a blog where I share everything I love (aka Robert De Niro, Al Pacino, The Godfather, Casino, Goodfellas, Steve Rogers, Sebastian Stan/Lee Bodecker, Ivar the Boneless and many others writing for these topics)
Sebastian Stan characters finding out you’re pregnant » Lee Bodecker
Pairings: Lee Bodecker x Female Reader
Summary: Lee finds out you’re pregnant.
Warnings: Fluff, language, pet names
Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes.
Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier
GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators. I found it on Pinterest.
You two would find out a couple weeks after a “fun” night in his car. You took the pregnancy test, but haven’t told him yet. You’ve been meaning to tell him, but you wanted to do it in a special and cute way. Lee actually found the pregnancy test on the bathroom sink counter one morning when he was getting ready for work. He woke you up with the pregnancy test in his hand and asked you if it’s true. Once you confirmed it, he gave you the biggest hug in the world.
Lee went to work with a huge smile on his face that day.
Everyone at the police station congratulated the two of you.
Knockemstiff is a small town so it didn’t take long for everyone in town to find out. Anyone who knows you and Lee congratulated you guys.
Lee has always wanted a family. The second he laid his eyes on you, he knew he wanted you to be the mother of his children.
He devotes all of his time to you during your pregnancy.
He always knows when you’re hungry. One day, he came home to see you eating his chocolate and you said “It was the baby’s idea. Not mine.” If you get hungry late at night, Lee would go and get whatever you want from a store that’s open late at night.
During his late night talking sessions with the baby, he’ll tell the baby that he’s a Sheriff and he will do everything he can to protect him or her and you.
Lee is the Sheriff in town, but he’s the king of massages. He makes you feel like you’re in a whole different world when he’s giving you massages.
Lee would most definitely be obsessed with the way your belly looks in dresses when your baby bump starts showing.
When you and Lee are out in public and someone so as much as stare at you, he’ll scare them away by threatening to arrest them.
When you two are shopping for baby clothes, you would start crying cause of how small and cute the baby clothes are.
Lee wants a boy and you want a girl. Just as long as the baby is healthy, you two don’t mind what the gender is.
Before Lee leaves for work every morning, he says to the baby “I have to go to work. Be good for mommy.” and gives your baby bump a soft kiss.
Once you and Lee were cuddling and the baby kicked and your baby bump was against his stomach so he definitely felt it. It actually made the two of you laugh.
You made the baby a cute onesie that says “Daddy’s Little Sheriff”.
You made Lee a t-shirt that says “Sheriff Daddy”.
Lee always comes home with your favorite snacks.
When you visit Lee at the station, everyone knows you belong to the Sheriff cause you’re pregnant with his child.
He would take some time off of work towards the end of your pregnancy and after the baby is born.
Over all, Lee is the happiest man in the world and he’s even more happier that you’re having his baby.
Content: unprotected sex, reader is already pregnant lol (it's Lee, y'all, he's not going to not knock you up)
18+ Minors DNI
A/N: day 4 of January Jumble Scribbles with the prompt "Here's another curse. May all your bacon burn." // photo found on Pinterest
Ah, Sundays. Your favorite day of the week. Lee didn't work, and he said it was too chilly this morning to go fishing, which you know is a little white lie. He just wants to stay in bed with you for a bit longer. And you're not complaining—not when his warm, strong arms are wrapped around you.
"Mmm, mornin', honey," he rasps into your ear as he plants a kiss on your neck.
"Mornin', Lee," you whisper, putting your hand over his on your growing tummy.
He nuzzles into the crook of your neck and nibbles eagerly.
"We can't laze about in bed all day," you start, pulling his wandering hand back to your belly. "I have to finish my costume. Halloween is tomorrow."
He hums against your skin. "That's right. You're gonna be the cutest witch in the county."
You laugh and get out of bed. "Let me start some breakfast."
"All right, honey, but come back to bed once the kettle's on. I don't need long," he teases.
You roll your eyes and head to the kitchen to heat up the stove, putting the kettle on with several strips of bacon on the griddle. As you turn, you're met with Lee's hard body.
"I figured why wait in bed when I could just come get a slice in here?" He groans, grabbing your ass through your nightgown.
After some gentle maneuvering, you're bent over the Formica counter top with your nightgown gathered at your waist.
"God damn, honey," Lee grunts as he slides home between your thighs.
"Don't curse, Lee. It's the Lord's day," you gasp as he drives into your hips.
"But you feel so fuckin' good," he groans.
You sigh and smell the bacon in the skillet crisping up a bit more than you'd like. "Fine then. Here's another curse. May all your bacon burn."
Content: free use agreement, oral sex (m & f receiving), creampie, facial, unprotected sex
18+ Minors DNI
Synopsis: A week in the life of Sheriff Bodecker's very good wife.
A/N: my 10/12 post for Kinktober - the prompt I chose is "Free Use" | 2025 Kinktober Masterlist
Monday Evening
Dinner is on the stove. Dessert is in the oven. Dishes are drying by the sink. And you? You're bent over the dining table that you just set oh so nicely with Lee's thick cock pumping into you with determination.
"You're my little housewife, aren't ya? Letting me have this whenever I need it," he grunts behind you.
"Lee, please. The mashed potatoes will burn," you whine, looking up at the pot on the range.
"They're fine—just need this right now, honey. I had a long day," he groans.
You sigh and let him have his way with you, enjoying it even though your beautiful dinner is probably overcooking on the stove.
Tuesday Evening
You're hanging laundry out on the line. It's a beautiful night—no rain in the forecast. You take your time pinning your unmentionables on the inner lines, hiding them from prying eyes, before hanging the bigger items like towels and bedsheets on the outer lines. You feel his hands around your waist before you hear him.
"Laundry smells good," he murmurs into your ear. "Almost as good as you.
You giggle and turn around, letting him run his hands down your back to grab your ass.
"Let's go inside," you whisper, but he shakes his head, moving you back through the damp linens to the middle of the laundry line.
"No, I want you right here," he hisses, unzipping his pants. "Get on your knees, good girl."
You swallow and look around, noting that your neighbors are all inside, before you do as he tells you, dropping to the grass. His cock is already out of his work pants, throbbing and leaking at the tip as you take him into your mouth.
"Mmm," he moans, holding your head in his hands. "That's a good wife."
Wednesday Afternoon
Lee always picks you up for lunch on Wednesdays and takes you to the diner one town over. They have the best peanut butter malts, and it's his mid-week treat. You hop in the cruiser and are shocked to find two hamburgers in a takeaway bag on the dash.
"Aren't we going to the diner?" You ask, eyeing the bag curiously.
"Not today," he says, backing out of the driveway. You wait for further explanation, but don't get one as he takes the exit out of town.
"Lee, where in the world are we goin'?"
"I got a call about some stolen farm equipment—gotta go check it out. I figured you'd want to come along, honey," he says sweetly. You smile and scoot closer to him, putting a hand on his thigh. He moves your hand up to his growing bulge and you don't remove it. He pulls over on a deserted gravel road and drags you into his lap.
"Mmm, honey. I love you in a little sundress. Come here," he rasps, unbuckling his work belt.
"But what about the stolen—"
"The only thing I'm worried about right now is cumming in this pretty little pussy," he growls, pushing up into you with a hiss.
Thursday Night
It was Lee's day off, and he'd spent it outdoors fishing with one of the other deputies. You stayed inside where it was somewhat cooler, prepping dinner, folding laundry, and reading your romance novel.
Lee found you curled up into the chair in the den when he got home, novel in hand.
"You reading that filth again, sweetheart?" He asks with a teasing tone.
"It's romantic, Lee," you answer, swatting him with the book as he gets closer. "You catch anything?"
He nods. "I'll bring the cooler in soon."
"It's awfully hot outside—" you start, but he cuts you off as he drops to his knees in front of you and spreads your legs.
"They'll stay cold," he rasps, running his nose along your inner thigh. "Need this right now."
You relax your head back onto the chair's cushions and let him have his way with you. His mouth is hot and wet and wanting and right where you need it. The first lick is desperate and Lee moans into it. You feel his mouth smile into your lips and arch your back, pushing into him. He lets out a hearty laugh.
"You miss me or just my mouth?"
"You, honey," you sigh, assuring him.
"Well, good," he drawls before diving back in.
Friday Evening
"Lee, I'm so close, baby," you cry out. "I'm s'close!"
"I know, darlin', I can feel ya squeezing me," he grunts, rutting into you. "You gonna come on this cock?"
You nod, eyes wide, looking up at your husband above you. He kisses you, swallowing a moan.
Lee always took you to bed on Fridays—it was your treat after being a good wife all week. He'd lay you down and treat you right between clean sheets. Treating you right meant wringing at least two orgasms from you, and right now you're working on your second.
You dig your fingers into his back and wraps your legs around his waist as you let the feeling overtake you, closing your eyes and pulling him closer.
"Good job," he grunts, fucking you through it. "Sit up, darlin'."
He pulls out quickly and starts jerking himself toward your face. "Don't move."
You sit still, looking up at him with a smile. The first rope hits your cheek followed quickly by more on your nose and lips. You open your mouth slightly and peek your tongue out for a taste. Lee takes the invitation and paints his spend over your swollen lips with the tip of his dick. "So pretty f'me."
The Weekend
Lee loves having you whenever he wants, but he isn't a cruel man. He recognizes when you truly need to rest and recuperate, and he doesn't push you past your limits, although he loves toeing the line.
Right now he's watching you push it all back inside, one dainty finger at a time.
"C'mon, one more, baby, I know you can do it," he says, watching you push a third finger inside of you. You whine and comply, finding it easier since he just stretched you out. He's sitting back and taking it all in—your pussy dripping with his cum, your puffy lips, your perfectly manicured fingers pressing into you.
You finger yourself per his request and come undone once more, a panting, sticky mess.
Lee walks to the bathroom and draws you a bath, putting in your favorite bath oils. You sit up and pad into the bathroom to wash your hands.
"You relax in here with your little romance book while I start dinner, okay?" He says, kissing your cheek. You nod and strip off your remaining clothes before sinking into the slowly filling tub. The water is the perfect temperature.
After your bath and a delicious dinner, Lee rubs your feet while you lay out on the couch and talk about your plans for tomorrow.
"I think we should go for a drive," he suggests. "Get outta town for a few hours. What do ya say?"
"I think that sounds lovely," you agree. "Should I wear a sundress?"
Lee shakes his head. "You've been a very good wife this week. No sundress required… unless you want to wear one," he says with a wink.
hello :) please could you do a thranduil/elf!reader where it’s an arranged marriage between the two of them but at first they don’t really like each other because they don’t really know each other well and there’s a bit of angst between the two of them but then it ends with them happy together because they’ve spent time with each other and have grown to respect and love each other :) is that too specific? if it is then feel free to play around with it :)))) thank youuuuuuuuu <3
Went ahead and did more of an imagine rather than prose format. Hope that’s okay! Reader inhabits the role of Thranduil’s wife~ Legolas’ mother.
Thranduil x Fem Elf!Reader - Arranged Marriage!
Oropher is nothing if not ambitious and controlling. Thranduil bristled at the idea of an arranged marriage. Elves marry for love, and he had always planned to. His father, however...
You aren’t too keen on it either, but your parents have similar ambitions and a political match between your kingdom and Greenwood the Great is advantageous for everyone involved. Thranduil is drop-dead gorgeous, of course, but he’s also arrogant and cold, which quickly squashes any interest you have in him.
The two of you meet exactly once before the wedding, and that’s just the moment when your parents announce to the two of you that you’re getting married. Both of you are so angry about the marriage itself that you end up saying some very rude things. Names get tossed back and forth. If calling Thranduil an empty-headed arrogant beanpole hurt him, he certainly didn’t show it, but he did give just as good as he got-- in the form of a merciless, near-surgical deconstruction of you, your looks, your personality, and the clothes you’re wearing. To the point that you actually cry.
There’s a flicker of regret in his face when your eyes mist over. But you stubbornly refuse to crack and that interests him as much as it annoys him. He had been hoping to upset you enough that you’d ask your parents to call off the wedding.
He’s surprisingly thoughtful, though, once the wedding is over and he shows you the rooms he had the staff prepare. He asked your parents and friends about your interests and hobbies and preferences, and made sure that you have everything you need and everything you might want. He may not like this arrangement, but he knows you don’t like it any more than he does and you’re the one that has to move to a new home. You’re grateful and a little touched by this gesture, but you still remember his stinging insults and don’t let it get to your head.
The two of you don’t speak much after the wedding. It’s dreadfully lonely. It’s not too long after that Thranduil joins his father with the Last Alliance to battle Sauron, leaving you in charge of keeping Greenwood from falling apart in their absence.
You manage. You more than manage. You’ve been raised to rule since the cradle just like he has, and this is your kingdom too.
When news arrives of King Oropher’s fall, you write Thranduil a letter. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Come home.
You may not like him, but he is your husband. And now the two of you are in charge of Greenwood together.
The Thranduil that arrives back in Greenwood with his rag-tag army is nothing like the Thranduil you remember. He’s tired. He is so tired. His eyes are hollow but he holds his head high, gaze haughty, unwilling to admit that he’s frightened and grieving.
The two of you rule Greenwood together, side-by-side. You keep your relationship strictly to business for a long time until, one late night, you pass under a spreading oak and hear tears.
You have never. Ever. Heard Thranduil cry.
You look up to see the prince-turned-king of Greenwood curled up on one of the high branches, stone-faced but sobbing. Your heart twists and you climb up to join him. He tries to dry his face and slip that cold mask into place but you take his hands. They shake in yours.
“I cannot do this,” he whispers.
“You can. You already are,” you tell him firmly, squeezing his hands in yours. They feel cold. So cold. That sets alarm bells ringing in your head.
“He was never proud of me. I was never enough. And now he is gone and I have lost any chance to prove myself to him.” Thranduil’s voice trembles just as much as his hands. His eyes are wet with tears. It’s then that you realize that the weight he has been shouldering is far heavier than you ever thought, and he’s been shouldering it since he was a child.
Impulsively, you hug him. He freezes, going stiff as a board, unused to affection.
“You are a good king,” you say softly. “You owe him nothing. You are stern but fair. You care for your people. You are doing your best and that is all that anyone asks of you. You were there when your people needed you most, picking up the pieces on that battlefield. You are strong and you have nothing to prove.”
Another great sob lances through him, and it feels like it might rip you apart, too.
“I haven’t been a good husband,” he protests.
“No,” you agree. “But you haven’t been awful, either. And I haven’t been a particularly good wife. But--” you pull back, wiping the tears on his face with the pads of your thumbs. “We can be better together.”
He shakily smiles and ducks his head. Almost...shy. Which is a word you would never associate with Thranduil. But there it is.
“You are not alone. I am here with you,” you reassure. “We can do this.”
He nods. “Yes. Together.”
You don’t kiss him, though for some reason the impulse strikes you. He’s too emotionally vulnerable and that doesn’t sit well with your conscience. But you do later, when, after a long day, the two of you share a bottle of wine and stargaze. The kiss is warm and soft, and Thranduil deepens it into something that feels like fire.
And a year later, the two of you have a son. You name him Legolas.
Can I request a How Many Kids They Want for the characters from The Hobbit? I’m curious to hear what you think!
Heck yeah! I already made a placeholder for it in my drafts cuz I had to let’s GOOOO! Last post pre-surgery, crazy that we’re only 3 days out 🥲
How Many Kids Do They Want? The Hobbit Edition
Balin
Certainly not a future he ever expected, but it’s not such a bad one, is it? How big his family is is a question Balin wouldn’t mind deferring to his partner, especially as he would never be the one bearing them! But probably not more than three if he was really pressed for an answer.
Dwalin
Girl dad. I said what I said. Secretly wants to settle down and adores the idea of domestic life, especially with a sweetheart of a partner who he can take care of. This transfers to his children, who Dwalin is the fiercest papa bear to! No one will touch a single hair upon his daughters’ heads. I can see him having two or three little girls, very unusual for a dwarf and a bit unexpected to him, who would have said he wanted sons. The moment he has to pull a knife out of his little girl’s hand, though, the very same one that held a doll on the other side, Dwalin realizes what he wants has nothing to do with boys. Raises the toughest girls this side of the mountains!
Thorin
Does not mind the idea of a small family, more time and love to give each member as king. Thorin is fiercely loyal and dedicated, so he wants to shower his partner and child(ren) with as much as he possibly can. Thus he would prefer only one or two children. While he hopes for a son to continue on the line of Durin, growing up with a sister gave him a soft spot and respect for femininity, too. A boy and a girl sounds perfect to him, Thorin’s little prince and princess. He would have such a hard time not softening his harsh ways and one hundred percent spoiling them, but the last thing he wants is to raise spoiled royalty with no humility!
Oin
Oin is so the type of father to have a big family and brag about them all the time! Five or six children. He’s the default carer when they get sick, being so good at treating any ailment or pain that they run to him upon feeling any sort of ill. Not picky about if he has boys or girls, ending up with two girls and three or four boys. All of them are welcome to become his apprentices and several even grew up playing ‘doctor’ for years beforehand! Literally Oin could be handling someone halfway to bleeding out and he’s still standing there staunching it saying how he has the best kids ever.
Gloin
The proudest father and family man in general! Cannot wait to have a family of his own and absolutely wants a son to be his mini-me. Has a special bond with his son as we all know. Gloin is happy to even have one child, but could be persuaded to go up to two or three. Would raise the toughest, shrewdest daughter as he shows her the ropes of getting out of uncomfortable situations and having the confidence to stand up for whatever she wants!
Bifur
A family is a future he never grew up expecting being a manual laborer and warrior. Parts of him weren’t even sure how long he’d live unless he got tough, which of course he did! One son sounds good to him, someone to pass on stories of battle and his ancestors to and shape as a fighter, though he also hopes if he has a family they would not be so forced to see war.
Bofur
Envies his brother’s family a bit, not that he wants quite so many! Bofur would be happy with two or three or four. He loves the idea of having a little girl, especially if she’s a tiny version of his partner, he would just melt at the sight of her. Total, though, he’s down for three or four, multiple but still small enough to feel cozy! Absolutely the type of father who lets his daughter dance with her feet on his and teases the kids whenever he can! Makes little hats for his sons so they can match.
Bombur
Going by the fanon/actor canon here as always, a lot. He’s so good with wee ones and just adores them, so he is down for as many as he’ll be allowed, even up to thirteen or fourteen! Because of this, he naturally wants several of both boys and girls, especially because girls are rarer among his people. So playful with them and a master of getting down to their level as a naturally lighthearted and whimsical person. He loves when the little ones help him cook or bake even if it gets messy!
Dori
The most caring father ever, forever doting on his children and making them feel loved, even if it’s a little much! His perfect number is two, one of each if he’s lucky but he’d be happy with two of the same, too. Dori grew up caring for both of his brothers for enough years, after all, but he also has the sneaking suspicion that with dwarven culture, his love for the finer things would be more likely passed on to daughters! Likes the idea of teaching skills like sewing or jewelry-making to whoever his offspring are.
Nori
Kind of suspects if he had a child, it might not be legitimate, but in the end he takes the plunge of settling down, feeling the urge as he ages to keep his bloodline on. One or two is enough for him, though, sons if he can help it, which being a dwarf he practically can! Realizes carrying a wee bairn around has a charm that lets him get away with even more than usual, and as they age teaches his little boys how to play games and even to cheat a little.
Ori
Softer, more caring than his middle brother, someone who fantasized about having a family if someone would have him. His vision is of four children, two of each. So patient with all the buzzing questions and curiosities of their young minds. All of them, boys or girls, will have the most enriching environments full of art and writing, being raised with culture over getting taught to fight. Since self-expression is encouraged, though, you can bet it’s a loud home!
Fili
Even beyond the weight of cultural expectations, Fili wants to experience being a father. Doesn’t have as strong a desire for a son as most kings and princes do, honoring his mother and what a great queen she would make. In fact, he loves the idea of raising a future queen more than king in some ways. She would be strong, resilient, free to be herself and not fall to the shadows beneath anyone if Fili has his way. He definitely wants more than one, though, and in fact ends up with twins, too! Identical twin sons he encourages both to train and explore as well as to mess with everyone by lying about which twin they are.
Kili
This dwarf loves his mother and is just dying to show his children the love he got and respect his partner especially if she’s the mother of his children! The idea of a family makes him happy like nothing else, for despite all his flirting and seeming like he wants to have fun he really wants to settle down with the love of his life. He wants at least one of each, loving different things about having a son and daughter. The kind of father who would play dress-up with his daughter and spar with her just as much as his son! All in all, he’s pretty open on numbers, but he wants at least two and the ideal range in his mind is around three to five.
Bilbo
Didn’t think he wanted children for a long time, but Bilbo is definitely the sort to change his mind if he meets the right person. Still would prefer a smaller family of one or two children, though, as more would be overwhelming to him and he wants to keep his home in order! Boy or girl, his kids would learn so many skills ranging from folding handkerchiefs to cartography. No strong preference from Bilbo on what he wants, per se, he more just hopes to have things in common with them and be able to bond.
Thranduil
Torn between his desire for an heir and not exactly paternal ways, Thranduil really only wants one child. All his attention can be focused that way, too, because at his heart he does know that duty makes it hard to be as involved as he could be with family and it would not be fair to have a massive family he can’t spend time with. Likes the idea of a son, again considering an heir, but a little girl would have the woodland king absolutely wrapped around her finger and get every pretty little thing she wants.
Bard
Pretty obvious on this one, but he would want three! Not so picky on having sons or daughters, especially when his legacy already has pressure upon it. In truth he’s the sort who wants ‘the full experience’ and says he’d want to try for one of each. Teaches all of his little family valuable skills, wishing them the best chance in life. They’ll learn to heal, defend themselves even if it’s not fighting, simply keeping safe.
Beorn
Intimidated as he is by the prospect of having children in a world that was so cruel to his people, his papa bear instincts run deep through his veins. I can see him having twins or even triplets, like a little litter all his own. I see triplets, two boys and a girl. Beorn cannot help the way his often harsh expression softens at his little ones, the hopeful smile that creeps onto his face at the thought of continuing the Skin Changers’ legacy through his sons and daughters, his name-bearers and the one who will choose her own.
Taglist: @kilibaggins @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart | Message/Reply to join 🥰
What is it like to be wife of the kings of Middle Earth, you ask?
Théoden
✧ You are his rock, reassuring him that the best thing he could give you is his heart, the very thing you have held for years. Still he has the best of everything he can have made for you and surprises you with trails of wildflowers just as he did when you were young and first in love, all to show his unending gratitude.
✧ A man in every sense, Théoden lives to ease your days, offering you his arm for the warmth, safety and stability of a walk. Any time your joined steps decline to a staircase or any other obstacle, your husband has a hand at the ready, the other resting gently against your hip. At the first sign of danger his arm will be outstretched across you, placing himself between you and the threat.
✧ He remembers the day he first took you to the stables, the way you extended a hand toward his horse hesitantly only for your eyes to light up like fabled fireworks when you made contact with him, creations a unity of new and old yet all magic. You were happy to follow Théoden's lead, wrapping your arms tightly around him as he guided your shared mount in a trot over green fields and toward the hills, air rushing through helmet and hair with speed gained. The sound of it paling in comparison to the music of your laugh, joyful freedom ringing out into the sunlit air.
✧ Always whispering praises between kisses, his breath tickling your shoulder, neck, right along the shell of your ear as he travels, telling you a different attribute, quality, or even part of your body he loves until he has praised all of you. Théoden realizes he does not always speak his feelings, share enough of his most vulnerable thoughts, but alone as he nuzzles against your skin he breaks down and the words tumble from him like a waterfall.
✧ Never will you bear a burden alone; not only is Théoden’s shoulder forever yours to lean on, but your husband, your king, insists on carrying the heaviest things for you. Even after a simple day on the market, he takes the basket from your hands. Even if you giggle and tell him you can take it, your heart warms every time, knowing he truly does not wish to see you struggle.
Aragorn
✧ Beyond all the rich things he could give you simply by means, Aragorn looks to your heart in all matters. His gifts to you will only be of fine shining things if that is what you wish, but if you, like him, value sentiment and a hint of practicality, you will find everything at your disposal toward the pursuits you love and the memories you hold dearest.
✧ Cannot get enough of the feeling of your skin upon his. Affectionately brushes his hand along the curve of your cheekbone, reaches a hand out to take yours, and breaks into a wide smile when he feels your leg hook his beneath a table. Trailing his touch up and down its surface absentmindedly. When you stroll side by side, it will be with Aragorn’s arm about your waist or hand in yours.
✧ There need not be any more than your simple presence for him to be happy. The sight of you beckoning him from your chaise, your smile as he complies, crossing the room to recline at your side, enjoy the music of your giggle as he runs a hand softly over your hair and inquires as to your thoughts in this beautiful moment.
✧ Nary makes a decision without weighing your words among all others. His love for you extends to your mind, the heart you have for those around you, all the qualities that make you an excellent queen as well as wife. Firm is Aragorn's belief that a queen is far more than an accessory to the king, but a ruler in her own right whom he would trust with his kingdom in any time of strife. His actions alongside his words of trust and praise remind you of this truth each and every day of your shared reign.
✧ Aragorn is always behind you to lace your dress and shoes, his hands so gentle as they work the ties and brush against your skin, caressing your hair or cheek as he finishes.
Thranduil
✧ Even beyond the feeling that he must grant you kingly gifts, he desires it greatly- both for the pleasure of seeing you dripping with silver that shines almost as bright as your eyes and also as any small token, for you deserve the stars themselves and Thranduil would gift you those if he could.
✧ Guides you with a hand about your waist whenever you walk together, not for any lack of trust but simply the way he can revel in your presence. Show you off. You are the most beautiful accessory he could ask for and so much more. A gem in far more respects than those of the earth.
✧ Thranduil takes interest in anything that you do, throwing himself into your passions with nearly as much fervor as your own. Be it writing, sewing, blacksmithing, pottery, the crafting of fine accessories, you say the word. At the king’s word, you will have a desk, workbench, wheel, or forge set up in your name, all the ink or steel or fabrics or clay you could desire, and of course your husband will be there at your side. Whether years of some royal training have already made an expert of him or his hands are virgin to your craft, Thranduil insists on lessons from you and the chance for your hands to come together as one just as your hearts, creating a thing of beauty together.
✧ Defends any slight or insult directed your way with such venom, it as as though the words address him. Which they do, as Thranduil professes to you afterward- the safety of your body, your heart, your mind, weigh upon him just as much as, if not more than, those of his own. You are the greatest sum, the greatest part of his whole. Just as he tells you, Thranduil proudly tells all.
✧ It had been an offhand comment, just a note of a day whose heat had ballooned your stress and ached your muscles. Continuing your tasks, you all but forgot you had even spoken it until Thranduil led you by the hand to your special little hollow where he had drawn a bath. Dripping fine oils into the water to send fragrance spiraling into the steamy haze, rings drifting out from each droplet and faintly disturbing the flowers floating on the water’s surface. So beautiful and all for you, he reminds you as he helps you undress and lower into the water with him.
Thorin
✧ No improvements can be made to the divine gift that is your body, the eyes that look upon Thorin with such love and devotion, and yet his heart swells whenever he sees you clad in the finery of his people, silken threads he commissioned just for you and jewels to symbolize every memory and passion you share: a secret language just for you two.
✧ Reserved as he is with his touches in public, keeping a hand in yours or gently upon your shoulder in times of needed protection or comfort, Thorin worships your form when only your eyes are upon him, yours and the stars and perhaps the Valar, who he suspects would even envy the way his hands trace over your warm, heavenly curves.
✧ At first he is reluctant to let you into the forges, the heat and smiths' sweat and harsh strikes of hammers falling upon steel. But was your position not a testament to your resilience, the love you showed an imperfect king day after day not a sign or strength untold, and did glimpses of you on the battlefield that Thorin would hold in his mind for eternity not capture your will? Soon you are his smithing apprentice, your smile at his side worth any risk it could serve to you.
✧ His favorite tales to tell young ones are those of you, the moment he realized you were his One, recounting times that his life was saved by you, of how his stubbornest of hearts was touched by love even more headstrong and open. Thorin is always there in your most vulnerable moments, wiping your tears, caressing your cheek and resting his forehead against yours as he whispers the perfect antidote to the poisons of your mind or others' words.
✧ Thorin listened intently when you lamented your favorite necklace breaking, how you thought it was going to last longer. He said little, did not offer a replacement, anything. Not three days later your prized jewelry lay upon your armoire, strong as if new again.
Bard
✧ He hadn’t wanted to be king. Not at first. You yourself had all but laughed at the prospect of being a queen, yet that was what suited you so well to the role. Over the years, Bard has felt the shift, the changing from practical gifts like the new apron he’d had made for you to things he’d once believed to be outside of your means. Things he always felt you deserved, but now can give you. Pretty necklaces befitting the queen you always were in your husband’s eyes.
✧ Bard’s hand upon you is often protective, the grip of your fingers being tightly woven into his to keep you close in a crowd or a hand resting gently against your shoulder when he, as if with a sixth sense, detects a spike of anxiety threatening to pierce your chest. He will be your shield as often as he can be, your comfort as his thumb gently draws circles on the back of your hand or along your shoulder blade.
✧ Forever it will be one of your memories the way your husband took you out one day upon the lake, paddling you out beneath the night sky, candles lit in jars he had cleaned and a meal packed in your basket. How Bard had managed to keep the soup so warm beneath the lake's winds you did not know nor question, not when your mug of it felt so warm beneath your hands and your husband's gleaming brown eyes fixed upon you so, encouraging you to join him in a kiss over the steam and beneath the canopy of the Valar's glittering blessings to your sky.
✧ Straight as his arrows did your husband’s words fly. Your virtues are as facts to him, stated as things beyond question.
✧ Sometimes it seems that Bard could fix anything. Be his feats replacing corset boning or tightening wardrobe knobs, you rarely go without with Bard by your side. For too long, after all, did his own family endure such. The one gratitude Bard feels in that being the ingenuity he has developed, the way he can silently aid his loved ones and make things last.
The Hobbit Characters Meeting Your First Child Together (Wife!Reader)
Part 2 of this post! Time to find out who has daughters or sons first 😁 also requested by anon, but it was already drafted hehe~
Warnings: Blood mentions, birth complications in some (happy endings for all!)
Balin
Knitting was a bit of a struggle those days, you reflected as your elbows ached from bending to keep your needles above the curve of your belly. Balin sat in the armchair at your side, a hand idly drawing circles upon your thigh. Thus, he felt your sudden jerk, rose with you when you all but threw your needles and their work to the side table. "What is it?" He asked. "The chair," you cried out, "It's ruined!" Moisture seeped into the seat of it, a dark stain upon maroon velvet. "We can most likely get that out," Balin comforted you, a hand on yours, "But what is it?" "My water," you answered lowly, dread of realization creeping in on you. "What water?" "My water," you repeated urgently, dragging your husband by the arm, "I am going into labor!"
~
The only thing that got you through your labor was chuckling at Balin's attempts to hide his nerves, which somehow seemed greater than yours. Likely due to the way your body went into a near-primal focus, your every thought channeled not even into pushing your child out, but simply keeping them safe. Safe indeed, for soon a very loud cry pierced your ears. "Mahal," Oin remarked, dark eyes widening as he extended your newly-wrapped babe to you, "He's a strong one!" "He?" You asked. "He is strong!" Balin cried out, pulling you into his chest from where he stood, one hand reaching for your son, who immediately gripped his finger tight. "Oh, he is indeed!" "We did it," you sobbed into your husband's chest. "You did," Balin corrected, "I can't imagine how you endured all that." "All for him," you replied, gazing down at your son, whose eyes squinted open and blinked. Brown, just like his father's.
Dwalin
"Get out of the way! My wife is giving birth! Our child's coming!" All but shoving the crowds as he burst through with you in his arms, one hand wrapped less loosely about you so he could fling it out at offending pedestrians, Dwalin carried you down Erebor's halls all the way to Oin's. "It- It takes a long time, you know! The baby isn't coming right now," you stuttered out, jostled by your husband's brisk pace. "I'll not take my chances," Dwalin replied as he disappeared with you into the doorway.
~
"Stars above, why'd ya wait so long?" "Huh?" Your head snapped up from the bed you'd been draped onto, the world fading sharply back to focus amidst the pain. "You either took yer sweet time or else this is an unusually fast labor." Dwalin grinned down at you. "Now is not the time," you shot back, gritting your teeth. In the end, the agonies of labor were over for you in four hours' time. "Unusual all the way around," Oin remarked, settling the mewling babe in your arms, "You two've got yourselves a little girl." "'N she's going to look just like you, too," Dwalin told you, reaching a tattooed hand out to stroke your daughter's cheek and nuzzling against your head.
Thorin
Thorin knew by the way you gripped his arm, swiveled his head to meet your eyes and see your faint nod. Register the fear in your eyes and cup your cheek gently. He was prepared, bringing you a blanket to hold beneath you when your water began to seep through your skirt. Your husband led you by the hand as you waddled with the blanket between your legs all the way to Thorin’s most trusted healer, his old journey’s companion.
~
“You can do this. I have seen firsthand how much you can endure. You were made to do this, my love.” “I know,” you whined, unconcerned how pitiful you sounded for despite being a queen, at that moment you were a woman in pain. Pain that had gone on for hours, burning and tearing through your body. “The head is stuck,” Oin told you. “No,” you breathed. “I’m afraid I may have to widen the opening. Looking up to meet Thorin’s eyes, you simply tightened your grip on his hand, squeezing your eyes shut tight when the healer took up a small blade and letting out a cry of agony as he cut. Finally, though, blessedly, a weight lifted as your little one came free with a sound of confusion. Panting, you gave your husband a weak smile, sitting up a bit further and wincing at the pain, enduring to hold your newborn. “My son. Our son. A new prince is born to Erebor,” Thorin whispered, leaning down to connect your foreheads, warmth pooling even amidst the sweat glistening there, “I cannot take away your pain, but I will do anything in my power to be the best king, husband, and father you both could ask.” “You already are,” you told him, laying your hand over his, which was joined with your son’s.
Oin
"It's time, isn't it?" "How did you know what I was about to say?" You asked him, head cocked. "Because I've seen the signs a thousand times," Oin reminds you, "Now come on. Go get yourself comfortable. I've got everything ready." Patting your shoulder and kissing your cheek, he guides you to your bed and leaves the room, only to return with his supplies. "I'll go put the kettles on." "Why two?" "One to keep me clean 'n one for your tea." Oin had, in fact, told you about the tea he made patients to help with their pain. You nodded. "Of course. I trust my healer." The affection in your husband's eyes matched your own gaze as he disappeared through the door one more time.
~
"Yer doin' great." "I don't feel like I am," you cried. "Shh, I know," Oin soothed, making his way back up to your head to kiss you, "It'll all be over soon, though. Promise. In fact, can you give me one more push?” For all the frustration you may have felt, your husband was both delivering your little one and reassuring you. He was doing amazing for your baby and you could do the same. Whimpering and straining, you pushed until a cry pierced the room. “You did it! A wee thing, too. Oh, oh, love, it’s a girl! We had a girl!” Daughters were all too rare among dwarvenkind. Eyes widening and lips parting, you leaned over to let Oin wipe the sweat from your brow with one newly-cleaned hand after he handed over your daughter. Tears poured from his eyes as he rested his hand over yours that held your daughter’s. “I’ve seen this a thousand times, and yet this is like never before. Thank you for this gift.” Whispering your name, he guided you gently by the chin into a kiss of pure love and gratitude.
Gloin
“Are you alright?” Your husband’s voice was like a buzz beneath the ring of your ears, lightheadedness overtaking you until you felt a hand take yours and heard a louder, firmer call of your name. No anger colored it, just concern that had you finally swinging your head Gloin’s way. Soon as your eyes met his, you nodded faintly and smiled before the spots dancing in your vision won.
~
When you awoke, your brother-in-law was checking your pulse, nodding as you started. “She’s doin’ better,” Oin told Gloin, “Get back up there, she’s going to start pushing.” Shuffling back up from his brother’s side to yours, your husband took your hand, gently smoothing your hair and dabbing cold sweat off your brow with his sleeve. “I’m ready whenever you are,” he told you, and off you went into another haze of pain and encouragement and anticipation. Oin’s cry of victory actually alerted you both to the birth before the baby made a sound, emerging into the air with a small whine of confusion and near annoyance that had you and Gloin chuckling. The baby started crying as Oin checked him over, fussing in your arms as Gloin leaned down to rest his forehead over his new addition’s. “I’m a da. I’ve finally got a son of my own,” he whispered, tears welling in his eyes.
Bifur
“Bifur!” Plodding footsteps filled your vision as your husband tore into the room, almost careening into your dresser. Entering the room, his dark eyes widened as he caught side of you folded over, your water leaking onto your shared bed. “The blankets,” you panted, “I’m sorry…” Waving a hand and shaking his head, Bifur dismissed you, removing his gloves to caress your cheek and feel your forehead before he lowered you down and gestured for you to wait. Squeezing your hand when you nodded in agreement, he disappeared out the door in search of Oin.
~
Gasps sounded at your feet as Oin motioned for Bifur to join him and rake up a tool. Muscle memory kept the feeling and warmth of your husband’s hand in yours alive for another moment, but you all but forgot it in the panic of Oin tracing a circle around his neck. The cord was wrapped. Spears of ice pierced your heart as you watched your husband frantically aid the healer, eyes stone in focus and motions deliberate. After what felt like hours, you saw both their chests rest in exhales. “He’s alright,” Oin told you, “Your son will be just fine.” Crying out, you reached out your arms, embracing your husband and then sobbing into the blanket that held your new addition. You could tell by his wisps of black hair, the shape of his nose, that he was going to look just like his father. “Our miracle,” you sobbed to Bifur and Oin, “You are true heroes. Thank you. Our son will have no shortage of great dwarves to look up to.”
Bofur
“Bofur, my labor is beginning.” “Your what?” Wincing, you shuffled forward to clutch your husband by the collar. “Your child is coming, so I suggest you get some help unless you’d like to have a fun adventure with our rug later.” Swallowing, Bofur nodded. “Right. On my way.”
~
“And I’ll never forget the day I met you. When I saw you I thought ‘There’s simply no way she could be real’. Goodness me, if I’m not thinking the very same right now.” Bofur’s hand never left yours and his mouth never stopped moving, even if you were in no state to respond. Contorting with the pain, you cried out as your body gave its all, spending yourself for one last push. “See what I mean? Oin just caught the wee bairn. You’re all done! Just pushed a whole baby out all by yourself. Plain amazing’s what it is.” “And a girl no less!” Oin chimed in, slashing the cord as your daughter began to cry. “Hear that, love? A little dwarrowdam!” Smiling at your husband, you felt a tear slide down and mingle with the sweat glistening upon your cheek. Oin placed her in your arms and Bofur bent over to meet her blinking eyes. “Hello there! It’s me, yer da! I’m the one who’s going to buy you everything you want, alright?” “Not even five minutes old and she already has you wrapped around her finger,” you teased. “Damn right.” Bofur kissed her head, then yours.
Bombur
“Bombur.” “I’m on it.” Your sweet husband needed only a word to rush off across your home, fetching you a pot and holding it beneath you. “What’s this for?” “The water,” he answered, nodding down to where your skirt soaked through. “Oh,” you accepted one of the cold steel handles, “right. That works.” “You ready? I’ll get yer bag too.” “Ready as I’ll ever be,” you answer with a smile.
~
Taking a cloth, your husband wiped the sweat off your forehead gently, patting your cheek affectionately. “Still doing alright?” “Best I can,” you grunted. “Everything look good down there? Well, good as it can,” Bombur amended with a glance down to his old companion, who nodded. Bombur had been asking questions and checking in the whole times, not to mention keeping you as clean and comfortable as could be. Rather that annoy you, it made you smile to see how much he cared. You had a healer, yes, but a nurse also. “Almost here,” he said, “just a few more pushes, eh?” Exhaling sharply, you focused all your might, forcing your muscles harder than you thought possible until a wail pierced the room. “You’ve done it,” Oin congratulated you, crossing the room with a little bundle in hand. Reaching out, Bombur wrapped his hands gently around the little one, lowering your baby down to let you uncover her head, which already had whisps of red hair. "She's beautiful." "'Course she is," Bombur replied, nuzzling into your cheek, "Came out o' you, didn't she?"
Dori
"Love, are you alright?" "Yes." You paused, crumpling and wincing beneath the crash of more pain. "Wait, no. That is to say I've never felt this before. I think my labor has started." No more words were necessary; flitting about your home, Dori fetched blankets and a skin of water and all manner of other supplies. "Will Oin not have all we need?" "Can't be too sure," your husband replied, striding to your side and smoothing your hair before he caressed your face, blue eyes staring into yours, "I want you to be safe, you know. I love you." And what could you say? You loved him, too, for all his quirks and for that big beautiful heart.
~
"Is that normal? That's not normal, is it?" Oin had drawn you a warm bath, lowering you into the water and checking your progress. "What's he doing all this for?" "To relax her," the healer replied to your nervous husband with a shake of his head, "And yes, this happens. 's just a slow labor is all. Some of 'em rush on out and others take their time. I suspect your wee bairn is just in no hurry." No hurry indeed. For all your pains of labor, it was almost 20 hours to the minute before your bath ran red and plaintive cries of confusion drifted into the air, Dori's fretting and even apologizing to you for putting you in this position turning to gripping your hand and all but leaping in anticipation. "You did it," he congratulated you quietly, embracing you without care of the water, sweat, and Mahal knew what else soaked you. "You sure did," Oin agreed, smiling as you accepted your little one, whose face was still red from crying, "She's here." "A daughter," Dori whispered, "A little girl! All my dreams are coming true and it's all thanks to you. How could I ever thank you? You'll never want for anything, neither of you, not love or warmth or all the pretty things you'd ever want."
Nori
Nori’s arms were snaked around your middle when you jerked forward, pushing his hands away. “For goodness sakes, you could’ve just said you didn’t want to-” “No,” you waved a hand frantically, feeling the gush of liquid trickling out, “My water just broke, Nori. It is time.” “Right now?” “Sorry if it’s inconvenient for you,” you sassed. At that, your husband smiled faintly and shook his head. “Not at all. In fact," he quipped, "I was a bit bored.”
~
“Push!” “What does it look like I’m doing?” Now your ire is focused on Oin, bringing many a snicker forth from Nori. At least until you crush his hand with a steel grip, crying out and falling limply against the sheets on which you lie. “That felt like something. Am I done?” “Almost,” the healer replied, his head popping over the curve of your heaving body, “The other head’s coming out now.” Double-taking between Oin and you, Nori bursts out, “The other head?” “Congratulations,” Oin agrees roughly, hands glistening with blood as he cuts a cord, “You’re a strong one, my friend- you made two at once!” At that, he bursts into a raucous laugh, gingerly transferring each of your sons into Nori’s arms. Bringing them closer, your husband grins like a dwarf showing off his most precious gems. “Look at that, love, two for the price o’ one. Our handsome little lads.”
Ori
Ori had been asking you every day at just about any hint of discomfort if the baby was coming, jumping up before you could tell him no, just a hard kick or your back troubling you again. Thus, the same he had done that day, so caught in the fray of his actions that he failed to think about why you weren't stopping him. At least, that was, until you finally met his eyes with a nod and a nervous smile that sent him pitching sideways. Only, of course, to promptly catch himself and, wide-eyed, take your hand and lead the way.
~
"You sure you want 'im in here?" Oin asked you, peering up with a teasing glint in his eye. "He looks more afraid than you do!" "He is my husband," you replied indignantly, tightening your grip on Ori's hand, "And I am quite certain I would faint too if I saw the head half-stuck right now." "Oh, beyond half," the healer told you, "Couple good pushes and I daresay you'll be done." Hearing Ori's gasp of excitement had your eyes shining with even more determination than the older dwarf's words, and focusing all your might you pushed and pushed until you felt a weight lifted, your body relaxing. "He's out! A little lad, too!" "Hear that?" Ori turned to you, gathering you up into his arms. "We've got a son! Our son is here!" "'N he's a gentle thing," Oin told you, laying him in your arms, "Didn't even fight me." "He's sweet," you gushed at the sight of your son nuzzling into your bare skin and leaning up to kiss your husband's cheek, "Just like his da."
Fili
“I think I’m in labor.” “You think?” Blue eyes wide and golden brows raised, Fili stares incredulously at you. “I feel it. I feel the pain. But where is my water?” Glancing back up, you see your husband inhale sharply, exhale and steady his expression. Truly a king in the making. “Oin will know,” he tells you, urgently but calmly, “Let us go.” Nodding and taking a deep breath of your own, you take his hand and make your way.
~
Labor indeed. All the other signs matched and soon- or far sooner than you had hoped- you are pushing, Fili’s hand firmly clasping yours and his head resting atop your own, braids dangling over you as you pant and work. From your feet, you see the healer’s eyes widen and lips part, rounding in surprise. “Is something wrong?” “No, no,” Oin shakes his head, “This is simply a marvel. Your heir coming in a veiled birth.” Frowning, you immediately ask him what he means. “See for yourself,” he replies, showing you the reason your water had not broken. The baby had emerged still inside the birth sac. “Does that harm them?” Fili asked. “Not at all. This is just a very rare sight. You may not want to watch this part.” Fili took both of your hands in his, leaning his forehead against yours as Oin extricated and cleaned the little one. “A veiled babe and a girl. What are the odds?” Accepting your daughter, you grinned up at Fili. “We have a princess!” “Our little queen in the making,” your husband agreed, caressing your daughter’s cheek as a rear rolled down his, “A true miracle.”
Kili
Poor Kili- you had been sitting on his lap when the break happened. Venturing your name with the utmost caution-and fear of your hormones- your husband asked, “Do you, by chance, need help getting to the lavatory?” Shaking your head even as it was hidden in your hands, you told him, “No. Kili, that was my water. The babies.” “Now?” “Now,” you agreed with a nod. Shooting up from his seat and all but yanking you into his arms, he lifted you bridal-style. “Kili, you’ll get wet!” “Already am. May as well give the babies as much time with Oin as possible.”
~
As much time ad possible being a near-record-speed delivery of three and a half hours. “Impatient little buggers,”Oin teased, tossing aside a red-stained cloth, “But strong little fighters. The sister kicked especially hard!” Chuckling, he lowered the aforementioned girl twin into your husband’s arms, handing you your son. They squirmed considerably less when you held them, both of you loosening your upper garments to hold them against skin. “She gets it from her mother, no doubt,” Kili teased with a wink as if he wasn’t crying, “But the good looks? That’ll be us both. This is all so beautiful. This is the most beautiful thing beyond anyone's imagining. Thank you for being the one to share this with me.”
Bilbo
"Are you sure I can't get you anything?" "Yes, Bilbo," you chuckled despite the pain coursing through your body, "All I need right now is to have you with me." "And Matilda," your husband named your neighbor and midwife who was on her way. "And Matilda," you agreed with a faint nod, "Now come here. Please." "Of course, dear," Bilbo agreed, shuffling across the room so quickly you could hear every hard step clattering off the boards.
~
"Is she going to be alright?" "Yes, she's still doing great," Matilda replied with an equal mix of amusement and exasperation at your husband, who leaned over to speak to her and immediately balked at the sight of your body dilated, a head beginning to emerge. "I- I feel a bit faint." "Try being me," you shot back as he returned to your side fully. "You're right," he nodded, fingers curling even tighter around yours for the last pushes. After what felt like ages, Matilda finally called up "Cutting the cord!" Her voice barely rose above the cries. "Hear that?" "I do," you answered Bilbo with a nod, tears welling up in your eyes. "You should be proud," Matilda told you, cleaning up your babe and handing her off to the pair of you, as both of you extended hands simultaneously, "She's beautiful." Bilbo lowered her to where you lie, pushing back the folds of her blanket so her skin could touch yours. Wispy hair curled atop your newborn daughter's head. "I never thought anything could be so beautiful, but here we are," your husband told you, voice barely above an awed whisper, "My girls."
Thranduil
"Thranduil." Your husband smirked at the way you panted his name, glancing upward only for that very expression to melt into horror at your buckling knees. Rushing to grasp your hand, he simply says, "It is time, is it not?" Nodding, you allow him to lead you all the way to the healing chambers, breathing heavily and wincing with each crashing wave of pain.
~
Despite his wide eyes, your husband keeps calm and speaks well the entire birth. "Focus on what is above you," he distracts, golden voice soothing as ever, "What do you see?" "Branches," you breathe, huffing with the force of your latest push, "Lights." "Remember the festival of starlight?" "I daresay that was when we conceived," you grunt, "Remind me to write an edict discontinuing it." At that, Thranduil simply chuckles deeply and winces at the way your voice breaks into tears. "Good," your midwife encourages you, "One more push, My Queen. One more. That is it. Find your strength." Your face contorts in frustration, but you comply, body wracked with one final stab before lying still. "Well?" Thranduil immediately asks. "Is the child healthy?" "Small, but breathing very well. A lovely little princess, My Lord." "My little princess," he all but gasps, head swiveling back your way, "Our daughter is here." A weight falls into his arms, and leaning down Thranduil reveals your little gift to you. Eyes still closed, your daughter wails and reaches for the air with delicate little hands. "Our beautiful woodland princess."
Feren
"Feren." "Yes, my love?" "Feren," you breathe with greater insistence in your loss for words, "I think it is happening." "Right now?" "Yes," you sit up in bed, throwing the blankets off your lap and inhaling sharply. Luckily, you have no need to tell your husband twice; he all but bounds across the bedroom to retrieve your things and find a robe to wrap you in, one hand guiding you up and to the side of the bed. "Breathe, breathe. One moment; I will fetch help." At first, you were reluctant to release his hand, but finally you nodded and let him go. When he returned, a midwife rushed to your side where you squatted and your husband to the other, where he took your hand and immediately winced at your vicelike grip.
~
Both you and Feren were red in the face and streaked with tears before you heard the wail; your husband from the pain of his hand and of hearing and seeing your body, voice, and expression all rent in agony. Every head in the room turned to face the sound, though, pain almost forgotten. With a soft white cloth that quickly reddened, your midwife cleaned the skin of your newborn. Who was, by the looks of it... "A son! My darling, a son is born to us! Our little boy is here." "Let me see," you cried out, reaching your hands for the elfling extended to you and lowering him to the bared skin of your chest. He was beautiful. "Perfect," you sobbed, "He is perfect." "Just like you," Feren adds with a kiss to your forehead.
Bard
The moment you crumpled, Bard took one look at you and nodded solemnly. “One moment,” he told you, rushing back into the house and calling requests to the girls. Through a wave of pain you saw Tilda hand her father the bag you’d packed as he made his way back to your side. You felt your hand clutched tightly again. “We make for the midwife’s.” At that, all you could do was nod. Luckily for you, she lived close enough that you needn’t take a barge, though the increasing difficulty of hurried walking and weaving through crowds of fisherman and sellers almost had you wishing you did. Your husband called to them to move, his wife was in labor, and luckily many of them began to part at that. All too soon another wave of pain came and Bard hoisted you into his arms, carrying you over the raised threshold of the wooden house that was your midwife’s home.
~
Hours. Hours it took, hours that wracked your body and soul as your mind was kept knit only by the grace and care of your husband. The midwife's care as well, of course, but all memory beyond the veil of pain went to the feeling of his hand around yours. Bard's grip, warm and solid right up until the moment cries filled the room. "It's a girl," the older woman breathed from at your feet, "A healthy little girl." "A daughter! Oh," Bard told you, bringing your baby closer, "The girls will be thrilled. And look, see how she looks just like you." Looking down, you pushed aside the blanket from your newborn daughter's head, seeing soft strands of hair the same color as yours. "As I had hoped," your husband added.
Beorn
“Three babies. Remind me again why it had to be three babies.” “My people commonly-” “I know, I know!” One arm slung over your shoulders and one tightly gripping your waist, Beorn led you from the garden back into the house. “Do you care to lay or to squat?” “Squat,” you panted. Acquiescing your request, your husband releases you at the bedpost once your hands leave his to grip the wood. “Let me boil some water. I will be right back.” Sometimes you wished he would be less serious. This was not one of those times. Calm washed over you at the sheer capability Beorn displayed, the confidence so present or so well affected. Taking a deep breath as a contraction hit, you attempted to mirror his manner.
~
“There was one. How do you feel?” “Lighter,” you groaned in between pushes. “Glad to see you have yet to lose your sense of humor. That one was a boy, my heart. Our firstborn son has arrived.” “A son,” you breathed, wincing as another massive contraction came. “Yes, yes, that is it.” A second cry filled the room, this one a bit quieter than your son’s. “And a daughter. Only one more. Whether you know it, you have the strength.” Finally a third set of cries filled the room, these the loudest by far. “Another son. Two boys and a girl.” Smiling, Beorn gently lowered one of your sons into your arms, the other babes swaddled in each of his. “This one looks like you,” you remarked, smiling at your husband though you did not bother peeling your eyes from your new baby yet. His eyes were well occupied with your daughter anyhow. “And I can tell this one will have her mother’s eyes. Much more beyond that, we can hope. …Hope. For my people after so long.” Eyes falling shut, Beorn let tears of joy and relief flow from his eyes before bringing you and his other son into one massive embrace.
This is something no one requested, but that I wrote for sheer comfort at a rush of bad memories. Warnings are fairly obvious, but this post will contain implications of abuse, though no graphic/explicit depictions.
The Hobbit Characters Finding Out You Were in an Abusive Relationship
Balin
His gaze drops from yours, but you are not offended by the pensive expression that crosses his face- what you said would take anyone time, let alone someone as thoughtful as Balin. Several heartbeats pass before he speaks. "My heart breaks for you," he begins, "that is a fate no one deserves. I can hardly begin to imagine... But what I do know is you have every right to do things at your own pace. Don't push yourself for me, love." Eyes shining, you nod. "And if I ever raise my voice at you, it'll only be for good reason, say, in a battle or because my old ears don't work so good." Giggling, you accept his proffered hand. "I admit, I can't picture you raising your voice like that at anyone." "It's happened," he jokes back, "those nephews of Thorin's have earned it a few times. But not you. I'm not here to control you, I'm here to love you, and you tell me if I'm making good on that." "It's a deal," you reply, smiling softly as Balin squeezes your hand.
Dwalin
“I know you may not understand or that my fears may seem weak-” “Weak?” Dwalin cuts you off. “Ya know who’s weak? That coward for picking on someone who loved ‘em. You are strong as hell for telling them yer done.” One final question rose to your lips. “So you don’t think differently of me?” At that, the tattooed dwarf shakes his head, placing a hand upon your shoulder and breathing your name softly even in his rough voice. “By my bear, you’re about the sweetest soul I’ve ever met and this only serves to confirm it. I’d have pummeled the sod at first insult.” “I probably should have,” you remarked, arms crossing over your midsection. “Not so fast,” Dwalin’s hand clapped over your chest, taking yours, “that’s what you have me for!” The hearty, devilishly proud laugh he burst into was enough to have you joining the mirth, your head falling gently against his.
Thorin
His eyes darken, jaw setting in a way that sends shivers of intimidation down your spine even in spite of your knowledge that it is not for you. You know it because of the way Thorin pulls you into his arms, because he breaths his condolences into your ear as he does so, warm air ticking the shell of it. "And your fire still burns," he remarks, wonder coloring his voice and shining in his blue eyes. "In a way," you reply, gaze still a bit downcast, "I use it as fuel. Never again will I be somebody's plaything." "Never indeed," Thorin agrees with a small nod, "and you may not need it, but while I remain at your side you have my sword and my word that no harm will come to you so long as I draw breath…”
Oin
His eyes go moist in a moment and he holds up his ear trumpet, clearly hoping beyond hope he heard you wrong. Hands clasping his, you shake your head. “So I’m sorry if I ever seem afraid to-” “You are sorry?” Oin asks incredulously, his tone still managing to be quiet, subdued to the volume you normally know him for. “You don’t have a damn thing to apologize for. That is not your fault in the slightest. Do you have any scars? Any bruises? I’m only asking because I want to take away your pain.” Likely it was in the past, long enough ago for those worries to fade. Scars to score only your heart. “Aye, if I can…I want to heal that, too. Treat you like the jewel you are.”
Gloin
His wide-eyed expression is almost comical despite it all, bringing a hushed, nervous chuckle past your lips. Gloin continues staring at you like you're a new creation for a moment longer, dragging the silence out until you feel you might burst. Finally, he stutters out a reply. "You- you endured all that?" "Yes, though I cannot help wondering if I could have prevented it. You see, I-" "Oh, no," Gloin cuts off your spiral, clutching your gesticulating hands and shaking his head firmly at you, "don't you dare let that coward off one bit. No one asks for anything that bastard did. They always say pressure makes a diamond, but you, my dear, were a gem far before and only shine brighter with each passing moment. Diamonds are gifts of this earth, though, not just some trinket for rich arms. If it was you or all the wealth in the Lonely Mountain, I'd choose you every time. Remember that. Please." "How could I forget words like those?" You grin at him, heart still hammering. "I will do my best to carry them in my heart."
Bifur
Soon as your confession leaves your lips, Bifur backs up from you, dismaying you with his own pain in your eyes. “Scared?” He signs, and your heart breaks anew. Quickly you step forward, bridging the gap again, and reach up to tuck some of his wild hair behind his ear. Shaking your head, you reply, “No, dear Bifur, I am not afraid. If anything, I apologize if I ever seem that way. If my nightmares frighten you and I either hold you closer or push you away. If I startle a little too easily. If I am quick to say no.” He finally tilts his head back up to look you in the eyes, moving it to the side to rest his cheek against your palm. “I, too, have nightmares. Bad things happen when I sleep,” he signs to you, “I get hurt. You get hurt. I need space sometimes, too. I may tell you no, too.” “But when you love someone,” you finish, a tearful smile rising to your face, “You want to see them fulfilled.” At that, the dwarf nods vigorously. “I love you. I never want to scare you. To hurt you.”
Bofur
“A star as bright as you?” Shaking his head, Bofur removes his hat, clutching it in both hands. “Guess that’s beside the point. Someone like that only thinks o’ themselves. But hey, you know that wasn’t your fault, right?” You just nod. “And the fact that you still give your heart to everyone… you’re nothin’ short of amazing.” Tearing up, you burst into a smile, exhaling your relief and falling into Bofur’s open arms. “Was gonna do it anyway,” he mumbles into your neck, “but I want you to know that I’ll treat you like royalty. Much as I can give. I really will.” “I believe you, Bofur, I believe you.”
Bombur
Never have you seen his face fall like you do in that moment. All but instinctually, he opens his arms. “May I?” Nodding, you fall against his chest, the beat of his heart calming your racing thoughts. “I don’t know what to say other than that you don’t deserve that,” Bombur tells you, a hand gently cradling the back of your head, “you deserve the finest man who tosses roses at your feet ‘n’ sings your praises day after day. Someone with half an eye who can see how lovely you are. You deserve all the pretty things in this world.” “And I have that. I have all I could ever want right here,” you reply, a tear slipping from the corner of your eye, “you give me all the love I deserve.”
Dori
"What gives them the right? Nothing. It's not right, any of it! Why is it always the prettiest flowers that get plucked?" Even in his righteous anger, Dori pays you a sweet compliment, a small testament to his value of you. Cupping his cheek, you interrupt his rant, shifting him to meet your eyes and feeling tears prick at you when you see how wet his eyes are. "I don't want you to live with that pain," he adds, voice breaking slightly. Heart dropping, then soaring again at the love in his eyes, you reach up on the other side, and his hand comes up to cover yours. "These roots are strong," you assure him, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his, "with care they grow anew." "I will take care of you," Dori whispers your name, blue eyes fluttering shut, "Always. I swear it."
Nori
“Where is the rat? I’ll kill ‘em, gut ‘em like the pig they are!” Nori’s rage rose an odd flush of endearment through you; murderous as his words may have been, your heart was lightened for his care, the sheer vindication that what you went through was not deserved. But then again, the way that person hurt you was something you would never wish upon any living soul and you knew that. Sheepishly, you shook your head, stepping forward to take one of the dwarf’s wildly gesticulating hands. “The way you love me has avenged enough,” you cut into his harsh words, “no one has fought for me before you, Nori. Thank you.”
Ori
“Somebody really did all that to you?” He doesn’t mean to sound stupid, but the revelation is nothing but dumbfounding. “Yes,” you nod, breath catching in a half-sob, “I didn’t even feel like a person by the end of it.” Your arm is crossed over your chest, but Ori removes it, gently, intently, to hold your hand in his. “You are, though. You’re…you’re more than anything I could have ever imagined. And I like imagining things quite a lot,” he smiles softly, almost sheepishly, “in fact, you know what one of the things I imagine is?” You cringe, see his eyes widen that he accidentally hit a sore spot and feel the way his hand involuntarily tightens. He continues, though. “How I can show all that to you.” Head falling atop his, you succumb to a grin- he is leagues different from that person without even lifting a finger. “You do that just by being you, Ori.”
Fili
You hardly expect his first words to be thanking you, but indeed as both of his hands grip yours, he smiles sadly and does just that. "Thank you for trusting me with that. Fighting the fear. I don't take it lightly. But if you think this does anything but make me love you more," his smile shifts, returns to something more like the amusement you more often saw, "I'm afraid you are solely mistaken. The fact that you trust me, feel safe around me...why, I'll work to keep earning that until the day I die." Grinning, you fall into Fili's arms, feeling utterly secure in the warmth of his embrace. "And that alone means the world," you whisper, "I love you." "And I you. Forever."
Kili
"No," Kili shakes his head, "no, you cannot be serious!" "So you think I lie?" You shoot back, tone sharply defensive in your hurt. Kili's dark eyes widen, glossing over with tears; he shakes his head again, this time slower, but much more vehement, "Not at all. I simply can't believe it. Why anybody would want to hurt someone like you. I admit I can't fathom it." "It's because I didn't matter in that person's mind," you reply, your own eyes tearing and your voice going soft, "I was not a consideration." "Well, let me consider you," Kili replies quickly, straightening and reaching out a hand, "I'll not do anything you want me to do. And if I ever raise my voice at you, feel free to slap me." "Kili," you half-chuckle, half-sob, "how would that make me any better than-" "It was a joke, but see? Now I have you smiling again. That's all I want. For you to be happy. I love you, truly, I do."
Bilbo
“Any chance we would…run into this person?” So casually, almost awkwardly phrased, and yet you deduced exactly what Bilbo meant with his question. “Are you…” Your expression widened back to a tentative smile. “…hoping to have a fight with them?” Plenty of people had been on your side, nearly everyone agreeing that what you endured crossed every line, but hearing it from a partner was an even stronger spike of the vindication you never tired of. Plus Bilbo’s scrappy side was all but the cutest thing in the world. “Well,” the hobbit straightened his coat, “I simply think they need to be put in their place. Why, of all the… how could anyone take a look at someone like you and see anything but the greatest treasure they’ve ever known, it’s insulting, maddening, uncouth beyond all-” He stopped when he heard you giggle, felt your arms snake around him. “Oh Bilbo…my greatest treasure. I’ll always feel safe when you’re here.”
Thranduil
Rarely do you see the woodland king’s eyes harden, go so cold like shards of pale blue eyes, as you do when he hears your admission. “This person saw fit to treat you like property?” Thranduil’s voice is dangerously low, his gaze drifting distantly from yours. “I felt that way, yes,” you quietly agree, nodding. The king’s expression sends a shudder of intimidation down your spine. He must notice, the way he offers you his hand- tentative, eyes softening in question. Telling you wordlessly that acceptance is your choice. A small nod and you take it, his fingers closing over yours as he lifts the back of your hand to his lips. “Never again,” he breaks the silence, voice low but all ice drained from it, “while I wish your time here to never end, our gates are open to you. My halls are as your own. If that…that fiend even thinks to cross the Woodland Realm’s borders? Some gates shall be closed forever.” A part of you wishes to cringe at Thranduil’s harsh words, but as he winds you into his chest you simply feel the heat of tears prick your eyes as you whisper your thanks, an answer coming in the form of the elven king’s lips upon your head.
Bard
He stepped back, eyes widening at your revelation. Every aspect of him softened. “How? How could anybody…” Eyes distant, you shook your head. “At the time, I felt like it was because I wasn’t good enough. Now I see how sick it was. How I was…just an object,” your voice faded into a near-sob, prompting Bard to catch you about the waist, lower you into a chair. He moved to put a hand on either arm of it, thought better of making you feel trapped. Instead he simply let you keep hold of his hand, tilting your chin with the other to meet your eyes. “By every power I hold dear I hope you never feel too afraid to tell me no. To tell me if I’ve hurt you. And by that same light we’ll spend every day filling your heart. Never should you apologize for your scars- those are signs of your strength.”
Beorn
He never does this. You've never known the Skin-Changer to be one for spontaneous affection and yet he's pulling you into his arms the moment you finish, your head falling against his chest or wherever it falls upon his massive height. Several breaths pass like this before either of you speak again. “There is cruelty in this world I will never understand. No excuses exist for it. None. But I will do everything in my power to keep you safe from it.” True to his word, the Skin-Changer is there for you after every nightmare. Never once does he raise his voice or his hand to you. He may not always understand you, but well does he know the feeling of chains, physical or metaphorical, and he would die before casting his own. In moments surpassing his understanding of you, he takes to the woods, offering space over harsh words and freedom of travel over control. True love, after all, always returns.
The fire in the Hall of Fire burned low and golden, casting long, drowsy shadows across carved pillars and polished stone. Laughter lingered in the air, soft, musical, the kind that only ever followed an evening of song and too much Dorwinion wine.
You had not intended to stay so late.
Yet here you were, fingers curled loosely around an empty goblet, listening as Glorfindel recounted some tale you suspected had grown taller with every retelling. You laughed at the proper moments, warmth blooming pleasantly in your chest.
Across the hall, Elrond watched.
He told himself, firmly, that it was nothing. That it was simply his duty as host to ensure all his guests were content. That the faint flush warming his cheeks was entirely the wine’s doing.
Still, his gaze kept returning to you.
You leaned closer to Glorfindel as he spoke, your shoulder brushing his arm. Innocent. Entirely innocent.
Elrond’s jaw tightened.
He reached for his goblet again, only to find it already empty. With a soft frown, he refilled it and drank more quickly than was wise, even for an Elf whose tolerance far exceeded that of Men.
“Enjoying yourself?” Lindir asked lightly, appearing at his side.
“Yes,” Elrond replied at once. Too quickly. “Immensely.”
Lindir followed his line of sight and smiled. Knowing. Entirely unhelpful.
“Ah,” he said. “I see.”
Elrond bristled. “You see nothing.”
“Of course not,” Lindir said serenely. “I am quite blind.”
The music softened as the hour grew late. One by one, guests began to drift away, until the hall felt quieter, more intimate. You excused yourself at last, setting your goblet aside and stepping into the cool night air of the terrace beyond.
You did not hear Elrond follow, only the whisper of fabric and the careful hesitation of someone unaccustomed to reckless choices.
“Leaving already?” he asked.
You turned, surprised, and struck, momentarily, by the sight of him like this. His dark hair was loose, a rare sight. There was a softness to his expression you did not often see, his usual composure loosened by wine and candlelight.
“You seemed… engaged,” he said, nodding vaguely toward where you had been standing.
You smiled, confused. “He was pleasant company.”
“Yes,” Elrond said. “He seemed to think so.”
There was something sharp beneath the words, something almost petulant, and it startled you.
“Elrond,” you said gently, “are you well?”
He laughed quietly, shaking his head. “No. I do not believe I am.”
The admission hung between you, heavier than it should have been.
“I have spent years,” he continued, voice softening, “being patient. Being wise. Telling myself that some things are better left untouched.”
His eyes lifted to yours, unguarded and far too honest.
“But the wine makes a fool of me.”
Your heart began to race. “What are you saying?”
He leaned closer, close enough that you could smell the wine, rich and sweet, on his breath.
“I am saying,” he murmured, “that watching others look at you as I do has become… intolerable.”
You barely had time to respond before his resolve collapsed entirely.
The kiss was unplanned, unpracticed. It was brief, warm, and trembling, the sort of kiss born of restraint breaking all at once.
The moment the kiss ended, the world seemed to tilt.
Elrond pulled back sharply, breath unsteady, eyes wide with immediate regret. “I should not have,” he said at once, the words rushed and clumsy. “Please forgive me. I was not thinking clearly.”
You stood frozen, shock stealing your voice. Your thoughts tangled painfully, heart pounding so loudly you were certain he could hear it.
Elrond took your silence as condemnation.
“I never meant to overstep,” he continued, visibly flustered now. “I would never wish to make light of you, or your feelings. The wine, it loosened my restraint, but that is no excuse. I am so very sorry.”
Something in his frantic apology broke what little composure you had left.
Without a word, you stepped back.
“I think,” you said carefully, your voice steady only because you forced it to be, “that I should retire for the evening.”
The formality cut deeper than anger ever could.
Before he could speak again, you turned and hurried from the Hall of Fire, the warmth and music dissolving behind you. You did not look back. You could not.
Elrond remained where he was, hand still half, raised, staring after you in stunned silence.
Only then did the full weight of what he had done crash down upon him.
He had kissed the woman he loved, at the worst possible moment, and left her believing she was nothing more than a drunken impulse.
And there had been nothing he could do to stop her from leaving.
Sleep did not come to Elrond that night.
When dawn finally broke over Imladris, it brought no clarity, only dread. He replayed the moment endlessly: your stillness, your silence, the way you had turned and left before he could say anything that mattered.
By the time he saw you the next day, his composure was already fraying.
You were in the lower courtyard, gathering your cloak, clearly intending to leave for the morning. The sight of you struck him with equal parts relief and fear. He stood frozen at the edge of the stone archway, every instinct urging him forward and every fear warning him away.
He was not afraid of battle. He was afraid of you turning from him again.
He drew a breath, steadying himself, and crossed the courtyard.
“May I speak with you,” he asked, far more cautiously than he had ever spoken to anyone in his long life.
You looked up, surprise flickering across your face, then something guarded.
“If this is about last night,” you said quietly, “I would rather not.”
The words hit him like a blow.
“I understand,” he said at once, though the truth was that he did not. “But I must say this, even if you wish to hear nothing more from me.”
You hesitated, then nodded once, arms folding as if to brace yourself.
Elrond’s hands clasped tightly behind his back.
“I was intoxicated,” he said plainly. “That was my failing. But I will not allow you to believe that what happened was empty. The wine did not create my feelings. It only robbed me of the caution that kept them hidden.”
Your gaze wavered.
“I have no right to ask anything of you,” he continued, voice strained but earnest. “Only to assure you that I would never use you as a moment’s amusement. If you wish to leave Rivendell, I will not stop you. I only needed you to know that you matter to me. Deeply.”
Silence stretched between you.
“You seemed so quick to regret it,” you said at last, voice tight. “That is what hurt.”
Elrond exhaled shakily. “I regretted the timing. The manner. Not the kiss.”
He stepped closer, cautiously, giving you every chance to pull away.
“I have wanted to kiss you for far longer than I should admit,” he said, cheeks faintly flushed. “I simply wished to do so with honor, and I failed.”
Your heart hammered painfully. “You truly mean that.”
“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “I always have.”
The tension between you was unbearable now, charged with unsaid things and fragile hope.
Before he could lose his courage, before doubt could reclaim either of you, you closed the remaining distance and kissed him.
This time, it was deliberate.
Elrond froze for a fraction of a second, stunned, then his hands came to your waist as though anchoring himself. The kiss was soft, reverent, nothing like the night before. When you pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, breath uneven.
“This,” he murmured, “is what I wished to give you.”
Considering this is my first time writing one of these, I’m starting with a small batch of characters and who better than the elves of TROP? But I’m very much open to writing for different characters within Tolkien’s world and, of course, from TROP! Actually anyone who walked on Middle-Earth. The Valar? Sure, why not!
■ Calculated, laced with challenge, and guarded vulnerability. Galadriel flirts like one might wield a blade. Testing for weakness, dancing just close enough to wound or woo.
■ She stands tall, unyielding, but when intrigued, her eyes betray her. They soften not with warmth, but with recognition. You’ve caught her interest, and now she watches you like a predator circling its prey… or a queen considering a subject for her court.
■ Cool and clipped, but with sudden flashes of dry wit. She’ll challenge your intelligence with a single eyebrow raise or a quip like, “Is that truly your best argument?”
■ She rarely touches. If she does, it’s fleeting: a brush of fingers as she hands you a blade, the press of her palm against your chest to stop you in training. These touches linger in your mind far longer than in hers — at least, that’s what she pretends.
■ She will only allow flirtation if she senses you're her equal. She doesn't seek comfort — she seeks conviction, someone who might dare to stand beside her, not behind.
■ When she finally lets her voice drop — lower, more intimate — you’ll hear it for what it is: a fortress opening its gates an inch. “You… surprise me.”
⇢ ˗ˏˋElrond
■ Quiet reverence, layered in intellect and gentle affection. Elrond flirts the way rivers carve stone: slowly, patiently, but with undeniable effect.
■ He tilts his head when you speak, eyes gleaming with attention. His hands fidget when he’s nervous: tugging at sleeves, smoothing scrolls, brushing imaginary dust from books.
■ Soft, warm, laced with dry humor and the kind of intelligence that flatters without boasting. “You know… I find myself quoting you more than I’d like to admit.”
■ He always makes space for you in a crowded room. He’ll guide you gently by the elbow, offer his cloak before you ask, and pour your tea while distractedly scribbling notes about the way your eyes reflect starlight.
■ Elrond doesn't flirt for pleasure, he does so instinctively, seeking connection. He wants to understand you completely. Every word, every silence, every unfinished sentence.
■ He’ll give you something irreplaceable — a poem from his youth, a story no one else has heard — and say, almost shyly, “I’ve kept this… waiting for the right person.”
⇢ ˗ˏˋGil-Galad
■ Subtle and perfectly timed. His words are carefully measured, but his presence says everything. He flirts with restraint and watches to see if you notice the moment it cracks.
■ He never approaches too directly. He waits until your eyes meet across a corridor or hall — then inclines his head, ever so slightly. If he steps closer, it’s intentional.
■ Regal, eloquent, slow. He crafts compliments like wine — rich, refined, and meant to linger. “You wear the dusk well. It favors your kind of quiet fire.”
■ He never touches first. But if you brush against him, his response is deliberate. A slow turn of the hand to catch yours, a thumb brushed across your knuckles as if in contemplation.
■ Gil-galad has learned to love without showing it, to yearn without leaning. His flirtation is a series of calculated risks; each word carries weight. Each glance is a signal, a lock awaiting a key.
■ When he speaks plainly for the first time without titles, without strategy, it will shake you. “I have led armies. Held kingdoms. And yet… I find myself wondering what you think of me.”
⇢ ˗ˏˋArondir
■ Quiet, present, and deeply emotional. Arondir doesn’t flirt with words — he flirts with devotion.
■ He always notices your discomfort before you speak it. He will reposition a chair so the sun doesn’t blind you. He will step between you and danger without thinking. And he will never mention it.
■ Rarely speaks without meaning. When he says something personal, it feels like the world has paused to hear it. “You are… unlike any path I’ve walked.”
■ Carves small tokens for you. A leaf from a tree that only blooms once a year, your name etched in Quenya on smooth wood. He leaves them without ceremony, then pretends not to notice when you find them.
■ His love is not showy, but it’s constant. He’ll watch you with the kind of gaze that says, I would wait an Age for you. And mean it.
■ The moment he finally touches your cheek, eyes locked with yours, is the moment he’s decided — silently, permanently — that he is yours.
⇢ ˗ˏˋCelebrimbor
■ Excitable, intense, and terribly earnest. He flirts by accident… and then makes it worse by being too sincere.
■ Hair tousled from long nights in the forge, hands stained from work, he runs fingers through his hair when nervous. His eyes light up around you and he doesn’t hide it.
■ Fast-paced, bright, layered with admiration. He’s always a little breathless around you, like you’ve thrown off his rhythm. “Wait, wait, you don’t think this is brilliant? Look - look at this, tell me that curve isn’t perfect. I based it on your — well. Never mind.”
■ Constantly gives you things: a chain he meant to throw away but thought looked “nice,” a ring he insists is “just practice,” or a sketch he swears wasn’t you (it was).
■ He falls fast, and deep. But his fear of being used makes him hesitant to admit it. So he’ll bury affection in gifts, conversation, and genius-level distractions.
■ He’ll give you something unfinished and whisper, “I want you to be the first to see it… even before it’s perfect.”
Little Prince of the forest, whom does not yet know the sorrow this world may bring,
May you forever be cradled by the heart of a vigorous spring.
Though there is no dimming the shadow beyond, there is hope that you might find joy within these woodland walls.
You are loved more than you know, for a green leaf is a proud reflection of the tree from which it falls
Legolas meaning "Green Leaf"
Thranduil meaning "Vigorous Spring"
Oh how I love incorporating the etymology of names into character art, it brings me much joy. I was also motivated to draw some Thranduil and a Little Legolas with some forest imagery. Really brought out the illustrator in me composition-wise.
We really need some more soft family content from these two, I genuinely believe that after all Thranduil experienced in his early life, and the loss of his own father, that he would vow to care for and make sure his son had a good life.
Alt. Version Below!
Confused Concoction @red-rose-21 - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
