sourwolfs-blog - Tumblr blog

[sourwolfs-blog]

derek hale + text posts

[sourwolfs-blog]

Obsessed with the idea that Derek loves hearing Stiles talk, that he could listen to him talk for hours, that he uses the sound of his voice to ground himself and be at peace, that it's his favorite sound in the world. That when someone tells Stiles to shut up he'll growl right in their face and tell them to apologize or get lost (even the pack, they don't get a pass when it comes to Stiles).

I especially can't stop thinking about how, at some point, they'll be alone spending time together, and Stiles will be talking and Derek will be listening, until Stiles shuts himself up because he's so used to people getting annoyed when he talks, and he doesn't want to annoy Derek, but Derek just opens his eyes from where he'd been resting his head on Stiles' lap and asks him why he stopped, he obviously was very excited about the new Iron Man movie, come on, keep going.

And anyways yeah I think they're perfect for each other.

[sourwolfs-blog]

A collection of rain being a dissapointed parent.

In this last picture, rain is too dissapointed that he started to turn into a jojo character.

[sourwolfs-blog]

The ghouls with a ghoul s/o who is hands down the freakiest ghoul you could ever meet. Reader is absolutely acting A FOOL on stage, just their reaction or how they’d respond?

what's up bitches I'm back its been a long day but at least it isn't monday

I think I understand what we're going for here & let's just say, hypothetically, this lovely new ghoul is having their first performance - both for the band to see them work & for the crowd ofc

jaws drop. the crowd is in awe. the other band ghouls almost miss notes. Papa is feeling the energy you're putting out. he has to readjust himself a bit.

swiss has the biggest grin on his face he LOVES a challenger

speaking of, aurora is thinking of teaming up with you for that exact purpose against swiss

cirrus is going to pounce on you as soon as this show is over & you're offstage, lus is a little scared for you

phantom is panting like a dog, getting hot under the collar, aching under those tight pants, straining to keep his heartbeat slow enough not to burst, & trying not to drop to his knees in front of you

mountain & rain force themselves to ignore what you're doing or else they know they'll be in trouble

dew is walking right up to you & playing against your back like he's daring you to go even further with your antics

........which riles up the audience even more - it's a successful show all in all

just don't expect to make it back to your dressing room alone & without comment on your performance

[sourwolfs-blog]

Imagine begging Eric to turn you for your birthday

“If I do this, will you be happy my love?” He asked, his icy cold fingers running through your hair as you sat on his lap, the low, red lights of the club illuminating you both as you smiled towards him, “Of course my king.”

“As you wish.” He whispered, his fangs darting from his gums as you tilted your head, the faded marks from his previous bites exposed as you braved yourself for him to drain the life from you. You could feel his mouth near your neck, the anticipation building within you as he inches closer, his lips suddenly attached to your neck as he began to suck... you could already feel the hickey forming, as you groaned in frustration, “Tease.”

“Later my love, for now let me enjoy having a badass breathing girlfriend.” He whispered, pulling his head back slightly before gently kissing your neck.

[sourwolfs-blog]

“why are you so messy?” you sighed, wiping the blood off your boyfriend who stood unbothered before you.

He was smiling, watching you with amusement, “you like me messy.”

“i don’t.”

“I like you messy.” he said before grabby you and attacking your neck with kisses instead of bites, making you scream and laugh as he lifted you up to his chest, your legs wrapping around his waist. when he stopped rubbing his face against your neck he pulled back with a smile, “you love me.”

you sighed, “i do, despite the fact that you’re a messy child.”

[sourwolfs-blog]

FLIPPED THE SWITCH

Requested by: @ateliefloresdaprimavera

thank you 😊It's an Eric imagine where him and Yn have been married since forever (I mean, way does Sookie keep getting all the guys, right?) she went to visit Godric, so when she comes back,Sookie (and everyone besides Pam,who yn views as a daughter) are surprised at her and how much Eric changes when she's around. what do you think?

Eric Northman X Reader

Once again there was a war between vampires and the humans and of course Sookie Stackhouse was in the middle of it. Which means Bill wasn’t far behind followed by Eric who could feel his frustration rising every second, but as Sookie likes to often point out, as the sherif of this area he has to tag along. Only flaw in her guilt tactic was that he didn’t feel guilty, and the missing vamps are from three towns over, meaning not his problem.

But the energetic blonde wouldn’t stop talking his ear off on how it effects all vampires, as if she could talk. Eric was inches from allowing Pam to rip her tongue out just for a few minutes of silence from her spewing horrible plans to fix the problems all revolving around talking it out.

The heavy door to fangtasia slams against the wall from the force Eric used. Pam immediately making a drink behind the bar, she was just as close to losing it on the blood bag human as Eric was. Who was yelling the entire way from the parking lot to inside.

“Here’s a plan, if we must get involved as you say we do, we kill them all!”

Sookie looking genuinely insulted at his suggestion while Bill looks tired of her as well not that he’d let her see that.

“There has to be another way!”

“There’s not, if you want my help that the plan.”

Eric growls, did she forget she was still dealing with vampires. Before she can rebuttal a new voice speaks up.

“Now Eric im sure we can all hear you, no need to yell.”

You said with a smirk, leaning comfortably across the throne on stage. You still remember rolling your eyes at your husband when he bought the damned thing. Pam runs over embracing you in a tight hug, she called you everyday while you were away, keeping you up to date on whatever annoyed her throughout the day.

“Despite how glad I am to see you again how dare you leave me alone with them, do you know what is was like?”

“I can imagine,”

Looking over her shoulder to the two still standing by the bar, looking thoroughly confused at the fact Pam of all people hugging you, a stranger to them at least. just wait till they see what happens next.

Eric was next to you in the blink of an eye. Gazing adoringly at you, gently running his fingers through your hair, caressing the side of your face.

“I see my maker finally returned you.”

If the couple wasn’t confused before they definitely were when they saw the looming vampire kiss you as if you were made of glass.

“He was frightened of what may become of you without my supervision.”

You giggle, hanging onto his black t-shirt. As he hums only looking away from you when Sookie chimes in.

“Who’s that?”

She asked in her thick accent, hands on her hips, as if she should know who you were already. Your heels clicking as you walked over. Pam standing closely behind in case she acted out. Pam always saw you as almost a daughter even though you were married to her maker. Who decided to stay a few steps back, he knew you could handle Yourself but, if Sookie did disrespect you he wouldn’t be able to control himself from what would have a very bloody aftermath which he knew you hated if it could be avoided.

“I’m Y/n Northman, Erics wife.”

You held your hand out with a polite smile, she might not know you but you knew all about her and Bills activates.

“His wife? I didn’t even know he was married!”

She practically yells, to which Eric held up his left hand, ring in plain view.

“Well, where have you been?”

You were quickly seeing what they have been telling you about her, she got annoying quick and thought she deserved to know every detail about everyone, you’ll chop that up to the mind reader thing.

“I wasn’t aware I had to answer to someone I just met, forgive me I should’ve posted flyers before I left.”

You could hear Pam, snicker. Sookie has the decency to look embarrassed, while you reached pasted her to shake Bills hand. As Eric sets his on your back, now standing next to you.

“Now that that’s out of the way, as I was saying there has to be a different way to handle this situation.”

Pam was unfazed by Erics sudden change in behavior, the other couple was not, they have never seen the Viking vampire like that. So gentle, and caring. It was almost as if a switch had flipped in him when you showed up. Gone with the blood thirsty Eric and in with a compassionate, loving husband in its place. They almost got whip lash. But will have to remember that next time he gets out of hand, Smiling up at him with a quick wink from your spot under his arm.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

❤️hope you love it!❤️

[sourwolfs-blog]

Strawberries and Peaches

Pairing  ::  Eric Northman  x  fem!Reader

Warnings  ::  Angst, Smut, Mentions of Blood, Bloodplay(?idk he’s a vampire so-?), Death

Word Count  ::  3,588

Summary  ::  Eric thought he had lost you centuries ago, and yet here you were again.

A/N  ::  Takes place between season 3 and 4

When you walked into Fangtasia a few nights ago, with an old acquaintance of Eric’s, he thought he had seen a ghost. The last time he laid eyes on you, you were crying. The last time he held you, you were dying. 

-

Nearly several hundred years ago, Eric first met you, a humble girl in a recluse village. Your people warned you not to venture off into the woods, and more importantly, to never speak to the people who walk only during the night. You were kind-hearted though, and so, when a blond man walked up to you after nightfall, begging for help, you couldn’t say no. You more than happily helped him and welcomed him into your home. You treated and cared for him as if he were your own family. 

Keep reading

[sourwolfs-blog]

Snow Covered Dream

Eric Northman x Fem!Reader

A/N: Hello my loves so I got this request for a soft Eric Northan what feels like eons ago, and I’m finally feeling some inspiration for it. It’s been particularly hard for me for this one since when i originally started writing for it I had a good thing going and while I was an my ipad i rotated it and somehow deleted everything I had. So this is attempt number two for this one. I hope you guys like it and if you could show it some love! And to the sweet person who sent this request in I really hope you think it’s worth the wait. 

Prompt: Hey can I send a request in for Eric Northman x reader please? Could you maybe do one where him and the reader have been seeing each other for some time now and then they have sex for the first time and it’s really sweet and the reader lets eric bite her for the first time and they just realise how much they love each other, if not don’t worry about it! Thank you, love your writing!

*NOT MY GIF. ALL CREDIT GOES TO THE OWNER.

If you like my stories you can check out my sideblog @jadegreywriting​​ to see all of them and my masterlist without filtering through my main blog.

Word Count: 3212  Holy fuck this became it’s own novel. I think this is the most I’ve ever written for something like this. Fuck i hope it’s not shit 

This story is for 18+ ONLY. It contains sexual themes that are not suited for younger audiences so if you’re under 18 my blog and this story is not for you. Please make sure to read at your own discretion and remember that you are solely responsible for your content intake. 

Warnings: 18+ people. Oral (f recieving), mentions of blowjobs, Tantric sex (if you squint), vaginal sex 

Song Inspiration: 

Best Part - Daniel Caesar, H.E.R

Morning View - Towkio, SZA

Looking Through your Eyes - LeAnn Rimes

I own all rights to this story and do not give permission for my stories to be published, translated or reposted anywhere else. The only places I have published my stories is here on Tumblr and on my AO3 account (LadyAuthor711)

This isn’t the first time that Eric has stolen you away for some kind of romantic adventure. He’s been around for a thousand years and there’s just so many places he wants to show you; places you’ve never even heard of and spots that feel like no other human has laid a foot there before. 

However, this adventure felt different, like when it was over Eric wasn’t planning on letting you go; like he planned to keep you and you couldn’t find anything bad about that. 

Keep reading

[sourwolfs-blog]

Alabaster skin stood starkly against the night sky behind him, his hulking figure looming over you as you simmered delightfully in the water below him. The smirk on his lips made a shiver run down your spine (as it always did), the rest of his appearance not helping the aroused tremors tearing through you.

Standing on the top landing of the steps leading to the hot tub, Eric wore next to nothing, only a small pair of skin tight, red briefs adorning his lap. Usually, you both would soak in the outside tub totally nude, stargazing and feeling completely uninhabited. Although, that often escalated the activities for a night of relaxation to more heart racing pursuits. Though even now (somewhat) clothed, you could still appreciate the stars as a twinkling backdrop to the masculine focal point before you.

Gazing up at him, you sat comfortably soaking in the bubbling water in a bikini, a pitiful display of fabric of your own and in a matching red color to your lover’s. Unable to stand his absence anymore, you removed your arms from the water and opened your wingspan up for him invitingly, your fingers playing tiny instruments in an eager search, and silent beg, for his body. He let out an amused chuckle, his eyes falling to the edge of the tub as his lips stretched wider at your actions. Soon, your fingers got their wish as they greedily took ahold of his shoulders and helped pull your body flush to his when he joined you in the tub.

“Impatient, are we?” He teased and you hummed in response.

You were always impatient to be close to him.

Your contented repose was quick to change into a squeal as Eric swiftly lifted your thighs around his waist and propelled you both forward in the blink of an eye, his destination to one of the surrounding seats. With the same lithe smoothness, he turned your conjoined bodies without so much of a wrinkle on the water's surface to position himself in the indented chair, with you on his lap.

When all was comfortable and settled, Eric’s hands moved to palm at your thighs, fingers fanning across your skin to cover as much territory as possible. You weren’t the only one greedy and impatient.

Your cheek came to rest against his pale chest, the warm water lapping around your chin and freckling your cheeks, but you paid it no mind, far too happy and satisfied to care. Your own hands hung slackly over the tubs edge, arms around Eric’s neck and elbows to his shoulders. Every once in a while, he would turn his head to dry a lazy line to the soft inner flesh of your biceps with his nose.

After a while of calm acclimation to the increased temperature and loose threads of careless conversation, one of Eric’s hands left your thigh to journey its way up and over your hip and over the notches of your spine to find purchase on the nape of your neck.

Your hair had been pulled up to keep it from getting wet, but a few stray wisps had freed themselves from your clip and made circled damp patterns on your skin. Eric took it upon himself to stroke those fly away back up with their sisters as his chest rumbled with anecdotes beneath you. Once he was satisfied that the hairs were reintroduced with the rest, he made work with removing them again, weaving his nimble fingers through the strays and removing other longer locks while he was at it. He wound the wet pieces around his fingers in tranquil designs that had you melting further into his chest.

While Eric and you shared intimacy in many ways, being snuggled together in the hot tub had become a quick favorite of yours.

After he had first purchased the hot tub, you didn't get much use out of it. The shower was easier and the bathtub more private (for when your evenings escalated), so he didn’t really see the need.

But on one of the scarce occasions that you both did use the tub, you had made a comment that the water warmed his icy skin to what you could recognize as a “normal” human temperature.

“Different from in the bath or the shower,” you’d said, your face pressed to him in a similar position to your current one, “maybe because we sit in here longer.”

He had laughed off your observation at the time, replying quickly with:

“Now that you know what I feel like as a human, it’s only fair that I get to feel you as a vampire. We have a walk-in freezer at Fangtasia, so it could be easily arranged...”

You slapped his arm in playfully retaliation before the topic had been dropped and forgeten. Or so you’d thought.

Because you had noticed that since your remark, Eric would find a way to get you both in the hot tub frequently, and routinely orchestrate soaks before it was time for you both to head to sleep for the night. While you had started to wonder why; whether it be because of the soothing water and what it did to grant you both a deep and gratifying slumber; or if the reason was more symbolic; you didn’t know and truthfully you didn’t much care. Ice cold or scorching hot, human or vampire, you would love this man just the same.

As he placed two gentle kisses to the thrumming pulse of your throat and peak of your shoulder between some story he was retelling from Fangtasia (or possibly recounting legends of the constellations, you were far too sated to follow) he only reinforced that conclusion in your mind.

[sourwolfs-blog]

Throne - Part 2

(Warnings: blood play, choking, sex, etc.)

"You are mine."

It's not a question, but you see no point in correcting him. After all... he's right, isn't he? This has been brewing between the two of you for a while now.

You just never expected it to come out like this.

"Okay, Eric."

You nod, once, and lean into the hand cupping your cheek. Your eyes flutter closed- only to immediately snap open again as you ask, "But are you mine?"

His eyes flick between yours, as if he's gauging your sincerity- and a split-second later, you're straddling his lap on the throne.

"Yours," he confirms, holding your gaze as he tugs back the sleeve covering his wrist and tears into the skin.

You swallow thickly, knowing all too well what this means.

He offers his wrist to you without hesitation, and you respond in kind, tilting your head and sweeping your hair back from your neck, offering yourself to him.

Eric leans forward, and so do you, holding his gaze as your lips close around the wound. At the same time, his free hand comes up to grip the nape of your neck, and a moment later you feel his fangs sink into your skin.

Eric's eyes roll back into his head as he tastes you, drinks from you... But you barely notice this, or the twinge of pain that precedes it; your tastebuds are dancing, your heartbeat singing in your ears, as you drink from him.

You're now acutely aware of every inch of Eric pressed against you, and you rock your hips, grinding against the hardness you can feel between your legs. Eric's answering growl rumbles through you, his fingers squeezing your neck...

Then he shifts you yet again.

Now you're sitting on the throne, with Eric kneeling between your legs, your neck miraculously healed- but you barely have time to process any of this before he buries his fangs into the flesh of your thigh.

You arch your back, threading your fingers through his hair, as dizzying pleasure races through your veins, making you throb with need.

He pulls back too soon, but you get the feeling he drank more than he should have as he glances up at you, a flicker of concern in his eyes- which gradually dissolves into that look again: the tenderness you caught a glimpse of during your impromptu roleplay.

"Delicious," Eric murmurs, making a show of licking his lips. He uses the last trickle of blood from his wrist to close the puncture wounds left in your thigh, swirling two fingers against your skin; but they don't stop there, trailing down to rub your wet slit through your panties. You expect him to tease you, or to rip them off of you, but he merely tugs them down your legs and tosses them into a distant corner of the room.

"I feel like I'm at a buffet," he muses, hooking your calves over his shoulders and holding your gaze as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh. "But is it all-you-can-eat?"

Without giving you a chance to think of something witty in response, his mouth is upon you, first licking, laving, spreading your folds, then parting them with his tongue, then delving inside, alternating between dipping quickly in and out, swirling and sucking. His fingers knead your thighs as you buck against his mouth, until, all too soon, you come undone on his tongue.

But even then Eric doesn't stop lapping at your wetness until you tug desperately at his hair, needing him to stop, your body shuddering with every minute brush of his lips against your oversensitive folds.

"Delicious," he murmurs again, drawing back and nipping playfully at the hand tangled in his hair.

Maybe it's his blood, redoubling your libido, but even as you shudder with overstimulation, you need more- you need him.

You tug plaintively at his shirt, and he strips it off, smirking as your eyes rove over the newly exposed skin. Of course, he can feel your need through the blood bond, fanning the flames of his own arousal, but he waits for you to articulate what you want, leaning back on his haunches to admire how debauched you look, imagining the various ways he might have you, here, on his throne...

"Eric..."

Your fingers trace his chest, following the sculpted lines of his stomach down to his belt buckle, and lower still, until you're gripping his hard length through the fabric of his trousers.

You can feel his gaze burning into you, but you're not sure what to say- you're not sure what you want, except...

"Eric..." you repeat, glancing up at him through your eyelashes, and he whispers your name back at you, inquiringly, teasingly, cocking his head to the side.

Oh, so that's how it's going to be?

You squeeze harder, and watch as Eric bites his lip in response- but he still doesn't budge, so you lean forward and crash your lips against his.

Eric is only too happy to oblige, cupping your face, pressing forward between your thighs, parting his lips so that you can taste yourself on his tongue, mingled with the taste of him... until you pull back, breathless with need.

"I want to ride you."

The words tumble from your lips before you can stop them. It's not a request you'd normally make, but suddenly it's all you can think about.

Eric's hard length parting your oversensitive folds... His fingers digging into your hips, helping you to keep a steady rhythm, while you rake your nails down his chest, tracing the curve of his lower lip with your thumb as his mouth falls open in pleasure...

The images that race through your mind race through Eric's by extension, transmitted through the blood bond as pure sensation; ghosts of the imaginings to which your body is responding.

And Eric doesn't hesitate to make them reality.

Once again, your positions are abruptly reversed. Now Eric is naked on the throne, and you are kneeling before him.

He leans back, settling languidly into the throne, and watches you strip off your dress and bra, before taking his cock into your mouth, as deep as you can manage, making up for what you can't handle with your closed fist.

The fingers of his left hand come to rest on the back of your head, threading through your hair, while his right traces your exposed skin, following the line of your neck and shoulders, admiring the faint bluish mark that his fangs left behind.

But Eric's composure quickly slips as you continue to suck and lick at his cock, one hand falling to rest on his own muscled thigh, clenching and unclenching, while his other occasionally tugs at your hair. You adjust your movements to match these gestures and the hitches in his breath, and don't stop until every inch of him is dripping with your saliva.

Then you straddle him, pressing the tip of his cock against your dripping folds, still sensitive from his tongue, and hold yourself there, steadying your breathing, feeling the tip of his cock throb against your entrance...

Eric's fingers grip your hips like a vice, and at your nod he starts guiding you down, inch by inch- but he stops every time your eyes flutter closed, only letting you take in more of him when you're holding his gaze.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Such is the sum of both your thoughts- sinful expletives, sprinkled with each other's names- as Eric fills you and you start to move, up and down, up and down...

The friction is too delicious, and you're already close- it's not long before Eric has to take over, keeping your pace steady as you writhe for him in pleasure, your insides spasming around his cock.

It's too much, but Eric doesn't stop, lifting you up and sliding you down his length, and kissing your breasts, shoulders, cheeks- every inch of you he can reach- while you ride out your orgasm.

But the moment you come down from your high, Eric spins you around and starts bottoming out at his pace, one hand threading through your hair, tipping your head to the side and pulling you flush against his chest. His other hand starts by squeezing your neck- not too tight, but just long enough to leave you gasping for air- then moves on to cupping your breasts, toying with each nipple in turn, before finally sliding down to rub your clit in tight, fast circles, ruthlessly bringing you toward the brink of another orgasm.

That's when you hear the tell-tale click of Eric's fangs dropping- but this time, when he buries them in your neck, you feel only pleasure, and the sudden spike is enough to push the both of you over the edge.

You feel a flood of warmth in your lower belly, a trickle of warmth down your neck, Eric's cock pulsing inside of you...

You slump forward, but Eric catches you, and lifts you slowly, deliciously off of his cock, which rebounds against his abs with a wet slap, still hard and slick with your combined fluids.

He sets you down on his thigh, draping your legs over the armrest, and noses at your cheek until you look at him.

When you do, Eric murmurs your name before kissing you, tenderly, softly, his fingers gently tracing the curves of your body, as if to ingrain them in his memory.

Then he presses his lips to your forehead, tucks your head under his chin, and simply holds you against his chest in a gentle embrace, listening to your heartbeat.

*******************************************

You're not sure how long you lie there, half-asleep and utterly spent, before you feel Eric turn to glance at the wall behind the bar.

A moment later, he asks, "Can you walk?"

You mumble incoherently and shift against his chest, gripping his wrist as if to hold him in place. With any luck, you'll never have to move again.

Of course, there's no hope of that. Eric chuckles and removes your fingers with ease, threading them through his own and pressing a kiss to the back of your hand.

"I'll take that as a 'no'."

There is a pause, just long enough to lull you back to the brink of sleep, so that Eric's amused voice seems to reach you from miles away.

"The thing is... we open in five minutes."

That wakes you up. You jolt upright- only to find yourself sitting on the throne alone, still fully naked, with Eric now kneeling on the floor before you, smartly dressed and casually slicking back his hair.

"Is this how you intend to greet your subjects, my lady?" he asks, in that same subservient tone from before, but with a mocking smirk tugging at his lips. "Or do you need help getting dressed?"

There's no time for a witty retort, or to search for your panties, as you hear the door to Fangtasia rattle. You stumble to your feet with an undignified yelp and run for Eric's office, scooping up your dress and bra as you go and slamming the door behind you.

A moment later, you hear Pam's muffled voice call out, "Eric? Are you done in there yet? People are lining up!"

Mortified, you duck down and frantically pull on your clothes, mentally cursing the blond vampire- make that your blond vampire- as he chuckles to himself and unlocks the door, before taking his seat on the throne.

[sourwolfs-blog]

Arranged | Thranduil x Reader

Read on AO3

Pairing: Thranduil x Female Reader

Summary: The Mirkwood courts having successfully pushed Thranduil into accepting a new queen through an arranged marriage. However, he cannot seem to help comparing them to his former wife. When tensions run high and reader calls the whole thing off, Thranduil realises the error of his ways.

Content etc: Thranduil being a little bit of an ass I guess. Angst. Fluff.

Prompt: number 32 & 39 on this list

requested by anonymous (I’m sorry this took literally forever and I’m sorry if it isn’t exactly what you wanted!)

word count: 4.6k

tags: @firelightinferno​​, @achromaticerebus​​, @coopsgirl​​, @birbixo0912​​, @desert-fern​​, @ancient-rime​​, @lady-of-imladris​​​, @weepingdreammarvel​​​, @asianbutnotjapanese​​​, @deadlymistletoe​​​

“This is wrong.” Thranduil’s voice snapped you out of your tangled thoughts and you lifted your head with a confused frown, looking back at him.

“What is?” You asked, not even having had any clue as to what it was that he was working on over there on the sprawling couch of his large private library.

Keep reading

[sourwolfs-blog]

An Execution

Pairing: Thranduil x F!Reader

Genre: Angst/comfort

Description: When you’re forced to witness an execution performed by the man you love, Legolas shields you from the sight, but Thranduil still has to reassure you later.

Warnings: Beheading (not graphic), mentions of assault.

Word count: 1148

The man leered at you from where he knelt in the middle of the ring of elves.

You took a breath, averting your gaze to somewhere over his soon-to-be-detached head and failed to notice the worried glance from the elf beside you.

Legolas glanced between you, the human who had his father so smitten, and said father. Truth be told, he didn’t think you should be here. Yes, according to the customs you had to be here, seeing as you were the one the man had attacked, but he could also see the faint tremor in your stance, and he hated that you had to see his father in a light you’d never had to see before.

His father was happy, more than he had been in years, because of you, and Legolas was terrified that this would scare you off once and for all, leaving his father heartbroken once again.

When you’d gone to Dale with Thranduil, the man had taken one look at your close proximity to the king and the adoring gaze he looked at you with and seen his chance at revenge against the elves who’d ‘caused’ his sister's death.

It hadn’t been hard for him to corner you when you got separated from the other elves at the marketplace. You’d been drawn to the stall filled with flowers at the edge of the marketplace and he’d taken his chance, convincing you that he had some rare flowers the stall didn't offer in his wife’s garden. No need to mention that he didn’t have a wife.

After that you were just lucky that Thranduil had sent someone to find you, and the bruises that had quickly formed around your throat and your hysteric state were evidence enough for Bard to agree to hand over the man to the elves' justice system.

Those same bruises still stood out against your skin, your dress doing nothing to cover them up. You shivered, although the air was warm, thoughts racing through your head as the man’s sentencing crime was read out.

Were you about to be responsible for someone’s death? Yes, he was a horrible man, and yes, you’d never asked for his execution, but you hadn’t argued against it either. You’d even felt a sick sort of relief at the decision to end the man's life.

Your breathing picked up and you felt your hands begin to sweat as the gleaming sword was handed to Thranduil, your lover stepping towards the man, whose dark, leering eyes were still on you.

This was his own fault, you knew that, Thranduil had drilled it into your head that nothing was your fault for days afterwards. The law of the elves said that harm or assault towards one of their own was met with execution, and while it warmed your heart that the elves of Mirkwood thought of you as one of them, part of you still felt sick. Felt like you were to blame. You’d followed him, hadn’t you? Left those who were to keep you safe behind without a second thought?

The blade was lined up with the man's throat, the man’s eyes drilled into yours and you couldn’t look away.

The blade was pulled back. It swung forwards.

You let out a gasp as arms wrapped around your shoulders, spinning you around so your face was pressed into a green covered shoulder as the sound of metal swung through the air and a dull thud was heard.

Legolas met his father’s eyes over your head as you trembled against him, and saw the gratitude in his father’s eyes. 

Gratitude that you hadn’t had to see this side of him.

~

When Thranduil entered your shared chambers you were in the same place you had been since you had been escorted back hours before.

You were perched in the middle of the bed, knees pulled to your chest. You startled when he moved into your line of vision and he inwardly winced. This was exactly what he’d been afraid of.

He paused at the end of the bed, thankful that he’d made sure no blood was left on his robe, before he sat down on the edge, holding out a hand to you.

He held his breath, watching as you eyed his hand, the same hand the sword had swung from, before taking it and moving to sit beside him at the end of the bed.

You were both silent for a moment before he spoke, quietly, as if afraid of startling you. “I’m sorry you had to be there for that.”

“It’s okay.” You murmured. “Legolas made sure I didn’t see it.”

“Yes,” He squeezed your hand. “I thanked him for that.” He hesitated before continuing. “He was worried you would want to leave if you saw me like that.”

“Like what?” You murmured. “Like a king doing his duty?”

Thranduil swallowed. “Like a monster.”

You snapped your head around to look at him. Did he honestly think..? 

“No,” You hurried to reassure him. “You're not a monster. You were just…”

“Just what?” His piercing eyes met yours and you were unable to look away. “Just ending somebody’s life without a single ounce of sympathy? Because I don’t regret ending that man’s life. I only regret doing it with you there.”

“I don’t expect you to.” You whispered, falling silent again.

Thranduil sighed, bringing your hand up to his mouth to place a lingering kiss on your knuckles. “That man deserved everything he got. It is not your fault that he chose you to take out his anger on, nor that he got caught.”

You swallowed. “He said… he said that he had a sister… that the elves killed her.”

“I know.” He hummed. “It is not the first time I have seen that man. His sister fell into the enchanted river when they were children sneaking out to explore. Legolas’ patrol found them and pulled her out but it was too late. She drowned and he has blamed us ever since.”

“Oh, that’s horrible.” You whispered, feeling a sudden wave of sympathy.

He looked at you sharply. “That does not excuse his actions towards you. There are elves in this kingdom who have lost family because of humans and yet they do not condemn you for being human, do they?”

You sighed. You knew he was right. You leaned against his side. “I know. I just don’t like feeling responsible for someone’s death.”

He turned to press a kiss to your forehead. “You're not. And I don’t care if it takes years, I will prove it to you in every way possible, until it doesn’t even cross your mind.”

“I love you.” You whispered, not knowing what to say. Never before had someone been this dedicated to your feelings.

“And I love you, you silly human.” He murmured back. “Now let me show you how much.” 

Taglist:

@fizzyxcustard @bookworm-with-coffee

[sourwolfs-blog]

Winter Gem

Thranduil x Female Elf Reader

Content & Warnings: soft!Thranduil, widowed!Thranduil, fluff, peril & rescue, mild hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1.8k

Seeking something precious for Thranduil, you're caught in a storm. When you don't return, he goes searching for you.

A/N: For @firelightinferno

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // winter 2023 masterlist

“The first snows have arrived.”

“It has come early.”

Thranduil inclines his head in acknowledgement. “Indeed.”

You stand beside Thranduil outside the main gates. Five guards stand nearby but there is no danger. A steady snowfall drifts down from the sky. The snowflakes are slightly gray in appearance, almost like ash on the wind. You frown down at a few of the flakes that land on your leather vambrace.

“You look ready for your hunt,” observes Thranduil, gesturing toward your attire with the tip of his head.

“Yes,” reply softly. “I plan on heading out for a bit.”

His eyebrows rise toward his hairline. “In this weather?”

You glance up from the vambrace and meet his blue eyes. Thranduil’s gaze is startling and sharp. Piercing. Intense. It cuts right down to your heart. His gaze always holds you hostage, wrapping you up in his essence. Most might find Thranduil intimidating, but you know better.

“Is my king telling me I cannot?” You’re teasing him, and Thranduil knows this. His smile is one of soft amusement.

“As long as you return to me. You are free to do as you wish.” Even though Thranduil’s tone is gentle, you understand the deeper meaning.

Thranduil lost his wife many years ago. Other than his son, Legolas, you are his comfort. He wants you to be free, to enjoy the pleasures of life, but he also wants you to be safe, to return to him at the end of every leaving.

Thranduil glances over his shoulder. The guards on duty discreetly glance away, staring off into the distance as if they’ve suddenly found something of great interest. Thranduil leans in and shifts his body to block their view of you. He is close enough that it might appear that the two of you are kissing, but he does not meet your lips.

In the end, Thranduil is private about affection. He does not like to share your tender moments together in front of others.

“Enjoy your hunt. I eagerly await your return.”

You give him a half-hearted, sarcastic bow that immediately puts a wide smile on his face. Thranduil watches you until you disappear into the trees. Perhaps he lingers longer than that, wondering if you will turn around and come back to him.

It is true. You are on a hunt, but not for what he or anyone else is likely expecting.

Over a week ago, Thranduil went out in the woods with some of the guards on patrol. It’s the first time he’s been out beyond the walls in some time. Many patrols that ventured into the northern regions reported back on a strangeness in the air, and the scent of evil. Thranduil decided to investigate.

While tracking, he lost something precious.

Around his neck on a chain, Thranduil kept a silver ring. Within the ring is a precious gem, a blue stone so pale it almost appears white like a burning star. The chain that held it snapped while he and the guards chased a group of spiders that had made their way south.

He remembered it snagging, and while he did not show any distress upon telling you of its disappearance, you also know how much that ring and jewel means to him. It was a gift from his wife when they were newly married. She had a matching one, but upon her death, Thranduil moved it from his finger to around his neck.

This hunt—your hunt—is about that ring. You have a fairly good idea about where it might have fallen, and there is no reason for it to have moved since then. Few enter these woods unless they follow the road, and that is on rare occasions.

Tracking is your specialty, and your time is not limited due to the falling snow. But you’ve tracked in worse weather. The snow is unfortunate, but you can still search as long as it remains at its current pace. The tree cover will keep much of the snow in the higher canopy. There will be time yet before the snow completely covers the ground and you lose the trail.

Heading north, you retrace the path the patrol took. Yes, a week has passed, and nature reclaims much, but not everything is hidden so quickly. There are small disturbances that indicate the path ahead.

As you begin to draw nearer to the area Thranduil mentioned, the snow starts to pick up. It becomes thicker, not staying above in the canopy but instead making its way to the ground. It’s not ideal, but you can manage.

Thranduil mentioned two tree trunks growing together and then breaking apart. When you happen upon it, the snow comes down in thicker sheets. On the ground, it’s sticking. Collecting. Time is running out. Elves have good eyes, and you focus in on the ground, gnarled roots, and underbrush.

Near the base of the tangled tree, you notice a slight sparkle. Approaching it, you go down on one knee, brushing away some of the snow.

“Found you.”

The ring is there, resting in the roots. It appears undamaged, and that is a relief. Picking it up, you tuck it into an inside pocket, protecting it from the elements.

The snow crunches under your boots, and the wind howls. For the first time, you shiver. Cold is not and has never been an issue. Elves can withstand a great many things, including winter weather.

Frowning, you turn into the chilly wind. There is a disturbance. Something dark and foul. It sets the edges of your nerves tingling. A simmering suspicion bubbles up from somewhere within you, question whether this snow is natural or not.

Turning on your heel, you head back the way you came. But the snow is heavy, and your fresh tracks are starting to slip away, returning to the snow. As you walk, the snowfall becomes a storm. The wind whips up, swirling the snow around until you cannot see more than a few feet in front of your face.

Your instincts were right. This storm is not natural. It is too early for it, and storms like these are rare in the Woodland Realm.

The toe of your boot catches in a downed tree branch and you slam face first into the snow. It’s freezing. Temperature isn’t usually a deterrent for the elves, but this is beyond cold. It’s as if you’ve been swallowed whole by a massive glacier.

You walk and walk, and you have no idea if you’ve gained any ground. There are no visible signs, and you’re not sure how far you’ve gone, or if you’re simply walking in circles. The snow is deepening or perhaps you’re imagining it. Everything seems darker, like the world is closing in.

You’re not dressed for this sort of weather.

And you’re tired. So tired. Your knees and thighs burn, and sitting down for some rest doesn’t seem so bad. It’s fine. You can take refugee within the deep roots of a tree. You can stay warm there until the snow dissipates. Then, you can return. Thranduil will understand.

As if opening for you, the roots of a nearby tree expand, showing safety from the storm. You slink into it, curling up into a ball.

You drift in the howling wind. There is a haze that sits on your eyelashes. Whether you dream or not is irrelevant. Numbness oozes into your limbs, and that only forces you to curl up tighter, wanting to pull away from the cold.

A hand touches the side of your head. It is warm. Gentle. The fingers slide up to brush your hair out of your face. You hear your name but it is a whisper. Distant. So far away it doesn’t seem real.

There are arms around you. Lifting. Steady. And when you inhale, the scent is familiar. You know who it is instantly.

“Thranduil,” you murmur, and the answer is a gentle squeeze of your hand.

“I found you, my star.”

There are only short moments of consciousness. There is snow. Cold. The antlers of an elk. The gates of home, and then warmth. So much warmth that the numbness begins to recede.

You are brought back to the living world near a roaring fire. Beneath you is a makeshift bed comprised of pillows and soft blankets. You shift, and feel bare skin against bare skin. Slowly, you push yourself to sitting.

Your leather gear is gone, replaced with a soft robe that traps in the heat.

“You’re awake.” Thranduil’s voice is a gentle, comforting hug.

Turning toward his voice, you watch as he glides across the floor. Thranduil wears silver robes of starlight. In his hands in a small tray. On it is a steaming cup of tea and an assortment of food. Bending at the knees, Thranduil settles in beside you, placing the tray down on the blankets.

“You came looking for me,” you say, and your voice nearly cracks with emotion.

“Did you think I would not?” he asks, arranging the food around on the tray.

You know, deep in your heart, that Thranduil would come, but you also believed in your abilities as a tracker. “When did you start to worry?”

Thranduil lifts the cup off the tray and presents it to you. “When the storm picked up. Something about it felt unnatural.” You take it, and bring the warm beverage to your lips. “I gathered some guards and we set out. It is good that we found you in time.” He pauses. “I’m not sure my heart could take any more loss.”

The heat of the tea spreads throughout your body, the chill slipping away quickly. “I do believe you are correct. That storm was not natural.”

Thranduil nods. “There is a growing darkness to the north. The scouts on patrol have spoken of it often but have been unable to get close enough for more details.”

“Perhaps I strayed too close,” you murmur.

“Perhaps,” replies Thranduil, reaching out to take your hand. He lifts it, and brings it into his lap. Using both hands, he rotates your wrist until your palm faces the ceiling. Then, he guides your open palm to his lips, placing a soft kiss in the middle of it.

Instant warmth shoots out from that spot, running down your arm and piercing your heart like an arrow. Slowly, he curls your fingers in, creating a loose fist, and then brushes his lips against your knuckles before pulling away.

He does not release your hand. “I know why you left.”

“Thranduil—”

“You did not need to explain. I understand why.” Thranduil reaches out and cups your cheek, turning your face toward him. “I am thankful that you found it, but you are also precious to me, and losing you is a far greater loss.”

You turn into his touch. “That ring is important to you.”

“Many things are important to me. But the ring is just that. A thing. You are breathing. You are here. I would like to keep it that way.”

Your eyes drift close and you revel in the warmth of his touch. “Are you mad?”

“Never.”

“Will you hold me?”

“For as long as you like.”

taglist:

@foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @singleteapot @firelightinferno @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @protosslady @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @ninman82 @therealbloom

[sourwolfs-blog]

What Sodo Does On Clingy Days

He purrs into Swiss’ tummy and kneads the parts his face isn’t smushed against.

He rubs against Phantoms whole body, trying to melt into bugs skin.

He has a dopey smile on his face as he preens from Aethers many kisses.

He licks Rain’s cheeks to wake him up in the morning and get his attention.

He takes Mount’s hand and wanders around the gardens with him.

He trills as Cumulus gently rubs his cheek while she reads in the library.

He clings to Cirrus’ leg as she tries to practice the keytar, occasionally giving him head scratches.

He crouches on Copia’s desk, watching him work with focused unblinking eyes.

[sourwolfs-blog]

LOOK AT THEM😭💜

Credits to: @anothernamelessghost on TikTok!

Here’s the video on where I got those few pics from <3

[sourwolfs-blog]

TW 1x04