#elvish reader

[frodo-cinnamonroll]

Deeper than Fate (Part 2)

Prompt/request: **read part 1 first** As requested by @almost-gabrielle: Frodo wakes up the next night (after part 1) and feels pain while his wound is closing. It hurts him too much so that Y/N goes to get Lord Elrond so he can ease the pain in his shoulder. Frodo asks Y/N to stay with him until morning comes again.

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: wounds/injuries, some trauma and fluff

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

“Could it be?”

I felt a gentle touch on my cheek, light but warm. Opening my eyes, I saw Frodo, the little halfling I had aided, looking down on me. My head rested on his bedside and I sat in the wooden chair I last remembered being in. I had fallen asleep.

Frodo pulled his hand back as soon as I opened my eyes, wonder in his eyes but also something close to pain.

“You’re awake,” I said, sitting up. “How do you feel?”

Frodo stuttered for a moment. “You are the one in my dream.”

“Dream?”

“What happened?”

I sighed. “You were attacked by one of the Nine, their leader. The blade almost killed you. Had it not been for Elrond you would not have survived.”

“Elrond? Like the Elf from Bilbo’s tales?”

“Yes.”

“You know Bilbo?”

“Of course,” I said with a smile. “He talks of you a lot. I’ve stayed here in Rivendell for the past two or three months and I knew him quite well before then. I am fond of halflings.”

“But . . . how?” Frodo said. “You were in the dream. After . . . after I was stabbed everything seemed hazy and I couldn’t tell whether I was awake or asleep or worse. But you were there, shining as you are now, in the moonlight. Who are you? An elf?”

“Half-elf,” I said. “I’m Aragorn’s sister. I am adopted, mind you, but we are siblings nonetheless.”

“Aragorn?”

“Ah, right. He goes by many names. I believe you call him Strider.”

“Strider! Is he here?”

“I do not know.”

“What is your name?”

“You are full of questions,” I said with a small laugh. “And rightly so considering all that has happened. My name is Y/N.”

“Y/N,” Frodo repeated. “I like that.”

I smiled again, looking at the halfling in admiration.

Frodo shifted and winced, his hand going up to his shoulder.

“How does it feel?” I asked.

“Like fire on the inside,” Frodo said, taking a breath.

A shadow suddenly passed over the open balcony, an owl swooping low and landing on a tree nearby. Frodo flinched and his eyes widened.

“You have nothing to fear here, Frodo,” I said. “You are safe in Rivendell.”

Frodo said nothing and seemed to be shaking. He seemed dazed with a sudden surge of pain. He let his head fall back on his pillow with uneven breaths.

“Frodo?” I said, looking at his face.

“It hurts,” Frodo said in a strained voice. He moaned softly and tears ran down his cheeks.

I placed my hand on his forehead. He seemed warmer than normal.

“Will you let me look at it?” I said.

Frodo managed a nod.

I pulled back his shirt and reached for the bandage. “This might hurt a little,” I said. As gently as I possibly could, I pulled off the bandage but some of it stuck to the raw wound itself and Frodo let out a cry.

“I’m so sorry!” I said, leaving the rest of the bandage. I didn’t have the heart to finish. I stood. “I am going to find Master Elrond. I will be back soon.”

Quickly, I dashed out of the room and found Elrond’s. He was sitting in his library, pouring over  a book and some maps.

“Master Elrond!” I said, bowing.

He looked up and smiled. “Y/N, what is it?”

“It’s the halfling. He is awake but in much pain.”

Elrond face became more solemn and he stood with a nod and followed me back to the room. Frodo lay there as he was before. It was now that I noticed the Ring on the chain around his neck. I paid it no heed after that, however. Elrond bent over Frodo and put his hand on his head as I had. Frodo watched him with wide eyes. Elrond gently continued pulling the bandage off. Frodo let out another cry followed by more tears and he reached for Elronds arm with his right one. His left one was still limp. I sat on the bed and grasped his hand in mine.

“It’s going to be alright,” I said. “Elrond is helping you. There is only a little left.”

Frodo whimpered, still stricken by the pain that wasn’t easing. “Please” was all he could manage to say.

I picked him up in my arms and held his head to my chest.

“Shh,” I said, rocking a little. “It will be alright.”

Elrond finished pulling the bandage off and brought some of the oils he had used earlier. He gently applied them, Frodo still grimaced and flinched, but he didn’t fight. As Elrond finished, he whispered an elvish blessing over Frodo and the halfling relaxed. Finally, it was done and Elrond applied another bandage.

 “You will be alright Master Baggins,” he said. “Your wound is healing quicker than I had thought. The poison is still leaving the wound. That is what is causing you all this pain. But it should be closed and healed by tomorrow. This is the last bandage you will need.”

“Thank you,” Frodo whispered. I could tell he was fighting the exhaustion. “You are welcome,” Elrond said with a small bow. “Get some rest for tomorrow.” He nodded once in respect and left the room.

I looked at Frodo who sat up, leaning against me. His eyelids were getting heavy.

“I should probably leave now.” I said quietly.

Frodo stirred. “No, please stay,” he said.

“I won’t be a bother to you. You need rest.”

“I will rest better if you are here,” Frodo said. “I know I have only just met you but I am fond of you already.”

I shook my head with a smile. “I am fond of you too. Alright, then. But you must rest. No more talking.”

Frodo nodded, laying his head on my chest. Almost instantly his eyes were closed and he relaxed fully, a small smile on his face. I caressed his curly hair, kissing his head gently.

“Gandalf was right,” I whispered, smiling to myself. “I shouldn’t be surprised.”

And there I sat until morning came, with someone who was brought to me by something deeper than Fate.

[robsth0r]

Ears Of The Elven (Legolas x Human!Afab!Reader)

A/N: So I had this idea... and I needed to write it out so here it is! I love the sensitive elf ear trope so I of course had to write one too. For the “Afab Reader” that is because there is no mention of gender other than the reader being born female so if you’re transmasc that would work too. Anyways hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: Smut/Lemon (18+), Sex.

Word Count: 1089

Extra: There is some sindarin in this chapter so this is the translation of it; Meleth: Love. Meleth Nin: My Love

Legolas was laying in his bed peacefully slipping away into his dreamland. That was till his eyes snapped open as he felt a finger delicately run over the shell of his ear. A rush of pleasure went through his body and he let a shaky breath out.

"Aragorn wasn't joking." I said, in awe. Legolas and I had been dating for around a year or so and being in this position with me currently holding the most sensitive part of the elves body was something Legolas definitely hadn’t thought would happen. I was sitting next to him keeping a firm yet light grip on his ear.

"Quite sensitive?" I leaned down to whisper into his ear, my warm breath sending sparks up and down his spine causing him to shudder. Legolas raised his eyes to glare at me, his sharp gaze looking directly into my soul. My grin grew wider.

"Let… GO." He growled, trying hard to ignore the feather light finger strokes on his ear and how they were affecting him.

"Hmmm… No." I grinned again, reaching across his head to stroke his left ear. The result left Legolas squirming and breathless. The sight of the extremely horny elf next to me was enough for my heart to skip a couple beats. I wondered how it was to have such sensitive ears.

I continued teasing Legolas's ear lobe before leaning down to press gentle kisses all around his earlobe. Every time my lips touched Legolas's sensitive skin it tingled from head to toe, making goosebumps spread across his arms and legs. His heart rate increased dramatically as I moved lower down his body, kissing him along every inch of the way. When I reached the base of his neck Legolas arched into my touch, letting out a moan. I smiled against his throat and slowly began trailing kisses back up his jawline.

When I got there Legolas opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by another groan coming all the way from the back of his throat. I smirked against the side of his face before licking all the way up his long pointy ear, enjoying his gasps and moans.

"Y/n…" Legolas begged, his voice deeper than normally, taking shallow breaths from the pleasure. I hear the warning in his voice but that doesn't stop me. I swing my leg over his chest, securing him under me.

"Gotta say please, Lassy." I chuckled softly and ran my left hand down the side of his torso still keeping my other hand occupied at his ear. I knew the elves didn't like losing control over themselves as it is what elves pride themselves on.

I grinned darkly as my finger reached the tip of Legolas's ear, pinching it lightly earning myself a groan from Legolas. He felt his control snap... thread... by... thread. I hadn't made him lose control even once while we had been together. But if the stories Aragorn had told me about Arwen were anything to go by it could be an interesting night.

I took my hand off of his ear and trailed it down his chest, teasing his waistband. With a flick of my wrist my fingers unfastened it and pulled it over Legolas's hips before slipping his pants down. My hands found his shaft making him twitch. I lowered my head and licked along his length groaning against it and that was enough to make him explode right then and there.

He flung himself up and secured both my hands in a firm grip above my head, him leaning over me.

"If you do that one more time I'm gonna-" He was cut off by a loud moan escaping my throat as I arched my back letting the night shirt I had on fall exposing my breasts. His eyes darkened as his pupils dilated and he lustfully looked down at me.

Before I could react, he thrusted his cock into my warm core repeatedly, kissing and nippling the skin of my breasts. The pleasure was almost overwhelming but just barely, so I grabbed onto Legolas's shoulder to steady myself as I arched my back even more in pleasure. He grunted as he fucked me hard but with pure desire, my pussy fluttering around him.

He reached his hand down and circled my clit, letting small bits of pleasure seep through me. Legolas now kissed my neck, his tongue licking out over my pulse. Legolas’ fingers worked wonders over my clit as he throbbed within me. Legolas took a glance at me and he could see the pleasure trickling into my eyes as he rocked his cock into me.

“Legolas!” I moaned, my head falling back onto the bed. My cunt tightened and wetness flooded around Legolas’ cock.

“Legolas, oh, right there,” I moaned as he fucked into me a bit faster. His thrusts were rough and hard, his nails biting into my thighs gently as he grabbed my legs, spreading me wider so he could get deeper.

Legolas was bringing me so much pleasure that I couldn’t think of any words other than his name. I babbled it, along with a few expletives, about how much I wanted his cock, how I needed him, and eventually, how badly I needed to cum.

Legolas wasn’t far behind me. He wanted to sink himself so deeply into my body that he could never find the way out. Legolas released one of my thighs and pinched my clit. He rubbed it furiously, daring me to cum. His eyes were wild as he stared down at me, beautiful, throaty groans escaping his body.

“Cum for me, gorgeous. Show your prince how good you feel. Cum all over my cock, meleth.” Legolas grunted. He tapped my clit quickly, and with a shout of his name, I came all over him. My body writhed with pleasure as whiteness blinded me. His name fell from my lips, and as he heard me cry out for him, Legolas came inside of me. He filled me with his cum, pumping himself slowly inside of me.

I couldn't get enough of Legolas. I never wanted to leave him.

We both collapsed next to each other, panting heavily as our breathing calmed.

"I love you," Legolas groaned, rolling us around to make himself comfortable spooning me, "Please never leave me." The plea was laced with love and longing and I turned around in his arms. I kissed his forehead gently.

"Of course, meleth nin." I whispered, stroking his hair. "I'm never leaving you."

[velarisbeautyqueen]

A COURT OF SHADOWS AND DAYLIGHT MASTERLIST

Warnings: This fanfic will contain swearing, sexual content, and violence. More warnings will be added if needed!

Follow for more and let me know what you think!

Summary: As the war with Hybern grows closer and closer, the Night Court is desperate for allies to match the size of their enemy host and save Prythian for a horrible fate. Rhysand calls upon an old friend for aid.

Chapter One out now!

“we barely stand a chance of surviving hybern’s armies on our own. If armies from vallahan, montesere, and rask joined them…” cassian sighed and drew a line across his tanned throat.

“are those three territories…. powerful?” feyre winced after the words had slipped from her mouth. it seemed a foolish question.

“yes,” azriel responded with no judgement in his hazel eyes. “vallahan has the numbers, montesere has the money, and rask… it is large enough to have both.”

“so we have no potential allies amongst the other overseas territories?”

rhysand sighed heavily, leaning back in his armchair and pulled at a stray string on his cuff, “not one’s that would sail here to help.”

feyre’s stomach turned, “What of miryam and drakon? you fought for miryam and drakon centuries ago… perhaps it’s time to call in that debt.”

but rhys just shook his head, “we tried. azriel went to cretea.”

“it was abandoned, in ruin.” azriel said, “With no trace of what happened or where they went.”

“you think that hybern-”

“there was no sign of hybern, or of any harm,” mor cut in, her face taut.

“then you think they heard of hybern and ran?” feyre asked.

“the miryam and drakon i knew wouldn’t have run- not from this,” rhys responded.

the atmosphere of the room was suffocating. they were doomed. the army of hybern was a force rhysand had a feeling he nor anybody else in the room could even contemplate.

“there’s really nobody else?” feyre’s voice trembled slightly- betraying her dismay.

rhysand looked down at his hands for a moment, at a loss for what to do next.

“you know you can always call upon me, my sweet”

the words sent a shiver up his spine. his eyes darted to feyre, almost questioning if she had heard anything. her face showed no reaction, only contemplation at the challenge of gathering allies. a memory. that’s what the voice inside of his head had been. one he had not thought about in well over one hundred years.

“eowyn ” the high lord choked out. “we can call upon eowyn, and she will come.”

[crownedghostprince]

Elrond's Adopted Daughter Reader pt2

Lord Elrond and Adopted!Female!Reader

Fandom: The Hobbit

This is the second part to my silly little story. The first part can be found here.

(Y/N) was adopted by Lord Elrond at 7 years of age being an immortal human child, (human, but she has immortality exactly like an elf). Here are some more of her silly adventures with her family!

Requests: Closed. Requested: no.

Warning(s): Silly little writing thingy. Female Reader. No actual warnings! :3

Note: None.

Word Count: 1,250

[Third Person Perspective]

(Found on pinterest with no source, sorry)

The small child followed and watched as Lindir hurried back and forth between his different jobs. It had only been thirty minutes since Lord Elrond left with a group of Elves to chase some orcs away from their home. But to the small child kicking her feet from her chair, it felt like an eternity to wait for his return. There was much to do in Rivendell. Lots of things to be entertained by, lots of Elves to bother, but (Y/N) had to wait for her ada to return first as Lindir was simply too busy to keep an eye on her playing. So she sat as patiently as she could. As time passed, however, her patience wore thin and she found herself tormenting little ants on the ground by poking at them with leaves.

"Guests...at this hour? Who could this all be?" Lindir huffed. His jobs were finally almost finished, but he heard the sound of boots on stone at the front entrance to Rivendell. With a sigh, he gathered everything he was working on and made a small and safe pile to return to later. "Come, winimo." ((Little one)) Lindir called, striding over to help the child up from the floor. "Let us see who is visiting us at this hour." He smiled.

"Okay!" (Y/N) hopped up from the floor and clung tightly to Lindir's robe as she walked with him. "Were we expecting guests? Oh! Maybe it's Mithrandir!" She excitedly took guesses as to who the mysterious guests could be.

"Most likely, winimo." He hummed patiently. "We shall soon see. We did hear Mithrandir was near." He rounded the corner and looked down in the distance to the rounded entrance to their home. A large group of possibly thirteen dwarves, a hobbit and Mithrandir himself stood waiting. "Oh, dear. That's a lot more guests than I had anticipated." He sighed. More work for Lindir to deal with...

"Oh, Elo..." ((Wow)) (Y/N) softly gasped, ducking behind Lindir's robe a bit more to hide. "They look scary."

"Not to worry, (Y/N). They are probably very nice. Mithrandir is there as well, you want to see him again, don't you? Let us go greet our guests." Lindir pat the small child's head a couple of times before continuing forward and starting down the many stairs. His arm rose as he brought it to lay over his heart in a friendly greeting to Gandalf. "Mithrandir!"

"Ah! Lindir!" Gandalf returned the friendly gesture. (Y/N) remained completely hidden behind Lindir, even when he was descending the stone steps. She made no effort to speak up and greet Gandalf, as she suddenly felt very shy and intimidated by the scary group of dwarves. To a child, they looked quite tall and tough.

"We heard you had crossed into the Valley." Lindir told Gandalf in Sindarin. The dwarves looked on, confused as they did not know the elvish language.

"I must speak with Lord Elrond." Gandalf spoke confidently in the common tongue. Lindir nodded his head.

"My Lord Elrond is not here." He simply answered in the common tongue as the small child's head peeked out from behind his robes. She warily watched the large group of dwarves who were carefully watching Lindir and Gandalf converse. They seemed surprised to see such a small child appear from behind the elf.

"Ah, hello, (Y/N)." Gandalf greeted her warmly before turning his attention back to Lindir. "Not here? Where is he?" A moment had barely passed when an elvish horn could be heard in the distance.

"Ah." Gandalf smirked. With a raise of his eyebrows he ignored Lindir softly rolling his eyes, instead turning his attention to the approaching riders. A couple at the front of the group carried a banner as they strode into Rivendell with expertise and ease. They surrounded the dwarves and began to circle them to allow room for the rest of the riders in the crowded space.

"Gandalf." Elrond spoke from a top his majestic steed once they had all come to a stop around the dwarves.

"Lord Elrond." Gandalf approached with a grin. He brought his hand up to his heart in greeting. "Mellon nin. Where have you been?" He spoke fondly in the elvish language.

"We've been hunting a pack of orcs that came up from the South." Elrond answered in Sindarin as he dismounted his horse and strode over to Gandalf. "Strange for orcs to come so close to our borders." He swapped to the common tongue and handed Lindir his sword. Passing by he gave (Y/N) a pat on her head, bringing her to stand beside him as he rubbed her back to reassure her. "Something, or someone, must have brought them near." He raised an eyebrow to Gandalf, who in turn cleared his throat to speak.

"Ah, well, that may have been us." He gestured to the dwarves and hobbit for a brief moment. Elrond nodded and took a moment to gaze through the Company, seeing who was present and counting how many the group contained. (Y/N) attempted to look at all the faces in the crowd, but quickly became overwhelmed once more and pressed her head into her ada's clothing to avoid eye contact. Elrond stepped forward slightly when his eyes landed on Thorin and greeted him.

"Welcome, Thorin, son of Thrain."

"I do not believe we have met." Thorin looked Elrond up and down quite briefly. There was a coldness to his voice and his agitation could be detected in his tone. But Elrond ignored the grumpy dwarf and simply explained himself.

"I knew Thror when he ruled under the Mountain."

"Funny...I don't remember him ever mentioning you." Thorin's cold gaze hardened into a glare. Elrond bit his tongue to contain any unwanted comments from coming out of his mouth. He simply took a moment to process the sheer levels of sass and attitude from Thorin. It was like he was talking to a teenager rather than a fully grown adult man.

Once more, Elrond swapped to Sindarin and spoke clearly to Lindir: "Light the fires and bring worth the wine." He then turned his gaze to look over the crowd of dwarves, "We must feed our guests." He decided. Lindir nodded and, with a slight bow, began ascending the steps back up to the kitchens. (Y/N) contemplated joining Lindir, or sticking to her ada when she was distracted by the dwarves stressing over what was said.

"What is he saying?" A red-haired dwarf looked from Gandalf, to Lord Elrond, and then back again. "Does he offer us insult?" He riles up the other dwarves who mentally prepare their own comebacks and insults.

"No, Master Gloin!" Gandalf shouted with a sigh. "He is offering you food." All the while, Lord Elrond watched in patience as the group huddled together and began to whisper. Still debating whether they want to stay for food, or not. Unaware of elves' perfectly good hearing. All (Y/N) picked up on when she strained her ears was 'Thorin' speaking to a taller, scarier looking dwarf.

"We use the restrooms, eat and then leave." Thorin whispered. But that was all (Y/N) could hear from the indistinguishable whisperings.

"Very well." 'Gloin' spoke up and stepped forwards. "Lead the way." He nodded and put his weapons away. (Y/N) was only seven, but she could practically feel her ada's patience wearing thin as if dealing with a massive group of children.

[elithilanor]

Any thoughts on how Haldir would deal with a sick/injured partner who was downplaying their symptoms so as not to trouble anyone?

Super helpful, super kind, suuuuuper worried.

I hc him as a mother-hen and a worrier. When he's out on patrol, it's more contained and static, but he's always checking in on his elves and making sure they're doing well and does his best to keep track of them at all times. Not just because he needs to as their leader, but because he genuinely cares and worries for them.

But as Rúmil and Orophin can attest to, he's liable to take it too far, a la "don't get out of bed at all", carrying you around for a minor foot injury, feeding you more than you actually need, not allowing you to even read, etc. (He knows this and tries to work on it, but, he really is such a mother hen).

In the event his partner (or any of his charges) were downplaying their injuries, it would actually make him quite upset. He understands that sometimes you are unable to deal with an injury immediately, but to try and hide just because you might be worried about bothering someone really ticks him off. Not at you, of course, but certainly at whoever put that notion in your head in the first place. Expect lots of being cradled in his arms and soft words reminding you how much you are loved and how caring for you is not an imposition and never would - or could - be. Every moment with you is a joy and while he doesn't like seeing you in pain, he would rather try and assist you in feeling better than let you on your own.

It also makes him concerned that perhaps you didn't trust him with the injury so you can expect a checking-in how you're feeling in your relationship with him.

If the cause was himself, due to his over-worrying, while he will work on it (as he continues to do so), he's quick to remind you that he worries because he cares for you so much. He also impresses upon you that he would rather you get assistance, even if it means not telling him first. Your care is first and foremost and especially when he's out on patrol, that may not include him as the first point of contact. (This worries him of course, but he would rather trust that you are taking care of yourself first, then let him know once immediate needs are seen to.)

Ugh, can you tell I love this elf? I just love them sm.

Haldir tag-list (let me know if you want to be added/removed): @glassgulls @sotwk @starlady66

[floatyflowers]

Yandere husband Thranduil (Romantic) x Reader wife pregnant for the second time x Yandere son Legolas (Platonic)

Very Thanks ♥︎

"I'm pregnant" you announce in a cheery tone to your son, Legolas, who is shocked by the news as he never expected to have a younger sibling.

Coming to think of it, he is already an adult, 2900+ years old to be exact, so it's indeed a shocker to him.

But it made him jealous at the idea of having a younger sibling which will take all of your attention.

He didn't expect to leave with the fellowship and return back to find you pregnant.

"Is there something wrong, my love?" you ask him, gently placing your hand on his cheek, while the other hand is placed on your bump.

"No, I'm extremely happy, and I can't wait for the baby to be born, Naneth (mother)"

You smile, pulling your son into a hug, causing him to hug you back.

°°°°°°°

"Can I know why you decided to impregnate Neneth when your marriage is on the edge of collapsing, father?"

Thranduil smiles at his furious son, as he descended down the stairs of his throne, holding a cup filled with the finest Elvish wine.

"War is over and the ring has been destroyed, what is a better way to fix our marriage than to have a child"

"So, you decided to trap her with you?"

Thranduil moves a strand of his son's hair behind his shoulder as he stares directly into his son's eyes, smirking.

"You wouldn't be standing right here now if I didn't use this technique on her the first time"

[wild-lavender-rose]

What Comes After - LOTR

Pairing: Aragorn x fem!reader, Legolas x fem!reader, Boromir x fem!reader, Faramir x fem!reader, Elrond x fem!reader

Category: Preferences/NSFW

Summary: What they would say/do after you've cum hard for them

Warning: NSFW, insinuation of sex, aftercare

Legolas-

Whispered elvish between stuttered gasps of air

"Are you all right?"

Hovering over top of you, brushing the hair from your face, cradling your cheek as your body shivers from the aftershocks of pleasure

"I'm here, you're safe. I'm here."

Light kisses on your face

Holding you carefully as you both steady your breathing

Aragorn-

Shushes you as you gasp and shake, rubbing soothing circles against your thighs and hips while you come down from the high

Whispers assurances as he lays beside you, continuing to rub your sides and arms while watching your expressions closely

He smiles when you do, relieved that you're okay and he hasn't pushed you too far

Will run his fingers through your hair and compliment you on your performance

Gathers you into his arms the moment you reach for him, holding you close and whispering his love for you over and over again

Boromir-

Is initially proud of himself and the fact you're a quivering, gasping mess

His smirk fades as your breath remains stuttered, holding himself up over you

"Are you all right?"

You nod but he doesn't believe you

Flips over and moves you so that you're laying on top of him

Rubs your back and cards his fingers through your hair as your body relaxes at the sound of his heartbeat

Still pretty proud of himself

Faramir-

Would think he had done something wrong

Kiss you all over, assessing you with worried eyes

Would hold you the moment you reached for him

Gazing into your eyes, whispering again and again "I'm here, I'm here"

You would kiss him deeply to assure him that you were fine, a kiss he would gratefully return

Elrond-

He would encourage you to cum one more time for him even after you've cum so hard

Would kiss you once you're totally spent, slow and deep

Whisper elvish in your ear

Would leave briefly to gather some wine, a basin of hot water and a cloth

Sponge bathes your sweaty, heaving body, leaving a trail of kisses in between

Helps you to drink some wine

Would hold you carefully, talking about everything and nothing as you fall asleep

Fanfic Masterlist

[entishramblings]

Haunting Me

[Legolas/F!Reader]

A.N: I have been struggling to write (like usual), so I figured I would whip out a no pressure Legolas fic. ANYWAYS, I strangely loved writing this!!! Thanks for the request XOXO

Request: @goose-gremlin — “Could you maybe do a Legolas x Reader on their period?”

Pairing: Legolas X Fem!Reader

Summary: The Reader is a member of Greenwood's Guard and is struggling with menstrual/period pain. Legolas takes care of her.

Disclaimer: I don't know elvish. I use the gracious elvish dictionary. Sue me lol

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: blood, menstruation/period, pain, PMS, slight nakedness (not anything spicy you filthy fools), fluff, sweet precious elf boy

MASTERLIST | AO3 | WATTPAD

(Y/N)’s nose twitched, the pungent, musty scent of the incoming vile beasts invaded the fresh earthy tones of the Greenwood forest. Her keen ears picked up on subtle scurrying, the sound carried by the drift of the soft wind. Her jaw clenched and her fingers adjusted the grasp of her sword as she felt the aura of the trees shift—a surge of adrenaline fueling her anxiety, worsening the pain in her abdomen. Briefly locking eyes with the other elves in her sector, spread among the trees alert and ready, she knew their moment of action was imminent.

(Y/N) summoned the little energy she had through a deep inhale, praying to the Valar that these spiders wouldn't be in such a frenzied state. Because, if so, fuck that. For at the present moment in time, she really didn't have the capacity to deal with that absolute, motherfucking horseshit.

Because, truly, getting killed due to slowness from fatigue and cramps from one’s bloodmoon cycle would be rather unfortunate and deeply regrettable. However, facing expulsion from the guard and losing her reputation as one of the hand-picked defenders of the royal line because of it would be even worse.

(Y/N)’s gaze narrowed as Prince Legolas, leader of the Greenwood Guard, raised a closed fist.

Nêl (Three).

Tâd (Two).

Mîn (One).

He opened his palm, signaling the command: Kill them. Kill them all.

With a firm thud, (Y/N)'s boots landed on the soft soil as she sprung from the trees. She was quick with her blade, hunting the spiders as if they were meaningless prey. Her weapon was an extension of her form. Every movement was fluid and graceful, a testament to her mastery of combat. Despite her pain, she spun and twisted with ease, severing the arachnids' limbs effortlessly.

As she fought, she made sure to keep an eye on the Prince, knowing that if anything were to happen to Legolas under her watch, the king would surely banish her. Besides, she harbored no desire for him to meet his demise. She found him rather…admirable. Nothing more than that—of course not.

As (Y/N) advanced upon one of the vile beasts, her senses tingled with warning. Abruptly, she halted in her tracks, narrowly dodging an arrow that whizzed past her stomach. Her eyes narrowed as she wiped her head to see just who fired that arrow. A scoff escaped her lips as she locked eyes with him: Rekón.

When the battle came to an end, (Y/N) strutted towards Rekón, who was wiping the edge of his blade upon his thigh.

“What the hell was that out there?!” She snapped at him.

“What is it you speak of?”

“You nearly put an arrow in me!”

He shrugged. “Perhaps, you should have been faster, Shadowfoot.”

She scoffed at Greenwood’s nickname for her. “You're lucky I am fast. I can assume you don’t want elven blood on your hands—especially my blood.

He sheathed his blade and crossed his arms. “Don’t exaggerate, (Y/N). It’s unbecoming. Besides,” he leaned in and his voice lowered, taking on a snarky tone, “I don't care if you're handpicked by the King to be the Prince’s shadow, you're a pain in the ass.”

“Really, Otuuk Fe`Saign (warg kisser)?! I could have you and your ass in the mud faster than you could say—”

The rather tense interaction was interrupted by Legolas clearing his throat beside the pair. “What is going on over here?” he demanded.

(Y/N) huffed, not taking her eyes off the man before her. “Rekón here nearly redecorated my abdomen with a fucking arrow!”

The Prince sighed. “You know we can’t always calculate every motion on the battlefield, (Y/N). I am sure Rekón meant no harm.” He paused, turning his attention to the ellon. “Rekón, in the future, mind your arrows.”

“That’s the reprimand he gets?! Are you fu—“

Legolas looked at the elleth. “Watch your language, Shadowfoot. I expect this attitude to be gone by the time we enter my father’s halls.”

With that, Legolas walked away, calling out orders to burn the spider carcasses and move out.

As he disappeared into the mess of elves, (Y/N)’s brows pulled downward in a grumpy frown. “Princeling Ass,” she murmured to herself.

Unbeknownst to her, as she turned away, Legolas' gaze followed her, seeking out her form and lingering as she walked away.

….

The sun had not yet risen when the Prince’s sector of the Greenwood Guard arrived back in the Palace. The warriors dispersed into the armory, diligently stowing their weapons and armor in their designated places. (Y/N), however, did no such thing. Instead, with a persistent scowl etched on her face, she marched through the room and passed through the arched exit of the armory—presumably heading towards her chambers. Legolas's gaze tracked her suspiciously as she departed.

As the day progressed, the members of the Prince’s sector resumed their usual routines. Because it was their first day back from patrol, they were exempt from basic guard duties and standard positions. Instead, they utilized the early hours of the morning to bathe and rejuvenate themselves before gathering in the dining hall for breakfast. The remainder of the day was theirs to unwind and compile their patrol reports—the King sought to stay informed about all occurrences and perspectives during patrols, for a darkness seemed to be spreading among his trees.

At supper, Legolas moved among the tables in the dining hall, gathering last-minute reports from the warriors in his sector. As he did so, he scanned the long wooden benches, searching for the scowling gaze that had accompanied the last couple of days of patrol; however, there was no such gaze and no such person that it belonged to. Simply put, there was no sign of (Y/N).

She had missed all three meals and had failed to submit her patrol report.

Legolas cleared his throat before he addressed the elves from whom he was collecting papers. “Have you seen Shadowfoot? I need her report,” he inquired.

They shook their heads, more interested in their food than one missing shadow.

Legolas sighed, but refrained from pressing further. If anyone knew her whereabouts, they would have mentioned it.

Therefore, he made his way to her quarters.

When he arrived, he knocked softly on the door, but was met with silence.

"(Y/N)," he called out, his voice carrying through the wooden barrier.

Still, there was no response.

After a moment’s hesitation, Legolas reached for the door knob and twisted it slowly. The wood swung open quietly under his touch, exposing the darkness of the room beyond. Moonlight filtered in through the opened window, casting shadows that danced across the floor, the curtains billowing gently in the cold night air.

Legolas carefully stepped through the threshold and closed the door behind him. As he took in his surroundings further, surprise crossed his features. He didn't know what he had been expecting since he hadn't been in (Y/N)’s quarters, but it most certainly was not this.

The room was a complete mess. Clothing lay strewn about, along with various trinkets—small hand-carved boxes, beautiful natural rocks, and melted candles absent of flame. Several stacks of books were piled beside the bed, a few of them open and their pages still. Her weapons were scattered haphazardly, some resting on the floor, others on the table or atop the dresser. Legolas even noticed a few knives embedded into the wooden door—a sight that would surely displease Ada.

It was chaotic but calm in a sort of strange way. Typical for (Y/N), he supposed.

The Prince moved to walk further into the room, but was quickly halted against his will. His foot had gotten caught and, if it wasn't for his swift reflexes, he would have face-planted upon the stone flooring.

Legolas sucked in a sharp breath as he stabilized his form. Glancing down, he discovered the culprit—a crumpled tunic tangled around his boot, its fabric caught between the lacings.

He immediately sighed in dismay.

The blond-haired Prince reached down to untangle the stubborn garment. It proved to be a more challenging task than he had anticipated, requiring a few moments of quiet curses and annoyed grunts before he managed to free himself. Carefully, he folded the fabric and placed it upon a nearby chair.

Cautiously, he advanced to the large bed. At first, he could not spot the warrior within, given that the fluffy comforter and mountain of pillows were blocking his view. However, when he pulled back the blankets slightly, sure enough, she was buried deep within. The pillows were arranged around her like a protective nest and she was laying on her side. Her hair was splattered across the cushioned fabric and her expression was…one of pain. Her brows were pulled tight, her nose crinkled, and lips slightly parted.

At this, Legolas frowned, for he was now troubled deeply.

Diligently, the Prince reached out to brush some hair from her face, but just as his fingers made contact with her cheek, his action was interrupted.

(Y/N) suddenly sat up, a knife in hand. With wild eyes, she tried to slam it into his carotid artery.

He reacted quickly, Legolas intercepted her arm, preventing the blade from reaching its target. For a moment, they both froze in that tense position, the gravity of the situation sinking in as they processed what was happening.

(Y/N) was breathing quickly and she appeared very disheveled and confused. It seemed to take her a moment longer to grasp the situation fully.

"Jukkete (fuck)," she breathed out, trying to catch her breath before snapping at him. "Legolas, I almost killed you!"

The Prince still held her wrist. “(Y/N),” he began, “Are you alright?”

She huffed. "You know better than to sneak up on me like that, Princeling!" With a sharp twist, she pulled away from his grasp and settled back into the blankets. “What are you doing here?”

He raised his brows. “Princeling?” he questioned, a hint of amusement in his tone.

(Y/N) only grunted in response.

He sighed. “No one has seen you all day and—“ his sentence abruptly halted as he noticed a red stain upon the comforter. “(Y/N), you are bleeding!” He exclaimed. Without hesitation, he grasped at the blankets, in an attempt to detangle her form from them, as he continued his babbling of concern. “Why didn’t you tell me you were injured on patrol?!”

“Legolas,” she interrupted, her voice firm.

“Is it from Rekón’s arrow?! I thought you said he ‘nearly’ hit you?”

“Legolas,” she tried again.

He yanked the blanket further.” Because I swear to the Valar if it was from him, I will—“

“Legolas! Stop!” She snapped, her patience wearing thin. “I’m not injured.”

His jaw clenched in frustration. “(Y/N), I have been a warrior for all my life, I know the site of blood. That is blood. You cannot lie to me. I am your sector leader, your Prince—“

“Legolas! It’s my bloodmoon cycle!” she interrupted, sitting up to glare at him once more.

An awkward silence settled into the dark room.

“You are in pain,” he stated.

“I’m fine.”

His brows raised again. “Now, why don’t I believe you?”

“Because you're a princeling ass,” she retorted.

“No. Because for the last three days of patrol, your demeanor has been notably irritable, as you are now. You've been favoring your left side, your jaw has remained tightly clenched, and your skin a shade too pale. Not to mention, you've consistently had your hand on your hip, I'm assuming in an attempt to try and alleviate discomfort, and you even vomited behind a tree on two occasions. And, here you are, Shadowfoot, in bed, sleeping the day away in dirty clothes and not caring that you lay in blood.” He paused before finalizing his evidence. “You are in pain.”

“You have been spying on me?! I am supposed to be your shadow.”

“I have been keeping an eye on you,” he clarified.

“Why?!”

The muscle in his jaw twitched. “Because you are a member of my sector. You are my responsibility.”

“You are my responsibility,” she corrected.

He released hot air from his nose. “I am required to keep an eye on all of my warriors, whether they were hand-picked to guard me or not.”

(Y/N) huffed, shaking her head. “Did you know Sethna took a pretty nasty hit to her leg?”

“Don’t try to change the subject,” he gruffed.

“Legolas, did you know about it or not?”

A rather long moment of silence extended into the night before the Prince reluctantly responded in a low tone. “No.”

“Then you don't watch every warrior like you watch me.”

He inhaled slowly, trying to steer the conversation away from what (Y/N) was insinuating. “Is Sethna alright?”

“Yeah, she’s fine.”

Legolas nodded slowly, before returning to the main topic. “Why didn't you tell me you were in pain while on patrol?”

She rolled her eyes before muttering his name. “Legolas.”

“Why haven't you seen a healer?” he persisted.

She exhaled slowly, knowing Legolas wasn't going to let this go. “Because the healers document everything, and those records get attached to evaluations.”

“So?”

“So, I would be dismissed from the guard and relieved of my position!” she snapped.

He snorted lightly. “You would not be dismissed from the guard nor relieved of your position.”

“Others have gotten so for far less!”

Surprising her, his normally collected tone turned into a rough reply. “That doesn't mean that you would have!”

She frowned, her once loud voice now subdued. “What's that supposed to mean?”

He sent her a warning look, his eyes cautioning her against probing further.

Silence reigned for a third time that night before Legolas spoke softly. “Rest. I will draw you a bath.”

“Princeling, I do not need you to draw me a bath. I do not need a bath at all. Like I said, I am fine.”

He shook his head. “You are in pain. Let me help you.”

“Legolas–”

He cut her off. “(Y/N), do not try to argue with me on this. That is an order. Shadow or not, I am your superior and you will listen.”

With that, he stood and made his way into the bathing chambers, leaving the elleth alone with her thoughts.

She let out a slow, contemplative exhale before sinking back into the embrace of the bed once more. Lost in a haze of exhaustion, she must have drifted into a brief slumber, for it was only moments later that Legolas returned, his thumb brushing against her cheek. His voice, barely above a whisper, reached her ears. “(Y/N),” he urged softly. “Come. The water is hot. It will alleviate your pain.”

Groggily, she opened her eyes, confusion evident in the furrow of her brow.

“Come,” he repeated.

Gradually, she sat upwards, letting her legs dangle off the edge of the mattress. She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth, praying to the Valar for the pain to settle.

“If the pain is too much, I can carry you,” Legolas offered in a gentle tone.

She scoffed, her eyes opening to glare at him. “I can manage on my own.”

With that declaration, (Y/N) stood up and took a few cautious steps forward. But before she could proceed further, a sharp gasp escaped her lips as the agony surged through her body, causing her to double over.

A comforting warmth enveloped her lower back as Legolas placed a reassuring hand there. He remained silent, respecting her pace and refraining from pressing his earlier offer.

A small whimper escaped her lips, tears threatening to escape from her eyes.

Legolas’ hand began to move in soft circles. “It will pass, Shadowfoot. I am here,” he whispered.

Slowly, she resumed her movement, inching her way towards the bathroom. Upon reaching the basin's edge, she gripped onto the sides tightly. She squeezed her lids shut once more, focusing on her breath.

Standing only inches behind her, Legolas spoke softly. “(Y/N), please, will you let me assist you? I hate to see you suffer.”

She exhaled through her nose, seemingly debating his offer. After a moment of contemplation, she relented. “Fine,” she stated, “but if you breathe a word of this—”

“I will not say a thing. I swear it,” he assured.

She nodded, accepting his promise.

“Let's get you undressed and in the bath then.”

With caution, his nimble fingers found the hem of her tunic and began to lift it over her head. Ensuring her stability by placing one hand gently on her hip, he then carefully guided her trousers downward, assisting her as she stepped out of them. Shaking slightly, she lifted each foot into the tub, one at a time, as the Prince's firm hand remained securely on her waist. Slowly, she lowered herself into the water, his touch barely trailing up her back as she descended. Her eyes closed and a sigh of relief escaped her lips, settling into the soothing heat of the water.

Legolas cleared his throat awkwardly. “I will just be in the other room. Call out if you need me.”

She simply hummed in response.

The Prince swiftly left the bathing room, making his way to the door leading to the hallway. Peering out, he caught sight of a maid. He called out to her and motioned for her to approach.

“Yes, my lord?” she inquired politely.

“I need you to fetch a new set of bedding and obtain the following herbs: valerian, boswellia, and athelas,” he instructed.

She nodded in understanding.

“And please, keep it discreet. I have an injured warrior in here who wishes for the injury to remain quiet.”

The maid nodded once more before hurrying off to fulfill his requests.

Legolas returned to the room, feeling the cool breeze from the open window once more. With determined strides, he crossed the space and closed it firmly, halting the chill from entering any longer. He then took to light some of the candles, casting a warm glow within the room before moving to the empty fireplace. He quickly grabbed kindling and wood from the basket beside the silent hearth, setting to task. Before long, the flames crackled loudly among the stone, radiating a comforting warmth that dispelled the lingering chill.

It was then when the maid entered, a large basket brimming with fluffy fabric in her arms. Placing it beside the bed, she then retrieved a pouch from the top. Approaching the Prince, she bowed her head. “The herbs you asked for, my lord.”

“Thank you,” he replied, accepting them graciously.

The maid took to changing the sheets, making no mention of the blood. Legolas cleared a space upon the table in (Y/N)’s room. Placing a cast iron pot—one of which was kept in each room—over the now vibrant flames, he filled it with water from a pitcher. As the water began to boil, he used a small bowl to grind the fresh herbs into a paste with a pestle. Once sufficiently smashed, he ladled some of the boiling water over it and allowed the mixture of herbs to steep, filling the air with its earthy aroma.

The maid, having finished her task of making the bed and straightening up, bid an awkward farewell to the Prince before exiting the room.

Legolas sighed, taking a seat in the chair beside the table, his ears attuned to any sounds from (Y/N)'s direction—just in case.

Nearly 45 minutes passed before she emerged from the bathroom. She was clothed in soft trousers and a loose top that hung off her shoulder, her hand pressed lightly against her abdomen.

“How do you feel?” he inquired, breaking the quietness of the night.

She turned her head towards him. “You are still here?” Her gaze swept across the room, trailing off as she took in the sight of the lit candles, crackling fire, and fresh bedding.

Abandoning the chair, he approached her and gently put his hand upon her bicep. “How is the pain, (Y/N)?”

As if suddenly drawn from her thoughts, she registered that he was indeed beside her. “I, uh, it has lessened a bit.”

He nodded, guiding her to the bed. Pulling back the clean sheets, he motioned for her to get in. Surprisingly, she complied, settling into the comfort of the fresh lavender scent emanating from the blankets and pillows.

Legolas briefly left her side before returning with a cup of tea, mixed from the healing herbs. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, he lifted the cup to her lips, encouraging her to take a sip. “Drink this. It will help.”

The steam kissed her face as she took the cup from him. As she drank, the warm liquid flowed down her throat and into her stomach, providing instant comfort. When she finished, she passed the cup back to him. “How do you know how to make such a tonic?”

The Prince placed the cup upon the side table. “My father used to care for my mother during her bloodmoon cycle, before she passed from this world. She too had excruciating pain. He taught me the right herbs to mix, the benefits of heat, and—” he paused, his hand moving to her lower back, where he began to massage lightly. “—what points to press to alleviate pain.”

She exhaled slowly, letting her eyes flutter closed.

“He had said, ‘One day, you will have a wife who too suffers such pain. This you must learn for her.’ And I listened.”

(Y/N) did not open her eyes. “I am not your wife.”

Before he could stop himself, his lips betrayed his secrets. “You could be.”

At this, she opened one eye, as if she was trying to subtly evaluate what his words meant based on his body language. Sensing the sincerity upon his expression, her other eye opened too. She put her full attention on him. “What?”

His cheeks flushed, the tips of his elvish ears reddening, though the warm glow of the fire hid his embarrassment. He turned his head away. “Forgive me, (Y/N). I—I didn't mean to be so…so forward.” He hesitated, then looked back at her, seeing her flabbergasted expression. “I–I suppose there is no hiding it now. The reason I keep such close watch over you is because my heart won't let me do otherwise. I fear, well, I fear that you are not just a shadow following my path.” He exhaled softly. “(Y/N), you haunt me in the most beautiful way.”

She shifted from the pillows, drawing closer until her face was mere inches from Legolas’. “You–you care for me?” she whispered.

His hand tenderly cupped her cheek, his thumb moving in a soft motion. “More than I could ever put into words.”

“Legolas,” she whispered. “Your father did not assign me to your sector. I was supposed to be appointed to protect him. I—I requested to be assigned to you.”

The Prince’s gaze met hers. “Why, (Y/N)?”

“Because you too have been haunting me.”

Legolas wasted no time. He pressed his lips to (Y/N)’s in a gentle kiss and she responded eagerly. She tasted of herbal tea and hope, while he tasted of honey and peace. His hands gently cradled her face, while hers found their way to the back of his neck, fingers entwining in his hair. The scent of fresh lavender surrounded her, mingling with the aroma of pine that clung to him. In their embrace, their minds intertwined, both haunted by the other's presence—in the most beautiful way.

Slowly, they parted. Legolas pressed a kiss to (Y/N)'s forehead before speaking softly. "Lay down. Rest. I will watch over you."

She looked up at him. “Won't you lay with me? I am cold.”

He snorted, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips like the stem of a flower being plucked from a spring meadow. “You only want me to alleviate your pain, don't you?”

She grinned back at him. “Perhaps, Princeling. Though, I did not lie, I am cold.”

With a playful roll of his eyes, Legolas kicked off his boots and drew back the covers. He allowed his body to melt against (Y/N)’s, providing warmth as he gently began to massage away her tension.

A content sigh escaped the woman’s lips as she snuggled further into him, eagerly stealing his warmth and accepting the pain relief he offered.

“Princeling,” she murmured, “You better not breathe a word of this either.”

He chuckled lightly, “I will not say a thing, Shadowfoot. I swear it.”

…

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[rivendell-poet]

*･༓˚✧ ❝𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 '𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮' (𝐋𝐨𝐭𝐑)❞ ‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧ « scenarios »

○ Aragorn ○ Legolas ○ Frodo ○ Sam ○ Merry ○ Pippin ○ Boromir ○ Faramir ○ Éowyn ○ Éomer ○ Bard ○ Thranduil ○ Lindir ○ Haldir ○ Elladan ○ Elrohir ○

GN!Reader | Wordcount : 2.9k (each individual around 180~ words) | Read on ao3

TWS : Power imbalance touched on in Thranduil's scenario

This work is not chronological to the scenarios/these take place at different times

« 1, 13, 14, masterlist »

𝐀𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐧

✧ Aragorn believes in elvish love, so from the moment he confesses he knows that he loves you.

✧ He sees how much he does in everything, from the few dates you can steal in Rivendell, to the smiles you exchange while walking with the Fellowship.

✧ But he’s not sure when to say it, as he knows just how much of a milestone it is. And how much he wants it to mean to you.

✧ Keeps trying to get it in a specific place, a specific time. But every time he just enjoys your company, and never ends up saying it.

✧ You notice his love, however. So obvious in how he’ll stare at you, offer to help with something or simply spend time with you.

✧ Eventually, it happens only a few days before the Fellowship is to leave Rivendell.

✧ The two of you are stargazing together, and he just about hears a yawn you fail to stifle.

✧ Laughing, he moves closer to you and wraps you in his cloak - the two of you cuddling together.

✧ As you rest your head on his chest, and he looks up at the stars, he thinks about how perfect this is.

✧ Gently, he bends his head to be near yours before whispering. “I love you.”

✧ Feeling you look up, he simply smiles when your gaze becomes more questioning.

✧ When you say ‘I love you too’ you can immediately see his grin, and he gently places a kiss on your forehead.

𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬

✧ When an elf confesses, the idea that they love you - utterly and completely - is an undertone that’s carried with it. It’s Legolas’ unspoken promise to you, as soon as he’d asked if you would court him.

✧ But actually saying it to you is another matter.

✧ He’s not scared, he’s just… a little scared. And a little intimidated. Because he doesn’t want to mess anything up, and he wants what he will give you to be perfect.

✧ So Legolas actually takes a long time to say those words, although you know how he feels about you for a while.

✧ Legolas also confesses just before you leave Rivendell, although his is more planned out.

✧ He spends almost two days beforehand looking over all of Rivendell, in sunlight and moonlight, trying to figure out what place is perfect for you.

✧ What place is worthy of you.

✧ Eventually, he decides on a shaded pavilion surrounded by trees, one that reminds him of Mirkwood. Except here flowers grow all around, and he can focus on being romantic with you.

✧ When he invites you to join him you suspect something, although the sight of your prince surrounded by flowers is still breathtaking.

✧ Waiting until you join him, he tries to hide his nervousness by rubbing his finger over the flowers he’s holding for you.

✧ And then you’re right in front of him.

✧ “I love you.”

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐨

✧ Frodo first says he loves you when he confesses to you.

✧ (“(Y/n). I know we’ve been friends for a long time now, and I’m very grateful for that. But - I don’t just want to be your friend. I want to be more to you, I want you to be able to love me like I love you.”)

✧ But that doesn’t make his feelings any less genuine, his love for you any less sincere.

✧ When he says those words to you he means it just as much as anyone else, he’s just slightly more in tune with his emotions.

✧ Because he knows you well enough that, as much as he wants to make a grand romantic gesture out of these words, he simply wants to tell them to you more.

✧ (Besides, the sooner he says it for the first time the sooner he can say it again.)

𝐒𝐚𝐦

✧ He’s embarrassed about how he’s going to say it. Not because of you, of course - he knows he loves you wholeheartedly - but because he doesn’t want to mess anything up.

✧ So, to make sure he can properly confess to you, he practises.

✧ What he says changes slightly each time, there are too many good qualities to pick. And although some staples remain it often changes to encompass what the two of you had done together, like how beautifully you look when you smile, or how grateful he is that you’ll help him.

✧ When Sam finally has the perfect time to say what he wants, he realises he’s slightly at a loss for words.

✧ You can tell he wants to say something to you, the way his throat hitches and then he relaxes. Taking a deep breath.

✧ Noticing your eyes on him, Samwise decides that now is the time to speak.

✧ “I- I love you. More than I’ve ever done with anything, more than I do with the Shire, or the flowers out in the garden. Because, you’re the person who truly makes me happy. You’re the person who I can truly be myself with, you’re the person whose smile lights up my heart. The person who knows how to make me feel better, the one I can trust.”

✧ “And, for that. I really do love you.”

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲

✧ Although he’s overt with his affections, Merry doesn’t immediately say these words to you. He wants to earn them. To prove to you that he is a good boyfriend, and then he’ll be fully worthy of your love.

✧ At least, that’s how he sees it. (And somehow doesn’t see that he two of you are completely enamoured with each other.)

✧ It’s a little after your third date, when the two of you are sitting together and laughing, that he realises he needs to say it.

✧ He waits until the two of you have stopped, with only smiles gracing your faces. But he can’t wait longer than that.

✧ “I love you!”

✧ The admission rings in the otherwise silence, and then he sees you smile. And he realises that he is worthy of all of this.

✧ Merry eagerly leans into the hug, burying himself in your arms before whispering it again, this time with a grin on his face. “I love you.”

𝐏𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧

✧ You actually say it first, while the two of you are walking in Rivendell together. You’re on a more secluded path, and as Pippin asks about your day - and listens - you can tell he truly is absorbed.

✧ There’s passion in his eyes as he listens to you, nodding and asking the right questions, and you realise this is the time to say it.

✧ As an elf you knew you loved Pippin when he confessed to you, and that you would always love Pippin, but you were never sure when you would say it.

✧ As you stare at him, Pippin realises something’s happening and he turns to you with a quizzical look.

✧ “I love you.”

✧ It’s only three words, but Pippin lights up as though you have promised him the world.

✧ “Really?” The grin he gives is incredible, “I love you too!”

𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐫

✧ When Boromir confesses to you he’s says almost exactly that, just not using these words.

✧ For him there is something almost sacred about them, a bond more powerful than anything else.

✧ He is also worried about saying these words, and again it’s because he doesn’t want anything to go wrong. He wants to continue being worthy to you.

✧ So, when he confesses how much he loves you, he decides to do it properly. Asking you the day before if you’d meet with him, going to the market and hand picking flowers.

✧ Coming to where he is, you can recognise when he first sees you. Freezing slightly as he looks you up and down, almost as if he can’t believe you’re here, before smiling and welcoming you.

✧ At first it’s just talking. There’s romantic undertones, of course, and then he swallows and you realise he’s going to say something important.

✧ “I… I love you.” He says it proudly, “For all of you. I love you so much, my heart.”

𝐅𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐫

✧ Also afraid of confessing his true feelings to you. Although not just because he wants it to be perfect, which he does, but because of more self-worth issues.

✧ That his times with you are some of the best he has, and he doesn’t want any of that to change. He still wants to be able to laugh with you in Gondor, to kiss your hand goodbye and see the smile you give him in return.

✧ He isn’t sure why his mind thinks telling you that would put you off, but it’s a large enough part that he’s slightly hesitant.

✧ As the two of you walk along one of the top segments of Minas Tirith, he turns briefly to look at you. At how perfect this moment is.

✧ And he realises he needs to ask.

✧ “Can I tell you something?” His voice is soft, almost as if he wishes you not to hear it, but you pick it up and give him permission.

✧ Fully turning to you, he takes your hands in his. “I love you.”

✧ The way your eyes light up, and you immediately say it back, washes away the doubts he has.

✧ The kiss you lean into, light but reassuring, helps as well. Just another small gesture of how deeply the two of you feel for each other, and one he will never tire of.

𝐄𝐨𝐰𝐲𝐧

✧ (Éowyn’s eyes drift to the Paths, the rest of your company waiting, before she takes a deep breath. “Then we shall both swear not to fall in battle. We shall both fight to protect who we love.”)

✧ She is another who says how she feels in all but those exact words. And neither of you get a chance to say those words to each other until you’re in the Houses of Healing.

✧ As much as she wants to say it the second you’re awake, she shows some restrain. Waiting to make sure that you’re mostly ok.

✧ The conversation flows decently, but both of you know what she wants to say.

✧ And then the conversation stops.

✧ “I love you!” She blurts it out, and then instantly looks embarrassed. But your grin reassures her, and the red on her cheeks go from blush of embarrassment to a blush of love.

✧ As to not aggravate either of your wounds, she instead holds your hand as tightly as you will allow.

𝐄𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫

✧ Éomer can think of quite a few times when he’s wanted to say those moments to you (and, in all honesty, he could have said them from the moment he confessed.)

✧ But instead he tries to wait, waiting for the perfect time. And then, as he’s sitting at home and watching the fire die down, he realises that there will be no perfect time with you. Because every time is magical, in its own way.

✧ So he resolves to only until he sees you again.

✧ But, as the fire turns to embers, Éomer realises that will be too long of a wait.

✧ It’s almost eleven at night when you hear a knock on your door, and you open it to see him outside, looking up at you.

✧ As soon you open the door he hug you, burying himself in your arms. “I love you. And I should have told you earlier, but I love you.”

𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐝

✧ Bard wants to try and take things slow in the relationship, to fully appreciate each day (and even each moment) that he gets with you.

✧ That doesn’t mean he hasn’t thought about how he’d say those words to you, or potentially how they would sound falling from your lips, but it isn’t something he wants to rush.

✧ It’s something he wants to happen organically, as a product of your relationship rather than a given day.

✧ But still, when he finally confesses, it almost just slips out.

✧ You’re just saying goodbye to each other, and you turn back briefly before you leave, as if waiting for him to say one final remark.

✧ “I’ll see you later, love you.”

✧ The words slip out of his mouth before he can stop them, and he can feel himself blushing once he realises what he’s said - once he sees you frozen in space.

✧ “Did you…” You come slightly closer, “Did you actually just say that?”

✧ Looking into your eyes, he sees his own love reflected back at him. “Yes, I did. And I do.”

𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐢𝐥

✧ For all the elves, the act of saying ‘I love you’ is the largest commitment they will say, in their entire life.

✧ Those words will become like oaths, have them bind themselves to you for all of time, and that can never be taken lightly.

✧ The gift of love is the most meaningful of all, at least to them.

✧ But for Thranduil the weight of those words means even more. It also offers you a kingdom, a new family, and (most importantly to him) he does not want to pressure you.

✧ While sitting together, you can sometimes so clearly tell that he wants to say this to you. The elf will catch you, either over a book or glowing in the sunlight, and he just begins to speak before switching the conversation.

✧ And you catch on to why he hasn’t said that.

✧ Then, it happens again, as the two of you are talking over the fire together and he does that now familiar start of a conversation.

✧ Looking him in the eye, you place your hand over his, “Tell me.”

✧ “Are you sure?”

✧ “Completely.”

✧ “I love you.”

𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐫

✧ Despite being a minstrel, his words seem to fail him when he looks at you and tries to confess.

✧ He can write something down, yes. An epic poem or a song that details how he feels about you - but it's never quite enough. There is always something missing from it, something that does not show his love for you properly.

✧ Lindir recognises that it’s because it lacks spontaneity, he’s tried to polish and perfect it to be worthy of you but lost the raw emotion that gives it so much meaning.

✧ Which is why, after he puts down the pen for the third time that evening and thinks, he realises he should just tell you.

✧ There’s a quiet knock on your door, and when you open the door you see Lindir - blushing profusely.

✧ “I love you. I love you more than anything, enough to give up this immortal life, to give up the moon and stars. Because, for me, you are worth more than their light, than their radiance. Even a single smile from you is worth a thousand suns, because you are you. And I love you.”

𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐫

✧ Surprisingly, Haldir says those words to you when he confesses to you.

✧ He’s worried, for many reasons, and one of those is the weight that those words carry. That they may be too much, too soon.

✧ But he resolves to try, and that - on the eve of battle - it wouldn’t be wise to have regrets.

✧ (“I must say something, before this happens.” He reaches out, fingers gently touching your hand and breathing in when you fully embrace it. “You are the one my heart has chosen to fall in love with. Forever. And I apologise for the awkward timing, for not saying something sooner, but I need you to know now. That I love you.”)

𝐄𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐧

✧ As good with words as the twin is, the idea of putting all his love for you into three simple words is terrifying.

✧ And, frankly, he doesn’t think it sums up how he feels for you well enough. How can three words encompass all the happiness you give him? All the smiles he has gained because of you? The comfort he has gained because of you? The infinite ways his life has become better?

✧ Then the two of you are together, when you let out a small yawn and he pulls you close.

✧ Cuddling into his chest, you stare up at him for a second, “Thank you, Elladan.”

✧ “Of course.” He doesn’t mean to add the next words on, “I love you.”

✧ Elladan feels when you tense for a second beneath him, then the smile on your face as you look up and whisper, “I love you too.”

✧ Until now, Elladan didn’t understand what those words meant. But now he does, and how much they carry. How obvious it is, when you say those words for him, that you care.

𝐄𝐥𝐫𝐨𝐡𝐢𝐫

✧ Surprisingly, Elrohir struggles to say the words as well. Not because he doesn’t love you - he’s more sure about his feelings to you than he is most things in his life - but because he isn’t sure what you’ll say.

✧ There’s a degree of elven versus human courting fighting inside him. That, although he’s been clear with the fact he loves you (even jokingly asking you to marry him) that perhaps you thought it was just that, a joke.

✧ That he hasn’t done any of this the correct way, and what if you don’t feel the same way.

✧ You find it slightly odd that, with long days into your relationship, and no words past your lovers lip - that neither of you acknowledge it.

✧ But, although you can’t be sure, you think you start to recognise the problem.

✧ So it’s you who says it to him. “I love you.”

✧ “Really?” Instantly all his attention is on you, cheeks slightly flushed and eyes hanging onto your every word, “Do you really love me?”

✧ “Yes.”

✧ “Meleth nîn, you are my world.”

A/N : Casually drops this after disappearing for three weeks. Well, not disappearing, just not working on these. Sorry for the delay, life's been happening. But I hope you enjoy! Also, here's the remains of my original author's note : (the taglist issue still has not been fixed, so I welcome help!)

First of all, for some reason my taglist isn't working. It's just only tagging the first five people soo... I will try my hardest to fix that. Not sure what's going on with it. Also, the getting flowers was inspired by a drabble recently (can't remember name of author) but the thing that amused me was when they wrote about the flowers matching your eye-colour. Like, my eyes are brown. I'm sure it's supposed to be romantic, and it was very well written, but that just made me laugh.

« first scenario, previous scenario, masterlist » thank you for reading *･༓˚✧ Taglist : @howling-medic / @celestialhole / @starwars2222 / @xiaoseminence / @withasideofmeg / @ferns-fics /  @fleurdemiel-145 / @chewgazellechew / @nilintakan / @stormchaser819 / @raikan624 / @wordbunch / @killermarionette / @bespectacledhuman ✧ wish to be tagged?

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (6)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: I hope you all have found ways to cope after the breakup, but here all your questions will be answered on what went down pre-August! Special shoutout to @just-fics-station @thepurplecrown @clarkysblog @hotdismylife and @sprinklesprinkle888 for sharing your ideas and indulging me with the lovely, crazy discourse!

To everyone, I am so chuffed at how this has become OUR story - our lil self-indulgent Ewan Nation production. You all are aces <3

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

In the aftermath of the breakup, the reader and Ewan throw themselves into their work, trying (and failing) to avoid any trace of the other. Will they remain this way - former lovers doomed to drift in each other's orbit?

Some time before August

New York City

The lush office was laden with expensive wooden antiques, one side with built-in shelves displaying film awards and plaques of varying degrees of prestige. A full glass minibar occupied the other side.

The casting director introduced himself as Bruce, insisting that Ewan call him by his first name and not any of that "sir or similar stick-up-the-ass names". Ewan can see him as a mentor or maybe even a friend, Bruce insisted.

After all, they were going to help each other out a lot.

The discussion was straightforward enough, never mind the saccharine tone Bruce seemed to be so good at. Aimed at making Ewan feel welcome, coddling him, remarking with awe at his projects thus far. But there was a fakeness to it. Ewan steeled himself, trying to adapt to the style of conversation. After all, if he is in this for the long haul, then he would have to get used to these situations.

Bruce appraised him, leaning back on his leather swivel chair. "How are you with the fantasy genre? All that YA, lovesick stuff the kids eat up so eagerly nowadays? Personally, I haven't got the taste for it, but it always makes bank, if you know what I mean."

"Oh, well, I'm a fan of all movies. I definitely see why the fantasy genre has made such an impact on audiences, especially with the romance element, you know, I get the appeal."

"Well, son, we've got a solid franchise in our hands here. Some adaptation of an elf-human love story, mind you, it sound ridiculous, but you know how it is. And the team seems to be in agreement - you fit the bill for the male lead. The male elf lead - " he almost guffawed at the thought, then collected himself " - hope you don't mind my saying that you've got elvish features yourself. Long nose, long jaw, lanky. The teens are going to eat you up."

"Ah," Ewan smiled curtly, nodding. There was a backhanded compliment if he ever heard one. "Well, sir, I've read the script - at least, the bit that was sent to me - and it looks quite promising. I'd be honoured to - "

"Of course, of course!" Bruce exclaimed in pleasure, cutting Ewan off mid-sentence. "And there's the case of your leading lady, and this all boils down to chemistry as you know. Our top contender is that Jenna Ortega girl from the Netflix show, you know her?"

Ewan nodded, well aware. He's seen her work, and thinks that she is a top actress of her generation, but leave it to Bruce to reduce her to being that girl from the Netflix show.

"Yes, she's a very talented actress," Ewan replied.

Bruce hums in agreement, head bobbing as a smirk materialises on his face. "Think she's a looker?" he said openly, without shame.

Ewan laughed nervously, his words caught in his throat.

Bruce, characteriscally oblivious to the discomfort of others, carried on. "I only ask because we're going to need you two to be pretty chummy with each other when you jump on this project. It's kind of a condition of the whole thing, but really nothing to concern yourself with." He waved a hand in the air, his proposition barely carrying any weight in his mind. But Ewan was catching on, and he started to develop a dislike about the whole deal.

"What do you mean?" Ewan asked.

"It's pretty common in this business, son. There's a reason why young, new actors like yourself opt to remain unattached so to speak, so they're always open to a PR arrangement or, you know, just so their - your - hoards of fans would think they got a chance with you," Bruce explains lazily. "In this case, since you and Ortega are, as I said, unattached, getting you two together would fuckin' do wonders for our movie."

Our movie, he said, convinced that Ewan was all in, because why would any young actor refuse such a golden opportunity? Franchises like this can set up an entire mainstream Hollywood career.

Ewan thought that he wasn't unattached. Granted, his date with you was yet to happen, but he already felt bound to you. He wished you were the one tapped to be his love interest. Very little acting would be needed there. Maybe he might even be inclined to go along with the idea of selling the relationship, using it for publicity for the film, but even that made him uneasy.

The industry offered a lot of privileges, but more often than not, they come at a cost.

"Sir, I - "

"Bruce."

"Right, sorry. Bruce, I have to tell you that I'm not exactly unattached."

"Got a partner?"

Ewan actually found himself smiling at the thought of you being called his partner. His first easy smile since entering this office. "Yes, she's an actress herself," he agreed.

"I heard of her?" Bruce asked with obvious disinterest. You were but a wedge in his flawless plan.

"She's kind of a new talent like me, but she's brilliant. She plays Alyna Rivers in our show."

"Ah her," Bruce loosened up a little. "I get it, she's a piece."

Ewan cleared his throat loudly, his jaw clenching on instinct. "So, like I said, I'm with her. I'm sorry but this whole PR arrangement with Jenna wouldn't work."

"Look, kid, I want my movie to do well, alright? I got a lot invested here. This PR thing has proven to be highly bankable time and time again. If you don't trust me, I can ask the team to show you the data on all that. It's a lot of boring numbers, but shit, the numbers are never wrong."

"I don't need to see - "

"If you wanna be with your girl, you can, but you just gotta learn to hide it. Sweep it under the rug, you know. Don't canoodle in public, you crazy kids," Bruce offered, like that made things any better.

"You want me to hide my relationship?"

"Hey, now, come on. Word gets around. Isn't your girl also doing this exact same thing with Jacob Elordi?"

"Not anymore, I don't think," Ewan clarifies, "and that was... that was hardly anything. They weren't obligated to do it. It just worked by chance because they were both single for a time."

"Po-ta-to, po-tah-to." Bruce clicked his tongue before making his next point. "So you see how it works, your thing with Ortega won't be any different."

"Do I have a choice?" There it is, the defining factor.

Bruce smiled slowly. The calculating and menacing air about him intensified, and it was obvious he was not there to be Ewan's friend.

"It would be stupid to refuse something like this, kid."

Ewan's blue eyes flashed in return. None of this was ideal, but his nan raised him well, and he knew better than to falter on his values in times of trial.

"Sir, what's stupid is if you ask me to hide my real relationship for the sake of mere publicity for a film."

"Stupid you say?" Bruce sneered, having already discarded Ewan in his mind, his fragile ego bruised. "What a shame."

There wasn't much to say after that. Bruce was clearly not disinclined to reveal the ice that settled in his veins, and it dawned on Ewan that it had always been the case. There was no true hospitality here.

For bigwig casting director-slash-execs like Bruce, this was a transaction. And Ewan was not about to put what he has, or what he could have, with you on the line.

There has to be another way to advance his career. If not bigger productions, then at least those with less domineering producers.

"That is a shame," Ewan said, getting up from his seat. "I won't waste any more of your time, sir. Thank you for considering me."

Bruce's eyes darkened even further. "You're actually refusing me? For some girl?"

Another genuine smile formed on Ewan's face at the thought of you. Some girl.

But you're not just some girl. He nodded without a trace of doubt in his mind, before reaching out to shake Bruce's hand. "If you don't mind, sir... I have to go and see my darling."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Near the end of August

Los Angeles

The modern space sported a minimalist yet rustic feel, the interiors a blend of sterile white and sleek wooden surfaces. Very LA, as they say. The windowed walls offered plenty of light, as well as precious views of the valley below.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Donna," you greeted Ewan's publicist as she ushered you in her LA office.

"No problem at all, sweetheart," she said. "Please, have a seat. Would you like some coffee or tea? Ewan always has his coffee with way, way too much sugar. Mind you, if that kid wasn't active and boxing all the time, I'd be worried for his health."

You smiled fondly at her genuine concern. "Don't even mention the cigarettes."

"Oh, yeah," she scoffed, settling down on the chair across from you. She could have sat down at her desk, making the meeting more official, but Donna's always had a friendly and open way about her. "So, my sweet, how's your new movie coming up?"

You respond eagerly. The dialogue flowed freely, talking about your film and the lukewarm reception of season 2 of House of The Dragon. And finally, Ewan.

"I really thought he would get the Greta Gerwig film," you said. "Everyone said he was perfect for it. I think Greta herself had nothing but praises for him when they met on Zoom."

She sighed thoughtfully, "I thought so too. And, theoretically, he did have that one almost booked up. But there was an issue with one of the producers, which - I don't even want to get into that."

You shook your head, catching on whom she hinted at. "Donna, I heard... well, it didn't go too well in New York, didn't it? Ewan told me about it but... if you can tell me more, I just want to understand why - "

"Sweetheart," she offered a smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes, "you should talk about this with Ewan."

"I tried. But he wouldn't budge. Mallory told me... that it might have been because of me that he didn't get the role? And also why he's struggling to get roles now? Donna, I... I can't have that."

It took some time for her to formulate a response. She didn't want to step in something that's none of her business. Your relationship with Ewan is yours. But when his career is on the line, she supposed that she needed to have some say in that.

"He met with this top producer in New York. This real old money Hollywood guy. For decades, he's built careers for the greats, you know - Pitt, DiCaprio, Theron, and whatnot. There was a franchise project practically offered to him on a plate, but Ewan refused, because a non-negotiable was that he would have to hide you in favour of a PR arrangement with his leading lady."

You swallowed, the weight of the truth making itself clear. "Couldn't he have just done the movie without that?"

"You would think," she grimaced, "but some producers... when they want something, they have to get it. And well, Bruce wasn't lying, that would have sold the movie well."

"I thought we were past this," you expressed sadly. "I understand how PR relationships work. Just recently, I found myself kind of in the middle of one. But there was no pressure, it wasn't forced on us, and it was meant to be all in good fun."

"I know, sweetheart," she insisted, reaching out to squeeze your hand. "Bruce is an outlier now. Most of the time you do get lucky, with an all-around supportive production team, just like with your project with Elordi."

You hummed in agreement on that positive note, but your mind kept drifting back to Ewan.

Donna continued, wrapping up her story, "but Bruce is still here, and he still has a lot of power. But you know, it'll be fine. Ewan's got such a huge fanbase and so much talent that it'll only be a matter of time before something else knocks on his door."

You wanted to share her sense of optimism, but something ate at you. What else will Ewan have to sacrifice just to be with you? This was his dream, his one dream, and you were standing in the way. How much longer before he is offered another project but he refuses to take it for your sake? Your thoughts blurred together, bordering on irrational, but you couldn't help it.

All you could picture was the unabashed sincerity on his face, that sense of wonder, when he told you that acting had always been his dream.

Being tied down to you, this early in his career, would surely only hurt him. And you don't think you're worth it.

"Ewan loves you, sweetheart. Anyone with eyes can see that," Donna said after a while, heeding the storm brewing in your expression.

He loves you. It was true.

Less than a month in, and you've already found yourself with a love that you've never felt before. And perhaps never will again.

And that was the problem.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Late September

The podcast moderators are overly welcoming, if not a little loud for Ewan's taste.

The BBC podcast is called Loose Ends, and it's one of the first things Ewan agreed to take on upon returning to England.

He had wanted to head straight home to Derby, to bury himself in his heartache and bitterness, but the team for the show tapped him for a couple more promotional stints, riding on the high of the season finale. And who better than Ewan to offer to the media, the undeniable fan favourite.

Clad in an old gray shirt and blue jeans, people would think he just rolled right out of bed. He didn't really have the motivation to put in more effort. The only striking thing about him is his newly bleached head of hair, supervised by his stylist for a photoshoot a few days ago.

It was ironic, the timing of such a change. Ewan knew that if word got out that you dumped him, he would never hear the end of the joke of that being the reason for his hairstyle change, typical of all heartbroken sods.

Everyone bursts into laughter when he tells them about his mum's reaction to his nude scene. It feels like going through the motions, and he must have been so out of it, so forlorn, that his team prepared an outline for him prior to the interview. The questions and answers all pre-agreed.

Make them laugh. React as required. Remember to speak when spoken to. The mantra goes on in his head.

And don't think about her.

An impossible task, worsened when a moderator goes off script and asks, "Now it wasn't me who saw this, as I'm not on social media myself, but one of our interns did mention that you ventured into Instagram recently? Is that true?"

Oh fuck.

"Mmm, yeah, I guess," Ewan laughs nervously, his hand massaging the back of his neck in a self-soothing motion.

"And your first post went viral? What can you tell us about that? Our listeners would love to know."

"Uhhhm - " He remembers that the broadcast is live, and he can't exactly ask them to edit this part out, so he quickly settles for something indirect. Inconclusive. Safe. " - did it go viral? I'm not too sure how that thing works. I haven't used any kind of social media before."

"Apparently it did! And it had to do with the subject featured in that photo, Ewan. Your costar - "

"Mmm," Ewan stops him there, "didn't you say that you don't use Instagram?"

"No, I think I'm too old!" The moderator laughs.

"It's insane, that whole thing," Ewan shakes his head. "I don't know how to handle it. I'm logged off most of the time."

"Oh, you log off?"

"Yeah, yeah, helps me keep my focus, you know. Keep calm and all that."

"It can get frivolous, can't it?"

Ewan hums in agreement, and thankfully, the moderator moves on to his last question. One that does not breach the subject of you.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Another day means yet another media stint for Ewan, this time for Now TV.

Still in London, his stylist Davey and the rest of the team prepare him for a day of brief interview clips, to be posted on the social media pages of the company.

Davey had half-joked about Ewan needing even more concealer than usual, the shadows under his eyes having significantly deepened after the breakup.

Some of his team have gotten wind of what happened. They would curiously ask about you, how often Ewan keeps in touch with you while you're on set...

You must be on FaceTime everyday!

Is it hard to be doing long-distance so soon?

Do you miss her? Is that why you're not getting any rest?

...but Ewan would only laugh uncomfortably, dismiss it by bringing up another topic or shifting the attention to someone else, or excuse himself to go for a smoke.

He'd been drowning himself in cigarettes and caffeine during the day, pint after pint in the nighttime. Aimless.

He is coping. He knows how it must look, but he deserves this. He deserves to drift for a while. It's the only thing he can do to keep himself from jumping on the next flight to Atlanta and begging for your hand back.

You said you love him. You did. He hangs on to it like a beacon in a storm. No matter how pointless it may seem, with you choosing someone else over him.

Work is becoming something of an anchor, something that keeps him from spiralling. He's an actor, and he has always wanted to be an actor. People now have expectations of him, and he will answer the call.

The interview session begins with generic questioning, stuff he's answered before on several occasions.

How special is the bond between dragon and rider?

What is a funny moment from set that you can share?

How similar are Aemond and Daemon?

All safe. He's proud of himself for not breaking mental clarity thus far. You're in the back of his mind, dormant as a memory, and not something looming darkly over him. For a while, at least.

But then he is asked, If you could invite any 5 people to a Ewan Mitchell dinner party, who would you pick?

"Matthew McConaughey - "

You.

" - Bruce Lee. I think they could strike up an interesting conversation - "

Your name echoes in his mind, and he can't control it.

" - Andrea Riseborough. She's just a chameleon, like in any role she undertakes -

You have great taste. Even if you would make him eat spicy food again, he'll take it. He'll endure anything for you.

He's stumped for a second, lump in his throat, and his effort in avoiding you leads him to mention someone who will always be a comfort to him.

" - Maybe my nan, because I miss her -

Your name. He has to say your name. Who else? Think of someone else.. but who else? Who would be better?

" - and then, another person. Let's make it from the show... it would be Alyna Rivers."

"Oh really?" The interviewer asks. She's not really meant to respond in this instance, but she knows that the fans would go crazy about any mention of you or your character, so why not jump on this opportunity? "Can you tell us why you chose her?"

"Uhhm, well, she's just an amazing character, you know, fiercely loyal, beautiful, tenacious," Ewan replies easily, "so yeah, she would make for good company."

It is obvious that he is describing you just as much as he does Alyna Rivers, and no doubt, the fans will catch on to this detail.

Later, he's asked about his favourite part about season two, and he duly answers, "Seeing more of Aemond and Vhagar's bond and how that perhaps have gotten stronger. Aemond has definitely reined her in, after the accident at Storm's End."

Then, "There are some new additions to the show. Do you have a particular favourite?"

Another obvious piece of bait. And he takes it, he doesn't care anymore. What's the use of denying the truth?

"A favourite new character? Oh, well, uhmm... I really do like Alyna, and I think I've said before that Aemond and her are quite similar in a sense that they both know what they want and how to achieve it. It's just a shame they're on opposing sides, because if those two get together... " he trails off, leaving it up to the audiences to fill in the rest of the thought.

And they eagerly do. The clips where Ewan mentions Alyna get the most traction, flooded with comments that more or less talk of the same thing -

We know why you chose Alyna, Ewan. We know your ways.

He could have said Alys. Or Gwayne. Or even the ghost of Daeron ffs. But nooooo.... it's Alyna Alyna Alyna 😮‍💨

I wonder if she's there behind the scenes

yeah shes definitely lurking in the background!

Aemond and Alyna better have at least a scene together in season 3!!!!!

Someone kidnap Ryan Condal and make him write this

Ewan doesn't see any of it. Not that he's missing out, because he soon feels the need to call his younger cousin to ask her how to turn off his notifications on Instagram.

Day in and day out, his one single post gets dozens of new comments and likes, a brutal reminder of what he's lost. He could just delete it, and get rid of his profile entirely, but he hates to imagine the discourse that would follow.

All the invasive allegations and rumours. So he leaves it be. It makes no difference to him now. Let people believe what they want.

To his chagrin, he finds himself scrolling on his home page once in a while. The addictive element to it was true, and for him, it's exacerbated because the things he sees are often related to you.

Photos of you from fanpages and news accounts. Ones where your friends have tagged you. It's a toxic habit, looking through it all, but he can't help himself.

Then one day, as he's slouched on the seat in his London apartment, phone propped on his knees, he sees a cutout photo of his face on the corner of the screen. He clicks on it, and it's an image of him interposed among different posts. Posts which he apparently liked.

"Oh for fuck's sake," he cusses at himself, reading the caption.

Boyfriend lurking? - Ewan Mitchell may play a formidable TV villain, but in real life, he's just like us. Click on the link in bio to see his series of liked posts!

Dread takes root in him, followed by self-loathing. Why couldn't he just keep off this bloody thing? He takes to the comments to see what he has allegedly liked on accident and it's predictably photos of you - you at a premiere, stills of you as Alyna, and even, heavens fucking forbid, a behind the scenes shot of you getting pretty close with Jacob Elordi on the set of your film.

He vividly remembers seeing that last one, because he went on a bender after coming across it.

Cursing himself and his wayward, sticky fingers, he exits the app and deletes it from his phone.

Whatever goes on there, whatever people might leave on his profile, he washes his hands of it.

He calls up several of his mates, asking them if they want to come over for a few drinks.

"Again, Ewan?" one of them exclaims. "C'mon, you gotta take a breather, mate."

"I don't need a breather." I need her.

"Ewan - "

His composure breaks, all his damned frustrations rising to the surface, and he confesses, "I wonder if she thinks about me."

"Hang in there, mate. We're coming over."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

October

The director finally yells a satisfied, "Cut!"

It's only taken a good twenty-something takes for you and Jacob to nail a challenging scene. You had been on a roll since the beginning of the shoot, the last few weeks seemingly a breeze on paper, though it's a constant struggle to keep it together.

You've had to quell your internal dialogue so it does not stray to him. His smile. The feel of his skin against yours. His way of subtly picking up on details, and doing sweet things that surprise you as a result.

But you received word just before the scene that a few of your friends have come to visit, waiting back at your trailer - Phia, Fabien and his girlfriend, Bella.

And so, as if on instinct, Ewan is all you can focus on, every repressed memory of him rushing in like a tidal wave.

Do they know? What could you possibly say to justify what you did? You can only hope he took on that project, to give you a bitter sense of vindication.

It's the only thing that keeps it all the bay, the only thing that keeps you from jumping on the next flight to England and grovelling at his door.

Phia has her arms wrapped around you the moment you open the door to your trailer, loudly squealing, "I missed you!"

You sink into the hug, comforted by her presence.

As well as the fact that she represents some connection to Ewan.

Phia, Helaena. Helaena, Aemond. Aemond, Ewan.

It's a sick game to play, but it's what you have.

"Hey, yous," you hug Fabien and Bella in turn. Not long after, you're all lounging on director's chairs right outside your trailer, enjoying a bit of sun.

"How's our big Hollywood star?" Phia quips, her lips curling in her trademark pleasant upturn.

"Hardly a star," you shake your head fondly. "More of an indie darling."

"Of course, of course," she relents, before going on a monologue about how she's been keeping tabs on your project, how she just adores the costume designer whom she spoke to at length while you were working, and how the rest of the cast is rooting for you.

The rest of the cast.

"Ah, are they?" you ask, making a conscious effort to not simply blurt out his name. What does he think? Has he mentioned you at all?

Do they know?

Do they secretly hate you for what you did?

"Mhmm, right Fabs?" she says.

"Oh, definitely." Fabien agrees right away.

"How's your film? Are you done shooting in Philly?" you ask him.

"Just about done, but I think we're doing some final reshoots next week. I'm just glad my girl's here to visit," he slings an arm around Bella, who smiles and leans closer to him.

You smile at the sight, but it visibly falters. Ewan could be visiting you on set right now, just like Bella with Fabien, if you hadn't fucked it all up.

They notice.

"Love," Phia sighs, her tone softening. "I just want you know - we want you know - we're here for you, okay? No matter what you went through with... " A pause. Like saying his name would open up the floodgates.

Your gaze falls to your lap in shame. You pick on invisible lint on your trousers. Bite your lip. Breathe deeply.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

"So you guys know, huh?"

"Well, more or less," Phia says. "I just spoke with... Ewan... recently. He's back in Derby for the time being, and he's - "

"He's a bit rough," Fabien says firmly. He's not taking sides here, but he's heard from Ewan, and he feels the need to have his mate's back. "Look, I don't want to pry, but what happened? It seemed like you guys were doing so well together!"

"You don't have to tell us," Phia adds, shooting Fabien a look. "But if you want to, we're here to listen. We love you both and we just want to help, love."

You feel your eyes welling up. Leave it to Phia to be oh so sweet. You can't lie to them, you don't want to. Even if you did, they would see right through it.

Your friends know you too well.

"I... I miss him."

Phia squeezes your hand, and the whole story is about to spill out of you when you hear your name being called.

It's your assistant Clara, letting you know you're needed back on set.

You swallow back tears, standing on your feet, trying to maintain enough composure so you can grant yourself access back to your character.

"Go do your thing, superstar," Phia smiles comfortingly. "We'll be here when you're ready."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

November

"I'd like to propose a toast," Tom declares out loud in the empty pub, "to Ewan, Hollywood's new elf... Lord? Prince? Ah sod it, cheers!"

Round the table, Ewan, Fabien, Luke and Elliott all raise their pints with a collective, "Hear, hear!"

The pub has been cleared out for the lads, thanks to a favour called in by the twins, with the owner being their gym buddy and good friend.

"Thank you," Ewan replies, smirking. "I am your new elf prince, address me as such."

"Your ears have never been pointier, mate," Luke quips.

After a month of moping back home in Derby, or recovering as Ewan prefers to put it, he got a call from his manager telling him that the offer from Bruce still stands.

Apparently, the production team for the movie still had him tapped as the prime choice for the lead. After observing his audience metrics and overall viability, they decided that the movie would fare the best with him in it.

They had planted some half-baked announcements in the media, stating that it was Ewan against Joseph Quinn and Manny Jacinto for the role, and the fan reaction veered in Ewan's favour by a landslide.

Even though Bruce had an unsavoury word or two to say about him, he was willing to work past it, so long as Ewan would be more amenable to his demands.

After careful deliberation, Ewan chose to throw caution to the wind, and accept the role. So what if he has to pretend to have a real-life romance with Jenna? This is what you wanted.

"I'm glad you finally came out to see us, mate," Fabien says. "It's been a while."

"Yeah, fuck's sake. Remind us never to break your heart! That was tough to witness, you hunkerin' down out there all mopey and whatnot," Elliott laughs.

"Mmm." Ewan takes a swig of his beer to hide the wince he couldn't hold back. His friends, and most of the cast know by now, not in too much detail, of what went down between the two of you.

A typical short-lived romance of two actors. A summer fling. Most of them would look back and only see it as that.

Even though it was so much more. Even though Ewan still recalls how warm and soft and beautiful you felt as you whimpered underneath him, the loss of you as painful as getting hit by a freight train.

The liquor helps. Burying himself in work helps. Denial... well, that certainly helps the most.

When he goes out to the back garden for a smoke break with Fabien, he tricks himself into believing it's mere curiosity that compels him to say, "Phia mentioned that you guys went to Atlanta."

Fabien is rendered off guard, because he knows what's coming. "Yeah, we did. Bella came with us too. She was visiting me on set," he says, measuredly.

"Mmm." A long drag, a flick of ash towards the ground, an unaffected shrug - and eventually, with as impassive of a tone as he can muster, Ewan asks, "So how is she?"

Fabien smiles knowingly. "She's doing great. Her film's looking pretty good." He's privy to the truth, after he and Phia managed to gently coax it out of you over several martinis at a hotel bar in Atlanta. But he doesn't think it up to him to reveal that to Ewan, out of respect for your privacy.

While he might not share your sentiment, he thinks it's not in his place to tell Ewan that you basically lied for his sake.

But that doesn't mean he won't drop a helpful nugget or two.

"You know, I don't exactly know what's going on... but her and Jacob came across as nothing more than friends."

Ewan's hand freezes mid-air, the cigarette inches from his lips. He loathes the sense of hope that immediately bloomed in his chest. He's so bloody easy. One miniscule hint, and his delusions break through the wall of indifference he worked so hard to build.

"She said she has feelings for him," Ewan stresses, trying to convince himself. What was the fucking point of all this... this pain... if you never did?

"Hey, mate, I dunno," Fabien puts his hands up, "just telling you what I saw."

"It doesn't matter." It does. "She ended it." He wants you back, he will always want you back. "It's better this way."

"Is it?"

Ewan doesn't answer. He doesn't know how to, without grossly embellishing the truth.

Fabien watches his friend, sensing his hesitation as he averts his gaze. One thing becomes clear to him - you and Ewan are far from being over.

So he says, "She misses you, you know."

Ewan regards him with a stony look, one that slowly softens to reveal the broken boy inside. For but a moment, before he clears his throat and throws the butt of his cigarette on the ground.

"Let's head back inside."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

December

You're back in London, as production for your film is paused for the upcoming holiday season.

Work is supposed to be the last thing on your mind, but it just so happens that your manager has you booked for a chemistry read for a yet undisclosed film.

Phia came over to your apartment, insisting that she help you get ready. When you asked how she found out about your audition, she was quick to say that she was up for the role as well but didn't think it was right for her.

"Why not?" you ask, as she hovers over you, patting blush on the apples of your cheeks.

"Oh, you just get a feel for these things."

"Phi, it's just a chemistry read," you say, when she reaches for the mascara. "I don't need to get all dolled up for this."

She gasps, "Oh, but this is showbiz, darling. We always have to put a face on."

"Fine," you relent. "Do your worst."

The makeup she ends up doing on you is minimal, but it enhances your features just the right amount. You rush through your final preparations, folding up the script sample you were given and stuffing it in your purse.

Phia stands out on your balcony, in the middle of a call. The window screen is slightly open, so you hear snippets of the conversation as you walk by.

"Is he ready?" she asks. Who's he? You assume it's the guy you are doing the read with.

You don't know about him, but you are ready, so you stick your head out to say, "I gotta go, Phi."

"Oh!" She startles a little, angling her phone away. "Already?"

"Yeah, the read's at 4, I believe. Just lock the door when you leave, 'kay?"

She hurriedly whispers something to her phone, presumably ending her call. "I'll actually head out with you," she grins. "My work here is done anyway."

"Any plans for the night?"

She shrugs, "Might meet with Tom and Martha."

"Oh, why don't I meet you guys after my thing?"

"Uhhhm," she chews on her lip, thinking. Under her breath, you barely hear her mumble, "... hoping you'd be busy."

"What?" A restrained chuckle escapes you, confused as to why she's being so coy.

"Nothing," she tilts her head. "We can meet if you'd like."

The weird exchange is out of your mind when you arrive at the casting agency. You run the scene through in your head as you walk in the building, up the elevator, down the long hallway.

It's a heartfelt scene, if not a little tense, a dialogue between reunited ex-lovers.

Your manager Polina and publicist Mallory greet you at the doors, swiftly briefing you before directing you in.

"They're waiting, just walk right in, doll," Polina says.

"Okay, wish me luck!" You have your hand on the door handle when Mallory strangely remarks, "Don't hate us, sweetheart!"

"Why would I - "

"Go, go," Polina guides you in, then shuts the door behind you.

The office sports an spacious and open layout, with plenty of natural light streaming through large windows. The primary workstation is partially hidden behind a subtle partition. You see silhouettes of a few people behind it, so you walk down that way.

The figures reveal themselves soon enough - the casting agents you recognise as Patrick and Amie, sitting in front of the actor you're meant to read with.

A range of emotion washes over you, but you don't even have time to reckon with them. The casting agents divert your attention from Ewan, as they approach you with wide smiles in greeting.

"So nice to finally meet you!" Amie croons. "Take a seat. You two already know each other, of course. Between us, there won't really be a question of chemistry here."

"Right?" Patrick adds, looking between you and Ewan. "The fans sure think so, and we have to say we already agree."

"So just give us a minute to set up," Amie says. "Then we'll start."

You smile stiffly, settling down on the opposite end of the couch. You keep your gaze straight, trying to keep your attention on Patrick as he sets up the camera. Your heartbeat races the entire time, and you feel your hands getting clammy.

"They're all in on it," you hear Ewan say, prompting you to finally look at him directly. You take him in hungrily, admiring his outline, ever so handsome with his Targaryen-blonde hair and black leather jacket.

A weak "Mmm?" is all you can muster.

"Our teams, Tom, Phia... they set us up. Tom came over and I overheard him on the phone with Phia."

"Oh," you mumble. He doesn't even spare you a glance, leaning on the armrest on his side of the couch. He looks as if he'd rather be anywhere but here, next to you, and it hurts.

It's what you deserve.

"Is this not a real chemistry read?" you ask meekly.

"I suppose it is," he laughs humourlessly, "but it's not a coincidence that you and I just happen to be the only ones scheduled for today." He turns to you, giving you a critical sideways glance. "Didn't see that coming, did you?"

"I... I can leave if you want - "

"Mmm," his brows furrow, "you do seem to be good at that."

You look away. He is not being fair, but you weren't neither, that wretched night back in September.

And he is making you pay for it now.

But then you hear him speak in a softer tone, "Stay."

Stay. When you look at him once more, his attention is entirely on you, arm outstretched on the couch like he just tried to reach for you but decided against it.

Stay, he asked. So you do.

It's what you should have done, months ago.

"Okay, guys. Whenever you're ready," Amie says. She and Patrick take their seats in front of you, with the camera on a stand between them.

The script crinkles on your lap as you hold it with shaky fingers. "It's been a while," you read out your opening line.

The dialogue plays out twisted and ironic, now that you know who your scene partner is.

"Hardly," Ewan responds in character. "I feel like no time as passed."

"Feels like a lifetime."

He pauses, then sighs, "Do you even miss me?"

"How... how can you even ask me that?"

"How can I - "

"Why didn't you... why didn't you fight for me?" your voice breaks, the lines hitting a bit too close to home.

"You're a fucking hypocrite," he spits with venom. "You weren't exactly giving me anything to fight for."

"I did it for us. I did it all for us." If you didn't feel like crying at the weight of the scene, you would have rolled your eyes at the similarities.

"Like I said - nothing to fight for."

"Nothing? So you're telling me I was nothing to you."

"No," he levels you with an icy look, "you were everything to me. Everything. But you left me behind, and for what? So you can run off with the rebel sect?"

"The mission needed me. You wouldn't understand." You feel a sense of relief when the sci-fi elements roll in, otherwise you might have given in to your emotions and sobbed right there on the damn couch.

"I needed you," Ewan says, eyes not leaving yours. "I needed you and you abandoned me, just like that."

"And are you not better for it? When I left, did they not make you General?"

"See, that is the difference between you and I," he says coldly. "I wouldn't have traded what we had for anything - no position, no amount of wealth, no glory... I would have chosen us every time."

"Aaand cut!" Patrick jokes, effectively breaking the tension.

The two of you have unconsciously drifted closer, now only a foot part. Ewan does not drop your gaze, watching you closely. You see his eyes flit down to your parted lips, and he leans in almost imperceptibly.

"Alright, how about we go one more time?" Amie says, diverting your attention. "Give us a different take, and then that's it!"

Ewan settles back on his end of the couch. When he reads his lines again, his tone is harsher and he no longer meets your eyes.

Patrick and Amie commend you both afterward, singing praises about your acting abilities. Ewan is polite as always, blushing and grateful, but he practically dashes out of the door when the meeting finishes.

You're left standing with Amie, as Patrick has taken to his laptop to file the footage.

"The way he looks at you," she sighs dreamily, referring to Ewan. "You'd think the sun shone out your arse, doll."

"He... he was just in character," you disagree. "He's a good actor, as you know."

"Yeah, I mean, he nailed the part's rancour perfectly. But his eyes - oof - you've got a good one there."

Oh. Of course they would still assume you and him are together.

How desperately you want it to be true.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

An hour later, you've just sent Phia a text saying - You owe me. Where do I meet you guys?

But you hear a knock on your apartment door. If you didn't buzz anyone in, it can only be a neighbour or someone the doorman recognised.

Someone familiar to you.

And it's him.

"Ewan?"

"I need to speak with you."

You step aside so he doesn't linger at your doorway. He walks past you, a welcome if not unexpected presence in the room.

You can't decipher his expression, his gaze angled downward as he leans against your kitchen counter.

When the silence becomes almost deafening, you laugh awkwardly, about to make some silly remark on whether he is still in character. But he doesn't let you diffuse the tension.

"I want you," he blurts out without warning. "God help me, I still want you. I think I might have a fucking problem because how can I... after what you did - " A momentary glance of betrayal, but you see the spite clear in his eyes. " - but I do. I can't get you out of my system."

"I'm sorry - "

"I don't need that," he says sharply. "I don't need your sorry. I need you. I need to have you, and maybe this way, I'll satisfy whatever pointless desire I still have in me."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying - I'm asking - will you let me have you?"

"Ewan, I don't under - "

"I'm saying that we should sleep together," he says bluntly, and it feels like the rug has been pulled from under your feet, "but only just. You won't be mine, and I won't be yours."

"You're kidding."

He shakes his head, before adding, "Don't worry. It'll be our little secret. To the rest of the world, I'll have a different girlfriend anyway."

His words register, along with the bitter ache at his words, that you won't be his, he won't be yours. This is purely for pleasure. There used to be love here, and now he just craves the comfort your body allows.

You'll be using each other.

You should refuse. This is not healthy; this is not how you move on. Can you even go back to being good friends after this? But also - what have you got to lose?

What, except for him, and for good this time?

What, except everything?

"So what do you say - " He closes in on you, and with every bit of malice intended, the name no longer possessing the sweetness it once held, he sneers, "- darling?"

💌 next chapter

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @livcookesgf @onlyrealjoy (continued ... )

Some notes in the margins...

Well well well... the transition from friends to lovers to strangers to angsty FWBs sure is a slippery slope!

The time jumps are so we get through the moping quicker! It's mostly back to the regular shenanigans in the next part. Only, you know, angst-ridden. But you hurt Ewan, reader. *wags finger* Don't say you didn't expect this switch! Tsktsk

So what now - will you accept this arrangement? Will things ever be truly okay? Part 7 is going to be hot and hilarious and stupid and messy, just as the doctor ordered.

Let's hash it out in the comments, shall we? 🗡💕

[dark-moonlust]

Orc King x Elf Princess PART 2: Throne of Desires

Pairing: orc king x elf reader

Summary: you worship your king’s cock with your mouth and then he returns the favor, tenfold. 😉

Warnings: minors don't interact!!!, 18+!!!, oral (male+female receiving), fingering, overstimulation, loads of cum.

Read PART 1 here!

The throne room was lit by four torches, casting shadows across the walls as you approached your husband, the King of the Orcs. He sat in his huge stone throne, wearing nothing but a pair of trousers, his muscled, scarred body exposed in all its glory. He emitted raw power and masculinity, and was watching you with smoldering black eyes. Unlike him, you wore elvish finery; a glimmering night gown, your hair spilling down your back like a waterfall.

“My Queen,” he said, his voice vibrating through you. “I missed you.”

“I missed you more, my King. You’ve had many meetings and obligations to fulfill, my husband,” you said as you approached, sinking to your knees between his legs.

He bent down and kissed your lips, his tongue licking into your mouth. “You shouldn’t be kneeling, my love. Stand up and ride me, like the good mate you are.”

You smiled mischievously. “But I want to stay here. Only for today, and worship my hardworking husband.”

Without losing time, your hands reached for his belt, fingers fumbling with the buckle. His broad chest heaved with desire, his muscles taut. And he was already thick, a bulge straining against his pants, the sheer size of it making your breathing quicken. You cupped the fabric covering his cock which was getting bigger and bigger, and spread kissed over it, feeling the heat of his arousal.

Growled in warning, his hands settled on your shoulders. “No more teasing, my Queen.”

“As you wish, my King.”

Swiftly, you unbuckled his pants and dragged them down, your fingers deftly freeing his aching cock. The thick length sprang up from its confines, throbbing before your eager gaze. His shaft was massive and heavy, the tip leaking beads of pre-cum. Your orc’s breathing grew heavier and constantly growled from deep within his chest as he watched you with hungry eyes.

Mouth watering, you wrapped your fingers around his girth, marveling at its thickness and weight— you couldn’t fully enclose it all in your small palm. His pre-cum glistened in the low light, trickling down his length. You took the head of his cock into your mouth, suckling as if it was your favorite lollipop. The taste of him was a heady mix of salt and musk that made you crave more.

“Good, very good, my Queen,” he let out feral groan as his cock twitched.

Looking up at him, you began to pump his shaft in your palms while giving kitten licks to his leaking head. The more you stroked him, the more essence trickled from the tip. By now he had swelled to full mast, his cock a hard pole as thick as your forearm. His balls were just as swollen, heavy with orc seed and pulsing in your palm.

Desire pooled in your belly as you lowered your head and took him deep into your hot mouth, the sheer size of him stretching your lips wide. Your King’s growls grew deafening, his fingers forking through your hair, guiding you to take more of him into your wet mouth. His hips bucked, and you took him deeper, his cock kissing the back of your throat and causing you to gag. Your tongue swirled around him, head bobbing head up and down to please him.

“You’re so good for me, my Queen,” he rumbled, his voice husky but quivering.

Encouraged by his words, you doubled your efforts, pushing yourself to suck him deeper and harder. Breathing steadily through your nose, you hollowed your cheeks as you took him as deep as you could, your hands stroking the rest of him you couldn’t fit in your mouth. His hold in your hair hardened, his growls turning frantic, his thighs shaking in time with your movements.

“Fuuuuck— ahhh—I’m close,” he panted raggedly.

You didn’t slow down, you went faster to please him. You could feel his cock and balls throbbing, the pulses growing stronger as he neared his climax. With a final, powerful thrust, he filed your mouth and came, spurting load after load of his warm cum in your mouth. The force of his release was too much—it always was— and you worked your tongue, swallowing buckets of his seed.

Your mate pumped seed for seconds and seconds and suddenly he pulled out, a big palm pumping his cock and splattering the last of his seed across your face. Blinking, you stood there and took his marking, your cheeks and lips smeared with his cum, while his eyes looked at you with love and pride.

“Now it’s time to mark my face with your arousal, my Queen,” he drawled, kneeling before you and kissing your cum-stained lips.

Chest still heaving from his release, he lifted you, settling you on his grand throne. It was the highest seat of power and it would soon become the stage for your cries of pleasure. He tugged at the folds of your gown, your breasts spilling from the neckline. He cupped your pert tits, suckling and nipping at your nipples. Squirming, you arched against him, nails digging into his skin.

Dragging away your skirts, he kissed your soft belly, his tongue licking inside your bellybutton. You trembled when he continued to your creamy thighs until stopping at your glinting pussy. He draped your legs over his shoulders, his hands curling around your thighs and immobilizing you.

“Hmm, such pretty pussy,” he drawled, licking his lips. “So soaked for me.”

Callused thumbs opened your outer labia, his tongue inhaling sharply taking in your scent. Then he buried his face between your legs, his textured tongue parting your inner folds and licking long, slow stripes from your entrance to your clit. He devoured your slick as if he was starving, shamelessly eating you out and rubbing his nose against your clit.

The sensations took your breath away, sending jolts of pleasure through your entire body.

You began thrashing when you felt the stirrings of your orgasm but you couldn’t move. His hold on you was secure, his fingers digging into your inner thighs as he feasted on you without restraint. Gasping and moaning, you came hard, your hands gripping the arms of the throne. He licked you through your orgasm, casing you to turn frantic, your breasts heaving with each breath you dragged out of your lungs.

He gazed up at you as he worked your tender clit, his eyes dark with lust. “You taste so sweet, my Queen. Hmm, I could feast on you forever.”

“Ahh… my love,” you muttered, oversensitive and in sweet agony.

“Want you to cum again,” he rasped against you cunt. “Want you to mark me with your scent.”

“C..annn—can’t,” you whimpered, fingers burying in his hair and tugging. “Ahh, I can’t take it.”

A thick finger thrust inside you, his eyes blazing with demand. “Yes, you can and you will.”

And with that, he resumed his strokes, this time latching his lips at your clit while thrusting two fingers inside your tight pussy. His shoulders still held you open, and no matter how you begged and wiggled, he kept you there for his devouring. Slick sounds echoed through the throne room, mixed with your moans and his growls.

You lost track of time, writhing and begging for mercy.

But he was determined, kneeling between your legs and drawing one climax after the other from your body.

It was a wonderful and relentless assault on your senses.

When he finally decided to stop, he gave you the strongest climax out of them all, making your vision blur as you rode the last waves of pleasure. Your pussy clenched achingly around his digits, your juices flowing freely as he continued to lap at you, his face coated with your arousal. All you could do was surrender, your body trembling, your lips blabbering his name, your mind and heart belonging to him.

[elfy-elf-imagines]

Tolerate It | Thranduil

▹ Pairing: Thranduil x Human!Reader

▹ Genre: Angst

▹ Words: ~2k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You don't need--"

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

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

"I think I'm technically your stepmother."

"But you feel more like a friend."

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

"Then I am glad we are friends."

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

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

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

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

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

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

When would this torment end?

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was a bit gauche.”

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

“I thought it looked nice.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Would you have preferred to marry Legolas?” 

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

“To ensure an alliance with your family.”

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

Thranduil looked down at you, his lips tight.

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

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

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

“I see.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Secret Conversation- Thranduil x Human!Reader

Summary: Bard brings his Sindarin speaking friend when going to talk to Thranduil and Thranduil decides to flirt with her

Word count: 1, 352

A/N: italics is spoken in Sindarin

Though you hadn’t known Bard for very long, only looking after his kids for the past four months, when he told you of his meeting with Thranduil, you had insisted on joining him. You didn’t tell many people, but you did know Sindarin and you believed you’d be a good asset to your new friend.

Even though you stood beside Bard and he acted as a buffer between you and the famed king of the woodland realm, it was difficult to not feel intimidated. Even in such a simple throne in a cloth tent, he still held such power and grace to him, so much so that it was hard to take your eyes from him.

Honestly, you could have stared at the king for hours, but you decided that standing beside Bard and trying to not draw much attention to yourself was the best course of action. Unfortunately however, your wandering looks still managed to catch the attention of the elvish king, and his gaze often caught yours.

Trying your best to stay out of the way as you stood beside your friend, a guard came in to give word to Thranduil.

“What are they saying?” Bard gently asked you, not realising that the elves would definitely be able to hear him, though the whisper was extremely quiet.

“He’s just keeping Thranduil informed of the guard change, and that the number of guards will be increasing now that the sun is lower.” You whisper back as quietly as possible, although you knew he’d hear you.

Thranduil obviously heard your response and it intrigued him. As the kings gaze flicked over to the two of you, Bard stood straighter and your eyes fell to the floor. Though you did not look at him, you could tell Thranduils eyes were watching you intently.

Desperately you kept your gaze on the ground, hoping your knowledge of his language would not get you or Bard into trouble.

“So that is why you brought her along, because she knows of our language. Is that right, girl?” Thranduil teasingly enquires.

“Ye-yes.” You nervously whisper, as your eyes slowly rise to meet Thranduils enchanting stare.

“Interesting. How is it you know our tongue?” Thranduil continues to interrogate, appearing both intimidating and alluring as he looks you over while he talks.

“M-my mother was a linguist. She studied many languages and often acted as a translator for political matters. She shared her love of language and reading with me.” You timidly admit, the thought of your mother helping you to feel less intimidated before such a powerful king.

“She sounds like a very interesting woman.” Thranduil says, offering you a gentle smile, which you give him in return.

“Now I do have questions for your ears alone.” The king asks now in his own tongue, obviously not wanting Bard to hear.

Bard knows this is Thranduils intent and turns to you, worried about what he might have said. You give Bard a reassuring smile and look back to Thranduil.

“What is it you’d like to know?” You reply in his own language.

Hearing you speak Sindarin makes his eyes shine and a cheeky smile to appear on his face as he sits up straighter. Thranduil liked the way you sounded when you spoke in his own tongue. You sounded so enchanting and his fascination for you seemed to grow.

“Do you live with him?” Quickly came Thranduils first question, of what you’d assumed would be many.

“No, I simply care for his children when he is away working.”

Confirmation that Bard and yourself were not together seemed to interest him even more, as he now uncrossed his legs and positioned his body to face you more.

“Such a pretty young thing taking care of another man’s children. Surely you have wondered how it would feel to take on more wifely duties for him. Though he’s not my type, he seems to be the most handsome and intelligent man among your townsfolk. Has a thought not crossed your mind as to how he could make you feel? How his experienced hands may bring you pleasure?” Thranduils enchanting eyes bore into your own, as if he was looking into your very soul, pinning you to your spot.

Bard could sense that Thranduil was trying to intimidate you and put a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“We can leave if you like.” Bard kindly whispered in your ear, the comment making Thranduils grin grow.

You’d have to be blind to not be attracted to Thranduil and you were not one to back down from a challenge. You wanted to see how far he would go with this game, and honestly, you might have your own fun flirting back with the elvish king.

“Would you like that? Like to leave with him? Well not with him, he would still not warm your bed or draw pleasure from you in the way you desire.”

A slight smirk of your own played on your lips as you saw your opening to meet his challenge. What Thranduil was saying wasn’t necessarily wrong, of course you’d thought of Bard in such a way, but they were more fleeting thoughts of fancy than they were actual desires. The woodland king however? He was beginning to fill you with desires.

“What if I chose to stay here? Would you fulfil my desires, Thranduil?” The kings body erupted as he heard you speak his name.

“I have only slept with the race of men. Tell me, would a night with you bring greater pleasure than what a man could provide?” You meet his challenge in a way he was not expecting. He smirked and looked down as he saw the way you held onto Bards forearm, pretending it was for courage, but both you and the king knew it was to tease him.

“Oh you sweet girl. I have lived more lives than all the men you’ve had combined. I could draw pleasure from you that you had never thought possible. Why if your friend wasn’t standing there, I’d taking you right now in this tent. I’d want to be slow with you, give you your pleasure again and again, but with the way you tease me, I think I might have to take a different approach.” Thranduils flirting continues, though his voice is kept neutral as to not draw too much attention to what you both were really talking about.

“And what approach would that be, your highness?” You meet his challenge, his formal title making the fires inside him grow.

“A more assertive one. Where I rip your blouse down the middle so I can see more of what I know is a beautiful body, and so I can bite and kiss and lick more of your skin. I can be a very tolerable and patient elf, but you have made me desperate. I would push you against the table and take you from behind. I’d have you in a way no man ever has before, but that would be just the beginning of our night. If you don’t leave with him, I will have you in every way there is to have a lover, for as long as your human body can take.”

By the time Thranduil had finished talking, your body was on fire, and you were about ready to pounce on him right here and now, but you knew you had to keep a calm disposition with Bard still standing beside you.

Turning to your friend, you keep your eyes serious as you look to him.

“Go back to the children, I need to discuss some things with Thranduil. I’m not sure how long I’ll be but I’ll find you in the morning. I’ll be okay.” You sweetly explain to your friend, covering any suspicion of ulterior motive.

Bard turned to look at Thranduil, giving him a warning look, before turning back to you.

“Okay, be safe and I’ll be keeping an eye out for your return.” Bard sweetly smiled at you, before leaving the tent.

Turning to Thranduil, you both wore matching devilish smirks.

[shirefantasies]

How the Fellowship Act Around Their Crush (GN!Reader)

Hello friends! Kicking off my blog with some cute headcanons for my favorite people- hope you enjoy 😄

Aragorn

✧ One of the least obvious for sure 😅 we love a strong silent type but unfortunately that means you’ll have to be reading in on his actions

✧ Checks in on you a lot, just making sure you’re feeling alright and not hiding any burdens because he wants to carry those.

✧ Teaches you all he knows about the world’s botany when he notices your curiosity, pointing out what plants are poisonous, which the elves use for healing, and which can be made into tea. Snags a few to make you said tea at the earliest convenience 😌

✧ Will be the one to drape his cloak over you if you get cold. Not the type to stop others from doing it, but boy will he be the fastest by far!

✧ Has the habit of letting his fingers linger over yours just a bit longer than necessary when he hands things off to you or presses small items into your hands.

✧ Is the best with his words. He’ll reassure you if you feel insecure that you have a strength and beauty you bring to this world that no one else does, that the time you are in does not define you as a whole, that all have roles to play here.

Legolas

✧ Least obvious part 2! Another who is more silent about things…at least at first! If you understand Elvish, you may catch him searching for advice from Aragorn on if he should speak of it or not.

✧ Almost always defers to your word/opinion whether it’s where to stop or simply how you’d like to spend the rest of the evening.

✧ Shows off just a smidge 🤏🏻 when he knows you’re looking, like no, he doesn’t have to impale three orcs with the same arrow three different ways but did you think it was cool? Then yes he did. Still his face colors with surprised, joy, and amusement when you react with awe.

✧ “Wow, beautiful,” you breathe as your eyes scan the stars, glittering constellations and distant galaxies winking above you. “Indeed,” Legolas responds softly, but if you happen to peer at him from the peripheries of your vision at just the right time you’ll see the glance he surreptitiously slides to you.

✧ Holds open every door for you, slides back every chair, serves you at every meal, like this prince is peak gentleman and nothing less!

✧ Whispers joking observations about the rest of the fellowship, especially Gimli, that he usually keeps to himself into your ear as you sit together during mealtimes. This creates a whole slew of inside jokes between you two and much confusion over what you could possibly be laughing at.

Boromir

✧ Not over-the-top, but he figures what’s the point if you never figure anything out? Definitely wants to drop hints for you 😌

✧ Places a kiss to the back of your hand when he first meets you, telling you it is truly an honor.

✧ “Here, allow me,” he’ll say as he gently takes whatever burden you bear whether it’s bundles of firewood or even your bag on a particular rough day of travel.

✧ Happily shares tales of Gondor’s splendor with you and insists he’ll take you there and show you himself someday. Asks in turn for stories of your home and all your favorite things about it. Even if he can never visit, Boromir is determined to find a way to bring a piece of your home to you someday- anything to make you feel like you’re there again.

✧ Offers you his arm when you two walk side-by-side, guiding you with a firm, warm grip that keeps you feeling secure.

✧ Always places himself between you and danger, stepping in front of you with his sword and shield in hands and even shifting you back with a hand upon your waist.

Gimli

✧ You’re going to figure it out pretty quickly. He’e comically vocal as we all know, but also incredibly smooth when he wants to be…and boy does he want to be 👀

✧ Drops a lot of hints about how dwarves are the warmest, heartiest lovers and best providing partners! “We’ve the grandest of halls and sturdiest of bodies, after all!”

✧ Literally always has your back, like he is more aware of any threats to you than you are. It’s nearly impossible to count how many times he’s slashed an orc you hadn’t even seen off your back, giving you a triumphant nod and an “Anytime, Lassie/Laddie!”

✧ Laughs at every single joke you tell so hard you can’t help but puff up in pride at your sense of humor, nudging your shoulder with his.

✧ “Oh, stay still, you’ve got something in your hair…” Proceeds to remove it in the most tender and intimate manner you’ve ever experienced.

✧ Asks you to look him in the eyes before a big fight because, in his words, if that’s the last thing he looks upon before going out it’ll all be worth it.

Frodo

✧ Has no idea what he is doing honestly. Has never felt this way before and wasn’t sure if he ever would, so his demeanor around you suddenly becomes shy, almost withdrawn.

✧ Your self-appointed nurse. Tends your wounds silently but with the most caring, gentle touch and gaze fluttering back and forth between your wound and your expression with those big blue eyes.

✧ Goes on walks every now and again when everybody’s camped. After a while of seeing you watch him off, Frodo plucks up the courage to invite you to join him on one.

✧ Embarrassed as he is at first, he is encouraged by your eager eyes when you ask what he’s reading, shyly admitting it’s some poetry he loves. Ends up reciting you the whole thing, looking into your eyes intently as he wishes to actually be confessing each of those flowery words.

✧ Grabs your hand to lead you places whenever he finds something you just have to see! Blushes about it after the fact but in the moment the excitement just takes over him and he doesn’t even think about it.

✧ Begins sharing concerns and deeper thoughts with you once he trusts you as a sort of sign of that feeling. He hopes you understand that he doesn’t disclose to just anyone.

Sam

✧ He wants to talk to you so bad, but also you’re the most gorgeous person he’s ever seen and how does he do that??? So sweet and attentive with his gaze when you do talk, so that could clue you in.

✧ He definitely gives you the biggest and best of anything he prepares, smiling softly at you as he dishes it up!

✧ Offers to tell you stories of The Shire, especially if you’ve never visited it yourself, and you can see the love for it in his eyes as much as you can hear it in his voice. Shares a few about his old Gaffer, too!

✧ Trips over his words from time to time. He’ll accidentally say the wrong thing and nervously try to laugh it off not realizing how adorable he looks when he blushes ☺️

✧ Sees a pretty flower on the road and immediately thinks of you, plucking it up and twirling it thoughtfully before extending it your way gently, naming his discovery as he does so.

✧ Would give you the shirt off his back if you wanted or needed. Offers you things from his bags a lot ranging from supplies that can ease your passage on this trip to the last of the sweets from The Shire he’d thrown in his pack pockets. Any task you don’t want to do Sam is jumping up to do for you!

Merry

✧ Medium obvious because he makes it his mission to get close to you and hype you up. If you’re oblivious or cynical it could be mistaken as him just being friendly, but it can’t come as a shock the way he’s so eager for your presence!

✧ Acts like you being amazing at things you’ve never even done is a foregone conclusion, like it could be your first time firing with a bow and he’ll be telling everyone what a natural you’ll be, urging you to go on and show them!

✧ Faintly embodies the old adage ‘if they tease you, that means they like you’. He sometimes makes up stories to see if you believe him, chuckling merrily when you do but quickly giving up the ghost again so you don’t have the wrong idea. Others he’ll just poke fun at things you say and egg all of your jokes on, too!

✧ Winks at you on the off time you two make eye contact with each other.

✧ Holds out his hand to you and gives a small bow every time he invites you to dance, asking if he may have it with a devilishly charming grin before he pulls you close.

✧ Whisks you away when he wants you to himself, taking you on a sightseeing adventure or even just foraging. Turns it into an over-the-top skit of him searching and protecting you from the threats of the forest that has you giggling!

Pippin

✧ Oh, you’ll be able to tell! He tries his best to be smooth and is super complimentary and generally wants to be around you 25/8. Even if it comes across goofy, you have to give him props for being forward with his intentions 😌

✧ Practically jumps out of his seat to be the one to help you with anything, whether it’s going fishing, gathering berries or firewood, getting some training in…you name it, he wants to be there for you if you need him!

✧ You may catch him staring at you, whether it’s in awe of your beauty or just straight-up checking you out depends on his mood, but his eyes are almost always flicking back to you in idleness.

✧ Remembers every single detail you share about yourself, like EVERY SINGLE ONE. Knows all your preferences by heart and frequently suggests playing your favorite game or offering to sing your favorite song, likely with an invitation to dance too! Pippin will chime in about your dislikes or allergies before even you can.

✧ Casually begins breaking touch barriers with small gestures like putting a hand on your shoulder during a mock apology for his cousin’s behavior or sitting with your arms brushing. If you don’t seem to mind, he’ll get bolder, slinging an arm over your shoulders during a jolly moment!

✧ Not afraid of compliments, definitely not! Unabashedly (well, mostly anyway, he hides a blush well) tells you that color looks great on you or what a pretty face you’ve got just in casual conversation.

[crownedghostprince]

Elrond’s Adopted Daughter Reader pt1

Lord Elrond and Adopted!Female!Reader.

Fandom: The Hobbit

(Y/N) was adopted by Lord Elrond at 7 years of age being an immortal human child, (human, but she has immortality exactly like an elf).  Here’s some of her adventures with her family!

Requests: Closed. Requested: no.

Warning(s): None.

Note: This is actually to help me learn different Elvish words and how to correctly use them, but I made it into an entertaining, cute fanfiction. <3

Word Count: 1,132

[Third Person Perspective]

(Found on pinterest with no source, sorry)

It was another peaceful day.  The waterfalls glistened in the bright, warm sunlight as butterflies fluttered nearby, hovering over beautiful pink and orange flowers that bloomed down the cliff.  Rivendell was a beautiful place to live and (Y/N) loved every aspect of it.  Being young she was in awe of everything that existed and moved.  She would ask her ada ((father)) what each thing was and what it could do and he would patiently answer all of her questions.

He would teach her a little about the stars, very basic medicine, food and cooking, sewing and music - literally anything she was curious about.  She loved hearing the elvish words for everything as well.  She struggled to pronounce words, but Lord Elrond promised that would come with time and practice and that she was doing very well in her classes.  This pleased her and she’d skip along happily, continuing on with her day.

“ Mithrandir!  Mae g’ovannen.”  ((Well met.))  Elrond greeted Gandalf nearby where (Y/N) was playing with some butterflies and cats.

“Lord Elrond!  Mae g’ovannen, mellon nin!”  ((Well met, my friend))  Gandalf returned his greeting, placing a hand over his heart - the friendliest greeting in elvish.  He dismounted his horse, patting it briefly before approaching his friend.  Elrond embraced Gandalf in a quick hug with a big smile on his face.

“I trust your journey was safe.”  Elrond conversed as he and Gandalf walked up the stairs, leaving Lindir to watch (Y/N) as usual.  Lindir didn’t mind, he didn’t have worry about finding something to talk about to be polite when he was tired enough already.

“Lindir!  Look!  The butterfly landed on the iaul nose!” ((cat))  (Y/N) suddenly called from where she was playing, pointing to the scene she just described.  Lindir couldn’t help but smile at the childish joy over such small things.

“Elo!”  ((Wow!))  Lindir walked over to examine closely, “How wonderful!  Although, the cat doesn’t look too impressed.”  He noted.  (Y/N) grinned up at him from the patch of flowers she was in.

“He’s so silly!  I love him!”  She giggles, swishing a stick on the ground for the kitty to chase and swat at.  Lindir loved children’s lalaith ((laughter)) it brought him joy and comfort.  A reminder that not everything is corrupted by the evil’s of the world.

♡ ~~~~~~ ♡  

Later that night, (Y/N) sat at the dinner table with her ada, munching on her chips and he and Gandalf conversed about Gandalf’s adventures and worries.  Gandalf was concerned about ‘The Lonely Mountain’ but (Y/N) wasn’t listening and was instead focused on the pretty music Heledir was playing on his lyre. She really wanted to learn how to play the harps or lyres that the elves would use, but her ada said she was still a bit too young and rough and that she might just break them.

He promised to teach her when she was a bit older, so she was pretty content to wait until then and to just continue learning the flute.  (Y/N) was so wrapped up in her thoughts she didn’t realize she finished her food already and could now play with her older brothers, Elrohir and Elladan.  She turned to her father and waited patiently for him to finish talking with Gandalf.

“Ada?”  She asked, tugging at his robes for his attention as he sipped his wine.  He turned to her and smiled gently.

“Yes, winimo?”  ((Little one)).

“I’ve finished my food, may I go play with ‘Ro and ‘Dan, now?”  She questioned with a tilt of her head.

“Yes, you may.  Well done, iellig.”  ((my daughter)) He answered with a chuckle.  Her eyes lit up with excitement and she quickly gave Elrond a hug with a quick:

“Thank-you!”  Before she hopped down from her seat and darted off to find her brothers.  They were teaching her a little bit of archery and she absolutely loved it.  She was certain it was the best thing in the world to ever exist!  Although she would sometimes miss her target and the arrow would hit the stone wall nearby, bouncing off and disappearing into the oblivion - forcing the siblings to look for it together.  As the siblings took a break from their archery session, still early evening, (Y/N) decided to ask them a question.  “When I’m older, can I be a maethor ((warrior)) like you two?”

“When you’re much, much older we’ll welcome your company and skills!”  Elrohir grinned, ruffling her hair.

“You’ll make a great maethor one day, (Y/N)!”  Elladan agreed.  (Y/N)’s eyes lit up with excitement once more as she jumped up and swung an invisible sword around the air.

“That’s right!  I won’t let the bad guys hurt my family!”  She promised, pretending to fight invisible orcs as her brothers cheered her on.

“That’s the spirit!”

♡ ~~~~~~ ♡   

Soon enough, the day had fully melted into night and the moon was high in the sky, shining like a crystal in a cave.  (Y/N) knew it was time for bed, even though she didn’t really want to sleep.  She had so much fun she wasn’t keen on wasting time sleeping.  Elrond made sure she was tucked into bed, however, and even read her an interesting story about elves and their travels.

She was so invested in the story she didn’t realize she was yawning and dozing off - picturing in her mind, adventures with the elves.  Elrond chuckled and quietly closed the book after finishing another chapter, setting it down on her bedside table.

“Nooo, I don’t want to sleep yet.”  She tiredly yawned, rubbing her eyes a bit.

“It’s alright, winimo, I’ll remain beside you a while longer.  You’re safe and not missing out on anything.  When you awaken, you’ll find the world ready for you once more.”  He promised as he brushed her fringe out of her face so it wouldn’t irritate her as she slept.  She sighed softly.

“Okay, ada...gi melin.”  ((I love you))  She muttered, already fast asleep.

“Ollo vae, winimo.”  ((sweet dreams))  He whispered.  He kissed her forehead and remained by her side for a little while before noting she was alright.  He then quietly walked to his favourite spot to study the stars where Gandalf was already waiting.  Why Gandalf was suddenly so interested in the stars was beyond him, but Elrond could never say ‘no’ to sharing such an interesting subject with a good friend.

The stars were Elrond’s favourite thing to gaze upon and study.  He knew almost all the moons and their phases, the stars and constellations and their names, how to identify shooting stars and other astrological anomalies.  He was happy Mithrandir came to him with questions.  He happily answered and explained everything he could until Gandalf retired for the night.

[elithilanor]

Given the Haldir tattoo imagines going around today

Imagine training with the Lothlorien elves for the first time and taking off your tunic in the hot summer sun, exposing your skin to the bright warmth.

You hear a sharp intake of breath and then muttered curses as you turn back to see the flushed look of one of their Marchwardens, Haldir - the strict, snarky one you had been arguing with and teasing earlier - as his eyes trail up the flora and fauna of your home dimension etched into your arms and across your shoulder blades.

His jaw ticks before he swallows hard, shifting his stance and ripping his gaze back towards yours, startled to find you watching him with the same intensity as he did you. You smirk at him, stretching up towards the sky then bending forward slowly before going back to training.

You can find him later. You’re sure he’ll be waiting.

If he doesn’t find you first, that is.

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There’s a wonderful elf on TikTok who posts their hcs on sexy elvish tattoos and I’d really recommend giving it a listen:

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTR4rJxtv/