#modern!thranduil

[mushroomates]

who i would let borrow my car in lord of the rings:

boromir- would likely take it to a car wash and fill up the tank for me afterwards. no questions asked and the keys are in his hand before he finishes his sentence.

gimli- would change my tires for me. a bit worried about him off roading but he’d take care of it. it’s extremely likely that he also took it through the car wash but not out of politeness but because he got it caked with dirt and mud while driving.

elrond- i’m willing to bet my life on this man being a reliable driver. he could get negative traffic tickets- as in, the cops pull him over just to tell him how good of a three point turn that was. this man is married to the turn signals.

sam- there might be dirt and dog hair left over for weeks but yeah i’d trust him. he probably just needs the trunk space for a dresser he found on the side of the road.

who in lord of the rings i do not trust with my car:

gollum- yeah obviously he’d drive it into the swamp in .2 seconds. this little fucker does not follow road laws or any laws. the second gollum takes my car i know its over.

gandalf- i do not know how one sends an automotive on a quest but im pretty sure my car is in moria rn and i’m never seeing it again

legolas- has the biggest passenger princess energy i’ve ever seen. would total my car immediately after going diagonal across the highway because he saw a cool tree

thranduil- like father like son. passenger princess who has not been behind the wheel for decades. would guilt trip me into giving him a ride before even asking to borrow my car. gets pulled over for having a whole ass wine bottle in the cupholder.

pippin- there would be peanut butter stuck in the console for months and i’d be finding loose snacks and trinkets in my seats years afterwards. also strikes me as the type to be obsessed with the radio to the point of reckless driving

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

King To The Rescue- Thranduil x Modern!Reader

Summary: Reader accidentally hurts themselves when they trip over and Thranduil comes to save them

Word count: 1, 167

Walking through the forest of the woodland realm filled you with both joy and sadness. Parts of the forest were still lush and green, filled with life and happiness, but unfortunately most parts were taken over by a great poison, leaving the once beautiful lands to be dark and dangerous.

You weren’t sure why you were brought to Middle Earth, both Thranduil and Gandalf had their theories, but both you and Thranduil believe it might have to do with the poison taking over the lands. To better understand it, you decided to walk among it. Thranduil had agreed to let you do so, as long as you didn’t go too far and wander into the spiders.

He had spent over an hour drawing up different maps and explaining where you can and can’t go. Even though you were not of this world and not as wise as the race of elves, Thranduil still was very protective of you, so protective in fact that this was the first time he had let you venture here alone. Every other time you had walked these woods, it had been with either Legolas, Tauriel or 2 or more guards.

You suppose the reason for Thranduils care was because you were chosen to help heal his lands, and he wanted to keep you safe. It would be stupid to think it was any other reason, although you did sometimes fancy it could be.

Perhaps Thranduil wanted to take care of you for more reasons then just to help him. You try to ignore those ideas though. An elvish king having feelings for human of a different world just isn’t how things work, though it’s hard to ignore that it might be true.

Hard to ignore the way he looks at you when he thinks you can’t see, the way you’re able to make him laugh, the way he shuts down anyone who would try to talk poorly about you, mostly it was hard to ignore his touches. The way his hands felt on your hips when you first started learning to ride a horse, and he’d help you on and off. How his eyes seem to linger when brushing a piece of hair out of your face, or even the way he seemed to always offer his hand to help you stand or walk along uneven ground, even when you didn’t need it.

These thoughts of fancy seemed to cloud your head so blindingly, that you didn’t notice the change in terrain, or that there was a giant root coming out of the ground. Before you had time to catch yourself, you felt the earth thud against your chest and a throbbing pain in your ankle.

Gently twisting your body around, you assessed the damage of your ankle. Looking down you see it’s already starting to swell, but despite that, you try to walk on it. There was no patrol out at the moment and you were sure no one would hear you if you did call for help.

With the assistance of the large tree, you begin to stand from the ground. As soon as you put pressure on your ankle however, you realise how bad of a decision that was. A loud yelp leaves you as you once again fall to the ground.

Hitting the ground with your fist in defeat, you decide calling out would be your only option, you could crawl but you’re pretty sure that would just lead to you getting more hurt.

Turning onto your back, you close your eyes and take a few deep breaths, trying to calm down and smell the lushness of the forest before you. If you were going to call for help, it had to be a good call, and you couldn’t do that if you were hysterical and unfocused.

Opening your eyes again, your calmness helps to push the growing pain aside as you begin to call for help.

“Someone! Help me! I’ve hurt my ankle and I can’t move! Help me!” You shout to the canopy of large trees above you. You’re not sure who will hear, but just hope your message is clear and loud enough.

Closing your eyes and beginning to breathe once again, you prepare yourself to make another call for aid. Luckily, however, as you open your eyes once again, you see none other then the king himself, kneeling beside you with a look of deep worry on his face.

“What trouble have you gotten into now?” He smirks down at you, but his eyes are still filled with worry.

“I tripped over and I’ve hurt my ankle.” You explain, trying not to sound pathetic.

“Ah, so that was the terrible howling I heard. And here I thought the spiders were being hurt, well an elf can dream.” He jokes with you, trying to calm the situation.

“One could only hope. Now I can wait here while you get help to lift me ba-.” Before you could finish your sentence, you felt Thranduils strong hands under your body as he began to lift you from the ground. There’s that touch of his again.

Looking into his face, you expect to see frustration or anger, but you see nothing but care as he stares back at you.

“I’m sorry if I’m too heavy.” You blurt out, not knowing what to say in this moment.

Thranduils rarely seen sweet smile shines onto his face as he looks ahead of him, beginning to take you back to his castle.

“Humans are always so funny. Elves are a lot stronger then the race of men, you feel no heavier then lifting a kitten.” His smile grows as he looks down at you.

Looking into his eyes and feeling his strong arms and hands so sweetly touching you, those thoughts of fancy seem to return with a vengeance.

“Does that mean you’ll feed me milk and scratch behind my ear?” You joke, trying to push your romantic thoughts from your head.

The silly question made Thranduil laugh in a way you’d never seen, it’s like his usual brooding self was washed away with sunlight and star shine.

“Perhaps I might just do that. Let you curl up by the fire and give you a ball of yarn.” He smiles down at you, as you now approach the doors to his kingdom.

Such a joke and such a smile does nothing to calm the feelings that grow in your heart, but you suppose you’ll just have to live with it.

Little do you know however, the image of you cuddled up to Thranduil by his fire as he takes care of you, fill his heart with a similar feeling. He too tries to push them away as he places you on a medical bed and elves begin to help you.

Stepping out of the room he tries to shake his own fancy from his head. How could such a bright and sweet person love an old and bitter elf as himself?

[two-white-butterflies]

when he goes down on me

Description: A struggling accounting student meets a successful lawyer. A relationship blossoms. With a few social media excerpts.

Pairing: thranduil/reader

Warnings: age-gap

There was a saying around the school - only the accountings get the accountings. While all the students from the other majors were out partying and dancing until their heels hurt from jumping, the accountings were stuck memorizing business terms and calculating debits and credits until their fingers hurt from routinely tapping their calculators. It was a figurative hell on earth.

And you have always been fond of burning.

It was seldom to see you attend a party, but miraculously your schedule cleared up and there weren't any quizzes or lectures in the vicinity. "Are you already missing the comforts of Harvard?" your father teases and you crack a smile. "God, don't remind me of studying." You groaned while slumping on the leather couch.

You've almost forgotten about the comforts of your childhood home after being surrounded by flashing white lights and empty cans of redbull, comfort wasn't exactly in your vocabulary. "I'm just saying; you ditched school to attend the neighborhood gathering and you are cooped up in this humid living room, avoiding everyone who wants to talk to you." He emphasizes, encouraging you to come out.

"Please, those people saw me grow up. I hardly think that I'm missing out." You reasoned, returning your attention back to your cellphone. "- all they ever talk about is me getting married, or at least having a boyfriend." You added while scrolling past a TikTok video about some random guy bashing Crumbl cookies.

The people in your parent's close circle were typical upper-echelon folks whose only means of communicating with some 20+ year old is asking them about marriage. Of course, your usual reply would be that you are not seeing anyone and they'd blink at you like fucking reptiles. They can't fathom the idea that a young, intelligent and relatively good-looking (not ugly) woman still didn't have a husband.

It did make you happy that they found you interesting enough to have a husband but it was infuriating that being married was the only thing they cared about you. They belonged to a different time, you tell yourself before your mind drifts back into TikTok.

"We have a new neighbor, he's a good fellow but he's a little too young for our crowd. I don't think that he's old enough to relate to Geert's Hoover Deluxe jokes. You should talk to him, you've always had magic with your words." He encourages, and a sigh escapes your mouth. "Dad, I'm not talking to one of your golf buddies." You groaned. Maybe it was a mistake coming here.

You still needed to study for the licensure test, that test was something that you could not fail. It was the first step to your CPA to Lawyer plot-line, if you are unable to handle the pressure of the licensure exam then maybe you aren't equipped with Law School. Then, maybe you should just drop out and become a stay-at-home daughter like your other friend, Magnolia.

"He's a lawyer. He handled that case that you were fixated on, the one with the ballerina and her father. Of course, he defended the ballerina." He did his best to remember your teenage ramblings about Oonagh, the ballerina, and her treacherous ex-husband, Gilbert. "What?" You pry your attention away from your mobile phone. Johnson v Johnson was the court case that began your fascination with law, and the guy who defended Oonagh Johnson was in the same house as you! Goddamn.

Thranduil wanted to let the ground consume him whole. He's spent a lot of time with businessmen and world-leaders alike but BBQ with his neighbors was a different type of embarrassment. He couldn't relate to them in matters of American life or farming, and he honestly doesn't know enough about the outsourcing industry to make a decent connection with these folks.

Of course, he could relate to their wives about perfume, but he doesn't want to be that cunt who talks to random people's wives. He seriously wanted to go home, but then he sees a figure in his periphery. A woman with amazing hair, walking towards him and suddenly everything was happening in slow motion.

She takes a step, her hair moves along with her, the wind is her willing assistant and her lips turned upwards. A smile. Is she looking at me? He tries to hide the fact that he was looking over his shoulder. Maybe she's looking at someone behind me? He thinks, but then again, there was no one standing beside him, save the rose bush.

"Hey," you greet him and suddenly he finds himself leaning back into his true self. The confident defense attorney who charms everyone that he speaks to. "Hey?" He raises an eyebrow, as if he's teasing you. "My dad told me that you were the one who defended Oonagh Johnson back in 2012." You opened your mouth to speak.

Always straightforward. Time is gold.

"Yes, it was a terrible thing what happened to her." He breaths. The case seemingly close to his heart just like this case was to you. "I know that it sounds a little creepy but that is my favorite case in the history of the world. I was thirteen years old-" you rambled and he releases a breath that he was unaware that he was holding.

Thirteen years old in 2012. I feel so old. He muses.

"- I didn't know what I wanted to be, and then I saw you and Oonagh on the news. I knew then that I wanted to be in the same spot as you, defending women, minorities, children. I knew then that I wanted to give what was due. Justice." You finished rambling, he notices that smile on your face.

It reminded him of himself back in his rookie days, that hopeless glimmer in your eyes mirroring back to all the years before him. Some dreams remain dreams, and others turn into goals. "Well, that case is close to my heart. I don't think I've ever told anyone about this before but my mother was a victim of domestic abuse, her father was not a good man, and when I defended Oonagh, I felt some sort of retribution..." He pauses. I shouldn't tell this to a stranger.

"It is a different kind of power that you feel when you do something right. Yes, it is every citizen's right to defend themselves in the court of law whether or not they are guilty or innocent, but I think that you'll realize this when you do become a lawyer. It feels like a breath of relief when you bring true justice to the innocents." He continues. A feeling that feels so far from me now.

"Yeah, I don't know how I'll deal with choosing cases when I'm an actual lawyer but my dad says that I don't have to think about that until after I actually pass the bar." You chuckled nervously. He pries his attention away from his current woes, "Oh, are you studying law right now?" He inquired, his body leaning closer to yours.

"Oh no, I'm studying Accounting right now. It's my pre-law course." You informed, and he slowly finds himself respecting you. "I wish that I did something cool like that, my pre-law was Polsci and I wouldn't recommend it even to my worst enemy." He chuckles, his conscience floating away and instead is focused on you.

The shining starlight that has come to guide him away from this existential crisis. "I've heard a lot of things about that major. Some people say that it doesn't really equip you in law school, but the Polsci majors that I know are such cool people." You smiled, only beginning to realize that the man standing in front of you was h o t.

Hot with a capital 'H'.

He had a cleanly shaven face, and beautiful golden blonde hair that seriously rivaled those of the Targaryens that you watch on HBO. (You are still stuck in Season 5 of GOT due to being on studying jail.)

"That major did not help me in law school. It gave me an overview but law school is ultimately a different demon." He warns, staring deep into your eyes. She looks good, he thinks. "Well, hopefully if I pass next year I'll be able to apply for law school. Are there any universities that you recommend?" You ask and he ponders.

"I finished my degree in Harvard-"

"Fuck," you interrupted him. "No, I'm sorry." You gasp.

"I study in Harvard right now. It's just I found it - I don't know." You mentally cringe, accepting the fact that you've let go of your chance with dating this hot lawyer man. "It's alright, I was gonna say to not study in Harvard. Stanford is much better. I've found really formidable opponents who finished their degree in Stanford." He smiles, finding your quirks to be adorable.

It is not everyday that a woman walks into his life and talks about his best case to date, and then laugh about stupid stupid things. "The food isn't really that great to be honest," you mumbled. "Some things never change." He mused. "Oh wait, I'm sorry. I haven't introduced myself. I'm Y/N Saint." You offer your hand to shake and he takes it.

"Thranduil Greenwood." He smiles while shaking your hand. He lets go of it, and then remembers. "Daniel's your father?" He asks. "Yeah, but he's not really my biological father, he adopted me when he married my mom." You provided a bit of a background information.

He tries to make the conversation longer, in the hopes that you wouldn't walk away from him or that you'd leave at least an email or a number or a facebook profile so that he'll have some way of communicating with you. "He's a nice guy." He compliments.

"He's more than nice," you smile.

Suddenly, your phone rings. "Oh damn, sorry. I really have to catch a plane, but it was so nice talking to you attorney. Um, do you have a phone or anything. I'd love to keep in touch." You turn the alarm off, and focus your attention back to him. He unlocks his iphone and hands it to you. You glance at his wallpaper. "It's my son." he answers, not bothering to hide that fact about him.

"You have a wife?" You tired to keep your tone nonchalant, but it comes out jealous and icky. "No, his mother left when he was born. Funny enough, I couldn't blame her anyways. I was twenty, she was nineteen and she had an art degree." He jests and you try your best to find an instagram app on his phone.

How old is this man anyways? All he had on his phone was whatsapp, imessage, a few apps that were there when you buy the phone, and then two different email apps (email for apple and gmail.) Which made you want to laugh at him, as it was adorable, but you decide to open his notes app. "I don't have any social media except for instagram so I'll just write my username down and hopefully you do have an Instagram at home." Your voice turns nervous at the end.

There was a 50/50 chance that Thranduil had an instagram. "Goodbye, it was nice talking to you." You greet, handing him his phone, but before he could reply - you sprint away.

yournamesaint: mornings like these...

liked by 891 others

>comments

ingridhorstefe: the type of thing u see before going to bed - yournamesaint: chug redbull and the bed becomes a theory - ingridhorstefe: id reply something smart abt management theory but my brain is fcking fried

"Thank you for helping me set up an Instagram account, Tauriel." Thranduil thanks his intern before taking a sip of his coffee. "I don't think that you should post anything for legal reasons, but I already fixed your profile and privated your account. I also told everyone in the firm to follow you, Legolas says he'll only follow you after you get 10 followers so everyone won't think that he's following a bot." Tauriel continues, and Thranduil has no idea what those words mean.

"It is about time that I enter the realm social media. I mean, it is one thing to not have social media but Atty. Elros has an instagram and he's literally fifty something." Thranduil jokes. "I did tell you to sign up, which reminds me, you should follow Atty. Alfred." Tauriel presses the 'follow' button on his screen.

"As much as I hate Atty. Elros he has an amazing feed." He jokes again, and Tauriel nods agreeing with him. "He's actually an excellent photographer, I've heard a story about him actually. I heard that he wanted to be a photographer at first but then had a change of heart because his twin brother became a neurosurgeon..." Tauriel informs.

greenwoodlaw_ has requested to follow you

yournamesaint wants to call you.

"Hello," he greets seeing your face on the other end of the line. "Hey, I'm surprised to see you with an instagram. I mean I'm not stalking you or anything, it just says 'new' on your profile." You found yourself explaining to him, and he responds with a laugh. "Tauriel, my staff, helped me make this account. I figured that it was about time that I make one, I mean even the old lawyers in the neighboring firm have their own social medias." His big eyebrows merged together.

"I was about to give you my phone number yesterday but I remembered that I didn't have a line. I wouldn't be able to call you or reply to the text messages." You reply uneasily. Your father has pestered you about getting a line since the moment you bought your phone, but you shook him off saying that no one texts or calls people in their mobile number anymore. You were wrong.

"I didn't really bother paying for that since it's a distraction." You settle your phone on the desk in front of you, not bothering to adjust it to an angle that'll make you look better. There is no use fighting against what you really look like. "I understand. Shouldn't you be studying?" He asks and you shake your head.

"I'm free, miraculously, but I'll start on some reviewers in an hour. Better safe than sorry." You inform.

"You must always be on your feet." He says.

"You sound a lot like my professor." You teased. "- but thank you for the advise, I shall use it well." You add.

Tauriel walks inside of his office, carrying a stack of files. "Oh, it looks like you've got a lot of work to do." You smile. Tauriel raises an eyebrow but he gives her a glance telling her not to ask any questions. "I guess this is goodbye. I'll call you again tomorrow."

"Goodbye,"

"Bye."

[mellowzoe]

blurb #1: Warnings: none, probably grammar, and an ooc king?

Aftertaste

You’ve been hired as a painter for the Elvenking. How it came to be was not something you were particularly interested in ruminating on. It just came to be. It is now the way it is. 

So here you sit, in front of the regal king, as a condition. A compromise that doesn’t seem much of a… compromise in light of his ever burgeoning ego. You had fed that. You had fed his ego. More than the Elvenking would even care to admit. How long has it been? You. You, sitting there with fuzzy ear covers. Something about your sight a tad improved with the negotiation of your hearing? 

You’ve been tracing his features for hours. With your eyes. Your eyes of a common color. A common trait of common men. If he had known better, he would guess you’d fall asleep the next minute. Were you not tired sitting? One leg crossed over another would cause common men to feel numb—after hours. Has it been hours?

Then you decided to speak; “I made a mistake, I shall fix it now.”

You bowed your head. But you didn’t even wait for his dismissal. Bold. But not enough that he’d cut your head clean off your shoulders. You were there to paint a portrait for him. Not entertain him. 

So he watches your back as you make your retreat. It was as if you were walking out after a conquest. 

The painting arrived without much commotion. He swears it looks just like him. It is him. But not even his elven artists could capture his visage. It was like looking at a copy of him. There was no liberal addition as an artist. It was just him. Hyperrealistic. Is that a word? He would muse after minutes of staring at his own image. 

AND THEN THERE’S MODERN F!ARTIST READER LIKE:

“WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK HE’S SO PRETTY.” 

“MY LEGS ARE NUMB BUT WE BALL.”

“HOLYSHIT I ALREADY FOUND MY ERROR BUT I CAN’T LOOK AWAY.” 

“DO I LOOK LIKE I’M DROOLING OVER HIM CAUSE I AM.”

And you think you look flirty but really you look bored as fuck with a rbf.

All while listening to her collection of songs that arrived with her. Don’t ask how, she doesn’t know either but she’s thankful she can rot in middle earth with her gadgets and modern contraptions.

English is not my first language so I apologize if there is messy syntax everywhere. All interactions are appreciated, we all thirst for Thrandy <3

[kinderschreckfigur]

whenever i see Thranduil's old injury I think about how he's blind in at least one eye (and also how someone on here pointed out that Bard is allowed to stand on his blind side throughout the movies)

that's why I wrote a whole ass fic about Thranduil being blind

[maleinmari]

Barduil NSFW headcanons

(Partially Modern!AU)

Thranduil uses a commanding tone in private. Or he can just gesture to show Bard what to do. For example, just point his finger where to kiss and caress.

Bard is always the top, and Thranduil is always the bottom. But this does not mean that Thranduil's desires are not brought to the fore. There is constant inequality in their relationship, and it suits both of them.

These idiots keep forgetting about condoms. BARDUIL CREAMPIE CULTURE!!!

Thranduil lives in incomprehensible to anyone periods. No matter how much Bard tries to figure out what his mood depends on, it's inexplicable and chaotic. For example, Thranduil can played hard-to-get for a week or more, and then suddenly the blood hit not his head at all, and then Bard just lies there and prays that his lover will let him go.

Bard sometimes stops the impatient Thranduil by placing his hands on his hips and gently stroking the skin there, slowing him down.

They love to tease each other by changing the tempo or pose. Everyone does it according to their taste. But all the provocations end when one of them whispers something like "Move with me."

Thranduil is generally a fan of teasing Bard. He has a "habit" of sending Bard something like "By the by, how do you like my shirt?" and a photo where he's wearing nothing but a shirt. The worst part is that he sends it to his work email.

Thranduil, if saddling Bard, likes to pause the action and just sway, laughing and looking down from top to bottom. Without getting off Bard's dick, by the way.

They have clear rules set by Thranduil: what is allowed and what is not allowed. But Bard likes to break them by biting his skin just above what his clothes could cover.

If Bard manages to pin Thranduil down to the sheets (preferably lying on his stomach), he always holds him by the neck in a stranglehold, just without too much pressure.

In general, asphyxia is a fairly common practice in their sexual relations. More often than not, Thranduil can gently squeeze a lover's neck on emotion if Bard overreaches with rudeness.

After intimacy, Thranduil often sits contentedly on top of Bard's hips, kissing him for a long time.

I was very pleased with the feedback from the last post, you are so sweet( •̀ ω •́ )✧

[conversacomsmaug]

I couldn't help but notice that among so many obscene fantasies with Thranduil, I missed seeing something else like in a Mordern UA, Thranduil is the boss of the large company in which Tauriel is promoted and can't help but think about how his bastard and annoying boss It's sexy. Even in the Thranduil x reader interaction, I've been missing this obvious and sexy theme hehe Maybe I will, but I want to be a reader now, anyone?

[mismaeve]

Ashes of the Heart

↳ Ashes of the Heart, Thranduil x Fem!Reader, modern AU ↳ Requested by @fizzyxcustard Word Count: 2.3k TW: heavy angst, cursing, graphic descriptions, references to death A/N: This was such an amazing request to write, I enjoyed myself so much! I didn't know I could produce such angst, but here we are so read at your own peril. Any feedback is always welcome and much appreciated. Enjoy! 𓋼𓍊 Backstory: Thranduil who works in military as elite special operations leader, is leaving his lover to oversee a Navy SEALs mission. It's something he has done countless of times, only this time - his lover has a bad feeling about it.

«For how long?»

Your question was one that you had asked many times before. Always the same. A question without an answer as you watched him pack his duffel-bag, barely anything inside it, save for a few shirts and clean socks, and boxer briefs. His lack of an answer hung heavily within the four walls of your spacious bedroom.

“I see,” you sighed heavily. You knew well enough to trust that if he could, he would tell you. Begging and pleading would change nothing, and you had quickly adapted to a life of being kept in the dark. What you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you, but it could drive you mad during those lonely nights when your fear for him became your greatest enemy. Scenario after scenario of every little thing that could have gone wrong – the image of your beloved injured or worse…

You shuddered.

“What is it, my love?” concern filled his pale eyes as his hand clasped your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against the softness of your skin. You closed your eyes, savoring his touch for the solitude that was to come.

“It feels different this time,” you confessed, your eyes dropping to your hands – a jumble of nervous fingers.

“How do you mean?” Thranduil asked softly.

“I feel like something bad is going to happen to you,” you whispered, your admission sending a painful jolt through your heart and filling your stomach with lead.

“Oh, my sweet, you know-”

“Yes, I know you’re never on the ground yourself. Believe me, I know this. But I can’t shake this feeling,” you interrupted him, desperately wanting him to understand and accept your concern.

You always let him go, never fussed or begged him to stay. You knew how important his work was to him – to the entire country and maybe even the world. His brilliant mind was the one hidden behind every successful operation. How could you keep him to yourself when everyone’s safety – including your own – depended on him?

You had adjusted, not only your life but your expectations as well. Only tonight, the sickening feeling of dread was like poison inside your mind, spreading its bile throughout your entire body.

“Oh, my darling,” Thranduil pulled you into his arms and kissed your hair. You held onto him for dear life, afraid of what might happen if you were to let go. Your premonition of tragedy only growing with each gentle stroke that trickled down your back, causing your skin to break out in goosebumps.

“I always come back to you, do I not?” he whispered against your hair, his body rocking yours back and forth slowly and tenderly, a simple motion meant to soothe your growing worry.

“But you never promise,” you pointed out. “You never promise to come back because even you know that there is still some danger to what you do and where you go,” you insisted, pulling away to look at the man you loved beyond any reason and doubt.

His pale eyes held yours, the understanding gleaming through from the depths of his own soul. He knew you were right.

“Believe me when I say that no force in this world would keep me from returning to you,” Thranduil said. “You are my home, my peace from the destruction that is our world. You’re my haven during a raging storm. Nothing will keep me away from you.”

You bit back the tears that had come unannounced and nodded. If only to please him, you would muster the last of your courage and strength. You swallowed the bitter lump of foreboding and forced yourself to smile. He deserved a proper and loving good-bye, not tears and childlike pleas.

“Be safe, will you?” you said softly and placed your palm to his cheek. Thranduil leaned into your touch with a reposeful sigh, his eyes closing briefly while he cherished this last moment between you.

“Always,” he whispered.

An hour later you were sat on your bed alone.

Days turned into weeks which turned into months. Not a phone call or a text, no letters of any kind – Thranduil appeared to be fallen off this Earth entirely. It became harder and harder to remind yourself that he wasn’t allowed to communicate while planning and overseeing an operation. With each day that went by without a word from him, your unease had turned malignant – eating and tearing away at your mind like a disease for which there was no remedy.

You had a number to call in case of an emergency, but you couldn’t bring yourself to use it. This wasn’t the first time when he had been gone for months on end, you had survived that, surely you would persevere this time as well. If only it weren’t for that pesky feeling that wouldn’t go away. Without knowing how or why, you knew with crystal-clear certainty that something was wrong. You had known it long before he had walked out the door.

Another month had gone by without any news of his whereabouts when you awoke with a scream, tiny beads of sweat covering your forehead. Your heart was pounding inside your ribcage, threatening to burst any minute with every shallow breath you drew. Wheezing and gasping for air with tears streaming down your cheeks, you tried to catch your breath while still being held captive by the nightmare that had just haunted you.

You jumped at the sound of the doorbell, a yelp escaping your trembling lips. Fumbling with the light, your fingers still shaking from your vivid dream, you struggled to switch it on. Tumbling over your own sheets in your rush to get out of bed, you nearly fell out with your face first.

With your heart lodged inside your throat, you rushed to the door and peered through the tiny peephole. A well-dressed man was standing on the other side, patiently waiting for you to open. In your flustered state you hadn’t immediately recognised the familiar face of Jerry, a man who worked closely with Thranduil. Mindless of your current attire, you unlocked and threw open the door.

“What’s happened?” you demanded, not bothering to hide the panic that laced your voice.

“I’m sorry for coming unannounced in the middle of the night, but I fear this couldn’t wait for a more decent hour,” Jerry’s tone was calm and collected, a blatant contrast to your own disheveled self.

“Tell me,” you urged him. The sinking feeling in your stomach warning you that the news he bore were far from good. A nauseating wave of hot and cold reverberated through your entire body, your insides twisting and churning in painful anticipation.

“Let’s talk inside, shall we?” Jerry offered with a quick nod in the direction of your apartment.

“I need to know, Jerry,” you insisted as the two of you had taken your seats on the couch at his request.

A heartbeat passed before your husband’s highly esteemed colleague began divulging the events that had taken place during the operation. It appeared that there had been a leak, and the entire campaign had been compromised from the very beginning. The team of Navy SEALS had been deployed as planned, their movements tracked and monitored by intelligence officers, the entire operation led and overseen by Thranduil as chief elite special operations leader. Everything had seemed to go as planned when their systems had suddenly crashed and shut down entirely, leaving them in the dark about the movements of their men on the ground.

“Well? Go on,” you pushed for Jerry to continue after he had taken a brief pause.

“I’m sorry, I-,” he cut himself off and lowered his head, his shoulders slumping, clearly unable to go on.

“For fuck’s sake, tell me!” you choked out through gritted teeth, fighting back the tears that threatened to come. You felt you couldn’t breathe but you had to know. After everything that they had put you through, they owed you this much.

Jerry lifted his head, his face drawn and utterly defeated. His look was that of pity, like he knew what he was about to do to you. Nonetheless, you stood your ground in defiance, even as your heart had already begun to crack and splinter.

The supposed glitch in their systems had turned out to be a cleverly crafted ruse, a temporary disabling of the sensory motion detectors orchestrated by the terrorists so their drones could slip in undetected. When their back-up systems had picked up the slack, it had already been too late. Several explosions had riddled the base of their headquarters as the drones had launched their assault. A perfectly plotted mission to eliminate the brilliant and tireless minds behind the curtains. All turned to ash.

No bodies had been recovered from the scene.

An ear-piercing cry filled your apartment, threatening to shatter your windows – just as your own heart had shattered into a million pieces. You screamed and wailed until your throat burned raw, your chest painfully heaving with each useless breath you took. Unaware of the steady arms that had wrapped around you, holding your convulsing frame, you continued to unleash your blazing agony.  There was no end in sight, no promise of a respite, however temporary, only grief – dark and thick, and unyielding. An endless sorrow took over your body and promised to never let go. There was nothing left for you, only pain forever etched in your soul at his sudden departure.

You knew with uncanny certainty that you had died that night. In his passing, he had taken you along with him.

Three weeks earlier

Jerry was pacing up and down the narrow corridor, his thoughts racing quicker than he could pay attention to. His once sharp and focused mind had become nothing more than a blur. He silently cursed himself for agreeing to do this, his regret already eating away at his conscience.

He couldn’t do it.

Jerry stopped his pacing and closed his eyes. He slowed down his throbbing mind by focusing on his breathing, a practice he employed whenever his wits threatened to abandon him. If he was to have this particular conversation, he would need his devices to remain cool and collected, even if his counterpart appeared to had lost his.

He wouldn’t do it.

With a nod of quiet determination, he turned on his heel and headed in the direction of his colleague’s room.

“What is it that you do not comprehend?” he hissed in anger.

“I don’t understand why you’re willing to put her through this when it’s so uncalled for,” Jerry argued back albeit his voice lower and gentler than that of his friend.

“Uncalled for?! Look at me! Who am I to condemn her to loving a monster?” Thranduil spat in burning fury.

“She loves you, you know she does. She’ll love you regardless of how you look,” Jerry tried to make him see reason, but Thranduil only shook his head in dismissal.

“No.”

“Coward,” Jerry stated simply, crossing his arms over his chest. His own defiance preventing him from backing down.

“Fuck you, Jerry.”

“You’re a coward. Because why else would you ask me to tell your wonderfully loving wife, who probably at this very moment wishes for nothing more than your safe return, that you have died? You say it’s for her, but I think it’s your own vanity and fear that drive you to do this. That’s not love or mercy.”

Thranduil regarded him in silence, his right eye not blinking. The sight of him was horrific – the left side of his face was covered in bandages, his previously golden-white hair now burnt off entirely, leaving a patchy scalp riddled with burn-blisters. What was left of his skin was red and swollen. His chest was submerged underneath countless burn dressings, his left arm wrapped in medical gauze – from his fingertips to his shoulder. He couldn’t see Thranduil’s legs, but he imagined his left leg was in no better shape than the rest of him.

Jerry schooled his features, the last thing his colleague needed was to see pity in his eyes.

Thranduil turned his head away from his friend, his gaze drifting to the lone window of his hospital room.

“It’s because I love her, that I have to do this,” he began quietly. “I’ve no doubt that she would love me despite my injuries. She would want to nurse me back to health, without a complaint or single regret. She’d do anything for me.”

“It’s because I love her, that I don’t wish this kind of life for her. A life stuck with me, caring for me while I’m slowly consumed by my rage. I’ve become a disfigured cripple who may never walk again or regain the use of his arm. Half of my face has been melted off straight to the bone,” he bit out through gritted teeth, his voice breaking.

“If I haven’t become a monster yet, it’s where I’m headed. I am angry at the entire world and that anger will only grow with time. I can’t subject her to share her life with an ungrateful, bitter beast. Not when she deserves to live.”

Jerry heard Thranduil’s breath hitch ever so softly, the sound of it piercing his heart like a bullet. It was gut-wrenching to witness his close friend be reduced to this – a heap of charred flesh with a broken spirit.

“She won’t survive it,” he said quietly.

Thranduil turned his head, a sad smile playing on the corner of his mouth, a glimmer of genuine pride gleaming in his good eye.

“She’ll think so too, that there is no surviving this. But she’s strong,” his smile widened knowingly. “Fierce. Even if she may not know it yet.”

“What if you one day, say a year from now, regret your decision? What if you find yourself wanting to find her?” Jerry asked.

“I doubt that will ever happen. But if it did…,” Thranduil trailed off and paused.

“I’d pray that she could find it in her to forgive me and would gladly spend the rest of my life trying to earn that forgiveness.”

𓋼𓍊 General Tag → @heilith @kanafinwe-makalaure @eunoiaastralwings @snowtargaryen @aduialel

@a-contemplation-upon-flowers @fizzyxcustard @dawn-petrichor-world @lathalea @fckmini

𓋼𓍊 Thranduil Tag → @coopsgirl @missymoo02 @imsorare @ioitsmeri1

If anyone wishes to be either removed or added to my taglist, let me know ♡ ↳ Maeve's Taglist ↳ Requests ↳ Masterlist

[theoneandonlynikki]

Barduil/Bagginshield concept: Modern day AU where Bard and Thorin are in flannel shirts with the sleeves rolled up, and Bilbo and Thranduil are both losing their minds over how unbearably sexy it is.

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Could I please request some modern Thranduil smut? 🔥🔥 I don't care what about ❤ thank you so much

Hello! I hope you don't mind that I picked one of my prompts for this.

Pairing: Modern Thranduil x Fem. Reader (second person POV) | Prompt: Golden

Themes: Smut (lemon) | Soft

Warnings: Kissing | Explicit language | Use of nicknames | Early morning sex |Spanking | Dirty talk | Penetrative sex | Cream pie

Word count: 900+ words

Summary: What happens when curiosity gets the better of you, and Thranduil is woken up just after sunrise? 

Rating: 🔥🔥 | Minors DNI | 18+ | You are responsible for the media you consume.

The rising sun limned the world in shreds of pure gold. Towers great and small looked golden and glorious, as if they had been taken from a painting.

Thranduil paid no mind to it. His attention was on the more pleasurable diversion at hand. His hair spilled over his shoulders like golden silk. His arms shook from exertion. His eyes glittered in the rays of the rising sun. And he heaved over you, ripping a gasp out of you by smacking your thigh.

"Open your eyes," he orders icily. "I want you to look at my face while I fuck you."

You obeyed, letting out a soft moan when he snapped his hips against the insides of your thighs. "But it’s so hard," you protest, "and you feel so good. Can I please close my eyes a little?"

Thranduil responded with another sharp smack that sent electrifying jolts lickings up your spine. "Obey me in this. There," he coos when you open your eyes and look at him. "That’s it. Keep your eyes on me, my needy little kitten, and I will reward you."

He gave you no time to even breathe when he captured your lips with his. Thranduil groaned into your mouth when your nails raked down his shoulders and your heels dug into his back, as if you were urging him to go harder. The sheets had been thrown from the bed because they got in the way, as had the pillows. The bed itself creaked softly in time with his thrusts, and the sinful sounds of jagged breaths and skin slapping against skin rose to drown it out. Thranduil laughed when you fussed about having to keep your eyes open.

"It's your own fault," he retorted, "for waking me up so fucking early by playing with my cock. Now you must suffer the consequences."

Another sharp gasp ripped through you when he reddened your thigh with the flat of his palm. Upon your moan, Thranduil hissed, "Harder?" 

Yes. Yes. Yes. That was what you said, like a desperate chant, a plea for more. Thranduil let out a deep, otherworldly sound. 

"Look at you," he purrs against your ear, "yielding so easily to my touch and surrendering eagerly to my will." 

Thranduil smirked and rewarded you all the same, his hand working in time with his thrusts. Your flesh grew red and tender. You had brought it on yourself, letting your curiosity best you that morning. Having woken up before sunrise,  you ran your hand over Thranduil's exposed body, marveling at how perfect he looked even while he slept. Your hand glided over his soft lips and softer hair and hardened muscle, before sneaking under the coverlet and gliding over his cock. Thranduil had moaned and mumbled in his sleep. You grew bolder still, stroking his length slowly and gently, feeling smug when it swelled and hardened for the warmth of your palm. Thranduil whimpered and moved onto his back. You continued to stroke him, wondering if he would like being woken up like this, with you pleasuring him. You didn't stop until the room had grown eerily still and you turned to face him. He had woken up and was watching you, his eyes ablaze, his lips tugging at the corners. 

Now you were paying for being too curious for your own damn good. And you enjoyed it. White-hot jolts of ecstasy rippled through you every time he spanked a little harder and grabbed your thigh, your hip. His nails left little red indents in their wake. Every time you moaned, every time you arched your back or dug your nails into his skin. Thranduil would fuck you a little faster, go a little harder, a little deeper. And you were being pulled with the tide into a dark tunnel of desire, your velvety walls fluttering and tightening around his thick shaft. Wave after wave of bliss rippled through your body even as he kissed you, his tongue slipping past your parted lips to delve into the sinful warmth of your mouth. He sighed wistfully when your hands brushed through his hair. Sweet tension soon pooled in his belly. 

"I am close," he breathed, his voice thick and hoarse. The heat of his breath spread over the shell of your ear. Your body prickled, and fresh arousal seeped onto his cock. Thranduil moaned and swore lustily. 

"Fuck."

Your legs scrabbled for purchase against his hips. Heat bloomed and spread just beneath the expanse of your skin when your muscles tightened and coiled. 

"So am I!" You cried, sobbing his name, when he thrust deep and sent you over the edge. You kept your eyes on him, on the myriad of expressions that flashed in his blue ones. There was fire and greed and hunger, and even smug satisfaction. You feasted on it all,  even as your orgasm neared. Tranduil didn't stop. He kept up his torturous pace, thrusting as deep as he could go, his moans as desperate as yours. 

Now, you want to cry. Let it be now.

On the next breath, you shuddered and gasped, splintering and shattering when rapture crashed over you like a great wave. You cried out his name again, pleading for him not to stop. Thranduil kept rutting into you, his hips burning, dipping his head and nipping at your throat when that sweet tension within him erupted and he spilt a torrent of his spend in your slit. He moaned again and again, continuing to thrust until he was utterly spent. 

You barely remembered the next minute or two. Everything was a delicious blur. Thranduil gently eased himself off you, moving to his side and pulling you with him. The sun had risen higher in the sky. The bedroom filled with beautiful early morning light while Thranduil pressed tender kisses against your lips. He touched your hair,  your cheek. He traced delicate lines over your eyelids. 

"Do not hesitate to wake me up like that again," he smiled and said. 

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

The Mean King- Thranduil x Modern!Reader

Summary: Thranduil and reader become friends after a misunderstanding

Word count: 1, 217

Tolkien and Thranduil tag list: @littlemadamred @dazaiosamub1tch @saguaroooo

*want to be tagged in my next Thranduil fic? Click here*

A/N: I know a lot of you follow me for my Tolkien content and that I’ve been spamming a lot of other things lately. I want to say thank you to my followers old and new and hopefully this fic will make up for lack of Tolkien content x

“It’s such a privilege to be able to be the one to show you around the woodland realm, y/n. I’ve never met someone of a different world before, I mean I’ve barely left this realm. I have so many questions,” the excited elf exclaimed as she began leading you on your own private tour.

King Thranduil had no doubt chosen her as your guide because of her contagious light. Though Thranduil hadn’t spoken to you much since you arrived in this land, he did seem to pick the perfect elves to help you adapt to this new world.

The elf who helped dress you in the morning appeared to be around your age and was very sweet and soft. The elves who fed you and sat with you while you ate were almost like mother figures, and it made you feel at ease. Even the guards he’d asked to show you to your room on your first day, seemed to be the more gentle and considerate of his guard.

Yes, King Thranduil hadn’t even really looked at you, mostly just a gentle nod and a smile that was barely there as you passed one another, but at every turn he made sure you were comfortable. The king even made sure books in English were brought to you, and clothes were made for you that closely resembled the style you arrived in, with an elegant elvish twist to them.

“And here are our beautiful gardens,” your guide announced.

It truly was beautiful. Every colour you could think of shone bright against the glow of the sun.

You saw just how perfectly manicured the garden was as your sweet guide opened the gate for you to step inside. Rich and beautiful fragrances filled your nose as you walked among the heavenly expanse.

So enraptured by its beauty, you didn’t notice a figure standing before you. Suddenly you felt a solid surface against your body as you almost fell over.

“Oh I’m so sorry,” you quickly scrambled to apologise.

Your anxious apology seemed to catch the attention of your guide, as she turns around to see what the problem was.

“Aldon, are you bothering my guest?”

“No, no, no, I- I walked into him. Again I’m so sorry.”

Your panicked state seemed to make the elves before you laugh, almost seeing your worry as a child scared to be scolded.

“It’s quite alright, my lady, I take no offence. Lucky it was not the King you ran into however, now he’s one you’d have to apologise to,” Aldon rolled his eyes with annoyance, as he turned to your sweet guide to concur.

You’d thought she would defend her king from such a statement, especially since you’d seen her be nothing but lovely to you, but she didn’t. The sweet female elf seemed to roll her eyes and scoff along with her friend.

“Have you met him yet? Has he been his typical mean self?” Aldon asked, prodding you.

This talk of the king made you even more anxious, as you twisted your fingers.

“No, I-I haven’t met him,” you respond meekly.

“Well I think in that regard you are fortune. Now unfortunately I must bid you both farewell, as I have other duties to attend.”

You gently waved as he walked off into another part of the garden, your tour continuing with no further talk of the king.

****

By the time your tour of the realm had finished, you were in dire need of some calm alone time.

During your tour your guide had shown you to the large library in the castle. Remembering the massive shelves of books, art and comfortable ornate couches, you decided that would be your sanctuary until dinner.

Lightly your fingers skimmed along the spines of the books, marvelling at their ancient beauty, and wondering what the letters on the spines could possible say.

Walking to the end of the large mountain of a bookshelf, you find yourself in a section with tables and chairs, like the study area of the library back home. Slowly scanning your eyes over the many tables and chairs, your gaze catches that of the king.

As you usually do, you nod your head to him with a soft smile, expecting one in return, but all that was given was a scowl as he rises to leave.

Not sure what you could have done to offend him, or if he was alright, you quickly walk to him.

“Thranduil are you alright?”

Your hand lightly grasps at the sleeve of his kingly robe. Though you thought your act was harmless, the look on his face told otherwise. As you look into his powerful gaze you kick yourself, realising you shouldn’t have touch him and that perhaps you should have called him ‘your majesty’.

“Yes, I am quite alright. Being mean just seems to be in my nature.”

Flicking your hand away from his sleeve, he turns to leave, and you realise what has happened. Thranduil must have heard your conversation from early and he must think that’s what you thought of him.

“Wait!” You call after him, jogging around him so you stand before him, blocking his way and forcing him to listen.

“Thranduil, yo-your majesty, I-I do not think of you in that way.”

His scowl only deepens as he looks down at you.

“I find that hard to believe,” once again he turns to leave.

"I don't think you're mean, I just think you're sad and you sometimes act cold to guard your heart,” you call after the fleeting king.

Your words cause him to stop in his tracks and turn towards you, his scowl now a curious squint. Slowly he moves to stand before you.

Instead of asking you to elaborate, he only looks down at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Look I don’t know you very well and I haven’t heard much about you, but since I’ve been here you’ve been nothing but kind to me. We’ve never really properly spoken and yet you make sure I’m cared for,” you find yourself needing to catch your breath at your own ramblings.

“I know I haven’t been alive as long as you or frankly even close to anyone here, but if I’ve learnt anything in my life it’s that if someone seems angry and yet still does things to help others then they can’t really be all that bad. Again I know nothing about you but I don’t really think you are a bad person. You distance yourself from everyone, so perhaps you are just a hurt person and you’re afraid.

“Look maybe I’ve got that all wrong bu-“

“No, I, I suppose in a way you are correct,” Thranduil interrupts your desperate rant, with a polite and gentle voice.

“I have experienced hurt and loss and I suppose it’s what causes me to act cold. If you can believe it, in my youth I was actually quite fun.”

Thranduil cracks a small smile as an unknown memory seems to appear in his minds eye.

“I think fun Thranduil is still in there at times. Maybe I could meet him one day.”

Thranduils dip into nostalgia is broken by your kind words, and his shadow of a smile soon grows to a smirk.

“Perhaps you just might.”

[mustasekittens]

can you doodle modern AU barduil??

sorry anon i know its been almost 3 years since you asked this (and i did draw a modern barduil back in 2021) but here's another one just for you. idk if you're still around but this one goes out to any of my lotr moots who for some reason stayed

and heres the older version i did (thranduil is still an elf here)

OK I ACTUALLY FOUND THE ORIGINAL ASK I REPLIED TO ? THERE WAS APARANTLY A DUPLICATE? anyways i think both versions of this au goes hard

[two-white-butterflies]

maybe this time

Description: Two old friends meet again, wearing older faces. Well, I guess you know how this works.

In which, you have a flawed relationship, a flawed breakup and a flawed reunion with the one that you love the most.

Pairing: lawyer!thranduil/fem!reader (ethnicity not specified)

Warnings: angst, age gap.

AUGUST 2012

It won't end just because I say no.

Three days ago, the worst thing happened. You found an engagement ring in your boyfriend's coat pocket. Gods, yes you envisioned a successful future with him inside of it - but getting married is too soon! "I think we need to talk," you keep your voice low.

You couldn't even look him in the eye, rather you were focused on the herringbone floors of your NYC apartment. His eyes light up at the sight of you. His girlfriend of five-years. His girlfriend who survived the hell of a law-school with him, and stood beside him while he built his law firm from ground up. His girlfriend. His future fiancee.

"What is it about?" He raises an eyebrow, patting the empty spot on the sofa - motioning for you to sit beside him. You reluctantly comply, burying yourself deep into his chest and inhaling his scent of - well, there is nothing that can describe his scent.

"I found something in your coat yesterday," his grip tightens around your waist. "- I don't think I'm ready to get married." you quickly add, not leaving enough time for him to respond.

There were still a million things you wanted to do on your own. "Oh," usually a very composed lawyer, but now unable to form a comprehensible sentence. "I-I," he stumbled in his speech, unaware that his grip loosened around your body and you now moved away.

"I'm sorry for not taking your feelings into account." He apologized. His eyes were watery, he had unbelievable restraint when it came to fighting in court battles but the thought of losing you makes him cry. "Is there any reason for that? If you are comfortable with sharing?" He asks taking unnoticeable deep breaths.

You stare at the floor again, playing with the rings on your finger. "I'm sorry. I don't think that I'm in a place where marriage is a choice yet." You breathed. "- I'm gonna finish med-school this year. I want to be a neurosurgeon. I don't think that I'll be able to balance that while being married and trying to build a family of our own." You explained.

Both of you unwilling to address the elephant in the room.

25 and 34.

It wasn't an age chasm per se, but you were in different points of your lives. Thranduil was already successful - known in his field as the thorn in every defendant's side, and you - well, no one even knew you in the university that you were studying in.

"I don't even know if I want to have children," your voice turns into a whisper at the last sentence. His features merge into something indescribable - sadness and frustration merged into one.

He's a good man. He's never forced you to do something that you didn't want to do with your entire heart, and it is because of that reason - you're mad at him. Because you know that he'll still stand beside you, make the sacrifice of never getting married or never having children if it meant being with you.

You are not God, for anyone to make that sacrifice for.

"That's alright. Children are annoying." He answers, and you chuckle. "You are so good at lying," you mused. "- but I know that kids are the only thing you want in this life." You read him like an open book.

He reaches for your hands, entwining it with his. "Hey, we're going to get through this. I'm glad that you were comfortable enough to talk to me about this. I completely understand and I am not disappointed." He informs, he cages you in an embrace, and you lean deeper into his touch until both of you were slumped on the couch.

"I know that you feel pressured because all your friends are getting married. I don't wanna be that bitch who sounds so selfish-"

"You are not selfish for being yourself. You don't owe me anything." He corrects, pressing a kiss to your forehead. A sigh escapes your mouth. "Remember in our first date, I asked you what your favorite color was." He reminded and you felt blessed to have a lawyer as a boyfriend, for he seldom forgets.

"Mine was magenta, and you didn't even tell me what your favorite color was that day. All you did was tease me about magenta." You chuckled, although that feeling still lingered on your chest.

"Well, I'd live in a magenta house if it meant living with you." Thranduil smiles, and you remember smiling in return. Phew, that worked out better than I imagined.

It's all going to be better in the end. You'll finish med-school, and deal with neurosurgery. Then hopefully, you do get married to him.

Six months later you were chosen to work in a hospital in Singapore. A country known for being a pioneer in Asian healthcare. It was a pleasure to be here, you made a lot of friends - and were able to learn how to do things on your own, without the help of Thranduil.

Thranduil Oropher Went out to grab some groceries. I got grapes but I remembered that you aren't here ):

You might be time to get over your grape-hate 🙏🏻

Thranduil Oropher Never. I gave them to Elrond.

You aww i bet the twins loved it Seen 4:52pm

A sigh escapes your mouth seeing that he was yet to reply to your message. It was 5am in the morning back in NYC.

He's probably asleep or getting ready for work.

The only difficult thing in working in Singapore was the IDL. When he's awake, you're asleep and vice versa. "Made you some coffee," Anchilee offers, placing the cup of joe on your desk. A sigh escapes your mouth. "Thank you," you mumbled taking a sip.

"Having relationship problems?" She asks, and you nod. "It's really tough since he's halfway across the world," you breathed. "It's pretty usual for couples to hit a rocky road especially because of distance. A lot of them break up, but I think your relationship is strong enough to stand against the test of time." She speaks.

Oh yeah, about that. You have doubts.

Your phone rings. Thranduil Oropher is calling... you slide to answer. "Hello?" You ask. "Hi, sorry I'm in the middle of driving." You hear his voice on the other line. "Drive safe, you shouldn't be calling me," you gently scolded him but he responds with a silence - probably focusing on the road. "How are you?" He asks.

Even after all these years, his voice still brings warmth to your soul. "I'm okay, I'm in the middle of my lunch break and I have to shadow an operation later. How about you? You're a little early for work." You make an observation, and he hums. "Early bird gets the worms. But seriously speaking I want to focus on this high-profile case, anyways, you are free next week right?" He strangely asks.

"Yep, I might spend the entire week playing DOTA, which I do not have an addiction to, an intern just recommended the game to me." You put out a quick disclaimer before he could scold you about the dangers of addiction to online games. "Well, put your computer away because I booked tickets to go there. Let's have fun, maybe look around the city since you tell me you've never done." He says.

You wanted to feel happy, but the smile doesn't reach your eyes. I love him, but I'm starting to love being alone by myself. The life that you built here in Singapore. It is lonely, and you like it.

"That's amazing, do you want me to pick you up at the airport?" You inquired, concern still dripping from your tone. "No, I'll take the train and I'll stop by to buy some iced coffee and fries." He narrates his game plan. You don't doubt his ability to navigate a foreign country.

"Ohh, please grab the ones from McDonalds. It'll be better if you buy the McDonalds from there, the fries here don't hit the same." You requested, and he chuckles. "Okay, I will smuggle American fries to Singapore." He promised.

"Thank you, I love you."

"I love you too, goodbye."

"Bye."

(DECEMBER 2018)

Thranduil never came to Singapore. You had a fight a day before his flight. You won't go into the details, but it was horrible - for the lack of better words. There were two types of fights: one that can be fixed by a few hugs and kisses, and some that are much better unresolved.

Six years later, and you want to believe that you've forgotten about him. My December is sad, because I miss you. You hear the music sing from outside of your door, damn, your neighbor always has that speaker on. A sigh escapes your mouth and you opt to put headphones on, "I swear to god," you mumbled while opening your gmail account to check for any important emails.

thranduiloropher@oropherlaw.ol sent an email! Just Now

"What the fuck!" You close your laptop shut.

You open the laptop slightly, as if the email was going to leap out of its feet and jump at you. "Holy fuck, why would he email me?" Your throat suddenly felt dry. You click on the dash and the email appears.

thranduiloropher@oropherlaw.ol

Good evening.

I have a confession to make, the first time I saw you, I liked you.

I've spent a lot of time with people, both men and women, and I've taken them to fancier restaurants than the restaurant you took me on our first date, the only difference was - I liked you, I hated them.

Out of all the people I saw you were the only person to have ordered a pain au chocolat during breakfast. The only person who'd order an iced coffee the first thing in the morning. I told myself, I like this girl. She's going to be my wife.

You have something special inside of you. You have that spirit. You are by far the bravest girl I've ever met. Days, weeks, and months passed. I don't know if it's because you opened your heart to me, but we became lovers. I don't know if it's because I'm good at praying, or if it's just because I'm the lord's chosen. I never thought that love could be this exciting. I love every moment. I love every bit of you.

Your love. Your kindness. Your gentle disposition.

We bared our souls to each other. Because of you, I started believing in myself. I survived through law-school and the struggle of ensuring that my law firm wouldn't fail. Because of you, I found the beauty in law, I started to fight for what I believed in. I began to be a better person. I started to be brave.

Five years together, and I thought we were good. More than five years going on forever, or so I thought. What happened? Why did we break up? I'm writing this email a few weeks after our breakup. Elrond has been scolding me as I've only been staring at my flight tickets for the entire week. I've been calling your phone.

But today, I decided to stop bothering you.

I have decided to let you be, and give you the space that you need. That's why I'm sending this email, six years from today. You'll be thirty-one years old by then. I hope that you are happy. I hope that you were able to do everything that you wanted to do, everything that I stopped you from doing because I wanted you to marry me, because I wanted to chain you to me, unable to comprehend that I was doing the opposite of what you did to me.

I hope that after six years, you're able to decide if you want to be with me forever. I'll wait, knowing that one day, I'll be back. I will do everything it takes to bring you back. I will never lose hope that we will have our second chance.

Yours, Thranduil.

"Shit." The first words that escaped your mouth once you realized that you had been crying. You silently wiped the tears from your eyes. If only you knew that he felt this way back then.

Tauriel hands you a glass of champagne. "Thank you for attending my party. I've been begging you for years now." She places a hand on your back, guiding you to navigate the sea of people in the living room. "I'm really busy in the hospital, and this is my only real weekend after months of waiting." You chuckled, taking a sip of the fizzing champagne.

Honestly, you needed this party after the whirlwind of emotions that you felt last night. "It must suck to be a surgeon, but then again with that paycheck, I'd lick a Walmart bathroom." She whispers the last part in a hush, and a slight giggle escapes your mouth.

"What are we celebrating anyways?" You ask.

"My dad is retiring." She informs, and a chill runs down your spine. Right, her dad works for Thranduil. I hope that he's not here.

"Congratulations, finally the beginning of a well deserved vacation." You forced yourself to speak, finally catching a glimpse of a familiar figure in the crowd. Thranduil, the man that loved you.

He sees you too, and your eyes momentarily meet.

31 and 40.

Tauriel sees your lingering stare. "Oh, that's my dad's boss. Justice Thranduil Oropher, he's single. I think he used to have a girlfriend, but he was too heartbroken and he never dated anyone again." She whispers again, moving you into a more secluded space.

Tauriel is your best friend (in the whole world).

"He's my ex," you blurt out and she almost chokes on her piña colada. "What the fuck!" She yells, her face suddenly red at the sudden reveal of the truth. "Why did you break up with him?" She interrogated.

Obviously, no one in their right mind would ever break up with him. He was everything that a woman desired, tall, handsome, intelligent and rich - and things wouldn't have ended the way it did, if the circumstances had been different. "I get it that you're this beautiful hotshot surgeon, but he's seriously the only man who fits your standards. Correction, the only living man." Tauriel glares at you.

She was going to give you another monologue about how you 'fumbled the bag', but alas you will not give her that chance. "It's a long story. We just had really wrong timing," you shook your head.

It could have ended differently.

You should have said yes to his proposal, regardless of the feelings of sadness you felt at first. "Maybe this time?" Tauriel raised an eyebrow, teasing you. "Maybe not," You giggled.

"Hello," a voice from behind you greets.

This better be -

You are greeted with an unfamiliar face. "I'm Aragorn. Nice to meet you." He greets and you introduce yourself while shaking his hand. He was quite an eccentric looking figure, he had a clean shaven face, and he had a tattoo on his pointer finger.

"Oh you're that guy in the band." You smile, remembering the nights you spent singing his songs. "Yeah, the Fellowship." He confirms.

"- I'm sorry for ambushing you, but I felt alone in a sea filled of distinguished professionals dressed to the nines, and I don't mean to offend but.."

"I'm alone." You cut him off with a chuckle. "- it's alright, I basically have no social life as my work takes up the majority of time." You explained. To other people, being on the call 24/7 was hell, but to you it was the good type of hell - if saving people can be called that. "You are the surgeon friend of Tauriel." He remembers.

"Are you friends with her too?" You inquired and he shakes his head. "A friend of a friend," he corrects.

Before you could reply to him, he glances at the man behind you.

You turn around, and see Thranduil.

"If you will excuse me," Aragorn pats your shoulder.

The sight of him still brings such warm feelings to your heart, filling your body with joy. There was silence between you. A silence that seemed to speak louder than words.

"You still look the same," he breaks the silence. "You look different," you answered. He had a different hairstyle. He wore a black suit instead of the dark blue that he always wears. He smelled like powdery flowers instead of after-shave. He is different.

"I hope that that's a compliment," he cracks a smile.

Wow, you're beginning to sound like two old friends, but he doesn't want to be friends. He doesn't even want to talk to you unless it all goes back to normal. "How you've been?" You asked, mirroring his smile, attempting to navigate a conversation with him. "I've been worst, how about you?" He answers vaguely, no longer able to speak random flowing sentences about small occurrences in his daily life.

His response was a generic response now.

Something that flows languidly out of his tongue.

How are you? I'm okay. Are you alright? Yeah.

"I think I am worst," your nose scrunches up.

He stares at you, the same indescribable look that he wore when you first fought. How about now? His eyes said. Let's try again. His silence said far louder than words. "Do you think that things could have ended more differently?" You inquired, and he is bitterly reminded of your bluntness (a feature he still adores.)

"You got the email," he smiles bitterly.

"I managed to read through it, and I don't really know what to do." You shrugged, the distance between you becoming closer and closer. "You can delete the email." He jokes, "- I felt really guilty when we called things off. I felt like I was losing the love of my life, and I was. I did. But I was also really thankful that it ended, because being alone taught me a lot of things. I'm not the same person anymore." Your teeth burrows into the insides of your cheeks.

"It was the wrong time. We've never good timing," he comments, and you are thrown back into that video you made during New Year's Eve 2010, where you were both a minute too soon in celebrating the New Year. "I'm miserable." You admit.

Five friends. A million dollars in your bank account. A real estate portfolio, and you were miserable.

His features softened.

And you knew that he was miserable too.

"When you're a judge, you learn how to look at life in a different perspective. They say that criminals are vital to society because without them there wouldn't be cops, or lawyers or Justices like me. When you left, I figured that heartbreak is vital because it means that there is more room for love. But despite that, my heart still didn't have room for anyone - no other love other than yours, no other sadness." He takes a step forward, and you were thankful to have been in the secluded part of the gardens.

"- but if you love me just because you love me, that is not an enough reason. Love in its essence cannot feed a starving mouth. There needs to be respect, and kindness. Respect and kindness that was there between us, six years ago, but wasn't strong enough to fight against the test of time." He places his hands on your shoulders.

"Let's start again, as stronger people, and maybe this time it'll be the right timing." You proposed, your eyes having a conversation of its own. Love is always a beating risk, but that is part of the thrill.

A bird falls from its nest to learn how to fly.

"Let's try again, then." He agrees, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

And somehow, that forehead kiss was more intimate than any kiss to the lips.

A/N: will always stand on the fact that if Thranduil was in the modern era he'd be a lawyer or a businessman. I always end up choosing lawyer cuz of personal opinions.

If you love my Thranduil fics just follow me and turn the notifs on. I unfortunately don't have enough time to do tags :((

Inspired by Starting Over Again (2014) although, I am not a Toni Gonzaga defender.

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passing cars and caution signs

When Bard has to pick up a business partner for a meeting in London, he does not expect it to be such a dashing gentleman.

The beginning of my Barduil series, including hotel manager Thranduil and farmer Bard. Uploading a new part every week.

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I like this contrast between Bard, who tries to find a peaceful and a fair solution everywhere, and Thranduil, who grins at such naivety.