Could You Write Something With Legolas Comforting Reader (physical Affection Please ) After A Bad Day?

could you write something with Legolas comforting reader (physical affection please 🙏🙇‍♀️) after a bad day? he sees her and instantly can tell something is wrong. thank you!!!

₊˚ ✰` ꒱ DELICATE

⟡˳⋆ FEATURING : legolas x fem!reader ❨ comfort ៸៸ fluff ៸៸ established relationship ❩ ⟡˳⋆ WC : 0.4k ⟡˳⋆ NOTES : apologies for leaving this in my inbox for so long i wanted to save it to write it during a bad day of my own loool…legolas would 100% be supremeee at comforting reader ‼️🙏 ty again for sending a req <33

WHEN THE PRINCE SEES YOU in your crestfallen state, his arms instinctively reach out. Your sights lay on the ground before you through half lidded eyes, an overwhelming vulnerability prodding at your back as he approaches with a slender hand outstretched. He cups your cheek as he leans in to press a soft kiss onto your temple while a strong arm encircles your waist from behind.

There are no words needed in this moment of such tender care, but he uses them anyway as he engulfs you in his safe embrace. “My starlight…” He breathes. You turn to face him and immediately bury your face into his chest, eyes clenching shut with a feeble attempt to halt your incoming tears, yet they seep into his tunic and dampen the icy blue into a mass of grey, and when you look up to meet his softened gaze he can barely withhold the sight. “What troubles you?” He says, catching a freshly fallen tear with his thumb. Revealing your burdens proves much harder than you can handle at the moment, with a relentless lump that barricades your throat from speaking. You bring your palm up to brush over your dampened cheeks, and through your misty vision you see the gentle look of utter concern presented on his features. You lean your forehead onto his chest, clutching the fabric of his tunic and breathing deeply to gather yourself in an attempt to preserve what remaining composure you still possess. He listens with patience while you murmur softly through trembling breaths of the day you had, not once freeing you from his arms as he offers words of comfort and understanding.

What is it about the prince that compels you to fall apart with little restraint? Did it have anything to do with the delicate way in which he handles you? How he takes hold of your hand and guides you to lay your head on a pillow as he prepares you tea with only the freshest of herbs? Perhaps it was how his arms cocoon you into a nestled entanglement, kissing away the lone tear that slides down your cheek with hushed assurances. Maybe it was the way he spoke to you long after you are lulled to sleep, hands running up and downs your back in a slow caress while he whispers things of only love and support to you so you are reminded of his eternal devotion, even as you dream.

Dark Platonic! Father Legolas x Half Elf! Reader

After Tauriel and the heartbreak that followed, Legolas found himself falling for a human woman, resulting in your birth.

Legolas is happy, even though your mother passed away after a while of your birth.

The Mirkwood prince would be seen by your side, playing your silly games.

To be truthful, he doesn't want you to feel insecure about his love towards you, he wants to form that bond where you are dependent on him.

Let us just say that Thranduil is less than pleased about you being a part human, but warmed up to you eventually... After Elrond scolded him.

The problem in being half-elf is that you age like a human.

So, it's very hard for your father to see you grow up into an eighteen year old.

Legolas realized that you also still have to choose between becoming rather a full elleth or a full human.

He believed that you would choose to become an elleth once you reach adulthood.

But, he is shocked to find out that you wish to become a full human.

All of that because of a human lover.

Instead of being a decent father like Elrond, and accepting your lover.

He kills your lover without your knowledge, and firms it on an orc, which forced you choose to become an elleth instead of a human.

Nobody knows that Legolas is the one who killed your lover except for Thranduil, who is smug about the whole situation.

"Now, you know how I felt about Tauriel"

He is so cute, love him 🥹

(Fem reader) legolas being clingy after spending the day away from reader. i want to see my doe eyes elf being pouty and acting like a touch starved bby please 🥺

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ pairing: legolas x fem!reader

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ word count: 0.5k

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ synopsis: a day spent away from you has left the prince in need of your touch now more than ever ( fluff, established relationship )

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ notes: omg omg i loved writing clingy legolas sm ty for the req !

˗ˏˋ 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 ´ˎ˗

One could have mistaken the woodland prince’s footfalls for a dwarf as they grew heavy upon entering his shared chambers with his beloved. 

Rarely did the prince commit the careless act of allowing dirt to track the halls of the kingdom, yet his boots caked with remnants of the forest floor follow him as the door closes behind him. A sigh holding a handful of burdens departs from his lips at the sight of an empty room. His eyes glaze over the neatly made bed, staring at the smoothed covers as though they are taunting him. Moonlight leaks through an exposed window, and he frowns among the darkness that has overtaken the room. Whoever prompted the notion of elves slipping through the passage of time was sorely mistaken it seems, as it now feels to him that it has been an eternity since he last bid you farewell (which was this morning, soft kisses pressing onto your cheeks as you slept soundly). The possibility that the weight of your absence could evoke such a hold on him was something he failed to consider when he began courting you—and now the once tireless and perhaps even invincible prince finds himself in a poor state without the loving nature your touch provides as he transforms from a deadly warrior into a wounded bunny. 

“Meleth nîn?” [ 'my love' ] His voice is quieter than his usual velvety tone, and his arms feel so empty without you tightly wound within their hold.

“In here!” You call from the bathing chambers, swiftly tying a robe over your waist before his steps follow your voice as though he's been coaxed by a spell. He smiles, relief in his eyes, shoulders relaxing as he greets the scent of woodland herbs that permeates within the bathing room. Strong arms pull you into an embrace and you are taken aback by his towering frame for a moment, shuffling slightly as he leans against you. His hand cradles the back of your head and he sighs, inhaling the scent of you while you bite back a laugh. “Hello,” you greet him softly and your head lifts to meet his gaze. His lips press onto your temple in a wordless reply and you sense that he is in extra need of your attention. "Long day?" You smile and his kiss trails to your lips. 

"Lay with me."  He says, and suddenly you are nestled next to him under warm covers with his face cocooned into your neck. His boots lay discarded at the foot of the bed, bracers tossed next to the fireplace that crackles lightly. Your hand works gently to undo his braids, delicate fingers running through his light tendrils. You are certain that he will clear both of your schedules tomorrow, and you are even more certain that you will not be able to leave his side for at least another day. And you have no objections, smiling as his hand finds yours and your fingers interlock with his. 

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

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First Kiss With Legolas

As expected, Legolas was not smooth when it came to your first kiss, in the same way that he has never been smooth in any other exchange with you. He knew from the moment he laid eyes on you that you were his soulmate, and he had been living under the misapprehension that once he found his soulmate, all forms of intimacy would come naturally to him. But of course, this was not the case. At first, finding the courage to hold your hand was enough to cause him a greater stress than he had ever known, and hugging? Dont even get him started. Once those two levels of affection had been accomplished, though, he knew it wouldnt be long before it was time to evolve to the next stage: kissing. Legolas truly could not comprehend thoughts of kissing you, they drove him close to the brink of insanity with desperation and desire, but he was simultaneously terrified of not pleasing you. When he couldnt resist any longer, he approached you in your chambers.

“(Y/N), I wonder if I could...try something.”

You raised an eyebrow in amusement. “That depends on what it is you wish to try.”

Legolas cleared his throat and straightened himself. “For some time I have wished for nothing more than this, and although I fear displeasing you more than I fear anything else in existence, my desperation for this exchange now overshadows that, and I am afraid all dignity has been lost on my part. I wish to kiss you.”

You smiled up at him and rose to your feet, taking a few steps towards him. “Then your wish is my command, my prince.”

You stood on your tiptoes and he leant down in order to meet your lips, his eyes fluttering closed the instant they made contact as euphoria consumed him. He had read of the emotions felt during kisses, but he had never imagined something as beautiful as that. Once you pulled away, he had a new wish fully formed in his head: to kiss you at every chance he got.

The way he begged 😭. This actually broke my heart

Hihi can I request number 96 & 98 with Felix please? Thank you. <3

thank you for your request, i hope you’ll like it <3

96: “what made you think i cared for you?”

98: “don’t act as if we’re friends. i know how much you want to slit my throat.”

should’ve known better; lee felix

genre: angst, superhero!felix x villain!reader

word count: 0.6K

warnings: mentions of injuries, mentions of death

this blurb is slightly inspired by the oddinairy trailer!

Read part two HERE

felix’ eyes were wide as he looked at you with his mouth agape. the look on his face made it clear what he was feeling; pure betrayal.

“it was you,” he breathed.

you rolled your eyes. “yeah, yeah, it was me. it shouldn’t be such a big surprise to a smart guy like you, right? why did you think i was so interested in all your powers, felix?” you mumbled as you clicked on a few buttons on the panel, making the electrical chains around felix’ ankles and and wrists tighten.

he let out a groan. “b-but you helped me out, you treated my wounds whenever i got hur-“

“my people needed you alive, felix, i was just trying to keep you alive. that was the only reason,” you interrupted him as you looked him dead in the eyes before returning to your work.

“i don’t believe you.” felix’ voice was hoarse.

you let out a sigh as you looked up at him, placing your hands on the silver desk. “what made you think i cared for you?“ you asked, your eyes narrowed. deep down you knew your question was easy to answer.

the look that colored felix’ face when the words left your mouth made you clench your fists as you tried to control your facial expression and keep it stoic.

the corners of his lips turned downwards and he blinked rapidly. “y-you did more than just keep me alive. you talked to me, laughed and cried with me. you kissed me, you- you-“ his breathing got heavier as a lump started growing in his throat. “you liked me!” he exclaimed and the crack in his voice almost made you wince.

you took a deep breath, keeping your eyes locked with felix’ dark ones.

“i’m sorry, felix, but like i said, a smart guy like you should’ve known better,” you stated making felix angrily frown as a tear escaped his eye.

you tore your eyes off of him and grabbed your walkie-talkie. “i got him, guys, you can come and take him.”

felix’ eyes widened as he hastily shook his head. “y/n, no, please don’t do this. don’t let them take me.”

you didn’t respond as you started getting your weapons and gear ready. panic colored felix’ face as he tried to get your attention. “please, y/n, let me go. we can work this out, i promise we ca-“

you stopped loading the machine attached to the sleeve of your suit with bullets and looked up at felix. “come on, felix, don’t act as if we’re friends. i know how much you want to slit my throat right now.”

felix tried to yank his limbs free from the chains as he continued talking, ignoring your remark as more tears started falling from his eyes. “you’re not evil, y/n, i know you’re not. i know you deep down don’t want to do this either. please just listen to me and believe me when i say we can figure this out. if you just let me go, i can help you escape from them-“

“silence,” you gritted through your teeth as you held up a hand.

“please, y/n,” felix begged, his voice growing weaker. you shook your head before forcing yourself to walk to the exit of the cold room located in the dark cave.

“stop! y/n, please, don’t leave me here!” felix cried as he yanked at the chains again, now with all the strength left in his body. you could only imagine how painful the electrical shocks were the chains were sending him every time he moved.

you looked back at felix one last time and as your eyes fell onto his wounded and tear-stained face, you couldn’t help but remember how beautiful and peaceful it had once looked when he had fallen asleep in your arms that one night in his room. he had felt safe around you; he had trusted you.

“please.” felix’ voice was barely above a whisper.

and you had led him to his death.

“i’m sorry, felix.”

with that you exited the place, shutting the door behind you.

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