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guess-my-next-obsession · 2 months ago

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Halloween, 2004

pairing: no outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader (Elementary-verse)

rating: F (joel’s a flirt, but no actual smut, a good amount of early y2k nostalgia for my fellow ancient gen-z/millennials)

wc: 1k

series masterlist

October 31st, 2004

“Cutest little hobbit in the whole world.”

You couldn’t help gushing over your newborn daughter as she slept in her swing. You’d just finished carefully slipping on her first halloween costume, one that fit in with Joel’s chosen theme for the year—The Lord of the Rings. You’d decided to go as Arwen, the counterpart to Joel’s Aragorn, and had spent a pretty penny crafting the costumes from scratch. You’d always been a DIY kind of kid growing up, and even though it had been tempting to take the easier route and buy one of the cheap costumes from Party City given your newly hectic life as a mother, it felt a bit sacreligious to turn your back on your old ways.

Sarah had politely declined taking part in the family theme this year, choosing to dress up as one of the Cheetah Girls instead, but took enough pity on her pouting father to agree to dress up as Legolas for one singular picture. A picture that was never to be shown to any of her friends, as per her request.

“Oh my god,” she said, covering her mouth as she descended the staircase in her best elven getup, a white, synthetic lace front half-hazardously thrown over her freshly corn-rowed braids. “Dad’s gonna die over this.”

You laughed and nodded your agreement as you pulled out your new digital camera—one you’d splurged on for the upcoming holiday season—to snap a picture of your two girls. “Ten bucks says he cries a little.”

“Fifteen says he cries a lot,” Sarah countered as she tried her best to hide her face from the camera. “I thought we agreed on one picture.”

“One family picture,” you corrected with a smirk. “Are you sure you don’t wanna come trick-or-treating?”

She gave you a deadpan and pretended to gag, earning an eye roll from you. “God no. Besides, Jessie and I are working at the library’s haunted house. But save me some candy.”

“Luckily for you, Iris doesn’t have teeth yet, so it’s all yours,” you said. “But can’t promise she won’t put up a fight in a couple years.”

“Yeah, well I’ll have her trained by then,” she said, flickering some of her straight blonde hair over her shoulder.

Joel’s truck pulled into the driveway shortly after Iris woke up from her nap, you and Sarah cozied up with her on the sofa as you watched Hocus Pocus on Disney Channel—your pick, not Sarah’s. When Joel stepped through the front door, he was met with the sight of two elves and a tiny hobbit sprawled out on the sectional, a bowl of popcorn in his eldest daughter’s lap and a bag of candy in his wife’s. His grin was glorious.

“Have I died and gone to Middle Earth?” Joel said, shaking his head as he walked over to Sarah, kissing the top of her head before doing the same to you and then finally, his newest baby girl. “You’re gonna make my damn heart explode, baby girl. Look at these hairy little feet.”

He rubbed her socked feet between his thumb and index fingers, chuckling at the fuzz you’d glued on.

“And you,” Joel fixed his attention on his first born, his dimple showing with how hard he was grinning. “You make an excellent Legolas, baby girl.”

“I’m taking this thing off as soon as you guys take that stupid picture,” she said, souring her face. “This wig is itchy and cheetah print is calling my name.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel said, rolling his eyes as he scooped Iris out of your arms. “We get it. You’re a cool teenager now, too hip for family costumes.”

“You guys could’ve been Cheetah Girls, too,” she said. “I would’ve been on board, then.”

“I don’t think your dad could pull off cheetah print, babe,” you said, standing up and setting your bag of candy on the coffee table. You didn’t miss Joel’s eyes appreciatively scanning over your costume, a devious glint in his eyes. “Come on, papa. You have a costume to get into.”

Joel shot you a wink before handing Iris over to Sarah, mumbling a promise that the two of you would be right back. A promise that you doubted he’d keep given the look in his eyes.

You hardly made it to the privacy of your bedroom before Joel hand his hands on you, tugging you close to his body as he placed a few greedy kisses to your lips.

“You’re keepin’ that on tonight,” he said, nipping at your chin.

“Long as you keep yours on, too,” you purred, gently scratching at his scalp as you melted into him. “My king.”

Joel groaned, swatting your ass through your dress. “I’m gonna have you kneelin’ for me later, that’s for damn sure.”

You giggled, swatting at his chest as you pulled away to grab his costume from the closet, setting each piece on the bed—wig, included.

“I ain’t wearin’ that,” he chuckled, but all it took was one pout from you to change his mind. “Fuck me, fine. But the second that thing starts to itch, it’s comin’ off.”

Once he’d gotten his costume on and took a good look at himself in the bathroom mirror, he sighed.

“Yeah, you’re definitely gonna be on your knees tonight for makin’ me wear this fuckin’ wig,” he grumbled, though you were too amused to care. “How do I look? Royal?”

“You look good with longer hair,” you mused, playing with the wavy ends of his wig. “You should grow it out one day.”

He scoffed. “Maybe one day when I’m old and my devilishly handsome looks have gone to shit.”

“I don’t know,” you said, biting your lip as you gave him a once over. “I’m pretty sure you’re gonna be devilishly handsome to the day you die, Miller.”

“Good thing my wife’s a ten, then,” he said, leaning in to brush a kiss against your lips. “Wouldn’t want to outshine, ya.”

You tossed your head back and laughed, earning another kiss to the base of your throat. “God, I love you.”

“Love you a thousand times more, darlin’.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #joel miller #elementary #joel miller fic #joel miller series #joel miller story #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller tlou

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wareagleofthemountain · 6 months ago

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Here’s a compilation of all my behind the scenes HCs that I imagine Thranduil and his queen shared in their domestic lives

Being that they often stayed up late working on paperwork, battle strategies, and other royal duties, Thranduil and his wife had a mental cookbook of DIY recipes. This came from the countless times they’ve whipped up a last minute dish made from leftovers at 2 AM. Including desserts and, as a law, they feed each other a spoonful of whipped cream whenever one of them takes the container out.

Thranduil’s wife loves to tease him for having a “Doriath accent” whenever he speaks in Elvish. Which he of course passes on to Legolas. Sometimes, when he’s pronounced a word particularly heavy in his Doriath inflection, she’ll chuckle and repeat it back to him just as he said it so he can’t deny his accent as he always does. But, for all her teasing, she thinks his speech is adorable.

Thranduil has a slightly lopsided smirk due to the burn scars on the right side of his face. Even with his masking spell, the right half of his lip droops down when he smiles.

Thranduil’s wife always takes care when approaching him on his blind side, touching his shoulder and gently brushing her body against his side to make him known of her presence before she speaks lest she startle him.

Thranduil wears low cut v-necks at his wife’s request. She loved to brush her fingers over his collarbone whenever she passed him as a sign of affection so he made it a point to keep that area accessible to her.

No personal space for the queen. Although she had her own throne, Thranduil much preferred to hold her in his lap with his chin atop her head during meetings.

Every night before bed and every morning before breakfast, Thranduil rests his head in his wife’s lap and holds her free hand as the other works healing salve into his scars. She’s the only one, besides his healers when he’d first been burned, that he allows himself to drop his protective shield around. He was fearful at first that she may be put off by what she saw, but she only loved that part of him fiercely and shamelessly.

Thranduil’s elk and the queen are very close. He often follows her around whenever she goes for a walk, and he’ll still try to follow her even when Thranduil is trying to ride him in a different direction. The king will have to tug on his reigns and put in a good deal of effort to get his mount on a different path.

The white gems were a just because gift for his wife, as Thranduil was so thankful to be married to her that he often surprised her with gifts.

When meetings become long and dull without any important topics being discussed, Thranduil and his wife will entertain themselves by passing a paper back and forth. The rest assume that they are just taking notes, but really they’re drawing. Someone starts on the picture and they pass it around, adding on to it until the meeting is over. The end result is always interesting and Thranduil has a locked drawer in his office where he keeps them.

The queen and baby Legolas often drop by the king’s throne room and bring him flowers they’ve picked while out on a walk.

The night Thranduil was crowned king, before his official ceremony, his wife and son crowned him in their bedchamber after everyone had finished getting dressed. They didn’t have a silken red carpet so the queen rolled out a long red bath towel. They didn’t have a royal scepter so toddler Legolas fetched a branch he’d brought inside. But they did have the crown, so Thranduil took a knee before his wife and she said, “by the power vested in me by Prince Legolas Greenleaf of the woodland realm, I name you king Thranduil Oropherion. Leader, protector, and defender of our land.” She placed the crown atop his head, Legolas tapped his shoulders with the stick, and Thranduil tackle hugged them both. He’d never felt more like a king than in that moment, and he always considered this his true right to rule.

The king and queen dislike being apart longer than absolutely necessary, and never tire of each other’s company. The queen considers their marriage as having an eternal sleepover with her best friend. Which is accurate as I think they have been close since childhood.

They made a game of hiding one of Legolas’s stuffed toys in various places around the palace. Once it’s found, it’s the other’s turn to hide it.

They can’t sleep unless they’re cuddling.

Whenever someone new moves into their kingdom, Thranduil and his wife make them a welcome gift basket filled with local plants and foods, as well as a few household staples.

The couple are good friends with Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrian. However, the Queen and Celebrian are on another level. They’re practically sisters and declare a “no boys allowed” hang out session whenever they visit. They just wanna drink wine, try on dresses, and plot to take over the world (but you didn’t hear that from me).

When they were pregnant, the ladies took turns hosting vacation weekends at their estates.

Thranduil gets rather possessive of his wife when around human men, keeping his arm wrapped around her at all times and glaring if someone stares at her a moment too long. It’s not that he doesn’t trust her, it’s just that he knows human males aren’t as well mannered as elven men. Plus they tend to stare more and he hates that. Same for dwarves.

They rarely ever argue as the couple has always made it a point in their relationship to be open with one another. There is truly nothing that can’t be discussed between them.

The first time the queen saw how terrifying and brutal Thranduil could be in a battle, she was actually quite scared and it took him a few days to ease her back into feeling comfortable around him.

Whenever they go out for a ride in winter, Thranduil always seats her on the saddle in front of him and hides her in his cloak with her back pressed against his warm chest.

He’s definitely the type to shamelessly check out his wife from atop his throne as she walks by. They also playfully flirt with one another whenever they can.

Thranduil loves to nuzzle his face into the crook of her neck from behind, his arms wrapped around her waist.

Sad, but the Queen’s body had been so brutalized by orcs that there was not enough of it to bring back for a proper burial, so Thranduil ordered the statue be built in place of a grave. On his worst nights, when he’s absolutely sure no one is around and fails to drink himself to sleep, he’ll curl up on the forest floor at the foot of the statue for some sort of comfort in order to close his eyes. He also sometimes pays it a visit just to plant more flowers and tell it about his day or how much Legolas has grown. Obviously he knows it’s an inanimate object, but he misses her so much.

He and the Queen have an inside joke involving Elros. Thranduil had hired the guard himself without the presence of his wife, so it wasn’t until the next day that Elros encountered the Queen while standing watch at Thranduil’s side during a public audience. The Queen was never one for formality so she was easily mistaken by him as a commoner due to her simple attire. When she’d attempted to step out onto the stage beside her husband as he spoke, Elros drew his blade and told her that she was standing too close to the king. Now, sometimes when she’s standing near Thranduil, she’ll take a few steps back and say “wouldn’t want to stand too close to his Majesty” with a wink. It makes Thranduil grin in amusement and Elros blush terribly.

Thranduil is constantly holding his wife’s hand.

During holidays, the queen sees to decorating the palace herself and always comes up with at least one fun craft for her and Thranduil to try each season.

#thranduil’s wife #thranduil #thranduil x reader #thranduil x thranduil’s wife #Legolas #the hobbit #queen of mirkwood #legolas’s mother

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crownedghostprince · 1 year ago

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That’s My Emotional Support Wife!

Legolas x Female!Accident Prone!Reader

Fandom: The Hobbit

Legolas and (Y/N) had courted for about a decade before finally deciding to marry. (Y/N) was the daughter of Lord Elrond, just slightly younger than Arwen, and after marriage she moved to Mirkwood to live with Legolas and her father-in-law the King, Thranduil. Legolas didn’t mind how accident prone (Y/N) was, sometimes it was even sort of cute. And now there are 13 dwarves in the cells of Mirkwood having to be dealt with whilst the Elves continue their parties, patrols and usual antics that the dwarves were unaware of until that day.

Requests: Closed. Requested: no.

Warning(s): None.

Note: This is sort of silly, so if you enjoy a fun fanfiction, this is the one to read! (Y/C) - stands for (Your Choice) and (Your Colour).

Word Count: 2,021

[Third Person Perspective]

(I couldn’t find any attached link to this picture from Pinterest, but it was under the account name “The Facegirl” when I found it. They seem cool from what I checked out.)

The dwarves were not happy to be locked up in the cells of Mirkwood under King Thranduil’s rule. The elves would just pass by here and there as if it was an ordinary path to take. These cells weren’t in dungeons or anything like you might expect, for the bars of the cells were incredibly tough and strong. Therefore, there was no need to put the cells in such an inconvenient spot and instead it was closer to the main area where most Wood Elves just wandered through. (This was also best as the Woodland Realm almost never had prisoners to jail).

So, the dwarves were trapped in their cells, waiting for Thorin to join them (hopefully with good news). They’d tried breaking out of the cell in whatever way they could think. From slamming against the bars with their shoulders, to kicking them with their legs and shaking them with their hands. But still the cell bars held strong. Bofur was the first to actually observe the elves, rather than sneer and ignore them like the others. The others didn’t wish to make eye-contact or even look in their general direction.

Bofur watched, as many elves walked through speaking elvish and looking graceful. Some elves were so graceful when they walked it looked almost as if they were floating across the floor, not even touching the ground. He struggled to tell who was male and who was female, but the sounds of their voices definitely helped - even if he couldn’t understand their language.

Eventually he saw a beautiful elf with (Y/C) hair and (Y/C) eyes. His? Her? Dress was a beautiful mixture of pink and purple that fell past their ankles and hid their feet. Thus, they appeared to be floating as they walked. Bofur smiled, appreciating how beautiful the elves could truly be. How graceful and--and she walked into a wall. This got the dwarves quietly chuckling from they cells.

Even Dwalin was hiding his snicker. They would laugh more openly, but they were in foul moods and didn’t want to anger the elves when the elves had an advantage against them. The elf maiden didn’t seem to mind - hearing their chuckles with her good hearing - and laughed with them. A shadow crossed the floor and Legolas landed with perfection as he came to check on his wife. The dwarves’ faces immediately molded into scowls at the sight of the rude elf that found them and cast them into their cells.

They continued to watch as Legolas checked his wife’s face for cuts and smiled when she was cleared to be okay. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek and took her hand, walking her to the staircase to continue her on her path. She was not halfway up the staircase when she tripped and fell. Luckily, Legolas was used to this and simply caught her and gracefully carried her the rest of the way. He set her back down on the marble floors, kissed the back of her hand and returned to his position up high, watching over the area. She curtsied and although the dwarves could not hear - or understand it - she thanked him. “Ni ‘lassui en, Legolas.”

An hour later, Thorin joined his company in the cells. He simply explained how he had not taken any deal with King Thranduil and that all the Elves could...well...let’s not translate that now. The dwarves were upset by this news, feeling like they’d be trapped forever. But Thorin knew there was a Bilbo Baggins somewhere out there. And he would help free them. He was sure of it. Bilbo was not so sure. Every time he thought he had a clear path to descend to the cells, suddenly a bunch of elves walked by. He was thankful the ring he found made him invisible.

Some were going to patrol outside, some were laughing and telling jokes in Elvish, some were carrying wine and food, or decorations and others were reading a lovely looking book as they walked by. The thing is this: Bilbo didn’t have many openings to sneak past and not bump into someone. So instead he decided to follow them for a brief moment and saw them setting up a sort of party. With decorations and a clear view of the sky where Bilbo could see the tinges of orange and pink beginning to appear in the clouds.

There were tables lined with bottles of wine and kegs of wine and cups for the wine. There were a few tables of food, but mostly it was wine. With lots of seats, some elves already perched on the staircases and some elves sitting up high on ledges already getting drunk. Many were singing and some were possibly telling poems? Or stories? Bilbo wasn’t quite sure but it was a merry gathering that was forming.

‘Well,’ Bilbo decided to himself, ‘Time to find those dwarves.’ And so he walked back the way he came, sneaking down corridors of marble and past beautiful pillars with beautiful, intricate carvings running down them. Soon his eyes laid upon, a (Y/C) haired elf with a beautiful dress and stunning eyes. She was reading a book as she walked absentmindedly. He decided to follow her and see where he ended up.

They walked for almost half an hour when he heard the familiar, grumpy dwarves’ voices as they hushedly whispered to each other in Khuzdul. ‘Finally,’ Bilbo thought excitedly, ‘I’ve found them!’ He waited behind the she-elf, watching where she was headed. By the time he realized she was about to walk down a flight of stairs and possibly injure herself, a blond elf was by her side with an arm around her waist. Legolas was so accustomed to stopping his wife from falling down stairs it was almost a daily thing to catch her and gently lead her away.

“A, Legolas.” She smiled to her lover with such a soft gaze he felt sure to melt under it. Although the dwarves did not know it, ‘A’ was Elvish for ‘Hi’. However, they simply thought it was an exclamation like the English ‘Ah’ when one realizes they almost walked off the top step of a flight of stairs.

However, (Y/N) was so accident prone she was no longer surprised when someone stopped her from walking into a wall, or a door, or out a window and this case was no different. Bruises and cuts from falling down stairs was common for our silly she-elf lady. Legolas sighed fondly. “Hiril vuin, please do fall down the stairs before a most wonderful celebration.” ‘Hiril vuin’ was Elvish for ‘my lady’ and was a sweet and simple way for Legolas to remain caring, but serious, in front of the dwarvish prisoners.

Bofur spoke up with a chuckle from the cells below, “Is falling down the stairs a common occurrence? I would love to see such a performance everyday!” He joked. The dwarves laughed in agreement except for Oin who could barely hear what Bofur said.

“What did he say?” He asked Gloin who was in the cell beside him. His question went unanswered as Gloin continued to loudly laugh. Legolas glared down at the cells whilst (Y/N) simply laughed with the dwarves. She had a wonderful sense of humour - she has two older and fun twin brothers after all - and she was also used to these jokes which made it even more fun in her opinion!

Once the laughter had settled down a bit (Y/N) chuckled out, “I knew I should’ve been the King’s jester!” and the howls of laughter sprung back up again. Their thunderous voices bounced of the walls and echoed through the building. Even Legolas and Bilbo chuckled at (Y/N)’s joke. As the dwarves continued to laugh, crack jokes and sometimes just rest in silence, Legolas decided to simply ignore them and inquire about his wife’s current book. “Oh! It’s a book of Elvish poems and short love stories. I fell in love with it after reading the first couple of love poems. It even has some poems specifically to be read just before you sleep. Oh! I’ll find one of my favourites for you!”

She began to carefully flip back through the previously read pages, keeping her bookmark on her current page as she did so. Bilbo took this chance to quietly sneak past the couple and down the stairs to the cells in order to look for the keys. Legolas smiled adoringly as his wife quietly muttered the poem titles until she found the one she was looking for. Although the Elvish is truly beautiful and wonderful to read, here’s the English equivalent instead:

“ Your Divine Beauty,

The stars crown your head, As you rest peacefully in bed, And the moon bathes you in its’ light, Kissing you with all its’ might.

Such beauty even the sun bows down, So its’ colours may reflect onto your white gown. Pink, orange and gold, Dare not touch or enfold.

For they will not dare, To hide your beauty nor ensnare.”

Although Bilbo and the dwarves had no clue what she said as it was in Elvish, still they folded to the sound of her melodic voice when she read aloud her favourite poem. Legolas gently kissed her forehead when she was finished and sighed wistfully. “I adore that poem so much now.” He smiled down as their foreheads rested together.

“I’m glad you liked it, dear.” She grinned, returning his kiss with a giggle. Only a moment had passed when they heard approaching footsteps. Bilbo snuck back to a corner in case they should pass him and the dwarves returned to their original scowls as two Elven guards came to a stop in front of the couple. The woman curtsied to the guards and they returned with a bow.

“We’re sorry to interrupt, but the celebrations are beginning.” They explained, carefully watching Legolas’ eyes as he sighed.

“Very well. Then I shall not keep you any longer, my dear. Please, go enjoy yourself and do not wait up for me. I will join you shortly after I have finished my patrol over the cells.” Legolas kissed his wife’s hand with a tenderness and care you only hear and see in romance books.

“Thank-you, darling. I shall join them, but I shall still wait for you.” She grinned with a cheeky glint to her eyes.

“Why do I bother to tell you to not wait, you don’t listen anyway.” He chuckled sweetly. “Very well. Now go, before my father is disappointed with both of us being absent.”

“Ah, yes, I should hurry then. Take care, darling, and try not to roughen up the dwarves too much.” She kissed him once more before leaving with the guards to the celebrations. Legolas sighed wistfully once more and did not move until she was safe out of sight with the guards. He trusted them to catch her if she should fall.

But even if she is injured, they have healers that are always pre-prepared for her anyway. He turned back and before he could ascend back to his post, the dwarves spoke up.

“So she and you are...well...together, huh?”

“She’s my emotional support wife.” Legolas grinned mischievously, knowing fully well she could still hear them with her excellent Elvish hearing. A second later his ears heard her voice in the distance,

“I heard that!” And he smiled hearing her voice once more.

“You’ll do well to not disrespect her whilst you’re here.” Legolas stared the dwarves down as he finally returned to his post, just out of their line of sight above them. The dwarves rolled their eyes and proceeded to taunt him with funny comments anyway. All were harmless, but they were fishing for a reaction from Legolas so they did their best to make it sound almost like insults. He didn’t care enough to hear though, he was ignoring them and mentally reciting his wife’s favourite poem so when she was having a bad sick day he’d know it off by heart.

#the hobbit #thorin's company #x reader #legolas x reader #legolas #middle earth #fanfiction #accident prone reader

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tobylix-blog · 4 months ago

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Braid bickering — Legolas x Reader x Gimli

Content & Warnings: fluff

Word count: 0.5k

Summary: Legolas and Gimli get into a heated argument about braids that suit you the most. You have to intevene

A/N: I came to love them as a duo even more than separately

"Fishtails!" Gimli stomped his foot in exasperation.

"Dragonscales," Legolas retorted equally as stubbornly.

They weren't even providing reasons anymore, just stating their options. The argument had been going on for a good hour, after all. The reason though was simple and in fact rather immature — they couldn't agree which type of braids suited you more.

Gimli was set on fishtails. In his opinion they did a great job of accentuating your features just right.

Legolas opposed him with his own personal favorite, dragonscales. He fancied their weaving ornament and the way you pulled your hair out into a pretty pattern.

When you returned to the camp, they were practically gritting teeth, unable to harm each other but frustrated to the depth of their hearts. Gimli huffed angrily, while Legolas explained the problem to you, not skipping a bit saying something along the lines of "though it saddens me to acknowledge that Dwarven culture does not bear recognition of the undoubted elegance of dragonscale plaits". It took you a few moments after the elf finished speaking to understand the issue in it's fullness.

And you doubled over from laughter. The sound rang loudly across the field and river, travelling for many dozen feet from your camp and clinging to grass. You went on for a good few minutes, tearing up from the suffocating fits of laughter. Catching breath in a brief pause between spasms, you began cracking up again and again. In the end you were barely alive, holding your aching stomach and forcefully inhaling and exhaling on count.

"Fishtails and dragonscales," you began chuckling erratically once more, but quickly bit down on your lip, "are the same. Different names of one braid."

You looked up at the shocked faces of your lovely companions and wheezed, losing balance and continuing your laughing on the ground. As different as they were, in the deepest beliefs they seemed to be on the same page. Even when they didn't expect to.

Their reaction was diametrically different, though. Legolas was wide-eyed and quiet, while Gimli started mumbling something undecypherable under his nose. Seeing that, you calmed down soon enough and gave the dwarf a hug from behind, washing away his grumpiness with the soft touch. You rested your chin on his head as a playful yet affectionate gesture.

"Oh, love, I wasn't laughing at you, but at the whole exchange. Just imagine how it sounded to me," you murmured. "I'm sorry."

"So am I," intervened Legolas. "I should have expected that our cultures attach different names to the same phenomena."

As he moved closer you motioned him to join in the hug. The elf readily stepped in and embraced both of you from the front, effectively sandwiching Gimli in between.

"I'm an adult dwarf! I don't need no consolations!" he protested. But neither of you paid that exclamation any mind.

"There's no reason for such arguments. You could always simply ask me. And I would settle the issue," you spoke, gently brushing your fingertips against dwarf's shoulders. "Besides, I prefer wheat braid anyway," you remarked casually, putting the end to the pointless discussion.

"Turns out we both were wrong, after all," Gimli sighed, pressing his forehead to Legolas' chest. The elf sighed in response. His mind was busy picturing you with the wheat braids and comparing that to his favorite dragonscales, until...

"Wait, sunshine, but are those not the same- Oh, you..!"

You couldn't help the giggles, pushing away from them both and running for dear life.

#lotr #lotr x reader #oneshot #legolas #legolas x reader #gimli #gimli x reader

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earthlybeam · 21 hours ago

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Can you please do (secret crush but either of you acted) version for Thranduil? 🙈

how would the elves react to this?

↓

Thranduil Version below. (You and thranduil well secret have a crush but either of you acted till now.)

🍷𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓾𝓲𝓵

𐂂 The great hall of the Woodland Realm was alive with light and sound. Golden lanterns hung from the high-beamed ceilings, their soft glow casting warmth over the elegant gathering below. Snow dusted the stone windowsills, glittering like diamonds under the moonlight that filtered through the tall, arched windows. A roaring fire crackled in the hearth, its warmth chasing away the chill of the winter evening. The scent of pine and cedar mingled with the spiced sweetness of mulled wine and roasted chestnuts, creating an atmosphere that was both festive and enchanting. Laughter echoed softly through the room, mixing with the gentle hum of elven music that drifted from the far end of the hall. And yet, for all its beauty and charm, the scene held little of Thranduil’s attention. The Elvenking sat beside you, his usual composed demeanor intact, every inch the elegant and regal figure he was expected to be. To anyone else, he appeared utterly serene, nodding politely at your words, his expression calm and attentive. But beneath the surface, his thoughts were far from the festivities. They were fixed entirely on you.

𐂂 You were speaking animatedly, your voice bright and full of passion, your hands moving as you painted vivid pictures with your words. You talked about the hall’s decorations, about the antics of the younger elves, about a story Legolas had shared earlier in the day. You had the uncanny ability to turn even the most mundane details into something captivating. And though Thranduil nodded at all the right moments and made the occasional murmured response, his attention was not on what you were saying. It was on you. It wasn’t just the way you spoke, though your voice carried a melody all its own, filling the space between you with a warmth that rivaled the roaring fire. It wasn’t merely the way your eyes sparkled when you laughed, catching the light like jewels, or the way your lips curved into that teasing, mischievous smile. It was the entirety of you—your presence, your energy, the way you seemed to fill the space effortlessly. You drew his attention in a way nothing else could, pulling at the carefully maintained walls of restraint he had spent centuries perfecting.

𐂂 And then there was the mistletoe. The small sprig of green with its delicate white berries hung just above the alcove where the two of you sat. It swayed gently in the movement of the air, catching the golden light and adding a subtle, almost whimsical charm to the moment. Thranduil had noticed it the moment you sat beside him. At first, it was nothing more than a passing observation, a detail his sharp eyes registered without much thought. But as the evening wore on, as your laughter filled the air and your presence drew him closer, the mistletoe took on a new significance. It was an opportunity. Perhaps even an invitation. Had one of his attendants placed it there with intention? The thought crossed his mind briefly, but he didn’t dwell on it. The real question, the one that consumed him now, was far simpler: Should he kiss you? Could he? Should he act on it? Could he? Thranduil was not a creature of impulse. Every movement, every word, every decision was deliberate, measured. But tonight, something was unraveling his usually unshakable resolve. It was you—your presence, your voice, the way your eyes sparkled with unfiltered joy as you spoke. He wasn’t sure if it was the warmth of the hall, the haze of wine, or the mistletoe swaying above, but he could feel the walls of his restraint cracking. And yet, you seemed completely oblivious to his inner conflict, your words tumbling out in a steady stream. “…and honestly, the decorations almost didn’t happen! Did you hear what happened with the garlands? Apparently, someone thought it would be a good idea to—”

𐂂 Thranduil nodded slightly, offering a low hum of acknowledgment, though he had no idea what he was agreeing to. His gaze flicked to the mistletoe again, and then back to you. He took in the way your lips moved, the way your hands gestured animatedly, the light blush on your cheeks from the warmth of the fire. He wondered, fleetingly, how your lips might feel against his, how you might react if he leaned in. But no—he shook the thought away. He was a king. He was composed. Stoic. Calculated. Wasn’t he? Thranduil was not impulsive by nature. Every word he spoke, every movement he made, was calculated, deliberate, measured. And yet, tonight, as you sat so close to him, your voice weaving its spell, the careful threads of his control began to unravel. He had admired you from afar for too long, his feelings buried beneath layers of formality and duty. But tonight, with you so near, with the mistletoe hanging above as if the stars themselves had aligned, the possibility of acting on those feelings consumed him. Still, he hesitated. You were talking, completely oblivious to the turmoil playing out within him. “…and honestly,” you were saying, “I told him, ‘You can’t just leave a tray of mulled wine unattended in a room full of elves! Do you know how quickly that’ll disappear?’ But he didn’t listen, of course, and—” Thranduil’s lips parted as if to speak, to interject, to find some way to steer the moment toward the kiss that lingered in his thoughts. But you didn’t notice. You barreled forward, your voice bright and full of life, your enthusiasm utterly charming. “…and then Legolas said, ‘Oh, no, it’s fine! It’s perfectly safe!’ But the moment he turned around, guess who was there, sneaking a glass? It was—”

𐂂 “Meleth nin (my love),” Thranduil murmured softly, his deep voice cutting through your rapid storytelling like the smooth stroke of a blade. You stopped mid-sentence, blinking in surprise at the unexpected interruption. “Hmm?” you asked, your head tilting slightly as you looked up at him. He held your gaze, his sharp, cerulean eyes uncharacteristically gentle. His lips curved into a faint, rare smile. “Do you ever take a moment to breathe?” he asked, his tone low and edged with quiet amusement yet warmer than usual. Your cheeks flushed instantly as you realized how much you’d been talking. “Oh,” you stammered, suddenly self-conscious. “I—was I rambling? I didn’t mean to—”

𐂂 “No,” he interrupted, his voice calm but firm, his gaze unwavering. “I don’t mind.” His hand shifted slightly, brushing against yours where it rested on the table. The touch was fleeting, almost accidental, but it sent a jolt through you, your pulse quickening. “It is… charming.” His eyes flicked upward deliberately, drawing your attention. You followed his gaze, your breath catching as you finally noticed the mistletoe above you. “Oh,” you breathed, the realization dawning on you. A nervous laugh escaped your lips. “I didn’t even see that there. How funny—”

𐂂 Before you could finish your thought, Thranduil moved. His hesitation evaporated in an instant as he leaned closer, his every motion smooth and deliberate. His lips brushed yours, soft and tender, silencing your words with a kiss that stole the breath from your lungs. Your eyes widened in surprise, your thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind. His hand rose to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing a gentle line along your skin as the kiss deepened slightly, slow and unhurried. It was warm, deliberate, and consuming, as though he were pouring every unspoken word, every hidden feeling, into that single, breathtaking moment. You felt your heart racing, your pulse roaring in your ears as your own hesitance melted away, and you leaned into him, your eyes fluttering closed.

𐂂 The world around you seemed to fade—the music, the chatter, the gentle crackle of the fire. There was only Thranduil. His warmth, his presence, his lips moving against yours in a kiss that felt like both a question and an answer. When he finally pulled back, his gaze searched yours, his expression softer than you’d ever seen it. “Forgive me,” he murmured, his voice low and laced with vulnerability. “But I could not endure another moment without knowing.” Your heart raced, your cheeks flushed as you managed to whisper, “Knowing what?” A rare smile graced his lips, his gaze holding yours with an intensity that left you breathless. “If you felt the same as I do.” For a moment, you were too stunned to speak. But then, a bashful laugh escaped you, and you glanced down briefly before meeting his eyes again. “Thranduil… I think I’ve been rambling all evening because I didn’t know how to say it.”

𐂂 His brow arched slightly, amusement flickering in his eyes. “You mean to tell me,” he said, his tone dry but affectionate, “that all this time, all I needed to do to stop your rambling was to kiss you?” You laughed, the sound warm and light, as the tension melted away. “Apparently,” you said, a playful glint in your eyes. “Though… I wouldn’t mind if you tried again. You know, just to be sure.” His lips curved into a wider smile, and for a moment, he looked utterly at ease. “If that is your request,” he said, his voice smooth as silk, “then who am I to deny it?” And with that, he leaned in once more, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that promised this was only the beginning.

𐂂 The kiss deepened instantly, as though Thranduil had been waiting for the perfect moment, and now that it had arrived, he gave himself to it completely. His lips moved against yours with a tenderness that was both soothing and intoxicating, as if he were savoring the sweetness of the moment. His hand, which had gently cupped your cheek, now slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, his touch gentle but insistent. You felt the warmth of his body radiating toward you, the unmistakable strength of him hidden beneath the layers of royal garb. His usual reserve, that quiet control he always wielded so effortlessly, was gone, and in its place, there was a tenderness and passion that was all the more surprising for its rarity.

𐂂 You responded instinctively, your hands moving to his shoulders, feeling the firm muscle beneath the soft fabric. You didn't want to break away from him, didn't want this moment to end. His kiss was everything you'd imagined it might be-familiar, yet utterly new. It was as though all the words and feelings you'd both kept hidden for so long were finally being spoken in this quiet, intimate exchange. When he finally pulled back, it wasn't with the hesitation of someone uncertain. There was a new confidence in his eyes, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips, as if he had just uncovered a truth that had been buried in his heart for far too long. His forehead rested gently against yours as you both caught your breath, the warmth of his skin still lingering on yours. "Do you see now?" he murmured, his voice husky with emotion.

𐂂 You smiled, your hand moving to rest over his, which still lingered on your neck. "I see," you whispered, your heart racing. "But I think I need a little more convincing." Thranduil chuckled, the sound rich and full of affection. "If that is what you wish, then I shall gladly oblige," he replied, his voice low, almost teasing. You met his gaze, feeling a spark of something deeper, something unspoken, that shimmered between you. You had known for a long time now—perhaps even before he did-that this was inevitable. But now, in the quiet warmth of the Woodland Realm, with the world outside blanketed in snow, it felt as though everything had finally come into alignment.

𐂂 Without another word, he leaned in again, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was slower this time, more deliberate, as if he were savoring every second of it, and you melted into him in response, feeling your world narrow down to this one perfect moment. As the kiss deepened once more, the bustling hall seemed to fade away-the sound of music and laughter becoming distant, leaving only the two of you in a space where time seemed to slow. For once, Thranduil was not the Elvenking, the ruler who carried the weight of his people and his realm on his shoulders. He was simply Thranduil, the elf who had found something infinitely more precious than power. And in the quiet of that intimate alcove, with the mistletoe still hanging above you as a quiet witness to your shared moment, it was clear that this was only the beginning of something much more profound.

#king thranduil #thranduil #thranduil x reader #thranduil supremacy #thranduil simps #thranduil x you #thranduil headcanons #thranduil of mirkwood #thranduil oropherion #elvenking thranduil #elvenking of Mirkwood #lord of the rings #the hobbit #lotr elves

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mirensiart · 1 month ago

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Do you like LOTR/The Hobbit too???!!!!

I just saw the pictures of the embroidery you did, and the hobbit hole is so cute! And you had some LOTR-like headcanons for the LU boys.

What's your favorite LOTR character? Or anything else?

Sorry if I'm bothering you, I'm just really excited to find another LU and LOTR fan!!!

YES !!!!!!!

I LOVE LOTR!!!!!

The fellowship of the ring is my favorite movie of all time!!!! I love the trilogy in general but the fellowship of the ring is just mega comfort movie to me 🥹💖

When it comes to the books, I've only read the hobbit and the fellowship of the ring, but I do plan on reading the two towers and the return of the king....EVENTUALLY! 🙈

And aaah thank you!!! That hobbit hole embroidery is one my favorites 🥹💖 took me months to do, but I'm so proud of it hehe!

My favorite LOTR character is SAM!!! I LOVE SAM SO MUCH!!!!!!! but I'm also a boromir defender, I have this photo saved and ready to use at all times:

I also really enjoy Legolas but like his book version, he is the funniest character in the entire trilogy lmao I love book!legolas so much

Anyway, what about you??? I love finding fellow LOTR fans, it's such a special franchise to me 🥹💖

#miry's ask box #and you're absolutely not bothering i could talk about LOTR for ever lol

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tathrin · 2 years ago

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So we talk about Third Wheel Aragorn a lot, and that’s good because he is one of the Classic Third Wheels Of All Time, and the period with the Three Hunters running around Middle-earth while two of them are falling head-over-heels for each other is just perfection. In fact, we should have more Third Wheel Aragorn stuff, because it’s frankly the best of his many (many) identities, imo.

But. We do not talk enough about Third Wheel Éomer and Faramir.

Because think about it! These two dudes were running Rohan and Ithilien when Gimli and Legolas were establishing their new dwarf and elf colonies. Which means that while Aragorn was busy being The Shiny New King Of Gondor, the Prince of Ithilien and King of Rohan (who yes was also busy being king, but surely had less Shit To Deal With because Rohan didn’t have a whole bunch of Huge Social And Practical Changes when Éomer got crowned like Gondor did, now did it?) took over management of his Two Idiot Friends In Love.

And depending on how long it took Legolas and Gimli to figure shit out...well. Just picture Éomer and Faramir meeting-up periodically to talk about political logistics and brother-in-law stuff...and eventually the conversation is going to turn to mutual friends, as it does. And one of them has this absurd poet dwarf running around waxing euphoric about pretty caves, and the other this weird half-feral tree-elf gremlin prancing around singing to the flowers. And both completely and absolutely obsessed with each other...and seemingly unaware of it. Would they commiserate? Absolutely. Would they try and wingman it? Ooh, probably. Would they somehow find a way to make things even more awkward, somehow? Almost definitely. And when Legolas and Gimli finally do get together, they can commiserate over that, too.

Just. You canNOT tell me that there isn’t bucket-loads of potential here for shenanigans and nonsense. And we need to see more of that, I think.

#eomer and gimli's bromance is one of my favorite oft-overlooked parts of lotr tbh #so i ESPECIALLY want to see more of that #but you can't tell me that faramir (and eowyn) getting involved wouldn't be great too #eomer #faramir #legolas #gimli #gimleaf #aragorn #third wheel aragorn is the best aragorn #lotr #third wheel eomer #third wheel faramir #lotr headanons #plot for sale i offer it to you freely

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sotwk · 1 month ago

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Any headcanons on how the brothers are with infant and toddler Legolas? And their reactions to first seeing him?💙

I love talking about the brothers' relationship! <3 Thank you so much, Anon!

My fic "Greenleaf's Day Out" paints a pretty good picture of Legolas's relationship with his older brothers (and parents) during his childhood years. So for this Ask, let's focus on how it went when Legolas was just a little bundle of Elven joy!

The Thranduilions with Baby Brother Legolas

MIRION (253 years old at Legolas's birth). Mirion is The Baby Guy. The Born-to-Be-A-Dad (and Daddy, ahem-ahem, sorry). He loves all babies, and all babies love him! He took a hands-on interest in his younger brothers from the moment they were born, and Legolas was no exception. Babywearing is very much part of Silvan parenting, and Mirion would carry Baby Legolas around in a sling up against his chest for hours. When Gelir was a baby, Mirion tried to do the same with him, but Gelir was a wriggly infant, and not too fond of the practice. Baby Legolas, on the other hand, was happy to snuggle and would be lulled off to sleep within minutes of Mirion carrying him. It created such a bond between the two that Legolas grew up to view Mirion as a third parent, more than a brother. He always equated Mirion with safety.

TURHIR (205 years old at Legolas's birth). Babies, especially newborns, make Turhir a little nervous. When he was first introduced to Legolas, he held his new little brother for no more than a few seconds before passing him back to their mother. Babies are such treasures, yet so fragile in their infancy, that Turhir was self-conscious about his own strength around them. His hands were so used to combat and harsh activity, that a part of him felt they were unfit to handle something so precious as babies. He feels far more comfortable when they’ve reached toddler stage, can move on their own, and are not quite so helpless. Turhir did give his little brother a gift, however--a rocking cradle that he made himself, and very soon after that, a rocking horse.

ARVELLAS (153 years old at Legolas's birth). By the time Gelir and Legolas were born, Arvellas was at the peak of his academic interest in Elvish physiology and life cycles. It excited him to have access to a baby that he could closely observe as it grew and learned. With Gelir’s infancy, Arvellas was still hesitant to intrude in the business of childcare, but at Legolas's birth he eagerly volunteered to participate in the daily tasks. He spent a significant amount of time with Baby Legolas particularly during the first year of his life, and this extra attention and stimulation may have contributed to Legolas hitting his milestones earlier than his siblings, such as walking and talking.

GELIR (21 years old at Legolas's birth). Ohhh, Gelir was NOT a fan of being usurped by a baby brother. He was not yet quite fully grown himself when Legolas was born; the small age gap between them was unusual for Elves. He should have enjoyed several more decades of being the primary focus of his parents' and brothers' attention, and then suddenly an annoying little bundle of competition shows up?? Gelir struggled with this emotionally for a while, despite his family's best attempts to reassure him. While Legolas was a baby, Gelir did not want to have much to do with him. Having to compete for attention also likely influenced his boisterous, mischief-making personality, though it leveled out as he matured (somewhat). He also learned to appreciate Legolas much more once the baby was fully grown, and the two eventually became best friends and partners-in-crime.

Bonus headcanon: Legolas and Tauriel were born in the same year, but Legolas was slightly older, being born in the spring while Tauriel was an autumn baby.

Want to learn more about Legolas's brothers? Thranduilion Princes Headcanon Masterlist

My Asks are always OPEN!