My Heart Is At Peace Once More.

My heart is at peace once more.

Should’ve Known Better II; Lee Felix

Genre: superhero!au, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

Word count: 3.2K

Warnings: mentions of injuries, mentions of a (minor) character death, kisses

Hi, loves! Guess who’s finally back with a fic :’) I am low-key nervous to post again after going on an unannounced/unintentional hiatus, but I hope you will like this part 2 of Should’ve Known Better! Don’t forget to leave feedback 🫶

Read part one HERE

Drip drop. Drip drop.

The sound of the leaking water pipe in the dark cave was slowly making Felix lose his mind the past two days. With hooded eyes, he scanned the weapons laying scattered on the tables. He wondered if the men had left them there on purpose to taunt Felix. As if to say: “if only you weren't completely beaten up, you would've been able to get the weapons and eliminate us. If only Y/n had not betrayed you and put you in chains that suppressed your powers, maybe then you'd be free now.”

Felix wiped his eye but immediately winced at the pain rushing through his face at the action. The hit he received to his right eye left it bruised.

After you left him in the cave two days ago, the men Felix had been trying to catch for a year, quickly arrived and when they saw on Felix, nasty grins covered their lips. Even though he was supposed to feel scared, and terrified even when the men started running tests on him and didn't hesitate to beat him up some more, the only thing Felix could feel was pain. And not the physical one. The only thought on his mind was you. The pain you caused him. The nonexistent love you made him believe in. With sweet words and soft touches, you led him to his own grave. You backstabbed him in the worst way possible. You broke his heart entirely.

Felix let out a ragged breath as he averted his eyes to the wound on his chest. If he wouldn't get antibiotics soon, it was going to get infected badly. And without any of his healing powers, he wasn't sure if he'd survive that. Although, surviving did not seem like a possibility anyways anymore. Felix just had a hard time accepting that. This couldn't be the end of him, right? What was the city going to do without one of its superheroes? Who was going to protect the people of Miroh against Black Venom once they acquired Felix’s powers?

A tear rolled down Felix's cheek and he closed his eyes. Maybe it was best if he died as soon as possible.  Escaping was not an option anymore and if the men would come back and run more tests on him, they had more chance to get to what they were looking for: how to copy Felix's powers and use them to their own advantage. Felix would rather die than catch sight of the damage they would do once they had the powers he owned.

The muffled sound of a small crack interrupted the silence in the cave and Felix's train of thought. He frowned but his eyes remained shut. Must have been just a rat, he thought.

Another sound entered Felix's ears, this time a louder one, and he opened his fatigued eyes. The sound seemed to have come from above him and he looked up. His eyes fell on the ceiling vent and he gradually frowned when the vent seemed to shake slightly. Felix narrowed his eyes and slowly tried to push himself up to get a closer look at where the sound was coming from.

Complete silence engulfed the cave once again but Felix did not sit back down. He slowly titled his head, his eyes scanning the vent.

All of a sudden a loud bang was heard and Felix jumped back before the vent came crashing down, missing the already injured boy by just a hair or two.

Felix's chest heaved up and down with erratic breathing as he looked at the hole in the ceiling with wide eyes.

Only a second later a person dropped from the hole and gracefully landed on both hands and feet on the cold floor.

Felix shook his head. This couldn't be-

"They should clean that space up someday," you muttered as you looked up at the ceiling you just dropped out off.

You turned to Felix and your throat immediately tightened at the sight. He looked ten times as bad as when you left him here two days ago. Dry blood stuck to the freckled skin of his face and dark blue swelling surrounded his right eye. They had stripped him off his shirt, making the large wound on his chest visible to you.

Your lower lip trembled but you quickly cleared your throat and looked away. "They beat you up well, I see."

Although he was beaten up physically, you felt like the worst damage was done mentally. His eyes seemed to be stolen of life and emotion. He was almost unrecognizable.

"What are you doing here?" Felix growled, looking up at you from the ground.

"Oh, I don't know, watch a movie and chat a little- Of course, I came to get you out of here," you quipped before looking down at him but he just frowned.

"And why on earth would I trust you? You might as well get me out of here to sell me to an even worse gang for more money," Felix retorted and you slightly winced before nodding.

"Okay, I deserved that one. I made a mistake, I know I did. But if you were in my posit-" you quickly caught yourself and swallowed your words before sighing with closed eyes. "I have no valid reason to give you to believe or trust me, but please, Felix, we do not have much time before they come back so I have no other option than to hope you'll believe me so we can get out of here," you almost begged the boy. Felix inspected you as if trying to decide whether trusting you again was the worst decision he could make. "Please," you whispered.

"Free me from these chains," Felix murmured and you froze for a second before quickly nodding.

Not even five seconds later, the locks of the chains were opened, revealing Felix's bruised wrists.

You watched him as he took deep, ragged breaths and you knew his powers were coming back to him. But with the severity of his injuries, you weren't sure his powers were able to heal him quick enough or give him enough strength to be able to fight the gang, at least now.

"You're too weak to fight them now."

Felix's wild eyes shot up at you and without thinking you took a step back. You had brought Felix into this situation, and now that his powers were back, it wouldn't be a surprise if he ended you here and now. You just had not thought about that before coming here. The only thing on your mind was Felix and the need to save him. You were blinded by guilt and by the love you wished you didn't feel for the boy.

Felix noticed the way you balled your fists and let out a bitter chuckle. "I am not going to kill you, Y/n. I am not like you," he hoarsely stated and his words hit you like a punch in the face.

You shook your head and tears pooled in your eyes. "I am not a murdered, Felix."

This made fury flash in Felix's eyes and in a sharp movement, he had you backed up against the wall with the side of his forearm horizontally pressing against your throat.

"Leaving me here to my death comes pretty close to my definition of being a murderer," Felix breathed.

You looked up at the ceiling before squeezing your eyes shut, causing a tear to escape. "You just don't understand, Felix. You never will."

Felix's jaw tightened and he inched closer to you, his nose brushing against yours.

"Try me, Y/n."

He tilted his face, his lips now almost touching yours as his arm pressed harder against your throat.

"Explain to me why you did what you did and let me be the one to decide whether I'll understand you or not," he hissed.

Felix had never scared you before.

But after betraying him the way you did, you wouldn't blame him if he did hurt you. He just told you he wouldn't kill you, but the fire in his eyes was telling you otherwise. And you couldn't be mad at him for it. Maybe you did deserve this.

He had been beaten up, starved, and run tests on. All because of you, someone he trusted, someone he loved. 

"We don't have much time left, Felix. Y-You have to trust me and let me get you out of here."

His dark eyes searched for yours and for a second a thick silence fell over the cave as you and Felix stared at each other. Another tear rolled down your cheek and Felix's eyes flickered from yours to the tear.

Slowly he let go of you and stepped back. But just as he was going to speak up, he stumbled and you quickly stepped forward to catch him. "Felix?!"

"I-I'm fine," he wearily murmured but the blue veins appearing on his face and chest told you otherwise. What was going on with him?

Your eyes flickered to the chains laying on the ground and it was only when you saw the blue liquid dripping from it, you realized Black Venom poisoned the metal.

Your eyes widened. "Oh my God, they poisoned you-"

Before he could respond, the door of the cave opened.

"Felix, get down!" You screamed.

With the last strength left in Felix's body, he ducked and you raised your arm to release a blow from your arm cannon.

The blast aimed at the Black Venom member sent the man flying against the wall behind him. Felix's eyes widened as they flickered from the unconscious man on the floor back to you with shock written all over his face.

"I'm on your side, Felix. Please believe me," you breathed, scared for the rest of the gang to arrive after hearing the combustion. Felix finally nodded.

You released a relieved breath. "Hold onto me."

Felix wrapped his arms around you and just before the rest of Black Venom came crashing into the cave, the two of you disappeared through the hole in the ceiling.

"So you know Black Venom?” Felix murmured as you finished wrapping the wound on his chest with a bandage. He was sitting down on the counter in your bathroom and watched you with dark eyes. You placed the first aid kit beside him on the counter and nodded as you prepared the shot with the antidote, avoiding eye contact with the boy.

"Before I can continue treating your other wounds, you will first need the antidote. The antidote does subdue your healing powers for a while, but without it, you won't survive for longer than a week. Therefore, I will treat your worst injuries and you will have to stay here until you're strong enough to lea-

"How?"

You looked up with a questioning expression on your face.

"How do you know Black Venom?" He asked.

You sighed, wondering if he even heard anything you just explained.

"My dad used to work for them."

Felix frowned as he watched you but stayed silent to allow you to continue.

"Growing up, my family did not have much money. We lived in the slum of Miroh. I saw how my father and mother would go to bed hungry, just so they could feed me and my siblings," you started before looking up at Felix.

"You said you didn't have family," Felix frowned.

You chuckled softly. "Because I did not want anyone to know they existed. It would only expose them to danger." Tears brimmed in your eyes but you quickly cleared your throat and held up the shot.

"This is going to hurt," you murmured.

You took a step closer to the boy, now standing in between his legs so you'd be able to have access to his neck. You immediately noticed the way he held his breath at the close proximity between you two but you tried your best to ignore it.

You placed your left hand on the side of his neck to keep it steady before piercing the needle through the skin on the right side of his neck.

Felix let out a gasp followed by a loud groan and his hands immediately shot to your waist, squeezing it tightly.

"Breathe, Felix, breathe," you whispered and after letting out a whimper, he dropped his forehead on your shoulder, loosening his grip on your waist but keeping his hands there. His chest heaved with heavy breathing and you couldn't help but entangle your left hand in his hair, softly stroking it to calm the boy down.

"Go on. Tell me more about your past. Distract me," he pleaded and you quickly nodded. 

"T-the moment I was old enough to make money, I did everything in my power to do so. When I was eleven I would sell posters, candy, flowers, anything that could give me a little bit of money to give to my parents,” you rambled before taking a deep breath. “But it wasn't enough. And that is when my father got involved with Black Venom."

Felix slightly shifted against your body but stayed silent.

"My father was a good man. He wasn't a criminal. But he needed money to keep his family alive, Felix, and working for Black Venom brought him money," you whispered and it was only when you looked at yourself through the mirror behind Felix, that you noticed the tear rolling down your cheek.

"But even if he wasn't a criminal by heart, being involved with Black Venom meant living in a dangerous underworld of criminals that could cost his life. And it did. The police shot him when I had just turned sixteen."

Felix frowned, feeling tears brim in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered against the skin of your shoulder.

You nodded, more tears falling from your eyes. "My mother was so heartbroken, she couldn't take care of my siblings and me anymore, so I knew I had to do it. I went to look for Black Venom. I hoped that because they knew my father, they could provide me and my family with some money, just enough so we could move away from Miroh and start a new life somewhere else." You scoffed, remembering how they reacted when they saw you. "I begged them on my knees, Felix. And they sent me away. Saying I was not their problem, that my family was not their problem. That my father's death was his own problem."

Felix clenched his jaw, feeling a weight of anger press onto his chest.

"And that's when I made the stupid decision of trying to steal from them. I was only sixteen and desperate, so one night I planned to rob one of their storages."

Felix raised his head to look at you, forgetting about the pain in his body from the antidote. "They caught you,” he mumbled, looking into your eyes.

You nodded. "I have been working for them ever since. They said they'd kill me and my family if I didn't."

"God, Y/n," Felix whispered.

"I'm sorry I made you fall into their trap, I am sorry I lied to you," you croaked before a sob escaped from your lips and Felix shook his head.

Your breath hitched in your throat when the boy wrapped his arms around you and pressed you against his body in a tight hug. Immediately, you buried your face in his neck, and he comfortingly stroked your hair as you cried.

"You did what you had to do to protect your family," he murmured, making you wrap your arms around Felix tightly.

"But you didn't deserve any of tha-"

"You risked your life to come back for me," Felix interrupted you with a soft voice.

Slowly, you looked up at him and searched for his eyes only to find he was already looking at you.

A thick silence engulfed the small bathroom as Felix and you looked each other in the eyes.

"I might've lied a lot to you," you quietly started, your voice hoarse. "But I never lied about my feelings."

Felix's heartbeat sped up and he held his breath.

"All of it was real. All our moments, all our kisses.. it was real, Felix."

Felix swallowed and his hand slowly made its way to cup your face, wiping the tears from your cheek with his thumb. "All of it?" He whispered carefully.

"All of it," you replied and after the three words entered Felix's ears, he closed the gap by pressing his warm lips onto yours.

Your eyes fluttered shut and your heart immediately seemed to grow a size at the familiar feeling you had missed so much. The feeling of his plush lips moving in sync with yours, the feeling of sharing his breath, of being so incredibly close to him.

You carefully placed your hands on his waist and the feeling made Felix's skin burn. His thumb stroked your cheek as he pulled away slightly only to tilt his head and capture your lips with his again.

Although you wished the moment would never end, you pulled away and rested your forehead against his. "Felix," you whispered and he hummed while trying to catch his breath.

"I-I can not stay here."

Felix opened his eyes and his eyebrows furrowed together. "What do you mean?" He breathed as he tried to look for your eyes that were avoiding his.

"Staying in Miroh is too dangerous for my family, Lix. I am planning on taking them and leaving as soon as possible."

Felix's lower lip slightly trembled as he hastily shook his head. “What? No.”

You stepped back before turning around and running a hand through your hair, not knowing what to say to him.

Felix jumped off the counter and stepped closer to you once again. "Y/n, you can't leave."

You turned around and looked at Felix with sadness painted all over your face.

"I can't lose you again," Felix stated with glossy eyes.

“But-"

"I will protect you and your family, Y/n. Now that I know everything, I can protect you. After the two days I've been in their cave, I know what Black Venom wants, I know their weak spots. I know how to fight them now, how to defeat them," Felix rambled as he took your hands in his. "I will protect your family, Y/n, I promise. Hyunjin, Minho, Han, and all the other heroes of Miroh can protect them now we know of their existence. Please trust me.”

You looked into his desperate but determined eyes and even with the fear for your family's safety still existing, you believed Felix was speaking the truth. He would keep you and your family safe. The other heroes of Miroh would help. He would be able to capture Black Venom now and you wouldn’t have to work for or run from them anymore. Things could finally get better.

"Do you promise?" You mumbled as you took a step closer to Felix.

He intertwined your fingers with his and rested his forehead against yours.

"I promise."

Though I Know My Heart Would Break

Request: For the poll that Legolas won! You guys sent in a few prompts, I've incorporated: sick (injured, rather) fic, hurt/comfort, everyone lives, and reader confesses first! Hope you guys like it! (Title is from Hozier's Francesca that has me in a chokehold)

Legolas x Reader

Gender-neutral reader

Content warnings: Mild injury (no overly graphic descriptions)

3.7k words

---

You walked through the forest, ducking under the cedar branches, weaving between the cypresses. The air was rich with the scent of herbs — thyme and sage, marjoram and parsley. The late afternoon sun filtered in through the canopy, specking the forest floor with light. Legolas’ footsteps were silent on the soft ground, but the steady clopping of the horse he was leading reassured you of his presence.

With the coronation over, and Eowyn and Faramir wed, attention was turned to restoring Minas Tirith and setting up a settlement at Emyn Arnen. You and Legolas were tasked with surveying the land and forests around Emyn Arnen. Sam was curious about the plants, hearing how new and different they were to those back in The Shire, but Frodo’s reluctance to stray further than the Citadel kept him in Minas Tirith. 

You paused by a cluster of pink rockfoils, thumbing the thin stems before plucking a few small flowers and tucking them into a waxed pouch. 

“Mellon nin,” Legolas said, sounding half-amused, half-exasperated, “Why do you pause and pluck? You have been doing so since we arrived. ”

“They’re for Sam. He might have agreed to stay in Minas Tirith, but I saw the shade of disappointment in his eyes. I thought perhaps I could bring the forest to him instead.”

His lips tugged up at the corners. “And what will you give the forest in return?”

“What do you mean?” You frowned and stood. 

He smiled, soft and knowing, eyes wandering over the barks and branches. “These trees have been left at peace for many years, the bushes and shrubs untouched. They are not used to wandering fingers and restless feet.”

You glanced down at the patch of rockfoils, the decapitated stems looking more brutal in light of Legolas’ words. Your lips twisted and he chuckled, and your eyes drifted back to him.

He had always been so full of light and laughter, even during the endless days and dark nights, even after Gandalf fell, even after the hobbits were taken. Ethereal, that was what people said of the elves. Otherworldly. 

But he looked so human, so normal, standing in a patch of sunlight, laughing at the concerned expression on your face. There were smudges of dirt on his boots, dew dotting the bottom hem of his cloak, and even a small leaf lodged in his hair. 

Yes, Legolas has always just been Legolas to you. 

Perhaps that was why it had been so easy to lose your heart to him. How could you not? While the others regarded him with a deference, or awe in the hobbits’ case, or even confusion at his elf customs, he had never truly seemed so different to you. His eyes, brown and alive in the light, still crinkled at the corners when he smiled. His voice, low and melodious, still cracked when he spoke of sorrows. And his hands, delicate and strong, still bore soft calluses from his bow. 

The last couple of days had been so indulgently wonderful. Without the threat of war or the constant need for secrecy and vigilance, being out in the wilds once more was soothing. It was a great secret joy, of course, that you had Legolas’ undivided attention. 

He had been more loose limbed and free with touches. Hands grazing yours as you walked, his knee against yours while you sat. His eyes too, seemed to melt into an amber by the fire, a tenderness in his gaze. It felt as though the seed of friendship had slowly, slowly, started to grow into something more. 

“Shall we continue on?” He said, and inclined his head towards the distant sound of water. “We can set up camp and leave our things while we walk the forest.”

You nodded and smiled before looking away, eyes scanning the forest floor before they landed on a patch of flowers. They were strange looking, three pronged with large paper-like petals. You knelt by them, carefully cutting the blooms with your knife, and idly said, “It is beautiful here, is it not?”

He hummed in agreement. “I could envisage residing here for a time, should Faramir allow it.”

You glanced at him over your shoulder and chuckled. “You should speak to Sam. Aragorn has already consulted him on some of the gardens in the Citadel, it would not surprise me if Faramir would ask him to Emyn Arnen to design something.”

“Those flowers,” he began, stepping closer and inspecting them, “they are… strange. I do not know what they are, and perhaps it would be better to leave them be.”

“Are they poisonous?”

He leaned in and sniffed them. “No, but as I said before, this forest is unaccustomed to such things. Gifts must be freely given, and what is not must be a fair exchange.”

You dropped them into the pouch and laughed, continuing through the forest. There was a strange note in his voice, something older, wiser, than the Legolas you knew. But what harm could there be in a few cuttings? The forest was vast; a few flowers and leaves here and there would not be any loss at all. “Come now, Legolas, you speak as though —”

A stone caught your toe, your knee buckled, and you fell to the ground. Sharp pain jolted up your wrists and knees, then a hot stinging spread across your palms and shins. You blinked, eyes focusing and unfocusing on the rotting leaves in the dirt, before warm hands rested between your shoulder blades.

“Are you alright?” Legolas said, crouching and easing you back into a sitting position. You stared at him, eyes drifting from his eyes to his lips. Had he always had such beautiful lips? “Mellon nin, are you alright?”

“Yes… I —” The shock of tingling subsided from your hands and legs and only a dull throbbing remained. You looked down at your knee, the same knee that had been shot, and found your trousers ripped and the old wound reopened. It was not as bad as the initial wound, though still relatively deep, and was bleeding sluggishly through the matted dirt. “Oh, I’m… bleeding.”

His eyes darted from your knee to the divot in the ground where a leaf caught in your fall was stained with blood. His lips tightened before he let out a soft sigh. “It is as I said: a fair exchange.” An easy smile spread across his face, the hand on your shoulder loosened its grip, and his voice took on a merry lilt. “However, I do not believe we will have any more trouble on our little trip here.”

The shock of the fall had subsided and you looked at the pouch still clutched in your fist. “Well, I suppose I should make the most of it then, and collect what I can for Sam.”

He laughed, squeezing your shoulder affectionately. “Never one to pass up an opportunity. Come, let us set up camp by the river and have a look at your wound. I do not wish for the matrons at the Houses of Healing tomorrow to claim I have neglected you.”

He pulled you to your feet, and looped an arm around your waist to help you hobble along. His arm was warm, his grip firm but gentle. Pressed up against him you could smell his scent, something fresh like grass or water, unsullied even by a couple of days in the forest. The both of you found a suitable spot under shelter by the trees, and after tying the horse up, he led you to the banks. 

His nimble fingers pried apart the shredded remains of the fabric by your knee and started to wash the wound. He dressed it with some honey from his pack and untouched moss from the forest floor and some spare wrappings you had in your supplies for such an eventuality. 

While he worked, you watched his hands. Long and lithe, they were precise and delicate with their motions. If only you could reach out, and lay your hand on top of his, to sweep your thumb over the back of his knuckles. But your hands were still muddied, and the new closeness you shared with him was too new and too tenuous for something like that. 

Legolas set up camp with a practiced efficiency, and soon the both of you were sitting beside each other by the fire, eating your supplies of bread and cheese. The fire crackled and popped, and around you the forest became alive at night. Owls hooted in the trees, and critters rustled in the bushes, and then, very softly, Legolas began to sing. 

The words were lost on you, but the melody was enough. The notes drifted in the air, curling around you, seeping into your skin. It sounded slow and adoring, leisurely and lazy, and the sensation of lying on sun-warmed grass, your lover’s touch skirting up your arm, filled your body. You leaned back on your arms, sinking into his voice, letting it carry and caress you. 

When the last few words rang in the air, you opened your eyes. Legolas was looking at you with a fond expression, eyes half-lidded and lips in a soft smile. 

“That song,” you whispered, “what is it about?”

His smile widened and he said, “I’ll tell you another time perhaps.”

-

Legolas stood on one of the parapets that overlooked the entrance to the Houses of Healing. Your wound was not healing as well as it should, most likely because of how bad the initial arrow wound was, and you were getting it redressed by the matrons. He sighed and let his eyes wander from the stone flagstones, to the rooftops, to the plains. In truth, the sight of your flesh, angry and inflamed, shook something in him. Even something as minor as your wound, was enough of a risk for infection, for fever. 

Humans were so fragile, so… final. 

He blinked at the thought. Yes, of course, how could he forget? Humans were mortal. Boromir was, Aragorn was. Even the merry little hobbits and Gimli were. How strange to think that such a thing slipped his mind when it came to you, but it was far too easy really. 

There was a vitality that seemed to pour from your being, an almost stubborn resilience, especially in the grim shadow of misfortune. It was the way you would play with the hobbits, even after a long day of walking, or grit your teeth and carry on, even harrowing experience after harrowing experience. When you smiled, the day was better, brighter, and he always found himself trying to get another laugh from you. 

And yet… such a light could be so easily snuffed out. 

He shifted on his feet and watched as you limped from the Houses of Healing. He had intended to go with you, but Sam had wanted to discuss garden plans, and Boromir had gone with you instead. He was about to raise his arm and call out to you, when a figure emerged from behind the line of trees. Boromir walked towards you with outstretched arms and pulled you into his side and helped you along, vanishing from his sight beyond the trees.

Ever since the end of the war, it had felt as though things were shifting between him and you. It was only small, nearly imperceptible changes — softer smiles, more frequent dinners alone, hands that reached and fingers that brushed. And yet… Why did it feel as though you were on the other side of something he could not cross? 

He thought of the cry of the gulls, the perpetual tugging at his heart for the sea. Oh, how he wished he had never heard them. Was this how Arwen felt all the time? Longing, aching. She was happy with Aragron, he knew, but sometimes he would catch her gazing out of a window, eyes forlorn and smile sad. Aragorn knew, understood even, and in those moments he left her to her quiet longing, never hurt or bothered, and welcomed her into his arms when she went back to him. 

But would you understand? Could you accept that there would always be one part of him that belonged to the sea, to the distant shore he would never reach? Or would it be a burden to ask such a thing of you? Maybe you would be better off with someone… mortal. He sighed and wandered back towards the Citadel proper. 

“Boromir, this is unnecessary. Put me down!” Your laughter rang out and you and Boromir emerged onto the courtyard. You were in his arms, limbs flailing as he wrangled to keep you held properly. “Boromir, I — oh, Legolas.”

“Ah, Legolas,” Boromir said as he gently replaced you back on the ground. “I return them to your care.”

He forced a smile onto his face. “How is your leg?”

“Mild infection but nothing to worry about,” you said, hobbling over to him. 

He instinctively reached out and wrapped an arm around your waist. You were warm underneath his hand, warmer than usual, and you smelled strongly of herbal poultice. He could detect traces of burdock and comfrey, and underneath it all, the smell of you. He took a greedy breath, filling his lungs with proof of your life. “You should be resting. Let us go back inside.”

“I’ve been inside the past week. I’m bored to death,” you grumbled. “Let’s sit outside for a while.”

He helped you to one of the stone benches and you collapsed onto it, hissing in pain. You gingerly stretched your leg out and sighed as you settled. He sat next to you, his eyes lingering on your knee. 

“Oh, stop fussing. It’s quite minor, really.”

“I have seen men succumb to infection from unassuming cuts. I do not think I will rest easy until you are fully healed.”

He followed the line of your leg up to your waist, then shoulders, and along your jaw and lips, up to your nose and eyes. Such beauty, destined to fade, to vanish from the world forever. How could he bear it? How could anyone?

“What is on your mind, my friend?” You asked.

“I was just thinking about the fading nature of men. I do not know how your kind bear it.”

“Death?” You chuckled. “But elves can die too, can they not?”

“Yes, but… it is not in our nature. In peace times, it is very rare for our kind to die. For men… even now, where there is no suffering any longer, you still experience the sting of mortality.” His chest constricted. “How can one stand to behold love and light, knowing it will vanish?”

“It is because they do not last, that we relish in them.”

“Even if it will bring you pain later?”

You smiled, gentle and indulgent, and placed your hand on top of his. His shoulders relaxed at your touch, the tension seeping out of his muscles. He wanted to capture the moment, to bottle it somehow, keep the image of you with the sun on your eyelashes and the feeling of the softness of your skin forever preserved. 

“Yes,” you whispered, “even then.”

Something shifted in his heart, just slightly, and a smile crept onto his face. Yes, he thought, especially then. 

-

“Sam,” you said, surveying the small garden. He had done a good job with it — the shrubs were well trimmed and flowers burst in orange and yellow all around. “Are you certain it will look good?”

He nodded and grinned. “It’ll look real pretty with some candles about. I still remember what it looked like in Lothlorien. We don’t ‘ave the sort of fancy holders and the like, but I’ll do my best.”

You smiled and laid a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t know how to thank you for this. I would do it myself but my knee…”

“No thankin’ needed. If anything, I should be thanking you. You brinin’ me those plants and flowers, even when the forest didn’t like you doin’ so.” His eyes fell to your knee. “I’m real sorry it caused you such trouble.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” You chuckled and patted him on the back. You looked around the garden again, trying to imagine the candles and cushions that Sam said he’d arrange for the night time picnic you had planned. “Do you think he’ll like it?”

“I think he’ll love it. Mighty romantic, if I can say.”

You shifted on your feet, stomach suddenly lurching. “What if I’m mistaken, Sam? I’m not sure I could bear the embarrassment.”

The last week or so had been so lovely it had felt like a dream. Nearly every night, Legolas had invited you to sit with him at the top of some tower or parapet. He would point and tell you stories of the stars and of the elves that had come before. There were so many instances where he would lean in close, eyes half-lidded, and talk in a low, murmured tone. You would watch his lips, and watch as he watched yours. But then he would draw back and glance away. 

“The elves are funny folk,” he said with a sigh. “I couldn’t tell you what might be goin’ on in Legolas’ mind, but I doubt he would be spendin’ so much time with you if he didn’t have some… reason to do so. If you catch my meaning.”

“I hope so, Sam. Well, I’ll leave you to it. I need to go to the kitchens to see what cheese and fruit they might be able to spare me.”

He gave you an encouraging smile and with a little wave, you set off downstairs. 

The sun was just setting when Sam called you back to the garden to assess what he had prepared. Candles were dotted all around the courtyard, separated on candelabras and clustered in small groups around the picnic blanket. Plush cushions were laid out and there were little white flowers scattered on the soft wool, perfuming the air with the faint smell of jasmine. 

“Sam,” you gasped. “This is — I cannot —”

“I’ll be takin’ your speechlessness as a compliment?” He smiled shyly and ducked his head. He reached for the picnic basket in your hand and placed it on the blanket. “There, now it’s complete.”

“I’ll repay you for this Sam, I promise.”

He blushed. “Like I said before, there’s no need. Anyway, I best be hurryin’ along. Wouldn’t want Legolas to stumble upon me here and get any wrong ideas.”

You laughed and he vanished back inside. You limped over to the blanket, wincing a little as you lowered yourself, and tried to slow your breathing. Legolas would come, wouldn’t he? What if he took one look at the scene and fled? You shook your head. No, he wouldn’t do that. If you were truly mistaken about his feelings towards you, he would tell you gently and bear you no ill will.

“Mellon nin,” Legolas said from behind you and you turned, heart thumping in your chest. His eyes were wide and a slow smile was spreading across his face. “I received your message. Why have you asked me here?”

You swallowed. Did he not know? “Is it… is it not obvious?”

“I have an inkling, perhaps.” He wandered over, his steps lazy and relaxed, and sank onto the cushions. The tightness in your chest eased a fraction. “But I do not wish to presume what may or may not be in your heart. Will you not give me the truth?”

“Legolas, I…” You cleared your throat. By the Valar, why was it so difficult to speak? He arched an eyebrow at you and you glanced away, speaking more to the picnic basket than to him. “I… care for you. A great deal.”

He took your hand, and you dared to lift your gaze. He beamed at you, and then a flash of mischief entered his eyes. “As a friend?”

You scowled at him. “Do you often plan candlelit picnics for your friends, Legolas?”

He laughed and pressed his lips to the back of your hand. They were soft and warm, his breath hot on your skin. “I am teasing, meleth nin.”

Heat crept up your neck and you tried to withdraw your hand. He held fast and planted a line of kisses up, up, up, from your wrist to your elbow to your shoulder. His eyes were almost sparking in the dim, the dots of candlelight flickering in his dark irises. He kissed your jaw and your nose and your temple before dipping his head to capture your lips.

He kissed slow and languid, as though savouring the feeling of you against him. He tasted tart and sweet, no doubt from the berry and honey biscuits you knew he liked to snack on. The strange tension in your stomach snapped and vanished, and you melted under his touch. His growing smile made you giggle and your teeth knocked against his, making him laugh. 

“I am curious about what you have in that picnic basket of yours,” he murmured. “There will be time for such enjoyment later.”

A flush coloured your cheeks. “I suppose it would be a waste if we simply ignored all the food I prepared.”

“Though, before we continue, I must ask you a question first,” he said, growing grave and serious. His eyes drifted down to your joined hands, and he brushed his thumb over your knuckles. “Could you bear being with me, living with me, when part of my heart is forever owned by the sea?”

You reached up and brushed a stray strand of hair behind his ear. “My love, could you bear to be with me? If you stay, you will fade.”

“It would be a worse fate to live eternity without you,” he whispered. “That I could not bear.”

“Legolas…” It seemed all the more tragic that he, of all people, should die. He was light and joy and the thought of him growing cold and dim wrenched at your heart. “You deserve to… I cannot…”

“I have made my choice, meleth nin. Let us be happy together.” He cupped your cheek, a smile spreading across his face. His eyes were soft, but certain, his touch gentle but sure. He kissed the tip of your nose, chuckling, before he slanted his lips against yours. The kiss was chaste and quick, and all the more sweeter for its casualness. 

“For however long we have,” he murmured, “let us be happy.”

“Alright,” you said. You rested your forehead against his, inhaling his scent, breathing his breath. Yours, for now, for ever. “For however long we have.”

---

ok but what is it about the immortality of elves that has me appreciating/relishing/romanticising our mortal lives. i swear this is the second time ive done this with legolas.

Taglist: @sotwk

Wish there was a part 2 for this, the ending is so sad yet so tragically beautiful.

𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲

skz ot8 x gn!reader

▷ 0.8k words

▷ after being kidnapped by their rivals, skz tries to get you to safety

▷ warnings: angst, mentions of kidnapping (NOT by skz), implied death?

a/n: thanks to the skz cb i am in a skz writing PANIC 😃

"Hang on, Yn."

You let out a pathetic, little whimper as you craned your head back against the seat, head pounding like the bass of a drum. You wanted it to stop, for god sakes. You just wanted the pain to stop. 

Blood trickled down from your nose, some fresh, but also leaving a trail of dried brown down to your lip and into your lap below. That was where their rivals had shot a microscopic bomb up to your brain, which was currently releasing deadly waves of radiation into your skull. While you had been held captive by Stray Kids' rivals, you suffered through endless bouts of mental torture, and a bit of rough housing from your captors. The bomb was a precautionary measure. One that currently spelled out your demise in big, capital letters.

Hyunjin and Seungmin on either side of you had patched you up as well as they could, while the others—Changbin on Hyunjin's left, and Jisung, Felix, and I.N in the backseat—had their rifles cocked, ready to defend the van from any tails. 

Chan and Minho took up the front, with Chan racing through the barren, dark streets of Seoul and Minho keeping an eye out for further trouble as they drove you to the base. The only chance of your survival was there, as the bomb in your skull ticked away. 

"How is—Yn, come on, darling. Stay with us," Chan said from the front seat, eyes nervously darting to you from the rear view mirror. 

At this point, you could hardly understand what he was trying to say; just that the pain in your head was so relentless, so terrible. 

Boom… boom… boom. 

A hand shook your shoulder. Someone from the backseat. "Yn-ie, don't cry. Please don't cry," Jisung pleaded. Were you crying? You didn't even feel the warm streams cascading down the slopes of your cheeks. 

Boom… boom… boom.

Hyunjin took your hand in his, squeezing it like a heartbeat, like a lifeline. "You're gonna be okay, Yn. I promise."

Boom… boom… boom. 

"Chan, tail on our five o'clock," murmured Minho, cat eyes narrowing in his side view mirror. 

Chan swerved the car down an alley, only for the van on your tail to continue following you at breakneck speed. "Hold on!" 

Another sharp swerve and a jerk had you careening into Hyunjin's shoulder. You cried out as the hammering in your skull increased tenfold. "AGH!"

Hyunjin and Seungmin held onto you as the car practically erupted all at once, "CHAN!"

"Sorry!" He exclaimed, making another turn that was still frantic, but less jerky. His eyes flickered to the rearview and he stomped on the gas pedal. "Ey, we need some backup in the back! They're gaining!"

"On it!"

Shots rained down from the backseat and out the rear window, bursting the glass onto the street. A squeal of tires and then a crash—but more cars continued to appear out of nowhere to join the fray. This time with guns of their own. 

"It's getting worse," Changbin grunted. He busted his window open and let his ammunition fly, taking out wheels and drivers and gunmen hanging out of window frames. 

Boom… boom… boom…

Your breathing shallowed as you leaned back against the seat again. Sweat dribbled down the sides of your face, your neck, your ears, like the blood gushing down your nose. You could barely hear the gunshots, the pulsing was so loud… so thunderous. 

Turning your head slightly, you caught Seungmin's eyes in the blurriness of your own sight, most likely from tears. 

Seungmin's lip wobbled at the sight of you. His hand reached out to wipe a tear from your eye. "You're going to be okay," he whispered. 

You couldn't hear him over the pulsing. "It hurts," you croaked. 

Boom… boom… boom. 

"We're almost there—"

"No, they're blocking the damn road!" Chan beat his hand against the steering wheel, then slammed his foot on the gas, making a wide turn down another street. 

Boom… boom… boom.

"Yn-ie?" Someone called from the backseat. 

Boom… boom… boom…

"Make it stop," you pleaded Seungmin. You just wanted it to stop—you wanted it to stop so bad.

Seungmin sucked in a sob as he gently guided your head to his chest as he leaned against the door. He tucked you against him, cradling you like a newborn child. "Shhh," he soothed with a hand smoothing over your hair. "J-just close your eyes and rest, Yn-ie. You deserve it. We'll wake—we'll wake you up when it's over."

As you shut your eyes, the pulsing subsided. 

The pain was slipping away. 

And maybe… maybe you were, too. 

"Yn? Yn! Seungmin—Seungmin, what did you do?!"

"I didn't know what else to do! They're in pain, damn it! What else was I supposed to…"

You couldn't hear anything anymore. Not even the pulsing, not even their voices. Only silence.

a/n: i,,, deeply apologize 💀💀 if you've ever watched mission impossible, that's where i got the bomb thing from,,,

skz m.list

Hi! I’m not sure if u do smut or not but I was wondering if u could do a Legolas smut with fem!human!reader, like a enemies to lovers kind of thing. Maybe hate sex? <3

too close

legolas greenleaf x reader

summary: legolas has his doubts about who you really are, but is that really why he can never meet your eyes with anything else but anger in himself.

warning: afab reader, nswf, smut 18+, etl, legolas being a jerk, probably bad description of mirkwood

a/n: soo sorry i took ages, I've been taking new meds, also i havent written smut for a while so im a bit dusty, hope u like it<3

○○○○○○

Summer is barely a real season under the protective courts of Mirkwood, you could barely feel the heat or see the sun through giantic starfall tree and at night, the chill through the strong winds gives a hint of winter in its air.

You loved it. Training at night feels easier when your not already sweating through your tits ten minutes in warm ups. And the quiet around you, save the crickets and owls hooting, gave you the solace you seeked for each existing day you lived through.

But despite finding everything well with want you asked for, the universe seems relentless with making sure you'll always be keeping your guard up and your annoyance up higher, with the ever consistent appearance of Prince Legolas Greenleaf.

He stands by the corner near an entrance to the castle, watchful of you while thinking he's quiet. His lack of trust in you makes him believe that you somehow lack in the specialties of elf abilities, like for example, your keen hearing.

"I could hear you for a mile away, prince." You also caught onto his snort, before his footsteps sounds louder. "How did you lnow it was me then?" He asks, less snobby than usual.

He must be drunk, you tell yourself.

"You have that pompous, all knowing kind of stride, it has its own beat when you walk." You expected him to roll his eyes like he usually do, belittling you like a child being reprimanded. But suprisingly he laughs. "That sounds a lot like you're projecting, after all, only pompous, all knowing arseholes are the ones who isolate themselves and train alone."

Ah, there it is. He's sobered up then.

"And what humble, kind enough of an elf, would waste his time stalking other people just to throw insults like a 7 year old?" You snapped.

If he had found your irritants amusing before, now his smile fades altogether,  and he looks the same as when he's about to pull an arrow on an orc.

"The kind of an elf who's trying to protect his kingdom and father." You laughed honestly yet mockingly before dropping your sword altogether to look at him. "You think your doing the king a favor? His majesty has his own mind, he trusts me, so I'd suggest you drop your savior facade and trust him." He shook his head and looks away for a second, as if deep in thought. "My father doesn't trust anyone, let alone random rogue elves who comes out of nowhere."

You raised you brow at his bravery in speech. 'This random rogue elf is the reason your father is alive, if I had even a glimpse of malice in me, I wouldn't have done nothing but serve him well for the last 10 months." You say matter of factly.

And before he could argue again, you wave your hand at him annoyed, and turn your back at the prince. "I practise better when im alone, and now you've ruined my peace, if you don't have anything new or smart to say-"

"You are a witch." He speaks. You actually freezed for a moment, forehead frowned in confusion. "Excuse me?"He repeated his impossible words. 

"Im a witch...because i saved your father's lives?" You ask him, slowly. He looks more frustrated then ever, as if you're the one patronizing him.

"No, you are a witch, because you have bewitched him." You could laugh if you didn't want to punch him. "And how have I bewitched him?" You almost yell. "I don't fucking know!" He yells first.

"My father has never trusted anyone, except for me, yet i see he'd put his life in your hands if he has to. And you know that, you know what you are doing. How you win his praise and trust when you fight, and when you put yourself over him, over the other shooters, martyring yourself."

Your mouth was wide open, your brows furowing, but no words escape you as he continues, inching closer with every word, untik you're both a step away from eachother.

"And you know exactly what you do to me." He was hovering over you, with a glare so intense you've never seen from the mirkwood prince. "I've done nothi-" He cuts you off when you've just gained enough control to speak. "You've bewitched me."

His breath was steady even in such anger, fanning your face gently as he inhales and exhales.  "I don't trust you, and i shouldn't care too much of another fighter in our army, another stranger i shan't waste my time on. Yet one glimpse of you, and you're stuck in my head, like a memory i can't seem to forget."

he was silent after the last confession ends, and you have the stubborn urge to answer to him. "That sounds like a you problem, not mine." He gives a short bitter laugh, looking up to the sky for a second, as if praying to the stars for guidance. "What have you done to me, cruel enchantress."

The rage seemed to lessen in the glare he still holds at you, but something more hungry lays in his gaze. "I've done nothing. Im no witch." You answer, so over all of this cat and mouse game. "And if I was, I wouldn't waste my time on someone so frustrating like you, and your stupid perfect nose, going around acting like you're-" He cuts you off, closing the small space between the two of you with his lips.

It was persistent, the way his mouth pushed over yours, like a strong wave crashing over sands, forcing it to feel the same surge it's being held againts.

When your hands finally found its strength, you place them againts his chest, pushing him off, he startles and moves a step, eyes locking with yours.

His hands that were once on each sides of your face, falls down to his side, fingers flexing as if too empty now. "I hate you." He says. His eyes saying the opposite. Your mind repeats over and over of what he had done and you tell yourself that it can't get any worse or better than this, so you took a move yourself forward, standing on the ground he was on a second ago.

"Then why don't you show me how much."

You don't hesitate to pull his face towards yours, recreating the similar scene as before. His hands move to wrap around your waist, while yours tangle themselves in his untied long white hair.

You gasp when his tongue licks over your bottom lip, giving him what he wanted, your tongues clashes as you two continue kissing eachother like you're out of air. You don't flinch when he backs you up until your back meets the flat of a wall.  His right hand starts to fliddle with the laces tying your leather top on. You help him take it off before your own fingers helps him take his breeches of while he moves his lips to your neck.

"I like you better with your hair down." You manage to gasp out while he's sucking on your neck. "And I like you better with your mouth shut."  Legolas replies before his hands easily turns you around your face meets with the wall.

You barely hold on to the wall when his grip on your hips tighten, your own training tights pulled down before you felt him againts your back.  You squirm and let yourself grind againts his hardness when one of his hands move to your front to squeeze your breasts, flicking your nipple, gently moving lower then from your chest to yoir stomach, grazing your scar filled abs until it gets lower to where you want him the most.

He's still squeezing your left hip while rubbing his hard cock againts your ass.

Finally as he sinks into you without notice,  receiving  a loud whimper from you, his hand over your hips move to grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back againts his chest. His right wandering fingers were still againts your front, rubbing circles on your thighs.

You're too speechless, feeling yourself filled up to the brim by him. He doesn't move at first, head laying low by your neck, hot breathing againts your cheek. You almost cry when he slowly pulls out, until he pushes himself in again, harder tham the first thrust.

He doesn't stop them, pushing into your hole repeatedly, his hands moving up from your thighs to your clit, rubbing over it with a pace that wanted to make you scream.

Legolas finally regains enough strength to start biting and sucking on your neck, marking you, while he doesn't stop pounding into your wet cunt.

The fullness of his cock and pressure of his fingers makes your cunt tighten againts him, he lets out a growl you've never heard if the elf prince before he bites down your sweet spot harshly, making you scream out his name. "Fucking hell." He groans out, fucking out all his pent up anger and tension over you.

.Your hands feels slippery againts the wall, gripping againts nothing while he takes you like a ragdoll, manhandling you take his cock over and over, watching you turn into a crying and moaning mess.

"Legolas, please- uh." You mewl out to him He hears you, pleased he is as he lets out a grin againts your neck. "Please what, my love?" He asks huskily.  Love, thats a new one.

"Need to come-" You beg out to him.  And Legolas, for all his false pretense of hostility before, could never say no to you.

He pushes your face againts the wall again,  both of his palms now back to each side of your hip, tightening againts them as he plunges himself harder inside of you as you scream out his name, shameless of who could've heard them. Your nipples grazes againts the hard bumpy walls, oversensitive to everything now,  you clench againts him so tightly that you could hear him curse out in elvish as he holds on to your bruised sides.

You feel tears brimming in your eyes as he continues fucking you while you explode all over him, your orgasm leaking out of your cunt, all over his leg. "Argh- im going to-" He doesn't finish his words as he finally cums after you, his hot cum leaking into your hole and then lower lines on your arse.

His head leans on your back, his breathing rapid and sweat glistens you both.

Legolas pulls you back by your breast, letting you rest on hus chest while the two of you try to regain some air. His fingers grazing the valley of your tits, head stuck on the side of your forehead. Once you've calmed down from your high, you tilt your head towards him, relishing his warm arms around you.

He leans forward, letting your forehead meets. You let out a small smile.  "Now what?" Your voice gentler then expected. "Now-" He answers, voice hard. "-I'll take you to my chambers, and I'm fucking you again."

Solicitude | Legolas x Reader

Synopsis: solicitude /səˈlisəˌto͞od/: care or concern for someone or something.

The fellowship had set camp for the night in a clearing in the forest. They had set a fire and took refuge around it to stray off the coldness the night always seemed to bring. However, when you elicit to sit by a tree, a decision made out of insecurity, you find yourself not alone for too long as a certain elf notices your disappearance, 

Warnings: female reader, insecurity, some self-depreciation, fluff, 

Word Count: 3153

lotr masterlist

"Do you not wish to join the others?" a soft-spoken voice breaks you out of your stupor. You jump, startled by Legolas's sudden appearance, and he cocks his head to the side at your fright. He must have thought I heard him, you muse silently. 

You flash the elf a smile before returning to inspecting your blade slung casually over your thigh. The others, the fellowship, had gathered around the fire, telling stories of better times and victorious battles alike, their eyes gleaming with a joy that would soon diminish on your coming journey to Mordor. 

It was rather embarrassing to admit why you had secluded yourself to a tree away from your newfound companions. There had been a lack of room around the glowing embers, everyone else already fitting comfortably in their spot, laughing as the halflings cracked jokes, and well…you didn't want to intrude. It was evident that your presence was not warranted or needed, so instead of bothering them, you had taken refuge under the shade of the tree, and while the bark dug uncomfortably into your spine, it helped you ignore your strange longing to be apart of the group of men who had obviously grown accustomed to each other in your short time together. However, Legolas seemed to be the only one to notice your absence, hence his imposing figure standing above you with innocent curiosity adorning his profile. 

You admired Legolas far more than was permitted for a human such as yourself. His serene nature was a long-forgotten melody, gracing your ears with the enriched words that flowed effortlessly from his dainty lips. His personality, sharp wit, and impeccable features were a delight to be savored and worshiped, as his majesticness was truly a sight to behold.

It was painful to get around him when your feelings grew with every passing day, but the journey you had voluntarily embarked on was one without an end in sight. The ground you covered in a day trek was not nearly enough to get you to that wretched place in any small amount of time. 

But that endeavor of putting distance between Legolas and you was for not as he waited patiently for an answer to his question that took root in the back of your mind, the sweetness of his voice a delicacy to be enjoyed for centuries.

You try with all your might to maintain truth in your smile, but he sees through your thinly veiled lies, and his lips curve into a frown at your saddened gaze.  

"I fair fine here, Legolas. You should return to the others," you offer, dropping your gaze from the intensity of his. From the moment those words parted from your lips, Legolas seems to read your expressions, your feelings like a child's book in Elvish. Your inability to lie to him was humiliating, and you were mortified that you could not lace your words with enough sincerity to prove convincing to not trouble others with your burden because the last thing you wish for is for Legolas to pity you. That would twist your guilt further into something much darker, you surmise as your finger glides across the metal of your sword. 

You can feel his gaze bearing down on you as if he is considering an idea before his feet shift and some hopeful part of you wishes he would not abandon you; he would see through your struggle and wordlessly share his company with you. It takes a moment before you realize that he has, in fact, taken a seat next to you, and the air seems charged with energy and anticipation of what is to come. 

"Why do you detest me so?" The words leave him quickly as if he did not intend to speak them. In your surprise, you raise your head, only for your breath to stutter at his closeness. There's no more than a couple of inches separating you two. It's exhilarating but yet so daunting. "Please tell me what I have done to not earn your eye."

You blink at him, astonished. Even though words cannot convey the severity of your feelings, any other speech fails your tongue. 

Your irises which once held a far told sadness, fall away from his, and Legolas concludes that your lack of acknowledgment simply won't do. Gentle fingers lift your chain so you can gaze upon him once more. The connection is not rough or demanding but hopeful- pleading. Your heart scatters at the contact, beating erratically at the softness of his skin, being like the drip of silk, too impossible to feel so beautiful at the touch. 

You turn his question over and over through the gorges of your thoughts, the answer as clear as day, but a vulnerable emotion holds you back. 

Fear. 

It's easily recognizable and brings a dim chill over the cloudless sky of your admiration for the elvish male. 

"I do not detest you." Your words are simple, keeping your feelings at bay behind the motor and stone of your mind. 

"Then why do you avoid me?"

"I do not."

"I didn't take you for a liar."

Shame befalls your features, and Legolas's hand retracts from your face. 

"If you will not share with me that, then tell me why you retreat from the others."

Your eyes search the ground in determination for a good lie. However, Legolas reads your face with ease, practically predicting your formation of a lie, and his gaze falters at your unwillingness to share the truth with him.

More so, worry sets in his stomach. What had he done for you to despise him? He didn't think that your past conversations served with colorful banter were filled with ill intent on his behalf but had you taken something he had joked about to heart? Was that the reason he could not earn your gaze? Legolas was conflicted, toeing the lines of a worry that bordered something more than friendliness or natural curiosity with his willingness to right any wrongs he may have imposed upon you. 

"I would most certainly like the truth if you would grant it to me," he tries. 

Once more, you rip your gaze away, and embarrassment overturns your expression. You resign to following the thick roots that snake across the forest floor while you try to gather your thoughts, quite an impossible task with an elf of his caliber next to you. 

"It's rather foolish, I'm afraid. You would think me to be silly." Your defeated sigh does not go unheard, for Legolas's ears pick up every hint of dejection and the undercurrent of embarrassment lingering in the phrase cast into the open air. 

"I could never think of you in such a way," he affirms hesitantly, almost as if he had deliberated the action for quite some time. Then, finally, he places a tense hand on yours. 

Your breath stutters at the contact, and his muscles seem to pull even tauter at the breathless hitch. You silently chastise yourself for such an unbecoming reaction. He was only trying to comfort you as a friend would, yet you twisted his intentions into something entirely impure. It's shameful that you would even entertain the idea that he would want something more than mere friendship. He's never shown any inkling of that line of thought, and yet you let your fantasies run wild like some little girl. 

You turn your mind back to his statement, tossing it around, weighing the pros and cons while Legolas watches with interest, his careful eyes never straying from your hunched skeleton. 

"My presence was not needed, so I decided to resign myself to my solitude," you spoke plainly, your woes weighing down your spirits. Legolas stills. 

"It's silly, I know-"

"Why would you believe such a thing?" he asks suddenly, and your body betrays you as your eyes snap up to meet his worried ones. It takes a moment for his question to register, and before you know it, the words hastily tumble from your lips. 

"I was obviously not needed, and I did not want to be a bother and intrude..."

"So you thought you were unwanted?"

You frown, shame burning your cheeks all the way to the tips of your ears. With your blade now forgotten on the forest floor, you curl within yourself, desperate to hide from your own insecurity and Legolas's gaze. What would he think of you now, knowing how easily you succumb to your insecurity? How weak and pitiful must you look, curling within yourself like a frightened animal? 

You hear faint shuffling before his body is pressed against yours so intently that you can feel the heat radiating off of him. 

"Look at me," his voice is a gentle command, yet firm in its intention, but you don't have the heart to meet his eye and face his disappointment. "Your insecurity is misplaced."

At this, you cannot help but search for his features for falsities or ways of deceit wormed into the etches of his skin only to find none, just kind eyes glittering with empathy. Legolas's expression seemed to brighten at your acknowledgment, and he continued. "You have no reason to believe that we lament your person accompanying us. You are part of this company, the same as Aragorn or me, and you have proven your worth and reliability many times over. You could never be a burden or an annoyance."

"How do you know that?" your question strays on the path of bitterness, and you are tempted to turn your head away but not before gentle fingers grip your chin, forcing you to remain in contact. 

"I have come to know you and the company. They would have expressed their dissatisfaction by now," he replies simply, the warm brown of his eyes blazing with the truth he believes so heartily.

"How do you know for certain they do not talk behind my back when you or I cannot hear?"

"I would hear them."

"Legolas," you gently scold. The twitch of his lips indicates his amusement before his face morphs to one of gentle compassion.

"Heed my words, you are by no means a burden, meleth nin." 

Legolas holds for a moment, his eyes aglow in surprise at his own words. 

The crease between your eyebrows furthers as you study his uneasy expression. You can't hold back your curiosity as the question slips between your parted lips. "What does that mean?"

"It matters not, only that you are not plagued by what appears to trouble you." 

Way to turn the conversation around, you think bitterly, your head falling ahead to the fire by which the others ignore the two of you.

"Confide in me if that would ease your burden. Seeing you so troubled over matters I do not know of worries me greatly," Legolas fairly pleads, his voice not rising above the faint chatter of noise and voices of the forest. 

"It is nothing in which you can aid me, Legolas," you reassure him, but by his dissatisfied expression, he does not fall prey to the illusion you have spoken of. His hand falls to your thigh, and in an instant, it feels as though all oxygen is violently sucked from the air, leaving you unable to swallow the growing lump in your throat. Every nerve comes alive at his touch as if your soul is burning with the same adrenaline you are feeding off of. 

"Please." 

Oh, valor almighty, you didn't know how you possessed the strength to stray from this elf as long as you have; to resist his presence that intoxicated you because now, at the slightest taste of it, you were addicted, like a practiced addict. 

Still, he begged so sweetly. An elvish prince asking for you to share your woes unknowing that he was the cause of them. Every second thought, every hesitation was a result of the influence he held so fiercely over your heart. 

It's as if the Maker was pulling every winding tension tighter, making the oxygen that has now returned to your lungs come in short pants and allowing your mind to spiral as each moment passed in minutes instead of seconds. Eternity felt closer than the second this instant would end. 

A shadow casts over his pale features, making his already unreadable countenance impossible to decipher. His dark pupils seemed to have swallowed the riches of his irises, drawing them into a sea of darkness. The source of this darkness, the specification of what kind of darkness that seemed to linger in his hardened sight, was unidentifiable in the light given to you. His hair, braided in the ways of his kin, framed the strong muscles of his face as his jaw clenched, and you could find the peaks of his ears behind the waterfalls of blonde spilling over his shoulder. 

Irresistible. 

You met in the middle. 

There was no tender or ounce of patience to be found in the dance of his lips but the hungry desire of a starved being engulfing you. From what you could decipher over your pounding heart, his lips were slightly chapped and thin as your mouths tangled and tangoed, learning that language of lovers as they explored every unknown crevice of one another. It was all so much, yet not enough. 

You craved to feel more of him, of his body's sinful softness or his hand's possessiveness, which had begun to move up and down your thigh tentatively as if he was unsure what was allowed. 

Among the silver of devotion coming from tentativeness, there was passion, built up and overflowing, and you couldn't tell what was up and down from the way his mouth claimed yours. 

Your mind moved too fast to comprehend the full scale of his actions. The elf you had secretly pined for was kissing you as if Middle Earth was going to end with you under a tree with your friends mere yards from you. But for the moment, you let yourself succumb to your passion and indulge in a moment of weakness before this moment inevitably ends. 

And it did as all things do. 

You both pull back, gasping for breath while short pants leave those kiss-bitten lips of his. 

"Forgive me if I have overstepped–" Legolas unceremoniously trips over his words as they rapidly slip out of his mouth fervently. You shake your head and press your forehead against his, sharing a breath. 

"No, there is no reason to forgive you." Legolas's hands meet your face in a touch so light you were unsure if it was there. He waits for a moment for you to raise your objection or pull away, but when you remain firm, his deft fingers become more confident as they trail the contour of your face. You sink into the feeling, pushing out all else for a second of forever; of all that could be. 

"I didn't know you felt the same," he chuckles elatedly, and you press your lips together to contain what might be a wide grin of pure elation. 

"I did not know either," you both share a peal of laughter before a moment of quiet passes over you, the tone shifting into something more doleful. 

"I still know not of that which troubles you." He brushes the hair from your face before tucking it behind your ear, his hand blazingly ghosting over the shell of it. 

"I was afraid. Afraid that you would never harbor the feelings I do for you." The audible slip of breath makes your chest clench in anticipation. "I distanced myself from you to protect my heart from heartache."

"Did it work?"

"It did nothing but make me long for you even more than I already had." His hands smoothed down your dirt-ridden skin. There was no need to address what would happen now after you revealed feelings towards one another and you found no reason to. For spoiling this moment you have dreamed of would be a great sorrow, but Legolas seems to feel otherwise. 

"What will happen to us now?" he asks, fingers passing over your lips before cradling your face.

"I do not know," you murmur, tracing the lines of his skin with the gift of light bestowed upon you and him. His hands slip from your face, and your head moves back, startled by the sudden loss of touch. However, he did not stand or even attempt to put space between you two, but his fingers began to undo his braid behind his right ear, his dominant side, with the ease and precision only an elf could possess until all that remained were strands of crimped hair and a delicate silk tie that mirrored the color of his hair in his hands. He gazed down upon the band as stillness filled with buzzing energy grew as the seconds he spent focused on the tie. 

You knew little of the elvish culture, but from what you did know, braids were quite crucial to them, and who did them appeared to change the meaning behind said braids. So why had Legolas taken his? Did he intend for you to braid his...?

Oh. 

Oh.

Legolas outstretches his hand, his palm facing upwards in an offering to you. Inside his palm sat a hairband of string. In what you could only describe as astonishment, you looked up to find him proposing to you a smile as sincere as the admiration brimming in the palace of his eyes.

You pulled away from his face, back to his hand where the hair tie stood waiting for you. No doubt stood in your mind, nothing besides your undying and unyielding feelings that filled your body with giddiness of the likes of which you've never known. You trusted Legolas, not with just your life but now with the very essence of your soul and the light in it. 

You took the hair tie. 

Your fingers began weaving through his silky hair, as soft as you imagined, sewing a new braid into his locks of gold with diligence and patience. You threaded a new promise through his soft strands, one that could not be conveyed by tongue but by emotion. 

It was as if the light herself guided your fingertips, showing you the path in which your hearts were now embedded to, destined to be intertwined for all of eternity. 

It's always the little things

let me relax……………will comment later…………………..