#hobbit reader insert

[somedaylazysomeday]

A Boon - Part Four

Thranduil x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

Rating: Explicit, NC-17, lemon, etc. Minors dni!

Word Count: 6,200

Warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption and drunkenness, denial-based bet, teasing, oral sex (male receiving), slight somnophilia, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected piv sex, creampie.

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---

Several days after you had made your bet with Thranduil, he came to visit you at the Ripple. 

Ostensibly, he was there to deliver your regular shipment of elven wine. You had slowed or stopped most of your other deliveries since you intended to relocate so soon, but Thranduil’s wine sold so quickly that you would likely run out by the time you left. 

The Elvenking wasn’t a rare sight in the Ripple, but he always managed to draw attention. His appearance and manner and the sheer weight of his personality made certain of that. That day in particular, he was dressed in a tunic embroidered with a shade of silver that only emphasized the shine of his hair and the way his eyes danced beneath his dark brows. His trousers were dyed dark, but you could still see their texture and knew that they would be velvety if you stroked them. 

Thranduil was showing off for you, doing his best to remind you of what you would give up if you moved to Dale. How losing access to his body - admittedly delectable as it was - was meant to compare to earning a living with your tavern, you weren’t quite sure. No one was that attractive, not even the famously beautiful King of the Greenwood. 

Instead of showing him the reaction he so clearly craved, you greeted Thranduil with a simple nod and invitation to sit while you brought him a drink. The flash of disappointment you saw at your mild reception lent your smile more credibility.

When you brought him his typical tankard of wine, Thranduil held up a hand, signaling for you to stop as he shook his head.

You paused, frowning. “What is it?”

“I find myself wanting something different this evening,” he told you.

“You always order wine,” you reminded him unnecessarily. “Have you finally realized that paying to drink the wine you provide us is madness and a waste of funds besides?”

“I believe I will have a honey mead instead,” Thranduil decided, pointedly ignoring your dig at his sanity. His eyes were fixed on yours as he explained, “I have craved tasting your sweetness of late. It has been an eternity since I last had the opportunity to do so.”

Your face grew hot… along with other things, but you were doing your best to ignore that. Instead, you set the tankard down on a nearby table where several patrons had opted for the wine. 

As you had never ordered anything other than tankards for cups, the wine took up a little less than half of the space inside. That was fortunate, as you likely would have spilled anything more when you slammed the cup down on the table.

The patrons stared up at you, shocked at your outburst of temper. You forced a smile. “Here’s a refill, courtesy of King Thranduil.”

The patrons drunkenly toasted the Elvenking as you retreated behind the bar to fill a fresh tankard with honey mead. By the time the pale amber liquid had crept up to the brim of the tankard, your shoulders had eased away from your ears.

Thranduil was trying to rattle you. You simply were not going to allow him the satisfaction of succeeding. 

You took a full breath and let it out slowly as you walked back to his chosen table. When you moved to set his beverage down on the table, Thranduil intercepted the action. He took the tankard from you directly, his fingers stroking the back of your hand as he did so. 

While you glared, he took a sip of the mead. The movement of his lips forced you to picture the way it rolled over his tongue and warmed his throat. When he let out a pleased hum, Thranduil smiled - a devious little smirk that heated your blood with simultaneous irritation and desire. 

“It is magnificent as always,” he complimented with a tilt of his head. “There is something else I desire more, but this poor substitute shall suffice… for now.”

You rolled your eyes and walked away before he could see the way his words somehow managed to breach the layers of calm and mild condescension you had donned before approaching him once more.

While you worked alongside Storr and several other employees, taking care of the Ripple’s patrons and ensuring the night went smoothly, you were formulating a plan. A plot, really, but you couldn’t let anyone else know that. The element of surprise would be a vital key to your success. 

You brought an extra honey mead for Thranduil, doing your best to ignore the way his gaze traveled heavily across your body - though you did shiver when he trailed his fingertips down your forearm as you retrieved his empty tankard.

Instead, you leaned in close so you could speak lowly. “Can you send a boat for me tomorrow afternoon? I have some business I wish to speak with you about.”

Thranduil frowned deeply, but nodded. “I will do exactly that. Will you not be here tomorrow?”

“I’m taking a day off,” you explained. “Storr is capable of running the tavern.”

With a thoughtful furrow between his brows, the Elvenking nodded and you retreated behind the bar once more, biting back a smile. Thranduil continued to look interested and slightly concerned as he finished his honey mead and prepared to leave. 

Just as he stood, one of the women at the next table leaned over with a giggle, showing off her cleavage to best advantage as she gave a little wave as if to catch his attention. “You are incredibly handsome.”

Thranduil glanced down at her with cool disinterest. “I am well aware.”

She giggled again, the rest of the table joining her. In a voice that slurred slightly, she said, “D’you want to come back to my place for the night? I’d show you a great time.”

It was an incredibly forward invitation. If this was any place other than Lake-Town, she would have been publicly shamed for saying such a thing, even if neither of them went through with it. As it was, however, a village full of practical fishermen and haggard merchants had better ways to spend their time than policing such a ridiculous concept as ‘virtue’. Besides, after surviving Smaug’s second attack, no one begrudged anyone else the opportunity to take their pleasure where they found it. It was one of the things you admired about this place.

So why were you filled with such disgust and horror?

Instead of replying, Thranduil glanced over at you. There was no use pretending you hadn’t been watching the conversation unfold, so you simply arched an eyebrow at him. In the silence of a pair who understood each other perfectly, his expression reminded you that you would lose the ability to have a say in his bed partners if you did move to Dale.

The realization made your chest cold with dread even as your logical mind told you the reaction was silly. He was right - if you were no longer together, you lost any right to have an opinion about Thranduil’s partners.

“Did you hear me?” the woman pressed, squeezing her arms closer together to plump her breasts even further. “Do you want to come home with me?”

“Yes.” 

The single word made your heart stutter in your chest. Yes, relocating to Dale would mean you lost the right to an opinion about Thranduil’s bedroom activities, but surely he didn’t intend to begin that before you had left Lake-Town?

The woman beamed, but Thranduil continued, “I did hear you. As to whether I am interested in sharing your bed tonight… no.”

He walked halfway across the room as the woman’s smile continued to fade. As the other patrons at the table consoled the recently-rejected flirt, Thranduil paused before the bar to glance at you. “I will see you tomorrow afternoon.”

You nodded, fighting a smile as he left. After a moment of thought, you poured another serving of wine as a conciliatory offering for the jilted patron. 

---

The next afternoon found you approaching the entrance to the Woodland Realm. The elves were rowing swiftly, and you knew you would arrive at the gates within minutes. In the time remaining on your journey, you studied your surroundings with the familiarity of a near-expert eye. 

The Greenwood was at last living up to its name. With the spiders gone - killed by elven hunting parties or chased further north by the combination of the elves and Smaug’s fire - the forest was recovering from the gloom and darkness that had given it the unflattering nickname ‘Mirkwood’. (Though you still tended to refer to it as such to irritate Thranduil.) 

Still, enough light filtered down from the thick canopy to illuminate the clear waters of the river. Healthy creatures of all sorts roamed the riverbanks, unbothered by the near-silent rowers slipping through the water. You even spotted a few groups of elves outside the gates of the Woodland Kingdom, picnicking or playing music in the dappled sunlight near the edges of the water.

It was idyllic, and you were almost reluctant to step through the magnificent gates of Thranduil’s halls. But you had business to attend to, so you entered the halls regardless, following one of Thranduil’s aides with confident strides as he led you to the Elvenking’s throne room. 

This was one of Thranduil’s most enduring quirks. No matter how he insisted that his people would not see you as lesser simply for sharing a casual relationship with him, each of your visits to the Woodland Realm had to start in his throne room. You were received with every courtesy, treated at least as well as a visiting dignitary would be. 

Accordingly, when you entered the throne room, the elf who had escorted you bowed slightly as he stepped away. Thranduil watched you from his seat on the throne. He was wearing his royal finery - embroidered robes of the most delicate silk and the towering crown that marked him as the king. 

Still, he inclined his head gracefully at you. “Welcome, honored visitor, to my kingdom.”

Your manners had improved significantly since the first time you had visited him. Instead of meeting his welcome with suspicion or derision, you swept into a curtsey. “Thank you for your hospitality, Elvenking Thranduil.”

“Guards, you are dismissed,” Thranduil decreed. The guards bowed to him, withdrawing from the chamber immediately. When you were alone in the chamber, Thranduil stood from his throne, concern clear on his face. “What is wrong?”

You gestured for him to sit back down as you approached the bottom of the throne.  The stairs worn into the throne were something you had made note of during every previous visit, studying them in the relatively short span of time in which you were not watching the king seated at their top. Regardless of your familiarity with those steps, this was the first time you had ever dared to climb them.

They were as smooth as you had expected them to be, worn into a soft, shallow incline under the feet of Thranduil, and likely whichever kings had ruled the Woodland Realm before him. You had expected the need to concentrate on that smoothness, to be certain you would not lose your footing and topple down to the stone-and-earthen floor, but they supported you easily, each stair formed into a shape like a shallow bowl after eons of use.

Without the need to focus on climbing toward him, you were free to lift your eyes to Thranduil’s face and wondered if you might fall without assistance from the stairs. His face was frozen in expectant anticipation, watching your actions as closely as though you were some type of threat… though you doubted his eyes would be glowing with such fascination and longing if you held a weapon.

When you reached the top of the staircase and stood at the foot of Thranduil’s throne - pressed against his legs by necessity born of the lack of space - you allowed your fingers to toy idly with one arm of his throne.

It was with no small amount of amusement that you noticed Thranduil’s fingers unconsciously mimicking yours. 

You spoke slowly, your tone deliberate. “I was surprised to see you at the Ripple yesterday, Thranduil.”

“I am not an uncommon sight there,” he reminded you, furrowing his brows slightly. “Why was my presence so surprising to you?”

“Maybe ‘surprised’ isn’t the correct term,” you allowed. “Preoccupied, perhaps? I found myself thinking about you more than usual yesterday evening.”

The remaining tension disappeared from Thranduil’s face and body, replaced with a deep-seated satisfaction. “Is that so? I cannot say I regret having ensured I found such a prominent place in your thoughts.”

You hummed, brushing the pads of your fingers closer and closer to where his own rested on the arm of the throne. “So you did it on purpose? The teasing?”

He smirked. “Perhaps.”

With a pout that was only slightly exaggerated for his benefit, you said, “It was very unkind of you, Elvenking. I believed our agreement forbade both of us from doing such a thing.”

Thranduil chuckled lowly. “We made no such rules, little one.”

You glanced down as if in thought, but the action was only to help disguise a smirk of your own. That had been the confirmation you needed, the last excuse to do what you had planned without feeling any guilt for it.

“In that case…” you trailed, using a conveniently placed carving to hoist yourself up and take a seat on his knee. Thranduil watched with amusement and you decided to make yourself even more at home, throwing your legs across his other thigh so you were seated comfortably across his lap. 

His eyes were twinkling at you from such a close distance that you immediately felt the draw of him. It felt as though you were not deciding to move, you were simply ceasing to fight the need. 

You planted a kiss against the underside of Thranduil’s jaw, in exactly the place you knew he loved. Another landed on his chin, in the place that creased into something like a dimple when he laughed his bright laugh. Finally, you let your lips meet his, and Thranduil was ready for you. He met your kiss with a fervor you didn’t often see from him, deepening it almost immediately as his hand gripped your jaw. That hand angled your head the proper way to allow him a measure of control, though you kept him on edge with the way your hands roamed his body.

Time slipped past and you had no method or desire to track its passage. Instead, you allowed yourself to enjoy the time spent with Thranduil. If you truly were to relocate to Dale, you would miss the easy access to him, but there were other things that were more important. Like your business, securing a livelihood, and finding your future away from a beautiful, near-immortal being.

When you felt Thranduil’s interest rising insistently against your leg, you broke the kiss and leaned back with a sly smile. The Elvenking watched you with a mixture of suspicion and interest on his face, though the latter won out when you stood and repositioned yourself until you could kneel before the throne.

When you began pushing away the folds of richly embroidered fabric to bare him, Thranduil’s hands stopped the work of your fingers. “What are you doing?”

You sent him a saucy smile. “I intend to show you just how thoroughly you have overtaken my thoughts since yesterday evening. In particular, I would like to demonstrate a specific manner in which I cannot stop thinking of you.”

He looked skeptical, so you pushed even harder. With a demure bow of your head that didn’t feel even remotely believable, you added, “If that would please you, Elvenking.”

Whether it was the title or the picture you made kneeling in front of your throne, your lover failed to produce a single word. And if Thranduil planned to say anything further, it died in his throat as you at last managed to push away enough layers to reach his skin. Instead, the potential words were overtaken by a hoarse groan as you smoothed your fingers over his hips. 

You paused, glancing up at him as you waited for some kind of permission to continue - you would not force this on him. Thranduil sank further down in the throne, offering you a better angle at which to continue your exploration. That was all the permission you needed to continue without a guilty conscience.

His cock was already standing long and hard, jutting proudly upward. If Thranduil had not been slouching so dramatically, you were certain the length of him would have pressed against his stomach. The small patch of fine, pale hair at the base did nothing to hide any of him from your greedy eyes, though the curls did tickle the side of your palm as you skimmed your hand from his tip downward - not making contact, but close enough to feel the heat pouring from Thranduil’s skin.

When you lifted your hand to your mouth, licking a long, wet stripe from the heel of your palm to the very tip of your middle finger, Thranduil groaned, cock bobbing in anticipation. You didn’t make him wait long - not because you didn’t want to, but because you were feeling fairly impatient yourself. 

The warmth of Thranduil’s length was nearly shocking against your skin as you wrapped your hand around him, though you couldn’t have been persuaded to release him even if he had scalded you. Especially not with the eager noise he tried to bite back and the way his hands shook in their effort to remain on the arms of his throne.

You started with a simple pattern of stroking and squeezing, adding a gentle twist of your loose fist when you reached the sensitivity of his tip. When that was no longer enough for either of you, you held him by the base and wrapped your lips over his head. 

You did it slowly, as slowly as you could manage so that he could feel every scrap of pleasure as you engulfed him in the wet heat of your mouth. Thranduil made a strangled noise from somewhere over your head and it urged you to speed up, working your way down his length with a passion and fervor that surprised even you. 

It all became a blur of sensation - the rhythm of your hand and mouth, the way Thranduil tried not to thrust up against you, the salt of his skin, and the sounds of your shared groans. His fingers were gently guiding your head, attempting to encourage without overwhelming you.

“I- I am close,” he grunted at last with a stunted half-thrust of his hips. “Have you conceded our bet, then?”

“No,” you denied, pulling your lips from him with a subtle pop. “Though you are more than welcome to. A few simple words and I will continue.”

Thranduil stared at you with dismayed disbelief. You had to admit that he made a striking figure, if a little unorthodox: the elegance of his crown and robes contrasted sharply with the vulnerability of his flushed face and splayed posture. And, of course, there was the raw primality of his hardness, glistening and visibly throbbing where it protruded from between the panels of his robes.

“And have you win so easily?” he asked sharply. “I will do no such thing.”

“Very well, you accepted with a mournful sigh and a last look of longing at his cock. “Then I suppose I should be on my way back home. If you would be so good as to call an escort?”

There was a pause as you climbed back down the stairs of his throne, and you half-wondered if he would leave you to row back to Lake-Town on your own. 

At last, though, he barked a sharp, “Guards!”

The elven guards were back in the throne room in less than the time it took to blink. Before you could wonder - and subsequently be horrified at the idea of it - if they could hear your recent activities, Thranduil said, “Tell the rowers to escort our guest back to her home.”

One of them nodded and gestured for you to follow her. You glanced back at Thranduil, noting the uncomfortable way he was sitting, and smiled as you offered your best curtsy. “My thanks for the lovely hospitality, Elvenking.”

He growled something unintelligible as you trailed behind the guard who was escorting you back to the small dock.

---

Could it be any shock that, after engaging in such activities, your dreams would be lascivious as well?

You certainly weren’t surprised - nor displeased - to find yourself reliving your time in Thranduil’s throne room after you went to sleep that evening. He drew ever closer to his peak beneath you, trembling and pleading in a way he did so rarely… until the dream changed, as they were wont to do. 

Suddenly, it was you who was trembling and pleading, feeling the nebulous pleasure of phantom sensation growing and growing until it had nearly reached a precipice. 

You leaned into it, even as you were aware that you were sleeping. Sometimes a particular dream could strike the interest of your subconscious. You tried not to dissuade such things when they happened. If you could orgasm from the dream alone, you would welcome the unexpected pleasure.

But then, the sensations were gone, and it was far more abruptly than they had arrived. The force of your drop away from orgasm - after being so close it was nearly painful - woke you and you stared up at the ceiling in blank confusion. With a snort, you reminded yourself that you were well capable of finishing things alone. 

You turned onto your side, a hand creeping between your legs. Just as one finger swept up the seam between your legs - you were shockingly wet - a voice drifted through the darkness of the room, emanating from behind you.

“If you reach your peak while I am in the room, will I be considered the winner of our wager?”

By the time you recognized Thranduil’s voice, you had already flipped to face him, wide eyes searching the darkness for the sight of the intruder. You relaxed slightly when you realized you had nothing to fear from him, but the aftermath of your thwarted orgasm was too painful to allow for full relaxation. 

“Thranduil,” you said, your ire making his name sound like a curse. “What are you doing here?”

“I was unable to stop thinking of you after your earlier visit to my kingdom,” Thranduil told you. You recognized that he was mimicking your own statements from that very visit, though you weren’t certain why. “After I had taken some time to… collect myself, I decided to repay your visit in kind.”

“My visit was to repay yours to the Ripple,” you reminded him. “We were even.”

“And you do not see a fundamental difference in the activities of those visits?” Thranduil asked, studying his fingers thoughtfully. 

“No,” you denied, kicking your chin stubbornly upward.

Thranduil gave a thoughtful hum, licking his fingertips with a soft groan. You realized with a start that the same wetness present on your fingers marked his as well. “Then I suppose I should illustrate the point.”

He was over you before you could react. At first, you couldn’t tell if he was actually laying on you or if he was simply leaning over you with his massive height, but when his hips dipped just enough for you to feel him pressing against you, you accepted that he was indeed real. That spurred you on, and when he pressed his lips to yours, you had already fisted your fingers into the delicate fabric of his tunic, pulling him down to rest against you fully. 

Despite the current situation, a kiss usually wasn’t enough to drive you to desperation. But after between the excitement of teasing Thranduil earlier that day and coming so close to orgasm only moments before, you were already nearing the edge.

And that was before Thranduil swept aside your blankets and began kissing his way down your body. 

His long, clever fingers were working to undo every button and tie that kept you wrapped in your simple nightwear. Every bit of skin he bared was treated to a lick, kiss, or bite until you were writhing beneath him. 

You were a big enough person to admit that the illusion of having no choice played a role in the pleasure you were taking in this scenario. But behind it all, you knew you had only to say the word and Thranduil would stop. Counterintuitively, that was the very thing that gave you the confidence to let go for him. 

When he pushed gently at your knees, you willingly let them part, baring your core to him. You were soaked, swollen with your clit distended like it was begging for his attention. In a way, it was. 

In a way, you were. 

Thranduil descended on you, starting with a long, sweeping lick against your folds. When that made you bite back a noise that sounded suspiciously like a plea, he repeated the motion but let his tongue dip further into you. Your entire lower half twitched, and you weren’t sure whether you were trying to buck him off or drag him closer, but Thranduil’s deceptively strong hands braced against your legs and pressed them open.

With you bared and fully vulnerable to him, Thranduil set to devouring you like you were a feast laid out for him. He kissed between your legs like it was your mouth, tongue slipping inside and exploring briefly before darting away in a teasing swipe. 

You were already squirming beneath him, but then the pleasure grew nearly unbearable - Thranduil’s lips closed around your clit and he began to suck gently at you as he pressed his fingers into your core. He alternated the two sensory sources: thrust, suck, thrust, suck, over and over again until you were almost sobbing at the sweet assault on your sensibilities. 

Just when you were approaching the shining edge of orgasm, Thranduil removed his lips and fingers. You stared up at him in shocked betrayal, throbbing and achingly empty. Your mind was fuzzy with the diverted pleasure and it was difficult to focus your eyes on Thranduil, but you managed to do so and turn it into a glare at the same time.

He smiled at you, but the regret and apology in it kept you from outright violence. “I am sorry, my little human. But I cannot, in good conscience, force you in such a way.”

“Thranduil, I think I’m going to cause you serious harm if you don’t get over here and fuck me,” you told him bluntly, watching him wince. The Elvenking was not fond of crass language, but you were beyond worrying about such things. 

His pale eyes turned serious. “I am sincere. I will not coerce you… no more than I have to this point. If you would truly be happier in Dale…”

Thranduil’s voice faded, as if he could not bear to finish his own statement. You wanted to dismiss it out of hand, but you forced yourself to pause and reflect on it first. If you wanted to live in Dale, and your reasons were anything beyond wanting to expand the Ripple into a different market, you needed to go. 

However, the longer you considered it, the more you realized you would miss Esgaroth. You would miss Storr and his little family. You would miss the way the tame waves of the lake lapped at the old boards of Lake-Town. You would miss how the townspeople acted when they told you about a new section of rotting walkways - they always seemed unburdened by the reporting somehow, as if they so completely trusted you to solve the problem that they did not even need to consider it any longer. 

And, you supposed, you would even miss Thranduil. 

He couldn’t know he had played such a large part in your decision, however. He would misinterpret it… or worse, interpret it correctly. You hadn’t told him you loved him yet, but it was coming quickly. You could only hope to do the same.

“I’m staying,” you told him, the simple revelation making his eyes widen. “So you can come back and-”

You didn’t get any further than that before Thranduil had launched himself back onto your mattress. With typical elven grace, he managed to avoid jostling you in the slightest, but the sight of his face suddenly so close to your own made you blink. 

“I suppose that meets with your approval?” you asked with a cheeky smile.

“‘Approval’ is the least of what I’m feeling at the moment,” Thranduil growled. He pulled away for a moment, maybe two, and then he was suddenly bare to your sight. Just how he had managed to fully disrobe in such a short span of time was beyond you, but - to be fair - it wasn’t even close to the top of your list of concerns. The first and most important of those, of course, was how to get him inside you as quickly as possible. 

As it turned out, you needn’t do much at all. Thranduil reached between you, placed the head of his cock against the heart of you, took a half-second to brush your clit, and plunged into you as deep as he could get. 

You arched up and off the bed, your every muscle straining not only to accept the intrusion, but to encourage Thranduil to press even deeper inside of you. A wordless plea forced its way from your throat, but your lover didn’t seem encouraged. In truth, his eyes were closed, his face grave. 

Since words were beyond you at the moment, you reached up to cradle his jaw and cheek, letting your thumb brush gently against the high arch of his cheekbone. Thranduil’s fingers covered yours a moment later as he balanced his weight with ease on his other hand. 

When his eyes opened, you did your best to look concerned. You were concerned and wanted to make sure he was well, but you were worried the expression would fail to translate past the strong need for him to drive into you. After balancing on the edge for so long, that need was near-overwhelming, but you had to ensure that Thranduil was not suffering. 

He didn’t say anything, however - odd, since he had shown a remarkable talent for reading your face in the past. 

When you managed to put together the words, you asked, “Is something wrong?”

Thranduil blinked. “Say it again. Do you intend to remain in Esgaroth?”

“Yes, I’ll stay in Lake-Town,” you agreed. 

“Then I am quite well,” he told you. With a sudden, flashing grin, he added, “Perfect, some may say.”

You rolled your eyes instinctively, but your lids fluttered shut as Thranduil withdrew almost completely before driving back inside you with a series of short, firm thrusts.

This was not going to be an extended session, you knew that much. You were already nearing the edge once more. Thranduil was not far behind you, if you were to guess by the way the muscles of his jaw were dancing in time with the movement of his hips. 

“Will you agree that you are mine?” he asked, voice coming out in a gruff harshness simply from the nature of your activities. “Knowing that I freely offer to be yours in return?”

You had questions and thoughts, wanted to share a discussion about that very thing, but it was as though your thoughts themselves were slippery. You couldn’t manage to capture any one of them and hold it for any extended amount of time. “Do we- ah! Do we need to discuss this now?”

“Now,” Thranduil gritted, biting back a noise that held more than a bit of desperation. “I must know.”

The end was close, so close. It was taunting you, shining just past the edge of the next thrust, or perhaps the one after that. Thranduil gave a groan so harsh that it knocked you from your internal calculations as you frowned at him. 

His reasoning became clear in the next moment, however. He withdrew from you and paused with only the very tip of his length still pressed shallowly into your core. You lay beneath him, poised on the very edge of your orgasm. You were so close that all you could do was stare up at him in confusion and silent pleading as your body throbbed.

With a panting noise of dissatisfaction at your failed attempt at forcing him back inside of you, you frowned up at the Elvenking. “I belong to myself, Thranduil. But if I were to belong to someone… Yes, it would be you.”

He opened his mouth, dark brows furrowed, but you allowed your head to fall back against your pillow. “Please, please move. I don’t know if I can abide this much longer.”

Though he still didn’t seem overjoyed by your concession, Thranduil’s head inclined in a slight nod - almost to himself - and he began to thrust into you once more. A few strokes of him inside your core and you were tightening around him, your inner muscles rippling as sensation burst through every part of your body. 

And then Thranduil’s hands tightened on your hips, tilting you so he could get a better angle. This one sent him deeper into you, pushing so far inside that it was nearly painful. Perhaps it would have been, but every plunge sent the head of his cock brushing over that ultra-sensitive place inside of you. It was enough to distract your body from the intrusion with pleasure that was almost equally startling.

The pressure against that spot did something to your orgasm even as it was halfway through being fully realized. It went from all-encompassing to near-blinding. You let out a cry loud enough that you would later be glad that the chilly breeze had prompted you to close your windows. Your toes curled and your hands tightened into fists as your arms and legs wrapped around Thranduil in a convulsive embrace. 

You held him pressed against you as you rode out your orgasm and his began. It seemed to be just as intense as yours had been, leaving him panting your name and shoving his cock as deep inside you as he could manage while his body shuddered and jolted with the effort of spilling within you. 

At last, he pulled out, you found the strength to release him, and he collapsed to the bed beside you. 

Somehow, he recovered faster than you, turning on his side to watch you with an expression akin to glee, especially when on the face of the typically stoic Elvenking. “I hope you have not packed too many of your belongings, Queen of Esgaroth.”

You made a face at him. “I said I’ll stay here. I didn’t say I’ll be the queen. I expect that was the punchline to some jest we were not privy to.”

Thranduil shook his head slowly. “I have assigned several trusted allies to ask around. Apparently, the townspeople are quite serious about having you as their queen.”

“Are you spying on Lake-Town?” you asked, rolling up onto an elbow in a mirror of Thranduil’s position. 

“Of course,” he admitted readily. “Every good kingdom employs spies. Thorin and I each have a presence in the other’s halls, and both of us have people gathering intelligence in Esgaroth.”

“That’s ridiculous!” you snapped. “Esgaroth hasn’t even managed to recover from Smaug’s second attack. What threat could we be against Erebor or the Greenwood?”

“None, but spies do not only assist in detecting threats,” Thranduil explained. “They also allow for discovery of policies and reception, trade practices, and the potential to become allies… or perhaps even something more.”

There was a satisfied light in Thranduil’s eyes that made you wag a finger in warning. “You assume too much, Elvenking. I would be the queen of Esgaroth and nothing more to you than we currently are to each other.”

The satisfaction didn’t leave his expression, and when he spoke, Thranduil’s tone was smug. “We will be regents of neighboring kingdoms. We will share a border and several important trade routes. Alliances - including marriages - have been made on far less in the past.”

You groaned, throwing an arm over your face to disguise the way your heart had clenched at the idea of marrying Thranduil. “I don’t believe I’ve had enough orgasms to justify discussing trade policies and alliances of any kind.”

Thranduil hummed. “Allow me to rectify that.”

You were both chuckling as he rolled on top of you and seized your lips in a deep kiss full of promise.

---

Author's Note - Thanks for reading! Feel free to let me know what you thought!

I don't offer a taglist for explicit fics, but you can find other works on my masterlist or on AO3 under username InkSplots!

#fanfic february #fanfic february 2023 #fanficfebruary #the hobbit #the hobbit thranduil #elvenking thranduil #thranduil #thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #reader insert #reader insert fic #hobbit reader insert #lemon #not suitable for minors #minors dni

[floatyflowers]

Dark! Characters who would be in denial for loving a human and might use their powers/authority to get human!Reader.

Tom Riddle

If it isn't obvious, Tom hates anyone who is a muggle born or a muggle...he is racist despite being a half-blood himself.

But when it comes to you, his beautiful muggle besdtfriend who is the daughter of the orphanage owner, he is a different person.

Tom tries to convince himself that he is only obsessed with you for your beauty, something which he believes Hogwarts girls lack.

But he knows that is a lie, because he never cared for looks.

He only cares about benefiting from others.

And Tom believes he can benefit from your affection by marrying you.

The affection he didn't receive from his mother, he can receive it from you.

Even if he has to use forbidden spells to get you to fall in love with him.

Thranduil

The Elvenking of Mirkwood loves his realm but he also shows disdain towards anyone who isn't of his kin.

But when sees you, a human that is very similar to his wife in personality, Thranduil finds himself in love with you.

So, to trap you in his realm, he decides to offer a deal.

Sacrifice your freedom and he will free your hobbit and darwfes friends.

Yes, humans die quickly, but he wants you to spend the rest of your years by his side.

When he sees your hesitation, he decides to use his authority.

"If you wish to refuse, you and your little friends will rot in the dungeons, but if you accept, they leave and you will be treated like a queen"

In the end, you accept his offer, not knowing it's a marriage proposal in disguise.

Vlad Dracula

Even though, he was a human once, Dracula hates humans, simply, for killing his wife.

And you knew the rumors about the count being a vampire who drinks the blood of humans.

Yet you ignored those 'rumors' for the sake of getting the job.

Working as his only servant, you made sure to obey his every word.

Dracula would watch you silently clean the castle while drinking his cup of blood.

It's clear you have discovered that he is a vampire by now, but what amused him is you continuing to work under him.

The vampire tried to resist the thoughts of falling for you, despite his possessiveness of never letting you out of his castle.

Dracula decides after long thinking, that he does hate humans, yet he can change you to become like him...you will be the first person he will transform into a vampire.

#tw: toxic relationships #reader insert #thranduil x reader #tom riddle x reader #yandere tom riddle #harry Potter #the hobbit #yandere dracula #dracula x reader

[fizzyxcustard]

Those Hands.

Masterlist of fan fiction

Fandom: The Hobbit

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Insecurity, comparison, angst, sexual references, mutual pining, idiots in love.

Comments/Notes: From the imagine, "Imagine that Thorin is in love with you (from the race of Men) but constantly compares his body and features with other men, thinking you find him disgusting." Requested by multiple readers and anons. (THANK YOU!)

I hope you like the fic. As always, like, reblog and comment if you enjoy. If you wish to be added to any of my tag lists, let me know.

Thorin watched every little interaction that you had with other males, whether they be Dwarves, Men or Elves. He couldn’t help but watch you blush, avert eye contact and use self-soothing gestures, such as touching your face, curling your hair with your fingers, or rubbing your upper arms. 

Since Thorin had been crowned King of Erebor, and re-building was underway, many people visited the mountain. Bard came from Esgaroth, often meeting with Thorin in council, to discuss trade deals and assistance in building. Much to Thorin’s distain, Thranduil of the Woodland Realm, also came. Again, he joined the council to converse around the subject of trade deals in precious metals and gemstones.  

Your relationship with Thorin was entirely built on trust. The two of you had been companions out on the road during the quest to re-take Erebor. He had always valued your opinion, spoke with you in private, and kept you close to him on his council of advisors. Erebor was now your home, despite you being of the race of Men. Your family were all gone, meaning that the Dwarves had now taken that place, welcoming you into the fold and treating you as one of their own. 

One morning, council was busy. Neldra, one of the kitchen staff, was on hand with jugs of cold drinks and pots of tea. Then once all the drinks were laid out neatly on intricately laced doilies, she came back with a trolley of fresh pastries. 

The smell was divine; you took an inhale and let the scent overtake you. Apple and cinnamon were among the selection: your favourite. 

You reached out to take one of the pastries, only to feel another hand graze yours. “I apologise,” a voice came, from the direction of the hand. 

It was Bard, from two seats down to your right hand side, who had stretched across to grab one of Neldra’s famous delicacies. “It was no bother,” you replied. “You first.” 

“Ladies first. I insist.” 

Thorin’s blue eyes studied the scene going on before him. No one else had noticed the exchange between you and Bard. Upon the impact of yours and Bard’s hands, Thorin felt a jolt in his chest. It rose up into his throat, and he closed his eyes for a brief second. The red hot sensation bore into him, feeling as if it were forming a hole straight through him. Upon opening his eyes, Thorin looked at his hands, then glanced across to Bard’s. The man’s hands were broad, but his fingers long and slender. Very much unlike Thorin’s. The Dwarf King’s fingers were short and bulky, with stubby ends. Surely Bard’s hands would have the dexterity and skill to caress your skin, drawing shivers from you. A Dwarf’s hands would be too calloused and thick to evoke any kind of pleasurable sensation upon a woman from the race of Men. 

Chatter continued, along with eating and drinking. In that time, Thorin tried his hardest to push the negative thoughts from his mind, and concentrate on the conversation at hand, which involved the realms of Erebor and Esgaroth exchanging skilled workers and apprentices. 

Thranduil was also present and merely rolled his eyes as the conversation got underway between Bard and Thorin. The Elven King did not like to waste his time, and being in this council meant that there were stints of time where his input was not needed. 

“Would you like another drink?” you asked Thranduil, picking up the nearest china pot of tea. 

“I would much prefer wine, but since I’m not within my realm, I would not say no.”

Thorin’s gaze darted over to Thranduil, and then to you. He saw you brush a piece of hair behind your ear, and then look up at the Elven King sat opposite you. Your ears were small, with one golden hoop earring in each lobe. Then Thorin looked at Thranduil’s ears; pointed at the tip, finely structured. They weren’t big, round and sticking out. Thorin’s ears were ugly, and thankfully he could keep them hidden under his long hair. Secretly, he had always imagined you whispering against them, your lips brushing them. It made Thorin shiver. 

Once council had concluded, Thorin left the chamber and headed back to the royal wing. Once inside and he stood in front of his full length dress mirror, staring at the protruding ears on the side of his head. Then he studied his large hands, thinking back to Bard’s. 

The males from the races of Men and Elves made you blush in a way that Thorin never had. Their bodies were more finely crafted, which complemented yours. They had finer features with smaller noses and brows. 

Thorin shifted back and sat on his bed, his hands in his lap. He took one more glance at them, feeling disgusted at what he saw. They would never be good enough for you. None of his body would ever be good enough for you. Everything about him was oversized, not delicate and handsome like Bard and Thranduil. Both of them had lost their wives, and may have wished to re-marry, so they would make better husbands for you. 

***

The following day and Thorin was sat in the council room, signing documents. His quill scratched loudly against the parchment. 

You walked in, holding a further stack of documents in your hands. “These should be the last ones,” you said, offering a smile. 

Thorin looked up at you. No blush on your face to be seen. 

“Is everything alright?” you asked. There was something in his eyes, a thoughtfulness. Maybe even a sadness. You sat down in an empty seat next to Thorin. “What’s wrong?” On impulse, you placed your hand on top of his. 

Thorin looked at your hands, watching your thumb gently caress his knuckle. How huge his hand looked against yours. But how right it felt, as if the size did not matter, and they were still able to fit together as one. 

“There is nothing wrong,” Thorin said, forcing a weak smile. “I hear that Bard is leaving this afternoon. Will you not be wishing him farewell?” 

“I barely know him,” you replied. “I’d feel it strange to do so.” 

“Would you wish to get to know him?” 

“I don’t know. Why do you ask?”

“Surely you find him handsome,” Thorin continued, pulling the new stack of documents over towards him. 

“Not really. Can’t say I do. There’s some reason to you asking this, Thorin.” 

“Why would I have any reason?” 

“There’s always a reason to anything that you ask. I know you enough by now. Talk to me. You’ve always given me more trust than I deserve, and never questioned me liked this before.” 

Thorin took a deep inhale and looked at you, dropping his quill. “Who do you find handsome? If not Bard, maybe Thranduil?” 

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Why ever would you think I’m attracted to King Thranduil?” The whole idea was so comical that you couldn’t help but keep giggling. “It takes….” You couldn’t stop the giggling. “A special….kind of woman….to…..” 

Thorin also began to chuckle, watching your face turn red in amusement and delight. His heart somehow felt lighter as he watched you, and that overwhelming love for you rose. It was a love that would allow him to do anything to make you happy. It was a love that would make him sacrifice his very life to keep you safe. It was sacrificial and unconditional. 

You could see the glow in Thorin’s eyes and the smile which curled his lips upwards. He was the one you found handsome, above all others. The intensity in his eyes made butterflies swarm in your stomach. His proud presence caused you to shiver whenever he entered a room. His voice was enough to make your imaginations travel to another place where only the two of you were, locked away in comfort, pursuing wondrous pleasure. 

You edged closer to Thorin. “You said you want to know who I find handsome?” 

Thorin’s heart was hammering now and he was sure that you would be able to hear it. 

“It’s you.” Your voice was a whisper. “It’s always been you. How could it not be you? Why would you ever think I’d be attracted to Bard and Thranduil?” 

Thorin closed his eyes in embarrassment. “My features and body are not like theirs.” 

“So why would that not make you handsome?” 

“My hands…” 

“Your hands?” you giggled. This time a blush did hit your cheeks, and it was even more vivid than it had ever been when in the company of any other man. “You have found out my secret.” 

“What secret?” Thorin asked, shifting ever so slightly closer to you. He had never wanted you any more than he did in those moments. The very thought that it was him that you found handsome was making his whole being rise, but anticipation was now racing down his spine in shivers. 

“I have had a fantasy for some time now, since meeting you, of what you could do to me with those hands,” you said, biting your lip. 

Thorin couldn’t hold back any more and moved even closer to you, his hand cupping your cheek. His breath was elevated and his eyes were sparkling with so much joy, but slight fear. 

His lips crashed against yours and you both groaned upon impact. Within seconds and the kiss had grown deep, your tongues both meeting. You couldn’t help but whimper as Thorin’s lips left yours and trailed down your neck. His beard tickled your skin and then as he grew more impatient, you could feel the tickle become a bristling, sharp sensation. Your hands became lost in his hair as he nuzzled at your neck, groaning and grunting. 

Thorin felt your fingertips brush over his ears, and it drew an overwhelming shiver from his very core. 

“I love you, Thorin,” you said again. “Now show me what you can do with those hands.” 

***

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#Thorin Oakenshield #The Hobbit #Thorin x You #Thorin x Reader #Thorin x Fem!Reader #Thorin Oakenshield x You #Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader #Thorin Oakenshield x Reader #Thorin x Female Reader #Thorin Oakenshield x Female Reader #Reader Insert #Insecurity #Fanfiction

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Hey can i ask Thranduil and (human) f!reader smut? When f!reader can't stare at his eyes because she's very shy and insecure with her expression during *cough cough* Thank you!

I'm sorry about that one with Thranduil x f!reader cant-stare-at-his-face that i didn't addresed my 'smut rating'? Anyway🔥🔥

It's all good. Time for some more Thranduil smut. Because it's Thranduil. And smut. I'll stop now.

"The looking glass"

✵Pairing: Thranduil x Fem. Reader (Human / Second person POV)

✵Themes: Smut / Soft 

✵Warnings: Insecure / Shy reader | Kissing | Praise | Body worship | Mirror sex | Fingering (fem receiving)

✵Word count: 1.3k words

✵Summary: Thranduil comes up with a unique "solution" when he realises how shy his partner is in bed.

✵Rating: 🔥🔥| Minors DNI | 18+

Want to be tagged? Want to know the rules? Read all here.

If you liked this, please consider reblogging it.

Thranduil gripped your chin and forced you to meet his gaze. "Sweet starlight, why do you turn your face from me?"

You said nothing, your cheeks merely burning with embarrassment. Thranduil’s question should have surprised you, but it did not. Whenever you shared pleasures with the king, he would want to look into your eyes, and you would inevitably close them and turn away. Before this night, he did not ask why you did it, and now? Now he wanted some sort of explanation.

Of course, you had an explanation, just one, but that embarrassed you even more.

"Starlight?" Thranduil was not about to let this go. "Why do you look away?"

You hummed quietly and sat up, flushing when the king sat up with you. "I… umm… that is…" you stumbled over your words, your tongue tied up in knots. Thranduil studied you with barely disguised curiosity while you fidgeted with the hem of your robe. "The thing is… I…" you buried your face in your hands and sighed. "I am not sure you would like how I look when we… when we…"

Understanding dawned, and Thranduil smiled when he heard a muffled scream. "Starlight," he pulled your hands away from your face. "Is that what troubles you? That I might be repulsed by the expressions you make when making love?"

You nodded meekly, still too embarrassed to face him. Thranduil kept smiling and looked around, his gaze skimming over the chamber before it rested on something that caught his eye and piqued his interest—something that gave him an idea. "Stay here," he said, and rose out of bed.

You raise your head, wondering what he was up to. The answer presented itself soon enough with the sound of wood creaking. Thranduil had hefted a large silvered-looking glass, one that was taller than him, and brought it over, placing it at the foot of the bed with a soft thud.

"There," he huffed, dusting his hands before joining you in bed. "That should do nicely."

You studied your reflection in the shimmering glass and gulped. "Do nicely for what, my love?"

Thranduil smiled—a slow, wicked smile—before making himself comfortable next to you. "I want you to see, starlight," he breathed huskily, and he helped you to your knees, his arm around your waist. "I want you to see that there is nothing for you to hide. I want you to see how much I enjoy seeing you while I pleasure you—that there is nothing for you to be shamed by. Now, will you permit me to go further?"

The very idea of it—watching him in the reflection of that looking glass while he pleasured you—was just so shocking, so very sinful, and more than a little daunting. It made you nervous to watch him like this, to have him look up and watch you; you were unsure you could do it. Still, you could not keep averting your gaze every night, so you came to a decision and nodded. "Yes. You can go further."

Thranduil’s eyes blazed in the dim candlelight, his hands reaching over to your robe. You felt it—the heat of his breath against the nape of your neck when he moved slightly behind you, the warmth of his hands that radiated through your silks. And you kept still, so very still, your gaze fixed on the looking glass.

The king took his time, untying the belt of your robe and drawing it away, exposing what lay beneath. "You look like a painting, starlight," he murmured, his hands sliding over to your belly. "Your body is so perfect, like you had stepped out of a vision."

Helpless and stunned, you continued to keep still, unable to tear your eyes away from what you were witnessing in the looking glass. Thranduil’s hand moved up, over to your breasts, running his fingers over your nipples over and over again until they started to throb and ache, and harden beneath his touch.

"Do you see it, starlight, how your body trembles?" Thranduil whispered, his touch persistent and demanding.

Flushed and breathless, you did indeed see it—how the muscles of your belly fluttered, how your entire body quivered. And there was Thranduil, his eyes darkening with lust, the need in his gaze matching the growing desire in yours. You felt it, growing prickles of pleasure all over your body, heat slowly pooling at your core. You blushed and instinctively tried to look away, but Thranduil caught it.

"Look into the looking glass, starlight," he crooned, his hand gliding down to the apex of your thighs. "And focus on me. I want you to see how high I could take you."

You raised your eyes and found his locked on yours. Embarrassment slowly morphed into something else, something dark and primal, when he moved his hand over to your slit and found it already hot and wet. His fingers moved in a slow, delicate rhythm, and his name parted your lips in almost a sob. You still couldn’t look away, not when he possessed you the way he did. Your body started to move against him; your hands moved to rest over his, and his groan, guttural and harsh, felt so sweet to your ears. 

"That is it, starlight," he rasped, his voice already roughened, when your first moan spilled free. "Show me how much you desire this."

Thranduil watched, utterly spellbound, as you came undone in front of him, how you sagged into him, your moans and mewls slowly turning to pleas. Pleas for more, pleas for him to go faster, to take you higher. He wanted to incite and inflame, to break down your walls, and he was amply rewarded when your hands pressed over his, to guide him. He slid a finger inside the warmth of your sex, then another, moving them inside you, slowly growing drunk on your needy moans.

"Th-thranduil," you whimpered shakily, all sense of shame now long forgotten. The sight of the woman in that looking glass, her body yielding to pleasure of the acutest kind, her eyes darkening with each deft stroke, was too beautifully erotic, and you took great pleasure in seeing it—how he pleasured you, how he took you higher and higher, like he promised.

"Do you see, sweet starlight?" Thranduil cooed sweetly, "Do you see you have nothing to hide? How much I delight in seeing you this way?"

How true he was, and how foolish you felt. And how Thranduil looked on, with lust-filled eyes, as if he were feasting on what he was seeing. "I do see," you breathed, harsh and ragged, the muscles in your belly coiling as your release neared. 

"Keep looking, starlight," Thranduil ran his tongue over your neck even as you trembled and he felt a tightening around his fingers. You were close, so very close. "See how beautiful you are even now."

And you looked on with heavy-lidded eyes as a wave of bliss rose higher and higher, as a sweet, delightful pressure grew stronger and stronger, unceasing, until it felt like your body splintered, and Thranduil’s name came out like a desperate, wanton cry. Your entire body shook against his as you slumped into him, your breath coming out in shallow pants. Thranduil held onto you, moaning softly as your walls contracted around his fingers, pulling them deeper. His gaze cut to the looking glass and found you, looking right back at him, your lips curling into a deep and satisfied smile.

"You were right," you murmured, your hands still over his. You turned to the side and found his lips just over yours. "There was nothing for me to be shamed by."

Thranduil leaned in and kissed you, his body humming with unsated need. "Absolutely nothing," he said, before helping you lay back in bed. "And now, starlight, I hope you will indulge me, by letting me make incredibly thorough love to you this night."

No longer plagued by your fears, you smiled and welcomed him into his arms.

Tags: @shrasdust | @asianbutnotjapanese | @nupppuff | @ryantryan6969 | @lemonivall

#thranduil imagine #thranduil smut #Thranduil #thranduil x reader #x reader #x reader insert #reader inserts #reader insert request #the hobbit imagine #The hobbit #the hobbit x reader #writeblr #💫a world of whimsy writes

[emmyspov]

Prioritise yourself (Thranduil x Reader)

author's note: happy easter to everyone who celebrates it and a happy weekend to all either way🪻this is honestly one of the most scary things i've posted because it's something so personal that i relate to a lot, but i thought maybe someone else might need it, too🥺 please always remember that nothing will ever be more important than your health and well-being 🩷

warnings: symptoms of burnout, lack of sleep, exhaustion, negative self-talk, skipping meals, mentions of food, nudity (for taking a bath together) - please please please let me know if I forgot something! 🩷

word count: 1.9k

edit is mine, all pics are from pinterest :)

It had seemed like a smart idea when you offered Thranduil to help him with all the paperwork.

His days were filled with meetings and more often than not he only returned to your chambers once it was dark already.

So, for the past few months, you had been - more or less secretly - helping him with whatever you could: sending out invitations to other royals, filing away documents, re-writing contracts so all that would be left to do was sign them.

You were the king's partner after all and you wanted to help him as much as possible. This was your kingdom, your home, as much as it was his, as he regularly reminded you.

Thranduil noticed, obviously. The hours in his study were reduced since most things were taken care of in a perfect way already - he could return to your private rooms right after dinner and spend time with you instead which the Elvenking appreciated immensely.

However, over the past few weeks, things have taken a turn. And Thranduil noticed that, too.

How, on some days, you would get up earlier than him, how you would skip lunch and dinner with him - although it was one of your favorite things since you got to spend it with one another during your otherwise busy schedules - and instead eat by yourself, hunched over some papers. He noticed your tired eyes and dull skin and- lack happiness, to cut it short.

Worry didn't even remotely describe what he was feeling. He felt sick to his stomach when he thought about you being unhappy.

Today was no different.

You had gotten up before sunrise, leaving your husband a little love letter, before entering your own study to take care of all official things.

There was a lot to do. Other elves as much as people from Laketown and even dwarves were sending letters, hoping to schedule a meeting with the king himself to talk over whatever was bothering them.

You made it your mission to answer every single one of them, noting down appointments and also sending out excuses if Thranduil wasn't the right one to talk to when it came to certain matters.

By the end of the day, your head was pounding. You let out a yawn and rubbed your eyes, hoping to relieve some of the pressure behind them, but to no use.

Closing them for only a minute wouldn't hurt. You could still look for your husband afterwards.

A line had been crossed for the Elvenking.

It was the second day in a row that you skipped your shared meals and from what he just learned, you weren't eating them at all.

He needed to talk to you. He wouldn’t - and couldn’t - let you destroy yourself over some work. Your happiness and well being came first and he would make you realise that, no matter the cost.

After reaching your study and receiving no answer to his knocks, he let himself in with determined steps, only to stop abruptly as soon as he saw your sleeping figure. His eyes softened immediately.

"Oh, meleth."

With two big steps, he was by your side, crouching down until he was on eye level with you. Even in your sleep, you looked stressed, your eyebrows scrunched up, reminding him of the times you woke up from a bad dream.

"What are you doing to yourself, hm?"

Gentle, as if you would break like glass if he touched you with too much force, he picked you up and carried you out of the room and into your shared bed chamber where he set you down on the soft mattress and covered you with a fluffy blanket.

Thranduil left the room again for only a few moments so he could blow out the candle in your study and put everything where it belonged. He himself hated to work at a messy desk and didn't want you to deal with the same thing once you would return to work, although he didn't want to think about that yet. For now, you needed rest and all the love and care you could get.

He returned to your bedroom after he spoke to some of his subordinates to let them know neither he nor you would be available in the next three days.

You were still fast asleep, curled up into the blanket. The king walked over to you and slowly began to remove all your uncomfortable clothing before he himself put on a night gown.

Only then did he lay down next to you, carefully maneuvering your body into his arms, your head on his chest. Even in your sleep you wrapped your arm around his waist and entangled your legs, letting out a small sigh.

"Sleep, meleth, you've been working too hard", your husband whispered and brought his delicate fingertips up to brush some hair out of your face before letting them trail down to your back, rubbing some calming circles into your shoulder. "I'll watch over you, I promise."

And Thranduil kept his word.

He stayed up to make sure you slept through the night, occasionally pressing a kiss to your temple or the top of your head while his fingers were always touching you in some way.

It was nearly lunch time when you woke up the next day.

After noticing you were still cuddled up with your husband although the sun was already shining into the room, you immediately sat up.

"I- I overslept, oh Varda, there is so much to do. Why didn’t you wake me, my love?"

With a gentle force, Thranduil pressed you back onto the mattress.

"You've been overworking yourself for weeks and your health and happiness are suffering in return. I told everyone we wouldn't be available for the next few days. For the foreseeable future, we'll only take care of you."

You didn't want to cry. And you tried really hard to keep the tears at bay, but when the Elvenking looked at you with so much love in his eyes, you couldn’t stop them.

"I'm sorry for failing you, my king."

The elf wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. "Oh meleth, no. No, you didn't fail me, you never have. And you never will."

"I can't even take care of myself", you hiccuped, burying your face in the crook of his neck. "It's like the work and the pressure never stop and I'll never be good enough and now I am sitting here, crying to you, a literal king who has way more responsibility than me. I am so sorry to burden you with this."

Thranduil's heart was breaking. He couldn't believe this was how you saw yourself when, to him, you were the most beautiful being in all of Middle Earth.

"You are never a burden to me. Do you hear me? Never. We can fix this. You have to learn how to prioritise yourself. I can teach you. I will teach you. And we will start right now. You must be hungry, what do you want to eat?"

You fumbled around with your hands before looking up at the Elvenking. "Could I have some pancakes?"

Thranduil leaned forward to press a kiss against your nose. "Whatever you want, meleth nîn."

With one swift motion, he got up, put on one of his majestic robes and made his way to the kitchen to order your beloved pancakes and some additional treats as well as some hot and cold beverages.

He returned to your chambers with a first tray of food, watching your face lit up with delight at the sweet smell.

"Here you go, my love. Eat as much as you want and take all the time you need. There are no other things that need to get done today or the next few days."

You nodded and grabbed a plate, happily munching on the food the servants were bringing in over time.

The king was watching you carefully while he himself ate something. It was more than obvious that all the food was good for your mind, body and soul.

You let yourself fall back against the sheets when you were done, letting out a satisfied sigh. "That was good."

"It is about to get better. What do you think of a bath?"

Your eyes lit up. "Right now?"

The elf couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle. "Is that what you want?"

You sat up, enthusiastically bouncing on the mattress and nodding your head. "Yes, please!"

Thranduil stood up again and walked into the bathroom, filling the tub with hot water and your favourite bath salts and flower petals before coming back to you.

With ease, he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you off the bed, carrying you into the bathroom.

"Arms up", he ordered gently and removed your clothing, doing the same to himself afterwards.

"You're so handsome", you breathed out as you softly pressed your hand against his chest, right above his heart. "I'm so lucky to have you."

Thranduil's heart started to beat faster under your touch and praise and you smiled, feeling butterflies in your stomach at the fact that you still had this effect on him.

He lifted you into the tub, setting you down and lowering himself behind you, pulling your body flush against his chest.

"I'm the lucky one."

You shook your head before letting it fall back against his shoulder. "You take care of me when I can't do it myself."

The king's deft fingers brushed through your hair, letting them trail down your arm. "We take care of each other. You are the one who decreased my work load so I'd have more time."

You intertwined your hands. "Well, of course. I want you to be well."

A kiss was pressed against the top of your head. "Do you see my point?"

You nodded. "I think I do."

Thranduil let his thumb brush over the back of your hand. "Tomorrow, we can take a walk in the garden and look at all the blossoming flowers. Or we can do whatever else will make you happy."

A smile graced your lips. "Just being with you makes me happy."

Gently, the ellon grabbed your chin and turned your head around so he could kiss you. You melted into his embrace, smiling against his lips.

"Gi melin", he whispered after you two had parted for air and you replied with the same sentiment.

Once you two had soaked in the water for a while, the Elvenking grabbed your shampoo and lathered up his hands before bringing them up to your scalp to work in the product.

The more time you spend like this with your husband - in your little bubble of happiness and safety - the lighter your heart felt.

And it only got better when Thranduil's hands wandered down your head to your neck and shoulders, massaging your tense muscles to help you relax even further.

You shuddered and the king grinned to himself. He was just as pleased as you were earlier that his touch could, still, make you weak in the knees.

"Rest, meleth", he whispered as he continued to work on your upper back. "There will be time to talk about long-term adjustments and solutions, but for now, you can let yourself fall. I'll be there to catch you."

Everything-Taglist: @shadowhuntyi @asgardianhobbit98 @fizzyxcustard

-> if you want to be added or removed from my taglist, just shoot me a message or an ask 🩷

#thranduil #thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #thranduil x y/n #thranduil imagine #elvenking #king of the woodland realm #the hobbit #the hobbit imagine #tolkien #elves #mirkwood #reader insert #please don't hate me for writing him ooc #and for making grammar and spelling mistakes #god why am i so nervous to post this #i'll probably throw my phone away after clicking post now

[justalittlehoneybee]

The casting for the company in The Hobbit is phenomenal

Graham McTavish (Dwalin) hitting the gym as soon as he got the part

Jed Brophy (Nori) trying to steal as much stuff on set as he can and Mark Hadlow (Dori) telling him to put it back

Mark Hadlow (Dori) texting Adam Brown (Ori) “Are you okay?” and mothering him all the time

Aidan Turner (Kili) and Dean O’Gorman (Fili) being the trouble makers on set and teasing all the other dwarves

Stephen Hunter (Bombur) constantly snacking on set

James Nesbit (Bofur) and his Irish humor

Richard Armitage (Thorin) constantly feeling the pressure of his role and responsibilities

#tolkien #hobbit #the hobbit #insert reader #reader #bilbo #lord of the rings #fili #lotr #company x reader #the company #of Thorin oakenshield #cast #hobbit cast #I love them so much #Dwalin #Kili #Thorin #Dori #Ori #nori #bofur #bombur #dwarves #movies #characters #fyp #for you page #haha #funny

[ironmandeficiency]

the hobbit + hozier songs

characters included: kíli, bilbo, dwalin, thorin, nori, bofur, ori, fíli, dori, tauriel

word count: 1166

a/n: the amazing and precious @wordbunch inspired me to write these bc of her lotr/th characters as taylor swift songs posts & i couldn't be more excited to finally post this labor of love!! thank you bestie for listening to me scream abt this for nearly two months lol

kíli: foreigner’s god

he loves outside of his race and this fact causes undue scorn to be thrown at his feet. it’s unheard of for almost any dwarf, let alone one from the line of durin, to do such a thing. this does not deter him - it empowers him; if his heart could go against the traditions forged into his bones, molten in his hot blood, how could it not be true? the strength of his love is what helps him ignore the doubts shouted by the prejudice plaguing those who know nothing of his heart. that, and the sound of your laughter at his antics, the soft smiles only given to him when he’s being a little too charming… he could go on.

bilbo: like real people do

as much flack as bilbo gets from the company for not being conventionally tough, he’s not weak by any means. he’s familiar with the pain of loss, and how the ways one tries to rise above the grief that follows aren’t always savory. he knows there’s a respect to be found in the absence of prying questions, choosing simply to coexist in the feelings and allow answers to come in their own sweet time. he’ll put some tea on to cook and scrounge up some leftovers from the previous meal, sitting beside you and letting the comfort flow naturally, his soft lips soothing the most tender aches.

dwalin: work song

just looking at him, you wouldn’t think dwalin a sap. but with his insanely strong sense of loyalty and stalwart dedication, he can’t be anything but. he’s faced down innumerable evils in his time, braved the fiercest of storms that many of his comrades didn’t; none of them even come close to keeping him from you. your arms welcome him home without question after each fight he braves, and your letters tucked into secret compartments in his armor keep him warm between embraces. he’ll read them by the fire every night when he’s away, every gentle word carrying his mind away from thoughts of the day’s turmoil.

thorin: sedated

this sweet, sad man doesn’t think he deserves good things in life. this, unfortunately, includes having someone love him despite his flaws and past mistakes. he couldn’t resist admitting his feelings for you and was ridiculously shocked that you reciprocated & allowed him to love you. on nights when he feels his failures deeper, he’ll try to convince you that he doesn’t deserve you. vitriol will escape from worried lips and terrified heart, piercing you in the way only a lover knows how. a soft kiss, gentle words, and a few strokes through his hair will soothe these wounds from him for a time and allow him some of the peace he’s fought to find, but doesn’t always believe is earned.

nori: it will come back

it was decades since the last time nori thought of love, even longer since he believed himself worthy of it. meeting you only solidified his disbelief; how could someone look at him and see someone that deserved such a pure thing, after everything he’s done in his life? he’s stolen, lied, cheated, and killed to survive (and sometimes not for mere survival). his attempts to spurn you away from him only increased your determination to break through the fortress he built around himself. he could only be strong against your advances for so long before he crumbled, reluctantly accepting the love and peace and safety you offered so freely.

bofur: nobody

bofur’s done a lot in his time. he was born in the blue mountains, a colony that never seemed to find the prosperity needed to do more than simply survive. he is a brother, uncle, cousin, friend, toymaker, miner, member of the great company that reclaimed erebor. but through all his adventures and hardships, he never lost his playful streak. he wants to have fun with who he loves, wants a little bit of mischief to make his laugh louder and brighter. bofur is a fun-loving soul who, despite his wandering past, will always choose you over anywhere that you’re not.

ori: francesca

ori’s life has never been a peaceful one. being raised by dori and being followed by the whispers of his late amad’s reputation (not to mention nori’s) without a mountain to call home, it weighed on his shoulders. even his craft, the pride of every dwarrow worth their beard, happened to be one seen as miniscule in importance compared to smithing. every moment spent with his one, doing anything or nothing at all, eases the burden he carries and makes every moment of strife worth it just to be with the soul made to mirror his.

fíli: i, carrion (icarian)

your love for him seems almost too good to be true, the remnants of stories told in dusty tomes written by those with far more eloquence than he can claim to possess. that being said, he is definitely not one to look a gift boar in the mouth. he relishes in each tender moment, every second spent in your presence that carries him far beyond the constraints life has placed upon him. but he recognizes that life isn’t always so simple, retreating into your arms and wishing that everything around you both just disappears. there’s always reality, waiting patiently outside of your chambers for one faulty misstep to throw you both askew. that’s why he dedicates himself to showing you that if life does what it does best and deals harsh blows, he will be there for you through it all.

dori: shrike

dori never had time for love; he had two brothers to protect, one more wily than the other was young. his focus was on getting his brothers through the days, putting food on their plates and the semi-frequently used stash of bail money well-stocked. he allowed his feelings for his one to fall to the wayside in the name of preservation. he ignored their call for decades and braved out the pain that came with such a silence. he begged for his one’s forgiveness every time they called for him. but once the mountain was reclaimed and his brothers safe, he yearned for what he could have had. he would approach his one with much regret and sorrow for the time lost, but a pure hope that they could find forgiveness in their heart for him.

tauriel: unknown/nth

to earn her love is a feat unlike that which the world has known for a long time. being seen as worth all these mortal struggles and painful toils in the eyes of an elf, let alone one as fierce as tauriel, is quite the achievement to anyone outside looking in. to the red-haired warrior in question, though, giving her love to you has the same unthinking ease as breathing; it’s beyond instinct to do and just as necessary to her survival. you’re worth every century spent alone, every moment after knowing you spent away from you.

#bilbo baggins x reader #thorin oakenshield x reader #dwalin x reader #fili x reader #kili x reader #nori x reader #ori x reader #dori x reader #tauriel x reader #bofur x reader #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit fanfic #the hobbit reader insert #fíli x reader #kíli x reader #fili imagine #kili imagine #thorin oakenshield imagine #bilbo baggins imagine #dwalin imagine #bofur imagine #nori imagine #ori imagine #tolkienverse fic #tolkienverse imagine #the hobbit headcanons #the hobbit hc #the hobbit x reader

[creepychan08]

Yandere Thranduil x Reader

It wasn't supposed to end up like this. You heart's desire becoming a nightmare.

And now there's no way home.

"Thranduil, you can't keep me here. Sooner or later I must return home." You once again plead your case as Thranduil frowned and hold both your hands protectively. But lately it feels like his gentle touches were slowly turning like handcuffs chaining you to him, unable to escape his grasp.

"Meleth nin (My love) please, this is your home. Have I not treated you well? Tell me what more can I do to make you stay by my side?" 

His grip tightened, not in a hurtful way, but just enough to prove his desperation for your continued presence in his kingdom.

"Its not that at all. You have been truly kind to me and for that I am eternally grateful. But I have my family waiting for me. I miss them Thranduil. Terribly." Your eyes glistened with unshed tears and his gaze softened, drawing you closer in an embrace. You welcomed the comfort he provided and lean your head almost close to his chest, the part you can only reach due to your unfortunate stature.

"Have you found some other way to return to your world?"

"How could I when you took away that book and refused to let me out of your kingdom?" The bitter tone of your voice breaks the moment of tranquility when you remembered it was him who didn't allow you to leave and travel to Rivendell to seek help from Gandalf.

Though your tone was bitter, you felt him relaxed more against your embrace as if relieved.

"You know there are threats coming from the orcs resurfacing in the forest. I can't very well allow my beloved to travel and place yourself in harm's way. No, you will stay here with me." His fingers slowly brush down your hair as you feel your anger boil inside.

"I will not allow you to keep me in here like a trophy! No more! I will go out and discover the way back- back to my real home- if you won't help me." 

Thranduil grit his teeth in frustration as he roughly tilt your head up to look at him. His eyes fierce and burning as it stare straight to your soul and your composure faltered, realizing how large he is compared to you and the power he has to crush you any time.

"I will say it again. You won't leave my side forever. You are mine as I am yours."

A whimper unconsciously left your lips as you began to fear and tremble before him. The dominance he was radiating made you feel weak, unable to do anything but submit to his will.

Upon hearing that helpless sound, his seething expression was immediately wiped off, dark glint in his eyes returning to a soft crystal blue filled with worry and regret when he behold the terror he accidentally inflicted on his beloved.

"My starlight, I am so sorry. Please forgive this ignorant King from his careless actions. I did not mean to make you afraid of me. That was the last thing I ever wanted." The sorrow in his voice made you want to reach out and comfort him.

You remembered how it all started. 

*Flashback*

Being a fan of The Hobbit trilogy movie, you were immediately captivated by the ElvenKing, Thranduil. The daily occurence in your life involves imagining random scenarios and plots with him and deeply wishing to somehow be transported in Middle Earth to meet him. And one day it did come true.

You have no idea of your last memory of how you came to this new world. Whether you were killed by a truck driver and get isekai'd, or if you were just dreaming or worse case in a coma, you have no idea how you are actually faring in the real world. But there was a portal which immediately closed as soon as your feet step into the grounds of the forest of Mirkwood.

Obviously you were taken by the patrolling group of elves and presented to Thranduil. It was not love at sight as you were already crushing on him way back on Earth but it sure did made your heart jumped with excitement as you eagerly and honestly answered each one of his questions.

You were detained in the dungeons for some time as the ElvenKing pondered on your statement to see if you were just lying to get yourself out of this mess. Perhaps it is dark magic then to how you were transported to this world? Are you a threat? But somewhere deep down in his cold heart, he could feel the sincerity radiating off you. And there was something else too- something foreign but pleasant that he felt when he first talked with you.

After careful consideration, Thranduil finally released you from prison and transferred you to a well-furnished room. He was still unsure of what to do with you. Strangely enough, the thought of assigning you to be a servant, a maid, cook, or a warrior didn't sit well with him so he decided to treat you as a guest and get to know you better.

As he did, he finds himself slowly falling for you. Unlike the other elleths (women elves), you possess kindness and genuine concern for other people. You interacted with his guards and other servants with much respect and he saw them slowly warming up to you. Everyday, he would look forward to seeing you first thing in the morning as your smile immediately brightens his day. And during the evening after he finish his work early, he would asks you to walk with him in the gardens.

It was no surprise when he ends up falling head over heels in love. He started properly courting you and sending expensive gifts everyday.

"You know you don't have to send me all these stuff, Thranduil. Its too expensive"

"Nonsense. I am the King and I can give you everything you deserve and more. Unless.. do you not like them? I can have another jewel be made to fit your taste-"

"No! No need, I really like this one. Thank you, Thranduil" You smiled at him gratefully and the corner of his lips lifted up as he stare at you.

"Anything for you, my starlight" He draws his arms open and gently pulled you to his embrace, his robe covering your form as you lean you head on his chest.

You wished those moments would have lasted more.

Thranduil was a gentle lover. Always kind. Always patient. Always caring towards you. He never once raised his voice at you and you greatly appreciated it. But as the days go by, you noticed him getting more possessive and obsessive over you.

"We were just talking! He is your guard long before I came here and he is just my friend" You defended yourself as Thranduil warned you against talking to one of his royal guards.

"I do not like the way he looks at you, meleth nin. You are mine, don't forget that. He should know his place."

"Everyone knows we are together so stop being suspicious of other elves! I am not fond of the way you're acting right now. I will leave you to cool your head first."

As you turn to leave, his arms reach out to wrap around your waist as he hug you from behind. His head bowed low so as to breath in the scent of your hair to calm him down.

"No, don't leave please. I am sorry, my love. I am just afraid of losing you."

You sighed, feeling your heart soften. You turn to face him again and saw the insecurities and doubt swirling in his eyes.

"Now what brought my King such worries? Haven't I told you I only have eyes for you? That my heart beats only for you?" You cup his cheek as he closed his eyes and lean towards your touch.

"I know and I believe you. Sometimes, I just can't help but fear that you'll find someone better than me. I can't live without you, YN"

"You'll always have me Thranduil. My heart belongs only to you." You reassured, hugging him tightly to show your devotion.

Maybe you shouldn't have promised that as months passed and you soon discover a way to open the portal again back to your real world while browsing the library. But you don't understand some of the text written as it was in Elvish language and from what you can read, it also needs the spells only casted by wizards.

"Thranduil, I finally found a way to return back to my world!" You excitedly said as you barge to his throne room, while carrying the book.

His eyes widened and he immediately walked down the stairs of his throne towards you.

"What did you say, my love?" The cutting edge of his tone failed to make its way to your ears as you were excitedly thinking of how soon you can probably go home once this works.

"I said I found a way to open the portal again to my world! But I need some help with the Elvish language and Gandalf as well to complete the steps here." You showed him the book and the pages where it was located.

He was quiet for a while and politely asked for the book. As you gave it to him, he immediately throws it to the ground and asked his servant to seal it in the forbidden section of the library.

"No! Why did you do that?!" You screamed, feeling betrayed by his action. You tried to get back the book but he tightly hold you against him before carrying you towards his bedroom as you continue to resist.

Once he locked the door, he put you down on his bed as you glare at him.

"How could you do that? That was my only way home!"

 His eyes hardened, frown marring his features.

"Exactly. I won't have you leaving me alone here, YN. You promised that I'll always have you, didn't you? And I promised to be yours forever"

You frozed as you remember the promise you said to him months ago. You meant it. You did. But that was before you learned that there is still a way back to your real world after giving up for so long. However, you did promised him and you can't go back on your word.

Bowing your head in shame, you nodded. "Yes, I did. I remember my oath that day, Thranduil." A feeling of frustration and mixed feelings made its way to your heart.

"You know I love you. I do. I just miss my family so much. I wonder what they are doing in my world. I wonder if they are grieving over me or still patiently hoping for my return. Am I selfish, my love?" You looked up at him as tears stream down your cheeks.

Thranduil felt his heart clench as he saw your sorrow. He can't stand to see the anguish in your eyes as it overflows with your tears. He gathered you in his arms and let you cry against his shoulders.

"I'm here, meleth nin. I'm here. Please don't cry." He whispered comforting words and before long, you felt drowsy and fall asleep in his hold.

Thranduil carefully put you in the bed and covered you with blanket. He placed a kiss on your forehead before leaving the room.

From that day on, he decreed an order that you are not allowed to leave his kingdom and that anyone who try to help you escape will be executed.

*End of Flashback*

"You've changed Thranduil" You gaze at him with such disappointment that he falters for a moment.

"No, please don't say that meleth nin. Don't look at me like that. I love you. I can't let you out of my grasp. I can't let you go. Ever." He pulled you closer and tilted your chin so you were looking straight at him.

The sight made you tremble. His eyes which were once full of adoration and pure love for you were now filled with dark obsession.

"Resist me no more, my starlight. Stay here. I will take care of you. I will love and worship you forever." 

He back you slowly into the bed and you didn't notice until you trip and lay sprawled against his bedsheets in a vulnerable state.

You tried to get up but he lightly pushed you down so he towers over you.

"No, no, I have to return home. I need to see my family again. I can still come back here Thranduil. I won't leave you forever." You tried to reassure your lover.

Shadows loomed in his face and when he finally look at you, something dark and dangerous radiated from his being.

You gasped, crawling away from him towards the center of the bed as he followed after you. You grab his pillow to defend yourself.

"Okay- stop. Don't get any closer, Thranduil. You're scaring me."

The blank look in his eyes shifted to that of a predator finally catching its prey as he reach you. A smile of dark insanity painted on his lips. He take hold of the pillow separating you two and throws it to the side.

"You know, I've always wanted to marry you, my starlight. In our culture there are two ways one can get married. First is by traditional exchange of vows and the other-" He paused, pushing you down once more as he hovered above you. "-is by being one in body, two souls bonded forever. If I may be honest, I much prefer the latter."

His fingers slowly slid down your body, touch as light as feather as it passes through your neck, the valley of your breast, down to your stomach and settling on your lower abdomen.

Your breath hitched as you watch him, goosebumps rising on you skin as you feel your heart thumping loudly.

"We will be one tonight, my love. And I will plant my seed inside your fertile womb. Since you miss your family so much, we will have one of our own- a much bigger family. We will have a dozen or more elflings running around the kingdom. And you will soon forget that silly ambition in your mind. I told you before. You won't leave me. Ever. For you are mine and I am yours."

With that he sealed his promise with a passionate kiss as he consume your being, leaving you breathless and gasping for more.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

I didn't expect this oneshot to be longer than what I originally planned lol. Anyway, I've been obsessing over Thranduil for weeks now and I thought if he'd be the one going yandere for me, I would immediately give in 😂

But yeah unfortunately he's just a fictional character sooo! Anyway thanks for reading up this far.

Hope you have a great day and stay safe guys! :)))

#yandere thranduil x reader #yandere thranduil #thranduil #the hobbit #lord of the rings #yandere x reader #reader insert #yandere elf x reader #yandere elf king x reader #obsessive #obsession #possessive thranduil #dark thranduil #modern reader #isekai #yandere elf #yandere the hobbit #imagines #dark imagines #thranduil oropherion #obsessed thranduil #tolkien #fantasy #dark fantasy romance #x reader inserts

[somedaylazysomeday]

A Boon - Part Three

Thranduil x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

Rating: mature. Nothing explicit in this part, but there will be in the next. Minors DNI!

Word Count: 4,100

Warnings: alcohol consumption, unwanted positions of power, mentions of economic distress, mild angst, references to physical intimacy, another ill-advised bet.

Previous | Next | Masterlist

---

It was a busy evening in the Ripple. The lake, notoriously fickle where weather was concerned, had decided that it was finally spring. The door of your pub stood open, welcoming in customers and the fresh air alike. 

As you stood behind the bar, pouring drinks and chatting with the regular patrons, you found yourself feeling a small surge of nostalgia. 

The construction of Dale had been completed the previous week and some of Lake-Town’s people were set to begin moving soon. You weren’t among them, but you wouldn’t be far behind. With some careful management of your profits, you believed you would be able to open a pub in Dale. It would be a challenge, but you had been saving toward that very end since Bard had revealed a firm date for the move and people began voicing their intentions to leave or stay. 

A larger group was staying than you would have guessed. Lake-Town was old and run-down, in need of some vital repairs to maintain its structural integrity. You kept a running list of places where it was no longer safe to cross the creaking boards of the town, and made a point of bringing it up to Bard whenever a new place was added to the list. 

That being said, you could almost understand the desire to stay. The lake itself dramatically improved since King Thranduil had removed Smaug’s carcass from it. After the dragon had poisoned the lake for so long, you had guessed it would take years for a full recovery, but the fog no longer made people sick and the fish pulled from the waters were healthy. You had encouraged people not to drink the water yet, but you had hopes that it would be fully safe for consumption shortly. 

Yes, the move to Dale was one you had anticipated for quite some time, but evenings like this - a cool breeze playing over the surface of the water and fog just beginning to soften the edges of the visible horizon - were almost enough to convince you to stay. 

“So we’re set to head out the week after next,” Arnis told you when you stopped to fill his tankard. “I’ll miss that honey mead of yours.”

You snorted. “Are you planning to stop drinking, Arnis? If not, you won’t need to miss anything. I’m moving to Dale as well. It won’t be for another month or so, but a few weeks without my honey mead might persuade you to spend more when I finally arrive.”

Arnis frowned, exchanging glances with his wife Svana. “We thought you were going to stay in Lake-Town.”

You shook your head, smiling. “Why would I stay when all of my best customers are leaving? There won’t be anything to keep me here.”

Svana swallowed the sip of elven wine she had taken, clearing her throat. “There’s a rumor - just a rumor, mind you - that�� well, that you were going to be the queen of Lake-Town once Bard is gone.”

“Queen of Lake-Town?” you repeated. You could feel your smile take on a sickly edge. “That’s a fun jest.”

“But it isn’t a jest,” another patron interrupted and you turned to him. Leidorf was known to be a serious man, and you were far more inclined to listen to him. He was one of the people who had decided not to leave. “That’s the word around Esgaroth. The people want you to be the queen.”

“Why would I be the queen of Lake-Town?” you asked, brows lifting sharply. “Sorry, Leidorf, but that doesn’t make sense in the slightest.”

“It makes plenty of sense,” Leidorf argued. “You care about the people here, you’ve been advisin’ Bard for years, and you’re seein’ the elf king.”

Much as you despised admitting it, Leidorf wasn’t as far off with his last point as you would have wanted. You and Thranduil had been meeting fairly regularly for the past year, ever since you had bet him that his elven wine wouldn’t be popular among the hard-drinking people of Lake-Town. You had forgotten the fact that elven wine was stronger than any human drink and that it left no unpleasant effect the next morning. 

Your relationship with the Elvenking had started as nothing more than terms of a bet, a way of satisfying your physical urges that often went ignored as the owner of a small business. Things had been creeping gradually toward a true relationship, though neither of you had said as much.

The worst part was that you had tried to keep your association with Thranduil private, but every delivery of elven wine ended in a tryst, and there were many eyes in Esgaroth…

“Those aren’t enough reasons to rule a place,” you argued weakly. 

“Someone needs to rule,” Arnis said. “You seem as good a choice as any.”

“The kings are here to see you, boss,” Storr announced cheerily, though he took a half-step back as you turned to glare at him. “Whoa. What are you all talking about that made her so angry?”

You snagged Storr’s tunic, pulling him over to one side of the bar. Not offering Bard or Thranduil a formal welcome was a bad move, but you decided they would have to do with a simple nod of greeting. When you were sufficiently far away from the crowd, you released Storr, waiting until he turned to face you. 

“Tell me you didn’t know anything about this… rumor,” you spat. 

Storr tilted his head at you. “Am I supposed to know which rumor?”

“The one about me staying here,” you expanded reluctantly. “And the one about me becoming… the queen of Lake-Town.”

Storr guffawed at the obvious disgust in your tone, but he gradually became more serious. “Now that you mention it, you would be a good choice-”

“No, not a good choice!”

“I happen to think you would make an excellent queen,” Thranduil announced, his deep voice cutting through the chatter that filled the air of the Ripple.

That chatter dipped almost immediately as the patrons turned to look at you. You bit back a snarl, turning it into a sigh instead. Of course Thranduil’s elven hearing had allowed him to eavesdrop on your conversation with Storr. And of course it had been too much to ask that he keep what he heard to himself.

You walked over to him and a confused-looking Bard, lowering your voice to discourage people from listening in… not that it would prevent it. “I don’t want to be the queen of Lake-Town.”

“Really?” Bard asked. “I rather like the idea, now that I’m hearing it.”

“Me too,” Storr agreed loudly, drawing a murmur of agreement from the other patrons. 

You let your head dip dangerously close to the surface of the bar you were leaning against. “I have no intention of becoming queen, and no desire for it, either. I didn’t ask for this kind of authority position.”

“Even better,” Bard said. “If the people are asking for you to be their queen without any prompting from you, it means you have a good base of support. If the people want you to be their leader, you’ve already gotten their endorsement. It isn’t completely necessary, but it makes things far easier.”

You glanced around the crowd, desperately searching for some kind of support for your position, but you saw nothing but smiles and nodding. Where were the gloomy, unfriendly people of Lake-Town with whom you had grown familiar? Even Thranduil was among the traitors, watching you with a gleam of satisfaction in his light eyes. The Elvenking didn’t even care about the politics of humans. More likely than not, he was simply agreeing to vex you.

“But they will be made far more difficult regardless,” you forced out through gritted teeth, “as I intend to settle in Dale a month from now.”

Another silence fell, this one far more uncomfortable.

With a surge of embarrassment and regret for ruining the sense of community that had pervaded the Ripple during the conversation, you forced a smile. “Speaking of, I still have far too much inventory to move. Drinks are half the price for the next hour!”

The mood picked up again almost immediately, with the exception of Storr, Bard, and Thranduil. 

Storr was the first to speak. “You still plan on going to Dale?”

“I told you so six months ago,” you reminded him. 

“But when I hadn’t heard anything since, I assumed you had changed your mind,” he said, sounding distressed. “I am staying here. I had hoped I could continue working at the Ripple.”

“I’m sorry, Storr,” you said, meaning every word. “But I have to follow where my customers lead.”

“Not everyone is leaving,” Bard reminded. “You could very well do brisk business here, especially when merchants begin flocking to the area.”

“They will flock to Dale, not Esgaroth,” you pointed out. To Storr, you said, “I’m surprised you aren’t leaving as well. What about Kell? Do you not wish to raise him away from here?”

“Kirna’s parents are staying here, along with her siblings and their families,” Storr said with a shrug. “We would rather raise Kell among his family. Besides, the waters are improving. The town’s fishermen return from every voyage with full nets. The apothecary believes the water will be drinkable within the year.”

“That is good,” you agreed, “but I must do what is best for my business, just as you must do what is best for your family.”

Storr looked as if he would say something else, but a customer on the far side of the room called for another tankard of ale.

As Storr walked away, Bard rapped his knuckles thoughtfully against the counter. “There is time to consider staying, but I cannot say I would be sorry to have you in Dale. You’ve been doing half my work here since I first took up the mantle of king.”

“Moving to Dale would be a mistake,” Thranduil said sharply. 

Bard glanced over at the Elvenking, clearly surprised. You took a rather different view of Thranduil’s warning. 

“Regardless,” you told him, voice peevish, “it is my mistake to make.”

“Settling in Dale would move you further away from me,” Thranduil said, sounding thoroughly displeased. “It would only serve to move you closer to Erebor.”

The disgust in his voice made you roll your eyes. “And why would that be bad? The dwarves like to drink as much as humans do, and rather more than elves. New clients, a new market, another potential source of new drinks.”

Thranduil scoffed. “Thorin already has his human queen. He can keep his distance from mine.”

You sputtered for a moment at that. Bard, glancing quickly from the Elvenking to you, muttered something about speaking with Storr and hurried away without making eye contact with either of you. 

When you finally found your words, they were, “What are you implying? First, I did not say I would search for another bed partner among the dwarves! But secondly, I do not belong to you, Thranduil.”

“Of course you do,” Thranduil refuted simply. When you frowned at him, he gave a graceful shrug. “I do not see why that should be a detriment. I belong to you in return.”

“Great,” you said, tone acidic. “When, precisely, did we strike that bargain?”

If someone had asked, you wouldn’t have said that Thranduil had changed overly much over the time you had known him. He was the same arrogant, condescending elf king you had met during his first visit to the Ripple. But that wasn’t the full truth. It couldn’t be, since you watched his expression change in some unquantifiable way, smoothing into a beautiful blankness.

Thranduil stood, managing to look somehow fragile despite the way he towered over you. “My mistake, then. I will leave you to your business.”

And then he was gone, followed by the single elven guard who had accompanied him. Storr stepped close and you blinked, trying to decipher how long you had been staring after Thranduil. “Do you need to go after him?”

The urge to snap at Storr was strong, but he was your friend and his tone had been kind. Instead, you shook your head. “It is a busy night. I must stay here.”

Thankfully, no one brought up the possibility of you becoming queen that night, or any night for the remainder of the week. Incidentally, that same span of time passed without another meeting between you and Thranduil. 

The next time you saw him, he was waiting for you outside of your humble home after you finished at the Ripple. You raised an eyebrow at the sight of him lounging casually on an abandoned crate nearby, but decided to hold your tongue. 

Thranduil had been remarkably concerned about your reputation in Lake-Town since you started your dalliance. It had taken quite a bit of convincing for him to visit you at your home instead of continually inviting you to the Greenwood. Ironically, the thing that helped him decide was that your royal invitations had drawn the attention of the townspeople. As it happened, regularly being seen in a small boat being paddled by elves did make people ask questions. 

“Where is your guard?” you asked, unlocking the door. 

Thranduil lifted one brow. “Concerned for my safety?” 

You snorted at that. You both knew that the tall, broad-shouldered Elvenking was well able to defend himself. The guard was a simple status symbol who doubled as additional security. “No, but the evenings are still rather cold. I thought I would invite the poor soul inside while we speak.”

“Ah,” Thranduil acknowledged with a tilt of his head. “Worry not. I dismissed the day’s guard some time ago.”

You nodded, wordlessly holding the door open while he entered and gracefully climbed up the staircase. It was steep and narrow enough that it could have been termed a ladder, but calling it a staircase made it feel more official. 

As with most places of Lake-Town, Thranduil had to duck his head to avoid striking it against the ceiling of your home. While he settled into a chair - the safest course of action if Thranduil wished to avoid an ill-timed headbutt - you lit a candle and stoked the fire.

The small house was one you had worked to make cozy, though those efforts were relatively recent. While the Ripple had survived Smaug’s second attack with only minor damage, your home had been entirely destroyed. This had been one of the few places left standing afterward, but no families had fought for it as it was so small. 

Indeed, it was only a sparse collection of rooms. The structure stood alone at the end of a long boardwalk, though it was separated into three levels as if to save space. The first floor was built directly above the water. It was little more than a ladder to the next floor, a small dock where your modest boat bobbed, and the washroom. The second floor held the kitchen, a small area for company, and an odd open space where you kept a wardrobe and a desk that held the Ripple’s documents. The final floor was the bedroom, though a loft arrangement took full advantage of the heat that rose from the second-floor fireplace. 

The pot of fresh water you kept beside the fire was still warm, and you automatically poured mugs of tea for Thranduil and yourself. Despite his love of sweetness in alcohol, the Elvenking drank his tea without milk or sugar. Not that you had much of either, mind, but he had insisted that it was by choice.

You placed the mug in front of Thranduil before you settled in the chair across from him. He murmured thanks and stared down into the darkness of the cup while the crackling of the fire filled the silence between you. 

“I wouldn’t expect to find you here so late,” you offered at last. 

Thranduil nodded, but did not seem pressed to answer immediately. You let the quiet reign, decompressing after the challenges of the day until he chose to speak. When he did, Thranduil said, “I have found it difficult to focus on other tasks of late.”

You took a sip of your tea, savoring the warmth as it trailed down to heat your chest and belly. “The same has been true for me as well.”

“I have given the subject a great deal of consideration,” Thranduil told you, eyes lifting from the surface of his drink to search your face instead. “I believe it would be best if we discontinued this dalliance.”

The warmth that had been growing in you froze immediately as you struggled to retain an expression of neutrality. 

“If that is what you’ve decided, I won’t stop you,” you told him as soon as you could maintain an even tone. After all, you reasoned with yourself, you had no interest in forcing anyone to stay. Especially not the haughty Elvenking.

“It is what we’ve both decided,” he decreed. “You have chosen to move your life further from the Greenwood and I… I have realized that I consider the relationship to hold more weight than you do. If you truly do not care for me and see no future for us, I must give you your freedom. You need a man who does not bear the weight of a crown. A man who can work by your side and share a human life.”

You were warring with yourself. On one side, you knew this particular mood of Thranduil’s. He was feeling melodramatic, and that shifted to self-pity with alarming speed. On the other side, you objected to the way he had minimized your feelings.

“Thranduil,” you started with a sigh, “none of that is true and you are well aware of it.”

“You need not lie to save my sensibilities,” he assured you, lowering his head as though the tea in his mug had started whispering secrets. “I realize you would likely have cut our relationship short even if moving to Dale were not such a priority for you.”

“That is not true, either,” you told him, trying to bite back your frustration. “I was perfectly content with you.”

Thranduil’s head lifted, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. You stared, trying to work out why he seemed suddenly victorious. As it turned out, he gave you the answer himself. 

“I do not wish to part from you,” he revealed. “And after hearing your opinions, I do not believe you wish to part from me, either.”

You gathered your wits, but only managed a single word. “Wait-”

“If your desire to live in Dale stems only from the need for continued custom, you have many people who plan to remain in Esgaroth,” Thranduil reminded you. “The fields outside of Dale will help with the food supply, but it will not be enough to provide for both Dale and Erebor. There will be a need for hunters and fishermen. People will settle in the town now that the fish are returning and I can grant them access to the Greenwood for game. They will come to the Ripple for drinks and lively conversation.”

“You can’t know that,” you argued. “There are too many factors that could make me lose my business. There will be other taverns in Dale and along the forests if crowds are drawn here, but maybe hunters and fishermen take a different route. With over half of the current residents leaving, making necessary repairs here will be impossible. No one will choose to settle in a run-down fishing village if it will be dangerous for them and their families.”

“If you choose to stay and take up the mantle of queen, you can choose how to allocate the necessary funds,” Thranduil told you. “For instance, you could make deals with neighboring kingdoms for wood and resources to repair the sections that need it most desperately.”

You sighed heavily. It had been a long day, and you had little energy - and an utter lack of patience - for a lengthy debate with Thranduil. Instead, you crossed your arms and glared at him. “Why are you being so insistent about this?”

“I do not care for the idea of you moving to Dale,” he replied simply. 

With effort, you managed not to roll your eyes. “Yes, I will be living closer to Erebor and, by extension, King Thorin.”

Thranduil’s face contorted in an interestingly stifled grimace. “I do not care for that, but my main concern is that you are living further away from me.”

The comment, taken at face value, could have been equally offensive as any the Elvenking had made earlier. But you couldn’t hold a grudge, not with the softness of the admission and the odd vulnerability in his expression. 

You couldn’t hold his gaze and dropped your own to stare into the depths of your tea. “It will be fine,” you told the tea. “Perhaps even good. We will still see each other, simply in a different interval of time than we do now. Are you not the one who always speaks of the long lives of elves?”

“A quality which you do not share,” Thranduil pointed out, ignoring the way you huffed at him. “And if I do not wish to spend so much time parted from you?”

Despite yourself, you laughed. “Is the great Elvenking Thranduil admitting that he cannot control his baser impulses?”

“As if you can?” he challenged. “Of the two of us, I was celibate before I met you.”

“Only for a hundred years or so,” you reminded, stricken by the absurdity of the statement even as you made it. 

“It sounds as though you wish for another bet.”

You glanced up at last, noting the way Thranduil’s eyes were dancing with mischief. With a crinkle of your nose, you decided you couldn’t let such a challenge go unanswered. “What are the terms?”

“I believe we should test how long we can truly go without one another,” he suggested. “The first to plead for the other’s company loses. If I win, you stay in Esgaroth and become its queen. If you win, I will not argue your decision to move to Dale.”

“That is not an incentive,” you pointed out. “You already have no true cause to argue my decision. If I win… you will make a goodwill visit to Erebor and provide them with a cask of your wine.”

Thranduil’s face was taut with scarcely concealed derision. “And why should you ask such a thing? You are not planning to settle in Erebor, but in Dale.”

“No, but I know you despise goodwill visits, especially to the dwarves,” you told him with relish. 

His eyes sharpened, but he gave a slight nod of approval. “I see you are offering no mercy in your terms.”

“None of them,” you agreed. “In fact, I believe I must warn you that I will not tread lightly in my attempts to win.”

“And you truly believe you can?” 

You grinned. “Thranduil, I’ve made it no secret that I consider you an attractive partner. But not even you have talents enough to make me change my mind about relocating to Dale.”

He gave you an inscrutable look, draining the last of his tea. “We shall see. Goodnight.”

After pushing away your own mug, still mostly full, you followed him down to the first floor. “I will see you tomorr-”

And then you were cut off, ambushed by Thranduil’s lips the moment you turned after descending the ladder. 

The kiss was long and thorough, leaving you breathless and clutching his broad shoulders in an attempt to find your balance. Any thoughts of your bet disappeared immediately, stifled by the heat Thranduil stoked in you.

When you pushed away from him, it was only because he had moved away first. As you stared up at him, chest heaving with the effort of recatching your breath, Thranduil offered you a shallow nod. "Good evening."

Despite yourself, you watched him start down the street once more. When you finally stepped back into the narrow stairwell and locked the door behind yourself, you had to admit that you and Thranduil were well-matched, at least in this:

You had no intention of making this a fair competition and neither, it seemed, did he.

---

Author's Note - There they go again!

I'll be back with another part to this tomorrow, and it will be explicit. Minors, please don't interact! Thanks for reading!

#fanfic february #fanfic february 2023 #fanficfebruary #the hobbit #the hobbit thranduil #elvenking thranduil #thranduil #thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #reader insert #hobbit reader insert #mature #not suitable for minors #minors dni

[tamurilofrivendell]

The Dragon | part 4 | Thranduil x Reader

{Part One} {Part Two} {Part Three} read on AO3

Pairing: Thranduil x Female Reader

Summary: The rest of the realm finds out about Aegnor’s existence as he simply becomes too big to hide.

Content etc: The end of the mutual pining lmao. Brief threat of violence I guess.

tags: @firelightinferno​​​, @achromaticerebus​​​, @coopsgirl​​​, @birbixo0912​​​, @desert-fern​​​​, @ancient-rime​​​, @zeldastag (not sure if any of you still wanted tagged because it’s been so long jdhjdks)

The days continued to pass, turning into weeks, and suddenly Aegnor was far too big to properly conceal in your cloak on your walks to and from Thranduil’s gardens. The juvenile dragon was now the size of a young wolf and still somehow seemed to be growing by the day. A week ago, he had been taught to walk directly behind you, under the trail of your robes, but he was very often far too restless and, frankly, mischievous to play along.

It started with a few of the King’s servants. The ones who did not know that Aegnor was in the halls. One of them saw you trip over something and was about to rush over to assist you when suddenly the dragon charged from beneath your robes and jumped into a glide down the hallway. He wasn’t being threatening, he was simply stretching his wings after feeling cooped up under your robes.

The scream was heard from three halls away and Thranduil had to fly from his study and race to the scene to put an immediate stop to any words that may have left the servant’s mouth. Thankfully, they were quick to agree to keep quiet about what they had seen here, though you could see the uneasiness in their eyes - but it was clear that they would not go against the will of the king.

Unfortunately, this was only the beginning.

The next elf to witness Aegnor was not alone. Thranduil was escorting you back to your chambers, the dragon lumbering beneath your robes in frustration. Unfortunately, the animal unintentionally huffed a little too hard, and the edges of your robe began to smoke.

Thranduil was the first to notice and, with horror in his eyes, had ripped the garment right off you, afraid it had caught fire. It was only a tiny smolder, however, but the damage was already done. The group of councilmen and advisors gathering outside of the meeting room were graced with the sight of Aegnor standing uncovered, his wings unfurling as he stretched himself out again after being confined beneath the constricting fabric.

There was a long, heavy silence.

Then all hell broke loose.

The elves were shouting and drawing weapons in record time. Then they started to advance down the corridor. You were terrified because you really couldn’t protect Aegnor against all these elves and, truthfully, in the back of your mind you were fearful that Aegnor accidentally doing that to your robes would trigger Thranduil to revert back to his angry, terrified self and let them take the dragon from you.

It was not so, however, as Thranduil was quick to step directly in front of you in the middle of the hallway. He did not blink as he stared at the group of elves and, astonishingly, unsheathed his own sword. He did not raise it, the tip remained pointed firmly at the ground, but he did not need to. The sight of the Elvenking pulling a sword in the middle of his realm before his own people was enough.

The advancing elves faltered. Their expressions were a mixture of shock, surprise, mild anger... but they would not go against their king, who stood before them in challenge, his body directly in front of you and the dragon in a show of protection.

One by one, they slowly began to lower their weapons. 

The commotion had gathered a small crowd by this point, curious elves rounding the corner to see what all the fuss had been about. Each and every one of them gasped in shock as their eyes fell upon Aegnor. He closed his wings but it did nothing to make him look less intimidating. He was all teeth and hard scale and a tiny wisp of smoke still trailed upwards from the robe Thranduil had discarded upon the stone floor.

The silence was broken only by horrified murmurs from the onlookers.

Eventually, Thranduil sheathed his sword. He stood for a moment longer, his eyes roving from one elf to the next, before he glanced over his shoulder and looked at Aegnor, then you.

“Throne room.” He announced loudly, turning to face the crowd once more. “All of you. Now.”

Then he strode off down the corridor and the elves all fled before him, rushing towards the throne room as it was clear the King was about to give an address. A bell began to ring from a few halls away, calling all those from different areas of the halls to the throne room, to hear an announcement from the king.

───────────────────────────────────

The throne room was eerily silent now. Five minutes ago it had been echoing with loud, argumentative voices, all shouting at once about the dangers of this creature being in their halls, the unpredictable nature of dragons, the danger of them, outraged at the fact this secret was being kept under their very noses. The voices had become so loud that it was soon nothing but an incomprehensible babble.

Then the Elvenking had silenced all with a roar. Not another word had dared to pass the lips of any other in the time since and the only real noise was the anxious shuffle of feet or robes as elves shifted their position upon the floor.

All eyes were locked upon the king, who was sitting very still up on his throne, staring steadily ahead as if oblivious to the presence of anyone else.  

“Do you not think-” His voice came then, smooth as honey and dangerously quiet. “-that I would be the first to wish for my halls to be rid of such a danger - if such a danger indeed existed?”

“My lord-” The voice of one of Thranduil’s closest advisors interjected. “It is a dragon.”

“Yes. I do think I know what a dragon is.” He said simply, his mind filling with the memory of wide jaws and red flame.

The advisor blinked at him before continuing. “Forgive me, but are you certain that you are not...” There was a pause, as if the man was trying to decide upon the correct way to word whatever left his mouth next. “...clouded?”

The corner of Thranduil’s left eye twitched. Most did not notice. Those who did, shifted uneasily. “Clouded?” He repeated, his voice deceptively soft. “Explain.”

“I just mean..." Here, the advisor trailed off and went silent. He could not come up with a tactful way to say what he wished to say, and did not want to incite the Elvenking’s wrath. He could already see it beginning to simmer away beneath the surface and had no desire to stoke that fire.

In the silence, Thranduil continued to gaze steadily upon the advisor, unblinking, his face blank. He knew exactly what the advisor wished to say. That his mind was clouded by his... friendship with you. That he had allowed you to get under his skin and make him lose sense. Thranduil stared at him for a while longer, listening to the uncomfortable shuffling of feet in the room around him. 

Thranduil stared until the advisor lowered his gaze and then he finally blinked and looked away, addressing the room entire. “I am well aware of what you are all thinking. That this creature poses a danger to all of you, to us, to the safety of these halls.” His gaze swept the room, landing on the face of every single elf in attendance. “The question I have is would I ever put you at such risk? Have you all so little faith in me?”

The question took everybody by surprise and many looked away in shame. There were murmurs and shakes of heads because the answer of course was no. The thought was terrible to even consider. They had such great faith in the Elvenking. They trusted him implicitly. He would never place them in certain danger that way, especially not within these walls, they did realise such a thing...

...but it was still a dragon.

The murmuring began once more, climbing to a crescendo as his people began to argue back and forth, uneasy and frightened. Some talked about ridding the halls of the animal, some talked about ridding the world of it, others were now a little more on the king’s side and tried to defend his word - yet still Thranduil could see they were not fully convinced.

“An abomination! It will burn these halls down, you mark my words!”

“The king would not put us in danger, do you not see?”

“Are you so blind? We are all going to die and it is all the fault of that stupid girl!”

Thranduil stood up suddenly and the room went quiet once more. 

“Two weeks.” He said simply, descending the steps of his throne, biting his tongue to stop himself from lashing out too directly. “Two more weeks and the beast will be gone. I assure you. But nobody, and I mean nobody, is to take this matter into their own hands.” He paused at the bottom of the throne, his eyes flickering from one elf to the next, focusing on those perhaps most prone to causing trouble or those he had heard voicing through the chatter their wish for the animal destroyed. A dragon in the halls was a dangerous thing but because the creature was still fairly young, he could see how easy it would be for someone especially terrified to try and rid the realm of the beast while it was still little enough. Had he not attempted to do the same? “If I hear so much as a whisper... I will treat it as treason and there will be consequences. Do I make myself clear?”

A beat of silence passed before nods and soft murmurs of agreement were returned to the Elvenking. Thranduil stood a moment longer and then he turned and strode from the room.

───────────────────────────────────

“They want him dead.” You sighed heavily, frowning as you looked down at Aegnor, who had fallen a short distance away in the grass as you sat in Thranduil’s gardens.

Thranduil walked over to where you sat, having gone inside briefly to get himself some more wine as this entire thing was giving him quite the headache. He sat down beside you and shook his head. “And for good reason.”

You lifted your head so sharply that he thought you could have given yourself whiplash. Thranduil was quick to hold his hand up before you could say a word, realising that his words had come out harsher than he had intended them to in his stress. “In their eyes, I mean.” He sighed, sipping his wine. “Little one... it is natural to fear dragons.”

You looked down at your hands with a frown. “But...”

“You cannot convince an entire realm as you have convinced me.” He stated. Even then, he thought about how difficult that had been, how many times he had almost given in to the fear and done something he could never take back.

A silence followed.

Thranduil watched you closely, tracking the sorrow as it travelled from your tear-filled eyes down to your pursed lips. He bit down softly on his lower lip and turned his head away. “Still.” He continued, once more drawing your attention. “I am king. Nobody will touch him. The plan remains the same, we take him to the mountains.” He looked down at Aegnor for a moment then, deciding that he would actually miss his presence. “He is growing too unhappy here.”

It was the sad truth of it. As much as Aegnor cared for you, and by extension Thranduil, dragons were solitary creatures and he needed much more space than he was allowed to have here in these halls. He also needed to hunt for his meals, he was not getting enough stimulation and he always seemed unhappy when he had to stop flying and go back inside to hide in your chamber.

You blinked and a tear trailed down your cheek. Before you could lift your hand to wipe it away, Thranduil’s finger was on your face. You slowly lifted your chin to look at him as he wiped away the tear, your eyes locking for a moment. Your thoughts flickered back to the way he had kissed you, when you had tended his burn scars. Despite how at odds you had both been, you still could not believe that he had actually done it... yet you still chalked it up to some sort of moment of madness and so you started to turn your head away before you could get too lost in the moment.

Thranduil had started to wonder more and more, especially after that day in the gardens weeks ago when he was certain he had seen something in your eyes, as if you had been feeling the electricity in the air just as he had... and as you turned your head, his hand stopped you, gently tilting your face back round again. Your eyes met once more and then, throwing caution completely to the wind, he leaned in and kissed you.

Your eyes went wide and for a moment you almost couldn’t react again. For that moment, Thranduil felt the same uncertainty and grief he had when he had kissed you that first time in his chamber. Just as he was about to pull away, your arms moved around his neck and you kissed him back.

He could scarcely believe it!

The world disappeared for a moment as you returned his kiss and Thranduil dropped a hand to your waist, gently pulling you in towards him.

Your own mind was spinning. You’d thought the possibility of this was long gone. After he had kissed you in his chamber and you had not reciprocated out of mere shock, you’d thought you’d ruined any chance completely. You also thought, despite his change of attitude, that the betrayal of concealing Aegnor from him at all would have cut too deeply and that there would always be a part of Thranduil that might never forgive you.

A sound similar to a harsh squawk broke the silence suddenly and a weight dropped down onto the top of Thranduil’s head and down his back. His eyes shot open and he broke the kiss with a grunt, tilting his head back just slightly but tiny little claws simply dug into his scalp and a tail wrapped beneath his armpit, curling around towards his chest.

“Ah...” He gritted his teeth, shaking his head as he looked back at you. The dragon was simply too big for this now but the animal did not seem to register it. “I think I preferred it when he did not like me....” Thranduil muttered, met by your amused laughter as you sat up onto your knees and reached out to coax Aegnor down off his head.

The dragon jumped off him and into the air again, landing very politely by your side and sitting nicely as he waited for you to pet him. 

Thranduil eyed the dragon, unamused by the difference in treatment the two of you received. In contrast you were completely amused and could only chuckle again as you saw the look on his face. Aegnor crowed, the sound turning softer and the dragon’s eyes half closing as you reached a hand out to touch him.

Thranduil rolled his eyes and shook his head, sliding an arm around your shoulders and drawing you into his side as if it was the most natural thing in the world. His heart was still racing after the kiss but there was no urgency in either of you to dissect it.

The three of you lapsed into a comfortable silence. Thranduil leaned back against a tree with you tucked under his arm and sipped his wine while you brushed your fingers over Aegnor’s scales. You too were slightly reeling from the kiss, your cheeks flushed and your stomach in knots, yet your thoughts were not all pleasant as you thought about the events of today and how, in only a couple more weeks, you would have to say goodbye to this beautiful creature.

#thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #thranduil fanfic #thranduil fanfiction #the hobbit fanfic #lotr fanfic #reader insert

[robsth0r]

Ears Of The Elven (Legolas x Human!Afab!Reader)

A/N: So I had this idea... and I needed to write it out so here it is! I love the sensitive elf ear trope so I of course had to write one too. For the “Afab Reader” that is because there is no mention of gender other than the reader being born female so if you’re transmasc that would work too. Anyways hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: Smut/Lemon (18+), Sex.

Word Count: 1089

Extra: There is some sindarin in this chapter so this is the translation of it; Meleth: Love. Meleth Nin: My Love

Legolas was laying in his bed peacefully slipping away into his dreamland. That was till his eyes snapped open as he felt a finger delicately run over the shell of his ear. A rush of pleasure went through his body and he let a shaky breath out.

"Aragorn wasn't joking." I said, in awe. Legolas and I had been dating for around a year or so and being in this position with me currently holding the most sensitive part of the elves body was something Legolas definitely hadn’t thought would happen. I was sitting next to him keeping a firm yet light grip on his ear.

"Quite sensitive?" I leaned down to whisper into his ear, my warm breath sending sparks up and down his spine causing him to shudder. Legolas raised his eyes to glare at me, his sharp gaze looking directly into my soul. My grin grew wider.

"Let… GO." He growled, trying hard to ignore the feather light finger strokes on his ear and how they were affecting him.

"Hmmm… No." I grinned again, reaching across his head to stroke his left ear. The result left Legolas squirming and breathless. The sight of the extremely horny elf next to me was enough for my heart to skip a couple beats. I wondered how it was to have such sensitive ears.

I continued teasing Legolas's ear lobe before leaning down to press gentle kisses all around his earlobe. Every time my lips touched Legolas's sensitive skin it tingled from head to toe, making goosebumps spread across his arms and legs. His heart rate increased dramatically as I moved lower down his body, kissing him along every inch of the way. When I reached the base of his neck Legolas arched into my touch, letting out a moan. I smiled against his throat and slowly began trailing kisses back up his jawline.

When I got there Legolas opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by another groan coming all the way from the back of his throat. I smirked against the side of his face before licking all the way up his long pointy ear, enjoying his gasps and moans.

"Y/n…" Legolas begged, his voice deeper than normally, taking shallow breaths from the pleasure. I hear the warning in his voice but that doesn't stop me. I swing my leg over his chest, securing him under me.

"Gotta say please, Lassy." I chuckled softly and ran my left hand down the side of his torso still keeping my other hand occupied at his ear. I knew the elves didn't like losing control over themselves as it is what elves pride themselves on.

I grinned darkly as my finger reached the tip of Legolas's ear, pinching it lightly earning myself a groan from Legolas. He felt his control snap... thread... by... thread. I hadn't made him lose control even once while we had been together. But if the stories Aragorn had told me about Arwen were anything to go by it could be an interesting night.

I took my hand off of his ear and trailed it down his chest, teasing his waistband. With a flick of my wrist my fingers unfastened it and pulled it over Legolas's hips before slipping his pants down. My hands found his shaft making him twitch. I lowered my head and licked along his length groaning against it and that was enough to make him explode right then and there.

He flung himself up and secured both my hands in a firm grip above my head, him leaning over me.

"If you do that one more time I'm gonna-" He was cut off by a loud moan escaping my throat as I arched my back letting the night shirt I had on fall exposing my breasts. His eyes darkened as his pupils dilated and he lustfully looked down at me.

Before I could react, he thrusted his cock into my warm core repeatedly, kissing and nippling the skin of my breasts. The pleasure was almost overwhelming but just barely, so I grabbed onto Legolas's shoulder to steady myself as I arched my back even more in pleasure. He grunted as he fucked me hard but with pure desire, my pussy fluttering around him.

He reached his hand down and circled my clit, letting small bits of pleasure seep through me. Legolas now kissed my neck, his tongue licking out over my pulse. Legolas’ fingers worked wonders over my clit as he throbbed within me. Legolas took a glance at me and he could see the pleasure trickling into my eyes as he rocked his cock into me.

“Legolas!” I moaned, my head falling back onto the bed. My cunt tightened and wetness flooded around Legolas’ cock.

“Legolas, oh, right there,” I moaned as he fucked into me a bit faster. His thrusts were rough and hard, his nails biting into my thighs gently as he grabbed my legs, spreading me wider so he could get deeper.

Legolas was bringing me so much pleasure that I couldn’t think of any words other than his name. I babbled it, along with a few expletives, about how much I wanted his cock, how I needed him, and eventually, how badly I needed to cum.

Legolas wasn’t far behind me. He wanted to sink himself so deeply into my body that he could never find the way out. Legolas released one of my thighs and pinched my clit. He rubbed it furiously, daring me to cum. His eyes were wild as he stared down at me, beautiful, throaty groans escaping his body.

“Cum for me, gorgeous. Show your prince how good you feel. Cum all over my cock, meleth.” Legolas grunted. He tapped my clit quickly, and with a shout of his name, I came all over him. My body writhed with pleasure as whiteness blinded me. His name fell from my lips, and as he heard me cry out for him, Legolas came inside of me. He filled me with his cum, pumping himself slowly inside of me.

I couldn't get enough of Legolas. I never wanted to leave him.

We both collapsed next to each other, panting heavily as our breathing calmed.

"I love you," Legolas groaned, rolling us around to make himself comfortable spooning me, "Please never leave me." The plea was laced with love and longing and I turned around in his arms. I kissed his forehead gently.

"Of course, meleth nin." I whispered, stroking his hair. "I'm never leaving you."

#legolas #legolas x reader #lotr #lotr fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #the hobbit #elf ears #sensitive ears #lord of the rings #sindarin #elf #elvish #reader #reader insert #female reader #afab reader #trans reader #trans male #trans male reader #transmasc #afab gn reader #gn reader #male reader

[creaturesmechture]

Their Reaction To You Getting Injured

just a reminder that requests are open!

characters included- Kili, Fili, Lindir, and Elrond

also I did not proofread this and will come back to edit later! :)

KILI- Falling off your horse

He gasps when he sees you about to tip sideways in your saddle, not in worry, no, he gasps to cover up the laugh that's quickly bubbling up in his chest from you flailing your arms about to grasp some kind of balance for the inevitable fall that's about to take place.

In his defense he did try to reach for you but given that he was about a good 15 feet from you and on his own mount, it did no good whatsoever, well that and the fact he tried grasping for you while you were already halfway down your descent and about a foot away from the ground.

As soon as you hit the ground though, he's taking off towards you and checking you over while still trying to stifle his laugh. Eventually, when you come out of your stupor from falling sideways and he realizes you are not seriously injured, that's when the floodgates open and he can't stifle his laugh any longer, and while you may have hit your head while falling you didn't hit it hard enough to not notice that he's full on head back, can't breath laughing at your expense.

FILI- Tripping over a branch

Was it a good idea to walk backwards in a forest? no, it wasn't, did you do it anyway? absolutely. so when you ended up tripping and eating shit over a branch this didn't come as a surprise to Fili, no he saw this happening from a mile away, unfortunately, his eyes were too trained on your face and the way your eyes were lighting up to notice your impending doom and how close it had gotten.

The moment you tip back has him snapping out of this trance though, quickly reaching out for you. however, luck wasn't on either of your sides for this as he barely misses the drawstrings of your top. he stands in shock for a minute as you get the wind knocked out of you by the inconveniently placed root that had caused your literal downfall.

As soon as he recovers from his shock, he begins to fuss over you and assist you in getting up. When I say this man is truly concerned, you could convince anyone that he'd just been told you had a month to live. You'd probably need to calm him down before you could properly assess the situation.

LINDIR- Spraining your ankle

You didn't expect to spend your evening coddling your ankle and comforting a concerned and anxious elf, but here you were. You two were peacefully talking a walk throughout one of Rivendell's gardens when you misstepped trying to move onto the edging that followed a flower patch, causing you to twist your ankle in the process.

Lindir immediately freezes when he hears your yelp and notices you grasping at your ankle, quickly crouching down to determine the extent of the sprain. He only truly starts to panic when he sees small tears well up in your eyes, he becomes a whirling muddle of "are you okay?" and "please tell me it's not broken!" all the while  You're still attempting to comprehend of what's happened.

Before you know it, you're seated in your shared room, your ankle draped over his lap. while he goes off on a mini tangent about watching where you step and being more cautious with your body. you can't bring yourself to mention that you scraped your hand on the way down, seeing as he's practically still bubbling over with concern for your poor ankle still.

ELROND- Cutting your hand

Being an independent person and having Elrond as a partner doesn't seem to pair well too much of the time, especially in this instance where you had decided that you needed an apple at that moment and couldn't wait for someone to peel it for you, with that decided you took matters into your own hands. causing the problem you were now faced with.

as Elrond walks back into his study he's met with a peculiar scene: you slouched over your hand letting out a few small curses here and there while trying to wrap something around it. seeing this caused a few questions to arise, most of which you were dodging as you didn't want him to see your hand and go on a slight rant of your knife handling once again.

Once he finally convinces you to let him see your hand and the damage you've done, he falls silent, and while you may think he's angry, he's not; he's just thinking about the lecture he's about to deliver you on knife safety and how it won't kill you to ask for help every now and again (you 100 % think it will).

I think some of them are lacking a bit so I will be coming back and adding more! but I hope you guys like this! :))

#lord of the rings #x reader #fili x reader #lotr x reader #the hobbit x reader #kili x reader #insert reader #gender neutral reader #lindir #lindir x reader #elrond #elrond x reader #the lord of the rings #the hobbit #lotr fanfic

[fizzyxcustard]

Knife's Edge

Currently on AO3 here

Fandom(s): The Hobbit crossover with Legend (1985)

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader & Darkness x Fem!Reader

Summary: You are living in Erebor. Thorin decides to admit his feelings to you after speaking with Dis, his sister and your best friend. However, you are having dreams of a creature from another world. He is becoming more powerful, trying to lure you into his world where you can be his Queen. When the lust and pull toward the creature become too much, you step into his world and meet Darkness. You have already promised yourself to Thorin. Will Darkness' seduction be enough to overthrow it all? Or will you still have enough strength inside you to follow your heart?

Warnings: Smut, graphic sexual themes, insecurity, anxiety, sex dreams, monster and human sexual encounters, violence, language, breeding kink mention, power/lust/greed themes.

(This fic is very sexually explicit and has a lot of lust/power/greed themes, while also working on the monster/human sexual references. If this is not to your liking then please do not read. You have been warned)

Comments: Currently on AO3 here / Part 2 is in the works.

Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from any tag lists.

The dreams had begun one night in the middle of winter, when the stone hallways of Erebor were bitter cold. And you woke in the witching hours, dripping in sweat, despite having wrapped yourself up tightly in the furs. The figure had visited you from the shadows, beckoning you to his palace in which all light had fled from. His voice stirred something from deep within your core, a need and a desire of which you have never felt before.

As you opened your eyes, the pulsing between your legs becoming duller, you reached for a glass of water which was beside your bed. Your hand fumbled around, almost knocking the candle off the wooden surface. Your breathing was still hitched, and your heart was racing.

The figure’s voice echoed in your mind, although his words seem to have become jumbled. All you could keep hold of was the feel of velvet and delectable pleasure which had raged through you upon hearing the voice.

***

At breakfast, which you shared with Dis, King Thorin’s younger sister, you were quiet. Her blue eyes searched for any hint as to if you were ill, or perhaps were in a melancholy mood. Humans had always been unusual beings, she thought. Not as forthright as Dwarves. But still, she loved you like family, welcoming you to Erebor when you had arrived after journeying with Thorin and his Company to re-claim the kingdom of Erebor. In fact, your very existence to everyone was a mystery. You had claimed to have come from a land only known as ‘Earth’, having appeared out on the road very suddenly.

“We have visitors from Dale this morning, and Thorin has asked we be present to welcome them,” Dis announced. Her eyes were still watching you, as you pushed a piece of bread around your plate, not having had the appetite to eat it, or any of the two boiled eggs that had been prepared for you.

Something about the dream had felt so real, and you couldn’t shake the way it had burrowed into your mind.

“Are you alright?” Dis asked, her voice sharp. “You are extremely distracted this morning. Are you ill?”

“No,” you said softly, straightening your back. “I’m sorry. I had a rough night; bad dreams and didn’t sleep well.”

***

Meanwhile, Thorin was sat in his private study. For the last week and all he had thought about was the question that he wished to raise with you. For most of the time that Thorin had known you, he had been in love with you. At first, he felt fear at the fact that his heart was yearning for one who was not of his race and from another world entirely. The idea that you were merely a novelty had crossed his mind early on, but had soon been discarded. The way his chest compressed when he saw you, and his stomach clenched, and all he could do was smile when your gaze reached him. That said it all. You were always in his thoughts. When Erebor had been close to attack from orcs at the Battle of Five Armies, and Thorin had succumb to madness, his mind was still focused on you. He wanted the gold so he could be worthy of you.

Thorin stood from his desk, straightened his robe and picked up his crown, placing it against his raven locks, which were touched with silver streaks. Even the crown upon his head didn’t feel enough for you.

A gentle knock at Thorin’s door broke him from his reverie. “Yes, come!” he called.

Dis slipped into the room and approached her brother, offering him a smile. She said your name and watched as Thorin’s head immediately turned to face her. “I’m worried about her. At breakfast she was quiet, too quiet. Her mind was away elsewhere, and while she denied being ill and blamed her mood on a bad night sleep, I’m not convinced. Have you spoken with her about your proposal?”

A doubt had snuck into Thorin’s heart at Dis’ words. “I wished to ask her to dinner tonight and pose the question, but to hear that she is like this, should I?”

“Maybe such a dinner will raise her spirits.”

Thorin sighed and closed his eyes.

“You doubt her love for you, don’t you?” Dis asked.

“How can I be so certain of it?”

“I see the way she looks as you, Thorin. There is no denying that.”

“I do not feel even this crown is enough for her,” Thorin said, his voice becoming tinged with pain and sadness.

Dis sat down on the opposite side of the desk. “You overcame the self-doubt of re-claiming Erebor from Smaug. How can you not overcome this? She is but one person…”

“Who holds my heart, Dis,” Thorin sighed. “I do not know if I could face rejection from her. If there is part of me that is cowardly, it is this. I would rather fight a thousand orcs than have to declare my love to her, only for it to be unrequited.”

***

Once the visitors from Dale had dispersed to the guest wing, you remained in your seat at the council table. The sight of Thorin had pulled you from the dreams. He raised the flutter in your stomach, the heat in your chest and a smile upon your lips.

Thorin glanced across at you and met your gaze. Breath caught in his throat at the sight of your smile, and he reciprocated that smile.

Dis smirked to herself from her seat beside you. In her mind, the two of you were complete idiots. The self-doubt was astounding, and it was the one thing that made you so alike, along with your loyalty and kindness. However, that was where your similarities ended.

One by one, everyone left the room, leaving only you and Thorin behind.

You got up, ready to leave, when he ushered you back. “May I have a moment with you?” he asked.

Thorin’s heart was pounding, but he was going to do this one way or the other. He would overcome the cowardice that was taking hold of him.

You stepped closer to him, and couldn’t help but smile again. He was incredibly handsome, and you had once dreamed of what his kiss would feel like, of what it would feel like to be one with him, and carry his child. This future you yearned for so ardently. But to be married to a king? It was a ridiculous notion.

“W…would you have dinner with me tonight?” Thorin asked.

This was the first time you had ever heard him stumble over his words. You could sense the uncertainty in his voice and posture. His blue eyes had now dropped to the floor. Reassurance was what he needed in those moments, to show him that you cared for him above everyone else. You took his hand in yours. “I would be honoured, my king,” you said.

Thorin’s gaze then locked with yours and he smiled, on the brink of a chuckle, as if relieved.

There were unsaid words lingering between you both, and the electricity was gathering momentum. Something had to break. “What troubles you?” you asked. On impulse, your free hand reached up and brushed a stray hair from his face. Your other hand was still in his.

“I…I have wanted you for so long,” Thorin whispered. His eyes were ablaze with fear and doubt. “You consume me.”

Sighing, you pressed your forehead to his. “I am not worthy of you, my king. I never was.”

Thorin reached up and removed the crown from his head, placing it down on the table, and then cupped your cheeks. His gaze sank into yours, and then the two of you kissed.

***

“I would raise you up!” the figure snarled from your peripheral vision.

It was the witching hour once more and your dreams had pulled you back to the palace of shadows. The voice now had audible words.

“I will raise you up as a queen!” the voice came again. “He will always treat you as being beneath him.”

You swept through the dark corridors, chasing the voice. The only light was a fire burning in the distance, beckoning you on.

“He took off his crown for you. I would give you a crown, my queen. I would give you the world to do with as you please. Come to me.”

Heat furled in your stomach, spreading outward, causing that pulsing to begin again at the juncture of your thighs. “Where are you?” you called.

You entered a room where the back wall was brightly lit by the fire burning opposite. A huge bed dominated the centre of the room, filled with furs and black velvet sheets. A musky and earthy scent filled the room, and immediately you sensed eyes watching you.

Fear gripped you, mingled with arousal. And suddenly you felt a hand rest on your shoulder and then move downward, ghosting over your breasts, which were now bare. Your whole body was naked, open to whoever this creature was. The hand had long, black claws and the skin was crimson. The creature’s touch caused intense heat to spark beneath your skin as it kept moving, towards your navel. Electricity was surging around you and the pulsing got more intense, making a deep groan to erupt from you.

“He will never let you ascend to the place you should be,” the voice came again. The creature’s breath was hot on your neck. You felt something wet and hot slip up your neck to the point at which your earlobe connected to your cheek. “That is not love. I would worship you as my queen and my mate. Give you everything you’ve ever wanted; give you power.”

Your eyes shot open and you gasped. Realisation hit you: you were in bed, in Erebor. Next to the bed, on your table, was a red rose which Thorin had left you. The red petals reminded you of the creature’s skin, and it made you shiver.

Since your kiss with Thorin after the council meeting, and you had had dinner with him. The two of you shared in your memories of the quest, laughing and holding hands across the table. Then Thorin had shared a glass of wine with you, his silver blue eyes gazing at you in adoration and disbelief that you felt the same way as he. The two of you had walked slowly down the hallway, with your arm curled around his. “Goodnight, my love,” he whispered to you, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. A blush flourished on his cheeks as you moved away.

In all the time you had known Thorin and you had always been attracted to him; his voice, eyes, presence. Everything about him made your chest ache, and cause a yearning for a deeper connection. Your heart was frantically beating, wanting him.

And now you were sat upon the edge of your bed, thinking of the caresses of a creature of the shadows. Whenever you were in the company of Thorin, all memory of the creature disappeared. And now that you were thinking upon the creature, Thorin’s face had faded.

***

After you had dressed, a knock came to your door.

You walked to the door and as you opened it, a huge smile curled your lips upward at the sight of Thorin.

The king reached for you, twirling you around, as if dancing. “I have requested breakfast be brought for us,” he said softly, pulling you in close and winding his arm around your waist.

You leaned to him and kissed him, feeling him immediately respond. Your tongues met in a pent up frustration that the two of you had held at bay for many months. All you could feel was sheer joy, delight and love radiating from your chest.

Thorin’s hands cupped your cheeks, his fingers caressing downward towards your jaw, tickling your earlobes.

A sudden flash of memory shot into your mind. The creature’s tongue leaving a trail of wet heat down your neck. The flash of memory made you jump.

“Are you alright?” Thorin asked, his eyes growing concerned.

For the first time and the creature was breaking through into your time with Thorin, beckoning you into the shadows. “Yes, I’m sorry,” you replied, holding your head in shame and disgust.

Thorin rested his finger against your chin and lifted your gaze to meet his. “You are not alright, dear one. Dis told me yesterday that you had not slept well. What bothers you? All of your cares and worries are also mine.”

“You wouldn’t understand, Thorin,” you replied, stepping back from him.

“Why do you feel I would not?” he snapped.

You sighed and closed your eyes, knowing you had deeply offended him.

I will raise you up. I will give you power beyond your wildest imaginations. 

 The voice was so real, yet still felt distant. It curled around you, making that arousal snake its way down your spine and between your legs. Your breathing sped up and you sat back down on the edge of the bed. “I can’t,” you gasped.

Thorin’s eyes were dark in anger and rejection, your words hitting him square in the chest so painfully. “If you cannot bare your all to me as I would do for you, then…”

“Thorin,” you said again. “Please. Don’t put this between us.”

“No, you are putting it between us.”

You could see the pain and despair sitting in his eyes, making his shoulders droop in defeat. With a sigh, you began to speak again. “I’ve been having dreams. A demonic creature is somehow connected to me and won’t leave me alone.”

Thorin fell to his knee in front of you and cupped your cheek again. “My love? Look at me.”

You looked into those eyes you loved so dearly.

“The creature cannot hurt you,” he said. “I promise you that while I breathe, I will always protect you.”

Once your breakfast had arrived, you began to eat, temporarily forgetting the creature. Thorin was sat in a chair beside your bed as you remained on the edge of your bed. He watched you eat and as you ate the last mouthful, he reached into the inside pocket of his robe, pulling out a velvet pouch.

“I know that our customs are different, but I wish to indulge the Dwarf custom and ask for your hand in courtship, as is right. And with that, I offer you this ring,” he said, taking a gold ring from the velvet bag.

You looked at the bright gold band which was adorned with amethyst stones, seven of them forming a circle in the gold. “You remembered when I told you that purple is my favourite colour,” you whispered.

Thorin smiled, and that blush rose on his cheeks again. He reached for your hand and slipped the gold band onto your ring finger on your right hand, knowing the left would be kept for engagement and marriage, as was your custom.

***

Thorin wished you a goodnight, and as he did, he kissed your cheek. “If you have any unwelcome dreams again, my love, please come to my chambers.”

The two of you parted ways and you placed another red rose in a vase on your bedside table.

My queen. 

The voice swept around you again. This time it was more powerful, sounding as though it were in the room with you.

Sleep and come to me. 

 You lost all control and slipped away, all consciousness leaving you. But as your conscious mind drifted away, your body rose from the bed and stepped toward the full length mirror at the bottom of your bed. Your eyes remained closed, yet your body knew where to tread. The surface of the mirror looked like silver water, and with one step, you disappeared into it.

***

Were you awake or still dreaming? Everything around you was dark, with only the light from the end of a hallway. You blinked hard and sat up. Everything around you felt so real; the cold surface of the stone beneath your legs and the chatter that you could hear. Distant voices whispered.

She is here. Finally she is here. The Lord of Darkness has finally found his mate and one true queen. 

 Darkness? Was that his name? The red creature.

You got to your feet and looked around, everything still so dark. Your heart was thumping hard in your chest, in both fear and anticipation. The glow of light beckoned you down the hallway, just as it had in your dream.

As you reached the end of the hallway, you turned the corner and found yourself in a large room with a bed in the centre, and opposite was an open fire. Everything was as it was in your dream the night before. Even the black velvet sheets and furs on the bed.

Suddenly you sensed a presence behind you and for a few seconds you were glued to the spot in fear.

“My queen,” a voice came. That deep, velvet voice. Just the sound of it made liquid fire burn in your belly.

A hand brushed around your neck and that all too familiar scent of musk and earth hit your nose. Even his smell was beckoning you, pulling at your very core, that most primal part of you.

Slowly you turned, and there before you was a creature who towered above you. His skin was crimson, with bright yellow eyes gazing at you in lust and amusement. His face was pointed, with angular features. Huge, black horns grew from his head. His upper torso was muscular, being the body of a man. As your gaze slipped down, you saw that from his waist down was the body of what appeared to be a goat. His waist and legs were covered in black fur. Considering that his form was one that would normally make terror rise in those that looked upon it, you felt fascinated.

“You are not disappointed by what you see, my lady?” Darkness asked.

Your gaze finally met his, and you felt an intense shiver race down the entirety of your body.

Darkness reached for you and picked up your hand, placing it against his chest. It was red hot. He closed his eyes upon your touch. “I have yearned for touch for centuries.” His voice was on the edge of a groan.

You gasped at the feel of him and the pleasure which radiated from his voice. Your hand slipped up his chest, toward his neck. Suddenly Darkness grabbed your hips and lifted you, and on instinct, you locked your legs around his waist.

He walked with you to the bed, his gaze never leaving yours. And as he stopped, hovering above the bed, he took your lips against his. The kiss was hot, heavy, demanding. His long tongue caressed the inside of your mouth, beckoning you forth.

As you parted from the kiss, he chuckled at you. “I will give you everything you’ve ever wanted. Pleasure beyond anything you have ever felt, power, riches. Ask and it will be yours. Never would I keep a crown from you as he does. He would see you without that power.”

Thorin. His face was so far away again, and you shook your head, trying to bring his handsome face back to the forefront of your memory but he would not come. “He knows that I do not feel worthy of him.”

“You are worthy of everything,” Darkness snarled. He lowered you to the edge of the bed and then reached for two glasses which were on a nearby table, pouring two glasses of wine. “The Dwarf would happily keep you beneath him to maintain his own ego.”

“You don’t know Thorin like I do,” you shot back.

“He thinks he can buy you with jewels.”

“And you can buy me with promises of pleasure and power.”

Darkness growled, his eyes locked on your ring. “Remove that ring and be mine; I would love you, worship you.”

You sipped the wine, feeling your body begin to scream for him once again. The intensity of his need of you, and his desperation.

You rose to your feet, placed the glass down on the table and then approached Darkness who had seated himself on the edge of the bed. For a couple of seconds, you studied his face. It was somehow handsome to you, in a way that you couldn’t fathom. You slid into his lap, straddling him and kissed him again. Within seconds and he was sucking your neck, his hands caressing your breasts, and the tips of his claws brushing over the fabric of your clothing.

Darkness’ breath was rising, that animal side of him also breaking out. His hands ripped your clothes and flung them to the far side of the room. “I will make you feel things you have never felt before,” he moaned against you as you rose up onto your knees, still resting on his thighs. Your arms were tight around is neck. “Fuck you until you are numb.”

The words spurred you on and you kissed him again, hard and ferocious. He picked you up  in his muscular arms and slipped you around, lowering you to the bed so he was now in control.

Darkness kissed down your body, his long tongue sliding across your flesh. He could taste the first hints of sweat on you, and he revelled in the salty flavour. Your breasts, down your stomach and into the space between your thighs.

“I have never known someone so wanton,” Darkness grinned. “I can smell you. The intensity of it is enough to send me to the brink. And, even better, you are ovulating. I will keep going until you bear my child, no matter how long it takes. If I have to keep you locked in here for days, so be it. I may even call the goblins in to watch.”

The words made your whole head swarm with a haze of euphoria. The pulsing between your legs was so intense now that you locked your legs around his waist again, dragging him in closer.

Darkness laced his hand in yours and eased your ring from your finger. It fell to the stone floor and rolled away. “I will bring you so much more than he could!” Darkness chuckled.

***

Thorin had remained awake that night, unable to rest at the thought of you being haunted by the demon creature. All he could think of was holding you to his chest, fighting away all of those disturbing night visions.

He rose from his bed, pulling a robe on and began his walk down the main hallway toward your chamber. Torches lit his way and as he got to your room, he opened the door, knowing you would probably be asleep. However, as he trailed the darkness, following the gentle glow of the candle at your bedside, he saw you were nowhere to be seen.

Terror rose in his chest at the thought of you having disappeared from him. He gazed around the room, noticing a blue glow coming from the mirror at the end of your bed. The surface was moving, reminding him of liquid silver.

Thorin stepped towards the mirror, confused and shocked.

***

Your whole body was on fire and you writhed on the bed as Darkness’ hands roamed you. The tips of his claws gently scratched your breasts and stomach, drawing a loud groan from you.

“Give yourself to me and seal it, be my mate and queen,” Darkness said, his hot breath wafting across your belly.

You groaned again and arched off the bed, your body needing him.

Darkness may have held the rationale of humans, but he was more animal. That need to possess you and impregnate you was becoming unbearable, and the more you groaned and writhed, the closer he was to forcing himself upon you. His member had risen and was visible through his thick, black fur.

“Will you accept me?” he asked, his tongue licking your earlobe. The palm of his hand was cupping the mound at the juncture of your thighs, and his fingers tickled, circling the aroused flesh.

All you could do was groan again. Your hands were gripping the sheets so tight that it felt you were about to fall off the knife’s edge there and then, and completely succumb. An image flashed through your mind, a picture of you standing before a mirror, clothed entirely in black. Beneath your dress was a huge belly, showing your ability to conceive Darkness’ child. The reflection you only just recognised as yourself; your eyes were completely black, overtaken by evil and the desire for power. And there, behind your reflection, was Thorin. “My love?” he whispered, his voice cracking.

“THORIN!’ you screamed suddenly, jerking away from Darkness.

Darkness growled, his whole face turning livid. “Useless bitch!” he shouted. His hand swung outwards and slapped your face, knocking you off the bed.

Terror took over as you scrambled backwards, edging away from him as he circled the bed.

“You DARE raise a hand to her!” a voice came from the room’s entrance.

Your head snapped in the direction of the voice. It was Thorin. He must have been able to slip through the mirror and had followed the corridor.

Darkness chuckled. “I’m going to enjoy this, Dwarf. I’ll make her watch every single moment of me ripping your heart out of your chest. Then I’ll eat it in front of her.”

Thorin’s face remained darkened by anger and hatred towards this filthy beast before him. He looked down to you, and in those moments, the hatred melted as he smiled at you. “Leave when you can,” he told you. “Make for the corridor.” Then his silver blue eyes turned back to the demon who was slowly approaching him.

“You think you can defeat me?” Darkness laughed. “I have lived for millennia, feeding off the pain, hate and need for pleasures. I cannot think you believe I can be defeated so easily.”

Something touched your hand, a cold metal. It was your ring. You slipped it back onto your hand quickly, and as you did, your clothing magically returned to your body, appearing around you.

Thorin was defenceless, without a weapon. His eyes scanned the room, until Darkness was upon him.

A red hand reached out and grabbed Thorin by the throat, pushing him against the wall.

A shriek erupted from your mouth and you lunged at the two glasses on the table, smashing one against the floor. As quick as a flash, adrenaline pumping through you, you slashed at Darkness’ chest, you only just being able to reach. Then as he howled and turned, you aimed for his neck. Blood began to spurt out of the wound, making him drop Thorin to the ground. The creature continued howling, twisting in pain and anger.

Thorin grabbed your hand and the two of you began your race back through the corridor, hearing Darkness’ loud stamps behind you.

Terror gripped you in your chest and you continued running, both you and Thorin keeping at each other’s pace.

“I’ll kill the fucking pair of you!” Darkness howled.

At the end of the corridor was the same silver shine from the mirror, which had covered the entire wall. Without even thinking, the two of you jumped through, landing back on the stone floor of your chamber in Erebor.

Thorin dashed around and grabbed the edge of the mirror just as a red arm reached through. But the demon could not win. With a flash of blue light and an animalistic howl, the mirror was thrown to the floor and smashed.

Shards of mirror sprayed across the floor, spreading the entire width of the room.

You stood still, your heart pounding so hard in your chest and felt tears spill down your cheeks. Shame and guilt hit you so hard that you placed your hands on the edge of the bed and wretched, bringing back a mouthful of red wine mixed with bile.

Thorin heard your wretch and raced to your side, curling his arm around your waist. “My love…”

“Don’t,” you whispered. “Don’t call me that, please.” All you could do was weep, your shoulders juddering in your throes of anguish. “I’m sorry…” you sobbed. “I was so close to being taken from you forever. I know you’ll never forgive me.” You shifted away from Thorin. “Don’t touch me.”

He whispered your name. “Please…”

“I can’t.”

Thorin took your hand, his thumb rubbing across your knuckles. “I promised you that I would always protect you, and I will never stop. That beast attempted to seduce you, my love. The promise of pleasures and wealth can be easy to fall prey to. I know that all too well, yet you seem to forget that.”

“Thorin, don’t talk about that. What happened with the gold…”

“Was a seduction. Mine was of the mind and yours was of the body, but our hearts are what guides us. I heard you call my name, and it was you that called me back from the edge of being completely lost to madness.”

Tears still run down your cheeks and you turned away from Thorin, closing your eyes. You felt nothing but guilt and shame, dragging you down to the lowest you had ever felt. “I can’t do this. I can’t…”

Without another word, Thorin pulled you in to himself and kissed you. It was slow at first, warm and wanting, and then it became deeper. Your whole chest was now alight with such joy and delight; that was how you wanted to feel, not ashamed and at odds with your body. Kissing Thorin was where your whole body became synced and aligned. Your heart was beating with joy, your body was aroused by him, and your mind knew that this was true love.

“That’s how love feels,” you whispered. “It’s at the core of everything.”

Thorin pressed his brow to yours. “Forgive yourself, dear one. Let tonight pass from your memory, and in its place, we shall forge a new life together where our love and lust can exist in equal measure.”

“I cannot believe you can forgive me,” you said, kissing his temple. “I betrayed you physically.”

Thorin sighed. “My love, there have been stories told through time regarding the dark powers that can easily seduce the weakest willed of people. You fought that; this was no ordinary seduction. That beast had power. I could feel it as soon as I entered his domain. You said that he had been coming to you in dreams, beckoning you. Dream walkers have been spoke about for many years.”

“I hope he’s gone now, but I can’t shake the feeling that this isn’t the end. He’ll come for me again. He wanted me to give myself to him and even removed my ring.”

“Because that is a symbol of our love. Even without it, that love we share saved you.”

You brushed your fingers idly through Thorin’s hair. “You have no idea how beautiful you are,” you told him, feeling nothing but awe for him. “And to think that you want me as I want you.”

“Shh, come now,” Thorin cooed. He took your hand and pulled you up from the bedside. “I will have a bath drawn for us.”

“It’s the middle of the night,” you giggled.

“I wish to pamper you and surely there is no time limit on that.”

Thorin did as proposed and requested that a bath be drawn for you both. As the hot water poured into the tiled bath, fresh towels and soaps were brought to you both. Two serving girls smiled at you in amusement as they dashed back and forth, preparing everything.

By the time everything was ready, Thorin stepped across to you and stood behind you, kissing the base of your neck. “I can feel the tension in your shoulders, my love. Come and relax.”

You both disrobed, neither of you feeling an ounce of shame, considering this was the first time you had seen each other naked.

The bath was large with two steps that led down, it reminding you of a small swimming pool. Steam rose from the water and your first step in stung slightly as the hot water met your cool skin.

Thorin stepped in after you and you couldn’t help but keep your gaze locked on his broad shoulders. He was muscular, toned by years of activity from combat and working as a blacksmith. That also meant that he was littered with small scars. As you had imagined, he was well endowed, showing off quite an impressive girth.

For a second you thought back on your feelings that had been uncovered by your time with Darkness. Everything had been pure attraction and arousal, like molten lava coursing through you. But looking upon Thorin was different; every part of you was awakened. All of your body was ignited in your love for him.

He gazed at you, his silver blue depths bright with love and admiration. There was a contentment in his eyes that you had never seen before his revelation of love. Before that and he had always held sadness in his face. It had always been your belief that behind a lot of Thorin’s frustrations was sadness and hurt. You wanted to heal him.

The two of you embraced and then kissed. Thorin’s hands were slow to move, starting off in your hair and then moving down to your neck, your shoulders, breasts. There was no force or rush like there had been with Darkness.

Thorin washed you slowly, massaging the sponge covered in soap over the skin of your upper back. “You are quiet,” he said.

“I’m just enjoying your presence, and contemplating how you make me feel.”

“Oh? Do you wish to indulge me?”

You giggled. “Do you really want to know?”

“Yes,” Thorin whispered to your ear.

You turned around to face him. “I want to give myself to you, now.”

“There is no rush, my love. Considering what you have been through tonight…”

“That doesn’t matter. I want you, Thorin. Every part of you. If you’ll let me have it.”

Thorin never answered and pressed his lips to yours hungrily, letting you know his answer. It would only ever be a resounding yes.

The two of you slipped out of the bath, drew towels around your waist and made your way back to your chamber. Once inside, you stood before Thorin and let your towel drop to the floor. He rushed at you again, drawing his hands up your cheeks and groaning at the impact.

You leaned back on the bed, him following you.

Thorin’s lips trailed down your body slowly, his beard tickling the hot skin. That arousal was surging again, only this time it was mingled with something far deeper: love. This time you wanted to bond with Thorin, connect with him in every way that was possible.

You felt his fingers delve into the curls at the juncture of your thighs and immediately you felt your inner core begin to want more, so much more. A groan escaped your lips and slowly Thorin’s fingers circled your sweet nub and then delved into your womanhood.

Thorin kissed your neck as he began a rhythmic movement inside you.

You clutched his shoulders, feeling the waves begin to ascend. That all too familiar sensation of wanting to get as high as you could to feel that powerful burst. His name fell off your lips, feeling so right and such an integral part of your soul.

“My love,” he whispered in your ear. He kissed down your cheek, wanting you to feel his love radiating through his hands to you.

“Stop,” you told him, pulling his hand away. “I want you.”

Thorin swallowed deeply and felt a sliver of arousal shoot down his spine upon your words. He’d imagined this so many times over the last few months, unable to let the fantasy go. The elation in his chest made him smile at you.

His smile was the most beautiful sight to behold. “I love you,” you told him.

You kissed again, and this time, Thorin took your hands in his while his member rested between your legs.

That intense pulsing was beckoning him in, wanting him to ride you towards heaven. You nudged yourself forwards, reassuring Thorin that this was all you wanted in those moments.

As you joined, you groaned into his neck and wrapped your legs around his waist. You remembered Darkness’ words about you ovulating. And as Thorin rocked against you, you saw a vision flash before your eyes. It was you in a wedding gown, with a circlet upon your head. The circlet matched the design of Thorin’s crown. Your gown was midnight blue, matching Thorin’s signature colour of choice. And there, beneath your resting hands, on your stomach, was a bump. This was the future you wanted, you needed, and which was destined.

You and Thorin continued your thrusts against each other, wanting to reach the pinnacle of physical pleasure together, and topple off hand in hand, hopefully creating that precious life you had just envisioned.

The waves of euphoria kept on building as Thorin maintained his rhythm, until the final wave crashed out, pouring heat and electricity outward from the pit of your stomach.

Thorin felt you shake and contract around him, and your moans of pleasure caused his peak to also come. He kept his lips against yours, groaning into the kiss.

Panting, the two of you embraced as Thorin withdrew from you.

Thorin didn’t have to keep reminding you of being a queen, you already knew that in your heart. All that mattered was you knowing that he loved you far more than anything else in his life.

***

The defeated Lord of Darkness sat upon his throne, a mirror in his hand. He had watched the whole spectacle unfold before his eyes; you had given yourself to the Dwarf King of Erebor, and there had been no persuasion on his part. Everything had been so freely given.

Darkness had already kicked one goblin across the room, as one gawked over his shoulder, enjoying the show inside the mirror. He enjoyed it so much that he had started masturbating behind the throne, hiding away so his master couldn’t see him.

“You cannot outrun me,” Darkness growled, watching as you and Thorin lay together in each other’s arms. “I can wait and when the times comes, I will strike again.

**

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[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Hello, lovely ♡ I know you just did some Thranduil smut, but I have a request for more (always more). Could I request where the female (human) reader has a snowball fight with Thranduil and it soon becomes steamy and he gives it to her up against a tree in the middle of the forest? Thank you, dear. Love your writings. You are so talented ♡

Ask and you shall receive!

Of snowball fights and other pleasures

Pairing: Thranduil x Fem. Reader (Human / Noblewoman from Dale)

Word count: 3.2K

Themes : Smut | Soft

Summary: Thranduil has been wanting you for a while now, but he keeps to himself thinking you and Legolas have something going on. What happens when he finds out that is not the case, and you have no attachement to anyone?

Warnings: Kissing | Penetrative / Rough sex | Sex out in the open | Fingering (fem. receiving) | Nicknames | Age Difference | First time (fem.)

Want to be tagged? Want to know the reader request rules? Read all here 

If you like this, please consider giving it a reblog. Thank you! 

There were many rules in Thranduil's life.

They all circled around etiquette, custom, and tradition; they helped govern the elves of Mirkwood. Of these rules, many were written, some unwritten, and one such unwritten rule went along the lines of, "Thou shall not covet thy son's best friend."

You were Legolas' best friend, one he made while on a trip to Dale, and yet, Thranduil desired you. He desired you from the moment he first saw you. Thranduil thought it wholly inappropriate, as he truly believed Legolas himself desired you, and he held his tongue out of respect for both his son and you. 

Alas, that was not the case, not for you, at any rate. Legolas did not harbour the feelings his father thought he had. "Eru help me," Legolas said jovially over dinner one night, "But you're such a jolly sport."

And that was all you were, Eru help you. You were a jolly sport, a good listener, his partner in crime, the sister he always wanted, and nothing beyond that. You knew it was hopeless, that Legolas never saw you as anything but a jolly sport, and would never see you as anything but a jolly sport. Even if you bonked him on the head with a large sign that said 'I want you,' he would still see you only as a friend. Oh well, you reason, you might as well accept it.

You sighed and toyed with your food. Roast duck in honeyed wine, and cooked to absolute perfection. It was too delicious to pass up, but right now, you were simply not in the mood for it. You looked around and watched the elves talking, laughing, and singing before your gaze turned to the dais. The Elvenking was there, resplendent in ice blue velvet and cloth of silver. He had been wearing his winter crown, one made to look like icicle shards and snowflakes. Never in your life had you seen a creature more magnificent, and your breath hitched in your throat.

That hitched breath turned to a soft hum when the king turned his attention to you. Thranduil held your gaze for the longest possible time, his eyes darkening in such a way that it made your skin warm and your cheeks flush. You swallowed and managed a smile. Thranduil kept his eyes locked on yours before an aide called for his attention and he had to look away.

You blink once, then twice. What was that? You thought. Why did he look at you like that, making you feel all warm and feverish? And Eru help you, why did you enjoy it so?

Your stomach growled, and the duck finally appealed to your senses. You set yourself the pleasurable task of finishing every crumb. Legolas excused himself to talk to some others and Thranduil? Well, Thranduil excused himself as well, making his way to your table. "Y/n," he kept his tone perfectly neutral, his face a hard-to-read mask. "I see we have not driven you away with our rowdy behavior."

You looked to one table, where a drinking contest had commenced. At another table, elves gathered around a pair that had been arm wrestling. "I've seen all of this and more back at Dale," you grinned when Gimli, who had also come to visit, demanded a rematch with Legolas in some contest or another. "You're not going to scare me off that easily."

Thranduil smirked and sat opposite you. He kept his attention on his lap, to stop himself from staring at you. "And how goes your friendship with Legolas?" he asked with all the airs of innocent curiosity. "I only ask because the two of you have gotten close over the past few moons."

Ah yes. Legolas. "I'm just a jolly sport to Legolas," you mutter, just loud enough for him to hear.

"Pardon?"

"A jolly sport," you murmured. "A good ear. His partner in crime. The sister he always wanted--"

"And nothing beyond that?" Thranduil swallowed as hope stirred in his heart. Yes, there was hope, and wanting, and lust as well, something that peaked when he caught you licking honeyed wine off the pads of your fingers. Visions of his lips skimming over your fingers flashed before his eyes.

You said nothing and studied him. What was that flashing in his eyes? Why did it make you all warm and feverish again, and make you yearn for more? "And nothing beyond that," you said, your stomach tying itself in knots when you caught Thranduil's eyes darkening once more. There was a sound at the back of your throat, something between a hum and a sigh. Oh, to have him look at you like that all the time, like he wanted to eat you up.

"But maybe it's for the best," you coughed, clearing your throat. You were imagining things, you were sure of it. Thranduil was the Elvenking, there was no way he felt anything for you. No. Nothing at all.

"Perhaps," Thranduil mused as he drummed his fingers against the table. "But is there anyone else who has caught your interest? Anyone at all?"

"Planning on introducing me to anyone?" You teased, but your stomach knotted up again when jealousy flashed harsh and bright in his sky-blue eyes. 

Thranduil fought for composure. Here he was, a survivor of Doriath and king of the woodland realm, caving into jealousy like an elf barely into adulthood. "If you wish," every word was a trial for him. "I will be glad to introduce you, and recommend you."

But you won't be happy about it, you reasoned. In fact, Thranduil looked like he wanted to murder the ellon who caught your attention. You bit your lip in an effort not to laugh. "But there isn't anyone interested in me, more's the pity," you say, your eyes not missing the relief in his. 

Thranduil, awash with a sense of relief he never knew possible, found himself blurting, "Actually, yes, there is. Someone who thinks about you all the time."

Like me.

Thranduil thought he only said it in his mind, but the words rolled off his lips in a whisper. You couldn't make out what he said, and you leaned in, asking, "My lord?"

The king quickly shook his head and cleared his throat, his cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink. How did that just come out? He swallowed, his eyes darting everywhere, hoping no one heard or thought of questioning him. "Nothing. Truly nothing." he quickly rose. "I... Erm... Please do excuse me, y/n, a pressing matter needs my attention."

Before you could say another word, Thranduil turned sharply on his heel, his heart thrilling by what he heard. Legolas only saw you as a friend, nothing more. You were free of any attachment to his son.

By the time he reached his chambers, Thranduil realized he was grinning like a giddy teenager. He then called a soldier to him, and sent him off with a message.

..................

It had snowed that night, and the entire world was covered in a beautiful blanket of white the next morning.

You went out, fully clothed in a thick cloak to keep the cold at bay. Legolas had gone off to Dale with Gimli, and you were left to your own devices. When you reached the gardens, you found Thranduil already there, walking and taking in the wintery scenes. "Good morrow," you dipped out of respect. "My lord." 

Thranduil swallowed and tried to bring his racing pulse to an even keel. "Good morrow, y/n."

He quickly turned away and headed towards the path leading into the forest. "And how was last night? Did you sleep comfortably?"

Something compelled you to follow him. "Very comfortably, thank you. I've never slept so well in my life."

Thranduil smiled and kept walking. You kept following, your eyes taking in the wonderful stillness that enveloped the forest, your ears tingling from the sound of snow crunching beneath your feet. "I was concerned, you see," he said, as the two of you continued walking. "Not everyone likes sleeping within a cave system."

"But it's beautiful, my lord," you said, surprised he would think you'd be put off by his home. In truth, the halls were more splendid than the palace of Dale, and you actually grew up within the palace. "Why would anyone not like it?"

Thranduil turned to you, to make sure you were not lying. One look convinced him that you weren't. "It pleases me to hear you say it..."

You felt a sense of mischief growing as you took in all that pristine snow. Thranduil was a few paces ahead of you, oblivious to what was going on behind him. Just once, you thought as you quickly dipped to your knees. Just a teensy bit of fun.

"The dwarves adore it, of course," Thranduil didn't hear you pick up a handful of snow and press it into a ball. "But some mortals... Alas..."

Thump.

A snowball exploded neatly over his cloak. Thranduil stopped and turned. Another snowball hit him square in the chest with another soft thump.

"Y/n," Thranduil took a deep breath and dusted bits of snow that clung to his clothes. "What are you..."

This time, the snowball hit him on the chin, exploding in a wet spray of icy particles. Thranduil looked at you, taking in your grin, the challenge in your eyes. Overcome with a sense of playfulness himself, he tsked before picking up a ball of snow. Before you could think or even blink, a ball of blinding white hit you right in the chest. When he dipped to make another projectile, you picked up your skirts and ran off into the forest, shouting, "You'll have to catch me first!"

The challenge was like music to Thranduil's ears.

You ran and ran, giggling like anything. Thranduil could never catch up with you. Why, you already had a head start on him. And you were certain he couldn't find you, at least not for a while .So confident were you in your own success that you didn't see or even hear Thranduil until he was right behind you, whirling you around and pushing you up against a tree. 

"Hitting me with snowy projectiles?" Thranduil said gleefully as he pinned you against the tree. "And while my back was turned? Very unsportsmanlike, yes?"

Oh, how you giggled beneath him. "B-but it's such fun th-that way."

Thranduil tsked again, this time to disguise the fact that being this close to you was making his body strain against his clothes. "There will be a price to pay for this, you know," he mumbled huskily.

You narrowed your eyes even as your lips quirked upward. "A price, you say."

The heat radiating from his body started to do strange things to yours. You felt warm and feverish again, this time from his being so close to you. You wanted to reach out and touch him, to have his unrestrained self open up to you. And as much as you thought you liked him, you realized you felt nothing like this with Legolas, nothing that made you feel like your blood was heating with need. 

Perhaps it wasn't Legolas you were destined for after all. "And what will that price be, my lord?"

Thranduil narrowed his eyes, as wanting slowly hammered at his restraint. He had asked for a price. A price you seemed to be willing to pay. How much were you willing to pay? "Whatever I want, y/n."

You swallowed and looked up at him, at those beautiful blue eyes that had grown dark with need. When you ran your tongue over your lips, you heard him groan. "And," you asked, as heat pooled in your belly. "What do you want?"

Thranduil dipped his head, his lips just above the rim of your ear. "You," he whispered. Hot breath fanning over your ear made you close your eyes and whimper, made goosebumps rise all over your skin. "I want you."

You swallowed as he pressed up against you, his body flush against yours. His hands let go of your arms and sneaked up your waist; his lips skimmed over your ear. A sound rose from the back of your throat, something that felt like a purr. Warmth and wanting washed over you again, and you grabbed onto Thranduil's collar, saying, "And you shall have me, however you wish to have me."

Thranduil pulled back, his jaw clenched, his eyes burning with passion. On the next intake of breath, his lips crushed yours. 

You were pulled into a darkened tunnel of desire. Thranduil's kisses were deep, drugging you senseless. His tongue, all warm and luscious and sinful, licked and probed its way into the warmth of your mouth. You purred helplessly, your arms looping around his neck. Your body was already throbbing and aching, arousal was dripping down your thighs, and he had just started kissing you.

Thranduil was filled with greedy impatience. On any other day, he would have been slow and languorous, worshipping your body with his very breath, but today he was just overcome with the need to take. He hiked up your skirts, pulling them up to your waist. A hand callused by centuries of hunting and fighting ripped apart your underwear and cupped you between your thighs. When skilled fingers played with your already slick heat, you jolted. "Already wet for me, I see," Thranduil crooned, delighting in your little whimpers, your little noises. He slipped a finger in, moaning into your mouth as he felt your walls clench around it. He took a step back and watched as your eyes almost rolled back and your mouth opened in a half-moan. Your body trembled and trembled when a second finger joined the first, curling gently inside your warmth, making your body arch beautifully against his whenever they struck that place that could only give a woman the type of pleasure she had never felt before. He felt resistance as he pushed deeper, and his body hardened even more. He was going to be your first. And how he hoped he could be your only.

And it wasn't enough. Not for you, and not for him. Thranduil pulled out and your cheeks bloomed with heat when each of those slickened fingers slowly disappeared into his mouth, only to pop out with a soft plop. "Delicious," he crooned again.

"But will that be all?" you muttered breathily, challenging him to give you more.

Thranduil growled. "Oh, there will be more, my petal," he hissed, and his lips opened over yours again. The sweetness of his kiss washed down your throat, leaving you breathless and lightheaded. You reached out to the buckle of his belt, unclasping it and loosening his breeches. Thranduil pressed himself flush against you, caging you to the tree as you reached in and wrapped your hands over his cock. 

The feeling of you pumping his length well and truly undid him. "Fuck," he swore and bit down on your lower lip, leaving it slightly sore and bruised. He kept still, his head thrown back, his breath coming out in shuddering pants as you stroked his cock. You found a rhythm he liked, your hands tightening and releasing, a perverse feeling drowning you as you took him to the brink and threatened to take him over that. What would it feel like, to have him pour over your hands?

But that was not what Thranduil desired. Oh no. Thranduil was hungry for much more than that. "Jump," he ordered, his arms hooking tightly around your waist.

When he lifted you in one swift move, you hooked your legs around his hips, your arms gripping tightly around his shoulders. Thranduil didn't even feel the strain. An ellon such as he was able to bear so much more, and you felt like a feather to him. "Do you want this?" he breathed as he rubbed the tip of his cock against your hole. "Tell me, petal, do you want this? For me to claim your maidenhead?"

You swallowed and looked into a pair of soulful eyes. "There'd be no going back from this," you say hesitantly.

"There won't," Thranduil agreed. "But if you say you'd have me, I will be by your side always."

You swallowed, considered his words, and came to a decision. "I'd be insulted if you weren't."

Thranduil's lips turned into a triumphant grin as they sought yours again. There were no more words this time, there was no need for them. Thranduil's kiss was a sweet distraction from the discomfort and pain you felt when he pierced you with one sharp thrust. Thranduil held onto you, keeping perfectly still, crooning sweet nothings into your ear. He let you adjust to his size, and he savoured how tight and hot you felt around him. 

It was all more than he had ever dreamed of, really. Thranduil would keep himself awake at night, thinking of you, dreaming of you, your body squirming and writhing underneath his, and now, all of that had turned into reality. He started to rock into your body, grinding his hips against the insides of your thighs.

The bark of the tree rubbed up against your back whenever your body jerked with his thrusts. You were sure your back would be bruised and sore the next day, but you didn't care. You only cared about what Thranduil was making you feel, and he was making you feel so much and more.

Jolt upon jolt of pleasure went up your back, turning your bones into a watery mess every time Thranduil ground his hips against you, filling you completely to the hilt.  Your moans were muffled by his kisses, your fingers could only dig into his back. Your legs struggled for purchase against his thighs as he kept bucking into you, his pace growing fast and relentless, his body tightening with each passing second.

And yours started to feel like a tightly pulled string that was about to snap. The soft squelching noises of Thranduil's length sinking into your heat seemed to carry, but you were too drunk on his embraces to care. You threw your head back as those coiled muscles grew closer to snapping. "D-don't s-stop," you pleaded.

Thranduil growled and held you tighter, his hips slapping against your thighs. He sunk his lips into your neck, his teeth scraping at your tender flesh. Your mewls inflamed him and he grew rougher, his growls growing as your walls tightened and throbbed around his cock. "Come for me," he moaned. "Come for me now."

Your body just surrendered, shattering into a million tiny pieces. You buried your face in his shoulder, your cries muffled against his robes. Your body shook violently as Thranduil grunted and buried himself deep inside of you, his essence spilling within your walls. He shivered as your orgasm kept milking his cock, and when he finally finished, he contented himself with holding you to him.

His breath fanned over your throat as he held you to him, keeping you steady. You took a deep, steadying breath and blinked, your mind suddenly clearing as a problem lay before you both. "L-legolas..." you panted. "What... What are we going to tell him?"

"He already knows," Thranduil mumbled, his chest still heaving against yours. "I spoke to him last night, and he gave me his blessing. That's why he went to Dale, so you could decide for yourself without being fogged up by his presence."

Your lips tugged up into a grin. "Trust you to leave nothing to chance."

Thranduil smirked and set you down gently, helping you fix your clothes, your hair, and setting himself to rights. "I never leave such important things to chance. That is why I'm the Elvenking."

#thranduil #thranduil x reader #thranduil smut #thranduil imagine #LOTR #The Hobbit #lotr x reader #the hobbit x reader #asks #reader request #reader insert #fanfiction #writeblr

[lillianofliterature]

If your requests are open, and you are comfortable with it, could you maybe please do a King Thranduil x reader one-shot where reader has cancer and it is like angsty?

the toll of sickness | thranduil x reader

a/n: Anon, I am sincerely sorry for the long wait, but I wanted to provide all the angsty venting and comfort I could for you in this! Thank you for your request! I wanted to do this right by you. I hope this helps soothe whatever parts of you need soothing today. I don’t know anon’s/anyone’s specific diagnosis or symptoms, so I’m doing my best to remain respectful and widely general with the topic of cancer. I took inspiration from my own experiences with the mental/emotional toll of long-term chronic illness to supply a plot to resolve, I hope that’s okay (and still relatable). <3

The reader is implied feminine in this as they are referred to as lady/queen, but otherwise, I did my best to keep it gender-neutral with descriptions. 

This could also be interpreted as a reader with chronic illness.

DO NOT REPOST MY WORK. GIF EDIT IS MINE.

summary: after a long day of tiresome treatments and the heaviness of your thoughts, you retreat to your chambers to seek the comfort of your husband’s arms.

warnings: mentions of cancer (the reader has cancer), mentions of cancer treatments and symptoms (including needles), medical exhaustion, nonsexual nudity and nonsexual bathing, open discussions of symptoms, fear of death

word count: 6.1k

music:  As Long As We Both Shall Live by Bear McCreary

elvish translations: melamin = my love, melda = my dear/beloved

“I think we will conclude here for today, my lady.” 

The head healer’s voice drew your wayward attention back to his prim features. His thin lips spread into a smile as he gently unstrapped the tight leather band above your inner elbow, releasing the tension from your skin. The long syringe with its glass barrel was gently pulled from the blue vein that the pressure had highlighted. You rubbed your arm subconsciously as he set aside the supplies for cleaning, hoping the motion would rid your flesh of the awful sensation of being probed. 

You blinked away your muddled thoughts. Briefly, you worried that perhaps he had been talking to you long before you’d heard his assessment to end the treatments for the evening. If you had, you were grateful to find no resentment in his gaze for your absentminded silence. 

He softly closed his collection of books that had been displayed around a table on the wall adjacent to your cushioned cot in the infirmary. With a bottle of herbal salve, he applied a generous portion to the inner curve of your elbow, satiating any irritation from his needles. The cool gel of the aloe soothed the itchy redness, while the lavender masked the sterile scent of the medications and intensely bitter herbs.  

You glanced up from the healer’s gentle efforts, trying on your best smile. “Thank you for your diligence today, Sudryl. It is very much appreciated.” 

He bowed his head as he clasped your hand between his palms, “It is always a pleasure to tend to you, my queen. We will resume tomorrow morning if it suits your schedule?”

“My schedule is always free for your remedies. Thranduil has made sure to take over many of my duties so we may focus on my treatment.”

Sudryl smiled once more as he helped you stand from the cot, draping your silken robe over your bare arms as he did so. “The king is very wise, your majesty. I know you detest this period of healing you’re undergoing, but you mustn't mistake rest for idleness. Your people desire greatly for your full recovery, myself included. In order to achieve that, your rest is crucial.”

You didn’t know what to say. Rest was crucial, you knew that. As were the innumerable treatments and remedies being applied and adjusted every day. 

But didn’t anyone understand that you were tired of all of this? Exhausted by more than just the cancer and its seemingly endless repercussions that it presented almost daily. Worn down by more than just needles and salves and bitter syrups that lingered in your throat.

You missed feeling well-rested when you woke up in the mornings after a long sleep—you missed having the energy to spend your days fulfilling your duties as a queen, as a servant to her people. You missed the days in which every activity was not dictated or measured by searing pain or groggy fatigue. You were tired of wrestling with your body just to exist comfortably. 

But it’s your duty to get better, they keep telling you. 

It’s what everyone’s hoping for, your majesty. 

Do your best to rest and eat well, my lady. 

Don’t give up hope, Queen (Y/n). You are blessed among our kin!

The people have been petitioning their prayers to the Valar fervently, your grace.

They were supposed to be words of encouragement spoken to invigorate your fighting spirit, to ignite that spark of determination that was starting to flicker these last few months. But these endless strains of hope and enlightenment had started to weigh heavily upon your shoulders like a milkmaid’s yoke, and with every well-intentioned word and chorus of song another stone was dropped into the buckets you carried.

The pressure to recover for the sake of others was beginning to feel like too much—the toll of the sickness itself was enough for one to worry about, was it not? Not only did you feel this fearsome desperation to recover for your own sake, for your own life, but also the need of a thousand other voices begging for a show of strength you didn’t feel tangible anymore. 

The summoning of one of your servants outside the infirmary doors reminded you that the hour to retire for supper was nearing presently. You felt your posture deflate as it dawned on you that you couldn’t yet retire for the day. Although your extravagant evening meals were one of the few constants that motivated you to follow your days through until nightfall, your hunger had dispersed in the last few days. Being seated at a stiff table dressed with rich delicacies and savory wines sounded nothing short of torture at the moment, even with the promise of dessert. 

The servant curtseyed in the broad doorway as Sudryl led you across the room. You couldn’t help but tense as your legs tremored from the sudden activity. A long exhale slipped through your pursed lips.

“My queen,” She rose gracefully, her hands folding together at her waist. “Your supper with the king is nearly prepared. He will be present in the dining hall shortly as soon as his meeting has concluded. I was advised to escort you there safely.”

Clutching onto Sudryl’s forearm, you hesitated to address the messenger. You couldn’t help the expression of distaste that twisted your face. The thought of food was not the only thing that churned your stomach at that moment; the prospect of being walked through your own palace as though you were an invalid, incapable of making it there of your own merit, as though every pair of eyes in this forest need offer you their due pity, bothered you even more than the risk of losing your supper to the toilet. 

Knowing you couldn’t send her away under Sudryl’s watchful eye (for surely there would be further inquiries as a result of such an unnecessary dismissal), you managed to nod in thanks to her before turning to him. The head healer’s smile was brimming with empathy. You tried not to feel offended by his pitying compassion. He leaned forward and pecked your cheek reverently, bidding you a respectful farewell until the morning. 

You turned from him and followed the servant into the winding halls. Gaze following the eroded pathway of the massive tree roots beneath your sore feet, you bided the seconds until you were both too far to be noticed by any superior voices that might challenge your decision-making. When your footsteps halted, she turned to face you.

Her brows raised, she asked, “My lady? Is something wrong?”

“No, no. I’m alright,” You waved her worries aside with the vague gesture of your hand. “But I can manage the walk to the dining hall from here.”

Her brows drew together in an expression of confusion. You straightened your back—had she seen through your polite fib? Was it that obvious you had no intentions of eating this evening? Or was just she not used to being given conflicting commands between two monarchs?

“—On my own. I can make it there on my own.”

Her lips parted in protest as she recalled what you assumed were very clear orders from your husband only minutes prior. Stretching your hand out to gently touch her shoulder, you reassured her it would be alright. “I will explain to the king myself that I demanded to be left alone. No trouble will come to you, I promise. You will not lose your position.” 

“But my lady, I—it is my duty is to ensure your safe arrival. Are you sure you don’t—?”

The irritation that swelled within you wasn’t her fault, you hastily reminded yourself. You bit back the frustrated sigh you wanted to release, tightening your polite smile. Reasoning with another person about what you wanted to do and why you wanted to do it was the last thing you presently wanted to deal with. Desperate to detach yourself from her and anyone else lingering about, you decided to be straightforward. No beating around the bush. 

“I value your persistence, young one, but I would very much like to retire early tonight. You may inform my husband that I’ll be taking my meal in our chambers if you must.”

“Understood, your majesty. I shall inform the king. Have a good evening.” She dipped into an impulsive curtsy, quickly trailing back to the chancellery to relay your decision. 

You didn’t even wait for her to pass beyond the long hall ahead before you turned in the opposite direction. Your private chambers weren’t too far from the infirmary, thankfully. However, it still took some resolve on your behalf to encourage your depleted energy through corridors and foyers all the way back to your comfortable bed. The silver silk of your robe billowed around your feet with every step, giving your eyes something other than walls of stone and root to follow.

You were sure your husband wouldn’t be taking the present news about your wellbeing all that agreeably. You could see it clearly in your mind—the disheveled, anxious worry in his eyes that he masked behind a wall of solemn regality. But you could always see what he was thinking. He wouldn’t like the fact that your treatments were taking more and more of a toll on your already wearisome state. He would like it even less when he found out you would soon be dismissing supper altogether. 

His concern wasn’t for himself, of course. It was for you—it was always for you.

He wanted desperately for you to be able to enjoy your meals in the glittering brilliance of the dining hall, unperturbed by fatigue and nausea. He wanted you to be able to take those strolls through the forest gardens that you adored so much without the sore discomfort in your bones. He wanted you to relish in your life and its unrivaled importance. And most of all, he wanted desperately to take this lingering sickness away; he wished he had been born with a skill for healing like some of his kin.

But all he could give you were the promises of an unsure future and the enlistment of his most skilled associates and all relevant resources that could be found about your condition. And some part of you—some sad, twisted part of you—felt a rush of guilt that so much commotion and worry was being circulated about the kingdom on your behalf. And that guilt only made the whole affair all the more frustrating and maddening. These days, everything inflamed your anger. This whole tumultuous ordeal seemed to be unraveling more than just your physical state. 

You knew it was ridiculous to feel responsible in some way for what was happening to you. You hadn’t chosen this, you hadn’t brought it on yourself—you most certainly didn’t deserve it. No one with cancer ever does. But reasoning with your inner turmoil was like wrestling a wild boar in the mud; there was never any true resolve without the cost of more anxieties, more wounds, more gashes in your soul. And the more you tried to gain a grip on yourself, the less grounded you became, the more it all slipped through your fingers. 

The click of the door was a chime of resolve as you leaned against the tall wooden frame from within the calm confines of your spacious bedroom. Sliding out of your supple leather flats and letting your robe slump to your elbows, you took the first deep breath you had been able to control since earlier that morning. The king-sized bed frame creaked subtly as you lowered yourself onto the fluffed silken duvet. Ever so gradually, you felt the weight of the vertical world begin to reprieve from your muscles like steam rushing upwards from a boiling pot. 

Rest wasn’t a cure for what ailed you, no, but Valar above, sometimes it felt like it. 

Since your diagnosis—the terrifying sickness devouring your energy and livelihood from within your own body—nearly every day had been spent in the infirmary or the healer’s sanctuary, remedies administered by the hour, conversations turning tiresome and sour. It had begun to feel like your own home was a prison, the world beyond the palace unreachable, like every action was a strenuous transaction of vitality and exhaustion. Even just walking the gardens that lead into the forest had become inexplicably draining—it left you feeling as though you’d run to Mirkwood’s southern border and back rather than taking a few turns about the courtyard. 

But here, on the cloud-like comfort of your private chambers, there was some reprieve from it all. There were no endless strands of questions about your well-being and your comfort and opinions on the tedious details of your health here—only the distant rush of the waterfalls that crashed brazenly into the river moat outside the palace gates. You could hear the chirping of the early summer insects as dusk narrowed on the horizon beyond the open terrace. There was no sterile smell of concentrated alcohol or the pungent gnawing of tart herbs. Instead, there was a faint aroma of lilacs wafting in from the gardens and the scent of your husband’s musk lingering in your bed.

Closing your eyes and rolling onto your lesser-sore side, you sought out the imprint that his body might have left there that morning. But the duvet was creased flat and folded with a chill under your skin. It was curious futility to think his warmth might have lasted after so many long hours away, you knew that; the bed was always plumped and remade in the mornings by your gracious servants. A coldness ran through you, engulfing your skin in little bumps that felt like prickling needles. 

Too sore from your aches to unfurl the taut covers from the mattress and too comfortable to retrieve one of your husband’s many fur throws, you recoiled your arm and folded your limbs closer together, curling into a position that would magnify your own body heat. While quietly taking in the environment of your sanctuary, this small peaceful haven that almost made you forget the turmoil your body was enduring, you hardly noticed as you faded into a light slumber. Caught between the ebbing flow of consciousness as it bobbed around the sleepy release of your strained body, wading between thoughts and dreams.

Unaware of the passage of time as you laid there in groggy consciousness, you hardly felt the urge to stir from your position until you felt the back of someone’s hand on your cheek, the brushing aside of your askew (h/c) tendrils. Then you made out the quiet husk of a voice that hovered above you in the dark. 

In the dark? Sunset was still a couple of hours away! And after that, dusk would linger still until the light vanished beyond the mountains to the west. Why was it already so dark?

Hadn’t it only been a few fleeting minutes since you’d closed your eyes, listening to the cicadas and savoring the sweetness of the summer flora? Eyebrows pursed, you could hear yourself attempt to answer, but the meticulous reply you’d fabricated in your mind was delivered in heavy vowels that grouped together lazily. Your speech felt like treacle slipping off your tired tongue. 

A velvet chuckle reverberated in your perking ears. 

“Have I forgotten my native tongue or was that a very poor attempt at Sindarin?”

Thranduil.

Your nose scrunched up as you fought to drain the sleepiness that was working against you so fervently. Before you could stir the tired droopiness from your eyes with eager fists, two gentle hands cupped your cheeks and swept their thumbs over your closed eyes. The motion was akin to a gentle massage, spanning your sore eyelids and dusting across your cheekbones, a cradling of your vulnerable stillness that filled your chest with a fond fervor. The supple tenderness of his lips collided briefly with yours before parting all too quickly. 

“Mm?” Your vocabulary hadn’t quite refreshed itself, it seemed. “When d’dju geten?”

Another rumbling chuckle he didn’t bother trying to hide. You pictured his willowy frame standing primly in front of the tall gilded looking glass, unfastening his stuffier robes and tucking his powder–blonde hair behind his pointed ears, or perhaps even tying it back for the night as he often did. 

Stars, it felt like there were weights on your shoulders pulling you back against the duvet as you forced yourself to sit up, like the muscles beneath your skin were unraveling at the seams. You rubbed your eyes and shooed your disheveled hair from your peripheral vision, glancing around the dark room for your husband’s silhouette. A flicker of light plumed suddenly in the sconce near the vanity, illuminating his fair features. The match in his hand extinguished with a puff of air from his lips before his pale blue eyes found yours. 

“I only just came in,” he reassured you, “I’m afraid I underestimated how much wind some of our advisors have in their lungs, especially when provoked.”

Another votive flickered to life on the other side of the room, another match snuffed out under his breath. The sunlight outside had all but gone in the murky hours you had been asleep. Now that you could take in the mellow darkness of the evening without confusion, some part of you felt distressed about the sudden absence of natural light. The daylight, warm and golden, always brought you a sense of comfort. But now it was dark and grey and the light of the moon was cold, distant, and you hadn't had a chance to prepare yourself for it. Another chill ran across your skin as a more frigid breeze swept in from the open terrace. 

“Did Sudryl have a chance to share the news with you before retiring this evening?” He asked, glancing over his shoulder at you. His lips pursed when he saw your unmoving figure still sitting on the edge of the bed, your back draped in silks, facing away from him. Your slumped posture told him all he needed to know about how you were feeling after your treatments—the exhaustion was palpable in how slow your palm rose to cradle your own forehead, in how shaky you were as you forced yourself up from the bed and took hold of the bedpost.

He was near you in an instant, his strong hands taking gentle hold of your bowed shoulders. There he was, combing the stray hairs on your head down with doting affection, all while the same frustrations were building up inside of you as your sleepiness dissipated. 

“You needn’t rise for me, melamin, I am no guest.” He chided gently.

“I know, I just need a bath before we settle in for the night.” 

“You’re in no state to manage that tonight, (Y/n)—”

“Thranduil, I haven’t rinsed off the ointments. I smell like the forest—and not in a good way.”

“You smell like an herb garden, fresh and natural, as all things should be.”

“Pungent is more like it,” You quipped, catching the accent of bitter walnuts exuding from your thin robes. It was that old, damp, dingy sort of bitterness that made you want to expel the air from your lungs with a snort when you caught a whiff of it—not the pleasant sort of musk from the gardens.

He laughed again, this time with more relief behind his eyes. Even though he knew you were spent from the day’s strenuous activities, the presence of your humor provided him with some semblance of comfort. And as for your own weary senses, his smooth strain of laughter was more than a consolation for the muted anxiousness that the infirmary always inflicted. 

“Then let me help you.”

“Thranduil, I can do it mys—”

“I insist,” He offered decidedly, and you knew well enough from past experience that arguing with him on the matter would prove ineffective. 

He gently looped your arm through the curve of his elbow, placing a sweet kiss to your messy hair before turning along with you toward the adjoined bathing chamber. You leaned into him for support and begrudgingly admitted to yourself that he was right—there was no way you could withstand the exertion on your own, at least not tonight. Not while you felt this lethargic, not while your stress levels were causing such tension throughout your body, making everything denser, slower, sluggish.

Once he led you into the warmly lit haven of the spacious chamber, the steam of the hot spring pool seemed to draw you in on its own accord. The walls and their rugged shapes made the flickering yellowness of the torchlight spread longer shadows among its natural angles and divots. The far right wall was connected to the run-off of one of the many springs that stretched like veins throughout the mountain palace—and it was little cavern rooms like this one that reminded you that you were living in the majesty of a low-peaking mountain, not just nestled in the forested density of the Greenwood.

You knelt at the rim of the bathing pool on the soft stone edge, dragging your hand through the clear blue water. The natural warmth of the hot spring invigorated you with a sense of eagerness as you remembered just how soothing these glowing pools always were. A gentle touch to your shoulder lured your attention back to your husband, who with a fond smile, was waiting to help you unravel your robes and underthings. Taking his hand, you were pulled to stand in front of him with the gentlest limits of his strength. 

You hardly felt the pressure or the tugging of his lithe fingers as he helped you undress, his touch but a breeze across your sore skin. When you were naked and chilled from the exposure, he guided you into the blue waters and leaned over the pool’s edge to make sure you were steady on the outcropped seat of eroded stonework submerged in the water. As the bubbling warmth enveloped your flesh, your eyes fluttered shut with an involuntary sigh of relief. 

There were very rarely things that proved effective for your ceaseless pains—medicines and supplements only lasted so long or relieved so little, and sleep was growing more difficult to manage. But this—the heat bubbling up from the earth, sorted through sediment and mineral—was the most relief you found these days. 

When submerged in the hot spring bath, your entire body numbed to its own plague as your bones and muscles absorbed whatever benefits came from the terrain around you. You briefly wondered how you ever managed to get out the last time you soaked like this, with every inch of your flesh basking in the warmth that enveloped you.

You relaxed against the glossy stones, trying to quiet your mind of all the infernal anxieties pressing a weight against your chest. The noise of your thoughts made it difficult to focus fully on the soothing effects of the natural hot spring, tensing and loosening your muscles and posture between every harsh doubt.

With a fresh cloth he brandished from a side table, Thranduil dipped it into the warm bath and began gently scrubbing away the ground athelas mixture. He’d seated himself comfortably on the edge of the bath, submerging his calves into the pool to cradle you between them. The cloth strummed along your chest and stomach as he reached over and behind, where the herbs from Sudryl’s remedies had been infiltrating the cancerous sickness plaguing your organs. You hadn’t meant to show him how weak you felt, how tired you were, how desperately you needed this—but your head fell back to rest against his stomach despite this as the steam curled around you both, dampening your hair and foreheads. 

After your rinsing from the spout of a silver pitcher, he coaxed oils and lathered soaps across your flesh, your own fingers clasping onto the pale skin of his forearm or around his leg, refusing to cease contact with him. And although he generously and willingly offered his aide while the healing minerals of that glowing pool of steam soothed you, some venomous voice in the back of your mind tried to feed you strings of doubt and loathing.

He shouldn’t have to do this. He shouldn’t have had to become my caretaker.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I wasn’t supposed to get sick—neither of us was. 

He deserves more than this mess I’ve given him. He deserves better than me.

You cleared your throat, trying to silence the growing guilt and shame before that stinging swell of tears could grow any more than they already were. 

“What was it you were going to tell me?” You asked after the first of his own sweet-scented oils was being lathered along your arms, turning you about to face him. “Earlier, you mentioned something about Sudryl?”

“Ah, that,” he nodded in remembrance, “I gather he didn’t mention anything about Lord Elrond to you today?”

“Lord Elrond?” You inquired, lifting your questioning gaze to meet his. “No—no, he didn’t. Has something happened? Something to do with our alliances? Or with that trade treaty we adjusted with Laketown in the spring—”

“No, melamin, nothing of diplomatic proportions—all is still amiable with our kin for the time being,” he reassured. When he glanced up at you, the tranquil hope glittering in his blue eyes soothed the curious worry growing in your mind. He almost seemed excited about something. It tugged the corners of your mouth into a brief smile. “I sent word to him a little more than a month ago now, I suppose, to see what he might be able to do about your condition, to inquire about whether his skill with healing might mend what ails you.”

You swallowed hard over the sudden discomfort of anxiety that rose again like bile in your throat at the mention of more treatment, more guests, more expectations for healing. More, more, more. 

“He is to arrive within a week of his latest correspondence, which came this morning. Preparations are being made for his arrival as we speak.” 

Unknowingly, your grip had tightened on your husband’s forearm, your nails digging shallow crescents into his skin. The sharp sensation drew his attention downward to your hands, his dark brows furrowing in concern. His fingers winding around yours brought your attention to your vice-like grip, which you promptly loosened. 

“What is it, (Y/n)? Does this news not please you?” 

The earnestness in his pale eyes pierced your heart, the guilt bubbling up in your mind again. You weren’t sure what worried you most. The prospect of more prodding, more treatments, more attempts that might lead to nowhere; the fuss being made across the realm about your condition, about this peculiar, harsh sickness that was so puzzling to even the brightest minds; or perhaps, most worrisome of all, was the fact that you were no longer able to manage the upkeep of a happy facade. So many people were hoping, praying, supporting, and tending to you. 

And somehow, you found that to be the most exhausting part of it all. Not only were you fighting for your own body, for comfort and life, but you were trying to uphold and appease every pair of eyes that was eagerly awaiting your miraculous recovery from something you didn’t even know how to fight. There were so many hopes to meet, so many hearts to comfort on your behalf, and your resolve was quietly crumbling.

Before you could think to soften your words in an attempt to save Thranduil’s optimism, your lips began to move, a sudden impulse of tears gathering in your eyes. “What if there is nothing even Lord Elrond can do to cure this?”

He paused, his eyes searching yours briefly before his damp fingers reached up to caress your cheek. How had he not seen the disparagement growing behind your gaze, darkening the lilt in your voice? Hidden behind humor and mischievous quips, but no less obvious. 

“If—if I do not show improvement, our people will lose their resolve. Everyone’s counting on me to get better, to show some store of strength I no longer have and I–I can’t will my body to right itself,” you bore to him, panicked and spent from months of effort, “I cannot give everyone the hope they're seeking from me."

“Oh, melamin,” his chin nestled over your ear as he murmured with such rich affection, pressing your face into the musky homeliness of his neck. 

“I know I should be grateful for their support, for their prayers and their offerings, but it’s becoming too much, Thranduil. I don’t have the strength for a kingdom’s worth of miracles.” 

“You do not owe anyone but yourself the grace of your strength. Had I known their encouragement had put pressure on you to perform, I would have silenced the lot of them.” 

Despite his sincerity, you panicked on. “What if I am never rid of it? What if this is my blight that I must war with for the rest of my life?”

He sombered then, drawing in a deep string of air into his lungs. You could see him wrestling with the reality of your honesty, with the questions you both had been too afraid to speak aloud before now. Gathering himself, he drew you nearer to him, clinging to you with a brief urgency that almost startled you. 

“Then we will rise together each day to face it. There will never be a single day that you will have to endure this on your own. Do you hear me? That is my promise to you—that my vow and my diligence will never waver where you are concerned.”

Your tears burned with his words and you worked to force them at bay, his sweetness drawing every sour fear and thought of guilt from your mind and onto your tongue. “I am so sorry for this life I have given you. You didn’t ask for this—you cannot be happy with me—with this-this terrible thing I’ve brought upon us. You deserve so much more, and I can no longer give it to you.”

“You’re apologizing—?” He questioned, his voice quiet in shock. 

Your eyes clamped shut, forcing the well of sorrows from your eyes to plummet. Gently, he pulled himself back, repositioning his hands on your upper arms as if to garner your absolute attention. 

“(Y/n), this life you have given me has been far more than I have ever deserved and could ever strive to. From the moment we met, you have enriched my life just by your existence alone, much less the many qualities and traits about you I have come to treasure beyond all fortune or success. You have given me everything, a dozen lifetimes over, in the mere centuries we have been together.”

“You cannot have wanted this,” you breathed out, hushed by your own shame. 

“No, I did not want you to suffer with something so abysmal, something so beyond my control. Of course I did not want for your pain…but if this is our future, if this is our path together, then I want every minute of it, and I will not settle for a second less. I would upheave the very crest of the world and drown mountains in flame if it meant saving you. And if that makes me selfish or ruthless, then I will be the standard at which devils compare their sins.”

His hands had gradually found their way up to your face, cradling your damp cheeks with a sincerity that made your lip quiver.

“Look at me,” he whispered. 

The sight of the tearful waterline reflected in his eyes drew a noise of curt regret from your lungs. Your sob pierced his heart, filling him with a desperation to amend the shame and anxiety plaguing your mind. 

“If you truly believe that you are at fault for this sickness, then in turn I must be held responsible for allowing it to happen in the first place. As your husband first, but also as your king.”

“No, no that’s not true! It’s not even reasonable of you to—”

“Then how can it be your fault? How could any of this be on your shoulders? There is no sense in blame, (Y/n). Not here, not with this.” 

There was a stillness after his words, a stillness that was meant for rumination, and sealed with his lips against your skin and hair. Your hands rose to rest against his chest, nestling them over the dip of his collarbone as you felt for comfort in the blur of your tears. His silence prompted an answer. 

“It’s not my fault,” you replied. 

“Say it again.”

“It isn’t my fault,” you echoed, meeting his gaze once more, “just as it isn’t yours.”

And as shocking as it was for you to realize it, you truly believed the words he encouraged from you. This sickness wasn’t your fault. Neither of you could have had any sway with fate or destiny, with whatever had brought this on. And perhaps, it just simply was, with no cause or fault at all. What mattered now was how kind you could be to yourself, how to take one moment of strife and find something in it to hold onto. Moments like this were one of those morsels between the ebbing aches of pain and grief that you could relish and devour again and again. 

Thranduil leaned forward, pressing his sweat-laced brow against yours. “Do not ever blame yourself, melamin. Do not let those foul words pass between your lips again.”

You nodded against him, pulling him nearer. “I promise.” 

In the long minutes that followed, there was the solace of quiet intimacy as he rinsed through your hair one final time, peppering you with kisses and caresses at every opportunity. He met you with a soft fluffy towel when he led you out of the bath, never allowing a breeze to nip at your damp skin. His touch was featherlight as he patted you dry from head to toe, scrunching your drenched tendrils of (h/c) hair without complaint. 

“I’m still so afraid,” you managed the courage to speak aloud, “What if–...what if this sickness claims my life?”

“You will not part this world without me, melda. Not a single breath will leave your lungs without my sharing it, not a single heartbeat will we not share,” he vowed, the absolute belief in his voice making the promise all the richer, “there isn’t a corner in this world or any other that you could wander to that I would not accompany you.”

Your silk nightgown slipped over your outstretched arms swiftly, sliding down your body and into place comfortably. He did up the lace of the collar with efficiency, not missing the chance to playfully tug you closer with the slightest bit of his strength. You planted yourself against his chest, the smile on your lips effortless with his own. The firm warmth of his arms wrapping around you had the same sort of pain-numbing effect as the hot spring, lulling every fretful thought to a close. His somber laugh reverberated again, this time through your bones, bringing an ethereal kind of peace with it. 

The pillows of your large four-poster bed were positioned, fluffed, and repositioned. You waited patiently, upon his insistence, as he untucked and pulled the puffy duvet back for you to crawl under. Once comfortably tucked beneath layers of silk and cotton, he assumed his place beside you, careful not to jostle the mattress as he settled, mindful that every movement enticed your discomfort. 

His body heat made you sleepy as you sank further into the covers, fogging your thoughts with a drowsy anticipation for the release of slumber. You’d waited for this moment all day—it had been the image that had pushed you through the hours of treatment and questions—the moment you could finally burrow against his warmth and drunken yourself with his scent. There was a slight stirring as he reached off to the side to retrieve something on the bedside table. 

The fluttering of pages caught your fading attention, pulling your heavy-eyed gaze toward the book in his grasp. “Would you like to continue where we left off?” 

You smiled tiredly against his chest, not recalling the events of the book he’d been reading to you for the last few nights. Oftentimes, the first few pages would strike vividly in your imagination, but as his lustrous tone carried on through paragraphs and chapters, the sleepy security that his presence enticed made it impossible to recall anything beyond the thrilling hum of his voice. In all actuality, you were quite sure he didn’t mind if you knew anything at all about the story he was reading aloud. It was enough to hold you and be held. 

TAGS:  @tessaem @izbelross @bloodblossoms73 @sunnysidesidra 

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[runesandramblings]

Violent Delights

Word Count: 6200

Pairings: Kili x reader

Warnings: Unhappy arranged marriage but nothing violent or abusive

Description: A forbidden romance blossoms between King Thranduil's arranged bride to be and the Prince of Erebor. (Loosely inspired by Romeo & Juliet without the death part.)

Will make a part 2 if you guys want it. :)

These violent delights have violent ends

And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,

Which as they kiss consume.

The breeze felt wonderful against your skin after being indoors for so long. You inhaled deeply, allowing the fresh scent of the forest to fill your lungs as you relished in the sounds around you. The chirping birds, the rustling leaves… The walls you’d been kept behind were quiet, far too quiet for your taste. You were used to the sounds of life in the forest, and to be surrounded by the familiar noises once again filled you with delight. 

“Lady (Y/N), we should probably get back.” 

Temporarily, at least. 

You turned to look back at your escort. Tauriel, the captain of King Thranduil’s guard, had been reassigned as your personal escort the day you’d arrived. She was around your age, both of you quite young for elves, and in spite of the differences in your position she’d grown to be a close friend. Your only friend, really. 

“You don’t have to call me that.” You reminded her once again. 

She smiled, and you knew she would continue no matter how many times you told her otherwise.

“You are a lady, are you not? Soon to be the queen?” 

You grimaced at the reminder.

“Unfortunately.” You muttered under your breath. It was probably loud enough for her to hear, but you didn’t care. She was well aware of your feelings on the arrangement. 

You had not come to the kingdom under your own will. Your father, a high lord of another elven kingdom, had desired an alliance between your people and the much more powerful elves of Mirkwood. In exchange for protection and trade agreements, he’d offered King Thranduil your hand. You were both surprised the king had actually accepted, and as soon as word arrived of his agreement to the terms you’d been sent off to Mirkwood the very same afternoon. 

It was well known to many that the king had tragically lost his wife in a battle against orcs many years before. You were as shocked as anyone that he’d agreed to marry again, after he’d been intentionally alone for so many years. Upon your arrival he had been quick to inform you that the marriage was one purely of convenience, as your people had much to offer Mirkwood. Outside of that one conversation, you had not spent any time alone with the king. You’d not spent any time with him at all, really. Aside from the occasional dinner, which was also usually attended by his son, you had only seen Thranduil a handful of times since you’d arrived in Mirkwood a month before.

He was not unkind. From the small interactions you’d had with him he did not appear to be cruel or malicious. You sensed his hardened exterior had a lot to do with the loss of his first wife, and you could not fault him for that. For the most part since your arrival you had been left to your own devices within the walls of the kingdom. Thranduil had given you your own private chambers. They were large and luxurious, with the finest silken tapestries and hand carved furniture you could imagine. Your time was yours alone, as the king never sought an audience with you, and you spent it as you pleased. You’d grown close to Tauriel very quickly, and Thranduil’s son Legolas was also good company. 

Though you could hardly complain about the lavish treatment and unending free time, it had grown into a lonely existence. Your chambers, though massive, felt cold and empty without someone to share it with. You’d explored every nook and cavern of Mirkwood, read every book and parchment in the library, and quickly grew tired of the same mundane routine you’d fallen into. Which, subsequently, led to your trip outside of the kingdom walls with Tauriel. 

Speaking of Tauriel. You felt her step closer to you as she whispered in your ear.

“It could be far worse, (Y/N). I know this is not what you wanted, but Thranduil is a fair and noble man. You will have a good life here.” 

You knew she was right. As a highborn lady in your home kingdom, you’d watched many friends married off to unsavory men over the years. Of all the arrangements you could have ended up with, you’d been matched to the King of Mirkwood. You knew you would live a good life, a luxurious life. But you also knew you were walking into a loveless marriage, and the prospect of being alone pained you. Elves lived long lives, and you couldn’t imagine being a wife in name only for a thousand years or longer. You desired love and true companionship. 

As you looked back at her, nodding your head in resignation of the truth you knew she spoke, she gestured over her shoulder towards the direction of the gate. Time to return. You relented in defeat, following her as she began winding her way back through the woodland trails. The forest was safe now, the spiders having been driven off for good shortly after the Battle of the Five. The king was still reluctant to allow anyone to leave, and it had taken some persuasion on Tauriel’s part to get him to allow the adventure. You hoped he would consent to regular walks in the forest, so long as you didn’t try to abuse the privilege. He did not strike you as a controlling man, but he was certainly protective of his kingdom and those within it.

You took one last, deep breath of the fresh air before you stepped through the heavily guarded doors behind Tauriel. As you turned to say your goodbyes for the evening, you were approached by a taller, dark haired elf. You recognized him as one of Thranduil’s personal servants as he bowed before you. 

“Lady (Y/N), the king has requested an audience.” 

You looked between the messenger and Tauriel, unable to hide the expression of surprise that crossed your features. Thranduil had sent for you? 

Tauriel nodded politely to you as she bowed, dismissing herself as the servant gestured for you to follow him. 

“You know where to find me should you need me, my lady.” She said before turning and departing.

You followed the servant down the winding corridors, through the only passageways you were still unfamiliar with in the kingdom. As you and Thranduil had separate chambers and living spaces, you hadn’t had cause to explore the areas surrounding his rooms. You were surprised to find he had summoned you into his private quarters, rather than his throne room or the dining hall you semi-frequently gathered in. 

The servant came to a halt in front of a large set of ornate doors and he knocked once before opening it, gesturing for you to step through. You stepped inside and the doors closed behind you. The servant didn’t follow you in, and as you continued on alone your mind raced with the possibilities of why Thranduil might have requested to speak with you. 

You were surprised to find his chambers were not much more lavish than your own. He’d clearly spared no expense on your living quarters, as his shared the same style of furniture and tapestries as yours did. The only visible difference you could detect was that his rooms were just a slight bit larger than yours. As you rounded the corner into the main living area you found the king at last. He was standing with his back to you, and as you approached he did not turn to greet you. You stopped a few yards away from him, standing awkwardly with your hands clasped together. He was a king, after all, and you were uncertain if you should speak first. Surely he’d heard you enter. 

After several long moments of silence, Thranduil finally spoke. 

“How have you been finding the kingdom?” He asked, his back still turned to you. His arms moved as he spoke, and from behind it looked as though he were fidgeting with something on the table he stood before.

“Fine, your majesty.” You said quietly, not bothering to elaborate. You didn’t think he’d care too much for the details anyway.

“Have you been treated well?” He continued, still not turning to face you.

“Yes, your majesty.” 

“You may call me Thranduil.” He finally turned, holding two goblets of red wine in his hands. He handed you one and took a long sip from his own before continuing. “We are to be wed, after all. Even if it is merely an arrangement.” 

You nodded wordlessly as you accepted the glass. You remained silent, uncertain of what to say. He paused for a moment before he pivoted on his heel and began to walk back in the direction he’d come.

“I have received an invitation from King Thorin.” As he spoke he paced around the room, sipping from his goblet. It was clear he was as uncertain of what to do in your presence as you were in his. “They are holding a celebration in honor of the anniversary of Erebor’s reclamation. Would you care to attend with me?” 

That was surprising. Despite the joint effort it took between the dwarves and elves to defeat the orc armies, they were still not on the best of terms. Thorin had, after all, attempted to keep the elves’ jewels to himself and nearly started a war between the two clans as a result. There was an uneasy peace between the two, now that the dwarves resided in the mountain once again, and you were surprised that Thranduil would be willing to travel all that way to be in the company of dwarves.

“Yes your ma- Thranduil.” You quickly corrected yourself.

He paused and turned to look at you, though he did not make a move to step closer. 

“I do not expect love to grow between us.” He said flatly.  “But we should be able to tolerate each other, should we not?” 

You nodded.

“Yes, I would say so.” 

He nodded in return as he held his wine glass out, indicating a toast. 

“Very well then. We leave in one week's time.” 

** 

The journey from Mirkwood to Erebor had taken two days, and with the lavish way in which Thranduil liked to travel it was not an uncomfortable trek as you’d anticipated. You arrived at the mountain kingdom well rested, and rather excited at the prospect of a feast. From what the king had explained of dwarvish parties he remembered from the late King Thror’s time, the feast could go on for days. You would be arriving at the tail end of the celebration, as Thranduil had planned. Dwarves were apparently a rambunctious bunch, and as Thorin had requested Thranduil stay and tour the mountain afterwards he had not wanted to spend more time with them than he needed. 

Erebor was as magnificent as you’d been told. It was amazing how the mountain had been transformed and rebuilt in merely a year's time. Though you were used to the splendor of elven realms, as both Mirkwood and your birth home were lavish and beautiful, there was something awe-inspiring about the kingdom under the mountain. The halls were endless, sprawling on in either direction as far as your eyes could see. The ceilings were impossibly high, and despite the kingdom being built into the side of a mountain there seemed to be an abundance of light flowing from any given direction. To look down at the winding staircases that led deeper into the heart of the mountain would make you dizzy, if you stared too long. The stone walls were carved and inlaid with intricate designs of gold and silver, telling the tales and the history of the line of Durin. You had studied many languages, and Khuzdul was one you were somewhat familiar with. You’d found yourself stopping every few feet along the walk to your chambers to read the inscriptions on the walls. 

Legolas, Tauriel, and a handful of others had made the journey along with yourself and Thranduil. The dwarves had spared no luxury for your group, as you’d each been housed in your own private chamber within the mountain. Dwarvish extravagance was very different from that of your elven home. Where the elves valued natural elegance, which involved a lot of carved wood and intricate silks, the dwarves had more of a rugged taste. Your rooms consisted of chiseled stone furniture and fixtures, inlaid with even more gold and a number of jewels you had never laid eyes on before. Though it was very different from your home in Mirkwood, it still felt comfortable and welcoming. 

The dwarf servant that had been assigned to your care had asked what could be provided to make your stay more enjoyable, and she was delighted at your request for books to read later in the evening. She seemed impressed at your ability to read and understand Khuzdul, as many elves didn’t care or bother to learn the language of the dwarves. You’d noticed the air of arrogance Thranduil and Legolas, and even Tauriel, had displayed since your arrival, and you made it your mission to change the dwarves’ opinion of elves, even if the others chose not to do the same. 

After resting and dressing for dinner, you’d met Thranduil and the others in the hall. He extended his arm out to you automatically, as though it were expected rather than something he cared to do. You’d accepted it regardless. As you walked along he did not look down at you, or even acknowledge your dress or appearance for the event. Was this the life you were destined for? Emotionless, cold… Doing things merely out of duty and not from love? You felt your heart sink as you walked along beside the king. It was a lonely existence. 

The feast was in full swing by the time you arrived. It was chaos. There were long, sprawling tables lined with food and more dwarves than you could count. As you watched, food flew from every side of the room, ale spilled across the tabletops and onto the floor, and dwarves moved about, falling over themselves and each other. It was clear the drinking had been going on for much longer than the actual feast. 

“They behave like animals.” Thranduil muttered under his breath. 

Despite having never been in the company of dwarves before, you found yourself surprisingly unbothered by their behavior. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, which was more than you could say for your royal escort. It was certainly more rambunctious than any elvish party you had ever attended, but at least they were having a good time. 

As your party approached a large table at the head of the room, one of the dwarves stood to greet you. He was dark haired with a matching dark beard. Streaks of gray peppered both his long hair and speckled his face, and with the gold and emerald crown atop his head you took him to be the king. As he stood he extended his hand in a greeting.

“King Thranduil.” He bowed his head out of respect to the elven king as he placed his hand across his chest. “We are pleased you could make the journey.” 

Thranduil nodded tightly in return, also bowing his head to Thorin to your surprise. 

“King Thorin.” He said politely, though you could hear the hint of tension in his voice.  “This is my betrothed, Lady (Y/N). You’ve met my son, Prince Legolas.” 

Thorin nodded at you both before gesturing to the dwarves seated on either side of him. On one side sat a woman, with dark hair similar to his own. They shared a stark resemblance, down to the neatly trimmed beard she wore as well. On his other side sat a younger dwarf, who also matched the seeming familial resemblance to the other two. He had wavy, golden hair with braids woven through. His braided mustache bounced as he nodded his head in respect. 

“A pleasure, my lady. My prince. This is my sister, Lady Dis. My nephew and heir, Prince Fili. My other nephew will be joining us shortly.” As he spoke he gestured to two empty seats on the opposite side of the prince. “King Thranduil, would you and your betrothed join us at the head table?” 

Your eyes traveled to the spot down from the empty spaces. You recognized the king of the newly rebuilt city of Dale, Bard. The one who had been responsible for slaying Smaug, if you remembered the story correctly. 

Thranduil’s increasingly strained smile caught your attention from the corner of your eye, and you couldn’t help but smirk a bit in response. You knew the last thing he’d wanted for the evening was to be sandwiched between the dwarves he still wasn’t overly fond of and the humans he held in equal disdain. However you knew his kingly pride would not allow him to turn down the offer. You, on the other hand, were excited to continue on with your mission of making the dwarves see the elves in a better light. 

“We’d be honored.” He said, forcing an even larger fake smile. As another dwarf servant appeared and escorted Legolas and the others to their table, Thranduil gestured for you to choose your seat first. Unable to resist the humor of making the king even more uncomfortable, you opted for the seat next to Bard, leaving Thranduil no choice but to sit and make conversation with the dwarven king and prince. 

“It’s a pleasure, my lady.” King Bard said as you sat, extending his hand to help you into your seat. “I was not aware that King Thranduil had taken a bride.” 

“It’s a new development.” You said, quickly attempting to divert the conversation away from your engagement. “How is the work on the city going?” 

As the two of you made light conversation and exchanged pleasantries, speaking of the rebuild of Dale and the newly reformed relations between dwarves, elves, and men, you began to lose track of time. Several courses came and went, and ale and wine continued to flow freely. Though the elvish tolerance made your kind more resistant to the influence of alcohol, the steady refilling of your goblet as you chatted and sipped away had your head spinning before you’d realized what had happened. You began to feel warm, and as you breathed in and out your corset suddenly felt overwhelmingly restrictive around your chest. 

Air. You needed air. 

Without thinking you turned to your fiance, grabbing his arm in an attempt to get his attention. 

“Thranduil.”

He turned to you, and as his eyes met yours his brief look of annoyance quickly turned into one of concern as he noticed your flushed and panicked face. 

“Are you alright?” He asked quietly, and you were surprised to find that he actually appeared to be worried for your wellbeing. 

You nodded in reassurance, not wanting to cause a scene as you felt the eyes of Bard and Thorin also turning to you.

“I’m just feeling a bit warm, I think I’m going to step out for a moment.”

Thranduil gave a small nod in return, and you quickly stood and excused yourself from the table.

You were uncertain of where to go, as you’d only arrived in the mountain earlier that day and had not had a chance to get to know your way around. The way back to your room felt somewhat familiar, and you decided a quick stroll there and back might help clear your head. As you wove through the crowd, deftly avoiding numerous drunk and stumbling dwarves, you found that a makeshift dance floor had formed directly in front of the entrance, and only exit, to the great hall. You were unfamiliar with the dwarvish music, but it was much softer and merrier than you expected. Dozens of couples twirled around, following footwork that was unknown to you but something they seemed to know by heart. You were transfixed for several moments, watching them move about with an ease and grace that you didn’t know came so naturally to dwarves. After a few minutes you remembered your desire for some air, and decided you’d still like a short break from the commotion before you returned to the table. You tried to move nimbly along the outskirts of the dance floor, trying to avoid crashing into dancing dwarves as you stayed as far out of the way as possible. As you turned back to watch momentarily, still intrigued, you felt yourself collide solidly with another body. Before you had the chance to correct your footing you found you were falling backward. You braced yourself for the impact, but before your body could crash into the stone floor a pair of arms wrapped tightly around you, and you felt yourself being pulled into a broad chest. 

Your gaze turned forward, looking for the source of your rescue in order to thank whoever had saved you from splitting your head open. As your eyes searched the space in front of you they spotted the top of a head of brown hair; the person to whom it was attached stood a few inches shorter than you. It was a dwarf, if you had to guess. He was still cradling you tightly against him, as though he anticipated you might fall backward again at any moment. You felt his grasp loosen as he leaned back to look up at you, though his arms still remained wrapped around your body.

He was young. The difference in how dwarves and elves aged was unfamiliar to you, but judging by his lack of a beard and softer features you assumed he was not an elder. He had wavy brown hair that was pulled partially back, save for a few loose strands and a fringe of bangs that framed his face and a pair of dazzling brown eyes. Though he lacked the fuller beard and mustache that most dwarves wore he did have a sprinkling of stubble across his face. The lack of a beard allowed you to fully appreciate his chiseled jawline and lips, the latter of which currently sported a wide grin. He was quite handsome, and you couldn’t help but stand and stare down at the stranger for several long moments. 

Too long, you realized. How long had you been standing in silence, staring at the nameless man? It would surely look bad if anyone from your party came strolling by.

“I’m sorry sir-” You started. As you stuttered out an apology you moved to step backward, and subsequently tripped again. The young dwarf immediately grasped your arm tighter to steady you and you felt a blush creep into your cheeks in response. So much for the grace and elegance of the elves. 

“The fault was entirely mine, my lady.” He said in return, his kind smile widening at your flustered speech and clumsiness. He didn’t appear to be bothered by your awkwardness; on the contrary, he seemed to enjoy it. His touch lingered on your arm, ensuring you would not fall again before he slowly released his grasp. 

“I’d hardly say so, you were merely walking by and I was not watching where I was going.” Despite your embarrassment you felt a smile spread across your face as well. The kind twinkle in his eyes was contagious, and you quickly felt your fluster fade the longer the two of you spoke.

“Well if you’re so inclined to make amends, you can honor me with a dance.” As he spoke he extended his hand toward you, and in the same motion he nodded his head toward the mass of dancing bodies. The music had slowed to something much less upbeat, something you were sure even you could keep up with. 

You paused. The nameless man had intrigued you, that was for certain. But would dancing with a random dwarf enrage your royal fiance? You craned your neck to look back in the direction of the table you had been sat at with Thranduil and the other royals, but from your position near the dance floor you could not see them. Which meant more than likely they could not see you either. Even so, would it really be that big of a deal? You were supposed to be making peace, after all. 

“That seems only fair.” You said as you turned back to face him. As you accepted his outstretched hand he grasped it tightly, as if he were afraid you’d disappear, and pulled you to the floor. 

The two of you came to a halt in the middle of the mass of bodies. You were surrounded by other dancing pairs on every side, safely hidden away from any watchful eyes. As you rested your hand on his shoulder and entwined the fingers of your free hand with his you felt his other hand rest on your hip. The light touch sent a wave of goosebumps up the side of your body. It was more contact than you’d ever had with the man who was supposed to become your husband. Every point of contact your body had with the stranger felt as though it were on fire. 

Seeming to know you were unfamiliar with the music he took the lead, tugging you gently back and forth until you became comfortable with the simple steps of the dance. You swayed together for a few moments, neither speaking but simply watching each other in a comfortable silence. Though he was a bit shorter than you it was not by much. He stood at eye level with your nose, and you wondered if he were tall for a dwarf, or if you were short for an elf. Thranduil and the others had towered over Thorin, so you expected it was the latter. You had often been one of the smaller elves wherever you’d gone. 

“So you are not from the Iron Hills, I take it.” He grinned up at you as he finally spoke, stating the obvious. There were many physical differences between elves and dwarves, but if your ears and impossibly long hair had not given you away your dress certainly would have. The high-necked and fitted gowns of the dwarven women were a stark contrast to the lower cut and flowing gowns of the elves. 

“I am not.” You confirmed. 

“Are you from Mirkwood?” He continued.

“I am living in Mirkwood, but I am from somewhere farther.” 

“And are all the elves as graceful as you?” He asked. As he spoke he attempted to keep a serious face, as though it were a genuine inquiry. He failed, and before you had the chance to respond to his prodding a smirk broke through his stoic expression. 

“Well I’ve often suspected I’m not entirely an elf.” You said matter-of-factly, playing along with his teasing. “Grace has never been my strong suit.” 

“Why do you say that?” 

“I didn’t know my mother. My father does not speak of her. And as you’ve so keenly pointed out, I do lack the natural elegance of the elves.” Why were you telling him this? You’d only just met the man, and yet you found yourself spilling out the innermost things you’d only ever wondered to yourself. 

“And the height.” He quipped, confirming your earlier thoughts. “But you are no less stunning.” 

You felt a warmth spread across your face, and you were certain you’d blushed a scarlet red. He was more forward than you were used to, and although you enjoyed the company of the cheeky dwarf you were also an engaged woman. To a king, no less. You’d become lost in the conversation, fully absorbed in the moments shared with the handsome stranger. To the point you had almost forgotten you were still in the center of a crowded dance floor. You realized the two of you had stopped moving and instead stood staring at each other again. His eyes were mesmerizing. His fringe of bangs had fallen partially to cover them, and you felt yourself drawn to reach forward and brush them away.

“Are you from Erebor?” You quickly asked, sidestepping his compliment. “Or have you traveled for the celebration?” You turned your gaze to the couples around you and tugged on his hand, indicating you should start moving again. 

Out of the corner of your eye you could see his lopsided grin return, fully aware that you’d avoided the second part of his earlier statement. He followed your lead and began to sway with you, though you noted his grip had tightened on your hip. 

“I live here.” 

“Did you live here before the…” You trailed off, uncertain of how the dwarves spoke of the years the mountain stood uninhabited. Was it a sore subject still? 

“Before the dragon?” He finished. “No. Why do I look that old?” His eyebrows furrowed together as he spoke, his expression unreadable. 

You’d offended him.

“N- no. You don’t. I didn’t- I mean-” You felt your face flush red again as you stumbled over your words. Of course he couldn’t have been old enough to have lived through Smaug. Could he? 

He laughed. 

“I’m only joking.” He assured you. As he spoke he stopped moving again, and gestured over his shoulder to the exit you’d been attempting to make it to before. “Would you like to take a walk? I could show you around a bit while everyone is in here. The halls will be empty” 

You felt a flutter run through your stomach at the prospect of being alone with the mystery man. It was a feeling you’d never experienced with Thranduil, and expected you never would. You checked over your shoulder again, still unable to see the head table from where the two of you stood. But again, would it be so bad? Accepting a tour of the kingdom from a dwarf? You had made it your mission to change their view of the elves, after all. You wordlessly nodded, accepting his invitation, and he grinned widely in return as he took your hand and led you nimbly through the crowd.

The halls of Erebor appeared impossibly larger while empty. The stranger led you up and down staircases, pointing out different areas of the kingdom and showing you various repairs that had been completed in order to reverse the damage done by the dragon. As you walked together you lost track of time again, and you wondered how long you’d been absent from the table. Had Thranduil noticed? Likely not. He never seemed to notice or care when you were gone. 

“So how did you come to live in Mirkwood?” Your escort finally asked, his attention turning from the newly rebuilt throne to you. “You mentioned earlier you were not from there.” 

“My…betrothed.” You started hesitantly. “He lives in Mirkwood.” 

You paused, waiting for the inevitable reaction. You were promised to another, and it pained you to tell him. You felt an undeniable draw to this man who’s name you did not know. There was a familiarity and comfort with him, something you’d never felt before and certainly did not feel with Thranduil. As you waited for him to excuse himself and leave you standing alone in the halls you held your breath, dreading the fallout. 

“Oh.” He sounded surprised at the revelation, but not upset. He made no move to run away from you as he continued. “You do not sound happy about the arrangement.” 

You breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that he had not fled at the mention of your fiance. Though you’d made no mention of your unhappiness with the king, he seemed to have noted that it was not a joyous engagement. You wondered if it were that obvious to everyone when you spoke of Thranduil. 

“I’m not.” 

“Does he not treat you well?” He asked. You noticed a look of concern that immediately furrowed lines in his face. 

“In order to treat me well or not well he’d have to spend time with me.” You said, offering him a sad but reassuring smile that your intended was not an unkind man. “And we do not spend any time together. He told me when I arrived we were to be together in name only.” 

“That sounds terribly lonely.” 

“It has been.” You continued quietly. Your gaze turned back to the designs etched into the stone floor as you walked. Who was this stranger? This man you’d known for an hour at most, but somehow you felt more comfortable with than anyone you’d ever met before. You wanted to know him better, but that would surely be impossible. 

The two of you walked on in silence for several minutes before he spoke again. 

“Has he seen you?” He asked suddenly. 

“What do you mean?”

“Has he laid eyes on you?” He asked again, a hint of urgency in his voice. 

“Well, yes, I’m here with him.” You stated simply. What was he getting at? 

The man shook his head as he turned from you back to stare ahead as you walked. 

“He is a madman, then.” 

“How so?”

“To possess a woman so divine and not spend any time with her…” He trailed off, shaking his head again as though in disappointment. “The only conclusion is he must be insane.” 

You felt your cheeks flush at his statement. This stranger had spoken more kind words to you in an evening than Thranduil had in a month. Who was this man? 

“I don’t know if I would say that.” You said quietly, keeping your eyes focused on the ground as you spoke. 

“I would.” He stopped suddenly and took your hand, pulling you to a stop with him. He tugged you around to face him, and kept your hand locked tightly in his as he spoke. “Tales will be written of your beauty some day. You are the fairest princess in the most wonderful fairytale. The most beautiful and elegant of all the elves in all of the realms. The most precious jewel under this mountain. If he is not insane, your betrothed is surely blind.” 

The way he stared up into your eyes sent another flutter through your stomach. Something you’d sorely lacked with Thranduil. Passion. You felt it as strongly as anything, the unmistakable feelings of desire and attraction swirling within you. It was as though the force of gravity itself had shifted, and rather than grounding you to the earth you stood on it was pulling you towards this stranger instead. 

“You flatter me, sir. I do not even know your name.” You whispered. As you spoke you felt yourself unconsciously pulling against his hand, tugging him closer to you. He stepped forward willingly, bringing your bodies only inches apart. 

“I am-” He began.

“Kili.” 

The both of you jumped at the unfamiliar voice that invaded the intimate bubble you’d enclosed yourselves in. You quickly released his hand and stepped backward, putting as much space as possible between you as the intruder approached. The young blonde prince you’d met earlier, Fili if you remembered correctly, was strolling toward the two of you. 

“My lady, this is my brother, Prince Kili.” He said by way of introduction as he came to a halt beside him. “Brother this is Lady (Y/N), the intended of King Thranduil.” It seemed as though he were offering a reminder to the pair of you, rather than an introduction. 

His brother. The king’s nephew. Of course it was. 

The stranger you now knew to be Kili was staring at you, the pieces falling into place as his eyes widened. 

“Thranduil…” He mumbled. “Of course.”

Fili raised an eyebrow in confusion at his brother's muttering before turning his attention back to you. 

“My lady, your fiance requested I come check on you. Are you well?” He asked. He was far more formal and royally appropriate than his brother had been for the past hour. 

You quickly slipped back into a more formal mode yourself, straightening your back and clasping your hands behind you. You nodded respectfully at the elder prince. 

“Thank you, Prince Fili. Prince Kili was just escorting me back to my room. Will you tell King Thranduil I am not feeling well and would like to retire for the evening?” 

He nodded. 

“I will. Brother, our king has requested your presence. Do you know the rest of the way back, my lady?” As he spoke he pulled on his brother's arm, indicating they should return to the hall as quickly as possible. You hoped nothing had been made of your joint absence, though given the fact you’d not been introduced earlier the connection would have been a longshot for anyone to make. 

“I do.” You said, giving the older brother a reassuring smile as he turned to leave. “It was nice to meet you, Kili.” You felt a pang of sadness. The evening had gone by far too quickly, and you knew you were not likely to see the handsome prince again.

“And you, (Y/N).” He took your hand in his and kissed it gently, allowing his lips to momentarily linger against the delicate skin of your hand. He released it and quickly stood, leaning in to whisper in your ear before following his brother. “I will find you again.” 

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