Tumgik
#lee pace x reader
anundyingfidelity · 3 months
Text
NO SECOND CHANCES — Brother Day/Cleon XVII
Tumblr media
Summary: A lonely space traveler happens to save from a certain death the most annoying person of the entire galaxy, the Emperor.
Pairing: Cleon XVII x female reader.
Word count: 8.1k. (oooops).
Warnings: well, spoilers for whole season 2. Language, angst (the reader wants to die, really). Talks about suicide, talks about suicide attempts, reader having nightmares, PTSD, reader is suffering too. Some hurt/comfort, some fluff? Filthy smut (included but not limited to hand jobs, unprotected sex, oral from both parts, dirty language, etc. etc.), and end of the world sex (to Beki's arsehole bitches yay🥂). Also Cleon refers to the reader as "woman" a couple of times lol. Reader has pierced ears? (wait for it). Bittersweet ending tbh.
Notes: just trying to make slow burn in a one shot because I'm a lazy fucker who doesn't like to write stories with chapters, otherwise I don't finish shit. Uh probably OOC Cleon??? I don't know. Fully inspired by my favorite trope ever: saving the bad guy and making him humble. I don't care we're four people watching Foundation, I need to write about this little piece of shit I love him so much. Cleon XVII is a himbo I said it. Not beta, we die like bitches of the Gossamer court.
Tagging: @curiouswildi hope you like it 🥺💘
GEN MASTERLIST!
Tumblr media
I. BEYOND
The last thing wandering his mind was Bel Riose. Fucking Bel Riose. That idiot. They had won over him; over him, who was Empire and still meant to be for years ahead. Next, the cold feeling of space was embracing him. But he felt he was not floating around anymore.
Cleon was tied to a surface. It felt like harsh, uncomfortable metal under his back. He slowly forced his eyes open, moving his limbs and trying to escape whatever it was restraining him to do so. His wrists and ankles, as his waist, were tied by a light blue particle field preventing the patient to move at all. He was met with the roof of a ship and equipment, but it wasn't any Imperial one. In panic, he moved until he was able to shake the surface he was on, panting and grunting, feeling some pain and sting resurging all over him. The headache was becoming unbearable and the sounds coming from his dry mouth finally transformed into screams. The room doors opened and a strange voice catched his attention.
"Finally, you're awake."
Cleon obliged to follow the shadow moving around, his eyes focusing to try and see who was talking. He heard steps and the sounds of metal and glass clinking around, probably looking for medication and tools as he was know fully concius. The figure finally came to view by his side.
"I will inject this, so don't move," you said, grabbing his bicep. Cleon was about to protest, but the needle was faster and the medicine was welcomed on his vurnerable system, easing the pain and calming down the headache. "Welcome back, Eminence," you smirked to him.
"And just so, who are you?" he asked chuckling to himself, licking his lips. "What have you done to me?"
"First, I saved your life and cleaned all your bloody wounds. You should say thanks at least," you sat down dangerously close by his side, on the same surface he was on.
"I did not ask you for mercy."
"Oh, but I did," you replied, a smirk on your lips. "Perhaps I shouldn't have, right?" you took a small pencil-like device in your hand from the pocket of your pants and used it to scan his vital signs. You touched his face carefully with your fingers, examining his eyes, his heartbeat, and any anomaly that might be on his system from head to toe, but the scanner found none. Cleon watched you doing so until he asked again, his voice softer this time.
"Who are you?"
"Just no one as important as you are," you said, saving the scanner back.
"Where are we?" Cleon asked, looking around. He observed he was placed in a small medical bay.
"In space, in the middle of nowhere I suppose," you shrugged, getting on your feet again. "It seems you're recovering quite well and fast. At least that's what my scanner says. So first, I think you should want some water, which I am leaving right here," you put a flask on the small table next to him. "And before I give you this to drink, I want to make sure you will not restrain or fight back at me."
He laughed, that narcissistic smile on his face. You wanted to punch him.
"You're no match for me, woman."
"Really? Then I could just throw you out there again, you know, it's not difficult. I'm spending resources on you, surely I won't oppose to that idea," you snapped back.
His smile faded slowly, thinking. If it wasn't for you, he would be dead by now, it was true. But he was so used to be immortal and undefeteable that the situation was kind of new. He only had been vulnerable and exposed to his doctors in the palace, and you were a complete stranger. And still, you had the heart to take him in your ship and save his life. He sighed, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.
"Fuck, fine. What do you want me to do?"
So this was his way of cooperating, you thought.
"After I turn off the restraints, you will have to sit down on the stretcher. I will help you. Do not try to get up yet, you might feel dizzy."
With a nod he said to you the orders were clear. Next, the restraints disappeared in the air with a push on a button and Cleon felt a small relief. As you promised, you helped him to sit and he realized that the clothes he had before were replaced with a set of new pale grey robes that allowed him to move freely. You offered the flask to his lips, but he watched you with a questioning look on his face.
"Is only water, I swear. See?" you had a small sip from the bottle and he looked more at ease after you swallowed the liquid.
You offered the bottle again and helped him to slowly drink. Once he was done, you placed a small tray with fruits and dry seeds on top of the same table beside the stretcher.
"You might want to eat something," you said, breaking the silence under his fixed gaze. Even when he was sitting down and you on your feet it felt rather intimidating. "I'm still collecting supplies and food. You were certainly not part of the plan these days."
"So you travel alone," Cleon said, taking a small red fruit between his fingers and began to eat it.
"I do," you nodded. "Sorry if the taste of the fruit is not pleasant."
"You're doing your best," he said while eating, studying the room around him. You were not sure if he was mocking you or not. "What was your name again?"
You chuckled. "You're very interesting, Empire. Why don't you finish eating and rest before taking a bath?"
The next few hours, you left him to rest and escorted him to your quaters, the only place with a comfortable bed, so he could get proper sleep. Since there were no further questions from him, you got to your business and requested more provisions to the merchants. Traveling alone had made you some contacts and traders, from time to time you would request for food giving in exchange money or rare knick knacks, and within a day you had a small capsule with supplements heading to your coordinates with everything you needed. You just had to wait for now.
After checking the estate of your ship and confirming everything was working correctly, you went back to your quaters to see how the Emperor was doing. You were startled to see him sitting on your bed with a book between his hands. He looked like he just had a bath because his shirt was gone and his hair was wet, some droplets running down his skin. Quickly, you studied him. He was handsome, muscular, his skin had a beautiful tan, and he was tall and heavy as hell, something you noticed when cleaning his wounds and taking him inside your ship. The earring on his left ear was also interesting, you thought, for a member of the most important dinasty of the galaxy. Very rebellious for the emperor.
You also knew he heard you steping in but never looked up from the book because he was the first one to talk.
"Never I could imagine you would have books in here," he said, clearly interested on the pages.
"Yeah, not all of us are barbarians as you work so hard to convice yourself we are."
He chuckled to himself, looking at you for the first time since you entered the room.
"Are you from Korell?"
"The book gave it away, didn't it."
"This is very old," he said, closing the book. "You are for sure not allowed to have this in Korell."
"That is one of the reasons I left," you replied, looking around the place. It was obvious to you that he was pearing within your personal stuff because the old myth book was secured down your mattress. At least he didn't leave a mess and everything seemed in the right place. "I was a threat in my planet so Argo kept looking for me for some conspiracy shit and terrorism when all I did was oppose myself to his repression and freakshow," you continued, his eyes drew back to you. "They wanted me dead in Korell, but I am the only one to decide that, even when and where will it happen."
Cleon shifted on his seat, wondering why you were sharing a piece of your life to him when he didn't even know your name yet. Words and thoughts wandered his head on how would he answer to your words, compassion or empathy sometimes were difficult things to feel. But before he was able to speak, you interrupted his thoughts.
"I will leave you alone to rest for a while and will come back when it's around supper. I follow Kornell cycle of time, so you know... Just don't poke around my underwear, Empire," you dragged his title mockingly.
He laughed softly, going back to his reading.
"Thank you for the idea."
That was the first time you would hear him expressing gratitude.
Tumblr media
II. GHOSTS FROM THE PAST
Around more than a week passed, and Cleon was healing and his wounds were not so visible now. You made sure to inject him every day and gave your quaters and bed for him to sleep and recover. He had took a pad you had in the room so he could count the cycle of days in Trantor. Hardly to admit, he found himself missing home rather than hatred. Sometimes the rage mixed with sorrow, but he forced himself to try and understand that it was a normal feeling due to the sudden lose of everything he once had.
Cleon had been up from some time now as he counted the end of the eighth day on the pad, and wondered why your daily visit was taking so long. It was a habit you had, to come in and wake him up with the medicine, and after it was done, you would tell him to eat some of the fruits and food on the tray you brought for him. He got on his feet and put a shirt on before leaving the room to search for you. On the pilot cabin, you had an improvised, small stickable mattress on the wall that had saved your life before, so you used it to sleep and rest the past few days while he cured. Cleon observed your figure lying down on the mattress, walking slowly and sensing something was not right. He found you shaking and trembling, eyes still closed and chest heavily breathing as your hand held onto dear life what he realised it was a gun.
He felt somehow frightened and confused. If you wanted to kill him, you would already have done it. You had made yourself clear on that. The tremor of your body seemed it was increasing and Cleon, with a gentless he did not know he possesed, tried to soothe you with his voice, removing the gun from your embrace.
"Shh... everything is fine," he mumbled, not sure of his words, his other hand touching your shoulder in soft circles. He was able to withdraw the gun from your hands and placed it on the floating shelf near by.
Your eyes squeezed and some tears flowed down your face as you sobbed still in your sleep. Cleon hesitated on what to do next to wake you up. He leaned again, his hand slowly tracing the skin of your arm, like he did when his brother Dawn was a child.
"Woman? Wake up," he whispered, shaking you a little bit and pating your arm softly, and when he talked again, his voice was a little bit louder. "You're having a nightmare, wake up."
And as he repeated his words over and over, your eyes opened wide, feeling your lungs able to breath again. But your senses still were coming to awareness, and automatically you slapped the face of whoever it was touching your arm. You heard him groan in pain and you rolled over the mattres, until you hit the floor, taking out a small blade from below the makeshift pillow of fabrics you used. The blade pointing at him as you looked around the cabin to find out it was only both of you.
"What- are you okay?!" Cleon questioned with a frown, rubbing his hurting cheek as he remained on the other side of your bed, the only thing separating you from him was the mattress.
"Yes, I'm perfectly fine!"
He rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Of course you are not."
"Then why the fuck would you ask that?! It's obvious I'm not fine!" you yelled. Your body was tense and ready to attack. You felt a knot on your throat, like if you were to cry again. Silence envolved you, trying to calm down. That inner voice in your head began saying it was just a dream, and you wanted to believe it. It was all in your head. It was not real...
"Do you want to kill me?" Cleon's gloomy voice echoed.
"What? No! I would never-"
"Then why are you sleeping with a damn blaster shot and a blade on your bed?!" he confronted, screaming at you, but not daring to move as you also remained standing in the same place.
"Because I wanted to kill myself!" you yelled back, pointing the sharp of the knife to you instead. His face became stern and you realised what you had said, and what was happening. Ashamed, you threw the blade back under the pillow. "Sorry, I don't want you to know that. Forget it."
You wiped the tears on your face under his piercing and concerning eyes. You forced your head to compose and burry your nightmares and memories deep inside before talking.
"I have to inject you," you said and walked back to the room, sure he would follow behind. Once you crossed the doors, you prepared the needle but Cleon remained standing near the exit of your room the whole time, arms crossed over his chest, observing you with utter worry on his face. Why? He really did not know. Probably because you were the only human and intelligent contact he had for days now, and you had the decency to keep him alive. Though he was not going to let that in his head - yet.
"Why don't you seat?" you most likely ordered. Cleon slowly made his way to you and remained standing, tall and kind of threatening. He was Emperor, after all.
"What is wrong with you?" he asked with a careful tone.
"Nothing, Empire. Just sit," you said, coldly, waiting for him to do as you requested.
"No, I need to know," he demanded, coming closer to you, jaw clenching. Anger started taking over your being and held his gaze as you replied.
"I have the right to decide whether or not speak about my personal life, I am not one of your subjects, so sit the fuck down so I can give you the last dosis of this shit."
"I need to know if I can fucking trust you after what I just heard coming from your mouth," his voice boomed around the place.
"You really want to know?! Fine, back in Korell I lost my family, my brother, my parents, my home - everything I had they took it from me! I was the last one alive and I escaped after they killed my brother in front of me and that day is still haunting me," you muttered and felt the tears forming on your eyes, but this time, of rage. "So if it concerns your own well being, like it always has been, no, I will not kill you. But you are no Emperor here, so stop that game. Some of us never gave a fuck about you or the Empire, or the Foundation and Hari Seldon, or the Church of the Galactic Spirit -I don't care! I'm tired, I just want to be free and live peacefully!"
You had not noticed you stepped closer to him, feeling the heat radiating from his body. His face was blank, as if he had been slapped again, but this time to reality. A reality he was not familiar with on his own bubble.
Quickly you grabbed his bicep and injected the dosis with him standing up. He whined in surprise. It was fast. So fast that you just removed the needle from his flesh and left the room.
Tumblr media
III. WHAT YOU REALLY KNOW
According to the Trantor cycle, evening should be now. When you left him alone in the room, Cleon spent the next hours by himself, and since he watched you looking up for garments and food around the ship before, he made sure to get those without speaking to you. Not that you wanted to talk either. He noticed you sitting on the main pilot seat, looking at the stars and the void through the glass the whole day. He got concerned for a moment, but decided to let you be as he, also, understood that some time alone was necessary.
However, Cleon thought to talk to you finally and say something. Anything to get you back to reality and forget your bad dreams. So he found himself making his way to sit on the other chair of the ship. He prepared the words to say inside his head, but it was more difficult to speak out loud.
"I think I owe you an apology," he finally said, taking in the view of space. You nodded slowly your head. Nobody turned to see each other.
"It's nothing. But apology accepted I guess."
"It's not nothing. I rarely thought about what other citizens and planets are going through... I'm so sorry it happened to you."
"I would like to say that was not your fault, but since the Empire withdrawal from Korell, living there definitely became so much worse," you confessed, very aware of the genetic dinasty and some of the things previous emperors did, which did not change much. They were the same man after all. Cloning again and again...
"Probably should apologise for that as well," he said.
"Yeah, it's too late, but thank you."
Cleon could still sense a feeling of resentment in your voice. He thought you were right to feel that way, but he was also going to try and make you understand him.
"I never had a mother, or a father, and my brothers are the same man as me, so it's hard to understand that some people lose their family and loved ones. I was born with that loss already... That's why I wanted to end the genetic dinasty."
"You are the eighteenth?" you asked, not knowing exactly why he was opening to you.
"The seventeenth."
"That's a lot of you though. Do you remember anything from the past?"
"I do not. But our memories are always saved. Everything that happens in Trantor is recorded and kept as data. If I want to know something about a previous Cleon, I would just request it."
You turned your gaze to finally see him, he looked in awe with space as he spoke.
"So what was your motive to destroy a planet?"
He turned his eyes to you. "I believe you didn't care about Empire or the Foundation."
"That doesn't mean I want to see a genocide, your Eminence."
Cleon stirred on his seat, with a strange feeling of guilt, sadness and regret. For some reason, the title falling off your lips made everything worse.
"You saw it," he said. "How? You're no part of the Foundation, at least you're lying to me."
"No, I am not! I did a stupid space jump without course and I ended here, unfortunately." You were growing tired of the conversation. "I don't know why we keep talking. We're both shitty people anyway."
Cleon chuckled, not to mock you, but because of the whole situation you were in together.
"I know you are. Brave enough to kill yourself, taking another life is nothing compared to your own."
You locked your gaze with his, thinking if he was he judging you or flattering you.
"And have you, like, tried to end with your life at some point? You must feel lonely, under the shadow of a clone, not allowing you to be, well, you."
He let out a deep breath, avoiding your eyes.
"I have not, but my genes are already compromised and adultered. No surprise if any of us dared to commit suicide before," he replied, looking to the void. "In any case, if something out of the ordinary is to happen to my brothers or myself, we have another clone with our same memories, same age, everything; prepared to be woken up and take our place. Like if we never existed."
"That's fucked up," you scoffed. "We are never trully free, are we."
You got on your feet to look up for something to eat and forget your small talk. You knew he had searched for fruits and dry food because you heard him moving around and then leaving a couple of times, but you had nothing through the whole day. Cleon followed your steps, leaving enough space between you both as you took a couple of apples, giving one to him.
"The jump, how did you do that?" he asked, taking a bite of the fruit. "You don't have spacers."
"The rebels are smart people. A lot of members of the Foundation replicated your technology."
"I thought you were not involved with them," he insisted.
"I am not, but I would never deny any help. That my support doesn't rely on them doesn't mean I will let a chance slide."
"You're not answering my question."
You pulled the sleeve of your shirt up to show your bare wrist to him. There was the same device Hober Mallow and the Clerics had, inserted on your skin.
"I use this.”
"This is a whisper ship," he mumbled.
"Smart. Yes, sort of."
Cleon scoffed. "So that means we can land somewhere."
"About that, uh, we can't."
He moved to throw the remainings of his fruit with a confused look. "Why?"
He heard your sigh as you covered your wrist again, looking away from his deep eyes.
"I- I threw myself to space because I wanted to kill myself," you started, avoiding his gaze. "I didn't care how long would take me, I just wanted to blow up my ship. Just end everything. But then I saw you, floating, dying... and for some reason I couldn't let you die. I didn't know who you were but I saved you. There's no energy or fuel to make another jump. I don't have that. We are far from what Terminus was now. From any planet, form of life or civilization... plus you are unarmed. You still are weak and anyone could kill you," you finished, and waiting for some reason that he could forgive you for giving him any sort of hope. "I'm sorry, Empire."
Beyond madness, Cleon felt you were worried for him. Not the kind of sentiment his brothers or palace workers would do, but a real one. Because you knew saving him was condemn him to death anyway. But this felt much better than dying alone. He had sins, past despiteful decisions and ghosts hunting him, as so were you. You just addressed your feelings and your life together in less than a day. And you were right, none of you were never trully free, but as crazy as it might be, being lost in space with you felt like freedom to him. Finally, he was far away from everything that was keeping chained to a life and responsibilities he never asked for, living under the shadow of an egotistical emperor.
There was a strong impulse growing inside him and before his rational voice began to scream it was a bad idea to continue, he had cupped your cheeks between his hands and his lips pressing hungrily against yours. You whined, surprised of the warm feeling of his mouth, his tongue hurriedly asking for permission to taste you. When oxygen was not enough you pulled away, shocked and panting. You barely noticed your hand around his forearm, recovering yourself from the best kiss you had in some time.
"Cleon," he whispered, kissing your lips one more time.
"What?"
"Just call me Cleon. I'm not Empire anymore."
You kissed him in response with the same eagerness he had before, heart beating strongly in your chest. His hands caressed every inch of your body, from your neck, breasts, your hips, your soft thighs, your ass... he touched you with desperate fire while you moaned against his mouth, liking where was this leading you, more than you wanted to admit.
That was the first time you gave in to him completely.
Tumblr media
IV. TO LOVE AND TO BE LOVED
You moaned against his lips, those that forcefuly broke the heated kiss you shared as he ruts into you desperately to reach his own climax. His flesh hitting against yours made an obscene harmony that echoed the confines the ship, far from civil and coherent noises fell from his lips as he sucked into the skin of your neck.
"Fuck, yes, right there," a broken whimper escaped your throat, your nails scratching his back, your walls clenching around his cock. "Cleon..."
The sound of his name being moaned by your sweet, raspy voice, caused him to slow down his thrusts just a bit.
"I still don't know your name," he whispered, bitting your bottom lip only to kiss you wet again.
"And yet you're fucking me, isn't that enough?" you teased, rolling your hips to meet his own.
He gave you a smirk, that fucking handsome smirk you hated so much. He took you with his strong arms, flipping you around so he was now on his back and you got control on top of him. You sinked down his dick setting a reckless rhythm, his thrusts matching yours every time you went down, his grip hard on your waist, marking and bruising your skin. One of his hands massaged your bouncing breasts, one after the other, pinching and then, you felt his mouth biting your nipples and chest, as he leaned your body to him for easy access, with slow grunts and groans that didn't sound human anymore.
His cock repeatedly hit that sweet spot from the position you were taking him, increasing the tension inside you. The sensation of his hands coming back to your sides and making its way to your ass cheeks to guide your bouncing hips became too much so soon. You cried as you felt drunk and high, muscles tense as you finally came. Cleon held you tight, fucking into you as you reached sweet release. His tongue traveled down your collarbone and breasts.
"Cleon," you moaned, your hands on his chest to support your body better. You felt him twitch inside you, knowing he was dangerously close too. Quickly, you slid off him, taking his girth, slick with your own wetness, between your hand you pumped him hard, easing his own release. His seed coated your palm, sprinkling on his abdomen.
"Shit, you're great," he praised, voice dark from lust. His fingers tangled into your hair, his forehead against yours as you recovered from the intense sex session you had for the second time that day. He kissed you sweetly, like a sweetness he only had discovered in the short time with you. "I wish I could know your name."
"You can call me your savior," you gave him a playful smile.
After a shared lazy kiss, you got on your feet, legs still shaking, and left the bed to clean yourself in the small place you called bathroom right next to the only room of the ship. Once finished, you threw the cloth away, and looked directly the mirror, or poor attempt of it. In the damp glass, you watched Cleon appear to embrace your body against his, your back touching his chest muscles and his hands roamed your abdomen while he left butterfly kisses on your shoulder. His big arms around you, pressing your figure to his own, huge in comparison entrusting protection.
The nineteenth day it was, and you spent it exploring your pleassures, talking nonsense and overall for Cleon, thinking he might love you. The confinement had flourished different kinds of feelings and sentiments inside his heart. He finally learned to feel something else besides hatred, power, or selfishness. The more you spoke to him, the more he grew to like you. You were far from perfect and so was he, and the way you opened your heart to him - the man who was to wed a powerful queen, govern thrillions of people around the galaxy and kill a few others - caused him to feel unworthy of anything coming from you. The man he grew up to be slowly disappeared as long as you had him under your light and spirit; his old self was fading away. And it scared him, but excited him at the same time. Even when he was very aware you were near the end together, he had nothing to ask for but to perish with you.
"What's in your head?" you whispered.
Cleon had no longer been tasting the skin of your neck, his chin pressed on your shoulder instead with his mind running a million thoughts by now. He took a glance at the damp and dirty mirror of how perfect you looked, bare and exposed in body and soul, only for his eyes to witness the true beauty of being alive. Of being human.
"You."
A loving smile curled up on your lips, looking directly into his enamoured gaze through the mirror. He decided he wanted to remember you like this in the afterlife.
You finished marking the last spot with an 'x', a wide grin over your face.
"I won."
"Yet again," Cleon chuckled. His laugh had grew sincere with you as he settled on the floor on the cold floor of the pilot cabin, just giving enough space for the board between you and him. "And what is your question, person-I-not-know-the-name-of?"
You just had finished playing another round of a silly game. It was an old Terran game, and you were surprised it made it this far across the galaxy. It was good to pass the time though. It kept you and Cleon thinking about other things besides dying. The fuel and energy, along with the water, were lowering on their levels. Food on the other hand was not a worry, you knew you could request to the traders as long as energy was functioning to make communication with them. However, the energy of your ship had to be loaded in land, just like fuel. And you had no place to go now to do that.
Being together as long as you had the resources was the main goal now. So many things crossed your mind as you talked about everything and nothing at the same time the past days.
"Have you ever been in love?" you asked after some time thinking.
You thought maybe it was the first time in Cleon's life that he was finally able to think and behave on his own, with no burdens about a dinasty to protect or pleasing his council.
He was taken by surprise as you spoke. He immediately remembered Demerzel, his loyal advisor. His relationship was merely sexual, but there were no feelings that would assimilate to what love is in reality. For sure, his own clone should have been woken up by now with no further consequences. For Cleon, it felt like he was actually erased from existence forever. He was disposable, just like his brothers. But thinking about your question, his answer was no. He never knew what love was. Not from Demerzel, certainly not from Dusk, Dawn was slightly different though, he did love Dawn but not the way you were referring to. He never knew the love from a mother or a father, nor family. Sareth hated him, so even if they got to marry he knew there would be no space for such sentiment. His own future children with the Queen of Cloud Dominion would have grown up without an essential part of being human.
"No," Cleon finally gave an answer, his gaze went soft as he realised what you just became to him in a matter of days. "However I sense something different when I am with you. And I don't recall to know what that is."
You smiled. "Isolation tends to create adjustments in those who suffer it."
"And have you?" Cleon asked back. "Have you ever felt it before?"
"I did... With my parents, my brother, my best friends, and a couple of assholes who broke my heart."
He chuckled, admiring the charm you had to brush off the hardships in your life. You smiled back at him. Gods you loved seeing him like this, like if he was happy and nothing had happened.
"And how is it?" he said.
"It's affection, it's addictive, not everyone can escape from it. You feel like you belong somewhere, that your life is strangely complete," you mumbled, locking your gaze with his own. "And it hurts a lot. But as you go through that path, you get to know the most beautiful kind of pain."
"Does it hurt now?"
You swallowed hard, that familiar knot on your throat. You were not expecting to feel this way. Not for the Emperor, not for the clone, not for Cleon. Yet one does not control love. You don't decide to love someone without a reason. And what else could two lost souls do in the middle of the galaxy with no purpose but to wait and die? You had opened your deepest fears and secrets to him, not expecting Cleon doing exactly the same. He trusted you and you trusted him. You slept in the same bed, ate the same food and fruits, fucked like animals everyday and yet there was an emotional connection in between you thought would never know again after so many years. How could you not fall for him when everything was crumbling? Finally, you nodded your head, feeling the tears burning in your eyes.
"I always have been alone, Cleon, but my soul seems to have a little love to give. In the end, love is what makes us human."
Cleon put the board of the game away and leaned closer to you, his hand caressed your cheek, cleaning the tears falling down your face as he pressed his forehead with yours. He kissed you softly, swallowing your pain, as a way to say he was hurting too.
Tumblr media
V. VOYAGE
It was the thirtieth day on the ship.
Your last try to get and land in any planet failed. As much as Cleon told you to stop, that everything was fine, you felt you had to keep trying until your last day. But the ship was basically to zero fuel and soon energy will follow. You used the control panel of the ship, hopefuly to find a near by land, but luck was not on your side. There was nothing. You don't know exactly how many miles you traveled with no course for a month. It was getting beyond bearing.
Frustrated, you pulled away the holo of the map and the calculations you did in the air, throwing a lose screw of your seat directly to the glass. It did nothing, but you were starting to hate the view of the stars and nothingness sorrounding.
"I told you to stop that," you listened to Cleon, who seemed just arrived to the pilot cabin.
"I had to try," you stood up, walking towards him. Your arms embraced his waist and he took you in with the same warmth.
"You're worried."
"I am not," you whined. "I should have sent for help with the merchants."
Cleon broke your hug and cupped your face between his hands, leaning closer to you.
"No, we should end this now," he whispered, his brows furrowed.
"No!"
"Why not? You wanted to do it even before you found me."
"Because now ending me is ending you too!"
Cleon felt your pain, but there was no other option to make than to blow up the ship anyway. Even if you were to land somewhere, what was for him? You were not able to go back home, and Cleon was discarded at this point. The throne could not have two of the same in the middle. Hiding and running away sounded like a good choice, but still, where? There was nothing left, but he found comfort with you.
"I am okay with this," he said. "I told you. You have to do it."
"Cleon-" you plea was cut by his voice.
"How much time do we have?"
"I don't know, a couple of days at last."
"Then do it. You said you were to decide when and how you would die, this is the time," he remembered with a stern voice. "Take it."
You let out a shaky breath and pushed him to press your lips to his own, like saying goodbye. But you still would not accept this fate. Not like this. You kissed him with hunger and need, your tongues tangled up as your mouths danced together.
"I just have- I can't yet," you mumbled once the kiss was over, leaving you both seeking for air. "Can we just fuck each others brains again and pretend none of this happened for a moment?" you asked against his lips, your hand now on his cheek, caressing the stubble on his face. You always remembered to help him shave and that was one of the most normal things you had to do since you found yourself confined with him. The most casual and mundane things to do became
He nodded. "Yes, my love.”
Cleon kissed your lips with the same hunger and desire, his hands caressing every inch of you until he lifted you up, your legs quickly went around his waist. With eyes closed, you let him guide you to the bar fixed against the wall of your ship.
He made sure to throw everything that was on the surface to the ground to place you in there. Once you were sitting, he pulled your legs apart to stand in the middle of them, and full with lust, his lips and teeth marked your neck and collarbone. You moaned sweetly, palming his groin still covered with the fabric of his pants. He traveled down your breasts, kissing over your shirt until he took it off. He was lucky you decided not to wear bra anymore. He sucked on your tits and nipples, grinding his hips against your hand.
You tried to pull his pants away, but he finished the job first, pulling away from your chest. After his pants were discarded, his shirt followed. He also got used to no underwear so he stood exposed all for you. A true god he was, looking perfect and like if every inch of his body was created for you to worship completely.
Cleon hurried in getting you out of your clothes, and in minutes you were naked and feeling his tongue dancing on your belly. His fingers and massive hands teasing your thighs, avoiding the place where you needed them the most. You moaned when he finally used a single digit to rub your slit, collecting your wetness. He rubbed your clit, mouth going slow and dangerously close to your pussy.
You laid your back on the bar and Cleon grabbed your thighs to have you exactly at the edge of the surface, ready to eat from your heat.
"Cleon," you cried out his name, your fingers tangled on his hair as his tongue licked your most sensitive parts.
He kept your hips in place, fucking you with his tongue and licking your folds, going to your clit. You couldn't help but whimper and moan, removing his hair to see just how much he yearned your cunt.
You tried to roll your hips but his grip was too strong. He looked up to lock his dark gaze with you, his humming creating strong vibrations down your core. He played some more, using a finger to tease your entrance. You were about to cum just by watching him.
"Cleon, please-" you gasped when he inserted a finger inside you, thrusting slowly. "Please, I want to taste you too."
He stopped, looking your flushed face for a moment. Your eyes were begging to suck him right now. He released your pussy with an obscene sound, pulling his tongue and hand away, but your wetness still shined on him. You got on the ground with his help and started to kneel down, kissing his skin, from his chest and then abdomen, licking and biting to leave your marks on his sculptured muscles. You made sure to adore and suck the skin of his navel, knowing he was insecure with not having a belly button. Still without it, he was more human than he could ever get to accept because you have seen that on him.
Cleon grunted once your hand wrapped around him, his hand on your scalp. You gave him a far from innocent look from your position before licking the head, rolling your tongue around it, lubing it with your saliva. His desperate groans led you to wrap your lips around him, pumping with your hand what you couldn't reach with your throat yet. You had to learn he was big for you, so a little of warm up for your mouth was a good start.
He cursed under his breath, thrusting his hips a little to go further, slowly, and you welcomed his cock with a small gag once he reached the back of your throat. He moaned darkly, your rubbed your thighs together when he started to fuck your mouth. Both his hands taking the sides of your head as you choked and gagged around his lenght. You felt him throbbing but he quickly pulled out, and left you empty and with drool falling from your lips, your pussy now aching and clenching around nothing.
"So beautiful," he purred, the touch on your scalp soft now. "But I want to finish inside you."
You nodded, obedient. Cleon helped you to sit down on the bar again, he stayed between your legs, spreading them wide, you held onto him, arms around his neck. He entered slowly, the warmth of your walls swallowing his cock, inch by inch, until it disappeared completely inside your dripping cunt.
You shivered, broken moans falling from your lips. Cleon muffled your low cries with kisses, waiting for you to get used to him.
"Fuck me, Cleon," you mumbled against his swollen lips.
He complied happily, thrusting and pounding into your heat, with a frenetic and brutal pace you had learn to love. You hid your face in the crook of his neck, yor nails scratching his arms and back. His cock touched all the right places inside you and he whispered sweet nothings into your skin, fucking you right under the light of the stars and the void of space.
He moaned along with you, wishing heaven or whatever it was after felt exactly like this. Like you, with your arms around him, your sweet voice calling his name lovingly and whimpering for more, giving your soul to him and only him. Your walls started to clench and his hips stuttered, aproaching a craving release. But in between, he heard a word against his ear you never mumbled before, turning his lustful eyes to you and slowing down his thrusts.
You repeated it again, he was visibly confused but kept ruting into you.
"My name," you said, fingers now caressing his hair.
He smiled. He knew it now. The stranger who saved him had a name after all. Cleon kissed you fiercely, repeating your name again and again between wet kisses. You were close to release, feeling one of his digits rubbing your clit as you moaned together. The wave of electricity took your body first, clenching your pussy around his cock. Cleon followed soon after, rhythm slow and tense muscles, until he spilled inside you, coating your sensitive cunt with his seed.
Catching your breath, you remained together. He sucked on your neck softly, your name was the only thought inside his mind. And as much as you loved his touch on you, you remembered there was something to do still.
"Cleon," you called, getting his attention and feeling he was pulling out of you with a low groan. He looked at you with loving eyes and you smiled. You brushed his hair with your fingers pulling him to yet another smooth kiss. "It's time."
He knew it was. In silence his fingers found his earring, twitsting it and pulling it apart. He took it from his ear and placed it on yours carefully. You were always amazed at his touch, how rough and yet soft and gentle he could be.
"So you can remember me," he smiled when he was over. You let out a laugh and curved your llps in a grin. "It suits you."
"Thanks, Cleon."
Cleon leaned down to kiss you one more time before cleaning both of you. You dressed together as if you were not about to meet finally death. For some reason, you saved everything that was not on their cabinets or initial positions, packing all you could, like if you could take those belongings with you, most of which were from your family. One day Cleon asked why you had clothes that could meet his height, being taller than a lot of people around. You told him it was from your best friend. You thought every piece of clothes or souvenirs would help someday, but it never crossed your mind that it was going to be this way.
When everything was was done, you and Cleon settled in front of the control panel, however, before you could start the holo, a loud explosion could be heard. You frowned, turning to Cleon.
"Did you-? Ah!"
The ship almost overturned as something heavy hit the side, making you trip and fall over with Cleon on the ground. Again, an explosion was heard, far from the ship but clear enough to say it was getting closer, and seconds later, the ship got hit but this time on the glass, almost breaking it over. Quickly, you both stood up and saw what was happening.
"A black hole..."
"Look, there are debris around," you pointed a huge piece that looked the size of your ship, but that definitely was part of a much bigger one. You saw the debris and metal being swallowed and destroyed by the black hole. It wasn't pacing fast, but wasn't slow either. It looked like it was talking its time for much bigger things to eat, such as your ship. Cleon called you, taking your hands and pressing his forehead to yours. You could feel he was shaking, and your skin grew cold. You realised it was really happening now.
"Do it," he said. "Destroy the ship."
After a moment of hesitation, you gave a nod. He kissed you deeply again. You turned the holo to activate the ship and program its own destruction.
"Self-destruction mechanism activated," the computer confirmed.
"We have sixty seconds," you mumbled, tears already forming in your eyes. He cut you off with a kiss. You would miss those warm lips on yours.
"That's enough for me," he said. You smiled and he did the same.
"I love you, Cleon," you embraced his body with a hug. "I am happy I met this kind of pain with you."
He cupped your cheeks, pecking your lips, smiling down at you, saying I love you too. You, the one who saved him and gave him a second chance. Or at least a moment of relief. A place and a person who allowed him to be himself and find things he never knew would have.
"We have more in common now," he whispered. "We are both alone and hurting somewhere in the galaxy.”
118 notes · View notes
lillianofliterature · 10 months
Note
If your requests are open, and you are comfortable with it, could you maybe please do a King Thranduil x reader one-shot where reader has cancer and it is like angsty?
the toll of sickness | thranduil x reader
a/n: Anon, I am sincerely sorry for the long wait, but I wanted to provide all the angsty venting and comfort I could for you in this! Thank you for your request! I wanted to do this right by you. I hope this helps soothe whatever parts of you need soothing today. I don’t know anon’s/anyone’s specific diagnosis or symptoms, so I’m doing my best to remain respectful and widely general with the topic of cancer. I took inspiration from my own experiences with the mental/emotional toll of long-term chronic illness to supply a plot to resolve, I hope that’s okay (and still relatable). <3
The reader is implied feminine in this as they are referred to as lady/queen, but otherwise, I did my best to keep it gender-neutral with descriptions. 
This could also be interpreted as a reader with chronic illness.
DO NOT REPOST MY WORK. GIF EDIT IS MINE.
summary: after a long day of tiresome treatments and the heaviness of your thoughts, you retreat to your chambers to seek the comfort of your husband’s arms.
warnings: mentions of cancer (the reader has cancer), mentions of cancer treatments and symptoms (including needles), medical exhaustion, nonsexual nudity and nonsexual bathing, open discussions of symptoms, fear of death
word count: 6.1k
music:  As Long As We Both Shall Live by Bear McCreary
elvish translations: melamin = my love, melda = my dear/beloved
Tumblr media Tumblr media
“I think we will conclude here for today, my lady.” 
The head healer’s voice drew your wayward attention back to his prim features. His thin lips spread into a smile as he gently unstrapped the tight leather band above your inner elbow, releasing the tension from your skin. The long syringe with its glass barrel was gently pulled from the blue vein that the pressure had highlighted. You rubbed your arm subconsciously as he set aside the supplies for cleaning, hoping the motion would rid your flesh of the awful sensation of being probed. 
You blinked away your muddled thoughts. Briefly, you worried that perhaps he had been talking to you long before you’d heard his assessment to end the treatments for the evening. If you had, you were grateful to find no resentment in his gaze for your absentminded silence. 
He softly closed his collection of books that had been displayed around a table on the wall adjacent to your cushioned cot in the infirmary. With a bottle of herbal salve, he applied a generous portion to the inner curve of your elbow, satiating any irritation from his needles. The cool gel of the aloe soothed the itchy redness, while the lavender masked the sterile scent of the medications and intensely bitter herbs.  
You glanced up from the healer’s gentle efforts, trying on your best smile. “Thank you for your diligence today, Sudryl. It is very much appreciated.” 
He bowed his head as he clasped your hand between his palms, “It is always a pleasure to tend to you, my queen. We will resume tomorrow morning if it suits your schedule?”
“My schedule is always free for your remedies. Thranduil has made sure to take over many of my duties so we may focus on my treatment.”
Sudryl smiled once more as he helped you stand from the cot, draping your silken robe over your bare arms as he did so. “The king is very wise, your majesty. I know you detest this period of healing you’re undergoing, but you mustn't mistake rest for idleness. Your people desire greatly for your full recovery, myself included. In order to achieve that, your rest is crucial.”
You didn’t know what to say. Rest was crucial, you knew that. As were the innumerable treatments and remedies being applied and adjusted every day. 
But didn’t anyone understand that you were tired of all of this? Exhausted by more than just the cancer and its seemingly endless repercussions that it presented almost daily. Worn down by more than just needles and salves and bitter syrups that lingered in your throat.
You missed feeling well-rested when you woke up in the mornings after a long sleep—you missed having the energy to spend your days fulfilling your duties as a queen, as a servant to her people. You missed the days in which every activity was not dictated or measured by searing pain or groggy fatigue. You were tired of wrestling with your body just to exist comfortably. 
But it’s your duty to get better, they keep telling you. 
It’s what everyone’s hoping for, your majesty. 
Do your best to rest and eat well, my lady. 
Don’t give up hope, Queen (Y/n). You are blessed among our kin!
The people have been petitioning their prayers to the Valar fervently, your grace.
They were supposed to be words of encouragement spoken to invigorate your fighting spirit, to ignite that spark of determination that was starting to flicker these last few months. But these endless strains of hope and enlightenment had started to weigh heavily upon your shoulders like a milkmaid’s yoke, and with every well-intentioned word and chorus of song another stone was dropped into the buckets you carried.
The pressure to recover for the sake of others was beginning to feel like too much—the toll of the sickness itself was enough for one to worry about, was it not? Not only did you feel this fearsome desperation to recover for your own sake, for your own life, but also the need of a thousand other voices begging for a show of strength you didn’t feel tangible anymore. 
The summoning of one of your servants outside the infirmary doors reminded you that the hour to retire for supper was nearing presently. You felt your posture deflate as it dawned on you that you couldn’t yet retire for the day. Although your extravagant evening meals were one of the few constants that motivated you to follow your days through until nightfall, your hunger had dispersed in the last few days. Being seated at a stiff table dressed with rich delicacies and savory wines sounded nothing short of torture at the moment, even with the promise of dessert. 
The servant curtseyed in the broad doorway as Sudryl led you across the room. You couldn’t help but tense as your legs tremored from the sudden activity. A long exhale slipped through your pursed lips.
“My queen,” She rose gracefully, her hands folding together at her waist. “Your supper with the king is nearly prepared. He will be present in the dining hall shortly as soon as his meeting has concluded. I was advised to escort you there safely.”
Clutching onto Sudryl’s forearm, you hesitated to address the messenger. You couldn’t help the expression of distaste that twisted your face. The thought of food was not the only thing that churned your stomach at that moment; the prospect of being walked through your own palace as though you were an invalid, incapable of making it there of your own merit, as though every pair of eyes in this forest need offer you their due pity, bothered you even more than the risk of losing your supper to the toilet. 
Knowing you couldn’t send her away under Sudryl’s watchful eye (for surely there would be further inquiries as a result of such an unnecessary dismissal), you managed to nod in thanks to her before turning to him. The head healer’s smile was brimming with empathy. You tried not to feel offended by his pitying compassion. He leaned forward and pecked your cheek reverently, bidding you a respectful farewell until the morning. 
You turned from him and followed the servant into the winding halls. Gaze following the eroded pathway of the massive tree roots beneath your sore feet, you bided the seconds until you were both too far to be noticed by any superior voices that might challenge your decision-making. When your footsteps halted, she turned to face you.
Her brows raised, she asked, “My lady? Is something wrong?”
“No, no. I’m alright,” You waved her worries aside with the vague gesture of your hand. “But I can manage the walk to the dining hall from here.”
Her brows drew together in an expression of confusion. You straightened your back—had she seen through your polite fib? Was it that obvious you had no intentions of eating this evening? Or was just she not used to being given conflicting commands between two monarchs?
“—On my own. I can make it there on my own.”
Her lips parted in protest as she recalled what you assumed were very clear orders from your husband only minutes prior. Stretching your hand out to gently touch her shoulder, you reassured her it would be alright. “I will explain to the king myself that I demanded to be left alone. No trouble will come to you, I promise. You will not lose your position.” 
“But my lady, I—it is my duty is to ensure your safe arrival. Are you sure you don’t—?”
The irritation that swelled within you wasn’t her fault, you hastily reminded yourself. You bit back the frustrated sigh you wanted to release, tightening your polite smile. Reasoning with another person about what you wanted to do and why you wanted to do it was the last thing you presently wanted to deal with. Desperate to detach yourself from her and anyone else lingering about, you decided to be straightforward. No beating around the bush. 
“I value your persistence, young one, but I would very much like to retire early tonight. You may inform my husband that I’ll be taking my meal in our chambers if you must.”
“Understood, your majesty. I shall inform the king. Have a good evening.” She dipped into an impulsive curtsy, quickly trailing back to the chancellery to relay your decision. 
You didn’t even wait for her to pass beyond the long hall ahead before you turned in the opposite direction. Your private chambers weren’t too far from the infirmary, thankfully. However, it still took some resolve on your behalf to encourage your depleted energy through corridors and foyers all the way back to your comfortable bed. The silver silk of your robe billowed around your feet with every step, giving your eyes something other than walls of stone and root to follow.
You were sure your husband wouldn’t be taking the present news about your wellbeing all that agreeably. You could see it clearly in your mind—the disheveled, anxious worry in his eyes that he masked behind a wall of solemn regality. But you could always see what he was thinking. He wouldn’t like the fact that your treatments were taking more and more of a toll on your already wearisome state. He would like it even less when he found out you would soon be dismissing supper altogether. 
His concern wasn’t for himself, of course. It was for you—it was always for you.
He wanted desperately for you to be able to enjoy your meals in the glittering brilliance of the dining hall, unperturbed by fatigue and nausea. He wanted you to be able to take those strolls through the forest gardens that you adored so much without the sore discomfort in your bones. He wanted you to relish in your life and its unrivaled importance. And most of all, he wanted desperately to take this lingering sickness away; he wished he had been born with a skill for healing like some of his kin.
But all he could give you were the promises of an unsure future and the enlistment of his most skilled associates and all relevant resources that could be found about your condition. And some part of you—some sad, twisted part of you—felt a rush of guilt that so much commotion and worry was being circulated about the kingdom on your behalf. And that guilt only made the whole affair all the more frustrating and maddening. These days, everything inflamed your anger. This whole tumultuous ordeal seemed to be unraveling more than just your physical state. 
You knew it was ridiculous to feel responsible in some way for what was happening to you. You hadn’t chosen this, you hadn’t brought it on yourself—you most certainly didn’t deserve it. No one with cancer ever does. But reasoning with your inner turmoil was like wrestling a wild boar in the mud; there was never any true resolve without the cost of more anxieties, more wounds, more gashes in your soul. And the more you tried to gain a grip on yourself, the less grounded you became, the more it all slipped through your fingers. 
The click of the door was a chime of resolve as you leaned against the tall wooden frame from within the calm confines of your spacious bedroom. Sliding out of your supple leather flats and letting your robe slump to your elbows, you took the first deep breath you had been able to control since earlier that morning. The king-sized bed frame creaked subtly as you lowered yourself onto the fluffed silken duvet. Ever so gradually, you felt the weight of the vertical world begin to reprieve from your muscles like steam rushing upwards from a boiling pot. 
Rest wasn’t a cure for what ailed you, no, but Valar above, sometimes it felt like it. 
Since your diagnosis—the terrifying sickness devouring your energy and livelihood from within your own body—nearly every day had been spent in the infirmary or the healer’s sanctuary, remedies administered by the hour, conversations turning tiresome and sour. It had begun to feel like your own home was a prison, the world beyond the palace unreachable, like every action was a strenuous transaction of vitality and exhaustion. Even just walking the gardens that lead into the forest had become inexplicably draining—it left you feeling as though you’d run to Mirkwood’s southern border and back rather than taking a few turns about the courtyard. 
But here, on the cloud-like comfort of your private chambers, there was some reprieve from it all. There were no endless strands of questions about your well-being and your comfort and opinions on the tedious details of your health here—only the distant rush of the waterfalls that crashed brazenly into the river moat outside the palace gates. You could hear the chirping of the early summer insects as dusk narrowed on the horizon beyond the open terrace. There was no sterile smell of concentrated alcohol or the pungent gnawing of tart herbs. Instead, there was a faint aroma of lilacs wafting in from the gardens and the scent of your husband’s musk lingering in your bed.
Closing your eyes and rolling onto your lesser-sore side, you sought out the imprint that his body might have left there that morning. But the duvet was creased flat and folded with a chill under your skin. It was curious futility to think his warmth might have lasted after so many long hours away, you knew that; the bed was always plumped and remade in the mornings by your gracious servants. A coldness ran through you, engulfing your skin in little bumps that felt like prickling needles. 
Too sore from your aches to unfurl the taut covers from the mattress and too comfortable to retrieve one of your husband’s many fur throws, you recoiled your arm and folded your limbs closer together, curling into a position that would magnify your own body heat. While quietly taking in the environment of your sanctuary, this small peaceful haven that almost made you forget the turmoil your body was enduring, you hardly noticed as you faded into a light slumber. Caught between the ebbing flow of consciousness as it bobbed around the sleepy release of your strained body, wading between thoughts and dreams.
Unaware of the passage of time as you laid there in groggy consciousness, you hardly felt the urge to stir from your position until you felt the back of someone’s hand on your cheek, the brushing aside of your askew (h/c) tendrils. Then you made out the quiet husk of a voice that hovered above you in the dark. 
In the dark? Sunset was still a couple of hours away! And after that, dusk would linger still until the light vanished beyond the mountains to the west. Why was it already so dark?
Hadn’t it only been a few fleeting minutes since you’d closed your eyes, listening to the cicadas and savoring the sweetness of the summer flora? Eyebrows pursed, you could hear yourself attempt to answer, but the meticulous reply you’d fabricated in your mind was delivered in heavy vowels that grouped together lazily. Your speech felt like treacle slipping off your tired tongue. 
A velvet chuckle reverberated in your perking ears. 
“Have I forgotten my native tongue or was that a very poor attempt at Sindarin?”
Thranduil.
Your nose scrunched up as you fought to drain the sleepiness that was working against you so fervently. Before you could stir the tired droopiness from your eyes with eager fists, two gentle hands cupped your cheeks and swept their thumbs over your closed eyes. The motion was akin to a gentle massage, spanning your sore eyelids and dusting across your cheekbones, a cradling of your vulnerable stillness that filled your chest with a fond fervor. The supple tenderness of his lips collided briefly with yours before parting all too quickly. 
“Mm?” Your vocabulary hadn’t quite refreshed itself, it seemed. “When d’dju geten?”
Another rumbling chuckle he didn’t bother trying to hide. You pictured his willowy frame standing primly in front of the tall gilded looking glass, unfastening his stuffier robes and tucking his powder–blonde hair behind his pointed ears, or perhaps even tying it back for the night as he often did. 
Stars, it felt like there were weights on your shoulders pulling you back against the duvet as you forced yourself to sit up, like the muscles beneath your skin were unraveling at the seams. You rubbed your eyes and shooed your disheveled hair from your peripheral vision, glancing around the dark room for your husband’s silhouette. A flicker of light plumed suddenly in the sconce near the vanity, illuminating his fair features. The match in his hand extinguished with a puff of air from his lips before his pale blue eyes found yours. 
“I only just came in,” he reassured you, “I’m afraid I underestimated how much wind some of our advisors have in their lungs, especially when provoked.”
Another votive flickered to life on the other side of the room, another match snuffed out under his breath. The sunlight outside had all but gone in the murky hours you had been asleep. Now that you could take in the mellow darkness of the evening without confusion, some part of you felt distressed about the sudden absence of natural light. The daylight, warm and golden, always brought you a sense of comfort. But now it was dark and grey and the light of the moon was cold, distant, and you hadn't had a chance to prepare yourself for it. Another chill ran across your skin as a more frigid breeze swept in from the open terrace. 
“Did Sudryl have a chance to share the news with you before retiring this evening?” He asked, glancing over his shoulder at you. His lips pursed when he saw your unmoving figure still sitting on the edge of the bed, your back draped in silks, facing away from him. Your slumped posture told him all he needed to know about how you were feeling after your treatments—the exhaustion was palpable in how slow your palm rose to cradle your own forehead, in how shaky you were as you forced yourself up from the bed and took hold of the bedpost.
He was near you in an instant, his strong hands taking gentle hold of your bowed shoulders. There he was, combing the stray hairs on your head down with doting affection, all while the same frustrations were building up inside of you as your sleepiness dissipated. 
“You needn’t rise for me, melamin, I am no guest.” He chided gently.
“I know, I just need a bath before we settle in for the night.” 
“You’re in no state to manage that tonight, (Y/n)—”
“Thranduil, I haven’t rinsed off the ointments. I smell like the forest—and not in a good way.”
“You smell like an herb garden, fresh and natural, as all things should be.”
“Pungent is more like it,” You quipped, catching the accent of bitter walnuts exuding from your thin robes. It was that old, damp, dingy sort of bitterness that made you want to expel the air from your lungs with a snort when you caught a whiff of it—not the pleasant sort of musk from the gardens.
He laughed again, this time with more relief behind his eyes. Even though he knew you were spent from the day’s strenuous activities, the presence of your humor provided him with some semblance of comfort. And as for your own weary senses, his smooth strain of laughter was more than a consolation for the muted anxiousness that the infirmary always inflicted. 
“Then let me help you.”
“Thranduil, I can do it mys—”
“I insist,” He offered decidedly, and you knew well enough from past experience that arguing with him on the matter would prove ineffective. 
He gently looped your arm through the curve of his elbow, placing a sweet kiss to your messy hair before turning along with you toward the adjoined bathing chamber. You leaned into him for support and begrudgingly admitted to yourself that he was right—there was no way you could withstand the exertion on your own, at least not tonight. Not while you felt this lethargic, not while your stress levels were causing such tension throughout your body, making everything denser, slower, sluggish.
Once he led you into the warmly lit haven of the spacious chamber, the steam of the hot spring pool seemed to draw you in on its own accord. The walls and their rugged shapes made the flickering yellowness of the torchlight spread longer shadows among its natural angles and divots. The far right wall was connected to the run-off of one of the many springs that stretched like veins throughout the mountain palace—and it was little cavern rooms like this one that reminded you that you were living in the majesty of a low-peaking mountain, not just nestled in the forested density of the Greenwood.
You knelt at the rim of the bathing pool on the soft stone edge, dragging your hand through the clear blue water. The natural warmth of the hot spring invigorated you with a sense of eagerness as you remembered just how soothing these glowing pools always were. A gentle touch to your shoulder lured your attention back to your husband, who with a fond smile, was waiting to help you unravel your robes and underthings. Taking his hand, you were pulled to stand in front of him with the gentlest limits of his strength. 
You hardly felt the pressure or the tugging of his lithe fingers as he helped you undress, his touch but a breeze across your sore skin. When you were naked and chilled from the exposure, he guided you into the blue waters and leaned over the pool’s edge to make sure you were steady on the outcropped seat of eroded stonework submerged in the water. As the bubbling warmth enveloped your flesh, your eyes fluttered shut with an involuntary sigh of relief. 
There were very rarely things that proved effective for your ceaseless pains—medicines and supplements only lasted so long or relieved so little, and sleep was growing more difficult to manage. But this—the heat bubbling up from the earth, sorted through sediment and mineral—was the most relief you found these days. 
When submerged in the hot spring bath, your entire body numbed to its own plague as your bones and muscles absorbed whatever benefits came from the terrain around you. You briefly wondered how you ever managed to get out the last time you soaked like this, with every inch of your flesh basking in the warmth that enveloped you.
You relaxed against the glossy stones, trying to quiet your mind of all the infernal anxieties pressing a weight against your chest. The noise of your thoughts made it difficult to focus fully on the soothing effects of the natural hot spring, tensing and loosening your muscles and posture between every harsh doubt.
With a fresh cloth he brandished from a side table, Thranduil dipped it into the warm bath and began gently scrubbing away the ground athelas mixture. He’d seated himself comfortably on the edge of the bath, submerging his calves into the pool to cradle you between them. The cloth strummed along your chest and stomach as he reached over and behind, where the herbs from Sudryl’s remedies had been infiltrating the cancerous sickness plaguing your organs. You hadn’t meant to show him how weak you felt, how tired you were, how desperately you needed this—but your head fell back to rest against his stomach despite this as the steam curled around you both, dampening your hair and foreheads. 
After your rinsing from the spout of a silver pitcher, he coaxed oils and lathered soaps across your flesh, your own fingers clasping onto the pale skin of his forearm or around his leg, refusing to cease contact with him. And although he generously and willingly offered his aide while the healing minerals of that glowing pool of steam soothed you, some venomous voice in the back of your mind tried to feed you strings of doubt and loathing.
He shouldn’t have to do this. He shouldn’t have had to become my caretaker.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I wasn’t supposed to get sick—neither of us was. 
He deserves more than this mess I’ve given him. He deserves better than me.
You cleared your throat, trying to silence the growing guilt and shame before that stinging swell of tears could grow any more than they already were. 
“What was it you were going to tell me?” You asked after the first of his own sweet-scented oils was being lathered along your arms, turning you about to face him. “Earlier, you mentioned something about Sudryl?”
“Ah, that,” he nodded in remembrance, “I gather he didn’t mention anything about Lord Elrond to you today?”
“Lord Elrond?” You inquired, lifting your questioning gaze to meet his. “No—no, he didn’t. Has something happened? Something to do with our alliances? Or with that trade treaty we adjusted with Laketown in the spring—”
“No, melamin, nothing of diplomatic proportions—all is still amiable with our kin for the time being,” he reassured. When he glanced up at you, the tranquil hope glittering in his blue eyes soothed the curious worry growing in your mind. He almost seemed excited about something. It tugged the corners of your mouth into a brief smile. “I sent word to him a little more than a month ago now, I suppose, to see what he might be able to do about your condition, to inquire about whether his skill with healing might mend what ails you.”
You swallowed hard over the sudden discomfort of anxiety that rose again like bile in your throat at the mention of more treatment, more guests, more expectations for healing. More, more, more. 
“He is to arrive within a week of his latest correspondence, which came this morning. Preparations are being made for his arrival as we speak.” 
Unknowingly, your grip had tightened on your husband’s forearm, your nails digging shallow crescents into his skin. The sharp sensation drew his attention downward to your hands, his dark brows furrowing in concern. His fingers winding around yours brought your attention to your vice-like grip, which you promptly loosened. 
“What is it, (Y/n)? Does this news not please you?” 
The earnestness in his pale eyes pierced your heart, the guilt bubbling up in your mind again. You weren’t sure what worried you most. The prospect of more prodding, more treatments, more attempts that might lead to nowhere; the fuss being made across the realm about your condition, about this peculiar, harsh sickness that was so puzzling to even the brightest minds; or perhaps, most worrisome of all, was the fact that you were no longer able to manage the upkeep of a happy facade. So many people were hoping, praying, supporting, and tending to you. 
And somehow, you found that to be the most exhausting part of it all. Not only were you fighting for your own body, for comfort and life, but you were trying to uphold and appease every pair of eyes that was eagerly awaiting your miraculous recovery from something you didn’t even know how to fight. There were so many hopes to meet, so many hearts to comfort on your behalf, and your resolve was quietly crumbling.
Before you could think to soften your words in an attempt to save Thranduil’s optimism, your lips began to move, a sudden impulse of tears gathering in your eyes. “What if there is nothing even Lord Elrond can do to cure this?”
He paused, his eyes searching yours briefly before his damp fingers reached up to caress your cheek. How had he not seen the disparagement growing behind your gaze, darkening the lilt in your voice? Hidden behind humor and mischievous quips, but no less obvious. 
“If—if I do not show improvement, our people will lose their resolve. Everyone’s counting on me to get better, to show some store of strength I no longer have and I–I can’t will my body to right itself,” you bore to him, panicked and spent from months of effort, “I cannot give everyone the hope they're seeking from me."
“Oh, melamin,” his chin nestled over your ear as he murmured with such rich affection, pressing your face into the musky homeliness of his neck. 
“I know I should be grateful for their support, for their prayers and their offerings, but it’s becoming too much, Thranduil. I don’t have the strength for a kingdom’s worth of miracles.” 
“You do not owe anyone but yourself the grace of your strength. Had I known their encouragement had put pressure on you to perform, I would have silenced the lot of them.” 
Despite his sincerity, you panicked on. “What if I am never rid of it? What if this is my blight that I must war with for the rest of my life?”
He sombered then, drawing in a deep string of air into his lungs. You could see him wrestling with the reality of your honesty, with the questions you both had been too afraid to speak aloud before now. Gathering himself, he drew you nearer to him, clinging to you with a brief urgency that almost startled you. 
“Then we will rise together each day to face it. There will never be a single day that you will have to endure this on your own. Do you hear me? That is my promise to you—that my vow and my diligence will never waver where you are concerned.”
Your tears burned with his words and you worked to force them at bay, his sweetness drawing every sour fear and thought of guilt from your mind and onto your tongue. “I am so sorry for this life I have given you. You didn’t ask for this—you cannot be happy with me—with this-this terrible thing I’ve brought upon us. You deserve so much more, and I can no longer give it to you.”
“You’re apologizing—?” He questioned, his voice quiet in shock. 
Your eyes clamped shut, forcing the well of sorrows from your eyes to plummet. Gently, he pulled himself back, repositioning his hands on your upper arms as if to garner your absolute attention. 
“(Y/n), this life you have given me has been far more than I have ever deserved and could ever strive to. From the moment we met, you have enriched my life just by your existence alone, much less the many qualities and traits about you I have come to treasure beyond all fortune or success. You have given me everything, a dozen lifetimes over, in the mere centuries we have been together.”
“You cannot have wanted this,” you breathed out, hushed by your own shame. 
“No, I did not want you to suffer with something so abysmal, something so beyond my control. Of course I did not want for your pain…but if this is our future, if this is our path together, then I want every minute of it, and I will not settle for a second less. I would upheave the very crest of the world and drown mountains in flame if it meant saving you. And if that makes me selfish or ruthless, then I will be the standard at which devils compare their sins.”
His hands had gradually found their way up to your face, cradling your damp cheeks with a sincerity that made your lip quiver.
“Look at me,” he whispered. 
The sight of the tearful waterline reflected in his eyes drew a noise of curt regret from your lungs. Your sob pierced his heart, filling him with a desperation to amend the shame and anxiety plaguing your mind. 
“If you truly believe that you are at fault for this sickness, then in turn I must be held responsible for allowing it to happen in the first place. As your husband first, but also as your king.”
“No, no that’s not true! It’s not even reasonable of you to—”
“Then how can it be your fault? How could any of this be on your shoulders? There is no sense in blame, (Y/n). Not here, not with this.” 
There was a stillness after his words, a stillness that was meant for rumination, and sealed with his lips against your skin and hair. Your hands rose to rest against his chest, nestling them over the dip of his collarbone as you felt for comfort in the blur of your tears. His silence prompted an answer. 
“It’s not my fault,” you replied. 
“Say it again.”
“It isn’t my fault,” you echoed, meeting his gaze once more, “just as it isn’t yours.”
And as shocking as it was for you to realize it, you truly believed the words he encouraged from you. This sickness wasn’t your fault. Neither of you could have had any sway with fate or destiny, with whatever had brought this on. And perhaps, it just simply was, with no cause or fault at all. What mattered now was how kind you could be to yourself, how to take one moment of strife and find something in it to hold onto. Moments like this were one of those morsels between the ebbing aches of pain and grief that you could relish and devour again and again. 
Thranduil leaned forward, pressing his sweat-laced brow against yours. “Do not ever blame yourself, melamin. Do not let those foul words pass between your lips again.”
You nodded against him, pulling him nearer. “I promise.” 
In the long minutes that followed, there was the solace of quiet intimacy as he rinsed through your hair one final time, peppering you with kisses and caresses at every opportunity. He met you with a soft fluffy towel when he led you out of the bath, never allowing a breeze to nip at your damp skin. His touch was featherlight as he patted you dry from head to toe, scrunching your drenched tendrils of (h/c) hair without complaint. 
“I’m still so afraid,” you managed the courage to speak aloud, “What if–...what if this sickness claims my life?”
“You will not part this world without me, melda. Not a single breath will leave your lungs without my sharing it, not a single heartbeat will we not share,” he vowed, the absolute belief in his voice making the promise all the richer, “there isn’t a corner in this world or any other that you could wander to that I would not accompany you.”
Your silk nightgown slipped over your outstretched arms swiftly, sliding down your body and into place comfortably. He did up the lace of the collar with efficiency, not missing the chance to playfully tug you closer with the slightest bit of his strength. You planted yourself against his chest, the smile on your lips effortless with his own. The firm warmth of his arms wrapping around you had the same sort of pain-numbing effect as the hot spring, lulling every fretful thought to a close. His somber laugh reverberated again, this time through your bones, bringing an ethereal kind of peace with it. 
The pillows of your large four-poster bed were positioned, fluffed, and repositioned. You waited patiently, upon his insistence, as he untucked and pulled the puffy duvet back for you to crawl under. Once comfortably tucked beneath layers of silk and cotton, he assumed his place beside you, careful not to jostle the mattress as he settled, mindful that every movement enticed your discomfort. 
His body heat made you sleepy as you sank further into the covers, fogging your thoughts with a drowsy anticipation for the release of slumber. You’d waited for this moment all day—it had been the image that had pushed you through the hours of treatment and questions—the moment you could finally burrow against his warmth and drunken yourself with his scent. There was a slight stirring as he reached off to the side to retrieve something on the bedside table. 
The fluttering of pages caught your fading attention, pulling your heavy-eyed gaze toward the book in his grasp. “Would you like to continue where we left off?” 
You smiled tiredly against his chest, not recalling the events of the book he’d been reading to you for the last few nights. Oftentimes, the first few pages would strike vividly in your imagination, but as his lustrous tone carried on through paragraphs and chapters, the sleepy security that his presence enticed made it impossible to recall anything beyond the thrilling hum of his voice. In all actuality, you were quite sure he didn’t mind if you knew anything at all about the story he was reading aloud. It was enough to hold you and be held. 
Tumblr media Tumblr media
TAGS:  @tessaem @izbelross @bloodblossoms73 @sunnysidesidra 
193 notes · View notes
thethreeeyed-raven · 3 months
Note
You're one of the few people I've seen who is willing to write Garret! May I request this sweet man finding his mate unexpectedly? Could be after a natural disaster or she gets lost in the forest after her car breaks down and he happens to find her, or even just bumping into her when she's on her way home from work. Wherever you find inspiration~! Please and thank you for your time. <3
lost?
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
navigation | warnings : ngl he’s a bit creepy? | a/n : i kind of changed it a bit i think, also there isn’t much romance or mention of a mate but i hope u enjoy! | tags : @fangsp1der-2099 , @knight-of-flowerss , @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom
Tumblr media
"For fuck's sake-" You whispered multiple profanities as you slammed down the bonnet of your car.
Watching as the smoke drifted into the atmosphere, you dragged a hand down your face, sighing.
"I'll try and walk my way there I guess."
Tumblr media
It must've been at least an hour, and here you were, still walking.
Suddenly, a twig snapped from behind you, making you quickly turn around to investigate.
"You lost?"
Tumblr media
Garret had decided he would stroll through the forest of Forks, deciding to stay for a bit when a sudden strong scent filled his senses.
He followed the trail of the smell and came upon a woman.
She clearly looked lost, but she smelt too good...
Garret stepped closer, not noticing the twig in front of him.
The woman swiftly turned round looking him dead in the eye.
"You lost?" Really? What are you thinking?
He could hear her gulp from where he was standing, he could hear the blood pumping through her veins.
Human...
He could see the sweat drip from her temple, hear the cracks in her knuckles as she fidgeted with her hands.
Why can he hear everything?
"Y-yes...I'm headed to Forks." You replied nervously. Sure the guy in front of you was attractive, but he sure seemed creepy.
"Oh! I have some friends there, I could take you."
Maybe he won't eat her today...
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
56 notes · View notes
theartofimagining13 · 11 months
Text
Imagine:
It’s your birthday and your family threw you a party to cheer you up and distract you since you’ve been sad lately because your boyfriend Chris and you decided to take some time apart. Your parents invited a bunch of friends including Lee, a man everyone thought you’d end up with until you started dating Chris. The two of you always flirted and laughed a lot and this time it was no different. Lee was truly making you smile and forget all about your problems. Chris decided to pay you a visit because he wasn’t going to ignore your birthday but when your father answered the door, he didn’t let him in saying you were having a good time and that he shouldn’t spoil that, but Chris glanced over your father’s shoulder and caught a glimpse of you and Lee talking and smiling in the distance which he did not like one bit.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
168 notes · View notes
paranoiastudio · 1 year
Text
Good little bride
pairing: Lee Pace x reader
summary: You and Lee get fun on your betrothal.
warnings: oral (female for male) 
word count: 628
A/N: English is not my first language, sorry about mistakes.
Tumblr media
- Yes, that's it, great… - His voice is rough and gentle at the same time, his fingers glide through my hair, lightly scratching the scalp and squeezing the silky strands.
Lee pulls me closer and I nuzzle his crotch. The rough fabric of the trousers hurts the neck and chest, but now I don't care much.
I can't answer him. My mouth and throat are busy doing things that please my man. I fidget on the hard floor, my knees already starting to ache, but this is only slightly distracting, as is the noise in another room of our house. Today is a holiday, we got engaged.
- Look at me. - The voice is pleading, and I tilt my head slightly to meet Pace's gaze. Eyes watery, mouth full of saliva and precum, but that's what he wants to see.
Lee strokes my cheek, his engagement ring slightly cooling my skin, and I cling to his palm like a saving fire.
- You are so beautiful, my girl. How well are you doing... - God, all this praise turns me on even more and I squeeze my hips, looking for some friction.
He slips out and gives me a breather to take a few breaths. I cough and gasp for air, saliva dripping onto my chin and onto the white dress I wore on that momentous evening.
- Take it again, my dear. - I obey without hesitation. I run my tongue to his bridle, listening to the contented muttering and soft moans. I'm on my knees, but all power is mine. - Please...
In an effort to please my beloved, I take a breath, and then suck his cock as hard as I can. Deepening with each movement, I take it almost to the ground, while making extremely obscene sounds.
I can feel every wreath on this perfect cock. I run my tongue along the lower part, causing another moan from Pace. He wiggles his hips slightly as he leans towards me.
- God, how good you are.
I put my hands on his strong hips, trying to somehow control his movements.
- Well, well, keep your hands to yourself, baby. - Lee strokes my head again and slows down a little, not wanting to cause me unnecessary discomfort.
- Yes, my love ... - I can’t make out the words, I just let the muffled vibration of my voice down the trunk of Pace and he strains more, breathing loudly through his nose.
- Yes, that's it. You are such a good girl. - This gentle whisper caresses my ear. He always praises me, he has long since found out that praise is my weakness.
His moans, quiet and desperate, do not stop, because I continue to suck him in and actively move my head. Lee takes my face in his hands, guiding me.
- I'm so close, my girl. - This is a warning, I want to be ready to accept everything without a trace.
I feel the pulsation of his cock and the salty, sour taste hits the palate and envelops my teeth, tongue, and throat. Pace cum without letting go of me.
- Be smart, swallow. - A strong hand grabs my throat, his tone is stern, and I can't help but obey.
My throat tightens under the man's strong grip, he feels his cum roll down my throat and smiles contentedly. I open my mouth, showing that I swallowed everything. What a good girl...
Lee effortlessly pulls me towards him and lifts my dress. Pace's arms are big and strong, and he caresses my body lovingly, showering kisses on my face.
- It's your turn, honey. - He fills me up on the sofa and settles down between my legs.
169 notes · View notes
augustwithquills · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Invisible String
Pairings: Thranduil x reader
Due to certain activities that happened last night, both you and Thranduil decided to sleep for half the day.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Golden rays of sunlight came spilling through the open window, and the soft fabric of pristine white curtains that were hung high above danced as the soft gust of wind came. It was early in the morning, birds chirping as they celebrated the first light of the day.
You have been staring outside from where you are currently laying, strong arms wrapped around your waist as you indulged in the beauty of the early morning.
It was pleasant waking up in the arms of your lover, whom you just have been promised to forever yesterday, a day full of white petals and feathers and a night full of passionate kisses. Never have you ever thought that a single thread of gold would tie you to him to eternity, yet you're here, his wife and you were grateful for it.
Mindlessly caressing the cold band that circled your ring finger, your eyes lift up to see your sleeping husband; his eyes softly closed, his breathing even more gentle and his face free of the stress that always weighs on his shoulders given that he was a king.
There was no denying that Thranduil was beautiful, his long white hair and thick brows were something that must have been gifts from the Gods. And his lips, they were as red as the fresh cherries from the trees and the taste of them, they were enough to quench your thirst. His beauty was unreal, nothing could compare to it and not even a single word from any language that exists in the whole of Arda could describe his beauty.
Sensing eyes upon him, he opened his eyes softly, gentleness swam in them making your heart burst with feelings that were so pleasant you can't even begin to describe them. His arms were even more tightly around your waist as if he wanted to soak you into him until your bodies become one.
“Good morning, love.” He heavily said, the sleep still clung to his voice as he greeted you. “Morning. How was your sleep?” You asked, leaning in to press a soft kiss on top of his nose, which made Thranduil smile a bit.
“Pleasant. How are you feeling?” After a night of wild kisses and moans, Thranduil knew for sure you were sore down there which is something he won't admit that he was quite proud of.
“Never better,” you answered before swinging your legs to stand up, but Thranduil's quick hand grabbed your wrists, stopping you from completely getting up on your feet. “Stay,” his eyes were closed as if he was about to doze off again and without any further ado or any sort of questions thrown at him, you willingly lay down again, your back against his hard chest with a small smile dancing on your lips.
”I think it's best if we spend half the day in our chambers.” And that was the last thing you've heard from him as he was lost in his wonderland, his soft snores resonating in the overly large chamber.
Your eyes were quick to land on your golden ring-clad finger, a smile grazing your lips as you admired the simplicity of it. It was nothing too extravagant, just plain and simple, but it held a lot of importance to your relationship; because that one single thread of gold was the one that tied him to you, but even if there's no ring on your finger; you knew there's an invincible string, a string that tied you to him.
•••
Tumblr media
Tags:
@perwaineintsomi
673 notes · View notes
multifandom-world8 · 3 days
Text
IMAGINE-
Being thranduil’s date to the annual ball at Mirkwood.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
(Ps- it’s Lee pace’s birthday!! So this post is honor of that ❤️)
12 notes · View notes
barbiedragon · 1 year
Text
Kinktober Day #4: [L.P. X F!reader]
RPF/Lee Pace x Fem!reader
Warnings: Dom!Lee, spanking
(Content for 18+ | Minors DNI)
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Patience only went so far and it was clear you had exhausted all of Lee’s.  Which is why you found yourself face down across his knees, your shorts and bikini cut underwear discarded on the floor. You licked your lips, tasting the leftover sweetness of the cherry lollipop you had been sucking on earlier with the intent of distracting Lee during his Zoom call.  Big mistake.
“Baby, I can only put up with bratty behavior for so long,” his deep voice rasped while his large hand stroked down your spine before it rested on your bare ass.
You swallowed hard as your face heated up.  “You’re usually such a good girl for me.” Inside, you felt your belly do little flip flops before his hand slapped your flesh.  It stung just enough to keep your attention focused on him and the task at hand.  He was methodical and strategic, making your flesh itch and burn with every fall of his large hand. You felt embarrassed as your clit throbbed while you shifted slightly over his large thigh.  Not that you’d ever be able to hide from him; your naked lower half on full display.
“Please, I’m sorry,” you whined, not sure you could take much more without turning into a humiliated puddle of goo.
You felt all the blood rush to your face as his hand found its way between your thighs.  “Oh, I don’t think you’re sorry at all, baby.”  One well aimed smack to your wet pussy pushed you over the edge.  Lee’s dark chuckle let you know that you were in for it now.
Tumblr media
151 notes · View notes
frankcastleonlyfans · 2 years
Text
𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐂𝐀𝐊𝐄, 𝐋.𝐏
pairing: lee pace x girlfriend!reader
summary: everyone is short compared to lee
words: 699
reblogs, feedbacks and likes are appreciated. i hope you like it!
18+ warning
warnings: none!!
· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ୨♡୧ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·
The thing that most people comment about my relationship with Lee is our height difference. Most of the time we don't really care about it, and it doesn't affects us in any way, but, we can't just ignore it. It's there, and it makes it's presence when I'm on tip toes trying to get something from the heightest shelf in kitchen, or when we're on a plane and he doesn't really fit much of the space. Sometimes I call him "big bird" when he is annoying me, and he calls me "shortcake" all the time. Also, when we're walking our dog out people gives us funny looks. And I'm not even that short, I'm 5'4, but everyone is short around my boyfriend's 6'5 tall figure.
It's hella cute to see a big man as Lee, walking a tiny black flat coated retriever on the streets. Even though walking Gus out drives attention, being seen around with me gives people enough to talk about, so we just have been avoiding to get out of the house together. Long enough to people start speculating we broke up. Which is funny, because we just got engaged.
"Gus, go tell your father that dinner is ready," I said to the dog beside me, that went running out of the kitchen.
We're celebrating our "one week engagement", so I made Swedish meatballs with spaghetti for the occasion. I'm not very good at the kitchen, and that's one of the reasons I still ask myself "what have this man seen in me?", but I still try to impress him. Lee on the other hand is a great cooker. I wonder if there's something he can't do.
After I set the table, I poured us some wine and waited for my fiancé while scrolling through my twitter time-line. It's funny to read people's theories about our "possible break-up".
"HI honey, I'm sorry it took me so long," Lee says while walking down the stairs. He comes in my direction and leans down to leave a peck in my lips. "What are you reading?" He points to my phone.
"People are saying you're one of the most eligible bachelors in Hollywood at the moment," I smirked at him and he scoffed rolling his eyes.
"Please, it's only have been four months since we're last seen together. I don't understand how people can jump to that "break-up" conclusion so fast," Lee commented, taking a full fork of spaghetti to his mouth.
"To be fair, you've been only posting pictures of Gus on your insta..." I shrugged.
"It's your fault, shortcake. You say you don't like to exposes us so much," He raised one brow at me.
"Yeah, I don't like to see people saying the same things all the time. It's kinda frustrating having everyone pointing out our height difference in the comments of every single picture of us," I mumbled and he took his hand to meet mine in a supportive way, his thumb caressing the back of my hand.
"I know, I'm sorry baby. You know I would shrink myself for you if I could," Lee said and I snorted, sipping from my glass of wine.
"You're so silly, big bird" I looked at him with a silly smile on my face.
"And yet, you love me madly. I must've been doing something right," He shrugged and I bit my lip.
"I can think a couple things you're doing just right," I murmured under my breath as I sipped from the wine, and I could feel his burning gaze at me, just as well his wicked smirk.
"Oh, really? Mind to list those things for me?" Lee said in his low voice, putting down his cutlery. I finished my glass, feeling a little more naughty because of the alcohol.
"I could spend the rest of the night listining all the great things you do to me, or... we could just go to our room so I can show you in practice," I bit my lip harder as I pressed my thighs together, and I watched his look getting darker in lust.
"Oh shortcake, I'm about to add some more things to your list."
244 notes · View notes
eddiesbug · 2 years
Note
hiii! may I request a daddy Lee pace x little reader where she is with him on set of guardians but once he’s in his Ronan makeup she’s really scared of him but he shows her that it’s not real and comforts her (I love Lee Pace but he terrifies me as Ronan)😂😭
i rly hate how this turned out but i hope u like it😭😭
Lee doesn’t think he’s ever seen you more excited; you’re buzzing, your little hand grasping his pinky and ring finger and swinging your arms wildly. You’re spending the day on set with him and he’s delighted to have his princess for the whole day - you always make everything just a little easier with your cheerful demeanour.
“Okay, sunshine, what are our rules for today?”
“Stay wif Daddy, no runnin’, ‘nd be quiet!” you recite obediently; your finger presses to your lips and your eyes widen comically. Lee chuckles, pressing his warm lips to your temple.
“Good girl.”
You spend the early morning in his trailer with your colouring books whilst he gets into costume. When he opens the door, finally finished with the languorous makeup process to transform him into Ronan, you stand, fully ready to throw yourself into his arms. But when you catch a glimpse of his face, entirely morphed into something unfamiliar and scary, you recoil. The tears are instant and unrelenting. Hiccuped sobs push their way out of your throat and you stumble back, cowering away from him.
“Sunshine, it’s still me,” Lee coos, crouching to make himself smaller and less threatening. “It’s not real, it’s just makeup, baby.” You shake your head, eyes scrunched shut; he sounds like your daddy, the same soothing voice rumbling through his chest. Tears trail down your cheeks and he frowns, holding his hand out. His heart splinters at your distress and he desperately wants to scrub the makeup off just to soothe you.
“Feel my face, baby.” He cranes his neck downwards, tilting invitingly. “C’mon.” You reach out with a shaking hand and press it to his cheek; your fingers come away blue.
“O-oh,” you sniff, “Sorry, daddy.”
“You have nothing to apologise for. I know it just shocked you.”
“You look scary, dada,” you mumble, pestering your way under his arm nonetheless.
“It’ll be gone later, sunshine.”
“Okay.”
“C’mon. ‘s time to start, and once I’m done, we’ll go and get ice cream,” he says.
“Really?” You grin, wrapping your fingers around his sleeve in place of his fingers.
“Of course, sunshine. Ice cream for my brave girl.”
180 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
Imagine being one of Thranduil's most trusted lieutenants and him constantly flirting with you, and one day you decide to flirt back
200 notes · View notes
anundyingfidelity · 3 months
Text
INTERROGATION GONE WRONG – Cleon XIII/Brother Day
Tumblr media
Summary: Cleon XIII interrogates his statisticians about Hari Seldon's predictions. His in-turn maid remains there hearing the conversation, unbeknownst to him, knowing the answer - at least part of.
Pairing: Cleon XIII/Brother Day x female maid reader.
Word count: 2.9k.
Warnings: extremely dub-con, smut, abuse of power, forced orgasm, choking, fingering, degradation, p in v, creampie, not the soft aftercare you're waiting for. The author is also non native English speaker.
Notes: this is based on that scene of 1x04. This is the most non-con thing I've written ever. I gave my warnings. Also please watch Foundation lol, this show reminded me of how much I loved Lee Pace since like 2014. Once I'm in, I will never get out and I needed to write something for Cleon I love him he is an idiot.
GEN MASTERLIST!
Tumblr media
The man fell with a thud on the floor. You should be scared, surprised, trembling with fear, but this was not new behavior for you or anyone in the palace. Since Seldon's exile and the disaster shaking the Empire gradually, the response of the new Cleon was clearly expected after being a witness of a poor reunion and inconvenience with the staticians. More than a conversation, it felt like a judgment, a death one.
"Dining, now," he ordered passing by your figure on his way to leave the throne room. With a bow, you followed in an instant and ready to serve him.
Cleary, you could tell he was not in the good mood that day, already skipping the meal for breakfast with his brothers earlier; something that was out of the itineraries. Once a change of the routine happened, it meant something was off, so you thought. Demerzel was also not around, attending other meetings, so this left you alone with Empire, opening the door of the sole dining room the Brothers used privately, with the tall figure of Cleon XIII waiting impatiently for his midday meal and looking every move you made around the place to please him as fast as your feet allowed.
The cooks served the meal arranged from the menu after your order and they left as rapid as they came in, Brother Day dispatching them with a hand gesture once they were done. You took a couple of steps back, standing close to the table but ready in case he dispatched your presence as well.
"Not you, you stay," he commanded after sipping his wine for the first time, eyes focused on the plate he would eat.
"Yes, Empire."
You had to obligue, and that is what happened. You watched him from the corner of your eye, from time to time in silence, pretending to be unconcerned and collected, though that was far from being true. The whole meal time was eternal, specially that day. With no Brother Dawn nor Brother Dusk around for Brother Day to have a bland talk with, only the sound of fine cutlery clinking against porcelain as Empire ate. Boring, your head began to spin around, thinking in non-senses and theories of what you heard and read from Seldon's predictions of the fall. Empire was cruel, but it had you working, serving food to your plate, and probably that was enough. But it didn't stop your curiosity of learning further the philosophy of Hari Seldon.
When in front of Empire, your gaze seemed lost but your mind was working. You never said a single comment about studying Seldon's theory, of course. You were just a maid. Science and university never were a good pair for a woman who served the Empire. However, you still found the math behind his calculations as something intriguing and fascinating for some reason...
"Maid," the loud voice of the Emperor interrupted your daydream. "I said, wine."
The intense look on his eyes forced you to attend his order fast, serving more of the fermented liquid on the cup standing besides his plate.
His large hand took the cup when you filled it with wine and he sipped again, his eyes scanning you slow and deep. You knew he sensed something was wrong with you. Swallowing, you noticed he already had finished with his meal, so you finally you dared to speak.
"Can I retire your plate, Empire?"
"Is there something you want to share, maid?" he responded, blatantly ignoring your question and dragging your title like it was nothing but a shameful word to spill.
"At all, Empire," your voice came as a whisper.
Brother Day stood on his feet with such grace and started a slow walk towards your figure. You wanted to step away, but you feet were glued to the ground, so his tall and intimidating form washed over you soon.
"Speak," he instructed coldly. You started to tremble, unable to take off your scared eyes from him, bitting your bottim lip as he leaned. "Or do you want to be punished?"
His hand forced around your neck all of a sudden. As an act of reflection, you tried to pull back from his grip, but he was much stronger, having you in place and cutting your breath. "I know you hide enthusiasm around Doctor Seldon's theories," he whispered darkly on your ear. "I am not giving you a choice, speak!"
As he yelled down his last words, he pushed you harshly, body falling to the grown. Air filled your lungs once again and you coughed, sitting down and watching that he was coming closer with big steps. You dragged yourself on the floor using your hands and feet trying to not tangle yourself with the fabric of your dress. Fighting the tears on your eyes, your back touched the wall and sobbed. There was nowhere to go now. So you finally confessed.
"Your staticians would not give you a number because it's true!" you cried out. Brother Day stopped on his tracks just a couple of inches before you. "It's all true, Doctor Seldon is right. And it all began with the Star Bridge, I know you were a child when it happened because I was a child too when the crisis started. There is a probability, but is not zero," you said, recalling his words.
You saw his face changed. He was exhasperated already, but rage appeared in his eyes in a very visible way; a rage that you had yet to see from Empire. Fear took over you, afraid of what would happen next. Should you keep talking? Should you continue crying? Scream for nobody to come around for your sake? As you questioned yourself, he lowered himself to be at your level on the ground. Brother Day never sat down, but he was making sure to get under your skin. His powerful gaze had a quick effect to do that.
"Go on."
Too scared to speak, you opened your lips but no sound came out. Empire waited your words for a moment, scrutinizing your face. And still, nothing came. He grabbed your arm with a rough grip, forcing you to stand up, colliding with his body until your back hit the empty part of the table he had been eating in.
"You have ten seconds to continue or I will force everything that is in your head out of you, maid," Cleon threatened. "Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three-"
"I said it was probability," you shuddered. "Life is a probability by all means and Seldon knows that," you breathed, aware that Brother Day was feeling your shaking body under his piercing eyes. "I studied Doctor Seldon's psychohistory and theory for the last four years, learning math and other sciences on my free time on the library. So even if I don't posses a title, I know his hypothesis was only that at the time; a hypothesis can be null, but also be provable, and thus now is not untrue."
He slowly leaned away.
"So you say there is no error on Seldon's ecuation," he concluded, jaw clenching.
"None that I could find."
Brother Day paced in front of you, back and forth, hrad processing what he just heard. You could tell he was getting what he wanted, but nothing was what he really longed for. And what you found was nothing but the truth. Maths don't miss, it was useless to lie.
"How do you simply fall into a conclusion like that? Prophecies of the Empire declining into a dark age after centuries of rising. Of our legacy!" he stopped again and went back to your figure, trapping your body between himself and the dining table. You felt his breath when he leaned close, the smell of wine and fruits mixing with his cologne was intoxicating your nostrils as the last tears flowed down your cheeks. Sooner or later, you thought he was going to end up with your life. You had nothing left to lose by now.
"It's simple history and logic. Everything that goes up has to go down, even empires."
All you felt was his big palm slapping your face, your back hitting the edge of the table. A hurted moan filled the room, and he forced you to look at him grabbing your chin with the same strenght he had used on you all this time, like you were nothing more than a doll to play with as he pleased.
"In other circumstances, I would find you amusing," he breathed gainst your lips. The touch of his thumb on your cheek, wiping away your last tears, contrasted the roughness of his words, his body between your legs and his weight pressing you to lie down on the surface.
"Psychohistory words, not mine," you whispered, your hands running to wrap around his wrist, but his aura repelled instantly your touch. It was useless to keep trying. So here you were, ready for Brother Day to end with your life in just the blink of an eye. "Maybe Brother Dusk made a mistake," you continued, giving up on leaving the room alive. "Make Hari Seldon stay instead..."
Brother Day pressed further against you, almost crushing you with his significant huge frame.
"Such a talented brain and mouth, why don't I put you to good use? I think I deserve it."
He forcefuly turned you around until you were bending over the table, a loud gasp falling from your mouth. One of his hands making its way between your legs caused your thighs to press together, trying to stop him, but it was impossible, so you had nothing to do but beg.
"Please, Empire," you felt like crying again at his touch, his fingers cupping your clothed pussy in a slow motion. "Stop, please-"
"Shut up, whore," he grunted, rubbing his crotch against your ass and slammed your face with his free hand so you had your cheek lying against the cold surface. "I had enough from you."
Heartbeat rising, you tried with no results to escape from his body cage. The sway of your hips caused Empire to grow eager. His slender fingers pushed your panties aside, coating them with your own wetness, and that was certainly something you did not expect to be down there. He hummed in response, rubbing your folds, and you exhaled once he entered one finger.
Your body responded to his ministrations, his growing erection pressing against the curve of your ass while he played with your cunt as he wanted, easing a second digit inside your walls. Probably you should just give in by now as you felt your muscles tighten, already reaching your high. Almost. The first moan of pleassure escaped your throat and you regreted the answer of lust coming from your body the following instant, your palms holding yourself on the table.
His long digits fucked you faster and your legs trembled, his thumb played with your clit so deliciously you thought you were passing out soon. He leaned down until you could feel his breath on your neck.
"Fucking take it," he groaned, feeling your warm walls pulsing around his fingers.
Almost not having control over your body, your legs further opened, like his voice just ordered you to do it.
"Please, please..."
Again, you cried and begged, not sure of the reason. For pleassure, shame, mercy... Anything was possible at that moment as whimpers and moans fell from your mouth.
The sensation grew stronger down your belly, feeling him exploring your insides too deep, touching a place no man nor your fingers reached before. It happened repeatedly, it felt so sweet and sinful. Like something you never knew but you were sure would leave you aching for more. His fingers making you so drunk and pleading for a release, and the seconds that passed by were endless until you finally blissed out with a loud moan, convulsing by the work of his hand.
Brother Day gave himself a wicked smile, watching you squirm and gasp. Such a strong orgasm he ripped out of you. He pulled his fingers away from your pulsing cunt and admired your wetness coating them before he raised the skirt of your dress and took off your panties until they were hanging between your ankles.
You grimaced at the feel of his big palms rubbing your ass cheeks, parting them to get a view of your throbbing heat, still clenching around nothing. You could listen to him undoing his pants. He hissed, taking his hard lenght to rub the sensitive skin of your ass and his thick tip teased your slit, sliding slowly inside. You gasped at the sudden intrusion as he stopped from filling you up completely, feeling your tight cunt embracing him.
"Empire, please not this-"
"This is how I prefer you," Cleon whispered on your neck, you stopped your plea. "Submissive and quiet. You are not so bold now, are you?"
And he slowly entered your pussy further. You whined, nails scratching the fine material of the table. You were so tight and warm. He had to control himself of not pounding into you right away. Being filled up by the Emperor shouldn't arouse your body like this, but your heat welcomed his cock like it was the perfect missing piece of a puzzle.
"Are you a virgin, maid?" he asked, hips giving a couple of shallow, slow thrusts. Your hips moved in sink with his own, your nipples were now hard and erect against the surface, scratching the fabric of your bra and dress, giving up into heavenly bliss. Sweet mewls left your lips as he stretched your cunt. And it was oh, so long since you felt this full.
"No, Empire."
Your response was the green light. He started to rut into you. Rough. Even if your answer was to be different, you knew Empire would not care. He used to get away with what he wanted, and right now he wanted you. His own grunts made eco along with the sound of his skin hitting your ass, your moans escaping without any shame now. The small amount of discomfort he caused was transformed into pleassure and arousal, keeping his hands firmly on your hips.
"Then you can take it, you've done this before," he mocked, increasing his rough pace.
His grip was strong on your sides, you knew his fingers would leave marks on your skin once you finished. But nothing mattered, you decided, the only on your mind was reaching sweet climax and release. You could not escape from him, not ever. So your body and mind could go through it.
Cleon's eyes found the perfect spot of view to see his cock entering and sliding out your perfect pussy, his shaft glistening with your wetness and his own precum. He stopped and pulled out for a moment, teasing with entering and pulling out, watching himself sliding inside your body.
"Oh gods," he listened to your broken moan, breath hitching.
He again cupped your neck with his palm, fingers roaming around your throat, forcing your back to meet his chest. Your moans were cut by his firm hand, air being a privilige as seconds passed by. He sucked and bit the skin of your neck, burying his cock until his balls met your ass repeteadly, finding that sweet spot of yours.
"Cum," he ordered. "Cum or you will not breath again."
You knew you were close, but you needed it faster. You needed to breath, as good as his cock felt, fucking you and splitting you open, you still needed to make it until the end. Your fingers found your clit and played with your bud as Empire bucked his hips fast and rough. Finally, your muscles tensed and forced a hard orgasm out of you, walls pulsing around his dick. He grunted, not slowing his thrusts, softening the hand around your neck allowing you oxygen again.
"Merciful am I?" he groaned and you felt his seed painting your insides, cock throbing as he also came from his high.
"You are, Empire," you breathed out.
Your back arched and you held yourself on his hands and chest. You heard the sound of one of the chairs being taken out, being dragged by him until you felt he sat down, you on his lap with his cock still burried deep inside you. His slick cum ran down your inner thighs as he parted your legs, touching your abused cunt and clit, feeling how you were still connected. He rubbed your pussy in slow, gentle moves, collecting his cum mixed with your juices. He offered his fingers to your lips, so you licked them as he wished, sucking them clean. Your walls pulsed again.
"So obedient now," Cleon purred.
His hands undid your dress to free your chest, groping your tits as he pleased. He played with your nipples, just like he had played with all of you in a few minutes.
"What will happen to me?" you asked in a murmur.
"Such a pretty cunt you are," Brother Day began, tracing kisses on your shoulder. His voice made you shiver. "You would please me a lot as a cuncubine of the Gossamer Court."
You swallowed hard, not capable of speaking or fighting back. He felt your body tensing so he continued his speech in your ear. "No worries, I can play with you some more before it happens. And you will tell me everything you know about Seldon."
123 notes · View notes
lillianofliterature · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
word count: 875 || warnings: thranduil is very smexy
“You sent for me, your majesty?”
When he spoke, the tone of his voice was absolute and almost prim in its poised cadence. “Yes, I did.” 
You knew the patterns of his speech well from years of working for him. You knew how he addressed uncooperative councilmen, threatening tradesmen, viable allies, and even the suitors you had been charged to oversee in his search for a worthy queen to stand beside him. 
And this tone, it seemed so sure, so confident—and yet, somewhere between the hum of his velvet vowels, you picked up on a twinge of nervousness. You couldn’t align his tone with his mannerisms from where he stood beneath the shadow of his throne, his back turned to you. You waited patiently for him to continue.
But what had he to be nervous about? Had it been the unceremoniously dwindling list of suitors you had presented to him earlier that morning? Had the failures of his previous meetings with your elected nobility finally deterred him from finding a proper match?
You could admit to yourself (and yourself alone) that you were grateful he had not yet taken a liking to any one the nobles and fine elven suitors you had been working diligently to propose to him. Sure, it was a lot of work writing up treaty options and researching bloodlines on dozens of elves across the realm for months on end. Boring tedious work, even. But you could at least satiate the feeling of annoyed pointlessness if it meant your beloved king was not yet vowing himself to someone else (and to someone else as a direct result of your referral, no less).
At least now, in the time before he chose his graceful counterpart, you could savor the solitude you often shared as his closest advisor and friend. You could pine for him in secrecy and in the devotion of your excellent work ethic. That is, if he was still satisfied with your presented work---right now, you were unsure of that last bit. Perhaps your duties as astute court matchmaker were being demoted back to royal advisor. (You’d welcome the demotion, honestly.)
“I read your proposals twice over this morning,” he said, so casually suave, “And I must admit I was rather disappointed with what I found.”
“Is it the quantity that’s troublesome to you, my king? After our last few rendezvous with the available nobility in your kinship, I thought it best to remove any of the suitors that resembled the incompatible experiences you’ve suffered thus far,” you diligently explained, “I can run through the lists again and include everyone, if that is what you wish.”
There was a beat of silence as his chin rose, his eyes roaming the golden lights high above him in the caverned palace. He had yet to face you still.
“It isn’t the quantity, (Y/n).” He stated flatly. 
“Was it the individualized treaties I proposed under their names, then? I assure you, I went to great lengths to include what they would be offering along with their companionship, your majesty. Many of them are proposing complete loyalty through the fair trade agreements we signed to last spring. I checked everyone’s several times over. There was one I highlighted for you—did you see it? Lady Etheniel’s family is rich in the textile business. You could have an entirely new wardrobe made by the fall if you accepted, or possibly even a new market of fabrics for the entire wood–-”
“(Y/n).” He calmly asserted your name in such a way that prompted your silence. With a word still halfway out of your mouth, you pursed your lips to clip the sentence short. You dropped your expressive hand to your corseted waistband. Slowly, he turned his head to the side, just enough to glance at your over his shoulder as he spoke.
“What I meant to say is,” he paused, swallowing over a hurdle in his throat. He turned his shoulders toward you a little more, still seemingly too shy to fully face you. “I summoned you here to express that all of the referrals we’ve gone over in the last few months are indefinitely lacking, no matter their background or what material trade they can offer us.”
Oh, you swallowed. Well, what did he expect you to do? Every suitable elf this side of Mount Doom had already been turned out during the formal meeting or scoured over on your lists for the king. You couldn’t materialize whatever ideal mate he was envisioning for himself. 
“However, I seem to have found a solution to this troubling affair,” he stated. You watched pensively as he poured himself a glass of wine. Only after he had set the bottle down and cradled the goblet with effortless elegance did he fully turn to you, striking gaze and all.
“The solution was rather obvious. I’m ashamed to say I hadn’t thought of it before we endured months of this trivial nonsense.”
You waited for more, but he seemed to be waiting for a response of some sort. An indication that you were fully attentive, bated on his next words.
“And what solution would that be, my king?”
His lips tipped into a devilish smirk. “Well, you, of course.”
Tumblr media Tumblr media
[please ask before using my imagines as prompts, or at least give credit to the idea if you are inspired by it. do not copy what I’ve already written. do not repost. thank you!]  [gif not mine, found on google ages ago.]
682 notes · View notes
anemoxlys · 2 years
Text
Part 2
Part 1:
Warnings: character death, swearing/bad language (Gimli) insecure reader
—————————
“He has never loved me, I left a long time ago.” You murmured regretfully before a smile appeared back into your face as you saw a party of dwarves walking your way. “Ada, who are they?” You asked softly, turning to face your father Elrond. “That my daughter is Gimli.” He answered, a smile also gracing his face. “Y/N.” A less welcoming voice spoke from behind you, causing your blood to run cold. “Legolas.” You returned, refusing to turn and look at the elf. “I must be off father, Arwen is looking for me.” You mutter before hastily walking away from the group.
“I choose a mortal life.” You heard your sister murmur, her hand in Aragon’s.
You were happy for her, truly. Just you recalled the same look of love and admiration on your face once as you stared at Thranduil as he too once held you in his arms. A single tear slipped down your cheek before you turned and walked away. Soon the single year was met with plenty more as you began to silently sob, walking towards the gardens you had slowly grown to love.
“My lady!” You heard your handmaiden call from below you. “Yes Almir?” You called back, wiping your eyes as you gracefully climbed down the tree. “Your father is searching for you ma'am. He wishes for you to join him during the meeting.” She explained, her eyes scanning your tear stained cheeks with a look of slight concern. Nodding slightly you quickly made your way towards your father’s balcony.
You heard faint voices coming from the balcony as you stepped into the daylight but all you could see was Legolas staring at you. Staring at the ground, you made your way slowly over to where your father sat. “Apologies for the delay father, Almir took a while to find me and I was not aware of a council meeting.” You muttered before moving to stand beside his seat. “Who’s this lovely lass?” You heard the dwarf exclaim, drawing most of the council’s attention to yourself. “This is my daughter Y/N of Rivendell.” Elrond stated before the human continued his lengthy speech.
You grew ever more cautious as the human drew closer and closer to the ring sat in the middle of the table until his fingertips nearly grazed the top and Gandalf began to speak in a foreign tongue. Glancing at your father, you saw him sigh slightly and place a hand over his temples. That was when the headache started, wincing slightly you felt your head begin to spin. Stumbling slightly, you felt a hand touch your arm, looking over you saw Thranduil. A tear escaped your eye before you murmured something and walked away only to be stopped by your father stepping in your path. “I saw him. He was here!” You whisper, your hands trembling slightly as you spoke. “It was just in your head onya, he can never hurt you again.” Elrond murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead before you both stepped back into the circle of the council.
A short speech later and you had not entirely accidentally signed yourself up to join the, newly named and formed, fellowship of the ring.
“The ring bearer is setting out on his quest for mount doom.” You heard your father announce before he turned to you. “Take care my darling child. Return to me.” He murmured, his forehead pressing against your own as you said your goodbyes. A single glance to your sister was all you managed before you were made to leave your home once more.
Smiling sadly you watched Merry and Pippin fight with the human you now knew as Boromir. “I do miss GreenWood at times like this.” You whispered to yourself before you were unwelcomely interrupted by Legolas, “we do not wish for whores to miss or return our lands.” He hissed as you once again looked at the ground in shame. “Why do you let him say such things?” You heard Aragorn’s voice ask as he came to sit beside you. “I do not wish to cause him any more pain, nor his father whom I have and will continue to love until the end of my days.” You sighed mournfully. “And why have you not told him of this?” He continued to ask. “I do not know, why do you continue to love my sister even though my father doesn’t accept it?” You questioned, making the ranger fall silent. “Love is a meddlesome creature Aragorn, I am just happy you and Arwen have found each other and you are content being with her.” You finished, a small smile appearing on your lips, not quite reaching your eyes, as you calmly walked away.
However just as you found an isolated clearing, the sounds of screaming forced you to turn back. “Quickly duck!” You heard Gandalf bellow before you ran for shelter.
Under a Boulder is where you found temporary sanctuary from the ravens of Saruman, however much to your misfortune you lay beside Legolas and Aragorn who, although for reasons much closely related to hatred, his eyes fixed on you.
“Valar please…” you began to pray, your gaze fixed on a pouch around your waist. “And what’s in that!” Legolas once again sighed angrily. When no response left your lips he hastily reached for it and, after grabbing it from your waist, immediately opened it and stared at its contents. “Letters?” He questioned before opening one of them. “This is my father’s writing. Why have you kept them?” He questioned, his voice raiding in volume as he grew more and more frustrated. “My friend, I believe you know why.” You heard Aragorn mutter as he came to stand beside Legolas. “But you…” he began before you looked up at him, “I would never. Could never, I have loved your father for years since my leaving and I will continue to do so no matter how it pains me to do so.” You murmured sadly. “But… the witness, the rumours. They saw you!” He exclaimed. “On that day I spent it in the gardens with Tauriel. I never left the palace.” You spoke, surprisingly calmly. “My lady…” Legolas murmured before he fell silent briefly, “I vow you will survive and I will make this right.” He uttered, his eyes glowing with determination. “I have no worries concerning that Legolas, I only wish your father shared the sentiment.” “I believe he still does mellen.” Came the reply. “Then I too vow that you will return safely to your father, I would hate it for you to never return.” You agreed, your hands moving to cup Legolas’s face as you brought your foreheads together.
Moria had been hard for you all. The loss of Gandalf had hit very close to home for everyone of you. Reaching shakily into your pouch and bringing out a necklace. “Gandalf gave this to me many years ago. It was an engagement present.” You sadly laughed, tears forming in your eyes. “Come we must leave.” Aragorn muttered, reaching for your hand and squeezing it slightly as you both began to walk onwards.
“Welcome Legolas son of Thranduil and Y/N daughter of Elrond, we welcome you.” You heard a strange voice murmur as arrows appeared from the bushes, all pointed at you. Choosing to remain beside Gimli as you spoke with the man in charge, you could hear the mutters and whispers of the fellow soldiers. Most were talking about the ‘evil’ they sensed with the young hobbit Frodo but naturally there was some who chose to speak of you and Legolas. They spoke, unfortunately, loudest.
“Lady Y/N.” You heard Galadriel’s voice speak to you, her voice echoing inside your head. “You are filled with such despair and sadness. It pains me to see an old friend in such agony.” She continued as she stepped out from the shadows. “My lady.” You greeted, Boeing slightly as she smiled in return. “Me lady!” You heard Gimli’s greeting as the echos of the remainders of your party copied.
Night had long since fallen but sleep did not chase after you. Seeing Galadriel walk past you stood and walked down the stairs beside her in silence. “Do you wish to see him mellen?” She asked, her voice gently breaking the silence. You simply nodded in reply and hesitantly gazed into the bowl.
Staring into the pool, you saw memories of your past love, days spent laughing in the markets of GreenWood and hours spent in pleasant silence, disturbed only by the murmurs of affection from either one of you. Then you saw an unfamiliar memory, Thranduil sat in his throne a friend gracing his still perfect features. Legolas soon walks in and speaks something so quietly you cannot hear what is being said. The expression of your lover says it all as his eyes widen in pleasant surprise as you saw someone walk through the doors towards him. All goes black as the vision comes to a sharp halt. “He is in love with another.” You quietly murmur. “Mellen…” Galadriel sighed empathetically as she brought you in for a tight hug, “all will end well for you I am certain of it.” She whispers into your cheek as she presses a soft kiss to your skin. Tears began to freely fall down your cheeks as you quietly sobbed into her arms.
Current word count: 1808
Thank you for reading please leave any questions, tips or advice in the comments have a great day/night
He’s actually so stunning
Lee Pace>>>
Tumblr media Tumblr media
155 notes · View notes
Text
Imagine:
Lee met you through mutual friends and developed a huge crush on you, so when he hosted a party at his house, he was very excited when you showed up and was practically unable to hide it. He spent the whole evening with you and you could tell that he was slightly nervous. He asked you out on a date while confessing that he really liked you from the moment he saw you.
Tumblr media
175 notes · View notes
Note
You come back from a blood draw, feeling a little woozy and Ned already has your favorite pie waiting for you 🥰🥰🥰 ~ Britt
THIS IS SO CUTE slight TW for mentions of blood being drawn and doctors visits  @dreaminrubies
 You had insisted that Ned stay at The Pie Hole while you went to your appointment. He tended to come with you for your appointments. As a chronic worrier, or as he would say “plagued with troubling thoughts,” he made it a point to always come with you. Whether it was to support you or to soothe his own toiling mind you honestly didn't know. 
However, this time you decided to go alone. Maybe it was because some of you felt guilty about dragging him along, having to pause his baking and just sit there. Not that you didn't appreciate him, you knew everything he did was out of a place of kindness, but a healthy amount of space wouldn’t hurt.
You hadn't realized until the appointment that you had to have blood drawn. It wasn’t anything you weren't used to, but you really wished you had eaten a bit more. By the time you had made your way back to The Pie Hole, you were feeling queasy and lightheaded. All you could think about was slumping in your favorite booth and waiting for a fresh piece of pie. 
As you entered the establishment, decorated with the crust of the baked goods, you took a deep breath. The scents of the buttery crust mixed with the tart fruits filled your heart to a point where you almost forgot how hungry you were. The smell of pies wasn't just delicious, it was home.
  “How’d it go? I suppose not very different from other times though if it was I’d like to know” offered Ned, approaching you with his shoulders hunched and hands held behind his back. 
“Well enough, got some blood work this time but no big discoveries… thankfully.” You gave him a small shrug and a tiny smile, one of those smiles that just barely tugged at your lips. Ned stared at your face, trying to find a trace of something more. Perhaps it was his work with Cod, he was better at reading people than he was when you first met.
“I don't recall you eating before you left, did you eat? Is that why you look more tired than usual? Please sit” said Ned in a worried tone. His hands gently placed themselves on the small of your back as he ushered you over to one of the free booths. You let out a small huff, though a quaint smile never left your lips. He was such a worry-wart sometimes.
“I’m okay,  promise. All I need is-” you started before a piece of pie was presented in front of you as you sat. It didn’t take you too long to realize from the scent wafting in your space to realize that it was your favorite. Your favorite a la mode too.
“If I wasn't going to be with you at the doctor’s I knew I couldn't let you forget that I was still here and thinking about you. As foolish it may sound, you were only gone an hour or two” Ned began to ramble. As he did so you scooped up a piece on your fork, ensuring a dollop of ice cream was on it as well. As soon as the pastry hit your mouth you couldn't help but interrupt Ned’s rambling with a satisfied hum.
“Ned, of course, I would never forget how much you care, never ever. Plus this is not only my favorite but the best pie I've ever had. Thank you for always taking care of me… I love you” you said to him softly, looking up to meet his gaze.
Ned paused and blushed deeply, he always had a habit of making himself look so small. “I love you too, and I would do it any time any day no matter what.”
With that, you leaned over in the booth to give him a soft peck on the lips before finishing up in the not-so-silence of The Pie Hole, and it made you feel all better.
79 notes · View notes