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lillianofliterature · 11 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

“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.

TAGS: @tessaem @izbelross @bloodblossoms73 @sunnysidesidra

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runesandramblings · 10 months

Text

Violent Delights

Word Count: 6200

Pairings: Kili x reader

Warnings: Unhappy arranged marriage but nothing violent or abusive

Description: A forbidden romance blossoms between King Thranduil's arranged bride to be and the Prince of Erebor. (Loosely inspired by Romeo & Juliet without the death part.)

Will make a part 2 if you guys want it. :)

These violent delights have violent ends

And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,

Which as they kiss consume.

The breeze felt wonderful against your skin after being indoors for so long. You inhaled deeply, allowing the fresh scent of the forest to fill your lungs as you relished in the sounds around you. The chirping birds, the rustling leaves… The walls you’d been kept behind were quiet, far too quiet for your taste. You were used to the sounds of life in the forest, and to be surrounded by the familiar noises once again filled you with delight.

“Lady (Y/N), we should probably get back.”

Temporarily, at least.

You turned to look back at your escort. Tauriel, the captain of King Thranduil’s guard, had been reassigned as your personal escort the day you’d arrived. She was around your age, both of you quite young for elves, and in spite of the differences in your position she’d grown to be a close friend. Your only friend, really.

“You don’t have to call me that.” You reminded her once again.

She smiled, and you knew she would continue no matter how many times you told her otherwise.

“You are a lady, are you not? Soon to be the queen?”

You grimaced at the reminder.

“Unfortunately.” You muttered under your breath. It was probably loud enough for her to hear, but you didn’t care. She was well aware of your feelings on the arrangement.

You had not come to the kingdom under your own will. Your father, a high lord of another elven kingdom, had desired an alliance between your people and the much more powerful elves of Mirkwood. In exchange for protection and trade agreements, he’d offered King Thranduil your hand. You were both surprised the king had actually accepted, and as soon as word arrived of his agreement to the terms you’d been sent off to Mirkwood the very same afternoon.

It was well known to many that the king had tragically lost his wife in a battle against orcs many years before. You were as shocked as anyone that he’d agreed to marry again, after he’d been intentionally alone for so many years. Upon your arrival he had been quick to inform you that the marriage was one purely of convenience, as your people had much to offer Mirkwood. Outside of that one conversation, you had not spent any time alone with the king. You’d not spent any time with him at all, really. Aside from the occasional dinner, which was also usually attended by his son, you had only seen Thranduil a handful of times since you’d arrived in Mirkwood a month before.

He was not unkind. From the small interactions you’d had with him he did not appear to be cruel or malicious. You sensed his hardened exterior had a lot to do with the loss of his first wife, and you could not fault him for that. For the most part since your arrival you had been left to your own devices within the walls of the kingdom. Thranduil had given you your own private chambers. They were large and luxurious, with the finest silken tapestries and hand carved furniture you could imagine. Your time was yours alone, as the king never sought an audience with you, and you spent it as you pleased. You’d grown close to Tauriel very quickly, and Thranduil’s son Legolas was also good company.

Though you could hardly complain about the lavish treatment and unending free time, it had grown into a lonely existence. Your chambers, though massive, felt cold and empty without someone to share it with. You’d explored every nook and cavern of Mirkwood, read every book and parchment in the library, and quickly grew tired of the same mundane routine you’d fallen into. Which, subsequently, led to your trip outside of the kingdom walls with Tauriel.

Speaking of Tauriel. You felt her step closer to you as she whispered in your ear.

“It could be far worse, (Y/N). I know this is not what you wanted, but Thranduil is a fair and noble man. You will have a good life here.”

You knew she was right. As a highborn lady in your home kingdom, you’d watched many friends married off to unsavory men over the years. Of all the arrangements you could have ended up with, you’d been matched to the King of Mirkwood. You knew you would live a good life, a luxurious life. But you also knew you were walking into a loveless marriage, and the prospect of being alone pained you. Elves lived long lives, and you couldn’t imagine being a wife in name only for a thousand years or longer. You desired love and true companionship.

As you looked back at her, nodding your head in resignation of the truth you knew she spoke, she gestured over her shoulder towards the direction of the gate. Time to return. You relented in defeat, following her as she began winding her way back through the woodland trails. The forest was safe now, the spiders having been driven off for good shortly after the Battle of the Five. The king was still reluctant to allow anyone to leave, and it had taken some persuasion on Tauriel’s part to get him to allow the adventure. You hoped he would consent to regular walks in the forest, so long as you didn’t try to abuse the privilege. He did not strike you as a controlling man, but he was certainly protective of his kingdom and those within it.

You took one last, deep breath of the fresh air before you stepped through the heavily guarded doors behind Tauriel. As you turned to say your goodbyes for the evening, you were approached by a taller, dark haired elf. You recognized him as one of Thranduil’s personal servants as he bowed before you.

“Lady (Y/N), the king has requested an audience.”

You looked between the messenger and Tauriel, unable to hide the expression of surprise that crossed your features. Thranduil had sent for you?

Tauriel nodded politely to you as she bowed, dismissing herself as the servant gestured for you to follow him.

“You know where to find me should you need me, my lady.” She said before turning and departing.

You followed the servant down the winding corridors, through the only passageways you were still unfamiliar with in the kingdom. As you and Thranduil had separate chambers and living spaces, you hadn’t had cause to explore the areas surrounding his rooms. You were surprised to find he had summoned you into his private quarters, rather than his throne room or the dining hall you semi-frequently gathered in.

The servant came to a halt in front of a large set of ornate doors and he knocked once before opening it, gesturing for you to step through. You stepped inside and the doors closed behind you. The servant didn’t follow you in, and as you continued on alone your mind raced with the possibilities of why Thranduil might have requested to speak with you.

You were surprised to find his chambers were not much more lavish than your own. He’d clearly spared no expense on your living quarters, as his shared the same style of furniture and tapestries as yours did. The only visible difference you could detect was that his rooms were just a slight bit larger than yours. As you rounded the corner into the main living area you found the king at last. He was standing with his back to you, and as you approached he did not turn to greet you. You stopped a few yards away from him, standing awkwardly with your hands clasped together. He was a king, after all, and you were uncertain if you should speak first. Surely he’d heard you enter.

After several long moments of silence, Thranduil finally spoke.

“How have you been finding the kingdom?” He asked, his back still turned to you. His arms moved as he spoke, and from behind it looked as though he were fidgeting with something on the table he stood before.

“Fine, your majesty.” You said quietly, not bothering to elaborate. You didn’t think he’d care too much for the details anyway.

“Have you been treated well?” He continued, still not turning to face you.

“Yes, your majesty.”

“You may call me Thranduil.” He finally turned, holding two goblets of red wine in his hands. He handed you one and took a long sip from his own before continuing. “We are to be wed, after all. Even if it is merely an arrangement.”

You nodded wordlessly as you accepted the glass. You remained silent, uncertain of what to say. He paused for a moment before he pivoted on his heel and began to walk back in the direction he’d come.

“I have received an invitation from King Thorin.” As he spoke he paced around the room, sipping from his goblet. It was clear he was as uncertain of what to do in your presence as you were in his. “They are holding a celebration in honor of the anniversary of Erebor’s reclamation. Would you care to attend with me?”

That was surprising. Despite the joint effort it took between the dwarves and elves to defeat the orc armies, they were still not on the best of terms. Thorin had, after all, attempted to keep the elves’ jewels to himself and nearly started a war between the two clans as a result. There was an uneasy peace between the two, now that the dwarves resided in the mountain once again, and you were surprised that Thranduil would be willing to travel all that way to be in the company of dwarves.

“Yes your ma- Thranduil.” You quickly corrected yourself.

He paused and turned to look at you, though he did not make a move to step closer.

“I do not expect love to grow between us.” He said flatly. “But we should be able to tolerate each other, should we not?”

You nodded.

“Yes, I would say so.”

He nodded in return as he held his wine glass out, indicating a toast.

“Very well then. We leave in one week's time.”

The journey from Mirkwood to Erebor had taken two days, and with the lavish way in which Thranduil liked to travel it was not an uncomfortable trek as you’d anticipated. You arrived at the mountain kingdom well rested, and rather excited at the prospect of a feast. From what the king had explained of dwarvish parties he remembered from the late King Thror’s time, the feast could go on for days. You would be arriving at the tail end of the celebration, as Thranduil had planned. Dwarves were apparently a rambunctious bunch, and as Thorin had requested Thranduil stay and tour the mountain afterwards he had not wanted to spend more time with them than he needed.

Erebor was as magnificent as you’d been told. It was amazing how the mountain had been transformed and rebuilt in merely a year's time. Though you were used to the splendor of elven realms, as both Mirkwood and your birth home were lavish and beautiful, there was something awe-inspiring about the kingdom under the mountain. The halls were endless, sprawling on in either direction as far as your eyes could see. The ceilings were impossibly high, and despite the kingdom being built into the side of a mountain there seemed to be an abundance of light flowing from any given direction. To look down at the winding staircases that led deeper into the heart of the mountain would make you dizzy, if you stared too long. The stone walls were carved and inlaid with intricate designs of gold and silver, telling the tales and the history of the line of Durin. You had studied many languages, and Khuzdul was one you were somewhat familiar with. You’d found yourself stopping every few feet along the walk to your chambers to read the inscriptions on the walls.

Legolas, Tauriel, and a handful of others had made the journey along with yourself and Thranduil. The dwarves had spared no luxury for your group, as you’d each been housed in your own private chamber within the mountain. Dwarvish extravagance was very different from that of your elven home. Where the elves valued natural elegance, which involved a lot of carved wood and intricate silks, the dwarves had more of a rugged taste. Your rooms consisted of chiseled stone furniture and fixtures, inlaid with even more gold and a number of jewels you had never laid eyes on before. Though it was very different from your home in Mirkwood, it still felt comfortable and welcoming.

The dwarf servant that had been assigned to your care had asked what could be provided to make your stay more enjoyable, and she was delighted at your request for books to read later in the evening. She seemed impressed at your ability to read and understand Khuzdul, as many elves didn’t care or bother to learn the language of the dwarves. You’d noticed the air of arrogance Thranduil and Legolas, and even Tauriel, had displayed since your arrival, and you made it your mission to change the dwarves’ opinion of elves, even if the others chose not to do the same.

After resting and dressing for dinner, you’d met Thranduil and the others in the hall. He extended his arm out to you automatically, as though it were expected rather than something he cared to do. You’d accepted it regardless. As you walked along he did not look down at you, or even acknowledge your dress or appearance for the event. Was this the life you were destined for? Emotionless, cold… Doing things merely out of duty and not from love? You felt your heart sink as you walked along beside the king. It was a lonely existence.

The feast was in full swing by the time you arrived. It was chaos. There were long, sprawling tables lined with food and more dwarves than you could count. As you watched, food flew from every side of the room, ale spilled across the tabletops and onto the floor, and dwarves moved about, falling over themselves and each other. It was clear the drinking had been going on for much longer than the actual feast.

“They behave like animals.” Thranduil muttered under his breath.

Despite having never been in the company of dwarves before, you found yourself surprisingly unbothered by their behavior. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, which was more than you could say for your royal escort. It was certainly more rambunctious than any elvish party you had ever attended, but at least they were having a good time.

As your party approached a large table at the head of the room, one of the dwarves stood to greet you. He was dark haired with a matching dark beard. Streaks of gray peppered both his long hair and speckled his face, and with the gold and emerald crown atop his head you took him to be the king. As he stood he extended his hand in a greeting.

“King Thranduil.” He bowed his head out of respect to the elven king as he placed his hand across his chest. “We are pleased you could make the journey.”

Thranduil nodded tightly in return, also bowing his head to Thorin to your surprise.

“King Thorin.” He said politely, though you could hear the hint of tension in his voice. “This is my betrothed, Lady (Y/N). You’ve met my son, Prince Legolas.”

Thorin nodded at you both before gesturing to the dwarves seated on either side of him. On one side sat a woman, with dark hair similar to his own. They shared a stark resemblance, down to the neatly trimmed beard she wore as well. On his other side sat a younger dwarf, who also matched the seeming familial resemblance to the other two. He had wavy, golden hair with braids woven through. His braided mustache bounced as he nodded his head in respect.

“A pleasure, my lady. My prince. This is my sister, Lady Dis. My nephew and heir, Prince Fili. My other nephew will be joining us shortly.” As he spoke he gestured to two empty seats on the opposite side of the prince. “King Thranduil, would you and your betrothed join us at the head table?”

Your eyes traveled to the spot down from the empty spaces. You recognized the king of the newly rebuilt city of Dale, Bard. The one who had been responsible for slaying Smaug, if you remembered the story correctly.

Thranduil’s increasingly strained smile caught your attention from the corner of your eye, and you couldn’t help but smirk a bit in response. You knew the last thing he’d wanted for the evening was to be sandwiched between the dwarves he still wasn’t overly fond of and the humans he held in equal disdain. However you knew his kingly pride would not allow him to turn down the offer. You, on the other hand, were excited to continue on with your mission of making the dwarves see the elves in a better light.

“We’d be honored.” He said, forcing an even larger fake smile. As another dwarf servant appeared and escorted Legolas and the others to their table, Thranduil gestured for you to choose your seat first. Unable to resist the humor of making the king even more uncomfortable, you opted for the seat next to Bard, leaving Thranduil no choice but to sit and make conversation with the dwarven king and prince.

“It’s a pleasure, my lady.” King Bard said as you sat, extending his hand to help you into your seat. “I was not aware that King Thranduil had taken a bride.”

“It’s a new development.” You said, quickly attempting to divert the conversation away from your engagement. “How is the work on the city going?”

As the two of you made light conversation and exchanged pleasantries, speaking of the rebuild of Dale and the newly reformed relations between dwarves, elves, and men, you began to lose track of time. Several courses came and went, and ale and wine continued to flow freely. Though the elvish tolerance made your kind more resistant to the influence of alcohol, the steady refilling of your goblet as you chatted and sipped away had your head spinning before you’d realized what had happened. You began to feel warm, and as you breathed in and out your corset suddenly felt overwhelmingly restrictive around your chest.

Air. You needed air.

Without thinking you turned to your fiance, grabbing his arm in an attempt to get his attention.

“Thranduil.”

He turned to you, and as his eyes met yours his brief look of annoyance quickly turned into one of concern as he noticed your flushed and panicked face.

“Are you alright?” He asked quietly, and you were surprised to find that he actually appeared to be worried for your wellbeing.

You nodded in reassurance, not wanting to cause a scene as you felt the eyes of Bard and Thorin also turning to you.

“I’m just feeling a bit warm, I think I’m going to step out for a moment.”

Thranduil gave a small nod in return, and you quickly stood and excused yourself from the table.

You were uncertain of where to go, as you’d only arrived in the mountain earlier that day and had not had a chance to get to know your way around. The way back to your room felt somewhat familiar, and you decided a quick stroll there and back might help clear your head. As you wove through the crowd, deftly avoiding numerous drunk and stumbling dwarves, you found that a makeshift dance floor had formed directly in front of the entrance, and only exit, to the great hall. You were unfamiliar with the dwarvish music, but it was much softer and merrier than you expected. Dozens of couples twirled around, following footwork that was unknown to you but something they seemed to know by heart. You were transfixed for several moments, watching them move about with an ease and grace that you didn’t know came so naturally to dwarves. After a few minutes you remembered your desire for some air, and decided you’d still like a short break from the commotion before you returned to the table. You tried to move nimbly along the outskirts of the dance floor, trying to avoid crashing into dancing dwarves as you stayed as far out of the way as possible. As you turned back to watch momentarily, still intrigued, you felt yourself collide solidly with another body. Before you had the chance to correct your footing you found you were falling backward. You braced yourself for the impact, but before your body could crash into the stone floor a pair of arms wrapped tightly around you, and you felt yourself being pulled into a broad chest.

Your gaze turned forward, looking for the source of your rescue in order to thank whoever had saved you from splitting your head open. As your eyes searched the space in front of you they spotted the top of a head of brown hair; the person to whom it was attached stood a few inches shorter than you. It was a dwarf, if you had to guess. He was still cradling you tightly against him, as though he anticipated you might fall backward again at any moment. You felt his grasp loosen as he leaned back to look up at you, though his arms still remained wrapped around your body.

He was young. The difference in how dwarves and elves aged was unfamiliar to you, but judging by his lack of a beard and softer features you assumed he was not an elder. He had wavy brown hair that was pulled partially back, save for a few loose strands and a fringe of bangs that framed his face and a pair of dazzling brown eyes. Though he lacked the fuller beard and mustache that most dwarves wore he did have a sprinkling of stubble across his face. The lack of a beard allowed you to fully appreciate his chiseled jawline and lips, the latter of which currently sported a wide grin. He was quite handsome, and you couldn’t help but stand and stare down at the stranger for several long moments.

Too long, you realized. How long had you been standing in silence, staring at the nameless man? It would surely look bad if anyone from your party came strolling by.

“I’m sorry sir-” You started. As you stuttered out an apology you moved to step backward, and subsequently tripped again. The young dwarf immediately grasped your arm tighter to steady you and you felt a blush creep into your cheeks in response. So much for the grace and elegance of the elves.

“The fault was entirely mine, my lady.” He said in return, his kind smile widening at your flustered speech and clumsiness. He didn’t appear to be bothered by your awkwardness; on the contrary, he seemed to enjoy it. His touch lingered on your arm, ensuring you would not fall again before he slowly released his grasp.

“I’d hardly say so, you were merely walking by and I was not watching where I was going.” Despite your embarrassment you felt a smile spread across your face as well. The kind twinkle in his eyes was contagious, and you quickly felt your fluster fade the longer the two of you spoke.

“Well if you’re so inclined to make amends, you can honor me with a dance.” As he spoke he extended his hand toward you, and in the same motion he nodded his head toward the mass of dancing bodies. The music had slowed to something much less upbeat, something you were sure even you could keep up with.

You paused. The nameless man had intrigued you, that was for certain. But would dancing with a random dwarf enrage your royal fiance? You craned your neck to look back in the direction of the table you had been sat at with Thranduil and the other royals, but from your position near the dance floor you could not see them. Which meant more than likely they could not see you either. Even so, would it really be that big of a deal? You were supposed to be making peace, after all.

“That seems only fair.” You said as you turned back to face him. As you accepted his outstretched hand he grasped it tightly, as if he were afraid you’d disappear, and pulled you to the floor.

The two of you came to a halt in the middle of the mass of bodies. You were surrounded by other dancing pairs on every side, safely hidden away from any watchful eyes. As you rested your hand on his shoulder and entwined the fingers of your free hand with his you felt his other hand rest on your hip. The light touch sent a wave of goosebumps up the side of your body. It was more contact than you’d ever had with the man who was supposed to become your husband. Every point of contact your body had with the stranger felt as though it were on fire.

Seeming to know you were unfamiliar with the music he took the lead, tugging you gently back and forth until you became comfortable with the simple steps of the dance. You swayed together for a few moments, neither speaking but simply watching each other in a comfortable silence. Though he was a bit shorter than you it was not by much. He stood at eye level with your nose, and you wondered if he were tall for a dwarf, or if you were short for an elf. Thranduil and the others had towered over Thorin, so you expected it was the latter. You had often been one of the smaller elves wherever you’d gone.

“So you are not from the Iron Hills, I take it.” He grinned up at you as he finally spoke, stating the obvious. There were many physical differences between elves and dwarves, but if your ears and impossibly long hair had not given you away your dress certainly would have. The high-necked and fitted gowns of the dwarven women were a stark contrast to the lower cut and flowing gowns of the elves.

“I am not.” You confirmed.

“Are you from Mirkwood?” He continued.

“I am living in Mirkwood, but I am from somewhere farther.”

“And are all the elves as graceful as you?” He asked. As he spoke he attempted to keep a serious face, as though it were a genuine inquiry. He failed, and before you had the chance to respond to his prodding a smirk broke through his stoic expression.

“Well I’ve often suspected I’m not entirely an elf.” You said matter-of-factly, playing along with his teasing. “Grace has never been my strong suit.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I didn’t know my mother. My father does not speak of her. And as you’ve so keenly pointed out, I do lack the natural elegance of the elves.” Why were you telling him this? You’d only just met the man, and yet you found yourself spilling out the innermost things you’d only ever wondered to yourself.

“And the height.” He quipped, confirming your earlier thoughts. “But you are no less stunning.”

You felt a warmth spread across your face, and you were certain you’d blushed a scarlet red. He was more forward than you were used to, and although you enjoyed the company of the cheeky dwarf you were also an engaged woman. To a king, no less. You’d become lost in the conversation, fully absorbed in the moments shared with the handsome stranger. To the point you had almost forgotten you were still in the center of a crowded dance floor. You realized the two of you had stopped moving and instead stood staring at each other again. His eyes were mesmerizing. His fringe of bangs had fallen partially to cover them, and you felt yourself drawn to reach forward and brush them away.

“Are you from Erebor?” You quickly asked, sidestepping his compliment. “Or have you traveled for the celebration?” You turned your gaze to the couples around you and tugged on his hand, indicating you should start moving again.

Out of the corner of your eye you could see his lopsided grin return, fully aware that you’d avoided the second part of his earlier statement. He followed your lead and began to sway with you, though you noted his grip had tightened on your hip.

“I live here.”

“Did you live here before the…” You trailed off, uncertain of how the dwarves spoke of the years the mountain stood uninhabited. Was it a sore subject still?

“Before the dragon?” He finished. “No. Why do I look that old?” His eyebrows furrowed together as he spoke, his expression unreadable.

You’d offended him.

“N- no. You don’t. I didn’t- I mean-” You felt your face flush red again as you stumbled over your words. Of course he couldn’t have been old enough to have lived through Smaug. Could he?

He laughed.

“I’m only joking.” He assured you. As he spoke he stopped moving again, and gestured over his shoulder to the exit you’d been attempting to make it to before. “Would you like to take a walk? I could show you around a bit while everyone is in here. The halls will be empty”

You felt a flutter run through your stomach at the prospect of being alone with the mystery man. It was a feeling you’d never experienced with Thranduil, and expected you never would. You checked over your shoulder again, still unable to see the head table from where the two of you stood. But again, would it be so bad? Accepting a tour of the kingdom from a dwarf? You had made it your mission to change their view of the elves, after all. You wordlessly nodded, accepting his invitation, and he grinned widely in return as he took your hand and led you nimbly through the crowd.

The halls of Erebor appeared impossibly larger while empty. The stranger led you up and down staircases, pointing out different areas of the kingdom and showing you various repairs that had been completed in order to reverse the damage done by the dragon. As you walked together you lost track of time again, and you wondered how long you’d been absent from the table. Had Thranduil noticed? Likely not. He never seemed to notice or care when you were gone.

“So how did you come to live in Mirkwood?” Your escort finally asked, his attention turning from the newly rebuilt throne to you. “You mentioned earlier you were not from there.”

“My…betrothed.” You started hesitantly. “He lives in Mirkwood.”

You paused, waiting for the inevitable reaction. You were promised to another, and it pained you to tell him. You felt an undeniable draw to this man who’s name you did not know. There was a familiarity and comfort with him, something you’d never felt before and certainly did not feel with Thranduil. As you waited for him to excuse himself and leave you standing alone in the halls you held your breath, dreading the fallout.

“Oh.” He sounded surprised at the revelation, but not upset. He made no move to run away from you as he continued. “You do not sound happy about the arrangement.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that he had not fled at the mention of your fiance. Though you’d made no mention of your unhappiness with the king, he seemed to have noted that it was not a joyous engagement. You wondered if it were that obvious to everyone when you spoke of Thranduil.

“I’m not.”

“Does he not treat you well?” He asked. You noticed a look of concern that immediately furrowed lines in his face.

“In order to treat me well or not well he’d have to spend time with me.” You said, offering him a sad but reassuring smile that your intended was not an unkind man. “And we do not spend any time together. He told me when I arrived we were to be together in name only.”

“That sounds terribly lonely.”

“It has been.” You continued quietly. Your gaze turned back to the designs etched into the stone floor as you walked. Who was this stranger? This man you’d known for an hour at most, but somehow you felt more comfortable with than anyone you’d ever met before. You wanted to know him better, but that would surely be impossible.

The two of you walked on in silence for several minutes before he spoke again.

“Has he seen you?” He asked suddenly.

“What do you mean?”

“Has he laid eyes on you?” He asked again, a hint of urgency in his voice.

“Well, yes, I’m here with him.” You stated simply. What was he getting at?

The man shook his head as he turned from you back to stare ahead as you walked.

“He is a madman, then.”

“How so?”

“To possess a woman so divine and not spend any time with her…” He trailed off, shaking his head again as though in disappointment. “The only conclusion is he must be insane.”

You felt your cheeks flush at his statement. This stranger had spoken more kind words to you in an evening than Thranduil had in a month. Who was this man?

“I don’t know if I would say that.” You said quietly, keeping your eyes focused on the ground as you spoke.

“I would.” He stopped suddenly and took your hand, pulling you to a stop with him. He tugged you around to face him, and kept your hand locked tightly in his as he spoke. “Tales will be written of your beauty some day. You are the fairest princess in the most wonderful fairytale. The most beautiful and elegant of all the elves in all of the realms. The most precious jewel under this mountain. If he is not insane, your betrothed is surely blind.”

The way he stared up into your eyes sent another flutter through your stomach. Something you’d sorely lacked with Thranduil. Passion. You felt it as strongly as anything, the unmistakable feelings of desire and attraction swirling within you. It was as though the force of gravity itself had shifted, and rather than grounding you to the earth you stood on it was pulling you towards this stranger instead.

“You flatter me, sir. I do not even know your name.” You whispered. As you spoke you felt yourself unconsciously pulling against his hand, tugging him closer to you. He stepped forward willingly, bringing your bodies only inches apart.

“I am-” He began.

“Kili.”

The both of you jumped at the unfamiliar voice that invaded the intimate bubble you’d enclosed yourselves in. You quickly released his hand and stepped backward, putting as much space as possible between you as the intruder approached. The young blonde prince you’d met earlier, Fili if you remembered correctly, was strolling toward the two of you.

“My lady, this is my brother, Prince Kili.” He said by way of introduction as he came to a halt beside him. “Brother this is Lady (Y/N), the intended of King Thranduil.” It seemed as though he were offering a reminder to the pair of you, rather than an introduction.

His brother. The king’s nephew. Of course it was.

The stranger you now knew to be Kili was staring at you, the pieces falling into place as his eyes widened.

“Thranduil…” He mumbled. “Of course.”

Fili raised an eyebrow in confusion at his brother's muttering before turning his attention back to you.

“My lady, your fiance requested I come check on you. Are you well?” He asked. He was far more formal and royally appropriate than his brother had been for the past hour.

You quickly slipped back into a more formal mode yourself, straightening your back and clasping your hands behind you. You nodded respectfully at the elder prince.

“Thank you, Prince Fili. Prince Kili was just escorting me back to my room. Will you tell King Thranduil I am not feeling well and would like to retire for the evening?”

He nodded.

“I will. Brother, our king has requested your presence. Do you know the rest of the way back, my lady?” As he spoke he pulled on his brother's arm, indicating they should return to the hall as quickly as possible. You hoped nothing had been made of your joint absence, though given the fact you’d not been introduced earlier the connection would have been a longshot for anyone to make.

“I do.” You said, giving the older brother a reassuring smile as he turned to leave. “It was nice to meet you, Kili.” You felt a pang of sadness. The evening had gone by far too quickly, and you knew you were not likely to see the handsome prince again.

“And you, (Y/N).” He took your hand in his and kissed it gently, allowing his lips to momentarily linger against the delicate skin of your hand. He released it and quickly stood, leaning in to whisper in your ear before following his brother. “I will find you again.”

#kili durin #kili fanfic #the hobbit fanfic #the hobbit #kili x reader #kili #the hobbit movies #the hobbit trilogy #the hobbit fic #kili durin x reader #the hobbit reader insert #kili reader insert #kili imagine #kili durin imagine #kíli #fili and kili #kili and fili #lord of the rings reader insert #post-botfa

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make-me-imagine · 2 years

Text

My Love

Prompt: "Please tell me that's not your blood."

Pairing: Thranduil x GN!Reader

Plot: After you are injured in a skirmish with a Warg hunting party, Thranduil takes it upon himself to clean and bandage your wounds.

Notes: This is a fic for @coffeeandbatboys for being a runner up in my Writing contest. I hope you like it~ *Nîn Meleth means "my love"

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, blood, bandages, etc. - Typical Whump/Comfort stuff.

Words: 716

As you limped into the healing rooms, you winced from the pain shooting up your leg. Your leg burned where the warg had cut you, but you were lucky it was just a graze.

After one of the healers helped you to sit in your own healing room, you could hear the sound of quickened footsteps coming towards the healing rooms. You thought it was other soldiers coming in, before you heard a familiar voice echo through the room.

"Where are they? Were is Y/n?"

Looking up at the sound of the familiar voice, you saw Thranduil come around the corner. Once his eyes landed on you, you saw relief wash over his face. Though it only lasted a moment as worry replaced it as his eyes grazed over you.

His deep voice poured out with a hint of concern "Please tell me that's not your blood."

Looking down at yourself, you realized that your entire torso was covered in blood, as well as your entire leg. Meeting his eyes, you shrugged lightly. "Only some of it."

As a healer brought a basket of salves and bandages, you watched as Thranduil shooed them away, before he came and sat in front of you.

"What are you doing Thranduil?"

"What I trust no others to do." He said softly as he began to peel away your vest. "How much of this is your blood?"

You smiled softly as his gaze furrowed. "I have an arrow wound to my shoulder, a small dagger graze to my side, and a cut at my thigh from a warg."

You saw Thranduil's face knot up in anger and worry. "Why were the warg scouts this close to our borders?"

You knew he was not truly expecting you to know the answer, but you gave one anyway. "They seem to grow bolder by the day. Perhaps they wish to test us."

His eyes met yours. "Did any live?"

You shook your head, and you saw a light hint of satisfaction in his face. "Good. Then hopefully they should not test us again."

After Thranduil removed your bloodied and tattered shirt, he gently slathered your wounds in a healing salve, before gently wrapping your shoulder in bandages.

You watched him as he worked, enjoying the often hidden softness of his character. Out of anyone, you saw it the most often, but it was still reserved, apart from when you were completely alone.

Once you put on a soft robe, and removed your torn trousers, Thranduil, took your leg and draped it over his. You felt an odd sense of vulnerability as he cleaned your wounds. You could feel your skin was hot, and butterflies erupted in your stomach every time his hand ran over your skin.

Thranduil had remained nearly silent the whole time he helped you. But as soon as he was done, he took your hands in his, and gently ran his hands over yours.

You had a few scrapes along your hands, and your skin was dirtied. But that did not stop him from bringing your hand up to his mouth, and placing a kiss on the back of it.

His eyes met yours, and you saw an array of emotions swimming in them. He spoke softly, his voice just above a whisper. "I am grateful you came back to me Nîn Meleth. And I would, advise you, to not go out of the Kingdom walls until you are fully healed."

"Please?" You teased lightly with a smile.

His own lips curled up as he bowed his head softy before he stood up. Gently placing his hands on your face, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head before whispering softly. "Please."

Stepping away from you, he looked down at you with a fond gaze. Then reached out his hand for you. Taking it, you rose, closing your robe, you slipped our arm through his as he began to lead you from the healing room, and to, you assumed, your shared room so you could rest.

As you made your way through the castle, though no one would say anything too loudly, everyone adored seeing the Elven King with you. For it showed them a more caring and gentle side they often forgot he had.

xx End xx

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @caswinchester2000, @imaginesfire, @rexit-mo, @onuen

Lotr/hobbit Taglist: @ta-ka-shi-ma, @whimsical-daydreams, @sunnysidesidra

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luna-redamancy · 2 years

Note

Hey could I have a Kili x Reader where the reader is someone Gandalf recruited early on the adventure. She spends all her time in the woods and can even converse with animals as well as being an adept hunter and survivalist? Kili just becomes infatuated then and there

Hello!! I'm so sorry this took so long to complete, but I hope you enjoy:

“I thought you said you had another person attending, Gandalf, your apprentice?” Thorin’s words floated above the murmur of the company members as they feasted on poor Bilbo’s pantry.

“I do, however, unfortunately, they were caught up in other matters. Do not fret, Thorin, they will meet us along the way.”

“What matters were so important to have missed a vital meeting before we set off on this journey?” Thorin’s tone was criticizing as he imagined a young lad trying to drink himself into a stupor-

“Medical ones,” Gandalf’s cheery disposition turned into a frown as he gazed upon the dwarf.

“They are providing medical guidance for a town riddled with disease. I say a sobbing child with a fever needs their attention more than a group of rowdy, but otherwise healthy, dwarves.”

“My apologies,” Thorin tilted his head to Gandalf who responded in kind.

“I know you are anxious to meet the final member of your Company, Thorin, trust me when I say everything will fall together- in due time.”

And that was the last they discussed the missing apprentice, your absence not being brought up again.

The next morning, after a night of feasting and somber singing, the Company set out on their journey.

The trees were lush and soon the rolling hills of the Shire had all but disappeared behind the horizon. Coin was shared upon the arrival of Bilbo, but the final member of the Company had still yet to arrive.

“Gandalf,” Thorin addressed as he fell to the middle of the line where Gandalf was atop of his horse.

“Do you know when your apprentice will be arriving?”

“I would say–”

“Right now,” You called out, popping up next to Gandalf as you stared at the bird in your hand. It was a small old-world sparrow, happily chirping as you nodded.

“You are-” Kili almost interrupted, the Company now halted as they stared at you awaiting introduction.

“One moment,” You held up a finger, keeping your gaze trained on the bird, pausing in your steps.

“Thank you,” You said after a moment, smiling at the small creature. You watched as the bird then took off, flying into the trees.

“You’re Gandalf’s apprentice?” Balin tried this time, your gaze returning to the Company.

“Yes, I am,” You bowed your head, “My name is (Y/n),” You greeted, your grin widening as each dwarf gave their name.

“And you?” You stared at Kili who seemed to be starstruck, eyes wide and round as the wind shifted the leaves of the trees, making the sunlight highlight different areas of your face. Dipped in golden light.

Fili chuckled, turning into a cough as Kili elbowed him harshly in the gut. “Kili, at your service,” he bowed his head.

“It’s a pleasure to meet all of you,” You turned to Gandalf, “There may be trouble along the old road,” You explained, “The sparrows have seen trolls taking livestock from farmers, they recommend to stay away.”

“Sparrows?” Bilbo questioned and before you could explain, Gandalf was quick to boast.

“(Y/n) holds many abilities, but one of them is animal conversing, birds are her favorite.”

“They know so much,” You shrugged, as the company resumed traveling. Walking alongside Gandalf, you failed to notice the eyes trained on your form and drinking in your appearance.

“Also, they say the population of rabbits has increased, especially towards the winding trees further north, we’re likely to be able to catch a few for supper come time to set up camp,” You were already planning your hunt in your head.

Kili felt like he was going to swoon. He was most certainly in deep, and you’ve only said a few sentences.

Tags:

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Kili

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#kili x reader #kili x you #kili #the hobbit reader insert #the hobbit x reader #reader-insert #fanfic #the hobbit imagines #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit #xreader #fluff #fanfiction #jrr tolkien #female reader insert #female reader

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fluffytriceratops · 3 months

Text

only one - the hobbit. (prologue)

notes: hello! i have decided to post the prologue for a hobbit fanfic i am writing called 'only one'. i don't want to post the entire book on here (tumblr) so i will be posting the prologue on here and if you wish to read the rest you can find the book on wattpad and ao3! links below. only one is a reader insert with multiple love interests to choose from. you may choose between thorin, kili, and fili. the choice is yours to make! there will be multiple chapters with each throughout. enjoy! :D

warnings: brief mentions of death.

wattpad link here.

ao3 link here.

---

❝𝐀𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐭. 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭. 𝐍𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰, 𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐬𝐭. 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭.❞

━

"You promise to look after her?"

Gandalf's blue eyes softened as he looked down towards Luunah. The witch stared up at him with a pleading gaze. Gripping onto her hands nervously.

"Of course." He drew his attention towards the child, playing in the gardens just outside. He watched as the little girl chased after a purple butterfly. A bubble of laughter rising out of her mouth.

His gut warned him of something. Twisting with a feeling of unease.

"I need to hear you say it, Mithrandir." Luunah whispered, back facing him this time.

Gandalf studied her with a look of confusion. "I promise." He finally uttered after a few moments of silence. "Luunah.. what is it that you aren't telling me? Where did this come from?"

Said female stiffened at the sound of her name. "I cannot bare it much longer..."

"Bare what?" He asked, stepping forward and resting a hand atop her shoulder. Luunah let out a shaky breath, biting her tongue to contain her sobs. "The misery she is going to endure." She breathed, turning to face the grey bearded wizard once more. "It has been foretold by destiny... there is nothing to be done... my time is at it's near."

Gandalf's bushy eyebrows furrowed. "..Are you certain of this?"

Luunah nodded, biting down on her lower lip. "I have seen it.. I don't have much time left here on Middle Earth. I need you to watch after her when I'm gone."

A sad smile slid onto his lips and he once again grasped her shoulder. Giving it a tender squeeze. "Y/n will be in good hands. Even after you're gone."

"Thank you, old friend."

Luunah turned to gaze at her daughter from out of the window of their cottage. Making sure to study every square inch of her and commit them to memory. She wanted to remember as much of her as she could. "She is burdened with glorious purpose." She whispered, coiling a lock of her silver hair around her finger.

"If only I could protect her from the anguish of her future."

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shiinata-library · 1 year

Text

Tea and apple pie

Relationships: Bilbo x fem!Reader

Content: Comfort, fluff

Summary: Even though you live in Bag End with Bilbo, you don’t feel well, but you’ll eventually find comfort.

On AO3

Note: I needed a quick comfort fic with Bilbo and I couldn't find one, so I wrote one. Enjoy!

You couldn't have asked for anything better than to live with Bilbo since he returned to Bag End. Yet today, your mood is at its lowest and you don't want to bother him. It’s true you aren’t well, but that is nothing compared to what Bilbo has been through, right?

After sighing for a while alone, unable to find an interesting book in Bilbo’s library, you decide to go out. Fresh air should do you good. Autumn has already begun so you put on a light jacket at the front door.

“Where are you going? I was about to start making dinner,” Bilbo says as he walks toward you, wearing his comfortable multi-coloured dressing gown with a surprised face. “And it’s almost night. Were you planning to go out with your friends?”

At first, you don’t know what to answer, feeling stupid to be in this depressed state, but when he is in front of you, you feel that you need to change your mind. A walk in the Shire would be perfect.

“Are you alright?” Bilbo resumed, stroking your upper arm. “Yes, I’m fine. I, hm, I need a little fresh air. And I’m not hungry. No need to wait for me to dine.”

You hope your smile is convincing, and you won’t wait for his opinion. You leave Bag End for a long walk alone while the sun sets behind the scattered smials on the horizon.

When you come back home, it’s totally dark outside. The wind is cold, and you’re glad to find the fireplace lit when you open the front door of Bag End. In truth, the walk didn’t help you. You’re just colder and more tired than before. Maybe going directly to bed could be the best. As you remove your jacket to put it away on the coat rack next to the door, you smell a delicious meal. Oh, it’s your favourite meal…

In the kitchen, Bilbo doesn’t hear you joining him. He is focused on the window, looking outside with a melancholic look. His hair is shining with the hearth's light and some candles. The table is set, waiting for your return. It seems he didn’t eat without you finally. Once he notices you, a light smile appears on his face as he wipes his hand on his apron.

“Oh, you’re back!” he says in a cheerful voice with a hesitant smile.

You walk to him slowly. Without a word, you hug him, your head burying in his neck while his arms close on you. Apple, tobacco, and some flowers. Is his smell that calms you in this way? You never realised he smelled like home to you.

“I was worried about you,” he murmurs as his hands stroke your back gently while his hair tickles your neck. “I'm sorry. I wasn't feeling well and I thought I needed to clear my head while I just needed you.”

Your hug becomes more tightly as you realise his presence is so comforting. Bilbo is a little surprised by your behaviour but he would never refuse a hug from you. Hearing you say that you're not feeling well hurt him even though he already realised something was wrong when you left earlier.

“You should have told me,” he says as he strokes your hair softly. “You can talk to me whenever you need, you know?” “Yes, I know but I didn't want to bother you. It's nothing compared to what happened to you.”

Bilbo slowly pulls away from you, just enough to see you. Still in his arms, he kisses your forehead before speaking again.

“It's not nothing if you're like this. Tell me about it.”

Despite being sweet, his tone doesn't give you a choice. Not letting you go, he listens to you without a word until you finish. Once a smile eventually appears on your lips now your mind sounds lighter, Bilbo kisses your forehead once again. His hand finds your cheek and he frowns when he feels you are still cold from your walking.

“Do you want to eat or rest first?” he asks in a hesitant voice as he starts to let you go. “We should eat first. I'm starving,” you say now you are better and your stomach is asking for food.

Your answer couldn't have reassured him more. His eyes start to sparkle and his smile widens. He has such a cute face you can resist.

“Perfect!” he says as he leads you proudly to the table. “I made everything for you! As we say in the Shire, everything is better with a full belly! Sit here and let me serve you. I cook your favourite meal and an apple pie. We can eat it with tea in front of the fireplace to warm you better.”

Who could stop a hobbit from serving you food? In no time, Bilbo serves you and himself, then sits in front of you. When he starts talking about food, he hardly stops. Considering how much time you spent talking to him about what made you sad, you can let him brag a little about his apple pie, right?

And finally, listening to Bilbo’s stories with tea and a piece of apple pie in front of the fireplace, sitting in an armchair in his arms, may be just what you need after all.

#the hobbit fanfic #bilbo #bilbo baggins #bilbo x reader #the hobbit reader insert #comfort #fluff

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laurfilijames · 2 years

Text

Incandescent

Pairing: modern Fili x female reader

Words: 4,276

Warnings: 18+ rated E. Nudity. Oral sex (female receiving). Masturbation (male). Unprotected intercourse.

Summary: Hot, sticky, sweaty smut. You and Fili escape for a weekend to a lakeside cabin and indulge in each other over and over again. The weather is hot and humid, which only increases your thirst for more skin on skin action.

A/N: This is my first fic in what seems like forever, as well as my first fic for Fili in what is even longer a time. I’m sorry and I hope you enjoy it! A special thanks to @i-did-not-mean-to for encouraging me with the idea, as well as @blairsanne and @linasofia for supporting me along the way 💗

———

Your heavy eyelids flitted closed, listening to the soothing sound of the water lapping against the shore. A splash resounded through the open windows beside you, the crash of Fili diving into the lake to break it apart with his strong form causing a smile to draw across your face, imagining his tawny skin and golden hair pushing through the clear water to try to reach its cool depths.

It hadn’t been this hot in ages, the air so thick it felt difficult to breathe, no reprieve from the summer heat even with being lakeside. There was nothing else to do on a day like today but laze around, drowsy even without doing anything, the sun making you impossibly tired. Still, you loved it, watching Fili turn to gold in the powerful rays, his skin adorned with freckles and the downy hair that decorated his chest, arms and legs bleached to perfection.

Your escape to the lake house was spontaneous; Fili in need of a break and you simply in need of him, just the two of you with nothing but time to reconnect, relax and restore. Already the first day had been filled with sleep and sex, one always complimenting the other and following no particular order, time non-existent in your summer oasis.

"It refuses to cool off out there," Fili said with slight disbelief as he trudged through the small cabin, still wet from the lake, his feet tacky against the floor.

You hummed in response, breathing in deeply to capture the smell of the heat coming in with the breeze through the windows that surrounded the bed. You opened your eyes slowly, but just in time to see Fili peeling off his wet swim trunks, the tan line from his waist down accentuated drastically, his skin that hadn't seen sunlight starkly contrasting against that which was now bronzed. His smile pulled out his dimples as he looked you over, falling into bed to join you. One arm fell on his chest while the other went up over his head, and a deep sigh left his lungs through his lips. "God, it's hot in here too. I don't know which is worse."

"I know," you replied, shifting slightly to try to get to a cooler part of the sheets that hadn't been heated by your body.

"You should take this off," Fili teased, his finger hooking in your tank top that clung to your waist with dampness. "And these," he continued, his fingers dancing across the band of your thong, the action tickling you and making you squirm.

You smiled and breathed out, trying to settle back into the sleepy haze you were in just moments ago, but Fili wasn't having it. Feeling him shift so he was now hovering over you, you flinched when water dripped onto your chest from his hair that he’d attempted to slick back with his hand, only to fall forward in his face in a mop of curls, the difference in temperature feeling so welcoming and refreshing. The sensation of the droplets on your flushed skin made your nipples harden into peaks, pushing against the thin fabric of your top that was now being pulled up your body in hopes of being discarded. You arched your back to offer assistance, and as soon as it was whisked over your head, Fili captured your lips in a searing, sluggish kiss. Each time he moved more water dripped onto you, making your skin even more responsive to his touch, each caress heightened and sensitive. Your kisses were hot and lazy, the weather seeming to suck out your energy, but not enough to make either of you lack in wanting more. His hands raked through your hair, pulling the strands that were damp with sweat away from your face, the hardness between his legs grinding against the now-wet material that was still keeping you separated.

You pulled your bottom lip in your teeth when he retreated from you, kneeling back on his heels as he slowly slipped your panties over the curve of your hips and down your thighs, the sight of him naked with his erection on full display making you feel desperate. Fili looked at you with a hunger in his eyes once you were bare before him that made you feel dizzy, and you knew it wasn't because of the stifling heat. His hands trailed up your calves, his lips following suit, pressing kisses that felt like tiny infernos on nearly every part of your leg, his eyes that were as blue as cold water never leaving yours until he reached the apex of your thighs. Your head dug back into the pillow as his tongue joined in the ministrations of his lips, swirling over your quivering skin before blowing onto the wet spot he created as a way to help cool you down. It wasn't working of course, the intense need you had for him making your chest heave and sweat trickle down between your breasts, his relentless teasing setting you on fire.

"Fuck, you smell so good," he growled, his voice deep and heavy with lust. "taste so sweet..." His tongue licked a path up along your groin, missing your core completely, the frustration building in you making you reach out and grip at his wet locks.

"Fi…" you whined, watching as your pleading made his lips that were still kissing your flesh stretch into a dimpled, playful grin. He braced his arms on either side of your body, his breathing growing ragged as he took in the sight of you below him; spread out and wet, your skin gleaming and begging for more of his touch. In turn you gazed upon his glorious self, his chest hair no longer wet from the lake but from sweat, his forehead beaded with drops that caught in his eyebrows.

"What do you want?" he asked, cocking his head to the side with his question.

You pulled your legs up, opening them more, enticing him with better access to the pressure that was building in your core.

"I want you." Your words felt thick in your throat, dry from the air and your yearning, your body responding to his cues of wanting you equally as much when he flashed a crooked smile that was laced with deviance.

"You can have me," he confirmed, leaning down to suck harshly on your nipple. "Anyway you want." Again, he blew on your skin, his warm breath fanning over you, but enough of a contrast that it sent shivers down your spine. Fili crawled backwards, his scruffy lips peppering your stomach with more kisses until he met your aching mound. His tongue dove between your lips, parting them to lick at your essence, his sounds of approval vibrating through your bones. He shifted so he laid on his side, your legs draping over his shoulders as he ate at you appreciatively, his arm hooking under your thigh to support you. You watched through blurred vision him open his own legs to grip at his shaft and languidly stroke it, the sight of him working himself the same time as you sending you close to the edge. He continued to expertly lick and suck at you, his attention to every detail of your fluttering heat causing your hips to grind against his face, his efforts quickly throwing you into the depths of ecstasy. Your mewling filled the air, the calming sound of the water nothing compared to how you sang for him, and when he knew you were approaching the point of no return, Fili let go of his engorged cock to selflessly give you everything you sought. Two fingers dove into your velvet walls, hooking to massage the spot he knew was guaranteed to make you fall, his tongue circling a pattern on your swollen clit that throbbed from the roughness of his stubble. Your broken cry shattered through the room, your body convulsing against him as he refused to let up his intensity, breaking you down bit by bit until you completely let go.

He tasted everything you gave, relishing in your pleasure, but now his own needs were insisting to be met, everything about you making him drunk and wild with raw desire.

Fili sat up and gripped your leg, helping to guide you to roll onto your side before taking your hips and moving you to lay completely on your stomach.

"On your knees, baby," he instructed, his voice low and even despite how feral he felt inside.

You did as you were told, feeling him inch toward you to line up behind you, spreading your cheeks apart to press his oozing head to your entrance. He slowly filled you, inch by inch, struggling to keep his control as you moaned to him stretching you out until he reached your hilt.

He pulled out of you all the way, his head nudging at your sensitive lips as his cock wagged against you before pushing back in, harder this time, your hands clawing at the moist sheets under you. Seated in you fully again, he began to thrust, slow and calculated, each stroke of his cock along your cervix and blow to your g-spot making you see stars. Fili leaned forward, his mouth leaving sloppy, open-mouthed kisses across your back, his arm reaching around to hold you close to him. His hand cupped your breasts as they bounced in time to his pace, your own hips rolling back against his, his thumb circling your nipples in turn while his other hand found and covered yours on the bed and interlocked with your fingers.

Slowly, he fucked you, his tempo surprising you and making you wonder if the heat was what was making him unhurried, or rather an intended indulgence that refused to melt away like everything else in this weather. Your bodies slipped on each other, slick skin gliding and panting breaths echoed off the walls. Fili moved his hand from your chest, sliding up your throat to press against it lightly, and you tipped your head to the side so he could tuck his face in the crook of your neck, decorating you with lazy, clumsy kisses.

Craving more of him, you brought your hands that were locked together up to where your bodies connected, Fili taking your cue to massage your clit, ever-willing to give you what you needed. You shook at the new addition of pleasure, the nerves in your body tingling and firing all at once, signalling your need for a second release. Your arms failed you and you fell to lay completely on your front, Fili adapting to the new position by lifting one of your legs to bend at ninety degrees, your hip shifting up to still allow room for his hand to help coax your climax out. The heaviness of his body covered you, and even on this feverish day, you didn't wish for him to part from you. Suddenly, his fervor increased, and sensing he was approaching his end, your own was spurred on, the hope of falling apart simultaneously sending you through to that blinding wave of rapture you could never tire of him giving you. Pounding you relentlessly, Fili's grunts fell hot against your ear while you met your hips back into each thrust, feeling his swollen length slide in and out of you before you clenched around him and plunged into bliss. Curses spilled from his mouth in strings of incoherence, his body bucking against yours as you strangled out his release, his seed coating your walls at your deepest part. You shuddered beneath him, completely at the mercy of his touch, rocking on him until you both were spent.

Fili collected your hair in his hand and moved it away from your face, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before pulling out of you, your whimper at losing him not unnoticed. You turned onto your back to face him, met with his smile that wordlessly expressed how much love he held for you in his heart. He looked perfect like his; his hair unruly, face reddened and streaked with sweat from his efforts, and just as you thought you could gaze at him like this forever, he stole away the opportunity. Bending his arms to close the space between you, he crashed against your lips and kissed you fiercely, his desire for you still burning as bright as the sun.

Moments passed as you basked in the scorching aftermath of your love, your passion undying as your lips grew raw against his, the need to regulate your breathing ignored in favour of stealing each other's breath instead.

Eventually you broke the seal, Fili smiling at you with pure elation, his head nodding toward the lake that lay just on the other side of the windows. "Wanna go for a dip?"

"Mhm, that sounds perfect," you answered, sitting up with him as he took your hand to pull you off the mattress and moved through the room, reaching for towels that had been hung to dry from an earlier swim in his other as he walked by. He tossed them over his shoulder and then combed his thick fingers through his hair that was darkened with wetness, the strands at the base of his neck even curlier than usual.

You followed him willingly on the short walk to the dock, Fili turning back to grin at you playfully as he tossed the towels on a chair and let go of your hand before running and diving into the water.

You stood naked on the dock, laughing as he emerged from the water and flipped his hair out of his face, the look of relief inviting you to join him, but not as much as his twinkling eyes were.

Even today he shined brighter than the sun, and you could swear it was Helios himself before you that had come down from the sky to bless you with his presence. Light radiated from him, like it was the very thing his soul and skin was made from.

"Get that gorgeous ass in here! It feels great!" he hollered at you, and you couldn't resist it any longer. You dove gracefully into the water, the temperature tepid but feeling cool against your overheated skin. You broke through the surface and blew water from your mouth, slicking your hair back as you relished in the overdue refreshment.

"God, that does feel nice," you confirmed, beginning to move your arms back and forth to tread water. Fili slowly made his way toward you, his face hidden under the water aside from his crystal eyes, the sight of him like that making you giggle but also causing butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

His hands gripped your waist, making your body float so your legs wrapped around his waist, his mouth covering yours again as if he hadn't kissed you enough only moments ago. Your hands ran through his hair, pulling him closer to you as the water lapped at your skin, your bodies beginning to tangle together once more.

"I can't get enough of you," Fili admitted, looking at you as he kept you up above the waves that glittered like fallen stars around you from the sunlight dancing on them.

"I hope you never do," you purred, kissing the bridge of his nose, earning a content hum.

His hands carded all over you, caressing your form in ways the water could never mimic, and had he not been holding onto you so tight you knew you would've slipped beneath the surface from how good he felt against you.

The current moved your bodies together in rolling motions, prompting you to grind on Fili's revived hardness, the delicious craving for each other returning faster than ever. He growled into your mouth, his kisses growing rough as you teased his cock with your sex, making him swim blindly toward the ladder on the dock.

You climbed out of the water first, squealing when you felt Fili's teeth sink into the flesh on your bum, his playful side showing despite how consumed by lust you knew he was. Extending your hand to reach for one of the towels on the chair, his husky voice made you freeze, his words sending a shiver down your spine that tingled already from trickles of water running down it.

"You won't be needing that."

Turning to see him standing dripping wet and impossibly hard, you swallowed, the look on his face as ravenous as a lion hunting his prey. You let go of the towel you had fisted in your hand, giving him a challenging look before turning to bolt into the cabin, and the sound of his heavy steps chasing you down the wooden planks created a flourish of excitement in you.

You made it to the end of the bed before he caught you, wrapping his fuzzy arms around you and lifting you off your feet in one motion, his growing scruff rubbing against the sensitive skin on your neck. In your squirming, you collapsed together on the bed in a heap of sun kissed, clammy skin, soaking the sheets with water. Neither of you cared, the wetness helping to cool the spots where the sun was still strongly beaming down on the white linens, lost in the way Fili's tongue tangled with yours. His hand gripped under your thigh and lifted your leg up around his waist, carding over the curve of your bum, applying firm squeezes to spread your cheeks apart.

You touched him everywhere you could reach, your mouth alternating from his irresistible lips to his neck and chest, drunk off the lingering scent of fresh water and toasted skin.

Fili rolled over and brought you with him, laying on his back to look up at you straddling him in the rays of bright light seeping in through the window. The sun poured heat onto your skin, but it was Fili who put fire in your veins.

Your palms pressed against his furry chest as you centered yourself above his raised and waiting cock, your heart hammering in your own at the anticipation of him being encased inside you again. His eyes fell shut and he groaned deep in his throat as you sank down on his shaft, your fingers splaying and tugging at his thick skin hidden by flaxen hairs as he stretched your over-worked walls. Your eyes closed too, getting used to the swell of him expanding your tight core, and slowly you began to rock on him, finding a rhythm that suited both of your needs. Fili bent his legs and moved them up, giving him the ability to thrust up into you as you rode him, his hands clawing at your hips and breasts as he lost himself in the control you took over him.

"Fuck!" he cried out, the word hoarse out of his mouth, and his praise made heat rush through you, sweat and water dripping down your cleavage and torso as you burned with encouragement to continue to please him like he deserved.

Familiar sparks ignited deep inside you, another explosion of rapture imminent, and you slowed your pace to try to delay it. Leaning forward, you cupped his cheeks in your hands, kissing him ardently, and as much as you were attempting to prevent your oncoming climax, Fili continued to crash his body up into you.

"Baby, I'm so close," you warned against his parted lips, moisture stringing between your mouths.

"Good," he panted, carding his fingers through your hair to help guide you back to an upright position. "Let go, I'll be right there with you."

You nodded as you ground against him again, your clit rubbing on his coarse hairs to send your head spinning and set your body aflame.

Admiring him below you before you lost all focus, you thought once again how he had to be the embodiment of the God of the Sun. Fili was glowing, his skin dewy and glistening in the intense sunlight, his eyes screwed shut with how good you were making him feel.

You moved faster against him, fueled by his cries that were now softer with submission rather than his usual dominant grunts and powerful growls.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum now baby,” he sang, his eyes opening to look at you pleadingly, the blue of them slightly tinged with worry that you wouldn’t be ready when he was. Giving him a reassuring smile, you increased your pace in determination to unleash what he was holding back, and Fili didn’t disappoint. He was needy; completely unashamed and uncensored, succumbing to a softer side that allowed you to take care of him. Pleas and curses spilled from his mouth as he still tried to resist and wait for you, but the way you rocked on his engorged shaft made it impossible, and within seconds he exploded inside you. Sparks traveled from deep within your core all the way up your back, your scalp tingling and nipples hardening as you drew in on your own climax, his seed beginning to leak from you in your motions. You turned into a shaking mess, the way you slid against his hot, thick spend catapulting you into a light more blinding than the sun that highlighted your bodies. You screamed through your release as Fili finished pulsing inside of you, his fingers digging harshly into your flesh with a desperate recklessness as he struggled to regain control of himself, his body acting on its own from such mindless intensity.

His chest heaved against your palms as you removed yourself from him, collapsing beside him on the crumpled sheets. Fili pulled you closer to his side despite the heat and stickiness that covered both of you, his fingertips dancing over the damp skin on your upper arm while he ran his hand down his face with the other, the scratchy sound drowning out your panting as he wiped his sweat away.

“How can you be real?” he asked aloud, but to himself, his question followed by a softly combined hum and chuckle that made your heart soar. He turned his head to look at you, his dimples peaking through on his cheeks, his eyes gleaming with a hazy sort of happiness that matched the day.

A comfortable silence came over both of you as you lay together in recovery, the heat still sucking the life out of you as much as the sex had, and sleep eventually took its hold.

Hours must have gone by, because when you opened your eyes next the room was dark aside from the glow of the moon, the sun long gone but leaving behind its relentless heat. The absence of the fiery star was not providing any kind of relief from the persistent inferno, and the sheets felt humid when you adjusted to turn onto your side.

Crickets chirped and the sound of the water lapping at the shoreline helped wake you more, a soft breeze pulling the noise of the night through the window screens that made the curtains dance like ghosts.

Fili lay on his stomach, his limbs spread out across the mattress with nothing covering his form, and his skin was balmy and tacky when you reached out to smooth your hand up his back. He stirred slightly at your touch, eventually moving his head to face in your direction as you continued to trail your fingers up and down in a fluid motion. Even in the moonlight his body glowed; the soft-blue light accentuating the peaks and valleys in his flesh, his usually golden curls appearing silvery and incandescent.

A low groan roughly resounded from him, signalling his awareness, and you took the opportunity to completely rouse your lover, dragging your index finger tantalizingly slow up the crest of his plump bum. A smile broke out across his sleepy face, and eventually he opened his eyes to squint at you with exaggerated suspicion.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he mumbled into the pillow before flipping over onto his back to stretch out his tired limbs.

“Nothing!” you said as innocently as possible, your replenished want for him lingering visibly just below the surface. “This heat is keeping me awake.”

“Hmm, I’m sure it is,” he played along, moving to roll you onto your back so he could cover you with his body. He kissed you long and hard, stealing your breath, and just when your skin burst into flames he pulled away. “If you’re so hot, I know of the perfect way to cool you down.” The expression in his eyes was dark, and your stomach bloomed with anticipation and arousal, a fresh flush of sweat from adrenaline breaking out across your cheeks.

Fili climbed out of bed and strutted toward the kitchen, leaving a scent of slightly burnt skin and coconut from worn-off sunscreen that combined perfectly with stale sweat and sex wafting behind him.

You smiled as the unofficial perfume of your getaway drifted into your nose when you inhaled deeply in an attempt to steady your excited nerves, thinking how you could live in days like this forever, momentarily forgetting your curiosity in what Fili was scheming.

A prideful look adorned his face when he returned, setting a bowl full of ice cubes down on the nightstand, his eyebrows flying up on his forehead as he watched you register their purpose.

“Fi…” you whined breathlessly, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth as he crawled back into bed and hovered over you, a hint of wickedness hiding behind his smile.

———

Everything:

@guardianofrivendell @midearthwritings @cassiabaggins @lilith15000 @trishthedishofreis @linasofia @unbeatablecurlgirl @the-poldarkian @lathalea @enchantzz @blairsanne @legolaslovely @middleearthpixie @i-did-not-mean-to @sketch-and-write-lover

Fili: @shethereadinghobbit @ragsweas @faeriefics

#fili #modern au fili #modern!fili #modern fili smut #fili smut #fili x fem!reader #fili x female reader #the hobbit fili #the hobbit reader insert #the hobbit modern au

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floatyflowers · 14 days

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Dark! Characters who would be in denial for loving a human and might use their powers/authority to get human!Reader.

Tom Riddle

If it isn't obvious, Tom hates anyone who is a muggle born or a muggle...he is racist despite being a half-blood himself.

But when it comes to you, his beautiful muggle besdtfriend who is the daughter of the orphanage owner, he is a different person.

Tom tries to convince himself that he is only obsessed with you for your beauty, something which he believes Hogwarts girls lack.

But he knows that is a lie, because he never cared for looks.

He only cares about benefiting from others.

And Tom believes he can benefit from your affection by marrying you.

The affection he didn't receive from his mother, he can receive it from you.

Even if he has to use forbidden spells to get you to fall in love with him.

Thranduil

The Elvenking of Mirkwood loves his realm but he also shows disdain towards anyone who isn't of his kin.

But when sees you, a human that is very similar to his wife in personality, Thranduil finds himself in love with you.

So, to trap you in his realm, he decides to offer a deal.

Sacrifice your freedom and he will free your hobbit and darwfes friends.

Yes, humans die quickly, but he wants you to spend the rest of your years by his side.

When he sees your hesitation, he decides to use his authority.

"If you wish to refuse, you and your little friends will rot in the dungeons, but if you accept, they leave and you will be treated like a queen"

In the end, you accept his offer, not knowing it's a marriage proposal in disguise.

Vlad Dracula

Even though, he was a human once, Dracula hates humans, simply, for killing his wife.

And you knew the rumors about the count being a vampire who drinks the blood of humans.

Yet you ignored those 'rumors' for the sake of getting the job.

Working as his only servant, you made sure to obey his every word.

Dracula would watch you silently clean the castle while drinking his cup of blood.

It's clear you have discovered that he is a vampire by now, but what amused him is you continuing to work under him.

The vampire tried to resist the thoughts of falling for you, despite his possessiveness of never letting you out of his castle.

Dracula decides after long thinking, that he does hate humans, yet he can change you to become like him...you will be the first person he will transform into a vampire.

#tw: toxic relationships #reader insert #thranduil x reader #tom riddle x reader #yandere tom riddle #harry Potter #the hobbit #yandere dracula #dracula x reader

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ironmandeficiency · 1 year

Text

the company + helping their s/o with insomnia

characters included: thorin, fíli, kíli, dwalin, bofur

word count: 941

summary: how a few members of thorin’s company help their s/o with their insomnia

a/n: again, i wrote these at an ungodly hour even tho i had important things to do today

thorin 🪵

with his duties as king, thorin is quite the night owl

he tends to stay up late working on important documents, reading through correspondence, doing everything but resting

you keep him company on many of those nights, humming softly as you read novels or tend to your own royal duties across the room when sleep evades you (which is nearly always)

he’ll notice when you start to sink further in your armchair, taking that as his cue to put you to bed

“come, my queen, we must rest for the night” he whispers, sliding his arms under your back and behind your knees to carry you to bed

your indignant grumble is met with a soft chuckle, your husband reassuring you that he is joining you

once you’re tucked in, he slides himself under the blankets with you and hums lullabies until you both doze off

fíli 🗡️

despite how long fíli has known you, he will never understand how in mahal’s great mines you are so elusive after sundown

during the day, he knows exactly how to find you and never worries about where you happen to be. but under the light of the moon, you slip through his fingers and seemingly vanish with the breeze

he knows that you like to go on walks to burn off energy you didn’t use during the day; without your evening walks, you’re tossing and turning like mad

you’re almost never in the same place twice; he’s found you roaming the mines chatting with bofur, reading books by the light of the forges, and on one evening you were in the kitchens with bombur chowing down on midnight snacks

tonight he finds you in the royal library, drool escaping from your lips onto a book older than the both of you combined

he spots balin and the old advisor grins at the sight of you snoozing on the dusty tome

your golden prince gently slides the book from under your head, adjusting your body so he can carry you to bed without much jostling

kíli 🏹

you’ve known that kíli was a massive cuddler since you were children in the blue mountains

he had a penchant for being able to sleep nearly anywhere growing up, and since you both were glued to each other by the hip since pebblehood, you were his permanent best friend and cuddle buddy no matter where you were

the older you got, sleep began avoiding you like a plague unless you had kee by your side. it was such a problem that he lived with you in every way but by name, having his own side of the bed and a good chunk of his clothes in your dresser

when he went on the quest for erebor with his brother and uncle, your insomnia returned with a vengeance that rivaled the angriest dwarf

reuniting with kíli in erebor was what kept you energized once everyone heard the news, your body running on willpower and dís’s mothering

when he saw you for the first time in the newly reclaimed kingdom he was concerned. he told thorin in no uncertain terms that he’d be spending the next few days helping you find the rest you’ve been so desperately missing

if there were confessions of love and kisses and beads exchanged between the naps, no one needed to know

dwalin 🪓

the best way he knows how to help someone sleep is through physical exertion. as a seasoned warrior, he knows with absolute certainty that waving hefty weapons around for long enough will get anyone an immediate audience with the sandman

when he feels you tossing and turning in bed, he’ll coax you out to the training grounds and spar with you until your eyelids begin to droop and your stance gets sloppy

you’ll be dead on your feet as your husband scoops you into his arms, silently carrying you back to your rooms with a fond smile (the smile is for you, his signature glare is for the guards under his command daring them to say anything disparaging about you)

laying you on the bed, his callused hands remove your clothing piece by piece, massaging your muscles as he works your tunic over your head and trousers down your legs

a soft nightgown is eased over your head before he bundles you up in the blankets. he joins you and simply runs his hands along your skin soothingly

it doesn’t matter what time it is, if dwalin can help you find rest, he will do whatever he has to do

bofur ⛏️

either bofur doesn’t see how some of the other miners stare at him, or he simply doesn’t give a flying fuck

most nights while he works, you’ll be found in a smallish rolling bed nearby where he’s working. you’re not always sleeping, sometimes simply resting or reading a book while you wait for your dwarf

it was an idea bifur had when bofur lamented to his brother about your discomfort and lack of genuine rest, and it helped a lot

there are occasional breaks in his work, bofur always taking a moment to kiss you sweetly and relay some of the fresh miner’s gossip (honestly, they rival the midwives with how much they talk)

when bofur is free from his duties, he’ll rouse you from whatever state you’re in and guide you back home with a steady hand and a smile

as you walk, he’ll update you on all the juicy rumors and drama and only half-finish his stories as you both fall into bed for the night

nothing anyone can say will convince him to not show you how much you are loved and appreciated

#thorin oakenshield #thorin oakenshield x reader #fíli durin #fíli durin x reader #kíli durin #kíli durin x reader #dwalin x reader #dwalin #bofur #bofur x reader #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit drabble #the hobbit fanfic #the hobbit reader insert #the hobbit trilogy #lotr fanfic #lord of the rings imagine #the hobbit imagine

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fizzyxcustard · 11 months

Text

Those Hands.

Masterlist of fan fiction

Fandom: The Hobbit

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Insecurity, comparison, angst, sexual references, mutual pining, idiots in love.

Comments/Notes: From the imagine, "Imagine that Thorin is in love with you (from the race of Men) but constantly compares his body and features with other men, thinking you find him disgusting." Requested by multiple readers and anons. (THANK YOU!)

I hope you like the fic. As always, like, reblog and comment if you enjoy. If you wish to be added to any of my tag lists, let me know.

Thorin watched every little interaction that you had with other males, whether they be Dwarves, Men or Elves. He couldn’t help but watch you blush, avert eye contact and use self-soothing gestures, such as touching your face, curling your hair with your fingers, or rubbing your upper arms.

Since Thorin had been crowned King of Erebor, and re-building was underway, many people visited the mountain. Bard came from Esgaroth, often meeting with Thorin in council, to discuss trade deals and assistance in building. Much to Thorin’s distain, Thranduil of the Woodland Realm, also came. Again, he joined the council to converse around the subject of trade deals in precious metals and gemstones.

Your relationship with Thorin was entirely built on trust. The two of you had been companions out on the road during the quest to re-take Erebor. He had always valued your opinion, spoke with you in private, and kept you close to him on his council of advisors. Erebor was now your home, despite you being of the race of Men. Your family were all gone, meaning that the Dwarves had now taken that place, welcoming you into the fold and treating you as one of their own.

One morning, council was busy. Neldra, one of the kitchen staff, was on hand with jugs of cold drinks and pots of tea. Then once all the drinks were laid out neatly on intricately laced doilies, she came back with a trolley of fresh pastries.

The smell was divine; you took an inhale and let the scent overtake you. Apple and cinnamon were among the selection: your favourite.

You reached out to take one of the pastries, only to feel another hand graze yours. “I apologise,” a voice came, from the direction of the hand.

It was Bard, from two seats down to your right hand side, who had stretched across to grab one of Neldra’s famous delicacies. “It was no bother,” you replied. “You first.”

“Ladies first. I insist.”

Thorin’s blue eyes studied the scene going on before him. No one else had noticed the exchange between you and Bard. Upon the impact of yours and Bard’s hands, Thorin felt a jolt in his chest. It rose up into his throat, and he closed his eyes for a brief second. The red hot sensation bore into him, feeling as if it were forming a hole straight through him. Upon opening his eyes, Thorin looked at his hands, then glanced across to Bard’s. The man’s hands were broad, but his fingers long and slender. Very much unlike Thorin’s. The Dwarf King’s fingers were short and bulky, with stubby ends. Surely Bard’s hands would have the dexterity and skill to caress your skin, drawing shivers from you. A Dwarf’s hands would be too calloused and thick to evoke any kind of pleasurable sensation upon a woman from the race of Men.

Chatter continued, along with eating and drinking. In that time, Thorin tried his hardest to push the negative thoughts from his mind, and concentrate on the conversation at hand, which involved the realms of Erebor and Esgaroth exchanging skilled workers and apprentices.

Thranduil was also present and merely rolled his eyes as the conversation got underway between Bard and Thorin. The Elven King did not like to waste his time, and being in this council meant that there were stints of time where his input was not needed.

“Would you like another drink?” you asked Thranduil, picking up the nearest china pot of tea.

“I would much prefer wine, but since I’m not within my realm, I would not say no.”

Thorin’s gaze darted over to Thranduil, and then to you. He saw you brush a piece of hair behind your ear, and then look up at the Elven King sat opposite you. Your ears were small, with one golden hoop earring in each lobe. Then Thorin looked at Thranduil’s ears; pointed at the tip, finely structured. They weren’t big, round and sticking out. Thorin’s ears were ugly, and thankfully he could keep them hidden under his long hair. Secretly, he had always imagined you whispering against them, your lips brushing them. It made Thorin shiver.

Once council had concluded, Thorin left the chamber and headed back to the royal wing. Once inside and he stood in front of his full length dress mirror, staring at the protruding ears on the side of his head. Then he studied his large hands, thinking back to Bard’s.

The males from the races of Men and Elves made you blush in a way that Thorin never had. Their bodies were more finely crafted, which complemented yours. They had finer features with smaller noses and brows.

Thorin shifted back and sat on his bed, his hands in his lap. He took one more glance at them, feeling disgusted at what he saw. They would never be good enough for you. None of his body would ever be good enough for you. Everything about him was oversized, not delicate and handsome like Bard and Thranduil. Both of them had lost their wives, and may have wished to re-marry, so they would make better husbands for you.

***

The following day and Thorin was sat in the council room, signing documents. His quill scratched loudly against the parchment.

You walked in, holding a further stack of documents in your hands. “These should be the last ones,” you said, offering a smile.

Thorin looked up at you. No blush on your face to be seen.

“Is everything alright?” you asked. There was something in his eyes, a thoughtfulness. Maybe even a sadness. You sat down in an empty seat next to Thorin. “What’s wrong?” On impulse, you placed your hand on top of his.

Thorin looked at your hands, watching your thumb gently caress his knuckle. How huge his hand looked against yours. But how right it felt, as if the size did not matter, and they were still able to fit together as one.

“There is nothing wrong,” Thorin said, forcing a weak smile. “I hear that Bard is leaving this afternoon. Will you not be wishing him farewell?”

“I barely know him,” you replied. “I’d feel it strange to do so.”

“Would you wish to get to know him?”

“I don’t know. Why do you ask?”

“Surely you find him handsome,” Thorin continued, pulling the new stack of documents over towards him.

“Not really. Can’t say I do. There’s some reason to you asking this, Thorin.”

“Why would I have any reason?”

“There’s always a reason to anything that you ask. I know you enough by now. Talk to me. You’ve always given me more trust than I deserve, and never questioned me liked this before.”

Thorin took a deep inhale and looked at you, dropping his quill. “Who do you find handsome? If not Bard, maybe Thranduil?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Why ever would you think I’m attracted to King Thranduil?” The whole idea was so comical that you couldn’t help but keep giggling. “It takes….” You couldn’t stop the giggling. “A special….kind of woman….to…..”

Thorin also began to chuckle, watching your face turn red in amusement and delight. His heart somehow felt lighter as he watched you, and that overwhelming love for you rose. It was a love that would allow him to do anything to make you happy. It was a love that would make him sacrifice his very life to keep you safe. It was sacrificial and unconditional.

You could see the glow in Thorin’s eyes and the smile which curled his lips upwards. He was the one you found handsome, above all others. The intensity in his eyes made butterflies swarm in your stomach. His proud presence caused you to shiver whenever he entered a room. His voice was enough to make your imaginations travel to another place where only the two of you were, locked away in comfort, pursuing wondrous pleasure.

You edged closer to Thorin. “You said you want to know who I find handsome?”

Thorin’s heart was hammering now and he was sure that you would be able to hear it.

“It’s you.” Your voice was a whisper. “It’s always been you. How could it not be you? Why would you ever think I’d be attracted to Bard and Thranduil?”

Thorin closed his eyes in embarrassment. “My features and body are not like theirs.”

“So why would that not make you handsome?”

“My hands…”

“Your hands?” you giggled. This time a blush did hit your cheeks, and it was even more vivid than it had ever been when in the company of any other man. “You have found out my secret.”

“What secret?” Thorin asked, shifting ever so slightly closer to you. He had never wanted you any more than he did in those moments. The very thought that it was him that you found handsome was making his whole being rise, but anticipation was now racing down his spine in shivers.

“I have had a fantasy for some time now, since meeting you, of what you could do to me with those hands,” you said, biting your lip.

Thorin couldn’t hold back any more and moved even closer to you, his hand cupping your cheek. His breath was elevated and his eyes were sparkling with so much joy, but slight fear.

His lips crashed against yours and you both groaned upon impact. Within seconds and the kiss had grown deep, your tongues both meeting. You couldn’t help but whimper as Thorin’s lips left yours and trailed down your neck. His beard tickled your skin and then as he grew more impatient, you could feel the tickle become a bristling, sharp sensation. Your hands became lost in his hair as he nuzzled at your neck, groaning and grunting.

Thorin felt your fingertips brush over his ears, and it drew an overwhelming shiver from his very core.

“I love you, Thorin,” you said again. “Now show me what you can do with those hands.”

***

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 1 year

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Hey can i ask Thranduil and (human) f!reader smut? When f!reader can't stare at his eyes because she's very shy and insecure with her expression during *cough cough* Thank you!

I'm sorry about that one with Thranduil x f!reader cant-stare-at-his-face that i didn't addresed my 'smut rating'? Anyway🔥🔥

It's all good. Time for some more Thranduil smut. Because it's Thranduil. And smut. I'll stop now.

"The looking glass"

✵Pairing: Thranduil x Fem. Reader (Human / Second person POV)

✵Themes: Smut / Soft

✵Word count: 1.3k words

✵Summary: Thranduil comes up with a unique "solution" when he realises how shy his partner is in bed.

✵Rating: 🔥🔥| Minors DNI | 18+

Want to be tagged? Want to know the rules? Read all here.

If you liked this, please consider reblogging it.

Thranduil gripped your chin and forced you to meet his gaze. "Sweet starlight, why do you turn your face from me?"

You said nothing, your cheeks merely burning with embarrassment. Thranduil’s question should have surprised you, but it did not. Whenever you shared pleasures with the king, he would want to look into your eyes, and you would inevitably close them and turn away. Before this night, he did not ask why you did it, and now? Now he wanted some sort of explanation.

Of course, you had an explanation, just one, but that embarrassed you even more.

"Starlight?" Thranduil was not about to let this go. "Why do you look away?"

You hummed quietly and sat up, flushing when the king sat up with you. "I… umm… that is…" you stumbled over your words, your tongue tied up in knots. Thranduil studied you with barely disguised curiosity while you fidgeted with the hem of your robe. "The thing is… I…" you buried your face in your hands and sighed. "I am not sure you would like how I look when we… when we…"

Understanding dawned, and Thranduil smiled when he heard a muffled scream. "Starlight," he pulled your hands away from your face. "Is that what troubles you? That I might be repulsed by the expressions you make when making love?"

You nodded meekly, still too embarrassed to face him. Thranduil kept smiling and looked around, his gaze skimming over the chamber before it rested on something that caught his eye and piqued his interest—something that gave him an idea. "Stay here," he said, and rose out of bed.

You raise your head, wondering what he was up to. The answer presented itself soon enough with the sound of wood creaking. Thranduil had hefted a large silvered-looking glass, one that was taller than him, and brought it over, placing it at the foot of the bed with a soft thud.

"There," he huffed, dusting his hands before joining you in bed. "That should do nicely."

You studied your reflection in the shimmering glass and gulped. "Do nicely for what, my love?"

Thranduil smiled—a slow, wicked smile—before making himself comfortable next to you. "I want you to see, starlight," he breathed huskily, and he helped you to your knees, his arm around your waist. "I want you to see that there is nothing for you to hide. I want you to see how much I enjoy seeing you while I pleasure you—that there is nothing for you to be shamed by. Now, will you permit me to go further?"

The very idea of it—watching him in the reflection of that looking glass while he pleasured you—was just so shocking, so very sinful, and more than a little daunting. It made you nervous to watch him like this, to have him look up and watch you; you were unsure you could do it. Still, you could not keep averting your gaze every night, so you came to a decision and nodded. "Yes. You can go further."

Thranduil’s eyes blazed in the dim candlelight, his hands reaching over to your robe. You felt it—the heat of his breath against the nape of your neck when he moved slightly behind you, the warmth of his hands that radiated through your silks. And you kept still, so very still, your gaze fixed on the looking glass.

The king took his time, untying the belt of your robe and drawing it away, exposing what lay beneath. "You look like a painting, starlight," he murmured, his hands sliding over to your belly. "Your body is so perfect, like you had stepped out of a vision."

Helpless and stunned, you continued to keep still, unable to tear your eyes away from what you were witnessing in the looking glass. Thranduil’s hand moved up, over to your breasts, running his fingers over your nipples over and over again until they started to throb and ache, and harden beneath his touch.

"Do you see it, starlight, how your body trembles?" Thranduil whispered, his touch persistent and demanding.

Flushed and breathless, you did indeed see it—how the muscles of your belly fluttered, how your entire body quivered. And there was Thranduil, his eyes darkening with lust, the need in his gaze matching the growing desire in yours. You felt it, growing prickles of pleasure all over your body, heat slowly pooling at your core. You blushed and instinctively tried to look away, but Thranduil caught it.

"Look into the looking glass, starlight," he crooned, his hand gliding down to the apex of your thighs. "And focus on me. I want you to see how high I could take you."

You raised your eyes and found his locked on yours. Embarrassment slowly morphed into something else, something dark and primal, when he moved his hand over to your slit and found it already hot and wet. His fingers moved in a slow, delicate rhythm, and his name parted your lips in almost a sob. You still couldn’t look away, not when he possessed you the way he did. Your body started to move against him; your hands moved to rest over his, and his groan, guttural and harsh, felt so sweet to your ears.

"That is it, starlight," he rasped, his voice already roughened, when your first moan spilled free. "Show me how much you desire this."

Thranduil watched, utterly spellbound, as you came undone in front of him, how you sagged into him, your moans and mewls slowly turning to pleas. Pleas for more, pleas for him to go faster, to take you higher. He wanted to incite and inflame, to break down your walls, and he was amply rewarded when your hands pressed over his, to guide him. He slid a finger inside the warmth of your sex, then another, moving them inside you, slowly growing drunk on your needy moans.

"Th-thranduil," you whimpered shakily, all sense of shame now long forgotten. The sight of the woman in that looking glass, her body yielding to pleasure of the acutest kind, her eyes darkening with each deft stroke, was too beautifully erotic, and you took great pleasure in seeing it—how he pleasured you, how he took you higher and higher, like he promised.

"Do you see, sweet starlight?" Thranduil cooed sweetly, "Do you see you have nothing to hide? How much I delight in seeing you this way?"

How true he was, and how foolish you felt. And how Thranduil looked on, with lust-filled eyes, as if he were feasting on what he was seeing. "I do see," you breathed, harsh and ragged, the muscles in your belly coiling as your release neared.

"Keep looking, starlight," Thranduil ran his tongue over your neck even as you trembled and he felt a tightening around his fingers. You were close, so very close. "See how beautiful you are even now."

And you looked on with heavy-lidded eyes as a wave of bliss rose higher and higher, as a sweet, delightful pressure grew stronger and stronger, unceasing, until it felt like your body splintered, and Thranduil’s name came out like a desperate, wanton cry. Your entire body shook against his as you slumped into him, your breath coming out in shallow pants. Thranduil held onto you, moaning softly as your walls contracted around his fingers, pulling them deeper. His gaze cut to the looking glass and found you, looking right back at him, your lips curling into a deep and satisfied smile.

"You were right," you murmured, your hands still over his. You turned to the side and found his lips just over yours. "There was nothing for me to be shamed by."

Thranduil leaned in and kissed you, his body humming with unsated need. "Absolutely nothing," he said, before helping you lay back in bed. "And now, starlight, I hope you will indulge me, by letting me make incredibly thorough love to you this night."

No longer plagued by your fears, you smiled and welcomed him into his arms.

Tags: @shrasdust | @asianbutnotjapanese | @nupppuff | @ryantryan6969 | @lemonivall

#thranduil imagine #thranduil smut #Thranduil #thranduil x reader #x reader #x reader insert #reader inserts #reader insert request #the hobbit imagine #The hobbit #the hobbit x reader #writeblr #💫a world of whimsy writes

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luna-redamancy · 2 years

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Could I get a Kili with the prompt of smiling in between kisses? I rlly love your writing and I was so excited when your event opened!

Hi Nonnie! Thank you for participating! I'm so glad you enjoy my writing and I hope you enjoy this little fic:

“What’re you doing?” Your voice was laced with amusement as Kili looped his arms around your waist while you stirred your pot of soup. The aroma of celery, onions, and carrots met your nostrils but so did the sudden onslaught of him. Cinnamon, fresh pine needles, and a slight lingering smell of sweat from being outside for so many hours with his brother and uncle.

“Loving on you,” He responded simply, a cheeky smile on his face as he nuzzled his face in your neck, peppering kisses in his wake.

“Goof,” You murmured your tone scolding but you were not at all upset with this sudden burst of affection from him, quite the opposite actually. You leaned into his embrace, tilting your head to the side so he could make his way from your neck to your cheeks, body feeling warm everywhere he kissed as if he sprinkled dosages of sunshine onto your skin.

Putting the lid back on your soup, you turned to face him, arms looping around his neck as his hands found their place on your lower back.

“I missed you,” Kili’s voice was soft as he pulled you ever closer to him, eyes twinkling with affection and adoration as you leaned forward to nuzzle your nose against his. “Me too,” You replied, giving him one last look before connecting your lips.

He grinned into the kiss, a smile that imprinted itself in your memory before he responded with equal intensity. Pushing every ounce of love he could muster into the softness of your lips.

Pulling away but not far enough to truly separate, you grinned, still feeling the tingling sensation in your gut despite all the years you two have shared side by side.

“Kiss me again, please?” Kili dragged your attention back to his, pupils dilated, his tongue flickering out to wet his bottom lip, and in the process slightly dragging against yours.

You responded to his question with a simple answer, another kiss that left you both with smiles.

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emmyspov · 1 year

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Prioritise yourself (Thranduil x Reader)

author's note: happy easter to everyone who celebrates it and a happy weekend to all either way🪻this is honestly one of the most scary things i've posted because it's something so personal that i relate to a lot, but i thought maybe someone else might need it, too🥺 please always remember that nothing will ever be more important than your health and well-being 🩷

warnings: symptoms of burnout, lack of sleep, exhaustion, negative self-talk, skipping meals, mentions of food, nudity (for taking a bath together) - please please please let me know if I forgot something! 🩷

word count: 1.9k

edit is mine, all pics are from pinterest :)

It had seemed like a smart idea when you offered Thranduil to help him with all the paperwork.

His days were filled with meetings and more often than not he only returned to your chambers once it was dark already.

So, for the past few months, you had been - more or less secretly - helping him with whatever you could: sending out invitations to other royals, filing away documents, re-writing contracts so all that would be left to do was sign them.

You were the king's partner after all and you wanted to help him as much as possible. This was your kingdom, your home, as much as it was his, as he regularly reminded you.

Thranduil noticed, obviously. The hours in his study were reduced since most things were taken care of in a perfect way already - he could return to your private rooms right after dinner and spend time with you instead which the Elvenking appreciated immensely.

However, over the past few weeks, things have taken a turn. And Thranduil noticed that, too.

How, on some days, you would get up earlier than him, how you would skip lunch and dinner with him - although it was one of your favorite things since you got to spend it with one another during your otherwise busy schedules - and instead eat by yourself, hunched over some papers. He noticed your tired eyes and dull skin and- lack happiness, to cut it short.

Worry didn't even remotely describe what he was feeling. He felt sick to his stomach when he thought about you being unhappy.

Today was no different.

You had gotten up before sunrise, leaving your husband a little love letter, before entering your own study to take care of all official things.

There was a lot to do. Other elves as much as people from Laketown and even dwarves were sending letters, hoping to schedule a meeting with the king himself to talk over whatever was bothering them.

You made it your mission to answer every single one of them, noting down appointments and also sending out excuses if Thranduil wasn't the right one to talk to when it came to certain matters.

By the end of the day, your head was pounding. You let out a yawn and rubbed your eyes, hoping to relieve some of the pressure behind them, but to no use.

Closing them for only a minute wouldn't hurt. You could still look for your husband afterwards.

A line had been crossed for the Elvenking.

It was the second day in a row that you skipped your shared meals and from what he just learned, you weren't eating them at all.

He needed to talk to you. He wouldn’t - and couldn’t - let you destroy yourself over some work. Your happiness and well being came first and he would make you realise that, no matter the cost.

After reaching your study and receiving no answer to his knocks, he let himself in with determined steps, only to stop abruptly as soon as he saw your sleeping figure. His eyes softened immediately.

"Oh, meleth."

With two big steps, he was by your side, crouching down until he was on eye level with you. Even in your sleep, you looked stressed, your eyebrows scrunched up, reminding him of the times you woke up from a bad dream.

"What are you doing to yourself, hm?"

Gentle, as if you would break like glass if he touched you with too much force, he picked you up and carried you out of the room and into your shared bed chamber where he set you down on the soft mattress and covered you with a fluffy blanket.

Thranduil left the room again for only a few moments so he could blow out the candle in your study and put everything where it belonged. He himself hated to work at a messy desk and didn't want you to deal with the same thing once you would return to work, although he didn't want to think about that yet. For now, you needed rest and all the love and care you could get.

He returned to your bedroom after he spoke to some of his subordinates to let them know neither he nor you would be available in the next three days.

You were still fast asleep, curled up into the blanket. The king walked over to you and slowly began to remove all your uncomfortable clothing before he himself put on a night gown.

Only then did he lay down next to you, carefully maneuvering your body into his arms, your head on his chest. Even in your sleep you wrapped your arm around his waist and entangled your legs, letting out a small sigh.

"Sleep, meleth, you've been working too hard", your husband whispered and brought his delicate fingertips up to brush some hair out of your face before letting them trail down to your back, rubbing some calming circles into your shoulder. "I'll watch over you, I promise."

And Thranduil kept his word.

He stayed up to make sure you slept through the night, occasionally pressing a kiss to your temple or the top of your head while his fingers were always touching you in some way.

It was nearly lunch time when you woke up the next day.

After noticing you were still cuddled up with your husband although the sun was already shining into the room, you immediately sat up.

"I- I overslept, oh Varda, there is so much to do. Why didn’t you wake me, my love?"

With a gentle force, Thranduil pressed you back onto the mattress.

"You've been overworking yourself for weeks and your health and happiness are suffering in return. I told everyone we wouldn't be available for the next few days. For the foreseeable future, we'll only take care of you."

You didn't want to cry. And you tried really hard to keep the tears at bay, but when the Elvenking looked at you with so much love in his eyes, you couldn’t stop them.

"I'm sorry for failing you, my king."

The elf wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. "Oh meleth, no. No, you didn't fail me, you never have. And you never will."

"I can't even take care of myself", you hiccuped, burying your face in the crook of his neck. "It's like the work and the pressure never stop and I'll never be good enough and now I am sitting here, crying to you, a literal king who has way more responsibility than me. I am so sorry to burden you with this."

Thranduil's heart was breaking. He couldn't believe this was how you saw yourself when, to him, you were the most beautiful being in all of Middle Earth.

"You are never a burden to me. Do you hear me? Never. We can fix this. You have to learn how to prioritise yourself. I can teach you. I will teach you. And we will start right now. You must be hungry, what do you want to eat?"

You fumbled around with your hands before looking up at the Elvenking. "Could I have some pancakes?"

Thranduil leaned forward to press a kiss against your nose. "Whatever you want, meleth nîn."

With one swift motion, he got up, put on one of his majestic robes and made his way to the kitchen to order your beloved pancakes and some additional treats as well as some hot and cold beverages.

He returned to your chambers with a first tray of food, watching your face lit up with delight at the sweet smell.

"Here you go, my love. Eat as much as you want and take all the time you need. There are no other things that need to get done today or the next few days."

You nodded and grabbed a plate, happily munching on the food the servants were bringing in over time.

The king was watching you carefully while he himself ate something. It was more than obvious that all the food was good for your mind, body and soul.

You let yourself fall back against the sheets when you were done, letting out a satisfied sigh. "That was good."

"It is about to get better. What do you think of a bath?"

Your eyes lit up. "Right now?"

The elf couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle. "Is that what you want?"

You sat up, enthusiastically bouncing on the mattress and nodding your head. "Yes, please!"

Thranduil stood up again and walked into the bathroom, filling the tub with hot water and your favourite bath salts and flower petals before coming back to you.

With ease, he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you off the bed, carrying you into the bathroom.

"Arms up", he ordered gently and removed your clothing, doing the same to himself afterwards.

"You're so handsome", you breathed out as you softly pressed your hand against his chest, right above his heart. "I'm so lucky to have you."

Thranduil's heart started to beat faster under your touch and praise and you smiled, feeling butterflies in your stomach at the fact that you still had this effect on him.

He lifted you into the tub, setting you down and lowering himself behind you, pulling your body flush against his chest.

"I'm the lucky one."

You shook your head before letting it fall back against his shoulder. "You take care of me when I can't do it myself."

The king's deft fingers brushed through your hair, letting them trail down your arm. "We take care of each other. You are the one who decreased my work load so I'd have more time."

You intertwined your hands. "Well, of course. I want you to be well."

A kiss was pressed against the top of your head. "Do you see my point?"

You nodded. "I think I do."

Thranduil let his thumb brush over the back of your hand. "Tomorrow, we can take a walk in the garden and look at all the blossoming flowers. Or we can do whatever else will make you happy."

A smile graced your lips. "Just being with you makes me happy."

Gently, the ellon grabbed your chin and turned your head around so he could kiss you. You melted into his embrace, smiling against his lips.

"Gi melin", he whispered after you two had parted for air and you replied with the same sentiment.

Once you two had soaked in the water for a while, the Elvenking grabbed your shampoo and lathered up his hands before bringing them up to your scalp to work in the product.

The more time you spend like this with your husband - in your little bubble of happiness and safety - the lighter your heart felt.

And it only got better when Thranduil's hands wandered down your head to your neck and shoulders, massaging your tense muscles to help you relax even further.

You shuddered and the king grinned to himself. He was just as pleased as you were earlier that his touch could, still, make you weak in the knees.

"Rest, meleth", he whispered as he continued to work on your upper back. "There will be time to talk about long-term adjustments and solutions, but for now, you can let yourself fall. I'll be there to catch you."

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