Gympie

Lord of the Rings/The Hobbit/Harry Potter/JJBA •She/They/He •Adult •Fan-fic writer •Current Status: University "Two steps too late"

[sybilgympie]

Treat Me Mean And Cruel

Pairings: Clark Kent x Reader

Premise: clark kent situationship at work, he ignores the reader without reason and they get mad. very pathetic clark

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: mostly angst, no comfort. A bit of yelling. Abandonment issues. NOT PROOFREAD. Reader wears dresses and makeup

Notes:  This is a break from the LOTR posts, they will resume soon, just had to get this idea out of my head. I listened to ‘Love Me’ by Elvis and immediately thought of David’s Clark. I might write a pt.2,  i went through a breakup while writing this from a relationship of 4 years. Bare with me.

An empty chair stared back at you, the faint smell of coffee drifting across the desk. The rim of Clark’s mug had left a perfect circle stain in the mess of papers that always seemed to cover his workspace. It had been weeks since he’d really been there, not just in the office, but there. Present with you, with that lopsided grin, those dimples, and the attentive eyes that caught every flicker of emotion on your face.

It wasn’t a secret that Clark liked you. Anyone with eyes could see it, the way his gaze lit up whenever you spoke to him, the flush in his ears when you asked even the simplest question, the stutter that tripped up his words when you greeted him. You loved teasing him for it  ‘accidentally’ brushing against him, dragging out while bending over when you dropped a pen. You loved catching his eyes dart away from the shape of your body before he stumbled through whatever he’d been trying to say.

He’d always find an excuse to be near you, even going so far as to change desks, claiming his old one was too worn out and the chair too squeaky. He’d ask questions he already knew the answers to, linger after hours under the pretence of finishing his draft. Although, you noticed that he’d spend more time taking glances at your face with that one specific look on his face. The way his shoulders relaxed when you laugh, and a pink tint rising to his face. Clark Kent, the man who looked at you like you were the only one in the entire office.

You didn’t miss the way that Lois used to tease him, elbowing his side slowly when your name came up in a conversation. Jimmy wasn’t any better, always smiling and giving him unwarranted advice whenever he saw Clark staring at you. Clark just ducked his head, smiled sheepishly and glanced your way.

But now, it was only silence, broken by Jimmy’s constant chatter and Lois’ muttered curses at her deadlines. Clark had started coming in late, later than usual, and leaving even earlier. Words between you were rare, ranging from a short “good morning” to a soft “thank you” when he dropped your coffee on the desk with a slight smile. Nothing more, even though you tried to prolong your short conversations.

You tried to push the feelings away, telling yourself over and over that he didn’t owe you anything. But every time you glanced at that empty chair, the lie grew heavier and more real. You swallowed your emotions and rubbed your blurry eyes with the back of your hand.

“Drinks tonight?” Jimmy’s voice cut through your thoughts and self-pity, dragging you back to the newsroom. He was leaning against your desk, camera strap slung carelessly over his shoulder. Lois looked up from her copy and smirked.

“Yeah, come on. We all need it. Even Kent, if he decides to grace us with his presence.”

You froze at the mention of him potentially being there. You wanted nothing to do with him. He’d been basically ignoring you for weeks, and now you were supposed to pretend nothing had happened for an entire night?

You forced a small laugh and ran a hand through your hair. “I don’t know, guys. I’m pretty worn out from this Gotham article, you know how it is.” You glanced back down at your computer. The editor had returned your draft covered in comments, but focusing on them had been impossible ever since Clark started giving you the cold shoulder.

“Please,” Jimmy groaned, dragging out the word. “One night won’t kill you. The article will still be here tomorrow, glaring at you with all those red marks.” You let out a small huff and put your head against the desk.

Lois grinned and leaned back in her chair. “I guess that’s a yes?” She reached over and tousled your hair and you relaxed at her touch

You pressed your forehead against the mess of highlighted papers on your desk, mumbling a muffled “Yeah, I guess” into the stack.

Hell, maybe you did need the break. Maybe a little distraction from the constant thinking would help. And besides, knowing Clark lately, he’d probably be too busy to give you the time of day, let alone show up to a social event.

The newsroom blurred into the background, as you put all your effort into fixing the article that was due tomorrow. Before you knew it, the sun was already dipping below the Metropolis skyline. You packed up, let the chatter of the office fade behind you, and tried convincing yourself that tonight would be different.

Now, standing in front of your mirror, you were sure it would be different. Rejected clothes piled up on your bed. You smoothed the fabric of your red dress, staring at your reflection confidently. You were going to have fun. To hell with Clark. Fucking. Kent. Maybe-just maybe, you’d meet someone at the bar you were going for drinks, someone that was actually present for a while, instead of rushing to leave every time you wanted to start a conversation. You rolled your eyes at that thought.

The bar was already buzzing with people when you arrived. You were nervous, clutching your purse close to your side. Warm light was spilling out of the open door into the sidewalk, cheap booze and the smell of fried food wafted through the air.

You entered the bar, called ‘The Red Lantern’, you gave a small snort at the name. Your eyes scanned the room, spotting Jimmy waving at you. Lois raised her glass in greeting, sharp eyes already scanning you from head to toe. “Well, don’t you look like trouble,” she teased, a smirk curling her lips. You laughed at her comment, Cat and Steve greeted you with a smile. You slid into the booth next to Jimmy, letting the noise and conversation drown out the heaviness of the weeks.

The red dress seemed to be doing its job, people’s eyes kept lingering on your body. Your makeup was just as deliberate, dark mascara sweeping across your lashes, a warm flush on your cheeks softened the edges. Your lipstick matched the deep red of your dress, contrasting with your jewellery.

Cat leaned towards you, “Half of this bar can’t keep their eyes off you, red is definitely your colour.” Jimmy chuckled at her comment, and he slid a drink towards you with a wink.

You nodded, flashing a wide smile. “Fine, fine, you win. I’ll get the next round.” You poked your tongue out playfully, sliding out of the booth as their laughter followed you.

The music thudded in your chest as you crossed the floor, hips swaying in rhythm, the red fabric hugging every step. You leaned against the bar, flagging down the bartender, already rehearsing everyone’s preferred things.

That was when a man slid into the empty space beside you, his cologne sharp and heavy in the air. He gave you a small smile and you returned it. You couldn’t help but notice his brown hair and matching eyes. He was cute, you’d give him that.

“That’s a dangerous smile you got going there.” He said, casually leaning against the bar. His eyes scanned your face while you laughed, shaking your head. “Just grabbing drinks for my friends, how about you?” You asked, turning back to see Jimmy waving at you to hurry back. The man nodded politely and struck up easy small talk with you after you ordered the drinks and waited for them. His grin was harmless, and it was finally nice to be noticed after weeks of fighting to even talk to Clark.

You barely registered the familiar weight of someone approaching the both of you, until the air seemed to shift. “Everything okay here?” Clark’s low voice came from directly behind you. Your heart dropped in your chest at the sound. Fuck.

The stranger seemed taken aback, “Uh, yeah, just talking.” He replied with a polite smile. He raised his hands in a small shrug and stepped back, clearly uninterested in causing trouble between the two of you. Clark’s eyes lingered on him before turning towards you, worry etched into his face. The man you were talking to retreated back to the crowd, leaving Clark’s looming presence where he had been. “Are you serious Clark?” You asked him, anger sweeping over the smile that was on your face. ‘What? He was-“ He started speaking. “He was talking Clark. Talking to me. Not everyone is out to hurt me.” You started, glaring at him and stood up to put some distance between you two.

His eyes looked sad, his hair messy and you could see the bags of his eyes were darker than usual. He didn’t want to overstep the boundary that you set.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay..” He said, you took a step closer to him and laughed bitterly. His eyes looked down at you, biting his lip.

Shaking your head, “Really Clark? After weeks of barely talking to me, now you want to fucking swoop in, like a wannabe hero, just because a guy talked to me?” You spat at him angrily. The words hang between you, heavier than the music that was being blasted.  Clark’s expression dropped further, regret flickering in his eyes.

He didn’t speak, you didn’t even want to give him a chance.

“I tried everything to get your attention, Clark. You didn’t even respond to my fucking messages and you think you can waltz back into my life like you didn’t ignore me. Fuck you, Clark Kent.” You started to storm off with the tray of drinks, weaving through the crowd without a backward glance.

Lois was already making their way toward you both, but you didn’t care, you didn’t want to look at Clark again.

Lois caught your wrist before you could brush past, eyes narrowing at the tray of drinks trembling in your grip. “Hey. What the hell just happened?”

“Nothing.” you muttered, yanking your arm free. “Absolutely nothing.” You shoved the tray onto the table, ignoring how Jimmy’s chatter died instantly at the look on your face.

Lois slid in beside you, lowering her voice so only you could hear. “Doesn’t look like nothing.”

You shook your head, staring down into your glass. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Across the room, Clark still stood frozen by the bar, shoulders heavy, gaze fixed on the floor. Jimmy glanced between you and him, shifting uncomfortably before leaning toward Lois. “Uh… should we-?”

“No. He can figure out his own mess.” You cut him off. You took a long slip of your drink, the burn of your throat, easing the hollowness of your chest.

After finishing your drink, you left without a word to anyone. The walk home was blurry, tears blurring the neon lights and people walking past you. Whatever. You didn’t need Clark to talk to you anymore, he barely did anyways. By the time you reached the entrance of your apartment, the anger had settled into something heavier, like a pit in your stomach. You kicked your shoes aside, showered and changed into something comfortable, putting on your favourite shitty movie.

You slumped on the couch sadly, eyes fighting the sleep that was almost overpowering until a knock came at your door. You raised your eyebrow at the sound and got up. “Who is it?” You asked nervously. “Uhm, it’s me. Y-you know Clark. Clark Kent. I just wanted to come and you know, uh apologise.”  He mumbled, stumbling over his words once again. You scoffed at his pathetic attempt but didn’t say anything. “Please say something. Please let me in, I brought you food?” He pleaded, putting his forehead against the door as he bit his lip in nervousness, almost drawing blood. His hands trying to not tear the plastic bag that contained your favourite takeaway. Because of course he remembers everything you like, because he’s the same Clark Kent that hangs on every word that you say.

“Okay.” You said with no emotion in your voice and opened the door slowly. He walked in softly, as if he would scare you if he made any sudden or fast movements. He dropped the various bags of food on your table.

“I didn’t know what to get you-I mean, I know your favourite of course, but I didn’t know what you were craving.” He muttered, trying to search for any emotion in your eyes. Your eyes were red due to the lack of sleep. “What do you want Clark? Why are you here? Just to insert yourself in my life and leave immediately?” You asked, biting your lip glaring at him. Your hands were tight around the kitchen table. “Gosh no, of course not, I r-realise what I did was wrong. I was such an idiot. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I got carried away with work and personal things, I never intended to ignore you but that doesn’t matter because that’s how you felt but trust me okay, I never meant to hurt you.” You just stared at him, your shoulders slumped. A tension thickened the air between you, your lips curled into a deeper frown. “You think you can come knocking in my door with food, trying to undo weeks-no-a month of you practically ignoring me without any specific reason. Do you really think you can repair our relationship like that?” You got closer to him, face twisted in anger. You swear you heard him let out a pathetic whine. You pressed a pointer finger to his chest, looking at his eyes that were now welling up in his eyes. “No, Clark. That’s not how you treat anyone. I should have known. You were too nice to me in the beginning. There’s always a catch, isn’t there?” You walked off and turned your back to him, tears welled up in your eyes but you didn’t want him to see.

“Just why Clark? Why did you do it? What reason did you have to ignore me? You know I liked you and all you did was give me the cold shoulder. For weeks I have been trying to get your attention, but you never once acknowledged me.”  You mumbled, hoping he wouldn’t hear you. You couldn’t hold it in anymore, sobs wrecked your body, you turned to face him.

“Well?” You continued, wanting a proper answer, hands attempting to catch the river of tears leaving your body. He couldn’t look at you, he looked at the floor as his own tears slowly escaped his eyes, fighting with himself to decide if he should tell you the truth or not. His heart felt so heavy, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell you. No, it could put you in danger, he’d rather break your heart than bring you any physical pain. What if Lex Luthor knew about you? He felt panic rising through his body, raising his head to look at you, he gave you a pathetic smile. He shook his head no, “I’m sorry, I can’t.” His heart broke at the sound of the loud and broken sobs that escaped your throat at his answer.   “Leave, Clark.” You managed to choke out. And he did leave.

Like he always did

[sybilgympie]

Touches

Pairings: Legolas x GN!Reader

Premise: Some SFW and NSFW HC's on how Legolas likes to touch you :P Warnings: oral sex, hair-pulling, slight choking kink?

Word Count: 0.8k

Notes:  The NSFW is right after the cut :) He might be a biiiiit OOC, but its a risk im willing to take

SFW

He adjusts his stride to match yours, even though his pace is brisk and silent, he’ll slow down just to walk with you. He loves being able to hold your hand while he walks and listens to you talk about your favourite trees and plants.

Loves braiding your hair with flowers or tiny leaves tucked into your hair. The flowers he picks always have intentional meanings behind them. He loves braiding  your hair with the gladiolus or snapdragon flowers as symbols of strength and courage when you’re feeling down.

He loves to let you talk to him while he braids your hair, with your back pressed against his chest. He presses kisses to your scalp as his nimble fingers make light work of intricate plaits.

Tells you stories in a low voice about Mirkwood and his adventures until you fall asleep on him. He holds you close, not only for your warmth but because hearing your breathing reassures him you are safe.

If you wear his clothes, he watches you with a flushed face and a gentle smile on his face. He always forgets how good his clothes look on you. He doesn't say anything about it, he just bites the inside of his cheek and resists the urge to pull you into a crushing hug.

Loves to smell you as you sleep next to him, your scent entwined with earth calms him down. He prefers when you lay on him though your weight lulling him to sleep. He needs to be close to you to keep you as safe as he can.

If you get uncovered in the middle of the night, he covers you and tucks your body in. He gives you a kiss on your forehead with a big smile on his face and cuddles up to you to warm you up.

He wakes up early, by the time you open your eyes, he’s been awake for hours next to your side, either watching the sunrise or you. Sometimes he brings you breakfast in bed, whether it's the finest berries in Mirkwood or warm and soft bread that he bought you.

Absolutely loves holding your face and peppering your face with gentle kisses when you’re in private. Coos at you softly while he kisses your cheeks and eyes. He just loves the way you look up at him with your adoring eyes.

Loves when you sit on his lap, with his arms around your waist. His thumb gently rubs shapes or his name on your thigh. 

In a more public place, his touches are fleeting but common. He always arranges your cloak and scarf without you asking.

NSFW:

He never rushes while touching you, he traces the shape of your body slowly and gently, seemingly wanting to memorise every curve and dip of your body.

He pulls you back against his chest from behind so you feel exactly what you’re doing to him before he needs to say a word. He presses gentle kisses to your ear while pressing his hips into you.

He always makes sure that you are comfortable and ready for him. He doesn’t want to rush you into anything you are not ready for. He tries not to push any boundaries with you, but when you lead his hand to his neck, it's basically testing how he can stay in control of himself.

Loves grabbing your hips, positioning you exactly where he wants you to be, while muttering words of encouragement, “Yes, meleth nin… be still for me. Good. You take me so well.”

Praising you is one of the things he does exceptionally well, always muttering words of encouragement between thrusts and groans. He loves how your eyes light up and how you squeeze him every time he compliments how well you are taking him.

He is very precise in his touches and movements, always brushing against that one spot that drives you crazy.

Goes crazy for hair-pulling, especially when you tangle your fingers in his long hair and pull gently when you’re overstimulated or close.

He is quite talkative and loud during sex, especially when your mouth is stuffed full with him. His hand grabbing your hair gently and thrusting in your mouth, sometimes not as gently as he should. “S-Sorry Meleth-nin, it’s just, ah fuck, you take me so well.”

Cradles your head and rubs your head and tells you how much he loves you as he fills your mouth with cum.

Don’t worry, he always returns the favour, and he’s so sloppy. Tries to keep eye contact with you, as he encourages, almost begs you to cum on his tongue. Loves when he kisses you and you can taste each other mid-kiss.

[sybilgympie]

Humanity

Notes: aaa! such a cute idea i got in my inbox, hopefully i managed to make him a bit more realistic <3 hope you enjoy :), also im still dealing with formatting in tumblr? hope all is fine..

Pairings: Thranduil x Human!GN!Reader

Premise: just some cute headcannons of thranduil dealing with a human reader

Warnings: sickness

Word Count: 1.3k

Thranduil has always assumed that he knew all there is about humans, having negotiated with their rulers and hosted several meetings with emissaries in his halls. They were always stiff and pre-planned meetings, never showing the truth of human nature to him.

In the beginning of knowing you, he thinks of humans as lesser beings, mortal and short-lived beings who easily fall to the corruption of power and evil. You, in particular, were too loud and impulsive, for his liking, and he often avoided you entirely when his son brought you to the Woodland Realm.

Originally, he dismissed you as a passing amusement for his son, something his son would grow bored of in time. You were a flicker in their long lives, and he did not expect to remember your name a decade from then. Whenever you were in his presence, his gaze was cold, and he never deemed you worth speaking to.

The longer you stayed, the more inquisitive you became, approaching him and asking him simple questions about his life. He found you annoying, always trying to find excuses to talk to him with that big dumb smile on your face.

You were too persistent, your smile was too wide and your eyes too open to be genuine. He thought you were mocking him, surely it was a human attempt at sarcasm, something he was undeniably good at.

“That mortal asks too many questions," Thranduil muttered, barely masking his irritation as he cast a glance toward his son. "They are fond of you, I think," Legolas replied, a smile tugging at his lips. Then, with a low hum that gave nothing away, Thranduil turned away and walked off without another word. The thought lingered in his head for a while, much longer than he would like to admit to.

After learning that you are fond of him, he spends a couple of weeks thinking about you and your actions. How you didn’t speak only about yourself, but were genuinely interested in what he had to say. He noticed how kind you were to his guards, and even remembered their names.

He realised he had misinterpreted your attempt at familiarising yourself with him. After this interaction, he got less cold and his eyes less harsh. You noticed how he ignored you less and actually looked at you when you talked to him.

On the other hand, he got upset at how he started noticing the melody of your voice. Oh, he even caught himself liking how your laugh echoes through his chambers when you inevitably start worming your way in his personal life. He begins to like that when you laugh, and how you always end up touching him in one way or another. To further his irritation, he found that he didn’t mind your fleeting touches all that much.

As weeks turn into months, he finds himself walking in his corridors searching for you, and when he can’t find you, he goes to Legolas. “Have you seen the mortal?” he asks, voice carefully neutral. “There is… a matter regarding human customs I wish to clarify.” Legolas glances at him, the corners of his mouth twitching. “They are unwell. A cold, I believe. They won’t be visiting the halls for several days.” Thranduil frowns. “A cold? The temperature of the air does not cause illness.” “No, they have a temperature,” Legolas corrects gently. Thranduil’s brow furrows deeper. “How does one have a temperature? Everything has a temperature.” Thranduil spoke, confused at the words spewing out of his son’s mouth.

After a long discussion with his son about human ailments, Thranduil decided the matter could not wait. He demanded Legolas lead him to your city, still under the pretence of asking you a simple question, of course.

Sits beside you for hours, trying to make conversation with you just to hear your voice. Sometimes he goes quiet, looking down at your weak body with foreign eyes. He doesn’t sleep, he just paces around you and occasionally looms over your body to check if you are still breathing.

When your weak laughs turn into a coughing fit, he genuinely gets so concerned that you’re dying. He placed a steadying hand on your back, his voice uncharacteristically tight: “Enough. Do not strain yourself. Rest.”

 He brought fresh bread, fruit, and warmed broth, placing them within reach and watching until you took a bite.

“Do not move too much.” “Did you drink the broth that I brought for you?”

One afternoon, after hours of watching you read a book in bed, as you waited for your fever to break, he finally speaks without looking at you. “Your absence… was noted.” You tease him that it sounds like he missed you. His lips twitch, not quite giving you a smile.

Days later, when he heard from Legolas that your condition had worsened, he abandoned his duties and rode to your house. In your presence, he was calm and patient as you offered him a very weak smile. You raised your hand gently to grab his, and he returned the movements, grabbing it gently. He sat closer to you than ever before, no longer at a polite distance, he was close enough to adjust your blankets and to press a cool cloth to your forehead.

His care can turn into possession, demanding remedies from healers and pressing them for answers they cannot give.

When your fever finally breaks, he is still concerned about your health that even days later, he would not let you out of bed, afraid you are too weak or will get yourself in trouble.

“I am alright, my Lord. I am not yet old enough to require an aid to walk.” You giggle at your own joke, as you try to stand up by yourself. He flinches slightly at your attempt to joke. Your words land heavier than you meant them to, he tries to ignore the truth that one day he will inevitably lose you.

After that moment, he never responds to your age jokes again. If you make them, his gaze hardens in quiet refusal to acknowledge them. He warns you to not make jokes like that around him.

Conversations with him grew longer, though not without misunderstandings. When you said that you are ‘swamped’ with work. He looked around in confusion and told you “How? There are no marshes here. Are you feeling unwell again?”

Another time, you called him “high maintenance” during a small argument. Instead, he thought you were complimenting his realm and replied, “Naturally.” You decided not to correct him, just sighed and pouted at him.

As your relationship develops into a romantic one, he gives you fleeting touches at first, not wanting to overwhelm the both of you. He lets his knuckles graze your cheeks lightly, and holds your hands so so gently.

Physical affection is rare in public, during this he is more fond of eye contact. He also loves to simply stand close to you. Close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from him and he can feel yours. You catch yourself holding your breath as he looms over you and watches you with his piercing eyes.

In private, he is more affectionate. He loves braiding your hair. The first time, it was under the excuse of "fixing it properly." He claims your braid is uneven. But his hands are slow and careful, his touch lingering more than necessary.

After long days, he will let you sit behind him and gently work your fingers to untangle his hair. He doesn’t speak too much during it, only giving you the occasional hum to encourage you to continue.

He'll let you sit across from him while he deals with scrolls and maps. He reads aloud to you, usually something historic. Sometimes, he ‘accidentally’ lulls you to sleep, and watches you sleep on his desk while he works. Then he remembers that human bodies are fragile and carries you to his chambers, letting his lips give you a gentle kiss on your forehead before he continues his work.

[sybilgympie]

Homesick

Pairings: Protective!Legolas x GN!Reader Premise: Reader wants to separate from the fellowship to return home and protect her people. Legolas does not want her to leave alone :P Warnings: Panic attack, dead orcs + mention of blood and bone Word Count: 1.2k Notes: I have received you guy’s requests, this was one I received in DMs, the person wanted to remain anon, hope you enjoy :) (Nin tinu = My star). The battle of Helm’s Deep had been won, but not without cost. Huffing, knees sinking into the cold earth, you knelt among the fallen orcs. The edge of your sword chipped and dull from the relentless clash and battle. Your hands trembled slightly as you piled the dead bodies, exhaustion weighing down like a heavy shroud.

Lowering yourself to the ground, you rested your head against the fallen once-proud rock of Helm’s Deep. Looking down at the sight in front of you, you cringed, blood, bone and ash surrounded you. The cheers of your comrades echoed in the distance, but you could not celebrate amidst such a sight.

Surrounded by death, you started to remember the family and friends that you had left behind so selfishly. You bit your lip, heart tightening with fear. What horrors might now threaten them, unprotected and unaware of the evil that had grown? Only now did you truly realize the terrifying scale of the darkness you had been fighting.

Breathing heavily, you rose to your feet, hurried back to the battered city, toward the camp the fellowship had set up among the ruins. Your breathing turned heavy, not because of exhaustion but from rising panic. Reaching your tent, fingers numb from panic and urgency. You hurriedly started packing the few belongings that you had brought with you, sweat starting to moisten your hairs. The trip back home will be long and perilous but you have to reach it in time, to protect your loved ones.

A soft ripple passed through the tent as two figures approached your tent, one taller than the other. The smell of damp earth and pine drifted in Gandalf’s familiar staff tapped the ground with slow certainty. “It seems that you are in need of counsel.” The voice of Gandalf came suddenly, gentle concern could be heard echoing in his words. As the tent was left open, he entered, with Legolas on his side. “It is not counsel I need, but help to return home, Gandalf. I have abandoned my home to aid you in your quest. Now that my part of the quest is done, I seek to return home to aid those who remain.” You huffed, rolling your bed roll and tightening a knot to it to your bag.

Gandalf’s eyes met yours, warm and understanding, and a slow smile appeared on his lips.

“Yes, I agree. Now that Isengard is on the brink of collapse, safe passage can be granted, at least for a time. You must return home, warn and protect Celbaros as best as you can. I do not think that you should stay there, for your will and good heart would be of great aid to us when the time comes. I will not deny you of your wish, it is a valiant want to protect your home. Today, celebrate with us and tomorrow morning you can take your leave before we march on Isengard.” Gandalf lowered his eyes to meet yours, and a smile crinkled on his face. Although time may have passed, his eyes remain as wise and merry as ever.

Legolas, on the other hand, did not look you in the eye, instead his eyes trailed to the bag that you had prepared that rested against your feet. You nodded at Gandalf with a gentle smile now appearing on your face. Relief easing the panic that had gripped you.  He smiled back at you and took his leave, leaving you and Legolas alone in your tent.

Legolas finally met your gaze, and you bit your lip at the thickening silence. Bending down and finally tightening the last strap of your bag, your hands stopped when you heard his voice. “Did you intend to leave without telling me?”  He asked quietly as he approached you, his eyes not angry but instead filled with something else that you could not discern. It was no secret to the rest of the fellowship that there was something tender between you and Legolas that was growing. The way he stayed close to your side, always guarding your flank in battle, spoke louder than words ever could. “I did not wish to make this harder than it already is for the both of us, Legolas.” You murmured under your breath as you stood up and faced him as he suddenly closed the gap between you. “Difficult for who? You think I wouldn’t notice your absence until you were gone? You would have wanted me to let you be carried away like a leaf in the wind? Is that what you think of me?” He put his hand on your arm, tugging it to bring you closer to him, wary to not put too much pressure on your arm. 

In turn, you frowned but did not struggle too much, only resting your hand against his chest. You opened your mouth to answer him but he did not let you.

“Do you not see? I have slain for you, healed you and I have laid beside you after battle. Does that mean nothing to you?” He held you close as he spoke, then he slowly released you from his grip. Gently lifting a hand to your cheek, he rubbed some remaining dirt from the battle away from your skin. 

In return you offered him a gentle and knowing smile, you grabbed his wrist that was on your face and tightly held it. “Legolas, you do not understand, I will not leave you permanently, I will return. I will listen to Gandalf’s counsel, but I have people waiting for me at home, I cannot betray them and leave them to darkness.” His eyes softened and his body relaxed though tension still hummed beneath his calm. “Why would you go there in the thick of danger alone? I trust you to return to me, but I do not trust what is waiting for you at Celbaros. Let me at least come with you, nin tinu”

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you closed your eyes. “Very well. I will not go alone. If you wish to come, I cannot stop you.”

Legolas’ eyes brightened and the tension eased from his shoulders, a smile returning to his pinkish lips. He lowered his hand from your face, and pressed small gentle kisses all over your face. A soft giggle escaped you, and he pulled you into a tight embrace, your cheek resting against his chest. As if remembering something, he looked down at you, a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips. “If I am going, then Gimli must come as well." You laughed quietly against him, nodding. “Yes, but you haven’t even asked him yet.”

“I need not ask,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your hair. “I already know his answer.”

[sybilgympie]

Requests open

I'm currently accepting x reader requests for the following fandoms:

JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure

The Lord of the Rings

The Hobbit

The Rings of Power I don't have any preference and I write both NSFW and SFW :). I will write both fluff and angst. Unfortunately, I might not want to have enough time to write everything, so please try to be patient :). I will close requests if I cannot manage with the amount of requests. I can write both headcannons and One-shots :) Rules: 1) No watersports or scat play 2) No incest, 3) No pedophilia or non-con 4) Make sure to include if you want headcannons or one-shots and be specific in what you want :P Thank you!

[sybilgympie]

Courting the Diplomat

        

 Pairings: Galadriel x F!Diplomat!Reader

Premise: Some headcannons for Galadriel with a female diplomatic reader that comes to delegate. kind of a slowburn? motly galadriel slowly courting the reader. fluff

Warnings: sheer clothes and one itty bitty kiss

Word Count: 650 words

Notes: i need galadriel. wow so proud i posted 2 in a row.

_____________________

She receives your presence in Lothlorien with kindness and intrigue but she is still weary of you and your intentions, especially as the quest of the ring was unveiling slowly. She challenges your political statements with politeness, always pushing and trying to probe your mind.

Soon after, she invites you to the endless gardens of Lothlorien under the starlit night sky to discuss your place of origin, hiding her intentions of courting you. Her voice is gentle as she asks you about the cities, the coasts, your hobbies and family. She will hear you ramble about memories of your homeplace with a warmth in her eyes.

You notice her watching you when you speak to others. At first you thought it was scrutiny but the more that you get comfortable with her, the more she develops as a guiding presence.

The more you visit and the closer your city’s ties get to Lothlorien, the more Galadriel becomes comfortable with you. She comes over to your chambers, prepared with scrolls and ink pots. Both of you knew that it was over the fifth time that you have gone over this draft, but neither of you dare mention it.

She sits close, not too close that you are uncomfortable but close enough that you can feel her body warmth emanating as she reads over your notes. You can barely focus sometimes as she brushes her arm against your shoulder.

Such a massive height difference between the both of you that she has to bend down to talk to you sometimes. She peers down at you and speaks gently in your ear, you swear you could feel her warm breath while she speaks.

When you are standing up from your chair or going up the stairs, she always offers you her hand. When you accept, she lets you hold on tightly and gently trails her fingers on your hand when you two separate.

While you were in Lothlórien discussing plans with her, she invited you to stay overnight so the two of you could maximise the time spent working together. She offered you a change of her own light and silken gowns. They hung loose on your frame, the sheer material offering her a glimpse of the curves of your body in the candlelight. She caught herself staring, and immediately met your gaze once more.

She is so respectful and gentle, as when the gown inevitably slips off your shoulder, revealing a bit of your chest she quickly arranges it for you with a lingering touch being left on your collarbone. ‘That’s better,” she says softly, “I wouldn’t want you to catch a chill. I must look after you, after all.”

It is not the first time that you have stayed over in Lothlorien for long enough to accidentally fall asleep to her reading. It has become commonplace, almost routine,  for you to spend nights there, talking to Galadriel and learning about the comings of the world.

When you do inevitably fall asleep, she smiles gently to herself and gently carries you  to your newly-assigned chambers that she filled with your favourite flowers and plants.

You often go on walks in the forest, lamenting over the the state of Middle Earth. On a particular starry night, you walked side by side in the forest, with your arm entwined in hers. She watches you closely, smiling to herself. As you reach the clearing under the moonlight, she turns to you slowly and takes both of your hands in her larger delicate ones

She leans into your form and brushes a small and delicate kiss on your lips. You lean into her touch and feel a sense of calm washing over you as if the forest itself was blessing that very moment. You lean into her body, resting your head against her arm as she rubs your cheek gently with a wide smile, “Was that too much, meleth nin?"

[sybilgympie]

Wounds

Pairings: Boromir x Maia!GN!Reader Premise: After Gandalf’s fall, the reader is left to take care of the fellowship, including curing Boromir’s otherwise fatal wounds. Boromir goes to thank them and apologise for his actions. Lots of fluff + Pippin and Merry interrupting Warnings: Mention of scars, blood. Word Count: 1.7k Notes: this was so fun to write lmao, he is my absoluuute fav in the trilogy. Btw Gilran means star-song, bor might be ooc, i tried my best </3 ____________________________

You found yourself in a small clearing, a small river reflecting your features back to you. Inhaling a deep breath, you could finally relax for a bit, after endless fighting and walking. A small smile overtook your face as the lush and dewed grass tickled your legs. Having been sent by the Valar themselves, you had gone through many nights and winters guiding those that needed it. At last, your greatest calling had found you alongside your old friend, Gandalf, joining on the quest to destroy the ring.

One of your greatest achievements thus far was aiding Boromir after he had been wounded multiple times in battle, almost resulting in his death. Thankfully, you had arrived just in time to heal his wounds, although you were now both physically and mentally drained from the affair. With closed eyes, you let your fingers trail through the cool and damp grass. Your mahogany staff gleamed in the twilight, a certain twinkle radiating from it. Nothing could be heard in the distance, except for a faint songbird’s merry tune. 

A faint crunch came from behind you, though you needn’t turn around, as you already knew who it was from the fall of his step.

“Are you hiding from the Fellowship?” A smile tugged at his lips as he continued, “Or just from me?” You gently opened your eyes, and turned to face him. You could see that the colour had returned to his body and he was no longer stiff in his movements. He had his bloodied tunic in hand, ready to cleanse it from the blood that had stained it. Some scars littered his strong chest and his arms, although their wounds have closed. You glanced away as you could feel warmth rush to your cheeks at the subtle flex of his strong arms.

You did not answer him, feeling the breeze in your hair, resorting to humming gently as you turned back to the riverside.

“I do not wish to be a burden.” He muttered. You glanced at him as he sat down next to you.

“You are not a burden, Boromir, you are one of the few reasons I believe this quest will succeed.” You mumbled back to him, your hands grasping against your cloak, as the sun slowly disappeared, and so did its warmth. He went quiet at your answer, resorting to nodding at your response.

He dipped his tunic in the water, and red stains started slowly dissolving in the water. His forearms glistened in the last licks of the sun. His ginger hair was loose, but no longer messy or tangled now that the Fellowship had rested and he could tend to it. It hung loose around his face, framing it like a honey-coloured crown. A nervous smile found itself on his lips, as his eyes gleamed at yours.

Boromir’s jaw tightened as he spoke, humility and pride interlaced in his words. “I have yet to properly thank you for saving me. It took more of you than I deserved. I was foolish, almost lost to some orcs, no less.” Water dripped steadily from the fabric in his hands as he wrung out his tunic, the slow twist of his wrists betraying the tension he kept out of his voice. His knuckles whitened around the soaked cloth as his movements were harsh.

“I was reckless, not only almost falling to orcs, but attempting to take the ring from Frodo. I thought I could carry the burden. Help Frodo. Help Gondor.” He let out a rattled breath and his voice cracked slightly. You offered him a gentle smile and reached forward, placing a hand on his arm, calming him. “Do not blame yourself, son of Gondor. The ring wants nothing but to return to its master, it is not your fault. It preys on hearts with noble intentions and twists what is good.” You could feel him slightly shiver at your words, out of anger or sadness, you could not decipher. Your fingers lingered lightly on his forearm, “You saw your mistake immediately, and you chose to protect the ones you love. There is no shame in your name.” He did not answer and neither did he make a move to turn towards you. 

“Those creatures were not merely any orcs, they were the creation of Saruman. One that we considered a friend until quite recently. He bred them for one purpose, for war. He is a cunning man, he will stop at nothing to achieve what he wants.” Your gaze faltered from Boromir’s body, returning to the ground. You bit your lip and retracted your hand from his arm, as you remembered Saruman’s betrayal of the Valar.

“Only Radagast and I remain,” you said quietly, eyes lowering as the weight of it pressed against your chest. “Saruman has fallen to evil, and Gandalf is lost. For now I must guide and protect you alone.” Your fingers curled tighter around the edge of the cloak, the red light fabric was slightly damp with mist.

A warm and wet hand suddenly grasped your shoulder, as Boromir gently turned you to face him. His grip was firm and strong but it did not hurt you. A small frown appeared on his face and his hands strengthened their hold on you. The scent of damp leather and wet grass lingered in the air and water still glistened at the ends of his loose hair,

“Do not let your hope falter. You’re not bound to bear this sorrow alone. Not while I still draw breath.” He searched your eyes, attempting to comfort and understand you. His thumb rubbed your shoulder as he guided your body closer to him, albeit not forcing you to move. Moving closer at his words, you embraced him and his fingers brushed slowly along your back. “I do not seek forgiveness, only a chance to earn it. Not only from you, but from the rest of the Fellowship.” There was no bitterness to his tone. You pulled back just enough to see his face. His eyes, usually proud and alight were softened now as he peered down at you. You let out a small laugh. “Who knew a proud son of Gondor could be so soft? But do not worry, you are already on the path of forgiveness with the others” You teased him as you slowly hummed under his warm touch.  You could feel him gently laugh as you laid back against his chest. It rumbled beneath your cheek like a faraway storm. “Careful, Gilran, I might start expecting compliments after every battle wound and mistake." His lips curved into a boyish smile, but you noticed it did not reach his eyes. His hand moved low to the curve of your spine and continued rubbing your back. You stilled completely against him, your cheek against his warm chest. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of rustling leaves and each other’s warmth. His hand raised itself from your back to your head, and he slowly started scratching your head while holding you against him with his upper arm. A soft sigh left him, and you could feel his chest moving. “Tell me..what does it feel to be ever-living, do you ever think-” A sudden crack of a branch cut him off. Both of you tensed suddenly and you pulled away from him, creating space. You grabbed your staff and raised your arm. Meanwhile, Boromir grabbed his sword hurriedly and stepped next to you. “Who goes there?” You shouted, staff pointing to the high tree where the sound came from. “I told you not to lean on that branch, Pippin!” Merry grumbled at him. “You’re the one who knocked my elbow! I just wanted a better look-” Another crack came before Pippin could finish his excuse. They both came tumbling down into view with a grunt and an embarrassed groan. Boromir didn’t flinch at the sight of them, lowering his weapon with a disappointed sigh. Pippin grinned toothily up at you both from where he lay half-splayed over Merry. “Don’t stop on our account!” You rested your staff on the ground and clutched your cloak tighter to your body.

Merry tried and failed to look apologetic. “We were, um, looking for firewood.” His cheeks burned from embarrassment and he bowed slightly. Pippin completely ignored Merry’s attempt to find an excuse for their actions. “I told you they were getting all snuggly. You owe me a pint of ale when we get back to the Shire.” Pippin nudged Merry with a mischievous smile. You started laughing slowly, and stood up, approaching the both of them. You offered them a warm smile, kneeling down to ruffle Pippin’s hair. “Firewood, is it?” you said dryly, arching a brow. “Well, we'd best get to it then, and rejoin the others before the dusk grows any colder.” You hinted at them, walking back with them slowly, using your staff to help steady your steps. The ache in your body did not go unnoticed by Boromir as he fell beside you in ease. He grabbed your arm and helped you walk, you smiled at him as a way to thank him. He said nothing, but the corners of his mouth twitched in acknowledgment.

“Stay close to us, Gilran! We’ll protect you!” Pippin puffed his chest out and walked in front of you, turning to tease Boromir by using the nickname he’d overheard.

Boromir gave a slow sigh. “Remind me again why we trust them with weapons?”

[sybilgympie]

Acknowledgement

pairings:  Annatar x female!elf!reader, celebrimbor x reader

word count:  2k

warnings: smut, oral sex (f! receiving), manipulated sex, cheating, some celebrimbor angst, hair pulling. Mostly fluff notes: first annatar fan-fic, there will be a second part to this, focusing on more smut teehee. Hope the flow and english is somewhat consistent. Might be a bit ooc?

______

The forge was nearly empty by the time you set down your hammer, hands aching from a day of work. The fire crackled low behind you, and your latest ring was finally finished, it glittered among the surface of the anvil that you had used. Your husband, Celebrimbor had asked for your aid to help him create the rings for the newcomer sent by the valar. His name was Annatar, there was something about his presence that stirred a hint of unease within you. You could not understand why these feelings were arising. Annatar was humble, giving renewed hope to your elven kind with the forging of the rings.

Celebrimbor and Annatar were behind you on their desk, discussing what improvements could be made to the prototypes of the nine. Celebrimbor sighed and clasped his hands together, finally he stood up from his chair and approached you with Annatar following closely behind. Your husband clutched your weary hands, his tired eyes softening when they met yours.

‘Come, you must rest, our work can wait until dawn’ he said gently. You nodded, grateful for the much needed rest. Before you could speak or move, Annatar’s voice cut through the warm air.

‘Wait, Celebrimbor.’ Annatar’s tone was kind but firm, as he lent both of you a smile. He stepped next to you, glancing at you with an uncomfortable intensity.

‘There is something I must say to her alone’ He spoke, with a smooth voice. Your husband stilled, and a frown danced on his lips but only for a moment. He released the gentle grasp of his hands from your own. With a slight nod, he stepped back but not before giving you a gentle kiss on the cheek. You smiled warmly and watched his retreat quietly into the torch-lit corridor. 

Annatar did not move closer as the silence thickened, you could not bring yourself to look at the eyes boring into yours, seemingly ageless. Instead, your eyes strayed to the ring and the forge’s dying fire. 

‘You shape your creations with care.’ He finally said, his voice being much quieter. ‘But I sense hesitation behind your craft. No doubt in your own skill but there is something more personal.’ You glared at the fire and the ring, failing to hide your uncertainty. He spoke as if he saw more than you wished him to perceive.

You did not answer him. Your hands fidgeted with your soft blue dress.

‘Why do you look away from me?’ He started once more, gently putting his hand around your face and moving it so it met your own. You stared at his eyes, raising your own hand to grasp his own and removing it from your face. ‘I do not, I am tired, my Lord. I must return to my husband, he is waiting for me.’ You gritted, wanting nothing more than to return to your bed chamber. Annatar did not resist when you moved his hand away, but neither did he step back or stop looking at your eyes. You felt his cold fingers linger on your face longer than they should have. ‘You say you are tired, but I do not think that it is your body that is weary’ He said, almost speaking to himself. You glanced away again, tightening your jaw, your skin still tingled where he touched you.

‘I see you, I see what you are. You were not meant to stand in another’s shadow, not even one made by love.’ Your breath hitched and you huffed, attempting to move away. It is true that you felt overshadowed by your husband at times, but it was for the greater good of your race. All the elves of middle-earth depend on your husband and his ability to change their future. Yet it is you and others who shape the essence of the rings, with your skill. How often is your name whispered in praise?

‘Why settle for being unseen, when you could be the very flame that others chase. You can be praised, and your power realised. No more will you hide in the shadow of your husband.’ His voice dropped to a whisper. Moving his hand gently to once again cup your cheek, and this time you let him, looking into his eyes. You let your hands rest against his wrist and he strokes your cheek slowly.

‘I am often invisible to others and unseen’ You mutter, admitting your true feelings to Annatar. He smiled at you and stepped back, giving you space. ‘You are not unseen to me. Go rest now. Do not keep your husband waiting’ He said, in an encouraging tone. You nod, swallowing your feelings and realising the new weight of his words. Returning to your chamber, closing the door gently behind you so as to not startle your husband. You looked at your palms, feeling as if in a trance. Confused, you prepared to rest, although you could not detangle your thoughts from Annatar’s words. Morning came swiftly, bringing with it a new day in the forge and you hoped to lose yourself and your thoughts in creation. When you walked into the forge, you saw Annatar and Celebrimbor above your desk, with the ring you were working on last night. Annatar turned to you, but Celebrimbor did not, instead you saw his hands rising and pulling his hair.

‘The ring had to be flawless, and your hands betrayed you. We cannot afford mistakes here’ He said in a commanding voice. Your stomach tightened and as you opened your mouth to explain, he cut you off.

‘I need you to be completely focused, these small flaws are not acceptable anymore at this stage.’ He continued and you could feel slight tears building up in your eyes. Celebrimbor sighed deeply, ‘ I’ll give you some time to fix it. In the meantime I will be elsewhere’ His voice was tight but not unkind to you. Without waiting for a response, he turned and left, not attempting to comfort you, only offering a slight smile.

Your body sank into your stool, your hands scooping up the ring and caressing it slowly with your knuckle. A small bump could be felt, and you frowned at the uneven texture. Annatar stepped behind you, and you could feel his body warmth against your back. 

‘He refuses to acknowledge you.’ He said to you, putting a hand on the top of your head, you welcomed the comforting move as tears pricked your eyes. You bowed your head and felt weakness take over your entire body. Your tears increased until you were sobbing uncontrollably. 

He frowned, he kneeled down to your height and twisted the stool so you faced him. He grabbed your hands and gently rubbed them to comfort you. The weight of years spent hidden in Celebrimbor’s shadow pressed down on you.

‘I acknowledge you. Do not feel alone as I am with you. I will give you the gift that you want and need. I can make you feel seen and appreciated. All you need to do is welcome my gift and by the Valar that sent me, happiness will be restored to you’ He said softly while looking at your now tearful face.

Biting your lip, you looked up at him, his presence was overwhelming all of your senses. Slowly, almost hesitantly, his hand cupped your cheek, and his fingers traced the line of your jaw. Before you could say anything, his lips brushed against yours, bringing you into a soft but insistent kiss. You tried to pull back but his hand slid from your cheek down to your neck, grasping it slowly. A gentle hum escaped his throat. You did not want to pull away, seeming to be in a trance.

He pulled away gently, helping you come to your feet. His hands went to your waist and his lips found yours again. Your own hands slithered onto his chest, still shy and dazed. ‘I think Celebrimbor would understand that his wife was chosen to receive my gift, after all this would help you work on your craft, no? Yes, he would understand.’ He murmured to you with a smile and you nodded. His hands slid under the fabric of your dress, grasping your thighs as he lifted you on Celebrimbor’s desk. His lips found the curve of your neck, peppering it with warm and wet kisses, being aided with soft bites. You pressed your body closer to him and whined at the feeling. 

His hands went to your thighs, pushing up your dress and feeling your heat through your underwear. His lips met yours again, and as you tried to pull back you felt the kiss get more aggressive, with him nipping at your bottom lip. You moaned against him as he circled your now-sensitive clit, your fingers went to his golden tresses, pulling him closer to you.

‘Be patient now and I will give you what you seek, little one.’ He murmured, kissing your forehead gently. You whined, not bothering to care anymore and your hands went to remove your own underwear. You heard him release a deep chuckle. ‘My, I'm so eager, and so precious…’ He whispered to you. He grasped your hair, rather aggressively. ‘I told you to be patient, and accept my gift when it comes. Not when you demand it.’ He hissed and continued pulling your hair, balling it up in a fist. You were surprised, shocked at the change of personality and nodded as best as you could. Staring at his eyes, you noticed a change within them, something darker was awakened.

‘Good.’ He whispered, and eased the hold on your hair, returning to give gentle kisses to your neck. He trapped your body against his, and you were unable to even shift your body. He kneeled down, and held your thighs open with a strong force. He kissed the inside of your thighs slowly, but never directly kissed your heat, avoiding it on purpose. You whined and your hand went to your mouth to cover the wanton sounds that were escaping it.

‘Please, I can’t take it anymore.’ You mumbled and bit into your hand. ‘Please Lord Annatar.’ You could feel him smile against your thigh, as he slowly slithered his tongue to your heat. ‘Of course.’ He said, finally his lips found the most sensitive part of you. You couldn’t help but tangle your hands in his hair once more, as your body began to move against his face. You wanted more of his skilled movements and pleasures. His nails dug into your thighs, leaving red marks on your skin while kissing and licking your heat. You felt your release building up fast. ‘Please Annatar, I’m very close. Please.’ You whined and he increased his motions. His hand slid up to support your body that was coming undone. Every nerve was alight with need and the intoxicating feeling of finally being seen and desired. You trembled. the tension in your body slowly melting into a warm glow as you found your release. His tongue lapped up everything you offered him, and with a last kiss he lifted his gaze to meet yours.

Your body heaved as he moved a strand of your hair away from your face. He fixed your dress and you closed your eyes, resting your head against his chest. He pulled you to him gently, bringing your face to meet his. Your thoughts finally cleared, realising the situation you were in.

‘You were so good, there will be more gifts to come, little one.’ He said and pushed a gentle kiss to your forehead, with a dark twirl in his eyes.