#thranduil small naturals

[pseudohades]

[Barduil Western AU] ➻ in the lake

➻ not fem!ver or genderbent. this is a trans man drawn by a transmasc artist. uncensored on my bsky & ao3. version without filters & some AU info below the cut

(not pictured: the lake) ➻ Thranduil is a trans man in this AU. ➻ Thranduil draws portraits for wanted posters based on witness descriptions. Bard is one such outlaw. ➻ Thranduil is basically smitten by his drawing of Bard. when they meet through a series of mishaps, Thranduil discovers to his dismay that Bard is even more attractive in person, and Thranduil's rendition didn't do him justice. ➻ meanwhile, he's basically been accidentally kidnapped and now they're roughing it in the Rockies together because Bard can't just bring him back to where he's supposed to be without getting swarmed by lawmen. the lines between captive and companion get a little blurred. ➻ ...and there was only one horse. her name is Duchess. she's a Percheron. (I'm sorry horse nerds, I know riding double is bad for the horse, I'm bullshitting this bit. they aren't traveling that far that fast or very often, so it's not constant strain on her. please forgive me.) ➻ Oropher and Thranduil's Fiancé aren't so willing to let him go. they've been trying to track him down since he fled Boston a few years back. Thranduil would rather die than be caught by them; now it's not just Bard who's on the run. ➻ the story mostly takes place in Colorado during the 1880s, which is well before testosterone was isolated and synthesized, but I couldn't resist giving him just a little bit of a tdick, so again you can find that uncensored on my bsky & ao3. ➻ I will probably talk more about this AU and draw for it in the future over on my SFW blog, @plutolichen ➻ Thranduil's moles that I've just decided he has are so important to me.

[frost-queen]

Lady of Mirkwood | (Reader x Thranduil)

Requested by: anon, Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22@elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers @merlieve,  @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly,@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury, @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn

| Meeting Thranduil

You met Thranduil when the Third age progressed. It was when the Necromancer unknown then but known as Sauron later on claimed the abandoned fortress of Amon Lanc to make it into Dol Guldur. Sauron infected the woods with spiders and orcs. The spiders and the orcs expended their reach claiming more and more for them. Infecting the very nature with their filth and death.

All the elves were forced to leave the woods. Those who fought back were brought down. Countless of lost elves filled the sickening woods. You were amongst some elves that were fleeing. The orcs had increased their stench to the part of the woods where you lived. With a few douzen you were. Fleeing for your lives as the orcs hunted you down. The woods had grown iller. Spider cobs were not too much yet in these parts. But a few spiders having expended their webs out to your lands.

Some elves wanted to stay and fight. They barely lasted long as the pack of orcs were too many. Sweeping them down in a matter of seconds. The others fled as fast as they could. Hatred, anger and sorrow grieving your hearts. You were running trying to stay out of the orcs clutches. The orcs attack made you stumble, dropping to the ground. Surrounded by death and darkness. You thought it was over. You thought you were never going to see the undying lands, but then a bright light appeared between the trees. The illumination blinded the orcs sending them back a bit. The light faded as you could see a small group of elves charge for battle. Lead by a High elf.

The orcs never stood a chance. The High elf approached you, helping you up your feet. The moment his eyes met with his, he was struck. Gasping breathlessly at your grace and beauty. The woods no longer having a place for you, he took you in. Thranduil his name was. King of the woodland realm.

| Life at the woodland realm

Thranduil was smitten with you. For the first time in many ages, the so cocky king found beauty in another. He threated you like a guest with the highest honor. Quarters close to his. Thranduil would host parties just to have an excuse to dance with you. He never let any other elf near you. He wanted you for himself. You sometimes dared to tease Thranduil by speaking to other elves, just to see his reaction. You loved how easily jealous he was. He would come over, pull you gently behind him while urging them in a polite way to leave. Sometimes he would lay his robe over your shoulder to hint to others that you were his.

Underneath the moonlight on a summer's day was when you had your first kiss with Thranduil. Forever giving yourself to one another. He married you a month later never wanted to be parted from you ever again. You became queen of the woodland realm. All the elves present adored you for your righteousness and kind heart. Whenever Thranduil dared to lose his temper, you were there to calm him down. Sometimes you would come along with Thranduil and his army in an attempt to reclaim your woods. When Thranduil saw his numbers dim and almost losing you in a battle, he gave up. Not wanting to see his people be slaughtered or see you in danger. For he could not afford to lose you, his brightest star.

| Legolas

Legolas was born with grace. You loved every little detail of him. Thranduil would be careful at first. For he feared to hold such a fragile creature. He feared he might harm it in any way. You would show him he could do no harm. Taking his hand and bringing it up to Legolas for him to touch. His fingers would brush against his cheek making Legolas flutter a laugh. On that Thranduil was sold. Taking his son in his arms and care deeply for him.

As Legolas grew older, Thranduil insisted he had his features from you. Everything about Legolas reminded him of you. With the coming of Legolas was Thranduil more careful. You were no longer aloud out of the woodland realm. Not wanting anything to happen to you or Legolas. You had to admit it felt a bit lonely being unable to see the old woods. Your home that you missed dearly. With each year it grew colder and deader. Plagued by orcs and spiders. Since you had no where else to go, you focused more on Legolas. Teaching him how to defend himself. It was you who introduced Legolas to the bow and arrow. When Legolas was old enough to have his own bow, he would name it after you.

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Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!  

[rivendell-poet]

*･༓˚✧❝𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 (𝐋𝐨𝐭𝐑)❞‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧ « scenarios »

○ Aragorn ○ Legolas ○ Frodo ○ Sam ○ Merry ○ Pippin ○ Boromir ○ Faramir ○ Éowyn ○ Éomer ○ Bard ○ Thranduil ○ Tauriel ○ Lindir ○ Haldir ○ Elladan ○ Elrohir ○

GN!Reader | Wordcount : 3.7k (each individual around 220~ words) | Read on Ao3

TWS : Bard is worried about dating because it might be stressful for the children, references to his dead wife // Worries of power imbalance (Thranduil)

« 1, 5, 6, 7, masterlist »

𝐀𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐧

✧ At first he isn’t sure what to do - Aragorn is a little like the elves in that he has never, truly, fallen in love with someone before.

✧ He tries to think back to his first crush - Arwen - but it already feels wrong to compare what he has with you to what he had with her.

✧ Aragorn tries not to act too differently around you, he can still show you his home and look after you just as well as when you were friends.

✧ He doesn’t even realise the little gestures he begins to do until after he’s done them, like showing you the rose garden before every other garden in Rivendell.

✧ He’s slightly more protective of you as well - it isn’t like you’ve suddenly become glass, but he’s spent his entire life being taught it’s his duty to protect the things he loves.

✧ Aragorn also, when tongue-tied or more tired, begins to fall back in more formal tongues - almost talking to you as he would to a steward, simply because the important people in his life have been addressed that way.

✧ (He considers asking his brothers - but doesn’t trust Elrohir quite enough in terms of his feelings staying quiet. He’d also not like to be teased for the entirety of his visit).

✧ A small part of him is annoyed it’s happened now, with the Council of the Ring about to head out and not having as much time to spend with you.

𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬

✧ Legolas has the odd experience of knowing what love is, he’s seen his mother and father - and been around in Middle Earth long enough, yet never having any experience with love.

✧ Especially with human love, and if it differs from elven. And also different social queues, the humans he interacts with are generally rangers who spend their entire lives travelling, not rangers of Gondor.

✧ In short, Legolas is a little overwhelmed and very nervous. He knows he shouldn’t be intimidated by the prospect of love, but he doesn’t want to do anything wrong.

✧ He still spends just as much time with you as before, although now it’s even more sparring/archery practice and less talking.

✧ (He knows he won’t mess up archery, but he’s scared of his tongue failing him).

✧ Eventually, he asks both Aragorn and Arwen separately for their advice for him - and what exactly he should do about his love for you. (Is very dedicated to this, nodding and sometimes writing advice down on a fragment of parchment.)

✧ Resolves that he needs to talk to you about it, but keeps not doing so by a mixture of deliberately putting it off and being distracted by you while spending time with you.

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐨

✧ At first, Frodo is determined to treat you no differently from anyone else - while still being fascinated with you (although that is because of your nature, not a little because of his feelings).

✧ He begins to spend more time with you, trying to seek you out when he has things he should be doing, and when he has no obligations.

✧ Frodo tries to tell himself that it’s because you remind him of Bilbo’s stories, that you give him that feeling of adventure and wonder - but in reality it’s because you make him feel like he’s in romantic novels he’d read on a summer day.

✧ Some of his crush is obvious, his eyes shine a little too much when he sees you and his smile is always wider when he’s with you, but he always treats you with courtesy.

✧ Most of the time, Frodo treats you like you’re an esteemed guest - making sure you have the best food, holding the doors open for you, and hanging onto your every word.

✧ Still, he’s determined to at least be friends with you before he starts anything official, and that means being on his best behaviour.

✧ Eventually, he realises that he truly does want to court you, and begins to prepare only the very best.

𝐒𝐚𝐦

✧ Even when Sam realises he likes you, he’s still resolved not to do anything different. To not bother you; to continue to admire you from afar.

✧ And then only days later you and him are dancing together, smiling together, laughing together.

✧ It goes from zero to one hundred very quickly for Sam, so much so he doesn’t really have time to process it at the start.

✧ Once the two of you have an informal but established meeting schedule, he allows himself to actually think about what him liking you means - and how this affects your friendship.

✧ He realises that a lot of what he’s done with you is already quite romantic, not quite courting but wanting to be, and resolves to dial it back.

✧ But when he tries, the two of you don’t seem to smile as much - and he’s not being authentic to himself - so he decides to go back to how he was.

✧ Sam is very aware of how much he likes you, and how he subtly expresses it, but he’s much too afraid to act on these thoughts.

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲

✧ Merry has been in love before, a few times, but never anything like this. Never with anyone like you.

✧ But he also isn’t one to shy away from his feelings, so he approaches you quickly - tries to be charming, to make sure you like him.

✧ As soon as he’s interacted with you he’s even more hooked, and he eagerly sets up more meetings for the two of you - so he can see you again.

✧ When you two part ways he spends the rest of the day trying to work out how to tour the Shire, what jokes he should make and when.

✧ How can he make this experience the most enjoyable for you?

✧ Realising he likes you, Merry truly does go all in to try and show he cares about you - although he also tries not to be overbearing and gives you the space you need.

✧ He’s also not afraid of his feelings, and doesn’t take any particular care to hide them. He only waits to confess so it can happen at an appropriately romantic moment.

𝐏𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧

✧ Pippin is, in a way, infatuated with you. Except his love doesn’t go away, it just changes slightly, it matures.

✧ At the start he would blush around you like an idiot, gazing at you like you were the best thing he’d ever seen - even admiring your beauty in the middle of training sessions.

✧ He is embarrassed by his actions, but that only makes the blush worse, and he doesn’t even realise he’s doing a lot of the traits. By the time he does he snaps out of them, however.

✧ Once the crush matures into actually liking you - not just his first impressions, but everything - it becomes a lot more manageable.

✧ Yes, he still stares but it’s more subtle. His gaze is softer, and filled with admiration rather than a completely awestruck and dopy grin.

✧ Now he’s more focused on spending time with you and actually interacting with you, taking time to go and see you.

✧ Although he still eagerly runs up to you, looking up with a smile, it’s so much more genuine and you feel it doesn’t put you on a pedestal. When he looks at you with love, it’s actual love for you.

✧ You are aware of his crush from the start, although all of his little actions to try and be better and show his adoration from you appropriately are completely adorable.

𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐫

✧ The thing Boromir most dislikes about his realisation is that it’s on a time-limit. As a ranger of Ithilien, you will leave again for your post in only three weeks.

✧ He wishes that he’d realised as you were heading out, so that he could have planned something elaborate and worthy of you in the time you had been away.

✧ And then he remembers how long you were away for, and that he would have hated the hopeless pinning even more. That, left to his own devices with far too much time, he probably would have requisitioned the entire store of fireworks in Gondor for a confession (or a similar far too elaborate plot).

✧ When he greets you again he tries not to behave differently, and is still more grateful in your general meeting with him - even as a friend - than he is to be near you while in love with you.

✧ Knowing him well enough you can tell there is something different with Boromir, but nothing too concerning - simply a few extra glances in your direction, blush that’s almost too faint for you to bring up.

✧ Most of your first night back, after you’d finished drinking together and retired to your respective chambers, he spends thinking of what to do. Awake in his room, fingers tapping at his side as sleep cannot enter his mind while you are in it.

✧ Eventually, after thinking of a few suitable things, he asks his brother - aware he has known you for longer, and is the more romantic of the two.

✧ He isn’t ashamed or embarrassed about asking for help, and the only reason he doesn’t want you to know is he wants to court you properly.

𝐅𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐫

✧ Technically, the first thing he does is talk to you in a tavern and kiss you - then spend the rest of the night thinking about you after he pulls away.

✧ The first thing he does when he’s sober is realise what he’s done, and resolve to find you.

✧ His love for you isn’t the first thing on his mind when he tries to find you, it’s his sense of duty, but a part of his heart is beating constantly. Reminding him of just what he felt (and the other reasons he wants to know you).

✧ After his first conversation, the small part of his heart that beats for you grows to a large part - ensuring he’s aware of it.

✧ It’s what drives him to make sure that he proves himself to you, that makes him desperately wish that you’ll love him.

✧ He’s still respectful and courteous to you, insisting you get to know each other at least a little before you try anything, but when you’re not looking he views you a little as a lover would.

✧ Watching you look over Gondor, a soft blush settling on him as he sees you smile or hears you laugh.

✧ Committing the small things about you to memory, even if they’re only mentioned for a second.

𝐄𝐨𝐰𝐲𝐧

✧ At first, Éowyn tries her best not to acknowledge it, she knows she must focus on the crisis at hand - Helm’s Deep - and not her feelings.

✧ The thought only surfaces again when the women are being ushered into the caves, and she looks upon Helm’s Deep to try and see the people she cares about.

✧ She can see her uncle, high on the battlements, but her heart is fully reassured. Éowyn isn’t sure what’s wrong with it until she spots you, standing next to the others in the Fellowship and a part of her feels relief.

✧ One of the women next to her hurries her into the caves, and Éowyn feels her hand straying to the sword you’ve given her. A promise that you’ll return. A promise she needs you to keep.

✧ Being left alone in the caves, or as alone as you can be when surrounded by other people, her mind does stray to you. It strays to you every time she hears loud screaming outside, and every time she grips onto your sword for comfort. That you have given her means to protect herself.

✧ In the caves, she comes to the realisation that she does care for you. In a way she didn’t care for Aragorn.

✧ Because she knows more about you, because what she loves about you is not just a constructed image built up in her own mind but instead based on your actions and personality.

✧ When the battle is over and she looks at you again she is assured in her feelings. Glad that she knows them, even if she does not wish to act on them just yet.

✧ This time, she can get to know the object of her desires.

𝐄𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫

✧ For the first time since you've become friends with him, it's Éowyn that manages to run up and greet you before her brother. He comes over slightly behind, greeting you in a subdued way and leaving quickly.

✧ Éomer feels guilty about leaving you there, seeing the confusion in your face, but he doesn't want to imagine the alternatives.

✧ As much as he loves you, there's a high chance you don't feel the same way - and he doesn't want awkwardness between you and him to hurt his sister's closest friendship.

✧ He also knows the unspoken rules of dating when it comes to siblings - that their friends are off limits.

✧ His heart hurts when he next sees you, as he still goes to watch your training and talk with you.

✧ But now he knows that talking isn't just what he wants anymore. He wants to take you on dates, to shower you in gifts, to kiss you in celebration after battle.

✧ In order to keep your friendship happy, he doesn't. He keeps being your friend - of course - and simply hopes it will go away before you notice.

𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐝

✧ Bard is the only one who is truly uncertain about this, and if he wants to try and further your relationship.

✧ Not because of you, he knows when he’s in love and by Valar he knows he’d happily spend his life with you, but because of his children. He knows losing their mother has been hard on them, and he doesn’t want to upset the delicate balance they have.

✧ But on the other hand, they all truly like you - and he doesn’t think they’d mind having another parent around, especially as you two could take it slow.

✧ And then he realises you might not want to be with the kids, or with him. He’s a bargeman who’s hated by Laketown’s rulers, and you’re in the city guard.

✧ It still doesn’t change how you interact, as the children still drag him over to talk to you and when Bard’s with you it’s easy for him to forget a lot of his worries.

✧ He becomes more reserved, although that’s much more a reflection of his own insecurities than any slight on you whatsoever.

✧ Eventually, he does miss one of your informal meetings - still feeling unsure and guilty - but when he sees you again and you ask where he was Bard knows he can’t do it again.

𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐢𝐥

✧ Thranduil isn’t sure how to approach this realisation, although more because of you than because of him.

✧ When an elf falls in love then they have truly fallen in love, and Thranduil - knowing that he’s acknowledged his feelings - knows exactly how he feels about you. He can acknowledge when you make his heart skip a beat as you smile at him, even if he can’t stop it (and his smile that always grows to match yours).

✧ No, it was you he was worried about. Because he was your king, and your employer.

✧ And even if you were beginning to mean the world to him, he essentially ran your world. It would be unfair of him to do something that could take advantage of you.

✧ Once he’s aware of what he’s doing he does try to hold back affectionate gestures from being quite as obvious, and becomes a bit more closed off - although not necessarily colder.

✧ Regrets it the second he sees the worry in your eyes, and how you’ve become more withdrawn as well.

✧ (Feels truly awful when Legolas complains you haven’t been as happy recently, and he should fix it because ‘he’s the king’)

𝐓𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥

✧ For as much as Tauriel does like you, she really doesn’t change that much.

✧ Both of you still have a strict patrol schedule, and both of you still spend a lot of your free-time together, trying to make each other laugh or just smile on the bad days.

✧ She is slightly more awkward sparring, however.

✧ Tauriel manages to knock the blade out of your hand, and you immediately try to knock her to the ground - ending up on top of her as you two struggle.

✧ Thoughts of… other things briefly occur to her - and you can see her blushing while you get up, apologising.

✧ Assuring you it’s fine, Tauriel curses at herself internally before offering to spar again.

✧ When the two of you are closer together she’s certainly more aware than she used to be, although she’s still professional about it.

✧ She does realise she can’t spend her entire life simply being your friend, and does eventually resolve to let you know… in some way… somehow.

𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐫

✧ Affectionately, Lindir does not manage to hide his crush very well - or function incredibly either.

✧ He’s a lot more conscious of what’s the subject of his poetry, and almost every poem he writes ends up connected to you in some way. Whether it’s through your eyes, an analogy to you, or even if something small - like the jewels being the colours of your eyes.

✧ He still meets you, although he finds it harder to meet your eyes - at least without having blush explore all over his face.

✧ It’s obvious, but he still carries his conversations just as eloquently as he did before, and still wants to spend just as much time with you.

✧ And he’s also terrified. Of becoming mortal.

✧ Lindir is sure he loves you, but he also knows he doesn’t want to die. And for both of those things to occur at the same time, he isn’t sure which one he wants more.

✧ Although he’s having doubts, it isn’t about your relationships - just his own feelings - and he knows that he does want to try something with you.

✧ Being the poet he is, he begins to notice them turning into love ballads as well. Maybe to recite to you one day, or hopefully to recite to you.

𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐫

✧ Haldir is the elf that doesn’t really change in his interactions with you. He recognises he likes you, but he doesn’t see the need to behave like a lovesick puppy.

✧ If you do like him it should be for him, not some persona he’s put on because he’s either too embarrassed to see you or because he’s too busy being enamoured by your presence.

✧ He does make an effort to spend time with you, offering a place on patrols with him, and giving a tour of Lothlórien - but he tries to treat you as he would a friend,

✧ It doesn’t stop him being more concerned about you than he would another stranger, making sure that you’ve spent your day exploring instead of being overwhelmed by grief.

✧ Also very good at not blushing, although because you’re an elf you can just about pick it up - that and the small quirk up of his lips when he sees you.

✧ You can also spot, if you’re trying to, the looks he gives you when he thinks you can’t see him; they’re not intrusive, merely admiring of your presence.

✧ (Also has the added advantage of you not knowing him before his crush, so if he ever does something too romantic you'll just think it's something he does normally. Maybe... he hopes.)

𝐄𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐧

✧ Elladan, at first, has a small crisis. Just a small one - mind you. He’s only realised that he’s in love with his best friend of almost a century.

✧ Does the smart thing of immediately going on a trip out and away from Imladris to avoid you try and think about his feelings.

✧ Most of the elves in Imladris are just glad he’s finally figured it out, and that they don’t have to watch the two of you dance around each other any longer.

✧ They don’t notice too much of a behavioural shift in him, he’s always been pining after you.

✧ He’s one of the best at accepting it, once the crisis is over, as he knows he’d be honoured to be your friend no matter what and you two can still meet each other without courting.

✧ Spends a few days with you, in which you can tell he’s acting slightly off. Elladan does not help with your worries, as when you ask him if he’s ill he answers much too quickly before avoiding eye-contact for the next hour.

✧ (Elrohir finds all of this absolutely hilarious.)

✧ Also a small part of him that's very glad he's fallen in love with an elf, so he knows he can travel to Valinor and be with his mother and father (and hopefully brother) when the time comes.

𝐄𝐥𝐫𝐨𝐡𝐢𝐫

✧ Is in two minds about how he should approach you. On one hand, he doesn’t see the point in disguising his intentions and dancing around for the next twenty years (and as a mortal, you really can’t afford to wait that long). On the other hand, he’s a romantic and he wants this to play out like a story of old.

✧ A story where the two of you bond together, overcome challenges, and eventually look into each other’s eyes and- so he might be thinking a little far ahead.

✧ He’s naturally a charismatic elf, so doesn’t take issue with talking to you and trying to charm you. He’d do that even if he just wanted to be your friend.

✧ Elrohir is annoyed about the timing of this whole situation, it’s inconvenient to gain a crush just as you're about to march to war on the Dark Lord of Mordor.

✧ Also hovers over you a bit too much. He knows you can fight, but he certainly doesn’t want to lose you.

✧ Vehemently denies doing anything at all if asked, regardless of who’s asking.

✧ Enjoys annoying you slightly too much, although this mainly comes from him being clingy and trying to spend a lot of time with you.

✧ (In the back of his mind he finds it hilarious that both him and Arwen have fallen for mortals who have high positions of power in Gondor. Is not looking forward to his father finding out.)

A/N : Mmm, definitely on time. Also, I'm doing the confession scenes soon - so I do have a poll up about the use of y/n. Going to try avoiding using it, but if you read these then it will help me out so I know what you guys want. Thanks again for reading, and feedback is more than welcomed! Have a nice day/night <3

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thank you for reading *･༓˚✧ wish to be tagged?

[earthlybeam]

Generally humans tend to be more openly affectionate and physically expressive than elves. They engage in actions like holding hands, giving their friends a quick kiss on the forehead or cheek for good luck or as a way to say goodbye, or when showing how much they’ve missed each other. It’s also common for humans to casually drape an arm around a friend’s waist while sitting together and chatting comfortably.

how would the elves react to this?

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Thranduil version only as stranger, friend, lover

🍷𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓾𝓲𝓵

Stranger:

𐂂 Thranduil, as the Elven King, is initially guarded, a bit aloof, and a tad suspicious of those he does not know well. When a stranger approaches him with a human touch—such as hand-holding, cheek-kissing, or a casual arm draped over his shoulder—he would stiffen at the unexpected display of affection. To him, such displays of warmth are foreign, and he would likely recoil ever so slightly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion or even mild irritation. His mind would race, wondering what such gestures mean, and why they are so freely given in human culture.

𐂂 However, he would temper his reaction, knowing that you are not truly a stranger to him—yet. If you are of noble stature or have proven your loyalty to him and his people, he would regard you with a measured caution. He might not immediately reciprocate, but there would be curiosity behind his cool exterior. Thranduil would study your behavior, trying to understand the depth of this affection and what it means for you, as he is unused to such direct expressions of care. His response would remain polite, yet distant, with perhaps a curt hand on your shoulder to acknowledge your gesture, but the subtle tension in his posture would make it clear that he is still unsure.

𐂂 Internal thought: Why do you think such gestures are appropriate with someone you’ve only just met? Public action: A formal nod or gentle, distant touch on the shoulder.

Friend:

𐂂 With a friend, Thranduil’s response is more nuanced. While still a king with an air of reserved dignity, he begins to soften, though he would still find human displays of affection strange and perhaps a bit excessive at times. If you are a trusted companion, someone he has traveled with or shared meaningful moments with, he might allow for small, fleeting touches in private settings. He would no longer react with surprise or irritation, but his responses are still measured. He may allow your hand to rest briefly on his arm, or offer a fleeting touch to your hand when parting ways, though his demeanor would remain a little formal.

𐂂 He might catch a glimpse of the affection you freely share with others and, in some quiet moments of reflection, wonder how it feels to have such bonds with those around you. Thranduil may not fully embrace the outward affection of humankind, but the warmth in your friendship has begun to seep into his heart, and he would be more open to subtle gestures—like a hand on your back as you walk side by side or a brief brush of fingers when your paths cross.

𐂂 Internal thought: How strange, yet… I find this comfort you speak of so strange to my own soul. Perhaps it is not so bad. Public action: A soft, almost imperceptible touch—perhaps a hand on the small of your back or a shoulder clasped as you share a moment of quiet camaraderie.

Lover:

𐂂 Thranduil’s transformation when dealing with a lover is the most striking. In private, when the two of you are alone, his once rigid and guarded nature becomes more fluid, allowing room for the intimacy of touch. At this stage, he has been won over by your warmth, and though still somewhat reserved in his responses, he is more open to receiving affection. He might surprise you with subtle, yet meaningful gestures—such as a hand slipping into yours without hesitation, a kiss to your cheek when saying goodbye, or his arm comfortably draped around your waist when you sit side by side. These actions are small, but they speak volumes to his feelings, showing that, though the centuries have shaped him into a being of quiet elegance, you have somehow unraveled that stiffness.

𐂂 His touch would be deliberate, with every moment spent near you feeling like something sacred. He would be especially tender when kissing you, his lips lingering longer than normal, savoring the touch and the emotions that come with it. As much as he still holds onto his kingly dignity, with you, he finds it possible to let that mask fall away, just a little. His gestures would grow more frequent, but still hold an air of subtlety, as if testing his own boundaries, but there’s no denying the bond between you both.

𐂂 Internal thought: Your touch, your presence… they make me feel alive in ways I never imagined. I am not so invincible to be untouched by such things. Public action: A lingering kiss on your knuckles or a quiet, almost imperceptible touch to the back of your neck—subtle, but laden with meaning.

If you want anymore of any other elven characters like Elrond, lindir, haldir, feren, meludir, Galion, elros, elladan, elrohir, Legolas, celeborn, erestor, glrofindel, Gil-galad.

Let me know 💚🍃

Galion, Elros, feren in this

Celeborn, erestor, Legolas in this

Elrohir and Elladan in this

[stxrshxpxd]

“i enjoy watching you squirm”

pairing: young thranduil x reader

word count: 1.3k

prompt: prince thranduil and his childhood frenemy are harvesting apples in the woods, but things get a little tense and she starts feeling some stuff…

(this is a blurb i posted a while ago but i just reworked it and added a bunch of new stuff to it, for a school assignment :p so i figured i might as well post it here)

Having grown up being force fed a friendship with Thranduil, naturally I had grown to hate him. His father was of course The King, and my mother was a lady of his court. She simply could not have a daughter who was not in The Prince’s good graces.

The Prince had an unbreakable pride and sometimes smiled in ways that suggested he owned the very ground you trod. And I suppose he did, through means of his blood. However, it would be a day long from now that I cave to that notion.

As a boy Thranduil was a direct product of the confinements of a court. He had a hunger for the world, with the pride and arrogance of any young prince. Had he sworn he could fly, it is likely the Gods would have provided him with wings in the moment of leaping from the cliff.

Every chance he had to get on my nerves he took, and yet we had strangely bonded. Perhaps it was because we had always been the only children of our age in the court. Either way, I saw through him and he saw through me.

-

It was a golden afternoon with the sun hanging low in the sky as summer in the Woodland Realm was drawing its last breaths. The leaves around us had begun shifting colours, making it slightly more difficult to spot the apples we had been sent out to harvest.

As we trudged down towards the core of the apple tree grove, Thranduil had gotten a hold of a stray one and was carelessly slicing it in his hand with a small, sharp dagger. I glanced as he fed himself the slices and absently toyed with the knife, hooking his long finger into the bronze hoop at the end of it and swinging it around.

“You’re going to hurt someone,” I stated with a scowl, staring down at his careless hands. Rings adorned almost every single slender finger of his, each one shinier than the next.

The Prince looked at me, pulled out of his daydreams, and he smiled darkly as he secured the dagger in his fist instead. The rings gleamed in the setting sun.

“Are you frightened?” he asked with a curl of his lips and watched me through his dark brows. I scoffed and rolled my eyes.

“You could not hurt me even if you wished to,” I countered, but before I had the chance to lay my dismissive eyes back on him he had shoved me by the waist and caged me in against a massive oak tree behind me, the sticky blade of the dagger pressed to my cheek and his height hanging over me. Always one head taller. The half sliced apple had dropped from his hand in an instant and my lower ribs had taken its place in his palm.

“Could I not?”

The serene forest around us filled with the sound of my breath falling from my parted lips. Thranduil stared back at me with a smirk as his forehead brushed against mine and his fist tightened around the dagger, its blade on the verge of sinking into my skin. His one brow twitched, awaiting my response.

“Do it,” I challenged and raised one of my brows as well, my fingers soundlessly grazing the hilt of my own dagger at my hip. He licked his lips and flashed his playfully smug smile for a second. Just like when we were little elves. Play-fights and wrestling matches were always the pillars of our early kinship, and there were many times we had returned home at sunset with mud, grass and blood stains all over, expecting disappointed stares and sighs. We were toying with war before we knew the true meaning of the word.

“I do not wish to hurt you, mellon nin. I merely enjoy watching you squirm.”

Something burned and tingled inside me at his words but I scoffed again.

“I do not squirm,” I replied and forcefully shoved him off of me, to which he laughed and sheathed his dagger again, securing his long, pale hair behind the soft points of his ears.

“At least you’re never bored with me at your side.”

Thranduil hooked his arm around my shoulder, pulling me in for a tight half-hug. I smiled viciously up at him and jabbed my blunt dagger hilt into the relaxed flesh of his side, making him wince in pain and let go of me.

“And you’re never safe,” I joked and took a step to my side, desperately chasing that strange tingling feeling away. His calm laughter loomed behind me as I picked up the pace and took a right turn towards the apple grove.

The clearing housed a handful of ancient apple trees, massive with twisting trunks and branches drooping with the weight of its fruit. The tall treetops had parted to reveal the sky to us, painted in lavish oranges and pinks. At the northern horizon stood the tops of the Grey Mountains, Ered Mithrin, bathing in the last sunlight of the day.

Thranduil planted his feet soundlessly at my side. Always an arm’s length away. Our elven hearts had settled peacefully in our chests, instinctively pious towards the beauty in the nature of our land. There was not a trace of smugness left in The Prince’s smile now. This was his finest of forms; reverent and sincere.

“A mountain needs no tongue in order to speak to you, ears in order to listen, nor arms in order to hold you,” he quoted a proverb of old, his voice smooth like the soft breeze that danced past us. He was one with the woodlands. His sharp nose was a steep mountain wall, his sleek muscular build a young tree and his eyes were icy lakes in the winter.

We began stuffing our woven sacks with apples from the mossy ground.

“What do you make of the Lady Calathiel of Lothlórien?” Thranduil asked after a beat.

I stopped to glance at him, unsure of how to respond. He avoided my gaze, continuing to pick apples. I knew he had encountered the elf maiden on a visit to the Golden Wood of Lothlórien and I knew she had left an impression on him, having pestered me with lengthy recalllings of their conversations. However, I had not known his mind still dwelled on her. It had been nearly two moons since his visit.

“I do not know her,” I said in truth.

“I mean to propose to wed her.”

He continued picking apples absently and I continued standing still, my bones frozen in shock. He had never before shown this type of interest in anybody, save for his own reflection.

I suppose I had never imagined a life where Thranduil was not constantly at my side, where we were not always two halves of one - albeit dysfunctional - whole.

The Prince peered up at me now, putting a hold on his harvesting for a moment and standing up straight again.

“Oh, melda, you must not worry. You will always be the elf maiden of my sweetest dreams,” he cooed, mocking my stunned silence. His smirk dripped of conceit again. I snapped out of my shock and narrowed my eyes at him.

“I can not wait for the day you are the Lady Calathiel’s burden in my stead.”

Thranduil chuckled as I steered my eyes away and began gathering the apples at my feet, ignoring the burning sensation in my core.

[sesamenom]

Ringlord High King of Everything Elrond, inspired here

(@the-writing-goblin)

I imagine in this situation elrond would have been partially tempted by boromir's declaration, but instead of trying to fight sauron with it (because even in the weirdest crack au i can think of elrond is still too genre-aware to try that) he tried to use it to supercharge his use of vilya and protect everyone.

basically Ringlord!Elrond turned the entirety of Eriador into a mega-gondolin situation: massive walls (courtesy of numenorean/eregion tech) around the regions bordering the north or Mordor, fortresses along the mountain range and several layers of gates along every road in or out. Everybody goes in; nobody goes out; everyone is safe.

and he ended up claiming the kingship to give him more authority in the process - he's High King of the Noldor and Sindar and King of the Edain (given that there are like three half-vanyar in middle-earth, he's more or less king of all children of iluvatar) and so he can have command over the entirety of the West.

and with the help of the Ring, this actually works! but the corruption starts to show eventually

he uses his kinship to Gondor to forcefully drag them into his neo-gondolin-empire-creation so he can ensure none of his great-nephews will ever have to face sauron. he extends the walls to encompass Mirkwood, because he's the high king of the sindar and has a duty to protect thranduil's realm, and unleashes the full might of his melian-lite powers to purge Sauron's Shadow and the spawn of Ungoliant from the now-Greenwood.

Galadriel and Glorfindel very much see where this is going and are very very worried. galadriel won't let him build walls around lothlorien (because she lives next door to a balrog and knows exactly what happened to gondolin) but celeborn thinks it's a good idea, since after all Doriath wouldn't have fallen if Melian's girdle had still been up. glorfindel tries to talk him out of it but the ring has taken hold

the Ring's power also enhances all his natural weirdness and powers - he has his wings and maia markings permanently activated now, with or without finwean anger. he can fully shapeshift, and he goes from raising waves in the bruinen to raising tsunamis in the great sea.

except the finwean anger seems to be permanently activated now, too, and anyone who harms someone he's deemed under his protection finds themselves the target of a rather ironic vengeance quest. the shapeshifting is looking weird now - his teeth are always sharp now, and his eyes have gone fully inhuman. sometimes he has claws and his wings look more like bats than eagles. and his water powers are more like osse's- he can't calm the waters now (goldberry is the first to notice something's up) and can only stir them into massive ship-sinking storms and tsunamis.

this progresses until he's basically Evil Luthien ruling over a continent-wide Mega-Gondolin, slaughtering orc-hordes before they even reach the white walls and sinking any naval fleet Sauron tries to send around the coast. Everybody is brought in; nobody leaves; everyone is safe...?

he figures out that the dwarven legend of "Durin's Bane" has to be one of the few first age balrogs thats still unaccounted for. and well, it's living right on his border, and he can't risk another fall of gondolin, right? so he leads a small force in there to clear moria, and they shove the balrog off the edge, but it takes one of his captains (except glorfindel) with it (maybe erestor?) and he uses the ring and saves erestor, (and maybe floods the balrog for good measure), and glorfindel is sure he saw elrond's eyes go yellow for a moment.

and even fully corrupted, he knows he can't take the ring directly into mordor. but he can wipe out sauron's armies outside the walls, to protect his kingdom - because turgon's mistake was thinking he was safe even when there were balrogs and dragons and orcs outside, right?

somewhere along the way, arwen realizes what's happening and goes to live with galadriel. one of the twins goes with her; the other stays out of loyalty but eventually follows.

elrond's kingdom has become a cross between doriath and gondolin now, with all the surrounding lands warped by ring-magic to hide it, and layers of stone walls and iron gates preventing anyone from leaving. because everyone is here; nobody leaves; everyone is... safe?

[cottoncandiescupcakes]

HC: Gil-Galad, Thranduil and Celeborn would be friends because like Gil-Galad and Thranduil would be frenemies always be having very lengthy political discussions and insulting each other's outfits at dinner and Celeborn would just be sitting there with a small glass of wine and a piece of cake quietly listening like half-asleep

and then they'd all go for a long Autumn walk to enjoy the changing leaves and they'd all like thrive on being drunk and bored in the woods because like, Thranduil loves any excuse to get drunk and Gil-Galad loves the discussions and Celeborn just loves going on boring nature walks

So it's perfect. They get together like this like twice a year

[harveydentures]

Elves don’t hug casually so I think Thranduil & Legolas usually only held each other when one of them was visibly in extreme distress. Not even especially affectionately, just to indulge the animal impulse of comforting something you’re attached to when they’re suffering: it would probably look weird if we could see it. So naturally a lot when Legolas was a small child and easily upset. Maybe once again when his dad showed him his face scars for the first time, I imagine that was distressing for him. And probably when Sauron returned, and Legolas went to resist him, since Thranduil had previously lost his own father & community to him so brutally. Possibly again when he returned alive. Perhaps when Gimli passed away.

[merovingianprincess]

Hi! Saw you were taking requests about Thranduill. Could you do headcanons about him remarrying and his wife's relationship with little legolas and with being Thranduills 2nd wife?

Ask and you shall receive.

Thranduil did NOT for a second think he would find love again, let alone remarry.

He was intrigued by your humor and beauty immediately.

He won't admit it but he was frightened when he felt the old familiar butterflies in his stomach.

He tried to drink a lot of wine to make them go away. It did not work.

And it didn't help that you were well-liked among the elves, so he constantly heard of your good deeds.

He avoided you like the plague for a while until Mirthandir appeared in a dream and told him to basically man up.

So the next day when he saw you out in the garden, he forced himself to walk over to the bench you were sitting on and talked to you.

And he wished he had done it sooner.

Because he thought your little giggle was cute and you had an interest in politics, not many elleth's he had met did. He also thought you were clever.

Damn it, now he knew he couldn't avoid you anymore.

After a few weeks of 'accidental' *wink* *wink* run-ins, he decided to invite you to a private dinner.

And he was NOT very nice when his staff fucked up the menu he had planned, they didn't get all the ingredients that was needed. So the elaborate dinner he arranged ended up being a stew.

But he was relieved when you arrived and were perfectly happy with what was for dinner.

After dinner, he took you on a moonlight walk through his private gardens and that's where he digested the butterflies and asked you to marry him, he was FUCKING NERVOUS. He was king but his hands almost started shaking.

He was relieved when you turned on your charm and playfully said "well if I must" which he knew meant YES. He almost had to sit down in relief.

He was very taken aback when you initiated the first kiss between the two of you, but thank the gods you did because he had a long fucking day.

He announced your engagement the next morning, not wanting to go through a typical courting process because he was impatient.

You married later in a few weeks in a lavish ceremony which is where you also met the still-small Legolas.

You adored the small elf the moment you met him, he was the mirror image of his father. He was a bit shy around you, nonetheless you didn't try to push or force a relationship on your new stepson, you wanted it to progress naturally.

Thranduil was very affectionate towards you in private. He wasn't a big PDA person but would publicly hold your hand and give you a few sweet kisses here and there.

He was also very protective and a bit paranoid about always keeping you safe. But you understood, after knowing about the death of his first wife.

Thranduil was a wonderful husband, a romantic ellon, who valued his new wife and his son. He often asked for your input on political affairs. And it warmed his heart seeing you with his baby Legolas.

He decided he wanted a second child, with you.

[friendship-ditch]

Whumptober Day 3 - "I warned you"

Tauriel x Fem!Reader ✼

Summary: Against the warnings of her King, Tauriel hunts a little too far into the forest.

Warnings/Notes: Lil' injury/poison mention

Word Count: 2403

  “What conflicts lie outside our woods are none of our concern. Kill the spiders within our borders, do not follow them further.”

  Those foul words ran through Tauriel's head like a siren, the king's voice sharp and stern. Thranduil was a fine ruler of Mirkwood, but his empathy for what lay beyond was a shrivel to nothing. If the rest of Middle Earth was aflame, he would drench solely Mirkwood in water. If a plague spread through the lands, he would gather only his citizens within the safety of their walls. If the world itself was ending, Mirkwood would end in joyous celebrations while the rest died afraid.

  All of this was against Tauriel’s moral compass. She could not fathom how someone could be so… careless about others. Yes, the spiders in Mirkwood were eliminated with ease, but what if they decided to leave and invade some other realm that was not as prepared? Thranduil would turn a blind eye. Tauriel would not.

  Within the cover of darkness, hood pulled over her head and auburn hair tucked beneath it, Tauriel left her chambers. She grabbed her armor. Then she grabbed her weapons. And without a second thought, left the safety of Mirkwood’s walls and entered the forest.

  The dawn patrol–which she would be leading as captain–was far from her mind as she took her usual path. The forest of Mirkwood was a maze to all from outside its borders, but she knew it just as well as the back of her hand. And the days where she did get lost, she climbed to the treetops and found her way beneath the moon or sun.

  “These spiders are our concern, no matter which land is beneath their feet.” Tauriel muttered to herself. With the agility of a feline, she ducked under and leapt over branches and roots, following the trail to the spider's nest they had destroyed only earlier. 

  When it finally came into view, Tauriel was still pleased to find it emptied. Though the thick fabric of webs had been slashed in the battle, a small trail led further into the woods; either to where some came from, or where some escaped.

  At one point in her life, Tauriel may have felt pity for these creatures. But after all the harm they’ve caused and what they’ve done to her forest, the pity lingered no longer. This was nature's way. The strong destroy the weak, to their end. If Thranduil couldn’t understand that, then that was his loss.

  “I will not waste my warriors on issues that do not concern them. Do not waste your life over something so foolish. This is my one warning.”

  He’d spoken these words to her earlier today, and it enraged her more than words could explain. If Tauriel didn’t know better, she would have assumed the king had said that solely to piss her off and send her on this stupid mission. She wasn’t so stupid to think that, but just enough to decide she could handle a nest of spiders on her own.

  Tauriel followed the path of webs through the woods until finally she left the borders of Mirkwood and entered some unfamiliar land. She preferred to go South rather than East, but here she was, wandering around and following pieces of string from her enemies. For all she knew, she could be walking into a trap, but she was too stubborn to give up now. She was almost certain someone's eyes had lingered on her as she left, and to return now would be to surrender.

  She didn’t have to walk far before stumbling upon the nest. It was more of just a very deep hole wedged between large rocks. It reached so far back she could not even see the end. Cobwebs clogged the entrance to a point Tauriel would have assumed it was vacant had it not been for the soft chittering noises she could make out.

  Carefully, she approached the nest. She moved as close as she could until she could very faintly make out the shine of a spider's eyes, then she moved back, aimed her bow, and shot.

  The arrow was a perfect kill. The spider let out a squeal and then was silent. Tauriel waited for the others to flank her, but after a few minutes and none of them arrived, she decided perhaps this nest was abandoned after all, aside from a single squatting creature.

  The elf abandoned the nest and was mid debate between returning home or seeking another victory, when a sound from the distance caught her sensitive ears. She stopped, hand moving to her dagger as she froze and waited.

  It sounded like a soft rumble, almost like thunder in distant lands. But the longer she stood there, the louder it grew until the noise was almost deafening. And then, she saw it.

  It was a group of spiders, maybe 3 or 4, but they were huge, almost bigger than the trees. Their sharp beaks glinted in the moonlight, legs skittering across the ground at rapid speed, many eyes aimed on her.

  Firing a warning shot, Tauriel’s arrow breezed past the lead arachnid's head. It showed no reaction to the attack. If anything, the herd grew faster.

  Tauriel tried once more, this time aiming for the head. 

  Her arrow was again a perfect shot, but the spider still showed no reaction. With an arrow lodged in its head, its beak clicked and it sped up even more until it was practically running at her.

  Tauriel did not want to flee. She didn’t want to be weak or pathetic or anything like Thranduil had said she would be, but as the spiders grew closer, she knew she would be unable to take them on.

  The woods turned to plains around her as she ran. Her feet barely touched the ground, only occasionally kicking up leaves or stumbling over roots as she fled as fast as she could. Elves had stamina that could last for days and Tauriel knew she could outrun them if she tried hard enough, but speed was not what the spiders cared about.

  The plains around her melted back into woods and behind her, the spiders began to slow. 

  Tauriel finally risked a glance over her shoulder at her racing opponents, but as she did, she didn’t see the edge of a ravine in front of her. Her foot stretched too far forward and she fell.

  The moss broke her fall as she tumbled into the ravine, but she badly bruised her ankle on some rocks to the point that standing was a horrific idea. Tauriel would’ve wrapped her ankle or waited for the initial pain but she could hear the spiders speeding up and knew she had to move.

  Gritting her teeth, Tauriel stood up with a loud groan of pain. She reached for her bow and notched an arrow, knowing she was unable to run. Those creatures knew what they were doing. They’d done this on purpose to wound her, trap her, and then kill her.

  “I warned you.” Thranduil's voice echoed in her head as she spun warily, though she ignored it.

She’d have to kill the spiders first.

  The first foul creature revealed itself, her arrow still sticking out of its head. Its eight legs moved hypnotizingly across the ground as it danced from side to side, taking her arrows like nothing and lashing out on her. Finally, one leg snagged her on the head and took her down, smashing her into the ground.

  She hit her head, she thought. She must have, because now the world around her was rather blurry, her head spinning. Moving her hand, Tauriel gingerly ran her fingers over her scalp, searching for sticky blood. As she turned her head, her eyes fell upon the stinger left in her shoulder. 

  A nauseating feeling began to form in her stomach and she tried to reach to pull the stinger out, but her hand missed by a mile. She tried once more, fingers moving on their own will until eventually giving out as her arm fell numb. The poison was moving rapidly through her bloodstream, making her feel woozy until she could no longer move.

  Then it was black.

  Then it was white again. Very white, and bright…  

  A low groan sounded from Tauriel’s dry mouth. Beneath her was no longer cold, hard ground, but something soft. She tried to open her eyes but was blinded by the light once more. Had she died? Was this Valinor? Why couldn’t she see?

  She made a weak attempt to sit up but was cut off by a gentle hand on her chest, pushing her back down onto the soft item beneath her. Then the light dimmed and Tauriel tried to see once more.

  Her vision was still heavily cloudy, but she could make out a window hidden behind long curtains. It had been sunlight blinding her. That still didn’t mean she was alive, there had to be sun in Valinor.

  Tauriel tried to speak but all that came out was a groan. Her throat was drier than it had ever been, any noise she attempted got caught in the cotton clogging her mouth. 

  The same gentle hand slipped beneath her head, lifting it up. She faintly felt something press against her bottom lip and opened her mouth without thinking. She was glad she did, as seconds later, soothing, cold water was poured down her throat. Tauriel drank greedily until the glass was emptied.

  With a little water in her system, Tauriel felt strong enough to move her hand. She rubbed her eyes, clearing the majority of the fog from her vision, and then looked up at whoever was at her side.

  She’d seen you but never spoke with you before. You were one of the many elves on her guard team, a newer one, but a talented one nonetheless. She could barely recall through her foggy mind a day when you had just joined the team and nearly got destroyed by a passing pack of orcs. Had she not been there to intervene, your body would now lay at the bottom of the river. But you were no longer in the wild. You were both safe…

  You gazed back at her, eyes full of both worry and sympathy as you took in her weakened state. Never before had you seen your stern and bold captain so… soft.

  “Y/n…?” Tauriel rasped, clearing her throat a few times until the lingering pain faded. So… this wasn’t Valinor. As she took the sight in she could clearly see it was your chambers as they were rather similar to hers.

  You smiled softly. Tauriel had been in a rather bad state through the night but the fact that she recognized you and knew your name certainly meant she was on the mend.

  “Yes, it’s me.” 

  “How…?”

  “I saw you leave.” You responded, tilting your head a little as you caught the relief in Tauriel’s eyes. It hadn’t been Thranduil that saw her leave after all. “When the sky bled and you hadn’t returned, I feared you were hurt… I suppose I was right.”

  The wounded elf nodded and tried to sit up once more, but instead of your hand stopping her, it was a searing pain in her shoulder. She let out a pained howl, immediately gripping the spot where the spider had stung her, before collapsing back onto the bed.

  “I warned you.”

  The king had been right. As awful as it was for Tauriel to admit… he had warned her that something like this would happen. And now she was only another burden on your shoulders. Her foolishness had nearly gotten her and you killed, she had to say something. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened but no words came out. Should she thank you or apologize?

  “I’m… I’m sorry.” Tauriel whispered, slowly sitting up this time. Her shoulder felt like there was a sword slicing through it but she ignored it until she was straight up, though slightly hunched. “I was not thinking… not at all. Thranduil was right, I shouldn’t have… Y/n, I’m so sorry.” 

  Her voice cracked as the memories returned in painful clumps; the feel of the ground smacking into her body, the fear that pumped her heart, the dizziness from the poison, her ankle…

  Tauriel moved the blankets aside, looking down at her ankle which was now wrapped. Then she looked at you, eyes desperate and lips tight.

  “It isn’t broken. You’ll heal quickly.” You assured her. “As will your shoulder… I would have you on one day of bed rest before returning to duties.”

  “But Thran–”

  “As far as the king is concerned, you were taken down heroically during today's patrol, and are on the mend as a hero.”

  “I… I am?”

  A small smile pricked at your lips as hope passed over Tauriel’s face. You’d never seen her with such a childish expression before… it was oddly sweet, if not captivating. She seemed to sense your thoughts as a bashful smile of her own spread on her face and she looked away.

  “Thank you… for saving my life, twice, I suppose.” Tauriel murmured quietly, rubbing her cheek with her thumb. “You didn’t have to…”

  “Nonsense. You’re our captain, you’re always keeping us safe. It is only out of courtesy that I return the payment.”

  Tauriel’s smile grew into a chuckle and she lowered herself back down onto the bed, still feeling slightly weak from the poison that had ravaged her body. Though as you stood to leave, her hand reached out and grabbed yours.

  “Stay for a while… would you?” She whispered tentatively. When you showed no signs of reluctance, her hand tugged yours until you were sat once more on the edge of the bed. “Thank you…”

  “Always.” You whispered, pulling the blankets up and tucking her in.

  For the last time, Tauriel’s smile grew wider, then faded with a content exhale as her eyes fluttered shut. Perhaps Thranduil had been right, yes… but he could never have predicted her falling into the surprisingly tender hands that caught her. Maybe it was an act of debt, a payment in exchange for her once saving your life… but she believed it possibly was something more. And that was a comforting enough thought to draw her into a much needed sleep.

[bitchysoulwasteland]

thranduil x asgardian reader

Thranduil watched as you danced around int he corner of the ballroom with your friends. Loki, who had long ago decided he wasn’t needed in the formal festivities had joined your small group, leaving the realm leaders (and his brother) in their thrones above the celebrations.

You all sang and danced, drinks in hand as the music lulled and changed. Thranduil noticed your eyes light up when the song began. You said something to the group and the five of you made your way out of the back entrance of the hall. In other words, the servant entrance.

Thranduil had to do everything in his power to stop himself from excusing himself from the current conversation he was no where near interested in with the other leaders. He instead sat, imagining what you all could possibly be doing and how much better it would have been if he had been nearer to your ages and without his kingship so that he could have joined you in your activities.

You all stood in the Bifrost as you waited for Midguard to appear. Still in your formal dress and heels with an old hoodie thrown on, you walked out of the Bifrost and onto a Midguardian beach. You grabbed Loki’s arm to study yourself as you pulled off your heels and left them on the sand with everyone else’s. A bonfire was lit soon after and Loki used his magic to keep the music flowing.

Waves rolled in the background as the others began to pass out on the sand, one by one until it was just you left, mainly as you had stayed more sober than the others. Loki’s music stopped as he passed out, leaving the sounds of nature. You picked up your shoes and began walking down the beach, no particular destination in mind until a beam of light surrounded you, bringing you back to Asgard. You pulled your hoodie sleeves down and slipped your heels back on before walking out of the Bifrost.

The next day, you were all attending breakfast with the guests of the ball the night before when Thranduil caught your eye. Well, he had done so the night before but you were in a tipsy whirlwind of events that were somewhat a blur and you did t want him to become a blur too. So, instead of sitting with your family, which you were supposed to, you walked over and sat beside Loki, who had left a space between himself and Thranduil for this very reason.

You made a point to sitting between the prince and the king as your grandmother seethed at you, your mother just smiling.

“I don’t think I’ve introduced myself. I’m Y/n L/n.” You said turning to Thranduil with a smile.

“Thranduil, and I must say, it’s a pleasure.”

“Pleasure’s all mine… you’re the king of Mirkwood.”

ANY IDEAS HOW TO FINISH THIS WILL BE MUCH APPRECIATED

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Fear - Bard x Thranduil

Let's start this...

A young man named Bard goes into a dark forest to summon a benevolent fairy king. Some things are lost in translation, and he's asked to make a monumental sacrifice.

Prompt: Fear

Words: 2k

Pairing: Bard x Thranduil

Warnings: Fear, dubcon, anal play, anal sex, unease, defloration...

By the time the torch in his hand flickered and died on account of the asphyxiating damp air, Bard was already far beyond the point where he’d rail and cry.

He was exhausted.

Now that he was so close to his destination, he no longer remembered why he’d thought coming here had been a good idea in the first place—cursing his wretched name and his reckless bravery, both inherited from a long-dead ancestor, he pushed on with gritted teeth.

He wished he’d never found the accursed book amongst the discarded heirlooms; of course, the ancient tale of a tragic fairy king, imprisoned amidst the forgotten ruins of his once-glorious kingdom, had captivated his children at once.

Times were hard, and many of the inhabitants of his small town were desperate for a smidgen of magic to lighten their days and ease their burdens.

What other choice had there been than to set out in search of this mysterious place?

At the start, Bard hadn’t truly believed that he’d find anything, but—with every passing hour he spent trudging through the ever-shifting fog—the eerie atmosphere of the old forest started playing more and more tricks on his weary mind.

Paths appeared and disappeared, and he couldn’t shake the unnerving feeling that he was walking in circles.

By nature and choice, Bard was not a fearful man—he’d seen battles and deaths galore, and very few challenges and duties ever made him flinch or hesitate for a single moment.

Nevertheless, he was now distinctly uneasy, and—when he stumbled into a roughly circular clearing, surrounded by gnarled roots and moss-covered, white pillars—he gave a small cry of startled dread.

The very ground beneath him seemed to be alive, and he considered turning back without even attempting the ludicrous ritual detailed on the smeared, brittle piece of paper in his pocket.

After all, it was almost certain that this sloppy transcription of a story that had undoubtedly been altered, embellished, and perverted throughout time was far from reliable.

He could simply claim that he’d not found the place or failed to summon that enchanted protector and hero everyone was hoping for.

Unfortunately, he was an honest man, and he baulked at the idea of leaving any possible salvation untried.

Thus, despite the lingering sense of vague disquietude, he set down his rucksack and pulled out his notes to follow the strange and contradicting instructions as well as he could.

He’d found a nice, tall stone at the foot of which he’d lay down the miscellaneous items he’d brought—it was badly damaged, and Bard wouldn’t have been able to read and understand the ancient runes engraved into the oddly gleaming white stone even if could make them out clearly.

It suddenly seemed to him that the roiling banks of opaque mist grew ever denser and every dead tree in the vicinity was staring at him from cold, unmoving eyes.

Rolling his shoulders to dispel the cold, damp fingers of barely restrained fear scraping along the base of his skull and down his spine, Bard read out the strange, incomprehensible incantations in a breathless voice.

He reminded himself repeatedly of both the futility of this endeavour and the warm hearth awaiting him at home; even if he succeeded, it was highly unlikely that a winged sprite could alleviate his peer’s suffering by throwing around a few handfuls of glittery fairy dust.

“Nothing,” he said with a relieved sigh and was about to stand up again when a sudden flash of light cut through the surrounding fog like a blade.

Blinking frantically, the unwilling hero shielded his burning eyes.

He gasped.

A wave of white-hot, debilitating panic washed over him at the sight of a creature—taller than any man he’d ever met—standing beside the cracked monolith.

Where he’d expected an impish fairy, such as young girls imagined them, roaming the riverside and playing mischievous tricks on clueless passers-by, stood a fully armoured warrior.

“What maiden summons me?” the being thundered, his voice full, melodious, and wickedly compelling.

“Ah,” Bard squeaked, his blood running cold. “It’s I, a father of three, who disturbs your peace, oh…powerful pixie!”

The shiny helmet jerked backwards in outrage. “Pixie? I’m Thranduil, a mighty Elven King of yore, summoned here by the noble sacrifice of a sweet virgin!”

There was an indignant, headstrong note in that charming tone now that drove gooseflesh down Bard’s numb arms—he’d not only managed to conjure up a mystical being, but he’d also angered it.

“I’m sorry,” he exclaimed, thinking of his three children who’d be without help and protection if he didn’t return from this ill-fated excursion. “Forgive me. I’m not worthy—my village, they need…”

“A king?” the impressive apparition who’d identified himself as “Thranduil” hissed, every syllable an open threat.

“Maybe?” Bard hadn’t considered that part overmuch. “Magic—they need supernatural intervention to keep our crops from dying and intruders at bay.”

“Why do you call upon a warrior king when what you seek is a bookish lore master?” Thranduil jeered coldly.

When Bard’s teeth chattered without producing any reply, Thranduil shrugged.

“Never mind your desires,” he purred. “You’ve spoken the words—you shall pay the price.”

“But…as I said, I’ve sired three children. Surely, I cannot be accounted as pure enough to be offered as a sacrifice to one as extraordinary as you.”

Cold sweat trickled down his spine, and his stomach had contracted into a hard knot of profound terror that was shot through with veins of instinctive curiosity.

“Flattery will avail you of nothing,” Thranduil cackled. “You’ve entered a bargain. I shall assist you as well as I can, but you must offer yourself to me.”

Lifting his long arms, the incarnation of dreams Bard had never consciously acknowledged took off his sleek helmet. The face thus laid bare was of such a blinding, otherworldly pulchritude that the tired traveller was tempted to avert his gaze once more.

Long, smooth hair the colour of starlight flowed down broad shoulders, and an alarmingly sensual mouth curled into a knowing smile.

While Bard stared in utter incomprehension, Thranduil bowed gallantly. “I’d welcome it if you could undress now.”

“But how…”Bard stammered.

“What’s your name, sullied seeker?” Thranduil asked almost casually as he started undoing the countless fastenings of his gorgeous armour, gleaming dully in the silver moonlight overhead.

“I…My name is Bard.”

“Very well, Bard. I admit you’re unlike the previous supplicants, but the ritual wouldn’t have worked if…Say, has anyone claimed your…posterior?”

The twitching amalgamation of worry and wonderment, swiftly shifting to dread and desire when Thranduil’s luminous gaze settled on his face, in Bard’s stomach threatened to make his knees give out under him.

“No,” he admitted truthfully.

“Wonderful. That shall be my price then!”

Before Bard could plead or even try to escape, Thranduil had moved to his side, throwing him onto the damp, grassy ground and pinning him down mercilessly.

“Or do you not want to save your village and return to your kids?”

Existential fear was a powerful paralytic, and so Bard didn’t struggle when Thranduil’s long, nimble fingers relieved him of his sweat-stained, travel-worn clothes unceremoniously.

“Don’t be frightened,” Thranduil whispered into his ear as he let his surprisingly warm fingertips brush along the underside of Bard’s right pectoral. “I might not be a tiny, winged imp, but I’ve not devoured any of the people seeking me out either. Mind you, I might have nibbled from time to time, but I’ve never murdered anyone.”

If he believed this declaration of innocence to be reassuring, he was sorely mistaken.

Bard tensed and squeezed his eyes shut—he’d survived pain and humiliation before, and he decided that he’d neither back down nor let this keep him from returning to his family.

Soon, he was as naked as on the day of his birth.

“You’re trembling,” Thranduil chuckled. “This tells me two things: you’ve not lied when you claimed to be uninitiated in this particular game, and you might be either terrified or excited to change that.”

“A little of both,” Bard replied earnestly. “You’ve made it very clear that I have no choice in the matter, so I don’t expect to be treated with any circumspection. You shall take what you’re due, and I shall endure.”

“That’s correct. Nevertheless, it does not necessarily follow that I won’t make it worthwhile for you—surely, you know that these things are infinitely more satisfying if both parties are enjoying themselves, don’t you?”

Bard did.

“Relax, little one. There’s no need to be afeared of me…yet. Just let it happen.”

And so, Bard willed his limbs, stiff with apprehension, to loosen progressively.

Of course, even as Thranduil’s warm, soft lips were pressed against his own with a bruising vehemence that betrayed the Elf’s unspoken desperation and hunger, Bard never fully forgot that he was meddling with powers beyond his understanding and control.

And yet, he couldn’t claim that he was left unfazed by Thranduil’s mesmerising, martial beauty—long-limbed and fair-skinned, the ghost he’d called back to the realm of the living was a fascinating paradox of formidable strength and tender turpitude.

The hands Bard had seen clasped around weapons such as the world hadn’t seen in ages and would never produce again slid along his slowly heating skin purposefully, coaxing colour and life back into his leaden limbs.

“On your knees,” Thranduil commanded suddenly.

When he withdrew, Bard gave a low, gurgling sound of dismay which made the other’s eyes light up with delight.

Doing as he was told, the accidental necromancer stilled, becoming just another forsaken statue in this graveyard of long-lost pleasures.

With a soft hum, Thranduil settled down behind him, and then, a warm tongue grazed along the part of Bard’s body that had never been explored let alone stimulated before.

As his vision went white, he was suddenly more afraid of collapsing into a senseless heap of opposing impulses than of being torn apart.

The forest whispered of terrible deeds of depravity, but Bard couldn’t focus on the unnatural, uncanny feeling of being observed as those long, white fingers snaked between his shivering thighs to give his fully engorged cock a few lazy strokes.

He’d been hitherto so scared of what Thranduil might do to him that he was aghast to realise that he suddenly dreaded not being found satisfactory.

What if his delicious defiler chose to stop? The thought of being discarded just as his flesh awoke under these brazen blandishments was nigh unbearable.

“Relax,” Thranduil repeated and stroked the back of Bard’s thigh soothingly. “This won’t work if you’re all clenched-up.”

For a seemingly endless while, he continued alternating between lapping at Bard’s sensitive skin and allowing him to thrust shallowly into his skilful hand.

Little by little, he coaxed Bard from his first apprehensive stasis through a blissful state of boneless passivity until he transitioned into another, very different kind of expectant tension.

Only when he heard the soft, almost reluctant moans turn into rasping demands, did Thranduil push past the ring of loosened muscle.

“Thankfully, the maidens need a bit of help as well,” he chuckled as he produced a small vial of lubricant which he poured generously over his own member. “I’m prepared.”

Bard’s eyes widened. “This will never fit,” he gasped.

“That’s what they say. Trust me,” Thranduil laughed, visibly gratified by that visceral exclamation.

Steering Bard gently back into position, he lined himself up and—demonstrating all the patience of a near-immortal being—pushed into the never-breached body of his summoner inch by inch.

Unable to withstand the dark draw of the maddening pleasure-pain flooding his system, Bard bucked and bellowed, his fingers clawing at the soft ground beneath him helplessly.

Before long, Thranduil was fully sheathed within his victim-turned-welcoming-lover; he was then ready and willing to grant Bard a reprieve but was swept away by the boundless enthusiasm of the half-virgin.

They rocked frantically, making the mists dance and the trees sigh softly.

↪︎ Masterlist

@tolkienpinupcalendar Here's my ficlet!

Thank you all for reading! <3

[saephrond]

@loremastering

In the ancient forest of Mirkwood, Saeph followed the sound of faint, distressed cries for what seemed like hours. Against his better judgement and knowledge of the magicks that protected the peoples of these woods, his care for nature and wildlife had led him to trek afar the moss-laden paths laid before him, seeking to help whatever it was. And, upon the urge to surrender to the notion that perhaps it was only another of Elvenking's elaborately placed charms, he had come upon a baby moose with an injured leg.

Oh, you are too far from home, little one.

He rummaged through his bags for some things and gathered a handful of loose sticks from within the surrounding foliage, placing them next to the wailing animal. Coincidentally, he was travelling the dangerous road south between Felegoth and Caras Galadhon to carry news between King Thranduil and Lord Celeborn, and had acquired many healing ointments and other necessities from the Wood Elves. Kneeling, he placed a gentle hand over the calf's head, speaking soothingly in the Sindarin tongue to damper its cries. The best he could, he examined the injury, set the bone of its twisted leg right, and applied a dressing of herbs and balm.

Cradling the moose in his arms, Saeph hoped beyond hope that he would find the true path again, for he knew just the perfect person to take it to - a friend with a passion for the lives of all cervids in the wild. But the air was thick with dampness that made it difficult to navigate through the tangled underbrush, and the unsettling whirring of weavers in the shadows had disoriented him. He carried it close to his breast for days with no hope for escape, he thought. However long and weary, he was comforted when the trees had grown farther apart from one another and the path had continued without looping. And upon spotting a small settlement in the distance, he knew the dock was not far ahead.

The calf was weak, however, and he had fed it almost all the browse he gathered from a single tree that had not been mangled by darkness on his way. Its eyes, which had at first been fearful, now gleamed even so. And as they found their way to the familiar mellyrn, and the silver and green attire of the Lorien Elves, he sighed in relief. Daerhovan's lodgings, he remembered, were not far and beyond.

But of course…after ascending countless wooden steps, no one was home.

'Birding. Back soon!'

Saeph chuckled through his nostrils and with great care, on a bed of soft leaves and moss, he set the calf into a large basket, and quickly wrote a note:

I found it abandoned in the depths of Mirkwood, its leg broken and in need of care beyond my abilities. I have done my best to feed and comfort it the last few days, but you are the only one I knew to bring it to. I hope that your healing hand and partiality might bring peace to this gentle guy. — Saephrond

He placed the note beside the baby, rubbed its wet nose, and with a heavy heart, whispered a farewell.

[meluiloth]

For Drabble Challenge: Thranduil and squirrels

Thank you for this request! I always love a Mirkwood prompt!

It was not often that Thranduil had the opportunity to leave his court and venture into the forest; he was too busy with protecting and restoring it to actually see it for himself. He might have laughed at the irony at a different time. Now, he only felt the cramped uneasiness as he navigated the dark, unwelcoming labyrinth of withering trees, and the deep heartsickness that came with it; Greenwood had once been a place of beauty and safety, but now it reeked of a curse Thranduil could not control. This was not the home of his childhood; he remembered playing here as a child, hunting quails and finding lizards and insects in the verdant underbrush, but now the forest was silent and still save for the great, spined insects whose only purpose was to feed on the decay of the wood. Thranduil might have wept of despair now, and his eyes were already growing misty, but suddenly a sharp, high noise pierced the air - the trill of a squirrel in the canopy. The King looked up just in time to see a small black squirrel dart from one branch to another, its thick tail flicking impatiently - and in another moment, it was followed by three more, only smaller and clumsier. Thranduil smiled as he watched the mother squirrel led her children through the twisted canopy as naturally as breathing; though they were gone as quickly as they had come, they left behind them the reminder that there was still life in Mirkwood Forest. Perhaps that meant there was still hope.

This is a longer sort of drabble, but I had so much fun writing it!!

[earthlybeam]

Gil-Galad x Reader (You Like to Bite and Leave Marks) Nom nom on their skin 🤣

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Gil-Galad Version below. (Thranduil and Elrond links to their too as quite lengthy) - Thranduil Elrond

🏵️𝓖𝓲𝓵-𝓰𝓪𝓵𝓪𝓭

(Your Gil-galad friend version)

His First Response to Your Affectionate Bites

🜲 Momentary Surprise, Then Amusement The first time you bite him, Gil-galad is caught off guard. His usual composed nature falters for just a second as he feels the sharp but gentle pressure of your teeth. He freezes briefly, staring down at you with wide eyes, a faint blush creeping into his features. “Well, that was unexpected,” he murmurs, voice laced with both surprise and amusement. It doesn’t take long before the surprise melts into a soft chuckle, and he raises an eyebrow. “I had no idea I was so… bite-worthy,” he teases, his voice light and playful as he looks at you with curiosity, intrigued by your unconventional way of showing affection.

🜲 Curiosity with Caution Initially, he might be cautious, unsure of how to interpret your actions. Gil-galad’s usual reserved demeanor doesn’t easily allow for such overt displays of affection. He might gently pull back, inspecting the mark with a slightly raised brow, trying to process the meaning behind it. After a quiet moment, he’ll smile slightly, though still unsure of how to handle it. “It’s… different, I will say that,” he admits, “but I suppose I can’t fault you for expressing your feelings, in your own way.” He’ll relax a little more after seeing that you are comfortable, though a playful glint remains in his eyes, signaling that he’s curious to see where this new form of affection will go.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Gil-galad: Reader Who Likes to Bite and Leave Marks on His Skin

🜲 Your Playful Behavior vs. His Dignity A Tension of Composure As someone who embodies the regal dignity of an elven king, Gil-galad finds it difficult to reconcile your playful behavior with his normally composed nature. When you playfully bite him, he's taken aback for a moment, his posture stiffening as if he's trying to maintain his usual grace and formality. He might give you an exasperated, yet amused look, his brow furrowing slightly. "Must you truly do this, my dear friend?" he asks, though there's a flicker of amusement in his eyes. His voice is still steady, but his lips betray a smile that tugs at the corners. Even though he's trying to maintain his elven dignity, he can't help but be charmed by your boldness and the warmth behind your affectionate gestures.

🜲 Trying to Maintain Distance, but Losing the Battle Gil-galad's usual level of restraint is something he's proud of, and when you bite him playfully, he tries to keep his composure. He might momentarily take a step back, straightening up to create some physical distance. "You are insufferable," he says with a half-smile, though his eyes sparkle with warmth. Despite his attempt to maintain a sense of distance and composure, his laughter soon follows. He can't stay serious when you so effortlessly disrupt his solemnity, and he finds himself entertained, yet trying to regain his usual elegant, dignified demeanor. Ultimately, he gives in, even if it's just for a moment.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

When You Bite Him: Reactions, Sounds, and Movements

🜲 A Momentary Stiffness, Then Relaxation Gil-galad's first instinct is to stiffen when you bite him. His body reacts to the sudden, unexpected sensation, and for a moment, he seems almost frozen in place, his eyes wide as he processes the touch. You may hear a small, surprised sound slip from his lips, a mix of a soft gasp and a low chuckle, the kind of sound that might slip out when he's caught off guard but amused. His posture straightens in an attempt to regain control, but his shoulders relax soon after, especially when he sees the mischievous twinkle in your eyes. "You truly cannot be serious," he murmurs, but his voice is lighthearted as he lets himself enjoy the interaction. He doesn't pull away but remains still, secretly allowing himself to savor the unexpected intimacy.

🜲 A Quiet, Appreciative Sigh As a friend, his reaction to your bite is mostly one of bemusement, though there's an underlying warmth in his demeanor that indicates he's not entirely uncomfortable. He'll make a small sound, a soft sigh, as his body relaxes, adjusting to your touch. His movements are composed but softer than usual. He might even touch the spot where you bit him afterward, lingering just a little longer than necessary. There's a quiet affection behind his expression as he glances at you, a flicker of approval in his eyes that betrays his stoic exterior.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Does He Hide or Not to Hide: How He Reacts to Visible Bite Marks in Public

🜲 Always Covered, Yet Concealed with Grace Gil-galad, as a friend, is well aware of the public perception surrounding his status as a king and his composed nature. No matter how much he enjoys your affectionate bites in private, in public, he keeps the marks you leave on him hidden. He may wear higher collars, adjust his sleeves, or even arrange his cloak to ensure that no one sees the marks. While he enjoys your affection, he prefers these marks remain a private symbol between the two of you. His dignity is important to him, and he’ll take care to ensure that your marks don’t compromise his regal and composed exterior.

🜲 A Silent Acknowledgment Though he hides the marks in public, there is a subtle pride in the way he walks. When he feels your mark on his skin, he may subtly touch it under his clothing, a brief, private moment just for him. His composure doesn’t falter, but there’s a silent acknowledgment that the marks you leave are a cherished sign of your affection, even if they remain hidden from the eyes of others.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Marking His Neck, Collarbone, Shoulder, Wrist, Elven Ear, and Other Areas

🜲 Neck: When you bite Gil-galad’s neck, the response is one of surprise followed by calm acceptance. His neck is sensitive, and your bite elicits a faint gasp, but he doesn’t flinch away. Instead, he’ll gently smile, though there is a slight tension in his body, as he tries to maintain his composed demeanor. “A bold move, Mellon-nîn,” he might say softly, his voice laced with both amusement and quiet approval. The mark left on his neck is intimate, but he will quickly cover it with his clothing when in public.

🜲 Collarbone: Gil-galad’s collarbone area is a bit less sensitive than his neck, but it’s still intimate and meaningful. When you bite here, he reacts with a small breath of surprise, his usual calmness momentarily shaken. His posture remains straight, but his gaze softens, and he may give you a playful, teasing look. “You have a rather unique way of showing affection,” he’ll comment, though there’s no disapproval in his voice. It’s a quiet, affectionate moment between you, even though he’ll cover the mark when in public.

🜲 Shoulder: The shoulder area is slightly less sensitive for Gil-galad, but it still provokes a small reaction. His body will stiffen for just a moment before relaxing again. He might chuckle softly and give you a playful look, though he will still remain composed. “You are quite fond of leaving your mark, aren’t you?” he may ask with a soft, teasing smile. He’ll be more accepting of this mark, but it’s still covered when he goes out in public.

🜲 Wrist: Gil-galad’s wrist is a particularly sensitive spot for him, and when you bite it, he’ll react almost immediately. His hand clenches lightly, and his breath catches as he feels the bite. He doesn’t pull away, however, and there’s a certain vulnerability in his eyes that he rarely shows to anyone. “You’re more daring than I thought,” he might whisper, a hint of intrigue in his voice. While he may allow this mark to stay for a while in private, he’ll quickly cover it when he’s in public to maintain his usual regal composure.

🜲 Elven Ear: Elven ears are a deeply intimate and sensitive part of Gil-galad’s body, and when you bite or nibble on his ear, his reaction is immediate. His body tenses, and a sharp intake of breath escapes him. For a moment, his usual composure falters, and he looks at you with a mixture of surprise and desire. “You are aware that my ears are most sensitive, are you not?” he will ask with a low, almost playful voice. His face flushes just a little, but he won’t pull away, enjoying the closeness you bring with such a deeply intimate gesture. Though he quickly adjusts his hair or cloak to hide the mark in public, there is no mistaking the deeper connection the mark represents in private.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

When He Notices a Mark Later How He Reacts to Finding Unseen Marks

🜲 Surprised but Composed When Gil-galad discovers a bite mark he didn’t notice before—perhaps while undressing, adjusting his armor, or catching a glimpse in a mirror—he first reacts with a slight, unspoken surprise. His eyes will flicker over the mark, and he might tilt his head slightly, inspecting it as if it were something foreign to him. His expression remains composed, but there’s a subtle shift in his demeanor. His fingers might graze over the mark, feeling its presence, and for a brief moment, he may allow himself a small smile—a rare sign of amusement or private affection. “I didn’t realize you had been so bold,” he may say with a quiet chuckle, though there’s no disapproval in his voice. It’s a mark of affection he finds endearing, even if it was hidden from his awareness until now.

🜲 Subtle Gratitude While Gil-galad doesn’t outwardly show much emotion at the discovery, you can tell he enjoys the mark in an unspoken way. His gaze softens, and his posture might relax just a fraction. If it’s in private, he might trace the mark with his fingers, almost as if reflecting on the bond it signifies between the two of you. “You’ve left your claim,” he’ll say, voice low and thoughtful, though it may have a hint of pride. He appreciates that you’ve marked him in such an intimate way, even if he might not call attention to it.

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Gentle Bite: How He Reacts to Your Soft Teeth Against His Skin

🜲 Startled, Yet Deeply Appreciative Gil-galad’s first reaction to a gentle bite is one of surprise, though he recovers quickly. The light pressure of your teeth against his skin causes a faint, instinctive intake of breath. He doesn’t pull away; instead, he stands still, as though savoring the sensation. His posture might shift slightly, his chest expanding as he takes in the moment. The delicate nature of the bite causes his usually composed demeanor to soften just a little. “Such gentleness,” he’ll say with a soft smile, his voice low with quiet appreciation.

🜲 Calm and Introspective Though Gil-galad is always calm, the sensation of a gentle bite lingers in his mind. It’s a sign of trust and intimacy, and the way you touch him in such a subtle manner moves him more than he would ever admit. He will look at you with a tender expression, his gaze slightly unfocused as if he’s reflecting on the warmth of the moment. “I did not expect this from you,” he might comment, his tone thoughtful, though it is clear that he enjoys this gentler, more intimate side of your affection. He may even allow the mark to stay visible longer than usual, appreciating how it connects the two of you.

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Biting Him in the Heat of the Moment

🜲 Playful, Yet Slightly Surprised In moments of argument or lighthearted teasing, when you bite him, Gil-galad may be initially taken aback by the unexpected pressure. His normally composed nature will falter just for a second, as his breath catches at the sudden mark you leave. However, instead of being angry, his reaction is more of bemusement, mixed with a touch of confusion as he tries to process what you’ve done. He might pull back just enough to look at you with a raised eyebrow, his expression softening with affection and a bit of playful intrigue. “You’ve quite the way of asserting your point, my friend,” he might say, his voice low and amused, though there’s a flicker of a smile on his lips.

🜲 A Subtle Glint of Amusement Even in heated moments where your bite might be more intense, Gil-galad remains composed—though he will not shy away from the mark you leave. He might chuckle softly after you bite him, his gaze meeting yours with a mixture of affection and mock reproach. “You do not hold back, do you?” he asks with a half-smile, though there’s a warmth in his voice that shows he enjoys the playful side of your affection. If the bite is particularly intense, he might place a hand gently on your shoulder, his fingers tracing the mark, the smile never quite leaving his face. “Careful, you might make me think you’re claiming me as yours,” he’ll tease, though he’s not at all displeased.

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When He Sees You Admiring Your Marks on His Skin

🜲 Unruffled but Quietly Proud If Gil-galad notices you admiring the marks you’ve left on him, he will regard you with a quiet, almost unnoticeable shift in his expression. His usual dignity remains intact, but his eyes will soften, and you might catch a glimpse of the pride he feels in your attention. He may not openly express it, but he’ll be aware of the significance these marks hold in your friendship—an intimate sign of connection and affection. “I see you’re studying your handiwork,” he’ll remark with a small, wry smile, though there’s no sense of discomfort or embarrassment in his voice. Instead, there’s an unspoken understanding that these marks represent something meaningful, something private between the two of you.

🜲 Appreciation in Silence Gil-galad may not comment at all when he notices you admiring the marks, simply watching as you trace the bite with your fingers. While his words are few, there’s a quiet pride in the way he allows you to focus on the marks. He doesn’t shy away from it, and if anything, he enjoys seeing the bond between you deepen with every mark you leave. “It seems you’ve claimed me again,” he says softly, as if acknowledging the gesture without needing to state the obvious. His eyes hold a tenderness when he watches you, and while he may not voice it often, he is deeply moved by your affection.

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Biting Him During Moments of Stress

🜲 A Moment of Comfort Amidst the Chaos When Gil-galad is under stress, whether from political duties or external pressures, your affectionate bites provide him with a surprising sense of relief. If you bite him gently during a particularly tense moment, his usually unflappable demeanor will falter just slightly. The sensation of your teeth against his skin helps to ground him, breaking the mental tension for just a moment. His breath might catch in surprise, but there’s a softness in his gaze as he looks at you. “Mellon-nîn,” he murmurs, voice low and filled with quiet gratitude. “I had not realized how much I needed that.” His stress melts away for just a brief moment as he leans into your touch, appreciating the connection and affection you provide without words.

🜲 Silent, Subtle Relief If you bite him when he’s particularly overwhelmed, perhaps as he’s pacing or buried in thought, the effect can be immediate. He’ll pause, his posture stiffening momentarily before relaxing. Gil-galad might not openly admit that he’s found comfort in your playful gesture, but the slight smile that tugs at his lips and the brief softening of his eyes reveal his gratitude. “You always know how to ease my mind, don’t you?” he might say softly, though there’s a touch of awe in his voice. His composure returns quickly, but the marks you leave are an unspoken reminder of the small, intimate moment of solace you provided.

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His ‘Punishments’ for Over-enthusiastic Biting

🜲 A Light Tease, with a Hint of Authority If you bite him too hard, Gil-galad is quick to correct you, though never harshly. His regal nature doesn’t allow him to be easily upset, but he will gently reprimand you, though his tone remains light and teasing. “Careful, my little wildling,” he’ll say, his voice full of fond exasperation. “That spot is much more sensitive than you realize.” He’ll pull away just enough to give you a meaningful glance, but there’s a playful glint in his eyes, a sign that he’s not truly angry. Instead, his correction serves as a reminder of his composure and authority. “If you must bite me again,” he’ll add with a smile, “try to be more mindful of my more… delicate areas.” His reprimand is more of a playful nudge, reminding you of the line between affection and indulgence.

🜲 A Gentle Restraint If your bites grow more enthusiastic than usual and he feels a bit more pressure than he’s comfortable with, Gil-galad will take a more direct approach. He may gently take your wrist and hold you still, his expression soft yet serious. “I did not say you could leave marks in places that might be… difficult to explain,” he’ll murmur with a slight smile, though the playful edge is still there. He’ll bring your face close to his, his thumb gently brushing over the mark you’ve left. “Next time, I will remind you of my limits,” he says, but there’s no anger in his voice—only the calm authority of someone who gently sets boundaries. Despite his correction, he will always show you the affection you crave, even when reminding you of his limits.

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(Your Gil-galad Lover version)

His First Response to Your Affectionate Bites

🜲 Pleasure and Surprise, Soft Exhale The first time you bite him as your lover, Gil-galad’s reaction is much more immediate. He feels the pressure of your teeth on his skin and freezes for a moment, a soft, almost imperceptible gasp escaping him. His mind races for a moment, overwhelmed by the unexpected yet intimate sensation. Then, the initial shock fades, and he exhales a soft, approving sound. He looks at you with deep affection, his eyes softening as he processes the meaning behind your gesture. “Melethril,” he whispers, the term of endearment slipping from his lips. “You know how to make my heart race.” He pulls you closer, his hand brushing against the place where you bit him, as if savoring the mark you’ve left.

🜲 Delight and Tenderness Gil-galad’s response to your bite as a lover is much more tender and appreciative. His first reaction is not one of surprise, but one of immediate warmth and affection. The mark you leave on his skin causes him to pause for a moment, a small smile tugging at his lips as he lets out a soft sigh. “You truly do have a unique way of showing love, don’t you?” he murmurs, his voice laced with both admiration and amusement. He raises a hand to touch the spot you’ve marked, his fingers trailing over the skin with a gentle caress. “It seems I am now permanently marked by you,” he adds, his tone teasing yet filled with fondness, “I will wear this mark proudly, my love.”

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Gil-galad: Reader Who Likes to Bite and Leave Marks on His Skin

🜲 Your Playful Behavior vs. His Dignity, Barely Containing Desire As your lover, Gil-galad is much more susceptible to your playful bites. While his composed nature is always present, the way he responds to you changes. He'll try to retain his usual royal air, but his response is softer, filled with quiet yearning. When you bite him playfully, he lets out a soft exhale, his gaze deepening with longing. He'll offer you a teasing, half-smile, leaning in ever so slightly, his voice low but still dignified. "You are truly testing my patience," he murmurs, but the words have little force behind them. His body leans into the bite more than he intends, betraying his desire for intimacy despite his desire to maintain an air of dignity.

🜲 Eager to Let Go of Composure In the moments when he's more attuned to you, Gil-galad may not even try to keep up his regal composure when you bite him. He may wrap his arms around you, pulling you closer, and gently guide your face toward his neck or shoulder. His usual restraint slips as his body responds to the playful bite. His breathing deepens, a quiet, throaty sound escaping him, his fingers lightly grazing your skin as if to urge you on. "Melethril," he whispers, his voice a mixture of affection and need, "You always find a way to make me forget myself." He no longer feels the need to hold back, allowing the intimacy to flourish, but there's still an underlying layer of affection and dignity that guides him, even in such moments.

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When You Bite Him: Reactions, Sounds, and Movements

🜲 A Sharp Intake of Breath, Soft Groan When you bite him as your lover, Gil-galad's reaction is much more intense. A sharp intake of breath escapes his lips, the feeling of your teeth pressing into his skin sending a ripple of pleasure through his body. His head tilts slightly, his eyes closing as he lets the sensation wash over him. He's still trying to maintain his composure, but a soft groan escapes him as he leans into the bite, his muscles relaxing. His fingers may instinctively curl into the fabric of your clothing or rest on your back, as if grounding himself through the intimate connection. The sound is low, full of emotion, and slightly rough. "By the Valar," he murmurs, his breath shaky, "You know just how to leave me undone."

🜲 A Deep, Satisfied Sigh and Gentle Movement As a lover, his body reacts to your bite with an even deeper level of intimacy. When you bite him, he sighs deeply, his whole body seemingly relaxing under your touch. His head tilts back, allowing you access to his skin, and his eyes flutter closed in pleasure. His hand will find its way to your back, caressing the curve of your spine in a slow, languid movement, as if grounding himself in the intimacy you're creating. There's an undeniable pull toward you, and his movements become more fluid, his body drawing you closer as the bond between you deepens. He might even pull you into a slow, possessive kiss afterward, as if trying to absorb every moment of affection you're offering.

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Does He Hide or Not to Hide: How He Reacts to Visible Bite Marks in Public

🜲 Covered, but More Comfortable with His Affection As your lover, Gil-galad still keeps the marks you leave on him hidden from public view. However, there’s a subtle shift in his reaction. Though he will still cover the marks carefully, there’s a quieter confidence in his demeanor. He may not be as meticulous in making sure no one sees them, but he still values his privacy and composure. When no one is looking, he may let the marks peek out slightly, but if someone notices, he will casually cover them, with a look that says, These marks are a private matter, and only I am allowed to share them.

🜲 A Flicker of Pride Though Gil-galad keeps the marks covered in public, there’s an undeniable pride when he sees or feels them. He knows that these marks are a symbol of the closeness and trust between you. In private, he may even show them to you, letting you admire them as he admires you. His expression softens, and you can feel his pride in knowing you’ve marked him with such affection.

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Marking His Neck, Collarbone, Shoulder, Wrist, Elven Ear, and Other Areas

🜲 Neck: As your lover, Gil-galad’s neck is a deeply intimate area for him, and when you bite him there, he feels a thrill of both pleasure and affection. His initial response is a sharp breath, his body tensing as he absorbs the sensation. “You do enjoy leaving your mark,” he might murmur, his voice low and full of desire. The mark you leave here will stay with him for a while, even after he covers it in public. It’s a reminder of the bond you share, and he will quietly trace the mark in private, a small smile tugging at his lips as he recalls the moment.

🜲 Collarbone: Gil-galad’s collarbone is a sensitive but not overly vulnerable area. When you bite him here, his response is one of quiet pleasure. His muscles tighten just slightly, and a soft, appreciative sigh escapes him. “This spot is often reserved for gentler touches,” he will say with a smile, though the warmth in his voice tells you he doesn’t mind. His regal demeanor doesn’t waver, but there’s a softness in his eyes that shows how much he enjoys the intimate gesture. In public, he’ll still cover the mark, but he wears it with a quiet pride in private.

🜲 Shoulder: The shoulder is less sensitive for Gil-galad, but the moment you bite him there, his response is still one of surprise followed by acceptance. He might raise an eyebrow in amusement, his lips curling into a small smile. “You never fail to surprise me,” he might say softly, his hand resting lightly on your back. While the mark left here is less intimate than the others, it still holds meaning for him. In public, he might casually adjust his cloak or armor to cover it, but there’s a gentle affection in his touch as he recalls the mark in private.

🜲 Wrist: As your lover, Gil-galad’s wrist is an especially intimate area. When you bite it, his reaction is immediate—a gasp, followed by a soft exhale as he tries to regain his composure. “You have a way of making me lose myself,” he murmurs, his voice tinged with both surprise and admiration. His hand will instinctively curl into a fist, but he won’t pull away. He allows the mark to remain, savoring it as a reminder of your affection. In public, however, he will still cover the mark, but in private, he will trace it with gentle fingers, a soft smile playing on his lips.

🜲 Elven Ear: The ear is one of the most sensitive parts of an elf’s body, and as your lover, Gil-galad’s response to a bite here is one of both vulnerability and pleasure. His breath catches in his throat, and his body shudders slightly at the sensation. “You do realize the effect you have on me, don’t you?” he will say, his voice hushed and filled with desire. His usually composed exterior falters for just a moment, and he looks at you with a mixture of affection and admiration. Though he will quickly adjust his hair to hide the mark in public, there’s no mistaking the deep connection you share through this intimate gesture.

🜲 Other areas: Inner Elbow, Ribcage, or Thighs As your lover, when you mark Gil-galad in deeply intimate areas like his inner elbow, ribcage, or thighs, the intensity of his response escalates. These areas are sensitive for him, and his body reacts in a way that betrays his usual composure. His movements become more fluid, his breath shallow and quick. Each mark sends a ripple of pleasure through him, and if your bite is especially intense, a low moan escapes him-something he doesn't often allow. He's usually so controlled, but in moments like these, he surrenders completely to the connection between you two. "I belong to you," he murmurs softly, his voice thick with desire. "Do not stop." There's no pride or restraint in his voice now; just raw, unfiltered emotion. The marks you leave on him, especially in these private, intimate spots, are a testament to the bond you share, and he accepts them completely, without reservation.

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When He Notices a Mark Later How He Reacts to Finding Unseen Marks

🜲 Soft Amusement and Desire As Gil-galad’s lover, when he notices a mark he didn’t realize you’d left on him—whether it’s on his neck, collarbone, or any other sensitive area—there is a flicker of amusement in his expression. He’ll pause, running his fingers lightly over the mark as if testing its presence, his eyes narrowing slightly in pleasure. There’s a quiet, satisfied smile on his lips, and his gaze softens as he remembers the intimacy of the moment. “I see I’ve been marked in ways I did not expect,” he’ll say, his voice a gentle whisper of both surprise and appreciation. Though he may not speak loudly, the warmth in his tone suggests that the mark brings him joy, signaling your bond.

🜲 A Moment of Quiet Connection His reaction is not just one of surprise but also one of deeper connection. In private, he might allow the mark to linger longer, standing before a mirror as if contemplating it. His fingers will graze the mark softly, and you’ll notice a thoughtful look in his eyes. “I had no idea you were so fond of leaving reminders of your affection,” he’ll say with a slight, teasing smile. While Gil-galad maintains his dignity, he’s not above feeling a sense of pride or joy from these marks. They become part of the intimate bond you share, a quiet declaration of affection he cherishes.

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Gentle Bite: How He Reacts to Your Soft Teeth Against His Skin

🜲 Calm, But With a Hidden Rush of Desire When you give Gil-galad a gentle bite, he reacts first with stillness, his body momentarily tensing in anticipation before relaxing. Your soft teeth on his skin send a wave of warmth through him, and he will instinctively take a deep breath, savoring the sensation. His eyes may flutter shut briefly, and a soft sound might escape him—something between a sigh and a low hum of approval. “This is… unexpected,” he will murmur, though there’s no discomfort in his voice—only a quiet pleasure in the intimacy of the moment.

🜲 Deeply Affectionate, With a Slight Hint of Playfulness Though Gil-galad is usually composed, a gentle bite can draw out a more playful side of him. His response may be subtler than in more passionate moments, but the effect is just as strong. The way your soft bite contrasts with his usual stateliness brings a smile to his face, one that’s intimate and warm. “Meleth-nîn,” he might whisper, using the word for “my friend” in a way that feels tender and affectionate. He may even return the gesture, placing a kiss where you left your mark, his actions slow and purposeful. “Your bite, so light and gentle… yet it says so much,” he’ll remark, his voice filled with quiet admiration.

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Biting Him in the Heat of the Moment

🜲 Intense and Passionate In moments of heated passion, Gil-galad’s reaction to your biting becomes one of intense focus and deep connection. When you bite him in the midst of an argument, argument-induced passion, or during moments of heated affection, his usual restraint cracks, and he responds with a slight gasp or a sharp intake of breath. The bite takes him by surprise, but instead of pulling away, he holds you closer, as if letting you mark him is a form of claiming him back. His own body responds, muscles tightening, and his pulse quickens at the sensation of your teeth against his skin. “That’s… certainly one way to get my attention,” he says breathlessly, but there’s a definite undertone of desire and appreciation in his voice.

🜲 A Playful, Heated Exchange If the moment is filled with playful affection rather than tension, your bite in the heat of the moment might provoke a passionate response from Gil-galad. His grip tightens around you, and a soft moan escapes him as he feels your bite. He won’t pull back, even if your teeth mark him in ways he can’t immediately hide. Instead, he will press his lips to your ear, whispering softly, “You know, this is a dangerous game you’re playing.” There’s a slight smile on his lips as he presses closer, his breath quickening. His normally regal composure slips entirely in the wake of the intimacy and passion between you both. “I might have to remind you that I’m the one who commands respect,” he teases, though it’s clear that he’s enjoying every moment of this more aggressive display of affection.

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When He Sees You Admiring Your Marks on His Skin

🜲 A Quiet, Loving Moment When Gil-galad notices you admiring the marks you’ve left on him, he is still, allowing you to study the marks as you trace them. His eyes soften as he watches you, the regal distance he normally maintains slipping in favor of something more tender. He doesn’t speak at first but instead meets your gaze, his expression a mix of fondness and something deeper, something protective. He may gently take your hand and guide it to the mark, his voice low and soothing. “Admiring your handiwork, are you?” he asks, the words teasing but carrying a weight of emotion. His gaze is intense, loving, and there’s an unspoken acknowledgment of the bond you share—the marks a reminder of his place in your life and your affections.

🜲 Possessive Yet Loving If you linger on the marks too long, Gil-galad may give you a slightly possessive but affectionate look, stepping closer to you. “Do you like what you see?” he might ask with a slight smirk, clearly enjoying the attention you’re giving his skin. He is proud of the marks you leave—seeing them as a sign of your love, affection, and possession. His fingers will graze over the marks lightly, a private moment between the two of you, showing that he doesn’t mind that you’ve claimed him in such a physical and intimate way. “I’ve always been yours, my love,” he might say softly, as he gently pulls you closer, savoring the closeness and connection the marks represent.

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Biting Him During Moments of Stress

🜲 A Source of Solace and Connection In moments of deep stress—whether from responsibilities, political matters, or simply the weight of his own duties—Gil-galad finds comfort in your bites. They are grounding, providing a sense of intimacy and distraction from his burdens. Your bite might come as a surprise, but instead of pulling away, he’ll lean into it, as if seeking the connection it offers. His usual restraint falters as a quiet, almost imperceptible sigh escapes his lips. “Meleth-nîn,” he’ll breathe, voice soft and full of relief. Your bite, gentle or firm, gives him a sense of control over his emotions, and for a moment, he can escape the weight of his responsibilities in the simplest way: through your touch.

🜲 A Hidden Comfort When his stress has built up over time and he’s becoming too preoccupied with his thoughts, your bite acts as an anchor. As you sink your teeth gently into his skin, his back straightens, but his reaction is not one of shock or annoyance. Instead, his face softens, his breath deepens, and his body seems to relax under your touch. “I had not realized how much I needed this,” he confesses quietly, allowing the tension to leave his frame. Though he remains outwardly composed, there’s an unmistakable vulnerability when he looks at you—a recognition of the solace you bring, in ways both large and small.

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His ‘Punishments’ for Over-enthusiastic Biting

🜲 Slightly Stern, Yet Affectionate If your biting gets a bit too enthusiastic, particularly when you’re caught up in the heat of the moment, Gil-galad’s response is one of both affection and gentle correction. He will firmly, but lovingly, pull you away from the mark you’ve just left, offering a calm and serious glance. “I do not mind your affections, but I do have limits, my love,” he’ll say softly, his voice almost like a quiet reprimand. His tone isn’t harsh, but there’s a certain authority to it that leaves you no room for argument. “Next time,” he adds, his gaze steady and his hand on your cheek, “be mindful of where you place your mark, for there are some parts of me that are not made for your teeth.”

🜲 A Playful Tease With A Hint of Control If you’ve left marks that are more intense than he’s comfortable with, Gil-galad will gently reprimand you with a small, playful smile. He’ll take your hand and press a soft kiss to your fingers, his gaze affectionate but slightly stern. “You must learn to control that enthusiasm of yours,” he’ll tease, though the glint in his eyes shows he’s not upset. “If you mark me too fiercely again, I might have to punish you—though, I think I can find ways to make it a more… pleasurable lesson.” His hand will slide down to rest on your neck, just where your bite was, and he’ll look at you with a faint smile. “But for now, we will leave it at a simple reminder.” His tone remains gentle, but there’s an undeniable undercurrent of his playful authority—one that both surprises and excites you.

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[stxrshxpxd]

🌷 fic friday;

”i enjoy watching you squirm”

young thranduil x reader

love-hate, dagger to throat, sexual tension

Having grown up being force fed a friendship with Thranduil naturally I had grown to hate him. Our parents were close friends and for a long time we were the only children of our age in the vast woods. Bickering and wrestling matches had always been the pillars of our friendship and there were many times we had returned home at sunset with mud and grass stains all over, expecting disappointed stares and sighs.

It was a golden afternoon with the sun hanging low in the sky as summer was breathing its last breaths. The leaves around us had begun shifting colours, making it slightly more difficult to spot the apples we had been sent out to harvest. Thranduil had gotten a hold of a stray one and was carelessly slicing it in his hand with his small, sharp dagger as we walked on down towards the core of the apple tree grove. I glanced as he fed himself the slices and absently toyed with the dagger, hooking his long finger into the bronze hoop at the end of it and swinging it around.

“You’re going to hurt someone,” I stated with a scowl, staring down at his careless hands. Thranduil looked at me, pulled out of his daydreams, and he smiled wolfishly as he secured the dagger in his fist instead.

“Are you scared?” he asked with a curl of the lips and watched me through his dark eyebrows. I scoffed and rolled my eyes.

“You couldn’t hurt me even if you tried,” I countered, but before I had the chance to lay my dismissive eyes back on him he had shoved me by the waist and caged me in against the massive oak tree behind me, the sticky blade of the dagger pressed to my throat and his height towering over me. The half sliced apple had dropped from his hand in an instant and my lower ribs had taken its place in his large palm.

“Couldn’t I?”

The calm forest around us filled with the sound of my breath falling from my parted lips. Thranduil stared back at me with a smirk as his forehead grazed mine and his fist tightened around the dagger, the blade on the verge of sinking into my skin. His one brow twitched, awaiting my response.

“Fine, do it,” I challenged and raised one of my brows as well. He licked his lips and flashed his playful grin for a second.

“I don’t want to hurt you, mellon nin. I merely enjoy watching you squirm.”

Something burned and tingled inside me at his words but I scoffed again.

“I don’t squirm,” I replied and forcefully shoved him off of me, to which he laughed and sheathed his dagger again.

“At least you’re never bored with me around, darling,” Thranduil said and hooked his arm around my shoulder and pulled me in for a tight half hug. I smiled viciously up at him and jabbed my finger into the flesh of his side, making him wince and groan and let go of me.

“And you’re never safe,” I joked and took a step to my side, desperately chasing that strange tingling feeling away.