âŸââșâ
Welcome! In case my blog url isn't a dead giveaway, this is my writing blog solely focusing on Tolkien inspired reader inserts.
ă ⊠Main writing blog @lullaby-lilies ⊠ă
*à©â©â§âË
Peter Solarz
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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

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@tolkien-reader-inserts
âŸââșâ
Welcome! In case my blog url isn't a dead giveaway, this is my writing blog solely focusing on Tolkien inspired reader inserts.
ă ⊠Main writing blog @lullaby-lilies ⊠ă
*à©â©â§âË
#004
Bard x Reader â You boop his nose and accidentally make him smile.
You do it without thinking.
Heâs crouched by the fire, mending an arrow with careful, practiced movementsâhands rough, scarred, steady. The lines of his face are drawn tight, as they so often are, burdened with things he never speaks aloud. Lake-town rests on his shoulders even now, in the quiet.
You lean in and press a single finger to his nose.
A soft boop.
For a heartbeat, Bard freezes.
He blinks once. Then again.
Slowly, he looks up at you, brows knitânot angry, not startled exactly, just⊠caught off guard. As if youâve struck somewhere unarmored. Youâre already smiling, half-expecting a rebuke, an exhausted sigh, a reminder that there are more important things than foolish affection.
Instead, the corner of his mouth twitches.
Itâs barely there. You almost miss it.
âCareful,â he murmurs, voice low, amused despite himself. âPeople might think Iâm approachable.â
You shrug, unapologetic. He exhalesâa quiet sound, something easing out of himâand reaches out, thumb brushing your wrist. A small thing. A grounding thing.
For a moment, the fire crackles. The night holds. And Bard of Lake-town lets himself smile, just a little, because you are here and because you dared to remind him he is human.
If there's a specific character you will like to read, feel free to drop their name(s)!
These are some of the characters I will constantly be writing for:
Thranduil
Thorin
Fili
Boromir
Bard
Lindir
Elrond
Of course I will still be writing for others not mentioned here - these characters will just be frequently visited.
Feel free to drop more names if you like!
If there's a specific character you will like to read, feel free to drop their name(s)!
#003 - Thranduil
Thrandul x human!Reader
â A mortal toy softens the Mirkwood king, though he would never admit such a thing.
The toy rests on the table.
Carved wood, polished smooth by careful handsâan elk, its antlers delicately etched, its legs jointed to move when nudged. Simple. Mortal. Entirely out of place in the halls of Mirkwood.
Thranduil stands before it in silence.
âYou brought this⊠into my realm,â he says at last.
You fold your hands behind your back, bracing yourself. âItâs a gift.â
âFor whom?â
âFor the children in the lower halls,â you answer. âWinter is long. They miss home.â
His gaze sharpensânot at you, but at the toy. As if it has dared to remind him of something inconvenient.
âElven children do not require such things,â he says coolly.
âNo,â you agree softly. âBut human ones do.â
#002 - Boromir
Boromir x Reader â The two of you are caught under the mistletoe.
You notice it too late.
A sprig of green, tied with red thread, hangs from the archway just beyond the training yardâfresh mistletoe, clearly placed there with intent. Someone has been feeling festive⊠or mischievous.
You stop short.
âOh no.â
Behind you, boots crunch against frost-dusted stone.
âSomething wrong?â
You turn to find Boromir, sword slung over his shoulder, cheeks flushed from training, hair damp with sweat and winter air. He follows your gaze upwardâand then freezes.
The corners of his mouth twitch.
âMistletoe,â he says, brows lifting. âIs that⊠a northern custom?â
You nod, already embarrassed. âYes. If two people stand beneath it, theyâre supposed toââ
#001 - Legolas
Legolas x human!Reader
â Silver moonlight softens the forest, but Legolasâs gaze warms you far more deeply.
Night in Mirkwood is never truly dark.
Even in winter, when the forest sleeps in frost and shadow, the moon filters through the bare branches like liquid silver, pooling softly across the forest floor.
You stand outside the palace, breath forming little clouds in the cold air, wrapped in a cloak as moonlight spills over everythingâsoftening, brightening, blessing.
âCould not sleep?â
His voice is a whisper of starlight behind you.
You turn to see Legolas, pale hair glimmering as though it stores the moonâs glow. He stands with the ease of someone born of forests and winter light, his presence quiet but powerful.
âI didnât want to waste a night like this,â you admit. âThe moon is beautiful.â
He steps closer, gaze lifting to the skyâor perhaps to the way the moonlight touches your face.
âElbereth herself would envy such a night,â he murmurs.
You blink, surprised. âIs that an Elven compliment?â