Long after the battle, you'll curse yourself for not noticing sooner. You'd been so caught up in the fight that you'd lost sight of your companions. All three were more than capable so you hadn't been too concerned for the most part.
It seemed like a cruel twist of fate that you'd finally spotted Gimli just in time to watch a hatchet make contact with his arm. His reaction was immediate, pain blossoming on his face and an enraged cry spilling from his mouth. He made quick work of the orc that had attacked him before falling to his knees.
You're by his side as quickly as possible, taking out a few orcs in the process.
"Gimli? Can you stand?" He makes a valiant attempt and does manage to rise to his feet for a few moments before falling back down. You can't leave him here, barely able to defend himself; you refuse to leave your friend to die on the battlefield. That only leaves one choice: you're going to have to drag him.
You're not a weak person, you've spent your whole life training alongside Boromir and Faromir to prepare you for combat and you are more than capable of holding your own. That doesn't make dragging a dwarf across uneven terrain in the middle of a battle feel any easier.
It certainly doesn't feel any easier when he starts to go quiet. In all the time you've known him, Gimli has never been quiet.
You try not to let the panic show on your face as you see the dwarf's eyes start to flutter closed. The blood continues to seep from his arm and the last thing you want is for him to fall unconscious. Your mind scrambles for a way to try and coax him into staying awake as your head finally snaps into action.
"I thought you'd be lighter without all that blood." Gimli's furious response is immediate and intense, just what you wanted.
"I'll have you know that this is all muscle!"
"In your dreams." The dwarf continued spluttering out insults, all of which you know he doesn't really mean, until you're back within sight of Legolas who is quickly by your side to aid you.
The first of the 1k followers celebrations requests! 🥳 This one is for @thisuserislilsilly , thank you so much! 🫶❤️
prompt: messy drunk sex that is then forgotten the morning after.
tags: NSFW — MDNI!!! alcohol consumption, slightly dom!gimli (?), messy drunk sex (as per the prompt), biting
a/n: i dont even know anymore, what did you have me do here bestie. initially this was going to be longer, but i thought it worked best this way instead. i hope you still like it!
read on ao3 or below the cut
You wake up with a hangover akin to someone taking a hammer to the inside of your skull, and the sinking feeling that something unholy happened during the early hours of the morning. Clothes litter the room of the inn – not organized, but strewn, askew, discarded in haste. None of those clothes are on you, and even more concerning – trails of beard burn in discrete places that raise more questions than it answers.
As if stumbling into a crime scene, Gimli walks in from the bathroom, holding your belt. His shirt is half laced, his hair and beard loose and unbraided. And messy. A bite mark blooms on his neck right below the collar, that surely did not come from a friendly tavern brawl. He looks as equally wrecked as you feel.
Your eyes meet, heat creeping up your neck. You cover up quickly with the thin bed sheet, stained with substances you dare not name.
Gimli clears his throat, a flush spreading across his cheeks. “What do you remember?”
“Nothing past the fifth round of ale.”
Both of you glance to the bed. The headboard looks like it took a hit, a giant crack tearing right through the middle. Gimli mutters something about dwarven constitution and honor under his breath.
Flickers of the night glimmer through your memory, pounding through your head as if covered in honey.
Finger shaped bruises on your hips.
Gimli slams the door shut with his boot. His hands grip your waist, tight.
Beard burn around your mouth.
His lips rough on yours, stealing your breath, your back against the wall, laughing.
A mark on his throat.
Your tongue tracing the crook of his neck.
Clothes half-torn, disarrayed.
You pull him down to the bed, liquid confidence seeping in your veins.
The broken headboard.
You groan his name, slurred and desperate, as he sinks into you.
A shiver runs down your spine at the flashes of memory, heat searing through your core. Gimli murmurs apologies, not knowing what for, tip of his nose and ears crimson. “By Durin’s beard…lad, what did we do?”
You cough out of embarrassment, feeling blood rush to your cheeks and head. Plucking up one final strand of courage, your voice comes out barely a whisper.
“Something…something I would not mind repeating.” You avoid his gaze as it snaps to your face, searching for your intention. One you make quite clear. You feel his breath hitch. He steps closer, heat radiating from him, the scent of mead still fresh on his breath.
His voice impossibly low, a single quiver in his timbre: “If we did share a night, I would rather it be something I remember.” He steps even closer, his breath fanning your mouth. You close the space between you, lips against his; slow, warm, deliberate. His hands cup your face, and your fingers braid into his hair.
thank you so much for all the requests and love on my 1k celebration!! here’s everything coming up fic wise. 🫶 reminder that each will be under 1k words so that i stay sane. and NSFW. they will be out in the following week, in this order, starting today <3
fanart request slots are still open!
honey ale [gimli x male!reader]
scent [alpha!legolas x omega!fem!reader]
favour [thorin x fem!reader]
marathon [legolas x human!fem!reader]
down [paul atreides x fem!reader]
surprise! i ended up getting a lot of requests, so i'm choosing to do more for the fun of it and the variety!
love marks [fili x fem!reader]
jealousy [halbrand x reader]
private [glorfindel x reader]
massage [annatar x reader]
each request will now be archived under the new respective fandoms masterlists
✧ And then he realises that it's because they're his.
✧ Aragorn doesn't reveal himself immediately and just watches you for a little while, a smile on his face.
✧ It's actually you that notices him, leaning against the wall.
✧ Following his gaze you realise he's staring at the shirt you've taken, and you awkwardly laugh before asking if he needs it back.
✧ He is very quick to reassure you that there's no need.
✧ Then he comes up to join you, holding you in a hug before giving you a kiss.
✧ When his hands wander a little it's actually not to your hair, but instead tracing around the fabric to see where it falls on you.
✧ Won't say this out loud - but also finds it sweet to see them not quite fitting your form.
✧ When he first gets to Minas Tirith he keeps expecting to find you in one of his nicer outfits, but instead you keep going back to the ranger ones.
✧ Doesn't ask why - but eventually you approach with a handful of nicer shirts and ask him to wear them more so they'll still feel like him when you put them on.
✧ He is very happy to oblige.
𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬
✧ Stares at the shirt for a moment, then back to you, then back to the shirt.
✧ "You... you are aware that's my shirt, melleth?"
✧ "I am." You look up at him with a smile, and Legolas realises that he must be missing something.
✧ A light blush settles on his face as he comes up to you, "May I ask why you have chosen to steal my clothes?"
✧ "Do you want them back?"
✧ The blush becomes darker, before Legolas looks at you again.
✧ Words don't seem to come to him for a moment, and he simply stands there as if trying to convey something to you through only a confused but admiring look.
✧ "No. At least not right now."
✧ And then his arms close around you, hugging you tightly.
✧ Legolas doesn't fully understand why he enjoys seeing you wear his clothes so much, or why it feels so intimate and loving to him, but he also doesn't complain.
✧ There's still a small look of fascination on his face each time he sees you doing it, no matter how many times you've stolen his clothes.
𝐆𝐢𝐦𝐥𝐢
✧ "And what do we have here, hm?"
✧ As flustered as Gimli gets by it, he still speaks up about it quickly and smiles when you turn around.
✧ (He can admire you better when you're facing him as well.)
✧ Most of his blush and admiration of you comes out as a series of compliments more than anything else, and although they're rushed you can tell they're genuine.
✧ Sneaks glances to you throughout the rest of the day as well.
𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐫
✧ The first person in the Fellowship to be less flustered by it and more admiring of it.
✧ You see him stop in the entrance of the room, eyes sweeping over you as he looks at the fabric on you.
✧ Where it seems to hang more loosely, the bits it's a little tighter on.
✧ Only becomes sheepish when you make eye-contact and he realises he's been caught staring.
✧ "You look lovely."
✧ The praise is sincere, but you still laugh a little. "You tell me that with anything I wear."
✧ Boromir has crossed the gap between you two, leaning forward to give you a gentle kiss on the forehead.
✧ "You look especially lovely."
✧ Is definitely proud of the fact you feel comfortable enough to wear his clothes.
✧ Not just because it means you like him enough to steal something of his - to want him near you - but also because you can feel safe around his things.
✧ He won't admit this part out loud, but there's a small part of him that sees it as his way of protecting you and being there for you even when he's not in the room.
𝐏𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧
✧ As he greets you with a hug, Pippin doesn't even recognise the fabric at first.
✧ Then, as his arms wrap around you, he realises how familiar it feels.
✧ You can't help laughing a little as he steps back, eyes looking you up and down with a state of shock.
✧ And, as he realises you've stolen his shirt, a grin.
✧ Gaze going to the shirt, he simply says, "You have very good taste, love."
✧ As you laugh for the second time it's with him, and soon his laughter joins you as well.
✧ But despite his first outward reaction being to joke about it, his first inward reaction is to fall even more in love with you.
✧ Because you loved him enough to take an outfit that was his.
✧ You love him enough to want to be reminded of him, to be close to him, even while he isn't here.
✧ Even though you tell him that most days, there's still something different in seeing an action to prove it.
✧ So this definitely makes his day.
𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲
✧ You're expecting Merry to make a comment on your choice of dress when you join him for breakfast, or perhaps an extra kiss.
✧ What you don't expect is for the hobbit to go rather red and then not make eye-contact.
✧ His gaze stays at the kitchen table, before eventually it flickers back up to you.
✧ "Is that?" Merry sounds a mixture of disbelief and fluster, "Are those my clothes?"
✧ "They are." You think about leaving it there, before deciding to be a little teasing. "Do they look nice on me?"
✧ "Very." Merry says it without even needing to think, and both of you can feel your faces heating slightly.
✧ A moment of silence settles before he speaks again, this time managing to spin his words into something more coherent.
✧ Into a beautiful and no less sincere praise about the fact he truly thinks you look wonderful in them.
✧ And that, if you ever felt like doing it again, he... probably wouldn't be opposed to it.
✧ Keeps sneaking glances at you throughout the day, and whenever he joins you in a kiss his hand will trace along the fabric as if to confirm it's still real.
✧ A tangible manifestation of your love.
𝐒𝐚𝐦
✧ Samwise is certainly the most flustered of all the Fellowship.
✧ Something in his mind just can't connect the two things that he's seeing.
✧ You - beautiful, amazing, wonderful you - wandering around the house in some of his clothing.
✧ Not even his finer outfits for better occasions, but just a shirt he would wear around Hobbiton.
✧ It's a silly thought, to think that fabric isn't deserving of you, but in his mind it truly isn't.
✧ He just can't begin to fathom why you would choose his clothes out of all the things available.
✧ Seeing him staring in confusion, even with the light blush on his face, you reassure him and tell him why you're wearing the clothes. To feel close to him even when he's not right there.
✧ "Oh."
✧ Even more blush comes onto his face at that, and he takes you into a hug - a brief kiss being placed on your cheek.
✧ "Well, if you ever want to spend time with me you can just ask me. You don't- you don't need to steal something of mine."
✧ His eyes soften a little, but he can't quite look you in the eye as he gives his next bit of praise.
✧ "Even if you do somehow make them look beautiful."
𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐨
✧ Actually, Frodo has ended up wearing your clothes a few times around the house before you end up wearing his.
✧ In his mind he had never really understood why you'd stopped for a moment when he'd first walked out. Why you'd seemed to be flustered.
✧ Yes, he was wearing them to be reminded of you. But was it truly so romantic?
✧ As he sees you wearing his clothes he realises the answer is yes.
✧ He realises how much his heart enjoys seeing you like this - seeing an manifestation of how you love him and want to keep him close.
✧ Frodo stands in silence at the edge of the room, and instead of saying anything you only smile at him.
✧ Coming to join you after a moment, he lets himself relax into your arms and tries not to think about the clothing as he kisses you.
✧ "You... you look beautiful, my love."
✧ Doesn't really draw attention to it throughout the rest of the day, although you can see him glancing at it occasionally.
✧ It's not an intrusive gaze, or one that lingers too long on your body, but one that sees you.
✧ One that just wants to feel the love that this action shows.
A/N: Well, I think Aragorn fans got fed the most... so lets hope this attracts a lot of fans of one of our favourite rangers? Thanks again for request, and for being patient with the wait!
Continuing to watch the horror movie, you can’t help but tense as something suddenly reaches out and grabs your shoulder. And then you feel the familiar callouses, recognise the way he grips you, and remind yourself that this is only your boyfriend’s hand. Which, considering you’re watching horror together, is quite impressive - he normally cuddles up much earlier.
Turning your head in sympathy, you grip his hand with yours, “You ok?”
“In Mahal’s name I don’t know how you can insist on watching these.” He shakes his head, “But yes, I’m fine. Jumpscare was a little unexpected, is all.”
“You sure?”
“I am perfectly capable of watching horror movies with– AH!”
A/N : Here is my confession I am the Gimli in this scenario. I cannot watch horror, gore or psychological. I'm fine with gore in high fantasy/other genres, oddly.
« masterlist » thank you for reading *･༓˚✧ Taglist : @starwars2222 / @xiaoseminence / @withasideofmeg / @howling-medic / @bespectacledhuman / cont. in comments ✧ wish to be tagged?
Content & Warnings: romance, drabble
Word count: 0.8k
Summary: Until and after the coronation, as Fellowship stays in Minas Tirith, Gimli tends to spend hours in smithy creating different little things. Blacksmiths whisper and rumor whatever made the dwarf create such… trinkets. And he himself is becoming grumpier with every comment.
Gimli is getting grumpier by the day. You can't help but notice the fact. His expression got somber and gloomy, his shoulders slouched and his jokes became offensive. The more time he is spending in the smithy the worse it is getting. You fail to understand why.
After the war has ended, he decided to stay in Minas Tirith along with the other members of Fellowship. It promised to be the brightest and happiest time they had in a while. And so it was. Gimli was so eager to get back to the traditional craft of his ancestors and forge some things out of pure interest for the process. However, that's where everything began to go wrong. After the initial enthusiasm had faded, he started to get more and more irritated. From the rich flow of his muffled curses you only made out the fact that his exasperation was caused by some sort of failure.
"Other smiths spread rumor that he is working on some weird trinkets. Not weapon, not armor, but something small and indistinct," you tell Legolas, seeking for his help. But the elf only smiles and asks you to stop being so concerned as it 'doesn't suit you'. You're left dumbfounded as he takes his leave.
The situation keeps getting worse with every passing day. You become as troubled as the dwarf. Each time you see his furrowed brow and tense silhouette, you feel another chord getting tight and ready to snap in your chest. Even your work doesn't help to distract you enough. Thoughts and premonitions, one darker than the other, cloud your mind.
You walk out of the door in the same grim mood, greeted by the setting sun. Flat rays cast long shadows and orange hues of the evening fill the streets. Your gaze glides along the paved road until it reaches another sun. You blink a few times before recognizing the familiar red hair and beard practically glowing in the light of the sundown. And even more so glows the face of your dear friend.
"Gimli!" you can't help but exclaim, seeing him lose that frown. "Are you feeling better now?"
The dwarf looks at you almost surprised, confusion clear in his eyes, then he scoffs. "Oh, that you mean. Yes-yes, much better."
He seems to be rather carefree about the whole situation so unlike the way he was for the past days. There's amusement in his expression as if he sees you for the first time, and the view is new and peculiar to him. After a good minute of comfortable silence Gimli finally speaks. "I've been working on one thing for a little while. It proved to be quite... tricky to forge something so small. I'd rather make it bigger, but I didn't want it to be a disturbance to you, if you would be so kind to accept it," he begins to explain, his hands clenching onto something wrapped in a piece of cloth. "It finally turned out the way I wanted, but now I see that it still lacks in every way compared to the most beautiful among mortal beings."
Gimli hesitates for another moment, unlike his usual fiery determination, before slowly pulling off the cloth. Silver glimmers in gentle sunlight and reflects in your wide opened eyes. A fibula. Practical and spectacular. Intricate ornament covering metal like a quote from some long-forgotten legend. Clasps like that one, created of precious metals with great mastery, pass down in families as heirlooms for centuries. And here it lays before your eyes, just within your reach, crafted personally for you by a dwarf who called you no less than 'the most beautiful among mortal'.
The sight and Gimli's words are enough to snap all those strings tightened around your heart. As he looks up to your eyes he witnesses tears spilling down your face. The view alarms him, making his words scatter around like pebbles.
"Do you... Will you accept it?.. this, I mean, gift... If that is fine... if I didn't overstep with that courtship or... ahem," he trails off.
Realization dawns on you like a weightless veil. His wariness in choosing words when approached by you, friendly demeanor and such complete concentration on his work in the forgery all connect like links of the same chain. No dwarf can begin a courtship without a valuable gift. And that warm and welcoming attitude of his was nothing but the result of his growing affection. You noticed it earlier, but never took the customs into consideration.
You lean forward, your hand gently covering his gift and your lips pressing firmly against his forehead. "I accept. Your gift and all of you."
