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itsonlydana · 8 months ago

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"passenger princess" | epilogue

the hobbit | a modern!AU by itsonlydana

❱ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader

❱ wordcount: 4,8k

❱ summary: Dating Thranduil Oropherion and the PDA that comes with it

❱ warnings: none

❱ an: here we go, one last night in this story✨️ title once again taken from hoziers "abstract" // also: are any of you interested in a official hobbit/thranduil taglist?

general m.list + series m.list

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot - especially with longer projects <3

THE MOMENT I KNEW I'D NO CHOICE BUT TO LOVE YOU

The evening welcomed you with a chilly embrace and whispered breezes danced through the coat you clung to, drawing it closer as you emerged from the car.

Your head lifted, attention drawn to the imposing building before you. Unbeknownst to you, your jaw subtly fell, lips parting in a muted "Oh" that almost escaped notice, barely reaching your own ears.

"It's quite a sight, isn't it?" Next to you, Thranduil closed the door to the passenger seat of his car after he had helped you out.

He handed the keys and a few notes of cash to a young valet, whose eyes widened as if he were to drive the Batmobile. The boy rushed to the driver's side of the car, the keys turning on the ignition, and the motor purred smooth like a cat.

You barely noticed it, only felt the vibrations of the car starting. Your eyes were glued to the building in front of you. "It's beautiful," you whispered in awe.

The Imladris Opera House lit up the sky's deep and endless midnight blue.

A washed-out white stone façade rose high up in front of you, its architectural features of multicolored marble friezes, columns, and lavish statuary were illuminated by what must have been hundreds of hidden lights. On either side of the left and right avant-corps two gilded angel figures reached their hands towards the center of the building where a glass dome made the highest point of the palace.

Frozen on the spot, you could not take a step on your own until you felt the gentle push of Thranduil's hand on the small of your back. Looking away for just a second, you glanced at him, shot him a bright smile, and let him guide you towards the building.

The weeks had swiftly slipped away, and it hardly felt like an entire season had passed since that fateful night spent cuddled together.

Late summer had given way to autumn, a season dedicated to delving deeper into each other's lives. Evenings were spent on his couch, sipping wine and sharing every detail about the paths you had walked before finding each other. The world transformed into a canvas of colors, with flaming red and orange leaves falling during your walks, and the glow of candlelight casting a warm ambiance as you lost yourselves between the covers.

Your friendship with Legolas grew impossibly stronger, too, with entire weeks now spent at their house. Clad in long sweaters that grazed your knees, you chatted day and night, studied from breakfast to dinner, enjoyed late evening snacks, and repeated the cycle the next day.

Time blurred into a mosaic of tender touches, lingering kisses, and laughter beneath the sheets.

Before you knew it, Thranduil had once again invited you to the Opera, and once again, you had gladly accepted.

As you got closer, the building grew and grew until you had to let your head fall into your neck trying to explore the intricate details you could only see up close, like the elaborate roses carved into the marble columns.

Thranduil caught your wandering looks and his hand slipped from your back to intertwine his gloved fingers with yours as he leaned down a bit.

"It is said that the architect only accepted the project in exchange for the hand of the king's one and only daughter- who was promised to a prince at the time." – Thranduil's voice reached a dramatic cadence, purely for effect – "No one else dared to take on the tasks of building this Opera, the king had ludicrous ideas of combining multiple styles into one that no other architect thought themselves sane enough to try."

You leaned into his side, your hands brushing against the expensive fabric of his knee-long, black woolen coat. When he started talking, explaining the history of this marvelous building you were so close to entering, his voice fell into the passion that you so adored to watch.

No building, even one as breathtaking as the Imladris Opera House, could be more fascinating than watching Thranduil explain something to you that he cared deeply about.

In the golden tones of the cast iron streetlamps flickering their lights, Thranduil's eyes had taken on a fascinated glitter. It disappeared when he noticed you staring up at him, a quick shadow passing over his usually composed face. "Excuse my rambling," he said and you pouted in disagreement.

"Don't apologize," you shook your head, "you know that I enjoy listening to you" And with a quick movement, you rose to your tiptoes, sneaking a peck onto his from the winter air cold lips. In a low and hushed voice, you murmured: "Talk architectural to me" and felt the blood rush into your cheeks when his eyebrows rose on his forehead.

His eyes crinkled at that, the corner of his mouth twitching in that tell-tale smirk that he reserved for those innuendos that passed between you two, ever since the slip of your tongue on the night he invited you to the Opera in the first place.

He planted a gentle kiss on your temple, his lips pausing briefly before he spoke again. "Okay, then, but feel free to interrupt if I start to bore you."

You nodded with enthusiasm. "Absolutely, don't worry. Although everything you say is interesting to me, you know that."

"I'll hold you to that when you start grumbling about your university papers and ask me to help you understand them," he teased.

"Uhmm– that has nothing to do with you," you rolled your eyes, not intending to mock him but to emphasize the sheer annoyance coursing through you at the thought of your coursework. "It's just that my brain ceases to function if I have to read another dull statement from some politician who kicked the bucket centuries ago and contributed nothing positive to society."

Thranduil chuckled and gently lifted your hands, placing another kiss on your knuckles. "I adore it when you're resolute about highlighting all their wrongdoings instead of doing what's required of you," his lips brushed against your skin, setting ablaze the areas he touched. "My firecracker."

You grinned and gave a playful tug on his hand. "Come on, then, enlighten me with the story behind this building."

Thranduil then began fulfilling your ask and since you had a few moments before you had to enter, he pulled you along the walls.

Whenever he talked about some fascinating architectural features ("There are multiple styles but the ones standing out the most are these elements of the Renaissance, Baroque and Neoclassical"), his long fingers pointed towards them, using statues to explain his statements.

You walked along the front façade until you could peek around the corner and he showed you one of the two pavilions- the other one was on the right side of the building, another mathematical symmetric design choice ("Which points to the architect's inspiration by the renaissance").

After that, you turned around again to walk towards the main entrance, where, feeding into your nervousness, a larger crowd had formed a line. Thranduil's hand in yours gripped you tighter as you approached those fashionable men and women who, in your mind, must have seen right through the smile you now wore more so as a mask than out of pure joy.

Despite all the dates planned leading up to this, starting with coffee dates turning into evening dinner outings at restaurants that you felt comfortable with until you let Thranduil choose some that he wanted to take you, you felt like a fish out of water.

Yes, Legolas had helped you select clothes that fitted the occasion, ones you already had because Thranduil would disapprove of you buying an outfit that served as a costume rather than what you felt comfortable with, but right now, staring at the elegant hats and lavish dresses, nothing seemed like the right choice.

Thranduil must have noticed that you grew quieter, answering what became a monologue rather than dialogue, with nods and "Hmms". He didn't say anything out loud, nor did he stop talking, probably relying on the whispered reassurance that you had given him one evening when he had fallen into a monologue such as this one, raving on about a book he had read when you'd admitted how much it calmed you to hear him speak.

You let him tug you under his arm, resting your cheek against his side while you slowly shuffled forward in the line.

Coming closer to the double doors opened wide enough to let golden light fall out into the night and bathe those entering into its nearly godlike shimmer, the storm inside you ebbed into a breeze, scarcely shuffling through some thoughts that your mind couldn't let go just yet.

Considering what you have gone through, this date shouldn't scare you. This was Thranduil beside you, the man who held your heart carefully in the palm of his hand as much as his arm secured you right now, he would make sure that this night would play out like you wanted.

"When we enter you will see–"

You interrupted Thranduil with a gentle nudge of your head against his chest. The smile that now graced your mouth was soft and real again, something Thranduil immediately caught onto.

"Thank you," you said without further explanation; it wasn't needed.

"You are welcome, my dear," Thranduil leaned down again, hovering over your lips as his eyes took you in as if to make sure to imprint your smile into his memory, before closing the gap between you.

There was no hesitation in the way he kissed you, his lips parted as soon as you lifted your chin higher to meet him and a barely audible but deep and sensual hum spilled into your mouth. One of his gloved hands cupped your cheek to angle your head and his thump stroked over your jaw. It fell open with the slight pressure performed from the finger, inviting him in to deepen the kiss.

Only the clearing of a throat behind you reminded you that you were for one in public, close to making out like teenagers, and second standing in line.

While you pulled away from Thranduil, your head flushed beet red, and muttering: "Sorry, I'm so sorry, yes, sorry, we will move", Thranduil looked awfully pleased with himself as he lifted his hand to wipe away some lipstick that had stained the corner of his mouth.

He shot you a wink as your eyes flittered over the deliberately slow movement of his thumb and you rolled your eyes, cheeks flaming hot.

You rushed to close the gap that had formed while you and Thranduil had been all over each other, giving the woman and her grinning husband another apologetic nod and smile. You pulled on the red scarf that Thranduil wore around his neck.

"You're impossible," you murmured, casting him a scornful glance, then burying your face in a cold hand, "Oh God, how embarrassing"

Thranduil's chuckle at your attempt to hide your heated cheeks and probably reddened lips only showed you how little he regretted the kiss.

"Darling," he began, still grinning widely and clearly proud of his talent for unraveling you in public like that, "If it bothers you too much, I'll restrain myself. However," – he leaned in, whispering the next words in your ear – "look how everyone looks at us. They envy me for standing beside you, for not having the most exquisite person in one of their arms."

You raised your head just in time to see a young man a few meters in front of you hastily jerk away and, promptly, dropped his ticket. When he stood up again after fishing for the paper on the ground, he looked back at you, then at Thranduil and oh, there really was something like envy in his eyes.

And because Thranduil was Thranduil, a cocky asshole at times, he smiled at the boy while his arm dropped to your waist provocatively.

You only rolled your eyes, yet this public display of affection and possessiveness had your heart flutter in your chest.

Heart pounding through your rib cage, his large hand holding you to him, you muttered something through your teeth.

Thranduil raised one eyebrow interested. "Could you maybe repeat that, I did not understand what you said."

"I said," you took a deep breath, huffing out air that dissolved into a white cloud, "–that I do not mind the kisses."

A grin filled with satisfaction spread across Thranduil's face at that, dimples carved out into porcelain skin. The hand on your waist held on tighter and it took a simple tug of him for your body to turn into his again, a simple twitch of his lips for you to kiss him.

This time though, you made sure to have it last no longer than a quick peck as the line moved and just when you separated, the crowd in front of you cleared.

"Good evening, Mister Oropherion! I haven't seen you in a while," a young woman greeted Thranduil, and overcome with shock you stared at your partner.

"Good to see you again, Sigrid", Thranduil winked at you, mouthing a "Later" when he noticed your bewilderment. Delving into the depths of his black coat, he retrieved a golden card – the Opera's emblem gleaming in the lantern light – as Sigrid waved her hand.

"Ohh, you know I don't need to check your card, Sir!"

Thranduil laughed and the card disappeared in the pocket of his coat again. "I know, I know. I also know that your boss wouldn't like you skipping formalities just because it is me" – his mouth curved into a smirk, "ah and I have someone to impress tonight"

Sigrid leaned forward, a hand next to her mouth, to faux a whisper: "He may seem like an arrogant ass, but I can tell you– he is secretly a softie"

"What?" you faked a gasp, turning to look up at Thranduil who, to your surprise, blushed…blushed!

He playfully swatted your hips and shot Sigrid a warning look: "What have I ever done to you that you must embarrass me in front of the lady?" He sighed, though the corner of his mouth betrayed him, "Was it the time that I thought Legolas invited you over to…what did you call it, my love?" as if in deep thought, Thranduil lifted a hand to scratch his perfect chin, "Netflix and chill?"

"Oh my god–"

"Thranduil!" you cried, laughter bubbling up your throat before you could stop it. Out of pure condolence for the girl, you started shoving him into the entrance hall, away from the girl whose face turned beetred as she fumbled to stamp the tickets of the next couple.

"It was nice to meet you!" you huffed out, wrangling with the tall body of Thranduil who was snickering to himself, making it not easier for you to handle him.

"We should chat some other time! Legolas, some boys and I have a movie night once every while, you could join"

The invitation was clearly not enough to help the poor woman, Thranduils high-pitched laughter (so unusual for his usually deep and honeyed voice, that pure sound of his laughter) would probably haunt her for the rest of the evening given the look on her face.

However, she nodded frantically. "Sure, I will have Legolas send you my number," then she smiled, "Have fun tonight! You as well, Sir!"

"I'm sure we will," you called back and there was a phrase like "If you could behave the rest of the night" on your tongue, at the sight of the entrance hall however, it slipped away.

The hand that you had used to direct Thranduil fell and he used the opportunity where your mind stopped working, to take it back into his. If you weren't so busy staring at the interior of the Opera House you would have teased him for being so touchy tonight, yet there was nothing leaving your lips of that sort.

"Wow," you breathed out.

The red carpet you stopped on trailed further into the hall, ending shortly before a large ceremonial staircase of white marble with a balustrade of red and dark blue marble, which divided into two divergent flights of stairs leading to the second floor which overlooked the foyer through wide open curved outward balconies. Golden candleholders with what must have been hundreds of candles decorated the columns, lulling you into a trance with the flicker of their flames.

A finger trailed over your temple, sliding down behind your ear and your neck, and it came to rest with the rest of the hand on your shoulder. "For years I have gone in and out of these halls, impressed by their beauty. Now, with you standing right here, all the gold pales." Thranduil's words sent a shiver up your spine and you tilted your head to stare at the ceiling.

"There is no need for flattery," you said, wide eyes wandering over the balconies on which women leaned onto the balustrades with sparkling glasses of wine, to the grand staircase where the crowd trailed upward without a hurry, "You already have this girl speechless."

Thranduil's lips delicately brushed against the shell of your ear, as his hands leisurely traced the contours of your side.

"What a shame, though I would hope you will find your voice again," his voice bore semblance to a velvety purr, "–for I am genuinely interested in garnering your perspective on the private balcony, affording an impeccable view of the orchestra, that I had readied for us."

As your head swiftly turned to fixate on him, his rosy lips formed, in a manner not surprising anyone, that typical smirk that left you marveling at the intriguing resilience you had maintained in resisting its captivating allure. Every time you saw it, especially now with his icy blue eyes waiting, provoking a response, you were contemplating how you had never fainted at the sight of it before.

And the worst part was, that he knew what he could do to you with one single smirk, or just, and it was embarrassing to admit but you couldn't help but fall for it every time, one strategically raise of an eyebrow.

No matter how bewitching his smirk was, however, you were much more hooked by what he said.

The questions toppled over themselves in your head, a "WHAT?" knocked down a "You are kidding, right?" and then there were the big "Why?!" and "How?" that you were hung on.

Most of these questions resolved themselves; there was no need to reiterate what had already been sufficiently explained. Thranduil was undeniably wealthy, almost absurdly so in his own estimation.

This fact had been glaringly apparent from the outset when you only knew him as Legolas' father, the owner of a law firm that represented politicians and celebrities, often requiring him to work late. He indulged in whiskey from opulent bottles and drove the most extravagant car you had ever sat in. The first time you visited Legolas at their home, a gathering of Thranduil's colleagues celebrated his ascension to CEO, filling the mansion with the strains of piano music and the gentle clinking of delicate crystal glass flutes.

If it hadn't been clear, Thranduil's habit of spending a lot of money with and for you (whether it was in the form of gifts such as books, a new coffee machine for your dorm, or simply the dates he took you on) was explanation enough.

The man had been greeted by name at the entrance and like a few people, all dressed in fine clothes like him, he didn't have a ticket, he had a member card.

So you swallowed your questions, took the arm he offered you and let yourself be led through the beautiful and tall halls of the opera.

Why not savor both this gift and the delightful company of the man you've fallen for?

If it wasn't obvious that Thranduil was showing off a bit, come on, he had kissed you right in the middle of the grand staircase and grinned at every man staring at you on your way, it became more than clear when you walked down the hallway to the private rooms. Another boy in uniform opened a door as soon as he saw Thranduil walk up to him, greeting him by name just like Sigrid did.

Behind the door, you let out the quietest "Holy shit" afraid that the swear would taint whatever holy atmosphere vibrated around you.

The air was filled with the low murmur of people talking, shuffling towards their seats and you, you looked down on all of them.

Literally.

Beneath you a sea of stools stretched onward, a moving mass of hats and pinned-up hair.

You took a careful step forward, coming up to the balustrade, you laid your hands on the red velvet that cushioned the balcony.

Just like the other balconies on your left and right, beautiful wooden panels were creating an archway under which you stood, with roses and delicate swirls painted golden.

You had a clear view of the stage, up on the fourth floor as you quickly counted in your head. The stage was covered by maroon curtains that draped over each other instead of just framing the sides and ended in gold ornaments at the seams.

The dome, which you had seen from the outside, was hidden behind a slightly curved ceiling, the only telling of what rose into the sky behind it. Nevertheless, the ceiling was a view all of its own.

A piece of art.

Up there, a dark sky had been painted, sprinkled with tiny golden dots of stars and hanging perfectly centered not just to the painting but to the whole room, hung an enormous chandelier, dripping with crystals that reflected the light of the lamps, honey golden liquid broken down into a thousand shards and bathing everything in a spectacle of imitations of stars.

Thranduil stepped up behind you again. He slung his arms around you, pressing his front against your back to rest his chin on your shoulder. Silver hair fell over you as he nuzzled your temple with his nose, brushing and tickling the sensitive skin of your neckline.

Slowly he took on to unbutton your coat, his nimble fingers pushing one button after the other through the holes.

"Is this the time to tell you that I practically own this balcony?" his voice rolled over your body, words spoken close enough that you felt his lips form them.

"Yeah," you breathed out "I figured."

"And do you know what that means?" he asked while opening the last button.

You shook your head slightly so as not to knock him away.

"It means," he unfolded himself from you to pull away your coat. You turned and watched as he hung it next to his own, it looked small in his large hands. Your fingers dug deep into the velvet behind you, eyes locked with his. "It means we can come here whenever we want as well as leave whenever we want"

It wasn't what you had expected to hear, yet you let out another deep breath, basking in the residue of tension and heat that had lapped at you both and transformed into something softer, much more meaningful than desire.

"You are the most fascinating man I have ever met," you mused, tilting your head to look at him. Thranduil was dressed up in smart black (and snug) pants and his white blouse wore a stark resemblance to the one a character you had gushed over in a movie had worn.

That he had maybe chosen the article for that exact reason made your heart flutter in your chest.

He sauntered closer to you again, hands clipped together in his back and when he leaned against one of the two chairs, the only furniture except for a small table, it was nothing but graceful. He regarded you through hooded eyes, an expression in them that was so full of infatuation it should be too much for a relationship this young, this fresh but you had been ready to plunge into this deep and far ever since you had met him.

"I promise this is just to impress you," Thranduil smiled, and lifted one corner of his mouth higher than the other and it made him look almost shy.

"Mhmm," you hummed, stepping closer to him and when you reached out to cup his cheek, he leaned into it. His eyes bore into yours, the ice-cold blue melting every bone in your body into a puddle. "I think," you whispered and looked from one eye to the other, "you don't need anything to impress me except for yourself." Raising to your tiptoes, you smiled against his mouth "Thank you, Thranduil. This is the best gift anyone has ever given to me"

As you looked up at him through hooded eyes, his gaze became soft. His lips met yours in a gentle but playful kiss, one where he nipped at your lower lip and throat and did that low purr of satisfaction. It made your head swim in the best way possible, let all thoughts come to rest.

When the lights dimmed a short while later, you found yourself cuddled against Thranduil's side, his arm around as natural as everything had become between you.

The music swelled- the tunes of a piano mixing with the violins and cellos, increasing into the playful introduction that you had come to listen to whenever Thranduil drove you anywhere.

You allowed your glance to flee from the orchestra to Thranduil, watching his side profile next to you.

"I am so lucky," you whispered. It should have been spoken far too quietly to be heard in a room that was filled with a dozen instruments orchestrating the most gorgeous music.

Thranduil however, turned his head as soon as you said the words.

"You say you are the lucky one yet here I sit, unable to believe you are truly with me," he said and reached out to trace a finger over your temple down to your cheek. "There are so many things I would like to tell you, my darling"

You watched him, silently inquiring him to continue.

He sighed and the corner of his eyes crinkled in soft delight. "It's just– I feel so much more ever since you came into my life and while it's close to overwhelming– well, and I do mean that truthfully and wholeheartedly positive, it made me realize how much more enjoyable life is when I can share it with someone I l–like"

"That doesn't sound like something that's 'just' anything," your wavering voice betrayed how collected you wanted to sound. Feelings as hard as the waves during a storm crashed inside you, lapping up your throat trying to break out of where you dammed them away to.

"No," Thranduil shook his head "No, I dare say it's not just anything. It seems to be everything. You, you wonderful girl, you are everything"

Your breath hitched, caught in the mix of emotions in your throat. Fingers carefully lifted to intertwine your hands, coming together in your lap. He waited, you figured, he waited for you. He always waited for you. The music faded into the background as you reached for him.

Reaching and waiting, daring and yearning, teasing and loving.

He was the fine threat that pulled on your heart, tugging on it in the same rhythm as it beat inside your chest.

"Thranduil?" you fiddled with his fingers, tugging on them to have an outlet for everything rushing through you, leaving you restless with the want to scream your feelings into the world.

"Yes?" He sounded hoarse, unusually so, and it urged you on further.

"The moment I met you I knew you would take my heart and whisk it away." Grappling with the challenge of expressing just how much of an impact he had on you, you thought back to every big movie scene, every lovesong that you finally understood the lyrics to.

All of them felt bland in contrast to the cocktail of feelings that he evoked in you, the emotions that came from loving this man.

However, he beat you to it, articulating what had occupied your contemplation.

"I love you," Thranduil's voice resonated, gaining a steady cadence. "I love you. I realize it might be soon, and time lies ahead of us, but I wish to spend every moment with you, fully aware of the depth of my feelings."

A violin's sigh, a cello's resonance, a gasp.

"I love you too, Thranduil. So much."

Thranduil inclined his head, a golden aura enveloping his silver-blonde locks that cascaded around you like the rich, heavy red curtains.

At that moment, he resembled the Swan, exuding grace and elegance. His long, fair eyelashes cast shadows on his high cheekbones, and as he leaned in to kiss you, a profound sense of being utterly cherished and loved enveloped you, much like the crescendo of the music all around.

taglist [closed]: @mushroomemeralds, @mssuguru, @solartoge, @12134z03, @fruitymoonbeams-blog, @lady-of-imladris @finallyforgotten , @123forgottherest @tomhockstetter7-111 @marshymallo @emily-roberts @howlerwolfmax @tigereyesf @seththetinydemon

#📁files: passenger princess #thranduil x reader #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x you #thranduil oropherion #thranduil fluff #lotr x you #lord of the rings fanfiction #lord of the rings x you #lord of the rings x reader #the hobbit fanfiction #lotr x reader #the hobbit x reader

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itsonlydana · 9 months ago

Text

"passenger princess" | chapter four

the hobbit | a modern!AU by itsonlydana

❱ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader

❱ wordcount: 3,3k

❱ summary: a ride home

❱ warnings: none

❱ an: could he be any more perfect? y'all, tell me if you have some guesses how this will go on🤭

general m.list + series m.list

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot - especially with longer projects <3

CHAPTER FOUR: STARS

"Come on, I'll give you a ride."

You whirled around to Thranduil, ready to argue that it was far too late considering he had to work the next morning. You'd imposed on him too much already, the kitchen was in a state that would need a deep cleaning and the boys would certainly sleep in.

"You don't have to," you tried as he passed you and grabbed his coat from the counter. "In fact, you shouldn't–"

Pushing his arms through the coat, Thranduil flipped the collar up and sorted his long hair over his shoulder. He seemed unbothered by your protests and continued to slip into his boots. "I forgot something at work that can't wait anyway, so grab your shoes."

Pursing your lips but swallowing the pouty reply you wanted to throw at him for ordering you around, you slipped into your sneakers, glaring at him while hugging Legolas and Gimli, and then Aragorn Goodbye.

Gimli even dared to wink at you, shoving his elbow into your side with a rumbled: "Fun ride"

Naturally, you punched his arm for that.

Your bag shouldered and the phone that continued to light up with messages shoved deep into it, you followed Thranduil out into the surprisingly cold night.

The gravel path leading to the, well, almost mansion, crunched under your footsteps, filling the silence that you yourself didn't know how to break.

Your last conversation didn't offer much transition to normal small talk, and you didn't want it to.

You wanted to be wrapped up in the warm flirt in his voice, in that heated look that he had thrown you as you'd left him in the hallway.

The nerves of the skin he'd touched still fizzled and ached for him to return his hands onto you, an itch that only he could scratch, a burn for him to sooth.

That though, was most definitely not what you would say right now.

But you didn't want to spend the rest of the way in awkward silence, so you resorted to the manners Thranduil valued. Not only because he worked as a lawyer with a very important –rich, conceited, snobbish– clientele, but because he still held onto the hope that some manners would rub off on Legolas.

"Thank you for offering to drive me." You bit your bottom lip through a smile that has him cracking one as well, soft lips breaking up the stern expression his dark eyebrows sometimes gave him.

"Don't," Thranduil shook his head, the movement sending some of the shorter strands framing his face back over his shoulder, "knowing you're home safe gives me a peace of mind. I wouldn't have been able to sleep if you were waiting on some bus right now."

"Well," your cheeks grew hot, "thank you anyway"

Turning to the road you watched your shadows move in sync, the lights of the house falling through the trees lining the way and flittering on the gravel like scattered fireflies.

You saw how his shadow stepped closer, your hands dangling close enough that one small movement would've led to them brushing against each other. The space was small, easily crossed yet it stayed that way for the rest of the walk.

It wasn't the time.

Not right now; nevertheless how fucking close you had been to kissing him in the hallway.

Arriving at his car, he opened the door of the passenger side, your place, as Legolas had once joked.

He had a point because after Thranduil had first picked you up from the bar, he'd come to your rescue many times, and he helped you to the passenger side first each time, as if he wouldn't allow anything else.

You didn't complain.

Sitting next to him allowed you a perfect view of those sharp cheekbones and cutting jawline that your hands itched to cup and draw your fingers along of. Not only that but whenever the whole group was being driven around, you could enjoy the drive without a shoulder nudging yours or a hand reaching over to open a window.

As you sat down, you took notice of the seat setting, namely how it was perfectly adjusted to you.

If Legolas had ever ridden with his father, you always had to pull forward, because Legolas, in addition to his looks, did, of course, inherited Thranduil's incredibly long and enviable legs to tower over everyone else. A gift he constantly misused to kick you, or to rest his arm on your shoulder.

Once seated in the car, you pressed deeper into the fabric of the seat. Even the headrest was perfectly at your height, so you didn't have to do more than place your bag in the foot well.

As Thranduil's door swung open a gust of chilly air rushed into the already cold car, prompting you to roll your shoulders and hug your torso.

Apart from your shirt, you hadn't brought a jacket, considering it had been warm earlier when you stashed your backpack in the dorm after class.

Thranduil folded himself into his seat, his long legs first, and shamelessly you stared at him as he elegantly lowered himself and tossed his hair over his shoulders before pulling the door shut.

Another flood of cold air.

This time Thranduil noticed how your arms wrapped tighter around yourself and without saying much, he turned slightly and reached behind his seat.

"Here," in the silence of his car, his voice sounded even deeper and the warmth in it was almost enough for you when he'd already put something in your lap. "And don't you dare tell me it's not necessary. Not giving you a choice!" he ordered, a teasing smile taking out all the sterness of his tone.

"Thank you," you breathed, unfolding a navy blue sweater, one that had a white deer stitched over the breastbone, and as soon as you pulled it over your head, the world flimmered at its edges, reducing to just the inside of this car.

"It's not washed, but I promise you it's clean."

Which you couldn't care less about, not even a flying fuck was given toward this precious item of clothing that rocked your world and completely spun it out of its axis.

This was his sweater, his clothing that he gave up for you. This happened in dreams, in books and stories and wishes and hopes– not in the real life.

Maybe this was another thing that separated Thranduil from those Fratboys and overmasculine guys that thought the most romantic thing they could do was pop a mint-gum before smashing their mouths onto yours in slobby kisses.

He has years of experience against their lousy teenager moments.

The sweater smelled so much like him and his house, only much stronger. His scent, rich, full of his perfume and him, took over all your senses. The fabric was so damn soft, so warm, so cozy; you were ready to sink into it and never leave.

Literally, because even sitting down, the waistband bunched up in your lap and you would have had to push the sleeves back, but you made yourself comfortable in the way too big sweater.

Thranduil ��most likely unintentionally but who knew– seemed to have decided on torturing you in the cruelest way possible, and maneuvred the car one heel of the palm on the steering wheel, and the other conveniently placed behind your headrest, his head angled so that he could watch through the back window instead of the mirror.

That position, arm outstretched, muscles subtly flexing and his prominent jawline close enough that it could cut your held breath in two, did unexplainable things to you.

If anyone asked you would deny that this movement alone had you blushing and your stomach curling, heat rushing through your body over something so simply yet breathtakingly beautiful and assertive.

He caught your gaze quicker than you could have fixed the blown-wide look on your face, the corners of his mouth twitching.

So he did know.

You laughed softly, "Show off."

His grin became sly. "No idea what you're talking about," he murmured, low and deep and very much a lie.

"Besides, there could've been something behind the car, who knows," he said nonchalantly as he steered the car toward the front gate, the black, tall halves that opened for you at the push of a button.

My ass, something behind the car, you thought and coughed to cover up a laugh.

The mansion grew smaller in the rearview mirror, hedges and tall trees framing the white brick facade and gray shingles until the last of the lit up windows was nothing more than a small dot that disappeared after blinking.

There was something special about driving around at night. The lots in the area where Legolas and Thranduil lived were large, as were the houses and the distance between them, and unlike the city, you were the only ones on the streets.

The night was dark, the sky black, like ink and endlessly stained with countless stars that you couldn't see from your dorm room due to the many skyscrapers and their ever-shining lights. At your place, it was loud and bright, and you leaned back in your seat to watch the sky through the window in front of you.

There was no one else on the road, not this time of night, not in a neighborhood where most didn't even need to work much: no headlights, no cars, no one else but Thranduil and you.

Where that awareness would've brought a subtle panic and anxiety with it a while ago, there was tranquility instead.

All worries about the crush you harbored for Thranduil and how he could find out were replaced, softened up by the memory of his hands on your body, that damn painting burying itself into your back and the sharp edges reminding you that this had been very much real.

This was very much real.

"You're thinking very loudly."

You turned your head, furrowing your brows at Thranduil, "Am not."

He scoffed. "No, darling, you most definitely are. I have never met anyone who is that bad at keeping a straight face." Thranduil switched the lanes, this time checking the mirror and meeting your gaze in it, "Next time we play poker, please remind me to bet on your cards."

Huffing and rolling your eyes you did what any other adult in your position would do, and stuck your tongue out at him. "Maybe I won't play poker with you anymore, how 'bout that?"

"What's your other option? Legolas is good but honestly- the boy would throw his cards away for Aragorn," Thranduil mused and when you laughed he raised his thick eyebrows once, "It's me or Gimli, sweetheart."

You didn't even need to think back to the last poker game you'd played with Gimli, that was too far away and this evening's endless round of Monopoly sufficed generous arguments against him as well. Why you've ever thought it was a great idea to play any competitive game against the most thick-headed people was a mystery on its own.

Another shudder ran through you then, but not because of the cold– the sweater provided so much warmth and your cheeks burned from smiling so much, but rather because your mind did in fact remind you of the faithful poker night. The most chaotic one in the history of poker games.

"Oh," you exhaled a deep breath.

Thranduil's head turned and you made a point of looking thoroughly distressed.

"I don't think I'll ever recover from the awful talk I had with Professor Gandalf." Your whole body shudders just like then, transporting you back to the awkward shuffling around, the stuttering and the many, many, many excuses you'd babbled.

"It couldn't have been that bad," Thranduil said and then, tilting his head as you slowly shook your head, he added an unsure: "Right?"

"Thranduil," you stared at him, barely noticing how the corner of his eyes crinkled at his name out of your mouth, "Thranduil– I was piss-drunk and sent my 70.. or hell, 80-something Professor an E-Mail…at three in the morning. With just a winky smiley!" Your voice had taken on a desperate edge at the end, cutting it close to such a high pitch that you fell breathless into the seat.

All the while Thranduils laughter grew and grew until he gasped for air, his one hand swatting dramatically in front of him. "Mhm.. oh yes, I'll never get tired of hearing it," he giggled, a sound that did not fit the first impression most people got of him.

"Yeah you can laugh all you want," you tried to come across as stern though failed miserably at the sight and sound of Thranduil chuckling. He made it impossible to do anything else but smile. "Jeez, thank god the old man found it funny as well. I think I would've died if I'd sent it to Professor Sauron instead. He hates me."

Thranduil opened his mouth, then closed it again.

A bit quieter than you expected he started again after a while: "This may be delusional since my line of work shows me the worst of people, sides you wouldn't think exist, but I think that you are the loveliest woman I've ever met. That Professor must be out of his mind to hate someone as clever, beautiful, and magnificent as you."

Those words, coming out of his mouth shot you straight into the heart, hollowing out that pit in your stomach and filling it endlessly with messy butterflies and fireworks in such an overtaking force you couldn't find it in you to answer.

You knew he liked you, or at least appreciated your presence.

You had felt it earlier, had seen in his eyes that he was interested and oh– that this picture-perfect specimen of a man would look at you like that was more than you could want.

It had been such a far-fetched wish that there would be anything else except this lust that hearing him compliment you, raising you to a pedestal you never dared to dream about, was astounding and unfathomable.

Thankfully, Thranduil put you out of the misery of searching for something equally important to retort.

He reached over to rest his hand on your thigh, calming the slight bouncing you'd fallen into. "I know it's nothing like Legolas poetic words."

The heavy air that had taken hold of you lifted as you let out a breathy laugh. "He's an idiot. Took after you, am I right?" you teased and slightly flicked a finger against the soft skin of his hand.

You didn't know what led to that sudden contact, one he mostly initiated wherelse you didn't dare to act upon more than friendly handshakes or brushing his fingers while passing the butter or salatbowl.

He grinned, wiggling his eyebrows teasingly, "When they grew him in the lab I made sure to tell them to crank the dumbass level high enough as to not let an identical version of myself get loose on the world."

You pretended to frown, sizing him up and down, "Surely they should have added less then."

The disgruntled snort coincided precisely with a playful tap against your thigh, a swift movement you couldn't have defended against. The moment his hand made contact with the outer part of your leg, you heard the smack, felt the entirely harmless and certainly not painful pull, and your jaw dropped as you stared at Thranduil.

"You didn't just do that!"

"What?" Thranduil blinked innocently at you.

"Ohh, how dare you pull off the eyebrow thing."

"What eyebrow thing?"

"You know," you raised a hand and gestured towards his entire face, which now turned back to the street with a far too sly grin. "That thing you do. You raise those thick eyebrows and open your eyes wider like you're patronizing me and act all virtuous at the same time."

"I have no idea what you are talking about," he said and did exactly what you'd just explained.

You simply glared at him and flicked his thigh as well.

The car turned, departing from the serene country road to navigate through the sparse traffic of the city streets.

Instead of stars, blinkers and billboards now raced past the window, casting their bright lights on you and immersing you in a cascade of brightness that prompted you to blink a few times.

Previously, where it had been just you, Thranduil, and the hum of the engine, you hadn't realized how comforting those few sounds were. As Thranduil drove along the main street, more focused and enveloped in the watercolor hues of the city, you almost asked him to turn around again.

A yawn overtook you just as you wanted to reply to his compliment from before, feeling slightly dazed by the atmosphere, cutting you off just as you said his name.

"Oh god," you mumbled and checked the display for the time, "How can it be two already?" Unconsciously you cuddled the sweater, burring your nose in the seam while fighting another yawn.

Thranduil turned his head and a soft smile played his lips. "Nearly there, sweetheart. When do you have to be up again?"

You groaned, rubbing a hand over your eyes, "Eight? I think… maybe eight thirty if I skip breakfast and rush straight to uni." He tilted his head and you shrugged, "Eight fifteen and a small breakfast?"

Satisfied he nodded. "Better."

It was such a small thing that he cared about, though the heat rushed into your cheeks all the same.

He parked the car right in front of the dorm complex and after peeling yourself out of the comfortable warmth he led you to the main entrance.

Not wanting this night to end, you took your time searching inside your purse for the keys, fumbling around and pushing some mints and loose papers back and forth until you couldn't drag it out any longer, and then some more finding the right one.

Thranduil waited patiently, leaning against the brick wall, the headlights of cars washing his ivory skin silver.

"So," you said as you couldn't drag the goodbye out any longer.

"So," he repeated.

Standing together in the small alcove of the entrance felt more confined with the tension between you, drawing you closer to him.

Tilting your chin towards the ground, you looked up at him through half-closed, weary lids. "Thank you again. For driving... and thank you for what you said. It.. that whole speech, y'know? That means a lot to hear it and like especially from you."

Thranduil smiled. "Anything for you," he whispered.

Then, he withdrew his hand from his coat pocket. Your eyes followed as he approached your face, his fingertips gliding over your temple, following the curve of your eyebrow until he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and cupped the back of your neck.

Yielding to the gentle pressure, you let yourself fall into the embrace he pulled you into. His coat cascaded down your sides, brushing against your knees pressed against his, and as he rested his chin on your head, you couldn't help but sigh contentedly.

Even though you stood there, fully clothed in street attire and the entrance of your home, it was as close as you could imagine to falling asleep with him. And you nearly did.

"Goodnight, darling." His words were nothing more than a whisper, rough and muttered into your hairline, but you still beamed, your face pressed against his chest.

"Goodnight, Thranduil."

"Oh, wait–" you stepped back, realizing your still wearing that sweater, hands already on the hem, "here"

Large hands covered yours before you get to pull it off, stopping you with a gently push.

"Keep it. You wear it better than me."

He paused, breathing in and out as if to assure himself that whatever he thought was what he wanted to say. "Keep you thinking of me while you get some sleep."

You're nothing but a blushing mess as you quickly hurried up the staircase to find your roommate on the stairs, typing on her phone and sparing you one lousy "Thanks" that you ignore to rush into the silent apartment.

You didn't even turn on the light in your room but went straight to your window, facing the street. What usually bothered you turned out to be incredibly practical because you could wave to Thranduil one last time.

As always, he had been waiting next to his car, his gaze directed up to your window, and only when he saw you behind the glass did he get in.

However, he didn't continue straight to his firm; his car turned on the street, taking the same direction you came from. Towards his home.

taglist [still open]: @mushroomemeralds @mssuguru , @solartoge @12134z03 @fruitymoonbeams-blog @finallyforgotten @lady-of-imladris @123forgottherest

#📁files: passenger princess #thranduil x reader #lotr x reader #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit x reader #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x you #lord of the rings fanfiction #lord of the rings x reader #lotr fanfiction #Thranduil #modern au

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itsonlydana · 9 months ago

Text

"passenger princess" | chapter two

the hobbit | a modern!AU by itsonlydana

❱ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader

❱ wordcount: 4,2k

❱ summary: meeting Thranduil; memories of first and past encounters

❱ warnings: alcohol, the usual swearing and bantering

❱ an: first look at the dadd.. father Thranduil! What do we think? hehe :)

general m.list + series m.list

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot - especially with longer projects <3

CHAPTER TWO: THRANDUIL

Thranduil's appearance shouldn't have surprised you that much, he was Legolas' father after all and owned the very table you sat at.

But here you were; hands clenched in your lap as you drank in the glorious sight of him.

Thranduil Oropherion took your breath away every time you saw him and now that you were slightly drunk and already caught unguarded more than ever.

As CEO of his law firm, he usually never drove home before midnight, so seeing him at a relatively early hour - a good quarter hour before 11 - was unusual.

On other occasions, when you found yourself at Legolas' place at a later hour, he would make a modest effort at conversation but promptly excuse himself to retire to his rooms.

Today, the man in front of you looked quite chipper, his sharp eyes wandered through the round before it lingered on you.

"You were far from getting her," Thranduil mocked his son, "or she wouldn't have lost interest so quickly. Though I doubt it had ever been there, had it?" He smirked.

You blushed under his gaze, which stayed on you as he slowly unbuttoned his long black coat with long and nimble fingers; it brought a diziness that wiped out everything in your mind.

"All tactics, Thranduil," you blurted out, though your voice threatened to break away.

Quickly, you took a sip of your now lukewarm beer. It did not help whatssoever.

After swallowing, you tipped the bottle toward the board, "When his mind is on his ego, he doesn't play quite as well and well, what kind of friend would I be if I didn't take complete advantage of that?"

At the indignant "Hey!" of your best friend, Thranduil laughed gravelly and warmly. "Very good tactics- you're such a clever girl."

Oh god.

His praise hit you right in the heart and before you could control yourself, the blood rushed hot to your cheeks.

You nodded, because now you knew you couldn't trust your voice.

With a dry throat, even though you had just finished drinking, you watched as he stripped off his coat, revealing one of those perfectly fitted brown suits that drove you crazy.

No ones Dad should be allowed to look this hot, right?

But of course, here he was; looking exactly what you imagined model agencies were after.

Legolas had to have gotten his looks from somewhere and one look was sufficient to pin point exactly from who.

They had the same long blonde hair, though Thranduil's flowed down his back like molten silver while Legolas embodied the warmth of sunshine in his blond strands.

Their features mirrored each other as well, from the enchanting light blue eyes to the dark eyebrows and prominent cheekbones, though then there were Thranduil's lips, tinged with a rosy hue, that, when curled into a smile, not only lit up his whole face but every cell in your body as well.

He was a total DILF, a more refined version of his equally beautiful son and wouldn't you've had befriended Legolas and met his father, you're sure that you would have become on of Las's admirers.

And oh Thranduil's height played into his imposing figure as well, around 6,5' tall and built with broad shoulders that flexed under his white shirt, tightening it as he folded his arms behind his back and walked toward your little round.

Unconsciously, your head moved along with his relaxed steps, following the swing of his hips and the casualty with which he loosened the tie around his neck. You admired him for his sauntering, no matter how he walked, how he stood and how he sat, he radiated an incomparable elegance.

He came to a stop right behind you, propped one hand on the back of your chair to lean down slightly, and you took in a cloud of his senses-thrilling perfume, rich and noble and underneath the smell of just him.

Leaning lightly against his fingers, you sensed the pressure of the rings adorning his slender hands against your back, prompting you to automatically straighten up.

If someone else behaved like you, the fawning, the blushing, gods– the giggling and utterly nonsense you could ramble whenever Thranduil was close, you would have called them completely ridiculous and a lovesick fool.

It had taken a lot of effort to face what your body, your heart, your soul and your whole being demanded.

That it was the father of your best friend hadn't necessarily made it easier for you.

The first time you met Thranduil Oropherion was at the end of the second semester, on a night that, while seeming ordinary, marked a turning point in your life.

It was mid-February, the day of your last exam before the semester break. An exam with Professor Sauron on the last day—seriously, who came up with such sadistic ideas?

Frustrated, you decided the only logical solution was to hit your favorite bar.

The cozy joint quickly filled up with your fellow students. Fast forward a few hours, and there you were, getting schooled by Aragorn in Beer Pong, winning a drinking contest against Gimli, and belting out "Mr. Brightside" with Legolas on karaoke. Looking back, it had to be one of your finest performances. The two of you would get compliments for "rocking that shit" that never really ended.

So, none of you were in any shape to catch the usual bus back home.

Surprisingly, even Aragorn, who usually doesn't party to the point of a near coma like you, was holding his own with the beer. Plus, there wasn't enough cash left for a cab.

You pushed the problem aside until the bar shut off the music in the wee hours, and the remaining patrons were tossed into the night.

Confronted with the cold February air, you had to make a quick decision; none of you wanted to spend the semester break sick in bed.

So, Legolas, after fumbling with his cell phone and struggling to find the right number in his contacts, called his father.

It was only after the short call, in which Legolas slurred a "See you soon, Ada," that you thought about whether you had just woken the man up.

Although Legolas assured you several times how little his father slept and that he had likely been working, you couldn't help but worry about your first encounter with your best friend's father.

The few details you had managed to extract from the blonde, who had fallen asleep on your shoulder, were that he's "totally cool as long as I don't barve over the seats" and that his name was Thranduil.

It was a name that now rolled smoothly over your tongue, strange and enticing, and that he wasn't just a lawyer but owned an entire law firm, "the one that took down that one asshole, y'know?"

Knowing Legolas, his grades and the level of intelligence he had whenever he wasn't in love or drunk, it made sense that his father had cared a great deal about his education.

That you felt sick to your stomach and nervous about meeting the man was an understatement. There was a part in you that was ready to run into the night as to avoid meeting your best friends father drunk and barely dressed; and that for the first time.

A man so firm in his attitudes about work and education surely had no joy in picking up his son, drunk as hell, in the middle of the night or playing cab driver for his equally drunk friends.

Those thoughts vanished as soon as a sleek black sports car pulled up in front of the sidewalk and he stepped out.

He could've been Legolas older brother by the looks of them.

Adorned, as usual, in impeccably coordinated slacks and a crisply pressed shirt, this time in a striking bordeaux hue, Thranduil exuded a forbiddingly handsome presence.

The long platinum hair framed his face, pulled up into a ponytail, and his piercing eyes thoroughly surveyed you as he stepped out.

Even if your ass was freezing off on the stone, you were glad to be sitting down. Your legs had turned into jelly as you peared up.. and up and up those long legs.

His first words caught you off guard.

You had expected a lecture about your drinking habits or a mocking comment along the lines of: "partied a little too hard, did we?"

However, the first thing Thranduil said was a warm, "You'll catch your death out there, hop in!" before ushering you into the car.

Wrapped in a surprisingly cozy blanket he provided, you sat in the passenger seat moments after loading a still-dozing (and very much drooling) Legolas into the back seat with Gimli and Aragorn. It wasn't a long drive, but the heated seats and the exhaustion of the day quickly lulled the boys into a sleep you couldn't share.

Determined to stay awake, to make a good impression on Thranduil, you wanted to talk to him and thank him for the ride.

Somehow, you couldn't manage to open your mouth. Instead, it was he who broke the silence with a lowered voice at a red light.

"You must be the woman Legolas won't stop talking about," he stated, your name rolling off his tongue, and at your nod, he smirked. "Legolas has told me so much about you that I wondered when I might finally meet you."

Your eyes were glued to the man at the wheel, not just because of his handsome face and the way he pronounced your name. The last part would have you swooning, wondering how your own name could sound so... sensual on anyones lips.

It was easy to fall into conversation with him after that, even if the beginning was a bit bumpy on your part due to sobering up. You may have forgotten what seminars you took and completly got off road babbling about the books you needed to read, that didn't matter though.

Thranduil listened to you, looked at you, and responded to your stories and opinions with such interest and wit that something in you was released, something that would stay with you for a long time.

He did it a lot now, watching you, looking at you and like, really looking at you with his cerulean eyes that broke through every wall you've ever built around yourself.

It was clear from the beginning that this wasn't some boy like the ones you went on dates with before.

He was a man who showed his interest in what you had to say and what you thought because he was interested in you and not because he wanted to get into your pants.

While Thranduil wasn't always there, making himself sparse whenever the four of you got too loud for him or giving you the freedom to use the house as a second home, those moments where he did join you left an even greater indent in your heart that slowly carved a Thranduil-sized shape into the muscle.

Take last winter for example.

Christmas was coming closer every day, bringing with it the usual hustle of cramming in study sessions for the last exams to be taken while trying to work through the bullet list of activities that Legolas had planned.

They were more meticulous and even color coordinated which made a fine example of his study habits when you tried to quiz him on one of the many topics and all he could list was when and where the first Christmas markets would open. He hadn't even bothered to fake taking an interest in studying.

You loved him, very much so but he tested your skills on holding back and smacking him so much that you needed to get up and get out of the living room. Gimli and he would be alright if you left them alone for a second. Surely.

The afternoon sun filtered through the windows of the high entrance hall as you sat down on the stairs, shuffling through the flashcards you'd prepared in the hopes of getting at least some of the information into your overflowing, mushed brain.

At this point, your head must have been steaming, stuffed full with dates and people doing this because of that, and the historical development of words that you needed to explain other words– it went on and on, building up to a scarily high stack of cards and notes.

You just made yourself as comfortable as one could, perched on one of the steps, leaned against the wall, and feet crossed at the ankles and your back hunched over one of the cards, as one of the doors upstairs opened and closed, followed by footsteps and then, an amused huff.

"Why am I not surprised to find one of you doing yoga on the stairs?"

You snapped up, a sharp sting zipping through you at the sudden movement and you winced, glancing up to the top of the stairs.

"Yoga? Why the hell– sorry, shit.."

Then, your feelings for Thranduil had been simmering on high heat, a new development of the crush that slowly but surely grew out of control.

There was a duality tearing you in two different directions.

1. he was still Mister Oropherion, Legolas's father, a respectable man in society (after the first meeting you had frantically googled him, lying under the stuffy blanket in your dorm and tried to find out as much as you could through newspaper articles and zooming into pictures) and he radiated power, influence.

2. He was Thranduil as well, loving and caring not just to his son but to his friends as well, always making time after a long day at work to ask how you all were and if you needed anything. He drove you around whenever none of you could anymore, he laughed at your jokes and teased, smirking at you, watching you over the rim of his reading glasses…

How were you supposed to act around him if not like a total fool?

Thranduil raised a hand to his mouth and pressed his thumb against his lip which obviously twitched into an amused smile at your attempt to sort out this situation.

"That position you were in just now resembled one I did in my morning yoga course this morning," Thranduil explained as he made his way down, stopping two steps behind you.

"Yoga," you repeated quite horse at the mental image of this man twisting his long body– no no no this was not what should occupy your mind right now, most definitely not.

"However, I see I was incorrect," he continued and nodded the tip of his chin down at the flashcards. "Not as much fun as yoga."

You made a sound somewhere between a distressed wail and laughter. "No this is so much fun, actually. I think I'm having too much fun; nothing else I wanna do other than burn the reasoning for a man doing whatever into this nuggin'"

And while you were alright at it, you knocked your own palm against your forehead, hoping that it would delete some useless information out of there to make room.

It did nothing of the sorts, why would your head cooperate for once in your lifetime exactly when Thranduil was taking another step, right over you and sat down on your other side– one step lower.

The height difference allowed him to have an inch on you nonetheless, presenting you with a close-up of his jawline and the ivory curve of his neck and shoulder line that peeked under his cashmere sweater.

"C'mon," he said and held out his hand.

Your brain was short-circuiting, running hot trying to figure out if you should take it with your hand.

Thranduil chuckled and reached over, taking the stack of cards out of the tight grip of your hands that loosened at the brush of fingertips against skin.

He shuffled through them as well, looking over your handwriting and that alone felt so much more intimate than anything else he had ever done.

Here he was, sitting next to you, his eyes following the brush of your pen and you wondered if he saw the sharp slants of the t's and the dots on the i's and if there was a universe where he thought about his name in your handwriting.

He must have said something for suddenly he lifted his head and looked at you, still staring.

His eyes, the brightest of blue, wandered back and forth on your face, moving and examining and though you were scared he was figuring it out, putting puzzle pieces together that revealed a picture of your desire, you couldn't find it in you to look away.

You imagined kissing him. Press your mouth against those soft and pink lips and finally get it done and over with.

You blinked.

And drew back first.

Thranduil's head inclined the tiniest bit, a quizzing glance in his last glance before he cleared his throat and leaned back against the wall. The winter sun warmed your cheeks and the fuzzy socks on your feet knocked against the banister as you situated yourself again.

This was alright.

Not the right time for kissing your best friend's father but spending time with him filled that part in you that arched for the slightest ounce of attention that he could spare.

And if this was studying in their hallway, you would be alright.

"So… please explain to me what happened in the year–"

"Things don't seem to be in your favor," Thranduil remarked in the present as he examined the board.

Meanwhile, Gimli, who had momentarily slipped your mind in the haze of thoughts about him and the pleasant warmth coursing through your body from both him and the alcohol, burst into laughter.

"Well," you swallowed hard and forced yourself to look away from Thranduil and back at the table.

You didn't have to look at your friends to see the smirk on their faces.

At first, you had wanted to keep your secret to yourself, but damn Gimli, Legolas, Aragorn, and the evening after one of the harder exams that had loosened your tongue and pulled at your words bit by bit until all your insides poured out, just like the tears that came from finally being able to share this part of you.

Now you had to live with the consequences, the wagging eyebrows whenever Thranduil said something, the giggling as if you were ten and not in your twenties, and if that wasn't frustrating enough, the three of them conspired in a manner that they could disappear as soon as they had to chance to leave you and Thranduil alone.

You searched for your voice for a moment: "Who knows how the game will turn out? I've been clinging for what feels like an eternity to this money and the few rents I can collect. After all, these idiots ripped off street after the other."

"You brought this on yourself," Aragorn replied, rolling the dice.

You hadn't noticed Legolas' move at all, and from the grins on the faces of the three of them, dread gripped you as you anticipated something truly mischievous.

"What have you... Legolas!" you almost shrieked when you saw his rider on your street. "Why didn't you say anything?" you asked aloud, glaring angrily into the round, only to have cheeky-looking faces flashing back at you.

Aragorn started to walk his figure, but you leaned far over the table, grabbing his wrist with one hand. "No.. no, that doesn't count! We were on a break!" you tried to complain but got no encouragement.

Nice friends you had chosen.

Not even Aragorn, who usually took no sides, now raised his shoulders in a quick shrug.

"I said I'm gonna continue," Legolas sang. You saw his lips continue to speak, but the words sounded muffled in your ears, "It's not our fault if you were distracted"

This pure audacity.

The disrespect.

The nerve of this blonde headed idiot!

You wanted to scream, you wanted to shake the mirk out of his face, but all you did was nail him to the chair with a pointed stare.

To no avail.

The guy was building up immunity to that scarily fast. In no time soon, you would need to find another way to shut him up.

The blood burned your face as you let yourself fall backward.

Not the smartest idea, because as soon as your back made contact with Thranduil's hand, you sucked in a sharp breath, a sound that didn't escape the man behind you.

The only thing you could think of to somehow save yourself from the situation was to cross your arms in front of your chest desperately.

Like a defiant child, you pushed your lower lip forward and jutted your chin up. "Alright, let's play unfair."

Behind you, Thranduil smirked.

His breath hit your cheeks hotly as he leaned down to your height all at once, and the butterflies in your stomach fluttered. "No matter how you play, dirty or not, destroy them for me, okay sweetheart?"

As if his proximity wasn't already the catalyst for the endorphin explosion and clouding your perception of everything else but him, the way the pet name 'sweetheart' rolled loosely over his tongue made your heart skip a beat.

Fuck, you were so fucked.

"Of course," you managed to bring out just barely.

Your voice had jumped up the scale so far it could have been a squeak. If you tried to think about why he'd unpacked that pet name out of the blue, your brain would probably have gone up in smoke.

Or you would have gone crazy.

Neither seemed like a really promising option and so you played it cool, throwing him a smile and then reaching for the dice.

You felt Thranduil straighten up again, heard the soft rustle of his fine suit pants, and forced yourself to concentrate on moving your figure along and placing it, thank heavens, to a prison visiting field.

"You're home early, Ada," mumbled Legolas, a handful of sour gummy worms between his teeth as his sticky fingers accepted the dice.

Behind you, Thranduil now propped himself up with both hands on your backrest, his tall figure casting a shadow on the board in front of you in the dim light of the kitchen, making your thoughts, as well as your breath, catch.

He was so much taller than you, his shadow engulfing yours completely.

"Would you believe me if I said I was hoping to see my son after a long week at work?" he asked, and for a moment you thought you felt his thumb brush your shoulder blades.

But the feathery touch disappeared so quickly that you weren't sure it had even been there.

"Ay, I'd rather have stayed at work then," interjected Gimli as he slid a few bills to Aragorn and exchanged them for a road, "Seeing Las shitfaced is not a pretty sight" He laughed, though Legolas rolled his eyes.

"Or seeing him in general," you interjected. Again all your bones vibrated at Thranduil's laughter.

Then a dull pain ran through you and, gasping, you looked under the table where Legolas was just pulling his leg back. "You little shit!" you gasped, but the blonde only stuck his tongue out at you.

"My Lady," Aragorn slid the dice to you, probably just in time before Legolas and you erupted into another discussion.

"I'll be in the living room in the meantime if anyone is looking for me. And please," Thranduil's tone made you tilt your head back in your neck so you could look up at him. He looked at one after the other of you "it would be very nice if I didn't run into another one of you half-naked in the morning," he spoke and his eyebrows shot up at Gimli who promptly toasted him with the bottle.

"Of course, Mr. O! In the future, I will not present Mother Nature's gifts until lunchtime."

Thranduil rolled his eyes with a grin and turned away from your group.

In the corner of your eye, you followed him, watching as he disappeared around the corner to the living room.

The room remained silent, music extracted, and as you looked to your friends, you heaved a sigh. "Can we please not talk about this?"

"I don't know what about," Gimli asked, looking to Legolas "Do you know what she might mean Las?"

Legolas shook his head, one shoulder raised "I haven't the faintest idea. Aragorn?"

"Can't think of anything."

Grateful and relieved, you smiled at your boys.

"It's not like it's a big deal that your so down bad for my dad," Legolas interjected as casually as if he wasn't throwing your biggest secret into the room.

A room that was adjacent to the living room.

Your blood ran hot and hold.

"Legolas!" you hissed and paid him back with a well-deserved kick under the table.

Your heart was pounding up to your throat, Thranduil was sitting right there, next door, and Legolas was running his mouth? What was he thinking?

"What?"

"Are you fucking serious right now?"

Unbothered, Legolas threw another gummy worm into his mouth, "C'mon, it's true."

"Oh my god, sure. He.. he shouldn't, no he can't know it though!"

To your surprise, Legolas giggled, "You can't make this up, guys," and Gimli joined in with laughter; even Aragorn hid his laughter behind a hand.

It seemed like you were out of the loop as if the joke had sailed right past you.

The only way the situation could have worsened was if Thranduil had emerged from the living room to share a laugh with the guys about whatever you had clearly overlooked.

Yeah, that would be the tip of the evening, Thranduil laughing in your face over the stupid crush you had.

"Oh, my dear friend," Aragorn leaned over to you, patting your thigh affectionately, "Someday, when you stop putting yourself in the way, you will finally see how the tides can turn."

Your eyebrows shot up questioningly, "Aragorn, I love you, you know that? But no more riddles, no more dallying. Let's just finish this game before I scream."

"Like we're the ones dilly-dallying around," you heard Legolas mutter into his bottle, but you didn't have the motivation to bring up the subject again, and with a roll of the dice you threw everyone else back into action as well.

taglist [still open]: @mushroomemeralds @mssuguru @solartoge

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itsonlydana · 8 months ago

Text

"passenger princess" | final chapter

the hobbit | a modern!AU by itsonlydana

❱ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader

❱ wordcount: 7,5k

❱ summary: the rules of a man keeping love from himself and the girl who broke them

❱ warnings: mature language

❱ an: so, here it is. The last chapter. This was originally 24k on ao3 and now we hit 42k and around 148 pages on google docs. This has been unbelievable and i'm so glad to have added this and that and posted on here <3 thank you all for every comment & kudos & repost and just all of it🩷

general m.list + series m.list

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot - especially with longer projects <3

CHAPTER NINE: WHISPERS

The drive was a lot quieter than usual.

The radio still played classical music, the soft piano music filtering through the stereo and cradling you in welcome melodies. Instead of the usual chatter, you opted for silence, preferring to listen to Thranduil as he talked to you about his day in the softest of voices.

Once or twice you huffed out a wet laugh through your nose at something he sayed, a quip against one of his coworker or a joke he thought off, nearly soundless but Thranduils lips quirked up nevertheless.

He proved to be correct about the weather forecast too; shortly after the car departed from the city streets and ventured onto the highway, the skies opened up.

Initially, the rain descended in a gentle pitter-patter, small droplets defiantly challenging the windshield wipers. The lights of passing cars transformed into watercolor circles, providing a soothing spectacle that eased your eyes and calmed your nerves.

And not once left Thranduils hand your leg for longer than necessary.

You were watching him, looking at his side profile as he drove you through the night and quietly chatting. Giving you time. Not pushing you into telling him why he had to pick you up crying and had to hold you while you were crashing down a cliff.

He'd done it without a second thought, picking you up this godless hour like he hadn't been in bed already and abandoned sleep for you.

Thranduil, who waited for you to be ready to tell him what happened, throwing his evening plans for you overboard, once again coming to get you and comforting you with his touch; the spark inside your heart soared.

If this wasn't love, what else could it be?

By the time you arrived at the Oropherion home, the soft drizzle of the rain had turned into merciless streams of water crashing down to earth, obscuring the view out the front window as soon as the ignition died and the wipers came to a stop.

The seatbelts clicked loudly.

"I forgot an umbrella."

You turned your head from the shape of the house you could make out through the water streaming down the window to Thranduil. He had leaned forward to be able to look out the window as well, head tilted sideways and his mouth curled downwards at the sides.

"I guess we will have to run," you said softly.

"No. I will run, grab one of the umbrellas in the entry hall and pick you back up."

You let out a snort and your hand all but flew to your mouth.

"What?" Thranduil asked but you shook your head. "Why did you laugh?"

Your hand fell back into your lap, down to Thranduils one. "You don't have to run and then come back only for me to be dry. That's really unnecessary," you told him, biting your lower lip as you felt a smile blooming inside you "Though it is appreciated that you would do that for me."

He mirrored your smile and it's so heartful and warming, the way his lips changed from the frown and lifted up and you could see the smile reaching his eyes, his eyebrows relaxing as well as his jaw.

"Then let us run quickly and hope we are fast enough," Thranduil agreed, leaning towards you and opening your door, then his. He looked at you. "On go?"

You nodded.

"Three."

"Two."

"One."

"Go!"

Both of you jumped out of your seats, slamming the doors shut and then you were off. The rain poured down relentlessly as you and Thranduil dashed through the downpour towards the entrance of the house.

Within seconds you were completely soaked, wet from head to toe and your clothes clung to your body when you stumbled up the steps to the door, Thranduil close behind you.

So close, that he nearly crashed into you, as he took two steps at a time and stopped just a few centimeters from where you leaned heavily against the entrance, trying to wring out some of the water out of the sweater.

His hands landed next to your head with a thump as he stopped himself, the momentum of his halting resulting in his hair following his body, smacking against your face like a lasso. Not with much force but it still had you spluttering to get a few of the strands out of your mouth.

Thranduils face contorted in embarrassment as he realized what had you smacking your lips and huffing out a cough and he threw his long hair back over his shoulder. "Don't grin at me," he groaned while pulling his keys out of his pocket "I will die of humiliation if you ever speak of this in front of Legolas."

"What of?" you teased, "That you nearly ran me over with your tall body or that I got a taste of hair because you can't control that tall body?"

"Neither!" he growled, then yanked his keys out and jammed them into the keyhole. Before turning it, he stopped, locking down at you, flattened between him and the door.

His perfect thick eyebrows raised almost in a hesitant question in themselves. "You won't, right?"

Knowing he had been an – involuntarily – witness to many of the evenings Legolas and you had spent in their living room wearing your cutest pajamas and face masks that had scared him more than once, while you painted each others nails and gossiped like you would get paid for it by the minute, you understood the underlying fear in Thranduils voice.

Chuckling, you raised a hand, and curled your fingers around one of the few strands that clung to his drenched sweater and glistening jaw.

"I won't," you said but the eyebrows rose higher at the light amusement in your voice so you reassured him while brushing the strand behind his ear, following the curve of it to the pointed tip and felt him shuddering under the light touch.

"I promise! Pinky swear that I won't tell Legolas anything that involves your hair or your body," As soon as those words were out of your mouth, you grimaced.

Thranduil did too.

That didn't came out like you had wanted it to.

Even the simple thought of telling Legolas anything that involves anything private with Thranduil... no– you're sure that this would never happen.

You had tried talking to Legolas once more about the matter, checked in with him to ask what he thought of the progress you and Thranduil had been making after the cabrio conversation, and he had simply given you his permission if he wouldn't have to call you "mother"; a compromise you had rushed to agree to.

"Ew," you murmured, teeth being close to chattering as the wind slapped a fresh wave of rain your way "Never mind."

Thranduil nodded quickly. The one hand pressed against the door slid down and to your waist, leading you into the entrance hall after the key had turned and the both of you were stumbling into the safety of the house.

Inside, water dripping on the dark hardwood floors, Thranduils other hand found your waist as well, as he led you through the dark house from behind you.

You didn't bother with turning on the lights, you trusted Thranduil with finding his way through a house he had lived in for his whole life.

It almost ended in stumbling, especially given the trail you left behind, practically begging for a "caution: wet floors" sign. Thranduil was so near that you could feel not only his hands but occasionally his chest too, particularly when rounding corners or ascending stairs.

Somehow though you found yourselves in front of a closed door on the third floor with no injuries except for that ache in your heart that while being number than earlier, seemed to be a constant companion for the time being.

You knew in an instant what was behind said closed door.

It's quite an accomplishment to know what was behind it, looming, if you would have to be specific.

There were a lot of doors in the Oropherion house: the kitchen had three, there was a pantry door, Legolas bedroom door, the guest room doors, the library doors, the door to the cellar, and if you were in the right state – beer pissed if there was no other option but preferably wine tipsy – there was no telling where you would end up.

Well, the chances of you crashing into a storage room when you were aiming for the guest room you always stayed in were pretty high, high enough Legolas – or Thranduil nowadays – would accompany you up and save to the door, making sure you slept in the bed rather than a makeshift situation out of aprons and rags.

How easy it would be to lie and say that only happened once…

But no matter the level of alcohol in your blood and head, you never dared opening this door.

This was the only door you never touched, never even stopped in front of.

Sure, in your mind you were a regular visitor but that was between you and the fantasies coming alive ever since Thranduil had picked you up from that bar the one fateful night!

In reality, notably, a reality where you were much closer to those fantasies now than ever, there had never been an opportunity to come up to the third floor.

There were only three rooms up here.

The study behind the last door at the end of the hallway was where Thranduil would sometimes disappear into. You knew he hoarded some very special editions of books that you two had discussed.

The first door was to the old nursery, now no longer used but for an empty threat Thranduil held in his hands if Legolas dared to ignore the very few rules they had. If the threat was that Legolas would move back into the nursery or if Thranduil would bring out whatever was in there was not the matter, it was enough to bring Legolas back on track if needed.

And of course…

The master bedroom.

Thranduil's bedroom.

The one Thranduil was currently opening before you, his hands on your waist and his breath hot on your neck as he steered you into the room.

Unlike you, he didn't seem to give the situation a second thought, much less a third, fourth and from the way he kissed you on the back of the head and then walked to a door on the right side of the room, he wasn't on the verge of a nervous breakdown either.

You, on the other hand, could only stare at the room unfolding, exchanging the images of it you had drawn in your mind.

The bedroom you had imagined had been clinically tidy, in no more colors than grey, white and maybe he would be crazy and had thrown some black in there, and he would've had few pictures and books but just the barest minimum to have it look like this wasn't a furniture exhibition and not too much that the room could mess with the image of the cold, serious, stern and intimidating lawyer he put out for strangers.

For once, the walls were painted a beautiful dark green with gorgeous panels that graced them from the dark wood floors to the high ceilings, similar to the bay windows that reached the ceilings as well but had a slim bench.

The windows were framed by long rusty colored curtains. These windows would surely flood the room in the sunlight whenever the weather wasn't dark and gloomy like today.

Right now you couldn't even look out, but you knew from the guest room one floor under you, that this room had the perfect view of the garden that stretched behind the house and Thranduil would be able to look out right into the cherry tree.

There was a giant king-sized bed pushed against one of the walls without windows, the sheets midnight blue and most certainly silk, the pillows propped against the wooden headboard, and there were enough of them to make it look like the perfect place to disappear into sweet dreams.

Two nightstands were on either side of the giant bed, both had a simple lamp and some burned-down candles on them, as well as a book and a picture frame that was facing the bed.

On the left side of the bedroom door was another door left ajar, allowing you a small peak into the en suite bathroom, because of course Thranduil had his own private bathroom and you nearly snickered thinking of the many hair and skin products that he would hide in there.

On the window-side of the bed were two floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, filled to overflow with books, many of which you recognized even from afar. There was also a comfortable-looking old wing chair in front of the shelves, a wine-red blanket thrown over its arms.

Your eyes wandered to the right side of the room, to the door leading to the walk-in closet where Thranduil was currently pulling out some clothes.

Next to the door was a small desk with another bookshelf. Papers lay scattered on the surface in front of a dark computer, around them opened books and even more picture frames.

The room shocked you in the best way possible.

Everything looked so… well lived in.

From the pictures on the wall, shelves and every surface that they fit onto in an aesthetical, home-y way, to the phone cable next to the bed (you would tease Thranduil about that later; after all was he the one always bickering with Legolas that he shouldn't sleep with his phone in his bed), and the used cup with a coffee stain on the side next to one of the many books next to the wing chair.

He had some potted plants as well, tall ones in between the windows and smaller ones on shelves and the benches, and they didn't even look close to dying.

Not like the little cactus in your room that you would forget to water and if you remembered you would throw in whatever you were drinking that moment into the pot.

You could even spot a pair of socks next to the bed. Next to the unmade bed.

Thranduil had said on the phone that you'd called him when he was about to retire to sleep but seeing the rustled sheets and a thrown of pajamas right before you made it all so real.

This was Thranduil's bedroom, littered with pieces of his personality and you were standing right in the middle of it…

… dripping on what was probably a very expensive carpet.

With that realization you took a step back, whipping back and forth on your heels, eyes landing on Thranduil.

"Okay, I took the liberty to pull out some clothes for you," Thranduil said and stepped out of the closet, a gray sweater and what looked like black shorts in his hands. "You can change in the bathroom over there, through the door next to the bed." The clothes landed in your hands, you carefully held them away so as to not get them too wet and Thranduils smiled at you. "If you need anything, yell, alright? There should be some towels in there as well and I have a spare toothbrush under the sink."

You just nodded.

Entering the bathroom was another shock, considering it was as big, no definitely bigger, than the whole of your room and you could have sworn even the curved bathtub was bigger than your bed.

Right then, it looked more comfortable as well.

You switched on the lights and instead of one big light, many smaller ones lit up and bathed the room in a somehow quiet light. How light could be described as 'quiet' was beyond explanation for your tired mind, it fitted nonetheless.

Peeling the cold and wet sweater off pulled more on your heartstrings than on the synapses in your brain that would normally scream because of the fabric clinging to your skin most unpleasantly.

You hoped you could wear it again another time. You carefully draped it over the edge of the tub and the dress you had put on followed regardless of how dry it had been thanks to the sweater.

You couldn't get it off fast enough.

Certainly, you were aware that you had it on; you could feel the fabric stretching over your curves.

However, the encounter with it in the large round mirror above the sink was a startling surprise. Before you knew it, your mind was replaying the events of the evening right before your eyes.

Quickly and trying to avoid the breakdown winding its way up your body you scrambled for a towel, drying off the rest of the rainwater on your damp arms and legs, as well as wringing out your hair in an attempt to at least stop the dripping.

Then you all but jumped into the warm clothes Thranduil had given to you. The sweater that now pooled over your hands was long enough to reach your thighs and as inviting as the thought of ditching the pair of shorts was, you felt the slightly cool air nipping your legs.

But not even the soft fabric and nice smell, pines, and laundry detergent, could hold off the impending tears that came up when you brushed your teeth with the promised toothbrush and stared at yourself in the mirror.

You were able to wash off the makeup with some wipes and now there was a red, puffy face that pulled the same grimaces as you, the evidence of your crying as clear as the hurt in your eyes.

After spitting out your toothpaste and washing your face once again, you turned off the lights and stepped back into the bedroom.

It was dark there as well, the room illuminated by the lamps on the bedside tables, their glow casting golden hues on the face of the man standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

Your lips were automatically drawn upwards at the sight of Thranduil, especially now that he wore the dark blue pajamas. His hair was thrown together in a bun at the top of his head, some strands framing his face perfectly and lining up with his jaw.

His tongue swiped over his lips, cerulean eyes watching you intensely and you didn't miss when they raked over your body and how they lightened up.

"Did you find everything?"

"Yes, thank you."

More silence.

Thranduil took a step towards you, stretching his hand out in a wavy indication to the bed. "Uhm–" he cleared his throat "I don't want to impose but do you want to stay here tonight?"

Your jaw fell open at the invitation which prompted Thranduil's eyes to widen in shock. "You don't have to if you don't want it! I can bring you back downstairs to your room if you prefer some solitude after today–"

"No–"

"I wouldn't be mad, love."

"Thranduil," the second his name fell from your lips he shut his mouth.

"I will never get enough of that," he said quietly and you tilted your head in question. "Before you, my name was such a strange sound on the lips of others. Now.. now I fear that nothing I'll ever hear will sound as beautiful as my name when you say it."

Your face flushed hot at this admission, spoken so honestly that you knew it to be true.

"Well, uhm, Thran– Thranduil, I wouldn't mind… sleeping here, I mean," you rambled on, the thoughts in your brain scrambled like eggs or flown away like the leafs on the cherry tree outside; his words were a strong wind shaking your composure to the point you adverted your eyes in the fear of proclaiming all your love all of the sudden.

What came out your mouth instead, was a long yawn.

The exhaustion of the last two hours (how it had been only two and not more since the party) was rushing to your head now that you were finally in warm and dry clothes and additionally in Thranduils company, your body aching for rest.

Thranduil ultimately smiled, nodding once before he placed his hand on your lower back and turned you around. "Then it would be my absolute pleasure to have you here with me this night and every night you wish. Now, hush hush to bed or else you'll fall asleep right there"

Your cheeks turned another shade of pink and you wished the guest room a swift goodbye, not once feeling bad about abandoning the room next to your best friend if it meant you could sleep next to Thranduil.

That one morning you had awoken on the sofa was the sweetest of memories, especially the feeling that his tall body hugging you close to his chest had awoken.

He was someone that could protect you.

The moment you climbed onto the bed – and yes, climbed; the bed was high enough to have you move with one knee first and then try to gracefully jump the last part – the fabric of the sheets drew you in with their soft and light feel to it.

Thranduil joined you, slipping under the sheet on the right side of the bed and arranging the pillows in his back to his liking.

You observed the action, the routine in the movement of his hands as they pulled out the hair tie that had held his hair back and now removed, let the silver strands fall down his back and sides.

He grabbed his phone after he discarded the tie on the nightstand, the glow of the screen in the dark reflecting in his eyes as he switched to his alarm app and turned off the one single alarm that he had.

You snorted at that, pulling his attention to you.

"Sorry," you quickly said at his raised eyebrow "I didn't want to snoop. It's just funny that you have a single alarm while my phone in the morning rings nearly at a one-minute tact."

Thranduil chuckled and looked at his phone before turning to you. "Oh, I wondered why the hell you were getting calls in the morning when you sleep here. Not even my line in the office is that busy. And you still oversleep with that awful noise blasting your eardrums," he teased and you rolled your eyes at him.

"I do not oversleep!"

"You don't? My love, I can hear those appalling ring tones for what? An hour, two?"

"That's not oversleeping," you retaliated and lifted your nose into the air "I simply set my alarms an hour before I have to wake up so I can get that sweet sensation of being able to fall back asleep again and again," you sighed, reminiscent of the moments your head was being pulled back into the world of dreams

"and again..."

"You can't possibly fall asleep in those five– no two minutes that your phone is quiet before the next alarm screams out," Thranduil looked at you with disbelief.

"Of course I can, I'm a student. I will even accept the five minutes I have when Professor Baggins is making himself a cup of tea"

The sole look on your face told Thranduil you were serious and he shook his head, laughing to himself.

"It's been a long day," Thranduil said and you stifled a yawn. He chuckled, leaning over the small gap between you and breathed a short kiss on your forehead. "Let's sleep, my love," he murmured against your skin there and kissed you again. "You need the rest and I do too. We shall not wake with any alarm, you will sleep as long as you want."

"Uhm, then I would never leave this bed. Ever," you said and grinned, leaning against his lips in an attempt to get another kiss out of it.

He complied, laughing while doing it and the hot air of his breath caressed your face nearly as intimate as his hands on the side of your face.

You smiled but feigned a serious voice, one that could sound threatening if your smile wouldn't have shone through it: "I mean it! I will never ever get out of this bed, you will have to deal with me being here until I've worn out these gorgeous sheets."

Huffing, Thranduil sat back, a grin wide on his face. "Oh, how terrible that sounds! Most unfortunate... for your friends and university. I shall call them right in the morning and tell them Sleeping Beauty has fallen into her slumber and there was nothing I could do against it."

The sheets rustled as you giggled and wiggled down until your head rested comfortably on one of the pillows.

He looked down at you, the grin fell to a dramatic frown as when he reached over and stroked your cheek. "This fate must be so hard on you; staying here with me for all eternity."

You copied the dramatic sigh of his and tilted your head to face the ceiling. "The journey will be hard, but these pillows are soft enough to even it out. Besides, I'm sure there are worse possible outcomes for my future than sleeping here and waiting for a pretty prince to kiss me awake"

Grinning a Cheshire cat-like grin you snuggled deeper into the covers, pulling the sheet up your chest and inhaled the very masculine smell of them.. Thranduils smell.

"Maybe you can send Legolas up here to try"

A low blow, yes, you knew.

But Thranduil simply raised his eyebrow, he was so good at that, you envied him and wondered if he was born with simple talent or if he had worked for the perfection of the timing and the arch, and pushed the hair that had fallen on his chest back behind him.

"I would lock the door before allowing that," his lips curled in amusement.

Looking him up and down you pinched your lips. "Now that you say that, you do have an astonishing resemblance to Mother Gothel," For a moment you pondered "We would only need to dye your hair black, a shame, but– oh look! You even have the same scowl!"

Thranduil did indeed stare you down, cerulean eyes glaring until you saw the tiniest twinkle of mischief not just in his gaze but in the corner of his mouth as well. "I fail to see a resemblance between you and Rapunzel but if you exchange the Adam Sandler look you are wearing right now with a white nightgown I could see you as a slightly more obstinate Berta Manson," He reached over again and poked a long and slender finger into the pout of your cheeks. "And look at that, even the third floor fits!"

You gasped out loud at that, feigning hurt across your features whilst crossing your arms in front of your chest.

But before you could think of anything to retort, a yawn took over for you, breaking the teasing.

Thranduil promptly dropped his act as well, not fighting the besotted smile as he gave you another kiss, this time to the cheek. His hair tickled you when he leaned down and you scrunched your nose.

"As much as I would love to hear what comparisons you could up with," he started and his voice was low, deep, rolling through your entire body in pleasant waves "I believe sleep is in order. Good night my darling, sleep well." He leaned to the side and grabbed the cable hanging there, connected it with his phone, and set it down on the table, turning off the lights while he was at it.

Without making much noise Thranduil settled into the pillows again and his legs brushed yours under the covers.

"Excuse me", he said softly and drew back.

The rain was still heavy against the windows, supported by a low rumbling in the distance and the howling of the wind that shook the trees outside the house.

Nature was loud with everything, from the brewing thunder to the raindrops collecting in a puddle on the window sill in a constant drip drip drip...

The silence inside the room was unbearable loud for you. The rustling of the sheets when you moved even the tiniest bit was as loud in your ears as the roaring ocean waves crashing against the shore, hell, you even thought your swallowing and blinking would make enough noise for Thranduil to hear.

Just as all the lights had gone out, something had settled over the room.

You couldn't put your finger on it, didn't know what it was exactly that was now present but you could feel it in your stomach.

It wasn't awkwardness.

Not like you had sometimes felt it after one night stands when the guy would stay in your room and it would suffocate you to have this person next to you that you really didn't want to have there.

Not like you had felt it the first time you had to crash at Aragorns and he you had fought about where you would sleep and he'd made the argument that you both were adults and could sleep in one bed after twenty minutes of back and forth.

You had kept your distance to him that night and it was like every bit of friendly affection was put on hold for the six hours you had tried not to move and accidentally brush against him.

It wasn't like that now.

It wasn't discomfort either.

It was more pressing, eating away at you and crawling it's way up your body, from your stomach where it fluttered similar to nervousness, biting down in your chest and had you taking a deep breath until you felt it in your throat.

You tried to swallow only to found your mouth full of words that pressed against your teeth and lips, urging to be said out loud into the silence of the room.

You slightly opened your mouth, wettened your lips as the words formed each other to a sentence.

A statement.

A question.

"You never asked what happened tonight."

A whisper.

And then, the rustling of sheets.

Thranduils voice was hesitant at first: "It isn't my place to question it. I figured you would either tell me when you are ready or not at all and I would be fine with it either way." While he talked you could hear and feel him moving, sitting up against the pillows again. "I was worried, god yes and so much, but as soon as I knew that you were safe– safe with me, then I gave you the choice," he talked quietly, concern etched into the words when he seemed to remember the phone call.

The answer wasn't enough to satisfy the restlessness that harbored your body, it seemed to fuel it further and you had to sit up as well to try to calm a few of the nerves. "Yes, but wouldn't you want to know?" you asked in the direction you could make his face out. "I had you driving to the city without telling you anything and you did it. Without question."

"Are you mad at me for doing so?" he asked, the frown audible in his voice.

Your frustration grew and you felt the childish need to kick your legs or cry again. "No!" you said, far too loud and immediately lowered your voice, "No, I'm not mad. I just can't wrap my head around it. If I had written any of my friends they wouldn't have let go until I told them anything and then try to strangle whoever is responsible."

In a second the lights were switched on again and you saw a horrified look on Thranduils face. "Whoever is responsible?" he repeated, the words strangely choked "I– sweetheart I believe you if you tell me you are alright but if there is anyone out there that hurt you I promise you I can help."

You lowered your head as he talked but soft and cold fingers on your chin forced you to look at him again.

His eyes wandered over your face with the same precision of taking everything in and he fixed you with a worried expression. "I care for you, very much so and I know this day was exhausting for you so if you want us to go back to sleep I'll rest but you worry me. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Could you hold me? Please?"

It took a lot for the words to come out, the question not an easy one but you found yourself being tugged over to Thranduil, the man pulling you without as much as a question or hesitation, and struggle.

You landed on his lap in seconds, your knees digging into the pillows at either side of him and you fell into his chest with a deep sigh.

Almost instantly his arms wrapped around you, pulling the sheet up to cover your back and him with it and you rested your head on his shoulder, your arms holding onto him with the same eagerness to hold him close as his.

"There was an argument at the party," you began, whispering the words into his shoulder loud enough for him to hear them.

"My roommate wanted me to meet a guy, the brother of the guy she had been hanging out with; and at first I made a joke about her with these two guys, brothers because she had been joking too but then she told me one would be there for me."

Pausing, you took a deep breath. Your hands had wandered, twirling starlight blonde strands between your fingers. It calmed you, grounded you.

"And I was shocked, really shocked and annoyed because why would she invite a guy for me to make out with as if I didn't have a say in it? Who does that? I have told here before that that's not something I do, especially not now…" your voice trailed off, "Not since you."

"She got angry so fast. In one second she was laughing about making out with two guys and in the next she said these really hurtful things and I stood there, listening to her yelling at me at a party I originally didn't even want to be at and she didn't stop, didn't pause, just throwing every negative thought she had about me on me like our friendship had meant nothing. Well, it wasn't really a friendship."

You were two identical puzzle pieces that had somehow pressed into each other when you had met in your shared apartment in the dorm three weeks before the start of university.

A friendship, much more based on forced harmony and the desire to desperately know someone in this new place than matching preferences.

The rest grew around the shared space, shared experience and somehow you found things you both enjoyed, partying mostly, before you concentrated on the friendship with the boys.

"She was so mean, Thranduil," you mumbled, hands continuing their work on braiding his hair absently minded. "I had to get out of there, it became to much too fast and I couldn't look at anyone anymore. The people there must have heard everything... there were some guys I knew from Saurons class– I don't even want to think about what they think of me now."

Thranduils hand stopped the reassuring movements on your back and they moved up to your neck, guiding your head to look at him.

"I am so very sorry that happened to you," he started and his eyebrows drew together over the cerulean eyes filled with concern.

"Firstly I think however she thought she was helping you with inviting that boy, she should've checked with you and accepted whatever answer you gave her. I don't want to defend her in any way but maybe in her mind that was how she wanted to spend the evening with you." He worded his opinion carefully, ever the lawyer and you could imagine that he had quite a bit of practice with Legolas as well.

"Yes, she did. After I moved into the dorm we went out.. a lot," you abandoned the finished braid and moved to the next few strands of hair, right behind his ear. "And sometimes she would bring a guy home and I did too, once or twice. It didn't made me happy, not really. I think she was jealous because I have Legolas and Gimli and Aragorn and with them I don't need some guy and alcohol to tolerate a party."

"But jealousy isn't a good enough explanation for hurting you, nothing is," Thranduil moved his head, giving you room to pull out some of the long hair from behind him before settling again. "Do you want to tell me what she said?"

You froze, hands still in his hair, thin strands slipping between your fingers like water.

'Do you know how disgusting it is to see you being driven home at night by a man as old as my father? Not to mention it's your best friend's father'

'At first I really believed you were sleeping with Legolas since you were always with him and god I would have understood that'

'Is he paying you for sex? Or what does he want from you of all people?'

It was like you were confronted with them for the first time, your body reacting to remembering the tone, the venom and you tensed up.

Thranduil felt it inevitably as your thighs squeezed around his legs and started to pull in to your chest.

"Hey," he whispered, leaning forward to press his forehead against yours "Breathe for me, darling. Everything is alright, you are here."

"No it's not," you let out a breath as instructed, sitting up on Thranduils lap. "It's not and it's not fair that she can say these things and here I am, stupid enough to believe them.. or not doubt them. Stupid–"

"You are not stupid!" Thranduil said, his voice taking on a stern tone "You are far from it."

"Then how do you explain that it takes a simple 'no one really wants you if you're not fucking them' to have me crying on a curb in the middle of the night?"

You nearly didn't dare to open your eyes again, not when the tears were starting collect in them like the rain drops on the window sill but then Thranduils hands cupped your face fully, hands on your cheek and his thumbs followed the curve of your trembling lips.

"Look at me. Please, look at me," he whispered and you couldn't not follow.

The sight of Thranduil was blurred until you blinked a few times, sniffing to fight the tears from falling.

Thranduil's face was so close to you, close enough to nearly feel the words he was speaking. "You are a wonderful woman, my love, and these thoughts are poisoning your mind. If she said these things she doesn't know you as I do," He paused, holding your gaze and his heartbeat thrummed in your chest.

It beat in the same tact as the rain against the window.

Building up as your hand slid down from his hair to his chest, halting right above his heart.

"You never kiss me," you said in nothing more than an exhaled breath and the beat under your hand stuttered.

His eyes flickered down to where his thumbs where swiping over your mouth, hesitation in them when he looked back at you. "I know, I know. I wanted to, god I wanted to kiss you every time I dropped you off at your dorm and hated myself for letting you go with that look in your eyes that waited for me to do so," his voice trailed off into a sigh, his nose nudging against yours "To be honest with you my love, I was scared of how deep I would fall if I got closer to you, that I would lose myself. Ever since the night you stood in front of that painting, I could feel myself losing control over the rules I had set."

"Rules?" you interrupted, too confused to let that conversation drift away from that specific point.

He sighed again. "Yes, rules. Stupid ones really. When Legolas started talking about you I was intrigued, glad he found friends, yes, but the more time he spend just awing about your wit and how smart you were, helping him through exams, forcing him to study the more curious I got."

Thranduil's hands followed the curve of your cheekbone, continuing to talk as he caressed the skin in gentle movements that kept your head steadied on him.

"And then imagine my surprise when I picked you up that night at the bar–" He kissed the tip of your nose, "and here you were, not only smart, polite and so nervous but beautiful as well. And then you came over more and more, spending the night, reading more books in my library than I could count and you started these discussions at the breakfast table"

Thranduil huffed at the memory, shaking his head minimally.

"Politics, literature, oh even that one morning when you convinced Legolas to not skip class and he went out of the house with his night wear just because he wanted you to stop talking! I knew that if I didn't hold myself back I would move through hell and back if you asked me to. So I thought of these rules."

"Not touching you, not staring at you in awe, not lingering in the living room when you were over–", he counted on his finger of one hand.

"You did a good job at that," you whispered. Thranduil huffed out a laugh, his whole body heaving under you.

He nodded, "Yes, I may have failed sometimes–" You stared at him "Okay often! All that fell away after the moment at the painting. I knew I would never rest peacefully if I didn't try to find out what your true feelings were after you stared up at me."

"That's when things moved a lot faster. Why you were all hot-and-cold. " you concluded, your head feeling all fuzzy after listening to him.

All of it fell into place then, the hesitant touches, the disappearing into his study.

Have you two been suffering for much longer if you could have just talked to each other? But then, the teasing and the tension had been utterly electrifying.

"And, please tell me if I'm wrong, the night you asked me out, to the concert I mean, were you sure then? That this could work?"

Thranduil nodded, nose once again brushing against you. His hands fell down to your waist, which you gratefully leaned into. Your face had grown considerably warmer with his fingers stroking your lips.

"It was either the concert or Netflix and chill," he responded in such a wishful tone that had you laughing out loud.

"That wasn't my proudest moment. I swear you asking me out on a date was unbelievable. I missed the whole lecture from Sauron the next day because all I could think about was if you had been serious"

"Of course I was serious, the evening is all planned out in my mind. Frankly, I had planned it when I got the tickets and still had to ask you if you wanted to go. But I think we are getting of track here," You stared at him, thighs shuffling nervously around. You saw him swallowing, adams apple bobbing in his throat as his eyes darted down to your lips.

"I think," he started with his voice an octave deeper than before "I would very much like to kiss you now– if you'll still have me"

All you could do was nod and then Thranduils lips hovered over yours, his eyes searching your face for a final permission and when you gave it to him in a barely audible "please," his lips finally touched yours.

The first kiss was soft, almost just a brush. It was the catalyst, the lighter for the fire sizzling inside you.

You closed your eyes and let yourself fall. Hands fisted in his shirt you leaned closer, closing the gap between you for another kiss, this one more daring, lips starting to move against each other in a hurry.

Thranduils hands grabbed your waist more forwardly, bunshing the fabric up, fingertips ghosting over your heated skin and you gasped into his mouth at the feeling of the cool and smooth digits.

He used it as an opportunity and licked over your lips with his tongue, crashing every thought you would ever had into a mess.

This was not like other first-kisses, this was not some fumbling around and trying to get into a rhythm.

Thranduil's lips moved with a purpose and directed urgency reflecting the hundreds of thoughts you both shared individually about this moment.

A deep and rumbling hum of appreciation vibrated in his chest and his hands spread all over your hips, holding you close to him as if you would ever think of leaving again.

When you broke apart, gasping for air and chest heaving, you could only stare at him. Thranduil's gaze was wandering over your face, dilated pupils hushing right and back, taking you all in in a way, gaze so pure and open with all of his feelings pouring out of it, that your heart screamed and her bones ached.

It was then and it was right.

There was no more space, no more shadows, just you and him.

"Again"

taglist [still open]: @mushroomemeralds, @mssuguru, @solartoge, @12134z03, @fruitymoonbeams-blog, @lady-of-imladris , @finallyforgotten , @123forgottherest @tomhockstetter7-111 @marshymallo @emily-roberts @howlerwolfmax @tigereyesf @seththetinydemon

#📁files: passenger princess #thranduil x reader #lotr x reader #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x you #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit x reader #lord of the rings fanfiction #thranduil oropherion #thranduil

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itsonlydana · 9 months ago

Text

"passenger princess" | chapter one

the hobbit | a modern!AU by itsonlydana

❱ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader

❱ wordcount: 2,9k

❱ summary: the chaotic mess of playing monopoly drunk with your best friends

❱ warnings: alcohol

❱ an: the first chapter.. excited for you to read this! This has been heavily edited from my ao3 post soo have fun <3

general m.list + series m.list

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot - especially with longer projects <3

CHAPTER ONE: MONOPOLY

"Oh, would you look at that; you landed on my street. Again."

"What? No fucking way."

"Legolas"

"Gimli"

"Blondie, if I don't see my money in ten seconds I'm cutting your hair while you have your beauty sleep."

"No, you wouldn't dare!"

Across from Legolas, Gimli just flashed him a toothy grin, so wide and full of mischief, before leaning over the multitude of cards in front of him with a challenging tip of his head.

"Try me."

"Fine." Legolas drummed his fingers on the table, breaking the staring contest and waving it off like it had never bothered him. "Don't drag it out any further, Gimli, tell me what I owe you, and let me go my way."

For a moment Gimli pretended he had to look for them, but everyone at the table had noticed how his fingers had twitched for the green card as soon as Legolas had rolled the dice.

"You ended up on Oxford Street, which normally would've only cost you $26, but since I have not one, not two, but three houses, you now owe me a wonderful 900!"

And as in previous rounds, Legolas now quite unemotionally pulled two orange paper bills from his carefully sorted, rather tall, stack and received an already slightly worn 100 in exchange, which he accepted with a bitter grumble.

This exchange had happened so many times this evening that you now only rolled your eyes with a smile at the banter, sipping on your bottle of beer to avoid being drawn into the discussion in the first place.

The rivalry between Legolas and Gimli, playful in its purest form and with not an ounce of real bad blood, had become a permanent part of your life after you befriended the two of them.

Although it had slightly thrown you off at first how they went from harmless conversation to competition in seconds, you couldn't imagine your life without it.

In such a fast-paced modern world as this, you sometimes found it hard to hold on to friendships and avoid losing your grip in the swift whirl of time; in the case of many friendships that were strong at the time, you couldn't even remember if there had been a real goodbye, or if they had simply... disappeared - left behind or run ahead, who knew?

With Legolas and Gimli, however, it was different.

You met both of them on the first day of college, had run into both of them, literally, when you tried to get to your first class on time.

A class with a professor you'd only heard bad things about Visitor's Day. The hushed whispers of scared students, their eyes telling you more than what they actually dared to say on campus.

You were close to being punctual, wouldn't it have been for Legolas and Gimli. The duo stood in front of the closed lecture door, simply staring through the tiny window and looking like they would rather perish than actually open it.

Their looks of fear mirrored yours and it was clear that all three of you had heard the stories of students getting their heads ripped of by Professor Sauron. That man had strong feelings about tardiness– and it was only your first day.

You of course rushed to apologize, babbling that you hadn't seen Gimli, and no, it wasn't because of his size but rather due to your lack of attention, and please could they stay on your side when you go into the hell of public humiliation?

By some wonder the Professor had his back turned to the auditorium to fill the blackboard with the required reading list, as you snuck along the stairs and miraculously dropped into the last three empty seats without getting caught.

And when you had breathed a sigh of relief, the brunette who sat on your right passed you the attendance list he had kept with him a little while longer, as if he had suspected that someone else would be late.

That's how you met Aragorn. The ruggedly handsome brunette added to your trio and was conveniently organized enough to lend you and Gimli a pen for the first week.

From day one, you formed an inseparable unit, whether on campus, in the numerous bars you frequented, or in the parks where you often spent your free time - rarely were any of you seen without the others and you would never hear the others utter one single bad word about the other.

You practically did everything together, from classes, many of which you shared – often to the annoyance of professors and fellow students due to the vibrant and occasionally noisy atmosphere you created– to lunches lounging under the campus's shady trees, with Aragorn reading poems from his literature class, and you occupied with braiding Gimli's long-grown beard while Legolas dozed in the longing stares of bypassers, gossiping and flirting.

On weekdays before exams, you either barricaded yourselves in your tiny dorm room, for it was the closest to the library, quizzing each other up and down the subjects, writing flashcards, most of which you wrote, to give to Legolas and Gimli afterward, and after exams, you forced your way into bar after bar, leaving your marks in benches and stools, squeezing into cramped photo booths in brightly lit clubs.

The first trimester passed swiftly, much like the initial semesters of the second, which you were presently struggling to handle.

It was the college life that everyone probably dreamed of, that every movie romanticized, and even you sometimes couldn't believe how perfect everything was.

Certainly, not every exam resulted in a perfect score and not every day was adorned with rose-colored glasses of happiness perched on your nose.

Yet, be it a poorly performed test, a date lacking sparks, or a random low point, your boys stood steadfastly by your side, offering unwavering support.

Today was no different.

The day had started with you waking to the sun and not your alarm clock and getting your ass handed by Professor Sauron.

It continued with some pretty demotivating feedback on an essay you'd worked many late nights by your Herbology Professor Baggins.

He did offer you a pat on the back that probably meant to cheer you up but felt condescending considering the amount of red ink staining the essay you'd crumbled in sweaty hands.

Adding that to Professor Sauron's embarrassment of you in front of the entire class sank your already low spirits to the basement.

Not even Aragorn's consoling hand, which remained steadfastly by your side throughout the day, guiding you from one class to the next, mumbling soft words and trying to cheer you up with soft kisses to your forehead, could lift you out of this emotional abyss.

How you survived that day was a mystery but after eight hours of you pouring out bad energy like radioactive waves, Legolas must've had enough of your moping and the grim expressions you fired at anyone who shouldered you in the hallway.

With a determined, "We're going to my place," the blonde had put his pep talk plan consisting of a trip to the liquor section of the supermarket and an order from the delivery guy into action.

It was this very plan that had gotten you into your current situation.

Slightly drunk at the kitchen table of the House of Oropherion.

A Monopoly board in front of your nose, around it several empty beer bottles. Pizza boxes scattered on the countertops and bags of all sorts of sweet stuff that Legolas had sweepingly pushed from the shelves into the shopping cart, blowing pink bubble gum bubbles.

The guy seriously had a snack-problem and a spending habit that surely made for a good intervention.

Within a few hours, you had turned the otherwise pristine and tidy kitchen into a battlefield that looked a lot like the one in your dorm.

Whereas the one in the dorm was used by twenty young women and many of their partners, and this one just by four.

Just as in the dorm, loud laughter echoed through the entire house, accompanied by your shared playlist.

Legolas had set it playing on the expensive stereo while preparing his snack bowl.

It was a chaotic mix, Legolas pop music, Gimlis folk metal and Aragorns indie rock while you sprinkled in a few classical songs or added whatever else was missing.

Quietly, you hummed along to the hottest chart song of this summer.

Your spirits had risen by now, thanks to your best friends, even if it did look like they were about to go for each other's throats over a denied exchange of a road.

"My Lady," Aragorn interrupted the rising argument between Legolas and Gimli and held out his hand with the dice to you, "Please stop this madness and continue the round so we can finish this eventually.. hopefully today"

Grinning, you accepted the dice, "I will do my best, my lord," while Gimli muttered into his beard, "Not my fault Barbie isn't giving me what's rightfully mine."

As expected, the idiots fell silent as soon as you gave the dice a quick shake in your closed hands and then tossed them across the table with a clatter.

Of course, in the face of eventual earnings, everyone immediately calculated where you would end up and who might rip off what little money was left in front of you.

Two threes.

And everyone groaned in annoyance.

Only you grinned as you dragged your silver dog figure across the Park Lane and Mayfair field decorated with a few of Legolas hotels, right over GO and landed on your own field.

Another round where you survived on the 200 notes from pulling over GO, anxious not to land on one of the hotel fields from the others.

Because, unlike the others, greedy little hoarders who acquired your properties, swindling you with meager donations, you possessed only the two modest brown streets, yielding little profit.

With each move of yours, the others hoped you would finally end up on one of their plots and finally be eliminated, but as if fate would have it, you seemed to be avoiding it just fine.

"And she lives another round," Aragorn raised his beer bottle in your direction and winked "Any bets on how many more you'll survive?"

You snorted as you shook the dice in your hand again. "You're not getting rid of me that fast."

The dice clattered across the board, two ones and loud rumbling from the boys, you moved to the community chest square laughing.

Reaching across the board, you grabbed the top card of the cards and dramatically pulled it up to your chest.

To your left, Legolas drummed his fingers impatiently on the table, and even though Aragorn has so far stayed away from the competition between Legolas and Gimli, he too now nodded his chin questioningly at the card.

At an almost agonizingly slow pace, you turned it over, keeping eye contact with your boys for a while, though, before looking down, skimming the printed text, and laughing out loud.

"What does it say?" Legolas inquired, trying to lean toward you, dark eyebrows raised questioningly.

"Geez, tell me it's a bad card."

"You can decide that for yourself, Gimli," chuckling, you held out your card in such a way that the three of them almost bumped heads, so fast were they bending to the center.

"You've got to be kidding me," Aragorn slumped back in his chair with a moan, and Gimli slammed his hands flat on his thighs, cursing a string of words that in their pure filthy form would make anyone else blush.

You were only spurred on by them, and laughter burst out of you, loud and full of glee.

"I'd like a hundred from each of you right now, it's my birthday after all," you smirked, holding out your hand.

Aragorn was the first to put a bill on it, and even Gimli, though he stressed that he would get it back before you ran out of laughter, handed over something from his well-guarded account.

"Laaas, what am I waiting for? A birthday song?" you asked.

Legolas raised a perfect eyebrow and slid you a bill looking so bored that you almost bought it, "You can wait a long time for a song."

"For the chance to hear your voice dedicate a song to me, I'd wait a thousand years," you sang, winking with a sugary smile on your lips.

"Or I'd just watch the recordings from last night's karaoke, I'd even get a love song from you as a gift," dramatically you grabbed your chest with both hands and threw your head back

"And wouldn't that be oh so romantic?"

"Please," he scoffed, "If I'd really tried you'd be on your knees in seconds. Babe, I have charm."

For a moment you manage to pulled yourself together, looking into Legolas' eyes, holding his challenging gaze from which you didn't know to interpret if he truly believed his statements himself.

Then you heard Gimli's dirty laugh.

The redhead hands hit the table so hard that several of the hotels flew in all directions, and with them your composure.

With a rather unfeminine snort, you threw yourself backward in your chair, your head craned back and your arms folded in front of your stomach; there was no saving you from the laughter that bubbled out of you like hot water on a stove.

"Your charm?" you gasped, trying to blink away the tears in your eyes.

Unsuccessfully, because when you saw Legolas stand up indignantly and toss his blond hair over his shoulder, the tears flew unstoppably down your cheeks.

Sure, you were aware of what a charming man Legolas could be; you were teasing, not blind.

It took nothing to perceive him for what he was, and that was a flawless beauty. That angelic face, long blond-gold hair flowing over his shoulder, and eyes ever so gentle, marked him a natural beauty and unfortunately, you couldn't deny that what came out of his mouth most of the time made most men and women's hearts swell.

You were friends with him, though, and the idea of being even remotely touched by his charm made you laugh beyond control.

And you heard all the bullshit the guy yapped about when there was no one around he wanted to impress.

"What?" Legolas asked, and in his voice, a challenge that, voiced by the beer, didn't bode well, "I don't want to sound too arrogant" –snickering from the three of you– "go fuck yourselves, I'm charming! I'm sure, oh I bet, that you would fall for it!"

And before you would have objected much, he took a big swig from his bottle and slid down from his chair.

Right in front of you.

Onto his knees.

It was the look of firm conviction in his eyes, the way he reached for your hand and gently held it like it was made of cracked glass against his chest, that made your laughter turn into a silly giggle.

Legolas, even though he was swaying a bit and his words were no longer flowing too loosely from his tongue, was a sight you wouldn't any time soon. "My darling friend, whose attention I do not deserve–"

"Now that's what I call true words," grunted Gimli, who had also leaned back in the meantime and received a punishing look from Legolas before the blond turned back to you.

"–whose attention I don't deserve and that yet has me blossoming, like the first flowers reaching out to the sun, for you are the light in my life. Everything that connects us tugs at my heart, it cries out for more and I'm afraid I can no longer remain silent about my feelings"

Ironically, at that very moment, he paused, seemed lost in thought and stroked the back of your hand with his thumb.

Not that it helped him really.

But you waited patiently nonetheless, letting Legolas continue to play the role of the poet.

He looked back at you from the far distance in which his gaze had become playfully entangled, and you saw the twitch of his lips, the sign of a cheeky grin he tried to keep down.

It didn't matter what words made him fight the grin, though, Legolas didn't get to say them.

Thanks to the music, which had faded into the background but still sounded through the sound system, as well as your group's silly fooling around and never-ending laughter, you hadn't heard the front door unlock, or the footsteps in the hallway.

It wasn't until an amused-sounding "Oh, am I interrupting?" rang out in a very familiar voice behind you that you became aware of the new presence in the room.

Immediately, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up, the deep voice rolling over your entire body like sweet honey.

You heard Aragorn laugh, a murmured, "You've lost your girl, Las," and the blonde in front of you groaned as he struggled to his feet.

"Great, wow, I was literally so close to getting her around. Thank you so much, Ada," Legolas scoffed.

You followed his gaze, eyes falling onto the man casually leaning against the kitchen counter.

And your heart jumped inside your chest.

taglist: @mushroomemeralds @mssuguru @solartoge

#thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #thranduil fanfiction #lotr x reader #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit x reader #lord of the rings fanfiction #lord of the rings x reader #lotr fanfiction #📁files: passenger princess

193 notes · View notes

itsonlydana · 8 months ago

Text

"passenger princess" | chapter seven

the hobbit | a modern!AU by itsonlydana

❱ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader

❱ wordcount: 3,6k

❱ summary: phone-call interruptions on a lazy sunday morning / defining the word "date"

❱ warnings: none

❱ an: we're halfway through and I'm more in love with this man every word I write

general m.list + series m.list

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot - especially with longer projects <3

CHAPTER SEVEN: QUESTIONS

You awoke to a low, deep-throated groan right next to your ear; the sound pulling your hazy, sleep-infused mind into reality faster than any alarm could've.

Multiple sensations surged through your body in a matter of seconds, from the heavy arm curled around your middle, a large hand broadened over your stomach, the leisure exhales of breath hitting your neck, and of course, the delicious, if not close to unbearable, heat of another body pressed against your back.

The memory of the conversation in the kitchen, sharing doubts and fears over chocolate cake, was all too clear, as was the movie which had turned out to be much more interesting and enjoyable, when you had a hand to cling onto.

Halfway through the second movie, you had felt the pull of exhaustion that came from a day out swimming, in your bones, and after a while, it had become impossible to fight the – becoming gradually harder and the moments in-between shorter – heaviness of your eyelids fluttering close.

You remembered falling asleep to the giggles of Legolas, the hushed whispers of Aragorn, and the hypnotic and serene rising and falling of Thranduil's chest that became your pillow as you gave up concentrating on the movie and instead focused on his hand in the back of your head, stroking through your hair until your consciousness slipped away.

Before your mind railed off into an overload of thoughts prompted by this, another groan followed the last one, this one blending into a deep inhalation of air.

The muscles of the arm tensed up as you heard a yawn indicating that Thranduil, because this was without a doubt Thranduil, was waking up as well.

Regulating your breath, eyes still closed in an effort to stay in this cozy headspace a little while longer, you listened to the rustling of the blanket, to the tiniest movements of his body and just his breathing, luxuriating in this private moment.

Was there any other sound more comforting than that?

"Gods," his voice rumbled, yes, very much Thranduil, and his hand weighted down on your stomach.

As soon as he noticed, and you felt it in his chest heaving with another breath and his legs moving under the blanket that covered you both, Thranduil slowly pulled the hand out of your shirt.

The feeling of its weight and the size stayed prickling under your skin, even as he shifted, yawning and groaning quietly, to roll his shoulders.

He pushed himself up on one elbow, using his free hand to trail his fingers over your temple, pointer and middle finger drawing circles that moved all across the side of your face that wasn't nestled into the cushion in a feather-like lightness that, when he reached the bow of your lips, tickled just enough for your mouth to twitch into a smile.

"Good Morning," Thranduil murmured drowsely, sleep still coating his words and tongue.

You answered in humm, signaling – kind of– verbally you were awake, before turning to your other side, stretching your legs along his.

"Morning," your voice was still raspy as well, but you couldn't be bothered to stand up for a glass of water.

Thranduil in the morning was truly an unfair sight, because how could this man have woken up not a minute ago and his eyes were already sparkling like a cool lake in the mountains and in them a look of pure adoration as they took you in.

Sunlight fell through the windows, indicating it must've been a while since the day started and you couldn't have cared less except that the warmth in those rays shimmered in the air around you, resting their golden touch on Thranduil's hair and he looked– ethereal.

Unreal, almost.

But, to the enjoyment of your heart and singing soul, this was indeed real and Thranduil was here on this sofa, loose strands of hair falling on you as he continued the exploration of your in-awe face.

"You know," he started and lost himself for a second, as his fingers brushed your lips again and you swallowed hard, "I don't remember the last time I slept through the whole night." Chuckling and looking around, he added: "And on this sofa as well."

"Wow, and here I thought you would complain about your back," the smile that came from the soft touches of his fingers bled into your teasing, the corners of his mouth tipping upward at the comment as well.

"Mhm, what's that? Swore I heard you say something about my age but that couldn't be, right?" Thranduil's finger followed the bridge of your nose, flicking the tip in one tap as he raised one eyebrow, "You wouldn't dare on a morning this beautiful and barely after waking up."

"What if I did?"

"Then you are awfully brave for a woman at my mercy."

"Your mercy?" you giggled, fully aware you were going nowhere while his large frame towered over you, "First your back, then this– didn't know you're already that senile."

"Oh, now–" Thranduil playfully sneered, leaning over in such a quick motion that his hair fell on you like a curtain, and his other hand landed on the other side of your face, basically trapping you right where he wanted you, "I assure you my mind is still very much sharp and even if we just woke up, I'll not hesitate to throw you into the pool."

"Is that a threat?"

"No, it's a promise."

Chocking on your breath, you opened your mouth in another witty reply, though nothing came to mind.

Thranduil sensed that this time you wouldn't bite back and the grin on his face was satisfied, shifting into smugness: "I'll let this pass once because I admittedly am in no rush to get up," the long line of his body fitted perfectly against yours, the weight a comfortable, if not exhilarating, reminder how much taller he was and his knee nudged yours as he slowly lowered himself more, "But know that I've gathered quite a few tricks in my age that go further than that."

"Yeah?"

Unfortunately and it filled you with deep regret, it got no closer than his eyes brushing over your lips, another chance of a kiss passed right in front of your eyes as Thranduil's phone started ringing on the coffee table, breaking the spell of this lazy morning before it could progress further.

With an apologetic look, Thranduil sat up on his folded legs, taking the blanket with him so it hung over his shoulders in a long, fluffy wine-red coat and exposed you to the chilly air.

"Oropherion," he answered the phone, the sleep disappearing almost immediately from his voice to be replaced by an authoritarian and composed tone that bordered on sharp and sent tingles through your stomach while you finally sat up as well.

Thranduil held the phone in one hand, the other gently squeezed your naked ankle.

It was soothing, to simply let him caress your skin as he listened to the person on the other end of the line, his eyes focused on where his fingers moved absentmindedly, and not care that this morning got interrupted by his work.

"Alright, Feren, thank you for calling me. No, of course–" He cast you an apologetic look, "I'll be on my way soon. Prepare a statement for PR ASAP; tell them I want that published before I'm in the office or– yes, that. No, tell Thorin to fuck off and do what I say, that thickheaded man better has his arse up and going right now."

You pressed a hand to your mouth to stifle the giggles that bubbled up your flipping stomach, there was something about Thranduil cursing the laziness of his partner of the firm while he was still in the clothes of yesterday, hair –while looking beautifully soft– in disarray and by now you knew he wouldn't leave the house before having his cup of coffee and changing at least twice.

He raised one eyebrow at your antics though it only fueled the giggles further.

This cracked a smile on his face, one he gave into with an annoyed roll of his eyes. Thranduils fingers curled around the phone. "Have the papers on my table in five, the statement out in ten and.. Feren? If Thorin isn't there and on my line in fifteen minutes–"

No more words were needed, Thranduil simply hung up and turned his gaze back onto you.

"You, Miss, are glad that I do not have the time," he said slowly.

You, being who you are, stuck out your tongue at him. "Can't help a girl for wanting a calm Sunday. It's your fault that your firm needs you to hold their hand."

All of a sudden, he tugged sharply on your leg and had you once again below him. He smirked at your surprised yelp. "Tell me," Thranduil started lowly, "what sets you apart from them?"

And while you were catching your breath, staring into his bright eyes, he swiftly stood up and left you there, gaping at him as he strolled through the living room.

"Come on, I'll drop you off on my way."

"Oh, the nerve of this goddamn man!"

How you managed to get ready was unfathomable yet somehow you were in Thranduil's car before Legolas and Aragorn had even woken up, once again dressed in one of his sweaters and a pair of shorts, that were cinched by an elastic hair tie.

The hair tie was his as well. It felt comically domestic as you had helped him prepare a coffee to go, standing next to each other in the kitchen, and he had leaned down, long and agile – cold – fingers tying the shorts up in no hurry.

Falling into the familiar seat in clothes that smelled like him and having the sun beat through the window as he steered the car out of the driveway fueled you enough for the day to make up for the fact he hadn't kissed you again.

Initially, the only sounds were the whir of the engine and Thranduil's tranquil, rhythmic breathing.

Then, he tapped on the dimmed display, and orchestral music filled the air from the speakers:

The Carnival of the Animals, the piece of the swan.

Immediately you turned your head to him. "Oh, I love this piece!"

Thranduil smiled and from your position, you saw the dimple in his cheek.

"I feel the same way," he remarked, his smile tinged with nostalgia. "We used to attend the Philharmonic in town every week. My parents enjoyed these outings, but I never quite connected with the other children over discussions of politics and history. Instead, I'd settle into the seat by the balcony railing, immersing myself in the music as if it were the very air I needed to survive," he told you.

You listened to his voice, probably your favorite sound in the world above the deep cello, both lapping over you in quiet waves and you snuggled into the sweater.

There was nothing he could say that wouldn't be interesting to you, not in that voice of his.

No matter if he lectured you and Legolas on something he heard you talking about, or if he commented on current political situations on weekend breakfasts together, scoffing over something written in the papers.

He could chat about his day, throwing around names of people you didn't know and numbers you didn't understand but you would be listening no matter what.

And at that moment in the car, with his voice dripping like honey and talking with the same grace as the poetry of the classics he was praying, you fell even harder for him.

"I used to have such a deep love for classical music that I pleaded with my father to buy me an instrument, something beyond the recorder we played at school. I'll never forget the moment I unwrapped one of my Christmas presents and found myself holding a violin in my hands; it was one of the most cherished gifts my parents ever gave me." Thranduil glanced at you, his grin widening.

"Now, take a guess at which piece I dedicated a year to studying." He didn't wait for a response, nor did he need to. "I practiced diligently every day until my fingers ached and my neck grew stiff, but every ounce of effort was worth it. After a year of dedication, I had the opportunity to perform at the Philharmonic and showcase 'The Swan' in front of my loved ones."

The image painted itself in your mind; a young Thranduil, in one of his fine suits, his blond hair already long enough to flow down his back like water, on stage playing The Swan while putting the beauty and elegance of the animal to shame.

He would stand straight, engaging as always, his long fingers on the strings of the violin and his eyes resting only on the instrument in his hands.

You had seen often enough with what fondness and gentleness he had examined a good book, to imagine how he would examine this violin, sanctified by him, like his dearest object on earth came easy.

"Do you still play?" you asked, not entirely innocently.

Thranduil hummed softly and shook his head, causing a hint of disappointment to spread through you. "Not anymore, not for a long time. I don't think I'll really start again, either. I'd rather go to the philharmonic, I can get much more involved with the music there."

"I understand that. It must sound fantastic live, all these instruments in their full sound."

With a surprised and curious look, Thranduil turned back to you. "Have you never been to a concert before?"

You screwed up your face, eyebrows together and lips curled. "Does the musical from my ninth-grade class count, where half were bad recorders and the other half were even worse singers? If not, I'll have to say no. Never to a concert that played classical music."

It was true what you said, except for that one –disastrous, it must be said– musical you had never been lucky enough to hear classical music the way it was meant to be heard.

So far, your headphones have always had to suffice.

Thranduil clicked his tongue against his teeth, and you wanted to tease him for this visibly privileged outrage when he gifted you a cheeky grin. "Your education in that aspect has been criminally neglected."

"Want to give me a lesson?" you asked before you could stop yourself.

Thranduil, taken aback, swallowed, then caught himself. "Sure," his voice sounded horse, "–what do you want to learn?"

"Everything."

"Everything?" he repeated and you saw the shift back into his usual self, the one that adapted quickly to you taking him by surprise, "That sure is a lot."

You giggled, "Oh, afraid you're not up for it?"

Thranduil's hands curled around the wheel as if the seat he was sitting on wasn't bracing him enough and he needed to hold on to something.

You pushed your hands under your own thighs as well and felt giddy as your nails dug into his sweater.

"You're too sassy for your own good," he breathed out a laugh and threw you a look through the mirror that contradicted the seriousness of that statement.

"In three months, the Carnival of the Animals will be performing right here, at the Philharmonic Hall in the city," Thranduil said. "If you allow me, I would like to take you there."

"Thranduil–," you began, straightening up in the seat, but with a shake of his head, he interrupted you.

"No, I know what you want to say and I want to invite you, love," he said gently yet firmly.

You frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"That is to say that I could see your pretty head immediately worrying about the tickets. You have this offended and defensive look, like when Legolas once asked you to take a cab or when I offered to take you out to dinner with Legolas and me–I realize how hard it can be as a college student not to think about the money, believe me, Legolas refuses my help more than often."

You gnawed on your bottom lip, immediately throwing his words around in your mind.

"However, I'm not asking you to pay for it." Thranduil turned his head to you for a moment at a red light. His blue eyes shone bright and radiant like the clear sunny skies.

"I want to ask you out, take you out, or whatever they call a date these days."

A Date.

Your eyes continued to linger on Thranduil, even though he'd turned his attention back to the road. You couldn't break away from him.

All at once you were aware of how much bigger than the question of cost this conversation was. It was bigger than this car, pressing against the doors and windows, stretching apart like a bubble gum bubble you were just waiting to burst. It was too big for every word that came into your head, and after chewing on them for far too long, the very thing you were trying to prevent flew out.

"Netflix and chill."

"Excuse me?" The horrified look on Thranduil's face was indescribable, a mixture of pure shock and incredulity at what you had said.

You stammered, a little unsure if you really wanted to explain to him what you meant: "Well, nowadays, you don't really date anymore. So not like in the old days with dates to the movies or ice cream or going for a walk. Oh god, um you just meet to watch movies at someone's house, but you don't actually watch movies?"

"I understand the basic principle," You turned onto a bigger street at the most appropriate moment, you could see the slightest hint of blush at the tips of Thranduil's ears.

You took a deep breath and pressed a button to lower the window a little. As soon as the breeze played with your hair, you felt your body relax. "Good.. that's good. Jeez, I don't know if I would have wanted to go into more detail." A short laugh burst out of you while your head was still spinning around his words.

He never even kissed you but such a step as an official date had never come up as well and you somehow didn't believe that would be what Thranduil wanted.

He could have so much, probably even with just a flick of his fingers or a blink of his wonderful curved eyelashes.

Not that you would tell him that. This would probably be one of your worries that would eventually be slurred by drunken tongues on nights when you could let all your walls down and find home in the arms of your best friends.

"Would you allow me then?" asked Thranduil as he guided his car off the highway, and the light of sky-high glass towers reflected on his curious face.

"What?" you couldn't help but tease him "Netflix & Chill? Quite a bold question Mr. Oropherion, don't you think?" Oh how easy it was to fall back into this game with him, the back and forth.

Thranduil extended his hand to your thigh, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through your veins.

After this morning, your body hummed delightfully at being physically close to him again.

"Well, I have to admit to being more of a fan of the classic courting, but if the lady wants to play by her rules, I'll throw away the tickets to the theater and we can pretend to watch a movie," he said, his voice low and in the same teasing tone.

You almost choked on your next breath, so suddenly your heart stopped, only to continue beating twice as fast in the next moment.

You sought his gaze, and it was infuriating that he kept looking down the road. "You already have tickets?"

Thranduil's hand on your leg didn't stay still, his thumb began to stroke small circles over your skin.

"Of course," he said without really responding. An annoying, self-satisfied grin pulled at his lips, even if he tried to suppress it.

Your voice was breathless as you whispered, "And you would really go with me? To the Philharmonic for a real live concert?"

Thranduil gave a theatrical enough sigh to be able to stand on the stage himself. "Now that you ask, I had tickets for the night when they just set up speakers and run everything through Bluetooth, but if you really want to, we can go listen to the Carnival of the Animals live."

Awkward with your words, which you lacked so often because of him, you simply grabbed his hand and beamed at him.

Thranduil turned his gaze from the red light in front of you and smiled at you. His hand turned, intertwining his long manicured fingers with yours.

"I'll take that as a yes? You'll allow me to take you out on a real date and you won't worry your pretty head about anything, but let me take care of everything?" he picked up, looking at you insistently enough that all your insecurities blurred within the cerulean sea of his eyes.

Instead, you leaned back in your seat, grinning, floating on a cloud of Thranduil's scent, the warmth of his hand in yours.

"But only because you begged me."

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itsonlydana · 9 months ago

Text

"passenger princess" | chapter six

the hobbit | a modern!AU by itsonlydana

❱ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader

❱ wordcount: 4,9k

❱ summary: a horror movie, 'your dad jokes' and overcoming the fear of being vulnerable by opening up

❱ warnings: mature language

❱ an: we're back on schedule! Anyone got the reference with the documentary?🤭

general m.list + series m.list

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot - especially with longer projects <3

CHAPTER SIX: MOVIE

It was movie night and once again you found yourself sitting on the giant sofa, a glass of wine cradled between your hands as you watched Legolas and Aragorn argue over what to watch.

It was amusing, really, to simply sit back and observe how both completely missed the fact they could be on the same page if they weren't blinded by the urge to please the other.

While Legolas was trying his hardest to convince Aragorn you didn't have to watch another romcom and he would much rather try to understand that one French art film Aragorn studied in his poetry class, the brunette was keen on rewatching Mean Girls for Legolas.

They seemed to have forgotten you were there to be included in the discussion.

Feet burrowed into the cushions under you you sipped on the wine that Thranduil brought out to the pool two days ago.

Every sip brought the scent of sunscreen and the warm rays of sunshine back to you on this rainy evening.

Your gaze trailed to the floor-to-ceiling windows next to the sofa, right outside to where the pool was illuminated by lanterns and laid undisturbed except for the raindrops splattering onto the surface.

Thinking back to that day, you felt a heat creeping into your cheeks that not only came from the wine.

You had no idea what had been the push into the decision but when Thranduil had joined you in the pool, he had joined you. Not just sitting at the edge or watching you from the shadow of the terrace.

He'd come outside and immediately shed himself from his shirt and trousers, leaving you to a close death with every layer of fabric removed and every bit of light skin revealed.

You nearly had a heart attack at the sight of his upper body and the lean muscles you had known were there, but never had the pleasure –and oh, it truly was a fucking pleasure– to see in all their glory.

Thranduils shoulders were broad, yet fit his form and the adonis belt that accentuated his –must be said– slender waist.

The sentiment that no man his age should be allowed to be this good-looking extended to include all men or women no matter the age. It made little sense to you that this man looked like that at his age when you knew full well that he didn't exercise.

He had a body to fantasize about, and you gladly did.

"What do you say?" Aragorn called to you from the other end of the couch, where he was rubbing his temple, "Tell Legolas I really don't mind watching whatever he chooses."

"Oh, you remembered I'm still here?" you asked while Legolas gasped and clicked his tongue in annoyance, "Yes, but you shouldn't not mind, you should enjoy the movie as well!"

"Legolas, I mean it. It's alright if we watch Mean Girls!"

"Woah, pause!" you took another sip and swiped the air with the other hand. "You two have been so insufferable ever since you did it. Can we go back to pining but without all the.. you know, back bending for just a movie?"

It shut them up, maybe they thought you hadn't noticed them sneaking off together or whatever the reason was, you were glad for the momentary silence.

"Let's just do the 'surprise me' thingy and no one will be truly happy, alright?"

No idea when you'd become the voice of reason but both nodded in agreement, sparing shy smiles to each other that said more apologies than Legolas had ever given to you in words, for the evenings you had to watch his choice of movie.

Love could really change a person.

"Fine," Legolas threw his long legs into movement, walked to the cabinets next to the flatscreen, and grabbed the remote. "Next time we–"

"We'll have the same discussion over and over again," Aragorn added.

"You're disgusting," you pretended to gag, heaving your chest for dramatic effect, "Finishing each other's sentences is so cringe."

"Using cringe in a sentence is cringe."

"Shut up and dim the lights, Las. Please down to the level that's in your head, alright?" You smiled angelicly, cheeks hurting from the effort though it was all worth it at Legolas scowl when he tried to fish for a response but ended up silently muttering under his breath and turning the lights off.

Engulfed in near darkness you only saw his lanky figure reach for something on the incliner next to the sofa before a cushion flew toward you with a scarily accuracy.

Wouldn't you have leaned to the side because you wanted to place the glass onto the coffee table, there would've been an accident for sure.

"Legolas you fucking idiot," you swore, already grabbing the cushion that hit your back. "Do you want another wine-stain incident?"

The wine-stain-incident of last year went down in history as the biggest argument this house had ever seen.

Legolas and Thranduil had been arguing like never before, snapping at each other back and forth for days over red wine spilled over the newly bought designer sofa cushions.

It went so far that Legolas camped at your dorm for a whole weekend, clearing out your fridge and complaining that his Ada was up his ass for an accident he didn't even remember.

After three days of coming home from work and seeing Legolas sulk on your bed, the thing that pushed your patience over the edge had been one night when the blonde couldn't sleep and decided that your bed was big enough for him to cuddle you; big surprise: it wasn't.

Nothing was big enough in the tin can of a dorm.

"So what?" Legolas fell onto the sofa next to Aragorn, giving you plenty of space to spread out on your half, "I'm just gonna tell him it was you again. Nothing's gonna happen then."

"You're a wicked man, Las," Aragorn said. Legolas grinned.

You snorted. "Sure, if you want your ass handed to you. Don't think it's going to work twice."

"Oh no, it will." Legolas raised an eyebrow much similar to his father, "Just like last time his anger will go up in the smoke the second he sees you and then–" he cooed in a very over-the-top imitation of Thranduil, "–no no no, it's alright! I hated the sofa anyways.. what? It's new? Doesn't matter, I'll buy a new one, babe."

"He doesn't sound like that and it wasn't like that!" you complained.

It had been exactly like that.

"It kinda was," Aragorn chimed in and received a smile (Legolas) and an angry huff (you).

Legolas tapped away on the remote, lightning up the living room as the flatscreen showed the last thing that had been watched.

Some nature documentary that, in the small second Legolas gave you before opening up the streaming app, seemed to be about whales and crocodiles.

Thranduils taste in movies was everything Legolas didn't enjoy: docus with long biology conversations, silent black and white classics or, his guilty pleasure, fake jury shows where he would point out where they went wrong or how inaccurate the case was.

You adored how he would sit on the sofa wearing his slim glasses and pretend he wasn't interested in the drama at all.

"Alright," Legolas said and pressed a button for the random movie.

"By the way," you said hushed, "He doesn't call me babe. Your father calls me sweetheart or darling, which is completely different and so much more endearing in my opinion."

Aragorn let out a loud breath and leaned over to rub Legolas' shoulder. "Wow, that was basically a 'your mom' joke, although much more eloquent. Hope you're alright."

"He will survive," you waved off, "It's not like I told him how he–"

"No, I actually don't want to hear that!" Legolas interrupted you loudly and turned up the sound of the TV, shutting down every remark that could've followed by the loud boom that cracked through the surround system like thunder.

You didn't need to read the title of the movie, that the first scene was a first-person shot of someone running through the woods at night and the only sound was their breathing and the snapping of twigs was telling you exactly what you were in for.

"Sorry," Legolas said before you even opened your mouth, grinning over at you in the moonshine light of the movie, "No take backsies for any insults just because you don't wanna watch horror!"

"But–"

"No no, no buts."

"You're so mean," Aragorn said to Legolas, but nevertheless grabbed one of the blankets beside him and threw it toward you, "Here, to protect you from any murderers."

You stuck out your tongue at him and yanked the blanket over.

Horror, was by far, the worst outcome of the random selection.

Everything else would've been fine, hell, even a compilation of every time you'd embarrassed yourself in front of Thranduil could be an easier watch than an hour.. oh well two hours of jumpscares.

"You'll be fine," Legolas was already munching on the popcorn he'd prepared earlier, throwing the golden snack into his open mouth and –naturally– not missing a single piece.

It was infuriating how talented he was in some aspects.

"Just don't look to your left and imagine the killer's waiting for you behind the trees."

"I hate you so much."

As expected, the blanket provided little comfort as the movie progressed and whenever you glanced over to Aragorn and Legolas, you could see them whispering together, quietly laughing over the dumb decisions the main character made.

So unfair they had fun while you suffered.

The scenes got even worse the longer you watched, tension sharpening like the knives you saw on screen, flashing in and out as the killer sneaked through the woods. The wind outside as well as inside screamed like a boiling kettle, rattling as the storm picked up and hammered the wind against the window.

There were creaks and echoes everywhere.

Every hair on your body stood up, an electrifying rush of adrenalin cursing through your body and having you cling to the blanket in an attempt to shield yourself.

It came out of nowhere.

The sound of a door opening and immediately shutting close with a bang loud enough that you let out a scream like your life depended on it.

It led to Legolas joining in, yelling in surprise and as he turned around to stare into the dark kitchen, the popcorn flew everywhere.

There, looming in the doorframe was a tall figure, dripping water and looking extremely haunted by the white flashes of the screen illuminating long wet hair and hauntingly sharp cheekbones.

"Oh my fucking god.. fuck! Fuck this shit," you gasped for air, inhaling one breath after the other until you were nearly dizzy.

"Ada, you scared the shit out of us!" Legolas quickly let go of Aragorn, whom he'd jumped the second he'd heard your scream pierce the quiet room.

"My apologies," Thranduils deep rumble sounded.. off. Strained, like the lopsided smile on his lips. "That was not my intention." He looked around, pausing at you and for a second the look on his face seemed haunted. "Please, continue. I'll be upstairs and make sure not to bother you anymore."

"Thran–" you started and rose to bend over the back of the sofa.

He stopped in his movement, haltering to nod at you, "Hi, sweetheart, excuse me for scaring you like that. You look lovely, though." And then he was already stalking back to the hallway, his wet hair clinging to his equally drenched coat.

You turned to Legolas and Aragorn, your expression communicating the confusion you felt clearly by the look of their equally unsure faces.

"Ada?" Legolas called, not looking away from you, his eyebrows drawn together.

"Yes?"

"I may have spilled wine onto the new white carpet. It was some hours ago but maybe we can fix it?" Questioningly you inclined your head, close to asking him what the fuck he was talking about, when Thranduil answered:

"Oh, no worries," –your eyes widened– "It's fine. Let's talk later."

"Well," Legolas stated as soon as you heard Thranduil walk up the stairs. "Either someone kidnapped Ada and that's someone else, or he's calculating how to murder you two for practically living here at this point."

Aragorn, sensing that this wasn't the time to continue, paused the movie. Even he was frowning.

You fell back onto your bottom, eyes flickering back to the doorway in uncertainty. "So I didn't just hallucinate that? You noticed how weird he was?"

"So weird. Maybe something happened?" Aragorn mused and started picking up the popcorn Legolas had strewn all over the place.

"Maybe he finally realized I live here rent-free as well."

You and Aragorn looked at each other. You spoke up first: "Las, the way you inhale his snacks and wine he's just ignorant of the fact. Do you have any idea what's up with him?"

Legolas shrugged, throwing one of the popcorn pieces into his mouth again. "Not the slightest. Haven't seen him like that since.. oh–", he paused, grimacing like he tasted something sour.

"What?" Next to him, Aragorn took away another lint-covered popcorn before he could eat that as well.

Suddenly, Legolas seemed sheepish, his gaze scattering everywhere except you which you immediately noticed.

"Legolas, since when?"

"'S probably doesn't matter," he mumbled, his face turning a traitorous reddish shade that reached the top of his pointy ears.

"You're lying," you detected, not trying to hide the sharp edge in your voice. This was quickly escalating, moving far beyond a simple discussion over what movie to watch. "What's going on? He's never like that… at all. He looked like he'd run over someone!"

"Love," Aragorn tried softly, but you were already too busy staring at Legolas to notice.

"You really want to know?" Legolas asked, the blanket he and Aragorn were under clutched into his fists. "I'll tell you but don't, and I mean it, don't zero in on that. This could be different, like completely." After your nod and a look over his shoulder to check that Thranduil wasn't creeping through the hallway with an axe, he continued:

"Y'know my mother left him, right?"

As soon as he mentioned her, you grew wearily. "Yes–"

"So she left when I was still a baby, like no worries he's fine with it and I'm fine with it and we were alright. He kinda knew it would happen, she was around but never there. He was the one giving up half of his firm so that he could work less and mostly from home. She just.. didn't change at all and when she was gone, Ada wasn't surprised."

You knew the story, it was one of those things Legolas had shared with you under the confined comfort of the blanket of the night and his bed.

"Uhm.. yeah, I don't know how to tell you this but she came back once."

The world swayed, ripping open right in front of you and you felt yourself tumbling, one foot over the edge of that darkness this statement had dunked your head into.

"Oh," you said, immediately trying to shut down the feelings of unease and insecurity gnawing at your mind. "I mean, she's your mom?"

Legolas huffed, "Barely. Biologically yes, but even then one could argue I'm Ada's clone." He grew serious again, his long fingers tapping the arm he'd thrown over his middle, "T'was like what.. nine years.. ten years ago? I was in the kitchen doing my homework when the keys turned and some woman suddenly stood in front of me that I didn't recognize but knew who she was. I kinda screamed. Ada came and when he saw her, he looked just like he looked then."

You blinked, your breathing coming in a bit faster than what you would define as 'totally fine'.

"What happened then?" Aragorn asked for you. Thankfully, because you weren't sure what to say.

"He threw her out and called someone to change the locks," Legolas said and lifted his head to stare at you, "Ada told her to go to hell or he'll sue the living shit out of her for child abandonment and whatever dirt he would find. Yes, he had the same look on his face, yes he was so fucking weird and kind of apathetic but, and listen to me; this could be a whole other thing."

"Wha– what.." you started, stumbling even over that one word, "what if it's not? Maybe he changed his opinion over time."

"Sure," he rolled his eyes but dropped the sarcasm when it did not comfort you at all, "No seriously, believe me, he doesn't want her in his, my, or our life. Not then, not now, not when you two finally figured yourselves out."

While that helped just as much as throwing a single glass of water onto a giant campfire, you nodded and put on a mask of uninterest.

Simply because it was much easier than getting into a whole discussion over feelings that may or may not be out of place.

He could've simply had a bad day at work.

"Let's just continue?" you asked, nearly begged, and were glad when Legolas and Aragorn didn't say another word but started the movie again to fill the awkward silence.

Under the blankets, you were wired.

You'd known you should've let it rest, to leave Legolas alone and maybe if that story had stayed untold, the straw just waiting to be dropped, hadn't dropped to throw your mind into a frenzy that was based on a "what if" situation you had on your hands because of a single, small interaction.

Well, it stood out and didn't fit Thranduil at all, but should you really care that much?

As Legolas said, you and he hadn't even figured out what was going on, just that there was something you both wanted to pursue.

The movie didn't fade you the slightest after the conversation, the next minutes flew past you like they didn't happen at all and when you heard Thranduil come down the stairs and walk into the kitchen, you flew from the couch.

"Be right back," you muttered as you ducked past Legolas and Aragorn; the latter brushing his hand over yours to give it a gentle squeeze.

The momentum that led to you standing up in the first place left you at the sight of Thranduil's turned back, hunched over a plate of chocolate cake Legolas had bought while shopping for snacks.

He looked so weary and tired, deep worry lines indicating his age, still attractive and even more now that he had his hair up in a bun and wore sweatpants you'd never seen him in, but yes, exhaustion was written all over his face when he turned around.

"Hi," you shuffled around, making a lame hand movement that was neither a wave nor anything else, "Should I go? No forget that, of course I'll leave you alone. Never asked, alright? Bye—"

"Stay?"

The question was soft and almost overshadowed by the squeaks of fear coming from the TV.

"I…," you started, stammering but when Thranduil held out the plate and the cake he was still shoveling into his mouth in big bites, you agreed. "Of course."

You jumped onto the counter next to him, ignoring how the sight of sweatpants, gray slightly baggy but not baggy enough sweatpants!, up close messed up every single thought swarming around your head like busy bees.

He leaned back against the counter beside you, ankles crossed and his head thunked against one of the hanging cabinets on the wall.

For a while, all you did was let Thranduil feed you bites of the cake, taking every fork he held up to your mouth carefully and swallowing the questions you wanted to ask with it.

He ate as well, lifting one bite after the other to his lips in between feeding you and every time your eyes hung onto his plush mouth.

Not because his rosy lips looked especially enticing with chocolate cream smeared into their corners, but because of the indications of his teeth in them, in the raw bitten look of them that told you there was definitely something going on.

"Hey," you nudged your leg against his side, "do you want to talk about it?"

The sigh that left his throat sounded more like the groan of a pained animal, his Adams Apple bobbing as he swallowed another bite before placing the plate on the kitchen island.

"You don't have to," you followed up in a rush, not wanting to corner him or force him.

"I should." Thranduil kicked one foot against the counter and turned his head so he looked at you.

Sitting up there, you were close enough to reach over and, in a moment of spontaneity, wipe away the chocolate on his lips.

He caught your hand, pressing a quick kiss onto your palm and keeping it in his when he dropped them.

"Yes, I should absolutely tell you," he swallowed again, "you have a right to now as someone.. as someone important in my life." The way he talked and furrowed his eyebrows showed how much energy and willpower it took him to admit that.

It meant a lot that he tried and cared about the conversation about opening up and being there, being in.

"I got a call at work today that I didn't expect and I'm still unsure what to make of it." Thranduil's hand tightened ever so slightly. His teeth once again found their place in his lower lip, dragging it back and releasing it.

"A lawyer informed me Legolas' mother wants to talk to me."

The air left your body instantly, the sentence punching you into the gut with an iron fist that had 'shouldn't have asked' imprinted on it and marking you all over.

Thranduil noticed, of course, he did, and lifted your intertwined hands for another kiss onto your knuckles.

"I told them not to bother me again," he clarified fast, "Told them ten years ago, told them now."

"Legolas told me that happened," you admitted quietly and let your head fall on top of his shoulders.

"I hope he told you that I had never any interest in keeping contact or searching that woman. I respected her choice to step away from our lives; she expressed a reluctance to embrace motherhood, and I had no authority to impose that role on her if it brought genuine discontent."

"Yes, he said that as well to comfort me."

"And I presume it did not?" Thranduil spoke forward into the otherwise empty kitchen and you followed his words with your eyes, searching the tiled floor for the courage to jump over that damn river of worries that hindered you from opening up.

He did it as well, you thought, he said you had a right to know, that you were someone important in his life.

"No," you finally acquiesced, feet firmly planted onto the metaphorical ground.

"Not the slightest. There is this woman I don't know, the mother of my best friend and the ex-partner of this man I really like and she's a total mystery and suddenly I hear she tried contacting you a few years back and now again and my mind can't help but project that she would be a much better fit to you than me."

There was a pause as the words sunk in.

Then Thranduil turned, opening up your legs with his large hands and stepping in between them.

The dimmed kitchen lights made this intimate, tension there was none for the look in his eyes spoke more of worry and his hands placing themselves under your thighs to pull you closer with effortless strength acted more out of the need to hold you than anything sexual.

"Darling," Thranduil's face filled your entire vision, the impact of the worry etched into the darker circles under his eyes hitting you square into the heart. "I can follow that train of worry and this is not me dismissing it but rather me questioning myself and my actions. Have I given you a reason to believe you're not the only one I want to spend my time with? You alone roam through my house and my head and dreams as if you own them, no one else."

You shook your head and rested your free hand on his chest, splaying your entire palm on the crimson sweater he wore, "Never. But she's probably your age and I'm... well I'm not."

"That is true. She is my age and you are not. She's also– what did Legolas say ten years ago?" He thought back, "Ah yes," he tipped his head closer, leaning his forehead against yours, "No one important. No one worth a second thought. No one, and now those are my words, that would come between you and me."

Your hands wandered, trailing up his collarbone standing out, and up his cold throat.

The hairs you brushed on his neck were still slightly wet, curling at the bottom as they slowly dried. "Then why were you this worried?"

He paused, mirroring you and cupping your face in his warmed hands, "This plagued me for different reasons. A part of me feared you would get scared and I might lose you, and the other was circling the dumb idea that Legolas could be angry that I blocked her off."

"So it was stupid of me to be jealous," you exhaled a deep breath, feeling the heavy weight being lifted of your heart as Thranduil's thumb followed the curve of your jaw and chin.

"Feelings are never stupid, they are valid in every form as long as you don't single them out or ignore your mind. And for you, that's really important because you have a really clever mind." He tapped your temple with his pointer.

A laugh escaped you, easing up the tension. "We're getting good at this," you said and nuzzled your head into his palm, "y'know, talking."

"I do feel very wise right now," Thranduils voice was airy and light, falling into that usual banter you guys were so much better at.

"Mhm, must be the age."

Where his voice had been light, his chuckle was deep and throaty, the tone rasping over every word he spoke: "My age allows for exceptional knowledge in many areas."

If you had been a maid in earlier times, that statement would've caused you to faint and even now it brought a heavy blush to your face at the directness in it.

Because you neither knew what to answer nor to do, you lightheartedly shoved him away, and while you regretted not going in for a kiss, the euphoric feeling that spread through you as he chased behind you through the kitchen made up for it.

"Come on, Grandpa," you giggled, swatting away his arm as he reached for your middle, "Use your knowledge to protect this fair maiden from the movie we're watching."

Legolas's head turned just as you entered the living room, the skeptic look on his face morphing into an understanding smile when Thranduil followed close behind you.

"Fair maiden?" he snorted, "Please, as if."

"Shut up Las," you hit his head as you passed him, nearly hitting Aragorns chest as well and wow, when did they decide that showing their affection in front of Thranduil wouldn't lead to instant death?

You settled into the cushions again, pulling Thranduil next to you.

There was a passing look between Thranduil and Legolas, where Legolas raised an eyebrow daring his father to say anything, and then between Thranduil and Aragorn, where they both nodded at each other before turning away; Thranduil to you, Aragorn to Legolas.

It was so weird, your lips curled.

Then you realized the movie was paused, the screen showing the beginning rather than the middle where you'd left.

"Noo," you whined as realization hit you, "You didn't continue!"

"Why would we? It's so much funnier if you're crying and screaming," Legolas teased and you fired a look of pure hatred at him that he reflected with an angelic smile.

Next to you, Thranduil had made himself comfortable, long legs stretched out and one arm lifted onto the cushions, giving you an encouraging nod to come closer.

You followed the invitation, huddling closer until you were nearly glued to his side and, after drawing the blanket over the both of you, his arm found its place on your hip, fingertips lifting your shirt just enough for him to feel the warmth of your stomach under his spread palm.

"Don't worry," he whispered and his nose nudged the crown of your head, "I scream much louder watching these movies. Now, Legolas, know that after this movie you're in for spilling wine again and ruining the carpet!"

"Wasn't me." Legolas tipped his chin to the wine glass next to where you'd sat when Thranduil had come home instead of telling him that there was in fact no stain or no ruined carpet.

"Oh," Thranduil's hand started circling your stomach, causing the army of butterflies in there to fly high, "then don't worry, sweetheart. I hated it anyway, ugly color, so much white. I'll buy a new one in red if you like that color that much."

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itsonlydana · 9 months ago

Text

"passenger princess" | chapter five

the hobbit | a modern!AU by itsonlydana

❱ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader

❱ wordcount: 6,3k

❱ summary: a hot summer day & two conversations

❱ warnings: mature language + jokes, Legolas being a nuisance

❱ an: third attempt to post this.. man I hate tumblr sometimes. I just want to bless you all with this juicy chapter. I'll try to add the pictures in later

general m.list + series m.list

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot - especially with longer projects <3

CHAPTER FIVE: POOL

Time, as it often does whenever you want to hold on to it, passed in a rush of essays that needed to be written, lectures demanding attention, and the ever-present need to work as many shifts to be able to make rent.

Which, in fairness, were a lot less than many other students though it irked you all the same to stand behind the counter at the small yet overfurnitured café on campus and relish the the summer sun through a window.

"Could you be a dear and fill up the coffee beans?"

You looked away from a couple dozing on a bench to your co-worker Tauriel and nodded. She was a pretty woman, red-haired just like Gimli, and smart as hell.

She was funny too, and made the shifts you got paired together manageable and bearable.

You used the towel over your shoulder to wipe over your forehead, patting some of the sweat away that accumulated within seconds.

The sunshine and warm temperatures had been fun at first for they meant longer nights and earlier mornings, lounging around with sunglasses and opening the windows of lecture halls to fill the rooms with soft breezes and the chatter of the students hanging around on the lawn in groups and pairs.

The temperatures hadn't dropped though, they kept on rising and rising, the air got warm and stuffy and every breeze was like a soothing balm on sweat-coated legs, arms and faces.

You were thankful that the café had AC, a wonder of technology compared to the unbearable lecture halls and, to your pain, your dorm as well.

A week ago it suddenly stopped working and ever since then, you dreaded coming home and spent even more time at Legolas' and Thranduil's.

There were more overnight stays, starting with long nights watching movies between Legolas and Thranduil, or cooking dinner for when Thranduil came home from work and stopped dead in his tracks, staring at you humming a song, flipping eggs and Legolas setting the table, snorting and rolling his eyes over the "disgustingly heart eyes" that his father supposedly threw at you.

Those stays ended with breakfast on the patio, fresh orange juice in jugs, coffee in mugs, the old radio that crackled every then and again and filled the warm air with the sounds of Queen, Oasis and The Cranberries as you snacked on apple slices and watched Thranduil read the newspaper, casting soft smiles over the edge of the paper whenever he caught you looking or let his hand brush your ankle as you popped your foot on the empty seat between you two.

If it hadn't been before, it was now established that you were wandering in and out of their house as if it were your own.

There was a pair of slippers next to Thranduils' "old man" Birkenstocks (Legolas' words), a second toothbrush next to Legolas' bamboo one, and the pillow you always cuddled on what now was your space on the couch.

Neither Legolas nor Thranduil minded.

That much was clear by Legolas' pure enthusiasm of having someone to spend the entire night gossiping under the canopy of his bed, chatting you an ear off over something.. no anything that Aragorn had done and said and my god, you even learned about the times your ruggedly handsome best friend had so much as breathed in Legolas direction.

And well for Thranduil you couldn't say that whatever was there blossomed into more than those looks and soft touches.

Nothing like that moment a few weeks ago happened again, and although the memory of that car ride and the teasing and tension as he had you pressed against the painting in the halfway was still fresh and sent thrills through you, there was a much more subtle string connecting you.

You always meant to confront him, to pull him aside and ask why the hell he wouldn't just tell you what exactly was happening.

Still, every time you were ready, Thranduil would disappear into his office or cease all touches and go back to that infuriating look of yearning all across the room without actually stepping into it.

You nearly lost yourself in this conflicting back and forth, and came close to overfilling the coffee machine with beans that would have been a pain to clean up so the jingle of the bell came right on time to snap you out of the little trance.

"Hi, could I please get one Grande Triple Sugar-Free Cinnamon Frappuccino at 100 degrees with Honey and one extra shot of Caramel and cream?"

"Oh my god," you whipped around to the counter and nearly threw your towel at the new customer, hand already balling the wet fabric into your fist.

"That's literally the worst fucking order I've ever heard," Tauriel barked out, slamming the metal cup for steaming milk onto the counter loud enough that another student shuffled right back out the door.

You would have felt bad if you weren't busy stalking toward the bar until it was just the wooden counter separating you from climbing over it, fists ready for swinging.

"Woow," Legolas, –a little dramatically– leaned back and stared at you with curled lips, "this how you treat your best customer?"

"No," you shook your head, "no, this is how we treat dickheads with annoying fucking orders!"

"I'll let you know that while I very much appreciate dick–"

"STOP!"

"As well as head–"

"Someone stop him, please," Tauriel cried out, scaring yet another woman with the alarmed tone of her voice.

"I don't particularly enjoy being called such a mean, mean word when I was simply trying to get a coffee"

Even on tiptoes, it was impossible to reach Legolas, as much as you tried to slap a hand over his mouth that now curved into a satisfied smile over the chaos he had ensured in the mere moments he was in the shop.

"Simply?" Tauriel sneered, still looking truly murderous which you couldn't blame her for.

Legolas order, for the atrocious sugar bomb, that it sounded like, came only close to the worst drink that went over to a customer today.

After mixing a Matcha frappe with raspberry, caramel, cinnamon, and whipped cream not only once but twice for the same dude, her reaction to another monstrosity was well in its right. "Simply?!"

Legolas scoffed, tapping his pink fingernails against the wood, contemplating something over in that thick head of his before running his tongue over his teeth, baring them in a grimace.

"Fine, then I'll take a triple espresso, cold and without ice. That's not too much to ask, right? Don't want ya hitting the walls because you have to do your fucking job!"

He then turned to the first years that had taken over one of the biggest tables right after you'd opened, their wide eyes showing their struggle of 'should we stay and watch? or go? what's going on?' while staying glued on where they had spent the last few hours loudly gossiping, though as Legolas grazed them with their attention, they fell silent.

"So rude, am I right?" he asked.

All five of the girls nodded their heads fast, not blinking once.

Legolas, not caring at all that he was ogled like a piece of meat, propped both arms on the table and rested his head on his folded hands.

"Now, when do you get off again?" He fluttered his lashes, ignoring the snort you let out at his words.

"Well, my shift ends in ten, if that's what you want to know."

"Great!" Legolas tilted his head, watching as you busied yourself wiping a few glasses, "Soo, d'you wanna hit mine and drown ourselves in the pool?"

He leaned forward, grabbing one of the sugar packets you gave out, flicking his finger against the upper half before ripping it open.

He then, like it was totally normal and didn't hurt your teeth by just looking at it, licked his finger and stuck it into the packet to suck his finger clean.

Eyes stuck on his hand, already reaching back into the sugar, you curled your lips, "Sure. The others there as well?"

He grinned a Cheshire grin, releasing the finger with a 'pop'. "Mhmm, Gimli said he's in for a late night over at his friends. Aragorn has some poetry writing to do but he wants to join us later.

You stared at him, waiting.

There was an obvious question left hanging between you, one that bothered you if not answered and here he was, acting like a total dick by avoiding your stare and thanking Tauriel for the to-go cup of pure caffeine.

"Well, I'm going to wait outside–"

"Legolas!" you hissed just as he jumped down the barstool, tipping his rosé sunglasses back onto his nose.

He paused, turning and smiling sugar-sweetly. "Yes? Was there anything else that you want to know?"

Scowling you draw your eyebrows together, munching on the words, pulling them between your teeth. "Ishegoingtobehome?" you rushed out, barely understandable for you and you doubted that anyone around you actually got what you had said, but Legolas' smile softened.

"Maybe," he said, quieter and with a hint of a sigh, "Who knows these days? He was early the last two days, wouldn't count on it though."

You tried your hardest not to let your smile waver.

It threatened to break down at the edges, the tell-tale signs of the wave of insecurity that always pushed onto you at the topic of Thranduil; nipping your cheeks and you crushed them with a hard click of your tongue, pushing them away into the darkest corner of your mind.

Legolas, observant little shit that he was, scrunched his nose and squinted over at you through his glasses.

"Meet you in fifteen?" he asked instead and after you nodded, he waved at Tauriel, "Good coffee! Lacks a bit in friendliness but I think I'll leave a good Yelp review nevertheless!"

The doorbell chimed as he left the café– a bounce in his step and lifting his face toward the sun as soon as he stepped outside.

He was, by all means, the loveliest friend you could've ever wished for.

You spent the last few minutes rushing iced coffee orders, serving them to students all heading out of the uni toward the longed-for weekend, and helping Tauriel clean up for the shift-switch.

The uniform was thrown into your locker, exchanged with a yellow summer dress that flowed right above your knee and would, despite the airy fabric and barely there straps, prove to be far too hot because as soon as you and Tauriel stepped outside, away from the air conditioning, the sultry air enveloped you in a gripping hug.

It was borderline unbearable if not for the sunnies that you quickly pushed on top of your nose and the iced coffee that Tauriel had quickly whipped up for you both while instructing the other shift on what to do.

You said goodbye to Tauriel when she climbed onto her bike and you turned to the car park where you made a beeline toward Legolas.

While you appreciated Thranduils sleek sports car, you absolutely loved the days Legolas pulled up in his Chevy convertible and drove around without the hood.

With the others around, you'd always get a backseat so that Aragorn could sit in the front but now that he wasn't there, you couldn't be bothered to open the door and jumped just right into the seat next to Legolas.

"Hi Asshole," you greeted him and placed your coffee in between your legs to fasten the seatbelt, "you're so lucky Tauriel didn't just kill you for that order."

Legolas scoffed, already fiddling with the console and turning the keys.

He threw one look over his shoulder, made sure that this time there wasn't a bike that he could crash into, and passed you his phone.

"For what?" he asked, "I just wanted to try something new, is that against the rules?"

"No," you entered his code, a combination of your birthdays, "you wanted to be a pain right before shift end and you know we know you don't give a shit about any rules."

"Oh sue me. Next time I want to have some fun I'll post a warning beforehand. What the fuck are you doing?" Legolas turned his head as you tapped onto one of the many playlists he had and a soft guitarre song started playing.

He was met with the largest smirk on your face, eyes gleaming full of mischief.

"Ayo, my my… Las, care to tell me what I'm seing right now?"

Your only goal had been to tease him for the playlist titled 'For Las' but the further you scrolled, squealing and giggling, the more Legolas blushed, blushed!

"Oh my god, please–" he begged and tried to reach over though you giggled and shook your head.

"Legolas, who… who made this for you?" your eyes widened, taking in a lot of songs mouth agape, "This is twelve hours long!"

The blonde, who was now nearly as pink as the glasses on his face, pressed onto the pedals a bit harder, flying around a corner and onto the highway.

"Yes? And? You have playlists that long as well." He was evading the answer, fiddling with the console to overpower you, "I even made you one playlist that long!"

You snorted and turned the music louder on the phone, "Legolas, the playlist you made me was full of kpop and Kesha. This–" you pointed at the phone screen, showing him the cover that was a picture of himself, snapped on some forest ground and his blonde hair in disarray, "–this is not some platonic shit."

"What? D'you really think that?" Now, instead of just looking like he wanted to die out of embarrassment, he pulled a face as if you'd told him you believed the earth was flat; in total incredulity.

"Legolas–" you stared at him, still holding up the phone, "Legolas this is twelve hours full of what.. Hozier, Lord Huron.. there's even some Mitski and Lana Del Rey."

"Yes?" Legolas glanced over to you, his long manicured fingers drumming the steering wheel in that nervous habit of his where he couldn't, for the life of his, be still for just a second and think.

Or maybe stop thinking.

"I'm going to ask you one more time," you said and for his sake, switched to another playlist, one that ended his suffering, "who made this? This says it's by your account but I know.. I know you're not that self-centered."

He gripped the wheel even tighter, white knuckles protruding as he lifted one hand to bite onto his pointer finger.

Not once had you seen him this out of it and it made you wonder how you must've looked before you'd told them all about Thranduil.

Had you been this obvious as well?

Fidgeting whenever his name was dropped or Legolas had asked you if you could set another plate for his father?

Close to fainting just because Thranduil would pick you up?

"Promise me that you won't laugh?" he asked and you knew he was serious.

This was more than jokes, this was top-secret-bedroom-whisper-secret-level, and you reached over to pull his hand away from his mouth, linking your own pinkie with his.

"Promise."

"It's from Aragorn! Aragorn wrote me a letter with the songs listed as well as the Polaroid he made when we were out for a walk at that one party at Bilbo's, y'know? And fuck, do you really think that this is romantic and a hundred percent sure this couldn't be a 'hey buddy, here're some tunes that I found cool and that reminded me of our friendship, have a nice day dude' playlist!?"

Nothing, and you mean absolutely nothing, led to the scream you let out as the words burst out of Legolas like a balloon popping under pressure, rushing out all at once and leaving you to bounce around as good as you could in the car.

The car that had no roof and thus drew all kinds of looks from other drivers onto you shrieking.

"Aragorn made this? Are you kidding me?" you yelled, already slapping Legolas' arm that wasn't on the wheel. "No fucking way you looked at the songs 'Francesca' and; Jesus there's even a song literally titled 'I'm in love with you'," you paused, once again boxing his side, "and you thought this was platonic?"

"Maybe?" Legolas shrugged meekly, glancing over to you over his glasses, "I dunno, it's Aragorn. Why would it ever be romantic?"

"Because," you made sure to emphasize your next words carefully, "because you're both idiots and I love you- I love you very much but you both are so very stupid and so very blind."

"You're one to talk," he grumbled and smoothed some flyaway hairs behind his ear so as to not eat them due to the wind. "Were you not the one just asking me if Ada is home or not because you two can't get your shit together?"

It didn't suit you at all that he suddenly turned the conversation around to you, when you were just talking about Aragorn, very potentially not only reciprocating Legolas' feelings but trying to reach out to him as well, to shine the spotlight somewhere where you preferred darkness as long as you weren't sure yourself.

You buried your teeth in your lower lip, pushing it out into a pout, before turning your head away from your best friend.

"Look," he said faintly, resting one hand on your leg, "this isn't easy for me as well. He's my dad and your my best friend in the whole world. But watching you two is so hard and not for the reasons you may think. Of course, I don't get why you would choose him of all people, we could've made fantastic-looking babies as well–"

You involuntarily hiccuped a laugh, rolling your eyes, "Sure, keep telling yourself that lover boy."

Legolas grinned, though returned to a more serious expression as he started tapping away on the wheel again, "But you do like him and I know Ada so I know he likes you two. He's.. well he's an idiot like his son and would rather perish than admit to having feelings like anyone else. That would mean he needs to open up, to let someone into his heart."

Legolas turned the car onto a quieter road, driving past trees that threw their shadows onto your warmed skin and filtered the sun through their thick green foliage.

"I'm willing to do that," you said after a while of thinking. "For him, I mean. I'm ready to work on us, to take on every hurdle together, and to talk. Gods, I really want to talk to him."

You let your head fall back against the headrest, closing your eyes to watch the black and golden points dance over shut lids.

Mentally you were preparing a list of all the things you wanted to tell Thranduil, firstmost your feelings, yes, but you also wanted him to know your favorite color, your first memory of him, how much you loved to dance and that you never threw away movie tickets.

You wanted to ask him on what side of the bed he slept in, which countries he had seen, what his favorite animal was.

"By the way," you blinked open both eyes, meeting Legolas' gaze, "talk to Aragorn, please. The man needs to hear you say that you like him the same way."

Legolas relaxed with a chuckle, "Gimli's going to hate us."

Laughing you could do nothing but agree with him.

The rest of the drive is all the usual, the sincere and deep talks pushed away for jibs and jokes, complaints about work and moans about Professors who think summer break is to prepare with even more coursework.

You didn't mention the playlist, Legolas stayed silent about Thranduil, a mutual agreement.

The sun was impossibly high as Legolas parked his Chevy next to the other (empty) spot, beating down on you in a manner that screams for sunscreen and…

"Pool!" Legolas yelled and jumped out of the car. "Water! Refreshments!"

You both raced over the gravel path, not bothering walking through the house but rather dashing to the gate in a wooden fence, that led directly to the garden.

Even while you were still running, Legolas tore off his tanktop, throwing it away to land somewhere next to the seating area, flinging his shorts onto a lounge chair, and you followed his example.

You kicked your shoes away to run through the soft grass and at the sight of the shimmering pool, wrestled the sundress over your head.

Glad that you had the foresight to wear a bikini instead of normal underwear, you don't think twice before pulling your knees to your chest and crashed into the ice-cold water at the same time Legolas fell into the water face first.

For a bit, you two did nothing but splash around, using feet and hands and every unfair method you could think of trying to get the other to swallow as much water as possible.

Legolas, once again having quite the advantage due to his height and slender figure, got so good at diving under you and pulling you down, that after an hour of coming up sputtering and coughing, you were the one raising the metaphorical white flag.

After a short refreshment break consisting of (unchlorinated) water, Legolas went to grab two inflatable floaties from the pool house, throwing one in your direction before making himself comfortable on the green one.

"This is the life," he sighed, hands crossed behind his head.

You found not one bit of motivation to answer him using anything else but a drawn-out "Mhmm" as you laid down on your stomach, face hidden in the crook of your arm.

"I think, I'll take a nap." Legolas yawned but already sounded very far away for your eyes closed as well, exhaustion of the day and the fight seeping into your bones.

It was the combination of the gentle rocking of the inflatable, the water splashing in the background, muffled by your ear pressed against your arm, the sun drying your wet body with her warm rays that sent you into a blissful rest, floating away in the pool as well as your dreams.

When you awoke, it was to the gentle caressing of water running through your hand as well as someone blocking out the sun.

"Las," you mumbled, "Laaas, go away"

Nothing happened, the shadow casted onto you didn't move an inch.

"'M getting up cranky," you threatened as a last attempt, groaning into your skin as the last bit of sleep slipped away from you. "Now you've done it– I hate you."

"And I probably deserve it." The voice that finally piped up was, to your absolute horror, not your best friend.

Immediately your head shot up, nearly tearing some muscle as you craned it up… and up the body of the man standing in front of the sun.

Golden light fell onto strong shoulders, creating a halo that made it very hard to look at Thranduil without needing to squint your eyes against it.

Seeing your struggle and taking pity, Thranduil crouched down to your height. "May I?"

Incapable of saying anything, you nodded. Your mind was caught on the last threads of sleep, drowsiness tugging on your consciousness that was trying its best to keep up with the current happenings.

Thranduil let out a sigh as he sat down on the edge, not caring the slightest bit that his shorts were getting wet, and kicked his long legs into the water, sending ripples toward where you floated.

He did not attempt to start a conversation, instead, he just leaned back, large hands spread on the stone behind his back, his face angled just the right way for you to know his eyes were not completely shut but focused on you through lowered lashes.

There wasn't a need to mention how gorgeous he looked, bathed in sunlight and the buttons of a moss green linen shirt that much undone, that you could follow the line of his throat down to a small peek of a rosy porcelain chest.

You felt your throat clog up at the sight of him, effortlessly graceful and despite the humid air, not breaking a single sweat.

You quickly lowered your head again, burying your nose in your arm to not get distracted by his pine wood perfume that wafted over to you.

"Can we talk?" Thranduils voice was low, a soft rumble that barely topped the gurgling and splashing of the water.

"Mhm," you cleared your throat, "I don't know, can you? Kinda felt like you lost any ability to, or maybe that was special treatment for me." You let the words wander away and glared at him in a manner that screamed 'Give me a break'.

"Point taken."

"That wasn't nice, Thranduil."

"I know."

"Good. Did Legolas send you?" You moved your head, scanning the pool for any sign of your best friend but except for you and Thranduil and some bees buzzing and butterflies fluttering in the air, there was no one else. "Where is he?"

"Inside. Came in when Aragorn rang the bell and after he nearly killed me with one murderous look, they both disappeared up the stairs."

"Ah," the disappointment seeped into the single expression, weighing down onto your shoulders, "So you came to talk because Las told you."

"No, not at all!" With an alarmed expression on his face, Thranduil leaned forward, resting one hand on his broad thigh instead of the stone. "I understood I needed to talk to you soon. Legolas just kicked my ass one more time. I've thought of nothing but you for the last few days."

The blood immediately rushed to your cheeks at this statement. "You're thinking about me?"

"Constantly. How could I not?"

"I wasn't sure," you admitted quietly, "after you... well, after you drove me home the last time, everything changed somehow."

Saying what you felt had never been easy for you, admitting things meant exposing yourself and that feeling of pure nakedness when the other person saw you, heard what you were revealing like little messages encoded through meter-high walls, it always brought that dizziness with it.

Fears that the other person wouldn't like you if they found out you weren't perfect, that they might realize how your flaws and imperfections didn't fit their expectations.

You'd rather cram the truth behind well-chosen and hopefully satisfying answers that covered up the cracks.

"I was a daft idiot," Thranduil said and, to your surprise, let out a shaky laugh that sounded more fearful than anything else.

You raised a quizzical eyebrow, knowing better than to interrupt a man wanting to explain himself.

Mulling over his words, Thranduil dropped one hand into the water, swirling it back and forth in even rotations of his wrist.

"This–", he lifted it, dripping droplets onto his beige shorts as he pointed to you and then to him, "this caught me unexpectedly. For years I blocked off any attempts of lo– of liking someone. First I blamed it on the need to focus on Legolas, his upbringing and when he was old enough to become completely uninterested in his old Ada and reached the top shelf without me needing to lift him onto my shoulders, then I searched for other reasons. My job doesn't allow much time, they would just want my money, it's just not the right time..."

While he talked, the flow of the water had carried you close enough to him for the pool float to dodge the edge of the pool. You didn't attempt to push yourself back into the water.

Instead, you reached one hand over, holding onto the warm stone next to his thighs.

"This– you, my dear, dropped onto me so out of the blue that I realized I do not have the skills to converse as easily as you may hope."

His jaw muscles protruded as he lowered his head, the tip of his ponytail falling onto his chest.

Taking that bit of courage you found in you, you let the stone go, instead laying one hand gently onto his toned thigh next to his hand.

The muscles flexed as soon as you touched the pleasantly warm skin, moving under your palm in uncontrolled spasms that you ignored for the sake of both your minds right now.

Now that you had some stability, you tried to sit up. Doing your best to hold your balance while the wobbling made it difficult, you drew your legs to your chest and then straddled the pool float, huffing out a breath full of tension.

Thranduil, halfway through your struggle grabbed one corner and prevented you from drifting away.

"There," you said and blew some hair out of your face, "now, this is hard for me too."

As you sat up, you saw Thranduil's gaze snap up to you, or more explicitly; to your whole body.

There was a hitch in his chest, a gulp so loud it would've been embarrassing to draw attention to but while you make a point of focusing on the conversation, you can't help or stop the blush that spread over your whole body, a heat that traveled faster than the sun and that left you stuttering for the right words.

"And well, I– what I meant was that I don't expect a lot, just for you to be there. Don't leave me behind in the unknown. I.. I'm in zero gravity space here, floating around in these endless questions." You gestured a lot with your hands, fiddling with the bow on your bikini top, smearing some water over the heated plastic in front of you, anything to calm your racing mind.

You were, like you said, out of your own depth and that not only came from Thranduil being different than other guys but also because your feelings were so much grander than anything else you've felt before.

Not just lust.

Not just attraction.

Not just admiration.

When Thranduil spoke up again, his voice was firm; calm, quiet, meant for just you, and firm: "I'm here and I'm in, one hundred percent of me."

"Good," you whispered, "Me too."

In that single moment, just thirteen words and a trembling of lips, a wave of relief washed over you, freeing you from the weight of countless sleepless nights spent tossing and turning, worried that all of this would be for nothing.

Thirteen simple words, mere letters strung together in infinite combinations, yet in that particular arrangement, they held the power to soothe your soul like nothing else could.

There was something in your chest that snapped, a tight leash of worries that had been bound around your heart, layering that precious muscle in a protective case so as to not get hurt again.

He visibly relaxed at that, not entirely, but there was a drop in his shoulders, a shift in his thighs; physically opening up to you and not just emotionally.

You decided to do the same and smiled.

"So," you started, "now that's finally out of the way. Was this the reason why you got all sassy and distant?"

He huffed, ever-attentive eyes roaming over the wide slopes and curves of the garden behind you as if there was an easier answer out there that he could offer you.

But you knew, without turning around, there was nothing else except for flowers and trees, maybe some hidden wine bottles that Legolas and you had snuck out and buried as time capsules right next to the patch of vegetables.

"Sassy, you say," he pondered, and you too thought back to the snippy comments that he had thrown Legolas's way when he came down the stairs and found Legolas rummaging through a box of old movies to watch with you; coming on rather defensive over movies you'd watched together, the three of you, two nights ago.

Or the night he knocked on Legolas's door to send you both to bed like you were two children and all you did was stare at each other in disbelief.

He must've come to the same conclusion as you, he pulled a very apologetic face that was downright hurtful to watch. "Oh, yes. I may or may not have been a total ass, haven't I?"

You agreed with a nod. "Total ass, like stage five. Me and Legolas were already thinking you'd robbed a bank or planned to overthrow the government with all the mood switches you'd going on."

There was a playful tone in your voice, despite the underlying accusation though you couldn't be bothered to force him to explain anything if he didn't wanted.

What he just said, the admission of attraction was more than you'd thought you got today, so you decided to let him off easy.

"Darling," he smirked, throwing the teasing right back at you, and you swallow loudly at the nickname, "I'm rich and a lawyer. If I wanted to lead this country I could simply pay for that seat." The way he said that completely self-assured in his abilities... or well... his bank account, made your stomach flip.

It took a total amount of five slow and counted breaths before you went back to thinking straight, or let alone to speaking again.

"I offer you my support in exchange for clearing my college debts. Sounds quite fair to me," you stated.

"I can just pay them off for you," Thranduil offered.

"Sure," you burst out laughing.

"I'm serious," Thranduil insisted but was met with a quick headshake from you. "Okay. But, and don't shoot me this look, the offer stands. You don't have to accept it right away, not in the near future. It's there, okay? Just like I am."

The words lingered between you, folded into your chest directly beneath your heart, which seemed to have no intention of stopping its erratic beating.

You were aware that if Legolas had made the same offer, you would have reacted differently—probably lashed out at him. After all, you weren't a charity case.

You worked not only to finance your university and room but also your free time, just as you had planned long before the Oropherion household showed you how easily some things came with money.

That's exactly what you would have told Legolas, perhaps adorned with a few curses or insincere insults, a bit offended until you both apologized.

Although Thranduil's offer hit the same sore spot and your ego, you couldn't help but ponder how it would feel to be cared for by him.

"I neither accept nor decline, okay?" You nailed him with a glance at the ground, through which he raised his hands in defense with a smirk. "First, I want a pony, one with a beautiful, long, blonde mane, because you never allow us to braid yours." Admittedly, you had never asked, but that didn't matter in this playful banter.

"Just–" Thranduil laughed huskily, "Just take it easy on this old man, alright?" Both of his hands grabbed the pool float with ease, pulling you into the open space his spread legs provided.

Your knees touched his, water sloshing up.

"Huh?" you pretended to look around, already breathless despite not having moved an inch.

"What are you doing?"

"Well–" you said, knee nudging his playful, "I'm looking for the old man. Wouldn't want some creep staring over the hedge."

Thranduil rolled his eyes slightly and raised one of his eyebrows. "I can see," he began, shaking his head with a harsh laugh, "you firecracker are about to drive me out of my mind."

You grinned cheekily at him. Your body unconsciously leaned forward, propped up on your elbows, you looked up at him and pursed your lips. "We never talked about playing fair."

He followed your example, his upper body leaning down until his face was mere inches away from yours.

This must be it, you think, taking him in one last time, rosy plush lips opened slightly, piercing eyes searching your face, blonde hair framing strong cheekbones, and you let your eyes fall close.

There was water rushing, the gentle bobbing on top of it, the wet coolness nipping everywhere except where his knees touched yours.

You leaned forward some more, yearning to finally learn what he tasted like, to memorize the burning touch of his lips on yours.

The inflatable shifted as he let go, opting to instead hold you close by laying his large hands on your neck, nearly spreading his fingers all around and you knew he felt your breath hitch and you suspected he must've felt the nervous flutter of your pulse like a hummingbird as well.

You awaited the kiss with bated breath.

It didn't come.

The subtle shift in weight, as you inched closer to Thranduil, proved to be the catalyst that upset the delicate equilibrium of the pool float.

In an instant, it slipped between your legs, and the last thing you felt was the tight grip of Thranduils hands on your shoulders.

The subsequent splash echoed with a deafening resonance, the world above the water muffled as you found yourself submerged, cut off from the surface.

Thranduil's body followed swiftly, his legs intertwined with yours, forcing him to tip underwater as well.

When you gasped for air, your brain not quite realizing that there was no air, not only did you swallow a mouthful of chlorinated water, the jerk of your knee came also close enough to kick him into the groin.

Thankfully you only got his thigh.

The water embraced you, surrounding you with playful gurgles and chuckles, as if nature itself joined in on the amusement of your unexpected descent.

Thranduil was the first to react.

His hands reached out, a strong arm securing around your middle, pulling you close. With a powerful push of his feet, you both burst through the water's surface.

"Fuck," you sputtered, the sting of chlorine in your eyes forcing you to shut them tightly against the blazing sun. "Fuck, shit, fuck."

Your flailing feet found purpose when Thranduil murmured, "Hold on, I've– I've got you!" Responding instinctively, you wrapped your legs around him.

Just before he hoisted you out of the water and placed you on the sun-soaked stones, you registered the firmness of his chest, the smoothness of his skin, and the subtle flex of every.single.muscle at play.

Coughing loudly and deeply from the shock and the overwhelming intake of water, not intended to be enjoyed in such excessive amounts, you spat some out onto the grass next to you.

"Fuck," you repeated. The stress of the situation crashed onto you, leaving you to cough and sit in the embarrassing position where you could only blink and take in a mushy version of Thranduils handsome face peering up at you.

"Hey, it's alright, you're alright." His voice pulled you back, calming the scratch in your throat.

"What– how?" you wheezed, body curling until you could rest your head on his broad shoulder. It was no comfortable position with him kicking the water to hold himself upright, hands holding onto your thighs and you bend nearly in half, but it helped.

The soothing circles his thumb drew over your skin, the reassuring words he mumbled.

"I'm so embarrassed, oh my god," you whined. "I can't believe this happened."

"Hey–" His large palm cupped your cheek, tipping your head back to lock his eyes onto yours. "Hey look at me." His fingers stroked over your temple, slightly pressing into it. "You could've hit a much worse spot than you did."

You snorted, "Yes, then I would've probably drowned myself."

The same moment you wanted to try again, chasing that adrenaline high, the loud "What the fuck happened?" of Legolas sounded over to you and all you two could do was burst out into laughter.

166 notes · View notes

itsonlydana · 9 months ago

Text

"passenger princess" | chapter three

the hobbit | a modern!AU by itsonlydana

❱ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader

❱ wordcount: 3,2k

❱ summary: distractions over distractions..

❱ warnings: none

❱ an: i may or may not have giggled a lot while writing and imagining this. This scene was the reason i started this fic in the first place :)

general m.list + series m.list

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot - especially with longer projects <3

CHAPTER THREE: PAINTING

As the night progressed, the alcoholic drinks slowly but surely turned into water or coffee for your own good. None of you wanted to sit in Professor Sauron's class in the early morning with a hangover.

The man was obnoxious on his own, adding headaches and fatigue and you had practically dug your own grave and you could be sure the professor would take it upon himself to kick you in it, face towards the dirt– no questions asked.

You continued to play for a while until, as the others had predicted and taunted you with, you were the first to hand over your last bill. That and your last street went to Aragorn, and taking it like a true champion you gave up with a "No more monopoly! Never again!"

After all these hours you weren't even disappointed with this loss, it gave you a reason to finally get up from the chair and stretch your back.

On slightly asleep feet, you wandered through the lowest floor, craning your head and neck, popping the aching bones for some sweet relief.

The Oropherion family home had become a familiar place to you over the past few months, a retreat of peace and quiet that your dorm couldn't provide.

While you had initially counted how many evenings you had spent in this house, with your friends in the kitchen cooking or on the couch watching a movie and the constant hope to meet Thranduil to even have the smallest chance to strike up a conversation, these experiences, as well as conversations had accumulated to a frequency that wasn't worth counting.

The floor under your sock-clad feet was pleasantly cool, your body had grown far too warm at the table where the boys' testosterone had skyrocketed when you left.

The whole house radiated a pleasant coolness, something you appreciated after spending a few nights in Legolas' far too warm room. Legolas was a running radiator and although you were very grateful for the fact and his warm hands in the winter, you often preferred to walk around the rest of the house whenever you woke up with him pressed to your side.

Perhaps because that comfortable cold reminded you of Thranduil, of the light and sporadic touches of his cool hands sometimes in your back, sometimes on your shoulder, and very rarely the brush of his fingertips over your hands.

You collected the memories, those feelings of his skin against yours, locked them deep in your heart. They were yours, no matter how public or private they had been in the first place, now they belonged to you.

Your gaze wandered along the bright wall as it lingered on a particular spot of the hung paintings, your feet automatically following.

It was inevitable that you stopped in front of this painting during your visits for it was by far your favorite.

It was framed behind a thin glass pane, most likely because Thranduil knew about the sock races you held in the long hallway with fantastically smooth floors, and although there was a real Monet hanging among the others, it was this unassuming-looking painting that captivated you.

A forest had been painted in rather dark tones, with massive tree trunks and broad branches stretching skyward, interwoven into a dense green blanket through which little light seemed to fall. And in places where the fine rays of a warm sun were nevertheless drawn, the leaves glowed a glittering gold. On the ground, thin wisps of mist drifted over the moss-covered ground glistening with morning dew, entwining themselves around the roots that had broken out of the ground.

Unlike all the other paintings, it had no signature, no artist. Just a name; 'Mirkwood'.

You had looked at this picture so many times that you saw the individual brush strokes in your brain drawing this magical forest, and often you wondered if such a place actually existed.

How you would love to immerse yourself in this image, to bury your toes in the earth and moss, to listen to the rustle of the many leaves in the wind. Breathing deeply, you tried to conjure yourself to the trees and froze when you noticed the smell of pine needles and a slight puff of air on the back of your neck.

"You're pretty bad at sneaking up on people," you spoke forward, without turning away from the painting, to which you were almost glued with your forehead.

You knew who was behind you even so; only one person evoked this state of absolute chaos in you.

"Oh, I'm not?" Thranduil's voice wore an amused smirk. "Those shivers on you seem to be clear evidence of the contrary."

"Whatever you think you're talking about, you're wrong."

"Are you absolutely certain? Someone who flashes a grin at a good hand of cards in poker shouldn't be so quick to boast."

You were about to protest – granted, your poker face wasn't the best, but who could resist grinning when winning against Legolas?

However, before you could say anything, Thranduil beat you to it, "Speaking of games, it seems your strategy of passing 'Go' and collecting money didn't quite pan out, did it?"

Now you turned around and looked up at Thranduil.

The shirt was gone, in its place a green sweatshirt hugged a torso that shouldn't look that fit for a middle aged man, and he looked directly much more... homely. You liked that sweatshirt on him, it accentuated his eyes, the crinkles around them and his ice-blond hair stood out against the rich green like the shining moonlight. His lips were pulled into a teasing smile and you couldn't help but roll your eyes.

"It wasn't my strategy's fault. It would've secured my victory if it weren't for the incessant whining from the boys. 'Spose they couldn't handle watching me systematically take over. Soo I did the only sensible thing and gracefully bowed out of that power struggle," you explained with a playful glint in your eye.

"What a noble deed," Thranduil smirked, looking at you through long lashes. Then he took a step toward you. "However, I must disagree with your words again. I believe you had no choice but to lose."

Your eyebrows rose challengingly and you pushed your shoulders through to appear more confident. Yet you were the complete opposite under Thranduil's gaze, behind which a thought seemed to be forming that would surely cost you some nerves.

"Is that so?" you asked, itching to find out what was going on inside him, and at the same time, a little afraid.

Thranduil could say the most boring thing in the world and still make it sound like flirting.

Well okay, flirting was a little wide of the mark and a little inappropriate for a man in his 40s, it made it seem a little juvenile and what he was saying was anything but a stupid pickup line you'd hear in the bars.

It was mostly just as teasing and at the same time charming as the grin that spread across his face.

"I think," Thranduil started and you suddenly regretted investigating "No, I'm sure you weren't completely focused on the game"

Of course, you hadn't been focused on the game, at least not ever since he'd come home and messed with your mind, strolling around the goddamn kitchen with his effortless good looks as if he didn't know how much he could dominate and take over a room.

But you would never tell him that, as much as it burned on your tongue. You swallowed the words, tried to swallow the lump that formed in your throat, but it had become too big.

"I'm.. I'm not sure what you're referring to," you attempted to deflect the conversation and focused on the painting again, hoping to divert your attention from him.

A moment of silence passed between you, charged with unspoken feelings. You heard him approach and felt the cool touch of his slender fingers slowly wrap around your wrist. His fingers easily met his thumb, essentially cuffing you to himself and your knees nearly buckled.

"Am I distracting you?" Thranduil asked nonchalantly, although the question was loaded with meaning.

"No, it's just–"

"I am," His thumb traced gentle circles on your skin, causing you to clench your fist, and paused just above your pulse. "I can feel that I'm distracting you… or else your pulse is extraordinarily fast because of some painting," he whispered, his breath tickling your ear.

"I already said you're–"

"Distracting you. I know," he interrupted.

With a gentle pull, Thranduil turned you around until your back was pressed against the glass of the long-forgotten painting. He was so close that his long hair draped over your shoulders.

That one movement sent your brain into overdrive, eradicating doubt, smushing reality and fantasy until all that was left was the pure enthusiasm of being this close to the sole reason your heart felt like it was bursting out of your chest any moment now.

You looked up at him, probably spending way too much time staring at his face, from his cheekbones to his lips, rosy and pulling up in a smirk as he followed your eyes.

"Something the matter?" he asked, slightly putting some pressure on your pulse point, "Cat got your tongue? C'mon, bite back. Don't get shy suddenly."

You pressed your body back against the glass as far as it would allow it, and let the heat of his touch rush over you, savoring the contrast of hot and cold.

"Ugh. You can be soo annoying," you uttered, and although a year ago it had been unthinkable for you to call Legolas' father annoying, it was one of Thranduil's qualities that you had to remind him of again and again.

He laughed, a short chuckle deep from his chest, which you felt first before you heard it, and dimples and laugh lines of age bored into his otherwise smooth cheeks. The playful smile didn't disappear when he leaned closer to you.

You had slightly tipped your head back, for he towered above you, one large hand of his still around yours while the other spread across your lower back, nudging you against him.

Thranduil's lips moved and you had to pull yourself together to listen to him and not just stare at him and wonder if this was really happening.

Which you did.

Because, what the fuck was happening?

"I get that quite often. Comes with the job as well as raising a thick-headed son, but," –he paused and his baritone voice dropped even lower, the rumble curling around the words that twisted around your heart like roots– "dare I say that when it rolls off your tongue, it sounds dangerously close to a compliment."

This newfound closeness with him was both exhilarating and unnerving. Up until now, you had danced around each other, exchanging subtle remarks that defined the boundaries.

Yet, in this moment, those boundaries seemed to dissolve, swallowed by the intensity of the lingering eye contact you were hesitant to break.

His gaze felt like it was burrowing under your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps and pulsing blood.

You were sure of what was about to happen, you felt it in his hand on your back, leading you toward him, his shallower breathing and suddenly..

All the pressure fell off you, all the worries tumbled away and only the anticipation of finally being able to be as close to him as you've been wishing for months now remained in your chest next to your strongly pounding heart.

He was close, so very close.

"Little one-"

That's when you heard Legolas yell your name.

At first, you hoped you were imagining it.

Thranduil lingered for a breath, leaning against you. His pausing left the decision of how to proceed to you and though everything in you wanted nothing more than to bury your hands in his hair and kiss the smirk off his face, you drew your eyebrows together apologetically.

"I'm so sorry," you said softly. "I.. I can't. Not now, even if I wished–"

Immediately, Thranduil took a step back, putting a distance between you that tore a sigh out of your chest.

Even though you could see the disappointment of being interrupted in his expression, a gentle smile quickly settled on his lips. "No need to apologize."

You waited for a second though the moment had passed and even if it left you on the edge and unraveled like a ball of yarn rolling into an abyss, the end never to be found again now that you'd thrown yourself over the cliffs.

Thranduil nodded and took another step back.

And as you set off down the hallway back to the dining room, Thranduil remained back at the painting, his gaze still on you, as you couldn't help but look back at him again.

You didn't want to leave, not from him, not from his touches, his teasing words, which without this interruption would have led to the highlight of your sneaking around each other, even if until today you had believed it was nothing more than a fantasy of yours.

Yet the way Thranduil had looked at you, blue eyes full of curiosity and desire and longing, the way he had held you as if he would never want to let go of you again, if you would allow him to, no longer made you doubt the one-sidedness of your feelings.

There had to be something and while you couldn't explain why a man his age and status would go for you of all people, that wasn't what you wanted to concentrate on.

In the kitchen, the Monopoly game still seemed to be in full frenzy, just like your friends.

Aragorn had even tied his hair into a braid and was counting his money intently. You had to give most of your cards to Gimli, he had already built his first houses in the fifth round and now owned streets, with so many red hotels that even Vegas would turn green with envy.

Legolas, well, Legolas was Legolas in the sense that Gimli and he went all out for another bet because when you entered he was leaning against the wall.

Upside down.

And counting backward.

"Please. Someone tell me what I missed?" you asked, and the disappointment of being interrupted by Legolas went up in smoke at the sight, or rather in a laughing gasp. Your body automatically relaxed, no matter how electrically charged you felt by Thranduil, your little group could always bring you back.

Aragorn looked up at you, eyeing you for just a single second before one of his eyebrows lifted. "What did we miss?" he turned the question around and you knew full well you'd been seen through. "Red cheeks, tousled hair.." his eyes widened before he opened his mouth in disbelief.

Quickly you shook your head, lifting a finger to end that assumption that was forming in his mind.

At the same moment, Legolas shouted "Zero!" and landed elegantly (how he managed that with the amount of alcohol in his blood was a mystery to you) on his feet again.

Grinning triumphantly, he came back to the table, smacking his hands on his leggings and pointing to your cell phone, which you had left on the table

"Rang several times, your roommate seems to have locked herself out somehow," and turning to Gimli he said, "You said if I do a handstand for two minutes I don't have to pay my rent, so hand over the dice."

Even as you unlocked your screen, the last text message lit up at you, a 'where r u??? its cold' paired with 8 missed calls.

You rolled your eyes. Receiving such messages was nothing novel for you; your roommate had a recurring tendency to leave her keys in your shared room despite your daily reminders. The prospect of her learning from this habit seemed increasingly unlikely.

Yet, she consistently chose the most inconvenient moments to pester you about it.

Swiftly, you texted her, falsely claiming that you were en route, a dramatic exaggeration considering you weren't even certain if the bus was coming or not.

"Just leave the lass out in the cold," grumbled Gimli "Pretend you lost your phone and then we can watch that one movie later."

"The offer sounds tempting, but I think I should start getting some sleep anyway. Instead of sleeping in like you idiots, I'm going to talk to Professor Baggins again." You were sure these were two valid arguments, but at the determined look on Legolas' face, you prepared yourself for a discussion.

"C'mon, just sleep here. Tough luck for your roommate, she can sleep somewhere else," he began.

Tempting, especially when you thought back to that moment with Thranduil.

As nice as the idea of sneaking around at night sounded, and maybe more, depending on how serious Thranduil was about his flirting, you groaned. "My materials are in the dorm. I don't feel like getting up in the morning to pick everything up first and then drive to the university"

"We'll go with you," Legolas shot off another argument, though the other two didn't seem thrilled with it.

"Sure, because that's sooo realistic," you drew out "I can see it coming; I'm the only one who gets up because you'd rather sleep in. No thanks, as much as I appreciate your breakfast cereal, I don't want to put myself through that stress. Two more days and we're free for the weekend. Let's watch the movie then."

The latter was like an olive branch of peace. Although it was your turn to clean the dorm tomorrow, Legolas' pout indicated a never-ending fuss if you left early and without completing his "pep up plan".

You decided that you'd just ask your roommate to cover your shift as a way of saying thanks for letting her in tonight.

"Alright," Legolas relented "We will watch that new horror movie though."

You stuck your tongue out at him. "Bribery. I hate horror"

"And I hate it when you leave," he said, and you conceded defeat.

The smile was back on his face in an instant.

Opening the bus app, however, dramatically lowered your spirits. "Shit. The bus in 10 minutes is canceled, due to a shortage of staff at short notice, and the one after that won't arrive for another two hours. Fuck."

"And the night bus? It's a ten-minute walk to the station, we can bring you," Aragorn's face wore a frown as he stepped beside you, scrutinizing the app as well.

"No," you sighed and leaned against his side, "No.. they canceled the line as well because, wait.. Here; they say it's some roadwork."

His arm wrapped around your shoulder, rubbing it comforting. "Stay the night, please," he asked in a lowered voice, "I won't be able to sleep when you're out there this late. If it's our comments from earlier that hold you back I deeply apologize."

You shook your head, falling into the embrace even more. "Don't worry about that, that's not the problem. I kinda need to sleep in my own bed tonight, y'know? I love you guys but my energy reserves won't fill up if I have Legolas snoring next to me all night."

Aragorn waited, holding your gaze until your nod convinced him that you weren't lying to him about the teasing. "Alright, we'll get you home," he whispered and softly kissed your forehead.

"Can't you call a cab? Way faster and safer."

As sweetly as Legolas' suggestion was meant, a bitter taste spread in your mouth.

As a student, you didn't always have it easy, not with the costs of the university, which only allowed you a room in the dormitory even if you didn't have to live on instant noodles every day and somehow made ends meet with a small part-time job.

Legolas had grown up without money problems because of Thranduil and his father, which he was well aware of, but sometimes you had to remind him that not everyone could take a cab through half the city in the middle of the night.

Just as you were about to tell him this, another voice joined in the conversation:

"Come on, I'll give you a ride."

taglist [still open]: @mushroomemeralds, @mssuguru, @solartoge, @12134z03, @fruitymoonbeams-blog, @lady-of-imladris, @finallyforgotten, @123forgottherest,

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itsonlydana · 8 months ago

Text

"passenger princess" | chapter eight

the hobbit | a modern!AU by itsonlydana

❱ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader

❱ wordcount: 4,6k

❱ summary: the stormy side of summer; falling down a rabbit hole of doubts

❱ warnings: mature language, descriptions of weed & alcohol, description of a panic attack

❱ an: forgive me? This is the second to last chapter and I'm not me without a bit of drama

general m.list + series m.list

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot - especially with longer projects <3

CHAPTER EIGHT: PANIC

The music around you was loud, the air sweltering hot. Heavy bass pulsed in your veins, mixing with the cold beer that you lifted to your lips trying to cool down just the slightest; it helped only a little and only for a brief moment, a hint of moisture in your throat before the stale and stuffy air caught up with you again.

No matter how many frat parties you had been to, the number of guests fitting in the much too small and mostly couch-filled houses always surprised you.

And here, in the living room you got dragged into, were obviously far too many. A mass of sweaty bodies pressed tightly together and swaying back and forth to the songs blaring from the speakers.

You leaned against the wall where you'd spent most of the evening, staring over the rim of your cup at your roommate.

'Oh, you really need to come to this party,' you repeated her tearful words from this morning in your head. She had blindsided you as you were about to head off to Aragorns, had begged you to accompany her because 'Oh I don't want to go there alone and we haven't been out in so long'.

Apparently, there was a tiny bit of guilt in you. In the weeks before university had started, you knew no one and had blindly followed her to these parties until you had met your boys, and yes, she was right about you then going with them rather than her.

Plagued by your good heart and the promise of 'We'll do it like we used to, just the two of us!' you had forced yourself out of your comfy clothes and Thranduil's sweater and thrown on one of your party outfits instead.

Nothing came of the "just the two of us".

Within minutes of your arrival, she'd been pulled onto the dance floor by one of the (in your opinion, look-alike) blonde residents of the house.

The only thing you had done together was pre-drink some shots in the car of an acquaintance who had given you a ride.

It didn't sound nice, and to most others, your roommate's behavior would probably be 'unfriendly' and 'selfish,' but while she preferred to dance with strangers, you had previously used these parties to, well, make acquaintances elsewhere.

With the promise of a real date from Thranduil and the text messages you'd been sending back and forth to each other all day and even for the past weeks, the thought of repeating your earlier party experiences left a bitter taste in your mouth.

And it was almost more disgusting than the beer here- however that was possible. The beer was disgusting. Really fucking disgusting.

Life had taken a turn on you, growing rosy and soft at the sharp edges.

The giddy feeling of bridging that space between you and Thranduil accompanied you throughout the days and nights, you saw no need in the hook-up culture that came along with these kinds of parties.

As if on cue and as if he had read your mind, your phone vibrated in your other hand.

Thran: Darling, I hope you arrived safely! xx Thranduil

The smile that spread on your face when you read his message was unavoidable.

Thranduil had a habit of signing every message with his name, even though you (and Legolas) had explained to him several times that it was not necessary.

With every day that passed, you discovered more very kind and terribly sweet quirks about Thranduil, and every day you fell more in love with him.

You: we did. four shots into the night and i want to leave again

Thran: Oh no! Did anything happen? xx Thranduil

You: nothing that should surprise me, its a frat party lmao

Thran: You seem to enjoy them when you go out with Legolas. xx Thranduil

Thran: A lot, if I remember the many nights where I had to pick you guys up from some house correctly xx Thranduil

There was a truth behind it that you couldn't deny.

Frat parties with Legolas, Aragorn and Gimli were clearly preferable to you, because your boys wouldn't just leave you alone.

Well, at least not for an entire evening.

Legolas had a knack for wandering off at these parties, though he never got far until he was surrounded by swarming girls and boys.

Another advantage of going to parties with them was that Aragorn knew everyone and you never had trouble getting in anywhere, no matter what kind of party it was.

The pick-ups by Thranduil increased again, now that summer break called for more parties and more outings.

With you last on the route and Legolas asleep and unresponsive in the back seat, Thranduil drove the rest of the way always with his hand in yours or on your legs and every time he accompanied you to the front door you hoped.

Hoped his lips didn't land on your forehead or your cheek. Hoping that he would finally kiss you like the look on his face showed. It was frustrating to stand in the dark alcove with him, looking up at him and feeling only his thumb on your lips as he put his hand on the back of your neck.

It was tempting to call him, just ask him to pick you up from this party and then you could drive around in the night, hands intertwined and without a care in the world.

To be honest, you were already dialing his number in your mind when you lifted your cup and looked back at your roommate as you drank.

Your clear conscience gnawed at you as you grimaced slightly biting into the plastic without breaking it. What you could use besides your less-than-ideal mood was a beer-soaked dress.

You: yes, with the boys!

You: roomie ditched me to make out with some Beta Chi Theta guy

You: i got crypto explained to me three fucking times

You: and i swear either i will die of boredom or blackout from the bowl they are serving here. its like 90 perc vodka

Thran: Typical for boys. Thinking a woman has nothing in her head because she is gorgeous. xx Thranduil

You: You think i am gorgeous? ;)

Thran: You are really cheeky for someone that got ditched xx Thranduil

You: wow. shouldn't you be reading a book or play golf, old man?

Thran: Shouldn't you be dancing and not texting with a still young and handsome man? xx Thranduil

Thran: Why are you going to these parties with your roommate if you suffer this much? xx Thranduil

You: most times you get free entry and drinks just bcs you got your tits out :)

Thran: That is definitely not the sentence that I have expected xx Thranduil

You: you want proof?

Thran: ...

Three dots ...

Nothing

Then again the three dots …

You had to bite your lip, and yet the grin spread all over your face as Thranduil visibly tapped away at an answer for a long time.

As much as it frustrated you to see the dots disappear again, the flirting had clearly improved your mood.

"Oh my god, girly–"

With both hands in front of her face, trying to catch her breath, your roommate fell against the wall next to you, her cheeks flushed and her eyes wide open.

Without words, you held your cup out to her and grinned as she put her head back and drank the beer in a few gulps, after which she puckered her mouth.

"This shit tastes like ass," she said, wiping a hand across the corner of her mouth.

"Are you surprised?" you asked, letting your gaze wander over the crowd. "Where did you leave your boy-toy? The way he had his hands on you, I'm surprised to see you here beside me and not on some bed upstairs."

Snorting, your roommate held her hair to the side "Fuck me, it's so hot in here," she cursed and you longed for some fresh air as well, there was only one window open in here and a group of smokers were leaning out of it. "Kíli just went to get his brother," She turned her head, grinning broadly and started giggling "We were at a party at their place the other night and Girly— Fíli is such a hottie!"

"Brothers?" you asked, one eyebrow raised skeptically "Don't you think one is enough?"

At that, the giggling died down and a surprised and slightly reproachful look landed on you. "Babe, you of all people shouldn't be judging, don't you think?"

Slightly startled at the tone in her voice, you leaned away from her, seeking eye contact, but she rolled her eyes and then there was that smirk on her face again.

"As much as I would appreciate a trip to Paris," she was the only one laughing at this innuendo, "Fíli isn't coming for me. Well, at least not today." She paused to fan herself again and you thought you had to shake her to make her continue speaking. When she did, however, you wished you had never started the conversation.

"Fíli is coming for you, babe! Look at you, standing around all alone at this party, it's so lame," She smiled at you and put a warm hand on your bare arm. "In the old days, I would have had to hold your hair now or found you in one of the bedrooms."

"Coming for me?" you asked in horror, your thoughts a single merry-go-round at the sudden change in mood. "Why would you invite a boy I don't know over because of me? Just because I made the mistake of sleeping with some fratboy once in the very beginning?"

"You've changed sweetie and I just want to help you have fun again."

"I'm having fun," you replied bitterly, "Believe me, it's not on me why I'm standing around here alone. You wanted to come here together!"

"Yeah, because I thought that would make you finally stop thirsting after old men!" your roommate cried, and a slap would probably have been more pleasant than her words.

They came crashing down on you like a bucket of cold water while you got even hotter. You could feel your breathing first stop and then become faster, more irregular, and it slipped slightly into the uncontrollable.

She wasn't done, though. Cheeks flushed, she pressed a long fingernail against your chest and pushed you against the sticky wall.

"Do you know how disgusting it is to see you being driven home at night by a man as old as my father? Not to mention it's your best friend's father, Girl. You're constantly on the road, sleeping in his sweater and even here you prefer to write with this old fuck instead of finally finding someone your age. At first, I really believed you were sleeping with Legolas since you were always with him and god I would have understood that."

Anger burned in your belly, bubbling and hissing, fighting its way up with every word thrown at your feet, and by the last sentence, you were ready to forget all your notions of moral rightness.

The temptation to show her what you could do with your anger was as present in a twitch of your hands as the taste of blood in your mouth. You hadn't even realized you'd bitten your lip until metal spread across your tongue.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," you snapped at her in a tone that couldn't have been more bitter.

"Oh no?" She challenged you, her red-painted lips twisted into a sardonic grin. "Tell me," she moved closer, leaning far too close into your personal space for your liking right now, and you tasted alcohol and the acrid smell of weed on her breath.

"Is he paying you for sex? Or what does he want from you of all people?"

The music around you was loud and you felt hot and cold at the same time. The bass boomed in your ears and yet you thought you perceived nothing louder than the suspension of your heart at that moment.

It happened very quickly, the poisoned words had barely bitten you, you already felt a touch of dizziness, a spinning of the room and with it disintegrated the image that you had had so far of your roommate.

You couldn't find words to express what you wanted to say. You wanted to scream at her, push her, insult her, tug and tear at her and beat her with similarly poisonous claws until she felt even a hint of the pain spreading through your body.

There was so little air in that house.

Sweat and alcohol, weed and smoke stung your lungs with every attempt to take a deep breath.

Your legs moved on their own as you fought your way through the crowd, past blurry faces.

Out, you had to get out.

You needed air.

You fled the house, the words anchored deep in your chest, where they dug deeper with each breath until your chest threatened to explode.

Not knowing where to go, the main thing your brain screamed was away, you stumbled across the porch, hearing someone calling your name, but you didn't stop.

You kept running, lapsing after a while from running to walking more slowly until even that became far too much for your feet.

Looking around you didn't recognize the houses around you, and the thought of going back the same way you pushed away as quickly as it had come.

The silence coming from the sleeping family homes around you was almost as bad as the music of the house. Your heart beat loud enough that it throbbed dully in your ears and no matter how athletic you might be, your breath rattled and burned in the freezing night air that crept around your free legs and arms.

Shivering, from anger, cold or pure exhaustion from it all, you couldn't tell, you pulled at the hem of your dress and lowered yourself to the curb.

Legs pulled to your chest you ran your hands over your face, over glowing cheeks and as you tried to take a deep breath you felt your jaw tighten and only a sniffle could be heard in the silence.

A "fuck", slipped over your lips, quietly and rather an exhalation of air instead of letters. Your mind was in chaos, driven by a big 'what the fuck just happened?' thoughts piled up in an unassailable crowd. It felt surreal, and as much as you pleaded it was a figment of alcohol, the events burned inside you.

You stared at the ground in front of you, your roommate's last words echoing in your ears, and the image of your friendship tore before you like a rubber band stretched too long. It had been inevitable in the end, that was clear to you, because you had never really fit together.

Only the hostility had been a surprising guest.

She had been so driven to hurt you and her weapons had found their target.

What had seemed to you before like a solid foundation of trust and respect crumbled beneath you and your throat tightened at the thought of going back to your dorm.

Sniffling, you unlocked your phone, which you thank god hadn't dropped as you'd run. Immediately you stared at the last opened chat with Thranduil and the wave of emotions crashed over you again.

Before the bitter words could bite into your insecurity, however, you had already dialed his number and held the phone to your ear.

Only a few seconds later the dialing sound disappeared and was replaced by a coarse, "First you leave me on a sweet promise and then you call when I want to sleep? Tze tze, darling" A single, miserably failed attempt to suppress a sob was enough to change the tone in his voice from a drawled tease to concern.

He spoke your name with such concern that a second sob followed the first, "Is everything alright... what happened? Darling, the background is so quiet, where are you?"

You didn't have it in you to repeat the argument, didn't want to say hateful things to him over a phone even if they hadn't been your words.

Instead, you hugged your legs with your free hand, pulling them closer to you. "I don't know where I am"

On the other end of the line you heard him inhale sharply, a commotion of rustled blankets, then bare feet on floor.

"Nothing happened to me," you quickly forestalled his question, and then immediately felt the pain in your chest again, and tears gathered in your eyes on your next breath. "Thranduil, I–" you began, but your voice broke. Hearing him had been enough to open the floodgates of your held-back despair, the battle with yourself for your composure was lost.

Alone on the side of the road, in a neighborhood that was foreign to you and with nothing on you but what you were wearing and your cell phone, you felt so cut off from all warmth that you couldn't help but cry.

Thranduil said your name again, this time with more urgency, "Send me your location and I'll come to get you."

"You don't have to," you protested weakly "You wanted to sleep"

"The only way I'm going to be able to relax and close even one damn eye today is if I know you're safe, and nothing is going to stop me from making sure of that myself."

While sending him your location you also put him on speaker phone, your phone cradled in your hands.

"Okay, I can be there in fifteen minutes. Are you safe where you are?" asked Thranduil and you heard his front door slam.

You looked around, but except for a dog in the distance, no one seemed to be near you. "Yes," you managed to say before the tears took over again and shook you.

A car door was pulled open and closed again, the familiar click of its key and purr of the engine followed, and despite your crying, the familiar sounds filled you with a slight warmth.

As much as you wanted to make yourself smaller, to put your head between your legs to hide from the world, you didn't dare to turn your back completely to your surroundings.

It tore you apart piece by piece.

The evening had not gone at all as you had wished. It didn't have to be much, a few free drinks, conversations about courses of study and how awful some professors were, then maybe a couple of dances with girlfriends and before you knew it you would have been back in your bed, snuggled up in Thranduil's sweater.

But no.

How could you have been so wrong?

Your hands clawed into your upper arms as your body shook from your sobs. Nails pressed into your skin in a way that would surely leave marks, but you didn't fight back. Didn't stop.

Why had you opened up?

A bitter voice haunted your thoughts, whispering to you that it had been inevitable. Of course, you couldn't even enjoy a relationship; if you could call that with Thranduil a relationship.

He wouldn't even kiss you. They were ghosts, insecurities hidden under white sheets with grimaces cut into them, who knew how to use their tricks so that within a few minutes you were a complete mess.

What had started as anger toward your roommate took a quick downward path into your fears.

Your roommate had given the ghosts an opening, had purposefully punched a hole in your walls, and now your head was trapped in a stream, ever downward.

Doubt ate at you, made you question Thranduil's feelings.

You clung to whispered words at movie nights, the feather-light touch of his hand on your back wherever you were, and the smile, very different from his grin, much more genuine, gentle, and given only to you.

Tears fell too fast to wipe them away and sucked the last bit of strength that had kept you upright until now out of you like it was never there at all.

In another state, it would never have occurred to you to give in to doubts.

In another state, you were aware of how much progress you'd made in conversing and growing comfortable being the person the other could rely on, how heavy his touches were in their meaning.

A fleeting brush of his fingers over your shoulder or back as he passed you, a hand in your side as he walked you to the guest room after long parties, as Legolas fell asleep on the couch, or when he grabbed your hand to help you out of the car, because no matter what the weather, he was always at your door to open it.

It was easy to lose yourself when you were hurting, to question what was real.

You must have switched off completely, because suddenly you were bathed in the bright light of headlights and a dark car shot towards you much too fast.

What would have otherwise been guaranteed to send you running was a welcome sight to you, and you were on your feet even before the car stopped in front of you.

The next sob that went through you and shook your whole body was accompanied by a simultaneously relieved but also longing wail.

Thranduil jumped out of the car, the door open behind him and the engine continuing to purr, and you didn't wait a second longer before throwing yourself at him.

For a moment the ghosts disappeared, driven away by the oh-so-familiar face whose eyes anxiously scanned you for injuries.

His arms immediately embraced you, pulling you to his chest and wrapping around your torso like a shield. One of his hands grasped your waist, stabilizing you as he realized you were falling fully against him, his other stroking your back first in even motions until they brushed up your shoulder blades and then wrapped around your neck.

Your hands clawed at his sweater, crumpling the fabric between your fingertips as you clung to him. Turning your head so that your ear rested against his chest, the place your cheek pressed against was quickly drenched with tears and there was no doubt you would apologize when you could speak more again without being interrupted by sobs and whimpers from your throat.

"Shh, I'm here," Thranduil murmured, lowering his head to yours. Soft lips traveled a familiar route from your forehead, to your temple, down to your ear, leaving kisses so gentle that your heart contracted in shame at ever having doubted them.

"I'm here," Thranduil repeated, and you could feel the movement of his lips against your skin, feel the vibration of his deep voice in his chest. "Follow my breath, in and out, okay? In, you're doing so well my love, and out slowly, very good."

A few minutes of deep, concentrated breathing passed to force yourself back into a stable state.

Eased through it by Thranduils low voice in your ear, reverberating through your entire body just like the breaths he took for you to mimic him.

Guided by the slow rise and fall of his chest, your lungs filled themselves with his scent instead of the harsh and cold wind, clouding you in the faint smell of lingering perfume that had worn off this late of an hour.

"I'm sorry," When you spoke, your voice was raspy. The words were scratching in your throat, it would most likely be sore later, and half of them are muffled by his sweater, but you felt that he heard you in the way that his muscles tensed. "I'm so sorry."

Your eyelashes were sticky with tears, pealing open to tilt your head just the slightest bit for you to look up at Thranduil.

His eyes were on you already, and with a soar of your heart you discovered the puffiness under them, the redness coloring his cheeks.

Had he been crying? For you? Because of you?

Slowly you raised on arm, stroking over the slight discoloration of his ivory skin.

He caught your hand in his, breathing another kiss on the inside of your palm.

"I was so fucking scared," he started, holding your gaze through half-lidded eyes "I was trying to talk to you on the phone but you stopped talking and all I could hear were your cries and god, I was so fucking scared that I wouldn't be here in time. The scenarios in my head–" his whole body shuddered trying to fight those thoughts visibly coming up again, the breath he lets out hot against your hand. "I would have never forgiven myself."

"I'm so so sorry," you whispered "I wasn't sure who to call."

"You have no need to apologize for this. Okay? Never apologize for calling me, whenever and whatever it is about. I rather drive through the country to pick you up than have you call a cab." Thranduils nose nudged against your forehead.

His gaze was slowly softening, the initial worry not disappearing but dwindling to be replaced by a relief that you at least seem to be physically alright.

"Come, let's get you out of this dreadful cold. It looks like it will rain soon and you, my darling, deserve to be warm and comfortable."

'I am warm', you thought loosening your grip on his sweater, 'you make me feel warm.'

You didn't say it, instead, you let him guide you to his car, his arm still around your waist and when he opened the door for you you had to hold back another sob.

There, laying on the black leather, was the green sweater you loved so much on him.

The one he wore when he had you pressed against the painting in his hallway, the one he had worn the first morning you came over after that evening, still giddy and blushing all over, as he had sat next to you at the breakfast table and his legs had ever so slightly brushed against yours, while Legolas and Gimli were discussing your weekend plans.

He had worn that sweater the first time he had held your hand in the darkness of his living room, a movie playing on the TV and Legolas asleep on the other end of the couch, and you had held your breath, as he slowly reached between you, intertwining your fingers in each other and smiling at you.

Pulling it over your head you felt your hands trembling.

There were so many words on your tongue, forming sentences out of the feelings bubbling inside you like a hot pot of water that surely would boil over sooner or later and you could pinpoint the exact moment it did because as soon as Thranduil sat down in the driver seat he reached over and gently placed his hand on your leg.

"You don't need to tell me what happened but know that I'll listen to you when you want to."

You were fighting the tears once again, this time it was from the overwhelming warmth that spread through you. Thranduil was here, with you, and his voice carried to you like a comforting embrace and you no longer were alone.

Oh, how wonderful it felt. The kindness in his words was a flame inside you, lightning all the places that were left raw and hollow and cold with haunting ghost touches and it soothed away the pain that the venomous words had left you with.

There was not a chance that you could get anything out of your mouth without breaking down into a crying mess. so you just nodded, resting your hand over his and squeezed it.

It wasn't much.

But it was enough for the moment

taglist [still open]: @mushroomemeralds, @mssuguru, @solartoge, @12134z03, @fruitymoonbeams-blog, @lady-of-imladris @finallyforgotten , @123forgottherest @tomhockstetter7-111 @marshymallo @emily-roberts @howlerwolfmax @tigereyesf

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