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#good dad thranduil
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Thranduil: Father’s day is just a consumerist holiday that holds no real value other than drive people insane buying gifts and cards for their fathers and praising many men for nothing more than getting the mom pregnant- Legolas: I wrote you a poem. Thranduil, already crying: You did?
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antares0606 · 20 hours
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Many thanks to the fabulous @sauroff for indulging my Chibi fixation.
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meadowsofmay · 11 months
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it's really interesting to me how thranduil's narrative-like delivery of speech showcases where his character stands both king vise and father vise. and if king vise it's understandable and clear but father vise i noticed the way he casts looks at legolas and tauriel during the interrogation scene in the desolation of smaug —
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he circles not only their captive but his son too, giving him a lesson on how cruel this world is and how cruel it will continue to be. he wants legolas (and tauriel, in this case) to hear him and not try to go out further than their woods.
legolas is naive almost, he is not amused by his father's antics and he is not entirely surprised that thranduil cuts the orc's head off but he still asks, why did you do that? you promised to set him free. and thranduil shuts his narration and his life lesson with setting the line of knowledge between them. he is the king — he knows, and you, my dear elfling, still have things to learn, so listen when i talk.
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i know the movies fucked thranduil and his relationship with legolas up badly but even with that, i find his movie-character and his behavior amusing enough to make me curious to think about it.
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chicotfp · 2 years
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nico-di-genova · 9 months
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Constantly fluctuating between happy Legolas being raised by a caring father who was trying his best and Legolas who is a perfectionist because he was raised by a grieving father who tried to be there, but was often too consumed by his own trauma to be the father he wanted to be. Legolas who hides his emotions, even into adulthood, because he was raised by an emotionally closed off man who never spoke of the wife he lost and the mother Legolas had to grow up without. Legolas who doesn’t necessarily like physical contact, but is touch-starved nonetheless because Thranduil hasn’t hugged him since he was a crying child being woken by nightmares of his mother’s death. And he knows his father loves him, but he also sometimes fears that he simply isn’t enough. He wasn’t enough to save his father from drinking himself into a stupor and he wasn’t enough for Tauriel, even if he’s now old enough to realize it wasn’t love he felt for her in the first place, but a deep respect and fierce friendship. And a deep part of him thinks he wasn’t enough to save his mother, despite only being a child when she died in battle. And so there’s the Legolas who grew up in Mirkwood surrounded by kin who tried to give him the best possible childhood, despite the mounting evil around them and the grief that he has endured. The Legolas who laughed freely and loved deeply, because his father wasn’t always closed off, wasn’t always too lost in himself to function. But there’s also the Legolas who used to sit outside his father’s door for hours, just waiting for the man to open it so that they could for once speak of the pain they were both in.
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i-did-not-mean-to · 2 years
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hi it's 🍃 leafy!
My bf actually came up with the idea lol!
OKAY IMAGINE TRYING TO WAKE LEGOLAS UP AND HE'S JUST LIKE "no." SO YOU GIVE UP AND JUST SPEND SOME TIME IN BED WITH HIM 🥰🥰
But then you have to wake up to do your chores, Leggy still in head. Thranduil is worried and comes to look at him... BUT LEGGY THINKS IT'S STILL YOU TRYING TO WAKE HIM UP AND PULLS HIS FATHER TO BED AND CUDDLES HIM! LMAO!
Thranduil is a mix between awe and WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU SON?
You return to see this too!
Please could you write this whenever you are feeling better? I wanted to send it in in case I forget, because I have the memory of a stupid minion!
Thanking you 💜💚
Dearest leafy anon, of course...this was a pleasure to write and here it is <3
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Words: 1,5 k
Warnings: none
Characters: Legolas x reader, & Thranduil
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“Prince,” you purred, laughing when Legolas merely nuzzled closer into your bare shoulder, “we’ve got to get up.”
“No.”
His definitive grunt, holding quite a bit of that stubborn haughtiness he got from his father, made you chuckle once more; Legolas was a dear creature – brave, generous, and kind – but he was also almost impossible to wake up in the morning.
Or at least that was your experience; it was true that he had accomplished exceptional deeds of valour and steadfastness in the past and you had often wondered how he had managed to defeat so much evil when you had to all but drag him out from between the sheets most of the time, but you had not been particularly eager to seek out the council of the king on that subject.
When awake and asked about it, Legolas would usually say that it was your warm, fragrant, comfortable presence that made him so reluctant to let you leave his arms and that, hence, he was easily dissuaded from starting his own day just yet.
Pressing your lips against his fair brow, you resigned yourself to whiling away a bit more time in his tender embrace. Even though you were fiercely aware of the duties awaiting you – piling up in your absence and promising a stressful day of running late for every one of them – you could not resist the seductive pull of his strong limbs that kept drawing you in until you lay – cradled safely – against his broad, muscled chest.
There was not a thing you didn’t love about him; you adored the way he smelled in the morning – green growth and fertile earth – and the feeling of his smooth skin under your dancing fingertips; idly, you pencilled a list of your plans for the day onto his collarbone in the invisible ink of your love and looked up just in time to see the dreamy smile that made his lips quirk.
Strands of his hair – shining silver in the early morning light filtering through the badly drawn curtains – wrapped around your fingers as you caressed his head as if his whole being was loath to let go of you.
“Legolas,” you tried again after another long moment of getting lost in his ethereal and almost heart-breaking innocence, “I really have to get up now. Join me, my love?” 
He hummed vaguely and you sighed; extricating yourself from the sweet cage of his arms and legs coiled around like vines felt like tearing off your own skin. 
If it had not been of the utmost importance that at least one of you should appear at the meeting about to begin, you would have liked nothing better than to stay holed up in your nest of tangled sheets and deep affection for little while longer.
Dressing quickly, you strode out of the room – regret shivering down cold and clammy your throat – and made your way to the meeting room before you could change your mind.
Legolas’ disgruntled moan had sunk sharp hooks of discontentment into your flesh that now released the slow poison of impatience into your bloodstream though; every step was torture and every breath you took shallow with yearning.
“It has been cancelled,” the king – holding a piece of bread slathered in honey – informed you dryly. When his eyes sought but did not find his son at your side, his brows rose in surprise.
Your anger froze into incredulity; this was just your luck – to have struggled so in vain – and a mean streak of petulance started to flare into life upon seeing the placid face of your father-in-law.
“Where is my son?” he asked, already casting aside his breakfast, and standing in a flurry of rich robes; apparently, you were not the only person who had gotten up on the wrong side of the bed. In your case, the whole problem had been getting up at all, but Thranduil seemed considerably dismayed as well.
“In bed,” you replied curtly while eyeing the discarded food covetously; you truly hoped that Legolas would be down any minute and would hence join you while you were breaking your fast; otherwise, you’d prepare a tray and take it up to him for a romantic meal under the covers.
Uttering one of those non-committal guttural sounds that were so typical for Thranduil – at least in private - the king nodded and left the room without any further explanation.
Shrugging, you snatched a morsel from the leftovers of his meal and – while chewing slowly – you put together a solid meal for your beloved and yourself. 
Puttering around, you suddenly became aware of how much time really had passed since you had first opened your eyes when the sun had reached a point in the sky from whence it could slant into the room and paint dancing flecks of gold onto the smooth floor.
When had you come down here by yourself? How long had Thranduil been gone?
Slightly worried yourself now, you wiped your mouth, lifted your carefully arrayed tray, and retraced your steps to check on your two favourite royals.
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Legolas knew that he probably should be getting up and – just as he had almost convinced himself that lying in bed was not worth angering his father without having his beloved by his side – a warm hand came to rest on his bare shoulder.
Without thinking twice, he grabbed it and tugged, overjoyed that you had decided to skip the meeting and join him in bed once more.
“M’father can wait,” he mumbled, nuzzling into his pillow, and dragging your arm – when had it become so long? – over his shoulder to cuddle deeper into the stolen embrace.
This was just what he had needed: the warmth of another body beside him and the certainty that he was loved and protected here within these hallowed halls that kept the darkness of the world at bay.
The massive ring banging against his forehead made his eyes fly open though; your fingers were nowhere near as long as the ones he was holding, and he was sure that you had not been swaddled in the long robes that were now entangling his legs when you had left your chambers.
“Good morning, son,” Thranduil chuckled good-humouredly, relieved to find that there was nothing amiss with his Little Leaf other than laziness. 
It had been years since he had last been invited to sit by his son’s bedside and caress his soft hair in comfort and solidarity; if he was honest, he often missed those fleeting moments of paternal pride and tenderness. 
The seed he had cradled and nurtured had burst into bloom – shooting up and away from his roots at a dizzying speed – and it now no longer needed the affectionate tending of an old king; Thranduil hated having become obsolete in the life of the one he would have kept under his wing for all eternity.
Just in that moment, you burst through the door to find your venerable king half hanging off the bed you shared with Legolas, half thrown across that very same prince as if he was a light shawl one wraps around one’s shoulders against the autumn chill.
You blinked, but they were still lying thus, a grotesque painting of domestic and familial bliss.
Blindingly handsome, they looked as if poured out of the vat of starlight, as if moulded out of gold and silver, as if crafted out of diamond and moonstone, and a fond smile of emotion tugged at the corners of your lips.
“Father!” Legolas cried out, flinging away the arm hitherto slung around his shoulders with enough vehemence to all but toss the king out of the bed, “Whatever do you think you’re doing?”
“I was worried you were taken ill,” Thranduil griped, slightly vexed by his son’s reaction.
“I am not,” Legolas hissed, pulling the blanket up to his chin as if he’d never been seen undressed before, “now, if you would remove yourself from my bed, please?”
“Legolas,” you chided sharply, “your esteemed father and king has come to inquire after your well-being, the least you can do is be civil about your own lack of discipline.”
“Sorry,” Legolas muttered immediately, visibly chastised but meeting his father’s wounded gaze bravely, “I apologise, father, thank you for looking in on me and holding me as you’ve done all my life.”
A moment of deep complicity and unfiltered love played out before you and you felt humbled and honoured to be allowed to witness such a rare instance of earnest vulnerability between two fearsome warriors and dreaded foes to the forces of darkness. Then, as they both looked up at you rather sheepishly – silken hair dishevelled and light eyes flickering with embarrassment – you added: “Neither one of you has had breakfast…how about you both get your hair fixed and I’ll await you in the adjoining sitting room?”
As you walked over to the sunny room you had just crossed in such a hurry and laid out the breakfast, you sighed, they were chaos and mischief poured into shapely, living flesh, and you loved them more than words could say.
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So, here's another Leggy story from me, featuring soft Thrandy and surprising cuddles!
Lots of love from me; I hope this was to your liking <3
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kaleidemaran · 2 years
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this was just suppose to be a doodle idk what happened
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jomarch-wannabe · 4 months
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Relax (Thranduil x Fem! Reader)
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Pairings: Thranduil x Female Reader
Synopsis: The Elvenking has had a long day.. he has an idea on how to relax
Warnings: Smut 🔞 (power dynamic, size kink, dub-con, breast play, oral (m receiving), hair pulling, praise kink, fingering, dry humping, multiple orgasms, marking (biting), pure filth)
Author’s note: I started watching the Hobbit with my dad and I actually had to hold myself back from (s)creaming when this man appeared on screen. This entire fic is the inner workings of my touch starved mind. Hopefully this reaches the target audience.
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“You sent for me, my lord?” You stood in the door frame of the Elvenking’s chambers, clasping your hands in front of the other. In anticipation you played with your fingers, awaiting his instruction.
The truth was, you developed a strong infatuation for the king. His calculated and elegant demeanor captivated you. He walked and carried himself with such grace, yet held a sense of immense power and dominance. You wondered what darkness lied beneath his light eyes, and what form existed beneath his silk robes.
“Yes.” The word dragged slowly off his lips with a languid, cocky tone. He studied you from under his dark brows, thumbing his chin. The cushion beneath him squeaked as he adjusted his hips, widening his legs. You swallowed at the view, flicking your wide eyes over his form.
“Come. And shut the door behind you.” His commanding baritone made you shiver with nervousness. With a trembling hand you pulled the door closed, finding yourself alone with him. It was quiet except for the shaky exhales fleeing your lips.
The pads of your feet pattered timidly against the stone floor as you faced him, beholding him stretched out on a lounge chair, dressed in expensive garments.
He observed you with a controlled expression, his angular fingers thumbed the wooden armrest, drawing circles, slow, and deliberate. A warm pulse commenced in between your thighs at the sight.
“I require something from you.” He broke the silence, drawing your attention to his commanding blue eyes.
Your breath hitched as your eyes darted to his, “Yes? My lord?”
He took in a breath, letting his eyes wander for a moment. He was troubled, evident by the subtle knit of his black brow. “I’ve been.. tense, you see.” He let out an exasperated breath, finding you with his sapphire eyes. They glinted with lust, sparkling in the warm amber light of the room. “I require your assistance, to relax.”
A burn crept over your face at his words. You suddenly felt very small and weak before him. A pit formed in your stomach, capturing your breath. You struggled to speak, “I’m not sure how I could help.”
“Ah.. but I think you do pet.” His pink lips pulled into a smirk, glistening with saliva as he darted his tongue out to wet them.
A whimper threatened to flee your throat, you stifled it by biting your lip.
“Come along now.” He motioned with his fingers, showing off the band of gems ornamenting them. “Be a good girl for me.”
As you faltered towards him, a cool, musky scent evaporated off his skin in his proximity. You breathed him in, growing warm with arousal.
“On your knees.” He instructed in a controlled tone, looking at you down his nose. In obedience you dropped slowly to your knees, noticing the thumping of your pulse in your ears. You dared to touch him, cautiously caressing your hands over his thighs. They were firm and muscular, twitching under your touch.
Soft exhales fled your parted lips as you gazed up at him in desire. His grip on the wooden armrest tightened as he took you in. Your wide needy eyes, and long hair flowing over slender shoulders, and the top your breasts.
His garments wrestled as he sat up, hovering above you. Your stomach caved as your eyes followed his finger, grazing over your shoulder. With a calculated swipe, he released the strap, loosening the bodice of your dress.
“I want this off.” He murmured darkly, undressing you with a predatory gaze. In eagerness you helped him, unhooking the other strap. The garment slid down your chest, revealing your breasts to the still air. Your nipples became erect in the cold air, pink and hard.
“Enchanting.” He gasped in admiration, feeling himself growing hard. He shifted in his seat, searching for friction. He couldn’t help but touch you, exploring your left breast suddenly, pinching your nipple between his finger. The pressure made you jump slightly, feeling a jolt of pleasure.
“Shh.. be a good girl now.” He asserted, aroused by the feeling of your soft breasts.
“Y-yes my lord.” You stuttered, feeling your eyelids flutter at the circling of his hard fingertips.
His hand slid around your back, urging you up. You straddled his lap, settling on the tops of his thighs. A unison sigh filled the air as you felt the weight each others bodies. His head leaned forward, brushing his pointed nose against your sternum. Your hand came over his head, sifting through his soft strands. A wet warmth commenced as he latched his mouth onto your breast, sucking softly. He let out a low groan, vibrating against your skin.
“F-fuck..” you whimpered, grinding your hips against him. He hummed lowly, continuing the action.
“Oh fuck..” your eyes fell closed in pleasure, tugging softly on his white blonde hair.
“Such a pretty thing.” His warm breath fanned your skin as he praised you, peppering kisses along your chest.
“All for you.. it’s all for you my king..” you sighed, relaxing under his touch.
“How does your mouth taste I wonder?” He questioned with an inquisitive look in his eye, pulling back to look up at you. The weight of his hand came suddenly to your head, sifting through the roots of your hair. His eager grip tugged you towards his face. The feeling of his large hand sent chills down your spine, making you shiver in pleasure.
His nose brushed against yours as he inched closer, speaking against your mouth, “y/n.”
A desperate moan fled your mouth as you looked into his eyes, those captivating, sapphire eyes. He palmed your face, leaving goosebumps on your skin as his thumb caressed your cheek. Your eyes danced over his expectantly, brushing your lips against his. He stuck his tongue out, licking your bottom lip, before closing the gap, capturing your mouth.
The force of the kiss pushed you back slightly, making you gasp. His grip kept you upright, growling primally as he tasted you. His lips were soft and full, molding against yours perfectly. You moaned into his mouth, enraptured by his dominance.
A wet pop commenced as you pulled away from him, breathing heavily. Your eyelids fluttered open, entranced by him. They scanned over his face, to his swollen pink lips and lust blown eyes.
“I want you now my angel..” his hand thumbed over your cheek affectionately, not breaking eye contact.
You bit your lip, nodding in agreement, before sliding slowly off of his lap to his feet.
At this angle he looked even more ethereal. An amber light poured over the top of his frame, casting gray shadows on his prominent cheek bones and deep set eyes. He looked masculine, powerful, forcing your being to submit to him.
You fingertips explored the soft silk of his pants, moving up to the waistband. With eager fingers you hooked the fabric along with his undergarments, shuffling it down his thighs.
Your stomach sank at the view of his hard cock, bobbing towards his abdomen, free from the confinement of his clothing. The sight made you salivate. He was long and thick, with a pink tip and trimmed blonde hair at the base. He moved his position, letting out a sigh as he grew comfortable, making his length bob slightly.
You swallowed thickly, losing your breath. Unable to wait anymore, you settled your elbows on his thighs, extending your tongue on the shaft. He was warm and heavy. The pulsing of a vein throbbed against your tongue as you licked a clean stripe up to the head. He let out a low groan, knitting his thick brows together as he watched you.
You let out an aroused moan, lubricating him with your mouth. Your eyes didn’t leave his, you were entranced by the contorted look on his face. One that you only ever saw in such control.
He let out groans of pleasure as your fingers wrapped around him, dragging the head against your lips, coating them with precum.
As you pleased him his fingers sifted through your hair, grabbing a fistful of your straight strands. The grip made you involuntarily move downward, pushing his length into your mouth, you gagged instinctively.
“That’s it…” he sighed, bucking his hips up in pleasure.
You whimpered around his cock, digging your nails into his thighs as you struggled to fit it all. He was heavy and warm, filling the back of your throat.
Your lips closed around him as you pulled back, sucking.
“Ahh..” a gravely groan came from him, flexing his fingers in your hair.
His sounds made your core throb, warm in between your thighs.
As you struggled to take him all, he began to take control, moving your head with his hand. His hips nudged upwards as he guided his cock in and out of your mouth, brushing his pubic hair against your nose.
Your eyes closed shut as you gagged, spilling saliva down your cheeks, onto his thighs.
“That’s it.. fuck.. you feel so good little one.” He panted, sloppily bucking his hips up and down. Suddenly he stopped, making you hold still. You struggled, gagging and spitting. You writhed against his hand, unable to pull back.
“Shh.. stay still darling.. be good.” He hushed, sighing lewdly.
Your throat closed as you struggled for air, before he finally lifted your head up, granting you breath. You sputtered and coughed, licking your dripping lips.
“I’m not finished yet.” His deep baritone made you shiver as he forced you back onto his cock, hitting the back of your throat.
“Ah.. ah! I’m close..” he was desperate now, grinding his hips upward as he chased his release. A muffled moan came from you, you loved the feeling of his thick cock claiming you, making you obey and submit to him.
His thighs shook against your fingertips as he reached his peak, sloppily bucking his hips. With a loud guttural groan he came undone, emptying his release down your throat. The feeling was warm and salty, making you wince.
“Take it all,” he panted, “swallow your king’s seed.” You obeyed, squeezed your eyes shut as you swallowed it down.
Once he was satisfied, he loosened his grip on your hair, pulling you off of him. Your wet, swollen lips gaped open as you caught your breath, finding him with your eyes.
“Get up.” He commanded you, pulling you to his lap with his hands. You squeaked as you straddled his lap, feeling his hard cock in between your thighs. You couldn’t help but moan, feeling the wet tip brush against your clit.
He manhandled your waist, turning you around so you were facing the door, with your back pressed against his chest.
“Open up for me flower..”
Your stomach caved with your breaths as you widened your legs, extending them over the top of his thighs. He was so large, your feet reached just past his knees. His strong chest pressed against your back, vibrating as he spoke, “your mouth.” His sultry whisper hovered next to your ear as he inched from above you, brushing his nose against your cheek.
Your plump pink lips fell open for him. From the corner of your eye you followed his hand, holding your chin with his thumb. Two long fingers pushed into your mouth, sliding over your tongue. You gagged slightly while moaning.
“Suck.”
In obedience, you closed your lips over the digits, swirling your tongue over them as you sucked, humming.
“Good girl.” His lips parted as he watched you in admiration, hungrily observing you with his crystal eyes.
His fingers pulled out of your mouth, tugging down your bottom lip. You smiled, gazing at him in amusement and arousal. His thumb moved down your chin, palming your chest, and gravitating down your stomach. You whimpered at the warmth of his strong hand. You watched his hand move further, down, and finally.. there. Your body tensed as you let out a moan, indulging in the sudden pressure against your clit.
“Shh.. relax my angel.”
A jolt of pleasure moved down your legs as he rubbed into you, making you head fall back.
“F-feels.. so good..” pleasure filled tears blurred in your eyes as you submitted to him.
His nose brushed against your shoulder, inhaling deeply as he planted his lips on your skin. “My treasure.”
A whimper came from your throat as you pushed your hips forward, pressing against his fingertips.He groaned in arousal, exploring his fingers down, slipping in between your slick folds. “Soo wet for me pet.” He dragged his words out, vibrating against your skin.
“Y-yes..” your hand came behind you, holding onto his neck, warm and flexing with his movements.
Without warning he delved his fingers into your entrance, making you gasp. A wet feeling came over your back as his still hard cock rubbed against it.
“Oh fuck.. please please…” you squirmed, digging your nails into his neck as you clenched around his fingers.
He groaned lowly at the sensation, aroused from the pain. He granted your wish, delving his muscular fingers in and out of you. Each deliberate push and pull built your arousal, making you squeeze around the intrusion.
“F-fuck..”
He planted soft kisses on your collarbone, scraping your skin with his teeth. A low groan came from him as he bucked his hips upward, stimulating himself against the curve of your back.
Your face flushed with exertion as you neared your high, dripping arousal down your thighs from the repeated thrusting of his fingers.
“Please.. please please..”
“Are you close pet? Are you going to come for your master?” He fanned you with his breath, rapidly bucking his fingers in and out of you.
“Yes! Yes please.. please..” you let out a pornographic moan, feeling a tear fall down your cheek as your eyes fell closed.
His chest caved with his breath as he fucked himself against your back, simultaneously pleasuring you.
“Come with me my angel.. come with me..” the request came out strangled as he struggled and panted, grinding against your spine.
In a few final deep thrusts you came over the edge, shaking against him as you mouth fell open. “Fuck fuck fuck..” a prayer of pleasure able sounds came from you as you rode out your high, squirming helplessly on his lap. His teeth sunk into your shoulder as he groaned lowly, ejected ropes of warm cum against your back.
His fingers slid out of you with a wet squelching noise, finding place around your neck. He squeezed softly, pulling your head back to face him.
“My darling..” he sighed with a smirk on his face, leaning down to scrape his teeth along your throat. You whined, submitting to him, weakly thumbing his clean shaven jaw. His nose tickled your throat as he sucked your skin, marking you.
“Do you feel relaxed now my king?” You asked him breathlessly, searching for his deep set blue eyes.
He hummed, pulling away to look at you. “Very much..” his nose brushed your cheek as he murmured in a gravely tone, “thank you for your services my flower.”
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@emmieson @mithrilandvilya @cassiopeiathranduilion @pandaalisa @merovingianprincess @telltale-vixen
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fortunes-haven · 7 months
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I know a lot gets written about the Frodo/Sam Luthien/Beren parallels, but consider:
Thranduil doing his best Thingol impression: you wish to wed my precious only child? Fine, bring me a silmaril and I shall allow it!
Legolas: Daaaaaaad!
Gimli: Okay, so, just to make sure I do this right, can you define a "silmaril" for me? Us Dwarves you know, always want everything in an airtight contract, haha.
Thranduil: Obviously a silmaril is a beautiful jewel with the light of the Two Trees captured inside. Come now, don't tell me you value Legolas any less than Beren did Luthien? Surely even an impossible feat must be achievable if you love him so very, very much?
Gimli: Tree light in a jewel, got it. Hey, I haven't had time to craft anything since I left Erebor to tell Elrond Sauron was looking for Bilbo. Mind if I just nip home for a couple weeks? You know us Dwarves, can only really think when we're in a cave pounding on metal, haha.
Legolas: ::suspects something, but is too upset with his dad to think it through, and also is trying to decide if now is really the time to tell all of Greenwood he's been sleeping with Gimli for months, so he's just making Legolas faces™ in the background::
~~a few weeks pass~~
Gimli: Hey Thrandy, I'm back, sorry it took a little while but mithril is an absolute bitch to find these days and I wanted this gem to be perfect.
Thranduil: ????
Gimli: So, tree light captured in a pretty jewel in exchange for Legolas right? Or actually, lol, this contract only states that I have to bring you such a jewel, not that I have to give it to you, which is good because otherwise Legolas was really going to owe me and that's such a petty way to start a new marriage, don't you think?
Thanduil: ?????????
Gimli: ::holds out the crystal in which he's encased Galadriel's strands of hair:: Almost as pretty as my fiancé, wouldn't you say? :D
Thranduil: How the fuck??????????????
Legolas: Flattery like that will get you everywhere, meleth. ::bats eyelashes::
::Gimli carries him off bridal style::
~fin~
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itsonlydana · 1 month
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"passenger princess" | chapter two
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the hobbit | a modern!AU by itsonlydana
❱ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader
❱ wordcount: 4,2k
❱ summary: meeting Thranduil; memories of first and past encounters
❱ warnings: alcohol, the usual swearing and bantering
❱ an: first look at the dadd.. father Thranduil! What do we think? hehe :)
general m.list + series m.list
🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot - especially with longer projects <3
CHAPTER TWO: THRANDUIL
Thranduil's appearance shouldn't have surprised you that much, he was Legolas' father after all and owned the very table you sat at.
But here you were; hands clenched in your lap as you drank in the glorious sight of him.
Thranduil Oropherion took your breath away every time you saw him and now that you were slightly drunk and already caught unguarded more than ever.
As CEO of his law firm, he usually never drove home before midnight, so seeing him at a relatively early hour - a good quarter hour before 11 - was unusual.
On other occasions, when you found yourself at Legolas' place at a later hour, he would make a modest effort at conversation but promptly excuse himself to retire to his rooms.
Today, the man in front of you looked quite chipper, his sharp eyes wandered through the round before it lingered on you.
"You were far from getting her," Thranduil mocked his son, "or she wouldn't have lost interest so quickly. Though I doubt it had ever been there, had it?" He smirked.
You blushed under his gaze, which stayed on you as he slowly unbuttoned his long black coat with long and nimble fingers; it brought a diziness that wiped out everything in your mind.
"All tactics, Thranduil," you blurted out, though your voice threatened to break away.
Quickly, you took a sip of your now lukewarm beer. It did not help whatssoever.
After swallowing, you tipped the bottle toward the board, "When his mind is on his ego, he doesn't play quite as well and well, what kind of friend would I be if I didn't take complete advantage of that?"
At the indignant "Hey!" of your best friend, Thranduil laughed gravelly and warmly. "Very good tactics- you're such a clever girl."
Oh god.
His praise hit you right in the heart and before you could control yourself, the blood rushed hot to your cheeks.
You nodded, because now you knew you couldn't trust your voice.
With a dry throat, even though you had just finished drinking, you watched as he stripped off his coat, revealing one of those perfectly fitted brown suits that drove you crazy.
No ones Dad should be allowed to look this hot, right?
But of course, here he was; looking exactly what you imagined model agencies were after.
Legolas had to have gotten his looks from somewhere and one look was sufficient to pin point exactly from who.
They had the same long blonde hair, though Thranduil's flowed down his back like molten silver while Legolas embodied the warmth of sunshine in his blond strands.
Their features mirrored each other as well, from the enchanting light blue eyes to the dark eyebrows and prominent cheekbones, though then there were Thranduil's lips, tinged with a rosy hue, that, when curled into a smile, not only lit up his whole face but every cell in your body as well.
He was a total DILF, a more refined version of his equally beautiful son and wouldn't you've had befriended Legolas and met his father, you're sure that you would have become on of Las's admirers.
And oh Thranduil's height played into his imposing figure as well, around 6,5' tall and built with broad shoulders that flexed under his white shirt, tightening it as he folded his arms behind his back and walked toward your little round.
Unconsciously, your head moved along with his relaxed steps, following the swing of his hips and the casualty with which he loosened the tie around his neck. You admired him for his sauntering, no matter how he walked, how he stood and how he sat, he radiated an incomparable elegance.
He came to a stop right behind you, propped one hand on the back of your chair to lean down slightly, and you took in a cloud of his senses-thrilling perfume, rich and noble and underneath the smell of just him.
Leaning lightly against his fingers, you sensed the pressure of the rings adorning his slender hands against your back, prompting you to automatically straighten up.
If someone else behaved like you, the fawning, the blushing, gods– the giggling and utterly nonsense you could ramble whenever Thranduil was close, you would have called them completely ridiculous and a lovesick fool.
It had taken a lot of effort to face what your body, your heart, your soul and your whole being demanded.
That it was the father of your best friend hadn't necessarily made it easier for you.
The first time you met Thranduil Oropherion was at the end of the second semester, on a night that, while seeming ordinary, marked a turning point in your life.
It was mid-February, the day of your last exam before the semester break. An exam with Professor Sauron on the last day—seriously, who came up with such sadistic ideas?
Frustrated, you decided the only logical solution was to hit your favorite bar.
The cozy joint quickly filled up with your fellow students. Fast forward a few hours, and there you were, getting schooled by Aragorn in Beer Pong, winning a drinking contest against Gimli, and belting out "Mr. Brightside" with Legolas on karaoke. Looking back, it had to be one of your finest performances. The two of you would get compliments for "rocking that shit" that never really ended.
So, none of you were in any shape to catch the usual bus back home.
Surprisingly, even Aragorn, who usually doesn't party to the point of a near coma like you, was holding his own with the beer. Plus, there wasn't enough cash left for a cab.
You pushed the problem aside until the bar shut off the music in the wee hours, and the remaining patrons were tossed into the night.
Confronted with the cold February air, you had to make a quick decision; none of you wanted to spend the semester break sick in bed.
So, Legolas, after fumbling with his cell phone and struggling to find the right number in his contacts, called his father.
It was only after the short call, in which Legolas slurred a "See you soon, Ada," that you thought about whether you had just woken the man up.
Although Legolas assured you several times how little his father slept and that he had likely been working, you couldn't help but worry about your first encounter with your best friend's father.
The few details you had managed to extract from the blonde, who had fallen asleep on your shoulder, were that he's "totally cool as long as I don't barve over the seats" and that his name was Thranduil.
It was a name that now rolled smoothly over your tongue, strange and enticing, and that he wasn't just a lawyer but owned an entire law firm, "the one that took down that one asshole, y'know?"
Knowing Legolas, his grades and the level of intelligence he had whenever he wasn't in love or drunk, it made sense that his father had cared a great deal about his education.
That you felt sick to your stomach and nervous about meeting the man was an understatement. There was a part in you that was ready to run into the night as to avoid meeting your best friends father drunk and barely dressed; and that for the first time.
A man so firm in his attitudes about work and education surely had no joy in picking up his son, drunk as hell, in the middle of the night or playing cab driver for his equally drunk friends.
Those thoughts vanished as soon as a sleek black sports car pulled up in front of the sidewalk and he stepped out.
He could've been Legolas older brother by the looks of them.
Adorned, as usual, in impeccably coordinated slacks and a crisply pressed shirt, this time in a striking bordeaux hue, Thranduil exuded a forbiddingly handsome presence.
The long platinum hair framed his face, pulled up into a ponytail, and his piercing eyes thoroughly surveyed you as he stepped out.
Even if your ass was freezing off on the stone, you were glad to be sitting down. Your legs had turned into jelly as you peared up.. and up and up those long legs.
His first words caught you off guard.
You had expected a lecture about your drinking habits or a mocking comment along the lines of: "partied a little too hard, did we?"
However, the first thing Thranduil said was a warm, "You'll catch your death out there, hop in!" before ushering you into the car.
Wrapped in a surprisingly cozy blanket he provided, you sat in the passenger seat moments after loading a still-dozing (and very much drooling) Legolas into the back seat with Gimli and Aragorn. It wasn't a long drive, but the heated seats and the exhaustion of the day quickly lulled the boys into a sleep you couldn't share.
Determined to stay awake, to make a good impression on Thranduil, you wanted to talk to him and thank him for the ride.
Somehow, you couldn't manage to open your mouth. Instead, it was he who broke the silence with a lowered voice at a red light.
"You must be the woman Legolas won't stop talking about," he stated, your name rolling off his tongue, and at your nod, he smirked. "Legolas has told me so much about you that I wondered when I might finally meet you."
Your eyes were glued to the man at the wheel, not just because of his handsome face and the way he pronounced your name. The last part would have you swooning, wondering how your own name could sound so... sensual on anyones lips.
It was easy to fall into conversation with him after that, even if the beginning was a bit bumpy on your part due to sobering up. You may have forgotten what seminars you took and completly got off road babbling about the books you needed to read, that didn't matter though.
Thranduil listened to you, looked at you, and responded to your stories and opinions with such interest and wit that something in you was released, something that would stay with you for a long time.
He did it a lot now, watching you, looking at you and like, really looking at you with his cerulean eyes that broke through every wall you've ever built around yourself.
It was clear from the beginning that this wasn't some boy like the ones you went on dates with before.
He was a man who showed his interest in what you had to say and what you thought because he was interested in you and not because he wanted to get into your pants.
While Thranduil wasn't always there, making himself sparse whenever the four of you got too loud for him or giving you the freedom to use the house as a second home, those moments where he did join you left an even greater indent in your heart that slowly carved a Thranduil-sized shape into the muscle.
Take last winter for example.
Christmas was coming closer every day, bringing with it the usual hustle of cramming in study sessions for the last exams to be taken while trying to work through the bullet list of activities that Legolas had planned.
They were more meticulous and even color coordinated which made a fine example of his study habits when you tried to quiz him on one of the many topics and all he could list was when and where the first Christmas markets would open. He hadn't even bothered to fake taking an interest in studying.
You loved him, very much so but he tested your skills on holding back and smacking him so much that you needed to get up and get out of the living room. Gimli and he would be alright if you left them alone for a second. Surely.
The afternoon sun filtered through the windows of the high entrance hall as you sat down on the stairs, shuffling through the flashcards you'd prepared in the hopes of getting at least some of the information into your overflowing, mushed brain.
At this point, your head must have been steaming, stuffed full with dates and people doing this because of that, and the historical development of words that you needed to explain other words– it went on and on, building up to a scarily high stack of cards and notes.
You just made yourself as comfortable as one could, perched on one of the steps, leaned against the wall, and feet crossed at the ankles and your back hunched over one of the cards, as one of the doors upstairs opened and closed, followed by footsteps and then, an amused huff.
"Why am I not surprised to find one of you doing yoga on the stairs?"
You snapped up, a sharp sting zipping through you at the sudden movement and you winced, glancing up to the top of the stairs.
"Yoga? Why the hell– sorry, shit.."
Then, your feelings for Thranduil had been simmering on high heat, a new development of the crush that slowly but surely grew out of control.
There was a duality tearing you in two different directions.
1. he was still Mister Oropherion, Legolas's father, a respectable man in society (after the first meeting you had frantically googled him, lying under the stuffy blanket in your dorm and tried to find out as much as you could through newspaper articles and zooming into pictures) and he radiated power, influence.
2. He was Thranduil as well, loving and caring not just to his son but to his friends as well, always making time after a long day at work to ask how you all were and if you needed anything. He drove you around whenever none of you could anymore, he laughed at your jokes and teased, smirking at you, watching you over the rim of his reading glasses…
How were you supposed to act around him if not like a total fool?
Thranduil raised a hand to his mouth and pressed his thumb against his lip which obviously twitched into an amused smile at your attempt to sort out this situation.
"That position you were in just now resembled one I did in my morning yoga course this morning," Thranduil explained as he made his way down, stopping two steps behind you.
"Yoga," you repeated quite horse at the mental image of this man twisting his long body– no no no this was not what should occupy your mind right now, most definitely not.
"However, I see I was incorrect," he continued and nodded the tip of his chin down at the flashcards. "Not as much fun as yoga."
You made a sound somewhere between a distressed wail and laughter. "No this is so much fun, actually. I think I'm having too much fun; nothing else I wanna do other than burn the reasoning for a man doing whatever into this nuggin'"
And while you were alright at it, you knocked your own palm against your forehead, hoping that it would delete some useless information out of there to make room.
It did nothing of the sorts, why would your head cooperate for once in your lifetime exactly when Thranduil was taking another step, right over you and sat down on your other side– one step lower.
The height difference allowed him to have an inch on you nonetheless, presenting you with a close-up of his jawline and the ivory curve of his neck and shoulder line that peeked under his cashmere sweater.
"C'mon," he said and held out his hand.
Your brain was short-circuiting, running hot trying to figure out if you should take it with your hand.
Thranduil chuckled and reached over, taking the stack of cards out of the tight grip of your hands that loosened at the brush of fingertips against skin.
He shuffled through them as well, looking over your handwriting and that alone felt so much more intimate than anything else he had ever done.
Here he was, sitting next to you, his eyes following the brush of your pen and you wondered if he saw the sharp slants of the t's and the dots on the i's and if there was a universe where he thought about his name in your handwriting.
He must have said something for suddenly he lifted his head and looked at you, still staring.
His eyes, the brightest of blue, wandered back and forth on your face, moving and examining and though you were scared he was figuring it out, putting puzzle pieces together that revealed a picture of your desire, you couldn't find it in you to look away.
You imagined kissing him. Press your mouth against those soft and pink lips and finally get it done and over with.
You blinked.
And drew back first.
Thranduil's head inclined the tiniest bit, a quizzing glance in his last glance before he cleared his throat and leaned back against the wall. The winter sun warmed your cheeks and the fuzzy socks on your feet knocked against the banister as you situated yourself again.
This was alright.
Not the right time for kissing your best friend's father but spending time with him filled that part in you that arched for the slightest ounce of attention that he could spare.
And if this was studying in their hallway, you would be alright.
"So… please explain to me what happened in the year–"
"Things don't seem to be in your favor," Thranduil remarked in the present as he examined the board.
Meanwhile, Gimli, who had momentarily slipped your mind in the haze of thoughts about him and the pleasant warmth coursing through your body from both him and the alcohol, burst into laughter.
"Well," you swallowed hard and forced yourself to look away from Thranduil and back at the table.
You didn't have to look at your friends to see the smirk on their faces.
At first, you had wanted to keep your secret to yourself, but damn Gimli, Legolas, Aragorn, and the evening after one of the harder exams that had loosened your tongue and pulled at your words bit by bit until all your insides poured out, just like the tears that came from finally being able to share this part of you.
Now you had to live with the consequences, the wagging eyebrows whenever Thranduil said something, the giggling as if you were ten and not in your twenties, and if that wasn't frustrating enough, the three of them conspired in a manner that they could disappear as soon as they had to chance to leave you and Thranduil alone.
You searched for your voice for a moment: "Who knows how the game will turn out? I've been clinging for what feels like an eternity to this money and the few rents I can collect. After all, these idiots ripped off street after the other."
"You brought this on yourself," Aragorn replied, rolling the dice.
You hadn't noticed Legolas' move at all, and from the grins on the faces of the three of them, dread gripped you as you anticipated something truly mischievous.
"What have you... Legolas!" you almost shrieked when you saw his rider on your street. "Why didn't you say anything?" you asked aloud, glaring angrily into the round, only to have cheeky-looking faces flashing back at you.
Aragorn started to walk his figure, but you leaned far over the table, grabbing his wrist with one hand. "No.. no, that doesn't count! We were on a break!" you tried to complain but got no encouragement.
Nice friends you had chosen.
Not even Aragorn, who usually took no sides, now raised his shoulders in a quick shrug.
"I said I'm gonna continue," Legolas sang. You saw his lips continue to speak, but the words sounded muffled in your ears, "It's not our fault if you were distracted"
This pure audacity.
The disrespect.
The nerve of this blonde headed idiot!
You wanted to scream, you wanted to shake the mirk out of his face, but all you did was nail him to the chair with a pointed stare.
To no avail.
The guy was building up immunity to that scarily fast. In no time soon, you would need to find another way to shut him up.
The blood burned your face as you let yourself fall backward.
Not the smartest idea, because as soon as your back made contact with Thranduil's hand, you sucked in a sharp breath, a sound that didn't escape the man behind you.
The only thing you could think of to somehow save yourself from the situation was to cross your arms in front of your chest desperately.
Like a defiant child, you pushed your lower lip forward and jutted your chin up. "Alright, let's play unfair."
Behind you, Thranduil smirked.
His breath hit your cheeks hotly as he leaned down to your height all at once, and the butterflies in your stomach fluttered. "No matter how you play, dirty or not, destroy them for me, okay sweetheart?"
As if his proximity wasn't already the catalyst for the endorphin explosion and clouding your perception of everything else but him, the way the pet name 'sweetheart' rolled loosely over his tongue made your heart skip a beat.
Fuck, you were so fucked.
"Of course," you managed to bring out just barely.
Your voice had jumped up the scale so far it could have been a squeak. If you tried to think about why he'd unpacked that pet name out of the blue, your brain would probably have gone up in smoke.
Or you would have gone crazy.
Neither seemed like a really promising option and so you played it cool, throwing him a smile and then reaching for the dice.
You felt Thranduil straighten up again, heard the soft rustle of his fine suit pants, and forced yourself to concentrate on moving your figure along and placing it, thank heavens, to a prison visiting field.
"You're home early, Ada," mumbled Legolas, a handful of sour gummy worms between his teeth as his sticky fingers accepted the dice.
Behind you, Thranduil now propped himself up with both hands on your backrest, his tall figure casting a shadow on the board in front of you in the dim light of the kitchen, making your thoughts, as well as your breath, catch.
He was so much taller than you, his shadow engulfing yours completely.
"Would you believe me if I said I was hoping to see my son after a long week at work?" he asked, and for a moment you thought you felt his thumb brush your shoulder blades.
But the feathery touch disappeared so quickly that you weren't sure it had even been there.
"Ay, I'd rather have stayed at work then," interjected Gimli as he slid a few bills to Aragorn and exchanged them for a road, "Seeing Las shitfaced is not a pretty sight" He laughed, though Legolas rolled his eyes.
"Or seeing him in general," you interjected. Again all your bones vibrated at Thranduil's laughter.
Then a dull pain ran through you and, gasping, you looked under the table where Legolas was just pulling his leg back. "You little shit!" you gasped, but the blonde only stuck his tongue out at you.
"My Lady," Aragorn slid the dice to you, probably just in time before Legolas and you erupted into another discussion.
"I'll be in the living room in the meantime if anyone is looking for me. And please," Thranduil's tone made you tilt your head back in your neck so you could look up at him. He looked at one after the other of you "it would be very nice if I didn't run into another one of you half-naked in the morning," he spoke and his eyebrows shot up at Gimli who promptly toasted him with the bottle.
"Of course, Mr. O! In the future, I will not present Mother Nature's gifts until lunchtime."
Thranduil rolled his eyes with a grin and turned away from your group.
In the corner of your eye, you followed him, watching as he disappeared around the corner to the living room.
The room remained silent, music extracted, and as you looked to your friends, you heaved a sigh. "Can we please not talk about this?"
"I don't know what about," Gimli asked, looking to Legolas "Do you know what she might mean Las?"
Legolas shook his head, one shoulder raised "I haven't the faintest idea. Aragorn?"
"Can't think of anything."
Grateful and relieved, you smiled at your boys.
"It's not like it's a big deal that your so down bad for my dad," Legolas interjected as casually as if he wasn't throwing your biggest secret into the room.
A room that was adjacent to the living room.
Your blood ran hot and hold.
"Legolas!" you hissed and paid him back with a well-deserved kick under the table.
Your heart was pounding up to your throat, Thranduil was sitting right there, next door, and Legolas was running his mouth? What was he thinking?
"What?"
"Are you fucking serious right now?"
Unbothered, Legolas threw another gummy worm into his mouth, "C'mon, it's true."
"Oh my god, sure. He.. he shouldn't, no he can't know it though!"
To your surprise, Legolas giggled, "You can't make this up, guys," and Gimli joined in with laughter; even Aragorn hid his laughter behind a hand.
It seemed like you were out of the loop as if the joke had sailed right past you.
The only way the situation could have worsened was if Thranduil had emerged from the living room to share a laugh with the guys about whatever you had clearly overlooked.
Yeah, that would be the tip of the evening, Thranduil laughing in your face over the stupid crush you had.
"Oh, my dear friend," Aragorn leaned over to you, patting your thigh affectionately, "Someday, when you stop putting yourself in the way, you will finally see how the tides can turn."
Your eyebrows shot up questioningly, "Aragorn, I love you, you know that? But no more riddles, no more dallying. Let's just finish this game before I scream."
"Like we're the ones dilly-dallying around," you heard Legolas mutter into his bottle, but you didn't have the motivation to bring up the subject again, and with a roll of the dice you threw everyone else back into action as well.
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taglist [still open]: @mushroomemeralds @mssuguru @solartoge
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lotrlocked · 2 years
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So. Rings of power was better than I, a 20 year LOTR fan, xpected. It’s visually beautiful in a way that doesn’t feel totally computer generated. The costumes look better than I expected and honestly it made me get out my Tolkien books and pour over the maps and timelines again.
But like: the elves. Terrible. Bad. Boring. Why? Why do they all look like exasperated suburban dads? Did we fly too close to the sun with Lee Pace as Thranduil and they went, well, we can’t possibly find anyone hotter than that so they just gave up? Why do all of the men except Gil Galad have short hair? I’m so angry we were robbed of the beauty of Black elves with locs or braids and got emo buzz cut man instead. 0/10
Where is Disa’s beard? She has the tiniest little extended sideburns but come on. Cowards. Absolute cowards. Again she could have a beautifully braided beard with jewelry and flowers in it. 9/10 for Disa’s character in general, 3/10 for design.
Galadriel SWIMMING across the whole ass sea? That whole part in general 0/10
If they make a Galadriel/Elrond romance I’m gunna riot. -1000/10
If the make Galadriel/Halbrand romance I’m gunna riot. (However if they have a buddy cop dynamic that’s a mark in favor.) -1000/10
Harfoots, good. Love it. Strong sense of culture and society. Interesting. Little girls being weird. 10/10.
Tirharad- the concept that pre-ring era Mordor was a lush livable landscape is FASCINATING to me because it’s something I never considered in all of my pouring over maps and reading fan fictions for 20 years. The timeline is fucked, but I want that kid (Theo?) to become The Witch King in a rode to hell is paved with good intention storyline. 6/10
The fantasy racism, stupid. Bad. Why?? Just…stop. It’s so forced and unnecessarily awkward. We see a black elf, an obnoxious white kid says ‘you people’. Elrond, ELROND THE HONORED AND REVERED, being told he can’t go to the council because he’s not ‘an elf-lord’ despite the fact that it was never explained in the show that he’s half elven. I?? Yes there was racism in middle earth but I’m big mad because it’s so poorly written. -1000/10
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Lirion: *workaholic, dead tired, hasn’t slept in 6 days* what if i pour coffee in my cereal instead of milk?
Thranduil, walking past and picking up the coffee pot: what if you don’t.
Lasgen: 😬 *tugs her own coffee/cereal/energy monstrosity closer and out of sight*
Kleoyia:…
Legolas: *leans towards kleoyia* ten bucks says ada’s gonna find out about lasgen’s “creations” and forces everyone through a caffeine withdrawal for a month.
Kleoyia: i don’t take bets i know i’m gonna loose.
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sehnsuchts-trunken · 2 months
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The Hobbit + Lord of the Rings Masterlist
of course, this doesn't include everything, only most fics (which are all multiple years old and therefore bad, be warned). you can always click here for hobbit and here for lotr and get the full picture, including match ups and all
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Thorin Oakenshield:
Get To Know You
Dragon Sickness
Tired
Jealous
The Kings of Middle Earth
Stay With Me
Betrothed
We’re Dads Now
Kíli Durin:
Bastard
Meet The Company
Goodbye
A Good World For Once
Fíli Durin:
I’ll Carry You
Wish We Got Some Privacy
Thranduil:
Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas
The Kings of Middle Earth
Bard:
The Kings of Middle Earth
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corndog-patrol · 2 years
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 ☆*: .。 good dad thranduil 。.:*☆
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fili-urzudel · 10 months
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Dating Legolas Headcanons
Oh no, people are actually interacting with my content?? Here, have some Legolas Headcanons that I wrote a while ago and don't really like
Warnings: None except for very brief mentions of insecurity
Word Count: 0.5k
- Okay, yes, we know he's a prince and whatever but
- Boy is actually feral
- He's always sweaty lmao
- Like he doesn't just sweat but he's always running around doing something and/or getting into heated arguments with his dad
- Speaking of which, Thranduil doesn't necessarily despise you, he's just...
- Cautious
- He doesn't think it's a good idea for elves to get involved with humans, especially with the whole death by heartbreak thing
- He just doesn't want his son to go through that again and have the possibility of not recovering
- Anyway back to Legolas
- If anyone tries to tease him about you or mock you directly, he will be foaming at the mouth
- You'd think a few thousand years of life would instill patience, but this man
- *deep inhale*
- THIS MAN IS SO IMPULSIVE GOOD LORD
- Like as a young human, why are you the one stopping him from jumping off cliffs/getting into fistfights/literally running away from home forever?
- Somehow he makes up for the stress he causes you by being very goofily sweet and loving
- He manages to channel some of his impulsiveness into going out and picking flowers for a bouquet for you
- Or plotting a spontaneous date/picnic/romantic training session
- He only jokes around you, which can pose a bit of an issue when you tell others "he's so funny and witty" and you just get blank stares that say, "you alright there or wot?"
- But he actually is really funny and it makes you feel special that he only lets that side out around you, the side that isn't either serious or super dramatic all the time
- He is also very disrespectful when it comes to PDA lol
- You once hugged him in front of a few of his friends (okay) and kissed him on the cheek (less okay) before you knew the "rules" and he took that to mean that you were completely fine with flying in the face of elven tradition
- and a license to kiss you whenever wherever
- Not that you necessarily mind
- But you're definitely embarrassed
- He has a lot of elven maidens chasing him that do NOT like you
- He doesn't find it funny because it hurts you, however he does find it funny that they think they have a chance with him
- In his words, "Especially when they act like that."
- As soon as you got self-conscious about not being as skilled of a warrior as he or his familiars, he took the excuse to be super close to you took it upon himself to teach you
- Which leads to a few unnecessarily funny incidents and some never to be spoken of again
- In short, he's semi-immortal and semi-eternally a teenager at heart
- And that heart is all yours
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gothhobbithoe · 4 months
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What tv shows/films the Fellowship would watch:
Gandalf: Ok so Gandalf loves his true crime, he's always listening to podcasts and watching true crime tiktok. He also loves the cosy old lady crime dramas such as Poirot or Marple. Gandalf also enjoys hospital dramas. Basically if there's drama he's here for it.
Frodo: Frodo loves his period dramas, Bridgerton, Downton abbey, Call the Midwife all that jazz. He loves the old fashioned scandals and dramas. Will cry if a character dies.
Sam: Now sam loves his cooking shows, espcially Masterchef or Bake off and will attempt the challenges if he's feeling really inspired. He also loves gardening shows, you know the really british one where they speak in soft whispers so they don't distrurb the bees.
Pippin: Pippin is an absolutely a sci-fi fan, Dr Who, Star Wars, Star Trek you name it he's watched it. and yes he will talk in great detail about it. He's also obsessed with Marvel and has already decided what member of the avengers each fellowship member is. (Gandalf is Nick Fury)
Merry: Fantasy and horror all the way. He's more into dark fantasy like Game of Thrones but will watch Merlin and other shows to give himself a break from the gritty shows. He will also watch horror until he scares himself but he wont admit that to anyone not even Pippin. Also partial to a good zombie show. Knows all of American Horror Story off by heart.
Boromir: Secret Disney fan but can't let anyone else know. Also enjoys a good comedy show, stand up comedy or the comedy shows with his silly humour. He also loves Action films like Top Gun, Die Hard and John Wicks, has watched all the Fast and Furious films.
Legolas: Loves nature documentaires and finds David Attenborough's voice so soothing. He also enjoys a good fashion/makeover show and has binge watch RuPaul's Drag Race too many times to count (him and Thranduil watch it together)
Gimli: Now Gimli loves his history shows, you know the types that your dad watched on a saturday. Deep dive into the pyramids, Time Team, fancy graphics and digging up bones. Mainly about ancient structures and buildings really. He loves the ancient egyptians and has so many facts about their culture and their buildings. He also loves a good historical drama, as long as it's accurate.
Aragorn: Survival shows, Bear Grylls, Ed Stafford etc. He loves watching their shows and getting tips for future quests. He also enjoys shows about people who live int he wild e.g Alaskan Bush People as it give him nostalgia of his Strider days.
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