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guess-my-next-obsession · 1 month 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 · 5 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 · 3 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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mirensiart · 6 days 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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r0se1111 · 3 months ago

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May I request the fellowship x reader that is afraid of the dark/and or claustrophobic? The idea of being in the Mines of Moria is literally my nightmare.

Idk how you want to write this or if at all (which is fine) but I’ll request either Legolas, Aragorn, or Boromir if you do one character

Ty for the request! You're so real for that, I always think of how freaked out I'd be during those scenes rip. I'm gonna write this for Boromir bc he deserves more love <33

You were a bit apprehensive to enter the mines in the first place, but you pushed this fear aside soon enough once all other routes seemed impassable. Adrenaline led you the first few miles into the earth, but you soon grew more and more wary of the walls of stone around you, seemingly pressing inwards with every step you took further into the mountain. Even Gimli's assurances of "fine Dwarven architecture" couldn't comfort your increasing unease. You imagine the shadows pushing in at you, the ceiling and walls crumbling down and burying you miles deep.

Your carefully upheld picture of self-confidence cracked and shattered as the Fellowship decided to take a moment to rest, right next to the beginning of a staircase which led into the deep dark beneath you. As you sat and sipped at your water you found yourself staring unblinking at the void of darkness. Suddenly the combined stress of the dark corners beneath you and the heavy earth above you collided into a burst of shaking hands and pale cheeks. You turned from your company, attempting to hide your fear. A firm hand on your shoulder and the jostle of a body sitting next to yours made you wince in anticipation, you'd been found out.

"What worries you so?" Boromir's voice came to you in a low murmur. You turned to look at him and were surprised to see such concern in his eyes.

Huffing, you press your shaking hands between your knees. "I um-" You swallow. "I don't like being underground."

The man next to you stares for a second, observing your quivering form, then he nods his head simply and stares down into the same dark abyss you were looking at. "Ah. It can be a bit... oppressive, can't it?"

You swallow and nod stiffly in response, eyes flickering between the cold dark of empty space and the warm gold of his gaze.

His hand pats your shoulder and he moves as if he's going to get up. Seeing your worried glance, Boromir chuckles. "Be at peace, I simply think you might feel better if we moved closer to the rest of our company." He gestures towards where the rest of the Fellowship sat gathered around the firelight of a torch, snacking and chatting as if they weren't currently sat underneath miles of dense rock and dirt, as if one breath couldn't destroy their only source of light.

You shake your head. "I don't want anyone seeing me like this." You stare incredulously at your seemingly content companions and laugh stiffly. "How are they so ok with this? I'm terrified."

Boromir settles back in next to you, his gloved hand moving to rest on your knee to draw your attention back to him. You're surprised to see a reflection of your anxiety in his own eyes. "Who says they aren't as well? Who says I'm not scared of this predicament, just as you are?"

You blink. "You are?" You whisper, as if his newly revealed fear was a deep hidden secret.

He leans closer and gives you his own dramatically loud whisper in reply. "I am. I'd much prefer walking miles above this mine, in the sunlight, to this." He smiles grimly, then his expression turns serious. "Do not feel ashamed of your fear. It's normal to feel uneasy in a place as deep and mysterious as this. Besides," He rubs your knee comfortingly. "I think you are doing a fine job of proving your courage."

A giggle bubbles its way out from your throat, where it had previously been trapped beneath layers of anxiety. You feel a bit flustered at his praise, but you take it in stride. "Thank you." You say meaningfully.

Boromir dips his head and smiles, before standing up and offering you his hand. "Shall we return to our friends? We don't want to miss out on the rest of Pippin's firework story."

Grinning in earnest now you take his hand and follow him to the Fellowship without so much as a backwards glance at the dark staircase and imposing walls which had scared you so much in the first place. Their shadow was nothing compared to the golden warmth of Boromir leading you to the warm, bright fire and greetings of your friends.

#lotr x reader #boromir x reader #boromir lotr #the fellowship x reader

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tathrin · 1 year 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 · 5 days 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!

OTHER USEFUL LINKS:

Introduction to SotWK

Main Headcanon Masterlist

#sotwk answers #anon asks #i have the best anons #sotwk headcanons #sotwk ocs #Thranduil #Thranduilion #Legolas #Mirion Thranduilion #Turhir Thranduilion #Arvellas Thranduilion #Gelir Thranduilion #silvan elves #mirkwood #eryn galen #tolkien #the hobbit #lord of the rings

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dark-elf-writes · 27 days ago

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I forget if I said it but did you know that Bard in book canon gave Thranduil his grandfather's fancy dwarven-made lost-in-erebor-thanks-Smaug emerald necklace as some kind of peace gift? And its canon that Thranduil (or the Mirkwood Elves culturally) have a thing for silver, pearls/white gems, and maybe also emeralds. (Its possible the necklace is also silver, not 100% sure tho.)

I'm picturing Modern AU Photographer Bard giving Model Thranduil the one (1) super expensive luxury item he has (family heirloom, could sell it but like maybe he promised his parents he wouldn't?) either as a kind of engagement gift or flat out the first thing during their marriage. And like he'd be happy about it no matter how "costume jewelry" it'd look but the moment he sees it its like

damn.

(Also cute image of Kid Legolas getting a turn wearing the Expensive Necklace and both dads think he looks handsome in it even though it reaches halfway down his torso or something.)

The image I just god of Thranduil in full glam with the most gorgeous necklace brought me to my knees but the image of Legolas (and Tilda who I am imagining as Legolas’ age for this au) wearing it took me out entirely like it’s so precious.

Also very much making me think about them both still wearing the wedding bands for their wives because they still love them and miss them and choosing to honor each other in a different but equal way has me feral. Like the mutual acknowledgment that they can both have more than one love of their life and be so grateful their the time and love they shared with their respective wives while also loving each other just as deeply is so akkxjsjajzmxnsbbzbdbd you know?

Like I imagine Thran has the necklace (or two one that’s just as beautiful but more understated for everyday wear) and Bard getting either a bracelet or a tattoo or something along those lines. I just really like this idea

#the elf talks #lotr #they are two wife guys who eventually get married to each other

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justsomerandomfanfic · 8 months ago

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Hi, could I get a matchup with a guy from LOTR/The Hobbit and Doctor Who?. If it's just one fandom only, choose your favourite 😊 I'm curvy girl with long brown wavy hair and chocolate brown eyes. I'm compassionate, funny, loyal, homey, thoughtful, kind-hearted. I'm bilingual, an ambivert, INFP and Gryffindor. I have a curious mind, and I'm always up for an adventure. I'm very protective of my loved ones. Also I can be stubborn and insecure. I like reading, listening to music, exploring new places, stargazing, daydreaming, watching movies, walking in the forest, writing, taking pictures, the smell of the rain and Christmas is my favourite time of the year! ✨ Thank you so much!! <3

Hello! Of course, I can do all three! I hope you like your matchups! <333333

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Romantic;

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The Hobbit;

✨ You were simply exploring the world around you, near your little cottage home when suddenly, and without warning, thirteen Dwarves, one Hobbit, and one Wizard appeared - the Wizard (Gandalf) asked if he and the Company of Thorin Oakenshield could stay at your home for the night; you had a large barn, near your home that would be large enough for them all to rest in - being the sweet and kind-hearted person you were, you allowed them to stay

✨ That night, you made as much food for dinner as you could, taking several trips out to the barn where the Company stayed to bring them food; some of the members said that there was no need for the bountiful food, they had some brea and whatnot left in their packs - but you were kind... And stubborn (they took the food)

✨ Kili was the last to get his food, having passed the bowls of warm soup around - he loves to help out - and when you finally passed him the last bowl, your eyes met and you couldn't help but feel a spark between you as your fingers gently brushed against his

✨ You decided to have your dinner with the group, getting to know some (if not most - not getting much out of Thorin or Dwalin) of the Company - getting to know the names to the faces, what they were heading for, and what was to come in the future; by the end of the night, as most of the Company slept in the soft hay, covered in what many blankets that you had, you and Kili continued the conversation together quietly - you hadn't realized that the both of you had fallen asleep until morning

✨ It was hard to say goodbye, but as you gave the group some extra packs of food, and whatever else they needed, you had an idea; quickly wishing for them all to wait one moment before they headed back on their journey, you ran into your home - coming out with a packed bag, and a bow and arrow in your hands; Thorin tried to say that this journey was not one for a women, but as you skillfully, and quickly shot an arrow, perfectly piercing an apple in one of your apple trees, Thorin begrudgingly allowed you to come along (Kili, at the sight of your marksmanship, might've swooned)

---

Lord Of The Rings;

⭐ You met Legolas at Rivendell when the Fellowship had just been created; (whether you were an Elf, Human, or otherwise, Elrond had taken you in as his own (you'd be friends with Arwen)

⭐ As you and Legolas were the only ones that use a bow (yeah, I'm sticking to this idea), but because of that, you and Legolas slowly began to talk about your shared interest in weaponry, and before you knew it, the both of you were seeing how many orcs you could take down with Gimli; that ultimately brought you and Legolas closer together

⭐ When Legolas has nightwatch, you stay up with him; often quietly talking - your favorite times were when Legolas told you about his home in Mirkwood, about his life there, and his childhood; you would return with your own stories of your life in Rivendell

⭐ By the end of the journey, you and Legolas were more so in love; and when the ring was destroyed, Legolas asked you if you wanted to begin courting each other (you said yes)

⭐ You and Legolas would then travel around Middle Earth together, traveling to nowhere in particular, just enjoying the time you had together

---

Doctor Who;

🌌 You were just minding your own business when you heard a weird sound in your back yard - pausing your daydreaming as you were 'watching' a movie - you checked outside, spotting a blue police box in the middle on your backyard; then a man with messy brown hair, wearing a brown suit and coat came out confused but greeted you with a grin

🌌 He called himself the Doctor, and asked where he was, and you replied with the answer - though his next words confused you - something along the lines of 'Well, the TARDIS must have brought me here for a reason, do you need help?' Did you?

🌌 Before you knew it, you were running away from a giant flying creature that sort of looked like a dragon, but wasn't - and only a few days before Christmas; you then found out all about the Doctor, that he traveled through space and time, and you believed him (you did just run away from some sort of weird alien, and ran right into the TARDIS that was bigger on the inside

🌌 After defeating the alien that was tormenting your neighborhood, the Doctor asked if you wanted to join him on his amazing adventures - you wanted to go, you really did, but you didn't want to miss Christmas with your family; and so, the Doctor said he'd come back for you, it'd only be a second for him, and a few days for you

🌌 The Doctor did come back, a day after Christmas, and you joined him - flying through space and time, going to new worlds, seeing new creatures, meeting new people, and even falling in love; you loved traveling with the Doctor, and he loved having you with him, and he hoped that the both of you could travel together for as long as you both could

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thevegandarkelf · 1 month ago

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Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter Twenty-One

Masterlist

AO3 link

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist <3 (18+ only, MDNI)

We get a little Vulnerable!Daryl in this one & it makes me emotional I’m not gonna lie

Story is 18+ for mature content/themes, minors do not interact please

TW/CWs for this story--implied/referenced past rape, canonical violence, non-canonical violence, blood, gore, referenced past suicide, swearing, surgery, excessive drinking, nightmares, panic attacks, mention of scars, vomiting, amputation, medical procedures, non-con medical procedures, referenced past medical torture, referenced past drugging, attempted sexual assault, panic attacks, mental health struggles, referenced sibling death, referenced parent death, PTSD

Each chapter will have its own TW/CWs listed

This story, Lydia Vector, her family & bestie (c) me, TheVeganDarkElf

TWD & its characters (c) AMC & Robert Kirkman, the writer of the comic series

Legolas & Lord of the Rings (c) J.R.R. Tolkien, Sleeping Beauty (c) Disney

TW/CWs for this chapter--swearing, allusion to child abuse (Daryl’s history), discussion of sibling death (Merle), mention/discussion of scars, discussion of an alcoholic parent, smoking

Word count: 3.3k

"What's this last one?" he asked, flipping it over. It was a picture of me wearing a blue off-the-shoulder ballgown with flowers around the neckline and crystals adorning the cinched waist. There were tulle sleeves and a slit up one leg. My hair was cascading around me in loose curls, and I was leaning back against a tree, hands holding the edges of my dress out as if I was about to start twirling in circles.

"Oh, that's from a renaissance festival I went to. Kathryn took that picture. I wanted to do my own version of the Sleeping Beauty dress," I explained, "so in the movie, there's a dress that the fairies make for her, and there are two that keep arguing over whether the dress should be pink or blue. They go back and forth, changing the color when the other isn't looking, and--"

"She chose blue," Daryl said, his voice so soft he was almost whispering. He was fixated on the picture of me, running his fingers over the edges, and I questioned if he meant to say that out loud or if his mouth got the best of him. Was he talking about me?

"Hmm?" I hummed, pretending not to hear what he said in case he didn't mean to say his thoughts out loud, "oh no, it goes all the way to the end of the movie. Like they're still changing it when the screen fades out."

"This's a real good picture o’ ya. Ya look real pretty," Daryl said.

"You're sweet," I thanked, "I went to a lot of ren fests growing up. I loved to dress up and go all out. This one was by far my favorite." He flipped the pictures back in order to give them back to me, but they spilled out onto the floor, scattering themselves around.

"Shit, sorry."

"It's ok, really," I assured, "shit happens." I leaned over and grabbed the photos closest to me, and Daryl grabbed the rest, handing them to me.

"Thanks for showin' me. Was nice to see the people ya always talkin' so much 'bout," he said. I opened the back of my notebook and placed the photos back, pulling the notes out of my pocket and putting those in as well. "Ya really tied to that thing, aren'tcha?"

"My notebook?" I asked, flipping it around in my hands, "yeah, I guess you could say I am. It's like a security blanket. It's comforting to have it on me, even when I'm not doing anything with it."

He was hesitant before he asked his next question. "Could I...maybe read somethin' of yours sometime?"

I'll admit, I was a little surprised, as he'd never expressed an interest before in reading any of my work. Sure, he'd asked me about it here and there, but he never asked to see it. Part of me, though, was grateful for that. I wrote a lot about Daryl, and he didn't need to know that. Not yet at least.

"Tell you what. If I ever decide that anything in here is quality enough to show to someone else, you'll be the first to know."

"Ya think ya stuff's bad?"

"No, not bad," I said, "just...personal is all. A bit intense at times. It's...it's like a catalog of everything I've gone through since the world went to shit. I'm hoping one day, I can look back on it and be proud of myself for surviving all the stuff in here."

"Should be proud already," Daryl advised, "ya's by yourself out there. Couldn'ta been easy."

You don't even know the half of it, I thought.

There was silence between us for a while as we stared off beyond the walls. It was a comfortable silence, as they had come to be with Daryl. I remembered our first run, the first time we really spent time together, and thought about how far we'd come since then. Just a month and a half ago, I never thought we'd be here. I never thought we'd be up in the watchtower together, spending the night keeping the community safe, nor did I think Daryl and I would have come as far in our relationship as we had. We were essentially a couple, minus the confession of our feelings to one another and more intimate physical contact.

"Hey Daryl? Can I ask you a question? If you don't wanna answer, that's more than ok."

"Sure," he said, a hint of hesitation in his voice, "shoot."

"Do you know where Merle is?"

I held my breath while I waited for his response. I'd been wanting to ask more about Merle for some time now. What I did know was that he was the older one, he was in the military at some point, and he was the ringleader when it came to the drug escapades he and Daryl got into. And that he was a bit of a creep and kind of an asshole. But Daryl never talked about where he was now or if something happened to him. I was worried that maybe it was too fresh of a wound, or perhaps it was simply too painful. It'd been quite a while, though, since I last asked about Merle, and with how close we'd become since then, I was hopeful that maybe, even if he didn't answer, it would open the door for him to share in the future.

"If you don't want to answer, I promise it's ok," I reiterated. He was staring out the window, crossbow popped up on the frame, resting his arm on it. I bit the inside of my lip and waited with bated breath for him to say something, anything.

"He's in Georgia," he finally said. Seeing as it'd taken some time for him to answer with that, I didn't dare ask the follow-up question that came to mind—why didn't he come to Alexandria with Daryl? However, I didn't have to wonder for long. "Dead."

He kept his gaze out the window as he told me everything. He talked about the prison, Woodbury, the man called The Governor, what happened with Merle and the Governor, and how Daryl found him...after he had already turned. And he told me something that I don't think he'd shared with the others before—that the only reason they ever went to Rick's original camp in the first place was because they planned to rob them. But things changed, and Daryl found a family in Rick, Glenn, Maggie, and the others, and chose to stay with them.

My heart was shattering as Daryl filled me in on everything. Having had to kill one of my brothers after he turned, I understood the pain—the pain of wondering if they're ok, then finding them and realizing they're far from it, the farthest in fact. But the gut-wrenching pain of Merle having been killed at the hands of someone else before turning...I wasn't going to pretend to understand that hurt. Daryl was such a good person, and to see such a good person lose so much was heartbreaking.

Daryl was quiet when he finished talking. I wasn't sure whether he was waiting for me to respond or was attempting to find more words of his own. I approached the window and leaned against the wall next to it, looking up at Daryl with the softest, most empathetic expression. I said the only thing I could.

"I...I'm so sorry. You didn't deserve that."

He didn't say anything, didn't move or turn his head to look at me. He kept that same stoic expression, looking off at something far in the distance outside the walls. I swallowed hard, feeling bad for asking the question in the first place. "You know that I know how it feels. To have to do that to a sibling. It's awful. I wouldn't wish it on anyone. I'm sorry you had to experience that pain too." I reached a hand out and stroked his forearm, drawing small circles with my fingers. "And I'm sorry I brought it up. I'd been avoiding asking because I was worried it'd be too painful. I don't know what came over me." I felt Daryl's muscles relax under my fingers as I worked slowly from his elbow to his wrist, continuing to draw tiny circles.

"Don't gotta 'pologize. I ain't mad at ya," he said, his voice soft. He still didn't look at me. "It's 'cause ya care. I know that."

I tilted my head slightly to try to get him to look at me. "You of all people didn't deserve to experience pain like that. I'm sorry, about everything that happened. But I'm glad you're here now. And I'm glad I am too."

He fidgeted a little before he continued. "Was worried tellin' ya 'bout the robbin' the camp story might..." His voice trailed off before he finished his sentence, though I had a feeling I knew where it was going.

"Might what?" I asked, "make me view you differently?"

"Maybe."

I gave him a soft smile. "Well, you have nothing to worry about there. We've all got a past, Daryl. That's not who you are now. That's all that matters." I was cautious to follow up with what I wanted to say, but my mouth was betraying me before I could do anything to stop it. Maybe it would help him feel less alone. "Hell, there are things you still don't know about me that I feel the same about. That they might make you view me differently."

"You?" He sounded amused when he said it, like he thought I was bluffing. “Dunno what someone like you could do to make me see ya differently." I crossed my arms over my chest.

""Someone like me?" What do you mean by that?" I asked, looking at him quizzically. Being someone who didn't have much of a way with words, I thought he might ignore my question and start talking about something else, or there'd be a long period of silence before he finally gave a response. Neither was the case here. It was like he already had his answer queued up, knowing I was going to ask.

"Someone perfect," he said. My shoulders relaxed as I let out a gentle sigh. I stepped closer to him and wrapped my arms around his torso, careful to avoid the bandaged wound on his back, and gave him a gentle squeeze. I rested my head on his chest.

"Oh Daryl, you're very sweet, but I am far from perfect." He snaked his free arm around me and placed his hand on my back, just above my waist.

"Well, ya ever wanna share those things I don't know 'bout ya, I'm all ears," Daryl assured.

"Thanks."

"Since ya asked a question that's been on ya mind a while, can I ask one?" he wondered.

"Sure," I replied, biting gently at the inside of my cheek to quell my anxiety, wondering what he was about to ask. I waited with bated breath for him to speak, my mind spiraling in all the different directions he could've been going, but I had a hunch about where we'd end up.

"Do...do ya scars got anythin' to do with what you dream 'bout every night?"

I clicked my tongue and let you a shallow, shaky breath. "Yeah...yeah they do. Figured that's what you might ask."

"How ya figure that?"

"I've caught you staring at them before. You're not very subtle with it," I chuckled, "it doesn't bother me though. Not you looking at least. I know they're kinda hard to ignore." I lifted my arm in front of us, shifting the sleeve of his jacket down and exposing my hand and wrist. I was writhing a little inside. I hated looking at my scars. "I have a fantasy that one day, tattooing will be a reality again, and I'll be able to get them covered up. I think vines with flowers on them would look cool."

I rotated my hand, inspecting both sides of my wrist as if I was looking at my scars for the first time. They were thick bands of scar tissue that adorned both of my wrists like bracelets. They didn't hurt, but there were some sparse patches here and there that were numb. I didn't like them being touched, and despite me never sharing that, Daryl seemed to know. In all the times he'd touched my arms or my hands, he never touched my scars, not even grazing them on accident. There was an unspoken understanding between us about that. I shimmied the sleeve of his jacket back down my arm, covering my scars again.

"Can I ask you something else that's been on my mind for a while? You don't have to answer if it's too much," I said.

"Might'as well," Daryl replied, fidgeting with his crossbow in anticipation.

"You said that I haven't really mentioned my dad much," I said, my words shaky as I tried to control my voice, "you haven't mentioned yours either."

His body tensed under my arms, and his hand on my back curled a bit. I was sure he would've accidentally scratched me if I wasn't wearing his jacket. His answer was short, to the point, but told me everything I needed to know.

"Where ya think my scars came from?"

I didn't want to believe what I was hearing. This wonderful human being, suffering at the hands of one of his parents? My stomach ached. My heart was breaking, shattering, and exploding all at the same time. Tears tried to form and escape my eyes, but I wouldn't allow it. I needed to be strong for Daryl in this moment. No wonder he had the best survival skills I'd ever seen—he didn't have a choice.

How could someone do something so awful to someone so good?

"Daryl..." My voice trailed off, and the only thing I could think to do was wrap my arms around him tighter and give him another squeeze.

"Merle got it first. 'ts why he ran off to the army," he continued. I tilted my head up to look at him. He hadn't once taken his eyes off whatever random object he'd fixated on out in the distance. I'd never seen Daryl cry before, not even come close to, but I could've sworn I saw a tear welling up in his eye. Just one, the moonlight catching it and making it glimmer.

"Daryl, you don't have to—"

"Old man was a drunk," he said. He rested his bow on the windowsill and reached into his pocket, pulling out his box of cigarettes and lighter. He hadn't smoked once in front of me since the first time he did. He knew I didn't like it, but I wasn't going to say anything now. We all had our vices, and I was going to let him have his.

Daryl pulled a cigarette out of the box with his mouth, still keeping his other arm wrapped around me. He had tightened his embrace and brought me closer, like he thought I might slip out and walk away if I had the space to do so. He shoved the box of smokes back into his pocket and lit the one in his mouth, turning his head to puff in the opposite direction of me.

I knew I was privileged to have such a close, loving family, I was never ignorant of that. Being a trauma surgeon, I knew some of the horrors that people experienced at the hands of family, at the hands of people who claimed to love them. I knew not everyone was as lucky as I was. But sometimes, there would be that person who landed on my operating table, and their story would hurt just a little bit more than others.

This one, though...this one hurt the most.

Sweet Daryl, the man I'd become so close to, the man whose shell I'd cracked wide open, the man I'd gotten to open up...the man I'd fallen in love with. To know someone so kind, so protective, so empathetic, had suffered at the hands of his father...and at such a young age...

For his father's sake, I hoped he and I would never cross paths.

I wanted to kiss every single scar on his body and remind him of how appreciated he is, how loved he is. Not just by me, but Carol, Rick, Glenn, Aaron...I wanted to hold him and whisper all the sweet little things I wrote about him in my notebook. I wanted his pain to stop. Such a tender soul shouldn't have to know pain like that. My little Georgia peach shouldn't have to know pain like that.

"You didn't deserve that," I whispered, my gaze still transfixed on his face. He took another puff of his smoke and finally tore his eyes away from the outside world, looking down to meet me. Our noses were barely touching, and I would've certainly taken that opportunity to plant one on his lips if the situation was more appropriate. I did, though, take the opportunity to kiss his cheek. His skin was softer than I was expecting. He flinched just a little, then quickly melted and relaxed under my lips.

"You're so loved Daryl. Don't think for one second that you aren't." I brought my head back to his chest and nuzzled in closer. "I may not have experienced it firsthand, but I know what that kind of thing can do to someone. What it can do to their self-worth, their confidence. Just remember that you're important, and you're deeply loved and appreciated. I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

"Ya really know how to make a guy feel good," he told me, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Only guy I care about making feel good is you," I said. I was almost immediately kicking myself for what I said. My supposed-to-be flirting was more of a sexual innuendo than anything. I quickly took it back to the subject at hand in an attempt to gloss over it. "I'm glad I could do that for you. Thank you for being vulnerable with me, Daryl. It means a lot that you're so open with me."

He took another puff of his cigarette. "Ya make it easy." His hand on my back slid off for just a moment before coming right back, this time slipping underneath his jacket and resting on the bare skin of my side. "This alright?"

"Sure is," I hummed before nuzzling my head further into his chest and closing my eyes. His calloused hand against my soft skin felt heavenly, and it tickled just a little, but not enough to elicit a reaction from me.

Daryl flicked the ashes off his smoke and stomped on them once they landed on the ground. "Thanks for always listenin' to me. Bein' there for me. Dunno what I did to deserve ya."

My heart swelled in my ribcage, the warming sensation that accompanied it seeming to radiate off my body. "Being you. That's what you did."

We spent the rest of the night like that, hooked onto each other like our lives depended on it, like we were afraid the other person would slip away if we loosened our grips too much. We talked for hours, and despite standing the whole time, I almost fell asleep. The rise and fall of Daryl's chest against my head nearly lulled me into dreamland. At one point, his nose nuzzled into my hair, and he kissed the top of my head. His sweet Southern accent whispered something into my hair that I didn't catch. I was in some half-awake, half-asleep state, eyelids heavy and struggling to stay open. A delirious smile spread across my face. What I was feeling was nothing short of absolute magic.

I would be forever grateful that Daryl asked me to keep him company in the watchtower that night.

Taglist: @raddydaddydude

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