The Hobbit and LOTR oneshots, preferences and imagines

Pippin x reader - "Is this a date?"

"Hey Pippin!"

"Oh, hi Y/N. How are you?" Asks Pippin joyfully.

"I'm great, thanks," you reply just as happily.

You two have been friends for as long as you can remember, but lately you have been thinking about the ginger-haired hobbit more than you find appropriate for two friends... But no matter. You agreed to meet up with Pippin this afternoon, and when you see him, you can't help but smile.

"What did you want to do this afternoon?" You question him.

"Well, I was thinking we could pick flowers in the fields at the edge of the Shire, maybe make some flower crowns, and then we could sit on a hill and just talk... Is that all right with you?" He asks nervously.

"Oh yes, that sounds wonderful!" You reassure him with a giggle.

He smiles and takes your hand. "Let's go, then."

You run with Pippin to the fields, who are warm but comfortable in the summer breeze, and proceed to pick the most beautiful flowers you can find. After gathering a whole bouquet, you sit down on the soft grass and start weaving them expertly together to make a crown.

"Are you done already?" Asks Pippin a few minutes later as he comes to sit down beside you. "Wait a bit so I can make mine."

You smile to yourself as you watch his clever fingers weave the flowers over, under, across, over, under, across...
After what seems like only a short while of watching him, he lifts it up to the light.

"How does it look?"

"It's beautiful," you say.

You lift your own flower crown and place it on top of his head.

"I now pronounce you king," you say solemnly, trying to keep a straight face.

He lifts the crown he had made. "And you shall be my queen!"

"What an honour, your majesty," you swoon as he bursts out laughing.

You join in and soon you are both lying on the grass, giggling and looking at the sky. Somehow, your fingers touch and you are both holding hands, making you blush suddenly.

The two of you spend the next few minutes talking about this and that, until you ask a bold question.

"Pippin... Would this be considered a date?"

He is quiet for a few moments. "I don't know," he says at last. "Would you like it to be?"

"I... Yes, I would," you answer cautiously.

"Then I suppose this can be one," He says, and the relief is obvious in his voice.

You smile and squeeze his hand gently. "Let's make the most of it, then."

And it was a date. The first of many, many ones to come.