#Bard would do anything for Thranduil

[plussizefantasia]

The Surprise

Flufftober Day 20: Hiking

Thorin Oakenshield x reader

Word Count: 2.1k

AN: Day 20! Wow, if I'm totally honest I didn't think that I'd make it this far. Feedback and Reblogs mean a lot. I'll see y'all tomorrow.

divider credit: @royallaesthetics

“You’ve not been yourself for quite a while my love. Tell me what troubles you.” Thorin had been more irritable than normal lately. He had taken to sparring more than normal and had been extremely short with some of the more resistant members of his council.

“It is nothing Ghivashel, do not worry your precious head about me.”

“I’ll always worry about you Thorin, that is what being your wife means.” You pulled him into your arms and looked into his eyes. “You are my heart, and when you hurt, I hurt. So let me lift your burdens.”

“Do you miss it?” Was his questioning response. 

“Miss what, Thorin?”

“Being free. The adventures that we had before we reclaimed the mountain. Slaying beasts and journeying with our closest friends.” He was wistful when he spoke of these things. His voice was soft and his eyes were glazed over. 

“Of course I miss it my love, but who is to say that it has to be over?”

His eyes met yours. “I have far too much to do. I cannot just leave the mountain to go on an adventure, not while things are still so fragile.”

“Well, yes. You cannot go on another year-long journey to reclaim our homeland. But you can take the weekend. The council is at an impasse as it is and Bard and Thranduil are not due to return for negotiations for another month.” You kissed his head. “Thorin you have done enough that I know the mountain will not fall apart if you were to leave for a short while.”

“But what kind of King would I be if I abandoned my people?”

“My love, you are not abandoning them, you are taking care of yourself. You are letting yourself blow off some steam so that when you come back you will be an even better King than you are now.”

“It is just not possible Ghivasel. I must put these thoughts far from my mind.”

“If that is what you think is best.” You sighed. Your husband was not one to be easily swayed, even by you. 

Your thoughts began to race though, thinking of all the ways that you could improve your lover’s mood and what would need to be taken care of before that could happen.

The next few days passed similarly to the ones before your conversation with Thorin. He was up before you were and returned to your shared chambers after you had already gotten ready for sleep. His mood only got worse and you decided that something needed to give. Which is why the next morning after you had awoken, once again to your husband’s side of the bed already cold, you had sought out Balin for a discussion during breakfast.

You had found him in the royal library, where he usually resided in the early morning. Nursing a cup of tea and flipping through pages of an old tome. 

“Balin, I need to discuss something with you old friend.”

“Anything, for my Queen.”

“I was your friend long before I was your Queen” You pointed out.

“Perhaps but, I knew you’d be Queen before even Thorin did.”

“That is precisely who I’m here to speak to you about.” Balin put his book down on the table next to him, turning his aging body towards yours fully, and gestured for you to take a seat. “Thorin is troubled. He misses the journey and the freedom that came with it. I do not doubt that he loves being King, but he needs to be just Thorin sometimes too.”

“I have noticed that Thorin has been more easily angered as of late. What do you have in mind?” 

“I’m so glad you asked.” You detailed your plan to Balin and bounced ideas of the old dwarf until the sun had reached its peak in the sky. Both of you had accidentally neglected your duties of the morning and spent the rest of the day playing catch-up. Any dwarf that saw the two of you in passing though, could only describe the two of you as possibly giddy.

Two weeks passed before the plan could finally be put into motion. Two weeks of sneaking around behind Thorin’s back, wrapping up loose ends, and ensuring that the mountain would in fact, not implode during your weekend away. It was hard work, and by the end of it, you were very much aware of why Thorin had been so tense lately. It just made you want to surprise him with your gift even more.

The morning of the surprise you intentionally woke up extremely early. Early enough that you were up and ready before Throin was. You pulled together your outfit and his and ensured that both of your packs were properly stocked.

When he finally woke, the confusion on his face quickly morphed into alertness and concern. He practically launched himself out of the bed before his eyes landed on your body and he instantly relaxed.

“What in Mahal’s name are you doing up?” His morning voice was rough and insanely attractive, you had to remind yourself that you were on a schedule before you acted upon the thoughts that came rushing to you at his words.

“I have a surprise for you, and I needed to be awake before you to stop you from leaving before it was ready.”

“Ghivashel,” his tone was apologetic, “today is much too busy for any kind of surprise.”

“Except, my love, it is not. I have already taken care of your duties for the day, and have canceled the meeting you had with the miners guild this weekend in favor of a crafter’s summit later this month where all of the workers in the mountain will be able to discuss their dilemmas together.” 

“You, what?” He was baffled, truly baffled. How had you possibly done all this without him noticing?”

“The summit was Balin’s idea, he insisted that it would work and I hope he was right. Nevertheless, your schedule and mine are clear for the next three days and I have planned a surprise for you. Your clothes are laid out for you and I have already packed for the both of us. Breakfast is in the kitchen, meet me in the stables when you are ready. I still have a few things to prepare before it is time.” You instructed him. 

“Time for what?” He grabbed your wrist as you began to walk out past the wooden doors of your chamber. 

“Time for your surprise, my darling.” You kissed him soundly and continued your exit. Leaving a confused but hesitantly excited Thorin behind. 

While Thorin was getting ready, you headed to the kitchen yourself. To grab the basket full of the feast you had called upon the kitchen to prepare. A long with some dried bread and cheese to put in your sack. Then you made your way to the other hall of royal chambers to ensure that the princes were awake and getting ready. Those two could sleep through an orc attack if they were given the chance, and today you would not be giving them the chance. 

“If you mess this up. I will shave your mustache in your sleep Fili I mean it.” You had threatened the eldest. You found that it only ever took a threat to the eldest to make sure that the youngest also followed through. Kili was sure that whatever was done to Fili would be done to him twofold. And he wasn’t really wrong.

Once you had made sure that you had everything you would need you made your way to the stables. Hoping that you’d beat Thorin there, or that he actually would show up and not just insist that he needs to work anyway.

You didn’t see him when you arrived but it was still early so you didn’t feel the need to send out a search party. It was only a few moments later when you heard him turning the corner. In the time you had been there alone, you had managed to set up both your horse and Thorin’s. Packs laid across their back and saddled properly placed and laced up. 

“Ghivashel, what is this surprise you’ve planned for me? And why did we need to meet here to start.”

“I think I can tell you now, as long as you promise to not leave when you find out.”

“I promise my love, just tell me I beg you.”

“Remember my love, how a few weeks ago you had confided in me that you missed the journey. That you missed being free. Well, I spoke to Balin and we put together a plan that would let you be free, if only for a little while. We are going on a mini journey.”

“Love, This is… Thank you.” You’d never really seen Thorin be speechless before, he had always been a man of few words, but you don’t think you’ve ever seen him without any.

“I just want you to be happy, Thorin. You’ve been so stressed lately that I wanted to help you feel better.”

He pulled you into his arms and fiercely placed his lips upon yours. You melted into his kiss. His lips moved on yours in a passion, relaying all the thoughts that seemed to be trapped inside of his mind. He kissed you like he would never be able to kiss you again. When you finally broke apart you took a big breath and tried to control the dopey smile that was threatening to cross your face. 

“We have to get going. I have a plan and if you keep kissing me like that I’ll never be able to follow through.” You pulled away from him reluctantly and made your way towards your horse.

“After you.” 

The two of you rode for about an hour before the riding trail cleared and the pathway became too treacherous for the horses. 

“This is where we leave them. The rest of the way is one foot.”

Thorin and you dismounted and you let the horses off lead so that they could make their way back to the mountain without you. The two of you continued on foot with Thorin occasionally leading you through some rough terrain. You spent the entire day together, looking at wildlife and speaking about things that had nothing to do with the mountain or kingly duties.

You reminisced about the first journey, about Bofur’s ability to make a joke out of everything. Of Bilbo’s incessant fretting and how amusing it was to watch. You swapped stories and recounted battles the whole way. Only when you recognized where you were and that the final part of the surprise was almost there did you grab Thorin’s arm and stop him from going any further.

“Okay, we’re almost there. But I need to put this on you before we go any further. You pulled a long thin strip of black cloth from your pack.

“A blindfold? Ghivashel…”

“I know, I know but it won’t be long I promise.”

He sighed deeply and heavily but acquiesced. You tied the blindfold around his eyes and grabbed his hand. Leading him through the last of the few hurdles until you made it to the clearing where the last bit of the plan was waiting. 

“Surprise!” A yell called out around you and Thorin reached up to pull his blindfold off. The sight that awaited him was the entire rest of the company. All spread out across the clearing. Bombur was stirring a pot that was piked above the fire. Fili held Kili in a headlock and Kili struggled to escape. Dori, Nori, and Ori were all sat around some logs and were smiling at him.

Thorin turned to you and in his eyes, you could read adoration and thankfulness. He briefly left a kiss on your cheek before he let a smile cover the entirety of his face and started towards his friends. 

You stood behind watching your husband be the happiest he’s been in a very long time. His eyes were light and his shoulders were straight. For a few short moments, he was allowed to be Thorin Oakensheild, not King under the mountain. 

“This was a fine idea, My Queen.” You looked down to the left of you. Balin stood similarly to you, arms behind his back with a gentle smile across his face. 

“It was a great plan, Balin. I thank you for your help.”

“Anything for you, and for Thorin. He’s lucky to have you.”

“I’m lucky to have him.”

#plus size reader #plus size!reader #fanfic #fluff #x reader #drabble #flufftober #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin x reader #thorin oakenshield #the hobbit thorin #the hobbit #thorin and company #the hobbit fanfiction #thorin x plus size reader #thorin oakensheild x plus size reader #thorin oakensheild fluff #thorin drabble #thorin oneshot #thorin

[kiatheinsomniac]

Hello, it's me again 💀

Can I have something NSFW with Thranduil x Human!Reader + “Does it make you nervous when I stare?”?

Thank you!

notes: fucking Thranduil in his BOTFA armour? Hell yeah

pairing: Thranduil x Reader

word count: 3.1k

warnings: nsfw, quickie, vaginal fingering, against-the-wall sex, oral (male receiving)

☾ ⋆ﾟ  MASTERLIST / RULES / TAGLIST FORM

Does it make you nervous when I stare?

Each time you took your sights from the townsfolk, you would find bright blue eyes on you and it was nerve-wracking to say the least. They were the eyes of the Elvenking who had emerged from his woodland realm with his army to reclaim some jewels, so Bard had told you. You thought of his cause as ridiculous but he would also aid Lake Town in claiming their rightful share of the mountain’s wealth that Smaug had stolen from Bard’s ancestor - such wealth would be essential for the town’s people to rebuild their lives after the terror of dragonfire and the losses that it ensued. 

You found yourself unable to hold his gaze for even a second, face flushing at being stared at by someone as powerful as he was beautiful. You would trip over your words in a flustered state for a few moments before regaining your composure and telling yourself that you would not look upon the Elvenking again. You were wrong each time, of course, and continued to find his eyes on you as you instructed the townsfolk in simple defences from each of four diagonals. 

Bard had requested that you teach some of the people how to fight in order to try and better prepare them for the war that could not be avoided. Your late father had been a mercenary, teaching you how to use a longsword and a bow – you made your money off selling the pelts of animals that you hunted. Hunts, as of late, had rarely been without the occasional orc scout and so your swordsmanship skills had become more refined in recent months. 

When you were permitted a break, you spent it in the armoury, looking for some decent armour. You refused to stay in Dale and hide with the elderly, children and other women. You knew that, in your place, some young boy who was yet to be considered a man would have to fight and the fishermen of Lake Town lacked in number when it came to people with your fighting skills. You were far from being like the warriors of old legends but you could defend yourself and you would not see a defenceless boy be made to take your place. 

You browsed around what remained in the armoury, all of the protective gear old, most in poor condition, and all of it designed for men which would do very poorly to fit you. You had to settle for some chainmail, good against sword-slashes but not heavy weapons and a helmet that must have been made for a young man for it to fit you as it did. 

You set the helmet down on a dusty table as you pulled out a chair, not bothered by the cobwebs after all you had been through in the last few days. You rested your head in your hands and let out a long sigh, thinking about what lay ahead. You ran a hand through your hair, pushing back the strands that had escaped your braid and now fell about your face, looking up to where one of the two armoury doors stood open, finding a tall silhouette blocking a lot of the light. 

You froze at seeing those strikingly blue eyes again. He stepped inside and shut the door behind him and you rose to your feet, back straightened and head lowered in respect of his status.

“King Thranduil,” You began, “is there anything I can assist you with?” 

“Only in satisfying me.” Your eyes widened and a blush flooded to your cheeks as your head snapped up to meet his eyes. You most certainly wouldn’t be opposed but this was very sudden and you were sure there were elven women who were far more beautiful than you within his realm. Was he merely so impatient in his lust that he had decided to take his pick from the mortal women while camping in the ruins of Dale? The corner of his mouth pulled up in a smirk at your reaction, “My curiosity, that is.” Your body seemed to relax. 

“What is it that you wish to know?” You willed the blush to drain from your cheeks but his look of amusement at seeing so clearly where your mind had gone assured that the blush remained in place. 

“I would like to know where a young mortal woman learned how to fight. I understand that women, children and the elderly are not expected to fight in war so why is it that you wield a sword better than most of the men around you?” So that is why he had been staring: he considered you an outlier to his understanding of how the mortal world worked in war. 

“My father was a mercenary. I suppose having only one daughter made him protective of me and so he taught me the basics of swordsmanship, knowing he would not always be around to defend me. I make my living off selling pelts and meat from bigger game but orcs have increased in number in these lands as of late so I suppose it’s given me the opportunity to refine my fighting skills.” You explained simply his eyes raked over your body, making you pull at your fingers nervously, some of the joints cracking. Was he so set on casting such subtle innuendos?

“And I would be right to assume that you intend to fight too?” Oh, He had been taking in the chainmail that you wore. Of course. His eyes flickered between your eyes and hands as you fumbled for an answer at realising your thinking had been wrong. 

“I do. In my place, they would select a boy who has seen far too few winters. I won’t see a child take my place merely because I am a woman.” He took a step forwards and you took a step back unconsciously, eyes darting to meet his and finding yourself unable to hold his intense gaze. 

“Does it make you nervous when I stare?” His voice seemed to come out even richer with the question, like a purr and you swallowed hard, pulling at your fingers even harder. 

“I…” Well, lying would be fruitless, you reasoned, “You have a certain… superiority about you. It’s quite intimidating, in all honesty.” You stole a quick glance to his face, finding him looking very smug. 

“Is that the only reason?” You let the silence hang in the air for a moment. 

“And, frankly, because you are very beautiful.” You regretted the words the moment they left your mouth. 

“‘Beautiful’?” He highlighted and you couldn’t stop yourself from fumbling over your next words. 

“Beautiful. Yes. I think that ‘beautiful’ has a… delicate elegance that I think ‘handsome’ does not quite possess. That’s not to say that I see you as delicate, far from it. It’s much more swan-like in appearance and mannerism, I suppose and… I’m going to stop talking now. I should stop.” Your cheeks were alight with a blush and you turned around to distract yourself by tucking the dusty chair back under the table. There was a low laugh from Thranduil behind you and you scrunched your eyes shut, scolding yourself for being so flustered by him. 

“Then perhaps I should confide that I find you beautiful also.” Your eyes instantly snapped open and you looked over your shoulder to try and decipher whether or not he was teasing you. “Though, not like a swan, I must admit. You are much more… serpentine in your movements.” He was making similar comparisons to try and make you feel better, how sweet. Your breath caught in your throat when, as you slowly turned back to face him, his fingers came beneath your chin, tilting your head up and assuring that it was very difficult for you to escape his intense stare, “Are you certain that there are no elves in your ancestry?” A part of you was both stung and flattered by the question: he was no doubt complimenting your beauty in asking such a thing, though it was also rather reflective of the arrogance of elves that you had heard rumours of. 

“As far as I am aware, no, though I cannot trace it back very far.” Too many words, too many details. Again. You could have kicked yourself for your awkwardness. However, it only seemed to amuse him, seeing how you couldn’t quite stand still, the blush stamped upon your face. 

“It’s quite endearing.” You hummed in confusion, a request for him to elaborate, “How easily flustered you are.” Your lips parted a little in shock at his bluntness and you tried to look away, only to have his fingers grip your chin more firmly, a silent order to meet those sparkling eyes of his. His head turned back to the doors for a moment. “Are they expecting you back shortly?” 

“N-not for a little while yet.” You stammered, wondering where he was going with this line of questioning. 

“Perhaps we could pass the time together?” His voice quietened, leaning in to whisper in your ear: “I did not miss how you reacted to the thought of satisfying me.” His nose brushed against your hair, inhaling the scent of you, “We could satisfy each other.” You swallowed hard, almost finding it hard to believe that the Elvenking of all people wanted to sleep with you. You nodded your head minutely before you remembered how to use your voice. 

“Yes…” Your voice was barely a whisper. He tilted his head to the side, drawing back a little to give you a look that told you to speak up. “Yes, please.” Your words were louder this time. His hand came up to cup your face and his lips pressed to yours. You almost felt embarrassed for the hummed moan that you let out at the first contact – it had been a while since you had been touched at all and it made your legs feel weak. 

Your hands came up to cup either side of his jaw, fingers just slightly dipping into his hair and wishing that you had the courage to tug on it but it seemed so important to his appearance and you worried that he would take offence if you tried. His other hand curled around your hip, pushing you backwards until your lower back hit the table. 

Your breathing had grown much quicker by the time he was reaching under your thighs to hoist you onto the table, pulling you to the edge and pushing your legs apart to stand between them. His tongue licked into your mouth and your hands fell from his face to his chest, fingertips curling around the neckline of his armour, needing something to ground yourself with amongst his dizzying kisses. When his lips landed on your jaw, you let your head fall back, biting your kiss-swollen lips to stifle moans when his lips found a particularly soft spot on your neck and sucked down on the supple skin. His hands landed on your waist, a series of clinking sounds filling the air as they ran across the curves of your body under the chainmail. 

“Get this off.” His voice was quiet and yet no less commanding and you reached down to pull it over your head while he unstrapped the weapons at his waist, setting them down in a pile on the table alongside your borrowed armour. His eyes roved over the rest of the room for a moment before landing on a more secluded corner behind a rack that had once been full of spears and you gasped when you were suddenly in his arms again, the sound being swallowed up by yet another kiss while you wrapped your legs around his waist. Your back met the wall and he carefully set you on your feet, feeling his hands tugging at the ties of your trousers. You reached into the fabric of his robes to do the same, dipping your hand into the strained clothing to stroke his hardened cock and he let out a low groan against your ear as his hands pushed your trousers down your thighs. 

You almost lost your balance in your hurry to toe off your boots, Thranduil steadying you with his arms on either side of your body and an amused smile upon his lips. You were more careful with stepping out of the lower half of your clothing and you gasped when his fingers dipped into your wet slit. 

“So wet already?” He hummed, lips against your neck. 

“I’m certain that with a lifespan like yours, I wouldn’t be the first to tell you how much of a brilliant kisser you are.” There was a low laugh against the skin of your neck, the vibrations almost tickling you and all the air rushed from your lungs when he slowly dipped two fingers into your cunt. 

“Perhaps you also would not be the first to compliment my other skills.” You could only whimper in reply as his fingers curled up to stroke against your more sensitive spot, dragging against it each time he withdrew his fingers and pushed them back into your waiting heat. Deeming you wet enough to take him, he wiped his fingers clean of your wetness on your inner thigh and picked you up once more, trapping you between the wall and his body. You longed to see what he looked like beneath the clothes and armour and could only hope that you would one day have another opportunity to do so. 

His cock pressed against your entrance as he slowly breached your walls, making you stretch to accommodate him. You buried your face in his neck to muffle a whine, beginning to feel just how long it had been for you since your series of flings with the blacksmith’s second son. 

“Am I hurting you?” His voice was tender against your ear and you shook your head. 

“It’s just been a while, please don’t stop. Please.” The light begging seemed to have a strong effect on him as he was quickly giving you shallow thrusts, allowing you time to adjust before fully sheathing himself in you. The size of him made you feel utterly full and your arms wrapped around his neck as he bounced you up and down on his cock. His lips crashed onto yours when the volume of your moans began to slip out of your control, swallowing your sounds of pleasure. By the time he broke the kiss, you were panting for breath. 

“Touch yourself.” His words came out rushed and you unclasped your fingers from the robes at the back of his neck to reach down with one hand and rub against your clit, spreading your fingers apart and then dipping down further to feel either side of his cock as it entered and left you. He groaned at the light feel of your fingers which then retreated to do as he had asked of you. The added pleasure only pushed you to the verge of orgasm even faster, wet walls tightening around him and feeling your legs tremble, held up by his strong hands. 

You did not realise that you had tangled your fingers tightly into his hair until he let out a moan and his hips faltered against your before he upped his ante. You crashed your lips against his in a messy kiss in an attempt to muffle your moans as you could only pray that no one would hear the obscene noises of your slick cunt taking him in so greedily, nor the sounds of your skin meeting with the way your clothes had been half-discarded. 

He caged you against the wall even firmer and feeling his body pressed so tightly to yours, paired with how his lips met your neck once more, sent you tumbling over the edge into your orgasm. Your hand tugged on his hair and you buried your face in his shoulder as your body convulsed, feeling him continue to fuck you through your orgasm until it grew uncomfortably intense. 

“Down… put me… down…” You managed to gasp out and he let out a long groan that almost ended in a whine. He did not disobey your wishes, however, and slipped out from you, settling you to your feet and you did not hesitate to fall to your knees. Your hand reached up to stroke his cock, slick with your wetness, before taking him in your mouth as far as you could manage, swallowing around him and pressing against the underside of his cock with your tongue, hollowing your cheeks once you began bobbing your head. 

His breath came out in a shuddered sigh as he wrapped your braid around his hand, tugging on it and lightly thrusting his hips against your face. You could feel him throb in your mouth and at the first taste of his seed, you took all of him down your throat as he finished, revelling in the quiet noises that he made as he did. His forearm rested against the wall above your head, towering over you as he panted for breath while you swallowed all that he had to give. You removed him from your mouth, giving one last teasing lick to the tip of his cock before falling to the side a little, your legs beside you instead of under you. 

You closed your eyes contently as he pushed some hair back from your face and then stood upright to fix up his clothes. 

“They will be expecting you back soon.” He spoke and you hummed, nodding your head before leaning it back against the wall.

“I just need a moment to catch my breath.” You mumbled, cracking an eyes open to see Thranduil bending down to turn your trousers the right way for you and set your boots neatly beside one another. He dipped down even lower to bring his fingers under your chin, pressing one last, lingering kiss to your lips. 

“I hope this will not be the last time we cross paths, fair little mortal.” With that said, he went over to collect his weapons, reattaching the belts and he left the armoury as he had entered: a perfectly put-together epitome of elegance. Your eyes widened for a moment as it dawned on you that you had just fucked a King and would need to recover quickly to avoid suspicion when you returned to your task.

🏷️@edensrose

#thranduil oropherion #thranduil x reader #thranduil #thranduil smut #thranduil x reader smut #elvenking #Kia’s 1k requests event

[master-muffinn]

You have a life too

It was a lovely July morning. You were with your boyfriend, hand in hand and walked through the green forest, which was filled with insects and flowers. You two finally had some free time and you chose to spend it together. Talking a little now and then about what the other had done to not miss out on anything important.

But then you see a bird and it flies up to you. You automatically hold out your hand for it to sit on. It has a letter for you. You let go of your boyfriend's hand and the bird flies away after you take the letter. 

Dear y/n. Meet me at ‘The Prancing Pony’ on Sunday evening at 7 o'clock.  From your dear friend, Gandalf.

You looked at the letter with disgust and irritation. You knew exactly what this is about. Gandalf had promised a stranger that you would come help them without talking to you about it first and expected you to come without questioning it.

You are smart, wise and a great fighter, but you had a really hard time to say ‘no’ when people ask you for help which back then perhaps was good because it’s the right thing to do, but now it starting to get out of hand and it felt like people took your help for granted. Like, you had a life too!

You looked at your boyfriend who already seemed to know what the letter was about. 

“Gandalf ‘again’?” he said and sighed when you nodded.

You looked back at the letter “I am really tired of Gandalf making promises without talking to me first”

“I know, me too”

You looked back at your boyfriend with pleading eyes. “I really don’t want to go, but I don't know how to tell him! Can you help me come up with a good excuse to not go that Gandalf has no other choice but to accept?!”

He thought for a while, looking around his surroundings like it could maybe help him get any useful ideas. He then put his hand in his pocket and a shy smile came to his lips. He took a step closer to you and looked you straight in the eyes with a loving gaze. 

“I have been thinking about doing this for a while but never had a good opportunity, so maybe this is the best time to do it” 

You move your head to the side and raise an eyebrow not understanding what he meant.

He took out a small box from his pocket, went down with one knee and opened the box with a beautiful ring inside. “Do you want to marry me? We have been together for years now and I can't see myself with anyone else but you! You are like the other half of my heart that I can't live without. I would love nothing more than to have you by my side in the rest of our life!”

You just stood stupidly in shock with your mouth and eyes wide open, but you quickly collected yourself, dropped the letter and threw yourself over him with a big embrace. “I would love to!” You said.

Dear Gandalf. I have to decline your request. You have to ask someone else for help from now on. I will get married soon and I wish to spend all my time and life with my love. From your dear friend, Y/n.

^Bilbo (he knows what you going though lol), Thranduil, Haldir, Celeborn, Feren, Elrond, Thorin, Boromir, Aragorn, Theoden, Bard, Dwalin, Dain, Eomer, Saruman

#i feel like these characters would be more irritated if someone stole their time with their s/o #specially if they are working alot #Bilbo knows your pain #the hobbit #lord of the rings #lotr x reader #the hobbit x reader #thranduil #thranduil x reader #bilbo baggins #bilbo x reader #haldir of lorien #haldir x reader #celeborn #celeborn x reader #feren #feren x reader #gandalf the grey #lord elrond #elrond x reader #thorin oakenshield #thorin x reader #boromir #boromir x reader #aragorn x reader #aragorn #theoden #theoden x reader #bard the bowman #bard x reader

[wordbunch]

Their love song (Taylor Swift edition) > The Hobbit characters

a/n: welcome to my little self-indulgent celebration of 700 followers! 🥳 EVEN IF you're not a fan/don't know the songs, I hope you can still like and support this fic - a lot of time and love went into it! and by all means come talk to me about it or suggest your own songs! love you all so much and thank you for reading my stories and being a WONDERFUL community 💕💕💕 i've never written for many of these characters so i'm excited!

BILBO ♡ sweet nothing

Undoubtedly, the world can be really difficult and overwhelming at times, and it is then that the two of you find comfort and safety with each other. You don't even need to be doing anything special, it's enough to just be existing together and enjoying the simple pleasures of life in your own little world, it is the love that feels like home.

BARD ♡ mary's song (oh my my my)

Most certainly a family man who loves his town and his people, and he deserves this lovely underrated song. He would always choose to pursue a committed, lifelong relationship, have a family with you and be a part of the community. Eventually it would be so nice to reflect on decades of love and support, still by each other's side and still in love.

THORIN ♡ gold rush

pun mildly intended This dwarf can be a little intimidating, despite his height, and he is a very captivating presence, who can also be a little arrogant at times. You weren't sure how you felt about him at first, but after getting to know each other, you realized there was a heart of gold hiding in his chest, just waiting for someone to unlock it and be fiercely loved by him.

FÍLI ♡ invisible string

He is a romantic soul who believes in destiny, and finding the love of his life who is meant just for him. He is thankful for all the things in both of your lives that brought you together, even if they seemed bad at the time - but they resulted in a beautiful love story in the end, and he will be devoted to you forever.

KÍLI ♡ paper rings

Although he is a bit more playful and fervent, he is the person who falls absolutely head over heels, and nobody saw it coming at all, which makes it an even sweeter story to tell. He doesn't care about any circumstances, he just cares about being close to you, no matter when, where or how.

TAURIEL ♡ mastermind

She thought she was being very smooth when you caught her eye, and she was convinced that you couldn't tell that she was absolutely melting inside whenever you were near, but to her absolute astonishment, you noticed fairly quickly. Still, you let her play her little game and "win" you over, though you had been won for longer than she was aware.

THRANDUIL ♡ don't blame me

His love is intense, passionate and even a little bit possessive, but he disregards everybody's comments and opinions on it. Why should he care? It only matters that he found the perfect person who loves him with all his flaws and virtues, and he likes to make it known that he would do basically anything for them.

✨ taglist my beloved ✨ @lotrnonsense​​​​​​ @starlady66​​​​​​ @queenmeriadoc @entishramblings @thesolarangel @silversword7000

@friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @averys-place @valkyriepirate @emmaarenstarr​​​​​​ @noldorinpainter​​​​​​ @asianbutnotjapanese @adamgetawaydriver @fenharel-enaste

@ironmandeficiency    @starryeyedrogue ​​ @dinofromspac3  @wisheduponastar​ @lady-of-imladris​ @frodo-cinnamonroll @unethicallypleistocene @deadlymistletoe @suncran @high-sea-husbands @asianbutnoteastasian @aidansloth @sweetpea-thoughts

JOIN THE TAGLIST HERE

#the hobbit x reader #from my pocketses #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit imagine #thorin x reader #thorin oakenshield imagine #thranduil x reader #fili x reader #kili x reader #bard x reader #bilbo x reader #bilbo baggins x reader #thranduil imagine #tauriel x reader #fili imagine #kili imagine

[hottpinkpenguin]

I'm in desperate need of sub Thranduil × dom fem reader

Don't care what it is, but i need to see this man put into his place tbh

Slap him, pull his hair, peg him, sneak up on him, drag him away to a secluded area, make him get on his knees and beg. Literally anything 😭😩 Luv ur work

A/n: there's nothing here but toe-curling smut :) hope you love it. MINORS: THIS WORK IS NOT FOR YOU!! DO NOT INTERACT. 18+ only.

Crawl To Me

Sub!Thranduil X Dom!FemReader (gotta be honest, Daddy Thranduil doesn't stay sub forever)

Warnings: smut smut smut, absolutely not even a whisper of a plot, P in V, creampie, squirting, dom/sub vibes, smacking - Word Count: 3646

You jerked upright against the carved wood of the throne, catching yourself just before slipping into sleep. The council of advisors assembled around the dais stifled chuckles at your reaction. The bard from Lake Town who was serenading you and your husband, Thranduil, didn’t notice. He pressed on, his reedy voice warbling over the painfully mistuned notes of the cheap lyre he plucked. You’d appreciated the gesture of appreciation from the residents of Lake Town for the role your people had played in rescuing them from Smaug almost twenty years ago, but after a long and tedious day of presiding over the business of Mirkwood, you desperately needed some excitement in the throne room to grab your attention. Next to you, Thranduil watched the bard serenely, his expression hovering between interest and fondness. He didn’t react at all, although you knew that he had sensed your uncharacteristically obvious disruption. Although you knew you should have been paying studious attention to the performing bard - like your husband - you found your restless mind wandering to other distractions. His handsome side profile did nothing but further escalate your scheming mind. A wicked smirk spread across your face as a plan took shape. Get rid of the bard, and release some of this damn pent-up energy. 

As the plan took full form, you knew that Thranduil was tracing the direction of your thoughts. He could feel your eyes roaming across his face, lingering on his full mouth, remembering the feeling of his lips discovering every inch of your skin… down the long line of his throat and over those broad shoulders that you loved to cling to as his fingers and tongue and cock drove you wild with pleasure… drinking in the sight of his long, smooth hair, imagining how it would feel twined between your fingers. With a shudder, you dragged your distracted mind back to the throne room, uncrossing and recrossing your legs in the other direction, savoring the barest hint of friction in your legs. Thranduil marked the motion, his eyebrow raising imperceptibly. He knew you too well. It was almost a damn liability, and the knowledge that he could sense your awakening lust made it even harder to focus. You sensed his consent in the soft curl at the corner of his mouth and the way his long fingers ran over the smooth wood of the throne’s carved arm in languid, teasing circles. The image of his fingers sent a flicker of warmth curling up your spine from deep within your core. Biting down on the inside of your cheek, you forced your focus away from your husband and back to the crooning bard, resolved to wait until the two of you were alone later that night to see your plans fulfilled… 

**Three Hours Later**

“What do you think you’re doing?” You demanded, stepping into your bedchamber and closing the door behind you with confidence. You heard the guards outside quietly leave to reposition themselves further down the halls, granting you and Thranduil privacy.

Across the room from where you stood, Thranduil froze, his hand mere inches from the green velvet robe he’d been reaching for. You’d timed your entry well; you’d entered just in time to find him shirtless, stripped down to nothing but his soft linen trousers, moments away from covering his exquisite frame in the robe you’d gifted him at the celebration of your marriage anniversary the year prior. 

He heard the note of demand in your voice. He turned half to face you before you issued another command. “Don’t look at me,” you purred as you crossed the room to him. The muscles of his upper back flexed in anticipation as you approached. The sight of his body tensing in your presence was intoxicating. Your fingers came to rest gently on his muscled bicep, tracing a line along the ridge of his shoulder as you whispered in his ear. “Does my lord wish to be commanded, or take commands this night?”

You knew before he answered what he would say; the obsequious way he held his eyes from meeting yours told you that he was in no mood to make decisions. But, nevertheless, it was your practice as a couple to express your wishes in words, even if you were so attuned to one another that a mere glance could say more than your mouths ever could. 

“My wish is only to please,” he replied softly. His blue eyes burned as he turned halfway to face you. “I will do whatever my lady commands of me.”

Your blood sang at Thranduil’s concession. You felt your smirk deepen as the plans you’d been scheming of in the throne room clamored for your attention. Where to begin?

“As you wish,” you replied smugly. 

“Turn to face me.” You took a step back from Thranduil, allowing him to turn and face you fully. The candlelight danced across his muscled torso - a sight you drank in greedily. You kept your eyes glued to him, lingering on the trail of dark hair that started below his bellybutton, tracing a path downward to the part of him that you wanted the most. Your skin danced with heat as you undid the corseted laces at the small of your back, your dress loosening around your shoulders. You shimmied out of it, leaving the embossed black and silver fabric in a heap upon the floor. The cool of the night air mixing with your appetite for release made your skin pucker in goosebumps. You saw Thranduil’s gaze begin to move up the expanse of your bare legs before you issued your next command.

“I said, don’t look at me.” Your words burned with taunting, the feeling of power growing as you saw Thranduil’s expression crumble in disappointment. His eyes fell back to the floor. 

“Your job, right now, is to listen. Can you do that, my lord?” Confusion flashed across his face. This wasn’t your usual fare, but you were set on a path and wouldn’t be turned from it now. He nodded once, swallowing thickly. 

“I can’t hear you, Thranduil,” you continued seriously. He shifted with frustration as he replied, “Yes, my lady, I can listen.”

“Good,” you cooed, stepping back until you felt the bedframe connect with the backs of your legs. You sank onto the mattress, spreading your legs wide and displaying your naked pussy to him. Although his eyes never left the floor, you sensed that he knew what he was missing by the way he chewed his bottom lip, a large bulge beginning to form in his trousers, just below the flat planes of his lower stomach. His hands twitched aimlessly at his sides, almost as if asking your permission.

“You’re not to look, or to touch anything, without my permission,” you added, relishing in the way Thranduil, Elvenking of Mirkwood, the most powerful and regal being you’d ever seen, crumpled in begrudging submission at your words. He nodded, biting down harder on his lip, eyes glued obediently to the floor.

“I can’t hear you,” you said teasingly, one of your hands coming to cup your breast, the other snaking its way down between your legs. Wetness was beginning to accumulate at your center, and you ran your fingers through it. The soft, squelching noise was quiet, but you knew Thranduil heard it. His eyes widened, almost darting upwards before he caught himself, swallowing down a muted moan. 

“Yes, my queen,” he replied. 

“Good job. Kings who follow orders always get rewarded.” You let the promise drip sweetly off your tongue like thick honey. Thranduil shivered with restraint, his head tilting on his neck as his eyes bored holes in the wooden floor. The bulge in his pants grew as the V-shaped muscles atop his pelvis flexed. His fingers found the edge of the dressing table he was leaning against and curled under the edge, desperate for something to grab. You thought about correcting him - reminding him that he didn’t have your permission to touch the table - but your mind was easily distracted by the sight of him getting increasingly needy. Your breath quickened as your fingers found the sensitive bud at the top of your slit, tracing soft and teasing circles around it. The tantalizing sensation and the vision of your subservient king caused you to gasp softly. Thranduil heard the sound and shifted with discomfort. A small spot of moisture at the end of his erection had formed in his trousers, and his knuckles were turning white where his fingers gripped the dressing table.

“Get on your knees for me, my king,” you commanded. Thranduil knelt almost instantly, his desire to please you so consuming that the floorboards shook under his weight. His cock bounced eagerly in his pants, and the sight only tightened the hot coil that was beginning to build deep in your core. 

You shimmied yourself towards the edge of the bed until your pussy hovered right at the edge of the mattress, your feet flat on the floor and knees splayed wide. Thranduil still hadn’t lifted his gaze from the floor. 

“Crawl to me.” The command was so delicious that just hearing yourself say the words pitched you an inch closer to your own orgasm. Thranduil’s eyes flashed with blatant desire as he obeyed, dropping to his hands and knees and moving towards the sound of your voice. The sight of him - half undressed, a faint sheen of sweat dancing across his creamy skin, long hair the color of fresh butter gleaming in the candlelight - on his hands and knees at your command was intoxicating. The pace of your fingers sped up against your clit, and you had to fight the urge to close your knees and rub your thighs together. 

He closed the space between you quickly and hesitated. The sound of your wet fingers moving quickly against your slick center filled the room. 

“Take off your trousers.” Thranduil did as commanded, undoing the lacing of his trousers. His cock burst free from his pants with a satisfied groan from you. His length was impressive, and even after the countless times you’d taken him, you found yourself practically mewling for him to be inside you. But you were resolved to draw this out, to extend your pleasure, and undoubtedly his as well. 

“Kiss my thigh, Thranduil.” Your breathing was shallow, your command not quite so drawling as before. Thranduil lept at your words, his hand instinctively coming to grab your leg as he sat upright.

“Tsk tsk tsk,” you interrupted, momentarily moving your hand away from your clit to slap his arm down. “I said, kiss my thigh. Not touch.” 

Thranduil looked half-crestfallen, half-crazed as he nodded with a quiet murmur of “yes, my queen” before he pressed his lips to the inside of your knee, his hand returning to the floor. 

“Higher,” you ordered. “And close your eyes.” Thranduil did as commanded, his eyelids fluttering shut as he traced a line of kisses up the inside of your thigh. You brought your fingers back to your clit, letting your head fall back against the mattress. Your orgasm was close, and you had designs on how to get yourself there. 

“Keep going,” you murmured, your voice rising in pitch as you felt yourself climbing up one side of your climax. Thranduil’s lips were close to the seam of your thigh, so close you knew he could smell your sex, perhaps even taste you. 

“When I tell you to, I want your lips on my pussy,” you heaved out, eyelids fluttering closed as your fingers strummed needily against your clit. Your toes were curling under, your calf muscles clenching as your thighs began to shake. 

“Say the word, my queen.” Thranduil was so close to your center that you felt the deep baritone of his voice vibrating at your core. The sensation plucked just the chord you needed, and as you felt yourself beginning to come undone, you cried out. “Now!”

Thranduil’s mouth was on your pussy before the syllable had tumbled fully from your lips. He lapped and sucked and ran his tongue over and into you. Your orgasm crashed onto you like a thousand cresting waves, your ears filling with cotton as the earthly world fell away for a moment. You grasped at Thranduil’s head, pulling him harder against you as your walls fluttered and your thighs quaked. Your cries turned silent as Thranduil’s tongue sent you into bliss over and over again, the sounds of his slurping and groaning against your slit the only thing left tethering you to the moment. You drifted there for a while, catapulting from one trembling orgasm into another, until you didn’t recognize the words your lips were trying to form. Everything turned to a shimmering vapor except the mouth between your legs. 

You felt yourself beginning to fall back into your body, your legs collapsing in exhaustion. Thranduil, much to your delight, had stayed true to his orders and kept his eyes closed and his hands unencumbered. You propped yourself up on your elbows, enjoying the view as he lapped at your juices greedily. His mouth and chin were wet with your sex, his cock so swollen it looked painful. Gently, you pushed against his forehead, breaking the contact of his mouth with your pussy. He pushed back somewhat, but your insistence won out, and he eventually sat back on his haunches, chest heaving slightly with exertion and desire. 

“Well done, my king. I wonder, is it time to reward your obedience yet? Or should we play a bit longer?” Thranduil grimaced at the prospect of enduring more time without being given free reign to touch you and fuck you. You smirked, rising up from the bed on slightly quaking legs. 

“Lie down.” Thranduil hesitated briefly until he caught up with your plans. With an eager grin, he rose from the floor and got on the bed, lying on his back. His cock lay against his stomach, its veins engorged, a small drip of precum oozing from its head. You felt yourself clench automatically at the sight of him, your core desperate to feel his girth inside you, stretching you. 

You straddled him on the bed, deliberately letting your hair fall around your face and tickle his neck and shoulders. You hovered your pussy a hair’s width above his cock, letting the heat from your center dance across his member. He felt it too, because he jerked automatically at the faintest hint of contact. His cock twitched eagerly, barely grazing the moisture of your center. He hissed loudly, his hands balled into fists as he resisted the urge to grab you.

“Your eyes stay closed and your hands stay at your side,” you reminded him. He nodded, not bothering to answer you at this point. You weren’t sure if he could speak; he was straining not to break the rules and grab your hips to drive himself shaft deep into you. 

You sank slowly, not taking him into you, but letting your folds barely envelope his cock as you dragged your pussy up and down the length of his shaft, coating him in your juices. He groaned, the sound deep and feral. “You are cruel,” he protested darkly, bringing a fist up to his face so he could bite down on his knuckles. You laughed, thoroughly enjoying seeing him so utterly undone by the lightest touch. You sat back, your weight balancing on your knees, freeing your hands to come to your hardened nipples, rolling them between your fingers. The sensation caused you to gasp. Beneath you, Thranduil thrashed at the noise, a desperate growl emanating from his chest. 

“Stay still, my lord,” you told him, one hand reaching underneath you to grab the base of his member, holding it upright until he was positioned at your entrance. He froze, chest heaving in exertion. You let your hips sink slightly, the head of his cock beginning to penetrate your core. Your pussy trembled, aftershocks from your previous orgasms mixing with the shudders of more to come. 

Beneath you, Thranduil’s head was turned, his eyes glued to the wall. His face was contorted in focus and restraint, his brows knitted and his lips pursed. You reached down and cupped his cheek with your palm, gently but firmly turning his face towards you. “Look at me.”

Thranduil obeyed, his winter blue eyes locking with yours instantly. His gaze burned with an intensity you’d rarely seen from your husband. The neediness on his face matched yours, and it was almost enough to make you want to sink onto him. Just a little more play, you told yourself. 

“Tell me you want me,” you ordered. Thranduil groaned impatiently. 

“My queen, you cannot be ser-”

The slap surprised him. You struck him - not enough to damage, but enough to get his attention - squarely on the cheek. Without giving him time to recover, you grabbed his chin between your thumb and forefinger, jerking his head back squarely to face you. His eyes were wide with surprise, but beneath that shock you saw that the contact had stoked the flames of desire, just as you’d intended. 

“I said, tell me you want me.” 

“I want you,” he uttered breathlessly. You slapped him again, this time harder. His cheek reddened, but he smirked wickedly before bringing his eyes back to meet yours. You let yourself take him deeper, the head of his cock now entirely embedded in your pussy, your walls tightening around it. You gasped at the stretch, another orgasm beginning to tighten your core.

“Again.” Your lust for dominance was so thick it felt like honeyed wine in your veins. 

“I want you, my queen.” Thranduil’s voice was stronger this time, more insistent. “I want you so desperately I can’t think straight-” he paused to lift his head off the mattress, mouth connecting with one of your nipples. He nipped and sucked on it, quickly and roughly. You cried out, your head tossing back, composure and restraint crumbling. His mouth released your nipple to move to the other breast. “-I want you to scream for me-” Another rough nip dragged a cry of pleasure from your throat. He was gaining control over you, your body reacting to his touch and his words. And he knew it. His hands ran down your back until they locked over your hips, grabbing you so tightly you knew you’d have bruises there the next morning. “-I want you to cry out my name until your throat is raw.” Holding your hips exactly where they were, he drove himself with a hard jerk upwards until you felt his cock bottom out inside you. Your legs quivered, the sudden sensation of fullness extinguishing all semblance of control you had. You felt tears prick at the corner of your eyes. “-I want you to remember-” another hard thrust, your pussy trembling as you began to cum, crying out his name “-that you may command me-” you were coming undone, words turning to gibberish, legs trembling as your mind went white “-whenever you want-” your legs buckled, your weight coming down on top of him “-but I fucking own this pussy.” 

He stopped talking, his focus exclusively on driving himself up inside you, again and again. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything except let him take you. He relentlessly pumped his cock in and out of your core, your pussy squirting each time he almost withdrew from your slit, the sensation driving him mad with lust. He roared with pleasure as he pounded, once, twice more, the third time slamming himself as deep as possible into you and stilling. His roaring turned to mewling. Somewhere in the haze of your own fucked out pleasure you became aware that his cock was pulsating as he emptied inside you. You felt boneless, entirely dependent on his arms to hold you up, his hands gripping your hips with delicious intensity. He gasped as the pulsing in your center slowed, his face smoothing from white-hot climax to the warmth of a hard come-down. He let you collapse on top of him, both of you sick with sweat and your wetness. Your breaths synced and slowly, inch by inch, you both began to soften. 

After a few moments, you felt his strong arms wrap around you. You lifted yourself off his still-twitching penis and lay on the bed beside him, your body pressed against his as you lay your head on his shoulder. From this angle, you could hear his heart beating against his ribs, and you counted each beat as the heaving of his chest gradually diminished. He turned his head, pressing a kiss into your hairline. He chuckled slightly. 

“You truly are wicked,” he murmured appreciatively. You lifted your head, feeling drunk from the aftershocks of your orgasm, and gave him a lopsided grin. 

“You don’t seem to mind, my king,” you shot back. He shook his head fervently.

“Quite the contrary,” he replied. After a few moments of silence, he added, “I think we should have that bard to court more often.” 

You only pretended to be offended as you playfully smacked his shoulder. He smiled, a dazzling sight, before he caught your head gently and connected your mouths for a deep kiss. Before you knew what was happening, you felt him roll you onto your back, his weight coming to press down on your body, his cock already beginning to stiffen again as his mouth set to work on the line of your throat. You were about to protest, unsure if you’d be able to handle any more of him, but he caught your mouth with his palm. He looked up from where he was nibbling on your earlobe, his eyes simmering with an emotion you could only describe as eagerness. 

“My turn.”

#thranduil imagine #thranduil smut #thranduil x reader #thranduil fanfiction #thrandaddy #sub!thranduil

[nightfall-writer]

I have time

Thranduil x Reader 

Word Count: 2k (Sorry)

Warnings: Canon Violence (Battle of the Five Armies war) The reader is pronounced dead. A bit sad, Thranduil cries. They are married, but Legolas is never mentioned. AU Thorin,Fili,Kili, and the elk live :D (please let me know if I forgot any)

A/N - Sorry for Thranduil x Reader again, I like the Character and couldn’t think of another one for the story to apply to. Also, I am not sure who is at fault for the gems in the movies, I’ve heard that the dwarves didn’t want to part and Thranduil didn’t want to pay the money, but I’m going with the first one! This may have to be 2 parts if you guys want a second part.

“War?” You asked Thranduil, “Yes, I want what belongs to me.” he replies. You know you cannot talk him out of it. It was supposed to be a gift to you but, they did not want to part with it. You understood where he was coming from but, thought all of this was a little overkill for gems. “I am assuming there's no talking you out of it?” You asked knowing if he sets his mind on something there's no likely chance of him not doing it. Although, you would be the person to convince him not to. “No, there isn’t” He starts, “I am rightfully claiming what is mine.” “I am coming with then” You reply. “Absolutely not, Meleth.” He says as he turns around to face you. “It should be done and over with rather quickly anyway, you should stay here.” He answered. “I am not letting you go alone, If you are doing this, I should come with you.” You replied. “I am not talking you out of this, am I?” He chuckled a bit. “No, you are not.” You grinned. Right before you two left, he checked again to see if you could stay behind. You being as stubborn as he was told him no and that you would be okay. You and you’re army arrived at the remains of Dale. You felt sympathy towards these people as they had to take refuge in the remains. You looked around as Thranduil and Bard chatted a bit. Afterward, You and Thranduil had decided for you to choose the spot for the tent. You would come to find him afterward. After He watched Bard try and reason with Thorin, he went to the tent and settled down a bit.

“Suited already?” Thranduil asked. “I do not like to be unprepared, you know this.” You replied while putting up your spared daggers. He slightly hums before grabbing a wine glass. “Mithrandir?” You questioned, “What are you doing here?”. Thranduil put his glass down and turned around. (Time skip a few minutes as I could not find the dialog of the talking) “Sometimes a storm is just a storm” Thranduil replies. “Not this time, armies of orcs are on the move. These are fighters who have been bred for war. Our enemy has shown his full strength” Gandalf argues. “Why show his hand now?” Thranduil replies. “Because we forced him, We forced him when the company of Thorin Oakensheild set out to reclaim the homeland,” Gandalf says before leaving, Bard follows as you grab Thranduils arm. “What if it isn’t nothing, what if it is truly a threat?” You asked. “Wizard's warnings cannot be taken so seriously, my love.” Thranduil and You walked out to meet with Bard and Gandalf who gave you a concerning look.

“Give the order, If anything moves from that mountain, Kill it,” Thranduil says. The guard walks off to give the order to the archers. You look at Gandalf who is in complete shock at Thranduil's harsh command. Thranduil turns around, “The dwarves are out of time”. Gandalf runs out to Bard, “Do you agree to this?, this gold is so important here, would you buy it with the blood of the dwarves.” Gandalf asks. “It will not come to that, This is a fight they cannot win,” Bard replies.

“That will not stop them” Bilbo states. This causes you to peek out of the tent and look at Bilbo. “You think the dwarves will surrender, they won't, they will fight to the death to defend their own,” Bilbo states. “The burglar” you whisper only loud enough for Thranduil to hear. “Is he?” Thranduil asks, “Yes, he’s the one who got the keys from the guards when they were busy being passed out.” You reply. Bard, Gandalf, and Biblo walk into the tent as you are stationed standing right next to Thranduil's makeshift throne. “If I am not mistaken.” Thranduil starts as he sits down. “This is the halfling, who stole the keys to my dungeons under the nose of my guards.” Thranduil stares at Bilbo as he says it. “Yes, sorry about that,” Bilbo replies. You smile a bit at the hobbit. “I came to give you this” Biblo says as he lays down something in a brown-ish cloth. 

As he unwraps it, he reveals the Arkenstone and backs away. “The heart of the mountain” you gasp, “The king's jewel” Thranduil finishes as he can read your mind. “And worth a King's ransom... how is this yours to give?” Bard says as you all look at Bilbo. “I took it as my Fourteenth share of the treasure” Biblo answers. “Why would you do this?” You ask currently questioning the hobbit. “You owe us no loyalty,” Bard says as well.

“I'm not doing it for you. I know that dwarves can be obstinate and pigheaded and difficult. They're suspicious and secretive, with the worst manners you can possibly imagine.” Bilbo starts and you cannot help but smile slightly. You find that from what you’ve read hobbits tend to be loyal and Biblo clearly shows it. “But they are also brave and kind, and loyal to a fault. I've grown very fond of them, and I would save them if I can.” Bilbo finishes. “I do believe that he will give you what you want in exchange for this. There will be no need for war.”

You and the others arrive in front of Erebor. You watch as they exchange words and as his cousins arrive. None of what they said truly bothered you until you heard his cousin say “I’ll split his pretty head open” You quit smiling and death stared at him. “See if he’s still smirking then.” Dain finishes. “Let them advance, See how far they get” Thranduil replies. You load your bow as Dain runs back to his army. As they start fighting you release your bow along with the rest of the army and see the arrows get shredded. You watch them coming closer and then hear rumbling. You and Thranduil exchange looks before seeing the Wereworms coming out of the ground. You look at them horrified wondering what on earth they are doing here.

“I have a plan!” You say while fighting next to Thranduil as you both start heading towards the remains of Dale. “Is it a good plan?” He questions as he kills the orcs off of his elk. You pause for a second causing Thranduil to glance at you. “I have a plan.” You say, but before Thranduil can tell you not to. You make a noise with your horse slamming on the ground causing the orcs to look at you. They charge you and as you run around a building you lead them back out into a line causing them to be killed easily. You lose track of Thranduil and cannot find him. You see the war dying down a bit and see the dwarves heading to where the leader Azog is. You quickly follow them on your horse unaware Thranduil is looking the streets for you.

As you see Fili being caught by an orc, You take out your bow and shoot the orc. This causes the orc to drop Fili and you run with your horse around the dwarves and catch him. You put him down quickly and start trying to kill the other orcs. You get off your horse and see Bolg as he tries to run towards you. You start attacking him but he slings you across into the side of the hill. You groan in pain but start making your way up. 

Thranduil quickly made his way up the hill after hearing from a guard that he had seen your horse making its way up there. He looks around and sees the dead Azog. As he looks around more he sees Thorin, Fili, and Kili hugging. “They went that way,” Thorin says and points. Thranduil smiles and nods a bit and starts going that way looking for you. He sees your horse and leaves his elk with it. He makes it your way and hears you groan. He pulls out his sword and fast-walks towards you.

As he makes it around the corner he sees you grab the orc by its neck and spin around it. You let your foot hit the rock and push it. As you let go and land next to the orc. You breathe heavily and before Thranduil can come closer to you, the orc grabs you. The orc brings you with him as he falls. “No!” Thranduil yells before trying to grab you. “I'm sorry” is all he hears come from you before you go over the cliff edge. He runs up to the edge and looks for any signs of you. “No, no, no, please!” He starts panicking as he looks for you.

He comes down off the mountain visibly shaken, no one says anything to him as he calls what men he has left to make it home. Gandalf comes up to him and before he can say anything Thranduil cuts him off. “Was it worth it?” Thranduil asks Gandalf, “What-” Gandalf starts. “They’ve been killed to save your dwarves.” Thranduil finishes talking and walks off before Gandalf can say anything else.

Thranduil and his army make it back to Mirkwood. He announces what happened and heads to his room. He closes the door and stands in front of his bed. He feels his eyes starting to tear up and he brings his hand up to his mouth. He starts crying and falls down to the ground. He tries to muffle his sobs with his hand as he lets it out. Before he notices he falls asleep on the ground against his bed frame.

He wakes up realizing what happened and starts tearing up again. He looks outside and realizes it's about time for a meeting. He still agrees to go to hopefully distract himself. He ignores the concerns of his noblemen to sit out a few of them. He starts getting colder towards his people and hardly leaves the castle anymore. For the first few weeks, he barely ate. Most feared they would lose him to grief but to their surprise he started eating again. Most speculated that he wasn’t sleeping well and they weren’t wrong, he’d either stay up late finishing his papers or pass out to sleep. 

After the first few months, he shut everyone out and remained cold. He didn’t know if it was caused because he didn’t want to feel the hurt anymore or was trying to act as the tough King he was supposed to be. Either way, this remained how he was for the rest of the months. He hardly talked in normal conversations anymore, he was either commanding or giving his input in meetings. Some started calling him “The Cold King” or saying he didn’t care about his people anymore.

He woke up realizing that it’s been 11 months since your death. They were gonna host a ceremony to remember you in the month. He couldn’t bear it, not having you by his side. “Meleth, please tell me this is one big joke on me,” he says quietly as he starts crying again. Before he starts sobbing he stands up and starts getting ready for the day. He makes his way to the throne room and as he enters he hears people gasping. He walks quickly and freezes as he looks at the person in the middle of the throne room. “Meleth?” He says quietly, you turn around and smile. “I’m home my love,” you say as you make your way towards him. “This has to be a dream” He mumbles. You touch his cheek as he leans into it, “It is real, I'm alive” You say. He hugs you quickly and doesn’t let go. You stay like that for a few minutes before he lets you go. You motion for you two to go to his chambers. As you both walk in as you close the door. “How are you alive?” He asks as you turn around to face him. “It’s a long story” You reply, “You conned me into thinking you were dead for eleven months.” He says. You wince a bit at what he says. “I have time,” He says.

#the hobbit #thranduil #thranduil imagine #thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #lotr

[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

this stupid scene right here.

(this scene haunts me. when the question of thranduil's motive for showing up is raised, HE brings up that Bard's people need help, HE implies that he came to give that help, HE delivers on this by actually bringing food for the starving, freezing, broke homeless humans, and then he still says that it's not why he showed up??? WHY IS HE SAYING THE OPPOSITE OF WHAT HE JUST SAID

This would make sense if Bard was the one who inferred that Thranduil is here to help and Thranduil coldly dispelled that notion, but no!! It's literally Thranduil who brings up the saving only to then dismiss it as irrelevant. WHY DID HE BRING IT UP IF HE THINKS IT'S IMMATERIAL AND HE DOESN'T CARE ABOUT IT??

And why oh why would he be giving them food in the first place if he doesn't care about them at all.

This is such a transparent way to have the necessary deus ex machina food-wise while making sure Bard will never reference this in his talks with Thorin, or Gandalf, or Thranduil or Bilbo. I mean it's also not like Thorin's beef with Thranduil in the movies specifically has to do with him not helping desperate dragon-displaced refugees or anything right - yknow, something that Thranduil is now doing while Thorin is the one turning them away. Nope, we're not gonna go into any of this? What it might mean about the two of them as people, good or bad? No? We're still meant to take "I've seen how you treat your friends" as the gospel truth assessment of Thranduil's character? WELL OKAY THEN.)

(still not how you pronounce 'long will i tarry ere i begin this war for gold' by the way)

#i had fun rereading dionetaofavalon's hobbit posts lol #took me right back to my roots #poorly laid out sarcastic commentary over shit quality screencaps is my passion #the hobbit #tbotfa #hobbit movies #the hobbit: the battle of the five armies #battle of the five armies #thranduil #movie thranduil #bard

[lamemaster]

Elves react to men's sleeping habits

AN: Clearing out ages-old drafts.

Summary: Interviews return~

PSA: No elf or man was harmed during these interviews.

Interviewer: So slangry...(reads from the notes) sleepy and angry. Care to elaborate?

Aegnor: (Still recovering from the last interview) Yep, first she would not go to sleep and then fervently insist that her annoyance at my mere breathing is justified (riled up hand gestures 🤌)

Andreth: (criminal offense side eye) No that is incorrect 🧐☝🏻

Interviewer: I do not think you get a sa-

Andreth: I can decide when I require sleep. Thank you very much (glares at the camera).

Aegnor: Come on darling the land of dreams awaits you (coaxing riled-up Edain)

Finrod: We've had conversations. You see men sleep so wonderfully. Beor simply responds to everything. We've planned parties, dinners, vacations...

Interviewer, side-eyeing Beor:

Finrod: And Beor remembers everything perfectly alright. Isn't it sweet?

Beor sweating buckets while motioning the interviewer to stop.

Interviewer: That is...unu-

Beor, steering Finrod away from the studio: That is absolutely nothing unusual, my love. Men sleep with their eyes closed so they can listen better. See that is why I absolutely remember everything we plan.

Beor in fact did not recollect anything. Further reports reveal that the man in question is an avid fan of avoiding planning anything. The said elf and man had words after the interview.

Idril: And then he just jerked awake. Earendil screeched loud enough to wake the entire city.

Tuor: It was just once! (exasperated)

Interviewer: What did you dream? (sipping tea)

Tuor: I fell...(looks away). I was falling...

Interviewer, picking up their notes: Falling from where?

Tuor: It was a normal dream until I was falling off Turgon's shoulders...But hey it is a great height! He's got nice shoulders tho (smiles awkwardly).

Turgon's shoulder rides continue to be Earendil exclusive. Much to entire Gondolin's dismay.

Thranduil: It is beautiful.

Bard: Stop it! (Blushing madly). My snoring is not beautiful.

Interviewer, over the pda: 👁️👄👁️

Thranduil: It just proves how hard you work beloved (pinching Bard's cheeks). It's like purring but elevated.

Audience facepalms

Gushing continued for 5 hours after the studio closed.

Interviewer: Turin, are you a big spoon or a little spoon?

Turin: (gritting his teeth) I'm a knife.

Interviewer:

Turin: (glares back)

Beleg, smiling blindingly: He's a little spoon 🤭

#the silmarillion #tolkien elves #noldor elves #thranduil #bard #turin #beleg #andreth #aegnor #Tuor #idril #Finrod #Beor #finrod felagund #fluff #silmarillion imagines

[bi-widower-dads]

bi-widower-dads' February Fic Recs: Canon

Thank you to everyone who submitted recs for us! We've done some sorting and collating, and we've got two posts for you: AUs and Canon-'verse - and a whole load of excellent fic for you to get stuck into while we wait for Barduil Month in April! Without further ado, here are the canon fic recs, featuring tags, links, summaries, and all the reasons why the recommenders think you should give these fics a try!

Header image by mod @piyo-13!

(a note about tags and trigger warnings: tags are selected from those on AO3 as being those that best describe the story for the purposes of this event; trigger warnings are supplied by the recommenders and may not be comprehensive - your mileage may vary. We've tried our best to include Tumblr handles wherever we can, but if we've missed yours out and you want it included, just let us know!)

One-shots

Scenes From a Not-So-Clandestine Romance by MasterofAllImagination / @cutlerbeckettt | G | 3258 words | tags: 5+1 things, so much fluff it's sickening, seriously don't even read this

Summary: As the relationship between Bard and Thranduil grows beyond merely that of two allies, they become proportionately blind to how obvious their displays of affection are to their people. Pretty soon their feelings are an open secret shared among everyone in Mirkwood and Dale-- except the kings themselves. (or, five times someone caught Bard and Thranduil secretly kissing, and the one time they did it in public) What do you love about this fic? The author's completely correct that this is just So Much Fluff. It's great, it's cozy, it's a palate cleanser that makes you go "aww" and giggle a little at how oblivious they are.

We'll lay here for years or for hours by bispecimen | M | 5000 words | tags: canon divergence, different first meeting, animal death, hunting, could be considered canon compliant since it still works w future events, dilf vs dilf parenting techniques, canon-typical violence

Summary: "The leaves were rolling, green and healthy. Swirling around the legs of the Bowman as if they were about to bring some magical creature in his presence. But Bard didn’t feel like anything good was about to be brought in front of his eyes. The stillness of the air was suffused with something nocive. This part was forbidden for a reason. The deeper he went, the longer he stayed. He knew, he knew that." What do you love about this fic? Am possibly biased because I did the art for this, but lovely and lyrical!

but the sun is eclipsed by the moon by RC_McLachlan | G | 5288 words | tags: none

Summary: The Battle of the Five Armies threatened to unmake the world, but The Negotiations of the Three Kings might actually succeed. Or, a short lesson on the lifecycle of dandelions. What do you love about this fic? Great writer I've followed for a long time!

more than words can wield the matter by BiSquared / @scary-grace | M | 5422 words | tags: cultural differences, love letters, miscommunication, accidental marriage, getting together, laws and customs of the eldar are somewhat followed, POV Bard the Bowman, post-BotFA, as canon-compliant as barduil gets

Summary: It might be uncommon, but Bard knows it’s not unheard of for humans to share a single night of passion and part ways in the morning – or if not to part ways, then at least never to meet as lovers again. Apparently it’s unheard of among elves, because the first letter that arrives from Mirkwood, two weeks after the elves’ departure for their forest, is significantly less businesslike than expected. What do you love about this fic? The premise is funny enough that it could have come across as crack, but it creates actual narrative tension and a satisfactorily cathartic ending.

The Well-Worn Path of Words by Ias | T | 10,725 words | tags: letters, slow burn, pining, miscommunication, love confessions, epistolary

Summary: It wasn't so strange that Thranduil would call him a friend. And yet the word seemed to draw them closer like a length of string, binding them together, yet still so fragile. [In which Thranduil and Bard begin writing each other letters over the long winter after the battle.] What do you love about this fic? Fantastic epistolary fic from a great Barduil author!

Multi-chapter (in progress)

Language of the Forest by BaccaratBlack | T | 1,095 words | tags: victorian flower language, sort of unrequited feelings, cultural differences, cultural misunderstandings, courtship, secret admirer

Summary: Bard is perplexed by elven courtship rituals. Thranduil is very determined and unaccustomed to not having his way. What do you love about this fic? Who doesn't like a fic with the themes of courtship, flowers and a "secret" admirer?

Multi-chapter (complete)

A Tale of Love and Longing (as told by Galion) by jotunblood | T | 39,288 words | tags: courtship, secret relationship, developing relationship, sexual tension, light angst, post-BotFA, slow burn, Galion POV, Galion is a good friend

Summary: Galion knew all the almost imperceptible ways joy, anguish, and hate could change his King’s face. He also knew-- Thranduil’s denial be damned-- exactly how he looked when he was pining. What do you love about this fic? We see Thranduil's and Bard's relationship develop through Galion's POV and he's the best BFF/Wing Man a King could ask for.

Blossoming Spring by SlytherinImpala | T | 56,210 words | tags: fluff, post-BotFA, snark, slow burn, healing, friends to lovers, scars, movie canon, first kiss, getting together

Summary: Bard and Thranduil meet again as winter gives way to spring following of the Battle of Five Armies. What do you love about this fic? I love the gentle snarkiness between the 2 characters and how they slowly learn to open up to one another. They feel very in character and when they fall in love it doesn't feel abrupt. Definitely worth a read if you love a gentle Barduil slowburn.

Series

The Kings of the North by Evandar | T | 14,240 words | tags: partial fix-it, interspecies romance, fluff, blind thranduil, self-esteem issues, communication

Summary: There is unease in the north, as old alliances must be rebuilt and leadership learned. Bard is confused, mostly by King Thranduil, and King Fili is determined to be the best king he can be. Sigrid, meanwhile, wishes things could go back to the way they were. What do you love about this fic? This was one of the first series I ever read for barduil and definitely played a huge role in getting me into the ship in the first place!

Boundaries 'Verse by Sir_Nemo | T | 30,967 words | tags: fluff, getting to know each other, getting together, family bonding

Summary: Bard has been working for the elves for years, never actually meeting one, until one day he notices an elf watching him work. The elf becomes a constant in his life, and the two of them slowly start warming up to each other. What do you love about this fic? Bard and Thranduil's personalities really shine through in their conversations, which I feel is a core component of the plot, and makes for a very stable relationship that the story can lean on.

#barduilmonth2024 #barduil month fic rec february #fic recs #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit fanfic #barduil #bard/thranduil #barduil fic recs #long post

[mxliv-oftheendless]

How to Set Up Your Actors (Without Really Trying) (Barduil Month Week 1)

Actor AU: In which Thranduil and Bard are costars for a film and Bilbo is, as usual, rather confused on what's happening and very annoyed by everything.

It's Barduil Month! So I thought I'd participate and write some stories for a ship I love! This one was inspired by this Barduil comic drawn by the amazing @corndog-patrol ! Thanks so much for letting me write a story based on the comic! And thank you @bi-widower-dads for setting up this whole event! Hope you guys enjoy!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Bilbo’s phone vibrated the moment he sat down at his desk, it should have been a tip off of how the next hour would go. But since Bilbo was a very busy man (Valinor Talent Agency didn’t run itself, after all), who already had quite a lot to do, he elected at first to ignore it. Instead, he focused on opening his calendar and checking to make sure That Meeting was indeed today and he was ready for it. Sure enough, it was there, today at eleven o’clock, so in about twenty minutes.

He sighed and pulled out the drawer containing his emergency stash of headache medicine. He looked at it for a moment, contemplating whether he should be—

His phone vibrated again. He turned it over.

—whether he should be proactive and prepare for a potential headache. Anything was possible, especially when Bilbo didn’t feel awake and caffeinated enough for anything. Which usually ended up being all the time. Maybe he ought to see someone about that.

His phone vibrated yet again. Bilbo huffed and turned to pick up his phone and see what so desperately wanted his attention. What he found was a series of angry text messages from dear cousin Lobelia screaming in a flurry of poor grammar and an excessive use of capital letters. Nope. He was not dealing with that.

There was a series of smart, rapid knocks on the door. “Come on in,” he called as he set his phone down.

The door opened and Thranduil Oropherion swept into his office. Yes, that Thranduil Oropherion—professional stage and film actor, known for his cool professionalism, sharp wit, insightful intelligence, and fashionable dress. And also for his long blond hair that he refused to cut. Thranduil Oropherion also happened have one Bilbo Baggins as his talent agent.

Any lesser man may have been intimidated at the prospect of being the agent of such a high profile and equally high maintenance actor. But Bilbo Baggins was no ordinary man—even if he did often wonder why Thranduil refused to cut his hair when he was usually pretty reasonable about other things.

“Good morning, Bilbo,” Thranduil greeted as he sat down in the chair opposite the desk.

“Morning, Thranduil,” Bilbo returned. “Early as usual, I see.”

“I had to be,” Thranduil sniffed. “Have you seen the traffic this time of day?” He raised a hand to inspect his immaculately done nails. “Couldn’t this meeting have been scheduled at a different time?”

Bilbo sighed. Maybe he should’ve taken the headache medicine after all. “Well, it was the best time for everyone to meet,” he said. “Now, once your costar gets here, we’re going to take an hour or so for you both to get to know each other, then we’re going to the conference room for the Zoom call with the screenwriters to talk about the script—”

“And the director? Where is he in all of this?” Thranduil frowned. “I had hoped he would be here as well. I would like to discuss certain things about the script with him.”

Bilbo turned his phone facedown as it buzzed again. “The director had to call off. He’s meeting with the production company.”

Thranduil’s frown deepened fractionally. “Very well.”

He was sure he would regret asking, but Bilbo still ventured anyway, “What’s wrong with the script?”

“Well first of all, there is a clear lack of vision for the characters. Are my costar and I to be playing one-dimensional stereotypes? There is no buildup or suspense for what is supposed to be a horror plot line, and the horror relies solely on cheap jumpscares rather than any actual fear or dread.”

Now, listen, Bilbo wanted to be more annoyed at these critiques. He was sure any decent screenwriter or director would be. But personally, he just thought to himself that this was why Thranduil was such a professional and well-respected actor—he was knowledgeable not just on how to act but also on all other aspects of a production.

However, he did still think Thranduil was being a bit unfair. “I thought the script was good. Maybe it’s just a bit jarring to you since you haven’t played a protagonist like this one before.” From how Thranduil frowned but didn’t respond, he knew Thranduil knew he had a point. “Which is another reason why it’ll be good to meet with your costar and the screenwriters, since then you can get a better sense of what they want from the part you’re playing. And your costar has done more roles like yours, so he can give you some insight too.”

At the mention of his mysterious costar, Thranduil thankfully dropped the subject of the script. “Where is this costar, anyway?”

“On his way here, most likely.” Maybe that was why his phone kept vibrating, because the costar was calling him. But no, that was his personal phone that was buzzing…

“What is his name… Bard Bowman?”

“Yeah, that’s him.”

“What has he been in recently?”

“His last film was—hang on, you didn’t look into him at all?”

Thranduil sniffed. “Of course not. I’m a professional.”

From how long they’d known each other, Bilbo knew that meant Thranduil thought that would feel too weird and he didn’t want to seem strange for stalking his costar’s filmography. He went on. “Well, his last film was a part in some fantasy film—”

“You mean you don’t remember?” Thranduil quipped.

Bilbo just gave him a snarky smirk. “Of course not. I’m a professional.” He continued. “And then for the last year and a half he’s been on a break. Wanted to spend more time with his kids, his agent said.”

To his dismay, Thranduil’s frown appeared again. “His agent is from Dale Talent, isn’t he? Didn’t they come out of the complete cesspool of corruption that was Laketown Talent?”

Bilbo couldn’t help wincing at the name, and his phone buzzed again as if in agreement. That whole scandal had not been pretty. “They did. But Dale’s model is ethical, they pay their taxes on time, and none of their staff have evasion, public disturbance, or harassment charges. Plus their tea was pretty good.” He glanced at the clock. Five more minutes until eleven. “Right, he’ll probably be here soon. Be nice, alright?”

Thranduil gave him an indignant look. “I am always nice, Bilbo.”

“Not backhanded, passive-aggressive nice. Really nice. And that goes for when you’re meeting with the screenwriters, too.”

Honestly, sometimes he wondered if that scowl was just permanently attached to Thranduil’s face. “That will depend on what they have to say about their barely-passable-quality script.”

Bilbo could feel a headache coming on. Today was not the day to put up with all of this. “Thranduil, as your agent—” He decided to appeal to the actor’s more reasonable side. “—as your friend—I am really begging you to behave.”

Thankfully, it worked; Thranduil’s scowl softened marginally even as he scoffed and crossed his legs. “Please, Bilbo. I am an absolute joy to work with.”

Bilbo leveled him with a withering look. He amended himself. “Yes, I will be polite.”

Bilbo’s phone vibrated again as he sighed and nodded gratefully. “Good.” His phone buzzed again (what was going on?) but he ignored it and checked his agenda. “Now, he’ll be here any minute. So make sure to introduce yourself and find something you both can talk about. You’ll both be needing good chemistry anyway—”

“Why would we need good chemistry?”

Oops. He shouldn’t have said that. Bilbo maintained his cool as his phone buzzed again. “There’s going to be some romance—”

Thranduil’s eyes flashed. “The script did not call for a romance, Bilbo,” he said tensely, the sort of tense calm one would find in a very, very small eye of a hurricane.

Bilbo, however, was not intimidated. “Some things were reworked. You two are going to have a romance plot line. Did you not get the revised script?”

“No!” Thranduil leapt to his feet and paced angrily. “Unbelievable!” he ranted. “What is that hack director thinking, doing such a last minute change? Are we film students in graduate school? Is that what this is?” Bilbo’s phone vibrated again. “And where is that constant buzzing coming from?!”

“It’s my phone,” Bilbo grumbled, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Look, I’m not the one who made the changes—”

“Obviously not, because you know better!” Thranduil whirled around on him in a mess of fury and blond hair. “A last minute change like this is unacceptable! Call that director! We need to discuss—”

Bilbo was seconds away from faceplanting on his desk, when there was a knock on his office door. “‘Scuse me?” someone called from outside.

Bilbo checked his wall clock. Eleven o’clock. He shot Thranduil a glare clearly meaning “Behave,” before saying aloud, “Yes? Come in.”

The door opened, and Bilbo’s headache throbbed a bit more when Bard Bowman politely entered the room. Just great. “Good morning,” Bard said politely. “Are you Mr. Baggins?”

Bilbo tried to arrange his face into a look that didn’t suggest he was one more inconvenience away from throwing something and nodded. “I am, yes.”

Bard’s face split into a grin. “Great!” He came over with an extended hand. “I’m Bard. Glad to finally meet you.”

In spite of the day, Bilbo returned the smile as he shook Bard’s hand. At least Bard’s friendly reputation was true. “And you. You’re right on time.” He turned to Thranduil, hoping at the very least that Thranduil still didn’t look like he’d nearly thrown a diva tantrum a second ago. “Thranduil, your co-star, Bard Bowman.”

To his surprise, Thranduil looked far from angry—he was staring at Bard with an almost… awestruck look on his face. The look reminded Bilbo of the look his nephew Frodo would get when he was staring at the anime characters he thought were especially hot.

Bard, on the other hand, didn’t seem to realize that was Thranduil’s look. He just smiled even wider and happily went to offer a handshake to Thranduil. “I can’t tell you how great it is to be working with you,” he said eagerly. “Your work is just amazing. Really, it’s an honor.”

And then Thranduil did the most unexpected thing: he smiled. And not just any smile, but the charming one he saved for interviews and red carpet reporters. “Please,” he replied, taking Bard’s hand, “the pleasure is mine.”

Really, if Bilbo didn’t have such a headache, he probably would have been flabbergasted by Thranduil’s rapid change of attitude. But as it was, the most he could give was a raised eyebrow. “So, Thranduil, do you still want to talk to—”

“No.”

“Alright then.” One less thing to do, at least. Although he probably would be having a word with the director about letting people know about last minute changes. But he could worry about that later, when he had gotten some coffee and ibuprofen tablets. “Well, how about we get started with—”

His phone vibrated yet again, and this time, it didn’t stop. Bilbo sighed in frustration. “Hold on.” He picked up his phone and looked to see who was calling. It wasn’t a number he remembered saving in his phone… But when he looked at the area code, he suddenly remembered when Drogo told him he’d put Bilbo down as one of Frodo’s emergency contacts at his middle school just in case.

He held up a finger to Bard and Thranduil and left his office to answer the phone. “Hello?”

“Hi, Uncle Bilbo.”

What the— “Frodo?” Why was his eleven-year-old nephew calling from his school's phone?

“Can you pick me up from school? Mum and Dad are both at work.”

Was that what all the texting had been about? “Why do you need to be picked up? What happened?”

“I, uh… got into a fight with Lotho…”

“YOU WHAT—” Bilbo glanced at his office door and lowered his voice. “You what?!”

“It wasn’t my fault! He was bullying Tom Cotton and—”

Bilbo’s headache throbbed and he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Actually, Frodo, don’t. Explain it when I get there.” He checked his watch and calculated how long it would take to pick up Frodo and come back. Yes, he could manage it. “I’ll be there in ten minutes. Do not do anything until I get there.”

“Thanks, Uncle Bilbo!”

“You’re welcome. Be there soon.”

Bilbo hung up and rubbed his forehead, then went back into his office. Bard and Thranduil had sat down on Bilbo’s couch, talking about something, with Thranduil sitting far closer than Bilbo had expected. “Excuse me,” he said.

The two actors looked up at him. “Everything all right?” Bard asked.

God, he wished. “Sorry about this, but my nephew called and I need to pick him up from school. His parents are both at work.”

Thranduil smirked, and Bilbo had no doubt he was wondering what Frodo, who was usually such a well-behaved child, had done to be sent home from school. He could not let Frodo tell him; Thranduil would probably buy him ice cream. Bard on the other hand nodded in understanding. “I understand. I can reschedule, if you like. My kids are in school too, so I’m pretty open most days.”

“Actually, it won’t take long, about twenty minutes, maybe, so why don’t you both get something to eat?”

Thranduil smoothly interjected. “I think that’s a fantastic idea,” he said, giving that charming smile to Bard again (and did Bard shift and smile a little back, or was that Bilbo’s headache muddling things?). “Have you been to the cafe downstairs? They serve excellent coffee.”

Bard smiled at him. “No, can’t say I have.”

“Well, that just will not do. We can eat and,” he smiled coyly, “get acquainted while Bilbo fetches his nephew.”

“Well, that sounds perfect.”

Bilbo wondered if he was supposed to feel like a third wheel right now. “Right, well,” he awkwardly went over to his desk to grab his keys. “Good. You two, get to know each other, and I’ll be back soon.”

As he left the two to… whatever was starting to happen between them… he looked at his phone again to see what all the vibrating earlier had been about. It turned to have been several more very angry text messages from dear cousin Lobelia, ranting and raving at him about how Drogo and Primula were raising a violent, wild child and he needed to stage an intervention so that Frodo wouldn’t attack her dear, sweet Lotho ever again. Ah, so that was what all that was. Frodo must have won that fight against Lotho.

Bilbo sighed and rubbed his forehead. He wasn’t sure what just happened or what he had just done for Thranduil and Bard back there in his office, but either way, he still had a feeling Thranduil would get Frodo ice cream for something today.

#barduil #barduil month 2024 #the hobbit #thranduil #bard the bowman #bilbo baggins #the hobbit fanfiction #actor au #idk how good my writing is but i thought this idea was really funny so #poor bilbo needs a vacation lol #also a cameo by frodo because i love him #if you guys were wondering what happened lotho tried to fight frodo and frodo beat the crap out of him lol #and inadvertently allowed for some romance to start developing lol #fanfiction #writing #my writing #lord of the rings #tolkien

[xxsircharlesxx]

So I did have another theory thing but I apparently wanted to do something sad, so:

We all know the scene in BotFA where Thorin wants Bilbo to be yeeted over the ramparts, right? Oki, good start.

So when I was going through TikTok and that scene came up with sad audio and stuff, in the caption they said about the ‘fear in Bilbo’s eyes’ or something along the lines, but look at this.

I don’t know what you guys see but when Bilbo looks up, I see hurt, sadness, maybe some shock- possibly disbelief. But what I see most of all is betrayal.

Like he can’t believe Thorin would do that to him. After all they’ve been through on the journey, he would just chuck him over the side because of a stupid shiny, glittering rock he gave to Thranduil and Bard in hopes to stop war and maybe help Thorin.

The other reason I don’t think it’s fear is because he did state to Gandalf that he wasn’t ‘afraid of Thorin’ with so much confidence. Which I feel also shows how he thinks Thorin wouldn’t do anything to him, but he does anyway. So yeah- the fact he isn’t scared of Thorin as well makes me believe that he doesn’t have fear on his face in this, it’s more hurt and betrayal at the fact Thorin would do him like this.

So yeah- there’s that. If you have any thoughts on this you’re free to share :) (and sorry the gif is rlly shit)

#bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield #the hobbit #battle of the five armies #botfa #theory #sad theory #hobbit theories

[thevalleyisjolly]

I like to headcanon ace!Gil-Galad, who has no intention or inclination to sire heirs ever, trying to set down a stable line of succession to the crown in the event of his untimely death (look, he knows his history, an untimely death is very nearly guaranteed for all High Kings of the Eldar in Middle-earth), only for once in the history of the House of Finwë, no one is interested in the job:

Celebrimbor pays every bard in and around Lindon to sing loudly and frequently of Maedhros relinquishing all claims of the House of Fëanor to the kingship after Thangorodrim, with an extra bonus every time they manage to work in the term “dispossessed.”  Just to be extra sure, he hightails off to Eregion at the first opportunity to hang out with Narvi, who is such a brilliant craftsperson and has zero interest in Elven succession matters.

Galadriel has no intention of inheriting a kingdom, and makes it plain that when she rules, it’s going to be her own fair realm that she established herself.

Elrond is a professional at avoiding crowns, and cannot be convinced or cajoled or threatened into taking a higher title than “herald.”  Ereinion wins a substantial victory when he proclaims in the wake of the war with Sauron that Imladris is the logical choice for an Elven stronghold in the west and that its leader should clearly be his vice-regent in that case.  Elrond counters this by establishing Rivendell’s reputation as a Homely House, which not even the most talented propagandist can spin into anything remotely regal sounding.

Gildor Inglorion is considered at one point, even though no one is quite sure how exactly he’s related to Finrod.  Then again, Gil-Galad reasons that no one is quite sure how exactly he himself is related to the House of Finwë, so it’s not like there isn’t precedent.  When Gildor gets wind of this, he immediately attaches himself to the first Wandering Company that passes through Lindon and disappears for the next thousand years.

So who does Gil-Galad try to make his heir?

There’s really only one clear choice.

Celebrían had an inkling that he might do this, which is why she steamed open his will the night before it was read and made some very convenient inkblots.  With fondest respects to cousin Ereinion, if she’s going to be queen of anything, it’s not going to be because she’s the last resort.  Anyways, it seems excessive to go on with the business of High Kings and High Queens as if there were still any great Elven kingdoms west of the Misty Mountains.  If she really wanted to be an Elven-queen, she’d go depose Thranduil or Amroth, and she’s no Fëanorian.  Sometimes she’s an Arafinwëan, mostly when it would annoy her parents the most, but a Fëanorian?  Never.

(It’s a shame, Gil-Galad comments to her several millennia later in Valinor.  He’d had a thought that perhaps a High Queen of the Eldar could break the streak of tragically heroic deaths that the High King position had going on.  Celebrían agrees that it’s an interesting thought experiment, and so does Grandpa Finarfin.  Before the rest of Valinor knows what’s happening, he’s cheerfully abdicated the throne to his beloved granddaughter and seized the opportunity to retire to the beach and spoil his grandkids)

((Galadriel is very proud, and promises as a coronation gift to only give one piece of micromanaging counsel a week))

(((Also, it turns out that it is actually possible to get Elrond to accept a royal title so long as he can just be Prince Consort and not any kind of heir apparent.  Gil-Galad wonders if he ought to have tried that during the Second Age.  Elrond reminds him that they'd both been too busy rebuilding the world back then to get married, and anyways, their old tactic of acquiring allies with the dangling temptation of a bachelor king wouldn’t have worked otherwise)))

#lotr #silmarillion #gil-galad #long post

[somedaylazysomeday]

Breaking Point

Elvenking Thranduil x fem!reader (no use of 'y/n')

As a reluctant ambassador to Mirkwood, your pleasures are few and far between... and completely unattached to Elvenking Thranduil. But when the king finds out about your casual intimacy with one of Mirkwood's traders, he has a few things to say.

Inspired by anonymous request: Hi! I don’t know if you are open for requests so ignore if not but I would love to request and Thranduil x reader smut where they constantly argue and one day he just snaps and they end up sleeping together? Kinda rough and dirty. I understand that this would basically be hate fucking so I understand if you are not comfortable writing it ❤️

Rating: Explicit, mature, etc. Minors DNI!

Word Count: 5,700

Warnings: arguments, themes of isolation, mentions of outdated societal expectation concerning female sexuality, power imbalance, handjobs, fingering, oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected piv sex.

---

You strode quickly down the halls of the elven kingdom in the depths of Mirkwood, ignoring the reactions of the elves surrounding you. Those reactions ranged from curious to censuring, but you were too irritated to pay heed. After all, you were a human walking among elves - your step was heavier, your movements less graceful. What difference would a little stomping make?

You hadn’t wanted to come here from Lake-Town. In fact, you had argued with King Bard when he had assigned you here. “I’m no diplomat,” you had reminded him.

“Look around,” the king had told you kindly. “Do you see any diplomats here? No, but I can trust you to handle yourself well without harming our relationship with the elves.”

It had taken more convincing than that - far more than was pretty - but you had eventually agreed. You were familiar with most Lake-Town residents, but you and Bard had known each other for years. You had tutored his son and daughters. The trade relationship between Lake-Town and Mirkwood was delicate and too important to trust to others. 

Ever since you had sailed out of Lake-Town and past the remains of that dratted dragon, you had cursed your own folly. Perhaps Lake-Town’s trade relationship would have suffered from having another representative argue on its behalf, but then you wouldn’t have had to be there. Most days, you wondered if that was not a worthy trade after all.

Honestly, the Woodland Realm was lovely. The palace was bright and airy, arches made from twisting boughs of trees soaring overhead. Even the lower levels were spacious and generously sized. That was a necessity since Elves tended to be larger than most humans, but it was lovely nevertheless. Despite being in the heart of Mirkwood, the water was sweet, the food was fresh and filling, and the air never stank of the rancid forest. 

The trouble all stemmed from a different source - the Elvenking Thranduil.

He had been dismissive of your efforts to represent Lake-Town, going directly to Bard to handle any disputes rather than allow you to perform the role you had brought there to play. He spoke over you in meetings, loftily proclaiming that humans could hardly say anything of interest to elves. Perhaps worst of all, he laughed. 

You refused to let him be so disrespectful without arguing as best any small-town representative could with a king who was essentially immortal. But no matter how sharp your tongue and bitter your words, the Elvenking only laughed. On occasion, he would toss in an amused quip about the stubbornness of humans compared to that of dwarves, but never once had he been taken aback or conceded your point. And if he had gone so far as to apologize?

Well, you would probably die of shock. Of course, you would die of old age long before such a thing happened in truth.

Your stay in Mirkwood - a term particularly despised by King Thranduil - was far from idyllic, but you had learned to carve out pleasures where you could find them. One of these had been planned for that very day… and it was only a bout of poor luck that prevented it.

Léod was one man in a group of traders who typically traveled to the Woodland Realm once every other month to trade the goods produced by his town of East Bight. What those goods were, you never truly learned. You were far too busy finding an alternate purpose for Léod’s presence. 

Léod had been your lover since the first time you and he had been in the Woodland Realm at the same time. It had been only six months since your first dalliance and… well, doing those sums left you with a disappointingly low total number of times you had truly shared anything, but it was a good arrangement. You gained a way to vent your frustrations that left the Elvenking’s head intact and Léod received far more incentive to travel the significant distance between East Bight and the palace of the Woodland Realm. Today was when he and his group were meant to arrive in the Elvenking’s halls.

But it was not to be. 

The East Bight traders had been unexpectedly detained, as a messenger had confided to you. There was no anticipated arrival date, as the detour may be severe enough to force the traders to return to their town without ever reaching the Woodland Realm.

You were left alone, frustrated… wanting. 

You were as capable of pushing away your physical needs as the next person, but it had been two months since you had been around anyone you could tolerate. This had been your chance for some relief. But now that chance had disappeared, and it had done so as easily as the drop of a rotted branch to the floor of the overgrown forest. If it had not been for your carefully-established informational trade with the messenger elves, you would never have known until Léod failed to appear. 

With the furor of disappointment and thwarted desire rising to a boiling point inside of you, you allowed a groan to slip from you. For a moment after the sound - jarring in the ever-tranquil surroundings of the Woodland Realm - had faded, you felt lighter somehow. It was as though you had managed to lighten your own burdens, regardless of how temporary that state may be.

“Oh, dear,” a coolly amused voice said behind you. “Have I found you ill?”

Instantly, your slight sense of inner peace evaporated like a drop of water in the summer sun. You turned to face the owner of that voice directly: Elvenking Thranduil.

“Elvenking,” you said politely, dropping a slight curtsy to hide your clenching jaw.

“Representative,” he returned, as was proper. 

Your relationship with Thranduil was tumultuous. You disliked his arrogance and he disliked your… well, he seemed to dislike most things about you. Still, you were both aware of the demands of your respective stations. Despite the certainty that any conversation was guaranteed to spark into contention, you started each meeting from a place of respect.

“Whatever could be wrong?” the Elvenking asked.

“I would never presume to burden the Elvenking with the personal matters of a human diplomat.” Refusing to answer a direct question from a king was always a risk-filled proposition, but you were confident that Thranduil could not care one whit about the personal affairs of someone he disliked so strongly.

Unbelievably, it seemed your guess was incorrect. Thranduil’s eyes sharpened and his dark brows lowered into an expression of intense displeasure. “Must I ask once more?”

And so you were caught. You couldn’t refuse his request for information, not without breaking the bonds of propriety that ensured the continued trade between Mirkwood and Lake-Town. 

You gave yourself a single moment of self-pity before you forced an answer: “I have learned that the East Bight trading group will not arrive in the Woodland Realm tonight. I was anticipating the chance to reestablish a bond with one of the traders.”

Thranduil said nothing in response to that. You had a single moment to wonder if you had startled or alienated him with your answer… and then you heard his snort. 

“I beg your pardon, but I am needed elsewhere,” you snapped, moving to leave.

“I am the king,” Thranduil reminded you, voice full of a gloating that set your teeth on edge. “You are needed nowhere as urgently as you are here. Especially since I have not dismissed you from my presence.”

You stopped short at that, spine stiffening. He was correct. It was his right as king to demand you stay, and it was your duty as a representative to bow to that demand. Fortunately, your face was turned away from the Elvenking, as it was far from pleasant. You gave yourself a moment to breathe and settle your expression into one of pleasant neutrality. When you spoke, your voice was calm.

“My apologies, Elvenking.”

“Turn around.” 

A half-beat of gritting teeth and you had done what he ordered. 

“Good,” he complimented, smiling an emptily pleasant smile. “Now, what need have you of a bond with human traders from a different section of the Greenwood than the town whose interests you claim to represent?”

“One grows lonely here,” you told him with a self-deprecating gesture. “It is pleasant to have others with whom one may share a connection.”

Thranduil scoffed. “Lonely? You are surrounded by others here.”

“Elves.” You said, your quiet tone failing to hide the censure. 

“And what sort of connection do you crave, hmm?” Thranduil stepped closer, towering over you with his advanced height.

“A personal one,” you told him, inadvertently straightening your posture until you were standing at your full height. 

“Ah, a personal connection,” the elf repeated, managing to make the innocent word lascivious. “I was given to understand that humans frowned upon women forming personal connections.”

You stared past the gloating face of the Elvenking, striving for neutrality. “Perhaps I am trying to correct a wrong done to my sex, then.”

Thranduil’s chuckle was low, warm, and far too rich for your comfort. “And there are none in my halls with whom you would choose to share a personal connection?”

“No,” you refused shortly. 

The Elvenking moved even closer. He was all you could see, his scent overtaking any other. You were drowning in him. He leaned down until he was closer to your height. With his light eyes dancing in his angular face, Thranduil asked, “And why not? The elves are a lovely race. Far more enticing than humans, and I will not even stoop to mention the dwarves.”

“The possibility of such a connection has never been mentioned by any of your subjects,” you replied, trying to ignore the slight to your race.

“Of course it has not,” Thranduil replied easily. “I forbade it months ago.”

“You forbade-?” You sighed, hands itching to rub at your tired eyes. “Elvenking Thranduil, I am afraid I do not understand. You will have to speak more clearly-”

“Must I truly explain myself more bluntly than that? Very well. If any elf in my kingdom is destined to find solace between your thighs, it will be me and no other,” Thranduil decreed. “Shall I assume that was clear enough to be understood?”

“You want to-? You want-” 

Your stammered sentences were cut off as Thranduil leaned still closer. You could have counted every one of his eyelashes with how slight the distance was between you. After mere moments, Thranduil’s lips parted in a self-satisfied smirk.

“Have I surprised you, my little human?”

“Not your anything,” you snipped.

Thranduil’s gaze sharpened as he agreed, “Not yet.”

“Your confidence is stunning, as is your ego.” Speaking to a king in such a way was a poor choice, but your temper was well and truly piqued. 

“Tell me you are not interested and I will never breathe another word on the subject,” Thranduil said gallantly, the gleam in his eyes belying any sense of honor he may otherwise have presented. “Though I must emphasize that no other experience can approach the pleasure I can give you.”

“Tempting,” you told him, “but I think-”

“Ah, you mistakenly believe that your human trader is preferable to me,” Thranduil summarized.

“At the very least, I can tolerate his company!” Your voice was too loud, though you only just realized that the area around you and the Elvenking was entirely empty. “It takes my every ounce of effort to avoid arguing with you.”

“You do not avoid arguing with me.”

You sighed at the deliberately obtuse king. “Then imagine for a moment how much more severe the trouble would be if I did not make that effort.”

Thranduil laughed then, and even his laugh sounded far too rich to be wasted on you. “My dear human, you seem to be suffering from the idea that one must be friendly with one’s bedfellows. It is not so.”

Your mouth opened and closed a few times as you tried to formulate a response to that. Much as it pained you to admit it, you truly hadn’t considered the idea that you could sleep with someone you disliked. It made no sense to you. Why give them access to your body if you despise them? However, the odd draw of the Elvenking made you reconsider your previous stance on the subject.

When your attention fixed on Thranduil once more, you found that he had moved still closer. There was only the slightest space between you. If you took too full a breath, you would find your breasts brushing his chest. When the king spoke, you did your best to stop thinking about your breasts. You had far too great a sense of awareness of your own body right then as it was.

“I do not wish to be your friend, your companion, or your confidante,” Thranduil murmured, his words raising chills over your skin. “I have no interest in your thoughts or ideas. I want only one thing from you and I offer it to you in return: pleasure.”

Those chills grew even stronger and you recognized the sick tightening in your stomach as longing. 

“If you agree to my terms, we will retire to my bedchamber and I will spend the evening demonstrating the benefits of keeping a connection closer than East Bight. You will leave fully satisfied, that terrible ache gone from your body. And you will choose if - when - you wish to return. I will make myself available to you for such a purpose.”

“And if I refuse?” you asked, voice so soft and wavering that you wished you had never spoken at all.

The Elvenking’s eyes gleamed down at you. “It is well within your rights to refuse me. But it will be two months before the East Bight traders return. Do you truly wish to wait so long for release?”

And there was the problem. You were missing Léod now. You were frustrated now. You needed release now. Would the physical satisfaction of your own needs be worth Thranduil’s satisfaction of his own irresistibility?

Tragically, the answer was resoundingly ‘yes’. 

“Very well,” you agreed. “But-”

You never did remember what condition you intended to place on your participation. The moment you had finished agreeing to Thranduil’s proposal, he closed the miniscule space between you.

His lips were incredibly soft - both in texture and how they moved. His tongue was a flash of wet heat against your lips, but you kept them firmly closed. You were a single heartbeat from relaxing into the kiss, melting into it. You didn’t want that. You refused to get lost in a romantic encounter on these terms, in a situation like this one. Instead, you pulled away from Thranduil.

He blinked confusedly at you, but you shook your head. “You said you would be better than my tradesman. Do you think we simply kiss? If you truly claim to be better… Prove it.”

The elves were a mild-mannered race - at least in front of outsiders. Even the Mirkwood elves, known for their impetuous natures by elves of other areas, were far from aggressive. However, the wolfish smile that flashed across the Elvenking’s face at your challenge was enough to put your nerves on edge.

He did not respond to you; at least, not verbally. Thranduil turned and began moving down the hallway away from you, pausing to beckon imperiously when you did not immediately follow him. 

You had previously thought you knew most of the kingdom of the Woodland Realm. Indeed, as you trailed behind Thranduil and wondered if you had chosen incorrectly, you recognized your surroundings for only a handful of minutes. Rapidly, though, you began moving into sections of the palace that were totally unfamiliar to you. 

When you were well and truly lost, you fixed your attention on Thranduil’s back ahead of you. It seemed as if he were paying you no attention, but you knew better. Elves had incredible hearing. If you stopped or turned around, Thranduil would hear it.

You were under no compulsion to follow through on this. You were not one of the Elvenking’s subjects and Bard would certainly not compel you to do this. And yet… your eyes traced over Thranduil’s square shoulders and down his back. Elves were slender as a race, but Thranduil seemed wider, broader. Maybe it was just the force of his personality, but he struck you as being more solid than other elves you had met.

But your thoughts about the Elvenking were cut short when he stopped at a doorway, waving off the guards that stood on either side.

You fought the urge to balk at the presence of others, especially ones who may judge what you were about to do. Two things kept you moving through the door: first, the expressions of the guards told you clearly that they did not care in the slightest what you did with their king so long as you had no intention of harming him. Second, Thranduil’s impossibly long fingers shackled your wrist and tugged you off-balance until you had to choose between following him inside the room or falling to the floor.

You followed him inside the room.

‘Room’ may have been an inaccurate term, you reflected as you gazed around. ‘Chambers’ would be truthful, or perhaps even ‘residence’. You were in the entryway, a small room that would allow for barricades if someone were trying to attack his private chambers. Thranduil did not pause there. Instead, he pulled you through a dining room that, if small, still managed to be sumptuous. Together, you and the Elvenking moved into a seating area. You could see his bedchambers through the door, but he stopped. 

He met your quizzical glance with imperiousness. “Disrobe. You have until I have finished.”

The moment it took you to process his order and the second moment required to unbend your pride enough to obey it put you significantly behind Thranduil. When he was bare, you had only just removed the light slip beneath your dress and were still clad in your undergarments.

He stopped you with a devouring kiss that you returned with eagerness, though you noted more than a hint of tension in his body. Before you could draw away to ask if anything was wrong, Thranduil ripped your smallclothes from your body.

You gasped into his mouth and Thranduil took advantage of it, thrusting his tongue deep and taking full control of the kiss. When he finally pulled away, you took in air as though you had been trapped underwater instead of locked in the Elvenking’s embrace. That air left in a shuddering sigh as Thranduil’s long fingers rose to play with the stiffened peak of your breast. His lips traveled down over your neck, along the graceful curve of your collarbone, and down to capture the other nipple.

On the journey to Thranduil’s bedchamber, you had harbored ideas of being unresponsive to the Elvenking’s touches, utterly in control of yourself despite what he had promised. Perhaps it would have been foolish to deny yourself pleasure for the sake of saving face or proving something to yourself - or him - but you had believed it would be worth it. Even underneath that, you believed it could be done.

Oh, what a fool you had been!

Thranduil strummed one nipple as his hot mouth worked at the other and you found yourself positively dancing in place. It was impossible to remain still under the intense pleasure, and he had paid no attention to the place between your legs yet! With only the thought of it, you could feel your body blooming for him, preparing for his invasion. 

“Lovely human,” Thranduil murmured against your skin, nuzzling the soft flesh of your lower stomach. Your insides knotted with anticipation of his path from there. “Lovely, infuriating human…”

“Your sweet talk leaves something to be desired,” you told him, a touch breathlessly for your taste.

Thranduil straightened up, raising one dark eyebrow. “I was under the impression that you would prefer I skip the sweet talk. Were those not the terms of this arrangement?”

“Oh… yes,” you said slowly, trying to regain your verbal footing.

Thranduil shook his head despairingly. “Humans never know what they truly want, but I must say you are worse than most. You are so preoccupied with speaking that you never take a moment’s pause to consider whether what you say is at all important.”

You gaped. “You wouldn’t know whether my points are worthwhile since you never give me the opportunity to make them uninterrupted!”

“Precisely,” Thranduil agreed, gaze drifting downward. “I think we could put that enchanting mouth to better use.”

You glanced away, trying to collect yourself before you attempted to murder a king and ruined Lake-Town’s relationship with Mirkwood once and for all. You do not need to enjoy his company, you reminded yourself. Simply use him for relief and pay him no more mind.

“Let us not waste time on such things,” you told him. “We both know our true goal.”

With that, you reached for Thranduil’s hardness as he watched in amusement. He was thick and pale, jutting upward from a small patch of fine curls. Even the veins tracing his length seemed perfectly placed, managing to be elegant, somehow. You wrapped a hand around him, tugging him gently as you rubbed at the underside of his head at the top of every stroke.

You pulled away after a few strokes, intending to move to the bed, but Thranduil’s hips followed your movement with a hastily bitten-back whine. Feeling suddenly generous, you licked your hand and returned it to him. 

Thranduil’s eyes were heavy lidded, his hips rocking with each of your movements, but he pulled your fingers away just as the pace of his breathing began to increase.

You watched him, curious, but his hands closed around your waist and he tossed you easily toward the bed. It was massive, a generous size even for the larger proportions of elves, but you gave a cry of distress as you flew through the air. What if he missed his target and you went toppling to the floor? Thranduil had been very clear that he cared not a whit for your welfare. 

The softness underneath your hip was a welcome relief, but your second reaction was fury. You sat up again, ready to berate him, but you found yourself flat on your back once more. Thranduil was between your legs, forcing them wide around him as his hands lifted you up to his mouth. Your hips were raised from the bed’s surface even as he left your shoulders lying against the mattress. It was an undignified position and you opened your mouth to tell him so.

Your words of displeasure soon turned to a moan of pleasure as Thranduil lavished attention to that magical place between your thighs. He was indiscriminate in his explorations, his tongue working its way everywhere, regardless of propriety. You made a shocked noise - so jagged it nearly sounded wounded - as the slick muscle pressed against your rear. Thranduil moved on, but you felt his chuckle rumble against the heart of you. 

He casually demonstrated his strength, balancing you on one hand and supporting the weight of your lower half while he used his other to thrust fingers deep inside of you. His mouth worked against the nub at the top of your slit, sucking and rolling and lapping until everything tightened. 

Whether it was from the awkward position of your body or the sheer strength of your orgasm, you couldn’t be certain, but what you were certain of was that your vision blurred as every muscle locked down. Thranduil pulled his mouth away but his fingers stayed buried deep inside of you, stroking through your wetness as you thrashed for him. 

When you finally gathered the strength to push his hand away, Thranduil lowered you back to the bed before withdrawing his fingers from you. That process gave you ample time to notice that he controlled your descent with only one hand. 

You could feel the Elvenking’s smugness in the hush of his bedroom, could sense it hanging in the air like a humid breeze. It was quiet enough that you heard his intake of air and knew enough to brace yourself before he even began to speak. 

“Does your tradesman take such care when bringing you pleasure?” Thranduil asked, and you could feel the arch of his brows despite your eyes being closed. “Does he draw the same sounds from your mouth? Does he draw the same wetness from your depths? No, do not bother replying. I know he does not. Judging from your response, it is fair to say that you have been sorely neglected.”

“Because you ensured I would form no other connections in your court,” you countered, keeping your eyes closed. 

“Perhaps I simply believe that you are worthy of my kingdom’s best,” he rumbled, satisfaction dripping from his low voice. “And no one else can hope to compare to me.”

You snorted, but before you could offer a snide remark in return, you felt him looming closer and opened your eyes. Thranduil was indeed leaning over you, pale eyes studying your face between flashes toward lower places.

“If you are recovered enough to mock me, you are recovered enough to continue,” he told you. “Only one of us has found our pleasure.”

A glance downward confirmed that: Thranduil’s length was painfully hard and straining toward you. “One would think your kingdom’s best would be able to hold off as long as necessary.”

Thranduil’s eyes sparkled and he inclined his head, acknowledging the insult. “And yet, who would dare keep the king waiting?”

“Then shall we, impatient king?” you asked, parting your knees in subtle invitation. 

A moment later, the air was driven from your lungs as Thranduil rolled on top of you, his hips planted firmly between your legs. The hardness of him pressed at your core, still swollen and weeping with the effects of your earlier pleasure. Any complaints you may have made were silenced by Thranduil’s lips pressing to yours, muting your voice as surely as any gag.

As he plundered your mouth, sweeping deeper than any bounds of propriety would allow, Thranduil’s graceful fingers were wandering your body. They smoothed over your shoulders and urged you to relax. And then they traveled to your breasts and removed any trace of relaxation you had achieved. His searching fingers rubbed, then tweaked, and finally pinched enough that you broke away from his mouth to complain. 

Thranduil, whose cleverness you had underestimated, took advantage of his newfound freedom to soothe your sore breasts with his lips and tongue. Your sharp words died before they were ever exposed to the air. 

“Tell me, Representative,” Thranduil said between nuzzles. His tone was mockingly formal considering your current position. “Are you at last ready for me?”

“Yes, Elvenking,” you agreed. The words were obedient, almost subservient, but the effect was mitigated by the fact that they were forced through gritted teeth.

You didn’t feel his hands slip downward to position the tip of him against your center, but after a single thrust, he speared himself into you. Your jaw dropped, eyes half-closing as you adjusted to the stretch of him. That adjustment process had hardly begun when Thranduil flexed his hips, withdrew from you, and pushed himself back in.

The Elvenking hissed as your nails bit into his back. “Need I remind you that attacking your king is considered an act of treason?”

“You are not my king,” you countered. “I was not ready for you to move.”

“Ah, so your tradesman was not as… gifted as I am,” Thranduil said, his expression turning smug once more. 

“He was simply kinder.” You hissed as Thranduil withdrew and plunged deep again. 

“Tell me you wish me to stop,” he told you.

You paused, and that was your downfall. Thranduil smiled victoriously and thrust once - twice - three times more until you were writhing under him. He was overwhelming, stretching you and filling both your core and your vision until you could think of nothing else. It should have been too much - it nearly was too much - but it only spurred you higher. 

“Nothing to say, human?” he asked, the mocking thick in his voice. “Very well. I understand it can be overwhelming the first time one is with a lover who exceeds expectations.”

The only reaction you managed for that was to curl your lip at him, but the effect was ruined when he thrust deep and your head tipped back. How was it possible that he could feel so good inside of you? This had never been something you had sought with any real frequency. Your body had demanded it on occasion when you had gone without the touch of another for an extended time, but it had never been something you craved. 

With dread fighting for space in your belly alongside the pleasure, you realized that this was something you could indeed see yourself craving. 

As if he could see - or feel - the realization in you, the pace of Thranduil’s hips built to a speed that was nearly overwhelming. Your body was dripping for him, creating as much lubrication as possible as if to encourage him to continue. The squelching of him inside of you was constant, loud in the hush of the room, though that silence was partially filled with the small sounds forced from between your lips. 

Thranduil seemed to savor every noise.

At last, the coils of warm iron forming low in your belly grew too large and too hot to contain. You cried out, clutching at the Elvenking as your body shattered around him. Colors burst behind the eyes you had squeezed shut and even the sounds of his increased breathing were muffled by the roaring in your ears. 

As you were slowly coming back down from your pleasure, Thranduil tore himself from your depths. Your surprised cry mingled with his pleased groan as he spilled his seed across your stomach.

Your regret of the encounter was not immediate, but it was strong and undeniable. You had fought so long to keep the Elvenking from having too much control over you and yet, you had given him this part of yourself. You had shared a bed with him, shared pleasure. How could you ever return to fighting him in meetings or disdaining him in the halls? At the very least, this would hang heavy over every interaction. 

His fingers were stroking your skin and you frowned. It was an oddly tender action from the ruler who seemed to despise you. When you at last opened your eyes to see him for yourself, you found that he was busy spreading his spend over the gentle curve of your belly until it seemed to disappear, absorbed into your skin. 

“You’ll wear this for me, Representative,” he decreed. “It is a gift - a priceless one. Wear it back to your quarters.”

“Is that a joke?” you asked with a frown. Though the mess appeared to have soaked into your skin, the area felt stiff and was already beginning to itch slightly under the near-invisible film that covered it.

Thranduil laughed at you. “Did you truly believe I would invite you to share my bed for the evening?”

You made a face at him, but were interrupted before you could give him the reply that question deserved. 

“Elvenking Thranduil!”

The call came from just beyond the doors to Thranduil’s bedchamber. You made a startled noise and tried to hide yourself, but Thranduil answered immediately in a bored tone: “What is it, guard?”

“A messenger for you, your grace.”

“Very well,” Thranduil agreed.

As you realized that no one was attempting to enter the room, you relaxed slightly, even as a new voice rang through the doors. “My king, the East Bight traders have arrived.”

“They were not due until tomorrow,” Thranduil replied as you stared at him, aghast.

“There was poor weather on their travels, Elvenking,” the new voice revealed. “They offer their most sincere apologies.”

“What is going on, Thranduil?” you hissed, carefully keeping your voice as low as possible while still being audible. The Elves had remarkable hearing, and the last thing you needed was to be heard in the king’s chambers.

“You are both dismissed,” Thranduil called, ignoring you. “Tell the traders I will meet with them at our arranged time tomorrow.”

After a moment of waiting for the guards to be out of hearing range, Thranduil looked at you. His expression was neutral, but his eyes were dancing with amusement. “Did you have a question, Representative?” 

You hissed out a breath, only narrowly stopping it from being a curse. “Why was I told the East Bight traders had canceled their trip?”

“Because I ordered that you should be told so,” Thranduil said plainly. 

With the fury burning through your veins, you didn’t notice that your hand had tightened into a fist until Thranduil glanced down at it. 

When he looked back at you, his gaze was stern. “I will not tell you again: attacks on the king are considered treason.”

You loosened the tension in your fingers, though the effort it required was noticeable. Thranduil smiled when your arm fell limply to the surface of the bed once more. You still wanted to strike that beautiful face.

“I must tell you, I find you far more bearable now that I know the face you make when you are overwhelmed by pleasure.”

There must have been murder in your expression, but Thranduil simply patted your bare hip. “Get dressed, Representative. I must retire so I may properly greet the East Bight traders tomorrow morning. I expect to see you there as well.”

Despite the shaking rush of rage that filled your body, you managed to get dressed and leave before Thranduil could needle you into saying something you would regret.

You had done quite enough regretful activities that day as it was.

---

Author's Note - For someone who likes the asshole-ish characters that I do, I really have to fight to keep things from getting soft! Anon, if you're reading this, I hope this was what you were looking for! (If you aren't reading this, I understand since it's been over a year.)

Quick note about requests: I only use them as writing warm-ups and cool-downs. If you submit a request to me for this blog, there are very good odds you'll never see a response. I apologize for that, but I feel it's only fair to give the warning.

I don't offer taglists for mature works, but you can find other fics on my masterlist!

#the hobbit thranduil #the hobbit #thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #reader insert fic #reader insert #spicy #lemon #not suitable for minors #minors dni #elvenking thranduil

[fantasyinallforms]

I won't lie. I was really nervous about this one. I've never written Thranduil/ Bard or even read fics with them as the main ship. That said, I'm SO SO proud of myself for this one. In my opinion, at least it turned out to be much better than I thought it might, and I was really feeling the moment when I finished writing it.

I will put this on AO3 as a one-shot, not because it's super long it's about 1.3k, but because I'm genuinely proud that I stepped out of my comfort zone to work on something I normally wouldn't. Thank you to the Anon who suggested it! Thank you to @tolkienpinupcalendar for hosting this event! ~~~~~

Day 6- Bard/ Thranduil- Body Worship/Blowjobs

Title: Where All Others Failed

Thranduil never spent much time lingering on the forms of men. Why should he? Such small-minded creatures who lived such a short time. Just enough time to impact the world, yet not enough time to fully understand the weight of their choices. He had not even treated with a human until the second age of this world after the fall of his first home, Doriath. Yet the strength and determination of one Bard, the dragonslayer, had captured his attention where all other humans had failed.

Bard walked through the tent's open flap and threw down his quiver. “Another fight over supplies. People tire of the cleanup and the smell of dead orcs. I can not blame them, for I tire of it myself.” 

“Yet you do not look or smell as if you’ve been hauling orc bodies out of your new town all day,” Thranduil replied 

“I’ve been too busy settling disputes, and now I’m hoping to hide here if only to have some peace.” Bard closed his eyes and smiled as he leaned against the center pole of the tent. Thranduil’s fingers itched to touch as he stared at the strong frame of Bard's body. He remembered himself a moment too late as their eyes met. Quickly, he got up to pour himself wine and think of anything else. He only made it a step past the pole before Bard's arm caught him around the waist and dragged him back. 

“It always surprises me how light elves are. I would think you might float on air, but I have seen you walk atop snow drifts, so perhaps I’m not far off.” His smile was blindingly annoying, but Thranduil made no move to get away. Bard’s arms were warm and comfortable.    

“Do you forget that I am a king, and this is my tent?” He quipped back stubbornly. That only seemed to make Bard adjust to get a better grip on his waist. 

“Forget? How could I when I seem to always find said king's eyes on me.” Bard pulled him into a kiss, and when Thranduil was sufficiently distracted by the warm mouth now on his, he felt himself get walked back until he fell into his ornate high-backed chair. 

Elves were strong in a graceful way, but humans were brutish and clumsy. There was no room for patience or measure in such a short lifespan. It was new. It was terrifying. Perhaps that is why he craved the touch of impatient fingers struggling to undo the clasps on the front of his robes or why he involuntarily gasped when those strong, bruising fingers finally reached his skin. Bard had moved on from his mouth and was now nipping at his jaw, slowly making his way to his ears. How long had it been since he let someone touch him with such reverence? How long had it been since someone wanted to? A question with its answer hidden in the age of his son. He returned the affection, bringing his hands up to peel away the many layers of Bard's clothes until, finally, his hands could freely roam the strong, scared flesh of the man who was rapidly becoming too dear to him. 

He felt himself grow hot as Bard continued his assault. He tried not to whimper as the tip of his ear went into the man's mouth, and felt his pants grow tight. 

“They speak of the beauty of the elves, but they never tell you how stubborn they can be to let themselves fall apart. I can feel you resisting my temptations. If you wish me to stop, I will.” Bard leaned back, using the arms of the chair to brace himself so he could meet his eyes in question. Thranduil did not want this to stop. He still wanted to touch and to be touched. He pulled Bard back down to him. He let himself fall into this short-lived dream that could only end in heartbreak. Right now, he didn’t care. He wanted to let Bard worship him with his mouth and take pleasure in his body. Bard took this as consent and pressed on with renewed vigor until the robes fell off Thranduil's shoulders, revealing how painfully hard he had become.

Bard tucked the hair that had fallen in front of his face behind his ear with an affectionate smile before kissing him soundly. The next kisses were placed along his chest and down the planes of his abs and stomach until Bard was kneeling on the floor in front of him, eyes level with his cock. Without much of a second thought, Bard placed his hand on Thranduil’s hip and took him in his mouth. A shattered cry left him as the pleasure raced through his core. Bard’s mouth was warm and wet and hot. He was taking him right to the back of his throat with little issue. He buried his hands in the dark locks and let his head fall back in ecstasy until he felt the warmth pool in his body. He tried to give a warning about what was to come, but Bard’s only response was to place his hand on his chest and push him back with surprising force. He came with a shout that turned into a long, shaky moan as his body seized, then went lax. Bard stood with a smile, wiping his mouth and looking incredibly pleased with himself. One look between his legs made it clear he was still very hard himself. Thranduil rose from his chair and grabbed Bard, kissing him hard, not caring that his mouth tasted like his own spend. He used the shock of it to trade places and drop Bard into his chair before sinking to his knees. 

“Thranduil, wait! This is your tent, and you are a king. You do not need to-.” Thranduil cut off Bards' protests. 

“Do not tell me what I can and can not do.” He freed Bard’s cock from his pants and strangled a moan in his throat. Bard was thick and big enough he might not be able to fit all of him in his mouth. He would still try. Thranduil licked the tip and tasted the salty precum coat his tongue before swallowing what he could. His reward was getting to look up and see Bard falling apart. He was panting and moaning. He looked down at him through half-lidded eyes as Thranduil looked up at him through long, elven lashes and began caressing his hair and whispering sweet words of encouragement. He couldn't help but preen at his handy work, and soon he felt Bard tense. 

“Thranduil, please, you should stop. I’m so close.” Bard grit out. With a wicked smile, Thranduil rested Bard’s cock on the tip of his tongue and opened his mouth wide in invitation. He tried not to let a drop fall from his lips but failed and felt some slide down his chin. He felt too wobbly to stand immediately, and when he looked up, Bard was staring at him with wide-eyed adoration. He slipped off the chair to meet him on the floor and, using the cuff of his discarded jacket, wiped the corners of his mouth and chin before kissing him lovingly. The adoration was still in his voice when he whispered.

“I think you might be the most beautiful being in all of Arda.” 

~~~~~~

Find the kinktober list here!

#TPCkinktober #kinktober 2023 #the hobbit #barduil #bard the bowman #thranduil #smut #body worship

[ardanirnthedas]

All the options are based from my prior 2 polls asking who people wanted Faramir’s Dad and Mom to be.

I came upon some confusion with myself at first do to my removal of all the one’s that didnt get any votes at all from the list- and so ended up with 7 mom candidates and 10 dads.

It was late enough that when i made the decision that i should take the three lowest voted dad’s and put them with the highest voted dads to even out the equation i forgot to put into consideration that that meant i’d taken six Dads out of the way. And thus decided i should line up the bottom four of each list to fix it. I realized ‘math dosent work for tired brains’ and smushed the remaining 3 together and called it a night. As a Bonus: Merry, Pippin, Fili and Kili get spots on the list. To understand what each of these pairs mean- here are some of the pros of co-parenting.

Elrond and Dain: many children (mayhem and otherwise)

Gandalf and Bolg: totally terribly absurd and polar opposite methods of raising children.

Aragorn and Smaug: compromise is not easy

Bard and Shelob: she has kids, he has kids, they’re equally horrified

Bilbo and Arwen: casual aunt and uncle vibes all the way

Beorn and Dori: mothering is a term not used lightly between them

Sméagol and the Bardlings: they’re all children your honor

Dis and Thranduil and Lobelia: Strong willed, sassy, intense group of differing backgrounds and cultures all set on raising a baby human.

Bonus:

Kili and Fili & Merry and Pippin: they handle things like an Ent on fire.

As a note this is for General co-parenting without romance between a bunch of ill adjusted peoples over a very human child with an overprotective brother.

The winning group will be written and posted of here, anything from snippets, dialogue, world traits to poetic prose. If it comes to be it will be viewable here- so choose wisely for Faramir’s new family depends on it.

#bilbo baggins #lotr #the hobbit #arwen #arwen evenstar #smaug the dragon #bardlings #bard #shelob #aragorn #Estel #elrond #dain #gandalf #lobelia sackville baggins #thranduil #thranduil oropherion #middle earth #dori the dwarf #smeagol #beorn #dis durin #fili and kili #kili durin #kili #fili durin #fili #dori #merry brandybuck #merry and pippin

[smoking-old-toby]

thorin: help us!!!

thranduil: oof, wish there was something i could do to help but there isn't byee

******

bard: *literally didn't ask for help*

thranduil: here's some food and blankets. is there anything else that would help? a backrub maybe?

thorin: wtAF

#hobbit crack #barduil #the hobbit #smoking old toby