#Richard Armitage x Reader OC

[lathalea]

The Arrival

Yes, my beloved readers, it's time for another Thorin fic from yours truly!

Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield x Reader/OC (pick one) Rating: G Warnings: none Author's notes: Thorin and his Company have reclaimed Erebor and started rebuilding their kingdom. Everything seems fine except for the fact that the King Under The Mountain is eagerly awaiting the arrival of someone very dear to him... Also, I want to apologise to Peter Jackson for stealing some lines from An Unexpected Journey and J.R.R. Tolkien for appropriating and rephrasing one sentence from The Lord of The Rings.  I'm a hopeless romantic, what can I say? You can find this fic on AO3. For @legolasbadass 💙💙💙

Khuzdul: Iglishmêk - dwarven sign language Kurdelê - my heart Lukhdelê - my light of all lights

The King Under the Mountain, Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, the second of his name, also known as Thorin Oakenshield, the king of Durin’s folk, was not a patient Dwarf—and yet he waited. He had been standing on the main terrace above the Great Gate of Erebor since the moment when the first rays of the morning sun gilded the distant peaks of the Iron Hills. His eyes, however, were turned towards the west, where the jagged tops of the Misty Mountains grazed against the pink sky. As he took a deep breath, fresh spring air filled his lungs. It was his—and his people’s—first spring in Erebor since it was reclaimed. The winter after the Battle of Five Armies passed in a blink of an eye. The kingdom was being rebuilt and prepared for the returning Dwarves, food stores had to be replenished, new trade agreements had to be signed… but among all those duties, something else kept Thorin awake until late on many a night. His memories.

The memory of a pair of hands gently resting on his shoulders as he sat behind his desk, and the sweet timbre of the voice that went with it, “Come, Kurdelê, it is time we reposed for the night, those reports can wait until the morning.”

The memory of those soft, sweet lips pressing innocently against his cheek and murmuring something scandalously indecent into his ear.

The memory of how her body felt in his lap, his arms around her waist, her arms around his neck, her forehead pressed against his, her silver laughter as she pretended to scold his rash behaviour, so unbecoming of a king.

The memory of her bare skin in candlelight.

But there were other memories, too. Their lengthy late-night conversations about anything and everything. Their secret escapades to the market, or to an inn, dressed as common folk, pretending to be a couple of travelling merchants. Their wanderings through the Blue Mountains in search of the best view of the sea in the west (his choice) and the most beautiful flower glades (her choice). 

During the lengthy council meetings he had to hold almost daily in Erebor, he would recall how much her presence changed the dynamics of similar gatherings back in the Blue Mountains. Her reasoning was swift, and her no-nonsense approach to the matters of state made even the most ancient council members nod in approval. Even now, he would—out of habit—turn to his right, wishing to discuss a matter with her or ask for her insight. But she was not there, and so he would give out a dissatisfied grunt and return to the matter at hand. 

He knew that the only thing he had to do was wait, and he abhorred it. But there was nothing to be done. No sane person would risk crossing the Misty Mountains in the middle of winter. Now, however, the spring came into its own right. And he sent his best men to the High Pass to oversee the approach of the first dwarven caravan from Eriador. It was supposed to bring the first group of his people returning home, merchants, masters of craft, their families and belongings… and her. The whole Erebor was waiting for the arrival of their kin—the symbol of a new beginning for the Mountain and its dwellers. Many eyes turned to the west, counting the days, making wagers, discussing the route the waggons must have taken, and the current road conditions. It seemed that in those days, only one topic existed: the caravan.

But Thorin could only think of her lovely hand in his.  Of her kindred touch.

As soon as a raven brought word from the caravan, reporting that they have succesfully crossed the mountains, he could not stop himself from looking to the west, and hoping. 

This was the fifth day he spent on the terrace, waiting for any signs of the caravan’s approach.

On the first day, Gloin waited with him in hopes of seeing his wife and son, but was called away due to some issue in the treasure chamber. Thorin stayed, cursing the enchanted forest (and its haughty king, for good measure) for daring to obscure his view. Sadly, neither the forest nor its king moved out of the way.

On the second day, Dwalin asked Thorin whether he was growing mawkish in his dotage, staring at the edge of Mirkwood like a lovesick whelp—a question he had to take back on the training grounds. 

On the third day, Dori asked whether Thorin would rather wait inside, on account of that nasty rain, and drink some warm tea with honey. No, said Thorin, he would not. And that envoy from the Iron Hills could join him there, on the terrace, by the way.

On the fourth day, Nori, Bifur and Bofur kept Thorin company, amusing him—and themselves in equal measure—with the latest gossip straight from the taverns of Erebor (all two of them, for now). He had no idea that several hundreds of dwarves, mostly newcomers from the Iron Hills and the White Mountains, could wreak such havoc. And marry so swiftly and in such numbers. Spring was truly in the air.

Now, on the fifth day, he stood alone, and waited. Roac was circling the Long Lake below, giving out a single caw from time to time, “Still nothing.”

And then, a hunting horn rang out in the air. Thorin knew its sound all too well.

“Balin!” he exclaimed to his friend who sat in the hall beyond the terrace. “Sound the alarm!”

The elderly dwarf raised his head from above a piece of parchment, slightly puzzled.

“Call out the guard,” Thorin insisted, feeling his impatience take the better of him. “Do it now! 

“What is it?” Balin rose from his seat, his scroll forgotten.

“The caravan!” Thorin gestured excitedly—perhaps a tad too excitedly for a Dwarf of his stature—towards Mirkwood, where a long line of waggons started emerging from the forest. “They will be here soon!”

She will be here soon. 

Over a year passed since the last time he held her in his arms, since he braided the silky dark waves of her hair, and since he looked into the brilliant, wise eyes of the woman he loved. To him, it felt like an eternity, and in that very moment, as he hurried down the stairs that led towards the Great Gate, he made a solemn promise to himself.

When the caravan arrived, most of the Dwarves were already gathered outside of the mountain. The guards held their heads high, presenting their weapons in an honorary salute, not leaving their posts, but even they cast curious glances at the newly arrived, trying to find familiar faces in the crowd. Thorin smirked at his thoughts. They looked as impatient as their king.

He knew the protocol of such meetings like the back of his hand, requiring him to stand by the gate, look regally, and welcome the newcomers to their new—old—home. His resolve wavered, however, when he saw a familiar figure clad in a green, fur-lined gown getting down a waggon, helped by one of the guardsmen. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Without thinking, he took a step forward, and then stopped, recalling who he was and what he was expected to do. He was also not allowed to leave his post, just like his guards. Instead, he observed from a distance, admiring the way the waves of her hair fell down her shoulders as she looked around, perhaps slightly disoriented, taking in the surroundings. Thorin saw the exact moments when her gaze rested on the mossy stone shaped by his ancestors into statues of warrior kings. Then her gaze moved down, focusing on the green marble of the Great Gate. Her eyes widened, her lips formed an “O” and then moved, she spoke something, but her words were lost in all the commotion. In that very moment, she reminded him of that bright-eyed maiden he had met for the first time in a mountain meadow half a world away; the maiden who laughed at his abysmal jokes, who fit so well in his arms when they danced, and who accepted his awkward courting efforts. The time that passed between then and now did not take away her ability to wonder and enjoy the world around her. She endured so many hardships on the way from the Blue Mountains to Erebor, so many cold nights on the road, faced so many dangers, and yet she never wavered in her decision to leave the Blue Mountains behind to be with him and their people. Now, she was finally here and, at last, he felt complete. Being able to see his own kingdom—their kingdom—through her eyes, and to see how amazed she was at the view, was a reward on its own. 

Thorin could not stop himself from smiling when her eyes finally met his. 

“Welcome home, my…” he began signing in iglishmêk, in that discreet way they often did on official occasions when the eyes of many would rest on them.

A light flush bloomed on her cheeks, she responded with a smile, and began walking towards him, oblivious of her escort and the joyous crowd around her, forgetting about the protocol, moving faster and faster, a giggle escaping her lips, her braids danced in the wind, her cloak flowed behind her, and…

“Thorin!” she called him in that melodious voice of hers, and there were diamonds in her eyes, or perhaps it was only his vision that suddenly turned very blurry, and he opened her arms, and thought “the Abyss take the protocol!”, and he rushed towards her, ignoring Balin clearing his throat in embarrassment, because she was finally here, and he had waited long enough—and they finally met halfway.

He wrapped his arms around her and felt her pressing into him, and there was laughter, and more tears in their eyes, the diamonds of happiness, those most precious among gems, and he was finally able to finish that sentence.

“Welcome home, my wife,” he rasped out, pressing his forehead against her, breathing in her familiar flowery scent, the one he adored so much. This was her, finally her, in his arms, and only she mattered in this very moment, not the crowd cheering around them, witnessing this moment of tenderness between their ruling couple, not even his kingdom, nor the world around them—now, it was only her.

“I missed you, my love,” she murmured, holding tight onto him, as if she wanted to make sure he would not disappear, and a wave of warmth washed over him. “I can’t believe I’m finally here, with you, after all those months…”

“Neither can I,” he agreed, cupping her cheek tenderly and eliciting a small sigh from her. “It was much too long, Lukhdelê.”

“Aye, it was,” she nodded, her eyes searching his face, as if learning it anew.

“I made a promise to myself,” Thorin continued. “Never again.”

“Oh?” she tilted her head in that alluring way of hers, and he had to suppress the improper urge to kiss her passionately in front of his people.

“Never again shall we part for so long. I crave you by my side, my heart,” he stated, bringing her hand to his lips.

“Then I will be looking forward to you upholding the promise,” she graced him with a teasing smile that made his blood run faster. “We have been apart indeed for too long, and so were our people. I believe it is time for us to work on improving their morale, would you not agree, my king?”

“Your wish is my command, my queen,” he agreed and took her in his arms again, and then their lips met. Sweetness intermingled with warmth, tenderness fueled the fire inside them, and he cared not that they stood in front of the gate in the sight of many.

After all, who cares about protocol when you have to properly welcome your wife home?

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[legolasbadass]

Office Hours, Part 32

Summary: Lorelei Browning has just secured a job as an assistant professor at Exeter College in Oxford. Naturally, she is eager to prove herself and meet every challenge sent her way, but what she does not expect is the tall, handsome stranger who will quickly become much more than a colleague.

Relationship: Richard Armitage x OC (Professor AU)

Word Count: 2k

Rating: M

A/N: Thank you all for your kind comments on this story, both here and on Tumblr. This story is quickly coming to an end, but I hope you will enjoy the last chapters! 💙

With an exhausted sigh, I drop one of the last boxes into the living room and take a moment to catch my breath. The early afternoon sun floods into the house from the tall bay window, casting beams of light onto the overflowing bookshelves and the pale couch. Boxes are scattered all over the place, and the sound of loud voices coming from outside and the thudding of heavy boots against the old wooden floors disrupt the usual tranquillity of the house, but it is still home. 

Home. 

The last few days have not been the most restful. Since the end of the term and the college party a few days ago, Richard and I have spent every waking moment packing my belongings, making room in the house, and correcting exams, and we have not gotten nearly enough sleep, but the fatigue and stress do not compare to the happiness that fills me. 

I make my way toward the front door, but before I know it, a pair of strong arms circle my waist from behind and pull me into a warm but sweaty chest. 

“Oh, God—you’re all sweaty!” I exclaim and try to wriggle out of Richard’s embrace. 

His rumbling laughter reverberates through me as he leans in to brush his lips against my earlobe. “That doesn’t usually bother you.” 

Warmth floods my cheeks, but before I can respond, William peers down from the bannister overhead. “I’m right here.” 

It is Richard’s turn to blush, and we giggle in embarrassment as William walks down the stairs and back outside. William, Claire, and Beatrice all kindly offered to help us with the move today, and I certainly do not want to leave them to do all the work, even if there are only a few boxes left in the truck. But as I turn around to face Richard, I cannot yet will myself to go back outside. His cheeks are red and his hair is an irresistible tousled mess of curls, and I cannot refrain from running my hand through it as he smiles at me. 

“We’re going to live together,” he says, his gaze warm. 

“Oh, is that what we’re doing?” I reply teasingly, earning a look of fond annoyance from him. 

He chuckles, then squeezes my hands. “You’re not nervous at all? No second thoughts?” 

“Of course not! Why, did you expect me to have second thoughts?” 

“No, I just—it’s a big thing.” 

Unable to stop myself, I grin and glance down at his groin. “Yes, it is a big thing.” 

He laughs as another blush blooms on his cheeks. “You’re impossible,” he says, shaking his head, though the affection in his eyes is undeniable. 

My mischievous grin widens as I revel in the playful embarrassment I have managed to cause. “But seriously,” I begin, traces of laughter in my voice, “I’m not nervous and I’m not having any second thoughts. I’m so thrilled that we’re going to live together.” 

His smile softens, and he leans in to gently kiss me. “Me too.” 

William’s voice reaches us from outside. “Come on, lovebirds! Stop snogging and grab some boxes!” 

Chuckling, I give Richard’s hand a final squeeze before dragging him outside, though I wish I could spend the rest of the day kissing him. The air is thick and humid under the bright afternoon sun, but thankfully, after Beatrice and William make another trip into the house, only one box remains in the truck, and Richard effortlessly lifts it as if it were not filled with tons of heavy books. 

“Well, that’s the last of it,” Claire says with a relieved sigh.

“Thank you so much for all your help!” I say as we follow Richard into the house. 

“Anytime! It’s the least I could do to repay Richard for all the times he’s helped Will and I move in the past.” She looks up at Richard as he drops the box into the living room. “Remember when you helped Will and I move into our first flat?” 

He chuckles in remembrance. “That feels like a lifetime ago.” 

“It does!” she responds with a nostalgic sigh before turning her gaze back to me. “It was right after I graduated from uni. We moved into this horrible tiny flat in the Leicester city centre that was always cold and had no storage space, and I nearly broke up with Will because he never picked up after himself, and it was driving me crazy.” 

“Typical Will,” Richard says with a deep, rumbling laugh, and Claire rolls her eyes in agreement. 

“And the worst part is that he’s still like that! I hope for your sake, Lorelei, that this clown is tidier than his brother.” 

I chuckle. “Well, Richard can be a bit messy, but he tends to contain his mess to his office, and as long as it remains that way, it’s fine with me.” 

“Day one and you’re already the boss in the house, are you?” Richard retorts playfully as he wraps an arm around my shoulders. “And I’m not messy—you’re just a neat freak.”

“I am not!” 

“Yes, you are!” Beatrice chimes in as she walks down the stairs, causing them to laugh. “We only lived together a few months and I honestly think any longer might have ruined our friendship.”

“Bea!”

“It was all ‘don’t dry your hands with that dish towel’, ‘you haven’t vacuumed your room in two weeks’, and ‘take off your shoes on the rug, you’re trailing mud all over the hallway’.”

“Stop before Richard changes his mind about living with me,” I respond with an embarrassed chuckle. 

But I have nothing to worry about as Richard pulls me into a hug and says, “Don’t worry. You’re my little neat freak, and nothing anyone says is going to make me change my mind.” He then presses a tender kiss atop my head, and I blush as Claire and Beatrice smile knowingly. 

“Well, Lorelei, you are officially moved in!” William announces as he joins us in the entry. “But don’t worry—we still have the truck so there’s still time to change your mind and run. Because I’m telling you, my brother can be difficult to deal with.” 

“Rumour has it you’re the one who’s difficult to live with,” I respond teasingly. 

William tilts his head questioningly, then narrows his eyes at Claire. “What lies have you been saying about me now, Amy Dunne?” 

Chuckling, she raises her brows in challenge. “Just that even our five year old son is often tidier than you are, which is not a lie.” 

“Only because you’re always nagging him to clean up his messes,” William retorts.

“Well, at least one of you listens.” 

“Behold, our future,” Richard whispers playfully in my ear, causing me to giggle. 

As the scorching summer sun makes way for a refreshing evening breeze, we all work tirelessly to unpack as many boxes as possible. We leave the endless boxes of books for later and tackle the kitchen first, and soon enough, all the counters are covered in dishes waiting to be organized into cabinets, forcing us to eat dinner in the living room, plates piled high with pizza. I grow silent when the conversation inevitably turns to Richard’s imminent move to Boston, selfishly wishing we could pretend for tonight that he is never leaving. Richard is clearly proud and excited about this new opportunity, but when he rests a hand on my thigh and squeezes me tight, I know he, too, wishes the same. 

Eventually, I make my way upstairs to continue unpacking in the bedroom, letting him enjoy his success and discuss his plans with the others. I am halfway through a third box of clothes when a knock on the door interrupts me, and I turn to find William standing in the doorway with a hesitant smile. 

“I was just coming to get some boxes to put in the recycling bin,” he explains, pointing to the pile of empty boxes in the corner. 

“Great, thanks!” I say. “But you can leave one or two here—Richard might need them to pack some of his things.” 

William nods, then pauses. “You doing ok?” 

I turn to him after folding a jumper into the drawer. “I’m doing great,” I answer with a slightly confused frown. 

“I mean, it can’t be easy—with him leaving for a year.” 

“Ah. That.”

William nods slowly. 

“Well… I wish he didn’t have to go, obviously,” I reply with a humourless chuckle. “But he has to—I want him to! I’d have to be really stupid to try to stop him, and I’d have to be even more stupid to give up on what we have because of this.” 

“My brother’s lucky to have you.” 

I smile, unsure how to respond. 

“I mean, to be able to count on you through all this…” 

“Are you referring to his ex Rebecca?” He nods. “Well, it’s different… We’re different people and—and he’s not asking me to uproot my whole life for him. It’s just one year, right?” I shrug again, trying to convince myself that it is not as difficult as it is. 

“Right.” A few moments of silence later, William chuckles and shakes his head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to come up here and get so serious. I just—I like you and I think you and my brother are great together. And I guess this is my weird and really awkward way of making sure you’re doing ok and reminding you that my brother’s a great guy and I think he’s worth the wait.” 

“He definitely is. And thanks,” I reply with a shy smile. 

He smiles in return, then clears his throat. “And hey, I know I’m not Richard. I mean, I’m funnier and more good-looking than him,” he begins with a playful smirk, causing me to chuckle. “But if you’re ever feeling down or whatever, and you want someone to talk to or hang out with while he’s away, I’m here. I can tell you all sorts of embarrassing stories about him.” 

Laughing, I shake my head. “I might take you up on that.” 

At that moment, Richard steps into the bedroom, and the brothers exchange a look before William leaves us alone, winking at me as he walks through the door. Still smiling, I turn to Richard, and the love I feel for him, and the joy of moving in with him momentarily chase away the ache in my heart. For now, he is still here, within arms’ reach, and I can pretend that this day is only the beginning of our new life together and not bringing us closer to our separation. 

With a soft smile, Richard closes the space between us, and I bury my face in his chest, inhaling his familiar scent as he wraps his strong arms around me. We remain in this embrace for a little while as the sun slowly dips below the houses at the end of the street, but eventually, Richard breaks the silence. “He’s not really funnier than me, is he?” 

My laughter echoes through the room as I look up to meet his eyes, which sparkle in the golden warmth of this summer evening. “No, of course not, love.”

A playful grin lights up his face. “Good.” 

Then he slowly leans in, and, understanding his intention, I stand on my tiptoes to meet his lips halfway in a tender kiss. He holds me tight, the fingers of one hand gently tracing patterns on my back while the other cradles my face, pulling me even closer and urging me to part my lips. I shiver as his tongue caresses mine, still marvelling at how easily he can awaken desire within me. Eventually, we are forced to break the kiss, and he rests his forehead against mine, his tender eyes slightly darker than usual. 

“I love you,” he says, his voice barely above a murmur. 

“I love you, too,” I reply in the same tone, pressing a lingering kiss onto his bearded jaw. 

“We’ve made some pretty good progress with the unpacking already, haven’t we?” 

“Yeah, I’d say so.”

“Good. So how about I start hinting that we’re getting tired so they leave and we can be alone?” 

I chuckle at his suggestive tone. “I like the way you think.” 

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#richard armitage fanfic #richard armitage x oc #richard armitage x reader #richard armitage x you #professor au #office hours

[greenandsorrow]

MASTERPOST || HELLO MY OLD HEART (ongoing)

Pairing; mainly Thorin Oakenshield x fem!faerie!reader

Warnings; fighting scenes, descriptions of injuries, death & loss, sexual undertones at times, middle earth magic, lots of angst & hurt, mean!reader, toxic!reader, selfish!reader, immortal!reader, reader with female anatomy, a not sugarcoated Thorin, I have read the Silmarillion and you should too

Summary; Thorin & company set out to reclaim the kingdom of Erebor from the claws of the cunning Smaug. On their way out of Hobbiton they come across something peculiar. Faeries in Middle Earth have gone extinct, but you have managed to survive against all odds. Your unique beauty and mischievous but still kind character captures the king's heart. His suspicions towards your magic will soon be replaced with a deep love for the real you. Are you ready to go on an adventure?

Author's note; I love the Hobbit. I have some issues with the movie adaptation but that hasn't stopped me from rewatching it relentlessly. The book is like a blanket of comfort for me and I've been smitten with the fictional character of Thorin for too long🥹 You can ask to be added to this fic's taglist!

THE HOBBIT

An unexpected journey

NOTHING SO FAR😖

The desolation of Smaug

Battle of the five armies

My OC is completely mine.

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#thorin oakenshield #the silmarillion #the hobbit trilogy #the hobbit thorin #the hobbit bilbo #the hobbit #lord of the rings #lotr #multi chap fic #an unexpected journey #the desolation of smaug #battle of the five armies #smaug the dragon #azog the defiler #thorin #thorin x reader #thorin x oc #thorin x y/n #thorin x you #bilbo baggins #fili and kili #kili durin #fili durin #balin #dwalin #fem!reader #faerie!reader #the oh hellos #richard armitage #oc

[robertdowneyhiddlesbatch]

Cuming up

Richard Armitage is filming the third film in the hobbit series. This series is a little different as there’s a dwarrowdam, Ria, with them in this, and she’s Thorin’s one.

There’s a scene coming up to film, where Thorin is hit with Dragon sickness, and it extends to all his positions, money or maiden.

The producers introduce the scene to Richard and actress Eagan.

Ria is hiding from Thorin because she knows he’s mental, and he’s just found her and shows her just how possessive he’s become.

The crew gives the actors a few days to prepare for the scene.

Richard goes over to Eagan’s house one evening to check up on her. She’s cooking sticky pineapple chicken. He jokes about pineapple and she comes around the counter and plays with his hair/pants and says it’s supposed to make him taste better.

Or / they eat together and get acquainted and Richard jokes about pineapple and she palms him to familiarize herself with him and then goes down on him/

He kisses her and she starts to go down on him. She doesn’t fully take him, just tonguing at him. He moans “kitten” and she goes more kitten. He fists her hair and she smacks a palm down on the counter.

/she takes him but pulls away. Gets up. Whispers “pineapple” in his ear as a safe word and leaves to her bedroom/

Richard orders her to get up and she cleans off the counter and leans over, situating like they’re supposed to in the scene. He asks for a safe word and she says pineapple.

They have sex and Richard remembers they don’t have contras and she says to go in her mouth. He comes in her mouth.

Richard apologizes ones they’ve got their senses back and she says he doesn’t need to and they kiss and he cleans her out and he says it’s some good fucking pineapple. Then he feels bad about not letting her finish and eats her out.

/Richard follows her to her bedroom and it’s in character as Thorin and Rhia/

#thorin oakenshield #thorin x oc #smut #thorin oakenshield x reader smut #Thorin smut #Thorin Oakenshield smut #the hobbit smut #richard armitage #Richard armitage smut

[middleearthpixie]

Stolen Moments

Armitage Summer Splash # 12 ~ Thanks again to @lathalea and @fizzyxcustard for creating this challenge!

Trope: Oblivious to feelings 

Quote: “How dare you?”

RA Character: Thorin Oakenshield

Relationship: Thorin x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Some angst

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,936

Khuzdul Translations: 

Mimûna - Little one (f)

Kunbûnaul - Son of a bitch

’Adad - Father

Raklûna - precious, darling one (f)

Kurduwê - my heart

***

There were times when you would cheerfully throttle Thorin blue and this was absolutely one of them. You rose onto one elbow to just stare down at him. “Are you mad?”

“What?” His eyes went wide as he tucked one arm up beneath his head. “Why would you ask me such a thing?”

“Perhaps because I think you might have gone mad?” You pushed up from your elbow, sitting upright. What had been one of the most wonderful afternoons of your life was all of the sudden coming apart. Instead of lying there on the soft skin, your head tucked against Thorin’s chest, your fingers trailing lightly through the dark hair that covered it, and your leg resting over his, while you fought off the delicious drowsiness that always followed a romp with him, you were now dealing with a bellyful of uncomfortable knots. Even the air around you felt different now. Minutes earlier, lust and desire, swirled through it, took away some of the early autumn chill to replace it with the heat of unbridled passion. You treasured these times with him, when the rest of the world faded away and you lost yourselves in one another. 

But now, that air of romance faded into the trees around around you. You pulled your fingers thorough your hair to shove it out of your eyes, away from your face. “Why would you do that? Why can’t things just be as they are now? This is perfect.”

“Perfect?” He also sat up, then reached for his trousers, which lay in the soft grass where they’d fallen when you shoved them down his legs not quite half an hour earlier. “We sneak about, jumping at every sound, convinced at any moment, someone will catch us. That is hardly perfect, mimûna. I’d rather not have to worry about it. I’d rather not have to sneak about any longer, to pretend when I see you in the square that we don’t know each other like this. I’d far prefer being able to do something as simple as hold your blasted hand or steal a kiss and not care who might be lurking about.”

You would have loved the same, to be honest. Sneaking about was fun at first. You loved having the delicious little secret tucked away inside your heart, loved see him in town and being able to share a smile with him, while others wondered what it was you smiled about. 

But as the summer went on and gave away to autumn, and the air grew chilled with the change of season, that secret lost some of its lustre. Snuggling under a skin with him was cozy. Having to emerge from it into the nippy air was not. You’d become quite adept as dressing without moving said skin, but the fact was, you were growing tired of sneaking and hiding as well. You would far rather fall into a soft bed with him than roll around on the ground, where an ill placed stone or stick could interrupt an otherwise lovely moment. 

However, what Thorin suggested was nothing short of madness and could never come to pass. You understood that. Why didn't he?

Still, you felt a pang of disappointment as he stepped into his trousers and drew them up over his thick thighs. “We do not jump at every sound,” you told him, trying—and failing—to keep the sulkiness from your voice. 

“We do, and if you’re honest with yourself, you will admit it. And can you honestly tell me you like skulking about and hiding us from everyone?” 

“Well… no…” you hedged. “I don’t like it. But—”

“But nothing.” He shook his head without looking up while he fastened his trousers. Then he stretched one hand to snag your chemisette to hold out to you. “So, this is a solution. It’s the perfect solution and I fail to see why you don’t agree.”

“It would be the perfect solution,” you shot back, dragging the linen over your head, where from inside the bodice, you added, “if it wasn’t for the fact that I am not fit to wipe your boots, never mind marry you!”

He didn't reply, and when you emerged from the chemisette, it was to find him glowering at you. “What?” You tugged the wrinkled linen down and stood, then tried to smooth out at least some of the wrinkles. “Why are you looking at me that way?”

“Not fit?” His voice lowered to an irritated growl, so deep, it sounded as if it might actually have risen from the soles of his feet. “Why would you say that?”

“Because it is the truth.” You gestured to the skin he’d spread out over the ground earlier, when you’d met up at your special glade by the river, down past the bend, where few people ventured. It was secluded and romantic and the only place you didn’t truly worry about being caught alone with your prince. In the summer, the grass was lush and vibrant green, the trees’ leafy canopies provided welcome shade when the temperatures soared, but those canopies were now red and gold and yellow as they prepared to drop with the cold weather. 

When he just stared, you rolled your eyes at his stubborn determination to remain blind to the truth of your romance. “My father is but a tradesman and my mother is of Man who chose to leave both of us. I am not worthy of the prince’s attentions, never mind being his wife. You know it and you are mad if you think you can change that.”

Thorin’s eyes narrowed further. “Why do you spew such nonsense? You know I care not about your lineage and your father is a baker. There is nothing wrong with that. And of course I can change it. I can and I will and I alone have that power, remember.”

“You would never do that to your people, Thorin. You have too much respect for them and their opinions, and you know how they would feel about me becoming queen.” You shook your head as you slid into your own trousers and fastened them. This wasn't the first time you’d had this argument, but it was the first in which it came following his actually proposing to you. “This is all I can ever be to you, Thorin. And all we can ever have are stolen moments that no one else can ever know about. You cannot marry me. And even if you could, I would not say yes because it is a pipe dream at best. Should you ever ascend the throne, I cannot be queen.”

“What throne? There is no throne here.”

Your eyes stung as you drew your loose blue tunic over your head. Your hose, your boots, your sword, all lay in a row, where you’d shed them in your haste to be naked with him. You cherished the moments you had, each tryst a delicious secret you tucked away into your heart. You knew one day, those memories would all you would have of him. One day, he would marry, of course, but it would not be to you. No, he would take a full-blooded dwarrowdam as his wife and you would be able to do no more than watch from a distance as he settled into his new life, as he raised children with this now-nameless woman. It made your heart ache to think about, as you’d loved him since the first time he’d kissed you, so many months earlier. He was your first lover and would be your only lover, for no other could possibly compare to him. 

“Thorin, you know what I mean. Just as you know this cannot happen.”

“Why? And if you tell me you are unworthy, I swear to Mahal, I will toss you in that river.”

You glanced over your shoulder at the river question. It was too wide to cross at this bend, the current swift and merciless, the blackish waters sweeping tree limbs and other debris by in the blink of an eye. “Perhaps you should do that,” you said without thinking, not looking at him. “Then you wouldn’t feel duty-bound to marry me simply because we’ve made love.”

“Duty-bound?” Anger threaded those two words together. “Is that how you see this? Is that what you think? That I only wish to marry you because it is the honorable thing because of this?”

You met his now-furious gaze. “Thorin, we both know this can never go beyond this. It simply cannot.”

“It could, if you would not be so blasted stubborn!”

“I am facing the truth, which you also need do. A match between us would never be allowed and if anyone discovered what we’ve been doing, I would be shunned and you know this.”

“I know I love you. And I want you to be mine. I want everyone to know you are mine. To know that I am yours.”

“You don’t love me, you love the idea of me.”

“How dare you?” He stalked past you to gather up the skins, the now-empty bottle of wine you’d shared when you first arrived in grove. He stowed them in his rucksack, then fastened said rucksack to his pony’s saddle. “How dare you think to tell me what I feel and why I feel it? Think you when I said I love you, I was lying? That I didn't mean it? Do you think I would say such a thing and not mean it?”

“It was the glow of the moment talking.” Why couldn’t you just stop talking? Your tongue seemed far more determined than ever to destroy your relationship with Thorin far sooner than it had to be done. Your heart ached. Your eyes stung. And yet, short of stepping on said tongue, you couldn’t seem to hold back your words. “Go find one who is better suited for you, Thorin. One who is fit to be your queen. For we both know she is not me.”

He shook his head, muttering, “Kunbûnaul,” beneath his breath as he swung up onto his pony’s back. “If that is what you wish.”

You just stared up at him, your heart aching as you knew this was how this had to play out, even as it broke your heart to utter your next words. “It’s what must be done.”

“Fine.” He nudged the pony’s side and your heart shattered into a thousand pieces as he rode off and left you in the suddenly thick silence. Not even the rush of water permeated that silence. Your eyes stung, but you managed to hold back your tears when you turned to walk down to the water.

You’d loved Thorin for so long. At first, you hated him. Just wanted to show him up and prove you were every bit as skilled and capable a warrior as he was. You did that, of course, but you also found so much more than just the satisfaction of making him eat his words where you were concerned. You’d never loved anyone except your father and that was hardly the same thing.

And it wasn’t only the physical pleasure that you loved, although you did absolutely love all that went with making love with him. However, it went so much deeper than that. You could and did talk about everything with him, from the utterly serious to the absolutely absurd conversations that left you both in tears from laughing so hard. There was no one else in the whole of Middle Earth you wanted to share things with as you did with him. He was the first person you wanted to see each day and the last one you wished to speak with each night. Thorin knew you better than anyone else ever could. 

With him, you felt complete. You felt whole. He didn't try to change you, didn't try to make you feel as if you were wrong for not being like the other dwarrowdams in Ered Luin, for being hopeless where the more feminine arts were concerned—you had far more skill with a blade than a sewing needle any day of the week. He tried to convince you being only half-dwarf was perfectly acceptable to be with him. 

Except you knew it wasn’t. Not in the end, any way. And when he’d first brought up the subject of marriage, you laughed it off. Afterglow talking, since it came about after a very romantic tryst beneath a full moon and under a sky filled with glittering stars. But then he kept bringing it up, and each time, you tried to gently steer him the other way. How could he not see that you were unfit to be his bride? Why did he refuse to accept it? He was far more sensible than that, and not normally given to flights of fancy. 

But this time, as he sank against you, his body trembling, his lips gentle as they swept along the side of your neck, he whispered, “Marry me, mimûna… marry me so we might spend every night this way. So I can hold you as we drift off to sleep and when I wake up, your face is the first thing I see each morning.”

It was the first time he’d actually proposed to you. Your heart ached so badly as you shook your head. 

“You know I cannot do that.”

“You can. You need only say yes.”

If only it was as simple as saying yes. You would do so in a heartbeat if it was, but the world did not work that way. Not for you, anyway. 

You picked your way around the rocks, around fallen trees, through the reeds, to the sandy bank at the water’s edge, where you sank into the chilled earth and drew your knees in and wrapped your arms about them, watching the river rush by. It flowed by swiftly, a wide brownish-black ribbon that cut through the earth and disappeared around a bend not far from where you sat. More than once at the height of the summer heat, you and Thorin splashed in the river, melting into one another, bodies entwined, lips locked, as he tried to show you things he couldn't necessarily put into words. You wished so badly to believe that your love for one another would be enough for any of the obstacle you were sure to face, should you be foolish enough to accept his proposal. But you were a realist and knew the truth—it was nothing more than a pipe dream at best.

The sun sank low in the western sky and as dusk crept in, so did a hint of a chill. You’d lost track of the time and when you finally returned home, your father was nearly apoplectic with worry.

“Where have you been?”

“I beg your pardon, ’adad,” you said, shrugging out of your light coat to hang on the peg by the door, “I went for a walk and got myself a bit lost.”

He didn't look as if he believed you, but merely shrugged and ladled a bit of stew from the pot over the fire into a bowl and passed it to you. He filled one for himself, then you both sat at the small table, where you’d shared so many meals, just the two of you. A fire crackled low on the hearth in the sitting room as well. Winter was creeping in and it wouldn’t be long before every hearth would be ablaze to ward off the chill. 

It was only unfortunate that nothing could removed the chill of loss that seeped into your bones. 

“I had an interesting visitor earlier,” he said, dipping his spoon into the thick broth.

“Really?”

“Thorin Durin.”

You froze, and looked up to meet your father’s worried eyes. “What—whatever did he need you for?”

“He came to ask me something. About you.” He lowered his spoon into his bowl, letting it come to rest against the side of it with a soft clink. “He wished for me to give him my blessing to court you.”

“What?” The blood drained from your face, leaving you cold and numb. What did he think asking your father would accomplish? It would still change nothing where the rest of the clan was concerned. “When did he do this?”

“Not quite an hour ago.” His eyes narrowed. “Have you struck up a relationship with him, raklûna? Be honest with me.”

You paused, using the bowl of your spoon to push a bit of turnip deeper into the thick, peppery broth. There was no sense in trying to lie. Your father would know. He always did. 

Looking up, you swallowed hard and nodded. “I have, ‘adad, yes.”

“And do you wish to marry him?”

“I would in heartbeat. But—” 

“But what?”

“I cannot be his wife and we know this and he knows it and—”

You went to shove back from the table, only to have him grab your by the hand to hold you still. “Why? He told me he loves you and he sounded so very sincere that I do not doubt him. Do you love him back?”

“Does it matter? I am not full-dwarf and not worthy—”  

“Balderdash!” He shook his head. “You are every bit as worthy as any full-blood dwarf and I’ll not listen to you spew such garbage as to tell me otherwise! Have I not raised you to be proud of who you are? Of where you come from?”

“Well, yes, but— ”

“I told him he has my blessing, raklûna, for he does. If you love him, then you should be with him. And you are every bit as worthy as any other woman in Ered Luin. Even more so, for you’ve proven yourself time and again where he is concerned.”

“‘Adad, it is of no matter now.” Your appetite drained and you pushed your bowl away. “I’ve already sent him away. He doesn’t love me, but rather loves the idea of loving me.”

“Sent him away? You sent him to our front door, is where you sent him, you know.”

“Which he shouldn’t have done.”

“Why?” Your father shook his head, his expression graver than you’d ever seen. “Raklûna, do not be so foolish as to think you know his mind better than he himself knows it. To do so would be a colossal mistake. One you will regret making and very soon.”

“I know, but it changes nothing.” You pulled your hand from beneath his, sat back, wiped your mouth, then rose from your chair. “Excuse me, ‘adad, I have a bit of a headache.”

He didn't argue with you, but let you leave and once you were safely ensconced in your small bedchamber, you slid down along the closed door, buried your face in your hands, and gave into the tears that had plagued you since Thorin rode out of the glade. 

You lay there in the dark, unable to sleep, just staring up at the ceiling. You had no idea what time it was, but your father was still awake, moving about the sitting room, judging by the creak of the floorboards. He was right. It was a colossal mistake to assume you knew Thorin better than he knew himself.

And now you’d ruined everything. 

For a few short months, you’d been so happy with him. You’d allowed yourself to believe there could be a future with him. And when the time came when you were faced with that future becoming reality, what did you do?

You ruined it.

“Blasted fool,” you muttered, swiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “You absolute idiot. You had all you wanted and threw it away. And for what?”

The knock at the front door made you jump at first. But then your heart leaped into your throat and your pulse pounded through your head when you heard Thorin’s deep voice. “I hope I am not disturbing you.”

You could almost see your father shaking his head. “Not at all, son. She is in her room.”

Footsteps drew near and you held your breath until black dots danced before your eyes, your heart racing so madly, you wondered which would make you faint first.

He didn't knock, but just opened the door, filling the doorway like an avenging angel of sorts. Rain spattered his dark green traveling cloak, covering it with dark splotches. He said nothing at first, but glowered at you as he’d done in the glade.

“Will you hear me out?” he finally growled, coming fully into the room to close the door behind him.

You nodded. “I will.”

“Good. I love you. And I care not what anyone might say or think about that. And I am not so foolish to think that it will be a smooth journey, should you accept my proposal. But, I am foolish enough to believe that together, we will find a way to get through it, that we can and will make it work and in time, it won’t matter. 

“But know this, there is no one else I wish to be with. There will never be anyone I will wish to be with, either. If I cannot have you, I will not have another.”

“Thorin, are you certain this is what you want?”

“How can you ask me that?”

“I have to know.”

He crossed to you, catching your hands to draw you up and into his arms. “I am yours, as I have been since the first time we were together. I love you, you know. I love you and I care not how hard I might have to fight for you. You are worth that. We are worth that. I wish I could make you see that’s truly how I feel.”

“I do see it,” you told him softly, easing your arms about his neck. “And I am so sorry for what I said, for my foolishness. I do love you back, you know. So very much.”

“So, will you have me? Just as I said the first time we were together.”

You smiled and drew him down to meet your lips. His arms tightened about your waist, his hands sliding down over your backside. He backed you toward your narrow bed, gently pushing you down onto it and as he covered you, you smiled up at him and whispered, “My father is just in the next room.”

Thorin smiled, his eyes dancing with mischief as he said “So be very quiet, mimûna.”

“Thorin!”

“What?” He bent to kiss you, his lips teasing and gentle. When he drew back, his eyes glittered in the low light of the candle flickering on the small desk by the windows. “Will you marry me or do I have to compromise you right here and now.”

“I’m fairly certain you’ve already done that.”

“I’ll do it loudly enough now to leave no doubt in your father’s mind what I’m doing to his daughter.”

Your cheeks grew warm. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Do you wish to find out? Or will you simply stop being so blasted stubborn and say yes?”

You sighed as you smiled up at him. “Ask me again, kurduwê,” you told him, tracing a finger along the edge of his beard. “Ask me to marry you.”

He brushed your lips with his, murmuring, “Will you marry me?”

You slid your arms about his middle and pulled him flush against you. “Yes."

***

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[theblogofdurin]

Cloaked in Green || Pt.2 || Chp. 25: Bolg & Bard

word count: 1.3ishk

summary: more intel on the story of Arathorn and Gilraen, while Aranea reveals what has been going on to her most trusted company man.

a/n: sorry for the unexpected hiatus and short chapter. I promise to do better. College has been rough and I have midterms coming up so it might be a bit before I post again. So Please Like, Reblog and comment down below and I'll talk to you guys next time.

Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Oc

links-> series masterlist, chp.24, reader guide.

--○•○•○•○--

“Bye Mama!!” the little voices yelled in unison in the back of the wagon, as they leaned over the railing on the bed.

“Behave for your father!” Gilraen waved a finger sternly at the tiny heads “Or I won’t hesitate to lop off your rear ends when you get back”.

Despite her tough exterior with her warning, Gilraen is panicking on the inside. This would be the first time the twins were leaving the camp, and it was the first time she would be separated from them for more than a night. She was nervous, to say the least.

Arathron had another meeting in Imladris and per tradition, on the Eve of the next Heir's-(or in this case, Heir(s)'s-) 6th birthday, the family would travel to the Hidden Valley for the elven blessing and earning of their Sindarin names. However, the twins' birthday falls in line with the Harvest, and with the amount of work there is; Arathron and Gilraen decided it was best for one of them to stay behind. Gilraen being the obvious choice.

“We promise, Mama!” Little Aragorn grinned over at her, causing a small laugh to escape her. ‘Exactly like his father,’ she thought, ‘ ever the charmer.’

“We’ll be good” Little Aranea grinned the same grin as her brother, causing another laugh from their mother. There was no denying that despite Aranea's longer mid-back hair, and Aragorn's shoulder-length hair, they were practically identical despite being fraternal.

“We’ll be okay, Gil-.” stated Arathron as he threw in the last prevision bags in the bed of the wagon, a bigger version of the same grin rested on his face. “-We’ll only be gone for a week or so.” He came around the wagon to place a comforting grip on her shoulder, kissing the top of her head.

“Just be safe,” she spoke softly up at him.

“The safest.” he grinned before pressing a soft kiss onto her lips. Gilraen smiled happily into the kiss, resting her hands comfortably on her husband's chest as his hands went to rest lower, nicely and smoothly on her hips.

“EWW” the twins sounded off. Rolling his eyes, Arathron pulled away with a soft goodbye to his wife before turning around to the giggling kids.

“Alright, you heathens." he chuckled at them teasingly. "-let’s get on the road.”

“YAY!” tiny cheers erupted from the bed as he climbed up to the driver's seat, reaching for the reins of the two beautiful draft horses at the front.

“Bye, love,” Arathron smiled as he flicked the reins, Gilraen blew a kiss.

“BYE MAMA!!” the twins yelled as the wagon began to move, Gilraen smiled as she waved her hand.

“Be safe!" She blew more kisses, "-And Listen to your father!”

Floating down the river in a barrel was all part of the plan.

However! Floating down the river in a barrel with Bilbo was NOT part of the plan.

Aranea groaned mentally as she adjusted slightly in the barrel. Bilbo squeaked as his back pressed into her chest like a small child.

“Anything behind us!”

“I think we’ve outrun them!” Balin yelled, wiping the water off his face. “I can’t see any movement in the treelines!”

“It won't be for long!” Bofur yelled back. “We lost the current!”

“And poor Bifur is already half drowned!” Bombur's loud baritone voice yelled after his brother. Looking behind her, Aranea almost rolled her eyes, at the sight of a pair of boots sticking up out of the said dwarf’s barrel.

“Make for the shore!” Thorin’s voice answered. “Let’s go!”

Paddling farther up the river, Aranea spoke softly to the hobbit in front of her, "Hold on to the edge," before sliding out of the barrel.

"Aran-" Bilbo started as he watched with wide eyes before stopping when he realized…she was standing.

Up to her waist in the river, Aranea pushed slightly on Bilbo's barrel to usher him closer to shore, before moving downstream to pull the others closer.

“Come on!” she yells over to Nori and Ori, waving a hand to encourage them to move faster.

Behind her, Kili falls to his knees in pain from the arrow wound in his thigh. Fili immediately rushes to him.

“Ki?” he gasped as he saw the blood. Oin immediately rushes over. They began quickly bandaging the wound, as they whispered among themselves.

Aranea got up to the shore following Balin, pulling her hair behind her, in a ponytail fashion, as she spoke quietly up to the dwarf in front of her “Balin..” she gestured, “I need to talk to you.”

“Not now lass; but I am glad that you are back with us.” he added as he dragged himself up the rocks.

“Balin, this is serious,” she stressed as she rushed up next to him.

Not that far away, only hearing the tail end of their conversation, Thorin spoke loudly, “Agreed, There’s an orc pack on our tail; we need to keep moving."

“To where?” Balin threw his hands up as he gestured around them. "And how?"

“To the mountain; " Bilbo pointed up to the western sky, "we’re so close."

Moving the hobbit's hand to point North-East, Balin sighed exasperated “A lake lies between us and that mountain. We have no way to cross it.”

“So then we go around.” Bilbo threw up his hands

Dwalin growled softly, “The orcs will run us down! As sure as daylight." Pointing over at Aranea who was slightly surprised as the dwarf continued. "Besides Aranea, the rest of us don't have any weapons to defend ourselves."

“Bind his leg quickly." Thorin ordered Oin, who looked up from his position in front of Kili, "You have 4 minutes.” the older dwarf nodded sharply. Quickly moving over the Prince's leg, he got too worked up.

While they bind Kili’s leg, some of the dwarves sit down around the rocky shoreline and Ori kneels by the river to empty his boot of water. Still, behind Balin, Aranea tapped the kind dwarf on the shoulder. “Balin, please."

Balin was surprised by her persistence "Alright," he agreed, turning to look up at her. "-what is it?"

Aranea gestured over to the rock that dripped over to the far side of the shore. Nodding, Balin followed Aranea as she led him over to the edge, where none of the others could see them.

"Yes?" He asked quietly as they both turned to each other.

"I know that this is strange, but you are the one I trust the most." she started, causing the dwarfs' eyebrows to raise. "And there are just some things that I am not sure the others need to know right now." She whispered, "But one of you should know, and as Thorin's advisor you will know when the time is right to tell the others." Balin nodded, chewing on his lip lightly as he did. He heaved a sigh before speaking

"No one can blame you lass from being hesitant about Thorin after-"

"He's different." Aranea interrupted. Causing Balin to look startled. "I'm not sure how but.." she shook her head lightly. "...I can tell-"

Balin was surprised, and again sighed heavily before nodding. Finally, seeming to accept the sense of foreboding in his heart.

"That wasn't what I wanted to talk to you about." Aranea added after Balin didn't say anything. At his eyebrow raise, she continued. "There is something that is happening, that's been happening that you all have been made unaware of."

"What are you saying, Aranea." He spoke her name. The protective dwarf qualities that he was born and raised to listen to were running full speed as he eyed her.

"There was a reason why Radagast needed to find Gandalf so urgently that morning after the trolls. Somehow it was connected to the reason why a messenger was waiting for me at Rivendell." She swallowed as Balin visibly swallowed with her. She was making him uneasy with her wording.

Resting a gentle hand up on her shoulder to try and help calm the poor lady, and in turn himself, Balin spoke quietly and now urgently.

"What is it, lass." He punctuated the ending.

Aranea closed her eyes as she spoke slowly, “The Nine kings have risen out of the High Fells.'' She opened her eyes as she felt the dwarf's hand fall from her shoulder.

"The Watchful Peace is over." She added after a beat. "The enemy has risen again."

Unbeknownst to the rest of the company. A few minutes passed, talking amongst themselves as Oin made as quick of work on Kili’s leg as he could.

A tall figure was walking up slowly behind Ori, the gentle scribe was picking pieces of wood and river grass out of his hair as the unknown man aimed.

Dwalin, out of nowhere, holding a branch, leaps in between the figure and Ori. He raises the branch and begins to charge the man, but the man shoots his arrow and it embeds itself right in the middle of the branch between Dwalin’s hands. Kili raises a rock to throw, but the man shoots the rock out of his hand too.

“Do it again, and you’re dead.” the man ordered as he drew back on his bow to aim over the others.

Quite smoothly, a cold blade was placed on the man's neck from behind. The stench of orc blood not going amiss by him as a female voice growled sharply.

"I can speak the same for you, lakesman."

The man smiled before he spun his head, ducking under Aranea’s blade. But before he could strick, her foot landed a swift kick into his knee, bringing him down on the other. Bringing her sword to the front of his neck; resting it in the junction between the sharpness of her blade and the dull metal of her cross-guard.

"Now, do you wish to try that again or do you plan on actually listening?"

The man nodded, grunting slightly.

"Good. Now I'm going to empty your quiver and sheath my sword." The tone of her voice was still harsh and unforgiving, “-Then we are all going to have a civil conversation before parting ways. Deal?"

The man choked slightly, causing Aranea to loosen her hold slightly. Internally the man was quite confused by this very strange woman. Before he finally nodded, grunting

“Deal.”

.

.

=//=//=//=

taglist still open! @lokigirlszendaya ​@caelum-the-part-time-nihilist @emrfangirl ​ ​ @lathalea ​ ​ @hr-nm-grnd-zr ​ ​ @markosgirl ​ @demigoddesofchimichangagod ​ ​ @imaginesfire ​ ​ @kaysteahouse ​ ​ @tamnight ​ ​ @mithrandirssidehoe ​ ​ @panhoeofmanyfandoms @petrelrose @irisv-x ​ ​ @fandoms4everyone ​ ​ @Leabeiersdorf07 @nunyobuisness ​ ​ @fallinloveinoctober ​ ​ @mysterypotatoink ​ ​ @whore-of-many-hot-men ​ ​ @generalgoldfishldrm ​ ​ @thevanillahorizon ​@cloudcatchingstark @wolfers-stuff @depressedemo-152 @triffidgurl @nessarosefiction

#the hobbit #thorin oakenshield #cloaked in green #the hobbit fandom #the hobbit fic #thorin x reader #thorins company #fili durin #kili durin #thorin oakenshield x fem!oc #thorin oakenshield fanfiction #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin oakenshield imagine #richard armitage #the company of thorin oakenshield #thorin oakenshield x you #thorin x oc #the hobbit thorin x reader #the hobbit thorin #the hobbit x reader #lotr blog #lotr fanfic #lord of the rings #dwarves the hobbit

[linasofia]

Petite Voleuse

Part 4

Fandom: Pilgrimage

Summary: When stealing something of great value and importance from a man like Raymond de Merville you never could have foreseen how your life would change.

Words: 2,5K

Warnings: 18+, smut, verbal abuse, non-con

A/N: This is the fourth part of this fic. You can read the previous parts here.

French Ma petite voleuse - My little thief Tu t'es languie de moi? - Did you languish for me?

Special thanks to @lathalea & @legolasbadass! 💙

The days gradually become shorter, the sun seems shy, and the nights carry an icy wind from the sea. The full moon must have shed its pale light over the encampment at least two times since I first saw it on the night I was fettered to the pole, but it is hard to follow the changes in the environment when every day in my canvas cage is the same. My life follows a strict routine, forced upon me by the man whose moody temper and raw treatments I have grown accustomed to. I wake up, often before he does, assist him when he gets dressed, then I spend the day alone with only my thoughts as a distraction. At night, he returns to take out his frustration, anger or, on rare occasions, his excitement, on me. Afterwards, we both come to rest, drained of the last drops of energy as a result of the intense climax, but I always fall asleep with mixed feelings in my chest. The first nights I spent in his bed were torture; I felt like I was sleeping on a bed filled with thorns. But lately, I often wake up with his arm draped around my waist. If I, in those moments, close my eyes and try to forget where I am, his unconscious embrace feels almost pleasant.

One morning when I slip out of bed after Raymond, the cold in the tent is worse than usual. I cannot stop my body from shivering when I hand him the different pieces of armor, and the sensitive skin on my breasts stands guard under his piercing gaze. For some reason, he usually lets me be in the morning. His lust peaks during the night, and like a beast, he likes to satisfy his darkest needs in the shadows, where the light from the flickering fire does not reach. The bed is always partly illuminated and a relatively safe place to be. It is when he drags me to one of the thick, steady poles holding the canvas over our heads that I know the night will be long and my skin will ache the following morning.

When I place Raymond’s cloak over his shoulders, he suddenly reaches for me and lets his warm hands travel over my cold skin. I try not to lean closer to him, for his touch is more gentle than before, and my body seeks his warmth without my consent. I force my teeth to stop chattering as I meet his gaze, and for a second, he looks like he is about to say something. Then he abruptly turns away from me, and his groan hangs in the air while the opening to the tent closes behind him. I throw myself back into bed and pull the blanket and the extra fur up to my nose, desperate to feel what remains of the warmth from the night. The blanket smells of Raymond, and I close my eyes. His musky scent is no longer something I want to scrub off my skin as soon as I can, and I have accepted it as part of my life now, for as long as he deems necessary.

The young man who brings me food announces his arrival later than expected and he enters with a quick glance in my direction. I have not spoken to him since my failed attempt to plead for help and I have no desire to. He places the bowl on the table, then reaches inside his pocket and pulls out a small box. After he puts the little dark wooden box next to the bowl, he turns to me.

”I bring something of value to you.” He pats the box.

I peek at the item and then instinctively pull the blanket tighter to my body. I do not like the tone in his voice. He is a snake, but I do not dare to tell him that.

”I did not accept your offer,” I whisper, afraid he will come for his payment. His greedy eyes roam the blanket as if he seeks to catch a glimpse of my naked skin.

”You could have got it sooner if you had accepted. Sadly, for me, I was told to bring you this.” Disappointment fills his voice and I stare at him in disbelief.

”By who?” I lower my gaze as soon as I realize I have said too much. It is not my place to ask questions. But the young man does not take the opportunity to reprimand me. Instead he answers ”Sire Raymond himself.”

With one last long stare at me, he finally leaves me alone, and as soon as I am certain he will not return, I jump out of bed to open the box. My porridge can wait. I hold my breath as I open the lid with trembling fingers. A gasp falls from my lips and tears well up in my eyes over this gift that to many is not much, but to me is the whole world; inside the box is a thin needle and thread. I can finally repair my dress. It will at least keep me a little warmer and I will not have to endure the humiliation of being in bed or wrapped in a blanket every time my food is delivered. I close the lid and grab the bowl but when I take the spoon I see another great surprise. Someone has poured generous drops of the sweetest nectar in the forest over the porridge: wild honey. I do not know why I suddenly have been given this treat, but I can only think of one person ordering it, and reluctantly, I send a grateful thought to Raymond.

I eat in a hurry, eager to do something meaningful with my time, and the meal is even more filling than usual. As always,I scrape the bowl empty, careful not to miss any drops of honey. When I am done I place the bowl back on the table and pick up my dress that has been resting on a small stool ever since the night Raymond brutally tore it apart. I run my hand over the stained fabric. Finally I can look forward again. Hope rises in my chest, and I permit myself to dream of the wind playing with my hair and caressing my cheeks as I walk over endless green fields.

It is very late when Raymond returns, and the familiar sounds from the men by the fire have almost died. The day’s impressions and tensions are making me tired but as soon as I hear Raymond’s booming voice outside, my heart beats faster and fills my body with adrenaline. I hold my head a little higher when I step forward to greet him, wearing my dress with the long, almost invisible, seam in the front. Without a word, he starts to undress, layer by layer, and I assist him in tense silence. Only his tunic remains when I allow myself to glance at his face. Even if I know what to expect from him, I still jump when he grabs me by the throat. His thumb caresses my skin, and his eyes shift to the same colors as the flickering fire. If I had not seen it before, I would have been terrified of the dark look in his eyes. When his other hand travels over the worn linen fabric, a cruel smile forms on his lips.

”This dress reminds me of the first time I took you.” His grip around my neck tightens, and I feel my pulse drumming at my temples. ”I did not plan to keep you in my bed this long but you turned out to be much more enjoyable than I thought.” He leans in close to me, and his breath fans my cheek as he purrs something I do not understand in an alluring tone I have never heard him use. Then his grip on my throat tightens even more, and small stars appear before my eyes. I place my hand on his forearm in a wordless plea for release.

”Ma petite voleuse, I know you enjoy this too.” His voice drips with lust. The bastard is right; my body hums in tune with his harsh treatment, and I cannot ignore the effect his voice has on me.

“I will spare your dress tonight,” he murmurs as he grabs one of my sleeves and pulls until the fabric glides down and exposes my bare shoulder. “If you want to keep it in this condition you will take it off whenever I want you to. If you hesitate or refuse, I will rip it off your body again.”

I nod, and the pressure around my neck slowly fades away. Feeling the ground sway under my feet, I gasp for air and wonder if the day will come when his grip will cause me to faint. It has come close at times and he seems to enjoy all types of control over my body. Maybe this is what he refers to as another type of punishment. Raymond takes a step back and folds his arms over his chest. His lips form a grin, and without taking his eyes from my cleavage, he rasps a single word: “Undress.”

I swallow hard; my throat feels sore after his tight grip but not worse than it has been before, it will pass before the night is over. Before his eyes, I lift the dress and pull it over my head. I do not leave it on the floor, but instead I fold it and put it on the stool. The fabric is more than just a dress, it now symbolises hope and deserves to be treated accordingly. When I meet Raymond’s ravenous gaze, he nods at the bed. He does not need to use words. I understand what he expects from me.

I lie back on the bed and watch Raymond put another log on the fire. His strong shoulders flex in the warm light as he pulls off his tunic and when he steps up to the bed, I stop breathing. Raymond truly has the body of a warrior and I can only imagine how skilled and ruthless he is with his sword in battle. Feral hunger fills his eyes when he takes in my naked body, spread out on his bed, on his command, and my vulnerability is once again reminding me of his superior strength and power. With the unmistakable confidence of a knight, he covers my body with his and pins me to the bed. Obediently, I spread my legs for him and the shame and lust wash over me in an intoxicating combination. I feel his impressive spear press against me but he does not enter me at once.

”Tu t'es languie de moi?” he groans in my ear and when I do not answer him, he forces my knees even further apart. I put up enough resistance to make him use his strength and I know it gives him satisfaction. His moan turns to a raw chuckle when his fingers reach between my thighs. ”I know you have.”

I whimper when he adjusts himself and with a deep thrust he buries his spear in my heat. Even if I am stretched around Raymond’s massive girth every night, I still struggle initially to adjust to his size. But soon enough my body gives in and welcomes every movement of his hips.

Raymond is a violent man and sharing his bed involves bruises and soreness, but it also means ferocious peaks of satisfaction when he pushes me beyond my limits. It did not take long before I realized that he finds perverse amusement in my vocals, and the louder I am, both in pleasure and in pain, the more he acknowledges my needs as well. Tonight is no exception and when I fall apart under him, he joins me with a long stream of words that sound more like a curse than praise.

Panting heavily, he heaves himself on his hands while my body still shakes from his intense treatment. Without a word, he stares down at me and I meet his gaze with a growing feeling of anxiousness. He usually takes what he wants from me and then falls asleep. That is much easier to deal with than the current piercing gaze that makes my mouth go dry. Afraid I have done something to displease him, and now have to pay for it in a sinister way, I close my eyes in an attempt to calm myself down. Unexpectedly the thought of his gift appears in my mind and when I remember that I have not yet thanked him for it, I open my eyes again. Maybe it will direct his thoughts in another direction.

”Thank you for the gift this morning,” I say quietly.

Raymond does not answer me but he tilts his head a little to the side and the smallest of smiles briefly dances in the corner of his mouth. It softens the cruel expression on his face, and for once, he looks almost content. But the moment is gone in the blink of an eye. With a grunt he moves to my side and comes to rest on his back. The dark hair on his chest curls when damp, and as he scratches his chest with his large and calloused hand, I cannot stop myself from observing his fingers. Something about his hands is truly appealing, and when the blood is washed from them, they are capable of the most satisfying actions. Raymond pulls the blanket over both of us, but instead of turning away from me as he usually does, he stays on his back and tucks one arm under his head. It feels more intimate to lie like this, and sleep will not come easy to me. my mind tries to process the staggering day and night. I watch the look on his face soften and it becomes clear that Raymond clearly does not share my problem with sleeping because his chest heaves with every deep breath he takes and an aura of calmness surrounds him. Have you missed me? His question finds its way to my consciousness and occupies my mind. I want to shout ”NO!” to his face, but lately I have felt more excitement than fear when he towers over my naked body. Do I miss him or is it just my miserable loneliness that plays tricks on my brain? If we had met under different circumstances, how would my feelings towards him have been? The most important question makes me anxious and it is the question I try to run away from; will I miss him the day I slip unnoticed from his grip?

Did you like it? Please like, comment or/and reblog! ❤️

Taglist and others who might be interested: @lathalea @legolasbadass @laurfilijames @i-did-not-mean-to @enchantzz @fizzyxcustard @middleearthpixie @xxbyimm @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @kibleedibleedoo @mariannetora @haly-reads @sunnysidesidra @rachel1959 @knitastically @jaskierthelover @quiall321 @medusas-hairband

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed.

#raymond de merville #richard armitage #fanfiction #raymond de merville x oc #raymond de merville fanfic #raymond fanfic #raymond fic #raymond de merville x fem!reader #pilgrimage (2017) #pilgrimage #Petite Voleuse

[hellothereobi]

Looking for Hobbit fanfic on AO3

It was a Thorin x original female character where he teaches her about sex/pleasure. It starts off at Beorns house I believe. It was superrrr smuttty

#thorin x you #thorin x reader #thorin oakenshield #fanfiction #ao3 writer #richard armitage x reader #smut #the hobbit #lord of the rings #hobbit fanfic #thorin x oc

[fizzyxcustard]

I can finally say with some confidence that Covert Eyes appears to have an end in sight. After 18 months of writing the fic, and not really knowing where it was going to go, I've figured out a conclusion for it. Thanks to one of my closest friends helping me, listening to me ramble on for hours about it, I can look to the end.

I've had a definite love hate relationship with this fic. I've loved writing it as it's my first adventure into the Spooks fandom, and was also my first OC x canon pairing for quite a while, after concentrating on reader inserts for so long. Then the hate came in when I saw the lack of engagement with it, and probably due to it being such an old fandom now. Most people want me to continue writing Thorin constantly. And if I'm being brutally honest with you all, my Thorin stories are becoming very stale now. I just feel that my stories regarding him are so samey; it feels like a cut and paste job whenever I read my Thorin stories back. I feel most of the ground for Thorin has been covered. Lucas and Amy were new and fresh, and it was going against what readers wanted. I was actually writing for myself for once, rather than get sucked into the need for validation and sticking to what everyone wants.

The ending of Covert Eyes will probably be a relief for a lot of you because you came for Thorin content. However, the Lucas x Amy pairing will continue on. Covert Eyes doesn't indicate the end of them. Far from it. :)

Other characters? As you all know, I've focused on Richard Armitage characters for quite a while. John Porter is another character I'd love to delve into, but he's very much like Lucas, not very popular. Raymond de Merville and Guy of Gisborne are still on the cards. But I also, like Thorin, am starting to feel they're becoming a little stale now.

Other fandoms? Still not sure on that one. Thorin, Lucas, Guy, Raymond and the Johns (Porter and Thornton) are still very much of interest to me. Maybe I need to try and shake up my ideas. But we'll see.

#richard armitage #Lucas north #spooks #Thorin Oakenshield #The Hobbit #writing #fanfictions #guy of gisborne #John porter #Raymond de merville

[moondirti]

What are some of your comfort fics? I’m dying for recommendations and I trust your taste

the way i classify a comfort fic is something i've read more than once, so. not all of these are particularly comforting (that is, soft/fluffy) but they're all pieces of art and should be revered

darkfics in red. multifandom list. links to tumblr or ao3

COD

lavender skies, by @yeyinde

dangle on the leash, by @/yeyinde

sink or swim, by @/yeyinde

the pit, by @peachesofteal

dead disco, by @/peachesofteal

saltwater, by @ceilidho

landscape with honey, by @/ceilidho

pet au, by @cordeliawhohung

omegaverse au, by @sprout-fics

red fox series, by @charnelhouse

OTHER FANDOMS

sober ii (melodrama), by shaekespeares on ao3 francis abernathy x richard papen

out there, somewhere, by renaissance on ao3 francis abernathy x richard papen

anagnorisis, by maiden_of_asgard on ao3 kylo ren x f! reader

imperium, by audrey_w on ao3 armitage hux x f! oc (+ kylo ren)

rough day, by @no-droids din djarin x f! reader

i've flown too close to the sun, by /charnelhouse din djarin x f! reader

for the love that used to be there, @fatesundress tom riddle x f! reader

atrophy, by @/yeyinde joel miller x f! reader

#not an exhaustive list #༄dee recs #<for more recs check out this tag #༄dee answers

[mistresskayla-blog1]

This is a fan fiction screenplay I have been working on..its the open few scenes. Let me know your thoughts. More content to come.

Some hold backs for interest and response.

Please tag for follows and collab support.

Thanks again. KCrowe 2024.

Fandom: Richard Armitage

Pairings: Richard Armitage x Fem Reader OC (Kayla Crowe)

Warnings: stalking, anxiety, potential smut, sexual references, security, celebrity lifestyle, (mild) rescue, pursuit, social gatherings, drunkenness, bdsm, foot fetish,

(psychics, telepathy, Astral projection, clairvoyant, witchy)

Summary:

Kayla Crowe attends an evening gathering in Manhattan NYC, early spring in the city.

Richard Armitage and several other celebrities are present at this gathering. Richard sees her from across the party and pursues her.

Kayla is also pursued by a former client at the same party, Alexei S, who is mentally unstable and a drunk.

Drama ensues.. briefly, as Richard removes her from the party and to his waiting town car. This is where thier journey begins.

Kayla has some special abilities which will be revealed in later scenes.

#richardarmitage #fanfiction #screenplay #relationships #rarmitage #kaylacrowe #intrigue #romance #smut #richard #armitage #OC x RA #original female character #bdsm #footworship #celebrity #psychic #witchywoman #telepathy #electric

Party Scene (attraction from across the room)

Exterior: New York City

Interior: Private venue party - nighttime. Dark venue with high tables, couches and drinks Celebrities and other associates mingle and conversate. There is a jovial air to the event.

Richard is wearing a black suit with a blue shirt, and an appropriately colored tie. His hair is grown out a little, and is swept back.. an evening facial shadow is visible on his chin.

Kayla is wearing an A-line cocktail dress, blue and black lace. Her hair is half, up half down, make up is light.. And her skin is sparkling with some kind of treatment. She is wearing black pumps which create a dimension of height to her curves.

There is soft lo fi music emanating from speakers around the room. Nothing obtrusive, but definitely thematic.

Richard enters the party and immediately is approached by a women in her 20s.

Women: Hi handsome… are you alone?

Richard: (Smiles subtlety). No, I’m not alone.

Women: Wait, aren’t you Richard?

Richard: (Pauses trying to make his way to a colleague who was waving at him)

Yeah. yeah I am.

Women: Can I have an autograph?

Richard: (sighs) Sorry. I really need to be getting on.

Richard excuses himself. Some time passes at the party.

Richard sips his drink, idly and listens to a male colleague retell an outtake from a previous project. He smiles and as he looks up, he sees Kayla across the crowded room. He cannot look away. The colleague bumps his arm in recognition of his story.

Richard: (looks to colleague) smiles, (sips drink), Yes.. I remember, that was.. (trails off) looks again to find Kayla in his eye line.

Across the room…

Kayla: (Kayla does not see Richard’s gaze, is directing a conversation among other men and women She clears her throat as the back of her neck gets warm and she rubs it absently)

I think you’ll find, Robert, that the female of that species is keener than the male. But that doesn’t mean it goes across to all species.. Chuckles

Robert: But Mistress.. It does. It truly does, we cannot deny that as creatures, we men are impervious to the charms of a high class woman.

Kayla: (laughs) Well, I cannot deny that, on its face. Men certainly are devoted to me, but I do not understand it.

Robert: well I certainly can see it.

Kayla: Smiles (sips her drink a tumbler glass of scotch on the rocks)

Richard attempts to come across the room towards Kayla, He seems to be thwarted by many other people.

An attractive women in her mid 30s approaches him, he stops and smiles nicely.

She speaks towards his ear.. Playfully and he keeps his eyes locked on Kayla.

He smiles at the women, making eye contact. And offers a hand to sit down.

She responds and sits next to him. Richard sighs (under his breath). Sitting down at a high table stool, and taking another sip of his drink.

The women and him attempt small talk. Richard does his very best to be cordial, but he keeps glancing towards his goal.

Several minutes of this and the woman gets the hint that Richard is uninterested.

Kayla is still engaged in conversation with several others across the room. She has not noticed Richard’s gaze, but is aware that she is being watched, and keeps fidgeting with her hair.

Several minutes of this, and she excuses herself.. Heading for the lavatory, which is positioned behind a partition wall to her right.

Richard excuses himself from the women, only to be approached by another.. As he makes his way towards the hallway. He again is nice, but responds, with

“Thanks, but no”. And steers around the third women.

Kayla manages through the crowd to the partition wall, and flattens her back against the wall, opposite the lavatory door marked “women”. Kayla slinks down the wall, her knees bending slightly to keep her balance. Richard comes around the opposite corner and slides into a spot right next to her, as she looks up at him, a bit disorientated.

Kayla: (Smiles at Richard). I’m sorry, did I?

She slumps a little against the wall.

Richard finds her arm, and a bolt of lightning shoots through him (like a twitch) as he makes contact with her.

Richard; I’m sorry. Are you alright? Can I get you something?

Kayla: (Looking dazed)

No, no. maybe I didn’t eat enough. I’ve had this weird sensation for a little while, but now. (Looks into his eyes) It seems to have gone.

(Kayla looks down at his arm on hers And giggles) You tickle.

Richard stares at Kayla as she pets his hand on her arm.

Richard: (looks inquisitive) What is your name?

Kayla: Giggles Oh, Kayla, (audibly), Mistress (proudly)

(She looks back up at him, chuckling a bit)

Richard: (smirks) Mistress? Are you titled?

Kayla: Yeah. (eyes on him) Only in my mind.

Richard: Chuckles, Aren’t we all.

Richard is aware of a sensation like warmth spreading through his body, and he runs his fingers through his hair a second to compose it.

Richard: Well, fair Kayla. It seems like you won’t be needing a drink, perhaps I can find you a chair?

Kayla: Grins. That would be lovely. Thank you, Richard.

Richard: Looks puzzled, How did you know my name?

Kayla: You must be joking. I know who you are.

Richard: Well, I am at a disadvantage then, I do not know who you are though something compelled me to come and meet you.

(He leads her out of the hallway by the arm, and towards some seating)

Come on, let’s get you sat down properly.

Still feeling woozy, Kayla allows Richard to guide her to a satee where others have vacated. He sits right next to her and offers her some bottled water that is offered by a waitstaff.

Kayla: Thank you. (takes the offered bottle, opens it and takes a sip)

Richard: Shows a look of concern

Your sure your alright? I wasn’t expecting to come to your rescue when I saw you.

Kayla: Oh, I’ll come good soon enough. Smiles

What I want to know is how are you here? (points at the satee)

Richard: I told you. I felt a strong urge to make my way to you. Its a new sensation for me. I will admit.

Kayla: Fair enough, (takes another sip of water) Show me your hand again.

Richard gives her a hand palms up.. And she takes it with her left hand, closing her eyes and breathing intentionally.

Richard feels a tingle move up his hand and into his arm, his reaction is that of subtle shock, but he doesn’t draw away immediately. Just continues to watch her as she stays still. Her eyebrows kick up and a smile broadens her face.

Well.. good sir. This is auspicious.

Richard: Laughs nervously. What is.. That?

Kayla: Oh, my apologies. I was scanning. What did that feel like to you?

Kayla looks right into Richard’s eyes eagerly awaiting an answer

Richard: (Swallows) It was, warm, inviting, um.. New for me.

(Richard stares at her lips.. And eyes. Darting between them in a disparate attentiveness)

Kayla: (She drops her gaze back to his hand, running her fingers along his knuckles caressingly)

You are supposed to meet me..But I don’t yet know the purpose of this match.

Richard: (Inquisitively speaks up) Match? How do you mean?

Kayla: I don’t know. But your energy is incredible. Can you feel that? (Kayla hovers her hand above Richard.. Indicating a transition in sensation)

Richard: Yes.. (chuckles and smiles) Is this your area of expertise?

Kayla: Oh, no. I dabble in lots of things.

(She sips her water again, letting go of his hand. Richard feels an innate loss when she disconnects, and adjusts his posture accordingly. Kayla waves off to someone in the crowd smiling widely)

(Kayla looks to Richard again meeting his gaze)

Listen, I have another client I need to speak to. Can I find you later?

Richard: I don’t think you’ll be able to be rid of me that easily. (laughs nervously)

Kayla rises from the satee. Richard stands as well. A women approaches Kayla and hugs her, Richard steps back a bit to allow for this gesture.

Kayla: Greta (hugs). How are you? Do you know Richard?

Greta: Of course. Yes. how are you?

Richard: Fine. Thank you.

Greta (directed at Kayla):

He’s here you know. Been asking about you again. Kayla’s eyes start to scan the crowd. Richard follows her gaze.

Kayla: Oh, god. (sighs audibly) Are you sure? (looks visibly nervous)

Richard notices and moves to place his hand on the small of her back, then takes back his hand.

Greta: Oh yes, he came right up to me and asked if You were here.

Richard: An admirer issue, fair lady?

Kayla: Yes, a client turned obsessive. I cannot seem to get rid of him, and he has influence, so he gets into things such as these without question.

Richard: Did you want to leave? I can probably get us out of here.

Kayla: (She looks at him, and then to Greta).

Greta: She would be grateful if you could.

Kayla nods and looks to Richard.

Kayla: Actually that is true. Could you help me sneak out of this party?

Richard made eye contact with a man across the room, and made a hand gesture.

He took his phone from his pocket and punched in a message.

Richard: Let’s go out…(Richard looks down at this phone and then leads her with his arm on the small of her back) this way..

Richard leads Kayla away from the satee towards the hallway again.

Greta: Call me when you get home.

Kayla: Yes, I will of course. Thanks babe.

Looks behind her at Greta

Alexei (client): Mistress! Wait! Mistress!

A tall yet stout man starts heading towards her, as Richard’s guard Julian comes in behind

Richard. Obfuscating Kayla’s form from the assailing man.

Richard ushers Kayla down the hallway, through a service entrance, his hand on the small of her back.

The bang of the service door makes Kayla Jump, a car pulls up in the alleyway, and Julian opens the door, Richard climbs in and then offers his hand to Kayla.

Kayla climbs into the backseat of the car.

Richard adjusts to sit near Kayla in the seat, putting his seatbelt on before the car moves forward. Kayla puts on her seatbelt in succession, as the car pulls away.

--

Scene: Continuation from Party

Exterior: New York City Downtown

Interior: Car. Richard, Kayla, a driver and security Julian are in the car

Richard: Seems I got you out just in the nick of time.

Richard looks back as the tall man stumbles out into the alleyway, shouting in Russian.

Kayla: Smiles, Yes. you did. (looks at him, then down at her lap) Thank you for doing that. It was very kind of you.

Richard: It felt natural to do so.

(Richard and Kayla share a glance)

Kayla: Really?

Richard: So, where can I take you? (Richard’s eyebrow quirks up)

Kayla: Um, actually. (looks at watch), I cannot be home just yet. Can we go grab a bite or something?

Richard: I could eat. Signals to Julian in the front seat Can you find us something.. (he looks at her) simple.

Kayla was looking out the window of the vehicle, wistfully.

Julian: (nods) Yes sir.

Richard looks out his own window, then over to Kayla. Kayla is contentedly watching the city flow past her window in the car.

Silence passes between them like heat

Kayla: (Looks over to Richard) What about Halal? Thats usually available this late in the city right?

Richard: Yes, I suppose so. Do you want to eat it here? (groans under his breath)

Kayla: Oh gosh, no. I wouldn’t impose. I just was wondering, wait, your joking aren’t you?

Richard: (chuckles) I’m really not actually. I don’t want to eat in this car.

Kayla: Ok, fair enough. So, can we find a real place? I mean its, well (looks at watch) after 10 now.

Richard: Let me worry about that. Are you sure you are ok? You didn’t seem well back at the party.

Kayla: I’ll be fine. Thank you. Dodging that guy was a huge help. I am indebted to you.

Richard: Wherever I can be of service (smiles)

Kayla: I’m sorry?

Richard: (Richard looks away a second from her gaze) Sorry.. That was a strange thing to say wasn’t it?

Kayla: For me, no. Maybe for you. Are You feeling alright?

Richard: (Chuckles)

Actually, not for the moment I laid eyes on you. You’re like... I’m drawn to you by some unseen magnetism.

Kayla: (Locks eyes with him and giggles)

Yeah, I have that effect on people (sighs)

She looks back out the window.. Her hands resting in her lap

Richard attempts to move closer to her in the back seat

Richard: What are you looking at, so intently?

Kayla looks back at Richard

Kayla: Trying to keep my composure around you.

Richard: Around me? (chuckles) Am I that intimidating? (smiles)

Kayla: Gosh, no. I.. mean.. Well.. (drifts off, then meets his gaze) I have thought about you for awhile.

Richard: Thought about me? (deeper tone)

Kayla: That came out wrong, I suppose.

Wondered about you, (thoughtful gaze) might be more plain. (smirk)

Richard: And just what fair lady would that entail, the wondering.

(Richard props his hand on his own cheek and leans in to listen intently)

Kayla looks at Richard’s stance and giggles Kayla: I .. don’t want to show my hand. (smiles down)

Richard: Show me.. I’m all ears to hear this.

Kayla: (Takes a deep breath)

Alright, but remember you asked for this.

(Kayla looks up at him more resolute)

The universe told me we are supposed to meet

Richard: That's a statement (straightens his posture) And when did this occur?

Kayla: A few years back.. These things take time, for opportunity.

Richard: Should I be concerned? This sounds like you sought me out tonight.

Kayla: Oh, nothing like that. Opportunities to present myself to you, were my only option. Its not like I can go through the normal channels.

Richard: (Smirks) No, I don’t suppose you can, can you. So, how did you know I would be there tonight?

Kayla: Oh, I didn’t. I was honestly mingling tonight for new clients. You just happened upon me. (chuckles) Organically, I guess. But you seem to be compelled from what you said you felt.

Richard: Yes.. that is true. There is an urge to be near you (deeper tone)

(Richard looks at Kayla seriously)

But I do not discount my feelings, especially around women.

Kayla: That’s smart. Women can be intriguing, that’s for certain

Richard: So, should we share a meal then, and see what the universe was conspiring about?

Kayla: (smiles at him, cheerfully) Yes, let’s.

The car pulls up to a restaurant and parks aside. Julian exits the front passenger seat, opens the door for Kayla. She gets out of the car. Richard slides across the seat to exit at the same side. As he exits the car…

--

Scene: Halal Restaurant - NYC 1020 pm EST

Interior: one walled booth stretches along the right side of the restaurant from the front to the back. Several hooded booths on the left in circular pattern. Several tables set in the center of the room. There are no other customers. A corner booth houses some idle employees engaged in chatter in a foreign tongue.

CAMERA follows them into the restaurant

Richard and Kayla are seated on the walled booth. Richard takes a seat facing Kayla and Kayla sits with her back to the cushioned booth.

Julian positions himself across the room in a booth.

Kayla removes her coat and stretches her legs along the length of the couch seat Richard clears his throat as the waitstaff offers a menu.

Richard: Thank you. (to the staff) Do you want a drink? (to Kayla) I’ll have the Shiraz.

Kayla: Water is fine, thank you.

Richard: (Orders), we’ll have the platter, ya?

(Kayla smiles at him)

Waitstaff:

Nods and takes menu.. And scurries back to the kitchen

Richard readjusts as he removes his jacket, and unbuttons his blazer

Kayla: Do you mind terribly if I take these off?

(indicating her heels)

Waitstaff places a glass of red wine in front of Richard and water in front of Kayla, then exits

Richard: No, no. please its fine. (sips his wine) Do you need a hand?

Kayla: Are you offering to take off my shoes, or rub my feet? (she smirks)

Richard moves over to sit next to her feet at the booth.

Richard: Are you asking me, or (deeper tone) telling me? Mistress…(his hand on her shoe)

Kayla: (Watches Richard as he slides his hand up her ankle) Giggles

Your more playful than I thought you’d be

Richard removes her left shoe, caressing the ankle. Letting his hand linger, looking up at her.

Kayla’s breath caught a moment as she met his gaze. Kayla is composed but you can see the heave of her chest in satisfaction. Kayla sighs in relief when the first shoe comes off. Kayla closes her eyes and lays her head back against the booth.

Richard: (Richard’s hands are on her right ankle now.. Resting in his lap)

I didn’t hear a command.

Kayla: Kayla’s eyes open playfully.. Smiling. You may rub my feet..

(Richard watches her, as he rubs her ankle, and feet)

(Kayla relaxes a bit and sighs )

Richard: (Richard continues to massage and keep his eyes on her as he does)

So, tell me. What’s with the dodge at the club?

Kayla: Kayla opens her eyes… and draws her feet back a moment. Oh, Alexie? He’s harmless.. Just obsessive.

Richard: I don’t think those two things are congruent. Is he dangerous?

(Richard takes a drink with one hand, not breaking contact from her)

Kayla: (watches him inquisitively)

No, well, he said he killed someone once in Moscow with his bare hands or something.

I don’t know if thats true, but he doesn’t seem capable of lying.

He’s a drunken liability most of the time. Loves to hear himself talk.

Richard: (smiles in knowing) That must be exhausting for you.

Kayla: Yeah, (smiles) it is.

Richard: But clearly, hes enamored with you.

Kayla: Yes, very (sips water)

Richard: Are you afraid of him? I saw you tense up earlier.

Kayla: Weary - I would say is the right epitaph

(shes says looking towards the window of the restaurant out to the street) I am extremely weary of him. I do believe he loves me.

Richard: (cuts in) Loves? (chuckles)

Kayla: So he says. But I believe he believes it. I think it’s expressing more of an obsession.

Richard: Do you deal with obsession much in your, work?

(Richard drinks again, as Kayla responds)

Kayla: Yes.. actually I do, or maybe point of fact it became that way.

The food is delivered to the table and the waitstaff exits towards the kitchen again The conspiratorial employee group is still deep in conversation and stunningly takes no notice of Kayla or Richard.

Kayla: Oh.. finally food.

Richard: It smells pretty good actually.

Richard forks a piece of meat and eats it. Kayla reaches for some too with her own fork..

Richard moves the plate playfully.

Richard: This one.. Is mine! (laughs)

Kayla: Come on… (Kayla pokes him in the belly with the fork)

Richard: Ouch.. Mistress.. Please not here.. (cajoles)

Richard sets the plate down so Kayla can get some meat off of it.

She forks some meat and laughs with him. They both silently chew a moment.

Richard: (Richard takes a drink and sighs)

You really are comfortable to be around, you know that?

Kayla: (Looks up from her food) Yeah? That’s nice of you to say. Do women usually make you tense?

Richard: (eats) Not really, but you know how it goes. its different,... your different I think.

Kayla: (blushes) Oh. well thank you.

(Kayla shifts her legs back towards the floor.

Richard instinctively moves to touch her knee)

Richard: Did I say something wrong?

Kayla: No, no. (Kayla looks towards him) Just forgetting myself. Your being so nice to me.

Richard: Should I be mean to you? I didn’t realize I was supposed to be.

Kayla: Oh gosh.. No. Just be yourself, obviously. (fidgets with her skirt) I really should be going, I have taken up enough of your time.

Kayla moves to stand. Richard stops her with a hand on her arm.

Richard: Kayla, wait. (hand on her arm, gently) Please. Stay. We can finish and then I can get you home safely, ya?

Kayla: (Nods) Alright. Yes, your right. I just..

(Kayla’s phone buzzes in her coat pocket audibly)

Richard: Am I keeping you from something or someone?

Kayla: (Kayla stares into Richard’s eyes fully) There is nowhere I would rather be, than here with you.

Richard: (gulps some food and clears his throat) Then stay with me, a little longer.

Kayla sways a bit on her feet, and moves back into the booth seat, sitting hard on the firm cushion.

Kaylas’s phone buzzes in vibration so aggressively it falls right off the booth seat and onto the floor

Richard sees the caller just before it goes away “Alexei S”. He retrieves the phone and hands it to Kayla.

Richard:

You must have a lot of business, and he certainly is persistent, Our little Russian friend.

Kayla:

(Kayla unlocks her phone and scans the call logs and messages) Its all clients usually.

(Kayla sends a quick text and sets the phone down sharply on the table)

There. Now we can finish.

They both eat, smile, cajole and continue with the meal

Richard and Kayla finish eating.

Richard helps Kayla put her shoes back on, smiling up at her, from the floor.

Kayla excuses herself to go to the bathroom.

Richard watches as she walks to the back hallway of the restaurant enters a room marked

“women”.

Julian stands, near to Richard, while Richard pays the bill with a signature, passing fast compliments to the waitstaff.

Julians head moves like a tennis match between the hallway where Kayla is, and the front entrance of the restaurant.

Julian, speaks into an ear piece

Julian:

We are exiting in five minutes

(echoes through the ear piece)

Driver:

I’m still here. Car will be ready. (sarcastic tone)

(CUT-IN SCENE)

--

Interior: Halal Restaurant Bathroom

Kayla comes out of the stall and moves towards the sink to wash her hands.

The audible sound of a flushing toilet against the tap running.

Kayla looks up at herself in the ornate mirror hung on the wall.

And shakes her head.

Kayla:

What in the actual fuck is going on?

Kayla says to herself

How did I do this? (laughs outloud to herself)

Moves her hand into her coat pocket and removes a lipstick.

Re-applies it to her lips and fidgets with her hair.

The click of the lipstick cap rings through the quiet bathroom.

Kayla sets it done on the sink and stares into the mirror.

Ok.. so, your going to go home, and not ask him up.. Right. Yes. Thats it. You're going to be a lady.

He’s a gentleman. (sighs heavily)

Oh, god.. He really is gorgeous this close. And he smells amazing.

And he has been incredibly sweet and.. (closes her eyes) Human to me.

She looks at herself resolutely in the mirror, turning slightly in her coat.

And places her hand on the door of the bathroom to exit.

Kayla walks back down the hallway..

Towards Richard who was waiting at the entrance of the restaurant.

Richard smiles at her, kindly.

Richard:

Everything ok?

Kayla:

Yeah.. yeah.

Kayla walks ahead of Richard.

Julian has exited ahead of them both and is standing near the car at the street.

PAN BACK AS THEY EXIT THE RESTAURANT

--

Scene: Alexei the Annoyance

Exterior: Halal Restaurant - NYC 1145 pm EST NYC street in front of the restaurant.

A slight drizzle now. Audible of cars passing and wet pavement Other sounds are of late night.

Kayla steps out ahead of Richard into the light drizzle.

Julian opens an umbrella and moves towards Kayla and Richard as they clear the awning of the restaurant. Kayla sees Julians eyes dart to his right first, Kayla backs into Richard, who naturally catches her.

Alexei comes towards them from the left quickly, from the shadow of the neighboring awning. Richard moves around Kayla swiftly, blocking her from view. Julian at his side.

Alexei: Mistress please. I need to see you. (Alexei is holding a large bottle of champagne in one hand)

Richard keeps himself between Kayla and Alexei who is several feet from him.

Julian moves to place hands on Alexei, Alexei shakes him off (he is 6’5” and solid as an ox)

Richard: (to Alexei)

Look mate. I think you need to give the lady some space.

Alexei: (stumbles back from drunkenness) Alexei can still see Kayla behind Richard, as she peaks around him

Is this him? Is this the guy?

Kayla looks to Alexei eyes stern

Richard looks back at her, Kayla mouths “i’m sorry”

Kayla:

Alexei (speaks calmly) Go home!

Alexei: Just let me lick your shoes for a minute, please Mistress!

Richard and Julian relax a bit, Richard gives Kayla room to address Alexei.

Kayla: Alexei! I said GO HOME!

Alexei: Please! I want my lightning. I love you.

Richard shakes his head, and smirks at Alexei, Alexei keeps trying to inch closer to Kayla, swaying a bit as he speaks

Richard: Look. She clearly said, No. I think you should go and respect the lady’s wishes, ya?

Kayla touches Richard on the shoulder, Richard looks down at her.

Kayla: Look, its fine. Can we go now?

Two more guards appear seamlessly out of the dark and start to physically restrain Alexei on the sidewalk. Alexei resists shouting

Alexei: I am russian, you cannot contain me (the champagne bottle falls and crashes on the sidewalk)

Richard escorts Kayla towards the car, placing her inside first, then stepping into the car himself. Julian closes the door behind Richard and the four of them pull away.

(In car)

Kayla: (looks behind her, as the car drives away) They won’t hurt him will they?

Richard:

Richard looks at Kayla as she settles back into her seat beside him

No, they’ll get him home safe (glances at Julian) Are you alright? (to Kayla)

Kayla: Not really. I just didn’t want him to hurt you?

A tear rolls down her cheek, the light from the car skylight catches its streak, and Richard notices, Kayla is staring ahead of her

Richard: Not much chance of that. But why would he?

And forgive me, but why did he say..

(Kayla cuts in) Kayla: Is that the guy?

RICHARD: Yeah.

Kayla: I’ve had him awhile. He knows I have been looking for you.

Richard: Oh. (thoughtful) But he said it conspiratorially.

And then you apologized. You know how that looks, right?

Kayla: (Kayla wipes away tears, and pulls her coat closer to her shoulders)

Yes, I am aware of how it looks. Its not what you looks like. I promised him things, if I didn’t meet you.

Richard: Hmm.. I see. Are these… uncomfortable things?

Kayla: (looks at Richard)

Oh, no. He’s not into that.

I’ve been trying to figure out how to break contract with him, but unfortunately I needed the money. And he is, as you saw, relentless (rolls eyes)

Richard: Yes, I did certainly see that. How did he find you?

Kayla:

Actually I’m not sure.(Puzzled look) That has been on my mind since we left. He couldn’t have followed us that fast from the party. And I know he wouldn’t have been able to resist stumbling into the restaurant to make a scene.

Richard: Can I see your phone a second?

Kayla: (looks at him, almost innocently) Yeah, sure. Why?

Richard: I have a hunch. I assume that when you sent that text it wasnt to tell him where we were.

Kayla: Oh, no. I didn’t tell him. I just told him to leave me alone.

(Richard takes the phone, removes the case, and uses a device in his pocket to slide out the sim card from the chamber)

Richard: My guess is, he put a tracker on you, and you, (pries it open and removes a chip) don’t know about it. (pops it out, opens the window and tosses it). There.

Richard replaces the card, cover and case and hands it back to Kayla, Kayla stares at Richard in awe.

Kayla: Thank you.

Richard: (smiles) Not a problem. I’m glad I could help relieve your stress.

Kayla: I mean, I guess. I thought I was taking all the necessary precautions.

Richard: Well, he clearly is prepared to stalk you, that’s for sure. But you can’t fault yourself, he’s obviously well versed and I’m sure there is at least a fraction of time you have spent together that he had access to your phone.

Kayla: Clearly. (Kayla holds her phone against her chest.. Then puts it to her lap quickly) (Kayla looks out.. Then back at Richard)

Actually, I can’t think of one time. He acted inept at using his own phone, let alone touching mine.

Richard: Well fair lady. You have quite the conspiracy than to behold. (chuckles)

Kayla: Yeah (grins) perhaps I do. Can I ask for your assistance again? And again, thank you, I am super grateful.

Richard: It would be my pleasure. Of course. So, where are we taking you, then?

Kayla: Right. Right. Let me check.

(Kayla fiddles with the maps on her phone, and passes it to Julian and the driver) I’m staying here.

Julian: Yes, Miss.

Kayla: (to Julian) Thank you. Richard: Now that that’s sorted. I just wanted to say, that you are an intriguing and attractive women.

Kayla: (looks to Richard, her eyes playful) Thank you.. Coming from you.. (pause) Thank you.

Richard: Your welcome., of course. I did not see this coming. I’m usually pretty good to predicting things like this.

Kayla: Are you? I didn’t know that about you (smiles)

Richard: I still have some tricks, yeah.

Kayla: Such as.. ? (she smirks at him)

Richard:

No, no (chuckles) I haven’t searched all your things you could have more devices on you… I’m not spilling secrets.

Kayla: (laughs) Oh, come on.. Gosh! I hope thats not true. (Kayla looks down and starts emptying her coat pockets)

Richard: I can search you if you want (his eyebrows kick up playfully)

Kayla: (giggle) maybe later. (she smiles out the window at the passing city)

The car slows in front of the Kaylas hotel (midlevel hotel) outside of Manhattan. Richard: (Looks out to the hotel) Are you seriously staying here?

Kayla: Yes, I know its awful. No room at anything else better, I came in short notice. Richard: Came in, from where?

Kayla: Chicago.

Richard: Oh, so you don’t live here? (dashed tone) Or even outside the city.

Kayla:

No, but I have some folks I can stay with near Rutgers sometimes when I’m out this way for work. Its about 40 minutes outside the city (answering as if he had asked)

Richard: Can I walk you up to your room?

Kayla: Yes, you may. Thank you.

Julian exits the car. Opens the rear door. Richard steps out and then offers Kayla a hand to exit. Kayla steps out onto the sidewalk and enters a hotel bereft of a doorman.

--

Scene: A Goodnight Kiss?

Exterior: NYC

Interior: Hotel lobby, front desk and elevator hallway

Richard scoffs a moment as they walk through a drab lobby, without a receptionist.

Kayla leads him and Julian to an elevator passage, past the front desk and in another corridor.

Kayla presses the button and the door immediately opens, a faint piano is playing down another corridor. All three of them enter the elevator. Kayla presses the button to 6th floor and runs her key card against a panel marked “limited access”.

Richard reaches towards Kayla’s arm in the elevator, standing beside her. Kayla shifts against him and smiles. Richard looks at her and smiles back.

The elevator is quietly humming as it rises to the necessary floor.

The elevator reaches 6th floor and the doors open tentatively.

Richard holds Kayla back with a soft hand on her arm. Julian steps out of the elevator first. He nods back to Richard who escorts Kayla off the elevator.

Richard: So, where are we headed?

Kayla: Room 616, its to the left about halfway down.

Julian walks ahead of them, noting each door as they pass it.

Richard saunters beside her, as they stroll to her door.

Julian stops on the other side of the door marked 616. Firmly placing himself against the wall.

Kayla turns towards Richard in front of her door.

Richard: (smiles at Kayla) So.. we made it. Safe and sound.

Kayla: (stares into Richard’s eyes) Yeah. We made it.

Pause between them, as Richard stands, above Kayla. Kayla looks up at him, breathing excitedly. Kayla rests her hands behind her on the door. Richard leans in to kiss her. Kayla closes her eyes to receive it. Their lips meet and there is an instant gratification, Richard’s hand meets Kayla’s chin, and Kayla moans against his mouth.

SOUNDTRACK: “Fallin’ (Adrenaline)” – Why Don’t We (0:09 – 0:34)

Richard: (their lips part) My god..

(Richard breaks from the kiss to compose himself, Kayla is catching her breath)

Kayla: (tugs at his shirt collar) Do you want to see my room?

Richard: (Nods at her, hypnotized)

--

Transition to next scene

**what did you all think??? **

Apologies for the type setting errors. This doesn't convert well from word.

#richard armitage #fanfiction #romance #smut #screenplay #OC x Richard Armitage #celebrity #rescue

[lathalea]

Wild Strawberries

Moodboard by @linasofia 😍

Fandom: The Hobbit Relationships: Thorin x f!OC Warnings: smut, pure smut, so help me Mahal Rating: E (18+)

Summary: Several years after Erebor is reclaimed, Thorin decides to celebrate his beloved wife's birthday... and is very enthusiastic about it. A/N: This story is a birthday gift for @legolasbadass from Linasofia and yours truly. Once again HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LB! 🎉🎁🎈

You can find this fic on AO3.

Khuzdul: Bunnelê - my treasure of treasures

Leaving the northmost spur of the Lonely Mountain behind him, Thorin entered the forest at its foot. The lush, dark emerald sea of pine trees surrounded him; each of them at least as tall as two grown Men—their rapid growth being the result of the magic the elves of the Woodland Realm bestowed upon this land in exchange for goods only Erebor could provide them with. It was a bright summer day and the sun speckled the undergrowth of the forest with gold, as if someone scattered countless coins across it. A small smile curved up Thorin’s lips at the recollection of that very profitable agreement with the Elves and the role his clever wife played in hammering it out a couple of years ago. Anila… Ah, his sweet Anila and her talent of finding useful information in ancient tomes and musty treaties. Then, her cunning negotiation tactics side-blinded the Sylvan negotiator, driving every single clause home. The precedent she found—dating five hundred years ago—was instrumental in cornering the Elves and making them agree to their conditions. There was nothing better than the taste of flawless victory… especially if followed by a private but intense celebration that took place in his marital bed. 

Taking in a deep breath, Thorin allowed himself to close his eyes and feel the tension leave his body. Being the king of a prosperous Dwarvish kingdom was a great privilege, but also a sizable burden; one that could have felt almost unbearable at times—if not for the assistance of his royal consort. Thank Mahal for the ancient tradition that required the king to take a wife. At first, this was to be an arranged marriage but one day spent in Anila’s company when they met for the first time, a year after Erebor was reclaimed, was enough for Thorin to know this would be an union of both hearts and minds.

Today was a special day: his wife’s birthday. Thorin’s most trusted companions and aides were working deep in the mountain, at the shore of the underground lake, preparing the celebrations for the evening: there were hundreds of candles to be lit and put onto minuscule boats that would float on the lake; countless flowers to decorate the caverns; dozens of dishes to be served, music and dances to be planned, and many other surprise attractions to be planned. Thorin’s task was to divert Anila’s attention until it was time for the celebrations—and diverting his lovely wife’s attention happened to be one of his favourite pastimes.

And so he found himself on the forest path, with a full picnic basket in his hand, on his way to Anila’s favourite hideout. From time to time, she would disappear with a thick roll of parchments and a quill and then return hours later with a mysterious smile on her face and ink-stained fingers. Thorin would take her hand into his, place an ardent kiss over her knuckles and ask what she had been up to. The smile on her delicious lips would widen, she would hide that roll of parchments behind her back, rise up on her tiptoes, peck his cheek, and murmur into his ear, “It is a secret of the state, my king.” The sultry tones in her voice would make his blood sing in his veins—that was a clear invitation to flirt, and with Anila, that game two of them played often ended with their clothes scattered all around, and them panting, their bodies entangled, in the most unusual places of the Mountain.

That was his Anila, an incandescent mix of fire and tenderness.

Today, she mysteriously disappeared before he woke, and now he was finally on her trail. He took a few more steps ahead among the brambles, careful not to make any noise, when he saw a familiar silhouette sitting on a blanket. It was Anila; her back was turned towards him, but he would recognize the dress she wore, one of her favourites, and the silky waves of her beautiful hair everywhere, dark as smoky quartz, the braids that adorned it, and the marriage beads with the sigil of his house he offered her over the marriage anvil on the day of their wedding. Her hair was side-swept to the right, uncovering the column of her neck, and Thorin licked his lips at the sight, wanting to press them against that smooth skin and taste it.

Later, he scolded himself. He was on a mission, after all.

After slowly placing the basket on the ground, he soundlessly kneeled inches behind her. Whatever Anila was doing, she was clearly focused, so much so that she did not notice his approach. Only when his hands covered her eyes from behind, she squeaked in surprise.

“Guess who…” Thorin murmured straight into her ear, his voice low and sensual. He was very much aware of the effect his voice had on her and he was determined to make a good use of it today.

“Thorin…! You scared me!” she chuckled, looking anything but frightened. Anila turned her face back towards him, taking his hands into hers and lowering them onto her lap. He still held her in an embrace and did not plan to let her go.

“Have I?” He lifted his eyebrow in amusement, moving his lips closer to hers. “May I remedy it somehow?”

Anila blinked, her eyes glittering with mirth.

“That would depend on the remedy, my king,” she offered.

He brushed his lips oh-so-lightly against hers. They were as soft as he remembered, and she smelled like those blue flowers he never remembered the name of, so sweet and innocent, like the break of a new day. When she held her breath as their lips joined for a few heartbeats, a sign that he had her full attention, Thorin deepened the kiss with as much tenderness as he could muster, his hand delving into her cascading hair, until he felt her body pressing against him in anticipation for more. A large part of him wanted to continue, coaxed by her dizzying closeness and that little sigh she gave, but he needed to follow his plan. It was his wife’s birthday and this day needed to be perfect—just like her.

He moved back slightly, giving her cheek a slight caress with his fingertips and trying to ignore the wave of arousal he felt looking at her slightly swollen lips, like fresh raspberries, her shining eyes, and her heaving bosom. She wore a green dress, one of her favourites, that happened to be one of his favourite garments of hers as well due to a generously revealing neckline. Mahal, this plan of his was more difficult to carry out than he thought. He was supposed to be the one offering distraction, not the other way around.

“I brought the remedy with me, my queen,” he hummed, placing the heavy basket between them and sitting down beside it. It contained the best delicacies the royal kitchens had to offer.

“A lunch?” she peeked under the colourfully embroidered piece of cloth that covered the basket. “It smells lovely.”

“I cannot allow my wife to starve, can I?” Thorin replied, taking in the way she looked at that moment—with a playful smile and golden specks of sun kissing her face, one of them dancing at the tip of her nose. He wondered whether his plan of having a romantic midday meal with his wife would be ruined if he was to kiss that very spot now.

“You are a very attentive husband. Let us eat, then!” Anila decided, putting away a stack of parchments from her lap to the side. Her fingers were stained with ink.

“May I ask what you were working on?” Thorin said, taking out all kinds of food from the basket. Freshly baked bread, three kinds of cheese straight from Dale, white radishes, a jar of honey, hazelnuts and a bottle of good wine from his private cellar.

“You may,” Anila reached for the bread. “But I will not tell you. Not yet, at least. It is not yet finished.”

“So it is as I feared. You are writing a memoir of our scandalous marriage,” Thorin crunched on a radish with gusto.

He adored making her laugh and the way her laughter found its way to her eyes.

“I doubt Erebor is ready for such a read,” she uttered between giggles. “Besides, technically speaking, the events pertaining to our marriage are a state secret and therefore cannot be made public.”

“Perhaps it is for the best. I do not think I would be happy if our whole kingdom would know of my wife’s talents,” he cast her a meaningful glance. “I would rather keep to myself the things you can do with your… ouch!”

A piece of bread hit him right in the middle of his chest as Anila cleared her throat loudly.

“... brilliant mind. I meant your brilliant mind!” Thorin explained, trying to make his words sound as sincere as he could.

“Truly? Is that what you are thinking about at this very moment?” she teased.

“What else? I am still in awe about the way you handled those envoys from Minas Tirith,” Thorin hoped he looked like an embodiment of innocence at the moment.

“Oh? Remind me?” Anila tilted her head and gracefully licked her honey-covered fingers. It made Thorin swallow hard. That vixen. She knew very well what she was doing to him, but he was going to be strong and so he continued this charade.

“That expression of shock on their faces when they understood they would be discussing matters of state with a woman! And the realisation that you completely outwitted them!” Thorin could not help himself but chuckle at the memory.

“Ah yes, I seem to remember something along these lines,” she admitted, lazily taking another bite of bread and looking into his eyes. A drop of honey landed on her shapely bosom, making Thorin lick his lips as it glistened in the sun.

“And so you should, bunnelê. You used their greatest weakness against them marvellously. I will never understand why the People of Men underestimate their women so,” he reached out to take her hand and placed a kiss on it. Not over the knuckles, oh no, his lips found the centre of her palm and pressed against her skin. She smelled like flowers in bloom and tasted like honey. Despite the food they ate, his hunger was far from satiated.

“Cultural differences, my love,” Anila replied, cupping his bearded jaw before freeing her hand from his. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of her fingers brushing against his beard. “One of our greatest assets when dealing with Men.”

“Exactly as I said, brilliant mind,” he gave her a playful smirk that coaxed a silvery burst of laughter from Anila.

This atmosphere—and their mutual teasing—reigned throughout the whole meal, accompanied by the twittering of the forest birds and gentle rustling of trees. You are a lucky Dwarf, thought Thorin, enjoying the feeling of content, laying on his side, his body weight resting on his elbow as he admired the sight in front of him. A beautiful day spent with a companion who is not only beautiful but also smart… to the point of putting your willpower to a test with her merciless teasing. And she happens to be your wife. Just look at her, the way the summer breeze plays with her hair, the way she takes a sip of wine, her sensual lips wrapping over the edge of her cup, or the way her fingers seem to dance in the air as she explains something about that newest decree on mining safety. And the way she speaks your name, with so much feeling and softness in her eyes. Is she not perfect? The true queen of your heart?

Thorin would never put these thoughts into words, of course. His wife would surely think him ridiculously mawkish and overly sentimental. The king of the Khazad of the Lonely Mountain should be anything but ridiculous. The best course of action was to keep such maudlin thoughts to himself.

“I think a dessert is in order,” he decided after a few more moments of his reverie.

“A dessert? I feel so full, I do not think I can eat even a bit more,” Anila sighed.

Thorin simply said, “Wild strawberries.”

“What?” she gasped.

He placed a small woven basket in front of her, its contents covered with peppermint leaves.

“How…? This forest is too young for wild strawberries…” she whispered to herself, removing the leaves and seeing small, oblong ruby-red shapes laid out in layers. “They smell delicious. It has to be magic!”

“Try one and see for yourself,” Thorin gave her a triumphant smile. Surprising his wife was something he never had enough of. Perhaps it was also partially because of the enthusiastic way she showed their gratitude, but even a king could be self-indulgent from time to time, he decided.

“A rider from the Woodland Realm brought them at the break of dawn,” he divulged his secret, admiring the way his wife put one of the berries into her mouth. She closed her eyes and hummed approvingly.

“You asked King Thranduil for a handful of the first wild strawberries of the season?” she then asked.

“Aye.”

“And he agreed?”

“Aye.”

“And sent a messenger to you in the middle of the night?”

“As you can see,” he pointed at the berries in front of them.

“Are you truly telling me you had a peaceful conversation with Thranduil during which you agreed on something? Without shouting and cursing each other’s ancestors five generations back? I think I will go with the ‘magic’ explanation,” Anila shook her head, but Thorin noticed the sparks of laughter in her eyes.

“I did not say there was no shouting involved,” he humoured her.

“If you say so,” she chuckled and took another berry. “Mmmm… They are very sweet. Have you tasted them yet?”

Thorin shook his head.

Without a word, she put the berry into his mouth and let him close his lips over her lingering fingers a moment before she retreated them.

“Very sweet indeed,” he admitted, still feeling her caress against his skin. “Just like you.”

Now it was his turn to take a berry and offer it to Anila. Her lips opened a bit and she gently took it between her lips, the tip of her tongue brushing against his fingertips. A wave of heat passed through him, a multitude of thoughts flooded his mind, but not a single one of them was mawkish.

Before he had a chance to react, she put another berry into his mouth and sealed it with hers. A low purr escaped him when their lips met, her kiss even sweeter than the fruit, and he tasted her to his heart’s content. There was tenderness and gentleness in that kiss, but the song of her supple lips dancing against his spoke of fire kindling inside her—and in his mind, Thorin agreed that it was time for another kind of distraction. He covered her cheeks with a myriad of feather-light kisses, whispering words of adoration into her ear as her fingers ran through his hair, caressing his scalp, eliciting a groan of pleasure out of him. He pulled her closer and deepened the kiss, revelling in the way she responded to him, their bodies pressed against each other, their lips on fire. Then his lips traced a smooth trail along the line of her jaw, and found the way to her neck. Each of his kisses aimed at claiming her skin, every single inch of it. She tilted her head back invitingly and he continued his explorations, his lips finding the sensitive spot below her ear, and then adorning that place at the juncture of her neck and shoulder with kisses, precisely the way she liked it. When she rewarded him with a moan, he felt her body tremble in anticipation. Thorin was still hungry, hungry for her, even hungrier than before, and he refused to restrict himself any longer. Not on a day like this. 

He lay her on the blanket, her eyes shining, her cheeks slightly flushed, the round peaks of her breasts rising and falling, her hair scattered around her head, glowing in the sun like a halo or richly veined marble, and he found himself in need of stealing yet another kiss.

“Anila,” he murmured, “you are breathtaking.”

She did not reply—busy with stealing a kiss from him this time and wrapping her arms around his neck—while his hand travelled down until he felt that round, supple softness under his palm and the warmth that seeped through the thin fabric of her gown. He played with the idea of simply ripping her bodice—her whole gown—apart and feasting on her naked body until dusk and beyond… and then wrapping her in his cloak and smuggling her back into the mountain for a long and eventful bath, the birthday celebrations be damned, but this tempting plan had to wait. Instead, he gave her breast a gentle squeeze and proceeded to undo the front of her bodice while his lips slipped down her neck and found the sweet spot on her left breast that tasted like honey.

“The High Council…” Anila gasped as his tongue swirled over her skin and then his lips closed over the spot again. “That meeting tomorrow… They will be scandalized when they see that hickey, my love…”

“We both know they will not say a word about it,” he chuckled. “Just as it happened last month, remember?”

“I forget what a clever strategist you are. Yes, I remember, Master Finulv was speechless, Balin pretended not to notice anything, and you could barely keep awake during that council meeting. That high collar doublet suited you very well, by the way,” she admitted, helping herself to the buttons of his tunic.

“It was my attempt at covering the proof of my wife’s fiery temperament,” he smirked, observing Anila’s nimble fingers at work. “I do not think I was successful. Master Bragi did not dare to lift his gaze from his notes even once.”

His wife’s only response was a chuckle just before she covered his lips with hers.

Among the kisses and caresses generously bestowed upon each other, among their whispers and sighs, they eagerly shed most of their clothes. Thorin gave out a satisfied hum, admiring Anila’s sun-speckled skin, the alluring curves of her body glowing as if imbued with the light of thousands of Ereborean diamonds. He was certain there were words that could describe this vision of ethereal beauty before him, but he could not find any. 

“My king seems to be lost in thoughts,” he heard her say playfully. “Allow me to help you.”

Anila lowered herself in front of him and her hands started roaming his body, releasing him from his trousers. Her kisses burning a bold path on his lower abdomen, and he found himself unable to take his eyes off her; of her nimble fingers wrapping around his already hardened manhood; of her hair like silk between his fingers, of her lovely lips that closed over his tip, of her sultry gaze, of the soft heat he was delving into, of her palm that…

“Anila… Mahal…” His wife knew him so well and she knew exactly what would please him, but today was not about him. “Allow me to take care of you first.”

“I was under the impression that you were in the mood for dessert,” she looked up at him innocently, licking her lips. Vixen. Merciless vixen. And he wanted more of her.

“Oh yes, I do,” he smiled, moving towards her.

“A dessert…” she gave out a chuckle when his lips greedily closed over her nipple, lavishing it with attention. Between the gentle nibbles and soft kisses scattered over her rosy peaks, among her sighs and his praising murmurs, his hands painted devout patterns along her body, in an act of physical worship. Thorin did not wish to stop; he craved to cover all off her body with his kisses, to bedeck it with his caresses, to offer his queen endless ecstasy. He wanted to offer her as much pleasure as he could and revel in her rapture. Soon she was stretched beneath him, pleading for more, her fingers entangled with his hair as his tongue drew spirals around her navel, his lips covered the softness of her lower belly, his hands caressed the roundness of her hips.

When his kisses finally moved to her thighs, and his hot breath skimmed the mound between them, Anila whispered, “Have mercy...”

“What do you wish for, my queen?” He lifted his gaze to her face, her eyes hooded with pleasure, her lips slightly parted, her breathing fast, her fingers playing with her nipple. What a beguiling view it was.

“I want you to please me, Thorin,” she whispered, parting her legs slightly. This was the only invitation he needed.

“Your word is my command,” he replied. Settling himself between her legs, he cupped her bottom, enjoying its round firmness. It fit perfectly in his large hands and he lifted her slightly. Anila moaned in delight when he eagerly buried his mouth between her thighs, his beard brushing against them. She writhed beneath him as he showered her most intimate places with kisses and caresses that brought her the most pleasure. His tongue explored the folds of her womanhood. The taste of her arousal made him even harder than before, made him dizzy with desire for her, but that had to wait. Now he was intent on pleasing her this way and so his lips found the most sensitive point on her body, tenderly tugging on the silky bud, and then started sucking on it. He heard her whimpers, her incoherent mewling spurring him on, and he continued his ministrations, pleasing his queen. 

He gripped her thighs firmly when his tongue sank rhythmically into her, evoking waves of elation, one after another, each of them stronger than the previous one. Thorin recognized the signs all too well, and he drove her further and further, among the heights of pleasure, bringing her closer towards the very peak of ecstasy with every caress. Purring into her flesh, he caressed her swollen nub with his thumb, feeling how she arched against him as waves of pleasure sent tremors of ecstasy through her body, and he relentlessly kept on taking her even higher until her blissful moans and praises echoed through the forest. He stopped only after Anila went completely limp beneath him, one of her hands letting go of the fistful of the blanket. 

Thorin moved up towards her, pressing his lips to her shoulder, and then brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face. Her eyes were shut, her face flushed, her long eyelashes casting small shadows on her cheeks, beads of sweat covering her forehead. His caress caused a small smile to bloom on her lips, but her eyelids remained closed.

“Is my queen pleased?”

“A little bit…” she muttered, smiling still. “But I wouldn’t mind a second… no, that would be a third course.”

“Insatiable woman,” he whispered teasingly, kissing her collarbone. His fingers busied themselves in lining out the shapes of her breasts and unhurriedly following the curves of her ribs. Then his tongue joined in, exploring new, exciting paths on her body, each of them punctuated by her moan. Mahal was a great architect indeed, creating such wonders as this woman beside him. Compared with the elegant lines of her body, he felt like a block of unhewn stone; and yet when she lay so close against him, it felt as if they were made from the same piece of rock. Perhaps the Creator put all of his energy into making Thorin’s life companion perfect and decided it was enough. In fact, she was more than he could ever hope for. Absent-mindedly, he took Anila’s hand into his and placed a tender kiss onto her wrist.

Anila gave out a content sigh and opened her eyes, oblivious to his thoughts.

“Insatiable? It is because you have spoiled me rotten,” she stated. Her hand found its way to the back of his neck, coaxing him closer to her, and when she closed the distance between their lips, he hummed approvingly. A new fire woke in her and there was hunger in her kiss, the same hunger that had been wreaking havoc through his body since the moment he saw her alone in this place. Her hip brushed against his erect member and he let out a low growl-like moan. Patience was not one of his virtues.

Anila found his hand and placed it over her breasts.

“Make love to me, Thorin,” the words were simple, but the timbre of her voice brought a much deeper meaning with them. And the desire in her eyes met with tenderness in her gaze.

“My queen,” he murmured, offering her an affectionate kiss, the softness of her lips giving him a promise he was eager to see fulfilled.

His kisses were careful, measured, and yet thorough, each of them aiming at telling her things he was unable to say with words. One of his hands caressed her body, eliciting sweet little sighs from her, until it found the secret trail that led his fingers to the treasure she hid between her legs. The moans that filled his ears in response to his feather-light caresses sounded like music.

“Is this to your liking, my queen?” he asked while his fingers explored her boldly, dancing in circles around all her sensitive spots and enticing even more moans from her. This, combined with feeling how aroused she still was, caused his manhood to throb even more in anticipation. He took a deep breath, trying to control himself.

“You know it is very much to my liking,” she admitted, bestowing a smile upon him. “But I need more.”

Thorin could not stop himself any longer. Taking his manhood in his hand, he growled with arousal, feeling her wetness against him. Anila tilted her hips, offering herself to him and he cast her a satisfied look, devouring her with his gaze. It was not long before he pressed his tip to the heat of her core. An unhurried thrust of his hips brought him home, his torments rewarded at last. He lowered himself over her and repeated the movement, studying her face as she bit her teeth into her lower lip.

“Yes, Thorin, more,” she whispered, taking deep breaths. 

As he covered her body with his, Anila seemed so small under him, almost fragile, and yet she was perfect. He knew he needed to be gentle with her at first, and he did that gladly, anticipating the bliss that awaited them both. He could feel how snug she was around him, how an occasional tremble of pleasure came from deep within her as he carefully moved another inch forward.

As her body accommodated to his hardness, he gave another slow thrust, filling her completely. Her breath hitched and she welcomed him with a small cry of pleasure.

“My lovely, lovely Anila,” Thorin whispered, unmoving, his lips brushing against her forehead, his thumb running across her cheek. He knew his size was a challenge for her, but every single time she took him in with passionate eagerness that multiplied his arousal. “We fit so well together, do we not?”

“We do,” her melodic, dreamy voice reached him, her breath wafting against his sensitive earlobe. “I don’t think I will be able to let you go.”

With these teasing words, she wrapped her legs around him, lifting her hips slightly. That made him burrow himself even deeper into the dewy paradise of her womanhood.

“Then don’t,” he rasped out. “We can stay like this for as long as you like. Only say a word, my queen.”

“Then take all the time in the world with me,” she decided.

And so he did. With his movements slow and measured, his eyes remained on her face, revelling in the growing signs of ecstasy he noticed. Anila, his wife, his queen, deserved all he could give her—and more. Her first (or rather third) peak of ecstasy came soon, just after he changed the pace, murmuring seductive promises into her ear. Her lengthy moan rang out in the air as her body trembled with ecstasy. It took all of his resolve not to follow her over the edge at that very moment, but Thorin denied himself that pleasure. He was not finished with her, there was more he wanted to give. He paused, cradling her face in his hands, placing a tender kiss on her burning hot lips, waiting for her to recover, but Anila’s affectionate gaze once again rested on him as she asked for more.

Soon he found himself finding the perfect rhythm, sinking inside her for what seemed forever. As he drowned in Anila’s eyes, their moans intertwined, celebrating the union of their bodies. They were drifting away together on the sea of their shared passion. Every thrust was a promise of endless joy Thorin would offer her, every caress was imbued with his adoration, echoed by his whispers until they came together as one. She clung to him, responding to his every move, her nails sinking in his back, driving him forward, demanding more, and he gave it to her in a series of rapid thrusts, the waves of their bliss growing higher to finally wash over them in pure rapture.

***

“Happy birthday, sweet Anila,” he murmured as he rolled on his back, his arm wrapped around her, but she only hummed something incoherent in response and cuddled up closer to him under the clear blue sky above.

They remained in a sweet, languid embrace for an eternity—or perhaps minutes—Anila’s head resting on Thorin’s chest, her arm limp across his stomach, her hair scattered across his body, his nose full of her flowery scent. Their breaths evened out and the only sounds around them came from the birds in the trees and he found himself drifting off to sleep.

“Thorin…” Anila breathed into his skin after a longer while. 

“Hmmm?” He opened one eye reluctantly.

“You are as wild as these berries,” she pointed towards the forgotten fruits, now scattered among the grass.

“Am I?” He hummed into her hair.

“I think I will have to personally thank King Thranduil for your fervour,” she replied with a smirk.

“Don’t you dare, wife… unless you’d like to be spanked,” Thorin protested.

She chuckled and he felt her hand travelling down his abdomen, “Is that a promise, my king?”

“Insatiable woman,” he managed to say before her lips stopped him from talking for a very long time. For perhaps all the time in the world.

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[legolasbadass]

Office Hours, Part 31

Summary: Lorelei Browning has just secured a job as an assistant professor at Exeter College in Oxford. Naturally, she is eager to prove herself and meet every challenge sent her way, but what she does not expect is the tall, handsome stranger who will quickly become much more than a colleague.

Relationship: Richard Armitage x OC (Professor AU)

Word Count: 4.1k

Rating: E

A/N: Hi everyone! It feels like I blinked and suddenly I haven't updated this story in over 7 months, ooops 🙈 I moved abroad and went back to school in September to start a postgraduate degree, so I've had very little time to write over the past few months. I hope you can all forgive me and are still interested in Lorelei and Richard's story! If you are, I've tried to make this chapter extra special... 😈

Before I know it, the spring break is over, and I am drowning in emails, deadlines, and assignments to correct. Thankfully, however, the telltale signs of summer bloom across Oxford as the term unfolds. The air, once crisp, now carries a gentle warmth, accompanied by the hum of bees and the fragrance of blooming flowers along the banks of the River Cherwell, which beckons scholars and locals alike to punting excursions. Days lengthen, inviting late-night strolls through narrow cobblestone streets while the evening sky blends into hues of soft pastels. The fast-approaching exams threaten the leisurely atmosphere of the city,  but when I walk through the sunlit streets with Richard’s hand holding onto mine, I feel as though time stands still; there are no exams, no piles of unmarked essays on my desk, and Richard is here, and he is not leaving. Not now. Not ever. 

I try to be happy and excited for him—I am—but with each passing day, it becomes harder and harder to imagine being thousands of miles away from each other. But we have many things to look forward to; in a few days, we will officially be on summer holiday, and I will move in with Richard. That is what I need to focus on. His imminent departure looms over us, but it does not change the fact that we love each other and are determined to make this work. A year ago, I was offered a lecturer post at Exeter College. It was more than I had ever dreamed of, and I thought life could not get any better. Little did I know I would meet Richard and fall in love with him. The past few months have been a whirlwind, and it still surprises me how fast things have progressed between Richard and me—how quickly he has come to mean the world to me. The thought of losing him terrifies me, but we have been through so much already, so I have to believe that we can get through this next year. 

“Lorelei?” A knock and a familiar rumbling voice pull me back to the present moment.  

Richard stands in the doorway to my office, one hand resting against the aged wooden frame as he smiles at me. The unbuttoned collar of his white shirt draws my attention to his throat and the patch of hair peeking through. Just like the first time we met. 

“Hey,” I say with a smile. 

“Lost track of time?” 

“What?” 

“It’s half past four.” 

“Oh,” I breathe out as I glance at the time on my phone. “Sorry—I completely lost track of time, yeah. Hope you haven’t been waiting for me too long.” 

Richard shakes his head as I throw my laptop and notebooks into my bag, then rush to the door, but he blocks the way with his arm. “You alright?” 

“I’m fine,” I reply, smiling at the concern in his voice. “Just have a lot of things on my mind.” 

He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear, and the tender look in his eyes tells me he is thinking of kissing me, but the hallways are busy with students and professors, all rejoicing at the end of the term. 

“Good or bad things?” he asks, his hand lingering on my jaw for a moment longer than it should in this environment. 

“A little bit of both,” I reply, but when he merely continues to watch me, I sigh. “There’s still so much to do before the move. I haven’t packed any of my clothes or anything from the kitchen—”

“Sweetheart, I told you I’d help you pack. Don’t worry about that.” I nod and offer him a grateful smile. Then he frowns. “That’s not what’s bothering you.” 

Sometimes, I wish he did not know me so well. “It’s just the move combined with research deadlines and all the exams I’ll have to correct in a few days,” I say, not wanting to bring up the true cause of my discomfort. I do not want him to feel guilty—he should be excited about this research opportunity, and he deserves nothing less than my unwavering support. “Have you gotten any news on that flat you were interested in?” I ask a few moments later as I lock the door to my office before walking towards the main staircase, trying to appear unphased. 

“Not yet, but it’s still early in Boston so maybe I’ll get some news later.” 

“Right,” I say with a smile, but it hits me all over again that we will not only be separated by an ocean but by time as well, and the thought of needing to wait hours for a text or call from him when he wakes up each day claws are my heart. 

“So I told Michael about Harvard’s offer.”

“How did he take it?” I ask, knowing this was difficult for him as they have been friends and colleagues for many years. 

“He took it well. I mean—it’s not like he could do anything if he didn’t like the idea of me leaving for a year; I’m allowed to take time off from teaching for research. That being said, he told me he was happy for me and that it would be great for the department and the college to have one of their professors working with a famous scholar like Stanley Griffin.” 

“Just as great as it is for Harvard to have one of their professors working with you, I imagine,” I say, looking up at him. 

Richard chuckles skeptically. “Lorelei, he’s Stanley Griffin.” He speaks the scholar's name almost as if he were talking about Shakespeare himself. “His anthologies are used in most English departments.” 

“Well, only one of you is a professor at what is arguably the most prestigious university in the world.” 

“I guess,” he replies with a sheepish smile that warms my heart. 

The sun burns bright in the sky above the dreaming spires, casting long shadows on the cobblestone beneath our feet as we walk through the main quadrangle toward Broad Street. All around us, students rejoice in their newfound freedom, lounging at cafes, iced coffees in hand, discussing summer plans while cyclists whizz by, their wheels clicking against the cobbled paths.

“I can’t believe it’s so warm and sunny today and we have to spend the whole evening indoors for the staff party,” I groan as I step into Richard’s car, throwing my bag on the backseat. 

“We don’t have to go,” he says, closing his door and buckling his seatbelt. 

“Of course we have to go.”

“Lorelei, these things tend to be really dull. They call it a party but it’s just a room full of tired academics who’d rather be at home or locked in their offices, and they serve ridiculous canapés that leave you starving at the end of the evening. Although, admittedly, there’s always an open bar.”

“Alright, then let’s stop and get burgers on the way and stay close to the bar for the duration of the not-so-party party.” Richard chuckles as he steers out of the parking spot. “Come on, our presence is expected. And it might be the last time you get to see some of our colleagues before you leave.” 

He does not say anything for a while, then he reaches out to squeeze my thigh, and I know he, too, is thinking of the long months of loneliness ahead. 

In an attempt to change his mind, I intertwine our fingers and smirk as I say, in a light, sing-songy voice, “I bought a new dress for the occasion that I think you’ll really like. It’s navy, and sleeveless—I just hope it’s not too short…” 

Richard shakes his head but fails to hide his smile. “I see what you’re trying to do, sweetheart.” As we stop at a red light, Richard notices my expression and sighs. “Alright, let’s go to the stupid party—but we’re not staying too late.” 

***

It took longer than expected to get ready at my flat. Despite agreeing to attend the event, Richard prevented me from getting dressed with languid kisses and lingering caresses, but eventually, we managed to tear ourselves from each other and leave. 

The city is submerged in the sun’s golden farewell to the day when Richard and I arrive at an imposing, Jacobean-style mansion near The Queen’s College, and as we walk through the tall wooden doors and into the main hall, I cannot help but gasp and look up at the ceiling high above us, causing Richard to chuckle. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he says, squeezing my hand as he leads me toward the grand staircase. 

I nod. “I think I’d prefer to just walk around the building instead of going to the party,” I begin playfully, but Richard shakes his head.

“Oh, no, no, no,” he says, letting go of my hand to hold my back and push me forward. “You practically dragged me to this thing so you better not leave me for even a second.” 

I bite back a smile. “What if I need to go to the loo?” 

Richard chuckles. “Okay, you’re not leaving me except to go to the loo.” 

The hubbub of conversation and clinking glasses fills the air as we step into the grand room lit by the setting sun and the soft glow of chandeliers hanging from the frescoed ceiling. I spot familiar faces in the crowd while we make our way to the bar, but most people I do not know, so I am grateful for Richard’s reassuring presence, and I already dread having to attend events like these without him next year. 

“So here we are,” Richard says dispassionately after we order drinks. “Now do you believe me for saying these things are boring?”

I shake my head in amusement, then bite my lips, suddenly feeling shy. 

“What is it, sweetheart? You’re blushing,” he points out with a curious smile. 

Hesitantly, I lean in and speak in a soft voice only he can hear. “Would it be less boring if I told you I’m not wearing knickers?” 

Richard laughs, but then he catches my eyes and gulps heavily. “Are you—you’re really not—?” 

I shake my head, slowly gaining confidence as his eyes darken. He laughs again, the sound deeper and hoarser, telling me exactly how he feels about my styling choice. 

 “This is a work event!” he playfully chastises me, and I giggle as he brings a hand to my back.

“Well, I just wanted to make sure this party wasn’t too dull for your tastes.” 

He smirks. “I now suspect I’ll be feeling unwell or tired rather soon and you’ll have to bring me home earlier than planned.” 

“Oh, yes? And how will we spend the rest of the evening once we’re back home?” I ask, feigning innocence. 

“Well, for starters, you’ll take off that lovely dress and bend over—” 

Heat rises up my neck, and I nearly choke on my drink when, just at that moment, someone calls out to us, forcing us to pull apart suddenly. 

“Richard, Lorelei!” Professor Bennett greets us with a kind smile. “I was beginning to wonder if maybe you wouldn’t be joining us.” 

Richard glances at me, a cheeky grin illuminating his slightly red face, before turning back to Professor Bennett. “Last-minute outfit crisis,” he replies teasingly, squeezing my waist. 

I shake my head, trying to ignore the tingling in my belly caused by his last words to me. 

“And this is what you landed on?” Professor Bennett says playfully as he looks Richard up and down, causing me to laugh.

“Well, not everyone has your fashion sense, Michael,” Richard responds with a chuckle.

“Maybe we should start being evaluated on that; that way, I might stand a chance against you and win the teaching award for once.” 

Smiling, I look up at Richard and then back at Professor Bennett. “Richard was voted favourite Professor again?” 

“He sure was!” he says, raising his glass to Richard. 

“How amazing!” I exclaim, momentarily resting my hand on Richard’s chest. “Congrats, love!”

Richard’s grateful smile is made all the more endearing by the faint blush blooming on his cheeks. 

“But don’t tell anyone—I haven’t sent out the official announcement yet.”

Professor Bennett then turns to greet a passing colleague, so I lean into Richard. “I know one person who for sure voted for you,” I whisper with a teasing smile, thinking of Jane Taylor and the stars in her eyes when she speaks to him. 

“Shut up,” he responds, though he fails to hide his smirk as he pinches my waist, causing me to giggle. 

“Hey, there you are!” Natasha’s familiar voice interrupts us, and I turn to see her squeezing her way around a couple of Ph.D. students. We all greet her, but then she notices Richard and seems to hesitate for a second before she says, “Apparently, congratulations are in order!” Richard smiles shyly. “Working with Stanley Griffin—that’s exciting!” 

“Yeah, it is,” Richard replies with a nod, though he momentarily tightens his hold on me.

  “I must say, thank God for you, Lorelei,” Professor Bennett begins, causing me to frown in curiosity, “under different circumstances, I’d be worried about losing Richard to Harvard forever, but I know as long as you’re in Oxford, he’ll be coming back,” he says with a fond smile. 

I chuckle, then try to come up with a playful response, but I cannot ignore the heaviness in my heart. How can I miss him already when he is still here, holding me tight?

Thankfully, Richard steps in. “Don’t worry, Michael, you won’t even get a chance to miss me. I’ll be coming back periodically to check in on my postgrad students—that sort of thing…” 

“Yes, sure. For the students, of course,” Professor Bennett says teasingly, and from the corner of my eyes, I notice Richard staring at me longingly, and heat rises to my cheeks. 

As they continue to joke around, Natasha catches my eye and gestures for me to follow her. I reassure Richard I will be right back, then step aside, concerned by the frown on her face. 

Once we are far enough from the others, she reached out to caress my arm and asks, “How are you feeling?” 

I gulp, suddenly understanding her previous hesitation. “I’m fine.”

She nods slowly, biting on her lower lip. “So he’s leaving for a year…” 

I nod, struggling to gather the strength to respond in words. 

“That must be really tough for you.” 

“Yeah, it is, but… we’ll make it work.” 

“So you guys aren’t—aren’t breaking up or anything, are you?” 

“Oh, no!” 

She lets out a deep sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God! When I heard the news earlier today all I could think of was…” She trails off and laughs nervously. “You guys can make it work. I know you can.” 

I smile. “Yeah, I hope so.” Then my smile widens. “Actually, I’m moving in with him.” 

“Really?” she exclaims, her eyes lighting up in genuine happiness. 

“Yes! We want to make the most of the time we have together before he leaves, and this makes it a little easier to reassure ourselves that we’ll get through this together.” 

Natasha nods and squeezes my arm. “I’m so happy for you two!”

“Thanks,” I reply, grateful for her friendship. Then I notice Richard eyeing me from the bar, but before I can say anything, Natasha smiles in understanding. 

“Alright, go back to your man,” she teases. “I just really wanted to make sure you were okay. I’ll go see if I can find Sarah somewhere.” 

I give Natasha a quick hug before making my way back toward Richard, who is now conversing with two men I do not know. As soon as he notices me, he excuses himself from the conversation and, wrapping one arm around my waist, pulls me slightly to the side of the bar, away from prying ears.

“Everything okay?” he asks in concern.

“Yeah, Natasha just wanted to check in and make sure I was alright given… you know…”

Richard nods, then looks down at me with an exaggerated pout. “You left me alone when you said you wouldn’t.” 

“So needy,” I tease as I rest a hand against his solid chest, my fingers absently playing with the unbuttoned collar of his shirt. “You were talking with Michael so I figured you wouldn’t mind.” 

“Okay, new rule: when we’re at an event and you tell me you’re not wearing any knickers, you have to stay within arm’s reach.” 

I burst out laughing, though heat rises to my cheeks at his rumbled words. “Alright, I can abide by that rule.”

“You better.” He smirks before leaning in to kiss me. His lips are soft and warm against mine, sweetened by the wine he has sipped. I can feel passion simmering deep within him, and when I reluctantly pull away sometime later, all too aware of our surroundings, Richard groans quietly. He then takes one quick glance around the room before leaning in conspiringly. “I think we might be able to sneak out of here for a little bit,” he says in a quiet voice, then gulps, and I am momentarily distracted by the movement of his Adam’s apple. “You know, to explore the building like you wanted.” 

“Right. To explore the building,” I repeat, smiling innocently. He finishes his drink in one big gulp, then winks as he takes my hand to lead me out of the crowded room.

The sound of our shoes against the polished stone floor echoes through the long hallway as we search for a more private place to continue the evening, failing to contain our laughter as we try door after door, in vain. We have nearly reached the other end of the building when we finally stumble upon an unlocked door. We cast furtive glances around us to make sure we are alone before slipping inside what turns out to be a small reading room with bookshelf-lined walls and a few rows of desks, illuminated only by the lamposts in the street below. The sweet, earthy scent of aged paper and leather-bound tomes fills the air, but then Richard wraps his arms around me and pulls me close, laughter lingering in his eyes, and the familiar smell of his cologne surrounds me. I can still hear echoes of the party in the distance, but it all disappears when, with a soft smile, Richard leans in to rest his forehead against mine. One of his hands is now tangled in my hair, holding the back of my head and pulling me closer as we share our breath, lingering in this moment, allowing ourselves to pretend that the rest of the world does not exist. 

When he finally claims my lips in a hungry kiss, I let my eyes flutter close and, standing on my tiptoes, circle my arms around his neck, pulling him even closer to me as I drown in his passionate embrace, content to pretend that my only worry is knowing we will eventually need to pull apart for air. We move against each other out of instinct, ignoring the time and place, fuelled by an evening of flirting and lingering touches and our impending separation. He lets go of my lips to trace a path along my jaw, down my neck toward that sensitive spot below my ear, and the warmth of his tongue combined with the rasp of his beard sends heat spiralling down my spine. My hands are now buried in his hair, tugging on the soft curls, and he groans into my neck before reconnecting our lips. 

Without breaking the kiss, he effortlessly lifts me into his strong arms and sets me on one of the desks, spreading my legs apart with his body. Already, I ache for him; heat swirls through me, buzzing incessantly between my legs, and when he squeezes my left thigh with one of his large hands, I cannot help but buck towards him and whimper, the desperate sound of desire echoing through the room. 

“Be quiet, sweetheart,” Richard murmurs against my lips, and a rush of arousal floods my core. 

As his hand slides higher up my thigh and slips under my dress, I cannot help but chuckle. “Are we really doing this?” 

Richard grins. “Don’t act innocent; you knew we’d end up in this situation the moment you decided not to wear knickers.” I giggle into the kiss at the deep, unbridled lust coating his words. “I can’t resist you.”

He pulls away just enough to watch my face as he teasingly slides two fingers over my folds, coating me in my arousal. Biting my lips, I wriggle on the desk to grant him better access, and when his fingertips brush against my clit, the whole room seems to pulse with the intensity of the pleasure tingling through me. Richard knows my body by heart now—he knows exactly where and how to touch me to have me panting in his arms in no time. He sets up a languid pace, alternating between drawing circles on my clit and slipping a long finger inside me, only allowing himself to increase the pace when I latch onto his shoulders, my hands pulling on his tweed blazer. My breath hitches in my throat when he slips two fingers inside me, crooking them and almost instantly finding the spot that has me arching my back and whimpering his name. My legs are now wrapped around him, my thighs pressing into him as he catches my mouth, taking the breath from my lungs and the moans from my lips. 

My release washes over me in a dizzying wave, pulsing through every fibre of my being, leaving me hot and panting as I cling to Richard while he continues to pleasure me, not stopping until I collapse in his arms. A car horn echoes in the distance, reminding me of our surroundings. Even so, as I look up to meet Richard’s lust-darkened eyes, desire flares in me again, and the warm weight of his hardness pressing into my inner thigh reassures me that this is far from over. Licking my lips, I raise a hand to teasingly caress him through his trousers, revelling in the whimper he fails to hold back. One of his hands returns to my hair, gently tugging as I slowly reach for his belt buckle—

The door creaks open. 

In an instant, Richard and I pull apart, and I hasten to tug my dress back in place and press my thighs together just as a security guard steps inside. His eyes flicker between Richard and me, his expression a mixture of surprise and embarrassment. 

“Er, sorry, guys—this room is supposed to be closed. You can’t be in here.” 

Too mortified to speak, I turn to Richard, and he smiles sheepishly at the security guard. “Apologies, we didn’t realize. I was just showing her around.” 

The security guard nods, then steps back to let us pass. My face burns as we mumble apologies, but he walks away as quickly as he first appeared, leaving us to stand awkwardly outside the reading room. 

“I guess we should stick to our offices,” Richard muses playfully.

My heart still hammering in my chest, I look up at Richard, biting my lip, but then my eyes drift down to the noticeable bulge in his trousers, and I burst out laughing. 

“That man certainly won’t be losing any sleep trying to decipher what you meant by ‘showing me around’,” I giggle. 

Richard looks down and tries, in vain, to adjust his trousers. “Do you think he noticed?” 

“Well, I hope for his sake he doesn’t make a habit of staring at strangers’ crotches. But if he does, then yeah, he definitely noticed.” 

“It’s all your fault,” he replies with a grin. Laughing, I wrap my arms around him and look up to meet his tender gaze, but he quickly takes my arms and reasserts a more appropriate distance between us. “You’re not helping.”

“Sorry,” I chuckle as I straighten his blazer, not wanting to let go of him.

“Oh, yes—you look very sorry.” 

“How about I make it up to you instead?” 

Richard grins. “Does that mean we get to go home?” 

“Yeah, I think sneaking away sounds like a good plan.” 

The ride back to my flat is filled with stolen glances and lingering touches. As soon as we arrive and lock the door behind us, he pulls me in for a passionate kiss, and I melt in his arms. His touch is tender and possessive, and with each kiss, each caress, we reassert our love for each other, surrounded by the boxes that signal the beginning of our new life together.

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#richard armitage #richard armitage fanfic #richard armitage x oc #richard armitage x reader #richard armitage x you #professor au #office hours

[let-djaqsayfuck]

guy trying his DAMNDEST not to catch feelings and not lose his job:

y/n telling him that cuddling actually IS in the job description:

@guyofgisbourne

#@ everyone else #read “a royal pain’’ by guyofgisbourne and you’ll get it <3 #robin hood #bbc robin hood #guy of gisborne #robin hood memes #bbc robin hood incorrect quotes #robin hood fanfiction #robin hood writers #bbc robin hood memes #richard armitage #guy of gisborne x oc #guy of gisborne x reader

[middleearthpixie]

Yes! I think you should definitely do “warm beverages” ☺️

Okay - here it is and I know it is REALLY late, but time just really has lost all meaning for me lately. And I know it's supposed to be a drabble, but for me, this IS a drabble (everything I write turns into a monster, after all) so here goes...

Hot Apple Cider

Prompt: Warm Beverages (Day 3)

Summary: You and Thorin spend a cold afternoon at a corn maze with your children…

Characters: Thorin x reader, Rina Durin, Frerin Durin, Dwalin

Warnings: none, pure fluff

Rating: T

Word Count: 1,863

Khuzdul Translations: 

’Adad - father 

’Amad - mother 

Raklûn - precious, darling one 

Maralmizi/maralmizu - I love you 

Mesmel - jewel of all jewels 

Amrâlimê - my love

***

It was a gray, blustery day with a definite chill in the air. Not exactly the picture perfect weather for pumpkin picking or to wander about in an immense corn maze, but at the same time, no one seemed to mind the dreariness around them. Shrieks of laughter echoed all around you to let you know just how little the weather mattered. Despite the fact that you were freezing and your hands were almost numb, you still smiled. This was just as you remembered it from your own childhood—pumpkin patch, corn maze, hayrides, the earthy tang of apples as they were pressed for their juice, hints of cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg in the air. You hadn’t been to the farm since you were a girl and as you slipped your hand into Thorin’s, your memories came rushing back as the heat from his hand sank into yours to thaw it a tad. 

“I should go after them,” he said, frowning in the direction of the corn maze. “They’re in there alone and anything can happen.”

“They aren’t alone.” You squeezed his hand gently. “They are with Dwalin and he is never far behind either of them. Relax, your Majesty, and enjoy a rare free afternoon.”

He smiled down at you. “I’m not so good at relaxing. I have so much work waiting for me back at Erebor.”

“I know, but even a king is allowed a few hours to simply spend doing nothing but listening to his children have fun.”

“I know you’re right, and we needed a bit of time away from everything and it’s only a few hours, but I’m having trouble just the same.”

“Really?” you asked this with a grin. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“I’m sorry, mesmel, there is just so much going on now.”

“I know, but the world will not fall apart all at once. Balin is there if anything urgent comes up.” You slipped your hand from his and eased your arms about his waist. “We miss you, you know.”

“I know. And Mahal willing, the elders will stop being so fussy over everything and agree to the terms of the agreement between us and the elves.”

“They will. They merely need a bit more convincing.”

“Which I can hardly do here.”

“Thorin.” You didn’t even bother to keep the scolding out of your voice. “It is but a few hours away from the negotiations. Balin is more than capable of speaking on your behalf and your children are only young for a short while. Enjoy it.”

His blue eyes closed, his lashes thick black crescents against his cheeks as he drew in a slow, deep breath and then exhaled just as slowly. “You’re right and I am sorry again.”

“You’re forgiven,” you tucked your head against his chest, smiling as he wrapped his arms about you and pressed a kiss into the top of your head. You knew how hard he’d been working, in meeting after meeting from sunup until late at night, all trying to hammer out a trade agreement between the dwarves and the elves of Mirkwood. It had taken every ounce of persuasion you possessed to get him to agree to this outing. Now if only you could find a way to make him relax and actually enjoy his down time. One thing at a time.

Shrieks of laughter rolled your way and a few minutes later, two dark-haired children came racing out of the corn maze, almost falling into one another from laughing so hard. You had no idea what they laughed about, but the sound of them doing it was so silvery and melodic, it was contagious and you smiled as well. 

 Thorin pulled away from you, crouching to scoop up Frerin, your eight-year old son. “Easy, Frer,” he said, swinging him up into his arms. “Where did you lose Dwalin?”

“In there,” Frerin pointed back to the corn maze. “He’s too slow and too bossy and no fun, ’Adad.”

“You lost him on purpose, Rina?” you asked.

Your ten-year old daughter looked up and nodded. “Kind of, yes.”

“Why?”

“Because he kept telling us to go left! Or not that way!” Frerin looped his arms about Thorin’s neck, but held himself away to look his father eye to eye. “He’s no fun, so we gave him the slip.”

Thorin arched a brow. “Gave him the slip?” 

Rina nodded, trying to look somber, but you didn't miss the way her pale blue eyes sparkled with mischief. It was the same look you’d seen so many times in her father’s eyes as well. “At a tee, he said, Turn right, and we went left and he couldn’t keep up. He’s such an old sourpuss.”

You had to hold back your smile, and it wasn’t easy. Both Rina and Frerin seemed so very proud of their sneakiness and they weren’t entirely wrong. At times, Dwalin was very much an old sourpuss. You looked over at Thorin, and only one who knew him as well as you did could see the amusement sparking in his eyes, the slight twitch at the right corner of his beard that gave away his struggle to not smile as well. 

“That wasn’t nice, Rina. We should probably go find him.” You looked back at the massive corn maze. The farm boasted they had the largest corn maze in all of Middle Earth and you didn't relish the thought of trying to find one dwarf in that mess of giant stalks. 

Thorin shook his head. “Nah. He’s a big boy. He’ll find his way out. Besides, they’re right, it is not fun being ordered this way and that. Not,” he added as Frerin’s smile widened, “that I condone just ditching him that way, mind you. Because that was wrong. So, you two will go and find him and apologize.”

Frerin’s gaze fell and his smile faded. “Sorry, ’Adad,” he said sheepishly. “We just wanted to have fun, like everyone else.”

Like everyone else. You heard the laughter and shrieks of the other children in the corn maze and sighed softy. “You and your sister aren’t like everyone else, though, raklûn,” you told him softly, reaching down to rumple his windblown tangle of black curls. “And that’s why Dwalin goes with you places.”

Rina sighed. “But, ’Amad, he never lets us have any fun, though. And that’s why we’re here, isn’t it? It’s supposed to be fun, isn’t it?” She gestured to the maze, then to the rest of the farm around them. Then, she sighed softly. “Oh, all right. Come on, Frer, let’s go find him.”

She held out her hand to her younger brother, and you waited to see if he’d take it or not. Then, he slipped his hand into his sister’s and said, “Can we lose him again?”

“No.” Rina shook her head. “Not this time.” She shot you and Thorin both a pointed look. “It wasn’t nice.”

“Enough,” Thorin told her sternly. “Go and retrieve him before he has a chance grow even crankier.”

“Very well.” Rina let out a sigh that suggested she was the most put-upon girl in all of Middle Earth. “Come on, Frer. Let’s go find the old sourpuss.”

“And stop calling him the old sourpuss!” Thorin called after them.

You smiled as they vanished into the corn maze once more, then looked up at Thorin. “Now’s our chance to lose them all.”

He grinned. “I like how you think.” 

With that, he caught you by the hand and tugged you toward the corn maze as well. You could hear your children ahead of you, so you made certain that when they went left, you went right. And vice versa. And as you wound further into the maze, the sounds of the farm, and of the other maze-goers, faded into the distance. The air smelled sweetly of fresh soil, apples, and cinnamon and it was cold enough that you didn't mind it when Thorin tugged you up against him. 

He smiled down at you. “Finally, a moment alone.”

“Careful, dwarf,” you replied, the glint in his pale blue eyes making butterflies come alive in your belly, “you don’t want to jinx us.”

He bent to you, his lips soft and warm as they met yours, and you melted against him. How was it possible that after nearly a dozen years of marriage, and two children, this man still had the ability to make you feel like a young girl in the grips of her very first crush? Even on a cold, windswept, overcast day, in a corn maze, you felt as if you had just fallen in love with him and you wanted his kiss to last forever. 

He kissed you slowly, deep and lingering, and when he drew back, he pressed his forehead to yours and murmured, “Maralmizi.”

“Maralmizu,” you whispered back, tracing your forefinger along the silvery patch of his beard. It was somehow soft and scratchy at the same time and you’d noticed there were more silver threads shot through with each passing day. Not that it mattered. He was still the same handsome dwarf he’d been when you’d met so many years ago. And you loved him as much now as you did then, perhaps even more. 

“You’re shivering, mesmel,” he murmured.

“It’s cold in here and the wind is cutting thorough me.”

“Would you like something hot to drink?”

“Dwarf, I would kill for that.”

“Then we should probably go find our children,” he whispered, kissing you again.

“Probably.”

“Or we could just let Dwalin keep them.”

“We’d miss them.”

“Not for a while, though.”

“Dwarf.”

“Very well. We will take the children home with us.” He grinned, kissing you a third time. “Can we leave Dwalin here? He is an old sourpuss, you know.”

“I know, but we should probably take him back, too.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.”

“There they are!” Rina’s voice rang out like a bell, lilting and silvery. “Ugh, they’re kissing again!”

“Ew!” 

Thorin straightened up. “Who would like something warm to drink?”

Both Rina and Frerin nodded. “Hot chocolate!”

Dwalin rounded the corner, red-faced from windburn, what was left of his hair blown in all directions. “Aye, a drink sounds perfect. Preferably something with bourbon or rum in it.”

“How about you, amrâlimê,” Thorin turned to you, “would you like a warm drink?”

“Absolutely.” You clasped your hands together to blow on them and stamped your feet, which were cold despite your heavy boots. “I’m almost frozen through out here.”

“Very well. To the food tent and whatever warm drinks they’re selling here.” Thorin draped his arm about your shoulders and caught Rina’s hand while Frerin grabbed your free hand and you all made your way to the food tent to thaw out a bit. 

Hot chocolate. Hot apple cider. Hot cider spiked with bourbon. Everyone had exactly what they wished to drink and you sighed as you slipped your warm spiked cider, and without thinking, leaned your head against Thorin’s shoulder and smiled as his hand came to rest on your thigh. In that moment, you forgot all about being cold.  

***

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[theblogofdurin]

Cloaked in Green ||Pt.2|| Chp.19: Hunted

word count: 2.2k

summary: Beorn but let's add a little ✨️personality ✨️, plus ale deprived dwarves.

warning(s): drinking. Mention of prisonment, mentions of targeted groups with a little misogyny for flavor.

a/n: Well two things... 1. ITS MY BIRTHDAY (June18th) and yes I am old. 🙈 2. I AM GOING TO FANEXPO DALLAS TO SEE THE 4 LOTR HOBBITS ACTORS AND I'M SO PUMPED. I'LL POST MY EXPERIENCE. <- click to read.

P.S don't forgot to like and reblog and comment to let me know to keep writing this story!!

Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!OC

Links here: series masterlist, chp.18

----

Gandalf dozed off after that, snoring softly in the overly large chair, pipe still in hand. I leaned further back in my chair as I tried to rest my body as much as it would let me, yet it seems my thoughts had other ideas.

First off....Thorin.

Something has been off, I don’t have any evidence or reason behind my thinking, yet; I feel like something is different. What am I kidding? The whole situation with him is different. It's strange and quite...

Ugh, secondly, Gandalf didn’t disagree with me when I spoke of the rising threat brewing in the air…so that must mean that he feels it too and fears the same. And if that is true and Sauron is regaining his power…that brings up another tangle of sleep deprivating thoughts.

Lastly, Can we truly reclaim the mountain? Erebor is a massive stronghold in the North. Directly east of Mirkwood, if the dark forces manage to capture it before us…or worse if they somehow manage to coerce Smaug into joining their ranks. We'll never be able to succeed, or least not without a massive loss before.

Chewing on the wooden end of my pipe, I tried to contemplate through the mess that was going on in my mind. The sun was already lightening the sky, when the faint hits of an axe started. Setting the wooden pipe down on the table, I carefully managed to step around some of the sleeping dwarves to peer out of one of the windows looking out over the front.

The massively large back of who I can only assume is Beorn greeted me. The muscles on his hairy back flexed slightly with each swing of the axe he took. Knowing full well that Beorn is not a friend of Dwarves, I quickly realized that if we are to have any chance of getting the shapeshifter's help I would need to talk to him alone…and like any of them would like to talk to him alone.

Taking the chance, moving back around the sleeping company, I stopped to look over one of the bodies. With half of his hair covering his face, Thorin slept quite silently compared to his fellow men.

Shaking my head abruptly, I moved my head to redirect me to my original purpose, gently opening the giant door as quietly as I could and stepped out towards the hairy shifter.

---

---

The sky was starting to show a faint orange hue as Aranea approached the tall figure. The figure turned slightly to look over his shoulder. “Who are you?”

“Aranea, daughter of Arathorn, Lady of the Dunedain,”

Turning fully to glance over her, Beorn moved his hands to rest slightly on his axe. “Never heard of you.”

Smirking up at the shifter, Aranea, still keeping her distance, moved to sit on one of the thumps. “Well, I would hope not, my people have tried very hard to keep my existence a secret on this side of the Misty Mountains. You can probably assume our reasoning."

“And why are you on this side then, Ranger?” He questioned gruffly tilting his head.

“I’m traveling with a company.” she smiled, “You met them already, remember? You gave them quite a fright.”

Barking a laugh, Beron's face brightened slightly at the memory. “How scare were they?”

“So scared.” Aranea laughed with him, “I never seen so many men scream like they did.”

While the pair were still chuckling, Aranea looked down at her hands in her lap. "I just wanted to thank you for letting us intrude in your lodgings." Gesturing lightly towards the door and back to the treeline behind the shapeshifter, "Though you probably understand our reasoning for such manners."

With a more glum expression, the smile dropped from Beorn's face. "Why is Azog the defiler chasing you?"

"It's the company I travel with, Azog was made a vow against-"

"They aren't dwarves are they!?!" Swinging his axe to grip it tightly, growling as he made a step towards the door. "I hate Dwarves!!"

Pointingly, Aranea raised a hand. "You and I both know that you already smelt them either on me or last night when you chased us." Aranea raised up her elbow slightly and sniffed hesitantly under her arm, flinching away to gag.

"Though" she shook her head "I wouldn't be surprised if my stench covered them."

Beorn with pinched eyebrows regarded the relaxed position the human was taking on the tree stump. One leg resting under her as she leaned forward on her knees. Tilting his head he almost whispered. "You're not afraid of me. "

Giving a small smile up at him, Aranea shook her head softly this time. "No. I'm not."

"Why is that?"

"Because I know what it's like to be hunted."

Beorn scoffed at this. "Do you really?" He waved a hand, letting his axe head rest on the ground again. "Do you know what it's like to watch your own kind get killed around you? To be captured and held prisoner." Beorn started to trail off,

"Not in that way." Aranea sighed. "But I do know what it's like to have to fight to survive." Gesturing with her hands slightly down at her blood stained tunic and vest. "As you can probably see, I was not raised like most ladies…but I am a Lady." Beorn gaze moved with her hands before looking back at her face.

Resting her hands back into her lap, she continued. "I was trained at an early age alongside my brother, after watching our father die for having the same blood that runs through our veins. The same taintness " Swallowing loudly, she added. "For having the same blood shared with a man who failed all of us…and all of Middle-Earth."

"Isildur?" Beorn eyebrows furrowed. "You're Isildur's Heir?" Aranea smiled sadly and nodded.

"Yes." She looked back down at her hands. "And I'm hunted for it." She looked back up at Beorn's face, "My Brother and I both chose Exile when the time came."

"Why are you traveling with a group of Dwarves then?" Beorn looked even more confused as he look briefly back at his house.

"Because the group I travel with, a company of 13 Dwarves are on a quest to reclaim their homeland." Noticing the shapeshifter's tighting grip on his axe handle, Aranea snapped at him "They wish nothing more then just to past through to Erebor."

Beorn interrupted her, his expressive eyebrows raising "The Lonely Mountain?" Puzzled, Aranea nodded again. "You are traveling with the one they call Oakenshield."

"Oh!" Aranea laughed. "You know him but not me, I see how that is."

Suddenly barking another laugh, Beorn shook his head. "You." He pointed down at her. "You, little human, confuse me."

"Yes, I am traveling with Thorin Oakenshield and Company. Along with a Wizard and a Hobbit."

Beorn raised a quizzed brow "Radagast?- You are traveling with Radagast the Brown?"

Laughing at his expression, "No-" she spoke in-between giggles at his expression. "No, Not Radagast, Another Wizard, by the name of Gandalf the Grey."

"Never heard of him." Beorn gumbled.

"Not surprising."

That caused both of pair to fall into an unceremonial laughter.

"So." Beorn spoke again, the visible tension off of his shoulders. "A Wizard, A Halfing, A Lady and Thirteen Dwarves…that's an-" he searched for the proper word.

Still regaining from her laughter Aranea spoke through breaths. "Yes I know, We make a unique group."

Turning slightly on her stump, Aranea looked back at the house, in one of the windows the clear outline of Bofur's hat darting out of view caused chuckles to leave both her and Beorn.

"I understand your distaste for dwarves, trust me I've spent the last 2 weeks with them, but, I promise you, from what I've seen…these dwarves are honorable."

Beorn stood silently for a few moments, judging the woman in front of him. Could he trust her? Could he trust her company that she speaks so highly of? Growling softly, he nodded.

"You are the most gracious, Beorn."

A loud squeak of the door and gently stepping out Gandalf smiled broadly at the two. "Master Beorn, it's so nice to meet-" With a roll of his eyes, Beorn looked over at the wizard. “-you in person, I wish to thank you for your hospitality and letting-.”

“I need a drink.” Beorn suddenly interrupted Gandalf, gesturing with a hand he asked Aranea, “Ladies do drink Ale, yes?” With a slightly brightened nod, Aranea jumped up following the shapeshifter as he walked past the bewildered Gandalf.

Linking her arms with Gandalf, Aranea spun him back around to walk with her. “Everythings handled.” she whispered “Just help me keep the others in line.”

"I hate Dwarves." Beron added again as he opened the door of his lounging, gesturing for Aranea and Gandalf to enter first. "But I distaste Orcs more so, you may all stay as you wish."

"Thank you again, kind sir." Gandalf smiled gratefully up at the man as he passed. Beorn grunted. "I suggest not leaving tonight ; however, you'd be followed immediately."

Walking into the front entrance where the dwarves and Bilbo were compressed. Beorn let out a humpf of annoyance. Gandalf raised a shaky thumbs up when the shifter turned to grab cups from the upheld cabinets. Aranea almost smiled when she visibly saw their shoulders and posture sag and sigh in relief.

"I assume the dwarves would like a drink as well?" Beorn turned, dropping 6 massive cups on the table before turning to grab more. "How about the halfing?"

"Yes, please!" Bilbo gulped quite loudly causing some snickers from both the dwarves and Beorn.

"I enjoy the company of shire-folk, no need to squirrel yourself." Beorn scoffed as he dropped 5 more cups on the table, before reaching back again "-though its been many years. laid back creatures they are, enjoy nature more than the company of other beings ."

Bilbo was intrigued to say the least. Peeking out from around Thorin, Bilbo silently moved closer to the table with the others. "You met other hobbits before me?"

Beron nodded as he dropped the last 6 cups on the table. "A Hardbuckle and a Proudfoot, I believe, were their names many decades ago."

"Really?!" Bilbo all but exclaimed, "This far east?"

Beorn laughed at the halfing shaking his head as he filled the ale pitcher from the barrel on the side of the makeshift dining room. "No, like I said it was long ago and I stayed on the other side of the mountains, closer to your Shire."

Bilbo let out an audible "Ahh. " Beron went to start pouring the ale in all the wooden cups that had been divided among everyone.

Fili and Kili almost wanted to cry at the sight of the tall ale. While Dori was holding back an eager Ori from downing all of his in one gulp. Bombur and Bifor didn't hold back though, finishing theirs off proudly, as Beorn wrinkled an eyebrow before refilling their glasses.

Aranea and Gandalf were perched next to each in chairs slightly adjacent from the others. Beorn walked over to them to pour through glasses before turning back to the body stiff in between the rooms.

"You must be the one they call Oakenshield." Beorn noted, filling his glass.

Thorin was massively irritated, both at himself and at the human lass sitting next to the wizard like she didn't just endangered her life 3 minutes ago. There was no telling what could have happened and yet she still blindly went outside while everyone was asleep…while he was asleep. He was the one who was to protect for Mahal’s sake and he could have just slept right through her being mauled to death. He wouldn't have be able to live with himself-

Suddenly snapping out of his thought enough to register what the predator/man-beast asked him. Thorin nodded jerkly at Beorn question. "Yes." He's voice very quietly confirming.

"Then, would you mind telling me when Azog the defiler is chasing you?"

"You know of Azog?" Thorin turned to face Beorn as the shifter moved back to the table, refilling Ori's glass, he nodded thoughtfully, Bilbo thought as Throin asked "How?"

With a longing sigh, Beorn realized the genuine curiosity behind the dwarf words before telling him "My people were the first to live in the mountains...before the Orcs came down from the North."

Beorn gestured over towards where Aranea sat "-even before the island people moved westward." Now with a more glum expression, Beorn decided to just leave the pitcher at the table, moving to sit at his chair in-between Aranea and Gandalf.

Talking as he went. The room was silent.

"The Defiler killed most of my family. But some he...enslaved. Not for work, you understand...but for sport." Mindlessly rubbing his wrist, Bilbo also gasped when he saw the shackles on Beorn's wrist. "Caging skin-changers...and torturing them, seemed to amuse him."

" There are others like you?" Dori asked hesitantly, he seemed interested in the concept of more shifters.

Beorn smiled, but everyone in the room could tell it was a sad smile. "Once there were many."

"And now?"

"Now there is only one."

.

.

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Next

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