#thrandaddy

[somewhat-orcward]

Eleven throne calling Orc throne!

My first post - I was choosing something serious befitting the tragic tone of ROP - then it all went south when I saw the second gif and remembered the top one, of my favourite character from the Hobbit…

[belladonna-nights]

Currently obsessing over an elven king with no more than ten full minutes of screen time in an entire trilogy.

Just…. god damn.

[cowboybeepboop]

Fields 

"Come, let us get you into bed. You need your rest."

Pairing: Thranduil x fem! Human reader

Genre: Romantic smut 

Word count: 4.4k

Summary: You’re the King's human lover and you share a special night together. 

Warnings: Romantic sex, oral fem receiving, riding him, unprotected sex, p in v sex

a/n: Guys please bear with me, I’m working on some new lotr/th oneshots that shall also be posted soon. As per usual, please let me know if you have any requests and I hope you enjoy. 

Thranduil had a quiet moment to himself, laying in a field of flowers as the sun set behind him. He had a look of tranquility on his face as his mind wandered to many different things. He kept his eyes closed. He heard footsteps coming near him, he didn't give a reaction to this though.. he had an idea of who it was.

“You look so peaceful like this,” you hum, lowering to your knees next to his muscular body. You brush his hair from his face, touch light and delicate.

Thranduil didn't move a muscle when you knelt down in the grass beside him. He was quiet for a moment before he spoke, his eyes still shut for the time being. “I am at peace, for now..” He said before his lips curled into a small smile. 

“Until someone decides to ruin it,” he added, opening one of his eyes and looking up at you with a slight teasing tone in the last part.

You press a gentle kiss to his lips. “Shall I leave you alone then?” Thranduil's smile widened into a grin as your soft lips brushed against his. 

He chuckled softly as he took your hand, looking up at you with a playful look in his eyes. “Don’t you dare,” he said in a quiet but firm tone. 

“Come. Lay with me.” His voice turned more of a request as he tugged on your hand ever so gently, coaxing you to lay down next to him in the flowers.

You press your cheek to his chest, eyes fluttering shut as you listen to his heart. “As you wish my King.”

Thranduil wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his chest as his hand came up to brush through your hair gently in a soothing manner. He gently took one of your hands in his free one, intertwining his fingers with yours. 

His chest rose and fell with each deep breath as the two of you lay there in the grass, just listening to one another's heartbeats. "That's a good girl.." he murmured with a soft, affectionate smile.

You find yourself drifting off to sleep, the warmth and comfort of his body like a lullaby. Thranduil noticed your eyes growing heavy and your breathing starting to slow, it was a sure sign that you were falling asleep. 

He carefully wrapped his arms around you, gently rolling onto his side to pull you closer, holding your body flush against his. "It's okay, little one. Rest.." he spoke quietly, one of his hands gently tracing soft patterns down your back as he held you in a protective embrace, the sound of his steady heartbeat in your ear.

“Mm..” your voice is a soft murmur as you cuddle closer to him.

Thranduil smiled as you cuddled closer to him, his arms holding you in a firm yet gentle embrace as he buried his face into your hair, inhaling your scent. He gently nuzzled his head against yours, relishing in your warm and softness against him. 

"Sleep, my darling," he whispered softly, gently starting to stroke his fingers through your hair as he held you in his arms. Thranduil's chest rose and fell with each quiet breath, finding himself starting to grow just as relaxed as you.

After hours of holding you in his arms, Thranduil felt you shiver slightly as a cold breeze blew through the garden, gently stirring the grass around them. Thranduil's heart ached to see you cold, his arms instinctively holding you tighter in an attempt to keep you warm. 

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, before carefully pulling you even closer to his chest. "Are you cold, my love?" he murmured quietly, his fingers continuing to glide softly through your hair.

“It is growing cold, Thranduil..” you murmur against his chest, not willing to leave his warm side.

Thranduil gently adjusted his grip on you, pulling you closer against him, almost as if he was trying to shield you from the chill in the air. He lifted one of his hands from your hair, tracing it to your cheek, gently rubbing his thumb against your skin, before he spoke again. 

"We should head inside. You'll freeze out here.." he said in a low, gentle tone, his lips brushing against your forehead in a soft kiss.

“Could you carry me..” you bury your face into his chest, shivering against him.

Thranduil felt your body shiver against him once more, and he gently lifted his head off of yours so he could look down at you. He chuckled softly as he heard your request, gently running his hand down your back. 

"Of course, darling," he said with a hint of fond amusement. With a slightly playful smirk on his face, he shifted his body, carefully scooping you up into his arms, holding you tight against his chest.

Thranduil walked through the halls of his palace while carrying you in his arms, his long strides eating up the distance quickly. He could feel you melting against him as he walked, feeling a sense of satisfaction of being able to provide you with warmth and comfort. 

Soon enough, he reached your shared room and he pushed the doors open with one hand, stepping inside and lowering you gently onto the bed.

You cuddle into the sheets, your skirt hiked up over your hips, revealing your smooth skin to his gaze.

Thranduil's eyes roamed over your body as you settled onto the bed, his gaze lingering on your exposed skin. His eyes darkened slightly as he took in the sight of you, looking so vulnerable, so delicate, and yet so alluring at the same time. 

His own clothes were slightly disheveled, the top of his shirt unbuttoned ever so slightly, adding to the overall rugged appearance. He could feel a familiar heat rise in the pit of his stomach as he looked at you, slowly approaching the bed.

Thranduil's breath caught in his throat as you wrapped your arms around the pillow, your legs slightly parted and revealing even more of your skin to him. He could feel the tension in the air as he watched you, his eyes tracing along the curves of your body, like a predator stalking its prey. 

He approached the foot of the bed, slowly crawling onto the mattress behind you, his large form hovering over you as his hands rested on either side of your hips.

“My king..” you murmur, relishing in his touch. Thranduil leaned down, bringing his body close to yours, his chest pressing against your back as he leaned down towards your ear. His breath ghosted across your skin, making you shiver as he gently spoke in a low, deep tone. 

"Yes, darling?" he muttered, his hands on your hips, rubbing small, teasing circles against the bare flesh of your skin. He could feel your body heat against his, his own desire growing more and more as he looked down at you.

“You’re trying to seduce me..” you murmur against the plush pillow.

Thranduil chuckled softly, his hands slowly moving up and down your sides, his touch just light enough to tickle. "Is it working?" he spoke in a low, sultry tone, his breath warm against the nape of your neck. He lowered his head, gently nibbling on the exposed skin just below your ear, his tongue darting out to taste you.

You moan softly, enjoying the gentleness of his caresses. “Perhaps it is,” Thranduil's lips curled into a small grin as he heard your moan, the sound like music to his ears. 

He gently licked and kissed the sensitive skin of your exposed neck, his hands continuing to roam over your body, tracing every curve, every dip and contour of your form. 

"Perhaps?" he repeated with a hint of amusement in his voice, his mouth finding its way to your shoulder, gently nipping at the soft flesh. "Only perhaps..?" he teased softly, his thumbs pressing into your hip bones.

“My King..” You gasp, feeling the familiar warmth in the pit of your stomach as he touches you. 

Thranduil continued to shower your exposed skin with kisses and nibbling, his eyes roaming over every inch of your body as he continued to touch you intimately. At the sound of your gasp, he let out a low, approving hum against the skin of your neck, his hands slowly moving from your hips, running up along your sides, to your stomach. 

"Does it feel good, my darling..?" he murmured quietly, his fingers gently tracing patterns against your skin, leaving little jolts of pleasure in their wake.

“Very good..” you moan, shifting beneath him so you can gaze up at him, your arms wrapping around his neck.

Thranduil let out a soft, guttural sound of approval as you shifted beneath him, his hands still gently caressing your skin as his eyes met yours. He could feel the heat and desire building between the two of you, the air growing heavier as you looked up at him. 

He couldn't deny the effect you had on him; just the sight of you alone was enough to make his heart clench. Thranduil slowly lowered himself down, his body resting fully against yours as he leaned down to capture your lips in a deep, searing kiss.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging at the roots softly as your legs wrap around his hips.

Thranduil let out a low growl as you tangled your fingers in his hair, the tug on his scalp sending a wave of pleasure throughout his entire body. He pressed himself down onto you, his hips slotting perfectly in between your legs as you wrapped them around him, trapping him against you. 

He couldn't help himself from pressing himself against you, his own desire growing more and more intense as he felt your body against his. Thranduil's lips moved furiously against yours as he deepened the kiss, his tongue seeking entrance into your mouth.

Thranduil felt a shudder of pleasure as you parted your lips in submission, his tongue slipping past to explore your mouth as he claimed it for his own. He savored the taste of you, his own lust and hunger fueling his actions as he kissed you like an elf starved. 

His hands slid down your body, seeking purchase and finding purchase on your thighs as he pushed them further apart. His own hips rocked against yours, the thin barrier that remained between their bodies slowly becoming an increasing irritant.

Your muffled moans fill his mouth as he grinds against you, sending shivers of pleasure through you. Thranduil swallowed each moan you made as he continued to kiss you, his hips rolling against yours in an almost feral manner. 

The friction between you was maddening, only adding more fuel to the fire burning within him. He could feel your body's response to his movements, each shiver and shudder driving him even further to take what he wanted, to claim what was his. 

Thranduil broke the kiss, lifting his head so he could look down at you, his eyes roaming over your flushed, panting form. "You're mine..." he breathed in a low, possessive tone.

“Always, I’m forever yours my King.” You cup his face, lips parted and cheeks flushed. 

Thranduil's heart jumped in his chest at your words, the pure devotion in your voice making his own desires flare even stronger. He leaned into your touch as you cupped his face, his eyes dark and stormy as he looked down at you with a mixture of lust, love, and possessiveness in his gaze.

"You better be," he said in a low, gruff tone, his voice heavy with emotions. "Because I have no intention of letting you go, my darling. Ever."

You smile up at him feeling his fingers tugging at the hem of your skirt. “I shall not leave your side, love.” 

With a gentle yet firm tug, Thranduil lifts the dress from your body, the fabric slipping off your skin like silk. He pauses for a moment, drinking in the sight of you laid bare before him, your curves and contours bathed in the soft glow of candlelight. 

His eyes sparkle with hunger and admiration as they rove over your flesh, lingering on the swell of your breasts and the dip of your waist. He lets out a soft groan, his desire palpable in the air as his hands move to trace the newly exposed skin, his fingertips leaving a trail of heat wherever they go. 

You can feel his arousal pressing into you, the proof of his desire for you unmistakable. His gaze meets yours, filled with a fierce love and a burning need to possess you completely.

With eager, trembling hands, Thranduil tugged at his own clothing, each button and lace coming undone with a sense of urgency. His garments fell away, revealing the sculpted planes of his body, his muscles defined by moonlight and shadows. 

His eyes never leaving yours, he reached out to cup your breasts, his thumbs flicking over your nipples in a feather-light touch that has you arching your back with a silent plea. He smiles, a smoldering fire in his gaze, and then his hands slid down your body, his fingers hooking into the delicate fabric of your panties. 

With a firm, yet gentle pull, he slid them down your legs, baring you fully to him. His arousal grew even more prominent as he took in the sight of your naked body, your legs open and inviting, revealing your slick and swollen folds that begged for his touch. 

He leaned back down to kiss you once more, his hand moving to caress the soft, wet warmth between your thighs, his fingers slipping inside you easily, making you gasp into his mouth.

With a soft growl of desire, Thranduil settled himself between your open thighs, his eyes never leaving yours as he lowered his head to the juncture of your legs. His mouth watered at the sight of your glistening sex, your arousal like a sweet nectar to him. 

He took his time, savoring the moment as he gently parted your folds with his thumbs, exposing the delicate pearl of your clit to the cool air. His tongue darted out, tracing a line from your entrance up to the sensitive bud, tasting you with a hunger that was centuries in the making. 

His touch was feather-light, yet firm, as he licked and kissed you with an expertise that sent waves of pleasure crashing through your body. Each stroke of his tongue against your clit brought forth a new gasp, each nip of his teeth a shiver of delight. 

He held your legs wide open, keeping you open to his ministrations as he explored every part of you with his mouth, his teeth grazing against your inner thighs, his tongue delving deep inside you, and his breath fanning the flames of your passion. His hands remained on your hips, keeping you firmly in place as he devoured you, his mouth moving with a rhythm that was both torturously slow and exquisitely perfect. 

You could feel yourself growing wetter, your body responding to his every touch, your legs trembling as he brought you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy.

Your back arches off the bed as needy moans escape your lips, your entire body quivering with the intensity of the pleasure he's giving you. Thranduil's mouth is relentless, his tongue flicking and circling your clit with a precision that speaks of centuries of experience.

His strong hands hold your hips in place as you try to buck against him, the sensations threatening to overwhelm you. His teeth graze against your sensitive skin, sending jolts of pleasure through your body that make your toes curl and your fingers clutch at the bedsheets. You can feel your orgasm building, a coil of tension tightening in your belly as his mouth works its magic. 

You're so close, so very close, and he seems to know it as he increases the tempo, his tongue dancing over your clit in a way that has you on the brink. Finally, with one last, firm flick of his tongue, you fall over the edge, crying out his name as waves of pleasure crash through you. 

You're a trembling mess under him, your body wracked with spasms as he continues to kiss and suck, drawing out every last drop of your climax before finally, mercifully, letting you collapse back onto the bed. He watches you with a smug smile, licking his lips as he takes in the sight of you, fully sated and utterly his.

With a gentle touch, Thranduil brushed your hair away from your cheeks, his eyes filled with love and concern as he studied your flushed face. "Are you tired, my love?" he asked in a voice that was a blend of tenderness and desire, his breath warm against your skin. 

His thumbs traced the outline of your jaw, his gaze lingering on the way your chest rose and fell with each ragged breath you took, your breasts pressing against his chest with each gasp. The question hung in the air, filled with the promise of more intimate moments to come if you weren't too exhausted from the passionate encounter.

As you nod softly in response to Thranduil's question, you reach down and wrap your hand around his thick, aroused length. The velvety skin is hot to the touch, pulsing with the beat of his heart, and your grip tightens slightly, feeling the veins that run along his shaft. 

"I'm not too tired to make sure you're satisfied," you murmur against his ear, a hint of mischief in your voice as you start to stroke him, your hand moving in a slow, firm rhythm. Thranduil's eyes close, his breath hitching in his throat as your touch sends waves of pleasure through him. 

His hands tighten around your hips in response, pulling you closer as he lets out a low groan of appreciation. His eyes flutter open, meeting yours, and he smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling with affection and desire. 

"Thank you," he whispers, his voice strained with pleasure, as he leans down to kiss you once more, his tongue tracing the curve of your bottom lip before delving back into your mouth.

With a soft whine of anticipation, you position yourself over Thranduil's erect length, the tip nudging against your entrance as you hover for a brief moment. Looking into his eyes, filled with a fiery passion that matches your own, you slowly start to sink down onto him. 

The initial stretch is exquisite, his warmth and hardness filling you in a way that feels so right, so perfect. His hands tighten around your waist, guiding you down as he groans into your kiss, feeling the tightness of your body enveloping him inch by inch. 

Each breath you take is shallower than the last, each movement of your hips sending shockwaves through both of you. Once you're fully seated on him, you pause, savoring the feeling of fullness before you begin to rock gently, setting a rhythm that's as ancient as the forest itself. 

Thranduil's eyes never leave yours, his hands roaming over your skin as if he's trying to memorize every line and curve by touch alone. His breath hitches in his throat with every movement you make, every gasp and whimper that escapes your lips. 

The bond between you, the connection of flesh and soul, is palpable as you move together, lost in a dance that's both fierce and tender, a symphony of love and lust that echoes through the very air of the room.

As you reached up to gently trace the pointed tips of Thranduil's ears with your fingertips, his eyes rolled back in pleasure, his hands guiding the rhythm of your hips as you moved above him. The soft touch was a heady sensation that seemed to resonate through his entire being, making him shiver and his grip on you tighten. 

His breathing grew ragged, matching the pace of your movements, as you both danced together in the throes of passion. Each brush of your fingers against his sensitive skin sent bolts of pleasure through his body, making him growl low in his throat, his hips rising to meet yours with increasing urgency. 

The room was filled with the sweet symphony of your combined sighs and moans, the rustling of the bed, and the occasional clank of his jewelry as his head moved back and forth against the pillow. Your breasts bounced with each thrust, the friction of your skin against his sending sparks of desire through both of you. 

Thranduil's eyes remained locked on you, his expression a mix of love, need, and pure animal instinct. The way you touched him was like nothing he had ever felt before you, a tender yet powerful caress that seemed to ignite every nerve ending in his body.

As you continued to ride him, his own movements grew more demanding, his hands moving from your hips to cup your breasts, his thumbs rolling over your nipples as his hips met yours in a relentless rhythm that sent shockwaves of pleasure through both of you. 

Thranduil's eyes widened in pleasure as he felt your inner muscles tighten around him, signaling your approaching climax. His own was building, the pressure inside him growing with each stroke as your bodies moved as one. 

With a final, deep thrust, he swelled inside you, filling you completely as he reached his peak. The pleasure was intense, a crescendo of sensation that seemed to consume him entirely. You gasped as your orgasm washed over you, your body clenching around him as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through you. 

The bond between you grew stronger, your spirits intertwining as your love and desire for each other reached new heights. Thranduil's eyes squeezed shut, a roar of ecstasy tearing from his throat as he released himself within you, the warmth of his essence mixing with the heat of your passion. 

Together, you rode the crest of the wave, your bodies trembling with the force of your shared climax, until finally, you collapsed against him, both spent and utterly content.

Thranduil gently untangled himself from your embrace, placing a soft kiss on your forehead before rising from the bed. His eyes roved over your spent form, a mixture of love and adoration evident in his gaze. 

He padded across the room, stepping into the connected bathroom. He turned on the taps of the large, stone bathtub, filling the room with the sound of rushing water and steam. As the tub filled, he added some scented essential oils to the water, creating a relaxing aroma that filled the air.

Once the bath was ready, Thranduil returned to the bedside, his gaze meeting yours. You gaze at him through hooded eyes, reaching for his soft blond hair. 

Thranduil's hand found yours, and he gently helped you off the bed. "Come, my love," he murmured, his voice still husky. With steady steps, he led you into the bathroom, the steam from the warm water filling the room.

He helped you into the bathtub, his touch tender and careful as he guided you in. Once you were settled, he called for a servant to change the bedding, his voice carrying out into the hallway.

“Will you join me?” You murmur, sinking into the warmth of the water. Thranduil's eyes darkened as he watched you sink into the warm water, your body enveloped in steam and bubbles. 

"Of course," he murmurs in response, his voice rough with desire. "I could never resist joining you." He entered the tub, settling in behind you, his strong legs on either side of you.

Thranduil's hands caressed your wet skin, lovingly trailing over every dip and curve as he gently washed away the remnants of your recent encounter. With each touch and movement, his love and devotion for you shone through, his fingers tracing patterns against your skin that felt like a silent declaration of his love.

"You are so beautiful," he murmured, his mouth hovering just beside your ear. "Every inch of you is perfect."

“My King…” you murmur, relaxing into his strong chest, your eyes flutter closed.

Thranduil wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close against him so that your back was flush against his chest. His chin rested on top of your head, and he inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of your hair. 

"Yes, my darling?" he asked softly, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your stomach.

“You flatter me too much.” You reply, head falling back against his shoulder as you relish in his touch.

Thranduil chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. He moved his head down to place a soft kiss on your neck, his mouth skimming along your skin until it reached your ear.

"I cannot flatter you enough," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "Every word I say to you is true. You are everything to me, and I will never tire of telling you how beautiful and perfect you are."

“You are beautiful as well, my love.” He washes your body as you lean against him comforted by his warmth.

Thranduil's hands continued their gentle caresses as he washed your body, his touch strong but still impossibly tender. He savored the feeling of your body pressing against his, and he took his time, relishing the moment.

"Your words are sweet," he murmured, his voice low, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. "But it is you who brings the true beauty into my life."

Thranduil carefully pulls you out of the water, his hands gentle and strong as he wraps a soft, warm towel around you. He takes his time drying you off, his touch reverent as he caresses each inch of your skin.

Once you are dry, he helps you into your nightgown, his fingers grazing over your sensitive skin in lingering touches. "There," he murmurs, stepping back to admire you. "Perfect."

“Thranduil, my love.” You cup his cheek, kissing his lips gently.

Thranduil's eyes closed at your touch, a low growl of pleasure rumbling in his chest as you kissed him gently. His arms slid around your waist, pulling you closer against his chest. He deepened the kiss, his mouth claiming yours with a fierce but tender passion.

"My darling," he breathed against your lips. "You undo me with a single touch."

Thranduil's gaze softened as he looked down at you, taking note of the exhaustion in your eyes. "But you’re weary," he observed, lifting a hand to caress your cheek gently. 

His thumb traced over your skin in soothing circles, his touch filled with tenderness. "Come, let us get you into bed. You need your rest."

[queenstarlight2]

Sharing isn't always smart

Yandere Elrond and Thranduil (5k words) Summery:You get to talk to Elrond,and meet Thranduil where Elrond gets jealous. part 1,part 2,part 3, part 4, part 5

Elrond, was in his bedwear, he was quietly sipping his morning tea, enjoying the quiet solitude of his chambers when a knock at the door interrupted him. He sat the cup down and called out, "Who is it?"

The door slowly opened, and the young girl, dressed in a simple yet elegant dress, poked her head in. "I-I'm so sorry to disturb you sir, but I seem to have gotten lost. I just wanted to find the dining hall." Elrond smiled warmly at her, gesturing for her to come in. "You're not disturbing me at all, please, come in."

He watched as she nervously entered the room, her eyes darting around, taking in her surroundings. He couldn't help but notice the way her eyes widened as she took in the luxurious surroundings of his private chambers - the plush carpet underfoot, the roaring fire in the stone fireplace, and the huge four-poster bed with a rich silk canopy. She seemed nervous and out of place in this opulent setting. "Please, have a seat," he said, gesturing to one of the plush couches by the fireplace.

He watched as she perched on the edge of the couch, sitting awkwardly, her hands clasped nervously in her lap. He took a seat across from her, taking a moment to study her quietly. She was truly beautiful, with her delicate features and clear skin flushed with a rosy hue. She seemed to radiate a soft, innocent vulnerability that made something protective stir within him. "Forgive me," he said with a polite smile, "I don't believe we've been formally introduced." He held out his hand in greeting. "I am Elrond, Lord of Imladris."

She took his hand hesitantly, her small hand engulfed by his larger one. He then motioned to the pot of tea on the small table, "May I offer you some tea?" As he poured a cup of tea for her, Elrond couldn't help but steal a few glances at her. He noted the way her fingers trembled slightly as she accepted the cup from him, the way her eyelashes cast shadows on her cheeks as she looked down at her tea.

He felt a possessiveness bloom within him at the sight of her sitting so innocently in his room, oblivious to the possessive thoughts racing through his mind. "Have you been in Rivendell long?" He asked casually, taking a sip of his tea, all the while his mind was spinning with thoughts of claiming her, keeping her safely tucked away in his rooms where no one else could touch her.

"N-No," she answered, her voice soft and a bit shaky as she brought the cup up to her lips, taking a small sip. "I arrived yesterday." Her eyes darted around the room again, taking in the opulence of her surroundings. She suddenly looked sheepish, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink. "I… I had no idea whose chambers these were when I knocked," she said quietly. "I'm so sorry for disturbing you." He chuckled kindly, the sight of her flustered embarrassment endearing.

"It's quite fine," he assured her. "I didn't mind being disturbed. Especially not by a lovely lady such as yourself." He noticed how her blush deepened at his compliment, and he felt a possessive satisfaction. He liked this effect he seemed to have on her, her nervousness and inexperience making her even more endearing in his eyes. "Breakfast," she began, her voice a little stronger now as she looked up at him, "When does breakfast usually start?"

Elrond noted the slight change in her demeanor. She seemed a little more relaxed now that they were conversing. "Breakfast won't begin for another hour," he told her, his voice soft and gentle. "Why do you ask?" As she fidgeted on the couch, he leaned back in his seat, using this time to study her more intently. Her dress, while modest, was still form-fitting enough to show off her figure. Her hair, silken and soft, hung loosely around her shoulders, framing her features.

She seemed so innocent, so untainted by the harshness of the world. A part of him reveled in the fact that she was here, alone in his chambers, just the two of them, and he was the only one who could see her like this. The thought of others seeing her, touching her, making his possessiveness flare up again, a possessive growl almost escaping him. He took another sip of his tea to hide his reaction, the hot liquid doing little to soothe the fire burning within him.

She shifted on the couch again, her gaze dropping to her teacup. "I wanted to ask you something," she said quietly. "I wasn't sure how to get to the dining hall, and I was hoping you could show me the way?" Elrond chuckled, a small smile playing on his lips. "Of course, I'll show you the way," he assured her, his eyes locking with hers. "But we have an hour before breakfast, and I was hoping to ask you a few questions if you don't mind?"

A small shiver ran through her as his eyes bore into hers. There was something in his gaze that made her feel oddly exposed like he was looking through her and into her soul. "I-I don't mind," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. He noted the slight tremor in her voice, her body visibly tensing as she spoke. He felt a sense of triumph at the effect he seemed to have on her, the way she was so easily flustered and off-balance in his presence. "Excellent," he said, his voice low and smooth. "First question, if I may?" she nods as he sets his teacup down, leaning forward slightly. "Tell me about yourself," he began, his eyes never leaving her face. "Where did you come from? Where do you call home?"

He watched as she fidgeted nervously under his gaze, her hands twisting in her lap. She paused, her eyes darting around the room before settling back on him. "I, um, I travel a lot," she said, her voice almost a whisper. "I don't have a specific place that I call home."

He nodded, trying to conceal the disappointment that flared up inside him at her vague answer. "Interesting," he mused, tapping his fingers on the arm of the chair. "And what brings you to Rivendell, if you don't mind me asking?" She bit her lip, looking down at her teacup as if it held the answer to his question. "I… I just happened to stumble across Rivendell," she said quietly. "I wasn't planning on staying, I just sort of… ended up here." He raised an eyebrow at that, his mind already stirring with plans and schemes to keep her here longer. She was so innocent, so lost, so easy to manipulate. And the fact that she just stumbled upon Rivendell, seemingly by accident, only added to the possessive fire burning within him. "You just stumbled upon Rivendell?" he repeated, watching her closely. "How fortuitous. Though it's not often that people just accidentally stumble upon our hidden city."

She looked up at him then, her eyes darting to his before quickly looking away. "I… I just heard it was a beautiful city," she said, her fingers continuing to twist in her lap. "I wanted to see it for myself." He leaned back in his seat, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "And what do you think of it so far?" he asked, his voice low and velvety. She looked around the room, her eyes taking in the opulent surroundings before she answered. "It's… it's breathtaking," she said quietly. "I've never seen anything like it before." His smirk widened at her words, a sense of pride swelling within him that she was so captivated by the city he called home.

"Yes," he agreed, "Rivendell is quite stunning. But it pales in comparison to your beauty," he added, watching her with keen eyes. Her eyes widened at his words, and she fidgeted again in her seat, her cheeks turning a deeper shade of pink. "Um," she stammered, "I… I have heard of you, Lord Elrond. I've heard stories about you." "Oh?" he said, raising an eyebrow in interest. "And what kind of stories have you heard about me?" "Well," she began, her voice soft and hesitant, "I've heard that you're a just and fair leader. That you rule Rivendell with wisdom and compassion." He smiled at her words, his chest puffing out a bit with pride. "I am glad my reputation precedes me," he said, his voice smooth and velvety. "And what else have you heard about me, I wonder?" She looked up at him, meeting his gaze directly this time.

"Well for one, I have never heard of you being a flirt," she said, a hint of a challenge in her voice, surprising herself with her audacity. Elrond chuckled, caught off guard by her suddenly assertive tone. He leaned back in his seat, studying her closely. "Ah," he said, his eyes glinting with amusement. "And what makes you think I am a flirt?" She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze evenly. "Well," she began, her voice more steady now, "you said that Rivendell pales in comparison to my beauty. That sounds like a very flirtatious thing to say."

He chuckled again, clearly impressed by her boldness. "I suppose it does," he admitted, his voice low and silky. "But can you blame me for complimenting such a beautiful woman as yourself?" She blushed again at his words, her cheeks turning an adorable shade of pink. "Flattery will get you nowhere," she said, trying to maintain her composure. "Oh really?" he said, his gaze locked on her face. "And what if I want to flatter you some more? Your eyes are like the sky after a storm, your skin is smooth like silk, and your hair is like a silken waterfall flowing over your shoulders."

Her blush deepened with each compliment he showered upon her, the words making her heart flutter in her chest. She tried to hide her reaction, but her quickened breath and the way she fidgeted in her seat gave her away. She managed to find her voice again, clearing her throat nervously.

"But… but surely you have a wife or a lady friend?" she asked, her voice quiet and hesitant. "Should you be saying these things to me?" Elrond chuckled again at her question, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Ah, so concerned about my relationship status," he said, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "What does it matter to you, little one, if I am married or not?" "Well…," she stuttered, her mind racing to come up with a rational reason for her concern. "Your wife… she might get mad. If you talk like this to other women. Right?"

"Ah," Elrond chuckled softly, his eyes taking on a distant look as he remembered the past. "You speak of a time long gone, little one. I did have a wife, once upon a time. But tragedy and war took her away from me many years ago." Elrond's eyes flickered back to hers, the distant look replaced by an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. "It has been many years since I lost my wife," he said, his voice taking on a solemn tone. "But the pain of that loss still runs deep, like a wound that never fully heals." He paused, his gaze fixed on her face as if trying to memorize every feature. "I miss her," he said quietly, almost as if speaking to himself. "Her laughter, her smile, the way she could light up a room just by walking into it. Sometimes it feels like a part of me was torn away when she left, and I'll never be whole again." As he spoke about his late wife, his eyes never left her face. He noted the way her eyes widened slightly at his words, the way her breath caught in her chest.

An idea began to form in his mind, one that sent a thrill through his veins. The thought of her filling the void his wife had left behind sent a possessive fire flickering through him. He could almost imagine it, her delicate hands touching the places his wife had once touched. Her voice filled the silence left behind by his wife's absence. The thought of her in his arms, replacing the ghost of his wife, sent a surge of possessiveness coursing through him. He couldn't help but imagine how she would look wrapped up in his embrace, her soft skin against his own, her hair splayed out across his pillow like a silken curtain. The thought sent a shiver down his spine and a familiar heat began to pool in his gut.

As Elrond's eyes continued to roam over her face, his thoughts lost in a sea of possessiveness and desire, the silence between them grew heavy. Sensing that she needed to break the silence, she cleared her throat, bringing him back to the present.

"Lord Elrond," she began, her voice hesitant, "I… I can't imagine how hard it must have been to lose someone you loved so much." He smiled at her words, the possessive thoughts quickly shoved aside in favor of his charming facade. "It is a pain that never fully leaves you, no matter how many years pass," he said, his voice taking on a mournful tone. "But life goes on, and we must learn to move forward, to find new happiness amid grief." As he spoke, his eyes drifted to her hair, her soft, silken hair that cascaded down her back. He itched to reach out and touch it, to feel the softness of it between his fingers. He forced himself to keep his hands clasped together in his lap, knowing that he needed to reign in his impulses.

"But enough about me, my dear," he said, shifting the focus back to her. "You have yet to tell me your name. May I have the pleasure of knowing such a beautiful woman's name?" She hesitated for a moment, her eyes darting to the side before meeting his gaze again. "Um, I…" she began, her voice soft and hesitant. "I don't use my real name anymore… People usually call me by a nickname now." His eyes widened at her words, curiosity piqued. "A nickname, you say?" he said, leaning forward in his seat. "May I have the honor of knowing what your nickname is?" Her cheeks flushed as she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "Star," she murmured, her eyes fixed on the table in front of her. "They call me Star."

Elrond's heart skipped a beat as he heard the delicate syllables fall from her lips. Star. It was a beautiful name, perfectly suited to a beautiful girl. He repeated the name in his mind, savoring the way it rolled off his tongue. "Star," he repeated aloud, his voice soft and silky. "A lovely name for a lovely girl." Elrond leaned back in his seat, a thoughtful expression on his face. "If you don't mind me asking," he began, his voice taking on a gentle tone, "how did you come to be called Star?" She shrugged, her fingers tracing a pattern on the surface of the table. "I'm not sure," she said, her voice quiet. "It just… fit, I guess. People started calling me that a few years ago, and it stuck. It's easier than using my real name, anyways."

Elrond smiled at her words, his eyes roaming over her face. He could see the hint of sadness that crept into her expression when she spoke of her name, and it tugged at his heartstrings. He wanted to ask her more, to pry deeper into the story behind her nickname, but he knew that he needed to take things slow. He could feel the possessiveness stirring within him again, the need to know everything about her, to claim her as his own. But he forced himself to push those thoughts aside, at least for now. He could be patient if it meant getting closer to her. Elrond leaned back in his seat, his eyes never leaving her face.

"Have… do you have a lover?" he asked, his voice soft and nonchalant, as if the question didn't mean much to him either way. She blushed at his words, her eyes widening slightly in surprise. "N-No," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't have a… a lover." A wave of satisfaction washed over him, and he had to fight to keep his expression neutral. Good, he thought, the possessive fire within him growing stronger. She's unclaimed.

He couldn't help but smile at her answer, his thoughts already racing with ideas of how he could keep her that way. "No lover, hm?" he said, his voice smooth and silky. "You're a free woman, then. No bonds or ties to hold you down." She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her eyes flickering to the side before meeting his gaze again. "Yes, I'm… I'm free," she said, her voice soft and uncertain. Elrond's smile widened a glint of possessiveness in his eyes. "I see," he said, his voice taking on a silky tone. "A free woman, with no ties to hold her down. That's quite a rare thing to find these days, don't you think?"

She shifted again, her eyes darting to the floor as she fidgeted with the hem of her dress. "I suppose so," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. Elrond observed her, noting the way she fidgeted in her seat and avoided his gaze. "You seem nervous," he said softly, his voice smooth and calming. "Is something troubling you, little one?" She looked up at him, her eyes wide and vulnerable. "I-I'm not nervous," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "I just… I'm not used to talking to elven lords, that's all." He chuckled softly at her words, his eyes glinting with amusement. "You have nothing to be nervous about, my dear," he said, his voice gentle. "I'm no different from any other Elf, despite my title. Don't let the thought of talking to an elven lord put you on edge." As Elrond's words sunk in, she felt a wave of relief wash over her. He seems harmless enough, she thought, her heart rate slowly returning to normal.

"I suppose you're right," she said softly, her voice gaining a hint of confidence. "I don't need to be nervous. You're not so imposing, are you?" He chuckled again, clearly amused by her boldness. "No, I suppose I'm not," he said, his eyes glinting with humor. "But I must say, I'm surprised by your sudden confidence. You were a shy, blushing mess just a few moments ago." Her cheeks flushed red again at his words, her eyes darting away from his gaze.

"I… I was just caught off guard, that's all," she stammered, her voice shaking slightly. "But I'm fine now. I'm not scared of you if that's what you're wondering." Elrond chuckled again, clearly enjoying her flustered state. "I'm glad to hear it," he said, his voice soft and velvety. "I wouldn't want you to be scared of me. I'm not such a fearsome creature to warrant fear." she then mentioned breakfast broke through his thoughts, and he felt a pang of irritation at the idea of her leaving so soon. But he forced himself to remain calm, not wanting to show his possessiveness too early.

"You were headed to breakfast, you say?" he said, his voice cool and neutral. "What a shame. I was hoping we could continue our conversation." As she mentioned her destination, he remembered her earlier request. "Ah, yes," he said, his voice cool and composed. "I had agreed to escort you to the dining hall, hadn't I? I suppose we should make our way there then before the food gets cold." He stood up from his seat, his movements graceful and fluid. "Shall we?" he said, offering her his arm. She hesitated for a moment, her eyes flickering to his outstretched arm and back up to his face. She knew she should accept, considering he had offered to escort her, but something about him made her feel uneasy. But she pushed that feeling aside, telling herself she was being silly, and took his arm with a small nod.

As she took his arm, Elrond felt a jolt of possessiveness surge through him. It took all his self-control to keep his expression neutral, his inner thoughts a mess of conflicting emotions. She's mine, he thought, his mind already spinning plans to keep her by his side. He guided her out of the room with a firm grip on her arm, his mind racing as he plotted his next move. As they walked, he glanced down at her, admiring her delicate features and the way her hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders. He couldn't help but notice how small she was next to him, how fragile she seemed. It only served to increase his possessiveness, the need to protect and claim her growing stronger with every step they took. As they walked, he kept her close, subtly guiding her with his hand on her arm. His mind was a mess of possessive thoughts, schemes, and plans on how he could keep her by his side, how he could make her his own.

As they entered the dining hall, Elrond discreetly surveyed the room, his gaze landing on Thranduil, who was seated at a nearby table, deep in conversation with a group of elvish advisors.

Elrond led Star towards an empty table nearby, still keeping a firm grip on her arm, before turning to Thranduil. "Thranduil," he called out, his voice smooth and neutral. Thranduil looked up at the sound of his name, his eyes narrowing slightly as they landed on Elrond and Star. Ah, he thought, a flicker of hunger passing through his eyes. Elrond has brought her here.

"Elrond," he replied, his voice smooth and regal. "I see you have a companion today." Elrond chuckled, his grip on Star's arm tightening slightly. "Indeed I do," he said, his voice cool and casual. "I found this lovely young woman wandering the halls, and offered to escort her to breakfast. She's quite shy, as you can see." Thranduil's gaze flicked to Star, his eyes roaming over her body with thinly veiled interest. "Shy, is she?" he said, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "How delightful." Elrond suppressed a growl at Thranduil's words, his possessiveness flaring up at the other elf's interest in Star. He pulled her closer to his side, a subtle act of claiming her as his own. Thanduil chuckled, noticing Elrond's possessive gesture. "Now, now, old friend. No need to get worked up," he said, his voice playful and casual. "Let's not scare our shy little friend, shall we?"

Star looked nervously between the two elvish lords, feeling a sense of unease at the tension between them. She wasn't sure what Elrond and Thranduil were talking about, but she had a feeling it involved her somehow. Elrond shot Thanduil a quick glare, silently warning him to tread carefully. He had noticed Star's unease, and he didn't want her to become more alarmed.

"Don't worry, my dear," he said to her, his voice softening. "Thranduil is just teasing, as usual. He doesn't mean any harm." Thranduil smirked at Elrond's glare, amused by his friend's obvious possessiveness towards their guest. He decided to have a little fun, see how far he could push Elrond's buttons.

"Of course, I don't mean any harm," he said, his voice smooth and silky. "I'm simply admiring the beauty that you've brought to our table." Elrond took a deep breath, fighting to control his own emotions. He knew he had agreed to share her, but seeing Thanduil eye her with such interest was making it difficult for him to keep his possessiveness in check. Star had been silently observing the exchange between Thanduil and Elrond, her unease growing with every passing moment. She felt like a prize being fought over, and it was making her uncomfortable.

"Um," she spoke up, her voice hesitant and soft. "What are you talking about?" Elrond and Thanduil both turned their attention to her, their expressions schooled into masks of nonchalant indifference.

"Oh, nothing you need to worry about, my dear," Elrond said, his voice casual. "Just a little… teasing, between friends." Thanduil chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. "That's right," he said, his voice smooth and velvety. "Just a little banter. Nothing for you to concern yourself with." As the tension in the air grew thicker, Star shifted uncomfortably, feeling like an outsider during this silent battle of possessiveness between Elrond and Thanduil. She wanted to find an escape from this awkward situation.

"Um, why don't we all sit together?" she suggested quietly. Elrond and Thanduil exchanged a glance, both of them silently communicating with each other. They both knew that sitting together would only make their possessiveness even more palpable, but they also didn't want to refuse her request. "Of course, my dear," Elrond said, his voice smooth and practiced. "That sounds like a delightful idea." Thanduil nodded in agreement, his eyes still locked on Star. "Yes, a delightful idea indeed."

The three of them made their way to a nearby table, the air around them thick with tension and unspoken desires. Elrond helped Star into her seat, his hand lingering on her back for a moment longer than necessary. Thanduil took his seat across from them, his eyes roaming over Star hungrily as if he were mentally undressing her with his gaze. Elrond, not missing the way Thanduil was looking at Star, felt a pang of possessiveness rise again. He forced himself to remain calm, reminding himself that he had agreed to share her. Star, feeling the weight of their gazes on her, felt her heart pounding in her chest. She was starting to feel more and more like a piece of meat in between two hungry predators.

As they sat in silence, the tension in the air was palpable. Elrond and Thanduil's eyes kept wandering to Star, their possessive thoughts growing stronger with every passing second. Thanduil couldn't help but let his eyes roam over Star again, admiring her delicate features and petite frame. He imagined all the things he wanted to do to her, all the ways he could make her his.

Elrond, not liking the way Thanduil was leering at her, tried to subtly put himself between them, as if trying to shield her from his friend's hungry gaze. Thanduil noticed Elrond's protective gesture, his smirk growing wider. He's getting possessive again, he thought, his possessiveness flaring up in response.

Elrond, sensing Thanduil's reaction, shot him a warning glare. Keep your eyes off her, his expression said. As the tension between them continued to build, a distraction arose in the form of servants bringing in platters of food. The smell of fresh bread and hot food filled the air, momentarily breaking the spell cast by their possessive thoughts.

The servants placed the food on the table, and the three of them began to help themselves, filling their plates with a mix of fruits, pastries, and other breakfast delicacies. They began eating in awkward silence, the sound of silverware clinking against plates the only thing breaking the tense atmosphere.

Elrond and Thanduil continued to steal glances at Star, their eyes filled with unabashed greed. They both wanted her, and it was becoming harder for them to hide their desires. As they continued to eat, Thranduil finally broke the silence with a smooth suggestion.

"You know," he said, his voice casual and nonchalant. "I was thinking of taking a walk in the gardens after breakfast. It's such a lovely morning. Perhaps you'd like to join me, my dear."

Elrond tensed, his possessiveness flaring up again as he saw Thanduil make his attempt to woo Star. Star looked at Thanduil, her eyes flickering over to Elrond for a moment before responding. "Um, sure," she said softly. "A walk in the gardens sounds nice."

Elrond's grip on his fork tightened, his knuckles turning white. He didn't like the thought of Star spending time alone with Thanduil, but he knew he couldn't refuse her. Thanduil's smirk widened as he noticed Elrond's reaction. "Excellent," he said, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "We'll have a lovely time together, I'm sure."

Elrond gritted his teeth, forcing himself to remain calm. He knew he couldn't make a scene in front of Star, but he was already planning all the ways he could sabotage their little stroll together. As they finished their breakfast, Thanduil quickly rose from the table, eager to spend some alone time with Star.

He offered her his arm, a charming smile on his lips. "Are you ready, my dear?" Star looked up at him, her eyes still flicking over to Elrond, who was sitting next to her, his expression neutral. She felt a small pang of guilt at leaving him behind, but she also couldn't help but feel a little excited at the prospect of spending some time with Thanduil. "Yes, I'm ready," she said softly, taking his arm.

As he led her away from the table, Thanduil shot Elrond a smug smirk. He knew that his friend was seething with jealousy, and he was enjoying every moment of it. Elrond watched as Thanduil and Star walked away together, his jaw clenched tight. He was seething with jealousy, his possessive thoughts swirling in his mind.

Thanduil glanced back over his shoulder, his smirk widening as he saw the look on Elrond's face. "Seems like our friend didn't like that very much," he murmured to Star, a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

(tell me if yall would like changes, ill try to keep it in mind. i didn't want to use y/n so I picked something different. i do think I made the characters a bit of ooc but they are yandere so that is to be expected. i plan on next chapter focused purely on thranduil also I know that people might not like how shy and stuff she is but I think that she diff feels small next to elrond and thranduil, next chapter ill try to make her more confident as I think that thranduil is a more teasing person and can make people open up better since he is so interested)

[eldritchscribblings]

Ever At Odds

Thranduil X Reader

Part 2

Reader is an artist who has taken up a temporary residence in Mirkwood, but keeps bumping into an irritatingly handsome elf king. What happens when a late night encounter forces them together?

Word Count: 2876

Warnings:

swearing

part two will have smut

Notes: I'm sorryyyyyy I didn't want there to be a part two but it took me so long to write this part and I wanted to get it out asap for y'all <3 Pt 2 will be out soon, I'm moving across the country, so writing is slow rn.

A cold autumn wind blew through the halls of Mirkwood, biting into the very bones of those who dared set foot in the ancient woodland realm. In the ages past that bitter wind would have only howled, but its teeth had grown sharper in recent times. Not only did the wind sink its teeth into those unprepared for the woods, but it had turned its teeth upon its own people; the elves, as well. The time of elves on Middle Earth was drawing to an end.

You, of course, were well aware of that from your perch in Imladris, watching as elves dwindled and men rose to power. You were a long way off from leaving for the Undying Lands yourself, but you had already begun to feel that tug in your soul to move from your idle nest and wander towards the sea. And so you’d decided to bide your time by traveling middle earth and sketching all that was old and new among the elves; making a record of what you’d leave behind. It had been a comforting work to put your brush and pencils to paper and convey the millennia of love and sorrow that each individual stone and sapling possessed, and it had satiated you to know that once your work was completed you could leave Middle Earth with a contented heart. But as every tree must survive a storm at some point, your storm came in the form of an elven man with thick furrowed brows and a disposition that would make soot taste sweet; King Thranduil Oropherion of the Woodland Realm.

You’d arrived in Mirkwood nearly two years prior after being rescued from a giant spider by the guards and losing your favorite quill (poor Flutterflick) among the leaf strewn ground. After a quick interrogation, you were released into Mirkwood to do your duty, and yet everywhere you went for peace and tranquility you seemed to run into the Elven King. The first time it happened you hadn’t realized who he was until he threatened to have you locked in the dungeon for disagreeing with him on the best elven wine and whether charcoal was best used compressed or as a powder. You’d tried to avoid him after that, and yet this maze of a realm kept twisting you back towards him whenever you tried to get away. Which was how you found yourself sitting in an archway sketching your view of the vaulted ceiling within this particular area of the hall in the middle of the night, using a candlestick as a light.

It was the wee hours of the morning; a time you were certain the tall blond of your nightmares would be having one of his own, far away from where you’d secluded yourself. The only noises were the hush of a breeze blowing through an open window and the soft scratching of your pencil against the parchment you’d clipped to the thin drawing board in your lap. Your eyes darted seamlessly from the page to the section of empty hall you were drawing, your steady hand moving quickly to gesture in the wider picture so that detail could blossom with ease when you pulled out your softer charcoal. With the silent night enveloping you, it had been easy to fall into a trance of placing your pencil to paper and letting the world fall away into lines and values. You should’ve known the peace wouldn’t last.

“It’s a bit late for sketching fine architecture.” Thranduil’s voice echoed from behind you, and you sighed and pressed your lips together in irritation.

“My aim was to be uninterrupted, My King,” you spoke slowly and surely, presenting each word as nothing more than it claimed to be in hopes he would leave you alone. “It’s a bit late for anyone to roam the halls alone, don’t you think?”

“I am not alone, and neither are you now.” Realizing you had no intent to face him, he walked around and knelt in front of you with a disappointedly curious expression. “How fortunate it is that we can keep each other company on such lonesome nights.”

“Oh, please.” You met his steely blue gaze with a challenging one of your own, attempting to prove yourself unafraid and ward him off. “You and I both know that the two of us together always leads to disaster.”

“Only because you bring disaster with you everywhere.” Thranduil laughed softly and licked the pad of his forefinger before pinching out the flame of your candle between his forefinger and thumb. You were grateful for the darkness to hide a traitorous blush growing on your cheeks, undercutting your disturbed expression. “Finish your sketch in the daylight. You’ll make fewer proportional errors.”

“Is poisoning your kindness with insults meant to be amusing or alluring? Because it is neither.” The only reason you were so confident with your words was because the worst Thranduil could do is send you where you already planned to go ahead of schedule. Of course that was only in theory. In truth, a part of you enjoyed the little games you played together; the spiteful spitting of venom brought energy to your day, negative or positive. You couldn’t deny he was a handsome King, but you could deny giving him the satisfaction of knowing you held him in any regard.

“Have I misled myself on the quality of your mettle? Forgive me if I have caused any true harm.” The first sentence was a sharp retort, the same wit you had begun to expect from him. The second was genuine in a way that surprised you.

“Don’t delude yourself. The only way you could bring any harm to me is with a blade. And I doubt you’d want to stain this lovely hallway.” You responded with a similar genuineness that you hid within your humor, although by the look of his expression he seemed relieved enough to surmise he’d picked up your intent.

What the fuck was your intent? Half flirting with a widowed king? He was an elf who could toss you out a window or carry you down to the dungeons as easily as he’d carry a sack of grain. You inhaled and sharply shoved your charcoal pencil back into your pouch, looking away from Thranduil to shove the image of him carrying sacks of wheat like a handsome miller’s son out of your mind. Truth is you’d daydreamed about kissing Thranduil to shut him up as much as you’d daydreamed about killing him for the same outcome. It was strange to think of how a two letter difference changed the entire context of your fantasies.

“I am no mortal man so easily prone to violence. I take offense that you would think I am capable of such a thing.” Thranduil’s voice changed tone, causing you to look at him again. He was dead serious with a furrowed brow as he knelt before you, reaching forward to take your hand in his. “My guards brought you here and promised you safety. I will not make liars of them.”

“A noble, if impersonal, thought.” You responded with an equal amount of seriousness, gathering your supplies in one hand and placing the other in his as he helped you to a standing position. His intent mystified you, making you unsure of if you’d been wrong about him or if this was a lure to finally catch you when you least expected it. Either way, as you began to walk down the hall back to your rooms he walked beside you with the smallest hint of a smile on his otherwise serious face.

“Do you really think of me as cruel and unkind?” Thranduil asked softly after you had traversed a fair amount of the hall.

“Yes and no.” You replied after taking a moment to chew through your words. It was strange of him to ask the question, stranger still for you to answer honestly. You were friends, but it was a friendship that danced a fine line between confidants and the king and his favorite jester. “I think you capable of cruelty. I think your role requires unkindness. Your presentation fits the role you fulfill. I would no more expect a thatched roof on a palace than a wisened king to be tender hearted.”

“I don’t like the word wisened; it makes me feel old.” Thranduil interjected despite you being done speaking. “But I understand. And I appreciate your point of view. You’re insightful. It’s fitting for your role as an observer. I am curious, I always see you drawing and sketching instead of talking to your fellows. I’m curious as to what you draw when you’re not intending on showing it off to people.”

“Truth be told, it’s mostly animals and people. I carry around smaller sketchbooks for those and it’s idle work to do while I watch and listen to those around me.” You felt the words leave your mouth before you could stop them. Not even death would stop you from blabbing about your art when prodded. “Of course, for those sketches I prefer drawing with metals. You can use a stylus made of silver to make marks upon parchment as well as any charcoal. It’s quite beautiful in the light.”

“Then I must see them.” Thranduil stopped abruptly, causing you to have to turn around after several paces and realize he was at the door to your chambers. If you’d known you were close to your rooms you would’ve just stayed quiet. Having the Elven King in your bedroom, looking at your art, was a bad idea.

Art was your escape, your passion, your diary. There were notes about your feelings and poems about your life scrawled among the pages among grocery lists and drawings of cats napping in sunlight. There were also -you realized with sinking dread- one or two drawings of the King that you did not want him to see. You had to get out of this.

“Sire, it’s very late-“

“Nonsense, you’re up later than this quite frequently, as am I.” He stood by your door, waiting for you to open it for him. His excitement faltered for a moment as he seemed to consider the situation, and he then added; “If you truly do not desire it, I will not impose myself.”

“No, I simply hesitate because I am afraid you will not find my art as impressive as you hope.” Your eyes were firmly on the handle of your door as you opened it and allowed yourself and Thranduil into your rooms. He was very close to you as he entered behind you, and you caught a hint of his scent of petrichor and spices in a way that sent your head spinning. 

Your rooms were simple. Far from grand with books and papers strewn about haphazardly. As you entered you felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you at the state of your things, but you would not let it show. Your bed was in one corner, luckily you had remembered to make it up before leaving, but the bedside tables were covered in strewn papers and pencils. In the opposing corner there was a desk with your notebooks and sketches, and that was where Thranduil made his way to as soon as he entered.

“You live your life messily.” He stated, looking around the room before passively picking up one of your loose sketches from your desk. It was a picture of a young couple walking the halls together arm in arm, oblivious to any observer. Oblivious to you. “I do not question it. You prefer to be hidden away whenever you leave your chambers, so it must be comforting to have such things to hide yourself behind in your own dwelling.” He chuckled, glancing at you as he perused through your art, leafing through the piles of sketches on your desk. It wasn’t as if you could tell him not to, and although you were surprised at his understanding of you, you’d never admit to yourself or him whether he was right or not. 

“Or perhaps you simply collect too much and want it all near you, like a raven building its nest.” Thranduil continued despite your silence, unphased by it. He reached for a drawing closer to you, his eyes meeting yours for the briefest moment that sent a shameful shiver down your spine. It was only when his gaze left you that you realized he had grabbed one of the drawings of him, but before you could protest, he had turned it over to look at it. It was one of the less embarrassing ones; he was sitting with his chin resting on his fist, staring off into some uncaptured distance. His face was peaceful and yet melancholy. It had been at one of the star celebrations that you had forgotten the name of last year; you had been sat at the sidelines happily drawing those partaking in the merriment when you had seen him. His sadness as he sat on his perch above his kin had captured your attention, and you hastened to put his likeness on your paper lest the spell of the moment be broken. He was beautiful to you in that moment, beautiful and wounded. The moment had ended with your eyes meeting and him sending a prideful smirk your way that left your stomach churning, but you would always remember how striking it was to see past his hardened exterior for one brief moment.

As you watched him then, taking in that art piece that had truly cemented your growing fascination with the widowed king, you could not decipher the emotions on his face. His brow furrowed as he traced the lines of his face as they were portrayed on paper, and he hunched over the drawing to better see its details. You almost made a joke, just to break the hideous silence, and yet something stopped you. Your words were stoppered in your throat with tenuous curiosity and something inside you told you to bite your tongue.

“I remember this night,” Thranduil whispered, tracing the roughly sketched embroidery on his portrait. “I was lost in thought, not one of them was pleasant, but my mind was determined to see the end of the chain. I could sense eyes on me, but there is always one person or another watching my every move.” He looked up at you, and the depth of his gaze was hauntingly sirenic, like a calm sea below a dark gray sky. “You were different. I saw your brow furrowed as you looked at me, always fiery and determined to find a flaw where no one else will.” A ghost of a smile crossed his face, no more than a twitch of his eyes, and yet it comforted you. 

“A gap in your personified stoicism is more so due to a lack of divinity than any flaw.” The words flowed easily from your lips, and you stepped closer to him so you could look at your art. “Truthfully, when I found you ‘lacking’, I found you more fascinating than I did when I believed you perfect. Like how a fly, when caught in amber, reveals the quality of the jewel.”

“Am I to be the fly in this metaphor?” He teased, lowering the drawing and stepping closer to you.

“You are aware of what I intended, my lord.” The tone of the conversation had turned lighter, but the air remained tense. It was taking all your might to will yourself not to look at his lips, or his chest, or anywhere but his eyes or your feet. You were afraid any slight unexpected movement would be perceived the wrong way and break the wavering thread of connection between you. 

“What if I were not? What if we were to spend another year misinterpreting each other? Dragging out your stay here in Mirkwood for no perceivable reason?” He seemed as hesitant to move as you were, waiting for some unknown signal to allow him to act.

“Then I suppose, should I be prevented from completing my work, I would need to stay here longer.” You were beginning to catch on. Perhaps there was more to this banter and teasing than you had originally thought. Perhaps the guilt-ridden attraction that had festered deep within your gut was mirrored in his own tumultuous emotions. You leaned slightly closer, taking your drawing from his hands and setting aside. 

“To properly record Mirkwood in such sketches as yours would take decades…” Thranduil drew out the idea, but did not finish it. Instead, he stepped forward and tenderly placed his hand upon your cheek, caressing you gently. “May I kiss you?”

The thought struck you like a blind man meeting a drunken bird, and you inhaled sharply as reality dug its cruel claws into your skin. He was the king. He had asked you to kiss him. But more than the king, he was Thranduil. Your playful nemesis who was the bane of all your existence and yet whose presence you yearned for in the darkest parts of night. Was this change in your relationship worth it? Was this a risk worth taking?

“Yes.”

[aberrantcreature]

The sexiest DILFs in Middle Earth. ✨

[wowstrawberrycow]

Can I say that Thranduil is pretty fucking metal for owning it in front of a dude he considers a threat. Then, trauma dumping on top of it.

Am I the only one who kinda digs the zombie face he's got going on? That may be morbid. But, I kinda like him more for it. It adds layers to his struggle.

[kc-writes-sometimes]

I’ve only just finished reading ‘because the king says’ and now I’m going to reread it because I need my thrandaddy drug because I am not patient and I cannot wait.

[lovestruckelf]

(In my head he's dressed as Thranduil) Why does this picture have me thinking he's stopping me from leaving his chambers so he can roughly pin me against the wall and have his way with me in any way that pleased him?

"Who gave you permission to take your leave? You're not going anywhere"....

HAVE MERCY!

As I've just poured my entire soul into an intense Legolas NSFW fic, my creative cup is currently depleted. Anyone else keen to take the above prompt and run with it? Be my guest!

[madwomansapologist]

Autumn Thunderstorm | Chapter 11 - Starlight

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series synopsis: Thranduil thought the recent attack of spiders on a periphery village was the only thing deserving of his attencion. If he could've imagined what he would found there, who he would found there, the Elvenking would wait a millenia in front of that river so he could see her sooner. Or: how Gandalf managed to keep a secret for 14 months.

eleventh chapter synopsis: Surrounded by pain and grief, Thranduil found himself willing to be something more simple than a king: he was just a man in love. [2K]

warnings: female!reader. pre-Smaug. angst. hurt no comfort. trauma. baby boy is having a difficult time.

notes: so, here i am. i wrote this chapter and it was so, so, so sad i had to actually rewrite it. like it was sad to the point y'all would ask me if i have something against love.

glossary: Idril: Treasure, sweetheart┆

Most days he can ignore the discomfort. There was once a time Thranduil would fear being unable to stop himself from tearing his face appart. A time long gone by now.

“The Elf-path was affected in multiple points”, his advisor continued the report. “Fallen trees and dead spiders block the way. Give the order and we are ready to clear the path.”

Today is not most days. The cold breeze feels like needles piercing his face, like smoke penetrating his nostrils. The collar of his robe rubbed against the sensitive skin of his neck. The perfected illusion spell hid so much of him. It recreated the bone structure of his jaw, the fat of his cheeks, his left eye. It even covered the smell of rotten flesh.

“There is no need to clean the path”, Thranduil waived his hand, dismissing the emergency council. How luck. During a tornado, one that was able to bring the oldest of trees down, the only blood spilled in the Elvenking’s domain was his own. “We are not expecting any visitors.”

We are not welcoming any visitors, he left unsaid. Soon winter will reach Woodland. The sindars, knowing the forest’s secrets, are free to cross it whenever they wish. Others will have to wait until spring.

Or die trying to reach his Halls.

“What an interesting statement”, Tuor smirked. With the other members of the council far away, nothing stopped Tuor from leaving his place as a captain and acting solely as a friend. Thranduil sighed. “A winter without visitors. No carriage or wagen crossing our land. No one enters.”

“And those who try shall face winter’s cruelty”, Thranduil descended from his wooden throne. He paused near Tuor, then continued his way down the hall. “Nature has always protected us from the rotten, my friend. Do not forget it.”

“I agree, my king. No wanderer daring to deal with wild’s harshness can be trusted near our people.” Tuor glared at Thranduil’s back before following him. Just one more thing to burn Thranduil. “It surprises me. That only now I realized something else.”

“And what is it?”

“That if no one enters, no one leaves.”

Thranduil stopped walking. He turned around, his robe sliding against the stairs. “What are you implying?”, he asked, staring at Tuor from bellow. As if he did not already knew. It was the only thing he could do.

“A new jewerly came from Erebor. One that is not on display”, Tuor walked down the stairs keeping him away from his friend. It felt wrong to look down at a king. Unnatural. “And she did not slept on her chambers.”

A blush made to Thranduil’s long ears, who so easily forgot his place as a king. “Are there any rumors-“

“No”, Tuor interrupted him. “I went looking for her this morning, to inform our trainings will cease for a while. Her reputation continues immaculate, but only because a tornado stole everyone else’s attention. You should had know better, Thranduil.”

Oh, he knew. Thranduil knew it was not right. It was not a behavior a king should manifest, not a sort of request an elve can speak out loud without feeling ashamed. Thranduil knew a lover deserves respect. That the bare minimum one could do is care for the other’s comfort and safety.

And still, he did not stopped himself.

“Stay”, Thranduil whispered. “Please, do not leave me alone.”

Your gaze burned him. For so long you stared into his eyes, and for the whole time Thranduil felt that you could see something beyond him. Where you searching for his intentions, for any hidden meaning, for a way of stopping whatever this is from continuing? Thranduil confessed, stripping the very fabric of his soul naked for you. His heart, bare for you to do as you wish.

That is why it took me so long, Thranduil admitted for himself. How vulnerable it is to not hide the truth.

Your fingers continued steady against the doorknob. He feared you changed your mind again. Thranduil averted his gaze, head turned towards his balcony. The destruction was long gone, but the wind was cold and strong still. What a privileged vision of a chaotic night.

It is late. Past midnight. It has been hours since you decided to not walk away. Enough time for you to decide it was a bad choice. Enough time for you to regret ever laying your eyes on his dead skin and putrid scars. Enough time for you to realize Thranduil is as disgunting as he thinks, and your sweet home is better than this ancient one.

The bed creaked, and his eyes immediately found a way towards yours. Slowly, as if every move had to be delibered, you lay down besides him. Your eyes glistened, the moon reflecting on them, returning his gaze. You smiled, and something inside him froze.

“I feel the same”, you confessed, voice soft in the night. “About everything.”

Thranduil gasped. His throat ached, a sudden need to cry almost taking over him. “Oh, what a relief”, he whispered again. There was no need to, you both were alone. “Thank you, idril.”

One of your hands found a home deep into his long hair. A caring stroke. As the minutes passed, you intertwined your fingers with his. Such a cold hand. Thranduil brushed his open lips against your knuckles, breathing warm air against your skin.

The sweet carress came to an end, so Thranduil looked up. He saw your eyes closed, lips appart from one another. The night was darker. The moonlight felt so cold now. You looked calm.

Gazing upon you, the Elveking rested.

Was he being scolded? A king being lectured by a captain. That would be enough to guarantee Tuor some time in the dungeons. Or it would have been, if he was not right. In the absence of a response, a chuckle came out of Tuor’s throat. “Does that means you finally confessed?”

“Enough,” Thranduil growled.

Tuor heard his king’s words. For the sake of his amusement, he simply ignored them.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

There is no medicine for his pain. After the fire went out, what remained there to be healed already was dealt with. His face itches, the ligaments of his muscles twitch, the burning on his face is constant. Meanwhile the pain is there, his body is not.

Where does a leg begins? One might say right before the thigh. Other would chose the pelvis, or at the basin. Both would be wrong. It starts and ends in the brain. Lose a leg and all the nerves shaill remain there searching for something that ceased to exist. A mind griefs, a brain does not.

His cheek is gone. His neck is gone. His left eye is gone. And it hurts. It feels cold and hot, it tingles and shocks. He can feel muscles that do not move, the need to scratch a skin that is not there. It is a real, anatomical pain.

Thranduil cannot stop it, no medicine can end a fire that is not there, but a few things can help.

Near his chambers, mere minutes away from his bed, a private garden embraces him when pain and worry is too much. Surrounded by this controlled nature, Thranduil breathes the smell of roses and wysteria. The perfume calms his nerves down.

Looking at the box between his hands, the stiffness came back to his shoulders. Inside it was a request, one the dwarves of Erebor carefully crafted. A necklace made of pure starlight. Each of the almost endless white gems came from the Elvenking’s personal collection. Except by one.

That pendant he found back in Rivendell. A tear shaped crystal, with snow locked inside it. Such a beautiful jewel. Such a cruel reminder of the time you both stayed appart, shattered.

Thranduil wondered about the moment he would be able to look at you, aware that you understood his feelings. He dreamed about you looking into his eyes, feeling the same. But Thranduil never imagined it would happen as it did. Yesterday was… not how it was supposed.

You found him crying, bleeding, deep into a filthy dream disguised as memory. You heard his screams, felt his warm blood against your skin, saw his true face. You held him, kissed him, and for a second almost ran away from him.

Thranduil can do more. He can be more.

The doors creaked open, and Thranduil forgot about how worried he was.

A sweet perfume welcomed you into this garden you have never seen before. Usually you would have admired it, but all you did was to look straight into his sore eyes. They fell towards the arms that held you close last night. To the war knuckles resting on top of an armchair.

“Your quartermaster said-”, as you noticed what filled this room, your voice betrayed you. “-you called me.”

In front of Thranduil, there was a table covered by green linin. You saw pearly folded napkins and golden cutlery. In such a intimate place, a proper supper was served. Meat and pies on display, bows with fruits and deserts. So much wine.

Thranduil breathed deep. “Would you join me for this evening?”

It was not different from any other meal you both shared. From the very first meeting, it was always the same. Thranduil would hear, you would talk, and the rest of the world would be successfully ignored. And like always, it was good. It was right. To be just the two of you.

But it was so different too. Impossible not to feel your face heating up, hands soaking in sweat. You saw the tip of his ears bright red. That made you bite back a chuckle.

How could Thranduil look into your wonderful eyes without becoming tongue tied? Or how could you look at the hands of a king serving you more wine and not remember how right they felt against your cheeks?

Listening about the destruction of the tornado, you noticed that he tastes like fine wine. Hearing you speak about your trainings, Thranduil kept on trying to discover what was the scent of your perfume.

As you tried to finish the apple pie on your plate, Thranduil moved on his seat.

“I made…”, Thranduil hesitated. Never before he felt difficulty speaking out loud. Decided to not make a fool of himself, he placed the box besides your plate. “You are so dear to me. I hope the beauty of this gift can make you as happy as you make me, idril.”

Speechless, you alternated your gaze between Thranduil and the masterpiece in front of you. Truth be told, any gift would have make you rejoice after what he said. And still, the beauty of it made you stutter. “Is this really for me?”

“I can… Help you. With it”, Thranduil managed to said. He felt the need to punch his own face, but decided that would make his situation even worse. “If you want me to.”

Looking at him, you used all your courage to answer. “Only if we agree to stop being so awkward. I want to be here. With you. And I know you feel the same. I do not want to ruin this by thinking too much when there is nothing to think.”

“You always says the thing I last expect you to”, Thranduil whispered. Biting the insides of his cheek, he nodded. “I agree. I want to be with you. Nothing else matters.”

You had to stop yourself from jumping on him. Instead, you placed the necklace at the base of your throat and turned around. It was so heavy. If it fell on your lap, it would have bruised. His fingers were so careful. So right against your skin.

Thranduil should have wanted to see how it looked on you, but he could not move his hands away from your shoulders. You should have wanted to show him, but you did not wanted to move away from his touch.

You both knew it was perfect.

AUTUMN THUNDERSTORM: @ferns-fics @notanalienindisguiseblink @rayrlupin @elvyshiarieko @graniairish @whore-of-many-hot-men @h0ly-fire @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @homewhereitsat @instantnoooodles @hungrh4yyy

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[merovingianprincess]

can i please get some uhhhh Thranduil headcanons for how kinky he is? with a side of maybe cnc or straight up noncon if your down for that

Anything for Thrandaddy…

While Thranduil is a very respectful partner and wants to make sure you are comfortable and safe, he definitely asks if it’s okay to role play with CNC, he makes you have a safe word.

• hair pulling while he’s rutting into you from behind

• he bites and leaves love marks places no one else will see

• he will lightly choke you if you ask nicely

• he’s very dominant obviously

• he will bend you over in any surface in private

• he loves the prone bone position so he can wrap his arms around you

[cinemairon]

Thranduil

[mushroomates]

people in lotr who i would punch in the face any day of the week:

note: again. am not an inherently violent person. i don’t regularly punch people. but here is a list of people who id thrown down with any day any time

feanor: selfish, narcissistic and a bratty kid that grew up into a bratty adult. was he a product of his bad upbringing? yeah, but he's still a prick. he's a very complex character but i'd still punch him. 9/10 for being the og "bad" guy

wormtounge: i mean if eowyn or gandalf doesn't get to him first. i have no qualms abt giving this guy a black eye. 11/10 and id love to run him over with a horse after

denethor: honestly the most punchable me out of any of them. i bet gondor would thank me for it, too. 14/10 watch me beat this senile man with his own cane.

saruman: saruman can send his crebains but nothing flies faster than these fists. again i am predisposed to punching wizards and this guy has got to be at the top of my hit list. 10/10 no one treats my babygirl gandalf that way

thranduil: i mean id immediately get sent to the dungeons but also i think someone would break me out. if not gimli, then legolas, bilbo, gandalf, or even elrond. 9/10 for punching, 19/10 for dumping a prized glass of red on his robes.

erestor: seems annoying, pretentious and stuck up. 9/10 come at me you little elf librarian twig

bill fearney: mistreating a pony that noble deserves a knuckle sandwich. 11/10, justice for bill the pony

[hotarucreations]

Thranduil fanart from 2014.

[max-the-fish]

and you're telling me he had WIFE?

[belladonna-nights]

Mood board for the Thranduil fic I am diligently working on.

I would say it’s to keep me inspired, but that elven king lives rent free in my head 24/7 anyway.