing it can be once you let it in completely.” he responds and you walk closer to the bars that separate you. Your hands rest on the cold iron as he steps closer. He takes a longer look at you but you don’t avert his gaze. “You could be free of this.” he taps the chains around your wrists. “You could be more than just a Silvan Elf, cast out by their own.”

Your lips part to speak but he leaves as quickly as he arrived, leaving you to ponder over his words.

Oropher knew you’d grown too accustomed to studying it, your hands reflected it as they grew darker at your fingertips. He saw how quick to anger you’ve become over the simplest things and had no choice but to cast you out. People started to talk.

The balance in his kingdom could not be disrupted so quickly.

Solitude has become your friend in the long years, the trees surrounding you a solace and the spiders crawling over your head an omen for the Elves. They knew you practiced magic, but even the smallest dip into the dark had set the pond to ripple through. The spiders ran down from the north and near the Elvenking’s Halls, leaving webs and plundering the forest ever so slightly.

It’s a few months later when he appears before your cell again. He’s been known to seek you out every now and then.

Morgoth never knew that his loyal servant would spend his time in front of your cage.

You don’t hide in the shadows this time and walk closer. He studies you again, his gaze unyielding as much as yours. Morgoth took his time tormenting you and yet you stand without a trace of any pain, you’ve learned to hide it well.

“Have you come to gloat?” you ask him. He was there as his master placed wounds on your body, carved marks into it to condemn you, should you ever return to the Elves. He shakes his head.

“Believe me, I did not take pride in witnessing it.”

You’re surprised. “Does your wretched soul have a heart?” you ask with a hint of sarcasm. You’d be a fool to believe a word out of his mouth and yet you feel a hidden intention beneath it. “What do you want?”

He places his hands on the bars. “You come rather quick to anger.” he exclaims.

“So you’ve come to lecture me.”

“No, no. I would not dare.” he raises his arms as if in surrender. He lets his hand fall and he grabs your chains, he traces the iron before his fingertips go over the blackened fingertips, you feel a quick sting under your finger and notice he drew your blood. You look at him with a question. After a moment he asks the one thing that has been on his mind. “Have you considered my offer?”

You look down at your hand and the blood as you heal yourself. “Is that what you call it?”

“You and I are not so different.” he begins. “Both lured by the darkness, bound to it whether in this life or the next.” his eyes watch you as you use your magic and he smiles softly. It’s a strange sight coming from him but you suppose it goes hand in hand with his twisted nature.

“I did not chose it. I did not want it.” you lie and make yourself believe in the truth of your words.

“Then how did it come to being in your life, hm? Surely you must have sought it out, any scroll, any passage in a book that could help you understand it.”

“Hold your tongue.” you warn him.

“I think you did want it. You craved it, in fact.” he says and whispers. “You could have the world at your fingertips, within your reach. No Elvenking to ever exile you again.” his voice grows softer as he says it and a part of you wants to believe him.

“You’d make me a tyrant.”

He shakes his head. “No, not a tyrant.” his words are left hanging in the air.

You step closer until you reach the bars, he doesn’t step back. “And if I agree, what then? I’ll have the power of the unseen world but what of the lives of others?”

“It will be in your path to decide what you should do with them. A power over a world you would see fit.”

You laugh and turn away from him. It dies down as you mutter to yourself, the bit of your mind that Morgoth has twisted makes itself known. “A power over flesh.”

He tilts his head as he listens, he knows you could be a valuable ally to his scheme, you simply need a little persuasion. “You’ll be at peace once you let it in.” he leaves you once again with his words echoing in your mind. No use of the dark magic takes toll on your body, even if it’s a quick spell your mind yearns for the familiar warmth of it.

His words don’t leave you for days.

Peace.

Something you haven’t felt in a long time. Could it be the answer?

“Doubt me at your peril.” he says and after a moment an orc attacks him. He stabs him in the eye once, for a split second he observes before plunging it into him again and again until the orc lays dead on the ground. You look down at Sauron as Adar comes with Morgoth’s crown, he looks up at it and his eyes wander to the place where you stand. You hide behind the column and hear the roar of orcs, you look down to see them attacking Sauron, the black blood pools around him and you use the commotion to run to the exit, no orc sees you, no one follows as you run through the land with your feet bare.

You run as fast as your legs are able to take you and a blast from the fortress knocks you down. When you come to it you see the snow and ice surrounding the area.

It came from the fortress. You feel a pang in your chest and hear a passing whisper in the back of your mind. You think nothing of it but a part of you wants to return and see for yourself.

You shake your head from the thought and begin to march forward.

As you walk through Forodwaith you reach a road, despite being miles away from your prison the snow covers all land and now it makes you wonder if it could be Sauron’s doing. You don’t get to think over it as a searing pain goes through your head, stronger than before.

Your knees buckle underneath you as you cradle your head, trying to make the pain go away. You don’t feel the ground when you fall unconscious.

Softness is the first thing you notice as you come back to it. The light shines through the balcony and the curtains flow in the wind, a familiar face sits by the bed. Her voice is muffled in your ears when she calls your name.

“We have all thought you were gone.”

You sit up on the bed as you take a look at Galadriel. You cough and rub at your eyes. “I would not be so easily killed, Commander.” you look around the room and notice the guards at the door. You look to Galadriel and her gaze is sorrowful.

You knew this day would come, Oropher made sure of it that every Elf was made aware of you.

A witch.

An Elf who was seduced by the dark magic. You hide your hands within the long sleeves of your dress. It is then that you notice the torn clothes you wore for years are gone.

You sigh and get out of the bed. “Lead away.” you say and you follow her through Lindon. You see the looks the Elves give you, the whispers where the word “Morgoth” lands on their tongue with such ease.

Lindon is ever beautiful as you remembered. Trees soaring around you, birds flying above you. And yet you feel the sickness that lies upon the land.

You look up as you reach the Great Tree and notice the black veins curling around some leafs. You give a short nod to the High King but his expression is ever so serious.

You dread his judgment.

next part ⇁ visions

[dreamlandcreations]

Imagine Adar capturing you and drugging you to give in to him but Halbrand arrives just in time to claim save you...

Imagine Adar capturing you and drugging you to give in to him but Halbrand arrives just in time to claim save you...

You returned to the South before Halbrand to bring aid to the people there but you were attacked and captured during a night.

The leader of the orcs was planning to collect humans to work as his slaves and to... expand his army in the future. For that reason, the women were kept separately but the leader, Adar, desired you for himself.

He knew, as an elf, if he tried to take you unwillingly it would mean your death. So he forced you to drink some horrid potion that caused you unbearable pain every moment you resisted the urge but he made sure you couldn't die either. Not quickly at least.

You lost track of time, so you couldn't tell when someone else was chained next to you. It barely even registered when he tried to talk to you, only the sounds of his torture got through your foggy brain enough to start to crawl to him when the foul creatures left.

Halbrand held you, somehow easing the pain, promising you that he will get you out of there, and you slept for the first time in many days.

He didn't know you were awake when he talked to the warg. The Black Speech should have made your skin crawl but you were in too much pain already. Or that was what you were telling yourself, refusing to admit for a long while that even like that, his voice brought you a strange kind of comfort. His darkness never scared you after all...

You knew you didn't have much time left, so you didn't see the need to pretend you didn't know who he was when you heard him laugh at the screams of the man he promised death after he was set free.

"It's good to know you tend to keep your word, Lord of Mordor." you tease weakly.

He just keeps laughing breathlessly as he rides towards Eriador with you. When he stops to let the horse rest he keeps you close, still keeping the pain at bay, and you finally question him about his intentions.

The conversation turns into an argument and for a moment he lets you feel the pain as it should be affecting you, and you question if his regret of that is all for show to get you to give into him or if it could be true that he cares for you.

"I could ease your suffering another way." He offers after your accusatory musings.

You scoff at the offer but he doesn't give up that quickly, rephrasing his offer so you would be more tempted to accept.

"I would not take you..." he promises but a second later he gives you a wicked grin, saying "unless you ask me nicely."

At your eyeroll he pulls you closer, into his lap and cups your cheek before he leans in closer, almost as if he is about to kiss you.

"There are other ways to make you feel better," he murmurs against your lips, "only if you'd let me," he pleads as he presses soft kisses along your jawline, "only if you could trust me," he continues with the temptation as he goes on to kiss down your neck.

You are dizzy with need as you grab a fistful of his messy hair and yank him up for a kiss, letting him claim you just a little, asking, almost begging him to help you...

[fandoms-writings]

if anyone has any scenarios in mind for a human!bucky x woodelf!reader send em my way 🫶🏼

i'm a little over 1k into them meeting for the first time and it's pretty lord of the rings style heavy but i'm head over heels for them and i can't wait to share them with you🥺

[meo-eiru]

Delusional Yandere Elf

Quick colored sketch to show his colors

[aiyaiy]

💖💖💖

New Purpose

Halbrand x elf!reader

Words: 4k

Request: by anon – “I have a Halbrand x reader request/idea. Where the reader is an elf and she and Sauron fell in love in the really early days of middle earth. Because of this Morgoth killed her because she made Sauron soft. She then goes through the whole elf reincarnation thing and reincarnated to be alive during the rings of power. She’s now Galadriel’s friend and jumps off the ship to Valinor with her, meaning she ends up on the raft and numenor with Halbrand and Galadriel. She doesn’t remember her previous life but falls for Halbrand still. The rest is up to you 👀”

Thanks for the request, anon! ❤️

Warnings: Mentions of death. Injury and blood (nothing major). Lots of pining. Maybe a little ooc, but he’s in love, and she makes him soft.

I have almost finished the second (and final) part of this. This one was getting too long, and it felt right to split them. Been a while since I’ve done this much writing, so hopefully it’s not completely awful. Also, not my gif – credit to the creator!

You do not anticipate returning to Aman so soon. Námo had been clear when you awoke in his Halls – you have a greater role to play in the shaping of Middle Earth. For whatever reason, the fate of the one they call Sauron is inextricably tied to your own, and it is that fact that brings you and Galadriel together in the beginning and keeps you together long afterwards.

Galadriel herself is a guiding light in this unfamiliar world. Beleriand, you learn, now rests beneath the sea, and your home along with it. Your memories of the place have yet to return – after all this time, you doubt they ever will – but the thought brings with it a sense of longing for all you have lost. Even if you don’t remember what that is, you know it is much.

Keep reading

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

Monster boy with a breeding and mommy kink that’s desperate to get you pregnant so he can be snuggled and taste your breast milk… he both wants to be pampered and spoiled and to do the same to you…

Maybe it’s a cat hybrid/werewolf that lost his mother when he was young and still has those kitten/puppy behaviors, wanting to knead and suckle on your breasts while you keep his knot warm.

Maybe it’s a vampire/elf that hasn’t seen his mother in centuries and just needs that affection and unconditional love, who wants to sleepily fuck into you while while you give him lots of affection and encouragement.

He just loves you, you’re his mate, his lover. You’re the only one that can make him feel so soft, so fuzzy and warm inside. He calls you mommy/mama when he cums, and just wants lots of snuggles for aftercare.

Tell him he did a good job, and how much you love him… he really needs to hear it.

Thinking… thinking about this a lot…