#when there are hobbits involved of course | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cowboybeepboop · 10 months

Text

The only one

“Kili, you can’t tell anyone about this.” “So it’s our dirty little secret then?”

Paring: Kili Durin x afab reader

Genre: romantic smut

Word count: 2.2k

Summary: You’re Bilbo's adopted human daughter and he takes you along on the journey. Kili has his heart set on you and after getting involved in the fight he gets angry with you for putting yourself in a dangerous situation.

Warnings: public sex, arguing, jealous Kili, hickeys, p in v sex, hickeys??? Idk what else I always forget

a/n: I did not proofread and its lowkey a summary of the first movie? This is my first smut regarding anyone in the tolkien universe but I did write some sad fluff at some point lmao. Anyways, please like and send any requests if you want <3 tags go absolutely wild

You’ve been an adopted hobbit for the last 18 years of your life, Bilbo was always comforted in the known so when he brought you along with him and the dwarfs on their journey you were beyond surprised. Your presence was unexpected for everyone, except Gandalf of course, and most of the company was against your involvement. The dwarves saw you as frail and weak, the only one on your side was your dad, but of course he was.

Kili has kept an eye out for you since you joined the company, he makes sure you're safe and also just enjoys looking at you.

__________

When Elrond and his fellow elves come back the dwarves pull you and your father behind them and create a circle around you. You stay behind your Bilbo as the elves talk with Gandalf.

Upon your entrance to their dining room you look around with wonder, you sit down between Kili and your dad. “They're so beautiful,” you whisper to Bilbo, he nods with a gentle but awkward smile. Kili’s ears twitch as he looks around, his eyes narrow on an elf who has his eyes on you, he moves closer to you wrapping his arm around you.

“You think so?” Kili questions, his jaw clenching slightly, “I think us dwarves are better looking, stronger too.” he says pridefully, you chuckle in response.

“Is it a competition now?” you cock your head, “You’re very good looking too, Kili.” he smiles wide.

“Is that so? I am the best looking of all of the company, aside from Thorin of course.” you laugh, putting your hand on his arm.

“A bit full of yourself huh?” he shoves your shoulder gently in response. Kilis arms finds its way around your waist as he continues to glare at the elf who dared to look at you, who did he even think he was.

Gandalf, Bilbo, and Thorin wander off with Lord Elrond, leaving you with the dwarfs. You watch quietly, laughing with them and listening to their conversations before you feel yourself drifting off to sleep. Kili quietly sits next to you letting your head fall to his shoulder he smiles, covering you up with a blanket.

__________

After the company left the palace Thorin led everyone to the Misty Mountains, Kili keeps you in front of him. He insists that it’s better that way so if you fall he can catch you. As the rain picks up your feet slip under you, Kili and Fili grasp your arms quickly, pulling you back onto the ledge.

“Thank you,” you say softly as your eyes look over the ledge. Kili keeps a hold of your arm tightly as you all try to avoid the stone giant's blasts. The ground splits under your feet as the mountain takes shape as a giant, you grab onto the stone behind you before everyone begins to slide forward.

The stone giant slams into the mountain, throwing everyone off of it and onto the ground. Thorin yells for his nephews as the rest of the company runs over, Kili helps you up dusting your clothes off and checking to make sure you weren’t hurt anywhere.

After all the commotion everyone settles into the cave, Bilbo pulls you off to the side and quietly talks to you, he tells you about his plan to leave once everyone is asleep. “Why dad? What's wrong?” you whisper to him.

“Thorin is right, we never should've left home, I’ve put you in danger and I can’t let anything else happen to you.” he sighs as he runs his hand through your hair, “It’s okay, we’ll be fine.” he smiles reassuringly.

You both gather all of your stuff and sneak out, he leads you by the hand. He pulls you behind him as he talks with Bofur, you stay quiet looking around the cave. You didn’t really want to leave the company, I mean they were becoming your friends, you enjoyed the company.

“Y/N?” Kili mumbles as he looks up at you, he yawns. “Where are you going?” You crouch down putting your hand on his shoulder.

“Go back to sleep Kili, you need your rest,” you smile sweetly.

The floor splits and you slip down with everyone, Bilbo gets away but you are guided off with the dwarves. Your eyes fill with terror as you look around, you take a hold of Kilis hand squeezing tight as the goblins push you all around. You cower behind him, holding onto his shirt tightly.

Once you get out the dwarves all argue over where your dad went, your head drops as you think that your dad couldn't possibly have left you all alone. He reappears and you rush over to hug him, his hands drop to your waist as he smiles.

“Y/N!” Kili and Bilbo yell at you as you try to defend the dwarves with your small blade; it goes into the center of the wargs head, and Kili grabs you and pulls you up to the tree with him. His hand wrapping around your waist as he holds you close.

“Don’t move,” Kili’s voice is angry as he demands you to stay put. His hands dig into your slides as you look below your feet. Kili’s hands slip away as they start to throw the pinecones, the tree begins to fall, you grasp onto the trunk as tight as you can. His hands wrap around the tree, his eyes focused on you.

As Thorin and your father begin to fight the orcs, your eyes squeeze shut tightly, you try to focus on anything but the attack of Thorin. Kili pulls you up and onto the ground, insisting you stay put as they go to fight. You look forward, clutching the blade you retrieved from the corpse tight. As all of the commotion ensues you feel yourself being picked up by an eagle.

Once you all are in a safe place you watch as Gandalf helps heal Thorin. You stand next to your dad, holding onto his arm, as Thorin goes in for a hug you let go of him and move back. Your eyes wander to Kili who turns his head in order to avoid eye contact with you.

As the company moves forward you come across an area close to a river, Gandalf suggests that you all take a break and bathe. You and Kili were the last to go, you were paired up at the recommendation of Fili.

Kili guides you to the river, holding his weapon close to his chest, he’s been giving you the silent treatment after you got in between a fight. “You can bathe here, I’ll keep watch.” his voice stern.

“Kili..” your voice trails off as you look at his back, trying to pull his attention to you.

“Y/N, just take your bath. It’s getting dark.” Kili’s tone is extremely cold. You pout your lips as you begin pulling your clothing off slowly, once you finish you slip into the cold water.

“You can turn back now,” you say softly before you dip all the way under the water, holding your breath and squeezing your eyes shut. After a while you break the surface of the water sliding your hands over your face pulling the water back with your hair. Kili had turned around keeping his eyes on everything but you.

“Kili,” you wave him over, “come here, please.” you bite your lip as he gives you a bored expression.

“What is it?” he walks close to the bank of the river, his eyes scanning your face.

“Shouldn’t you join me? You're supposed to bathe as well,” he sighs, turning his back to you again.

“Fine, turn away.” he sets down his sword and strips quickly. You face the other way as he slips into the water with you.

“Kili, what is your problem?” you huff, spinning around with your arms crossed over your breasts.

“What do you mean?” his eyes are half closed as he looks at you with a slightly annoyed expression.

You move closer to him, “I mean, you’re acting so rude for no reason. You won’t look at me, you barely talk to me, you’re being so dumb” you glare at him, “So what is your problem?” he rolls his eyes at you.

“I don’t know maybe the fact that you threw yourself into harm's way? You could’ve gotten yourself killed,” he yells at you while running his hand through his hair.

“Calm down Kili,” you move close to him, putting your hand on his arm. “I didn’t expect you to get all worked up like this, I know I should have been more careful but I just wanted to help.” your eyebrows furrow as you look down.

His warm hands grasp your upper arms “You really worried me Y/N,” he presses his forehead against yours.

“You worried about me?” a sly smile paints itself on your lips, “does that mean you like me Kili?” your voice is soft and teasing. His ears turn a deep shade of crimson as he turns his head up.

“Y/N cut that out,” he puts his hand on the side of your neck, his eyes flick to your lips.

“Cut what out?” you wrap your arms around his neck pulling yourself close to him.

“You know what,” he clenches his jaw, your hands running down his back as you wrap your legs around his hips.

Kili pulls your face to his, hovering his lips over yours “Quit teasing me,” he whispers. Your hand snakes up to the back of his head, cradling it as you push your lips against his. His hands move to your waist, his fingers dig into your soft flesh as he hugs you tighter against him.

“Mahal,” he pulls away, pressing soft kisses down your face and onto your neck. You lean back letting his lips trail over your body, your nails scratch his scalp softly as you arch into him.

“Amrâlimê,” he whispers against your collarbone, “you’re driving me insane,” Kili groans. He grasps your face pulling you in for an intimate kiss, he’s getting more intense with his affections, his hands squeezing your hips roughly.

Your hand trails down his chest tracing every muscle on his stomach, he begins grinding against you while holding your hips against him. Pulling away from the kiss you gasp for air, leaning your head against his shoulder, you wrap your hands in his hair pulling it off to the side. Kissing his neck roughly you begin to leave soft marks on his flesh as he massages your ass.

“Y/N..” he mumbles into your ear, you moan softly as he picks you up, moving into shallow water. “Can we..?” his ears flush as he looks away, ��I mean, would you mind?” you chuckle softly.

“Mhm,” you move your hips against his thigh, feeling him twitch underneath you. “But we’ll have to be quick..” you kiss his shoulder as his hands pull your hips up, he lines himself up with your hole, pushing the tip in.

“Let me know if it hurts,” he says gently, his hand finding its way to your neck grabbing ahold of it pulling your head back as you moan softly. He bucks his hips up into you, leaning forward you bury your face into his nape hugging him tight as you moan into his skin.

“My precious girl,” he groans as he slowly begins moving your hips up and down, his fingers digging into your soft skin, leaving red marks. You moan into his ear as you begin riding him, your arms wrap tight around his neck, eyebrows furrowing as you squeeze around his dick.

Kili cradles your head against him, holding you as close as he can, thrusting up into you pushing as deep as he can. Your head falls onto his shoulder, he moves a hand down to your sensitive clit, rubbing circles into it.

“I’m so close,” you moan, Kili nods in response.

“Me too,” he groans, his hands exploring every part of your body as he pulls you into a passionate kiss.

“Hey, Y/N, Kili, hurry it up.” Fili yells to you, causing the both of you to jolt up. Kili pushes himself into you as deep as he can. You bite your lip as you cum around him, your hole pulsing.

Your back arches, silent gasps leaving your open mouth as you ride out your high. Your whole body seems to tense up causing Kili to groan while he cums deep inside you. He pulls you off of him giving you a sweet kiss.

“Now we really need to clean up, and fast.” He says lowly, his hands creep up from behind you gasping your sides as he pulls you into deeper water to rinse off. You sigh contently as he holds your body close to his.

After quickly cleaning yourselves up; you both get out, drying off before putting your clothes back on.

“Kili, you can’t tell anyone about this.” you bite your lip as you turn to him, his eyebrows furrow. “Bilbo might actually get so mad he tries to kill you,” you giggle softly as his face relaxes.

“So it’s our dirty little secret then?” coming close to you he wraps his arms around your neck giving you a deep kiss. “But we will get to tell everyone later, right?” he pulls back, eyes scanning yours.

“Yes, Kili,” you kiss the tip of his nose, hands resting on his shoulders, “but let's wait it out for a bit, okay?” he smiles in response.

740 notes · View notes

momotonescreaming · 1 year

Text

I've been having Steddie Dads & Surrogate Robin brainworms thanks to this ficlet by @unclewaynemunson so I had to write this quick thing. Hope you like it <3 EDIT - Now on AO3!

Eddie knew that there was a lot involved with surrogacy. As soon as it was on the table, a topic of discussion — Steve had dove head first into research, taking Eddie along with him. They’d be curled up in bed together, Steve flipping through a pile of pamphlets and magazine articles, with Eddie re-reading the hobbit next to him until Steve places a pamphlet between the pages of his book. Lazy afternoons spent in their living room, reading up on agencies, clinics, Eddie with his head on Steve’s shoulder so they can read together.

He knew there was going to be money spent, many many appointments made, trips to doctors and lawyers and other very boring, very adult, very important things.

What Eddie didn’t realise, was how much time was going to be spent standing in hallways, waiting for Robin to piss on a stick.

Each time made his heart clench, his hands shake, knowing that one little plus or minus was going to change the trajectory of his life forever. In a good way of course. Always a good way. Steve squeezed his hand, looking over at him with a nervous smile. Eddie squeezed back — the cool metal of his rings pressing into the warmth of Steve’s hand — and he thunked his head onto the wall behind him.

“Quit it!” Robin hollered, voice muffled through the bathroom door. “You’re making me nervous!”

“I thought you said you peed when you’re nervous?” Steve shouted back, tilting his head towards the door.

“Not when I’m nervous about peeing!” Robin replied, voice still raised and edged with anxiety. “So quit slamming the wall Eddie!”

“How’d you know it was me?” Eddie interrupted, brows furrowing. Robin ignored him and continued shouting through the door.

“It reminds me that you’re there, and you’re listening, and I get all nervous and I can’t pee-“ Robin started to ramble, words merging together as her voice sped up. “-because I know you’re there listening which I know is the point of this whole exercise. But there’s a lot riding on this, riding on me, and then I start thinking about how big this is for you guys — and also for me again — and what if my eggs don’t work? Or I’m a bad surrogate? And then I get even more nervous because I really want to do this for you guys! You two deserve to be dads, and you’re going to be so good at it, which we won’t know unless I can pee Goddamnit.”

Her words ran out, and Eddie could picture her taking a deep breath as she leant on her knees, hunched over her body. He smiled faintly, and thumped his head onto Steve’s shoulder — knowing Robin would shout if she could hear him thump the wall again. A part of him was tempted to — to see what she would shout through the door again — but he couldn’t do that to her now. Not when she was doing so much for them. So Eddie took a deep breath, inhaling the comforting scent of Steve’s cologne and their laundry detergent, letting it calm him as he gently starts rubbing his thumb across the back Steve’s hand.

“Deep breaths, Rob,” Steve said, voice warm and comforting. “You’ve got this.” A pause. “Need me to come in?”

“Maybe?” Robin says quietly, unsure, before quickly correcting herself. “No. Wait- no. I got this. I’ll run the tap and pretend you’re not there.”

“Just yell if you need us,” Eddie added, hoping Robin can hear him over the sound of the now running water. He tries not to think about it too much, make himself too nervous, or too aware that he was just standing in a hallway waiting for Robin to piss on a stick. Of course it wasn’t just any stick.

The three of them have done this a few times now, and it still hasn’t stopped feeling any less nerve wracking. So Eddie takes another deep breath, and lets his eyes glaze over the pictures and paintings Robin’s hung on her walls to distract himself.

There are a lot of photos of her and Steve from throughout the years, and Eddie smiles at the sight. Them in their Family Video vests, back in Hawkins. At a family BBQ in the Buckley’s backyard, hung next to a painting of a horse she got in an estate sale. One from their first apartment in Chicago. The pair of them at Robin’s college graduation.

A photo with Erica and Dustin as well — the infamous Scoops Troop — all of them eating ice cream together. A couple with her and Eddie, smiling and pulling faces at Steve behind the camera, next to a painting that Robin got at a thrift store because the Victorian lady in it looked like ‘a funky old lesbian, but in a haunted sort of way’. Steve had just said it looked sort of like his Grandmother, and Robin had snorted soda up her nose.

They had decided to do the test at Robin’s apartment, in a futile attempt to make her more comfortable. Or at the very least — less nervous than last time, where Robin had locked herself in their hall bathroom and made them go watch TV until she was done. It was negative.

Eddie closed his eyes. The waiting was the worst. The absolute fucking worst. Knowing that one mark on a piece of plastic was going to tell him if he and Steve were one step closer to becoming parents. Becoming dads. And all he could do was wait.

He was both eager for and dreading the answer. He wanted to be a dad, to give Steve his six little nuggets, to raise a family with him. But at the same time he was terrified of turning into his father. A no good piece of shit who was never fit to raise a kid. Steve had talked him down, calmed him, the first time he had a panic attack about it.

It was after their first appointment at the clinic, and he had held Eddie’s hand and had admitted that he was scared too. Scared of turning into his father. To sympathise, not to dismiss Eddie’s fears. It had helped, listening to Steve’s steady breathing and soft voice as he talked about how it was a good thing they were both scared. Means they don’t want to be the sort of men their fathers were. Steve didn’t think his father was worried about neglecting him, he just sort of did it y’know? Eddie had snorted, blinked away his tears, and had admitted that Steve was right. Steve said of course he was, because he knew that Eddie won’t turn into his father. He’s going to turn out like Wayne.

Eddie had cried then, and he could feel his eyes starting to go misty now, standing in Robin’s hallways with Steve’s hand in his. He tries to blink away the tears that were threatening to fall, but Eddie doesn’t think he’s that successful. He knows he’s definitely unsuccessful when he feels Steve gently kiss the top of his head, lips pressing against his curls.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed when they hear the click of the door opening, Robin stepping out into the hall with her hands behind her back. Eddie can feel his throat tighten, and sort of feels like he’s going to puke. Oh God, this is it. Steve tightens his grip on Eddie’s hand, and they both whip their heads around to look at her. Robin’s face is unreadable as she looks down at her feet, and then up to them.

There’s a glint in her eyes now, a certain twist in the corner of her mouth, and Eddie can hear Steve’s breath hitch. She reaches behind her back, and holds the pregnancy test out in front of them. Their eyes are drawn to it like a magnet, desperate, eager, searching.

Eddie looks for the small screen on the side of the test and finds himself staring at a small, red, plus. His gaze snaps to Robin’s, eyes wide, and she’s biting her lips now, holding back the grin that threatens to take over her face.

He looks over at Steve only to find him looking back, his own eyes now glistening with unshed tears. Neither of them say anything as they look back at Robin. Not yet. It feels like as soon as they say anything, verbalise it, make it real, it’s going to hit Eddie like a truck. So he sits in the quiet of the moment, tearing up, Steve’s hand gripped tightly in his.

Robin’s voice is soft and low as she speaks, breaks the silence. “I’m pregnant.”

“You’re pregnant,” Steve repeats in awe, almost reverential. His eyes shine as a stray tear falls. “Holy shit.”

“I’m pregnant!” She repeats, louder this time, no longer holding back a smile but grinning at them widely. Gripping the pregnancy test in her hands, she starts to jump and rock in place. As if her excitement is an itch under her skin she can’t get out. “It worked!”

Eddie hasn’t said anything, he doesn’t know how to. He know’s he’s standing there looking gormless, doe eyed and teary, mouth agape. It doesn’t seem real. It finally worked. Robin is pregnant and it’s theirs. He whispers. “You’re pregnant.” Then again, louder, as if repeating the words would make it more real. “You’re fucking pregnant!”

“We’re having a baby!” Steve says, words dripping with excitement and awe and almost disbelief. He lets go of Eddie’s hand, but before he can miss it’s presence Steve is throwing his arms around both him and Robin, drawing them in close.

Eddie’s really crying now, tears coming out in a flood and he can’t stop them. Above all else, above the fear and the anxiety and the weight of his father — he’s happy. He’s so fucking happy. Steve’s shirt is dampening with Eddie’s tears, and he can hear Robin sniffling herself. If they’re not careful, they’ll spend the whole evening crying in the hall. He leans over to place a wet smacking kiss on Robin’s cheek, and then turns to Steve to give him the same.

Steve turns at the last second, capturing his lips with his own. And then they’re kissing, and they’re crying, smiling through it all with Robin still trapped in a hug. She doesn’t seem to mind, laughing all the while, clutching the test in her hands like it’s made of gold. Steve pulls back from the kiss with a wet pop, and Robin beams through her own tears as Steve buries his face in her neck.

“Thank you,” Steve whispers, loud enough for them all to hear. “For doing this for us.”

“It’s an honour,” Robin replies, words honey sweet and oh so happy. She smiles at them, sniffling. “But if you think I’m not going to milk this for all it’s worth, you’re wrong.”

Eddie throws his head back and cackles.

#Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Robin Buckley #Steddie #Steddie fic #Stranger Things #My Writing #stobin

528 notes · View notes

nap-mak · 6 months

Text

LOTR in a modern world headcanons? I think yes.

I did this on one of my old accounts that i ended up deleting for some reason, i don’t remember, but here. Back on my Lord Of The Rings BS, let’s gooooo. This’ll be the fellowship with everyone intact, no one is dead.

As always requests are open and let me know if you want more!

LOTR x GN! Reader, general headcanons for if you had to take care of them today, in 2023. Enjoy!

The ring most likely has no power in this dimension, so yay Frodo is free from torment!

Sam loves watching cooking, gardening and home renovation shows, and he gets very invested in the former two. You learn a lot you didn’t really need to know from his commentary

Once Pippin learns about pyjamas and fuzzy slippers he never goes back, you literally cannot get him out of them

Boromir and Aragorn, being human and coincidentally two of the most responsible members of the fellowship, are the easiest to take in public to the grocery store and such.

You can pass off the hobbits (if they cover their ears with their hair) as children, and Gimli is your friend with dwarfism.

Gandalf you can pass off as your grandfather, and Legolas looks pretty normal if you cover his ears.

Pippin is the type to bounce in his seat in the car and ask “Are we there yet?!” every 5 minutes

Frodo really likes to draw, especially when there’s so many cool places and movies to draw inspiration from.

Movie nights? No horrors. The hobbits are terrified by ‘em.

Movie nights are literally so difficult because they all have such different tastes

Merry really likes James Bond movies.

Pippin is obsessed with nail polish when you introduce him to it. Boromir gets his repainted every time the polish come off. His nails need serious help after a while

Pippin and Merry often start pillow fights, and drag everyone else into it

If you have space for a garden or plants in your home, Sam is on it. He finds it calming, so now you have some home grown plants :)

Taking the hobbits in public? Bad idea. You can trust Frodo and Sam, but Merry inevitably drags Pippin off to do something dumb and possibly dangerous.

Gandalf has an old man rocker. There is no discussion.

The hobbits do the classic “getting one sibling to ask for fast food because whoever’s in charge will say yes”, they get Frodo to do this because he has the best puppy dog face and he’s unsure about asking for things normally.

Pippin and Merry cannot handle too much caffeine or sugar or they go crazy

You thought Legolas’ hair was good before? He steals your hair care products and his hair is literally perfect.

(He’s also willing to do skincare with you, not that his face needs it. Again, flawless)

Game nights are so chaotic. You can’t play a lot of games since they don’t know what many things from this world are, so games like Trivia and Charades are off the table

Gimli and Legolas verse each other in video games, often enough it ends with Legolas winning and Gimli rage quitting

Aragorn is so responsible he’s literally the perfect man to do anything with, and he can hold the fort down if you need to leave

Pippin is so clingy, he trails you wherever you go and asks you random questions but it’s adorable

Boromir insists on carrying your stuff, bags of groceries, all that

Frodo often goes to the library to find new books to read, with you of course

There’s a whole debate on whether 3D or 2D animation is better, i would not get involved if i were you.

Pippin and Merry are also avid fans of quoting their favourite movies, once they see them

Legolas and Frodo are the best listeners, they will just sit there and not judge or try to give you advice they just. sit there. like the perfect men they are.

Legolas would have a meme for everything. Like any situation. You text him like “PIPPIN FELL DOWN SOME WELL WE DON’T EVEN HAVE A WELL HELP” and he just has a meme that fits the situation perfectly.

Frodo and Legolas would watch Avatar: The Last Airbender together because it’s their favourite show. Aragorn jumps in also.

Those three are also avid tea drinkers.

Boromir likes Game Of Thrones. I don’t know anything about it, he just does. Please confiscate Pippin while he does.

Pippin gasps dramatically whenever a plot twist surprises him.

Sam loves to cook, and he does a lot of cooking in the house once he arrives. You two just work together in the kitchen (if you can’t cook, he’ll teach you) and have nice sweet conversations

Legolas is great at doing people’s hair. If you ask him to, he’d probably agree, though he’d probably be a bit flustered as that is a courting ritual in his culture.

Ask Legolas to talk to you until you fall asleep. His voice is so heavenly istg-

The hobbits get sleepy when their hair is played with and it’s adorable

Won’t lie this hyperfixation came back then it circled back to TMNT and today i watched these films with my friend and now i’m back to LotR love. Most of this has been sitting in my drafts for a couple weeks.

Anyway, I think that’s about it from me, I hope you guys enjoy! :)

If you want to request, rules are pinned on my page! Let me know if you want a general part two or a set of modern headcanons for a specific character. I love LOTR in the modern world content so much.

Have a good day, and remember that you are loved!

#lotr #x reader #fanfiction #lord of the rings x reader #the fellowship x reader #gn!reader #frodo x reader #samwise x reader #pippin x reader #merry x reader #aragorn x reader #legolas x reader #gimli x reader #boromir x reader #gandalf x reader #everybody lives #lotr in modern world #im not making aragorn a single hobbit parent no sir #so many tags

239 notes · View notes

rohirric-hunter · 1 year

Text

A friend and I came up with a concept for a humorous LotR fanfic a while ago. It was called, “The Heavily Suppressed Adventures of Bungo Baggins and Belladonna Took.” Took its inspiration from the one line in the Hobbit that implies that Belladonna might have gone on adventures before she married Bungo, with a splash of inspiration from the idea that at one point Tolkien was considering a line about how vanishing with one’s intended was a bit of a courting ritual among Hobbits.

So Bungo means to propose to Belladonna, but on the very night when he plans to do it she gets recruited for an Adventure by Gandalf, and Bungo, who is either not especially good at recognizing when he ought to change his plans or never one to let little obstacles deter him, depending on how you look at it, also volunteers to go on the Adventure, thinking that he’ll just propose the next day. But the next day is not a great day for it, nor is the next, nor the one after, and so the story goes on. Belladonna is very into the adventure, which she is well-suited for and has been looking forward to her whole life, and Bungo. Loathes. every second of it. But he keeps on going for Belladonna, because he hasn’t yet had the perfect moment to propose to her, and he’s determined to do it, and she’s so excited to share this whole amazing adventure with him.

We never fleshed out the adventure specifically, beyond that it had something to do with dragon eggs in the Blue Mountains. Rather a lot of it was intended to reflect The Hobbit. Bungo had an engagement ring that he was carrying with him and kept very very secret for obvious reasons, and it was meant to be a sort of lighter parallel to the Ring and Bilbo’s behavior towards it. The actual engagement itself was meant to be over the top, ridiculous, hopelessly, sloppily romantic; Bungo would drop the ring and his desperate efforts to get it back would get him into trouble, which Belladonna would save him from, at which point she would discover the ring and ask if he’d meant to propose to him. Or maybe the ring itself would be lost and Bungo would worry that everything was ruined, but it would be dramatically revealed that Belladonna had also intended to propose to him when the adventure was over. We ping-ponged between the two and both have their merits.

Anyway, once the adventure was over, they would return to the Shire together, happily engaged, and live happily ever after to the end of their days. The real kicker was that all this was meant to be told in the frame story of Gandalf telling it to Bilbo on the trip to the Undying Lands; Bungo, unwilling to be known for an adventurer in the Shire, had sworn everyone involved to secrecy so long as they lived on Middle-earth, and Gandalf, who had been itching to tell Bilbo about it for decades, was reveling in the fact that he no longer lived on Middle-earth and was therefore not bound by the oath anymore. The whole thing was going to wrap up with Bilbo’s staunch insistence that he didn’t believe a word of it, to which Gandalf would respond that he was free not to, he supposed. Bilbo would then turn to Frodo and say, “Of course I believe it, Frodo, my boy. I was just hoping to get a turn out of old Gandalf! But of course he probably knows what I’m doing, after all. Well, that is a story! Don’t adventures ever have a start?”

#lotr #i would in theory love to write a fic but we all know im not going to

720 notes · View notes

justtuffithinkabout · 4 months

Text

So I just got around to watching the first of the Lord of the Rings movies (extended edition of course) and they made me realize just how much Gandalf's death must've weighed on Pippin.

Like, when they come out of Moria, you see Pippin curled up on the ground with Merry holding him and at first you think "that's so sad look how much they're grieving that Gandalf is dead" but Pippin could reasonably blame himself for the death. He caused that corpse to fall down the well and let all of Moria know they were there, which probably alerted the balrog.

But!

Consider *book Pippin*.

Book Pippin did not poke an arrow and accidentally knock a corpse over the edge of the well. In the book "he groped for a loose stone, and let it drop. He felt his heart beat many times before there was any sound. Then far below, as if the stone had fallen into deep water in some cavernous place, there came a *plunk*, very distant, but magnified and repeated in the hollow shaft."

That was *not* an accident.

And that would be a lot of guilt for even someone like Aragorn or Boromir, someone accustomed to things going wrong and losing people, but Pippin is not even an *adult* yet!

Hobbits come of age at 33. Pippin is 28. Even if you are conservative about it and take that 33 to be more equivalent to 21, he is *seventeen years old*. If you go by the technical, legal adulthood of 18, he is *fifteen!!*

Like. Wow.

Imagine being fifteen and being the probable cause of death of an extremely powerful, possibly immortal being who has been involved in the history of your family (it's mentioned in The Hobbit that Gandalf has taken many Took boys and girls off on adventures through the generations) and community for probably centuries, because you were *bored and curious*

Like-

Can't wait to watch the rest of the movies and get emotionally whammied even more 👍

#lotr #pippin #peregrin took #poor pippin #the fellowship of the ring #seriously he is babey #a child #and then he goes and looks into the palantir #big oof

75 notes · View notes

inevesgf · 3 months

Note

will love you eternally if you do chrismd next 😭😭 barely any content for him nowadays and i’m CRAVING it

LORD OF THE RINGS ⠀,⠀ chrismd.

synopsis ✩ in which after you filmed a football video for the chrismd channel, you added that you had never seen lord of the rings, which allows chris to have a reason to ask you on a date.

authors note: my first one - shot on here! i used to write quite often, but haven’t recently, so i hope this satisfies all you chris girlies out there. i sometimes get carried away when i write so this one is kind of a long one. honestly, i have also never seen lord of the rings so if there’s any inaccuracies, i apologize. nonetheless, i hope you all enjoy <3

word count: 2.8k.

being a youtuber around the london area, you had a lot of friends who presented themselves in the limelight of social media. other fellow youtubers, streamers even; you knew a variety of people. during your weekdays, you’d find yourself filming with friends, and on weekends, occasionally the same.

today was a weekday like any other. chris, one of your mutual friends, had asked you to film a football video with. while you weren’t the best at football, at least you were better than danny. danny would be there, so you were sure to embarrass him by hitting the crossbar more times than he could.

the filming of the video concluded within the span of two hours; enough time for the whole idea of it to go to bits and end up turning into a free for all. though you had fun, you couldn’t help by laugh at how off track this group got when they were together.

“alright,” freezy spoke, “now that that’s done, i can go home and finish my harry potter marathon with lux.” his seemingly enthralled tone made the others laugh around him as chris began to talk, “lord of the rings is way better, mate.” chris was an absolute nerd, but you couldn’t help but love it. he was quite different from the boys you hung around with, not bad different, but the kind of different that intrigued you. when conversations about cinema came up, you usually tried to involve yourself as you were passionate about your favorite films. “i’ve never seen lord of the rings.” chris’ mouth laid a-gap, like you had just shot him, as he put his hand over his heart dramatically. “well you better get on that. you’re reeeallly missing out.” a small laugh escaped your lips in return.

a few goodbyes were thrown out as everyone walked their separate ways. you had parked on one side of the pitch, where all but one of the guys had parked on the other. that one was chris. he had came jogging up behind you slowly as his breath hitched from the cool london air. “you seriously have never seen lord of the rings? the hobbit? not one?” once again, you chuckled. you could relate to chris in someways. you two were both very passionate about your interests, his just happened to be some movie about a ring. “nope, haven’t. i guess i never got around to it, really. i have no patience to watch films on my own.” you spoke. it was true, sometimes it would take you several days to watch one film on your own because you kept pausing. “then we’ll watch it together.” when chris proposed this idea, you couldn’t help but smile. in all honesty, you’ve always found him at least a bit attractive. of course, a guy inviting you to watch a film with him didn’t always mean a date, but still - it was exciting nonetheless. maybe he was just being friendly, but it never hurt to test the waters. “alright then, sounds like a plan.” and with that, chris began walking his way over to his vehicle, a smile on his face mirroring the one on yours. “see you then, y.n. have a good night.”

it hadn’t been long since you arrived at your flat after filming that you received a text from chris. you had honestly thought him proposing to watch lord of the rings with you was a joke, but it clearly wasn’t. ‘when are you free?’ the words on the screen illuminated your face, accentuating the deep pink tone that flushed your cheeks. you answered back, yet not quick enough to come off as desperate; you always overthought these types of things. ‘i’m free whenever :)’ you responded, as your schedule was clear of filming for the rest of the week. quickly after you had sent that text, he replied, ‘friday night, 7pm, and i’ll cook us dinner too ;)’ a blush crept onto your face. it had been wednesday night, so unfortunately you had to wait one anxious day before this. you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. like what had crossed your mind earlier, you had always thought chris was cute. there was an unspoken rule between you and becky that friends were off limits. you have both established that flings like that usually never work out, and overall it would be awkward if something bad happened. you did want to take a chance on it, after all, you didn’t know if this was a date or a friendly get together - even though you couldn’t help but pray to yourself that it’d be the first.

thursday passed faster than expected, and so did the first half of friday. you spent most of the day on thursday debriefing, cleaning, and overall just spending sometime to yourself. earlier friday, you had caught lunch with becky of who you told about your ‘date’ with chris. she didn’t think it was a horrible idea, in fact, she was happy for you. the girl seemed to be even more giddy than you. “y.n, this is great! you have to tell me everything, and i mean everything.” your friends had always been more interested in your own love life than you were. out of the group of girls you hung around, you were one of the only ones who was single. it didn’t bother you that much, i mean, you had more friends than you could ever ask for. its not that you didn’t find need for a relationship, you just liked your independence. “i will, trust me. you’ll be the first person i call when i get home.” a satisfied yet smitten look was placed upon your face as you began to discuss your excitement for tonight. you weren’t nervous, moreso giddy than anything.

after lunch, you made your way back to your flat. as you entered, a vibrating motion happened from your phone as the screen lit up. ‘are we still on for tonight?’ it was chris. again, after you waited a few moments to answer, you responded. ‘of course, see you then :)’ after you had eagerly waited for around for half past 5, you began to get ready. not knowing what the acceptable dress code would be for watching a film at someone’s flat, you picked out a simple yet comfortable outfit.

you pulled down your sweater over your head; a sidemen one harry had gifted you; as you flattened the creases on it with your hands. to play it safe, you paired it with light wash jeans and plain chucks. it didn’t take you long to get ready, though you checked yourself out in the mirror more than you liked to admit during the process. you had a bit of anxiety when it came to being presentable. the fear of being overdressed or undressed for an occasion was always at the back of your mind. since you had picked something casual, you assumed you’d be fine. the clock had reached half past 6, which gave you just enough time to make your way to chris’ flat. luckily he lived only minutes away from you, so being late wasn’t a stressor.

the drive to chris’ was filled with drowned out music by lizzy mcalpine playing as you thought anxiously. being around chris wasn’t something new to you, but being alone with him certainly was. you had known the boy for a few years now, yet you were never the closest. like you had earlier that week, you had filmed videos with him — having mutual friends — and commonly went out in a group together on weekends. you two had always gotten along and chatted together, but usually nothing more.

you pulled into the designated parking area outside of chris’ flat and put your car into park. before you got out of the car, you sighed anxiously as you checked your hair in the rearview mirror. as you made your way to the entrance of the building, a heavy breath escaped your lips. as you inhaled, the only smell you could make out was your vanilla perfume. you felt as if maybe your anxiousness was turning into a sort of anxiety. usually before dates, whether this was one or not, you were calm. not this time though. chris, without even have experienced most of his charm, had you smitten.

when you had reached chris’ apartment door, you checked your watch. the time read five to seven which meant you were perfectly on time. as you placed a knock on the door, you made an oath to yourself that you wouldn’t make it obvious you were nervous. seconds passed before chris opened the door, greeting you with a smile. “hi, y.n, im glad you could make it,” the smile still remained on his face as he held the door open for you to go inside, “welcome to my not-so-luxurious home.” his words earned a slight laugh from you as you walked in before he closed then door behind you. “how are you doing?” you started small talk. chris entered the kitchen area and you followed behind him. upon entering the kitchen, the delicious smell of steak hit your nose, practically making your mouth water. “just lovely. i think i pulled something during the last football video we did, but other than that, lovely.” one thing you liked about chris is that he acted the same around everyone, whether he was on camera or off. his charismatic, yet sarcastic personality carried on in person just as it did in his videos. “thank you for helping me out with that last video, by the way. did you enjoy your time?” as he spoke, he made his was around the kitchen island and turned the stoves burner off. you sat yourself down at one of the stools in front of the island, watching attentively as he finished cooking up the meal. “yes, i did,” you told, flashing him a smile, “its always a good time filming videos for your channel.” “i’m glad. even though that group gets so off course, we make for a good video. you were the highlight of this one; being better than most them. you’re a good player.” he smiled and you laughed, a blush crept up on your face as you were flattered by the boy. chris began cutting the steak up into portion sizes, placing the halves on plates next to some skillet cooked potatoes. “well, thank you. not as good as you though.” “okay, maybe not as good,” he chuckled at his own words, “but you got a good leg.” chris pulled up a stool across the table from you before placing one of the two plates he just prepared in front of you.

the delicious smell of steak hit your nose and you were pleased. excited to dig in, you grabbed your utensils as chris picked his up from the table. “freezy actually taught me when i moved to london,” you went on, “i haven’t played that much before then.” “makes it even funnier that you’re better than him.” again, you chuckled. you seemed to be full of laughs today, but it was surely just the nerves masking themselves. with some small talk in between, including conversations about football and youtube, you two began to eat your meal. to be honest, you were shocked. chris never striked you as a good cook — especially after you watched the come dine with me video — but this was surprisingly good. of course, he could have bought it at the store and grilled it on the stove, but it tasted wonderful nonetheless.

it took you both around 45 minutes to finish your meal due to being caught up in conversation. you had to admit, chris knew how to entertain. the stories he had to tell were interesting, and he always made sure to leave you time to react. afterwards, you two had made your way into chris’ living space. as he sat down on the sofa, he patted the spot next to him, telling you to sit down. as you sat down next to him on the sofa, you began to speak, “thank you for dinner. yknow, i never thought you be a good cook.” in return, chris laughed, slightly offended at your words. “wow, thank you, seemed like you had high hopes.” “i mean, hey, i just never thought you were the type that enjoyed cooking.” as you both laughed slightly, you two locked eyes. you had never realized before, but chris had the most gorgeous brown eyes. you felt as if you could get lost in them forever, but so you didn’t look like a creep, you quickly shifted your gaze over to the television. the intro of the film started to play as you attentively watched the screen. you didn’t know a smidge about lord of the rings, so you hoped chris would educate you along the way.

throughout watching the film, chris put in his commentary and answered any questions you had. you thought him being so passionate about a film was cute and you made sure to listen carefully to what he had to say on it. “i think im most like frodo,” chris added. you two had been halfway through the movie, so you sort of got an idea of where he was coming from. “why’s that?” you spoke as you turned your head from the television to face him. “well, i would say im brave, observant too,” chris seemed to be flattering himself with his own words, “maybe not as calm as him, but we’re similar in someways.” you nodded, once again locking eyes with the boy. you couldn’t help but notice that throughout the film, chris had moved his way closer to you. beforehand, you had left at least another persons worth of room between you both, but now as you locked eyes, your face was inches away. a sort of tension filled the air, making you more nervous than before. “i can see that. he reminds me of you,” chris smiled. before you could think, chris placed his hand on his cheek and planted a somewhat thirsty kiss on your lips.

you were shocked if anything. it took you milliseconds to respond before you reciprocated the action and pushed your lips against his. your thoughts raced a million miles a second, but you could help but celebrate mentally that this was — inn fact — a date. his lips danced against yours as you found yourself placing a hand on the back of his neck, tangling your fingers gently in his soft curls. the kiss — that was more so a quick make-out session — lasted a few, long minutes before he pulled away. chris laughed, seemingly embarrassed or flustered. your cheeks flushed pink as you giggled; giddy as if he were your grade 9 crush. your hair had fallen in-front of your eyes and with one quick motion chris found himself pushing the strand from your face to behind your ear. becky and you had always talked about boys, and if she was wrong about anything: it was about chivalry being dead. the cliches are what got you and this action had caused your pink cheeks to turn dark red. “you’re beautiful,” a whisper had fallen from his lips. his words had seemed to speak through you instead of to you; the message he had spoke engraving it’s way into your brain. you were flustered as thoughts, and not all appropriate ones at that, organized themselves in your mind. “thank you,” you matched his whispering tone, letting your hands fall from the back of his neck to his forearm, “you’re not too bad yourself.” you laughed softly. a hue of pink appeared on his cheeks, matching the one on yours. one thing you had in common with chris was your teasing, sarcastic manner, but if anything, what you had said was far from teasing. you usually didn’t develop feelings very fast, but you couldn’t be more sure that you had already fancied chris. one kiss had pulled you under, and far from return at that.

after your heart had stopped beating a hundred beats a minute and your cheeks returned to their natural hue, you fixed your gaze back onto the television. after his impulsive move, chris had seemed to relax himself. while still near to you, he put his arm around you, inching your body closer to his. this was a casual action, but it returned the butterflies you once had in your stomach. making yourself comfortable, you rested your head on his shoulder.

considering this first date successful, you couldn’t have been happier. you were still oddly surprised about the kiss, but hey! you weren’t complaining. shifting slowly in your position, you sunk your body closer to chris’, leaning into him. a satisfied hum escaped his lips as he slowly rubbed your forearm. your comfort overpowered you as the film started to come to an end, your eyes closing as you fell asleep in his arms.

133 notes · View notes

queenariesofnarnia · 7 months

Text

shy love; r.j. lupin

gif not mine

Remus Lupin x Shy!Reader; Platonic Sirius x Shy!Reader

- Hogwarts 1975-

The first time he notices her is when she sits in the Great Hall with Lily before they head to muggle studies. The smile on her face was a shy but genuine one that reached her eyes. His eyes followed her as she linked arms with Lily walking out the door both girls giggling. The next time he noticed her was in Hogsmeade, she was wearing a worn out knit sweater that covered her hands as she held a copy of The Hobbit reading it peacefully under a tree. It brought a smile to his face she was stunning; he wasn’t the only one who acknowledged it. He has overheard Lily ask her many times why she rejected someone. She felt eyes on her as she was deep into the story of Bilbo Baggins and the company of dwarves. Glancing up over the edge of the book she met the warm honey-colored eyes of the sandy haired Gryffindor. He quickly looked away and she giggled softly returning to her book.

Of course, the Marauders noticed his behavior. James even made the effort to get Lily involved. She immediately agrees to the plan, knowing that her friend is too shy to approach him. Sirius encourages him that everything will be great, and there is no way she will say no to him if he approaches her. He decides to take the chance the next time he sees her which is by the Black Lake. Laying in the shade of an oak tree on a blanket. Dawning another oversized sweater and halfway through another book. He could tell she was enjoying the book the way she was focused on it. He took a deep breath and walked closer to her. His light footsteps tore her eyes from the story meeting his eyes once again. This time he didn’t look away, but he smiled at her, and she returned it with a small one.

“ Hi, I’m Remus” his voice was warm and welcoming to her ears. Giving him her name in a soft voice, his heart fluttered a bit.

“Would you like to join me?” she asks gesturing to the space on her blanket. He quickly accepts the offer. As they begin to have conversation, she was still a bit reserved until he asks her how she enjoyed The Hobbit. The way her eyes lit up at the mention of the book she just finished had washed her typical bashfulness away. He hung onto every word she said as she animatedly described the story and what she loved about it. The two talked for hours just getting to know one another. The others watched the two from about twenty feet away.

“I definitely get to be the maid of honor” Lily says with a proud smile as her friend laughs at something Remus says.

“I might fight you for that position Evans” Sirius jokes, the smile not leaving his face as he watches the pair that’s oblivious to the world around them. The sun was setting by the time the two made it back to the castle for dinner time. Remus offers a hug before they part ways, she accepts the hug hiding her face into his chest, no one sees the smile on her face but him. He bids her a see you later and she waves in response her fingers barely peeking over the hand hole of the sweater. A goofy smile is on Remus’ face as he sits down with his friends who each have a smug grin on their faces. He glances over once more; she smiles with the corner of her bottom lip pulled between her teeth before leaning on Lily’s shoulder to tell her about the afternoon she had. The Marauder’s take this time to ask Remus as many questions as possible regarding his afternoon. After dinner he offers to walk her to her common room, which she gladly accepts. Thanking him with a quick kiss on the cheek leaving the sandy haired honey-colored eyed boy flustered and in a daze.

-The Wedding 1979-

They were each nervous, and their friends joked about how sweet it is. As predicted that afternoon Lily is now dressed in her pale green maid of honor gown calming her best friend down.

“You’re still as shy as the day you met him Bunny” the endearing nickname makes the bride to be smile.

“I know Lils, you would think I would be over it” she replies laughing. Sirius knocks on the door to let the girls know its time. Lily opens the door for him.

“You look nice Evans. Prongs might die” he compliments his ginger friend. Then he looks over at the still shy girl who has become his best friend “Bunny you look stunning Moony might faint” he grabs her hands with an ecstatic smile on his face. Sirius will be walking her down the aisle which makes James the best man for the day.

“Thank you Pads” she pulls Sirius into a hug; he holds her tight.

“Let’s get you out there” he tells her noticing that Lily has left the room. The music flowed through the garden. Lily and James already at Remus’ side. His eyes meet his soon to be wife’s a smile gracing his face as tears well in his eyes. The shy smile she gave the first time they spoke made its way to her face. As Sirius walks her down the aisle, he whispers words of encouragement to her. He can tell how nervous she is, but reminds her that it’s just Moony, to only focus on him the entire time and not the crowd. As he hands her off, he gives her one more hug before sitting in the front row.

“You look absolutely ethereal my love” Remus whispers in her ear.

The priest begins the ceremony, the bride and groom look lovingly into each other’s eyes as each say “I do” sealing their forever with a kiss.

#remus x reader #remus lupin #marauders #moony x reader #sirius x reader #lily evans #james x lily

117 notes · View notes

imagines--galore · 1 year

Text

||A Confession Years in the Making||

Summary: A reunion between two friends, turns to something.....more.

Pairing: Legolas x Reader

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+ Romance. Fluff. A little mention of blood and death. And some kissing in the end.

A/N: @aidansloth and @chocotacobread suggested that I continue this and I couldn’t help myself so here it is!

The battle of Helm’s Deep was won.

It was hard-earned and brutal. So many lives had been lost.

You were one of the few elves that had survived. It had not been easy. The enemy had seen to slaughtering you whatever chance it could get. Yet you had been steadfast and true in your skills as a warrior. You still had so much to live for and one mere battle would not deter you from your true purpose.

Sustaining no life-threatening injuries, you had taken to carrying out other tasks. One of them being searching for survivors amongst those fallen. More then once you had stooped down to carry an injured soldier to the Healing Halls. Your elf strength aided in carrying them, though it didn’t take long for your clothing to be stained with blood and grime from your task. You had removed your armor earlier, or rather what was left of it. You had used several pieces of your armor as ammunition during the battle.

Despite your relatively high level of endurance, you were beginning to tire now. You had not rested after the battle, and now it had been nearly a full day since you had any rest. Before that there had been the long march across Middle-Earth. Suffice to say when Aragorn approached you tell you there was a room where the remaining Fellowship and elves were resting, you were quick to follow him.

Entering the room you were greeted by the sight of several figures slumbering upon the ground underneath warm blankets. You were too exhausted to notice anyone or anything as Aragorn guided you to an empty spot and handed you a blanket and a rough looking pillow. You barely thanked him as you pushed off your boots and outer tunic, revealing the slightly cleaner one underneath. You would’ve preferred a bath but you were just so tired. As soon as you laid down you were asleep, unaware of the elf that lay beside you, lost in his own dreams.

————————-

A warmth enveloped your hand, prompting you to open your eyes, staring sleepily at the eyes of the elf lying beside you. He seemed to have just woken as well, since his own eyes were barely open, yet there was a small smile playing on his lips as he stroked his thumb along the back of your hand. You closed your eyes with a gentle smile, your body subtly moving a little closer to his.

“Thank the Valar you are safe.” He whispered so softly that the words reached no other ears but your own. You lifted his hand to your lips, pressing them softly against his skin. “And I am glad that you are safe as well, Legolas.”

The both of you fell asleep again.

————————-

You had been to countless elven festivities during your lifetime. And those of men was not so different from your own.

There was drinking involved, of course, songs, dance, merriment and laughter. Wherever you looked, you saw families reunited with their loved ones, soldier’s sitting together and remembering their fallen comrades. The Hobbits, Merry and Pippin, as you had been introduced, were dancing on the table. The White Wizard, Mithrandir, was watching amused. He caught your gaze and gave you a warm smile, which you returned. However, your gaze was directed towards a certain elf and his dwarf friend. You navigated your way over to them, amused to see what they were up to.

There seemed to be some sort of drinking competition, you deduced from the many many tankards that were now resting upon the table. As the Prince of Mirkwood appeared from behind a tankard, once he had drained it of course, you couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “Would not be cheating if you were to win? You know their ale cannot effect us.” You whispered to him as you watched Gimli reach for yet another tankard.

Legolas smiled mischievously before pressing a lips to his fingers. You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his antics. It didn’t take long for Gimli to promptly keel over and begin snoring as the ale finally got to him. You couldn’t help but laugh at the smug yet unbothered manner in which Legolas stated his victory. “Game Over.”

You patted his arm gently before moving to the unconscious. Together the both of you managed to pick him up and carry him out of the Feasting Halls. Finding the rooms where you would be sleeping, Gimli was deposited there, and after throwing a blanket over him, and listening to him curse at Legolas for winning, though in jest, the two of you stepped out of the room and into the hallway.

The two of you turned your heads to look at one another, before you reached out to clasp his hand within you own and began to lead him down the hall. Past the crowd of happy people and out into the cool evening air. The both of you stood next to one another, hands still clasped. The silence seemed to stretch on and on, yet it was one of comfort.

“I did not think we would survive.” You finally spoke, allowing a slight tremble to your voice as you did. Legolas nodded. “There was a moment I thought as such as well.” He responded. If it had not been for Mithrandir and Éomer’s timely arrival they would have been overwhelmed quickly by the enemy.

“We elves tend to not think about death, given that were are immortal.” You turned so you could face him. “But during the battle, watching our kinsmen fall, I realized we are just as vulnerable as Man.” He gave your hand a light squeeze as if in reassurance. Your gaze flickered to your joined hands and raised them between the two of you. You lifted your other hand as well as you began to play with his fingers, and drawing patterns against his palm. “And though I had resolved to tell you even before the battle of how I felt, I realized I should’ve done it a long long time ago.”

You finally looked up at him, eyes shining with unshed tears to see a storm of emotions darkening his gaze. Yet he looked at you so tenderly. You had never seen him look that way before, though little did you know, over the years, when your gaze had been fixed on something else, he had looked at you with that expression quite often.

“I suppose it was a mistake on both our parts, to keep something from one another for so long.�� He finally said, reaching up with his other hand to push some of your hair behind your pointed ear. The wind was blowing softly, allowing strands of your hair to dance in the breeze. You had borrowed a dress from Lady Éowyn for the occasion, but it hardly mattered to Legolas what you wore. You looked just as beautiful as you did after the battle at Helm’s Deep. His hand lingered at your ear, fingertips only barely brushing against the pointed tip. The sensation prompted you to inhale a shuddering breath, unable to look away from him.

“Shall we promise never to do that again?” You asked, clasping his hands in both of yours, stepping closer to him as you did. The scent of pine and wood enveloped you completely as you drew comfort from simply being in his presence. He gave a small nod of confirmation, his hand cupping the side of your face as he drew you even closer.

“I promise, never to keep a secret from you Y/N, again.” You had been expecting his lips to meet yours. Your eyes had closed, which was why you were a little surprised when he passed your mouth completely. “And here is my final secret.” He finally stopped a mere breath away from your ear as he whispered his final secret, his final undoing. His breath was warm against your skin. His closeness and scent was making your head spin, and yet you had never felt so grounded, so alive before.

A shy yet delighted smile stretched across your features as your body leaned against his completely and you turned your head to whisper your final secret to him as well.

The promise the two of you made that night was sealed with an embrace that was both passionate yet gentle. His lips found yours at the same time yours found his. There was no denying that whatever spark there had been between the two of you only seemed to shine brighter as you kissed. It had always been there, but this would be the first time you were both allowing yourself to explore for the first time.

You pulled back from the kiss, your nose brushing against his for a moment. You opened your eyes to see him looking back at you, and the emotion that lay within urged you to fuse your lips together once more. The first kiss had been soft and gentle, this was anything but.

With a hand at the back of your head, Legolas tilted your head slightly to allow him to better slant his lips against yours. The slight shift had him making the kiss even deeper.

You poured every ounce of love and devotion into the embrace, trying to convey the depth of your feelings to him. Legolas seemed matched your pace perfectly, as he wrapped his arms around your waist, his hands stroking along the length of your back. Your hands were occupied with his hair, before roaming down to his shoulders.

He was the one who pulled back this time, taking satisfaction at your breathlessness the blush across your cheeks. “No more secrets?” He asked, as his thumb ran along the bottom of your lower lip. You shook your head. “No more secrets.”

You pulled him back down, your giggle at his startled expression muffled as your lips met once more.

#legolas x reader #legolas x y/n #legolas x oc #lotr imagine #lord of the rings imagine

286 notes · View notes

warrioreowynofrohan · 1 year

Text

Their Oath Shall Drive Them and Yet Betray Them

When you run through the events of the Silmarillion, it’s glaring how consistently the Oath of Fëanor works against its own fulfillment.

One of Fëanor’s first acts after taking the Oath - not directly driven by it, but certainly driven by the same pattern of ‘I will kill anyone who stands between me and reclaiming the Silmarils’ - is the massacre of the Teleri and the theft of the swan-ships. This isn’t a necessary action to get to Middle-earth - it is simply the fastest, easiest, and most violent path.

But let’s say we set that aside, and look only at actions that are directly in service to the Oath.

For the four hundred years that Morgoth - their enemy, responsible for the deaths of their father and grandfather, supposedly the reason they swore the Oath in the first place - holds the Silmarils, the Fëanoreans make no attempt to reclaim the Silmarils.

But when non-Morgoth people even think about them, it is another matter entirely.

Celegorm and Curufin usurp the rule of Nargothrond, send Finrod and Beren to their deaths and deliberately abandon them once their capture is know, take Lúthien captive and attempt to forcibly marry her to Celegorm and rape her, and, after they are expelled from Nargothrond, attempt first to kill Beren and kidnap Lúthien, and then attempt to murder Lúthien (and nearly do murder Beren) after she has shown them mercy.

Now, Thingol didn’t want a Silmaril in the first place. He never expected Beren to retrieve one. The goal was for Beren to be daunted by the task and leave, never to return, or else to die in the attempt. And the Silmarils aren’t inherently something people are unwilling to give up (thanks to a recent essay for pointing this out) - Beren gives it to Thingol, a messenger brings it to Dior after Beren and Lúthien’s deaths, Elwing has it as an infant and no one surrounding her tries to take it for themselves, Elwing gives it to Eärendil. Aside from the incident of Thingol and the dwarves - which involves (in some versions cursed) dragon-treasure, which we know from The Hobbit has an ill effect on some people - people are mostly only unwilling to give it up to the Sons of Fëanor. With just cause!

If it wasn’t for the Kinslaying at Alqualondë, and especially for Celegorm and Curufin’s actions in Nargothrond - if there had never been an Oath - would it have been possible to negotiate with Thingol for the Silmaril? It might have cost a great deal, politically - it might have cost the recognition of Thingol as King of Beleriand - but if they could humble their pride that far, it wouldn’t have been out of the question.

And beyond that - without Celegorm and Curufin’s acts in service of the Oath, would both Nargothrond and Doriath have joined in the assault against Angband that was the Fifth Battle? Could they have won? Could they have, among other things, regained the other two Silmarils? It’s questionable (there’s still the issue of having to fight inside Angband, and fighting Morgoth himself, and of additional dragons…), but the narrative in the Silm does suggest a few moments in the battle when there was a chance.

And with later events, it becomes even clearer. Beren, and certainly Lúthien, don’t care a lot about the Silmaril for its own sake; if there was no grievance - if not for the Fëanoreans’ deeds of kidnapping, and attempted rape and murder, and treachery causing the death of Beren’s friend and Lúthien’s cousin, and on top of that, threatening to murder Lúthien’s father - wouldn’t there have been a pretty decent chance to reach an agreement where the Fëanoreans recieved it upon Beren and Lúthien’s deaths? Or wouldn’t they have had far better chances of negotiating with Dior for it? At every step motivated by the Oath, the Fëanoreans make enemies of the very people whose goodwill would be of most value to them.

And of course, after the Second Kinslaying, none if the refugees of Doriath have cause to guve the Fëanoreans the time of day, much less a Silmaril.

But it keeps going. We come to the end of the War of Wrath; the other two Silmarils are reclaimed from Morgoth by the Host of the Valar. Maedhros and Maglor demand them of Eönwë, and he tells them that they have lost all right to the jewels - because of their many and merciless deeds, and most of all because of their slaying of Dior and the assault upon the Havens.

For a long time I found the temerity of this demand from Maedhros and Maglor, and of their later theft of the Silmarils, unfathomable, coming as it did towards an army that had arrived beyond hope and saved their lives and the lives of everyone in Beleriand, an army arriving at the appeal of two people whose friends and home Maedhros and Maglor had slaughtered and whose children they had stolen. But in this context the theft becomes clearer. They are being told that the very atrocities that they took to regain the Silmarils - atrocities that they loathe - have in fact permanently barred them from regaining them. They have, in effect, been told that if they had not spent the past years violating their own consciences and turning their deeds to evil and murder, and if, indeed, they had spent all the years since the Nirnaeth doing sweet fuck-all about the Oath, they would now be rid of it and have the Silmarils. That’s devastating! They don’t want to have done those things! All their evil choices, all their regrets, have served only to cut them off from a goal that they could have otherwise achieved. Of course they cannot accept this. Of course they make a last attempt, and learn the truth of Eönwë’s statement.

They recieved a prophecy and a warning, and they ignored it, and it had come true at every turn. Their Oath shall drive them and yet betray them. At every moment in Beleriand when there is any chance of the Fëanoreans regaining a Silmaril, the single greatest obstacle standing in their way is the Oath itself.

#tolkien #the silmarillion #oath of feanor #maedhros #maglor #sons of feanor #celegorm #curufin

283 notes · View notes

bitkahuna · 1 month

Text

Dwarves were weird. Customs he didn't understand, noble families starting to move in, and an enigmatic high priestess on her way to Erebor. All the while, his poor little cousin was befriending princes and getting worried about the intentions of those seeking to court him. He thought he was in over his head when he was given the position of Chamber Master. As it turns out, it wasn't the job that was too big for the hobbit, but the social implications he didn't know would follow with it.

"You know Dís will hear of this."

Frodo nodded.

"Don't tell anyone you fed those ideas to me."

Of all things, Frodo cracked a sly smile. "Of course not."

"This isn't a game, Frodo. It's a kingdom. You helped me before, but this ... you really shouldn't get involved with all this.”

The younger hobbit sighed, deflating slightly. "I already am, aren't I? I've been involved ever since you became the Hero of Erebor and invited your heir to come and join you."

"Frodo, I'm serious." He couldn't find the words. The notions that ran through his head were far too big for his mouth. "This is not the bright and verdant path of Yavanna. She does not call us to this."

Frodo almost looked disgusted that his cousin would say such a thing. “Doesn’t she? What’s coming that Erebor needs to be protected from, Bilbo?” He reminded

Bilbo could offer nothing more than a soft, “This isn’t very hobbit-like.”

Frodo gave a pained smile. “When was the last time the two of us were ever very hobbit-like?”

———

Excerpt from my newest chapter

#bagginshield fic #bagginshield #bamf bilbo baggins #the hobbit fanfiction #bilbo x thorin #thorin x bilbo #the hobbit bilbo #bilbo and frodo #bilbo baggins #frodo in erebor #frodo baggins #fanfiction #ao3 author #fanfic #ao3fic #ao3 #fanfic excerpt

23 notes · View notes

a-strange-inkling · 2 months

Note

In OH universe Chrissy is a Social Arts teacher. Even though she's also a cheer coach seasonally, I love the idea of finding herself again despite fact that all the people were involved her choices. But I can't deny Eddie's effect a little on this choice of job either. I always thought they wrote a songs together.

🥺 Aw yes, teacher Chrissy! I love her! Eddie calls her a real life Miss Honey after she reads the girls Matilda. I thought a lot about what I wanted her to study and pursue after high school, and I knew I really wanted her to work with children. She’s just so gentle and sweet and I think she’d feel a strong calling to be a source of kindness and a safe space for kids. Yes, Eddie was definitely an inspiration for that, thinking of how poorly he was treated as a kid in school. How he grew up looking after other outcasts like him.

For her focus, I’ve always pegged her as someone desperate needing escapism, so I see her as a quiet reader. Her granddad probably inspired some of this, as a professor of literature. He read out loud to her when she was little, books like The Hobbit, Alice in Wonderland, The Chronicles of Narnia etc. She gets into more advanced reading in college (and of course Eddie’s dense fantasy novels lol) but I picture her reading and rereading sad girl eighties books like: The Lost Unicorn, Bridge to Terabithia, Island of Blue Dolphins, Redwall, Song of the Lioness, The Moorchild for pleasure and comfort in middle school and high school.

She and Eddie do write songs together! They bond very intimately and artistically when he teaches her to play guitar. He’ll often come up with the cords and she comes with the lyrics. I think there’s a little bit of writer and a poet in her that she will explore more when she gets older. She and Eddie both have an inclination to write.

Yes, I also believe she really did enjoy dancing and cheerleading, but it was corrupted by her mother. I wanted her to be able to heal and fall back in love with those passions. I love that she can remind the little girls she coaches that cheerleading is meant to be fun and exciting.

#hellcheer #eddie x chrissy #eddissy #munningham #chrissy x eddie #hellcheer fanfiction #hellcheer fanfic #old haunts #ask answered #anon ask

25 notes · View notes

velvet4510 · 4 months

Text

This might be a somewhat controversial claim - but it’s one that I feel makes the most sense considering all the circumstances of the situation…

(I write this as a fervent Sam/Frodo shipper AND a Sam/Rosie shipper, so proceed only if you are willing to remain polite in your potential responses to this.)

There is no doubt whatsoever, of course, that Sam was in love with Rosie throughout the story. Even when he fell in love with Frodo, it was on a whole other level from what he felt for Rosie … and thus his feelings for Rosie were never touched or changed. And pre-Quest, marriage was certainly on his mind.

That being said, I really feel like his decision to accompany Frodo meant he was essentially rejecting Rosie. This is mostly true for book canon, IMO. Many assume he was secretly hoping he could marry her when he returned to the Shire, as he always held out hope that he might return, but I don’t think this is the case, and here’s why.

Just the fact that Sam chose to accompany Frodo at all proves that Frodo was a larger priority for him than Rosie. He wanted to go with Frodo more than he wanted to marry Rosie. Some say “it’s only because of his sense of selfless duty,” but that’s only part of it. Anyone who thinks Sam didn’t truly WANT, with all of his heart, to go with Frodo, out of sheer love beyond duty, has simply failed to understand The Lord of the Rings. Platonic or romantic, Sam’s love for Frodo outweighs all others, and his choice to leave the Shire with him essentially meant he was putting Rosie in his rear-view mirror for good.

Sam was well aware that his return to the Shire was never guaranteed. Even when the hobbits first left the Shire without knowing their true danger, there was about a 40 to 50% chance that they would not return, at least for a long time.

Frodo literally sold his home in Hobbiton where Sam worked. Their official new home was in Crickhollow, which was extremely far away from Bywater where Rosie lived. Frodo himself wondered if he would EVER see the Shire again when he left, and was prepared to stay at Rivendell indefinitely, which meant Sam was, too.

Then they chose to go to Mordor, and their chance of never returning to the Shire rose to 99%.

Sam himself says this is exactly why he didn’t propose to Rosie before he left. He knew it was very likely he’d never come back, and he didn’t want to make her a promise he couldn’t keep. This is a rather final statement. And Rosie herself believed for a long while that he would never return. By leaving the Shire, Sam essentially broke up with her.

(This is why a potential romance betwen Frodo & Sam during and/or after the Quest does not involve any kind of infidelity; Sam had already ended things with Rosie just through the act of following Frodo.)

When Sam thought of Rosie during the Quest, it wasn’t a memory that focused on her in a romantic way (like in the movie). He thought of how much he’d like to “see her and her brothers again,” as well as his own sister, Marigold. At this point he really seemed to be thinking of her in a more platonic way, as he had pushed aside his deeper feelings for her when he found a soulmate love with Frodo.

Also, after the Quest on the way back to the Shire, they were not expecting the fight with the ruffians. Frodo and Sam must’ve assumed they’d still be living at Crickhollow, still so far away from Rosie.

Then when marriage to Rosie is actually mentioned in the book itself for the first time, Sam isn’t exactly jumping for joy about it. The actual passage in which he discusses it with Frodo sounds a lot like he wanted to marry Rosie just because he didn’t want to break her heart again. She had made it clear how upset she was that he left and how much she still wanted him. As a natural people-pleaser, this really hurt Sam. He didn’t want to hurt someone he loved. And yet he feared he would do just that if he did marry her, because he wasn’t about to abandon Frodo or break Frodo’s heart.

(Side note: servants marry all the time. There is seriously no platonic explanation for Sam feeling like he couldn’t marry Rosie while being with Frodo … the only reasoning that makes sense is that Sam and Frodo were officially a thing at this point and Sam did not want to leave Frodo or hurt him by marrying someone else.)

Thankfully Frodo was fine with the idea of the marriage and came up with the “poly”-ish situation that solved the problem. (I think this is because he knew he couldn’t stay in the Shire and wanted to ensure Sam was settled and would have someone to care for him after he, Frodo, was gone.) Between this and Rosie’s assertion, it feels more like Rosie and Frodo made the marriage decision for Sam. Which makes sense - Sam only thought of those he loved, never for himself, and would never think of doing anything that would possibly hurt either of the two most important people in his life.

Besides, I think it’s worth bearing in mind that the book text itself is the text of the Red Book, which Frodo himself wrote. It’s quite possible Frodo’s written account differs somewhat from the reality. It’s quite possible their conversation went very differently than it goes in the text. I think there’s a good chance that Rosie herself made the proposal, and Sam was against the idea completely because he’d chosen Frodo, but then when Frodo reminded him of how much he wanted a family deep down and assured him he would not be hurt by it, and when Rosie assured him she understood that their life would always include Frodo, only then did Sam say yes. Then Frodo tweaked it when he wrote the Red Book to hide the truth about his and Sam’s relationship. If you read Elenya54’s brilliant fanfic “All That I Had” on AO3, this is exactly what happens and it just rings very true and accurate.

This is not to hate on Rosie herself, or on her and Sam’s relationship. On the contrary, I adore both - it’s wonderful that Sam had her to love, and love him in return, in order to keep on having something to live for after the loss of his soulmate Frodo. And I feel like reading LOTR from this angle makes Rosie an even more amazing character - she knew she’d always be second to Frodo in Sam’s heart, but she didn’t care. All she truly wanted was a life with Sam, and was willing to break Shire convention and enter a “poly”-ish situation in order to get it. (Just the fact that she canonically moved into Bag End with Frodo as well as Sam, let Frodo name Elanor, and then agreed with Sam that they should name their first son after Frodo indicates that Tolkien intended her to have a love and acceptance of Frodo that was not prominent in the Shire at that point as most hobbits didn’t care about what happened to him and thought he was just being weird by acting so traumatized. But not Rosie. Any gal with this much compassion and understanding is a perfect match for Sam. We all know Sam would never love or want anything to do with someone who would not treat Frodo right. Only Rosie Cotton could ever hope to come close to matching Frodo in Sam’s heart. And I love her for it.)

Yet there’s just way too much evidence that Sam didn’t really return to the Shire with the intention of marrying Rosie. It feels more like he gave up on the idea the moment he accompanied Frodo, and then it was Rosie who put the idea in his head when he returned, and even then, it was only when Frodo assured him it wasn’t a betrayal of their own love that Sam went through with the marriage. And then never regretted it, as they went on to have a happy wonderful life that kept him going without Frodo.

…does anyone agree….?

#lotr #jrr tolkien #samfro #lotr books #lord of the rings #sam x frodo #sam x rosie #frodo x sam x rosie #samfrosie #samwise gamgee #rosie cotton #frodo baggins

44 notes · View notes

imakemywings · 1 month

Text

The Number One Exercise for Relieving Work-Related Stress (Click to Find Out!)

Fandom: The Hobbit/The Silmarillion

Relationship: Maglor/Thranduil

Summary: Maglor, who earned her place in Mirkwood serving in defense of the realm, has a plan for alleviating the queen's stress, and naturally it involves a great many jewels.

Length: 5.6k

AN: Fill for this kink meme prompt for the Noldor and their jewelry kink. See AO3 or SWG for a bonus poem.

AO3 | Pillowfort | SWG

Maglor tilted her head to the left until the earring nearly lay flat against the side of her neck in the mirror. Then, she tilted her head to the right. Too much? She took the polished wood and rat-bone earrings out, then decided that was not enough, and put them back in. She scrutinized the kohl she had put around her eyes. She squinted at the necklaces layered onto her bare bosom. She felt her foot growing numb under her naked ass.

She pawed through Thranduil’s earrings again, and examined the ones she had already laid out on the vanity as possibilities, humming a little aria to herself. She could only wear so many of them (despite her earlier impulse to call in a jeweler to add a few more piercings to her ears). It was imperative to find the most comely combination possible. Moreover, while Thranduil’s taste was equally in accessories of wood, bone, amber, and other softer materials, Maglor’s preference was for metal and jewels, so it was these she sought above all else in Thranduil’s collection. (However, there was something to be said for bedecking herself specifically in Wood-elf fashion.)

Thranduil had been engaged in negotiations with Dale for the last three weeks. They would come to an agreement, of course, the queen had told her languidly over an evening glass of wine, but the Men were impatient, which made Thranduil annoyed, and so she would let the process drag on by Elvish time. The Men were chewing their fingernails through to be done with what was meant to be a very routine trade treaty renewal and would therefore be willing to make the few concessions Thranduil sought.

But work was work, and with negotiations expected to wrap up shortly—that day, even!—Maglor thought it was past time she alleviated some of Thranduil’s weariness.

When at last she was satisfied with the shape and size and colors and number of adornments she wore, she reached for the jar of blush-pink paste and borrowed a bit to smear on each of her delicate brown cheeks. Then, on further consideration, rubbed a bit onto each nipple as well, pleased with the extra-rosy look it gave them. She sat back on the bench and observed her image in the mirror.

Her hair, which had regained its old glossy sheen in the centuries since she had first arrived in Mirkwood and began a proper diet again, she had woven into a careful updo on the back of her head. It was the custom of the Wood-elves to wear their hair down frequently, which meant that baring the back of the neck could be as risqué for them as a low neckline or tight trousers. For Maglor, who would have sooner perished than leave the house in Tirion with her hair down (at least, not without some effort at artful dishevelment) it was still at times surprising to see the queen greet guests without a single lock pinned up.

Nevertheless, Maglor had adapted quickly, and was keen to take advantage of customs that might hold Thranduil’s attention. However, it was equally important she wore it in a way that Thranduil could quickly and easily take it down. Therefore, Maglor had spent forty minutes twisting it up into something that could be let down with just one movement to remove the lethal hairpin holding everything in place. All the advantage of baring her neck, still with the promise of having her hair pulled.

She pressed her breasts together and let them fall back into place. She mimicked pulling at the necklaces around her throat. She felt a toasty glow in her chest at the feeling of Thranduil’s jewels against the heat of her body. She tilted her head at a coquettish angle and batted her eyelashes at her reflection, and then she heard the front door.

Morgoth’s fires! She had taken too long! Now she had no time to plan how to stretch herself out on the bed in the most appealing way, but there was no time to lament that. Stumbling off the bench, she flung herself at the bed, which was done too aggressively and threw her into the decorative pillows, where she flailed around for a moment trying to catch her bearings.

“…Maglor?”

Namo, why! Maglor righted herself on the broad bed and looked up, slightly frazzled (she could feel her hair still in place, thank Ilúvatar), to see her lover in the doorway.

Thranduil was dressed for receiving foreign dignitaries, which meant she was, naturally, resplendent. A crown woven of the forest’s offerings circled her golden head, and the jewels Maglor hadn’t been able to pilfer shone at her ears and her throat and her long-fingered hands, and her robes were a luscious green that seemed almost to shift in shade when she moved. Thranduil tended to a leaner figure than Maglor, slim in the chest, broad in the shoulder, with eyes so green it seemed a part of the forest had crawled into her and become a part thereof. Maglor blushed just to see her, and to know this woman wanted her at any time.

“Hello,” she said a little breathlessly.

“Are you well?” Thranduil asked pointedly, raising an eyebrow as Maglor slid into a more flirtatious pose, stretching herself out on the covers, displaying the evidence of her theft.

“How fare the negotiations?” Maglor asked, ignoring the question and propping her head up with one hand to flutter her dark lashes at Thranduil. She shifted her thighs, pleased to see Thranduil’s eyes flick to the nest of wiry black hair between her legs.

“Well enough,” Thranduil answered, giving Maglor a look as if she suspected her of shenanigans (a suspicion WHOLLY unjustified in Maglor’s view). The queen reached up and removed her crown, and while Maglor regretted Thranduil’s weariness, there was still something stirred in her heart (and lower, too) at the sight of Thranduil’s regal exhaustion. How endlessly she works for the kingdom, Maglor sighed dreamily. “We have come to agreement; the morrow will be some last entertainment for our guests, and then they will be gone, I believe. Seldom are Men content to be at rest.” She set the crown down on her vanity.

“I am glad to hear it,” Maglor said, swinging her legs off the bed when Thranduil did not immediately come to her. “You have been tireless at the task; you have long earned rest.”

“I shan’t refuse it,” Thranduil sighed, and Maglor came nearer and insinuated herself up against Thranduil’s chest, when the queen was not taking enough of a suggestion.

“Let me help,” she simpered, and while the similarity of their height (and Thranduil was tall among the Sindar!) made it hard to bat her eyes up at Thranduil, she made the effort anyway. “Permit me to alleviate your stress.”

“I am tired, Maglor,” said Thranduil gently, placing her hands on Maglor’s shoulders.

“This I know,” said Maglor. “Therefore allow me! You need do nothing at all; I shall care for you.” She pressed her nakedness against Thranduil, curling her hands on Thranduil’s chest, tilting her chin up. “Allow me to take such weights from your mind, my love,” she breathed, breathing in the smell of rain and damp moss that hung around the Elvenqueen.

Thranduil’s hand went automatically to Maglor’s waist, and Maglor then surged up and pressed her mouth to Thranduil’s, and the queen did not draw away, but allowed Maglor to coax her into the kiss, until Maglor felt she tingled with warmth from head to toe.

“Are those my earrings?” Thranduil asked when they separated, and Maglor almost melted to the floor in frustration. Certainly, Sindar did not place quite the same cultural importance on jewelry that the Noldor did, but honestly!

“Indeed,” she said, her voice unsteady only briefly as she quickly switched tracks from utter despair. “Indeed I have many things of yours, my lady.” She took Thranduil’s hands and slid one of the rings from Thranduil’s hand onto her own, smiling, then touched Thranduil’s hands to the earrings she wore. “These.” She pressed Thranduil’s hands to the necklaces at her chest. “These.” Lower, she cupped Thranduil’s hands around her bare breasts and smiled. “These.” She traced Thranduil’s fingers down to the parsley bed below her bellybutton and the corners of her mouth turned up more sharply. “This.”

Thranduil had that slow, thoughtful look on her face that thrilled Maglor to think she was winning.

“Let me give what aid I may,” she wheedled, stretching her arms around Thranduil’s neck, leaning the weight of her body against Thranduil. “This I can do for you,” she murmured against Thranduil’s ear. “If this lovesick fool is good for little else, she may do this at the least.”

The tip of Thranduil’s ear was flushed and Maglor cheered silently. This was often the only signal that she had flustered or aroused her love.

“Very well,” Thranduil said, as if she were giving in to doing Maglor a favor. “On the bed.” She pointed, and Maglor danced away from her on light feet to fall onto the bed in a tumble of jewels, watching with shining eyes as Thranduil shrugged out of her heavier outer robe, leaving her in the closely-fit inner tunic which cinched so fetchingly against her waist and that first curve of her hips. Heat bubbled in Maglor’s gut and her chest and she sighed with pleasure supreme as Thranduil began to weave her hair back into a simple three-strand braid. She had grown accustomed to this habit of Thranduil’s and was delighted to envision Thranduil preparing to go to work on her.

“Is such theft a courtship ritual among the Noldor?” Thranduil drawled as she toed her shoes off and then approached the bed.

“No,” Maglor said, shivering, feeling the sharp beat of her heart. “Yet it may…it may gain the attention of one desired. Lovers may share many things, may they not?” Maglor had certainly delighted Noldorin lovers past by bedecking herself in their jewels and presenting herself for a good fucking.

Thranduil might disagree, but Maglor would forever maintain that her new ruby earrings from Erebor had been what led to the consummation of long-simmering interest between herself and the queen.

Thranduil shed most of her own jewelry before approaching the bed, and Maglor promptly raised herself up on her knees to capture another kiss from Thranduil when she came within reach. It was several long moments of this before Thranduil could push Maglor down on the mattress and disengage her mouth.

“Allegedly this is for my benefit,” said Thranduil, “yet it seems you who feels neglected.” Maglor made a little moue unbecoming of a former general.

“Never did I use the word neglected,” she objected.

“Yet you cry neglect should I leave the room for five minutes or more.”

“I do not!” Maglor lied emphatically.

“You might have chosen a partner with a less bothersome career,” said Thranduil

“No,” Maglor said, her face softening. “No, I could not have.”

Thranduil silenced any further romanticizing on Maglor’s part with another kiss, and this time Maglor made no disguise of arching up against her, winding her arms around Thranduil’s neck to pull her down flush against Maglor’s bare body. Thranduil was poised with one foot still on the floor when Maglor pressed her hands greedily against the queen’s breasts through her tunic and stole yet another kiss from her.

“Was it long you waited for me here?” Thranduil murmured, lowering her mouth to Maglor’s throat; Maglor’s head fell back in prompt and wanton abandon.

“Terribly long,” Maglor lied breathily, combing her hands through Thranduil’s loose, pale gold hair, warmth spreading throughout her body at Thranduil’s touch. “An eternity.”

“An eternity, hm?” Thranduil moved further down still, lapped at one of Maglor’s nipples, and then made a repulsed noise and drew back. “Did you put something on your skin?” she asked, and Maglor’s cheeks flushed.

“Ah, well…only a little. Harmless, really. I sought an effect of color...”

Thranduil gave her a look clearly torn between being exasperated and deeply entertained, and at last she shook her head. Then she licked her thumb good and moist and wiped the blush away from Maglor’s nipples.

“Another way I know to achieve that effect,” she murmured, and Maglor yelped and sighed, aching wonderfully as Thranduil nibbled at her breasts.

“Ah…as always I…ohh…I defer to the wisdom of my…” Maglor’s hand fisted in Thranduil’s hair and she gave up speaking for the time being.

Thranduil drew back and thrust her fingers into Maglor’s face.

“Open,” she said, using her queen’s command voice that turned Maglor’s insides to liquid. Maglor’s lips parted and she eagerly took Thranduil’s fingers into her mouth, sucking the fervor, and delighted to see the tips of her lover’s ears glow at her shameless enthusiasm. “Come here.” Eventually she managed to free her fingers from Maglor’s greedy tongue and moved back off the bed, beckoning Maglor to the edge, where she sat and spread her legs without hesitation, desirous that Thranduil should see how wet and ready she was for her.

Thranduil traced her fingertips lightly down Maglor’s thighs, and Maglor twitched her head to make her earrings rattle.

“Have I pleased my lady?” she could not help but ask. “With this sight?” She fingered the necklaces at her breast.

“Always the sight of you pleases me,” Thranduil murmured, as often too sincere for Maglor’s flirtatious banter. “Let me return the favor.”

“Oh, but you mustn’t think me not just as pleased with the sight of you.” Maglor completed this sentence only with great determination and several octaves higher than it had begun as Thranduil’s fingers brushed through the coarse black hair below her bellybutton and began to tease at the glistening seam of her lips. “You need not even speak and already I—ah. Already I am—at your whim—” Maglor’s determination to keep talking decreased by order of magnitude as Thranduil’s fingers pressed deeper into her, until those same digits slicked with Maglor’s own saliva breached her entrance and Maglor fell back onto the mattress, jewels singing, legs miles apart, breasts quivering with her gasping breaths.

“Since you have gone through such remarkable effort,” Thranduil was saying then, fingers working with agonizing slowness in and out of Maglor’s cunt, stroking her most obligingly, “I feel I should do the same. What say you? Would you prefer a toy?”

Maglor’s garbled moan could not have been less coherent. Thranduil had a habit of turning her silver-tongued Noldo into a probable victim of head trauma. Maglor adored it.

“As you…as you prefer, of course,” she got out at last, squirming on the bed, canting her hips up towards Thranduil’s hand. What she wanted more than anything was to have more, and she did not at all care for the notion of Thranduil leaving her even for a moment.

“Then a toy it shall be,” said Thranduil, and Maglor could wail at the sudden emptiness and the absence of Thranduil’s reaching fingers. “Go and fetch it.”

Maglor sat up, dizzy, and thought perhaps she ought to have spent fewer of the last couple decades coaxing Thranduil to be rougher and harsher with her. Thranduil’s objections were two-fold, being for one that she was not naturally inclined to harshness. Sternness perhaps (and how Maglor had thought of that with a hand pressed between her own legs for centuries!), but not mean, and particularly in intimacy inclined to gentleness and generosity.

The other prong of her resistance was, alas, Maglor’s own doing. Maglor’s psyche had been, to speak obliquely, delicate when first she arrived in Mirkwood just before the turn of the Second Age’s second millennium. She had tried most ardently to convince Thranduil that a bit of roughness in bed would help more than harm, but the many occasions on which she had wept at Thranduil’s simplest touch did not much convince the queen of the therapeutic value of calling her a slut. Still, Maglor was nothing if not determined to get what she wanted.

Now, though, as she was forced, wet and throbbing, to climb off the bed and go dig up one of Thranduil’s phalluses, she considered that she had empowered this woman far too much.

“The harness as well,” Thranduil directed.

“As you wish.” Anything to get Thranduil’s hands back on her!

She returned to Thranduil as quick as she could with both items, but rather than hand them over, leaned in for a kiss.

“Distracted?” Thranduil murmured against Maglor’s lips.

“You are still dressed,” Maglor lamented, one of few things for which she would put off her own satisfaction. “Allow me to assist.” She cast the toy and harness aside on the bed and reached for Thranduil’s tunic clasps. The corners of the queen’s mouth twitched in near a smile and she allowed Maglor to take her time running her hands up and down Thranduil’s lapels before she began to undo the clasps one at a time. Patience was not often something Maglor had in abundance, but let it not be said she could not enjoy the unwrapping of her lover!

When Maglor cast aside Thranduil’s shift, dropping it into the pile of her other things which they had made nearby, she gestured as if gazing upon a masterpiece for the first time.

“Your beauty only grows manifold with each time I see you!” she cried, and kissed Thranduil’s breast. Once more her arms went about Thranduil’s neck and she buried her face into the crook of Thranduil’s neck, kissing and sucking at the warm skin. Here, wordlessly, she took one of Thranduil’s broad hands and set it against the back of her head; this signal the queen understood. She tugged at the pin in Maglor’s hair and set those coal black waves tumbling down over Maglor’s shoulders. Thranduil’s hands carded through her hair and Maglor made wordless noises of pleasure, laving her tongue against Thranduil’s collarbone.

With some aid, she wrapped her well-muscled legs around Thranduil’s hips until she was clinging to her like a starfish, wet against Thranduil’s bared stomach, with Thranduil’s hands hooked underneath her. Maglor nuzzled against Thranduil’s neck, into the soft fall of her hair, breathing in the smell of her.

“If too long I think on this,” she murmured, “still it seems a dream to me, for such happiness cannot be the due of Kanafinwë Makalaurë.” Her grip on Thranduil tightened, though not for fear of falling. One of Thranduil’s hands moved up to her back, stroking soothingly down her spine.

“’tis all real, this I promise,” Thranduil assured her quietly. “Let me show you.” She managed to untangle Maglor from her, and then tossed her onto the bed as if she were an unruly child.

“Such displays of affection!” Maglor cried in faux outrage from where she’d sunk into the mattress. “My reward for declarations of love and loyalty!” She let her voice quaver melodramatically as if on the verge of tears.

“If such things stir you not, you must be already in the waking world,” Thranduil pointed out and Maglor could see the glint of amusement in her eyes.

“How I should have listened to the tales of the cruelty of the terrible Elvenqueen!” Maglor wailed.

“Tsk. Does my jabbering jay wish for her pleasure or not? If so, she would do best hand over the object of it.” Maglor slid the toy into the harness and rose once more from the bed to help Thranduil step into it. The queen was more than capable of doing it herself, and Maglor often liked to watch, but she took pleasure too in the intimacy of installing the device which was to take her apart, nestling it with great care against the moss bed of Thranduil’s sex.

When it was settled, Maglor gave the toy a few teasing strokes with her hand before returning unbidden to the bed. She settled back against the pillows and spread her legs in welcome, adjusting her necklaces and earrings to make sure they were all pleasingly arranged.

“How do you think it suits me, your jewelry?” Since Thranduil had not taken enough notice of this, Maglor was forced to use more direct and less coy means. It was not ideal, but she was still convinced she could bring Thranduil around to the notion of wearing another’s jewels as a form of intimacy. “I chose very carefully,” she added, dragging a thumb over her lower lip.

“My vanity appears thoroughly ravished,” Thranduil agreed, glancing back at it, drawing a pout from Maglor at even this brief lapse in her direct attention.

“How she comments more readily on the furniture than on myself, when I have put such effort into appearing fair and comely for her!” Maglor cried. A smile quirked the corner of Thranduil’s mouth as she turned, sobering slightly, back to Maglor.

“When one feels a thing but lightly, is it not easier of which to speak?” she said.

“So I hear from others,” Maglor admitted. She herself had never been one to shy from sharing her feelings; indeed, as a youth, she had languished in them. How many tragedies and troubles had she dreamed up for herself in Tirion so that she could sit on some high window sill above the yellowing trees and write lengthy and florid laments about her woes? But now…

Now Maglor spent those fall mornings laying on a cushion on the balcony with Thranduil, listening to her remark on the color of the leaves, and holding a cup of tea to her chest, and she thought there was no higher expenditure of time on Arda. What worth was there in fantastical tragedies when Maglor cupped such joy in her hands?

“Yet it is your thoughts I crave above all others,” Maglor said.

“As ever, I have not your gift for words of praise,” said Thranduil, coming nearer, kneeling on the bed and moving towards Maglor. “Yet I believe the fashion of this kingdom looks well on you, and to my eye there is no fairer Elf in all the realm.” This was patently biased, as Maglor was far from the fairest of Mirkwood—nay, she had been not even the fairest of her family—but she was quite content for Thranduil to be so biased.

Thranduil’s fingers swept up Maglor’s thighs and she lowered her head to kiss against the plump flesh. In Mirkwood, Maglor was fitter and more well-fed than she had been since she commanded the troops of the Gap, and had been training regularly for war. Something skeletal and wasted she had been when she arrived, but she had filled out to full health since then, and Thranduil seemed to take particular pleasure in Maglor’s strong, firm thighs. Often Maglor left the royal apartment with the evidence of Thranduil’s appreciation bruising the soft inner skin.

“Then I wonder that you have not glanced upon a mirror, my love!” Maglor smiled as she spoke, for it buoyed something in her chest she had long believed sunken and drowned to banter words so playfully with another, particularly with this other.

“And what game of yours, to beg sweet words off me and then refuse them?” Thranduil asked, giving Maglor’s thigh a pinch and making her gasp.

“Sweet words I said, not untruths,” Maglor teased.

“I give you my truths; if you recognize them not, I believe this to be no fault of mine.”

Maglor wanted to have a snappy reply to this as well, but as happened so often with her anymore—how her youthful self would have wailed and torn her hair and covered her eyes to see it!—she was simply overwhelmed at the notion of being loved and desired, and so she kissed Thranduil instead, drawing her near until the queen’s breasts brushed against her own.

“Tell me not that my little minstrel is out of words?” Thranduil never missed an opportunity to tease Maglor for such responses, but it thrilled her to hear, and such terms as ‘my little minstrel’ were equally a delight, more so because Maglor could imagine some trace of possessiveness behind it, even if Thranduil appeared to be the least possessive person Maglor had ever encountered (at times, to her frustration!)

“Out of words, Maglor? Never!” boasted she. “Very fine ones I have, ones just for you. Lean closer, and I shall whisper them to you.” Thranduil obeyed, and Maglor smoothed the hair away from Thranduil’s ear and drew in her breath and put her mouth just beside it to whisper: “I want your cock.”

Thranduil snorted and dropped her head at once before raising her face to look at Maglor, her lips pressed thin in amusement. She traced her fingers over the necklaces laying askew across Maglor’s breast, lingering, Maglor thought, with some appreciation.

“Far be it from my place to deny such eloquence,” she replied dryly, and Maglor gave an anticipatory wriggle on the bed. Thranduil took a moment to thumb at Maglor’s clit until she was mewling before using her fingers to part Maglor’s lips and ease in the tip of the toy.

Learning one another had been, thus far, an experience for the pair, neither of whom believed they would ever have a lover again. Thranduil was centuries into grieving her lost wife—who had sired their only daughter, Legolas—when first Maglor had arrived, and Maglor, for obvious reasons, simply assumed no one would ever wish to touch her or look on her with love or desire again. While the sheer headiness of her early encounters with Thranduil were not something she would ever trade, there was, she found, a domestic kind of bliss in having settled into something more regular, more comfortable, and less likely to leave her bawling at a simple touch or an innocuous compliment. It helped that she’d had centuries of serving Thranduil as one of her subjects and gaining, if Maglor could venture to say, some measure of her respect before either of them had even hinted at breaching a romance.

It was, therefore, Maglor’s utmost pleasure to be taken into Thranduil’s arms and thoroughly loved (though truthfully, with how she had worked herself up and Thranduil’s fingers earlier, she did not last terribly long). The toy stretched her beautifully (though not as much as some of the others she might have chosen) and the strain of it thrilled her with a liquid heat that bubbled up in her gut and flowed outward. Maglor, ever a connoisseur of sound, focused to shivering delight on the wet sound of Thranduil’s toy thrusting in and out of her; the shifting of the bed beneath them; the rattle of her many jewels; and her own needy grunting and moaning as she rolled her hips up, trying to drive the toy deeper.

When her climax burst and spread in tingling waves throughout her, Maglor groaned on the tail end of one last Oh, Thranduil, I’m so close! Thranduil did not remove the toy until Maglor stilled entirely, which she must have learned Maglor preferred—indeed, Maglor often pleaded to be fucked through her orgasm, relishing the sense of overstimulation.

“Does your mind rest easier now?” Thranduil asked, drawing back.

“Your mind…” Maglor said incoherently, making an equally senseless gesture with one hand above her head.

“Mhm.” Thranduil slid off the bed and busied herself shimmying out of the harness. Pushing through her post-coital fog, Maglor lunged upright, Thranduil’s jewels jangling, and scrambled to the edge of the bed to throw her arms around Thranduil’s waist and pull the queen back against her.

“Say not it is time for your departure,” she pleaded. “I have not yet done as I said, I have given you no pleasure yet.”

“How can that be?” Thranduil said, twisting in her arms. “When you have just sung so prettily for me?”

Maglor flushed, pleased, and stroked Thranduil’s pale belly.

“Yet I would give you more,” she insisted. Thranduil touched Maglor’s cheek gently and then leaned in to kiss her.

“I am tired, and tonight I would demand too great an effort for too little a reward,” she said. “I am content with your pleasure.” She detached herself from Maglor to toss the used toy into the laundry pile to be washed later, but to Maglor’s relief returned not to work, but to the bed.

“Are you sure?” Maglor fretted, scooting back to make room for Thranduil.

“Will you not remove some of that silly costume?” Thranduil asked instead, gesturing at the chest worth of jewels Maglor wore.

“Silly!” Maglor cried. “’tis a display most sensuous by my reckoning!”

“You may not lay against me in so many jewels; neither have I a wish to caress a porcupine.”

“My efforts are wholly unappreciated!” Maglor removed herself from the bed and as quickly as she might removed all but one of the necklaces—a solid, simple ruby in silver which rested quite fetchingly against her chest, just above the space between her breasts and complemented the tone of her skin quite well—and all of the earrings but a pair of golden cuffs. Then she returned and snuggled into Thranduil’s waiting arms, something deep in her chest letting out a relieved sigh to be clasped so near and so lovingly. Still it seemed to her a thing new and wonderous, relative to the interminable stretch of numbing isolation and deprivation which had characterized her life after the end of the First Age.

She pressed kisses to Thranduil’s shoulder and collar and then propped herself up to look down into those mossy green eyes. So long a study had she made of Thranduil’s eyes in the years of her time in Mirkwood that she felt confident it was not her imagination that she could see just a slight difference between Thranduil’s natural eye and the blind one she covered with a glamor spell (Elvish healing both natural and assisted might erase scars of most sources, but dragon fire was beyond even their ken).

“Your thoughts seem very loud,” said Thranduil after some moments of silence, reaching up to brush her fingers over Maglor’s cheek.

“Still I wonder that such bounty is mine,” Maglor confessed, tracing a finger over the elegant curve of Thranduil’s lower lip. “To live so long in yearning and disbelief…makes a dream of a reality so long desired.” She lowered her head and pressed a tender kiss to Thranduil’s lips.

“Should you require more proof, there is the bath there,” Thranduil offered, and Maglor huffed. Would she ever forgive Thranduil for the instance of throwing Maglor, naked and helpless, into the icy water of Thranduil’s spring-water bath for a laugh? Perhaps eventually. Perhaps when Galadriel admitted to a mistake.

But then Maglor’s face sobered.

“I am speaking truly, though,” she said. She stroked the familiar, beloved lines of Thranduil’s face. “You saved me,” she said softly. “’tis a debt I shall never repay.”

“I—”

“You did,” Maglor insisted. And Maglor would never be convinced otherwise. When first she had wandered inland, seeking she did not know what, she had not meant to step into the realm of a former Doriathrim. Of course Thranduil had captured her eventually; Maglor knew nothing of the forest, not this one nor any other, and the light in her eyes gave her away for what she was, even if she had sought to disguise it. It mattered little to her—by then she had glimpsed at a distance the queen abroad in the woods and her heart was set on her, or so it seemed to Maglor. It was after Thranduil showed her mercy, in the form of a probationary period rather than an immediate kiss from Thranduil’s blade, that Maglor knew she was in love.

“When one has seen oneself a given way for so long, it becomes immutable, or so it seems,” Maglor went on. “You cannot know what a gift it is for another to suggest you might be otherwise.” Thranduil did not object this time, and Maglor drew her thumb gently along Thranduil’s cheekbone, over the soft skin under her eye. “That person I was before, I would not be her again, not if it were a choice betwixt her and death. But ‘twas you that showed me she was not all that was left to me.”

Initially, Thranduil’s long silences had troubled Maglor, often making her fear the queen was displeased. Now, and at this moment in particular, she appreciated that Thranduil was giving her words the consideration it seemed they were due.

At length she said: “Then I am glad.” Her fingers lingered on Maglor’s face, and after a pause, she added: “I know this path has not always been smooth. Yet you have persisted. It is…reassuring, perhaps, to know that such change is possible, and there are those willing to make the effort.”

“And I shall keep trying,” Maglor declared, feeling that rush of determined protectiveness which had become the way she characterized her duty to Thranduil, a feeling like nothing she had experienced since she had last been entrusted with something, with the defense of the Gap. In the long centuries since then, she had come to believe she simply was not capable of being trusted with keeping anything safe, but she had now new things to guard: Thranduil, and Thranduil’s home, and Thranduil’s happiness, and it seemed to her there was no nobler cause to which to dedicate what remained of her life in Middle-earth.

Thranduil said nothing more on it, but leaned up and kissed her, and Maglor sank back down into her arms, and felt again that at last—at long, long last after endless wanderings abroad, alone, wind-burned and sunbaked and hoary with regret, Maglor had come to a place she believed she would never reach again: home.

#the silmarillion #the hobbit #maglor #thranduil #maglor x thranduil #tolkien tag #fanfiction #tolkien fanfiction #rocky writes #sapphictolkien

17 notes · View notes