#Lee Pace x Reader

[anundyingfidelity]

NO SECOND CHANCES — Brother Day/Cleon XVII

Summary: A lonely space traveler happens to save from a certain death the most annoying person of the entire galaxy, the Emperor.

Pairing: Cleon XVII x female reader.

Word count: 8.1k. (oooops).

Warnings: well, spoilers for whole season 2. Language, angst (the reader wants to die, really). Talks about suicide, talks about suicide attempts, reader having nightmares, PTSD, reader is suffering too. Some hurt/comfort, some fluff? Filthy smut (included but not limited to hand jobs, unprotected sex, oral from both parts, dirty language, etc. etc.), and end of the world sex (to Beki's arsehole bitches yay🥂). Also Cleon refers to the reader as "woman" a couple of times lol. Reader has pierced ears? (wait for it). Bittersweet ending tbh.

Notes: just trying to make slow burn in a one shot because I'm a lazy fucker who doesn't like to write stories with chapters, otherwise I don't finish shit. Uh probably OOC Cleon??? I don't know. Fully inspired by my favorite trope ever: saving the bad guy and making him humble. I don't care we're four people watching Foundation, I need to write about this little piece of shit I love him so much. Cleon XVII is a himbo I said it. Not beta, we die like bitches of the Gossamer court.

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

Tagging: @curiouswildi hope you like it 🥺💘

GEN MASTERLIST!

I. BEYOND

The last thing wandering his mind was Bel Riose. Fucking Bel Riose. That idiot. They had won over him; over him, who was Empire and still meant to be for years ahead. Next, the cold feeling of space was embracing him. But he felt he was not floating around anymore.

Cleon was tied to a surface. It felt like harsh, uncomfortable metal under his back. He slowly forced his eyes open, moving his limbs and trying to escape whatever it was restraining him to do so. His wrists and ankles, as his waist, were tied by a light blue particle field preventing the patient to move at all. He was met with the roof of a ship and equipment, but it wasn't any Imperial one. In panic, he moved until he was able to shake the surface he was on, panting and grunting, feeling some pain and sting resurging all over him. The headache was becoming unbearable and the sounds coming from his dry mouth finally transformed into screams. The room doors opened and a strange voice catched his attention.

"Finally, you're awake."

Cleon obliged to follow the shadow moving around, his eyes focusing to try and see who was talking. He heard steps and the sounds of metal and glass clinking around, probably looking for medication and tools as he was know fully concius. The figure finally came to view by his side.

"I will inject this, so don't move," you said, grabbing his bicep. Cleon was about to protest, but the needle was faster and the medicine was welcomed on his vurnerable system, easing the pain and calming down the headache. "Welcome back, Eminence," you smirked to him.

"And just so, who are you?" he asked chuckling to himself, licking his lips. "What have you done to me?"

"First, I saved your life and cleaned all your bloody wounds. You should say thanks at least," you sat down dangerously close by his side, on the same surface he was on.

"I did not ask you for mercy."

"Oh, but I did," you replied, a smirk on your lips. "Perhaps I shouldn't have, right?" you took a small pencil-like device in your hand from the pocket of your pants and used it to scan his vital signs. You touched his face carefully with your fingers, examining his eyes, his heartbeat, and any anomaly that might be on his system from head to toe, but the scanner found none. Cleon watched you doing so until he asked again, his voice softer this time.

"Who are you?"

"Just no one as important as you are," you said, saving the scanner back.

"Where are we?" Cleon asked, looking around. He observed he was placed in a small medical bay.

"In space, in the middle of nowhere I suppose," you shrugged, getting on your feet again. "It seems you're recovering quite well and fast. At least that's what my scanner says. So first, I think you should want some water, which I am leaving right here," you put a flask on the small table next to him. "And before I give you this to drink, I want to make sure you will not restrain or fight back at me."

He laughed, that narcissistic smile on his face. You wanted to punch him.

"You're no match for me, woman."

"Really? Then I could just throw you out there again, you know, it's not difficult. I'm spending resources on you, surely I won't oppose to that idea," you snapped back.

His smile faded slowly, thinking. If it wasn't for you, he would be dead by now, it was true. But he was so used to be immortal and undefeteable that the situation was kind of new. He only had been vulnerable and exposed to his doctors in the palace, and you were a complete stranger. And still, you had the heart to take him in your ship and save his life. He sighed, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.

"Fuck, fine. What do you want me to do?"

So this was his way of cooperating, you thought.

"After I turn off the restraints, you will have to sit down on the stretcher. I will help you. Do not try to get up yet, you might feel dizzy."

With a nod he said to you the orders were clear. Next, the restraints disappeared in the air with a push on a button and Cleon felt a small relief. As you promised, you helped him to sit and he realized that the clothes he had before were replaced with a set of new pale grey robes that allowed him to move freely. You offered the flask to his lips, but he watched you with a questioning look on his face.

"Is only water, I swear. See?" you had a small sip from the bottle and he looked more at ease after you swallowed the liquid.

You offered the bottle again and helped him to slowly drink. Once he was done, you placed a small tray with fruits and dry seeds on top of the same table beside the stretcher.

"You might want to eat something," you said, breaking the silence under his fixed gaze. Even when he was sitting down and you on your feet it felt rather intimidating. "I'm still collecting supplies and food. You were certainly not part of the plan these days."

"So you travel alone," Cleon said, taking a small red fruit between his fingers and began to eat it.

"I do," you nodded. "Sorry if the taste of the fruit is not pleasant."

"You're doing your best," he said while eating, studying the room around him. You were not sure if he was mocking you or not. "What was your name again?"

You chuckled. "You're very interesting, Empire. Why don't you finish eating and rest before taking a bath?"

The next few hours, you left him to rest and escorted him to your quaters, the only place with a comfortable bed, so he could get proper sleep. Since there were no further questions from him, you got to your business and requested more provisions to the merchants. Traveling alone had made you some contacts and traders, from time to time you would request for food giving in exchange money or rare knick knacks, and within a day you had a small capsule with supplements heading to your coordinates with everything you needed. You just had to wait for now.

After checking the estate of your ship and confirming everything was working correctly, you went back to your quaters to see how the Emperor was doing. You were startled to see him sitting on your bed with a book between his hands. He looked like he just had a bath because his shirt was gone and his hair was wet, some droplets running down his skin. Quickly, you studied him. He was handsome, muscular, his skin had a beautiful tan, and he was tall and heavy as hell, something you noticed when cleaning his wounds and taking him inside your ship. The earring on his left ear was also interesting, you thought, for a member of the most important dinasty of the galaxy. Very rebellious for the emperor.

You also knew he heard you steping in but never looked up from the book because he was the first one to talk.

"Never I could imagine you would have books in here," he said, clearly interested on the pages.

"Yeah, not all of us are barbarians as you work so hard to convice yourself we are."

He chuckled to himself, looking at you for the first time since you entered the room.

"Are you from Korell?"

"The book gave it away, didn't it."

"This is very old," he said, closing the book. "You are for sure not allowed to have this in Korell."

"That is one of the reasons I left," you replied, looking around the place. It was obvious to you that he was pearing within your personal stuff because the old myth book was secured down your mattress. At least he didn't leave a mess and everything seemed in the right place. "I was a threat in my planet so Argo kept looking for me for some conspiracy shit and terrorism when all I did was oppose myself to his repression and freakshow," you continued, his eyes drew back to you. "They wanted me dead in Korell, but I am the only one to decide that, even when and where will it happen."

Cleon shifted on his seat, wondering why you were sharing a piece of your life to him when he didn't even know your name yet. Words and thoughts wandered his head on how would he answer to your words, compassion or empathy sometimes were difficult things to feel. But before he was able to speak, you interrupted his thoughts.

"I will leave you alone to rest for a while and will come back when it's around supper. I follow Kornell cycle of time, so you know... Just don't poke around my underwear, Empire," you dragged his title mockingly.

He laughed softly, going back to his reading.

"Thank you for the idea."

That was the first time you would hear him expressing gratitude.

II. GHOSTS FROM THE PAST

Around more than a week passed, and Cleon was healing and his wounds were not so visible now. You made sure to inject him every day and gave your quaters and bed for him to sleep and recover. He had took a pad you had in the room so he could count the cycle of days in Trantor. Hardly to admit, he found himself missing home rather than hatred. Sometimes the rage mixed with sorrow, but he forced himself to try and understand that it was a normal feeling due to the sudden lose of everything he once had.

Cleon had been up from some time now as he counted the end of the eighth day on the pad, and wondered why your daily visit was taking so long. It was a habit you had, to come in and wake him up with the medicine, and after it was done, you would tell him to eat some of the fruits and food on the tray you brought for him. He got on his feet and put a shirt on before leaving the room to search for you. On the pilot cabin, you had an improvised, small stickable mattress on the wall that had saved your life before, so you used it to sleep and rest the past few days while he cured. Cleon observed your figure lying down on the mattress, walking slowly and sensing something was not right. He found you shaking and trembling, eyes still closed and chest heavily breathing as your hand held onto dear life what he realised it was a gun.

He felt somehow frightened and confused. If you wanted to kill him, you would already have done it. You had made yourself clear on that. The tremor of your body seemed it was increasing and Cleon, with a gentless he did not know he possesed, tried to soothe you with his voice, removing the gun from your embrace.

"Shh... everything is fine," he mumbled, not sure of his words, his other hand touching your shoulder in soft circles. He was able to withdraw the gun from your hands and placed it on the floating shelf near by.

Your eyes squeezed and some tears flowed down your face as you sobbed still in your sleep. Cleon hesitated on what to do next to wake you up. He leaned again, his hand slowly tracing the skin of your arm, like he did when his brother Dawn was a child.

"Woman? Wake up," he whispered, shaking you a little bit and pating your arm softly, and when he talked again, his voice was a little bit louder. "You're having a nightmare, wake up."

And as he repeated his words over and over, your eyes opened wide, feeling your lungs able to breath again. But your senses still were coming to awareness, and automatically you slapped the face of whoever it was touching your arm. You heard him groan in pain and you rolled over the mattres, until you hit the floor, taking out a small blade from below the makeshift pillow of fabrics you used. The blade pointing at him as you looked around the cabin to find out it was only both of you.

"What- are you okay?!" Cleon questioned with a frown, rubbing his hurting cheek as he remained on the other side of your bed, the only thing separating you from him was the mattress.

"Yes, I'm perfectly fine!"

He rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Of course you are not."

"Then why the fuck would you ask that?! It's obvious I'm not fine!" you yelled. Your body was tense and ready to attack. You felt a knot on your throat, like if you were to cry again. Silence envolved you, trying to calm down. That inner voice in your head began saying it was just a dream, and you wanted to believe it. It was all in your head. It was not real...

"Do you want to kill me?" Cleon's gloomy voice echoed.

"What? No! I would never-"

"Then why are you sleeping with a damn blaster shot and a blade on your bed?!" he confronted, screaming at you, but not daring to move as you also remained standing in the same place.

"Because I wanted to kill myself!" you yelled back, pointing the sharp of the knife to you instead. His face became stern and you realised what you had said, and what was happening. Ashamed, you threw the blade back under the pillow. "Sorry, I don't want you to know that. Forget it."

You wiped the tears on your face under his piercing and concerning eyes. You forced your head to compose and burry your nightmares and memories deep inside before talking.

"I have to inject you," you said and walked back to the room, sure he would follow behind. Once you crossed the doors, you prepared the needle but Cleon remained standing near the exit of your room the whole time, arms crossed over his chest, observing you with utter worry on his face. Why? He really did not know. Probably because you were the only human and intelligent contact he had for days now, and you had the decency to keep him alive. Though he was not going to let that in his head - yet.

"Why don't you seat?" you most likely ordered. Cleon slowly made his way to you and remained standing, tall and kind of threatening. He was Emperor, after all.

"What is wrong with you?" he asked with a careful tone.

"Nothing, Empire. Just sit," you said, coldly, waiting for him to do as you requested.

"No, I need to know," he demanded, coming closer to you, jaw clenching. Anger started taking over your being and held his gaze as you replied.

"I have the right to decide whether or not speak about my personal life, I am not one of your subjects, so sit the fuck down so I can give you the last dosis of this shit."

"I need to know if I can fucking trust you after what I just heard coming from your mouth," his voice boomed around the place.

"You really want to know?! Fine, back in Korell I lost my family, my brother, my parents, my home - everything I had they took it from me! I was the last one alive and I escaped after they killed my brother in front of me and that day is still haunting me," you muttered and felt the tears forming on your eyes, but this time, of rage. "So if it concerns your own well being, like it always has been, no, I will not kill you. But you are no Emperor here, so stop that game. Some of us never gave a fuck about you or the Empire, or the Foundation and Hari Seldon, or the Church of the Galactic Spirit -I don't care! I'm tired, I just want to be free and live peacefully!"

You had not noticed you stepped closer to him, feeling the heat radiating from his body. His face was blank, as if he had been slapped again, but this time to reality. A reality he was not familiar with on his own bubble.

Quickly you grabbed his bicep and injected the dosis with him standing up. He whined in surprise. It was fast. So fast that you just removed the needle from his flesh and left the room.

III. WHAT YOU REALLY KNOW

According to the Trantor cycle, evening should be now. When you left him alone in the room, Cleon spent the next hours by himself, and since he watched you looking up for garments and food around the ship before, he made sure to get those without speaking to you. Not that you wanted to talk either. He noticed you sitting on the main pilot seat, looking at the stars and the void through the glass the whole day. He got concerned for a moment, but decided to let you be as he, also, understood that some time alone was necessary.

However, Cleon thought to talk to you finally and say something. Anything to get you back to reality and forget your bad dreams. So he found himself making his way to sit on the other chair of the ship. He prepared the words to say inside his head, but it was more difficult to speak out loud.

"I think I owe you an apology," he finally said, taking in the view of space. You nodded slowly your head. Nobody turned to see each other.

"It's nothing. But apology accepted I guess."

"It's not nothing. I rarely thought about what other citizens and planets are going through... I'm so sorry it happened to you."

"I would like to say that was not your fault, but since the Empire withdrawal from Korell, living there definitely became so much worse," you confessed, very aware of the genetic dinasty and some of the things previous emperors did, which did not change much. They were the same man after all. Cloning again and again...

"Probably should apologise for that as well," he said.

"Yeah, it's too late, but thank you."

Cleon could still sense a feeling of resentment in your voice. He thought you were right to feel that way, but he was also going to try and make you understand him.

"I never had a mother, or a father, and my brothers are the same man as me, so it's hard to understand that some people lose their family and loved ones. I was born with that loss already... That's why I wanted to end the genetic dinasty."

"You are the eighteenth?" you asked, not knowing exactly why he was opening to you.

"The seventeenth."

"That's a lot of you though. Do you remember anything from the past?"

"I do not. But our memories are always saved. Everything that happens in Trantor is recorded and kept as data. If I want to know something about a previous Cleon, I would just request it."

You turned your gaze to finally see him, he looked in awe with space as he spoke.

"So what was your motive to destroy a planet?"

He turned his eyes to you. "I believe you didn't care about Empire or the Foundation."

"That doesn't mean I want to see a genocide, your Eminence."

Cleon stirred on his seat, with a strange feeling of guilt, sadness and regret. For some reason, the title falling off your lips made everything worse.

"You saw it," he said. "How? You're no part of the Foundation, at least you're lying to me."

"No, I am not! I did a stupid space jump without course and I ended here, unfortunately." You were growing tired of the conversation. "I don't know why we keep talking. We're both shitty people anyway."

Cleon chuckled, not to mock you, but because of the whole situation you were in together.

"I know you are. Brave enough to kill yourself, taking another life is nothing compared to your own."

You locked your gaze with his, thinking if he was he judging you or flattering you.

"And have you, like, tried to end with your life at some point? You must feel lonely, under the shadow of a clone, not allowing you to be, well, you."

He let out a deep breath, avoiding your eyes.

"I have not, but my genes are already compromised and adultered. No surprise if any of us dared to commit suicide before," he replied, looking to the void. "In any case, if something out of the ordinary is to happen to my brothers or myself, we have another clone with our same memories, same age, everything; prepared to be woken up and take our place. Like if we never existed."

"That's fucked up," you scoffed. "We are never trully free, are we."

You got on your feet to look up for something to eat and forget your small talk. You knew he had searched for fruits and dry food because you heard him moving around and then leaving a couple of times, but you had nothing through the whole day. Cleon followed your steps, leaving enough space between you both as you took a couple of apples, giving one to him.

"The jump, how did you do that?" he asked, taking a bite of the fruit. "You don't have spacers."

"The rebels are smart people. A lot of members of the Foundation replicated your technology."

"I thought you were not involved with them," he insisted.

"I am not, but I would never deny any help. That my support doesn't rely on them doesn't mean I will let a chance slide."

"You're not answering my question."

You pulled the sleeve of your shirt up to show your bare wrist to him. There was the same device Hober Mallow and the Clerics had, inserted on your skin.

"I use this.”

"This is a whisper ship," he mumbled.

"Smart. Yes, sort of."

Cleon scoffed. "So that means we can land somewhere."

"About that, uh, we can't."

He moved to throw the remainings of his fruit with a confused look. "Why?"

He heard your sigh as you covered your wrist again, looking away from his deep eyes.

"I- I threw myself to space because I wanted to kill myself," you started, avoiding his gaze. "I didn't care how long would take me, I just wanted to blow up my ship. Just end everything. But then I saw you, floating, dying... and for some reason I couldn't let you die. I didn't know who you were but I saved you. There's no energy or fuel to make another jump. I don't have that. We are far from what Terminus was now. From any planet, form of life or civilization... plus you are unarmed. You still are weak and anyone could kill you," you finished, and waiting for some reason that he could forgive you for giving him any sort of hope. "I'm sorry, Empire."

Beyond madness, Cleon felt you were worried for him. Not the kind of sentiment his brothers or palace workers would do, but a real one. Because you knew saving him was condemn him to death anyway. But this felt much better than dying alone. He had sins, past despiteful decisions and ghosts hunting him, as so were you. You just addressed your feelings and your life together in less than a day. And you were right, none of you were never trully free, but as crazy as it might be, being lost in space with you felt like freedom to him. Finally, he was far away from everything that was keeping chained to a life and responsibilities he never asked for, living under the shadow of an egotistical emperor.

There was a strong impulse growing inside him and before his rational voice began to scream it was a bad idea to continue, he had cupped your cheeks between his hands and his lips pressing hungrily against yours. You whined, surprised of the warm feeling of his mouth, his tongue hurriedly asking for permission to taste you. When oxygen was not enough you pulled away, shocked and panting. You barely noticed your hand around his forearm, recovering yourself from the best kiss you had in some time.

"Cleon," he whispered, kissing your lips one more time.

"What?"

"Just call me Cleon. I'm not Empire anymore."

You kissed him in response with the same eagerness he had before, heart beating strongly in your chest. His hands caressed every inch of your body, from your neck, breasts, your hips, your soft thighs, your ass... he touched you with desperate fire while you moaned against his mouth, liking where was this leading you, more than you wanted to admit.

That was the first time you gave in to him completely.

IV. TO LOVE AND TO BE LOVED

You moaned against his lips, those that forcefuly broke the heated kiss you shared as he ruts into you desperately to reach his own climax. His flesh hitting against yours made an obscene harmony that echoed the confines the ship, far from civil and coherent noises fell from his lips as he sucked into the skin of your neck.

"Fuck, yes, right there," a broken whimper escaped your throat, your nails scratching his back, your walls clenching around his cock. "Cleon..."

The sound of his name being moaned by your sweet, raspy voice, caused him to slow down his thrusts just a bit.

"I still don't know your name," he whispered, bitting your bottom lip only to kiss you wet again.

"And yet you're fucking me, isn't that enough?" you teased, rolling your hips to meet his own.

He gave you a smirk, that fucking handsome smirk you hated so much. He took you with his strong arms, flipping you around so he was now on his back and you got control on top of him. You sinked down his dick setting a reckless rhythm, his thrusts matching yours every time you went down, his grip hard on your waist, marking and bruising your skin. One of his hands massaged your bouncing breasts, one after the other, pinching and then, you felt his mouth biting your nipples and chest, as he leaned your body to him for easy access, with slow grunts and groans that didn't sound human anymore.

His cock repeatedly hit that sweet spot from the position you were taking him, increasing the tension inside you. The sensation of his hands coming back to your sides and making its way to your ass cheeks to guide your bouncing hips became too much so soon. You cried as you felt drunk and high, muscles tense as you finally came. Cleon held you tight, fucking into you as you reached sweet release. His tongue traveled down your collarbone and breasts.

"Cleon," you moaned, your hands on his chest to support your body better. You felt him twitch inside you, knowing he was dangerously close too. Quickly, you slid off him, taking his girth, slick with your own wetness, between your hand you pumped him hard, easing his own release. His seed coated your palm, sprinkling on his abdomen.

"Shit, you're great," he praised, voice dark from lust. His fingers tangled into your hair, his forehead against yours as you recovered from the intense sex session you had for the second time that day. He kissed you sweetly, like a sweetness he only had discovered in the short time with you. "I wish I could know your name."

"You can call me your savior," you gave him a playful smile.

After a shared lazy kiss, you got on your feet, legs still shaking, and left the bed to clean yourself in the small place you called bathroom right next to the only room of the ship. Once finished, you threw the cloth away, and looked directly the mirror, or poor attempt of it. In the damp glass, you watched Cleon appear to embrace your body against his, your back touching his chest muscles and his hands roamed your abdomen while he left butterfly kisses on your shoulder. His big arms around you, pressing your figure to his own, huge in comparison entrusting protection.

The nineteenth day it was, and you spent it exploring your pleassures, talking nonsense and overall for Cleon, thinking he might love you. The confinement had flourished different kinds of feelings and sentiments inside his heart. He finally learned to feel something else besides hatred, power, or selfishness. The more you spoke to him, the more he grew to like you. You were far from perfect and so was he, and the way you opened your heart to him - the man who was to wed a powerful queen, govern thrillions of people around the galaxy and kill a few others - caused him to feel unworthy of anything coming from you. The man he grew up to be slowly disappeared as long as you had him under your light and spirit; his old self was fading away. And it scared him, but excited him at the same time. Even when he was very aware you were near the end together, he had nothing to ask for but to perish with you.

"What's in your head?" you whispered.

Cleon had no longer been tasting the skin of your neck, his chin pressed on your shoulder instead with his mind running a million thoughts by now. He took a glance at the damp and dirty mirror of how perfect you looked, bare and exposed in body and soul, only for his eyes to witness the true beauty of being alive. Of being human.

"You."

A loving smile curled up on your lips, looking directly into his enamoured gaze through the mirror. He decided he wanted to remember you like this in the afterlife.

You finished marking the last spot with an 'x', a wide grin over your face.

"I won."

"Yet again," Cleon chuckled. His laugh had grew sincere with you as he settled on the floor on the cold floor of the pilot cabin, just giving enough space for the board between you and him. "And what is your question, person-I-not-know-the-name-of?"

You just had finished playing another round of a silly game. It was an old Terran game, and you were surprised it made it this far across the galaxy. It was good to pass the time though. It kept you and Cleon thinking about other things besides dying. The fuel and energy, along with the water, were lowering on their levels. Food on the other hand was not a worry, you knew you could request to the traders as long as energy was functioning to make communication with them. However, the energy of your ship had to be loaded in land, just like fuel. And you had no place to go now to do that.

Being together as long as you had the resources was the main goal now. So many things crossed your mind as you talked about everything and nothing at the same time the past days.

"Have you ever been in love?" you asked after some time thinking.

You thought maybe it was the first time in Cleon's life that he was finally able to think and behave on his own, with no burdens about a dinasty to protect or pleasing his council.

He was taken by surprise as you spoke. He immediately remembered Demerzel, his loyal advisor. His relationship was merely sexual, but there were no feelings that would assimilate to what love is in reality. For sure, his own clone should have been woken up by now with no further consequences. For Cleon, it felt like he was actually erased from existence forever. He was disposable, just like his brothers. But thinking about your question, his answer was no. He never knew what love was. Not from Demerzel, certainly not from Dusk, Dawn was slightly different though, he did love Dawn but not the way you were referring to. He never knew the love from a mother or a father, nor family. Sareth hated him, so even if they got to marry he knew there would be no space for such sentiment. His own future children with the Queen of Cloud Dominion would have grown up without an essential part of being human.

"No," Cleon finally gave an answer, his gaze went soft as he realised what you just became to him in a matter of days. "However I sense something different when I am with you. And I don't recall to know what that is."

You smiled. "Isolation tends to create adjustments in those who suffer it."

"And have you?" Cleon asked back. "Have you ever felt it before?"

"I did... With my parents, my brother, my best friends, and a couple of assholes who broke my heart."

He chuckled, admiring the charm you had to brush off the hardships in your life. You smiled back at him. Gods you loved seeing him like this, like if he was happy and nothing had happened.

"And how is it?" he said.

"It's affection, it's addictive, not everyone can escape from it. You feel like you belong somewhere, that your life is strangely complete," you mumbled, locking your gaze with his own. "And it hurts a lot. But as you go through that path, you get to know the most beautiful kind of pain."

"Does it hurt now?"

You swallowed hard, that familiar knot on your throat. You were not expecting to feel this way. Not for the Emperor, not for the clone, not for Cleon. Yet one does not control love. You don't decide to love someone without a reason. And what else could two lost souls do in the middle of the galaxy with no purpose but to wait and die? You had opened your deepest fears and secrets to him, not expecting Cleon doing exactly the same. He trusted you and you trusted him. You slept in the same bed, ate the same food and fruits, fucked like animals everyday and yet there was an emotional connection in between you thought would never know again after so many years. How could you not fall for him when everything was crumbling? Finally, you nodded your head, feeling the tears burning in your eyes.

"I always have been alone, Cleon, but my soul seems to have a little love to give. In the end, love is what makes us human."

Cleon put the board of the game away and leaned closer to you, his hand caressed your cheek, cleaning the tears falling down your face as he pressed his forehead with yours. He kissed you softly, swallowing your pain, as a way to say he was hurting too.

V. VOYAGE

It was the thirtieth day on the ship.

Your last try to get and land in any planet failed. As much as Cleon told you to stop, that everything was fine, you felt you had to keep trying until your last day. But the ship was basically to zero fuel and soon energy will follow. You used the control panel of the ship, hopefuly to find a near by land, but luck was not on your side. There was nothing. You don't know exactly how many miles you traveled with no course for a month. It was getting beyond bearing.

Frustrated, you pulled away the holo of the map and the calculations you did in the air, throwing a lose screw of your seat directly to the glass. It did nothing, but you were starting to hate the view of the stars and nothingness sorrounding.

"I told you to stop that," you listened to Cleon, who seemed just arrived to the pilot cabin.

"I had to try," you stood up, walking towards him. Your arms embraced his waist and he took you in with the same warmth.

"You're worried."

"I am not," you whined. "I should have sent for help with the merchants."

Cleon broke your hug and cupped your face between his hands, leaning closer to you.

"No, we should end this now," he whispered, his brows furrowed.

"No!"

"Why not? You wanted to do it even before you found me."

"Because now ending me is ending you too!"

Cleon felt your pain, but there was no other option to make than to blow up the ship anyway. Even if you were to land somewhere, what was for him? You were not able to go back home, and Cleon was discarded at this point. The throne could not have two of the same in the middle. Hiding and running away sounded like a good choice, but still, where? There was nothing left, but he found comfort with you.

"I am okay with this," he said. "I told you. You have to do it."

"Cleon-" you plea was cut by his voice.

"How much time do we have?"

"I don't know, a couple of days at last."

"Then do it. You said you were to decide when and how you would die, this is the time," he remembered with a stern voice. "Take it."

You let out a shaky breath and pushed him to press your lips to his own, like saying goodbye. But you still would not accept this fate. Not like this. You kissed him with hunger and need, your tongues tangled up as your mouths danced together.

"I just have- I can't yet," you mumbled once the kiss was over, leaving you both seeking for air. "Can we just fuck each others brains again and pretend none of this happened for a moment?" you asked against his lips, your hand now on his cheek, caressing the stubble on his face. You always remembered to help him shave and that was one of the most normal things you had to do since you found yourself confined with him. The most casual and mundane things to do became

He nodded. "Yes, my love.”

Cleon kissed your lips with the same hunger and desire, his hands caressing every inch of you until he lifted you up, your legs quickly went around his waist. With eyes closed, you let him guide you to the bar fixed against the wall of your ship.

He made sure to throw everything that was on the surface to the ground to place you in there. Once you were sitting, he pulled your legs apart to stand in the middle of them, and full with lust, his lips and teeth marked your neck and collarbone. You moaned sweetly, palming his groin still covered with the fabric of his pants. He traveled down your breasts, kissing over your shirt until he took it off. He was lucky you decided not to wear bra anymore. He sucked on your tits and nipples, grinding his hips against your hand.

You tried to pull his pants away, but he finished the job first, pulling away from your chest. After his pants were discarded, his shirt followed. He also got used to no underwear so he stood exposed all for you. A true god he was, looking perfect and like if every inch of his body was created for you to worship completely.

Cleon hurried in getting you out of your clothes, and in minutes you were naked and feeling his tongue dancing on your belly. His fingers and massive hands teasing your thighs, avoiding the place where you needed them the most. You moaned when he finally used a single digit to rub your slit, collecting your wetness. He rubbed your clit, mouth going slow and dangerously close to your pussy.

You laid your back on the bar and Cleon grabbed your thighs to have you exactly at the edge of the surface, ready to eat from your heat.

"Cleon," you cried out his name, your fingers tangled on his hair as his tongue licked your most sensitive parts.

He kept your hips in place, fucking you with his tongue and licking your folds, going to your clit. You couldn't help but whimper and moan, removing his hair to see just how much he yearned your cunt.

You tried to roll your hips but his grip was too strong. He looked up to lock his dark gaze with you, his humming creating strong vibrations down your core. He played some more, using a finger to tease your entrance. You were about to cum just by watching him.

"Cleon, please-" you gasped when he inserted a finger inside you, thrusting slowly. "Please, I want to taste you too."

He stopped, looking your flushed face for a moment. Your eyes were begging to suck him right now. He released your pussy with an obscene sound, pulling his tongue and hand away, but your wetness still shined on him. You got on the ground with his help and started to kneel down, kissing his skin, from his chest and then abdomen, licking and biting to leave your marks on his sculptured muscles. You made sure to adore and suck the skin of his navel, knowing he was insecure with not having a belly button. Still without it, he was more human than he could ever get to accept because you have seen that on him.

Cleon grunted once your hand wrapped around him, his hand on your scalp. You gave him a far from innocent look from your position before licking the head, rolling your tongue around it, lubing it with your saliva. His desperate groans led you to wrap your lips around him, pumping with your hand what you couldn't reach with your throat yet. You had to learn he was big for you, so a little of warm up for your mouth was a good start.

He cursed under his breath, thrusting his hips a little to go further, slowly, and you welcomed his cock with a small gag once he reached the back of your throat. He moaned darkly, your rubbed your thighs together when he started to fuck your mouth. Both his hands taking the sides of your head as you choked and gagged around his lenght. You felt him throbbing but he quickly pulled out, and left you empty and with drool falling from your lips, your pussy now aching and clenching around nothing.

"So beautiful," he purred, the touch on your scalp soft now. "But I want to finish inside you."

You nodded, obedient. Cleon helped you to sit down on the bar again, he stayed between your legs, spreading them wide, you held onto him, arms around his neck. He entered slowly, the warmth of your walls swallowing his cock, inch by inch, until it disappeared completely inside your dripping cunt.

You shivered, broken moans falling from your lips. Cleon muffled your low cries with kisses, waiting for you to get used to him.

"Fuck me, Cleon," you mumbled against his swollen lips.

He complied happily, thrusting and pounding into your heat, with a frenetic and brutal pace you had learn to love. You hid your face in the crook of his neck, yor nails scratching his arms and back. His cock touched all the right places inside you and he whispered sweet nothings into your skin, fucking you right under the light of the stars and the void of space.

He moaned along with you, wishing heaven or whatever it was after felt exactly like this. Like you, with your arms around him, your sweet voice calling his name lovingly and whimpering for more, giving your soul to him and only him. Your walls started to clench and his hips stuttered, aproaching a craving release. But in between, he heard a word against his ear you never mumbled before, turning his lustful eyes to you and slowing down his thrusts.

You repeated it again, he was visibly confused but kept ruting into you.

"My name," you said, fingers now caressing his hair.

He smiled. He knew it now. The stranger who saved him had a name after all. Cleon kissed you fiercely, repeating your name again and again between wet kisses. You were close to release, feeling one of his digits rubbing your clit as you moaned together. The wave of electricity took your body first, clenching your pussy around his cock. Cleon followed soon after, rhythm slow and tense muscles, until he spilled inside you, coating your sensitive cunt with his seed.

Catching your breath, you remained together. He sucked on your neck softly, your name was the only thought inside his mind. And as much as you loved his touch on you, you remembered there was something to do still.

"Cleon," you called, getting his attention and feeling he was pulling out of you with a low groan. He looked at you with loving eyes and you smiled. You brushed his hair with your fingers pulling him to yet another smooth kiss. "It's time."

He knew it was. In silence his fingers found his earring, twitsting it and pulling it apart. He took it from his ear and placed it on yours carefully. You were always amazed at his touch, how rough and yet soft and gentle he could be.

"So you can remember me," he smiled when he was over. You let out a laugh and curved your llps in a grin. "It suits you."

"Thanks, Cleon."

Cleon leaned down to kiss you one more time before cleaning both of you. You dressed together as if you were not about to meet finally death. For some reason, you saved everything that was not on their cabinets or initial positions, packing all you could, like if you could take those belongings with you, most of which were from your family. One day Cleon asked why you had clothes that could meet his height, being taller than a lot of people around. You told him it was from your best friend. You thought every piece of clothes or souvenirs would help someday, but it never crossed your mind that it was going to be this way.

When everything was was done, you and Cleon settled in front of the control panel, however, before you could start the holo, a loud explosion could be heard. You frowned, turning to Cleon.

"Did you-? Ah!"

The ship almost overturned as something heavy hit the side, making you trip and fall over with Cleon on the ground. Again, an explosion was heard, far from the ship but clear enough to say it was getting closer, and seconds later, the ship got hit but this time on the glass, almost breaking it over. Quickly, you both stood up and saw what was happening.

"A black hole..."

"Look, there are debris around," you pointed a huge piece that looked the size of your ship, but that definitely was part of a much bigger one. You saw the debris and metal being swallowed and destroyed by the black hole. It wasn't pacing fast, but wasn't slow either. It looked like it was talking its time for much bigger things to eat, such as your ship. Cleon called you, taking your hands and pressing his forehead to yours. You could feel he was shaking, and your skin grew cold. You realised it was really happening now.

"Do it," he said. "Destroy the ship."

After a moment of hesitation, you gave a nod. He kissed you deeply again. You turned the holo to activate the ship and program its own destruction.

"Self-destruction mechanism activated," the computer confirmed.

"We have sixty seconds," you mumbled, tears already forming in your eyes. He cut you off with a kiss. You would miss those warm lips on yours.

"That's enough for me," he said. You smiled and he did the same.

"I love you, Cleon," you embraced his body with a hug. "I am happy I met this kind of pain with you."

He cupped your cheeks, pecking your lips, smiling down at you, saying I love you too. You, the one who saved him and gave him a second chance. Or at least a moment of relief. A place and a person who allowed him to be himself and find things he never knew would have.

"We have more in common now," he whispered. "We are both alone and hurting somewhere in the galaxy.”

[multifandom-world8]

IMAGINE-

Being thranduil’s date to the annual ball at Mirkwood.

(Ps- it’s Lee pace’s birthday!! So this post is honor of that ❤️)

[lillianofliterature]

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 

[hungrh4yyy]

Please tumblr, give me reason to cry. Cuz i absolutely need one

[thethreeeyed-raven]

You're one of the few people I've seen who is willing to write Garret! May I request this sweet man finding his mate unexpectedly? Could be after a natural disaster or she gets lost in the forest after her car breaks down and he happens to find her, or even just bumping into her when she's on her way home from work. Wherever you find inspiration~! Please and thank you for your time. <3

lost?

navigation | warnings : ngl he’s a bit creepy? | a/n : i kind of changed it a bit i think, also there isn’t much romance or mention of a mate but i hope u enjoy! | tags : @fangsp1der-2099 , @knight-of-flowerss , @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom

"For fuck's sake-" You whispered multiple profanities as you slammed down the bonnet of your car.

Watching as the smoke drifted into the atmosphere, you dragged a hand down your face, sighing.

"I'll try and walk my way there I guess."

It must've been at least an hour, and here you were, still walking.

Suddenly, a twig snapped from behind you, making you quickly turn around to investigate.

"You lost?"

Garret had decided he would stroll through the forest of Forks, deciding to stay for a bit when a sudden strong scent filled his senses.

He followed the trail of the smell and came upon a woman.

She clearly looked lost, but she smelt too good...

Garret stepped closer, not noticing the twig in front of him.

The woman swiftly turned round looking him dead in the eye.

"You lost?" Really? What are you thinking?

He could hear her gulp from where he was standing, he could hear the blood pumping through her veins.

Human...

He could see the sweat drip from her temple, hear the cracks in her knuckles as she fidgeted with her hands.

Why can he hear everything?

"Y-yes...I'm headed to Forks." You replied nervously. Sure the guy in front of you was attractive, but he sure seemed creepy.

"Oh! I have some friends there, I could take you."

Maybe he won't eat her today...

[theartofimagining13]

Imagine:

It’s your birthday and your family threw you a party to cheer you up and distract you since you’ve been sad lately because your boyfriend Chris and you decided to take some time apart. Your parents invited a bunch of friends including Lee, a man everyone thought you’d end up with until you started dating Chris. The two of you always flirted and laughed a lot and this time it was no different. Lee was truly making you smile and forget all about your problems. Chris decided to pay you a visit because he wasn’t going to ignore your birthday but when your father answered the door, he didn’t let him in saying you were having a good time and that he shouldn’t spoil that, but Chris glanced over your father’s shoulder and caught a glimpse of you and Lee talking and smiling in the distance which he did not like one bit.

[madwomansapologist]

Autumn Thunderstorm | Chapter 6 - Tomorrow you'll know

Navigation | Series Masterlist | AO3

series synopsis: Thranduil thought the recent attack of spiders on a periphery village was the only thing deserving of his attencion. If he could've imagined what he would found there, who he would found there, the Elvenking would wait a millenia in front of that river so he could see her sooner. Or: how Gandalf managed to keep a secret for 14 months.

sixth chapter synopsis: It was a difficult choice, but Aerin made it for you. Now with nothing holding you back, you already had the answer Thranduil longed for: yes. Now your only concern is the anxiety about the reunion. [7K]

warnings: female!reader. lotr kinda of violence. pre-Smaug.

glossary: Vendë: Maiden┆Rae, dimwë. Tolo, govano ven: Smile, sad girl. Come, meet us!┆Maenwë: Clever girl

Few things are eternal in this life. Lands can disappear after earthquakes, seas dry up with the seasons, stone fortresses are invaded and conquered. Not even the star that lights up the day, so far away since the prime of its creation, is a certainty. There is no way of knowing whether it will stay there tomorrow.

You are not an exception. Your face has changed, the same for your body and mind. Your hair continues to grow, clothes continues to wear out, skin continues to collect scars. Things keep changing. Now your mouth speaks a new language, just as your mind carries the weight of friendly words and your body knows the excruciating pain of near death.

And your endless gratitude reached its limits.

In the silence of the dawn, you knew exactly where to step on the flooring so it would not wake anyone. You crossed the room, stepping on your toes where the wood was older, and held the doorknob. Slowly, carefully, you locked the door. Part of your anguish permeated the wood.

You closed your eyes and tried to ease your mind. You do not know how long it took, but you were able of creating a thick layer of ice on it. How does someone who freezes a river finds it difficult to do something like that? Although eternity is a completely impossible target to hit, your ice will be capable of lasting a few hours.

It will be enough. 

It was easy to pack. But to see everything you knew, all those things that for so long were part of your life, and just leave them behind… You do not have time to waste. Not with those you cannot carry, or with people you do not want near you.

You folded your clothes carefully, so it will not wrinkle during your journey, and approached your table. You knelt down and touched the underside of it, removing the letter you glued there. The last one. You tucked it between the pages of your most beloved book.

It seemed right to put the two together.

Ready to leave, you opened the window and sat on the frame. You looked at the place that for fourteen months had been your home. “Goodbye”, you whispered. “Thank you.”

Despise your anger, despise your spite and grief over the things you lost, you left something behind. Something that proved that even your certainty was not enough to freeze your heart. That even all that pain you carry is not enough to make you forget about everything. You left two letters behind. One addressed to Gandalf. The other for Aerin.

It was a goodbye. Or something close to it.

To wander in the early hours of the morning was strange. The cold fog made it difficult to see the path, but you already knew it. You had crossed it so many times, but never you felt so lonely doing it. Not even your memories accompanied you. All you had was your handbag and yourself. 

And still, you did not looked back. Not even once.

The sun showed signs it had not decided to disappear when you arrived at the village. Heat made the fog rise. Seeing lamps being lit, bakers waking up, you understood that what you felt was not a clinging loneliness. 

It was fear. 

Was it from the dark and what could be hidden between the trees? Or maybe it was about Aerin noticing what you did. It is easy to run away and leave a letter behind, but to face her? Perhaps you feared arriving safely at Luthien’s house. Because if that happens, it means that all you can do now is to wait.

The sun set so the moon could shone in its place, and all you did was watch the fire turning your letters into ashes. There you where, motionless, staring at the remains of your treasures. She did not need to do such a vile thing. To burn them before your eyes. Aerin was cruel. She chose to be. So you made your own choice without thinking about her.

You chose the unknown future. You chose incertitude. You chose a life of joys, peace, harmonica. You chose a life of sadness, wars, losses. You chose boredom. You chose heroism. You chose evil. Parsimony and excess, eternal nature and imminent death, painful truth and necessary lies. You chose a life where you will be afraid forever and evermore.

You chose tomorrow and whatever it has for you.

That night after the fireplace ceased you came back to Luthien’s house and asked her to send a letter for you. The letter she send was marked with tears and written in a hurry. It was made of lies. It said you were spending the last few days at Luthien’s house because of the bite. It was also made of omissions. It said nothing about what had just happened to you. And it was the truest, more honest letter you ever wrote. 

Because it started with a yes.

Even though fear hurts you soul, you have never felt so determined to live. Any fear is better than a life of imposed limits. You prefer a million butterflies in you stomach than a withered certainty. Infinite looks nice and all, but you want more than just that.

And Thranduil offered you so much more than that.

Does he knows that he did that? That he gave the possibility of learning more about you powers, about the nature around you, and also the chance of a fresh start. Thranduil gave the unmissable chance to discover the world beyond the valley. But Thranduil also changed old certainties.

You were so sure you would never see him again. Now the only thing separating you from him is the path ahead. Is time. There it is. The true reason behind your fear. Knowing that you will see Thranduil again, and it means he will also see you.

He lingered with you. The way Thranduil hides his harshness on his politeness. Or the way he never, not even once, treated you like you were lesser than him even though he is a king. And his accent, so hard and projected, different than anything you have ever heard. His handwriting showed you the care and effort he put onto making his soul clear for you. Thranduil, despise anything he may think about himself, is so kind. 

Does he miss you as much as you miss him? Does Thranduil knows that even if he could not help you with your powers, if his realm had nothing to add in your life, if you had nothing to gain with that: it would still be worth it? Does he imagine that seeing him again is enough for you?

Does he feel the same way about you?

Absorbed in your own memories, you did not even notice that Luthien was waiting for you on the stairs of her house. “Did you get everything you needed?”

“Everything I have”, you showed the handbag you carried.

“Does that have space for more?”

You nodded, and Luthien entered her house without closing the door. You waited outside, glaring at the sunrise. The sky was golden. There were pink clouds, orange lines in the sky, but everything was golden. After such a dark dawn, you could not help but feel hopeful for the daylight.

“I will miss you”, you dealt with the elephant in the room as soon as you heard Luthien returning. “I need you to know this. Because I really will.”

Luthien gave you two different ointments. One was greenish, very liquid, and the other was almost transparent. As you held them, Luthien caressed your hands. “If everything works out for you I will never see you again”, Luthien whispered. “I need you to know that I am counting on it.”

The hug you gave her almost crushed Luthien’s ribs. You could not care less. She helped you wrap the jars and put them with the rest of your things. And until the carriage arrived, you talked as if it would not be the last time.

You did not know what the carriage looks like, you had only saw three or five during your life, but just a look at the one approaching was enough for you to be sure it was the one Thranduil warned you about.

It was a double-decker carriage, drawn by four horses, and the charioteer who drove it wore clothes as beautiful as the two guards sitting beside him. The red paint covered the cabin perfectly, the curtains hiding what was inside it. Above it, the Woodland banner roared. 

“Until never again”, said Luthien.

The charioteer took your handbag. You felt a little bit guilty that he left his post to help you with something so tiny. The man opened the cabin’s door, and gesture for you to enter it. Both the guards greeted you.

You approached, and he extend his hand for you to get on. For the first and only time that morning, you looked back. You had tears begging to roll down your face, but you smiled anyways. “I hope so.”

And the moment the door closed, you could only wonder if your choice was the right one. You already have the answer for the question, and is such a simple one: maybe tomorrow you will know. And everyday for the rest of your life the answer will be the same: maybe tomorrow you will know. 

Now all you have to do is wait.

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If the Elvenking’s Halls staff were forced to vote — and if they were also guaranteed their right to privacy — ninety-eight percent of them would decide that life was easier when Thranduil was away. That equation has a two percent margin of error.

Ancient tapestries telling stories from other eras have been brushed. New chair were ordered from the royal carpenters, tables were sanded in all their details, and every wall was cleaned with warm cloths. For days anywhere someone could walk would have part of the staff working until exhaustion. Until it was perfect.

And the Elvenking was never satisfied.

Thranduil made a point of personally analyzing each room, and his criticisms were cruelly honest. In the moment he finally said that it was perfect, the praise was already accompanied by a new order. Tidy up the stables, brush the horses, check the library’s organization. Royal painters were invited to spend the next few months at the Halls, just as the best singers will be part of the dinners and dances.

No part of the Halls were left untouched. Not even the Elvenking’s chamber.

The curtains were washed, the table organized, candlesticks replaced with new, more polished ones. But what really mattered was not his chamber, but who lives on it. Thranduil took measurements for new robs to be sewn, new jewels were cast into rings, his hair was brushed to perfection. 

What changed the entire staff’s opinion was the Elvenking’s concerned proving to be million times stronger when it came to that empty chamber. When Thranduil could not sleep because he needed to chose whether the bed sheet should be golden or navy blue, it was easy to come to a conclusion.

The Elvenking was reduced to a man in love.

And even that he made it everyone’s problem, it was a good change. It made the Elvenking become obsessed with every minor detail, but it also made him younger. It made him want something new than to just endure. And Greenwood seemed to blossom with its king.

Tuor followed the carpenters carrying furniture to the once empty chamber, dodging workers trying to gather dust and maids removing curtains. That room was busier than war trenches, but the dark-haired knight continued until he was at his king’s side. Tuor watched him instruct where the cabinets should be placed, warn about the room needing to be warm all the time, say that blue is definitely the best choice.

“There are more important matter to discuss, your grace. Things that will last longer than a braided cloth”, Tuor whispered to him. “And it should be golden.”

Thranduil sighed. He knew it was the wrong choice the moment he spoke. “Golden it is.” Thranduil hesitated before turning his head towards Tuor, his eyes still glued to the chamber in front of him. “The sun runes were translated?”

Tuor took a step back, indicating that they needed privacy. The king led the way, following the passages of wide halls carved from living trees. The corridors became emptier as they moved away from the chamber, and after a few minutes of silence Thranduil stared at him. Tuor was tall, but he needed to look up to speak to his king.

“How much they know?”

“Everything that matters”, Tuor sighed. “How our watch shifts works, where the wall is weakest, our combat strategies. They even traced spider’s nests near us. I just do not understand, your grace, why sun runes. They are goblins, orcs, vile creatures. Should not it be moon ones?”

 Thranduil crossed his arm. “Tell me: why is the Halls under the ground and not high on it? Would it not be more difficult to attack something you cannot reach?”

“In some cases, yes”, replied Tuor. “But this does not mean our defense will be at loss. It is impossible to enter without us knowing, and from below we can evacuate the entirety of our realm without arousing suspicion. Even if our enemies were stronger or more numerous than our army, our passages are deeper and safer. Our trees are strong, your grace. And those creatures we fight have not even begun to understand that.”

Thranduil agreed, noticing how quickly Tuor turned his thoughts into words. There is no way for him to be a great ruler if he is not surrounded by great minds. “It means you understand that not everything is as simple as it seems. Think again. Why sun runes?”

Tour hesitated. He opened his mouth, but could not think of anything smart to say. Not when he felt so cornered. Then the realization came. There is a reason for those maps to not be written in a way those monsters could understand. “They are not meant for them.”

“Exactly”, The Elvenking moved towards the council hall. Thranduil already knew the amount of work they would have for the next weeks would be equivalent to the work the Halls’ staff had for the last few days. “Do you understand what that means?”

“What, your grace?”

The doors to the council hall opened. He turned to his old friend and gave him a smirk. “It means that our traitor will be easier to find.”

This friendship is old enough for Tuor to be able to understand the things Thranduil prefer to not speak out loud. Easier to find? It was just Thranduil’s way of saying it will be easier to kill.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

It was easy to fall asleep in the carriage cabin. The benches were comfortable, there were soft blankets inside them, even the constant movements of rocks and holes on the path turn it into the perfect environment to rest. You had two books with you, but with the movement your eyes ache trying to read it. 

You started to spend nights awake and days asleep. It was easy to get lost in your imagination just to realize you were actually dreaming.

Going down the mountain and away from Rivendell, both the climate and the river changed. There was less water for the threes, and also more heat. The light green faded, thick branches thinned, colorful flowers had not yet bloomed. You tend to blur your vision so you can see a smudge of colors. 

If you were not sleeping, you were appreciating the view. Not even your fertile imagination could create all those different places. Every idiosyncracy was marked in your memory, and even the most common scenarios meant something to you. It was a reminder that whatever happens from now on is part of your deal with tomorrow. 

A few times you placed your head over the window, eyes closed and winds ruffling your hair, stretching your hands as far as you could. It was as if you could uproot one of the distant trees and bring it to you. The guards always ordered you to keep your entire body inside the cabin, but you could not help it.

You could, you just did not want to.

Not when you feel so light, almost as if the right wind could make you fly away.

Your mouth stays shut for most part of your days. The charioteer is kind, and both guards are way to invested on guaranteeing you are safe, but they are away from you. Inside of the cabin, all you can do is hear. The world around you — sometimes, at the middle of the night, you swear you can hear its engines turning —, but also at what the three elves chat about when they think you will not hear.

The charioteer is anxious about his daughter pregnancy. One of the guards, Lhoris, fell in love last spring with a singer. Your heart almost melt inside your chest when he called her a siren. The other is more reserved. It took you two days to hear him speaking for more than seven seconds. 

There were a few times when they whispered about the Elvenking. About how he spend so long away that some feared Thranduil went to the Undying Lands. About how he bravely chased monster after monster and no elve under his protection fell down. About how Greenwood seemed to blossom after his arrive.

Maybe because you know nothing about kings, maybe because you heard a few things about Mirkwood, but you thought Thranduil’s subjects would fear him. Your opinion changed, but it still surprises you that what you heard was gratitude. Relief. Recognition.

It happened during sunset. They thought you were sleeping, at any other day they would be right. But green leaves just turned into faded brown and you wanted to see it all. Bari, the quiet guard, wondered what made his king chose him to this task. To protect someone so dear to him.

That made you heart fluster. Dear.

You also got interest on the things they do not say out loud. 

Like how the two guards follow you closely whenever there is a stop. Or how whenever you need something in your handbag the charioteer takes extra care so you will not stretch your arms. Your clothes do not show the scar across your shoulder, but you think he was informed to be careful about it. You think Thranduil warned them about it.

Sleep, observe, listen: they all are just ways of stopping you from spending your time thinking about him. Every day makes you a little bit more anxious, because every day that passes get you closer to him. Thranduil, Thranduil, Thranduil. That is not just a name anymore, it is a intricate melody for your mind.

How should you act when you finally see him? The right thing is to bow, you know that, but that feels so wrong. And to hug him… would a king feel offended by that? Should you have asked him what was the proper way to behave on court? Or would that too be offensive?

You woke up when the carriage suddenly stopped moving. You had just got on your feet when the charioteer knocked on the door. You fixed your hair before opening it. “Another stop?”

“No, unfortunately no”, Tanyl reached for your hand.

 You thanked him as get out of the cabin. All four horses were free from their restraints, and now saddle by the guards. Walking towards them, you saw it. You saw everything.

“Apparently rained in Greenwood last night, and some trees fell and blocked out path. We need to follow the Elf-path on horseback, vendë. We lament for the inconvenience.”

What was in front of you, around you, was way more important than anything else. Than anyone else.

It was autumn. 

You know it has just begin. The citadel reported the change od seasons a couple of weeks ago. Cold wind became more common than the warm one, leaves started to fall, fruits stopped growing. Summer ended, autumn begin, but this… Even someone who only heard what autumn is would recognize it.

This place was autumn itself.

It seemed to be a faded orange, but every other tone revealed itself for those that payed attention. Burgundy leaves, twisted brown branches, greenish swallows. A speck of blue shook the branches, and soon the butterflies separated. Its blue wings became multi-colored with the sunset reflection. Wind made everything feel so alive. Of course plants are living being, you know that, but they seemed to breath.

Some may only see an orange spot, but they did not pay attention to the singularities of the world around them. To all the beauty, and life, and sweet melodies. Those who can not see its colors are simply unable of perceiving beauty even when its right in front of their noses.

That made you blood boil. Your fists clenched, as if you would start a fight with anyone who dared to say something bad about this realm. And maybe you really would. You have never been on a fight, but for this place you would.

Mirkwood. How dare them? This place does not deserve such a horrendous name. How did those bad rumors made a way into everyone’s mind? Mirk. It is a land invaded by spiders, with cursed waters and intoxicating air, but it is much more than just that. It is beautiful. Delicate. And it endured for so long.

That word will never escape your mouth anymore. You swear on this. From now on, it is just Greenwood. As it should. As it deserves.

“Do not lament it”, you gave a beaming smile. Without waiting for instructions, you got near the horses. “Are we close?”

Lhoris guided the group, he knew the path better than any of them, and made sure your horse would stay close to his all the time. “A few hours more, and you will be able to rest inside the Elvenking’s Halls.”

Time never took so long to pass. It was a beautiful view, a stunning one, but at every corner you expected to see his palace. To see him. And at every corner all that waited for you was more of the marvelous forest.

Within time you noticed it. The enchantment on the path. Gandalf showed you something similar, and smaller, before. Aerin tended to be mad at you whenever you spend the night reading, and when you told him that… All Gandalf heard was a chance of mischief.

He made it so easily. When you are on you armchair, you are protected. No one can see you, or notice what you are doing. You feel like a child whenever you use it. Like a rebel.

Your excitement disappeared. You thought about your past as if it was your present.

“Rae, dimwë”, an intricate harmony woke you ip from your thoughts. You looked around, but the sound seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. “Tolo, govano ven!”

Bari, after seeing how startled you got, rode to you. “They are welcoming us.”

You remember hearing once about how music is important to elves. It is used to spread knowledge, to make people feel better, to mock others feelings. “What did they sang?”

“Smile, sad lady”, Bari recited. “Come, join us.”

You tried to force a smile, and after a feel seconds it felt real. They were welcoming you. Why get sad thinking about yesterday when you could be thinking about the present? Welcoming. “Does that mean we are near?”

Tanyl nodded. “Almost there.”

You almost went faster than Lhoris. The only thing that stopped you was the fear of taking the wrong path and ending up in trouble. Your hands sweated against the reins, and the birdsong was replaced by the strong beating of your heart.

The trees were old deep in the forest. So long, bigger than houses. Even your horse took a good few seconds to cross the entire length of one. And they were so high the sky had already disappeared. As the minutes piled up, the long bridge came into view. It was perhaps older than those trees. And passing over the waterfall, it led to the gates that separate the forest from the Elvenking’s Halls.

So that is a palace. You have seen engravings in books, but nothing would make you understand how tall it would be. Just the entrance, the placid blue windows and the heavy gate that could only be touched by those allowed to do so, was a luxury you never thought possible to witness.

And inside the Envelking’s Halls, you finally understood what Thranduil meant by a birdhouse.

It was as if the trees were born for this. All the bridges, stairs, walls and ceilings: everything was alive. Everything was a plant growing and expanding. The engineered columns, the perfectly sized doors, the constant moat that showed that the great asset of it was not the height of the palace, but its depth.

This place is definitely not worthy of being called a birdhouse, but you cannot think of a better way to describe it.

Your traveling companions left to look after the horses. You followed new guards, who welcomed you by name and instructed you on the path. Your nails were at the brick of penetrating your skin. They opened a door, and inside the room was the first person that was not a guard to welcome you.

And it was not Thranduil.

It was a woman. A beautiful, elegant woman. When her eyes met yours, they seemed to shine like a million stars. She got near you, took your hands between hers, and squeezed them lightly. “It is so nice to finally meet you. Please, call me Lorie.”

Her hands felt so warm on yours. “It is nice to finally be here, Lorie.”

“You must be so tired.” Lorie stood next to you, and you imitated her as she started to walk. Some part of you feared that you would not be treated well, but she quickly made those thoughts evaporate. Lorie took you to a staircase, and climbed it slowly. “Three days, right?”

“Four”, you answered. “I am pretty sure Bari, Lhoris and Tanyl are way more tired than me. All I did was wait.”

“You will not fool me”, her laugh made your smile grew bigger. She had such a alluring way of being. “I saw you. You rode til here, and that I know is so exhausting. Horses see me as the enemy. That is why I am the one welcoming you.”

“What do you mean, Lorie?”

 Lorie turned into a corner, and you tried to make yourself pay attention to her face but everything was so beautiful. So different than anything you ever saw. “You deserve to rest. And to bath, and eat. It would not be very polite of a king to welcome a guest that would rather sleep on the floor than to be part of a conversation.”

You licked your lips, and hoped your voice would not change with his mention. “When will I… see the king?”

Lorie smirked. She guided you to another stair. “At night, during banquet.” 

Lost in the immensity of your thoughts, it took a few seconds for you to notice the silence. In an attempt to take the attention away from yourself, you turned to Lorie. “Why are you accompanying me?”

“Our king has granted me the honor of being your lady-in-waiting”, Lorie seemed very happy about this. !I hope to meet your standards.”

You thought about saying you did not have any, but that sounded a little bit rude.

At some point she entered a corridor, turned at a crossroads, climbed another staircase. You were too caught up in the conversation to pay attention. The only thing that made you take your focus off Lorie was her stopping walking.

The tall door had elks carved into it. You felt tempted to touch them. “Ready?” Lori asked, holding the doorknob.

Sun reached your eyes. The long balcony allowed you to see the forest from above. The sight moved you. All the colors and sound that accompanied you were even brighter and louder from there. There was a mountain in the distance, the river that led to the waterfall in front of the gates, the immensity of that corner of the world. 

The room was large, bigger than any room you had ever been in until today, and so warm. There were candles scattered throughout the room, candelabra decorating each piece of furniture. You followed the lights, circling the room, and slid your finger through one of the shelfs on the wall. They were all books with the common language and elvish in it.

A long tapestry telling a ancient story covered the floor, and it broke your heart when you had to step on it to reach the wide bed in the center of the room. If Lorie was not there, you would have jumped on it. Instead, you sat on your bed and caressed the golden bed sheets. “So pretty”, you whispered to yourself.

“Everything is perfect?” Lorie closed the door behind her. She got closer, hands supported at her bottom back. “We can change anything. From the curtains tissue to whatever book you may desire. All you need to do is inform us.”

You hid your smile behind your hand, but it had already reached your eyes. “It will not be necessary.” You took a deep breath. It smelled like pomegranate and cinnamon.

A knock on the door made you get up from the bed. Lorie opened it, you could not see who was on the other side. The person handed her a handbag, and Lorie closed the door one more time.

Lorie placed it on your bed. She walked away and opened the gigantic closet doors on the wall in front of your bed. Carefully, you took out your books from your handbag. You placed them on a shelf, making sure they would not get wrinkled, and when you turned to you bed you saw Lorie snooping through your things.

“What is your favorite color?” Lorie asked you. “It do not need to be a eternal answer, tell me just about today. What is your favorite color today?”

You thought the change of subject was strange, but you enjoyed the way Lorie worded her question. It was so much easier to find an answer. “Green. Why?”

Lorie nodded towards the closet, and only then did you realize that it was not empty. You could have come without any bags and it would not have been a problem. “I thought it would be easier for you to chose.”

“Is all this mine?” Lorie agreed. “All of this?”

Lorie approached, and squeezed your shoulders while you admired everything. It was one thing when Thranduil gave you a dress as a gift. It was something occasional. But this… So much jewelry, gold, chains. Silk, velvet, cotton. All the colors of the rainbow were there, just as those that are not part of it. This is a treasure hidden inside a closet.

“I think green will suit you perfectly”, Lorie whispered. “Shall we get you ready for tonight?”

Your heart flustered once more.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Thranduil is usually responsible for making meetings last longer than they were first supposed to. He does not accept leaving one without all the answers he wants. And even when he has them, the Elvenking is not so easily satisfied. You do not reign for so long without being able to gather all the knowledge necessary to make the best decisions.

In a moment as disastrous as this, with the discovery of something moving between the free kingdoms and gathering information for the Enemy, it would be expected that the Elvenking would not stop until he was sure that he had done everything he should.

Watch shifts have already changed, blacksmiths have been informed about the creation of new weapons, fighters will be trained in different, new styles. But that is not all. It is necessary to find a way to stop the spy, to ensure that he is not inside Greenwood, to protect this realm from any harm.

To endure, no matter what.

And still, it was Thranduil who ended the meeting.

As soon as he was informed, Thranduil did not allowed the discussions to continue. He gave his advisors no choice. Thranduil just got up and headed to his chambers, not caring about the frustrated grunts and whispered complaints behind him. It is over, they can mourn it if they so desire.

Thranduil has more to do.

Centuries are mere blinks in an elven’s life. Hundreds of years are nothing more than brief moments for his kin. Still, the few hours that followed from the end of the meeting until banquet never took so long to pass. It had been so long since Thranduil became so aware of the passing of time. Aware of how slow it actually is.

The banquet hall had been built so that moonlight can penetrate the roots of the trees and take a seat at the table. Surrounded by depth, it functioned like an island in the middle of the ocean. All the residents of Elvenking’s Halls who were invited had already arrived, and the musicians played in one of the layers above so the sound can reach the whole hall. Everything was perfectly splendid.

But one person was missing.

“Calm down, your grace”, muttered Tuor. The words were gentle, but the tone mocked Thranduil. “Do you fear she has runned away? It seems a very likely concern to me. A lady with good instincts would make that decision.”

Thranduil rolled his eyes. “I think it is better that you move to the end of the table. Distance makes you more bearable.”

With a dry laugh, Tuor slid his fingers across his glass. “Would you rather be alone with your thoughts?”

Thranduil downed his wine. For Tuor, it served as an answer.

When the doors opened, all the guests stood up. Thranduil should not have done that, a king does not need to get up to welcome someone, but he was still the first to get up.

And the first thing Thranduil saw were your eyes. They had not changed. Weeks passed, the world came between the two of you, and still you have not changed. There were violets in your eyes. They flourished. You flourished.

Thranduil will never forget the first time he saw you. Your dress wrinkled and muddy, lossy hair framed your face with freedom, the lightness of your smile illuminating the inn. 

He had never seen anyone so beautiful. Not in all the millennia of his life.

The silk dress adorned your body like running water. So smooth, so liquid. The fabric hung from thin straps, folded over your body, joined your skin as if they were one and the same. It was the color of emeralds, and the belts had diamonds sewn into it. The tail glided over the stairs as you descended it, shining like hundreds of stars.

Thranduil’s opinion remain the same.

With your hands hidden behind your back, you swallowed hard as you felt all the eyes burning into your skin. You blinked a few times, your hands sweating, and looked up at the spot you feared the most. You looked at Thranduil.

His robe was made of noble silver and black brocade, with silver piping and light gray embroidered vines. The burgundy coat was so different from anything you did ever seen him wear. So much stronger, more imposing. More natural.

Thranduil was at home. 

But you only noticed the difference on his presentation when you were trying to sleep, turning over in bed with your head preventing you from closing your eyes. Only alone in the middle of the night you stopped to think about that. But at the moment you saw him, with ocean blue eyes deep on your soul, all you did was smile.

And so you bowed.

Thranduil called your name, and his voice gave you goosebumps. You lifted your posture and when you looked at him again, a bros smile occupied Thranduil’ serious face.

“Welcome”, he took a deep breath. Thranduil pointed with an open hand to the armchair on his right. “Join me.”

You bit your tongue. You were afraid that if you started to smile, if you let the happiness of your soul take place on your face, your cheeks would tear. Your next steps were slow, your lugs unable to do anything more than that, but sure until you were next to Thranduil. You almost forgot how tall he was.

One of the servants pulled out the seat for you. Without looking away from him, you sat down. “Hi.”

Thranduil sat on the edge of his armchair, not even noticing how his posture had bent. Conversations resumed for the rest of the table, which meant the two of you had privacy in some way. “How was your travel?”

“Stunning”, your eyes shone. “Greenwood is so beautiful. I must have almost left the path a few times because I got distracted admiring it.”

Thranduil sighed. “We were not able to clear the path after yesterday’s storm. I am sorry you had to complete the path on horseback.”

“Do not be”, you bit your bottom lip. It felt strange talking to Thranduil when there were so many people around you. It felt wrong that your conversations were not private. That they were not yours. “I loved it. Truly.”

He let out a giggle. “Will your honesty always continue to amaze me?”

“I imagine so”, you replied. “At least I hope so.”

Silence has never been so profound. Thranduil’s eyes seemed to look deep into your soul, and perhaps they really could. It was strange and new, but it did not bother you. Not in any way.

You removed your hands from behind your back, revealing the book you were hiding. Holding it with both hands, you showed it to the Elvenking. “A gift.”

Thranduil would normally have accepted vehemently, but without caring about it. Anyone else would have received an empty thank you. But upon hearing your words, Thranduil felt his heart skip a beat. “You do not have to.”

“Maybe”, you answered him, shooking the book lightly. “But I wanted to.”

Thranduil took the book, his fingers brushed against yours. He prolonged the contact for a second, an infinite second, and then he leaned back. He ran his thumb across the leather cover, reading the title in gold. His heart barely let his mind function.

“It is about an exiled soldier. I will not tell you too much about the story, but he is on a journey to prove his innocence and avenge himself”, your toes curled under the table. Your happiness was not contained withing your body and was trying to escape wherever he could. “It is my favorite. And I thought maybe, you might like it. I did not know what to give a king, and I do not think there is anything you need, so maybe it is not-”

“It is perfect”, Thranduil reassured you. He was not lying. He would not lie to you. “Thank you, maenwë.”

You giggled. “It is been a long time since someone called me that.”

Thranduil remembered the terrible way people got used to not call you by your name. It made him burn with anger for a moment, but he chose to turn it into something more useful. “Was it difficult to say goodbye to Aerin? It is a shame that you had to make this journey alone.”

Your peace of mind was shaken. Lying to him was necessary. You may not have known Thranduil for a long time, but you do not think he would react well to what Aerin did. Or that he felt good letting you travel for so long without anyone to support you. Still, just because it was necessary does not mean it was right. “She is a very busy woman. If I had to wait for her, I would never come here.”

The banquet was served, and for a long time the number od employees walking around the room made it impossible for you both to talk. Your cup was served with wine, your plate had the greatest variety of food, and there were so many different foods that a thousand dinners could be given and there would still be leftovers. 

But as soon as the staff left and you started eating, you just waited for a hint that it was acceptable to talk during the meal in that part of the world. The food was magnificent, but that was not the reason why you are here.

“Were you able to rest after your arrival, vendë?” The man next to Thranduil asked. He had a dark, velvet skin, and kind eyes. You have a weak point for things that look delicate.

“This is Tuor, and old friend”, Thranduil introduced him. Looking at Tuor, he hoped the elve could understood to not put him on shame.

“Nice to meet you, Tuor”, you smiled. “And yes, I managed to rest. I did not realize I was so tired until I approached the bed.”

“If I am not mistaken”, Tuor began. “Those chambers have golden sheets, no? Was your sleep comfortable?”

“Yes, they are golden. Very comfortable. As well as beautiful.”

Tuor’s smile made Thranduil roll his eyes. “I am glad about that, maenwë.”

The rest of the night passed with the two of you eating and talking. More talking than eating. Sometimes Tuor was part of the conversation, but mostly not. And you both talked about everything. 

You questioned Thranduil about his quest, if he had not been hurt. He told you stories of how he hunted the creatures, but only because he noticed that you would like to hear them. You are the kind of person that does not mind hearing disgusting stories over dinner.

And Thranduil asked you about your recovery, if you wanted something to change in your chambers, if you needed anything for that matter. Thranduil heard you talking about anything that you wanted to. He did it gladly.

Over time, the guests left. One by one, the hall shrank. Music continued to play throughout the night. But you did not noticed any of those things. You only paid attention to Thranduil, the raspberry pie stirred on your plate, and the glass of wine that was never emptied.

Thranduil accompanied you to your chambers. That made you feel relieved. If you needed to find your way alone there you would never be seen again. “Now I understand. Birdhouse”, you heard Thranduil sighing. “It is actually a good comparison.”

“You are too kind”, Thranduil stopped walking. You only knew it was the door for your chambers because of the elks carved into the wood. Now, a little bit affected by the wine, you touched it. If feels nice. “Good evening, maenwë.”

So you got the chance to say something you have spent weeks fantasizing about saying. You took a deep breath, jut to make sure it came out exactly how you imagined. With a smile, and a polite bow, you looked at him. “I see you tomorrow.”

And this time it was not a fantasy. It was just a fact.

[Seventh Chapter]

AUTUMN THUNDERSTORM TAGLIST: @ferns-fics @notanalienindisguiseblink @rayrlupin @elvyshiarieko @graniairish @h0ly-fire @whore-of-many-hot-men

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Hey, my requests are open

I decided I would also like to write for other fandoms outside of f1.

I’m thinking about:

Criminal minds

Aaron Hotchner

David Rossi

Emily prentiss

Game of thrones

Little finger

Tywin Lannister

Tyrion Lannister

Sansa stark

John snow

Star trek

Leonard McCoy

Spock

Christopher pike

Harry potter

Severus Snape

Sirius Black

Remus Lupin

Lord of the rings

King Thranduil

NCIS

Leroy Jethro Gibbs

Sherlock

Mycroft homes

The walking dead

Negan

Celebrities

Alan Rickman

Lee Pace

Pedro pascal

Zak Bagans

Let me know if you want other fandom or characters I’m open for everything.

Drop a request.

I would be happy to write it

[astral-imagine]

Imagine Lee Pace

You had an affair with Lee for a few months, but chose to end it due to your guilt. Imagine your surprise when you see him at your doorstep one night, begging you to reconsider and confessing his love for you, not knowing that your husband was nearby hearing everything.

[t1red-twilight]

physio alternatives

summary: art gets injured during a game. you provide aid in helping him feel better.

warnings/content: gn! reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, pretty much no plot, just fluff, athletic injury, no use of y/n (it’s too much effort to type lol), inaccurate sports injury (don’t come for me, i was a theatre kid), art is whiny, pet names cause i’m corny, art history mention, food content discussed briefly, lmk if i missed anything

word count: 1.1k

masterlist

you were laying on the couch in the hotel when you heard him come in. even though you were nearly asleep, you immediately sat up when you heard him huff. using the palms of your hands to rub your eyes, you call out, “hey, art. how was practice?”

when you don’t hear a response, you swing your legs over the edge of the couch and walk to the entryway. you see art, his coach, and his physical therapist. seeing as no response was given, you ask another question: “everything alright?”

“no,” he nearly whines out. “we had to end early today.” he’s mumbling, just about whispering. after some semi-awkward silence, his coach speaks.

his physical therapist spoke. “art lightly sprained a muscle in his left leg. he’ll have to tread lightly for about two weeks.” art sighs again. his hands are in fists on his cheeks, pushing them up as his sits on the stool in the entryway. you walk over to him and rub his back.

“are you going to stretch him out at all?” art proceeds to lean against your touch.

“we were just about to-“ his couch says before getting cut off.

“can’t we just do it tomorrow?” art interrupts. his expression is a mix of pleading and petty anger.

you crouch down to meet his gaze. “darling, i’m sorry. but you should really listen to your coach.” he sighs out in disapproval. you hold his hand and trace over the lines on his face with your eyes.

and that’s how you ended up sitting in the background watching art’s physical therapist extend and retract his leg muscles. he followed every command, albeit reluctantly and with an air of annoyance. before leaving, his physical therapist gave art a knee brace. you’re not going to pretend like you had any idea of what was going on.

you walk his coach and physical therapist out. you’re glad that tashi, his assistant coach, didn’t tag along. but you’d never admit that. when you come back, art has made his way to the couch. he looks like a rendering of the death of marat, the way he’s dramatically sprawled about.

“i’m sorry, honey.” he grunts. “can i sit on the couch with you?” upon hearing your request, he sits up long enough for you to sit down. when you sit, he turns onto his side and lays his cheek on your thigh. you bring your hand to his head and trace over his ear and the curls on the side of his face.

his eyes crack open. “i feel like shit.” he looks like shit, just a little. but you’re not going to tell him that. you give him a crooked smile instead.

“any way i can help?”

“just stay here, i think. i’ve enough of people trying to fix me for the evening.” he places his hand that isn’t pinned under his body on your leg and traces his thumb in circles over it. it’s an awkward position, but art just likes being as close to you as possible.

you silently reach for the tv remote, and play some random game show. at first, you don’t notice him falling asleep; but soon you hear very soft snores coming from him. you exhale out of your nose in loving amusement.

you switch between watching him sleep and watching the crappy game show. the hum of the ac provides a cozy ambiance.

art sleeps for about two episodes of the game show. the show is weird, and has some old actor you can’t recall the name of hosting it. you have to use the restroom, but you’re not going to risk waking up art to go pee.

after some time, he stirs and wakes up.

“hey sleeping beauty,” you mumble out. he turns and looks up at you, and smiles. you smile back.

“how long did i sleep for?” he shuts his eyes again for just a moment.

you check the clock, “a little over an hour. you look uncomfortable in that position, though.” he hums. “did you eat after practice, or did you come straight here?” you can see his brain lagging, gummed up from sleep.

after a bit, he replies. “uhm, no i didn’t. do we have anything in the fridge?” you sit in thought for a moment.

“uh, i don’t know. i’ll go check.” you move to get up, but art wraps his one free arm around your thighs to try and keep you in place. “i have to get up to check. why are you being so clingy?” it sounds harsh, but the tone in which you say it is playful and not at all condescending.

“you’re evil,” he toys back.

you stand up and go to the kitchen. while looking into the fridge, you roll your ankles to pop them. the cool air from the fridge is minutely uncomfortable. “there’s ketchup and like two eggs,” you call back over to the couch. he peaks his head over the top of the couch, so that you only see his messy hair and his eyes.

“damn.”

“do you want takeout?” he stops, he’s thinking, you realize. he’s thinking about how this is going to affect his performance in tennis; unhealthy carbs and all that. “you’re supposed to be resting. some chinese food isn’t going to ruin your mad tennis skills.”

he shrugs and lays back down. “only if we can get orange chicken.” you look in the info booklet the hotel gave you when you checked in, and found a nice looking restaurant to order from. after you ordered, you sit back down on the couch. art returns to reclining on top of you.

soon, the smell of chinese takeaway fills the hotel room, and you sit and eat together. it’s a domestic scene, despite being in a hotel room a few states over from where you both live.

after dinner, you help him wash up and get ready for bed. you insist that he at least take a quick shower. going to bed covered in dried sweat is not the most pleasing thing to think of. you sit outside the shower and speak to him while he cleans himself.

he talks about everything and nothing all at once. he talks about practice, his parents, something shitty that he heard another player say while he was at the court earlier. the vibrations of his voice carry throughout the bathroom, and it’s silly, but it makes you feel nice. you’d let him talk about anything, really.

when you get in bed, art holds you tight. he keeps you in his arms, and lies his head upon your chest.

as you’re both nodding off, you feel art mumble something into your neck as you hold each other. “hm?”

“love you,” he recites.

you kiss him on the top of his head. “love you too.”

[dontfearrr]

ask and you shall receive! @elia-the-bibliophile

i have a few warnings, i’m coming out of fan fiction retirement so bare with me. i didn’t proofread that well so don’t mind any spelling mistakes, i used some shitty sindarin translator on google so i do apologize if it’s incorrect, and. i think that’s all! :)

In my arms

gif not mine!

Summary: Thranduil isn’t very fond of you and legolas’s relationship but nonetheless he bares it.

Pairing: Thranduil x reader

Warnings: small hint toward sex (nothing specific)

Word count: idk tbh i forgot to check

Category: hurt/comfort(?)

—————————

“final count, forty-two.” Legolas spoke matter-a-factly across from you as he ran his fingers over his perfectly crafted, elvish bow. You gave him a raised eyebrow and drew your sword in a blink of an eye, plunging it into an orc that had its axe raised behind Legolas’s back.

“forty four”

—————————

It was midday in middle earth, you and Legolas had volunteered to clear the rogue orcs that ravaged near by villages, burning and spilling blood mercilessly. It wasn’t often you got to spend time with him due to your other duties in Mirkwood.

The Woodland Realm had been your home for many ages, you were an elf but a fool in their eyes. Woodland elves aren’t the wisest of the bunch but nonetheless, they’re your home. Legolas was the closest you’d ever get to a brother, he cared for you as family.

However that could never sit right with Thranduil.

He was a stubborn man, possessive some may say, which is why you and Legolas’s little adventure wasn’t mentioned to the elven king. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest choice considering he will find out eventually, he had men everywhere you look. At the end of the day, you’re accompanied by one of the most skilled princlings you’ve ever came across, so what could justify Thranduils brooding this time?

You and Legolas were on your way back to your residence, small talk was made but you both enjoyed simply just each others company, even if it was in silence.

“and what do you suppose daddy dearest will have to say once we return?” you inquired, not looking up from the ground as the both of them walked walked. “something along the lines of ‘no one leaves here without my knowledge, i’ve told you many times legolas’ then send me off as if i’m some child” He mocked his father, which earned a small smile in amusement from you.

As you entered the throne room, you and Legolas stood near the doors for a moment, exchanging farewells for the day. He embraces you in a warm comforting hug as he always did before he let you be, smoothing down the back of your hair and nodding his head before exiting to mind his duties. You took a deep breath to prepare yourself for what was to come as you walked down the long stone walk way to the throne, which sat the most beautiful man you’ve ever laid eyes upon. He sat nearly diagonal, legs crossed with his arms on either side of the throne. Glittery gems littered his fingers and crown that complimented his usual flawless elven apparel.

His long white hair shifted with his gaze as he spotted the smaller elf before him. He gave her no expression which was expected. He stared, waiting for you to speak, you could feel his mood from where you stood, it reeked of attitude.

Thranduil had spotted the interaction between you and legolas, it burned a fire of rage inside of him, only he was allowed to lay even a finger upon the elf. She belonged to him. His mind raced with thought but never cracked even a sliver of visible emotion.

“my lord” you began to bow before him until he raised a hand, putting a halt to your actions. You stood back up straight in confusion and shifted on your feet, Thranduils eyes staggering into you.

He finally spoke. “i don’t think i remember warranting your leave.”

You stood your ground, after all, the king would do anything for this she-elf.

“orcs were bringing treachery over near by villages, surely you saw the fires, my lord.”

You dipped your toe into the water, testing him.

His eyes narrowed at you, his thick dark eyebrows coming together, he was unimpressed. “and what does that have to do with me?”

“nothing, my lord. Me and Legolas simply volunteered.” you took no more than five steps closer toward the tall man. “we both had a free morning, i see not the problem.” Thranduil uncrossed his legs slowly, rising from his seat. His garments fell into place, the long white, detailed over coat trailed behind him as he made his way down the wooden steps. You were eyeing him like the finest piece of treasure, his grace and royalty always intimidated you.

“very well. however, i see no reason why my son had to accompany you.” he challenged, standing only a few feet from you, hands intertwined at his front.

“i mean not to disrespect you, my lord, but i don’t see a problem with the company of your son. would you have had me go alone? perhaps getting killed?” you know he would react to that, and he did. A long sigh drew from his nostrils, getting quite impatient despite having lived for more than 8,000 years.

“Thranduil, it is to you.” he steps even closer to you and peers down at you like an animal hunting prey. “you two seem.. close.” he followed up, taking the knuckle of his index finger to push a strand of misplaced hair behind your ear. “yes. he’s the only one who will even speak to me in this realm, other than you.” you finally raised your head up to meet his piercing blue eyes. “he is the only one who treats me like family. a brother.” you continued to further solidify your point.

This wasn’t the first time you’ve had a conversation like this with Thranduil. He’s a curious yet jealous mess, whether he likes to admit it or not. This conversation was slowly taking a toll on his heart, nasty remarks threatened his throat and boiling tears threatened his eyes. He remained calm, the elf in front of him reminding him of his purpose.

“he touched you.” Thranduil simply said while tilting his head to the side a bit. If this was his attempt at intimidating you, it sure as hell was working. He made something in your heart weak, yearning for him. “surely you aren’t jealous of your very own son, right?” your tone changed, attempting to take the upper hand in this situation, and based on his expression, it was working. your crossed your arms behind your back and gave him your best doe eyes.

“i mean not to make you feel this way, you know Legolas doesn’t think of me that way, and nor do i.”

Thranduils hand fell from your cheek down to your waist, gripping fairly tight as if you were going to disappear. “i know my son shall never dare to try my woman, but you are special and you know that. it wouldn’t take a lot for him to change his mind.” At this point you were bored of the conversation, you only ever had eyes for Thranduil, but that is hard for him to understand. He’s not used to this kind of love and anything that happens under his nose makes him rethink every single thing that has ever come to him. you were his star.

“oh meleth nin” Your heart ached for the king in front of you. He has seen many a heartbreak. He couldn’t bare to handle another. You were much younger than the elven king, but you knew when his heart was hurting, and you were going to fix that. Both of your hands raised to his face, his skin was like porcelain, flawless and pale. Your thumbs ran over his cheekbones, he instinctively leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut. He may seem intimidating, but sometimes even the most wretched need comfort and reassurance.

“Legolas is no more than a brother to me. you need not worry. I pledged my heart to you a long time ago Thranduil and that is how it will stay.” you got as close as you could to him to where you could still reach him. Your hands never left his face and his arms came to wrap around your waist completely. “Im nifred i er aur im lothron ú- n- farn an cin.”(i fear that one day i may not be enough for you) He whispered just loud enough for you to hear. Your heart shattered at the broken man. You wished you could take all of his trouble for yourself so he’d never have to bare them again. His head fell to your shoulder, nuzzling his face into your neck. You’d never seen him so vulnerable before. You held the back of his head, gently smoothing over his hair and scratching his scalp.

“meleth nin, my heart and soul belongs to you. there’s nothing in this earth that could give me the love you do.” You whispered into his ear, kissing the pointy tips and they flushed red. You felt his body shudder at the action and held him closer. “don’t let a simple adventure spoil your mind.”

you lifted his head to face you and leaned yours against his. “im mel cin”(i love you).

Thranduil sighed in content and took your small hand in his, holding it to his cheek as his eyes fell shut once again. He kisses your wrist and opens his eyes. “i apologize for my behavior. it was unnecessary” he drops your hand and pulls you into his large figure, engulfing you in a warm embrace. You returned the embrace by holding him tight, breathing in his woodsy scent as you did so. your head just barely reached his chest, you felt like a princess in his arms. “your apology is accepted. you never have to question my devotion to you. Ask for reassurance and i will give it to you, sweet king.”

He released you and captured your lips in a soft but passionate kiss, he tasted of pine and elvish wine. you savored the kiss as your hands cupped his face, using your thumb to draw gentle circles over the points of his ears. You always loved his body language especially since you’re the only one who ever sees him express emotion besides Legolas. As the kiss ended, you smiled up at him, to which he returned but quickly was replaced with a huff of defeat, his eyes dared to close and his legs nearly trembling.

“you witch” he feigned the insult, merely joking as you gave his ears attention. Causing him to sweep you off your feet into his arms and head toward his chambers.

[anundyingfidelity]

INTERROGATION GONE WRONG – Cleon XIII/Brother Day

Summary: Cleon XIII interrogates his statisticians about Hari Seldon's predictions. His in-turn maid remains there hearing the conversation, unbeknownst to him, knowing the answer - at least part of.

Pairing: Cleon XIII/Brother Day x female maid reader.

Word count: 2.9k.

Warnings: extremely dub-con, smut, abuse of power, forced orgasm, choking, fingering, degradation, p in v, creampie, not the soft aftercare you're waiting for. The author is also non native English speaker.

Notes: this is based on that scene of 1x04. This is the most non-con thing I've written ever. I gave my warnings. Also please watch Foundation lol, this show reminded me of how much I loved Lee Pace since like 2014. Once I'm in, I will never get out and I needed to write something for Cleon I love him he is an idiot.

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

The man fell with a thud on the floor. You should be scared, surprised, trembling with fear, but this was not new behavior for you or anyone in the palace. Since Seldon's exile and the disaster shaking the Empire gradually, the response of the new Cleon was clearly expected after being a witness of a poor reunion and inconvenience with the staticians. More than a conversation, it felt like a judgment, a death one.

"Dining, now," he ordered passing by your figure on his way to leave the throne room. With a bow, you followed in an instant and ready to serve him.

Cleary, you could tell he was not in the good mood that day, already skipping the meal for breakfast with his brothers earlier; something that was out of the itineraries. Once a change of the routine happened, it meant something was off, so you thought. Demerzel was also not around, attending other meetings, so this left you alone with Empire, opening the door of the sole dining room the Brothers used privately, with the tall figure of Cleon XIII waiting impatiently for his midday meal and looking every move you made around the place to please him as fast as your feet allowed.

The cooks served the meal arranged from the menu after your order and they left as rapid as they came in, Brother Day dispatching them with a hand gesture once they were done. You took a couple of steps back, standing close to the table but ready in case he dispatched your presence as well.

"Not you, you stay," he commanded after sipping his wine for the first time, eyes focused on the plate he would eat.

"Yes, Empire."

You had to obligue, and that is what happened. You watched him from the corner of your eye, from time to time in silence, pretending to be unconcerned and collected, though that was far from being true. The whole meal time was eternal, specially that day. With no Brother Dawn nor Brother Dusk around for Brother Day to have a bland talk with, only the sound of fine cutlery clinking against porcelain as Empire ate. Boring, your head began to spin around, thinking in non-senses and theories of what you heard and read from Seldon's predictions of the fall. Empire was cruel, but it had you working, serving food to your plate, and probably that was enough. But it didn't stop your curiosity of learning further the philosophy of Hari Seldon.

When in front of Empire, your gaze seemed lost but your mind was working. You never said a single comment about studying Seldon's theory, of course. You were just a maid. Science and university never were a good pair for a woman who served the Empire. However, you still found the math behind his calculations as something intriguing and fascinating for some reason...

"Maid," the loud voice of the Emperor interrupted your daydream. "I said, wine."

The intense look on his eyes forced you to attend his order fast, serving more of the fermented liquid on the cup standing besides his plate.

His large hand took the cup when you filled it with wine and he sipped again, his eyes scanning you slow and deep. You knew he sensed something was wrong with you. Swallowing, you noticed he already had finished with his meal, so you finally you dared to speak.

"Can I retire your plate, Empire?"

"Is there something you want to share, maid?" he responded, blatantly ignoring your question and dragging your title like it was nothing but a shameful word to spill.

"At all, Empire," your voice came as a whisper.

Brother Day stood on his feet with such grace and started a slow walk towards your figure. You wanted to step away, but you feet were glued to the ground, so his tall and intimidating form washed over you soon.

"Speak," he instructed coldly. You started to tremble, unable to take off your scared eyes from him, bitting your bottim lip as he leaned. "Or do you want to be punished?"

His hand forced around your neck all of a sudden. As an act of reflection, you tried to pull back from his grip, but he was much stronger, having you in place and cutting your breath. "I know you hide enthusiasm around Doctor Seldon's theories," he whispered darkly on your ear. "I am not giving you a choice, speak!"

As he yelled down his last words, he pushed you harshly, body falling to the grown. Air filled your lungs once again and you coughed, sitting down and watching that he was coming closer with big steps. You dragged yourself on the floor using your hands and feet trying to not tangle yourself with the fabric of your dress. Fighting the tears on your eyes, your back touched the wall and sobbed. There was nowhere to go now. So you finally confessed.

"Your staticians would not give you a number because it's true!" you cried out. Brother Day stopped on his tracks just a couple of inches before you. "It's all true, Doctor Seldon is right. And it all began with the Star Bridge, I know you were a child when it happened because I was a child too when the crisis started. There is a probability, but is not zero," you said, recalling his words.

You saw his face changed. He was exhasperated already, but rage appeared in his eyes in a very visible way; a rage that you had yet to see from Empire. Fear took over you, afraid of what would happen next. Should you keep talking? Should you continue crying? Scream for nobody to come around for your sake? As you questioned yourself, he lowered himself to be at your level on the ground. Brother Day never sat down, but he was making sure to get under your skin. His powerful gaze had a quick effect to do that.

"Go on."

Too scared to speak, you opened your lips but no sound came out. Empire waited your words for a moment, scrutinizing your face. And still, nothing came. He grabbed your arm with a rough grip, forcing you to stand up, colliding with his body until your back hit the empty part of the table he had been eating in.

"You have ten seconds to continue or I will force everything that is in your head out of you, maid," Cleon threatened. "Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three-"

"I said it was probability," you shuddered. "Life is a probability by all means and Seldon knows that," you breathed, aware that Brother Day was feeling your shaking body under his piercing eyes. "I studied Doctor Seldon's psychohistory and theory for the last four years, learning math and other sciences on my free time on the library. So even if I don't posses a title, I know his hypothesis was only that at the time; a hypothesis can be null, but also be provable, and thus now is not untrue."

He slowly leaned away.

"So you say there is no error on Seldon's ecuation," he concluded, jaw clenching.

"None that I could find."

Brother Day paced in front of you, back and forth, hrad processing what he just heard. You could tell he was getting what he wanted, but nothing was what he really longed for. And what you found was nothing but the truth. Maths don't miss, it was useless to lie.

"How do you simply fall into a conclusion like that? Prophecies of the Empire declining into a dark age after centuries of rising. Of our legacy!" he stopped again and went back to your figure, trapping your body between himself and the dining table. You felt his breath when he leaned close, the smell of wine and fruits mixing with his cologne was intoxicating your nostrils as the last tears flowed down your cheeks. Sooner or later, you thought he was going to end up with your life. You had nothing left to lose by now.

"It's simple history and logic. Everything that goes up has to go down, even empires."

All you felt was his big palm slapping your face, your back hitting the edge of the table. A hurted moan filled the room, and he forced you to look at him grabbing your chin with the same strenght he had used on you all this time, like you were nothing more than a doll to play with as he pleased.

"In other circumstances, I would find you amusing," he breathed gainst your lips. The touch of his thumb on your cheek, wiping away your last tears, contrasted the roughness of his words, his body between your legs and his weight pressing you to lie down on the surface.

"Psychohistory words, not mine," you whispered, your hands running to wrap around his wrist, but his aura repelled instantly your touch. It was useless to keep trying. So here you were, ready for Brother Day to end with your life in just the blink of an eye. "Maybe Brother Dusk made a mistake," you continued, giving up on leaving the room alive. "Make Hari Seldon stay instead..."

Brother Day pressed further against you, almost crushing you with his significant huge frame.

"Such a talented brain and mouth, why don't I put you to good use? I think I deserve it."

He forcefuly turned you around until you were bending over the table, a loud gasp falling from your mouth. One of his hands making its way between your legs caused your thighs to press together, trying to stop him, but it was impossible, so you had nothing to do but beg.

"Please, Empire," you felt like crying again at his touch, his fingers cupping your clothed pussy in a slow motion. "Stop, please-"

"Shut up, whore," he grunted, rubbing his crotch against your ass and slammed your face with his free hand so you had your cheek lying against the cold surface. "I had enough from you."

Heartbeat rising, you tried with no results to escape from his body cage. The sway of your hips caused Empire to grow eager. His slender fingers pushed your panties aside, coating them with your own wetness, and that was certainly something you did not expect to be down there. He hummed in response, rubbing your folds, and you exhaled once he entered one finger.

Your body responded to his ministrations, his growing erection pressing against the curve of your ass while he played with your cunt as he wanted, easing a second digit inside your walls. Probably you should just give in by now as you felt your muscles tighten, already reaching your high. Almost. The first moan of pleassure escaped your throat and you regreted the answer of lust coming from your body the following instant, your palms holding yourself on the table.

His long digits fucked you faster and your legs trembled, his thumb played with your clit so deliciously you thought you were passing out soon. He leaned down until you could feel his breath on your neck.

"Fucking take it," he groaned, feeling your warm walls pulsing around his fingers.

Almost not having control over your body, your legs further opened, like his voice just ordered you to do it.

"Please, please..."

Again, you cried and begged, not sure of the reason. For pleassure, shame, mercy... Anything was possible at that moment as whimpers and moans fell from your mouth.

The sensation grew stronger down your belly, feeling him exploring your insides too deep, touching a place no man nor your fingers reached before. It happened repeatedly, it felt so sweet and sinful. Like something you never knew but you were sure would leave you aching for more. His fingers making you so drunk and pleading for a release, and the seconds that passed by were endless until you finally blissed out with a loud moan, convulsing by the work of his hand.

Brother Day gave himself a wicked smile, watching you squirm and gasp. Such a strong orgasm he ripped out of you. He pulled his fingers away from your pulsing cunt and admired your wetness coating them before he raised the skirt of your dress and took off your panties until they were hanging between your ankles.

You grimaced at the feel of his big palms rubbing your ass cheeks, parting them to get a view of your throbbing heat, still clenching around nothing. You could listen to him undoing his pants. He hissed, taking his hard lenght to rub the sensitive skin of your ass and his thick tip teased your slit, sliding slowly inside. You gasped at the sudden intrusion as he stopped from filling you up completely, feeling your tight cunt embracing him.

"Empire, please not this-"

"This is how I prefer you," Cleon whispered on your neck, you stopped your plea. "Submissive and quiet. You are not so bold now, are you?"

And he slowly entered your pussy further. You whined, nails scratching the fine material of the table. You were so tight and warm. He had to control himself of not pounding into you right away. Being filled up by the Emperor shouldn't arouse your body like this, but your heat welcomed his cock like it was the perfect missing piece of a puzzle.

"Are you a virgin, maid?" he asked, hips giving a couple of shallow, slow thrusts. Your hips moved in sink with his own, your nipples were now hard and erect against the surface, scratching the fabric of your bra and dress, giving up into heavenly bliss. Sweet mewls left your lips as he stretched your cunt. And it was oh, so long since you felt this full.

"No, Empire."

Your response was the green light. He started to rut into you. Rough. Even if your answer was to be different, you knew Empire would not care. He used to get away with what he wanted, and right now he wanted you. His own grunts made eco along with the sound of his skin hitting your ass, your moans escaping without any shame now. The small amount of discomfort he caused was transformed into pleassure and arousal, keeping his hands firmly on your hips.

"Then you can take it, you've done this before," he mocked, increasing his rough pace.

His grip was strong on your sides, you knew his fingers would leave marks on your skin once you finished. But nothing mattered, you decided, the only on your mind was reaching sweet climax and release. You could not escape from him, not ever. So your body and mind could go through it.

Cleon's eyes found the perfect spot of view to see his cock entering and sliding out your perfect pussy, his shaft glistening with your wetness and his own precum. He stopped and pulled out for a moment, teasing with entering and pulling out, watching himself sliding inside your body.

"Oh gods," he listened to your broken moan, breath hitching.

He again cupped your neck with his palm, fingers roaming around your throat, forcing your back to meet his chest. Your moans were cut by his firm hand, air being a privilige as seconds passed by. He sucked and bit the skin of your neck, burying his cock until his balls met your ass repeteadly, finding that sweet spot of yours.

"Cum," he ordered. "Cum or you will not breath again."

You knew you were close, but you needed it faster. You needed to breath, as good as his cock felt, fucking you and splitting you open, you still needed to make it until the end. Your fingers found your clit and played with your bud as Empire bucked his hips fast and rough. Finally, your muscles tensed and forced a hard orgasm out of you, walls pulsing around his dick. He grunted, not slowing his thrusts, softening the hand around your neck allowing you oxygen again.

"Merciful am I?" he groaned and you felt his seed painting your insides, cock throbing as he also came from his high.

"You are, Empire," you breathed out.

Your back arched and you held yourself on his hands and chest. You heard the sound of one of the chairs being taken out, being dragged by him until you felt he sat down, you on his lap with his cock still burried deep inside you. His slick cum ran down your inner thighs as he parted your legs, touching your abused cunt and clit, feeling how you were still connected. He rubbed your pussy in slow, gentle moves, collecting his cum mixed with your juices. He offered his fingers to your lips, so you licked them as he wished, sucking them clean. Your walls pulsed again.

"So obedient now," Cleon purred.

His hands undid your dress to free your chest, groping your tits as he pleased. He played with your nipples, just like he had played with all of you in a few minutes.

"What will happen to me?" you asked in a murmur.

"Such a pretty cunt you are," Brother Day began, tracing kisses on your shoulder. His voice made you shiver. "You would please me a lot as a cuncubine of the Gossamer Court."

You swallowed hard, not capable of speaking or fighting back. He felt your body tensing so he continued his speech in your ear. "No worries, I can play with you some more before it happens. And you will tell me everything you know about Seldon."

[chloesolace]

Midnight Rain - Thranduil x Reader

summary: You are an elven ambassador from Rivendell living in Mirkwood. The realm is currently celebrating a victory in battle over the dwarves when Thranduil asks to have a private word with you. The two of you share history, but his scars scared him into letting you go. A decision he clearly regrets after seeing you dance with your fiancé.

pairing: Thranduil x F!reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: angst

a/n: Another part of my Swift series, where I write multifandom one shots inspired by Taylor's songs <3 the next series after this will be a Florence + The Machine one. Hope you enjoy this story!

Masterlist - Discord Server - Request Info - Taylor Swift Series

My girl was a montage A slow motion, love potion Jumping off things in the ocean I broke her heart 'cause she was nice

In the dim light of sundown, he watched the woman dance. Her hair cascaded loosely around her shoulders, and her red lips curved into a bright smile revealing her teeth. Giggles escaped her, the skirts of her dress in her fists so she would not stumble and fall over them as she hopped around in circles. She twirled around her dance partner, one her hand held tightly in his as she looked between him and her footing. Her bare feet moved confidently over the forest floor, soles stained with moss and earth from earlier rain.

He was sitting in his chair, a crown of leaves and twigs sprouting from his head. He could feel the weight of it pressing down even more than it usually did, although he was sure this was merely his imagination. His gaze hardened as he observed the man dancing with the woman, their arms entwined. No one besides him noticed but each time they drew close, the man whispered in her ear, eliciting blushes and giggles.

The glass in his hand shattered. 

“Oh, Your Majesty!” Exclaimed a servant girl next to him, immediately taking the glass out of his hand and cleaning his palm of shards and blood. The cloth she used soaked up the red liquid as the girl placed the shards into a basket nearby. 

Barely glancing at his opened palm, he held it away from his body, allowing her to continue cleaning up the mess he made. Hissing, he pulled it away once she informed him he was clean again. There was still a stain on his palm, but the cuts did not appear deep. He would seek out the palace healer after the festivities ended.

The music stopped when he raised his other hand, all eyes falling onto him when he stood from his seat. His blue eyes were resting on the elven girl he had watched earlier, the air thick with anticipation from his people. 

“Do not let the festivities stop. I shall have a private word with the Rivendell ambassador inside. Please, continue,” he said, his deep voice loud and collected. It radiated authority and control, all while he never took his gaze off of you.

You gave your fiancé a short nod and left him alone on the clearing that had turned into a dance floor, just as the musicians to your right resumed playing their instruments. Some of the spectators around watched you as you approached the Elven King, others joined your fiancé in dancing, and the air was once again filled with laughter. 

Thranduil extended an arm for you to take, and you reluctantly wrapped your hand around his biceps, feeling the expensive fabric of his garment on your skin. His scent was clear and familiar; a mixture of musk and wood. 

Neither of you said a word until you found themselves on a terrace, far away from the festivities and the music, which could only be heard if one concentrated very hard. You placed your hands on the railing, your eyes drifting off to the forest in front of you. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Thranduil looking at you, his gaze making you feel naked, seen, though never uncomfortably exposed.

“Why did you want to speak with me?” You asked him, knuckles white from your tight grip around the railing. You hoped he didn’t notice your nervousness. He hesitated as if he wasn’t quite sure himself. 

“You have proven to be a valuable asset in keeping an alliance between Rivendell and the Woodland Realm,” he began, his voice lacking emotion, his words sounding practiced and memorized. “I suspect now that you have found a suitable match, you plan to stay?” The words only reluctantly left his lips, and you could feel him tense further.

You clenched your teeth as you stared out into the forest, the sky darkening as dusk slowly began to blend into nightfall. There was a thickness in the air, indicating the imminent arrival of rain.

“Sharion and I have not decided yet,” you said hesitantly, the name of your fiancé now feeling strange on your tongue. You cursed yourself for the momentary feeling of shame that spread through your chest. Yet you had nothing to be ashamed of; Thranduil had turned you down. 

“I see,” replied the Elven King, and you saw him follow your gaze out of the corner of his eyes. He stood straight and tall next to you, silence resting between you. It was almost suffocating until you heard the roar of thunder above you.

You opened your mouth to say something just as he did the same, and it was the first time that evening your eyes met. You stopped yourself from speaking, gesturing for him to proceed instead. With flushed cheeks, you listened and averted your eyes again.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he said softly, the pain in his voice barely audible. Your grip around the railing tightened just as the first raindrop fell onto it. “Please, look at me.”

There was something else in his voice now; he was pleading. When you turned to him you saw the glassiness of his blue eyes, the way his thick brows furrowed and his arched lips pursed as if in agony. 

“I do not know what you want from me, Thranduil,” you whispered, his name on your lips a familiar feeling. You were one of the few who knew about his name, let alone addressed him with it so openly. “I gave you my heart. I wanted to become your wife.” Your eyes momentarily dropped to his lips before locking with his again, your hand gently rising to touch his cheek where you knew he had glamored it. “No matter the scars you bear.”

Thranduil closed his eyes, leaning gently into your touch. You saw his own hand rising, only to fall again as if he was scared to touch you. As if he feared that if he did, you would pull away. 

When he opened his eyes, he inhaled deeply with the greed of someone who had stayed underwater for too long. Underneath your touch, his skin began to fade, replaced by the deep scars you had often seen him stare at in the mirror with disdain in his eyes. 

“I need you,” he whispered, but you only dropped your hand and he let the scars disappear behind his glamor again, eyes marked by rejection. 

“I cannot be with someone who hides himself behind thick curtains of shame, Thranduil.” Next to you, you heard the falling rain quicken in unison with your heartbeat. “Are you ready to draw the curtains back?”

He hesitated and looked away. Now it was you searching his gaze, but stubborn as he was he would not meet it. The silence that followed was answer enough, only disrupted when the heavy rain swallowed it and thunder roared again. You felt as if nature itself was urging him to open himself fully to you, though he ignored its pleas.

“I do not want to fight for a heart that would stay inside its cage when it could be free,” you continued, the words heavy. “A home should not be a battlefield.”

You saw him tense before you turned your back on him, leaving him standing with only the terrace’s roof to shield him from the rain. You began shivering, the feeling of your engagement ring cold against your finger while tears streamed down your cheeks. It was painful breaking one’s own heart, but sometimes it was a necessary pain to bear. 

With a heavy heart, you entered the palace again while the rain swallowed him calling out your name. 

'Cause she was sunshine I was midnight rain She wanted it comfortableI wanted that pain

[theartofimagining13]

Imagine:

Lee met you through mutual friends and developed a huge crush on you, so when he hosted a party at his house, he was very excited when you showed up and was practically unable to hide it. He spent the whole evening with you and you could tell that he was slightly nervous. He asked you out on a date while confessing that he really liked you from the moment he saw you.

[dontfearrr]

Heard it through the grapevine

sorry guys i been so mia i literally have been in a weird funk but here’s a longer fic for u thrandy lovers and lmk if u want a part 2 maybe???

kisses to everyone, enjoy my elf sluts💋💋💋

Pairing: Thranduil x human!reader

Summary: reader keeps receiving gifts at her balcony, she has no idea where or who they’re coming from, she’s determined to find out…

Warnings: mild spicy content nothing crazy though

Category: fuck idk, fluff/hot n steamy?

Word Count: 2.1k

—————————

“strawberries and grapes this time!”

You shouted out to Tauriel who sat on your bed. She was just as intrigued with these series of gifts you’d been receiving. You both have been trying to narrow it down to who it could be, there was very few elves in this realm who spoke to you but the few that did, didn’t seem interested in you. So they were kind of at a dead end, yet the gifts never stopped.

You lifted the white basket off the floor of the balcony where they always were delivered, somehow unnoticed. You sighed and set the basket on the bed next to Tauriel as you both opened the note together. The thought of having a secret admirer was quite endearing, however it seemed a bit childish almost..but very intriguing nonetheless.

“read it out loud! i can’t do it!” you giggled as you handed Tauriel the note and she laughed with you, sharing the excitement. She cleared her throat dramatically and gave you a slight smirk before looking down at the note and she began to read.

“the grapes of the finest wine, the strawberries of the finest vine. for a woman oh so devine.”

She spoke out in a teasing tone. Your face heated up in embarrassment, these poems were always so corny, but who could be so brave enough to share them with you! “oh my, Tauriel..that is absurd” you laughed and shook your head.

You took the note from her and examined the hand writing, trying to get some kind of idea of who it could be! You thought for a moment, the gears in your brain turning ferociously until you tilted your head and looked at Tauriel.

“grapes from the finest wine…finest vine…Tauriel, arent these fruits from the private garden??” you spoke, picking up one of the grapes, it was bright purple, these were the grapes used to make the town wine. Tauriels eyes widened and nodded, they were in fact from the private garden! well this is something at least. “yes those grapes specifically are kept in the furthest corner, only very few people are allowed in that area” she told you, picking up the strawberries. “these are also from the same area. finest fruit indeed” she sent you a teasing wink and you just rolled your eyes at the elf’s childishness.

“are you able to get me a list of the people who are allowed to enter this area of the garden?” you asked her hopefully and she chuckled a bit, causing you to tilt your head in confusion.

“when i say very few people, i mean very few. grab something to write with.” Tauriel told you and you wasted no time scurrying off to find a quill and paper. Once you returned, you handed it to her and she began writing. you were nervous to see who was on that list, hands fidgeting eagerly as you hovered over her shoulder.

Six names were written on the list, this was amazing news. You snatched the paper from her hand and scanned your eyes over the list, it read:

Thranduil

Legolas

Lesysus

Elrond

Haldir

Aman

You were beyond perplexed. This list only made things even more difficult. The first thing you did was process of elimination. Elrond, he was in rivendell currently. Haldir, who was also with Elrond in rivendell….and that was it.. okay so six to four, not bad. But these were royal figures of the realm! There is no way any of these elves were even close to possible..

You looked at Tauriel who gave you a sympathetic look, she could tell you were stressing yourself out over this.

“do not dwell on it, my friend” she spoke gently, and you sighed deeply, setting the paper on your table and looked out the arched window of your chambers. “this was fun until now” you grumbled to yourself and looked down at the paper once more. “I think i’m just going to give it a rest, it’s clear whoever is doing this doesn’t want to be discovered so i suppose i’ll respect that” you told Tauriel and she quite literally laughed in your face, in a friendly way of course.

“i really love your optimism but we both know you’re not giving it a rest. just sleep on it, maybe you’ll get an idea soon.” she stood from your bed and gently rubbed your arm in reassurance before taking her leave.

You on the other hand, had a plan. A very determined one at that. You were going to do a steak out, spying over the royal garden! How incredibly stupid of you, but if the elf who was doing this was allowed in there, you saw no problem with taking a peek…for the entire night.

It was late now, nearly one in the morning, you decided it was a good time to go and spy on the garden. Tauriel had showed you a way to climb up into the trees to look down upon mirkwood, you figured this was perfect, that’s if you don’t get caught and probably executed. You chuckled to yourself at the thought as you threw on an elven cloak, putting the hood up and dressing yourself in your darkest garments to blend in with the night.

You may have been human but you had lived with the elves long enough to pick up on their gracefulness and swift movements. you swung from branch to branch, getting high enough in the twisting tree, maneuvering until you had a good view of the garden. You were crouched on a branch, quite high enough to go unnoticed hopefully. You hadn’t really thought through how long this would take but there was no going back now.

Three hours had passed by and your legs were beginning to ache so you moved to a simple sitting position, legs dangling off of the tree branch you sat upon. Your head snapped in the direction of the garden after hearing some noise, then you saw a shadow of a figure enter the garden. God damned elven sight, that was the one thing you didn’t have. It was simply too dark to see who had entered the garden, you were squinting and squinti-

“i know you are there, young one.”

A deep voice boomed through your ears and your eyes widened. They could see you? They knew you were there? This is ridiculous! Your mind raced but kept quiet until you heard the voice again.

“there’s really no use in hiding if i’m fully aware of your presence. come down. don’t be rude now.” the voice spoke again, you stared at the dark figure and sighed. Carefully jumping down the tree, landing on the top of the brick wall that separated the garden from the forrest then hopped down to the garden, standing slightly behind the very..tall figure. “i apologize, i was- i was…” you couldn’t even make up an excuse, you just accepted your fate at this point.

“you were spying on my garden? for a very obvious reason that is..” his voice was now VERY familiar to you, your face went white and your blood went cold. You’d just been caught red handed by the king. You watched him lift his arms and pull his hood down and slowly turn around to face you. He wasn’t wearing any kind of crown, not even a circlet. His white hair fell down his shoulders along with his hood and he stared down at you intensely.

“m-my lord.” You began to bow but he held up a hand, halting your movements. You obeyed and stood straight, looking at him.

“i see you’ve been receiving my gifts well. a curious one you are..” he said, a bit of amusement laced in his words. If he was being honest, he was quite impressed with your little idea, however he assumed it was only a matter of time.

“and please, call me by my name” he asked, stepping closer to you.

Your heart had fell all the way to your stomach, Thranduil was your secret admirer? this cannot be. you didn’t believe it for a second. That was until his hands reached up to pull your hood down, revealing you to him. “you are quite breathtaking, even in the darkness.” you could feel his index finger ghost over your cheek, the blood immediately rushing to your face causing you to blush deeply at his simple actions. The presence of the king was usually a lot more intimidating, but this felt almost..intimate?

“why me?” you asked quietly, looking him in his eyes despite it being quite dark, you were still able to make him out clearly.

He let out a low chuckle and dropped his hand back down, clasping his two hands at his front elegantly. “you think because you are mortal, that i cannot pursue you? i’ll have you know, i’ll pursue who ever i see fit..” he told her truthfully. He’s had a fascination for the girl for quite a while, though she had no idea of it.

He brought a hand up to your chin, gently lifting your face up so you can look at him properly, and so he can admire his sweet human. your face was warm and beet red, you were beyond flustered and truly had no idea what to say. “you wish to pursue me?” you asked him with a little bit of disbelief behind it and he simply nodded. God Tauriel would lose her mind if she seen what was happening! Your heart was beating rapidly, his touch felt like a dozen swans on a sweet pond. His thumb swiped over your jawline tenderly, causing you to take a step closer to him. He was more than pleased by this.

“i’ve desired you the moment i laid my eyes upon you” his hand was now cupping your cheek, his fingers threading through the hair behind your ear. “Thranduil..” was all you could muster up. He had you weak in the knees from a simple touch, it was quite cruel really. He absolutely loved the way his name sounded on your tongue, causing him to take a deep breath the calm himself down before he did something he regretted.

“will you have me?”

You placed a hand upon his chest, feeling his breath hitch in his throat as you did so. You slid your hand up, never breaking eye contact, feeling the porcelain skin of his neck as your hand continued higher, allowing it to rest on the back of his neck, your fingers nearly tangling in his perfect tresses. “i don’t want anyone else..” you told him and his caused his grip on you to tighten only ever so slightly. His thumb ran over your cheekbone before he dropped his hand, you were almost disappointed until his hand was now on your waist, pulling you against his own body.

Your body was on fire in this intimate moment, you were crumbling at his hand. He could tell you to jump off of the highest cliff and you’d comply without question. His head lowered down to your ear, his lips barely ghosting over your earlobe. “you keep me up at night, young one..” he purred, you could feel his warm breath against the skin of your neck.

You gasped at this and leaned your head to the side absentmindedly at his action, he took this as a delicious invitation as his head fit perfectly in the nook of your collarbone and neck. His lips connected with your skin, leaving open mouthed kisses to your neck, then unclasped your cloak, allowing it to fall to the ground. his free hand pulled at the material of your tunic, exposing your shoulder as he hungrily continued his sweet kisses to your skin.

“Thranduil please..” you breathed out, the torture was far too much. Your legs were trembling and you gripped onto his cloak as if he was going to disappear. “please what, my love? use your words with your king..” his voice was like smooth honey, melting into your ears delightfully. You wanted to cry out in agony, but refrained from doing so as his lips connected with your collarbone this time.

You couldn’t take it any longer, you gently ran your fingers through his hair and cupped his face, pulling his head back to face you, his eyes were half lidded and filled with lust. Your mouth parted slightly as your breath slowed and you leaned your forehead against his, closing your eyes for a moment. You could feel his breath against your lips, you felt this was too much and decided to take matters into your own hands and you closed the gap, his lips molding perfectly with yours. he gripped your waist a little harder, pulling you flush against him as he kissed you with hunger and passion. You tugged his hair, earning a groan from him and backed him up against the brick wall.

The king had fallen completely under your spell at this point, he was yours…

[anundyingfidelity]

Hi!! Congrats on reaching 400 followers !! 🎉🎊 For the drabble request, can I get something dark and smutty with Lee Pace?(if you feel comfortable about it of course) Also I broke my phone like 5 days ago and now that I'm back I see all these booping around 😆, can you tell me what is that about and how can I play?! xoxo😗 💞

thanks a lot aaaa 🩷🩷 ! this is the first request i receive for lee and i'm happy because there aren't a lot of fics about him uggghhh i love him!! i'm sorry about your phone OMG the boops were for april fool's, it was a special stuff for that day only, it was fun 😭 hope they can bring it back tho! ps: LOOK AT THAT GIF THAT HE'S SO HOT, MY TURN NOW, I WANT TO GET SLAPPED TOO lol

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☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

WORKOUT — Lee Pace x female reader

Word count: 530 (oops again lol).

Genre: dark stuff, smut.

Warnings: dom!Lee Pace, p in v smut, blowjob, cum swallow, manhandling, use of word 'whore'.

“I love the way your body takes me,” Lee purred against your ear.

His thumb pressing between your lips as he rolled his hips lazily, his cock buried deep inside your pussy. You rolled your tongue, taking his finger on your mouth, sucking on it like it was his hard cock. You hummed as he split you open, pounding into you harder.

How did you end up here, with him between your legs and ripping your clothes off and fucking you in the gym? Well, you worked for some time together and the tension was inevitable. None of you said a word, besides occasional flirting and teasing, but not going further than words. But today, seeing him working out, sweaty, and building up muscles for his new role made you feel things you were not supposed to, since you were part of his publicist team. When you gave it a try, he sensed the lust on your eyes and excitement coming from you. Then a sloppy kiss happened, and now he had you pinned down against a yoga mat on the empty gym floor, half dressed, fucked out and moaning his name over and over.

“I've wanted to do this since forever,” he growled, pulling out his thumb from your mouth.

His big hand moved down, caressing the sweat coated skin on your neck. “You’re so fucking perfect, made to fit me.”

His praise earned whimpers from your lips, your pussy clenching around his cock when his big hand wrapped around your neck, cutting some of your air perfectly to make you shiver. Lee grinned wickedly.

“You like it rough?” he teased, giving you a couple of hard thrusts, reaching that sweet spot that made you see stars as your eyelids closed harshly.

You nodded as best as you could. The sensation down your belly became too much to handle, and you soon found yourself coating his cock with the juices of your release, as he moaned with that beautiful, deep voice of his, not stopping his hips at all. Fuck, just by this session he was getting addicted to your pussy. He was fucking close too, but he had another plans for you.

Lee suddenly pulled out once you came down from your high, forcing you on your knees with his incredibly strong body. Standing before you, he grabbed a fist of your hair, pulling you closer to his cock.

“Be a good girl and suck me off,” he ordered. He was extremely pleased when you took him in your mouth, humming and tasting his precum mingled with your own release like a starved whore having her last meal, until he released down your throat. He forced your head so you couldn’t pull him out. “Swallow. All of it.”

And you did as told. When you swallowed completely, he backed up pulling out his softened shaft and locking eyes with your own. You opened your mouth sticking out your tongue. He grinned, satisfied with your work.

“I don’t think we can remain professional any longer,” you said, catching your breath, and looking at him with innocent eyes.

He was glad about that though. His dirtiest dream was barely starting.