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justafairytailofinnocence · 13 days

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Modern Thranduil x anxious reader

Caged birds with broken wings

Chapter 1:

A Dance with tardiness

Synopsis: An antisocial, anxious writer in her early 20s attends a ballet class under the teachings of a mysterious, reserved, austere dance instructor. They form an unlikely within their solace and past.

Warnings: mentions of blood

Chapter 2

A/n: This fanfic doesn't follow along the lines of the hobbit but rather a loosely spin-off au that only uses some characters. I do not own the right to them as they are Tolkien's characters and I respect his creation. (even if the characters might be ooc). Feel free to comment, reblog and like. Let me know if you'd like a chapter 2.

I tended to daydream often, more so when I listened to the music. The tune and tone of the song that played one after the other sent me to the realms I immersed; typically, anyone would daydream into another realm far better than their own: a princess, pirate, elf, fae—anything. My imagination is my realm of comfort, a sealed bubble that I can freely roam however I wish. Unfortunately, within fantasy, we must face reality. Within my reality, I’m not much of an importance, at least not one to have a whole written memoir about. I’m more of one of those faces you’d pass by in the street or grocery store, not giving any second thought to. Though I’d prefer it that way, I’m not much of a talker but rather a writer; I’m more fluent in my words than my speaking. Every attempt I’ve made, I’ve stumbled or become still; my chest would rise heavily and lower deeply. I always asked how people can do it, how they can speak—talk—communicate like it’s a piece of cake. I’d rather shroud myself in my isolation than speak to another living being.

At my desk, in my somewhat clean apartment, I was planning my next latest story in a saga of 3 books. So far, I’ve managed to get in contact with a publishing company via email who were willing to get behind the idea of a feature-length young-adult romance novel, a romance novel about a pirate king and a fae queen. The first chapter was still relatively underdeveloped, yet I’m willing to spend an entire day finishing it. I had only five months to publish the entire chapters. I’ve been a fantasy fan ever since I was a child. To me, fantasy is what the word impossible turned into possible. For ten years, I’ve been writing, and never once has it stripped me of what I truly adore.

Whilst my fingers pressed against the keys on my keyboard, I received a text message on my phone from the side of my desk surrounded by papers. It was from my mom, who was wondering about my well-being. As always, I respond with the usual ‘everything’s going well—I’m pumping out new chapters for my new novel, ‘A Puncture in Time’, you know—the one with pirates and fantasy, new chapters soon to come ;)’. Even though she’s smart enough to see through my little façade, she writes back, ‘Hey listen, I know it’s hard right now, but I can assure you, things will get better; it just takes practice; I know you’ll meet someone you’ll find it easy to talk to’. I sighed heavily; within her words, I have faith, yet doubt. Should I choose to believe her, bite the bullet and try to speak up or wallow in a lie that can send her mind at ease? Before I wrote back, she sent a post with a link. I furrowed my brows as curiosity swelled my thoughts, my finger tapped the link. It was an ad. An ad for ballet classes. I thought it odd why she would send me something like this: I’m no dancer; I’m certainly no ballerina.

I replied with a question mark ‘?’.

A message bubble popped up: ‘…’ I awaited her reply.

As she was still typing, I took the liberty of glancing through the ad quickly. The tab loaded with a cursive font in bold ‘Les danseuses se réjouissent’. Scrolling past the stock images of ballet dancers, I came across a small section of different levels offered: beginner, Intermediate, and advanced. My mind raced with doubt; I had no experience in ballet, at least not since I was a young child. I wondered to myself, ‘Do I really want to take this? After all, I’m not exactly one for groups’. However, my mind was put at ease when my eyes came across an option for ‘one-on-one private lessons’. At least, I wouldn’t be with people who were far more experienced—let alone a group; the thought of many eyes staring at me—would have my heart sink. As I clicked the option, I was astounded; there were no reviews, pictures, or even a description of the instructor. I was sceptical. Surely, if you were to teach a class, you’d have at least a brief introduction of yourself. Even as an author, I have a concise introduction in my publications. I lightly sighed, weighing my options; on the one hand, it’ll please my mom, get me out of the apartment, and keep me fit; on the other hand, despite being private, I’m meeting someone I don’t know. Who knows what this person’s intention is, even if it’s for a class.

Finally, I heard a ‘ding’ as she replied, ‘Please try, at least for me; it’ll be good for your health, and you once mentioned you wanted to be a ballerina. I know the world isn’t always what we want it to be, but I know you can make it shine; I’ve seen it in your novels; give this a chance, give them a chance, to show them how you can shine, because I know you’ll be the brightest star there :).’

My eyes softened as I read every word; I couldn’t deny she had a way of getting through to me. She was always a caring woman, along with my dad. They were the only two people I could speak to without pressure or the weight in my chest.

I pressed back onto the tab with the private lessons. I clicked to see the booking dates—there’s an option to book for tomorrow, and the price is only $45 per lesson. For the price, it wasn’t too bad; yet still expensive. I filled in the details required to send the booking through, yet my finger hovered as I was about to press ‘confirm’. My mind came to a tussle of thoughts and hesitations; this would be the first time, in a long time, that I would speak face-to-face with an actual living being. However, I recalled Mom's words, ‘Because I know you’ll be the brightest star there’.

Breathing in—I pushed it, I pressed confirm.

I did it. I’m going to attend a ballet class. My head slowly lowers onto my desk, surrounded by papers. My hair dangled over my forehead. The adrenaline that reached the height of my mentality came crashing down. It’s like going on a rollercoaster you didn’t ask for, coming from the highest point of the rail down to the pit below. I start to feel light-headed. I want to sleep. I want to stay here. Perhaps I’ve made a mistake. What if this doesn’t work out?

I rose slowly from my desk chair, picked up my phone, and texted, ‘I’ve booked lessons for tomorrow…I hope you're right about this.’

I watched as once more, awaiting her response, ‘…’

‘Oh, I’m so happy, you’ll fit right in, I know it :)’ she texted.

I didn’t respond. She’s pleased, at least.

I decided to call it a night; I’ve had enough pressure for one day. I logged off, cleaned the papers on my desk, pushed them into a neat-ish pile and headed to the bathroom to shower. As I opened the door, I went inside to set down my pyjamas by the medium-small bathtub’s acrylic side rim. My bathroom isn’t big exactly, but neither is it small. It’s moderate for what it was: a bathtub, shower, toilet, sink, and a medium-sized mirror in the same room. It’s not precisely palace material, but it helps soothe my thoughts. I held my hand out as I turned on the shower, feeling the trickling water against my skin. The temperature quickly changed from cold to warm in just five seconds. Once I was satisfied, I stripped bare, sliding my long-sleeved green shirt off and sliding my darker tracksuit pants. I tossed my unmentionables inside the bathtub. I stepped inside the shower, allowing the warm water to run freely down my skin. I shut the shower enough to have a slit entrance still. I grabbed the soap, rubbing it over my skin, arms, legs, and body. I splashed water on my face as the water rinsed the suds away. I hovered my hands in my eyesight, glancing closer at my fingers. I could see the redness and patches from where I’d picked my skin; it’s a habit I developed since childhood. The habit would annoy Mom, often whispering or saying straight, “Stop picking”, even touching my hand to remind me. Unfortunately, this habit hasn’t subsided; I sometimes even look at my skin with little care, picking the cuticles or rough patches.

Once I finished scrubbing my body with soap, I turned off the water and opened the shower door to step onto the bathmat. I grabbed a towel from the single towel rack located beside the shower. I dried my body, running the towel over my skin. As I wrapped the towel around my body, I glanced at my face in the mirror above the sink. They say eyes are the most expressive in emotion. My narrowed, pinkish lips thinned.

I snapped out of my gaze, continuing to slip on my long blue pants decorated in owl prints, then, the next, a long-sleeve top with the basic purple on them topped with a giant owl embroidered in the front area. Owls have always resonated with me, whether it's their symbolism or captivating beauty. I placed the towel on the side of the bathtub’s rim. I picked up my previous clothes and took it into my bedroom. My bedroom was also medium sized, having a queen-sized bed and an oaken cupboard with a mirrored wardrobe. My room was decorated with tiny figurines I’d collect overtime, albeit from movies I’ve fancied or books. I placed the clothes in my hamper basket behind my door. My body relaxed when my eyes lingered toward my bed, the messy, deep blue sheets draped to the left side. I dismissed the thought of tucking them in for the time being, only plonking myself onto the mattress and wrapping myself within the single cotton sheets and doona drifting off.

Dreaming is the easy part, letting what visions came to my mind run wild. Sometimes, it’s suitable for inspiration, but other times, it's nightmares. The imagination is still enchanting, although, this time, it was peculiar. I was in a birdcage decorated with gold; the entrance was bolted shut; my hands gripped the golden rods holding the cage together. I tried to scream but to no avail. I tried to shake the cage, yet I was too small to provoke movement. My body lowered, feeling the coldness of the metal plate below. I had nothing but rosy ribbon pointe shoes. I suddenly felt myself, in no control, rise as though my limbs were attached to strings. I started to dance, my arms and legs stretching to fit the perfect movements. Eventually, I stopped mid-movement, standing on one leg while extending the other behind. I couldn’t move; I was frozen in place. I could do nothing but shut my eyes.

Suddenly, I woke up; my eyes fluttered open from the confusion I had just endured. Rising from the bed, I pondered for a few seconds. ‘What on earth did I dream about?’. My hands pressed against my face, trying to comprehend my dream and reality. I pulled the sheets off me and got up for the morning. A typical morning for me results in the usual routine: dressing, brushing my teeth and hair, and then looking forward to what the day offers me. Until I remembered that I had booked that class. I typically picked out green tracksuit pants with a white singlet, hoping that would suffice. I picked up my purse and headed out the door to my car. I entered inside, placing my purse in the front seat as I turned on the white car. I noticed outside that it started to snow. Snow is beautiful, especially the little snowflakes that fall into your hand and dissolve upon touch.

As the car started, I prepared to drive to wherever it was that awaited me. The location was further from where I lived; it must’ve been at least twenty-eight minutes. The drive wasn’t particularly bothersome for me; when you live in New York, you get used to the traffic.

As I drove, the snowflakes emerged in more significant numbers. Eventually, I found parking just next to the side of a café. I wasn’t aware if it was for the staff or guests. However, it seemed empty with only a few cars, so—if I get called out on it, I’ll move my car. No one seemed to notice, so I assumed I was okay. I grabbed my black parker from the back and zipped it up. Exiting the car, I stopped to admire the snow falling for a few seconds. It was January 4th, so the snow season was still here. My hands shoved in my pockets, beginning to wander toward where I needed to be. According to the ad, it was building ‘52’; it was vague, I know, but it was the details given. I trudged through the snow, seeing building after building, until I came across something with the number ‘52’, where I needed to be. My hand gripped the gold-looking handle attached to the glass door. As I entered, I came upon a staircase; I took one step after the other. I quickly glanced at the ad to see what floor it was on, yet to no avail. Was it the ‘4th floor? Oh god, oh god, please don’t resort to me asking someone. My fingers started to twitch; I raised one of my fingertips to my lips, feeling the rough patches. My thumb started scraping off the first layer, and small blood trickles formed. I ran my fingers over my lips again as I trailed up the stairs. I could feel my chest becoming heavier, my mind swell with thoughts of self-doubt. Suddenly, the anxiety soon started to subside as my eyes saw the sight of a door. My fingers hesitantly wrapped around the door handle; I took one breath in, trying to be brave. I pushed it open—only for my worst nightmare to come to life.

My breathing became heavier, my heart sank, my eyelids widened, and I could feel myself hyperventilating. There was a group of ballerinas staring directly at me. There must’ve been at least four? Five? Looking my way! Their ages varied, going into their late 20s.

The one brunette asked in French “es-tu perdu, cherches quelqu’un”.

I couldn’t concentrate; my mind dwelled with clouded thoughts of judgment. I pressed my finger against my lip, trying to feel the rough patches.

Another asked in English, “My friend asked if you’re searching for someone”.

Quickly, my eyes diverted to the ground, avoiding their gaze. “I-I-, pr-viate, less-on”. I stumbled over my words.

“Lessons? Private lessons?” the girl spoke once more.

I nodded, avoiding eye contact.

As I quickly glanced, a middle-aged woman in her mid-forties stepped closer; I assumed she was the dance teacher. “Are you referring to the private dance lessons advertised? the one taught by Mr. Oropherion?”.

I paused for a moment, trying to gather my words. Mr Oropherion? Is he the teacher I’m with?

“I-Is. This. Right. Floor.” I tried to sound out the right words, but it was impossible. Perhaps my conscience was right; perhaps this was a terrible idea.

The middle-aged woman, confused, pointed toward the direction I needed to go. “you’ll need to head up one more level, then head to your right” Her voice was calm with a hint of soprano.

Still avoiding eye contact, I left, not even saying thank you, focusing on wanting to escape. I closed the door in front and let out a heavy breath. My head lowered to touch the tip of my hands. I wanted to melt in that moment; I wanted nothing more than to return home. However, I reminded myself that I was doing this for Mom. I breathed in once more, looking up at the door; my hands quickly released, and I began to walk quickly, edging further up the stairs. My mind came crashing down, feeling the dreariness wash over me. Feeling tired, I finally, at last, came across the door I needed to be. It was blank, the painted white withering away around the edges. My hand reached the doorknob, feeling the roundness, turning it slightly. I could feel the adrenaline kick in. I was hesitant, but my nerves started to build.

I started to whisper to myself, “Just a general hello, that’s all it takes—

You're doing this for Mom—

Give them a chance to show them how I can shine; give them a chance to see who I am because I’ll be the brightest star there”.

I breathed in, closing my eyes and opening the door. As I tried to force my eyes open, I was confused. There was no one here. It was an empty space surrounded by mirrors with bar beams attached to them. My eyes scanned the room, yet no one was there. I suppose I should be relieved, maybe the teacher had caught a sickness and decided to ditch the whole class. I wandered further inside; I might as well take a quick peek. I unzipped my black parker with a furry hood, tossed it on the coat hanger and took off my shoes, leaving my white socks on. I stood in the middle of the dance room, embracing the quiet ambience. I looked in the mirrors, reflecting my figure. Was this even what ballerinas wear? Who even is Mr. Oropherion? If he doesn’t show up in the next 15 minutes, I’m heading off and not returning.

Perhaps Aelwynn, the fae queen in my novel, would’ve also been able to dance freely and eloquently in movement. I still wonder what would entrance the pirate king Sarek Salazar. I never pictured him to be devilishly handsome, though. I suppose Aelwynn would be a beauty, but there must be more to it—beauty can only go so far in their bond; what would their obstacles or hardships be? Perhaps the fae queen is somewhat intertwined with difference, the opposite of a fairytale. Aelwynn is fair, kind, beautiful and strong; she meets all the criteria for something otherworldly, yet what if Sarek is her opposite, a beast? No—What if he was average, a gross-looking thing? Pirates are anyway; what if he wasn’t powerful, just an average man with greed—and the dynamic changes, challenging Sarek to choose between the love of his life or treasure?

Or he would choose—

Suddenly, I heard a male voice emit behind me: “You best have a thorough explanation, girl. Do not even think about squandering my precious time.”

My breathing became heavier as I realized someone was speaking to me. I did not turn around; I was afraid to. Instead, I avoided eye contact, too paralysed to move. My head stooped low, and my hands stood to the side. He spoke again, “Clearly, you are here for a reason, are you not? I’ll admit your intrusion is rather fatuous.”

I didn’t glance up; I couldn’t look; I needed time to gather the words to explain. What should I say? Hey, sir, some ballerinas told me to come here, and I fear speaking to people.

“I see you have a mouth; that means you must have a tongue. Go on, speak.” His voice was deep and tranquil, composed yet icy.

I took a deep breath in, slowly turning around. As my legs moved, I slowly gathered the courage to look into the man’s eyes, even if I muttered a ‘hello’. It would be enough. As my head glanced up to meet his, I noticed his appearance.

He—was like—something out of a fairytale. His face was lean and chiselled; his eyes were like ice; his blueish-greyish irises complemented his cold gaze. His hair tressed down like water reaching his chest, light like snow. Whilst his skin was pale in comparison, a fair tone in colour. His attire seemed far more affluent than mine, donning a black trench coat with white underneath. His trousers complimented the darkness of his coat, and his black loafers were polished. I glanced at his right finger, an oval-shaped ring with a diamond glass stone crafted in sterling silver.

“Did you hear me not the first-time girl?” his tone turned stern.

My mouth moved, finally finding the words to speak. “H-hello, I’m Y/n”.

“y/n?” he muttered.

My eyes glanced downward once more as I slowly nodded.

“So, you have a voice after all, pray, tell. Why are you lingering in my domain?” he said shortly.

I muttered “private lessons”, though my voice sounded like a whisper.

“Ah, so you’ve seen the ad; I suppose you haven’t wasted our time after all, although you are five minutes late; I expect punctuality, to be exactly on time at the hour.” His voice sounded stern once more.

Well gee, it’s not like it’s my first time here, and gotten lost. My eyes still avoided his; I couldn’t look up, so I nodded.

He didn't react when I avoided his gaze, dismissing it. However, he commented on something else: “Your posture is lamentable. Stand up straighter like so.” The tip of his finger lightly touched my chin, lifting it to meet his gaze. I didn’t turn away precisely, yet I still flinched. My breathing slowed down as I once more met his gaze. His eyes narrowed, and his lips thinned.

“You stand there like a bird, wounded by the natures of evil, ignorant of the world’s knowledge, caged and sheltered from the shadows that lurk within the realm. Tell me, little bird, care to spread your wings?” I glanced at myself in the mirror, standing straighter. I could feel the flush in my cheeks, but I didn’t say anything, only breathing slowly.

His finger pulled away, and he turned his back to me, walking away.

“I expect to see you here tomorrow at exactly the seventh hour of the night”.

“Do not make me regret my decision, or you shall return to the cage from where you came, little bird”, He muttered.

With that, he walked out of the room, distancing himself further and further away. At that moment, I stood in disbelief for a few seconds, trying to understand what had happened. However, once my thoughts were collected, I gathered my things and scurried out of there, wanting nothing more than to enter my car. Once I exited the building, I was hit with the coldness in temperature as it touched my face.

I opened the car door, tossing my things in the back, turning the engine on. I looked back, trying to see the building to the left. As I drove, my thoughts were plagued with astonishment. I didn’t look away; I maintained eye contact for longer than three seconds, and—I managed to speak my name without stumbling over my words. My emotions displayed were as if I’d seen a ghost. Yet—his face—his appearance—it reminded me of snow; I always loved snow; even when I was a child, it was the happiest of my memories. I recall when my parents took me to the park; I was fascinated by the sight of the winter wonderland, my face lighting up with delight and laughing with joy. I always find that snow rekindles the fond memories I have.

Perhaps Mom was right after all; this might be the start of something I’ve never been able to do. Talk.

#thranduil au #thranduil x you #thranduil #thranduil oropherion #the hobbit au #the hobbit #thranduil fanfic #lord of the rings #thranduil ballet au #thranduil headcanon #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x reader #thranduil oropherion x reader

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bonniebird · 1 year

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Thranduil x Reader

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Request: Anonymous asked: Tolkien/The Hobbit: Thranduil "Are you frightened of me?" #Valentine2023

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You stared up at the elf, draped over the throne that was heavy with ornate carving and antlers. Without Gandalf standing beside you, you felt quite small and nervous. Unsure what to say you simply stared back at the elf, unwilling to break.

He suddenly moved and was down from the throne then walking towards you so quickly that the graceful movement hadn’t registered with you until his feet hit the ground. You took a step back and he chuckled. "Are you frightened of me?"

“N-no.” You said quietly.

“Then I make you nervous at least.” He commented and walked around you in a circle. In an attempt to keep him in view you trend but found he had gracefully evaded you.

“I have not spent much time with elves. That is all.” You said quietly as you managed to find where he had stopped. He smiled with amusement.

“You have no need to fear us here. You are our guest until the wizard returns.” Thranduil said as he gestured to two elves that hurried forward with the sweep of his arm.

“Why are they armed?” You asked curiously. He sighed and turned his back as he walked towards his throne.

“Why are you?” He said as if the answer was obvious. He looked amused when you held out the small blade you’d been given and took it. He held it as if it were a rotten apple and looked at it with displeasure. “Crudely made.”

“I like it!” You insisted. An elf hurried to Thranduil as he held the knife out to them.

“I am certain we can have something more suitable made for you.” He said and then waved his hand. The elves that were summoned before hurried you away from the throne. Thranduil smiled as you glanced back and peeked at him curiously from between them.

Thranduil tags:

@the-caravello-post @killing-gremlin @aegonandaemondtargaryenslut18 @lchufflepuffcorn @kaitieskidmore1

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maximwtf · 1 year

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“Someone to lift you up.”

Thranduil x reader

words: 2400

google docs pages: 4

warnings: loss, grief, mentions of blood and a body, legolas x reader if you squint

opening: After a battle, Thranduil is on his way back to Mirkwood with you. Though, this time your friend isn’t there anymore, they had fallen in the battle.

AN// Tiktok keeps feeding my elf obsession, so I’m back to writing about em’! This, again, has two ideas in one because on their own they would have been too short. :”D Reader can be any gender!

“Someone to lift you up.”

Past

Thranduil had found you from the battlefield after what felt like hours of looking. It disgusted him how many of his own he could see, dead on the ground. Too much elven blood had been wasted on that day, and he had decided to put an end to the madness. He wasn’t going to waste any more of his people’s blood or time on this.

The elven king rode the megaloceros gracefully across the battlefield, finally spotting you. You were hunched over a body, not moving. It was dangerous to be out in the open like that, allowing the orcs to easily attack you. Though, Thranduil knew you were aware of this. That was why he could only assume someone important to you must have fallen in battle. In no other condition would you let yourself be unshielded like this.

Thranduil stopped the elk near you, not saying anything. You sensed his presence but also said nothing. No words could help or describe the pain you were in. You hadn’t gotten hurt, but someone else had. A friend that you had grown up with, who had travelled to hundreds of battles with you and who had been with you for thousands of years. There they were, motionless on the dirty ground, the rain washing off some of the blood from their skin, making it mix with the dirt. Your tears mixed with the rain, falling on top of your dear friend. Every part of you hurt, and you knew it was only going to get worse after this. The next morning you would wake up and the pain from the grief would only get worse. It would slowly start to eat you up, end the end leaving nothing behind. Though, that option felt comforting at this moment. The idea of dying as well felt better than living without your friend.

Slowly, you let go of the body and looked up at the sky. The rain washed your face, making it seem like you hadn’t been crying the whole time. The sounds from the battle had stopped or at least quieted down. Your gaze moved to Thranduil, now seeing him looking at you with something that resembled worry. To anyone else he might have looked normal, like he didn’t care, but you had known him long enough to see that the worry he was trying to hide was there. Without saying anything you got up, only now feeling how the watered down dirt had gone through the fabric of your pants, leaving two dirty spots on both of your knees. You walked next to the megaloceros, clearly too out of energy to hop on its back on your own. Thranduil offered his hand to you, which you took gladly. He pulled you up behind him easily, taking the reins in his hands again and turned the elk around so you two would be able to return home.

You heard the raindrops against your armour as the elk walked forward. You could also hear the surviving elfs start to walk back with Thrnduil’s lead. You closed your eyes, letting the rain wash you. You could almost feel how tense Thranduil was, you were able to think of many reasons why that could have been, and as much as you wanted to talk to him, to ease his mind, you couldn’t pull yourself to do that. The grief was like a boulder on top of you, slowly making you lose energy and power to hold it up and soon you would collapse under the pressure.

Apart from the grief making you tired, the fights you had just been in with the orcs had also worn you out. This all together made you want to fall asleep, hopefully wake up the next morning and be somewhat okay. Without you wanting it or not, you leaned your head against Thranduil’s back. You could feel him tense up because of this, but slowly relax. Even with your eyes closed and mind on the edge of falling asleep you could see flashing images of what had happened. Images of the moment your friend had been killed and you not being able to be there for them, to shield them. You tried to shake the thought of that off of your mind, hoping to just fall asleep.

You felt the elk speed up a little, doing a couple familiar turns. You had been on this path so many times you were almost able to tell where you were at the moment even with your eyes closed. At some point sleep must have overtaken your mind, as your memory of the turns faded. Memories of waking up a couple of times clear on your mind though. When the ground changed, and the sounds of the elk’s hooves did as well had woken you up. But as much as you had tried to make out where you were, you couldn’t. Losing track ones meant you couldn’t catch up anymore, making you fall back asleep.

The next time you woke up you weren’t on the elk’s back anymore. Now laying on top of something softer, and not feeling the cold armour Thranduil had been wearing against your cheek and forehead. Opening your eyes, you could see a familiar room. Thranduil must have brought you to his quarters in the elven king’s halls after arriving back. You sat up, feeling the dry clothes around your body. Knowing Thranduil, he must have gotten a healer to check up on you just in case you had gotten any wounds, and requested for them to change you into dry clothes.

You slid to sit on the side of the bed, placing your palms against your face to relieve stress. You slid your palms up into your hair while letting out a sigh. Hearing the door of the room open, you wanted to check who it was but your mind already had an answer to that. Thranduil rarely let anyone into his quarters so it must have been him. He walked across the room, placing himself on the edge of the bed, next to you. “You need to eat something to regain your energy.” He said, breaking the silence that had been building up ever since he had picked you up from the battlefield. He was right, you wouldn’t regain your energy only by sleeping, but you didn’t feel like eating. The pain from the loss was still awfully present, making you want to lay down and not move. “I will, soon.” You replied, removing your palms from your face to look at the elven king. He examined your face, trying to see if you were lying, but you weren’t. It was the truth. You wanted things to get back to normal, for you to live on, but at this moment it felt impossible.

Thranduil placed his hand on your chin carefully, tilting your head up a little. “You did well today. No wounds.” He said, knowing that the biggest wound you had gotten was emotional. He himself had lost his previous wife, and he was aware of how painful and dangerous grief could be if only you let it get that way. He had survived many deaths of loved ones, and the price had had to pay for that was how people viewed him. He was aware of his cold outlook, but that had been what made him survive. He was the king, and he wasn’t allowed to break no matter how much pressure and how many boulders he was carrying on his shoulders.

Present

The battle was now in the past, but the memories from it were still fresh in your mind. The events that had happened were still occasionally playing in your mind when you had time to stop and think. At some point you had tried to suppress the pain by overworking yourself. You took all the shifts to guard you could, and always attended patrol when one left to check the borders. This was something you were still doing, and because of this you had gotten closer to Legolas. You had talked with him in the past too because of your closer relations to Thranduil. The king had gotten interested in you in the past after hearing Legolas talk about your skills and character. Your job as a guard had changed to a personal guard to Thranduil and you were also supposed to report to him after patrols. Due to this, you had gotten closer to him over time.

Now you were often talking to Legolas, since he seemed to be leading the patrols most of the time. You were aware of your tired outlook, but most didn’t dare to comment about it even if they didn’t know the reason for it. Though, a certain elf had noticed and was worried. He had attended the same battle you had where your friend had died, but you didn’t allow anyone to talk about it. Even Thranduil had kept quiet about it due to your request, he respected your silent mourning.

Though Thranduil’s respect for you, he had seen what you were doing to yourself. The overworking was just a way to hide the grief, and he was aware of how dangerous that could get. So he had encouraged Legolas to talk to you about it while on patrol. He had also noticed Legolas starting to take a liking to you, so the chances of you opening up to his son were higher than you coming to talk to your superior on your own.

After yet another patrol you walked back to the king’s halls, feeling someone follow you. Only someone advanced in fighting would have been able to walk so quietly, and from that you could already assume who it was. By turning around your assumption was proven correct. Legolas stopped for a moment before walking up to you. You only tilted your head, waiting to hear if he had anything to say. “Walk with me?” He requested before keeping on walking. Not knowing what he was on about, you hurried after him. “How are you doing?” The elf asked kindly, taking a quick look at you. Furrowing your brows a little, you still decided to answer. “Good, I suppose. “ A lie, you were still tormented by the loss. “I can see that you’re not, you don’t have to lie.” Legolas stopped walking and moved in front of you. “I really care about you, and I don’t want you to fade away because of this.” He added, trying to look at your eyes. You moved your gaze away to form a reply. “I- I’m sorry for this. I’m sorry for worrying you by being like this, but this might just be a battle I can’t win.” You mumbled, tensing up a little as you felt Legolas put his hand on your shoulder. “You can, but you need someone to lift you up again.” He said. You looked up at him, seeing the sad smile he had pulled on his face. You brushed his hand off of your shoulder. “Thank you, Legolas.” You then said, walking past him to the throne room to meet Thranduil, like you did after every patrol. You could almost feel Legolas’ gaze on your back as you kept walking away from him.

Entering the throne room, you made your presence known by knocking on one of the walls. Making your way to the throne, following Thranduil with your eyes as he walked down from it, towards you. “Evening.” You greeted him, bowing a little even though he had told you not to do it anymore, but it was a sign of respect on your part. “Nothing new to report, the spiders haven’t come any closer.” You said, straightening your back slightly as an instinct. Thranduil hummed as a reply, now standing in front of you. “You need to stop doing this to yourself.” He said, getting your attention on him again. “The overworking is not going to take the pain away. You’re only hurrying the process and soon it’s going to eat you alive.” He added, not giving you a moment to reply. “I’m not-” You started, Thranduil picking up on what you were about to say and interrupting you. “You are, I remember how you used to work before the battle. You’re not going to survive alone, you need someone.” He stated, looking into your eyes. You looked at him silently, shaking your head a little as a sign that you were ready to give up when the time came. “Who do you assume I had after my loss?” He said, surprising you since he rarely ever talked about his past. You only really knew about it because of Legolas. “I had my son, as a reminder that I had to keep going.” He said, lifting your head a little by your chin. “I do not wish for him to have to go through the pain of losing someone he holds close to his heart, as I’ve seen and felt the wrath grief can cause.” Thranduil explained, examining your eyes. You were aware of your close relations to Legolas, but you weren’t aware that he did actually care. Now the idea of giving up felt sickening, knowing what you would be leaving behind. You understood the pain now as well, and knowing that Legolas would have to experience exactly what you felt now hurt. “Now you see.” He said, the moment feeling like he had read your thoughts and understood what you had realised. “You are strong enough to survive. Now go, I’m not wasting your free time like this.” Thranduil said, letting go of your chin.

You took a couple steps back, turning to look at Thranduil one last time. You were thankful that he seemed to care on some level even though his cold outlook. Finally, you turned and left the throne room to find Legolas.

//AN Ahh I really want to write more Thranduil ones, but he’s hard to write for because I for the life of me can’t see him in a relationship with anyone, but he still has that ‘I care about some people but I never show it’ vibe!

#lord of the rings #lotr #the hobbit #thranduil #thranduil the hobbit #thranduil lord of the rings #thranduil lotr #x reader #lord of the rings x reader #lotr x reader #the hobbit x reader #thranduil x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #lotr fanfic #lotr fanfiction #x reader fanfic #thranduil oropherion #thranduil oropherion x reader

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creepychan08 · 1 year

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Thranduil x Reader- Period Pains

Prompt: Thranduil comforting you during your time of the month

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

You wake up that morning with a massive cramps, sensitive breasts and a slight headache. The ray of sunlight filtering through the curtains and falling on your form normally would have made you smile as you wake up happily but not today. It only serves to make your headache worsen.

You groaned and shifted your body, back facing your husband.

"Good morning, my love. Did you sleep well?" Thranduil's gentle voice greeted you as he plant a soft kiss to your shoulders.

You only grunted in response. Not in the mood to talk with anyone today as the pain in your lower abdomen increased. Its normally not like this. Your time of the month usually just pass by like a breeze, save for a slight cramps. But this month was the worse.

Sensing your discomfort, Thranduil embrace you closer from behind.

"Are you in pain, meleth nin? Is something bothering you?"

His sensitive nose finally picks up on a smell.

Blood.

Immediately, his senses were on alert as he check over your body. He saw the big, red stain of blood on your bottom and his eyes widen in shock.

How did this happen? Did someone harmed you while you were asleep? And you were even sleeping beside him. How could he fail to sense the intruder and protect you?

"Its nothing. Its part of human anatomy of a woman. We bleed like this every month and with it comes the cramps. Although I admit, its the worst today" You patiently explain to him, gritting your teeth when another wave of pain pass through your body.

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion but decided not to further ask you as he can see you were already in pain. He decided to do research on his own about this topic later after he tends to you.

"I'm sorry you had to go through this, my love" He pressed a kiss on top of your head as he rub his hands up and down comfortingly on your arms.

"Please tell me what can I do to help alleviate your suffering. Anything you want or desire YN."

He paused and continued, "I'll call the healers right now"

"No wait" you grasped his hand tightly. "No need for the complete check up. I just need them to give me pain killers."

He looked at you seriously, debating his decision as he feels it would be best to have the healers check on you thoroughly but after seeing the determined look in your eyes, he figured you know more on how to deal with your pain.

After the healers came and gave you pain killers, you finally relax as you felt the pain decreasing to a tolerable amount.

Thranduil still hovered around you in concern, constantly asking how you're feeling and you can't help chuckle at his antics.

"Why are you laughing, YN? Do you find it humorous to find me in great worry over your condition?" If you look closely, you can almost see a small pout on his face.

"Oh Thranduil, my love, I do not mean it like that." You cup your hands on both his cheeks as you smile at him in apology.

"I am most flattered and grateful for your concern but I am feeling better now. And I find you fussing over me quite adorable in my eyes"

He blush slightly and hides his face in your neck. You hummed in delight while gently brushing his soft hair.

'Who would have thought that the stone cold, Elven King would have this side of him' You thought with a smile.

"You don't have to worry a single thing today, YN. Ease your mind. I'll take care of you and make you forget about your monthly misery"

After a whole day of being pampered more so than your usual days, eating your favorite foods, endless cuddling, massages and a special bath prepared to sooth your body, you can say for the first time that you were already looking forward for your next month's red days.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

So I just finished my period and can't help but wish Thranduil to be there and care for me as well lol. Really sucks to be in love with a fictional character.

Anyway, this one is shorter as its just imagine scenarios for when the reader was in her painful time of the month and what I think Thranduil would be like in those case.

That's all! Hope you like it and you can comment what you think about the story so far. Stay safe, guys! :)))

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kiatheinsomniac · 2 years

Text

Notes: I couldn't resist developing this modern AU a little more - there was just so much to be done and I love Thranduil's older, experienced and dominant role. I mentioned in Sweeter Than Poetry that he is a politician in this AU so I wanted to play on that idea with some darker themes hehe. Consider Sweeter Than Poetry the prologue to this AU.

Pairing: Modern-ish! Thranduil x Reader

Word count: 4.2k

Warnings: themes of controlling behaviour

Covert as a Secret (AU)

You wandered around the office as you waited for Thranduil to come and meet you: he was on a work call and he liked to keep his work and private lives separate. You had been seeing him for some months now and you were still adjusting to the luxury that he drowned you with: you had your own flat now – much larger than your old student accommodation – he insisted on spoiling you with gifts that you could never afford on your own and you had come to find that it was impossible to reject anything that he offered you as he would never take no for an answer. He doted on you as a mortal and would always ask if you had eaten or drank enough that day when he called you and you honestly enjoyed having someone who looked after you as he did.

Legolas still didn’t know about your relationship with his father and you found yourself talking to him less out of guilt. This would very likely ruin your friendship and you would feel absolutely rotten for being the cause of strain between a father and son. No, it wasn’t entirely your fault and Thranduil was equally to blame but in Legolas’ eyes you would be the friend that slept with his father and his father would be the one to have moved on from his mother with his best friend - a much heavier blame. The two of you had decided that it would be best for Thranduil to break the news to him: he would do so in his own time unless your conscience began to weigh too heavily in which case he would allow you to tell his son, but only if you informed him beforehand.

Your fingers skimmed over a file that was out of place on the desk and left open: very unlike your lover who left his desk so meticulously organised. You were never really all that interested in Thranduil’s life as politics bored you but you wanted a distraction while you waited for him. You flipped the folder open to skim-read the first page and your face dropped. This was a plan for complete censorship of anyone who spoke out against him: mainstream media companies being bought by shell companies that he owned, pay-offs to owners of social medias to ban any content that pointed out grand flaws in his campaign, utter reduction of free speech against him while boosting his image. You turned the next page and found a few names of some opponents you had never heard of and what they had been blackmailed with drop out of the political sphere entirely.

You didn’t need to be an expert on politics to know that this was corrupt.

What would happen if he found out that you knew? It’s not like you would want to tell anyone: a selfish thought, you knew, but you had little interest in that sort of stuff and you enjoyed your life with Thranduil in it. Things were easier, you were happier and you didn’t want to get wrapped up in any of this shady behind-the-scenes stuff. You tried to set the folder back exactly as you found it and leaned on the desk to calm yourself for a moment. This was serious stuff and you absolutely shouldn’t know about it.

“As much as you might deny it, I really do think that you have a knack for snooping.” You gasped at the voice right by your ear and whipped around to find your pale-haired lover looming over you.

“I…” You didn’t know what to say, swallowing hard instead.

“What is it that you think you’ve seen?” His hands landed on the desk on either side of you and you found it impossible to meet his eyes. You shrugged.

“Nothing I understand, you know I’m not interested in all that political stuff.” Fingers pressed into your cheeks and forced you to look into his eyes at last.

“I don’t keep stupid company and you pick apart and analyse texts for a degree. What is it that you think you’ve seen?” His grip eased up to allow you to speak and, for the first time since you’ve known him, you were afraid of him.

“You’re censoring the public opinion, controlling what’s being said of you and making your image look immaculately clean. You’re blackmailing people into dropping out of competition against you.” There was a growing smirk at the corner of his lips as he tilted his head a little, gently pushing some hair away from your face.

“And what do you infer from that, little one?” He smiled at you like a barracuda and suddenly you felt like a damned goldfish compared to him.

“You’re hiding something serious.” He cupped your face in his hands and you couldn’t help but find his behaviour odd – it felt like he was trying to lure you into a false sense of security.

“Clever girl.” He drawled out before leaning in to kiss you and you hesitantly brought your hands to rest on his shoulders, wrists coming to cross at the back of his neck as you gently tangled your fingers in his white hair. When he pulled away, his eyes were dark and you felt utterly vulnerable under them as his hands on your cheeks skimmed down to wrap around your throat, “And are you going to tell anyone about this?” You quickly shook your head, eyes flickering between his to try and read some of his thoughts but he had years to perfect this mask and you would see nothing that he didn’t want you to. “Really?”

“I’m selfish when it comes to you.” You murmured, “I don’t want to lose what we have.” He seemed quite surprised by your answer and smiled, taking a step closer and backing you into the desk, body pressed against yours, “I’m already hiding us from my best friend.”

“There are people who would give you a lot of money for what you’ve just found out.” He tested.

“You already give me everything I need.” He groaned a little at your words and one of his hands went down to rest at your hip, very pleased.

“You don’t want to be remembered as the hero who stopped the tyrant?” His lips skimmed over yours and you sighed, shaking your head minutely.

“I’ve never been the heroic type… I just want a life with you and, by the looks of it, I couldn’t really stop you if I tried.” He heard a double meaning to your words that you didn’t register until they left your mouth and you melted into his body when he kissed you again: slowly, carefully, in the way that a predator would stalk prey. His hands roamed over your curves and you tugged softly at his hair again as he licked into your mouth and pulled away to press a hot kiss beneath your ear.

“One of the many things I like about you: you don’t ask the wrong questions.” Another peck to your lips and, despite your heart racing, you craved for the dominating feeling of his hands around your throat again. Perhaps your thoughts were too blatant on your face because that smile of his quickly returned and he was looking at you with endearment. “You have that look in your eyes.” He teased.

“What look?” You murmured, reaching up on your toes for another kiss but it was impossible to do so if he didn’t meet you halfway.

“That needy one.” You looked away in embarrassment: sure he had utterly dominated you more times than you cared to keep count of by now but it was embarrassing when he caught you wanting to submit to him in less-sexual contexts.

“And so what if I want you? Isn’t that one of the reasons why you invited me over?” He found the combination of your hot cheeks and pouting lips utterly adorable.

“One of them, yes, but we’re going to collect your stuff first.” He took a step away from you and took your hand in his, encouraging you to take his arm.

“What? I didn’t think I’d be staying the night, you said that you have to work early tomorrow.”

“I do have to work, as you’ve discovered, and you’ll be staying for a lot longer than the night.”

“What? Thranduil, what about Legolas? I have classes, I can’t stay longer than-” A hand tangling in your hair forced you to tilt your head back and his lips crashed onto yours, making you gasp in surprise. He was soon teasing your lower lip between his teeth and his hand in your hair kept you close when he withdrew just enough to break the kiss.

“Haven’t I done nothing but look after you since you first stumbled into my library?” You nodded your head as much as his grip would allow, utterly lost at his sudden change in behaviour and the way he had shut you up with the kiss.

“So trust that I’ll continue to care for each of your needs and do as I say.” He whispered.

“You’re asking me to blindly agree, Thranduil…”

“You’ve let me blindfold you before, is this so different?” There was amusement in his voice. Your eyes flickered away from him, looking for some courage to speak up. This ellon could have you eating out of the palm of his hand if he so desired and you knew that there was something much deeper to whatever he was planning, you could feel it.

“It is, it… tell me what you have planned.” A lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth: he was trying to distract you.

“An evening of pleasure for you, that’s all.”

“Then why do I need to go and get my things?” You wanted to search those bright blue eyes for answers but knew it would be fruitless, “What aren’t you telling me? Whatever I saw in that file, I won’t speak a word of-” The way he quickly withdrew your closeness and steeled his expression made you stop. You had pressed too far too soon.

“I’ve done nothing but care for you and now you question me?”

“No, I don’t, I just…” You glanced back over to that stupid file and could feel your chest restrict anxiously. You never should have picked it up, “Something in you has changed now that I’ve seen that and I’m still not utterly sure what it is. Don’t you trust me to keep my mouth shut?” He sighed and reached out to caress your cheek with the back of his hand.

“No, I don’t, so I’m going to be keeping you here for as long as I see fit.” The widening of your eyes must have given away your sudden fear because a dark aura now seemed to seep from him. You would have to assure him otherwise if you wanted to alleviate the situation. Your hands dropped to one of his, covering it with both of yours as you nodded your head.

“Ok, that’s ok, I understand.”

“You’re saying that to please me.”

“I’m saying it because it’s the most sensible option.” You replied, “Your career is important and influential and you don’t want something threatening that, I understand. I’ll stay to prove that I can be trusted and because I know you’ll treat me well.”

“I just told you that I’m going to keep you here whether you like it or not and your reaction is to agree?”

“What else am I to do? Fight? Run? Where will that get me? I’ve done nothing intentionally wrong so I have no reason to do either of those. I’ll stay with you.” He laced his fingers with yours and smiled down at you.

“Why must you be so perfect for me?” He sighed, a finger crooked beneath your chin making you look up.

“Perhaps it’s fate.” You quipped, leaning onto your toes in the hope that he’d kiss you again.

“I thought fate was a convention of tragedy.” He hummed as he dipped his head downwards, breath softly fanning over your lips.

“Then I’ll savour you while I can.” And you pushed yourself up just a little more, enough to be able to sweetly kiss him, his hand squeezing yours when you both pulled away. The hand holding yours coaxed you to take his arm instead and he led you to his car.

∴.·:*¨ ¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

When you returned to Thranduil’s grand home, this time with your bag packed, he showed you to a guest room down the hall from his bedroom and you got to unpacking, deciding to leave sending off absence emails until last. By the time you got your laptop out from your bag, Thranduil took it from your grasp and held out one of his hands expectantly.

“Your phone.” Suddenly, the weight of the device in your back pocket felt like a suit of armour and you weren’t keen to give it up in such circumstances, no matter how much you trusted him.

“Thranduil, I’ve agreed to stay, I’ve told you that I won’t share your secrets. Is this necessary?” Your brows furrowed and it hurt you to feel that you trusted him more than he did you.

“It is and I swear to you that I’ll return them tomorrow afternoon.” Which meant he would likely be searching through them to make sure that you hadn’t already put any sensitive information out there. You hadn’t, but you really didn’t want your lover seeing what you did with the combination of anonymity and the internet - yes, he knew all of your kinks and fantasies already but it would be embarrassing for him to find out just how much you read about them, let alone the things you had written. You bit on your lip as you reached behind you.

“Only because I understand how important your career is…” You said as you took the flat device from your pocket, “But no going through anything personal, alright?” He took it from your hand and held it with the laptop, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your brow in reward for your compliance.

“Don’t worry, little one, it will all be done professionally.” He assured you. “Go wait in my bedroom for me, won’t you? I’ll be there in five minutes.” A smirk played at the corners of his lips, “Try not to snoop while you’re there.”

“I do not snoop.” You pouted.

“If you didn’t then we never would have met and neither would you be staying here for the foreseeable future.” He replied with a little tap to your chin before leaving to go and hide your stuff Gods know where.

∴.·:*¨ ¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

You woke in the night, reaching for your phone on the nightstand to check the time before realising that you no longer had it. You deduced that it must be somewhere between three and five AM because you felt ridiculously thirsty and that tended to happen within that strange window of time. You, instead, reached for the glass of water that Thranduil had brought you after that evening’s strenuous activities, downing whatever was left of it before settling back down, turning on your side to take in the sight of your lover. He was laid on his back, white hair fanned out around him, chest steadily rising and falling. The silken sheet covered his lower half and you knew that he was bare beneath, you both were, but the thought still practically made your mouth water, even after the amount of times you had slept together.

You reached out to brush some hair from his shoulder, fingertips tracing his bruised collarbone, making you smile to yourself a little. You were quite surprised when his eye cracked open a little and he took in a deep breath before turning onto his side and shuffling closer to you, throwing an arm over your waist and pulling you close.

“Is everything alright?” He murmured against the top of your head, sweeping some of your hair away from your face with his hand before his palm began to rub up and down your back, making you melt against him.

“Yeah…” You hummed, “I just wanted a drink.” You felt his lips press to the crown of your head.

“You fit so perfectly in my arms…” He hummed and it made you sigh in comfort against him, burying your face in his chest.

“I like the way you make me feel when you hold me.” You whispered and he held you tighter, feeling the way you nuzzled against his pale skin. “You make me feel safe. I trust you.”

“And I wish to trust you too but you must understand that I need to test that first.” A minute nod of your head. It stung a little, yes, but you could set your heart aside for a moment and understand his perspective with ease. “I will miss you every moment tomorrow and I promise that I will return as soon as I can.” He spoke softly against your hair and you wrapped your arms around him, adoring the simple skin-on-skin contact. “I want you to think me not cruel for keeping you here – especially not alone.” Your lips curled into a smile against his skin.

“I like when you’re tired.” You mused, “Your voice sounds sexy and you start speaking in an older fashioned way.” His hands squeezed your waist.

“I am inclined to say that you’re calling me old.” He mumbled and you tilted your head up to look at him.

“Aren’t you? In my eyes, at least.” He was trying to frown but it wasn’t really working out, his smile easily seeping through the cracks.

“Go to sleep, my sweet little mortal, you need it more than I do.” Another thing you adored about him, even if he could be somewhat overbearing with it at times: he fussed incessantly over your health due to your mortality. You once sneezed thrice in a row in front of him and he got right to finding the contact information of a private doctor, should you ever need medical treatment. He made you feel so utterly cared for in every way and perhaps that was why, like a fly drinking up the sweetness of a venus fly trap, you stayed and obeyed each of his commands and wishes. Had your life not immensely improved since you first met him? You trusted him to continue to dote over your every need, no matter how temporary it could feel from time to time when you let your mind wander to the future a bit too much.

∴.·:*¨ ¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

When you awoke in the morning, you found yourself alone in Thranduil’s bed and turned over to find a cup of coffee and a plate of various fruits. A little card was propped up beside it and you blinked some of the sleep from your eyes as you propped yourself up on an elbow to read it: ‘I should be back at some point in the afternoon, little one, feel free to wander this wing of the house’. You sat up properly to help yourself to some of the fruit and the coffee that had already gone cold, not that you minded that.

So, you decided to busy yourself for the day: heading back to that guest room to shower in the ensuite there before making your way to the library, grabbing the first piece of fiction that caught your eyes before curling up by the fireplace.

The book kept you distracted for a few hours until your mind wandered to the fact that there were more files sitting on that desk yesterday evening. You understood why he couldn’t trust you with something so big but that didn’t mean that you didn’t like it. You bit on your lip as you thought about his study. Would he have locked it to keep you out? You glanced over to the direction of the library door, setting the book down and making your way down the steps, pulling your oversized cardigan around your body as you made your way back into the corridor and down to the door of his study.

Your eyes rose to the ceiling, looking around for cameras and, despite not being able to see any, you knew better than to doubt that there weren’t any at all. Your head turned back to the door handle and you slowly reached forwards to press down on it, feeling the door push backwards. You let it fall open and peered inside at the tidy desk, few seats and bookshelves. The files were still sitting there. You took one step inside to grab the door handle again and close it. You only wanted to know that he had left it unlocked while you were here, what you had seen in those files had caused enough trouble already and you weren’t keen to create more for yourself.

When Thranduil returned, he found you in the very seat in the library where he had once laid you down and covered you in his blazer on the night that you met.

“You went into my study today…” His voice spoke lowly in your ear as his arms draped over your shoulder.

“Only by a step. I opened the door and closed it again right after.” You tilted your head back to look at him over your shoulder, his face incredibly close to yours and you could see how his long, white hair was swept back into a ponytail just above the nape of his neck.

“Why?” He asked, lips brushing against your temple as he turned over the book in your hands to see what you were reading.

“I just wanted to see whether or not you’d locked it.” He let your statement hang in the air for a moment before his hands on your shoulders ran down your arms and you turned your head to capture his lips in a kiss, hands coming up to rest against the curve of his defined jaw, making you frown a little as you pulled away. “You’re tense.” You mumbled against his lips.

“Never chase a career in politics, darling.” He sighed as he rounded the couch to sit beside you, throwing an arm around your shoulder.

“I wasn’t planning on it.” You replied with a faint smile, reaching up to take his hand in yours.

“I simply wish for a quiet evening with you after dealing with that dwarf Lord all day.” He threw his head back to rest against the backrest of the sofa. “He’s still fighting to reclaim some centuries-old gold from the dragons but it’s not a matter that needs to be discussed in the Senate and, quite frankly, is a waste of everyone else’s time. Funding the Guardians should be a bigger priority with the way that these killings are getting out of hand.” You had heard all about the gruesome murders that everyone was talking about: the case had been handed up to higher-up law enforcement that dealt with crimes where magic was involved.

“We can have a quiet evening.” You spoke softly, setting the book down and throwing a leg over his lap to straddle his waist, making him tilt his head down just a little to crack his eyes open and peer at you. You coaxed him out of the silver blazer with its deep red inside until he was left in the matching silver shirt and his fitted grey trousers. You began to massage the tense muscles of his shoulders and he let out a sigh as his hands came to rest upon your thighs. You leaned in to press a kiss to his throat when your hands began to move down to his biceps.

“I’ll return your belongings to you soon, the agent I handed them off to was supposed to have delivered them in the day but he can become quite obsessive with his work so I suspect that he won’t drop by until this evening.” You nodded your head at his words, too distracted by the feeling of his muscles.

“That’s ok.” You mumbled, adoring the huskiness of his voice as he allowed you to melt the tenseness from his body with your hands. He slowly brought his head up to look at you when you allowed your hips to minutely roll against his, feeling how his hands squeezed the plush flesh of your thighs. “We should have a bath…” You suggested, fingers massaging the back of his neck and you peppered light kisses along his jaw.

His hands came up to cup your face, thumbs smoothing over your cheeks, feeling the warm flush of your blush beneath his hands. He tilted his head a little as he took in the sight of you, fingers skimming over your skin and wondering to himself what he would do should he be without you. He never intended to fall for you as he did, originally being content with sex and seeing you be spoilt by all the money and gifts he could shower you with but he found himself falling in love with the parts of you that were revealed in time: your loyalty, your intelligence, your affectionate gestures.

“That sounds wonderful, darling.” He pushed such thoughts aside for now, instead smiling at the squeal you let out as he took you up in his arms, carrying you towards the bathroom. Your life was fleeting compared to his and so he would make sure that he treasured whatever time he had with you. You rested your arms on his shoulders to smile down at him as you leaned forwards to kiss him sweetly.

P.S: I just can't resist making the reader an anti-hero, I just love that type so much <3

#thranduil x reader #thranduil #thranduil x you #thranduil oropherion #thranduil oropherion x reader #thranduil oropherion x you #RINGS and Things #elven king #elvenking #modern! thranduil #modern au

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tinfairies · 1 year

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Hey so we talked before about hair braiding being intimate to elves. Can we have headcanons of reader just coming up behind them and starts braiding it casually and Legolas and Thranduil reacting to it? I feel they’d be like “wow she’s so forward (〃￣ω￣〃ゞ” 🤣

Thranduil

Of course he knows that this human isn't aware of elvish culture and the significance of braiding.

That doesn't stop him from being a bit surprised, then smug about it.

He would use it as a way to subtly claim his human. Making sure the other elves see them braiding his hair.

He might tell them about what braiding means for elves, but that won't be until he has them firmly in his grasp.

Legolas

Despite what his culture says about braiding, he loves having his hair played with.

He thinks it's cute that this human doesn't know, but is also glad for it. Legolas loves physical affection and he doesn't get much of it from his kind.

Will definitely show the braids off to other elves, boasting about his human's skill.

They will probably find out about what braids mean, but until then Legolas plans to soak up as much attention as he can.

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7soulstars · 11 months

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My Incorrect Universe #96

*before courting Thranduil*

Me: *trips on the ground*

Thranduil, scoffing and in a mocking tone : haha, how clumsy, could you be any more foolish?

*later when no one is around*

Thranduil : *stomping the ground* who do you think you are?? WHO IN EVER LOVING VALAR DO YOU-

--Few years later--

Thorin: I can’t believe you talked to Thranduil without getting so much as a glare! Most people can’t even look in his general direction without some kind of threat.

Me: I mean, it would be a little weird if he did. We are engaged after all......

Thorin, who thought he had a chance: “....YOU’RE WHAT?!”

Legolas,a rogue Gimli tucked under his arm pit: YOU'RE WHAT ?!

Haldir and Lindir, from behind the trees: YOU ARE WHAT ??!

Elrond: YOU'RE WHAT ?!

Me: why are YOU shocked?? You watched him propose to me??

Elrond, recalling himself screaming as he witnessed Thranduil get on one knee that day: I'm still recovering from the trauma-

*Legolas still trying to process what I just announced*:

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himegureisu · 1 month

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Time

Summary: Your love language is quality time. However, your husband is the King of Mirkwood.

A/N: I was supposed to write a Mycroft Holmes/Female Reader. However, this idea popped up and went brr in my head and then my fingers. I needed to finish it before it went so here it goes my first for this pairing I hope you enjoy! (And good night for me because it’s 4AM also not proofread)

Pairing: Thranduil x Female Elf Reader

——————————— 🍃 ———————————

“What was it, meleth nín?” Thranduil asked, “I apologize our time is to be cut short again,”

It was the nth time someone interrupted your strolls to whisk him away for a matter of utmost significance and to be honest, you were tired of it.

Trying so desperately to take time between the day to see him. To get a moment of his time.

He was a King.

A title that holds responsibilities he could not neglect. You know that. However, you didn’t expect to be pushed aside.

“It’s nothing,” you fake a smile, “You should go they need you,”

But I need you too.

You didn’t try after that.

Your handmaiden noticed your melancholy days after the incident. It was like he didn’t notice you were gone.

Yes, you did eat together most of the time. However, you didn’t pop by his office during your free time. You didn’t leave snacks anymore for him to munch on when he forgets to eat. You didn’t propose to walk so you could both stretch your legs. You didn’t wait for him to go to bed.

Contrary to your belief, your husband did notice your absence.

His days were often tedious and tiring. Your short visits were always something he looked forward to. The bright spot to his days so when palace staff gossip came through his ears…

“The Queen seems pale. Is she ill?” a soft feminine voice asked in concern,

“Oh, why would she be ill?” a different voice, an ellon this time, “Maybe she’s expecting a child!”

“She could be ill because of the child.” the elleth remarks, as another joins in the conversation,

“The Queen is not expecting I would know.”your handmaiden divulged as much, No, she seems dejected.”

“The King has been busy…”

Her words echoed in his mind because it was true. His thoughts wandered to those moments your times were constantly interrupted and the day you last visited.

Oh.

“Where is the Queen?” he asks your handmaiden, who exited the study, a book on hand for you.

“At the gardens, My Lord,” she simply answered.

“That’s for her?” he gestured to the book, she nods meekly, “I’ll take it to her. Go tend to your other duties,”

Your handmaiden scurries off in fear and intimidation to go prepare your clothes for the evening. On the other hand, your husband quickly makes his way to the gardens where he couldn’t see you.

“By Valar,” he mumbles frustratedly, walking through the foliage, “Where are you?”

Your soft sniffles give you away.

Between two trees, there was a hammock tied on to their sturdy barks. On the hammock, beneath a thick blanket, you hug his pillow as your tears fell down your cheeks.

From outside your cocoon, the grass crackle as slow footsteps approach your hideout.

Your book finally.

“Did you find that book I asked for?”

“I did,”

A different voice answered. One you haven’t heard from in what seemed like days. His voice.

“Meleth nín,” he breathed out, “Please do not hide from me,”

“I’m hardly presentable,” you sniffed, wiping your tears away, as the hammock tilts a bit on one side, “Aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting of sorts?”

“No,” he frowns, sitting on the edge of the fabric, the book left on by his side, “I don’t care if you’re presentable or not. I’m not the kingdom,”

Slowly, you emerge from your shell to be greeted by his silver eyes, dull in color much like your own has been these past couple of weeks.

“Oh, meleth,”

There were dark shadows beneath your eyes. Your cheeks were stained with dry tears and nose flush from mucus buildup. His heart twisted beneath his chest at the sight of you.

What has he done?

“Oh, meleth nín,” he said, taking you in his arms for a warm embrace you missed, “I’m sorry. I am a fool,”

He hated being the cause of your tears.

“You were,” your voice cracked, as you tuck yourself beneath his chin savoring his presence, “I missed you so much,”

“I missed you too,” he kisses your forehead, and pulls you closer, “I’m sorry that I didn’t reach out, didn’t make the time, made you cry, made you feel like this…”

Your tears fall once again down your cheeks to his robes. He noticed. He noticed your absence after all.

“You are my starlight, my reason to go on,” he softly declared, “I promise I’ll try to do better,”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what I needed” you quietly admit, “I thought I’d be bother you already do so much,”

“You are never a bother,” he adamantly says, glancing down to see you also looking at him, “You are always welcome to whisk me away from the duties of court. I’d rather you than them.”

“Their needs are much more important than mine,” you say.

“But your needs are the most important to me,” his words caused your heart to flutter in the most endearing ways. “You are the most important to me. You do not need to vie for my time or attention. You will always have it. Though, I may not notice it at times you should not hesitate to tell me.”

“If so, can we just stay like this?” you breathed out tiredly against his chest, your ear to his heart beating soundly beneath, “I just… need you,”

“We can,” he gently kisses your forehead, as your eyelids droop down, “It would be a pleasure,”

“Thranduil,” you softly whisper, as he places his forgotten pillow beneath your heads, “Gi melin,”

“Gi melin, meleth nín,” his fingers tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear as you settled on his chest, “Sleep. I will be here when you wake,”

It wasn’t long until you did.

Your breaths soft and even as Thranduil gently places the book on the ground so neither of you gets stabbed by its’ edges. He pulls you the closest he could, you unconsciously grasp tight.

Just the way you both liked it.

He lays there quietly observing the heavens, where scattered white clouds and birds of the realm adorned the blue skies, wondering how he was so lucky to have fallen for a second time to you.

He didn’t know what time it was and frankly, he didn’t care when his eyes slowly surrendered to the thrall of slumber joining you in blissful rest for the afternoon.

He would do better. He was going to do better. For you.

#fanfiction #thranduil x reader #thranduil #thranduil x you #thranduil oropherion #lotr x reader #the hobbit x reader #thranduil fanfiction #lord of the rings fanfiction #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit #lord of the rings

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itsonlydana · 1 month

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"Can you meet me halfway (I'll meet you halfway" | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader x Bard 👑 [king's special]

you went out clubbing on new years eve when a gorgeous rich couple hits on you and invites you back to their apartment to finish what you started right on the dancefloor

warnings/tags: NSWF! THIS IS ADULT CONTENT ✋️, modern!AU, threesome, oral sex (male & female), dirty talk, semi-public-sex, soft dom! bard and bratty dom!thranduil, protected sex, fingering, passing out during sex, slight overstimulation, age-gap (reader is of age, though its described that thranduil and bard are older), hairpulling, aftercare,

words: 13,8k

an: this is by far the dirtiest thing i've ever written and my god i'm not a smut writer; i get too flustered over my own writing lmao. Hopefully you can enjoy this out-of-character story even if it isn't new years anymore!

inspired by early 2000s club bangers like Kesha, Britney Spears, Black Eyed Peas (that's where the title came from) and Lady Gaga

+ masterlist +

🌿 reposts and comments or anonymous messages in my inbox are very appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

"What?!"

"I said," the barkeeper leaned closer and pushed a filled to the rim shotglass over the counter, "this one is from the pretty one to your right!"

With a myriad of people in this club who fit your definition of "pretty" you found yourself on the brink of shouting at the red-haired bartender once more.

This would mark the third attempt, given that the club's 2000s music was blaring to the extent that communication was damn near impossible if you weren't screaming or using your hands trying to get orders across the sticky, littered with neon glowstick wristbands counter.

Before you could ask her who the hell she'd meant, the bartender had turned away, leaving you to figure out the mystery man for yourself.

You lifted the shot glass to your nose and took a deep breath— pure tequila.

At least you would enjoy this one; the last few shots other men had sent over to you had been nothing but disgusting, ranging from vodka to Jägermeister and one you didn't even bother to drink.

The world spun a little when you turned your head over your shoulder and for a second the flashy lights blurred the people crowding the bar into one mass, unidentifiable and mushed together; then your eyes zeroed in on him and pretty didn't even begin to cover it.

Next to the bar, holding out his own shot glass in hands that could've fit three or five of them, stood a man that was intimidatingly gorgeous and decently tall even as he rested his hip cheekily against one of the chairs, elbow on the wooden top while he flicked his fingers against the rim of the glass.

Not even that he was just tall, and he was –surely taller than most of the men standing between you two –, but he had this quality about him that let him stand out of the crowd.

Maybe it was the hair, blonde like starlight and pulled into a long and messy ponytail, with just a few loose strands framing his strong jawline. Or maybe it was the smug look on his face, the smirk that tugged on his lips when you dragged your eyes over the see-through shirt that clung to his well... and oh so– so well-defined chest.

On any other occasion, you would have simply raised the glass and disappeared back into the crowd of dancing people, but tonight felt different.

New Year's Eve had that ring to it. The careless "Fuck it all, it's all going to shit anyway"-attitude.

Any newspaper or media marked today the last day of yet another frustrating, wonderful, soul-crushing, draining, exciting, and overall overwhelming year, full of things you regretted having done, and as you stared at the man meeting your gaze with a questioning arch of a dark eyebrow, you found yourself giving a flying fuck about whether you'll add another mark on that board.

There was a surge of power washing through your body as you toasted the glass in his direction before tipping it against your lips and letting the tequila rush into your mouth.

The alcohol went down burning, hot, and dry and left a warm trail down your throat into your stomach.

"I see you not only bear a resemblance to the devil, you drink like her as well," a sultry voice drawled, sufficiently loud for you to lift your head.

Somehow the man had managed to appear right next to you within seconds and got so close that you were confronted with a very exciting view of his chest.

You eyed it, naturally because who wouldn't take their time looking at the flexing pecs covered in silver glitter and sweat?

Slowly, you dragged your gaze upwards, only faltering for a moment at the sight of a pink tongue running over plush lips. You met his eyes again, this time with no more than half a meter separating you and you were glad your knees didn't buckle like they threatened to do.

"And what are you? Some angel that has fallen from heaven?" Your counter was weak, a bad example of what was usually some excellent flirting, if you dare say yourself, but it's all you could manage with those cerulean eyes staring down at you in interest.

He laughed, thank fucking god, and tilted his head to the side. "It must be fate that we met, is it not?"

"Buy me another drink and we'll see"

Somehow, it didn't surprise you that he simply raised his pointer finger and the server immediately rushed to prepare whatever order he'd signaled her.

"Unfair, I waited, like at least five minutes for some water," you complained, not really putting any real annoyance into it but pouting nonetheless for the effect.

It went a long way because the stranger stepped closer, up into the little bit of personal space one could have in an overcrowded club, and cooed, "What a shame. Who could ever pass such a lovely face and not serve you right away?"

"I don't know," you sighed and smiled at him sweeter than sugar, "I do know that we shouldn't let that tequila go to waste though"

"Then be a good girl and drink up"

Oh, yeah.

Suppose you hadn't already contemplated sleeping with him, that certainly solidified your decision.

This wasn't just fate, this must be compensation for all the shit you've been through this year, wrapped up nicely in 6 feet and more of dripping sex and sultry smiles.

Eyes locked, you both clinked the glasses together before throwing them back. You couldn't help it when your lashes flutter shut.

Once again, the tequila burned all the way down to your stomach, adding to the cocktail of drinks that lowered your inhibitions and made your core throb in excitement.

You would've asked him for salt and lemon if he hadn't looked so unbothered by the pure taste. His lips didn't twitch, while you're sure yours were pulled into a grimace.

"Thank you, Sir," the words left your mouth without a second thought.

Thinking, in general, started to become more of a theory than something you were willing to do tonight; much too exhausting if you could simply let your tongue run wild.

He rewarded you for that decision, for his eyes widened and he stepped even closer, now slotting one of those long legs - and fuck, was he really wearing leather pants? Who had access to your wet dreams?- between yours as he leaned down.

"I must say you caught my interest the moment I saw you on the dance floor," He placed a hand on the countertop, not touching you yet, though the invitation he gave you, the silent question for permission, spoke for itself.

The second move was on you to lure him in and you blinked up at him while you trailed your fingers over the arm, scratching hairless skin with the tip of your nails until it changed into the fishnet top and you placed the hand to rest on one strong shoulder. The red color of your nail polish made such a beautiful contrast to his fair skin that your mind conjured imagines of how they must look on other parts of him.

Surely, with the size of him…

Now that you initiated the contact, he drove forward with his second hand, and the large palm cupped your chin.

While the touch was hot in how it's delivered, so dominating, and fuck if that didn't send warm licks of pleasure down your spine, his hand itself was surprisingly cold.

The temperature in the club was almost unbearable, only manageable through refreshing drinks and a trip or two to the bathrooms, and the spikes of the cool touch fought the heat pooling in your body.

One of those silky locks of hair brushed your neckline, falling right into the cut out of your dress that his eyes shamelessly took in from his higher-up viewpoint.

You took a deep breath, maybe even pushed out your chest as he eyed it in the knowledge that the lace bra was showing through.

All you inhaled was the intoxicating smell of his cologne, vanilla (even though you suspected he is anything but...), and something sweet and without a doubt expensive.

You're addicted to it the moment it hit your nose and clouded your mind.

"Do you not believe that an appropriate thank you is in order?" he inquired; no, he demanded.

You decided to play dumb, not because you thought he's into that – on the contrary, he seemed the kind of man who admired eloquence and intellect rather than dullness – but because it's a game you both enjoyed playing.

There was intrigue in tip-toeing around what is most obvious (lust as well as the urge to rip each other's clothes off as soon as possible, maybe even a fuck in the bathrooms).

"I thought I already said thank you," you mused, pushing out your lower lip into a pout again, "and that lousy shot is hardly worth more than a few words. You can't expect something greater if there is nothing to thank for."

He raised a dark eyebrow – you wondered if he colored his hair or eyebrows – and the hand around your chin lifted your head to twist it right and left.

One smooth thumb brushed over the pout, and he clicked his tongue. "Now now, I would consider this greedy if you were not in the right. You poor thing must be exhausted after all the dancing"

His eyes flashed when yours widened; he really did notice you before, had watched you.

"Yes," he drawled as if he read your mind, and his lips curved into a smirk that flashed a row of perfect bright teeth, "I saw how you moved out there, how wanton you presented yourself. However, it did not escape my notice that you rebuffed anyone who dared to approach."

When you opened your mouth to say something, his finger swiped over your lip again. Without hesitation, you sucked on the fingertip, collecting a few drops of tequila that you made a show of swallowing.

The protest disappeared with it down your throat.

He was right, why deny it?

The way you danced was just an expression of how comfortable you felt in your own body, the rhythm provided by provocative music a tool to follow the movements.

Everything you did, you did for yourself, not for the men who attempted to touch you simply because they were captivated by the dancing. As if you would accept some clammy hands grabbing for you.

"Maybe it was wanton," you said after releasing his finger, but not without scratching your teeth over it.

His pupils dilated, his chest raised at a sudden inhale of air; he apparently underestimated you.

You nodded your head toward the dance floor, "maybe I came here to look for a good fuck, but it's my decision who I take and not theirs"

"As you should. Those boys who tried and failed miserably were amusing to watch. None of them were good enough for you, right, sweetheart?"

You hummed in agreement as well as disagreement. "I'm not searching for anyone good enough," you thought back to all the good-guys who had lured you in with promises of treasuring you only to become insufferable with their need to control in the end.

"Then what do you need?"

"I want someone bad," the tone in your voice was challenging, just like the stare you gave him. "I want someone who won't be afraid to break me"

There was a slight tug on your chin, his hand pulled you in slightly but any further without any movement from you, it would've cause a strain in your neck.

You craved it.

The blonde god, he must be, the thought became clearer with any passing second, a gift, a god, an angel, crushed his mouth against yours. There was a fleeting moment where you realized you didn't know his name, but then his other hand wrapped around your neck, and your teeth clashed, and you found yourself not caring one bit.

You're sure he wouldn't mind if you moaned "God" instead of his name. Maybe he would even get off to it.

Only one way to find out.

It turned out quite hard to manage saying anything at all, his kisses stole every last bit of oxygen, robbing you of the ability to string together words and turning you into a whimpering mess with his tongue and wandering hands.

He called you a devil yet here he was, corrupting you in a way that will ruin you for any other person.

"You taste divine," he sounded as breathless as you felt when you separated and dizziness cultivated in your lust-clouded head at the compliment rasped in that deep voice of his.

"Do not worry," he continued, smearing the string of spit that connected you over your plush lips, "If you allow me I will try my very best to break you"

Hell or heaven, wherever he was leading you right now, your need tripped over itself eagerly.

When was the last time you were this aroused? You felt yourself growing wetter and wetter, and that only through his words and kisses; the state he could push you into if he truly fucked you would be completely new territory, you realized.

A nod is all you could manage.

The last you saw on his face was a wide grin before he kissed you again, this time though, he moved on to your jaw and then your neck. You beared it to him by tilting your head, eyes falling on the ceiling where the neon lights hushed over black brick, coloring your sight while your face took on a flushed red.

The blond devil nipped and bit, sucked and scratched in a manner so animalistic you wouldn't have thought a surely unquestionably sophisticated man to be able to.

You whimpered again, and your hands rose to grab something, anything and you found that ponytail the most accessible. Your fingers twirled a few soft strands as you gasped when his teeth sunk into the delicate skin right where your neck and shoulder met, and the slight pain following wasn't unwelcome.

It made you feel alive.

You're close to pulling him away to the bathroom– an amused laugh to your side prevented that thought from festering any further.

"I'm away for one smoke and you just couldn' wait?"

Unable to think straight after the assault on your neck, it took a moment for you to come back to your senses that don't revolve around lips, kiss, bite, fuck, suck…

Your sight spun as you snapped your head back, nearly knocking your chin into the man still busy marking you up, unbothered that there was another man watching you and clearly waiting for an answer.

So you decided to do the only thing that must convince him to let go, and you pulled on his hair.

He growled, fucking growled, and his lips twisted, flashing his teeth again.

Your heart dropped into your wet panties until you found he wasn't pinning you to the floor with the hard stare but the new arrival.

"Did you not see that I was busy?" he snapped at the dark-haired man, and while you felt slightly scared he was going to rip his handsome head off, the man only sported an annoyed expression.

"Yes, exactly. If I remember correctly, we decided to wait until I get back?"

Decided, waited?

"You took too long"

The man threw his head back in a raspy laugh, "Incorrigible bastard. Will I have to sit you down with a toy to keep you busy while I'm away?"

The blonde turned back to you and smirked, "That will not be necessary as I am quite capable of finding my own toys"

"Hey!" you cut into the conversation, not amused that they talked as if you weren't right there, "I'm not a fucking toy!"

Both men turned to you now, towering over you in their height, and mustering you so intensely that you slightly squirmed under their gaze.

The man with salt and pepper hair chuckled. "I am so sorry, Darlin'. I hope Thranduil didn't play too hard?"

Considering that you still felt the scratch of his teeth on your neck and the wet spit he left there, you felt like some kind of chew toy one would throw their dog but nevertheless, you pushed your chin up high. "Nothing I can't take."

The blonde's, Thranduil's, hand on your waist pulled you into him possessively. "I told you there is some bite behind the pretty face," he smirked.

While it didn't escape you that this hinted to a previous conversation, a plan formed over you, it's the attractiveness of them that led you to turn a blind eye.

"Weren't you the one biting a minute ago?" The music made it hard to talk normally and you stood up on your tiptoes to yell the words, but all that it resulted in is a deep chuckle.

"Oh, I like you," the other man laughed as well.

You took him in, the tight pants that showed off strong thighs and the black and gold shirt with more buttons open than actually buttoned that presented muscles and hair leading down and oh–

"What a surprise," you said, looking up to meet his hungry eyes, "I find I like you too" You turned your head to Thranduil, who smirked and sent you a wink that had you blushing, "So how's this gonna work? I'm going to be blunt and say that five minutes ago I was convinced you and I were on the same page, what's with your friend?"

"Husband"

"Husband?!" you parroted, unconvinced yet when your eyes fell on their hands a gold ring flashed back at you from both fingers.

Heat curled in your body like molten lava at lustful and otherwise utterly inappropriate thoughts this provoked of these two married man having their way around your body.

Thranduil bowed his head lower again, playfully nipping at the part of your neck that surely was already bruising. "I have to admit that I promised Bard to wait for him to come back, though I found I could not follow through when I saw you approaching the bar."

You swallowed. Hard. Not that it helped your very dry throat.

Bard came closer, reclaiming your attention.

His face, more defined than Thranduil's, was adorned with a rugged layer of dark stubble, crow's feet framing his vivid green eyes when he smiled at you. He looked the picture of a soft soul, but you remembered that this couple was picking up a third partner on New Year's Eve, so you shouldn't judge a book by its cover.

There was some spice behind the old-armchair-and-book-vibes.

"Will that be a problem, Darlin'?" he asked in that ruff voice, posh and Welsh accent dripping over you.

A refreshment to hear that accent in this city, so enthralling in how it wrapped around you; especially that damn nickname. There was no way you would say no to him.. both of them if he called you Darling one more time.

You shook your head. "No. I think I'll just need a bit more liquid encouragement if I am to survive this night."

"Oh, what a shame," Thranduils lips left where they continued to suck and lap on your neck, peppering kisses, leaving bruises, and moved to your earlobe. His voice dropped as much into a whisper as the music allowed it, "I had my hopes on fucking you into heavenly spheres"

There went the last string of sanity holding you back.

Hearing a man who was seemingly hell-bent on avoiding abbreviations like "don't" and "can't" at all costs speak in such a filthy way was something you never knew you needed.

"I hope you can follow through with that," you trailed a hand over his smooth chest, collecting glitter on your way and smeared it over his throat where his adams apple bobbed, "because if you break that promise like you did the one with your husband, I will just have to let him finish the job"

Thranduil yanked you back into him, back into a kiss that seared itself into your memories and burned the touch, taste, and movement of his lips into every cell of your body.

It was almost aggressive how much teeth went into the kiss, how he bit down and all you could do was gasp and whimper.

Briefly, you thought of the poor people around you, because if all you wanted to do was get a drink and were confronted with one person devouring the other, you would be seething but right now you were being the one he kissed, whose sounds he swallowed and whose hands held you to him.

So fuck them.

With your senses heightened now that you wanted these men all over you, the sensation of Bard leaning in, hair tips tickling your neck as he licked Thranduil's throat, led you to pull away from the blonde. You watched as Bard sprinkled something flaky and white onto the spot wet with spit, and only when he lifted a shot glass the thought crystalized that he salted Thranduil for you.

"Come on," Thranduil's smirk taunted you just as much as his words, "What is another lousy shot? We even made it easy for you poor baby, after you could not take the first one easily"

Rolling your eyes at the mocking, you dove in to copy Bard. The salt sticking to his neck coated your tongue and you took longer than necessary to lick the skin free of it. The rush that this sent through you was exhilarating.

As soon as you were finished, your head got tilted backward firm and yet gently.

Rough fingertips cupped your neck and one thumb moved to press against your jaw, as you felt a solid chest in your back.

"Open wide, Darlin'," Bard ordered and encouraged you to follow him as his other thumb pushed between your teeth.

You obeyed, never once breaking eye contact with Thranduil and taking in his lust-blown pupils, as Bard poured the tequila into your mouth, directly down your throat. Then, while you pulled a grimace, shutting your eyes for a second, Bard turned you around, sandwiching you between them.

When you opened your eyes again, you saw the green slice of lemon between his teeth and following the wink he sent you; you knew exactly what was to come next.

Kissing Bard was very different from getting kissed by Thranduil.

His lips were slightly cracked, not soft and they tasted like smokey whiskey and cigarettes, with hints of coffee and lime instead of fruity cocktails and rose chapstick. Lifting one hand to his face, your fingertips grazed the rough beard growing on his sharp jawline, the stubble scratching you in a promising way.

While you had been surprised when Thranduil had kissed you, you eagerly answered Bard's kiss with fervor. Your mind already teetered on the brink of shutting down and you poured the desperation into his mouth with a moan.

He chuckled, drawing back just enough that he could spit out the lemon – sucked empty – before wiping his thump over your lips.

"Sweet thing"

There was a softness in that gesture, but only short-lived before he kissed you again. His hands trailed your body, coming to rest on either side of your neck again and even that slight of pressure loaded a million images through your head.

A second pair of hands joined him on you, it's confusing until a large body pressed into your back and you realized- it was only Thranduil.

Well, only…

It had been clear that the man could and would not accept being reduced to anything. He radiated an attitude that you would call bratty but with his expensive clothes, that rich perfume, and the wave of the hand that brought him drinks, aristocratic diva seemed more fitting.

His demanding character became clear when his hands set on your waist, immediately fingering the seam of your jeans, pulling you more into him by the belt loops.

You followed that tug, though Bard deepened the kiss to keep you by him, his tongue exploring your mouth and enticing you to breathlessly moan against his smiling lips.

Despite the loud music, Thranduil's voice was loud in your ear.

"As stunning as you right now, I can not help but imagine you squirming on our silk sheets– moving those bewitching hips of yours," Thranduil playfully took the burning tip of your ear into his mouth, "If you want to follow this invitation, of course"

"Whatever you just said," Bard broke away from you to look over your shoulder at his husband, "It better have been the idea of finally getting out of here" he pushed his hips against yours for you to feel the hard outline of him, "because I don't want to wait til the ball drops"

"Is that a metaphor?"

"Thran–" There was a warning edge in Bard's voice, and you felt Thranduil huff.

"Funny, how this old man can not take a joke as soon as he is aroused"

It's absurd how casually he said this while his hands slid down the front of your jeans, earning himself a gasp from you.

Unashamed as a man only his status can be, he toyed with the seam of your underwear, not caring one bit for the glare of his husband.

Your body arched into him, answering the question he had whispered earlier.

The only thing keeping you from getting down on your knees to worship him and his obviously talented fingers was the blaring music, reminding you that you were not yet somewhere private and very much on display.

You briefly wondered if these two were rich enough to simply pay their way out of a public indecency arrest. You wouldn't be surprised if they wouldn't even get arrested.

Since Thranduil made no sign of disengaging himself from you, you stepped away from him, right against Bard's chest.

"Shall we go? Your husband mentioned luxury sheets which I bet are more comfortable than a threesome on the dance floor"

The way out of the club presented itself as more difficult than you would have thought.

With Bard shoving a path through the dancing crowd in front of you, holding on to one hand, Thranduil breathing down your neck and you pausing now and again because "Oh my gosh, I love this song!" it took a lot longer than necessary.

Not that any one of you minded.

Lost in the mass of people shouting, dancing, and pushing you three closer together and the tequila in your bloodstream you ended up undulating to Nicki Minaj's 'Pound The Alarm' completely lost on the fact that both men had stopped to watch you.

The lights were colorful and sharp and in their hues, Bards and Thranduil's jawlines looked even sharper tinted red, blue, green, and whenever the disco ball flashed white across their faces the lust in their eyes caused shivers on every part of you.

Thranduil's hands moved to your lower abdomen, making it easy to grind against him as you raised your hands to Bard's strong shoulders.

Two huge pairs of hands gripped your waist from either side and held you steady and close to themselves, keeping everyone else from getting any nearer than they allowed.

"Fucking hell– Darlin' you drive me crazy!" Bard yelled over the music as you suddenly decided to drop down intact with the beat, dragging your nails over his torso.

You laughed, low and full-heartedly.

Coming up, his hands moved to the flushed skin that your shirt had revealed by riding up, holding you tight to sweep you away into a kiss.

One thigh, leather, and flexing muscles shoved itself between your thighs and you responded eagerly, grinding against it without a second thought.

Just when you thought you were ready to finally go, the song ended and faded into yet another pop hit. 'LoveGame' by Lady Gaga and intact of the low thumping beat, Thranduil's hips circle against your behind, pressing what was an impressive hardness into your arse while his deep voice switched from singing to humming the lyrics.

One of his hands spread over your abdomen, the other arm blindly reached for Bard and pulled him into a kiss right over your head.

Amid the mass of sweaty people and the multicolor array of colors flashing over Thranduil's blonde hair, the 2000s music blaring through the speakers and resonating in every cell of your fevered body, they looked hot enough for the porn industry to sign them under contract.

You were never making it out of the club.

You did make it out eventually, sweat dripping down your temple, Thranduil's chest in your back whenever you stumbled, his hands steadying you.

On what you assumed was an oversight or blind eye of the club owners the crowd had doubled in the last hour.

Far too many people joined the floor and even with Bard's commanding presence leading you it had been close to impossible to step forward and not swerve out of the way of someone drunk.

Outside, the line curved around the block, and those who waited or didn't get into the club or even just hung in groups celebrating on the streets blocked the whole sidewalk.

A number of fireworks were already soaring into the air, sent up there by early birds who couldn't wait until midnight – cheered up by loud excited screams and laughter as the dark night sky lit up here and there with colorful explosions.

Quite sobered up, the dancing had contributed to that, you stared at them.

"How the fuck are we supposed to get out of here?" you asked and crossed your arms in front of you; the winds were biting cold and you hadn't bothered bringing a jacket, "It's madness."

"We will just get a cab"

You barked out a laugh though Bard stayed completely serious.

"Wait, that wasn't a joke?" you rubbed your palms over the naked skin, still warm and thrumming with the afterglow of the unbearable heat of the club, although the cold fought hard and unfairly.

"No, sweetheart, it wasn't," Thranduil said, not bothered by the chaos of people pushing each other, waving their hands like they're trying to flag down a spaceship.

On this day, the chances for that to happen were more likely than actually getting a cab.

He took one step into the busy street, and you yelped, overcome by the shock that he just walked into fucking traffic, his long ponytail swaying with his steps.

Then, like movie magic, a car swerved to the side and stopped right next to Thranduil.

Bard pulled you along, your hand cradled to his chest so as not to lose you. Thranduil opened the door, gracefully sitting down behind the empty passenger seat.

You stumbled onto the back seat next to him, and mumbled a half-hearted "Hello" to the driver, who gave you a nod – a nod, an hour before midnight, from a cap driver, fucking miracles– before shut the plastic window close.

"Holy crap," you exhaled. "Is this what the high life's like? Getting drinks and cabs without any fucking effort?"

Despite the crude and cutting words swinging in their direction, Bard and Thranduil chuckled. The synchronized deep sound reverberated in the quiet cab, warming up the space instantly.

"Do you really think that this" – Thranduil languidly gestures to all of him – "takes no effort?"

Bard huffed. He leaned into you as if he wanted to whisper a secret, but didn't lower his voice: "We were supposed to be here five hours ago. Took him that long to figure out what to wear." He shot a teasing grin at his husband.

"Oh, I have had enough of your whining," In one elegant movement Thranduil folded one long leg over the other. The point of his boot caught your shin in a soft tap that drew your attention to him.

He smirked, one eyebrow raised. "If you are interested, though, I could show you what it is like to ride the waves of the high life"

"Is that a metaphor?"

"No," Bard's lips ghosted over your neck, peppering more kisses to the skin there, "A promise for an unforgettable high"

You were unable to think of what they could propose.. well, you could, but they wouldn't, not here in this cap, right?

Bard's legs were spread a little far apart and, fuck, the flickering lights of the city flying by highlighted a very prominent bulge that he made no effort of hiding. Was he going commando?!

Your eyes snapped back, burning a hole into the roof of the cab.

A hand fell behind you on the headrest at the same moment as Thranduil's cold fingers slipped onto your thigh.

Thranduil's hand snuck to your jeans and played with the button and zipper before,

Oh-

he opened your jeans and immediately slid his cold, long, slender fingers down your panties.

Oh, fuck

Your hips twitched into his hand and you had to bite down on your finger to muffle the gasp that itched behind your teeth.

Without a care in the world, Thranduil cupped your sex, mumbling something to himself under his breath that sounded like a "So fucking wet- for us?" and worked his middle finger into you.

Pulling it out again, he started circling your clit, smearing your own slick over it, moving right over the spot where your nerve endings were sparking white and hot and you shuddered uncontrollably.

The chill of his fingertips heightened your sensitivity. Still flushed all hot from the club, you instinctively arched upward, a soft gasp escaping your lips as Thranduil's fingers tapped against your swollen wet clit.

The noise prompted his gaze to lock onto yours.

Your gasp broke off as your hips nearly flew off the seat and it was only for the belt snapping tightly against your lower abdomen that your head didn't make contact with the roof.

That, and the arm Bard put around your shoulders. He held you down and gave you his biceps to let your head fall against something that wasn't the uncomfortable seatrest.

Your cheeks flushed under Thranduils scrutiny, as well as at the general scene and obscenity of everything, and a subtle smirk played on his lips.

"Do you enjoy that?" His voice was flirty, and while you want to retort that it should be very clear how much you liked his fingers fucking into you, you only managed a nod.

"Say it." He leaned forward, a teasing glint in his eyes. His fingers stopped, clearly waiting for you to obey his order. "Use your words, you still know how, right? I haven't even started, clearly there must be something you could tell me."

"Yes," your admission was barely a whisper, but it sufficed.

Thranduil hummed, using his other hand to open your legs as wide as the tight jeans allowed it before he worked two agile fingers into your throbbing cunt.

You stared at him through half-lidded eyes, watching his relaxed demeanor while fingering you open without caring about anything else.

The heel of his hand pressed into your pelvis, giving him a reasonably steady hold in the jolting cab so that he could hit a spot inside you with precision and with every, goddamn, perfect, thrust of his fingers that made you pant out.

"Thran-" the nickname you heard Bard call him slipped out unconsciously, it's the only thing you could pull out of the depth of your mind, "Thran.. please"

"Beggin' already?" Bard chuckled, "Darlin' you have seen nothing yet and here you are, beggin' to cum in the back of a cab."

"Bard you have no idea how fucking wet she is. She's dripping down my hand, squeezing my fingers, and fuck she's so tight," Thranduil muttered and as he slipped his other hand to the one slipping and sliding against your g-spot in a maddening relentless rhythm, he rubbed them over your folds.

He collected some of your wetness on those fingers, circling your clit again before pulling them away, out of your pants, and to your horror, he held them up into the air, inspecting how his fingers glistened in the city lights.

He rubbed them together, all right in the view of the rear back mirror of the cab driver, who – thank god – kept his eyes on the road and only turned up the radio in unspoken ignorance of what was happening in his car.

God, you hoped these men would tip him adequately.

"Here," Thranduil reached his arm out past your half-opened lips and for a moment you thought he was going to offer you his fingers, but he leaned further forward.

A gasp broke out of you as you watched Bard open his mouth and greedily took both fingers right between his lips, and.. sucked.

His eyes fell shut with a contented sigh as if he were tasting his favorite drink.

You saw his tongue run thoroughly over Thranduil's patiently waiting fingers, cleaning them off every last bit of you, and god, you wanted to be those fingers so damn bad at that moment.

Then he looked at you again. There was such a deep hunger in those eyes that would look beautifully between your legs, brown hair falling messily into his sight as he ate you out.

Meanwhile, Thranduil's fingers inside you moved harder and faster, curling to brush every sensitive spot of your walls, in, out, in, another curl, and then out.

You clenched your entrance in anticipation, the feeling of two of his fingers filling you this deliciously and continuously.

You were so so close, almost there–

"Shit, you're the sweetest. I think I'll eat you for breakfast tomorrow"

The abrupt halt of the cab barely registered for you; instead, it finally propelled you over the edge.

Thranduil's precise movement hit that spot inside you perfectly, crooking his fingers just right to brush against it. Combined with Bard's downright filthy promise, you nearly let out a scream as the powerful orgasm surged through you and you had to flex your muscles so you didn't continue riding his hand.

Thranduil, however, didn't stop, even though there was no way he didn't know you climaxed and he kept up the same pace, same fucking precision and pressure that your body convulsed around those long talented fingers and you couldn't even go anywhere, the seatbelt cut off your escape to the front and you were so far into the seat that wasn't an option as well, and it took a soft broken whimper, for words were long lost, for Thranduil to press a kiss to your neck before he sucked his fingers dry.

Your legs were still shaking as the elevator took you up to the penthouse at the top of the skyscraper the cab had stopped in front of.

Four mirrors gave you a splendid view of Bard's broad back as he crowded you against one of the walls, his thick fingers down your jeans again, as he mouthed hot kisses onto your neck.

"Gonna have to work you open," Bard grunted, his slippery fingers curling inside your cunt in a sinful squelch that sounded absurdly loud in the confined space of the elevator. "You're really too tight, don't wanna hurt you"

Thranduil watched the whole scene leaning at the railing, hands curled around the pole behind him as his hips twitched whenever you let out another whimper; your hands trying to get a hold on his husband's shoulders.

The ride was far too short, Bard's fingers not fast enough for you to reach another peak though the constant movement kept your head in such a nice empty mindless space that you didn't complain.

As soon as the doors opened Thranduil led the way, sauntering into the darkness illuminated by the first exploding fireworks. He pulled on the tie holding his hair up and flung it away let his hair flow down his back, ending just barely over his exquisite arse.

You didn't get to see much of the penthouse, all three of you were very eager to take this party finally somewhere comfortable and you only made out a giant white couch in front of a fireplace, an open kitchen with two glasses, one crystal with golden stains of whiskey, and the other high, the rim still dripping red wine, and a few bookshelves.

"You can get the full tour tomorrow," Bard said while you two kicked away your shoes, leaving them behind on the dark wooden parquet.

You stumbled over his left sneaker and halted in your tracks at the offer. While you had considered his promise of breakfast a spur-of-the-moment chit-chat, it now settled in your head that this wouldn't be like any one-nightstand you had in the past.

This observation only solidified as Bard caught your hand and raised it to press an open-mouthed kiss to your palm. "Do you need anything before we go into the bedroom? Any wishes or no-gos? Safeword?"

"Red," you immediately answered, and he nodded in acknowledgment, "and no, well– maybe hold me a bit afterward?" You blushed at the question though this should be the least embarrassing thing after all these two did to you in the span of a few hours. You continued to ramble, "And sometimes I cry, so.. you don't have to stop then. Sometimes I'm overwhelmed but you can continue your.. thing. Don't bother, I'll be fine on my own–"

Bard's eyebrows scrunched together the more you babbled, the look in his eyes becoming more confused until he shushed you with a quick kiss.

"Darlin', there is no need to explain what you want or don't want. If this is what you need then we won't question those demands," his eyes wandered over your face, making sure you were listening; which you were, heart pounding fast in your chest.

"And it's important you don't push yourself just because of us. It's not our intention to use you for a simple release. Thranduil and I don't take whoever is the first best, especially not to our home. We're looking for someone who suits us, with whom we feel completely comfortable and that should also be equally important to you."

You trusted them both, Bard as well as Thranduil.

The fact that Bard was asking you, nevertheless listening and responding to you was feeding something very primal.

They had done this before, unlike you. They had experience in this, but you were willing to learn, to submit yourself to these imposing men who surely would change something inside you forever.

The pride you felt at his admission of choosing you specifically mingled with the need to get this perfect man inside you quickly, especially now that he said such meaningful and reassuring words.

You nodded and croaked out a soft: "Alright, then please hold me after we're done" which he rewarded with another soft yet sensual kiss.

"Good girl"

Then his hands traveled south and slapped your ass so that your hips flew towards him.

"Now, let's not keep Thran waiting any longer. He tends to get a bit… impatient if left on his own for too long, as you've probably noticed."

Bratty.

You were so on the money earlier.

With that as well as the guess that the blonde was more kinky than the vanilla of his perfume.

At that moment the deep voice of his called out from down the hall.

"I swear, if you two started without me, I will fuck you until neither of you can walk for a week!"

Bard chuckled, then caught your widened eyes.

"He's joking," he said and you let out a relieved breath.

Bard pulled you along, a wink thrown over his shoulder.

"Mhm, partly; he won't fuck me tonight."

You needed a deep breather to ready yourself for what was about to happen, then you nearly tripped over your own feet as you raced after him through the dark hallway and to the only opened door.

You crashed fully into Bard, who for whatever reason, stood right in the doorframe of their bedroom.

"It seems Thranduil got tired of waiting," he chuckled and you wondered what he could mean when he turned sideways.

Your eyes instantly fell onto Thranduil, spread out on the enormous bed in the corner of the room– completely naked except for black, very tight boxers.

There was no air in your lungs, not a single breath left to take as you drank in the sight of him, fair and marble skin shining in the moonlight that fell through the big window next to the bed; the remaining glitter gave his body an unearthly glow. His hair fanned out all over the pillows, silver against grey, moving with him as he lazily lifted his head to stare at you.

There was an indescribable beauty in this man, he could lounge in the bed, his long legs opened in an invitation that you yearned to take, and his lean yet softly defined body posed as if he was waiting for someone to draw him.

"There you are," the corner of his mouth twitched into his smirk, "Strip"

His words, spoken in a gentle tone, boomed loud in your ears.

Your hands flew to your jeans in no second, though they were stopped by Bard, who covered them with his larger, rougher ones.

"No, Darlin', let me"

He stood behind you, taking over the job of undressing you. He did it much slower than you would have, not ripping everything apart in a hurry to obey the command of the blonde whose eyes were heavy on your body, taking in every bit of skin that got revealed.

Bard unbuttoned your jeans first, then his large and warm hands rubbed over your arms.

"Are you cold, sweetheart?"

You shook your head. "No, not cold. I– I feel like I'm burning up"

It was the truth, and nothing but the full, honest truth; you felt as hot as you did in the club, though the reason wasn't the hundreds of people and the alcohol but rather the sight of Thranduil, whose hands trailed over his own body and teasingly played with the waistband of his underwear.

Bard followed your fixated gaze to his coyly smiling husband.

"Should we turn down the heating? We would not want you melting away," Thranduil blinked his long lashes at you in faux-concern. He must've known the goosebumps covering your skin were his doing.

You would've rolled your eyes if you were able to look somewhere else than Thranduil. The man had to be magical, how else could you explain the spell he put you under if not for some supernatural powers?

"Stop the teasing, Thran," Bard cut in, slipping his hands under your shirt and kissing your shoulder. You melted into his touch, comforted that he took care of you like this when he continued, "This poor sweet thing hasn't even all her clothes off. It would be a shame to make her blush like this and not see it"

"Oh, and who's fault is that? Certainly not mine, I have been waiting so long I was close to wrapping things up myself"

Bard pulled your shirt over your head, covering your sight long enough for a wave of braveness to surge through you. "I sure hope you wrap it up," you said and heard both of them snicker.

"Do not worry," Thranduil began.

"There is enough protection for weeks," Bard finished and the band of your bra snapped against your skin.

Despite the warmness of the room your nipples puckered as soon as the lace fell away, growing hard under the avid eyes, cerulean and green, so different yet similar in the way both are dominated by the blackness of their pupils.

Bard's hands came up to your front and he cupped your breasts first tenderly, mapping out how perfectly they fit into his large palm, then rougher as his fingers found the hard buts of your nipples and rubbed them between them until every pinch had your legs trembling and you whimpering.

You cried out, body bucking on its own.

"Oh how nice," Thranduil's comment was full of sarcasm, followed by a click of his tongue against teeth, "Why, let me lay here and play all on your own, why not? After all, I am nothing but pure decoration"

Bard huffed a puff of hot air onto you, "Grow a pair of tits like this and maybe I will get to you first"

Thranduil's dark eyebrows raised to his hairline, passing an unspoken threat that had Bard scoff before he grabbed the waistband of your jeans. He pulled them down slowly, getting on his knees as he did and you were acutely aware of how wet your panties were when you feel his lips kiss your ass.

"This must be uncomfortable," he murmured, holding one leg to help you step out of the jeans. He kneaded your thigh, fingertips against muscles and flesh, before moving on to do the same on your other leg.

He used the moment where you lifted the second leg, to dive his hand to your cunt again, dragging his knuckles over the dark-colored patch, and he laughed as you buckled into the touch. "Oh, the fun we'll have"

Finally, undressed to your panties that cling to your crotch like a second skin, you were free to walk toward the bed. You would've lied if you said you didn't swing your hips a little bit, relishing the raspy groan this evoked from Bard.

Feeling like you should await further commands you stopped (un)patiently when your knees hit the mattress.

Thranduil's lips curved into a devilish smirk at this sign of submission.

He let his legs fall open wider, waving in an elegant gesture into the space in between. "Come here, sweetheart"

The bed was raised and you rose to your tiptoes and, making sure your eyes were trained on Thranduil, you crawled over the mattress, knees digging into the silk duvet he had promised you.

He reached out as soon as he could, one hand curving around your neck to pull and you landed directly on him, legs spread on either side of his thighs, hands somehow, despite their nervous trembling, found their place against his collarbones, standing out from his broad chest rather delicate.

Not that you hadn't suspected and expected him to be big, but, fuck, he was long and hard, a pulsing pressure against your stomach.

"Be a good girl and remove this unnecessary fabric, will you?" Thranduil whispered and you scrambled to lose your panties, throwing them off into the distance only to turn again and find him smirking. "I meant my boxers, but it fills me with joy seeing you this eager"

Lowering your head to hide your laughter, you grabbed his boxers. He lifted his hips just barely for you to pull on the black boxers, rolling them over his tight ass, and after giving you a loving pat on the head, he crossed his arms behind his head, relaxing into the pillows.

His cock sprung free from the containment of the tight boxers, twitching as it hit his abdomen and you felt your throat dry out.

Of course, he was smooth everywhere; not one bit of hair covering the flushed beauty of him.

You sat up, hands pushed into his flexing thighs, to take him all in. No one should look this perfect, this utterly ridiculously beautiful, right? There should be something on him, a scar, a mole, anything to prove he wasn't straight-up carved out of marble, but you found nothing.

You glared at him as you sat down a bit lower, ass in the air, and spit into your hand before you wrapped it around his cock. The sight of his size had your mouth water, and seeing how your fingers couldn't meet had your cunt clench around nothing.

No way any of their preparation had been enough for this intimidating masterpiece of Mother Nature's creation.

"Tell me, how is it fair that you are rich and have a dick like that?" you asked and just as Thranduil opened his pretty lips for probably another witty answer, you interrupted him by letting his cock slide over your tongue deep into your throat until you gagged around him.

Whatever he wanted to say was forgotten.

Instead, Thranduil groaned a low: "Fuck" and threw his head back.

You wanted to see him come undone, to unravel him until he lost this bratty attitude and reduce him to that wild behavior he had shown in the club.

You had the feeling that that's only possible if he thought he had the upper hand.

You bobbed your head, taking him a bit past what you could manage without gagging before lifting your head again.

"Use me," you said and his eyes flew open.

"What?"

Cocking your head, you shot him a confused look, while spreading his precum over the head of his cock with your thumb. "I said," – you spit again, mixing it and coating his dick further – "Fuck - my - mouth"

Every word was punctuated with a kiss to his slit, and you swore you could see his eyes darken further; black taking over blue – desire fought whatever held him back to fucking give into whatever you offered.

Behind you, Bard swore nearly breathlessly: "Fuck me" though you stayed focused on Thranduil.

"Are you sure?" his voice was raw, his facade of composure cracking ever so slightly.

"Wouldn't ask if I wasn't"

His hand was behind your head in seconds, drawing you down his cock again and you opened your mouth wide to not hurt him. He pushed you down until you choked on him and although your eyes watered, you couldn't take them away from the sight of his mouth and the low throaty groans that passed the opened lips.

The lack of air cut off your moan, the tip of his cock bullying the back of your throat just barely short of painful. Reminding yourself to breathe through your nose, you inhaled deeply.

"Good girl," Thranduil's hips bucked, pulling back until he was only half-lodged in your throat, "Just like that, fuck"

He gave an experimental thrust, keeping his sharp eyes on you, his hand in your neck, ready to stop if he saw any discomfort, but all you showed him was how you choked on spit and salty precum.

"Oh, you sweet girl. Behaving so well," his voice was ruined, and he thrusted again, punching away the little breath left in the tiniest space that wasn't occupied by his thick cock.

This was by far the first time you have ever given a blowjob, but it was a first to let someone use you like this. Controlling when you could suck or when you just had to take what he gave you.

And oh– how much you loved it.

So much that you wanted to rub your thighs together only to be stopped by rough hands grabbing them.

A confused sound left you, no more than a choked "Huh?" vibrating around Thranduils cock continuing to fuck into you, just like you had asked him, hindering you from turning to see what Bard was up to.

He didn't leave you wondering for long, just as Thranduil's thrusts took on a sharper edge, hitting the back of your throat every time, filling your mouth like no man ever had, Bard's flattened tongue licked through your exposed cunt and the moan you let out sounded so pornographic you surprised yourself.

"Do it again," Thranduil took in the sight of your wet lips, the drool dripping out of the corners of your mouth, his cock disappearing so deep inside you that felt him in your lungs, "Fuck, Bard, do that again now!–"

He talked for you, praising Bard as he licked your pussy again, this time using his fingers to pry you open further and there was the delicious scratch of his beard stubbles, burning on your skin.

You cried out, tried to do, stopped by Thranduils cock stuffing your mouth again and again, his hands curled around your neck as if he wanted to feel the imprint of himself pushing through.

"Prettiest woman out there," Thranduil groaned. His thump reached over to stuff some of the spit back into your mouth, opening your jaw up impossibly wide.

Bard's tongue was as precise as their fingers have been, covering your folds, fucking into your hole and sucking on your clit with expertise that no man should be allowed to have. Two of his wet fingers slid into you while his tongue mercilessly attacked your clit, the other hand buried itself in the soft flesh of your ass, kneading and pulling, opening you up further for his face.

"C'mon," his voice was muffled by your thighs, drowning you in his accent while he drowned his tongue inside your opening, circling the rim in maddening figures, "Give me one more, gorgeous."

Electricity flowed through your body, hot tingles of nothing but fire spreading into your fingertips wrapped around the inches of Thranduil's cock that didn't fit into your mouth, to your nipples that brushed against his muscular thighs.

"Fuck Bard, please–"

Not sure what you were begging for, for his tongue to stop the attack on your clit, for his fingers constantly finding that spot inside your spongy walls that had you wailing and rolling your hips into his face, or for him to get on with it and get you over that build-up.

Bard kept going, somehow finding a rhythm that matched the one his husband hammered down your throat and you were helplessly stuck trying to hold on.

Until you lost the fight to keep yourself upright. Your hands slipped on Thranduil's thighs, your body crashed down and if it wouldn't have been for his quick reaction of pulling himself out of you, you would for sure have impaled your head on his still hard and throbbing cock.

Instead, it just wetly slapped your face as you collapsed into his lap.

Bard's rough hands grip your thighs, blunt nails digging into soft flesh as he maneuvered your legs around to give his head more space.

The other pair of hands, soft, delicate, Thranduil's, cupped your face, lifting it gently yet demanding, giving him the perfect view of your cute face, all scrunched up as you gasped and mewled, and your backside, ass arched into the air under Bard's commanding hands.

"Such a beautiful thing," Thranduil mused.

His fingers danced over your cheeks until he used another whine, another desperate moan when Bard alternated between open-mouthed, sloppy kisses and using the point of his tongue, to slip his thumb into your mouth.

As soon as he did, you closed your lips around him. Staring up at him, begging him silently for a release only Bard could give you, you started sucking on his finger as you would have done on his cock if not for the stars dancing in your field of vision.

Thranduil tutted, "So needy as well. Bard, if you were so kind as to stop, I can not stand seeing her this distraught. I think you are working her up far too much"

"Nooo! Please, please, I'm alright, I'm– please, so close," The desperate scream that came out of your mouth at his words was probably loud enough to alert the neighbors, followed by a cry and sob as Bard kissed your clit one last time.

"Of course, babe" The words were muffled, spoken directly into your dripping cunt.

Which he then shuffled away from, beard stubble scratching you, his fingers letting loose on your thighs.

"No, no please, please," you were already babbling, reaching behind you in a sad effort to force him back between your legs, "Please, I'll be good, please!"

"You sweet thing," Thranduils arms wrapped around your middle, pulling you up into a kiss, "I think–" his voice dropped deeper and you heard the rustle of plastic, felt Bard's hand rolling the condom over Thranduil's cock pressing into your stomach, "–you have behaved so well, you deserve a reward"

You nodded fast, legs spread wide apart sitting on his thighs and your cunt stretched open.

Staring into his eyes, you saw how much his pupils were dilated, how he only watched you, only saw you.

You could see and feel his chest lift as his cock slid through your folds, finding you drenched from all their playing around.

"Eyes stay on me"

Your pussy was wet enough for the tip of his cock to slip right into you and right away you wanted to shut your eyes at the sensation of him spearing you open.

"Please–," you gasped, and tried to move your hips to get more of him into you than just those few inches, but he didn't budge, didn't loosen his grip on your waist, "Please, Thranduil. Green, my color is green, fuck me, I can take it!"

"Yes, and if not," his voice was back to the self-controlled powerful tone, "I'll make you take it, sweetheart."

Thranduil let go of you the second he snapped his hips upwards and suddenly, you were split open.

You keened as his cock sunk into you in one fast, swift, hard movement. There was a burn, in your thighs as you flexed them, in your throat as you cried out, in your pussy at the intrusion of his long cock.

When Thranduil bottomed out, his head shoved against your cervix, the whole length forcing you to stretch, to make room, and fuck you wanted your pussy to be carved into the shape of that perfect cock.

It should've been uncomfortable, but you only groaned as you appreciated the second he gave you to relax while making room where they shouldn't be some.

"Fuck–" he moaned, "you are tight, so fucking tight"

Bard moved next to you, and you could only get one short look at his naked body, the brown hair coating his muscular chest, the happy trail leading down to his thick cock, before Thranduil began to fuck you.

His strokes were fast, hips snapping into you and nearly throwing you off his lap at the speed and brute force and you fell into his chest, clinging to his arms.

This, him rutting into you like your pussy could quench a year-long thirst at a punishing pace, this was surely the epitome of getting fucked. How he knew how to fuck you just right, hitting your g-spot with every single thrust was a riddle you couldn't and wouldn't want to solve; not with his cock penetrating you hard enough you swore you felt him in your throat as you called for him through moans.

You had no chance of even trying to meet his thrusts, not while he pounded into you like a madman.

"F-Fuck, good fucking girl– so tight," Thranduil groaned out his gritted teeth, his face turning a beautiful shade of rosé, "Even tighter than you, Bard–"

Bard, you totally forgot he was even there, laughed and moved on the bed again, slipping back behind you, "Yeah? Tell me more"

And you wanted to scream, to yell at them to stop talking in words that only added to the overstimulation, that spun around your head without meaning because how could anything have ever any meaning more important that Thranduil's cock fucking you a little further, a little deeper.

"So tight, s-so hot, clamping down on me like this sweet, fuck, pussy doesn't want me to leave"

"Mhm, I can see that," Bard hummed and his hands caressed your shaking thighs, before leaving his mark on your ass with a soft slap that had you wailing into Thranduil's shoulder.

It was too much and not enough at the same time.

You were going to lose your mind like this, fucked to near-unconsciousness.

"More, I–" your speech was slurred, brain scrambled into loose words hanging onto thin threads.

You tried to hold on to Thranduil but it was impossible with your sweat and the glitter covering him.

Luckily for you, Bard found the time to stop ever kindly toying with the pearl of your clit to lean forward.

"Put them inside his hair, Darlin'. He doesn't mind" There was a lopsided smirk on his face that you could barely see out of the corners of your eyes.

You still hadn't stopped looking at Thranduil.

The attempt to tentatively guide your hands to his head was prevailed by another particular hard thrust, and your fingers slid through blonde locks, grabbing onto them as you fell back down on Thranduil's cock.

You tugged on them much harsher than intended.

Thranduil's eyes blew wide.

You wanted to apologize when his lips quivered and his hips snapped into yours even faster.

Quickly you reached for him again, nails scraping his scalp as you readjusted, gripping more, much tighter.

"That's it, Darlin'.. that's my girl," Bard leaned back, and not shortly after his fingers were back on your clit, tapping intact of Thranduil's thrusts.

It was only a matter of seconds until the pleasure became too much.

Thranduil's hips fell into a stutter as your walls clenched around him; even for someone with his stamina the heat of you surrounding him, and your sweet moans drove him into a raging need to imprint the shape of his cock inside you.

"F-fuck.. Thran–" you whimpered, hands fisting his hair, trying to get a literal grip as reality started to shift around you.

Outside, close to the windows, there was a whistle as the first of many fireworks greet the New Year and just as Thranduil pushed you over the edge, your whole body shaking and tensing up as you screamed his name, the darkness of the sky exploded into an arrangement of thousands of colors.

The white fuzziness that enveloped your vision transformed into creeping darkness at the edges.

Your eyelids closed shut as you descended into blissful oblivion.

When you came back to yourself, it was to the murmur of deep voices mixed into the loud bangs of fireworks.

For a moment you had no idea where you were, enveloped in a haziness inside your mind, but the gentle nudge of something against your lips forced you to open your eyes.

There were two faces very close to yours, was the first realization.

Then, following up, you let out a giggle.

"Don't look so concerned, I'm fine," you greedily took a sip from the water bottle that the very flushed blonde held in his hands.

"You said it was possible you would cry, not bloody pass out on Thran's dick!" Bard wiped the drops you couldn't swallow away from the corner of your mouth with one hand and continued to rub your thighs with his others.

You hadn't noticed they were still shaking.

"Yeah, that never happened before," you shot a smirk up to Thranduil, "Never had a guy fuck me like this as well"

He snorted into the bottle of water, "Believe me, I never had someone lose their consciousness on me before as well. I came shortly after you and when I opened my eyes to find you completely out of it I nearly passed out on the spot as well"

"Would have been quite a shock for you," you said and let your head fall to the side to look at Bard, "both of us orgasm into fainting"

"Not funny, Darlin'," Bard warned, though he laughed as you stuck his tongue out at him.

Stretching your hands over your head and raking them into the air until your bones cracked, you sighed happily. Blissfulness was all you felt after cumming harder than you ever had.

For the first time, you could really enjoy the sight of both men in the nude, you hadn't had the chance to appreciate how fit Bard was while Thranduil had fucked you and you reached out to run your hands over his chest. Twirling some of the hair on there, traveling lower to scratch nails down his happy trail like a route description straight to his still-hard cock.

Stopping shortly before his pubic hair, you glanced up at him, a coy smile playing your lips. "You haven't cum yet." It was much a purr as it was an invitation, your legs falling open right when Bard's hand came to a still on your thighs.

He shook his head, chestnut hair swaying with the movement. "No, Darlin', no! You just passed out. I won't force myself on you. Thran can suck me off or I'll take care of it myself if you want to rest"

Your heart contracted in adoration for this man, and an embarrassing amount of slick gushed out of you.

"Bard," you said, voice wavering as you suppressed a whimper. Somehow this turned you on even more, "Bard, there is enough time to be this caring later but please–" Once again you were begging, and the man wasn't even inside of you yet, "please fuck me"

On the other side of you, Thranduil chuckled, "Insatiable, I knew it. Bard is right though, if you are not well, then he can fuck me"

Slowly but surely you were losing your patience.

As sweet as their concern was, the fact that these two gods were both sitting naked in front of you, one sweaty because he just knocked you out, and the other hard as steel and flushed, only aroused that much more.

Without saying anything else, you maneuvered yourself in the bed until you could rest your head on Thranduil's stretched legs and angled your legs in an invitation.

"Come on you stud. It's the new year after all"

The brunette scanned you with a piercing gaze, you could see him struggling with himself, but the twitch of his cock told you what he'd decided before he nodded.

"Thran, condom please"

You giggled again, excitement and the need to be catapulted to new heights spreading warmly in your stomach.

As Bard put the condom on, you wiggled around, your hand on the move to beat time, but Thranduil reached over you.

He caught your wrist before you reached your center, grasping it with his much larger hand and pulling your arm back with him enough that it forced your shoulders up, a "Tze, tze, tze" admonishing the behavior.

"Impatient brat, make up your mind!" he hissed and tugged some more until you whined, "Feel free to use those pathetic little fingers, knowing they will never fill you the way Bard could" Now that Thranduil knew you were on the same page, his voice dropped into that rebuking tone that left you whining and pouting.

He was so good, so fucking mean in the right amount you never knew you needed a man to act in bed.

"I just wanted–"

"I know baby," he cooed, and patted your cheek, "you just need your cunt to be filled, right? Just need to be stuffed full. Bard will do that for you, no need to worry your pretty head about it"

"That's right, Darlin'," Bard shuffled in between your legs, hooking them both over his thighs as he leaned over you. His cock landed on your abdomen, pressing against your pulsating clit, "Tell me what you want," he grabed himself, guiding it slowly toward where you leaked for him, completely drenched from the orgasms they had already given to you.

"I can go slow, or I can go fast"

You contemplated for a moment and lift the free hand to stroke over his handsome face. His beard tickled the inside of your palm, the chestnut waves silky as the sheets.

"Slow," you whispered, "I want you slow first"

"Alright," he gently nudged his nose against yours before capturing your lips in a kiss.

Although you were still sensitive, still pulsing and throbbing due to Thranduil (who caressed your face and your neck, having let to of your hand to arrange the pillows in his back for more comfort), you relished the stretch and sting of Bard as he guided his cock into you.

He was thicker than Thranduil, not by much but that inch made itself known, splitting you open heavenly so. You gasped into the kiss, giving up the fight of tongues to swallow back the drool that collected the further Bard pushed inside you.

It's just a little bit, one inch at a time, but you cried out all the same.

The thrum of excitement pulses, leaves you trembling and begging in incoherent moans and whimpers.

You could feel him throbbing inside you.

"Good girl," Thranduil's praise washed over you, chilled fingers tweaking one of your nipples as a reward for the exhausted smile you gifted him at that, "Has anyone ever told you that you make just the sweetest sounds? Give me one more?"

He twisted your other nipple; you moaned again.

"Fuck, Thran, you were so right," Bard grunted, his fingernails digging into where he held you by the waist, leaving crescent moon-shaped imprints that you hoped wouldn't fade for a while, "She's fuckin' tight; how are you still this tight?"

"For you," you fisted your hands into his hair again, hoping he enjoyed it just as much as his husband, "J-just for you, everything, ngh– for you"

With one last push, he sheated himself in you completely, filling you up just like Thranduil told you he would, stretching your walls thin.

You felt him everywhere, in every part of your body.

Every nerve, every tendon, every cell burns and was lit aflame, sizzling hot fire licking your skin and bursting when he dragged himself out, leaving barely the tip and pushed back in.

His cock nestled deep inside you, Bard stilled.

There was a silent vigilance in his mesmerizing green eyes. "Talk to me beautiful, is this alright?"

You nodded and pulled him down on his hair into another kiss. "Yes, god, yes"

That's all he needed to hear and while licking over your lips, entangling your tongue with his playfully, he set a slow rhythm. Nevertheless the tempo, he brushed that spot inside you with every stroke.

Pins and needles all over your skin, goosebumps wherever Thranduil's fingers wandered.

There were more fireworks, lightening up the bedroom filled with gasps and grunts, whispers of encouragement and begging. The sound of Bard's hips snapping into yours, the wet squelch of his cock driving itself inside of your pussy again and again.

"There we go," he murmured and positioned his arms on either side of you, using the balance it gives him to roll his hips instead of just thrusting. Mumbling between kisses, he talked against your lips: "Aren't you just the sweetest? Darlin', I couln' believe my eyes when I saw you in that club, shining far brighter than anyone else"

He swallowed your gasps with kisses, nipping at your lip then moved to your earlobe, "You are so perfect, letting us fuck you like this"

In one swift movement, he dragged Thranduil towards him, long blonde hair curling at the edges hanging into your vision in a starlight waterfall. Their kiss left you breathless and you would have felt left out if Thranduil didn't lean down further to you, kissing your lips upside down.

This time it was his fingers that found your slick, poor and abused clit. A couple of firm circles had your hips bucking up to meet Thranduil's fingers, crying out for both men in a mix of their names.

You whimpered as the next orgasm build up fucking fast, your breath catching in your throat.

"Bard," your hips moved on their own, trying to get him to fuck you faster, "Please– more, I need m-more,"

"Darlin'," Bards forehead pressed against yours, his grunts strained as if he was holding back himself but kept the same and steady pace you asked him for, "You sure?"

Grabbing his hair again, you weaved your fingers through it, tousling it haphazardly, achieving nothing but adding to its wild appearance.

When you met his gaze again, his eyes were fixed on you, it felt electric and charged, akin to lightning, causing you to momentarily forget to breathe.

"Yes"

He obeyed instantly, with the next thrust you screamed at the pure force of it. Bard wa spiraling the same way you were, becoming erratic as his teeth grazed over your collarbone, biting every mark they have left on you.

Raising your legs to keep him close, your ankles locked behind his back, heels digging into the tight muscles of his ass. The new angle allowed him to drive impossibly deep, reaching pleasure points inside you you didn't knew existed before him.

The pleasure was blinding, high electricity running through your veins and into every part of your body and soul. This was nothing you have ever experienced before, not with anyone and they made sure it would never feel like this with anyone ever.

Bard, feeling how your walls clenched around him, fluttering and pulsating, begging him to stay inside, sucked on your nipple, hard.

"I need you to come, fuck. Let me feel this pussy come, I'm right there with you," he rasped, voice like gravel, leaving you to scream for him, head knocking into Thranduil's legs, who dared to add to the crescendo of your pleasure and pressed down on your clit.

You found yourself gripping the bed covers, fingers twisting, in an attempt to anchor yourself, sobbing and shaking.

Instead, the coil inside you snapped.

Soaking Bard's cock choking and sobbing, tears spilling out of the corners of your eyes as every limp of you tensed up, he pushed you over the edge, his moans in your ear the most erotic thing.

You felt Bard following you, felt him spilling inside the condom, his cock twitching inside of you as he reached his peak moaning and burying himself to the deepest point, hips flushed close against yours, still rolling and shoving into you.

Moments of silence and heavy breathing followed. Of broken sobs, hushed murmurs of praise, even more affirmations.

Thranduil scootched closer to you, laying down next to you while Bard's weight on top of you was just what you needed. The heaviness of his much larger frame and Thranduil's long arms wrapped around you held back the cold that threatened to take a hold of you as the shivers of pleasure subsided.

"Gods," Bard exhaled, chest moving, pressing more into you. "That was something"

"Happy New Year" Thranduil rumbled.

Minutes passed, more fireworks exploded, celebrations of the New Year while you weren't even sure you even knew what time was anymore.

Bard tried to move, though your legs must have cramped for they felt disconnected to your body.

"Darlin'," he dropped another kiss to your neck, laughing low as your head lolled to the side.

"Mhm-mhm," you groaned, eyes still shut close, "Stay"

His lips moved to your ear, continuing to bathe you in soft kisses that leave you floating in that blissful headspace. "I know, I know–"

Thranduil's hands cupped your face, caressing your glowing cheeks and wiped away the loose tears that rolled over them. "Aftercare first, then cuddling," he whispered and cradled your head, massaging the spot in your neck that started to ache after Bard had folded you in half.

Despite knowing he was right, that you needed to use the bathroom, the warmth their bodies provided held you back.

You whined, arching your back into Bard's chest as he pried your legs away and slowly pulled himself out of you, stopping when your hips twitched at the overstimulation and only continued after a soothing kiss.

As soon as he left to stand up, tying up the used condom and going into the ensuite bathroom, Thranduil's steady hands on your back helped you sit up on the edge of the bed, where he wrapped the covers around your shoulders and gently tapped your nose, before scratching his nails over your head.

"You did very well, sweetheart," One finger tipped your chin up. "Thank you, you are a wonderful partner."

Thranduil, crouched to your level in front of you, still naked as the day he was born, simply picked you up. Legs folded over one arm, your head fell against his glittery chest that was covered in red streaks of where your nails had scratched him.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up"

The afterglow of the very much fantastic sex lulled all three of you in a comfort that blurred the barriers of you being a stranger in their home, laughter and giggles as the shower washed away sweat and glitter.

While there was a liveness to massaging soap into hair, hands rubbing away soreness and splashing water around until the mirror was all but fogged up and steam filled the entire bathroom, the exhaustion of the night caught up close after Thranduil dressed you in one of Bard's large sweaters.

Smelling like wood shavings, pine and toothpaste, hair still damp and eyes dropping close even though you tried to stay awake, Thranduil carried you to the bed.

The sheets were changed, encasing you in laundry detergent and brushing against your naked legs as you let yourself be placed on the pillows.

Outside, the world still celebrated and you did as well, in your own way.

There was a shuffle, a murmur of voices, then the bed dipped on either side as Bard climbed to your right side and Thranduil to your left, leaving not much room between all of you, legs entangling with each other, more giggling until everyone lied down comfortably.

Face tugged under Bard's chin, one arm of his reaching over your head so that Thranduil could nestle his face into it and the blonde wrapped around your back, you were surrounded by something you couldn't put into words.

"Maybe– maybe you can stay for breakfast and lunch," Bard's low words were murmured with a deep sigh, his other hand sliding down under his sweater, resting just below where your heart sung contenly.

"And dinner," Thranduil added and you heard him kiss Bard's hand.

"No talky-talky," you snuggled your face deeper into Bard, nose bumping into his neck, "But I would like that, very much"

Just as you fell asleep, held tightly by them both, you could hear them exchange quiet I love you's and you smiled, feeling their love seep deep into your bones.

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the-autistic-vulcan · 11 months

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Thranduil Hot Takes #1

Request by @lemonivall : Can you do Thranduil with prompt #6, #27, and #29?

6) Hobbies

I like to think his hobbies consist of more hands-on things

One thing I think he'd have an affinity for embroidery - I mean, have you seen this man's robes?

Along with very long and slender fingers, his hands were practically made to handle a needle and thread

one thing he'd totally make for you is a handkerchief with elvish written on it

something like "beloved"

I also like to think he's a bit of a sap, so he definitely sews/crochets flowers for you

but yes, he is a embroidery kind of man - we stan this, we need more of this

27) How they sleep

Considering he is a king, he sleeps with mountains of pillows

I like to think he just brings pillows from the various corners of Middle-Earth he's visited and just sleeps with them

He's also compensating slightly for how lonely he feels

Sometimes, when he can't sleep, he does tuck a pillow into his arms and hug it

His bed is also massive as well

Common sleep positions he enjoys is either spooning or the mountaineer

He is a light sleeper too, so the slightest movement could wake him up

It wouldn't be unusual to sometimes just notice him staring up at the ceiling and just stare

29) How they express love (platonically and/or romantically)

Platonic:

awww, you're friends? you're really lucky then

it is not easy to be friends with him: 1) he's a king, so he is busy, 2) he has a lot of emotional baggage he hasn't been able to filter out yet so be prepared for a storm

he likes giving you head pats - idk, maybe it's just because of how small you are compared to him (bro's like 6'7)

he also shares his personal stories with you - he trusts you enough to hear them

Romantic:

this makes me so soft

like is said in the hobbies section, he is a sap, so expect much affection

he picks you up and hugs you tightly, mainly due to the fact he is super touch starved

this man is also a big kisser - kisses are a bug part of his love language

he loves kissing your nose, cheek and hand - but boy does he love your lips

he also is big on gift giving - one big, lavish gift after the next

#thranduil oropherion x reader #thranduil x reader #thranduil #thranduil headcanon #the hobbit #an unexpected journey #desolation of smaug #battle of the five armies #lee pace #mirkwood #middle earth

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multific · 8 months

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Whatever the Queen Wants

Thranduil x Reader

Summary: On a boring day you have time to walk around, and recall different memories from your past.

You loved taking walks in the woods and your gardens.

Seeing your kingdom bloom and glow just did something to you, it was special.

Spring was your favourite season. Seeing new life everywhere around you made you want to be a mother once again.

You could still recall when your son was born.

Legolas became the center of your world in a simple moment. As soon as the midwife-elf placed him in your arms, it was over.

Both for you and for your husband.

He was the cutest little elfling you have ever seen. Looked just like your husband but behaved just like you.

Even when he was little, you took him out to the gardens on walks, showing him the world. Every single time you looked at all the different rose bushes or hydrangeas all you could see was him as a little elf let's elfling playing amongst them, you just wished you had something to capture that moment with so you would be able to show it to your husband.

Now Legolas was a fully grown up elf, who was more interested in all the different kinds of fighting styles than nature, and also your husband did sometimes had time to spend with you right now he was too busy with his kingly duties, so you were left alone to walk the woods and your gardens.

And that is exactly what you were doing that day. You woke up and somehow amazingly sunny it was that day, so you made your way out to your favorite place in the garden. Your favorite place was where there were these huge hydrangea bushes, all different colors and shapes and sizes you loved every single one of them.

That part of the garden was a present from your husband to you as an anniversary gift. Since he knew how much you adored flowers, he added every single flower that she liked to the garden just to please you.

There were different statues as well in the garden, all of them beautiful.

You left out a long side on your way to your favorite bench. If only you could have the two men who meant so much to you there with you.

You felt so lonely at that moment, it might sound arrogant to some people that the queen was complaining but you really were rather sad that you had to spend such a nice day all alone although you did enjoy every second of it and you did make the best of it, but you still missed both of your boys.

Maybe that's why the idea of having another child was so inviting to you, then you would have finally someone who would need your attention all day long and they would give your attention all day long as well before they grow up. You missed that, you missed having someone who relied on you so much. Legolas it's already too old for him need you in such a way. Even If he did sometimes come over to you asking for your advice it wasn't the same.

When you tried to hint a new baby to your husband but he was too oblivious for your tries or he simply didn’t want to tell you that he did not want another child.

So, you didn’t bring the topic up after that. Although, it did hurt a little bit, you were happy with your life. Even if you felt lonely at times like this, you were happy.

“Naneth,” you heard someone say.

“Oh, Legolas. What are you doing here?” you asked as your son came over to you and sat down next to you.

“You looked lonely, Mother. So, I came to keep you company. Is Father still in a meeting?”

You offered him a kind smile, it warmed your heart that he thought about you.

“He is. But you don’t have to be here, I am not lonely, I have my flowers, you should practice.”

“Nonsense. No training or practice is more important than you, Naneth.”

“Thank you. How was your day?” he always loved to show or talk to you about his training. Ever since he was little he was a quick learner.

“Really good…” then he went on and on about his day. Telling you everything about swords, bows and more.

If you were honest you never truly understood everything he said or referred to but you still listened with a smile. Seeing him be so interested and happy about something warmed your heart.

You listened to everything he had to say. Every single word.

You saw so much of your husband in him. But you were there as well. You still couldn’t believe that you had the privilege to be the mother of this exceptional elf.

“Adar!” said Legolas out of nowhere which made you look the way he was looking. And you saw your husband, walking towards the two of you.

“Nin hén, Nin mel, what are you two doing out here in such an hour?” you failed to notice that the sun started to go down.

“Mother was lonely so I came over to give her some company.” replied Legolas as Thranduil joined you.

“It is getting late, it would be best if we all headed to rest.” you said and both of them agreed. Thranduil guided you towards your chambers after you said your goodbyes to your son.

“We have a wonderful child.” he said as you laid down in bed.

“Indeed, I cannot believe he is so big, I feel like I can still recall holding him as a young elfling.” you let out a long sigh at the happy memory as you felt your husband’s arms move you towards him. “I have been thinking, Nin mel.”

“About?”

“Another child.” Thranduil almost jumped up as you said that.

“A-another?”

“I have been feeling lonely with Legolas leaving us so frequently and with you being in meetings all day. I always wanted a daughter as well, you know that.”

“I do. I know it.”

“It was a silly idea.” you said after his long silence. “Forget it, Thranduil. I’ll be fine.”

“We can have another child. I’m only thinking of ways to ensure it would be a girl.” his confession nearly made you choke on air, then you smiled.

“No need. I would be happy with a boy as well.” you said as you pulled him closer and kissed him.

Thranduil knew, whatever the Queen of Mirkwood wanted, she got it.

Translation:

Naneth – Mother

Adar – Father

Nin hén – My child

Nin mel - My love

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster @capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @noname2246

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

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justafairytailofinnocence · 11 days

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Caged birds with broken wings

Chapter 2

A/n: I've made chapter 2, enjoy :).

Chapter 1

I was having the same dream again; I was light in thin air. My movements were fluid as if there were no gravity to keep my legs grounded. My right leg stayed in place whilst my left leg was raised, turning inward toward my supporting leg. I spun over and over without the slightest feeling of light-headedness or dizziness. No matter where I moved, the gold plate within the birdcage did not shatter. My arms raised in mid-position as I extended my left leg, hoping to free myself from this prison eventually. My chest felt light; my mind had no fear, even within this cage. I felt the quick flashes of wind touch my face with every motion. I wanted to spread my wings. I wanted to be free. I wanted to be released from my cage. I wanted to reach the world outside. I. wanted. to. Fly. The same spinning visage of the golden bars occurred repeatedly, experiencing the same routine. The golden plate never shattered beneath me, holding my weight. A sense of comfort washed over me, as though seeing the same scenery brought ease to my mind. As I spun, I felt a surge of adrenaline to try something different, to spin in the other direction, to break the dance routine. I tried to push my arms down and lower my left leg. To no avail did my body react; I still spun. The second time, I pushed my arms down slightly harder, yet again to no avail did my body react. The third time, I pushed even harder, the pressure becoming uncomfortable; despite myself spinning, I pushed more not giving up. I pushed—spinning more—I pushed—spinning further—I pushed harder—I can feel the pain rising—I. just. need. to. push. harder. I could feel my face flinching from the pain rising in my limbs going against the force keeping me dancing. Eventually, with one final push, I yelled out, falling to my front as my arms moved to prevent my face from hitting the ground. I breathed heavily, in and out, as my body lay on the ground. Hair strands poked out from the once neatened bun as sweat slid down my face. The final scene panned out to witness me lying there, still, static, trapped within the golden bird cage.

My eyes opened as my vision tried to adjust to make sense of my reality. Once again, it was a nightmare or inspiration. I placed my hands on my face, rubbing my eyes awake; it’s not the first time my sleep schedule has gone off. Once my eyes had adjusted, I noticed I was at my desk with my computer opened from this morning. As my hand ran along my head, I felt something attached to my forehead—paper. I ripped it off, holding it in front of me, realising it was a character sheet for the fae queen, Aelwynn. How late did I stay up last night? I must’ve been writing the first chapter; I recall updating something—huh? On the sheet containing Aelwynn, I noticed her hair was white. I didn’t recall colouring her, but I couldn’t exactly remember what happened last night. As I examined her hair, my finger ran down the traced lines. I quickly grabbed my pencil, drawing extra features of her appearance and outfit. As the pencil traced the outline, it turned into a white gown flowing in motion with the wind as she held a staff made of the oldest oak and decorated in diamonds and quarts. To top it off, I added a crown placed at the back, with pointed edges facing up made from silvery steel. As my hand holding the pencil came off the page, I stopped to glance at her new design. My eyes lit up with amazement as my lips became agape; I was in utter awe of my new creation. Yes! This! This is Aelwynn, the way I wanted to interpret her, an otherworldly beauty that’s kind and graceful, how a true fae queen should look!

However, my eyes glance over to another piece of paper to the side, one depicting a rough sketch of Sarek, my expression nearly dropped. I had figured out Aelwynn, but I’ve yet to figure out how to design the Pirate King. I placed the rough sketch into the pile of papers and neatly folded them on my computer desk. Glancing at the computer, I saw the first few pages written within the document, and the pages went into detail regarding the first drafts. The first couple of chapters read of the pair's first encounter crossing paths: The fae queen danced around the forest alone on an island untouched by man, guarded by heavy forces of magic. She protected the will of fairies and the sources of time. One day, the shield guarding the forest broke. A band of corsairs slashed their way through the dense greenery in search of a plethora of magic jewels. Instead, what they stumbled upon was worth much more than any coffer full of gold or silver. Standing in front of Sarek’s gaze was a woman draped in white, her hair of silver and skin of ice. She danced with the younger fairies of the forest. In his greed, he was smitten; he ordered his men to take her and everything she had. She fell prey. Tears shed down her smooth cheek; she pleaded ‘to take her instead, leave her domain in peace, and they shall be granted with what they desired most’. They complied with her request, binding her in rope, leading her into a world not of her own. She gazed into the eyes of a man whose greed was far more than his ambition; his appearance was—

I jolted from my seat upon hearing my phone’s ringtone; looking at the number, I recognised it was my mum. I picked up the phone, holding it to my ear. I was expecting a ‘Hello, aren’t you going to tell me about your day?’ or ‘You didn’t ring me yesterday; how did you go?’.

I picked up the phone with a “Hi—mo—uh mom”, I said with a slight stutter.

“Y/n, oh, it’s good to hear your voice; I was nearly worried you weren’t going to pick up yesterday,” she said in a high-engaging tone.

“Yeah, sorry I was bus—”.

“So? How was it?” She sounded excited, yet I forgot what happened.

“Was what?” I replied, confused.

“The ballet lessons, the one you attended yesterday.” Once I remembered, the thought sank in; I hadn’t told her these were private lessons.

“O-oh, the lessons, yeah, it’s excellent; I’ve made many connections already.” My lips curved into a smile, trying to make my voice sound sincere.

“Excellent! See what I told you? You're already shining brightly”. I smiled to myself; hearing her words made me feel heartened.

“So, tell me, what’s the instructor like? Is he supportive of you? I know you have trouble speaking to people, and I want to make sure—”

“He’s fine, Mom. He’s—” I pause for a moment, thinking back to the time I met him in that room alone. When our eyes met, I didn’t flinch nor look away. His eyes were like ice, and his hair was like snow; it ignited something I hadn’t remembered in a long time.

“Different.” That was all I could respond with.

“Is he cute?” She asked. I nearly flushed with embarrassment, feeling my cheeks red like a beet.

“What?! N-No! N-not in that way” Where did that come from? Did she really expect me to say yes?

“Oh, I suppose he might be too old for you; what about the guys in your class? Are they any good-looking?” she responded.

“I don’t know; I hadn’t noticed.” I wanted to end this conversation as quickly as possible.

“Oh, hm, well, what about the girls? Surely there are some good-looking girls there too”.

“W-What!” I was flabbergasted.

“I’d be accepting either way—”.

I replied, “Currently, I’m—fine with just me, myself and I”.

That answer had seemed to satisfy her for now.

“Oh, well—of course, if that’s what you're happy with, I’m just happy you're getting out there and speaking to someone. That’s a massive achievement, and I’m so proud of you for that!” she sounded happy, at least.

I sighed deeply. “Thank you”.

“Baby steps, that’s all it takes”, was her final response before I hung up the phone. Sometimes, despite them being my parents, I stumble over my words, even speaking over the phone.

I sighed, gazing at the time. I had no idea that my first lesson was only for an hour. I wouldn’t mind being there early; it was better than falling asleep. What am I saying? I’d much rather sleep! I recall Mr. Oropherion saying he wished me to be there precisely during the seventh hour. Man, the way he phrased it was weird. I quickly rose from my desk, grabbed what I needed, grabbed my car keys, and changed into yesterday's outfit. I should probably stop by to find a leotard, a tutu, or even a pair of pointe shoes. Once I was prepared, I dashed to the car. Making my way through the door leading outside, the cold air hit me; the temperature must’ve dropped vastly since it was dark out. It was nearly seven, after all. To my stupidity, I forgot to park the car inside. Shit, shit, shit, the cars frosted. I panicked, quickly running back inside to grab my parker, zipping it up and then wrapping a scarf around me in the not-so-neatest way possible. I rushed into the kitchen and opened the lower drawer beneath my stove to grab the pan with a deep bottom. I turned on the water quickly, adjusting the temperature to lukewarm. I filled the pan, aiming to get it as full as possible. I tried to walk slowly yet hastily without spilling the water; once outside, I made my way to the car windows, pouring the water slowly. Each one dissolved; I was careful, at least, to make sure it wasn’t hot. I used the sleeve of my parker to rub away what remained of the frost. The frost hadn’t wholly dissolved, but it was enough to see. Quickly, I ran back inside to place the pan back on my kitchen bench. Shit, oh shit, oh shit, I’m going to be late! Coming out of my house, I made it to the car, yet I forgot to lock the front door—I pressed my hands against my forehead, feeling the stupidity rise within me. I sloshed through the snow, heading to the front door to lock it and then back to the car door.

I finally entered and opened the white car door, thank God. I backed out of the parking lot and drove toward where I needed to go. As I drove down, the snow fell heavily, and buildings passed by, turning to blurry visions as I drove further into the distance. It took half an hour to get there, but at least I would make it, I hope. I went to the same car park I had parked in yesterday and turned off the engine. As I got out, I saw many buildings covered in snow. I took a second to look into the sky, feeling the tiny snowflakes touch my face. “Beautiful”, I muttered. I held out my hand; I wanted to feel it; to touch the fragile beauty. As one dropped from the sky, it landed perfectly in my hand. I curled my fingers, feeling the flake melt within my grasp. Such beauty yet fragility. I opened my hand to see it dissolved; my eyes softened at the sight. I can understand; if I were to fall freely, speak my mind, and show my true self, even if someone touched me, I’d melt within their grasp.

Suddenly, I heard someone’s footsteps behind me emitted with a laugh. I turned my head to see the on-coming sight of two ballerinas draped in blue and pink leotards topped with jackets. I recognised them from the class I accidentally stumbled into yesterday. I quickly turned my head, shut the car door, and began to walk briskly. I didn’t want to speak with them, not after how I made a fool of myself. My head lowered into the scarf as I looked down, trying to avoid eye contact. Hopefully, they’ll ignore me. I got to the entrance just in time, or so I thought; I could hear them trailing behind. In a panic, I opened the entrance glass door to the dance studio, walking swiftly up the stairs to where I needed to be. Whilst I walked up the stairs, I could hear them speaking; I didn’t tune in, keeping to myself and focusing on getting to the floor I needed to be. My legs picked up the pace as I heard them walking up. As I got to the fifth floor, I peeked over the side of the staircase railing. I could only see the top of their heads, one brunette and the other raven. I sighed deeply to myself; I realized I lied to Mom. I hated doing that, but—it made her happy in ignorance. Out of curiosity, I attempted to speak out to them, to say hello; perhaps then, I could feel proud of myself. “H-h-hi”, I uttered in a whisper. But before I knew it, they were gone; I was too late.

I couldn’t do it; I couldn’t speak. Why was it so damn hard? Why am I so afraid to show them—me? I could feel the tears prickling the corners of my eyes.

I rubbed the corner of my eyes, letting out a sniff. I needed to be strong, at least for the time being. As Mom said, ‘It’s just baby steps; that’s all it takes.’ I took a deep breath in and exhaled; I made my way toward the empty dance studio I was before. It was nice and quiet, peaceful even, I couldn’t hear anyone. I unzipped my parker and took off my shoes. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the windows with blue curtains pulled over them. I wandered over toward the curtains hiding the tall glass windows. My hand reached out, feeling the cotton edge, I slowly pulled the blue curtains to the side. Looking outside, I was in awe; it showed the snowfall. As the tiny flakes gently fell against the window’s glass, I listened, hearing the gentle tapping against the glass. I backed up to the middle of the room, my train of thought departing as I watched the wonderous sight before me.

Suddenly, I heard a stern voice from behind my shoulder. “You're late”.

I quickly turned, only to notice Mr. Oropherion appear out of nowhere. Seriously, was he lurking around the corner watching me this whole time? Are there secret entrances so that he can purposefully remind me?

“I-I, apologies, Mr. Oropherion, I—” Damn it, I can’t even gather my words!

“You’re precisely five minutes past the hour; I presume you have a gift for tardiness”, he spoke coldly.

Is he serious? Why is he treating me as if I’m an hour late? Don’t tell me I’m in trouble for only being five minutes late.

My eyes narrowed, and I could feel my breath slowing down. I didn’t make eye contact with him, but I could hear his footsteps walking from behind me.

“We begin with the simple plie, a simple move you can surely manage,” he said in a clear, deep voice.

My head stooped low; I could only see his feet moving toward the barre attached to the mirrors. I followed suit, raising my left arm and gripping the wooden barre. “Start bending your knees; move your right foot over here” He placed his leg next to the side of my foot, pushing it gently into the correct position. I didn’t pull my leg away, even though I wanted to. As he corrected it, I gazed down, still avoiding eye contact. As I was in position, I closed my eyes, trying to bend my knees and drown out the idea of someone behind me. “No, you’re bending too far”, he softly muttered. As he approached, my breathing grew heavier. He didn't seem to notice, but I felt my chest rise and fall deeply. I froze in place, not knowing what to do. I didn’t want to look at him; I didn’t want to look up. I didn’t want to show him me! I muttered in a whisper, “P-please d-don—”. I felt his hands touch my waist lightly to guide me.

However, I yelled, stumbling back.

I felt like a deer in headlights; my eyes widened as I gasped for air. Mr. Oropherion stared in confusion, more-so, bewilderment; his hands were left hovering. “You do realise my intent was not of ill purpose; do not mistake me for one with a sickening mind”, he spoke cautiously, not wanting to increase the situation.

I covered my face with my hands, feeling foolish. My head stooped low, wanting to hide my tearful gaze. “I’m so sorry. Oh god, I thought I could do this, but I can’t. I’m so afraid, I’m so afraid.”

He approached slowly, maintaining his icy gaze. “Afraid of what?” he questioned in an austere manner.

“Speaking—talking—Showing myself to the world”, my voice cracked.

“I—'m afraid of what they’ll think, of what they’ll see”, I admitted.

He stayed silent, just as I suspected; he wasn’t fazed. I mean, why should he be? After all, I’m just a random person he met a day ago, someone spewing out all this inner turmoil.

I didn’t expect him to respond, and his answer wasn’t what I expected.

“We are not all born with perfection; there are those of us who have been bruised by imperfection. If you dwell too much in fear, it will overtake you, sending afoul things within your mind to come forth and surface. Whether you wish to remain trapped within it or face it to make a difference, is your decision,” he advised.

Even though his words weren’t the most comforting, he held a point. The first time I saw him yesterday, I gazed into the eyes of a man who rekindled a moment I thought was lost. A time I didn’t live in fear, a time I could look into the eyes of another being and speak freely. If I could do it then, I can do it now.

I lifted my hands away from my face, revealing my sorrowful eyes—the eyes of a fearful bird. I turned to his gaze, trying not to look down, showing my irises. His narrowed eyes slightly raised. I stood upright as my breaths slowed. My almond eyes relaxed at the sight of him. Perhaps, if I aim to speak to him again like before, I can train myself to speak to others. I took the time to gather the words I wanted to say. Inhaling slowly, I spoke the words I wanted to say. “M-Mr Oropherion, I d-don’t want to be a-afraid anymore, I w-want to be free”.

His icy eyes lowered. “Well, well, it seems the little bird has learnt to spread her wings once more; however, little bird, you shan’t take flight just yet, for it will take time to heal your wounds, but I shall teach you”.

I inhaled deeply, allowing myself to grab hold of the barre and stand straight. I tried to bend my knees again, yet he wasn’t satisfied. He moved closer to guide me; this time, my head turned to meet his gaze. His hands hovered just where my waist was. I maintained eye contact for a moment before turning to the front as if permitting him. His slender hands touched my waist lightly; I could feel him pushing me up only slightly and then down. “Hold that position; ensure that your knees are bent until they are over your thumbs.” He muttered. I could feel the pressure of trying to keep my balance.

“This next move is a Grande plie. Lower yourself and lift your heels off the ground.” His hands gently pushed me lower on the ground, my heels lifted slightly as I was told. As he lowered me, I glanced into the mirror, falling silent.

I saw my eyes with eyebags beneath them, the same hair falling to my shoulders, and my lips; however, this time, something was different. Something changed. Something made a difference. In the mirror, there were two, two people.

A small smile faintly formed on my lips.

For once, I wasn’t alone.

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