Why Did I Laugh So Hard When Reading This... I Showed This To My Friend And We Were Dyinggg For Like

Forbidden Fire- Draco x You

warnings: spicy, hickey, getting locked in a closet with a hot guy... (if that even counts 😈)

prior knowledge: you are Y/N Potter, sister to Harry Potter, and placed in the same house as your brother.

a/n: Hope you love this as much as I do <3!!

The Gryffindor common room buzzed with low chatter, candlelight flickering across flushed cheeks and whispered dares. It was late—well past curfew—and the usual suspects were gathered: the Golden Trio, the Silver Trio, Fred and George, and, inexplicably, Draco Malfoy.

“How did he even get invited?” you muttered to Hermione, side-eyeing the Slytherin draped over the arm of a chair like he owned the place.

“Detention overlap,” Hermione whispered back. “Fred and George thought it’d be hilarious.”

“Of course they did,” you grumbled.

“All right!” George called, holding up a worn velvet bag. “Time for a bit of after-hours mischief: Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

Fred grinned. “Forbidden Forest edition. But don’t worry—no Acromantulas involved. Just this bag, a closet, and questionable life choices.”

A wave of awkward laughter rippled around the circle.

“Ladies first,” George said, offering the bag to you with a wicked glint.

With an exasperated sigh, you reached in and brushed against something smooth and round. You pulled out an apple.

Fred’s eyes lit up. “Ah. That would be Malfoy’s.”

“What?” you blurted.

Draco was already standing, brushing nonexistent lint off his sleeve, lips curled into a smirk. “Looks like fate has a sense of humor.”

“Come on, Y/N,” Fred teased. “Be brave. It’s only seven minutes.”

Muffled chants of “Closet! Closet!” broke out, and before you could protest, you found yourself being pushed toward the small broom cupboard. Draco followed, looking insufferably pleased.

The door clicked shut.

And just like that, everything changed.

Inside, it was dark. Quiet. Close.

“You arranged this,” you said, narrowing your eyes.

He leaned in, voice low. “You think I’d go through all that trouble? Tempting as it sounds.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re gorgeous.”

You opened your mouth to retort—but he was already there, kissing you, his hand sliding up to cradle your jaw. The kiss was bold, searching, unapologetic. You gasped, fists clenching in his robes, unsure if you wanted to shove him away or drag him closer.

You chose the latter.

You crashed against the wooden paneling, lips devouring, breath mingling, and heat rolling off your bodies. His hand found your waist, pulling you flush to him, and your fingers tangled in the strands of platinum at the nape of his neck.

Then he dipped his mouth to your jaw, trailing down.

“Draco—” you warned.

He paused for just a second before his lips found the curve of your neck—soft at first, then firmer, sucking gently until your breath caught in your throat and a moan escaped you.

“You’re playing with fire,” you gasped.

“Good,” he murmured. “I like the burn.”

You just about began unbuttoning his shirt when you heard the knock-knock-knock.

“Time’s up, lovebirds!” Fred’s voice sing-songed from the other side.

Draco pulled back slowly, lips wet, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “You’ll want to cover that.”

You blinked. “What?”

He smirked. “Check your neck.”

Your fingers brushed the spot. Warm. Tender. A hickey.

“You—”

“Too late now.”

The door creaked open. Fred and George stood there, grinning ear to ear.

Fred whistled. “Someone looks properly snogged.”

George nudged him. “Reckon that’s more than a kiss.”

Your face flamed as you stepped out, trying to adjust your hair to cover the mark.

But it was too late—Harry had seen it.

“What the hell is that?” he barked, pointing at your neck.

“Harry—”

“That!” he shouted again. “On your neck, Y/N!”

You instinctively tried to cover it with your hand.

And Draco? That smug, arrogant git just strolled out after you, looking like he’d won the bloody Quidditch Cup.

Fred leaned over to George. “Called it.”

George nodded solemnly. “House war incoming.”

Harry turned furiously to Draco. “Did you snog her?”

“I didn’t hear her complaining,” Draco said coolly, crossing his arms.

Harry’s wand was halfway raised. “I’ll hex you into next week—”

“Harry!” Hermione grabbed his arm. “Not in the common room!”

“She’s my sister!”

You stepped between them. “I can make my own decisions. I don’t need you losing your mind over a kiss.”

“That wasn’t just a kiss!” Harry pointed again at your neck. “He gave you a bloody hickey!”

Draco leaned in just enough for only you to hear. “Funny. That’s exactly what I was going for.”

You elbowed him hard in the ribs.

But your heart was still racing—and not from the fight.

As Hermione and Ron dragged Harry toward the boys’ staircase, muttering apologies to McGonagall’s portrait, Fred clapped Draco on the back.

“Mate, hope your will’s in order.”

“Why?” Draco asked lazily.

“Because Harry’s going to kill you,” George said cheerfully. “But until then—bloody brilliant work.”

Draco smirked. His eyes found yours across the room. You looked flushed, furious—and completely alive.

He winked.

You rolled your eyes.

But you didn’t look away.

Locked In: Cedric Diggory x OC

warnings: none really

timeline: regular before cedric dies 🥺

a/n: ok y'all, just saying, i love cedric diggory. he is perfect.. even better with this character. annalise potter is harry's identical twin, placed in gryffindor, (dw y'all i might post a small backstory)

The heavy oak door thunked shut, the sound echoing through the towering shelves. Cedric let out a soft huff of amusement, a genuine, slightly surprised smile spreading across his face.

“Well, now,” he said, running a hand through his already-messy brown hair, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked at Annalise. “Looks like we’ve gone and gotten ourselves properly stuck, eh, Leasie?”

There was warmth in his gaze, a comfortable familiarity that always put her at ease—even in situations like this.

Annalise crossed her arms, a nervous chuckle escaping her. “Properly stuck is putting it mildly, Ced. Harry’s going to have a right fit if I don’t get back to the common room.” She could already picture her brother’s worried frown.

Cedric chuckled, his expression reassuring. “Ah, you know Harry. He worries like mad. We’ll be right as rain by morning, though. Just a little unexpected library sleepover.” He gave the door a solid, but not forceful, push. His smile faded into a thoughtful frown. “Definitely charmed. Old Madam Pince doesn’t mess around with her locks.”

They tried the windows—sealed tight—and called out, their voices swallowed by the immense stillness of the library.

“Hellooo?” Annalise called, her tone half-laughing, knowing it was probably futile.

“Anyone about?” Cedric echoed, a wry smile tugging at his lips. But the thick stone walls absorbed the sound, offering no reply.

After a while, Annalise sighed, leaning back against a shelf as dust motes swirled in the pale light from the high windows. Resignation settled over her like a blanket.

“This is a bit rubbish, isn’t it?” she said quietly. “Just… stuck here all night.”

Cedric pushed off the window ledge and offered her that familiar, comforting smile—brotherly, yet somehow more. “Cheer up, Leasie. Could be worse. At least the company’s decent, eh?” He rubbed his arms with a slight shiver, but tried to hide it as much as he could.

After some time, they settled down. Talk drifted from school—her latest frustrations with Snape, his quiet pride in Herbology—to Quidditch, and eventually, the buzz around the Triwizard Tournament.

“Think you’ll put your name in, Ced?” Annalise asked, genuinely curious.

Cedric shrugged, thoughtful in that grounded way of his. “Haven’t decided yet, Leasie. It’s a big deal. Exciting, though, isn’t it?” His enthusiasm made even the daunting feel possible.

As the light faded, long shadows crept between the shelves, and the chill deepened. Annalise hugged herself, shivering. “Wish I’d brought a thicker jumper.”

“You cold, Leasie?” Cedric asked, his brow creasing with concern. Without hesitation, he shrugged off his well-worn Hufflepuff sweater, leaving him in his pressed white shirt and yellow, striped tie. “Here you go.” he said calmly.

"No, no, it's alright." she replied.

"Take it. Please?" he asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

Annalise gave him a grateful smile as she pulled it on. The sweater smelled of parchment and something inherently Cedric—a mix of earthiness and warm spice, like autumn leaves after a light rain. Comforting. Familiar.

They kept talking in hushed tones, broken by stretches of companionable silence. Eventually, Annalise yawned—a genuine, eye-watering one.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, embarrassed.

Cedric noticed immediately. He gently steered her to a less dusty spot by the books. “Alright, you look knackered. Try to get some shut-eye. I’ll keep an ear out for rogue house-elves with lockpicks.” His tone was light, but the care in it was unmistakable. He adjusted the jacket around her shoulders. “Make sure you’re snug.”

Annalise murmured her thanks, eyes already closing. Cedric sat beside her—not too close, but close enough for her to feel his presence. He leaned back, watching her drift off, a soft protectiveness settling over him. The moonlight from the high windows cast gentle shadows on her face. He found himself just… looking. A fondness bloomed in his chest—more than friendship, though he wasn’t sure what it was yet.

Sleep tugged at him, and as he shifted, his arm naturally fell around her shoulders. She instinctively snuggled closer, her head against his chest, sighing softly. A warmth settled between them—something more than just the jacket.

The first pale light of dawn crept through the windows when the heavy oak door creaked open with a groan. Hermione Granger stepped in, her arms precariously stacked with books, brow furrowed in concentration.

She scanned the silent library, expecting solitude. Then she stopped. Her eyes widened. The books in her arms wobbled dangerously.

There, on the floor near a stack of oversized volumes, were Cedric Diggory and Annalise Potter—curled up together.

Annalise stirred first, groaning softly as she stretched. Disoriented at first, she became aware of the comforting weight over her shoulders, the familiar scent of parchment and that uniquely Cedric warmth. She looked up, her eyes meeting his sleepy brown ones.

“Mornin’,” she mumbled, a soft smile curling her lips.

“Morning, Leasie,” Cedric replied, his voice still thick with sleep. He gave her a warm, hazy smile and instinctively tightened his arm around her. A comfortable silence stretched between them, charged with the quiet awareness of closeness.

Their gazes softened. Then, almost without thinking, Cedric leaned in. His lips met hers in a soft, lingering kiss—sweet and loving. A perfect greeting to the day.

It was precisely at that tender moment that Hermione gasped, dropping her stack of books from her arms with a loud crash.

“Annalise Potter!” she hissed, scandalized. Her eyes darted between the two of them, wide with disbelief. “Were you just… kissing? You and Diggory? On the library floor? Before dawn?!”

Annalise jolted upright, cheeks flushed. “Hermione! It’s not—well, it just… happened,” she stammered, flustered.

Cedric sat up too, rubbing the back of his neck. “Er—morning, Hermione. Bit of a long night, actually.”

Hermione stared. “A long night?” Her gaze sharpened. “What did I miss?!"

The Inn- Legolas x Y/N

a/n: Oh my goodness, I loveeee Legolas, and I think that this is an incredible story.

warning: ever so fluffy.

The biting wind of the Rohirrim plains whipped at Y/N’s cloak, and she shivered, pulling it tighter. The company had finally reached a small, remote inn, a welcome respite from the long days of travel. Inside, the warm glow of the hearth promised comfort, but a nagging unease settled in her stomach.

Gimli, with an almost unnerving enthusiasm, clapped her on the shoulder. “Come, lass! Time for a warm bed and a tankard of ale!”

Y/N smiled weakly, following him to the innkeeper. The innkeeper, a stout man with a weary face, looked apologetic. “Only one room left, I’m afraid. A busy night, it seems.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. She glanced at Legolas, who stood beside her, his expression serene as always. “Surely there’s…”

“Aye, only one,” Gimli interrupted, his eyes twinkling. “Unless one of you prefers the floor?”

Neither wanted to impose, so they decided to share. Y/N felt a blush creep up her neck as she followed Legolas to the small, dimly lit room. The single bed, though cozy, seemed impossibly small. However, although it was small, it seemed to be calling Y/N's name, her tiredness nearly overtaking the awkwardness of sharing it with the Prince of Mirkwood.

“I… I can sleep on the edge,” Y/N offered, her voice barely a whisper.

Legolas shook his head. “No, no. It's alright. We'll just maintain our distances." he said shyly.

They settled into the bed, back to back, a chasm of awkwardness between them. Y/N closed her eyes, trying to ignore the warmth radiating from Legolas’s body beside her. Sleep, however, was elusive.

Y/N soon fell into a deep sleep. To her surprise, whenever she awake, she found herself faced towards Legolas, his leg wrapped around her, and her head snuggled into his chest.

Before she could react, the door burst open, and a cacophony of voices filled the room. Gimli’s booming laughter echoed through the small space, followed by the amused chuckles of Merry and Pippin.

“Well, well, well! Look what we have here!” Gimli roared, his eyes wide with mischief.

Y/N and Legolas jumped apart, their faces flushed crimson. “I-I, um, we, this is not at all what it looks like." Y/N stammered, her voice trembling.

Legolas, equally flustered, simply stared at the floor. “Y/N, I am so sorry, I must have turned in my sleep."

The hobbits exchanged knowing glances, their smiles widening. Gimli patted Legolas on the back, his laughter subsiding into a low chuckle. “Aye, of course, lad. ‘turned in your sleep.’ Right.”

The rest of the day passed in a haze of embarrassment. Y/N avoided Legolas’s gaze, her cheeks burning with every glance from the hobbits. As evening fell, she sought solace by the tranquil lake outside the inn. The moon cast a silvery glow across the water, and the gentle lapping of the waves soothed her troubled mind.

“Y/N?”

She turned to see Legolas standing behind her, his eyes filled with a gentle warmth.

“I… I apologize for this morning,” she said, her voice barely audible.

Legolas stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. “There is no need." he said smirking, causing Y/N's heart to flip.

"It- it felt natural. With you." she said, her face flushed.

Legolas’s breath hitched. He reached out, his fingers gently tracing the line of her jaw. “Perhaps it was.”

He pulled her into a passionate kiss, everything else fading. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and his hands went to her waist. After they parted, the moment still lingering, Legolas, stared into her eyes.

"Nni melin thou, aewen nín." Legolas said softly.

Elvish to English

Nni melin thou, aewen nín- I adore you, my love

Cherry Blossoms: Fili x Y/N- Fili POV

Word Count: 1092, I think

Warnings: Fluff, fluff, FLUFF, all the fluff!!!

A/N: I loved writing this one and getting a different view from my general Kili x readers that I do on google docs. Btw this is my first time posting one soooo it might be kinda cringey. Plz let me know in the notes if there's anything I should work on!

The sun dipped below the peaks of the Misty Mountains, casting long shadows across the emerald green meadow. I sat beneath a magnificent cherry blossom tree, its branches heavy with delicate pink blossoms. The weight of the crown, newly forged, surprisingly heavy on my brow. Erebor was ours, reclaimed from the dragon's clutches, but a strange emptiness gnawed at me, a yearning for something more than gold and the weight of kingship.

I thought of y/n, her laughter echoing in the halls of Rivendell, the way her eyes, the color of a stormy sea, would light up when she spoke of Elvish lore. I, the warrior, had found myself drawn to her quiet strength, to the way her mind seemed to devour knowledge with an insatiable hunger.

I imagined evenings spent poring over dusty tomes, our voices a low murmur in the firelight. Long walks beneath a canopy of stars, our conversation meandering through history, myth, and the mysteries of the world. The thought of such a life… it wasn't just a dream, it was a faint, impossible hope. A hope that quickly flickered, remembering Thorin's stern disapproval of such… distractions. Thorin, ever the king, believed my focus should be solely on rebuilding Erebor, on forging strong alliances, on ensuring the dwarves' prosperity. Romance, in Thorin's eyes, was a luxury for lesser men.

A rustle in the tall grass startled me. I drew my sword, my hand instinctively reaching for the hilt, before I recognized the figure emerging from the shadows. It was y/n.

Her face was pale, etched with a weariness that mirrored my own. But her eyes, those stormy seas, held a flicker of something I couldn't quite name - perhaps concern, perhaps something more. "Fili," she breathed, her voice a whisper.

Time seemed to slow. The setting sun, the rustling grass, even the distant murmur of the river faded into the background. There, before me, stood the woman who had haunted my thoughts.

"Y/n," I replied, my voice rough with surprise. "What brings you here?"

She hesitated, her gaze dropping to the floor. "I… I heard whispers of your victory. And I… I wanted to see you."

A strange warmth spread across my face, a fragile hope blooming in the desolate landscape of my grief. The journey had been arduous, but we had survived. Perhaps this was not the end of our journey, but a new beginning. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was still beauty to be found in the world. I quickly pushed away the thought of Thorin's disapproval. My own happiness mattered.

I gestured towards the space beside me beneath the cherry blossom tree. "Come, sit."

As she moved closer, a shower of delicate pink petals fell around us like snow. I noticed the way my cloak brushed against her arm, a fleeting touch that sent a jolt through me. It wasn't the cold that made me shiver. It was something else entirely.

I watched as she sat, her eyes drawn to the distant peaks, a thoughtful expression gracing her lips. The setting sun cast a golden glow on her face, highlighting the delicate curve of her cheek and the way her hair, the color of spun moonlight, shimmered in the fading light. Petals from the cherry blossom tree rained down around us, creating a magical, ethereal atmosphere.

"It is beautiful here," she murmured, her voice barely audible.

"Indeed," I agreed, my gaze fixed on her. "Erebor is beautiful, but sometimes… sometimes it feels too grand, too imposing."

She turned to me, a curious expression in her eyes. "And what do you seek, Fili? In this vast kingdom?"

I hesitated, unsure how to articulate the yearning that had been growing within me. "Peace," I finally admitted, "and… and something more."

I saw a flicker of understanding in her eyes, a mirroring of the emotions that swirled within me. The silence that followed was not awkward, but rather a comfortable hush, filled with unspoken words and shared glances.

Emboldened by the growing intensity of her gaze, I leaned closer. The scent of cherry blossoms and spring filled the air. I could feel her breath on my face, warm and soft. I longed to close the distance between us, to feel her lips brush against my own.

And then, I did. I leaned in, my eyes closed, and pressed my lips to hers. It was a fleeting touch, a tentative exploration, but it ignited a fire within me.

But before I could respond, a voice boomed through the meadow, "Fili! What in Durin's beard are you doing?!"

Kili, his face a mixture of shock and amusement, stood a short distance away, his hands on his hips. The moment was shattered. I pulled back, my face flushed. I looked from Kili to y/n, her cheeks tinged with a blush that rivaled the sunset.

Kili, ever the mischievous one, grinned. "Found yourself a sweetheart, brother?" he teased, his voice dripping with amusement.

I, flustered, could only stammer, "Kili! You… you startled me."

She managed a small smile. "It seems we were… interrupted," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

Kili, ever the observer, raised an eyebrow. "Seems like it. Well, I'll let you two lovebirds get back to, well, you know what." He winked, then turned and strode away, whistling a jaunty tune.

I watched him go, a mixture of annoyance and amusement washing over me. I turned back to y/n, my face still flushed. "I… I apologize," I stammered. "Kili has a… tendency to appear at inopportune moments."

She smiled, her eyes sparkling.

I leaned in again, my eyes searching hers. This time, the kiss was deeper, more intense, a yearning expressed in a single, passionate movement. I tasted the sweetness of her lips, the faint scent of wildflowers in her hair.

She closed her eyes, savoring the moment.

She noticed a piece of hair in front of my ear. She smiled caringly and swept the hair behind my ear. I felt a shiver run down my spine, and my breath stifled. "What's wrong?" she said anxiously. "Do you really not know?" I smiled at her with a small smirk in a slightly surprised way. "Know what?" she asked. "How sensitive and delicate a dwarf's ears are." I said. "O-Oh!" she said. "I'm so sorry, I didn't-" she began to stress. "No, no, it's alright." I said reassuringly. I slowly leaned in towards her, getting lost in her lovely, e/c eyes.

I gently brushed my lips against hers, a slow, tender kiss that deepened as I lost myself in the sensation of her lips against mine. I tasted the sweetness of her breath, the faint scent of wildflowers in her hair.

She sighed softly against my lips, her hands finding their way to my shoulders, pulling me closer still. It was a kiss filled with unspoken promises, a declaration of love whispered on the breeze.

However, she now knew the thing about dwarves, and she caressingly stroked my ear before running her hands through my hair. I freely moaned into her mouth, and I could feel a grin forming on her lips. I pulled away slowly. "I love you, Amralime." I said sweetly. "I love you too."

The Start of Something New- Legolas x You

a/n: ok guys, I understand, the title is cringe, but I hope that you will find the fanfic otherwise, and I don't understand why i'm doing another legolas fanfic (i'm obsessed deal with it), but here you go!

warnings: fluff

The scent of crushed herbs still clung to your fingers as you moved briskly through one of Rivendell’s winding corridors, a fresh poultice nestled carefully in your hands. A young elfling had taken a tumble in the gardens, and you were on your way to tend to their scraped knees and bruised pride.

You were not paying enough attention, and only realized this too late, when you ran into a tall figure.

You let out a soft gasp as the poultice slipped from your hands, scattering petals and torn leaves across the polished floor. You stumbled back a step, cheeks already burning.

“Oh my! I- I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you,” you blurted, steadying yourself.

The elf you’d nearly knocked over bent gracefully, already helping you gather the mess with a calm you envied. When you met his gaze, the apology caught in your throat.

Oh my..

His eyes were a clear, glacial blue—striking, but not cold. He smiled gently.

“There’s no need to apologize,” he said, handing you a dried peony bloom. “It seems we were both in a hurry.”

There was something easy in his voice, unbothered by the interruption. His presence felt grounded, peaceful.

“I’m Legolas.”

“Y/N,” you managed, still flustered. “I serve in the healing houses here.”

“A healer,” he repeated with quiet approval. “A gift not all are given.” There was a warmth to his words, and something else behind his smile that lingered as he handed you the last of the scattered herbs.

The encounter stayed with you, lingering in your thoughts like a half-remembered melody. You saw him again over the next few days—always in passing, never more than a nod or a brief glance across a courtyard. But it was enough.

Then came the Council. You’d been asked to remain nearby in case your skills were needed. Elrond deemed it necessary for you to come with the Fellowship, thanks to your talents. You entered quietly, your presence more shadow than spotlight. Yet even amid the weighty conversations, your attention caught on him. Legolas stood beside another elf who radiated command, and beside Arwen, who noticed your glance and gave you a smile that said too much without a word.

Elrond introduced the members of the Fellowship, but one name caught your attention.

“Prince Legolas Greenleaf of Mirkwood.”

Prince. HE’S A PRINCE?! 

And you’d addressed him like an old friend.

That night, drawn by some mix of embarrassment and impulse, you found him alone in one of Rivendell’s quieter gardens, standing near a fountain where moonlight played across the water.

“Legolas,” you said gently. He turned to you, a small smile upon seeing your face.

“I wanted to apologize,” you continued. “When we met—I didn’t realize who you were. I should’ve been more formal.”

He tilted his head, regarding you with something like amusement. “I hope you won’t be.”

You blinked. “What?”

“We were both in a rush. At that time, there was no need for formalities.” His gaze held yours for a moment longer than expected. “And in truth, I am not fond of always being addressed by a title.”

A silence settled between you, slightly awkward, but you wouldn’t have changed it for anything. The stars hung low overhead, reflected in the stillness of the fountain. For a moment, all seemed at peace.

The next morning, you found Arwen in her favorite sunlit alcove, embroidery resting in her lap like a forgotten thought.

“So Arwen,” you said, a smirk playing on your lips, “I saw you and Aragorn on the bridge.”

She smiled back. “Oh please. Don’t act like I didn’t see you and the Prince last night. You do know that we can see the garden from the bridge.”

You hesitated, then asked, “Wait, we? As in you and Aragorn?”

Her brows lifted in quiet mischief. “Yes. He told Legolas as well.”

You opened your mouth to protest, your face a deep crimson, but she cut you off, laughter in her voice. “However, it was just a conversation, of course. Nothing more.” she paused. “But if it were more… well. You’ll have time. After all, you’ll be traveling together.”

Your heart did a traitorous, little flip.

Time. And who knows what could happen from there.

Oh my yesssssss I'm obsessed

thank you @spideyanakin i think i've lost it this is good soup🍲

HEY! Idk if your requests are actually open anymore, but if they are, I have a little something ;)

If you’re down to write it (and if you haven’t written anything like this before, if you have ignore this lol I’m sure I’ll find it), could I get a Legolas x reader (either fem or gn is fine, whichever you prefer!)?

Maybe reader is apart of the fellowship as a healer and they’re patching him up after a battle and scolding him to be more careful. The rest of the fellowship totally wanting them to get together and chuckling.

Idk I just thought that might be cute lol. Again I f this doesn’t interest you/you’ve written something like it before, free to ignore this <3

invincible (l.g)

warnings - mentions of wounds, suggestive joke, legolas bleeding, fluff?

word count - 0.7k

back to main masterlist

legolas masterlist

An offence only orcs and enemies of Arda could have the courage to do.

The calm after the storm reigned in the remains of the fellowship; Gandalf was gone, Frodo and Sam left to journey on their own, Merry and Pippin were kidnapped, Boromir died before your eyes…

In that mess of events, as you all camped to recover from battle, Legolas hadn’t noticed the large gash on his cheek, and only did when he ran his hand over his cheek to wipe off what he had thought had been dirt.

But when his fingers pealed from his cheek to show a redish liquid hot to the touch, he thought he was going to explode.

Legolas was bleeding.

Elves never bled.

Elves were trained not to bleed, trained to defend themselves and use the signs of nature as warnings.

Even the act of making an elf bleed was a terrible offence.

And then he felt it, his left leg buckled and a blinding pain hit from the back of his calf.

This was a true insult, and anger flashed through him as he leaned against a tree, long forgetting the wood he had been collecting for the fire.

His pain was a reflection of a moment of weakness.

And all this for you.

Legolas was a fierce warrior but when it came to your safety he, unfortunately, became distracted. Making his fighting stance reckless. Not that you couldn’t defend yourself, he knew your skills and trusted your own elven senses: but you were a healer. You were there to tend wounds and help them on their journey, not fight orcs.

"Legolas," your soft voice brought him out of his sulking. “You’re bleeding," you noted. Your voice wasn’t harsh, but firm—an expression of your worries and a command that he came promptly over to you.

You knew he hated showing weakness, hated that he needed to seek your help, but the gash on his cheek and the bleeding from his leg he was yet to notice had to be tended to.

He trotted to your spot by the stack of bags that had been dropped for the night to sit down in front of you, and started to observe as you fished through your satchel to grab whatever was needed to tend to his wounds.

He watched as you grabbed a piece of fabric, following your movements to see you open a small bottle and embed the fabric with its contents.

"You have to be more careful," you mumbled, carefully pressing the sanitiser across his cheek. "I saw you out there, you could have gotten killed."

"I was trying to protect you," his words made you stop your movements for a brief instant—eyes locking with his. You suddenly felt heat creep up your cheeks, and before you could let it affect you, you continued your movements.

"You know I can fight, Legolas. You need to take care of yourself first," you almost whispered, content with your work when the gash was clean. "Fold your leg," you ordered before he could muster another reply and he complied, folding his legs so you could properly see the side of his calf.

You didn’t need to bother with a knife; the hit was already making the material of his pants rip apart. A simple touch was enough to reveal the large cut across the side of his leg.

He hissed as your mixture of magic herbs cleansed the wound, just like the one of his cheek.

He didn’t know what else to say, he wasn’t going to stop taking care of you on the battle fields, not today and not ever. And as he watched you tend to his wound, concentration deep in your eyes—he was starting to guess why he felt so protective over you.

And it wasn’t just because you were healer who wasn’t a trained fighter.

"He’s totally in love with her," Gimli mumbled to Aragorn who was washing his spare shirt in the nearby river.

From his spot on the perched rock, he could clearly see the two of you. Watching as you carefully tended to your prince’s wound, and Legolas’s longing stare towards you.

"Legolas has always held affection towards her," Aragorn noted, sending a light chuckle towards Gimli.

"More than affection! He’s basically undressing her with his eyes!"

"Gimli!" Aragorn scolded, suppressing the smirk that threatened to rise.

"What?"

Hope- Legolas x OC

a/n: my oc's name is Liliandith Tristeli, a Sindarin elf that Legolas has been friends with since birth, and recently (I will post soon) became more ;)

warning: fluffy, descriptive, vision that some may find disturbing (idk)

Lilly drifted into a troubled sleep. Images of Merry and Pippin, their faces bright with laughter as they shared stories or teased Gimli, flickered through her mind. Then, the images twisted into nightmare. She saw them dragged away by grotesque figures, their small hands reaching out in desperation.

Suddenly, the darkness shifted. A faint light bloomed, and she saw Merry and Pippin again, not in despair, but within a vast, ancient forest. Towering trees with gnarled branches surrounded them, and though their faces still held a trace of fear, there was also a flicker of curiosity. They seemed to be talking, gesturing upwards at the immense trees. A sense of truth permeated the vision, a feeling of deep-rooted power.hf

Lilly awoke with a gasp, her heart pounding. The vision felt so real, so vivid. She sat up, the faint light of the dying embers casting long shadows across the sleeping figures of Aragorn and Gimli. Beside her, Legolas was awake, staring at her lovely face, and cuddling next to her.

“Lilly? What is it?” he murmured, his hands running through her hair to comfort her.

“I… I had a vision,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “About Merry and Pippin.”

She recounted the dream, the fear, the strange forest, the sense of ancient power. Legolas listened intently, his brow furrowed in thought.

“A forest such as you describe… it could be the realm of the Ents, the Shepherds of the Trees,” he said slowly. “It lies not far from the borders of Rohan.”

A spark of hope ignited within Lilly. “Do you think… do you think they are alive? That they are there?”

“The vision felt… hopeful,” Legolas agreed, his eyes meeting hers. “It did not carry the shadow of death. We must go. We must follow this thread.”

A look of determination hardened his features. He glanced at the sleeping forms of Aragorn and Gimli. "They have their own path to follow, the hunt for the Uruk-hai. But we are called elsewhere. We will leave before dawn."

Lilly nodded, a sense of urgency and shared purpose filling her. They would not abandon their friends. Silently, they began to gather a few essential supplies, their movements practiced and efficient. They left a brief note for Aragorn, explaining Lilly's vision and their decision to seek the hobbits towards Fangorn.

Under the cloak of the predawn darkness, Legolas and Lilly slipped away from the inn, their horses' hooves muffled on the soft earth. They rode swiftly towards the west, the image of the ancient forest guiding their way.

Their journey across the Rohirrim plains was swift, driven by the desperate hope kindled by Lilly’s vision. The vast, windswept landscape held a stark beauty, but their focus remained fixed on reaching the borders of Fangorn Forest.

They were soon intercepted by a company of Rohirrim riders, their helms glinting in the morning sun. Their leader, Éomer, son of Éomund, regarded them with suspicion.

“Why would two elves be needed in Rohan?”

After a tense exchange, during which Legolas explained their urgent quest to find their lost companions who had been taken by Orcs, Éomer listened with a grim understanding. He spoke of the Orc raid, the burning of villages, and the trail leading towards Fangorn Forest.

“Fangorn,” Legolas murmured, exchanging a significant look with Lilly.

Éomer warned them of the dangers within the ancient woods, speaking of strange noises and unsettling shadows. But Lilly’s vision had planted a seed of conviction in her heart. She knew, with a certainty that none could describe, that Merry and Pippin were there.  She recalled Boromir’s death with fear in her eyes.

“Lilly,” he said. “I need you to take care of the hobbits for me. They have long been in my care, and I-”

“I will, Boromir.” she replied kindly, knowing that at least he had turned out well in the end. 

Éomer eventually, seeing the genuine distress in their eyes, allowed them to continue towards the forest, though he offered the same grim warning about its perils. He provided them with fresh horses, recognizing the urgency of their mission.

Following the direction Éomer’s riders had indicated, Legolas and Lilly reached the edge of Fangorn Forest. An ancient stillness hung in the air, the silence broken only by the rustling of unseen leaves. The trees were immense, their bark thick and gnarled, their branches reaching towards the sky like thin, skeletal, fingers. It was the forest of Lilly’s vision.

Deep within the woods, they heard voices, strange and resonant, like the creaking of old wood and the murmur of running water. They moved cautiously, Legolas’s keen senses guiding them through the dense undergrowth.

Then, they saw them. Merry and Pippin sat at the foot of a massive tree, talking animatedly with a towering, tree-like being – an Ent. The hobbits looked thinner, dirtier, but their eyes shone with life and a newfound understanding.

Lilly’s breath caught in her throat. Relief washed over her in a powerful wave, so intense it almost brought her to her knees. She started to run forward, Legolas close behind.

“Merry! Pippin!” she cried, her voice choked with emotion as tears streamed down her face.

The hobbits turned, their faces lighting up with pure joy. “Lilly! Legolas!” they shouted in unison, scrambling to their feet and rushing towards them.

The reunion was a tangle of relieved laughter and tight embraces. Lilly held them close, feeling their small frames against her, the weight of her worry finally lifting. Legolas clapped them on the shoulder, a rare and genuine smile gracing his lips. “I was so worried, you two!” Lilly said, her voice breaking.

“We’re alright, Lilly! So much has happened!” Pippin exclaimed, his eyes wide with the tale he was eager to tell.

Merry nodded enthusiastically. “Wait until you hear about Treebeard!”

The bond between Lilly and the hobbits was clear, a testament to the care and affection Boromir had recognized. Legolas, witnessing their joy, felt a warmth spread through him, a deeper understanding of Lilly’s fierce loyalty and the depth of her compassion.

Later, as the sun began to dip below the ancient canopy, casting long shadows through the woods, Lilly sat with Merry and Pippin, listening with rapt attention as they recounted their experiences with the Ents. They were safe, they were alive, and that was all that mattered.

Before they settled down for the night, Merry and Pippin, nestled close to Lilly, exchanged a warm, brotherly hug with her, and then offered a similar, if slightly more hesitant, hug to Legolas, who returned it with a gentle smile. It was a subtle recognition of their shared struggles and the unwavering affection that bound them.

As the hobbits finally drifted off to sleep, their small faces peaceful, Lilly turned to Legolas, who sat beside her, watching over them with a gentle gaze. She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. 

“Thank you. For everything.” She said softly.

“Always, meleth nîn.” 

He turned his head and met her lips in a kiss that sent a tremor down her body as he moved his hand to her waist. His mouth moved over hers slowly, and lingered for a while even after the kiss was over, the taste of his lips still staying on hers as he held her to his chest.

"I love you" he said, pulling a strand of hair behind her ear,

"I love you too."

meleth nîn- my love (sindarin)

Okay yall, im starting a new short series!

only five posts now but more will come :)

random poll :)

for all my th and lotr lovers