#Thorin fanfic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gloomwitchwrites · 2 months

Text

Missed Hints

King Thorin Oakenshield x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): fluff, light angst, humor, pregnancy, suggestive themes, fade to black, established relationship

Word Count: 1.8k

With the pregnancy confirmed, you decide to drop little hints until Thorin makes the connections.

A/N: for @protosslady

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist

“You’re pregnant, your majesty.”

Those two little words are enough to make time freeze. You are cold, a bit hesitant, and completely unbelieving of what you’re hearing.

“Are you sure?” you ask slowly, needing to know if you’ve heard her correctly.

The midwife, Lena, smiles broadly. “As sure as the sun rises in the morning. I’ve been doing this for close to thirty summers now. Rarely am I ever wrong.”

Lena’s assistant, Petal, matches Lena’s smile with one of her own. It is radiant and sunny, a stark difference from your sudden anxiousness. “This is wonderful news,” she exclaims. “King Thorin will be so pleased.”

“Indeed,” agrees Lena. “And so will the people when it’s formally announced.”

Both women sigh at the same time, but you are not nearly as excited as they are.

You and Thorin did try for a child many times in the beginning of your marriage. It was enthusiastic—and constant—but nothing ever came of it. While it bothered you, Thorin never seemed to care. He told you that all he wanted was you and that anything else was a bonus.

That is still true. Thorin loves you.

But Thorin is being pulled in a different direction. Erebor needs attention, and Thorin throws himself into service attempting to tackle every obstacle and difficulty on his own. Most nights, he comes to bed late—usually when you’re already asleep. When you wake, he is usually gone, off to take care of his abundant duties. They are piling up, becoming a burden. Thorin does too much, and while you admire him for his dedication, you miss him.

To know that you’re pregnant is a surprise. It’s not that you and Thorin haven’t been intimate, it’s just that it hasn’t been nearly as frequent as in the past. While Thorin is gone, you have your own duties and responsibilities. When the two of you do have quiet time together, intimacy is brief but passionate and almost always followed by the two of you falling asleep in each other’s arms.

“How far along?” you ask, trying to place exactly when it might have taken.

When your cycle never came, you didn’t think much of it. That happens sometimes. But then didn’t occur during the next expected timeframe. With its absence came irritability and random bouts of sudden crying you couldn’t explain. Certain foods smelt odd, and while you weren’t emptying the contents of your stomach, constant nausea made it difficult to complete daily tasks. You knew then that something was different. And now the midwife has confirmed it.

But even with an answer, you’re not sure how you feel.

“I’d place you at about ten weeks. Perhaps eleven,” answers Lena with a slight shrug of her shoulders.

“That far?” you squeak, wincing immediately with how upset you sound.

Lena and Petal’s smiles start to diminish. Their enthusiasm melts away, replaced with furrowed brows and soft lines of concern.

“Is everything all right? You look a bit faint?” Lena places her hand on your shoulder.

“Yes,” you reply, though it sounds like you’re gasping for air. “Surprised is all.”

Their smiles return but it’s subdued.

This is supposed to be a happy occasion. A child means an heir, and it also gives the people hope for the future. Much of Erebor is still in pieces from Smaug’s habitation. That doesn’t even begin to include all the damage and death from the battle. Dale, which was once abandoned and forgotten, is starting to see life again as well. The races of Men are returning to it, hoping to rekindle its long-extinguished flame.

A royal child is a symbol of hope. It’s a moment of celebration for everyone.

“I think a bit of rest for the remainder of the day will do you some good,” says Lena softly. “We will prepare some ointments that you can use to relieve any aches or pains. Bloating is likely, and as the body makes room for the little one, you’ll have some discomfort.” Lena taps her bottom lip and then turns to Petal. “We’ll need to prepare some liquid supplements to take with meals.”

“Of course,” nods Petal. She begins packing up their supplies.

Lena squeezes your shoulder before letting go. “I’ll come check on you in a few days. Bring a few things with me. We’ll talk more then, preferably with the father present.”

“Yes,” you reply, absently rubbing your belly. “That would be best.”

The two women bow and depart quickly, leaving you alone in the royal bedchambers. The room is quiet and your breathing sounds too loud in such a large space. With hands clasped, you twist them over and over again in agitation, needing to move but unsure of how to quell the anxiousness. It’s stubborn like the deep roots of a tree that refuse to give up the dirt.

How are you to tell Thorin? How do you approach this when you rarely see him. It’s just one more thing to burden him with. Perhaps, if you dropped a few hints? Covertly toss the pregnancy in his direction and see if he picks it up?

You know deep in your gut that you shouldn’t worry over this. Thorin will be happy. He will be.

You spend the rest of the day as Lena instructs. Reclining, resting, and reading. Thorin is supposed to return tonight for evening meal. Whenever he promises an early arrival, Thorin means it. Rarely does he make promises he cannot keep.

As dinner is brought in, and the table is set, Thorin walks through the door. There is a bit of soot on his cheek like he’s been in the mines, and his cheeks are slightly flushed. When he notices you, he beams, and there is so much love there that you simply want to melt into a puddle on the floor.

“My love,” he says, moving toward you swiftly. The embrace nearly sweeps you off your feet. He plants a kiss on your forehead and draws back.

“You’re filthy,” you laugh, looking him over. Thorin has been in the mines.

Thorin shrugs sheepishly. “I had to help dig. Structural issues.”

“Wash your hands at least,” you playfully tease.

“Not interested in eating a bit of dirt?” he asks with a laugh.

“Go,” you giggle, pushing away from him.

Thorin disappears and you take a seat at the table. He reappears a few minutes later, face and hands clean. The clothes he wore before are also gone, replaced with simple, fresh attire. He takes a seat next to you, gaze darting over the spread.

“I’m starving,” you begin because it’s true even though you’ve been consistently snacking all day. “It’s like I’m eating for two.”

First hint dropped.

Thorin laughs, and the sound is sweet like honey cake. “I promise, love. You couldn’t eat for me. My appetite is insatiable.” When Thorin says insatiable, he pointedly glances at you with a heated stare.

You perfectly understand his meaning.

You attempt a different angle. “I’ve also been having the oddest cravings,” you say, starting to load your plate.

“What do you mean?” asks Thorin before he pops a chunk of bread into his mouth.

“Different foods. Things I’d never eat together otherwise.” It is common knowledge that pregnant women will often crave highly specific foods and food combinations.

But Thorin doesn’t appear to pick up on the hint. He frowns, then shrugs, continuing to eat without making a comment.

Sighing, you pick up one the freshly made rolls. “I think these buns need a bit more time in the oven.” You stare hard at Thorin, mentally sending message after message. “What do you think?”

Thorin glances up at you then down at his own plate that has five of them. “I think they’re perfect but if you’d like them more done, I’ll let the kitchen know in the morning.”

“Thorin,” you say flatly.

“Yes, my love?” His head slightly tilts, and his gaze becomes pointed. He’s starting to pick up on your agitation. You don’t mean to be cross, but you were hoping that he’d figure it out so you wouldn’t have to tell him outright.

Setting the roll down on your plate, you promptly divert the conversation to a different hint. “We’ve never talked about where we’d put the nursery.”

Thorin’s brow rises toward his hairline. “I didn’t think you wanted to discuss that until we crossed that hurdle?”

Does he hear himself? Does he understand the context of what’s coming out of his mouth?

“You’re right, Thorin. I didn’t want to discuss it until we needed to.” You repeat his words back to him, slightly leaning toward him as you speak to emphasize the point.

Still, it brushes right over his head.

“Some of the advisory council members have brought up financial concerns. Rebuilding Erebor is important but the needs of the people are pressing. Food. Proper housing.” Thorin begins slicing into the chunk of roast on his plate.

Maybe you are going to have to say it outright.

Licking your lips, you ignore Thorin’s change in conversation. “I did receive a few inquiries about baby clothes. Offers to knit a few items,” you shrug.

“That’s kind of them,” says Thorin slowly. “But why—” he pauses, “you’re not—"

Thorin’s features suddenly shift, becoming almost unreadable. His jovial expression is gone, replaced with a stern consideration.

Are you going to have to shout it at the top of your lungs?

Thorin’s lips part. Promptly shuts. Opens again. “Are you…” he begins but does not finish.

You start to nod, urging him on.

Finally, like light igniting in the dark, Thorin’s face transforms into one of shock, then pure joy.

“Truly?”

“Found out just this morning.”

Thorin abruptly stands, pushing himself and his chair away from the table. He is moving toward you, grasping your hands, bringing them to his mouth to kiss your fingers.

“Why not say anything?” he asks.

“I did,” you laugh. “Many times.”

Thorin momentarily frowns before his mouth turns up into a soft smile. “Clever.”

“You’ve been busy and I was unsure of how to tell you.”

Thorin’s thumbs rub little circles over your knuckles. “You can always tell me anything. Whatever is happening. Whatever is on your mind. I wish to hear it.” He kisses the tops of your hands. “Especially something like this.”

“Are you happy?” you ask, voice cracking at the end.

“Happiest I’ve ever been.”

Thorin pulls you up from your chair, his large, muscled arm sliding behind your waist. He drags you to him, his eyelids lowering seductively, all gentleness leaving him to be replaced with desire.

“Are you up for a bit of celebrating?” he asks.

“What kind of celebrating?”

“The kind that landed us here.”

“Thorin,” you gasp, lightly slapping his chest. He snatches your wrist, kisses the pulse point there.

“The food can wait,” and his voice ends on a soft growl.

“Thorin,” you repeat, this time with a rasp to your tone.

He seizes it, draws you even closer. “The food can wait?”

You nod. “It can wait.”

taglist:

@foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @singleteapot @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @protosslady @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @cherryofdeath @mrsdurin @therealbloom @ninman82 @thewulf @ferns-fics @beebeechaos

606 notes · View notes

knight-of-flowerss · 1 year

Note

The hobbit

Thorin x hobbit reader

Reader is bilbos older badass sister who kills anything and anybody with her cast iron pan.

So we know dwarfs don’t get pregnant much, an basically rare to have girls, so how would the others react to reader (everyone lives au) telling thorin she’s pregnant after the battle, now hobbits are small so one imagining they have have up to 4 kids at once and be ok, probably even expected.

So when the dwarfs and surprise her (and bilbo the soon to be uncle along with lady Dis) with her finished nursery, and after the excitement, reader asks were the rest of the cribs are!!!

…

The dwarfs ask what she means and she an bilbo say that hobbits give birth to more then one child, so I wanna see there reactions (including Dis) when reader says she’s pregnant with 4 children I wanna know the reactions of the grate thorin and the fearsome Dwalin!

Bounes if you add when the babies are born (3 girls and 1 boy ) and the reaction of the company

thorin screaming “I can’t hold them all I need more arms or bigger ones!! 😭😭😭”

OMG YES I LOVE THIS SMMMMM ITS SO CUTE AHAHAHHA!!!! I opened this at like 10 o’clock at night so I was tired so I’ve don’t it today after school so I had more time and it didn’t sound loopy 💀

This hasn’t been spell checke btw!

Masterlist

Happy Ending

Anyone’s name: this colour and in bold

Thorin Oakenshield x Hobbit!Reader

You’re little brother Bilbo has always really only kept to himself, occasionally having relatives (but never distant because he doesn’t trust them around his cutlery) around Bag End.

You were his daring older sister, never afraid of anything, selfless, badass. You were staying at your brothers while your burrow got a new door. You offered to help but the other hobbits refused as they were paying you a favour.

You and your brother sat in shock as twelve dwarfs and a wizard wrecked Bilbo’s house. But after the table was set you soon forgot all about it, your brother on the other hand..

When a dwarf named Thorin showed up you couldn’t help but stare at him. He was your height, had long, dark locks and eyes so beautiful that you could get lost in them with just one glance. And when they proposed Bilbo come on this journey with them you immediately invited yourself along.

The journey was harrowing, fighting off ogres, goblins, orcs. Then there was the ‘final battle’ against Azog and his army. It was tough but it was no match for the dwarves and their resilience.

They fought with all there might, defeating the army and Azog and returning home safely.

For almost half a year now, you and Thorin had been married. Half a year of pure joy. And surprises.

You felt sick as a dog for almost 3 weeks now, your body weak. Dís, Thorin’s sister, suspected something was wrong and encouraged you to go and see a doctor of some kind. It had been confirmed though that it wasn’t any fatal illness, nothing of the sort.

You and Thorin where actually expecting.

The two of you were estatic, jumping for joy, but a little bit inside of you was sacred, terrified even. You knew what this meant. You knew you had to push out multiple of the little creatures miracles. But you would go through all that pain for Thorin.

As the months passed your belly grew and grew, never stopping, even for just a moment. The dwarves and your brother offered to help build a nursery for the little lad inside you (they assumed it was a boy because of the very low chances of a little baby girl popping out), at first you tried to help them but they just brushed you off and told you to relax, so, you hesitantly accepted the offer.

While they moved everything into the nursery and decorated it, you took a nap (which ended up being like 3 hours but we don’t talk abt that-). When you woke up you saw Bilbo and the side of you, reaching to wake you up.

You jumped as you hadn’t expected him to be there.

“Bilbo! What are you doing here?!” You whispered-shouted through gritted teeth. “Uh- the nursery- um, it’s ready.” Bilbo stutters, clearly shocked that you wanted to shout at him.

Bilbo helped you up as you where weaker and your belly put more and more pressure on your back.

You stood at the doorway as Dís and Bilbo pushed the doors open with big smiles. In the room stood Oin, Glóin, Dori, Ori, Nori, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Dwalin, Balin, Fíli, Kíli and stood in the middle with a soft smile one his face was your dear husband, Thorin.

You slowly stepped into the room looking around. Little toys on shelves, a play area with a fur rug, a changing station, one crib and more.

When you had finally reached your lover, you turned to him with a raised eyebrow and a cocked head.

“One crib? Really?”

Thorin looked a tad confused, “what do you mean my love? What is the babe supposed to rest in?”

“I think you mean babes.” You replied with a smirk. A bunch of ‘eh?’s where muttered around the room while Bilbo suppressed a chuckle.

Thorin sat with a half confused, half shocked face. “Whatever do you mean my love?..”, “you do know Hobbits have multiple children, do you not?”

Thorin’s eyes widened as your words registered in his head. “What-..”

The pregnancy was terrible, horrendous even, but your spirits where high when Thorin was by your side. You had given him four children, 3 girls and a boy.

(I got the last two names from a D&D website for dwarf names cus I couldn’t think of owt 💀)

Your little boy was named Thráin (III) after his father. Your first girl was called Dísa after Thorin’s sister Dís. Your second girl was named Arrin, meaning ‘exalted’ and ‘lofty’ and your last little girl was named Asta, meaning ‘divine strength’ , ‘love’ and ‘star-like’, she was named this due to her being the hardest out of them all to give birth to and that you and Thorin nearly lost her.

You and Thorin are sat on a couch in the children’s room with a fur blanket o top of yous while your four little toddlers play with eachother with wooden and plush toys.

You lean your head on Thorin’s shoulder as you look at your children and then up at your lover, who was already staring at you. “I am so grateful for the children you have brought me, love. You have made me a father, you a mother and all of us a family, I am forever in your debt my queen, I love you.”

You smiled up at your husband, tears welling up in your eyes as you wear a dopey smile on your face, “I love you too my King,”, you lean up and kiss your husband, you couldn’t ask for a better life.

An amazing husband, a gentle son and three graceful daughters, you loved them all so much, you finally had your happy ending.

I hope you like this cus i finished this while I was ill 😭

@thethreeeyed-raven

#Thorin Oakenshield #Thorin #thorin Oakenshield x reader #Thorin x reader #Thorin fanfic #Thorin Oakenshield fanfic #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfic

337 notes · View notes

luna-redamancy · 1 year

Note

Hey cutie 🥰 I know you probably have 8000 requests rn BUT I adore you and your writing and was wondering if you would be interested in a lil Thorin x wife!reader fluff? Maybe they’re babysitting young Fili and Kili and discussing having one of their own but Thorin’s stubborn and won’t allow it until they reclaim Erebor 👀

It's been a million years- I hope you enjoy:

“And….Up!” You cheered as you scooped Fili from off the ground, swinging him up in your arms and into the air, holding him up and spinning around. Fili’s face lit up as the young dwarrow erupted into giggles, eyes shutting in glee as you spun him around the sitting room.

“Ups!” Kili tugged on Thorin’s pant leg, no longer amused by the book that his uncle was originally reading him, now demanding to have the same fun as his brother.

“Ups!!” The small dwarrow spoke more urgently, getting upset with the lack of quick response by Thorin.

“Aye, aye, I heard you,” Thorin chuckled, setting the book back on the shelf before Kili was also scooped into the air, the two boys being swung around.

“Down we go,” You spoke dramatically as you dropped your arms so Fili swung low to the ground, “And up!” You cheered, laughs coming out of you as the giggles of Fili became infectious.

“And back to aunty!” You pulled him close to your chest, Fili clinging to your neck as you spun him close to you, hugging him against your form. After a few minutes of spinning and maneuvering the young dwarrows, you and Thorin brought the boys to the dining table.

“Lunch?” You asked them, your grin seeming permanent as Fili fought to stay in your arms, but eventually dropped his clingy behavior in favor of playing with a wooden toy sitting on the table from earlier play time.

“‘Unch!” Kili echoed, nodding feverishly with wide eyes.

“Pumpkin soup?”

“Umpkin-oop!” He cheered, warming your heart as you pressed a kiss to both their foreheads before exiting into the kitchen.

After lunch had ended, the boys succumbed to their drowsiness, laying on the floor together with blankies and their stuffed animals curled into their arms.

Sitting on Thorin’s lap in the big armchair by the fireplace, you sighed happily as Kili rolled onto his tummy and pushed his stuffed bear against his face.

“You know,” You spoke softly as to not wake the boys, hand drifting to your belly, “Moments like these make me yearn for one of our own,” You leaned your head against Thorin’s shoulder as he absentmindedly rubbed your thigh.

“Aye,” He agreed, feeling soft as his two nephews slumbered. “Not now, but one day,” Thorin said almost absentmindedly.

“One day?” You sounded confused, knowing the two of you were in your prime now. Truly, if you had it your way the two of you would already have had a child. Already being married for over two years.

“I wish for my child to grow up in the same halls I did,” Thorin spoke simply, imagining his own little dwarrow babe crawling on the smooth stone floors, growing into a young adult shadowing him to take over the throne one day.

“Thorin,” You sighed, already have argued many times over trying to reclaim Erebor, especially after seeing his grief of losing his family during the attempted reclamation of Moria.

“Âzyungel,” Thorin replied, ever the stubborn one as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

“Our lives in the Blue Mountains are temporary, I do not want to uplift our child’s sense of stability half-way into their upbringing and thrust them into something foreign,” Thorin reaffirmed his reasoning.

Sighing through your nose, you nodded, leaving Thorin’s lap in favor of going to Kili, adjusting the blanket over his shoulder and pressing a kiss to his hairline.

“Lukhudel, please do not be upset,” Thorin could read you like a book as you moved to collect the toys up and put them back in their respective places.

“I’m not upset,” You whispered to him over your shoulder, freezing in your movement when you heard Fili shuffle to settle into a similar position like his brother.

“I’m just disappointed, there’s a difference.” You murmured, knowing if Thorin had his mind set on something, not even Mahal could change his mind.

Tags:

Please note, tags in bold are blogs that cannot be tagged either due to blog visibility settings set to not visible or because your username has changed. If it has changed, please comment, send in an ask, or private message me for it to be updated.

Forever Tag

@lady-of-lies @all-things-fandomstuck @fizzyxcustard @izzydaelleth @aquaangel18 @raindancer2004 @love-colorfulglittercollection @ladylouoflothlorien @ten-tenya-iida @legolaslovely @bthtallmadge2 @abesottedlass @wilhelmyna @tigereyesf @aspookybunny @keijibum @moony-artnstuff @sirkekselord @guardianofrivendell @fluffymadamina @izbelross @fandomhoe101 @acahope311 @kitkatd7 @mooseetx @themerriweathermage @elvish-sky @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @laurfilijames @frequentlychangingfandoms @cameronsails @linasofia @starryeyedrogue @shethereadinghobbit @beenovel @onlystarshere @fckmini @spidergirla5 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @myselfandfantasy @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @broken-ghost @mbruben-stein @mrsdurin @hai-kbai

Thorin-

@greennightspider @ashleygrrrl @skylarkvip @makeshift-prime @jumpingmanatee @meraki--mei @theelvenvalkyrie @dabisburntnut @queenofmankind @elvish-sky

#thorin x reader #thorin x female! reader #female-reader insert #thorin x you #thorin fanfiction #thorin fanfic #thorin imagines #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit fanfics #the hobbit imagines #fanfic #fanfiction

197 notes · View notes

vee-vee-writes · 1 year

Text

Floral Arrangements (Thorin x gn!reader)

A/N: I have been working on this for ages but couldn't finish it, so here is part one. Hopefully I can get on to writing part 2 soon if people are interested.

The reclamation of Erebor by the company of Thorin Oakenshield had come with mixed emotions for (Y/N). You were excited to return to your childhood home with your two brothers. The three of you were given standard family quarters and small allowance to help you to settle in. The only downside was that so many who returned were also skilled in dressmaking, crafting, and forging leaving the three of you out of the job. To honour your fathers’ memory, the oldest of your brothers joined the royal guard, fulfilling your fathers’ old position. Both you and your youngest brother had no desire to follow suit.

Instead, the two of you decided to set up your own business outside of a stall in the market square. Flowers were neither common nor traditional in gifting practice within Longbeard culture. But the two of you were counting on the clans’ heavy involvement in the human world. It wasn’t uncommon for dwarves to adopt foreign human practices, even those of gifting and courting means. Thus, the two of you decided to adopt and adapt.

You took care of the purchasing, finances, displays and arrangements for the stall. There was limited private garden space within the mountain and requests for a private plot outside of the mountain for flower growth going unanswered, you had resorted to buying fresh flowers from a farmer just outside of Dale. Your fresh floral arrangements and bouquets proved popular enough amongst the mountain residents and its visitors, but they certainly were not what set your business apart.

The true jewel of your enterprise was the flowers crafted of precious metals and jewels of the most vibrant hues you sold. A sign of un-wilting and passionate love was the motto associated with them. Such a product was much more suited to the nature of dwarven love and courtship. You designed singles, arrangements and bouquets while your brother brought them to life.

With the introduction of said product, the popularity of the stall had doubled. The word had soon spread of the glittering creations and dwarves from across the seven kingdoms travelled to visit your stall. Within its first year and a half of operation its notability had grown to such heights that you were able to move from a stall to a rather comfortable store. This notability had additionally brought the attentions of the royal family upon you.

It was a warm afternoon when you received word from a steward that Princess Dis would be stopping by to look at your wares. After his departure you had bustled around the store preparing for the royal visit. A visit by a member of the royal family to look at your joint creations was incredibly humbling. Your bustling was disrupted by the sound of a customer entering the store. Peering up from where you knelt behind the counter you were shocked to see Princess Dis herself was already here.

“Pardon my lady, I was not expecting you yet” you politely greeted while stumbling up to your feet. “There’s no need please” Dis gestured at you kindly to continue what you were doing. “How can I be of service to you? Would you just like to browse or were you looking for something in particular” you gently prodded. The last thing you wanted was to drive away a customer like Dis Durin by being overbearing and pushy.

“I’d heard of the brilliance of your jewelled flowers and decided to come and have a look at the crafts myself” she praised glancing around, “do you make them yourself?” “No Ma’am. I design and arrange them, but my brother is the one who crafts them” you answered in earnest. “Well, you are both truly talented. The delicacy with which your brother has crafted them and your eye for colour are truly well paired together” she praised. Embarrassed by the praise you bowed your head in thanks and smiled shyly at the Princess in return.

Dis fluttered gracefully about your store for the next half hour inspecting the different florals on display, making conversation with you as she went. Eventually though she asked about whether you took custom orders. The two of you had never actually made a specified custom order for a client, instead you typically just sold the premade stock. Every piece was one of a kind so most customers were content by the uniqueness that the piece they choose offered. However, this was the future Queen mother, the honourable Lady Dis which had ruled in Thorin’s stead while he was on the quest to Erebor. So, you agreed that the two of you would be happy to make her a custom piece. Dis had been excited by the offer and promised to come back in several days’ time to plan out what she would like. With her departure you shut up shop and rushed home to tell your brothers of the great news.

----Several days later ----

You hadn’t seen nor heard from the Princess. You both were disappointed that Dis hadn’t followed through and placed an order but kept your heads up. After all the reason that you had moved to the shop was because of the influx of other noble and rich customers. Instead of dwelling on Dis’ missed order, you carried on organising and designing to pull your previous customers back.

It was late one evening while you were preparing to close the shop for the evening when a surprise visitor appeared in your shop. With your back to the doorway, you had failed to hear the quiet footsteps making their way up behind you. It was the unfamiliar gruff tone of a clearing throat that alerted you to the other presence. Whipping around you stepped back in surprise. Before you stood Thorin, Son of Thrain, son of Thror, King under the Mountain.

Remembering your manners, you were quick to greet and bow to the King with all of the Court courtesies you had been taught as a child. Thorin nodded in acknowledgement of the respectful gesture as you rose. “My sister visited you store a few days ago and has been raving about the crafts you sell ever since” the King began, “I convinced her out of investing in one because my nephews and I would like to get one for her birthday.” You smiled broadly as you dwelled on the King’s words. Princess Dis had not forsaken your store nor had forgotten your arrangement. Instead, she had gushed about to the rest of the royal family.

Switching back into business mode you got straight to work, “Were you interested in buying one of our premade arrangements or were you looking to commission a custom piece as your sister was looking into?” Almost instantly Thorin answered, “a custom, if you are free now then I would like to go over the details while I have time.” His curtness took you slightly off guard, but you tried not to let it show, “of course, I will just close the shop front so that nobody comes in and disturbs us. Then we can begin.”

You had been quick to close the shop front as you had done many other nights and then led the king to your workstations in the rare of the shop. After settling in you had questioned him rigirously about what he was looking for. From the types of flowers, sizing, number, types of jewels, and colouring of the joinery the two of you had discussed it all. Thorin’s demeanor had relaxed the more the two of you spoke, seeming almost as if he was enjoying the informalities of the conversation. He had even asked personal questions of you while you had jotted down notes of the details, he fed you; who had come up with the idea for the shop, how many of you run it daily, where you had lived during the clan’s refugee years, if many of your family members had been able to return to the mountain, your age, and even if you were married.

By the end of it you had come up with a comprehensive plan of what the Durin’s were looking to have done for the matriarch. You promised Thorin that over the next few days you would come up with several design compositions to showcase to him. He smiled warmly at you and promised to return in a few days’ time as he bid you, his farewells. Giddily, you found yourself looking forward to a visit from the mountain king, a man truly unobtainable to you due to his status and yet had asked about your marital status out of curiosity. A dwarf could dream.

Taglist: @awkwardspontaneity @midearthwritings @thewhiteladyofrohan @kami-chan1512 @fizzyxcustard @kpopgirlbtssvt @sadndnboii-reads @tschrist1 @shethereadinghobbit @lathalea @blulemonades @themaya2345us

(comment or pm me to be added to this taglist)

289 notes · View notes

booksbabes · 3 months

Text

I need some opinions on a Thorin x ofc fin im writing

I want to attempt to get the whole thing written before I post it. I feel like I loose interest if I post as I go.

It’s set pre quest to Erebor. Everyone is about 7 years younger than the quest age. Should Thorin and OC fall in love in this fic before quest? Should the quest even happen? I like to read hobbit fics other than the whole quest itself it tends to get predictable. And I feel there are a lot of post-quest. Everyone lives. But not many pre-quest. (Everyone will live bc I cannot take unhappy endings) let me know what you think or any ideas!

#thorin oakenshield x reader #the hobbit #thorin oakenshield #thorin oakenshield x y/n #thorin oakenshield smut #thorin x reader #thorin fic #thorin fanfic #thorin imagine #thorin x oc

24 notes · View notes

linasofia · 1 year

Text

A Shooting Star

Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3 l Part 4 l Part 5 l Part 6 l Part 7

Fandom: The Hobbit

Relationship: Thorin Oakenshield x OC Vega

Summary: Lady Vega loves to sneak out to Erebor’s rampart to study the night sky, but one night, an unexpected visitor joins her. It is the beginning of a story whose end only the stars can tell.

Warnings: none

Special thanks to @lathalea & @legolasbadass for all your support and feedback. 💙⭐️

A small gush of wind met Vega, daughter of Vimar, as she climbed the many stairs to the rampart. Since she left her lantern by the wall, her only guidance was the moon. Thankfully, it was a clear night, and the pale light coming from the grand silver coin in the sky was enough to illuminate her path. As she silently entered the rampart, she felt the usual excitement tingling in her body. She knew she was not allowed to be there, but it was the best place for stargazing, if she did not count the mountain slope outside the gate, and it was worth the risk of being discovered. Without making a sound, she hurried to her secret spot, hidden behind a large block of stone—remains from a battle long before she came to live under the Mountain.

Vega rested her back against the rough wall and took out her book from the pocket in her skirt. She was grateful for choosing her warm stockings of finest mountain goat wool; the wind on the rampart was colder than she had expected. Her long winter shawl covered her upper body, and she pulled it tighter. She should have taken the heavy cloak instead, but it was too late to go back now. Besides, she had endured worse weather on the rampart. Vega opened the book carefully, found the most recent of her notes and peered up. Her trained eye easily located the stars of her people’s most important constellation; the magnificent Durin’s Crown. Every year, when a feast was held to celebrate Durin’s Day, the constellation could be seen right above the Mountain. Now, however, when the days were much shorter, it was set far to the west. She smiled. A handful more full moons, and then she would close the circle and be back at the first page in her notebook. She had stood on the rampart many nights and studied the constellations' quiet movements over the sky. It was a fascinating hobby, but not completely without danger. The rampart was high, and the darkness could be compact, at least when the new moon resembled a curved, thin chain of mithril. In addition, there was obviously always the risk of being discovered. Vega preferred not to tell anyone about her own private escapades. Especially not her father. In his eyes, she was still a young girl with little or no understanding of what was considered dangerous. The fact that she followed in her mother’s footsteps and refused to marry any of the lords she was presented to, out of duty, only fueled the old man's conviction that she did not understand what was best for her. Her mother, on the other hand, supported her strong will and constantly defended her daughter’s decision in public.

Vega grew up in the Blue Mountains, and as the daughter of a trusted construction advisor to the king, she lived what many would describe as a relatively comfortable life. Their home was always filled with her father’s construction drawings, books, and strange tools. During her first years, her father would not let her near his precious drawings, but as she grew older, he opened up another world to her, where the symbols, numbers and lines started to make sense. Vega believed it was her father’s work that laid the foundation for her interest in trying to understand things written or drawn by others long before her time. When she found an old map, she instantly tried to visualize the places, and eventually, she started to dream about adventures far beyond her people’s borders.

After King Thorin and his company had reclaimed Erebor, it did not take long before a messenger with the king’s summons reached the Blue Mountains. Vega’s father quickly answered the call and packed his most important belongings. Then, less than a year later, he arranged for his wife and daughter to make the same journey. She still remembered the excitement she felt as a young woman when their caravan set out toward their new home. Vega had heard many old tales about the great treasures of the Lonely Mountain, but also songs of unspeakable grief. She could not wait to see the great halls with her own eyes, and her mother repeatedly assured her it would be worth the long absence of her father. He had an important role to take on as the King of Carven Stone had returned to the Mountain. That was now many years ago, and Vega had grown, both in body and mind, since then.

Suddenly, the sound of heavy boots reached her ears. She drew nearer to the large stone and hid in its shadow. Her heart was banging in her chest, and her throat tightened, making it hard to breathe, as if she was deep down in the dusty coal mine under the Blue Mountains—a place restricted to the strongest miners among her people. Was this the night she finally was to be discovered? A tall shadow appeared on the stone floor in front of her, but she could not see the dwarf for the massive block of granite. She waited, desperately trying not to make any sound, as the shadow slowly moved closer. Then a broad figure walked right by her and stopped only a few arm’s lengths away. The pale light of the moon fell upon the male, and it made the rich fur on his cloak shimmer. It reminded her of a tale she once heard; about a rare fox who changes color—from almost black to white—when the first snow falls. From behind, the cloak in front of her looked vaguely familiar. In the darkness, all things appear to be grey, but Vega instinctively knew she had seen that cloak before. Admired it, even. The man searched his pockets and pulled out a long, thin item. A small flash of light tore the darkness apart, and when he turned his face to shield his pipe from the wind as he lit it, Vega stared—horrified—at the dwarf’s regal profile. The tobacco glowed as he inhaled loudly, and then a thin cloud of white smoke seeped from his nostrils. The dark, pleased hum that followed made something stir in her lower body, and Vega let out an involuntary gasp. The king instantly turned his head towards the dark corner, and her heart almost stopped. With a hand over her mouth, she held her breath.

“Who’s there? Step out of the shadow!” the king demanded, his voice raised, but not to its full capacity.

Vega took a deep breath and forced her feet to obey. When she stepped out from her hiding place, the moon appeared to be brighter, and she gracefully curtsied as the ruler of Erebor’s piercing stare met hers. The look on his face shifted from annoyance to surprise.

“Good evening, My King.”

“My Lady, I did not expect to meet anyone here. What in Mahal’s name brings you to this dark place?”

Vega hid her book behind her back. “I’m simply looking at the view.” She tried to control the tremble in her voice, but the rush of adrenaline made it impossible.

“The view?” The king looked over the edge of the rampart. He could see lights from the city of Dale, but other than that, the night offered nothing spectacular.

“Surely you must struggle to see anything interesting at all.”

Vega gazed up with a broad smile. “Not that view. This!” She pointed above their heads, where countless stars silently stared back at them.

Silence fell heavily between them. Thorin smoked his pipe while searching his memory for constellations he learned long ago, when he was a much younger dwarf. He could only remember a few of them. Back then, Frerin was much more interested in these stars and always waited patiently for his older brother to locate Durin’s Crown. Thorin’s heart ached at the memory. His brother’s death had removed the joy from so many activities, stargazing was only one of them.

He glanced at the lady standing beside him, her chin lifted and her eyes fixed on the sky. She seemed lost in her thoughts, and the smile still lingered on her lips. Her dark hair was braided in a beautiful pattern—the style popular among the women from the Blue Mountains—and then he spotted a bead with her family's name. He smiled. When he first saw her, he was unsure who she was, but as he looked closer, he could clearly see the resemblance. She was truly her father’s daughter, but beautiful and with a disarming smile.

”Is Lord Vimar aware of your late visit to the rampart?” He could hear her surprised gulp, and she quickly turned her focus on him instead. She had not realized he recognized her, and Thorin met her startled gaze with a calm smile. ”Do not worry, My Lady, your secret is safe with me.”

”Thank you, My King.” She smiled back, a sweet and slightly mischievous smile. ”No, my father would probably lock the door to my chamber if he ever found out what I was doing during the nights.”

”Nights? Are you telling me that I could have had the pleasure of meeting you here on other nights previous to this one?”

Vega wanted to smack herself. Why did her mouth speak too much as soon as the king rested his captivating azure gaze on her?

”I…” she did not know how to continue. How could she explain the thrill and the longing to do something forbidden? What it felt like to slip out in the cover of darkness and just be alone with her dreams and imagination. ”I’m afraid that is the truth,” she then admitted.

”Did you bring a book to read in the dark as well? Your eyes must be much better than mine.” The king sounded almost amused when he spotted the leather-bound piece in her hand, and Vega instantly pressed it against her chest.

”It contains only a few hasty notes I made for myself to read, together with drawings of constellations I have seen. It is nothing of importance.” Vega tried to gain control of her own words; she always spoke too much when she was nervous.

”Would you allow me to see it? I am certain your handwriting is neat and a pleasure to read.”

Her heart hammered again, just as it did when she was hiding, but this time it was not from fear. Was the King of the Longbeards really interested in the stars, or was he only being polite? She searched his face for the truth but found only honesty in his eyes. For a short while, she allowed herself to admire his prominent nose and full beard before she remembered she had no right to gaze upon her king like that.

”My King,” she hesitated, but was tempted to share her findings, if only to make him stay a little longer. Never before had she spoken to someone with such powerful charisma, and he made her very curious. ”It is nothing like the maps in the Royal Library of Erebor,” she then heard herself say. ”But I will be honored to show it to you.” Her hands trembled slightly as she opened the book, but when she tried to offer it to him, he took a step closer.

”Please, My Lady, explain it to me.”

Vega had to take a few deep breaths before she mustered enough calmness to explain her notes. When she spoke, the king listened intently, but every time he pointed at one of her drawings of Durin’s Crown, she couldn’t stop herself from staring at the heavy rings adorning his thick fingers. He had the hands of a warrior—large and calloused—but something in the way he let his fingertips glide over her stained papers told her those hands could do more than just harm.

The notes were indeed created for her eyes only, but after the initial insecurity, Vega found herself growing bolder in the king’s presence. As he leaned a little closer to her, no doubt to see better, a faint hint of pine and leather caught her senses, and it made her head spin, just like the strong tobacco she once was persuaded to try. She promised herself after that single time, to never smoke anything equally strong again. But she wouldn’t mind feeling this type of warm dizziness again. Then Vega shook her head to clear her mind. Who knew the alluring scent of the mightiest of all dwarves alive could evoke such delusional ideas.

”Considering all constellations, which one do you find most mesmerizing?” His question came unexpectedly, spoken in a much lower voice than before. It felt very personal, and Vega shivered. She knew what he probably was expecting from her, but eventually, she decided to answer honestly.

”Of all the constellations and the tales told, I must say I have two favorites, next to Durin’s Crown, of course.” She smiled warmly when a thick black eyebrow rose in surprise. ”The first one is The Hammer.” Vega pointed to the east, where nine stars proudly formed a large hammer.

Thorin nodded, remembering the constellation from Frerin’s rare attempts to actually teach him something useful. He was not sure about the tale; Frerin sometimes changed the story, only so he later could claim that Thorin remembered it wrong.

”And the second?” he asked, gently holding the unusual emerald gaze of the lady beside him. Thorin found her truly fascinating, and the way her voice enchanted him, as she spoke passionately about the stars, made him wish she was a member of his council instead of her elderly father. The endless discussions would be much more bearable if she was.

”The second one cannot be seen now. You will have to wait until spring before you can spot Raven’s Nest in the east.”

”Is it easy to find?”

”If you know what to look for, I supposeit’s easy. It’s one of the smallest constellations I know of, but I love the tale.”

Thorin smiled. He wanted to question her about the tale, just so she would keep talking, but he realized he could not ask her to stay on the rampart all night. The icy wind was growing in strength and the hour was late. He had gone to the rampart for the possibility of clearing his mind after a long evening session with the council. Instead, he had stumbled right onto Lord Vimar’s daughter’s secret stargazing spot. He had completely forgotten his manners and did not introduce himself properly. And what was even worse—he had no name on the lady in question.

”My Lady, even if your father sometimes speaks of his family, I do not think I have ever heard your name. May I ask for it?” His words were soft, and less formal than their initial conversation.

Vega stared at the king. Had he just showed interest in knowing her name? She could not understand why, but she had no intention of denying her king. The unexpected warmth in his eyes made her weak. His raven hair rested against the fur of his cloak but as he turned his head, the wind caught strands of it and blew life into the dark locks. She briefly wondered if his hair was as soft as it looked.

”Vega,” she almost whispered, her voice suddenly failing her as a result of her improper thought.

”Lady Vega, you have been most kind and shared your private notes. I thank you for that. But I’m afraid I need to ask you to return to the warmth of your chamber, before you get too cold.”

”Of course.” She averted her gaze, afraid he would see the disappointment in her eyes. The most exciting moment in a very long time would soon be over, and Vega pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. She could do nothing to stretch their chance meeting further.

”I bid you a good night then.” He gave her a short nod.

”Good night,” she echoed as she made a poor attempt to curtsy. Her knees wouldn’t cooperate. Thankfully, King Thorin didn’t seem to notice, or care. All he did was grace her with another warm smile.

”And Lady Vega, do not hide in the shadows next time. I might mistake you for an intruder.”

She mustered one last smile in return. Then she watched him disappear from her—no longer—secret spot on the rampart. His cloak's movement as he rounded the corner was the last thing she saw of him. Vega took a deep breath and the cold air in her lungs made her cough. The king was right; she really should get back home. As she climbed down the stairs and found her lantern at the same place as she left it, she couldn’t stop thinking of his last words to her. Next time. Would there really be a next time?

💙 If you like my writing, please consider spreading the love and reblogging.💙

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 @knittastically @jaskierthelover @quiall321 @medusas-hairband @fulltimecrazy @s0ftd3m0n @emrfangirl @glimmering-darling-dolly @lilith15000 @clumsy-wonderland @chaikittie @theawkwardbutterfly @legolaslovely

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

#thorin oakenshield #thorin #thorin fanfic #the hobbit #torin fic #thorin x oc #erebor #tolkien #fanfiction #richard armitage #stargazing #durin's crown #the hobbit fanfic #hobbit fic #a shooting star

151 notes · View notes

legolasbadass · 1 year

Text

Shelter From The Storm

Relationship: Thorin x reader

Summary: After leaving the Iron Hills and finding yourselves in the middle of a snow storm, you and Thorin find shelter in an inn and find more than one way of keeping warm until the storm passes.

Rating: E

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: This fic was written as part of the @officialtolkiensecretsanta 2022 for my dear @lathalea ❤️ (Ah! I fooled you, didn’t I?) I had the best time writing this for you and I’m so glad the secret is finally out because I almost blurted it out way too many times and I don’t think I could have kept silent any longer 🙈

I hope this fic will keep you warm on cold winter nights, but fair warning, you may need a bucket of ice (or snow) to cool down after this one 😈

Khuzdul translations:

Amrâlimê: My love

Bunnelê: My treasure of treasures

You let out a deep sigh of relief when you entered the inn and, at last, left the cold, snowy night behind you. Now, you love snow as much as anyone else—that is, when it has already fallen, and the sun shines bright in the sky, turning the land into a field of glittering diamonds, or better yet, when you can admire it from the safety of Erebor, preferably while sitting in front of a roaring fire, the loving arms of your husband wrapped around you. But to be trapped in the middle of a storm while travelling through the wilderness? Well, let’s just say that made you speak curses that would have made even Dwalin blush.

It all started this morning when you left the Iron Hills. A fortnight had passed since you left Erebor, and since then, you had attended more dreadful, pointless council meetings than you could count (most of which dealt with matters that could have been explained in letters, mind you) and an even greater number of feasts, which you found difficult to enjoy because the ale was so much better in Erebor, and your husband had a tendency to drink too much when he was with his cousin.

Your husband. You huffed in annoyance. It was all his fault! Thrice, Thorin delayed your return home, and when at last the negotiations between the two kingdoms came to a close this morning, a storm was brewing in the grey sky. And yet your husband—the stubborn fool!—was now intent on returning home and thus ordered your company to make haste despite how obviously unwise that decision was.

And now here you were, completely frozen after plowing through the stupid snow all day, snowflakes stuck to your disarrayed hair and numb cheeks. If it was not for the thick fur collar around your coat, you were sure you would have frozen to death on that road, and now you prayed to Mahal that the inn had enough rooms available for your small company, for there were so few inns between Erebor and the Iron Hills, and who knew if you would even make it to the next?

Thankfully, when the owner of the inn discovered the identity of his latest customer, he assured you that there was more than enough room for your company. Thank Mahal! As soon as everything was arranged, you rushed into your designated room as though your life depended on it—which it did, as far as you were concerned, you could barely feel your fingers! The innkeeper hastened to start a fire for you, and you could have sworn you could feel your muscles thawing as its warmth enveloped you, though some of your limbs had been so frozen that standing too close to the fire burned your skin.

You were shaking out the ice from your hair when Thorin stepped into your small room, making sure to lock the door behind him. He was still in his travel clothes, but his hood was off, revealing his reddened cheeks and unruly hair, and despite how annoyed you were with him for forcing you to accompany him on this trip and then forcing you to travel in these conditions, you couldn’t help but melt at the sight of him, and when his gaze met yours, it made you feel warmer than any fire ever could.

“Hopefully the storm does not last and by this time tomorrow we will be back in Erebor,” he said as he began to take off his cloak. You could only muster a hum in response. “Mahal, you look half-frozen to death.”

“That’s because I am half-frozen to death!” you groaned, despite knowing full well that he was not to blame for the unforgiving weather.

Thorin watched you in silence for a moment, then slowly made his way over to you and wrapped his strong arms around your still-shivering body. His warm breath caressed your skin before he pressed a tender kiss onto your cheek; you could feel the shards of ice trapped in his beard, and you shivered, both from the cold and the intoxicating tenderness of your husband’s touch.

“Amrâlimê,” he purred softly, pressing a few more kisses on your cheek and temple.

“Why must I even accompany you to these negotiations, Thorin?” you asked suddenly as you sunk deeper in his embrace, desperate for warmth.

He raised one hand to cradle your head, his fingers gently caressing your golden braids as he said, “Because I do not wish to be parted from you. And more importantly, I value your opinion.”

“I do not wish to be parted from you, either,” you replied, your eyes fluttering closed as Thorin slowly began to unplait your braids with his skilled fingers. “But we hardly spend any time together the fortnight we spent in the Iron Hills… And I would still feel all my limbs if I had remained in Erebor,” you added teasingly.

His chuckle reverberated through you, warming your heart, and as you looked up at him, you found him gazing at you tenderly, the flames in the hearth dancing in the depth of his irises.

“Well, I am certain we may find some way to warm you up,” he replied, the timbre of his voice sinking even lower.

“You mean sitting by the fire?” you replied innocently, even as your heart began to beat faster in anticipation of what you knew would follow.

“Aye,” Thorin replied as he leaned in closer, his forehead coming to rest against yours. “But are you not always saying that I am as hot as a forge?”

You could not help but giggle, and though you were still cold, you already felt better than you had in days. “You are!”

“Then perhaps … you should come closer to this forge to be properly warmed.”

“That is quite an interesting proposition,” you said as you wrapped your arms around his neck, “but I believe a demonstration is in order.”

Thorin smirked at you in a way that made your whole body yearn for him, and when he leaned in to kiss you once more, parting his lips to tease you with his tongue while his hands found their way to your back to pull you flush against him, you whimpered. A stab of desire shot through you when he pulled you onto his lap, his large hands coming to rest on the swell of your hips; the many layers of skirts you wore kept you from the contact you so desperately craved, but you did not need to feel Thorin against you to know just how much he longed for you in return. His groans against your lips and nearly bruising grasp on your hips told you all you needed to know about the insatiable hunger brewing inside him.

To your surprise, rather than hastening to disrobe you and pin you to the soft furs on the mattress to have his way with you, Thorin urged you to stand up. Your skirts were already terribly wrinkled, but there was nothing you could do about it; you stood, eagerly awaiting his next move, trapped between the flickering fire and Thorin’s broad frame as he watched you with hungry but tender eyes.

You remembered how nervous you had been the first time you had found yourself in this position, on your wedding night. You had been with a few men and women before Thorin, but still, you had felt so vulnerable under his piercing gaze, and not least because of all the rumours circulating about Thorin being a very intense lover. But now, you felt a thrill and eagerly submitted to his will.

“This wool dress is ideal to keep you warm,” Thorin mused as he raised a hand to caress the high collar of your travelling dress, “but I have something else in mind….”

You smirked, for you were sure you would approve of what he had in mind.

With agonizing slowness, Thorin spun you around and reached for the ties of your wool dress, leaving feather-light kisses on your neck. You relaxed under his careful touch and let your eyes flutter close. No words were spoken between you as your dress fell to the floor at your feet; only the crackling of the fire and your increasingly heavy breathing filled the room. Then, when Thorin snuck a hand under your skirts and trailed it along the length of your stockings to reach your bare thighs, you could not help but lean back against him, suddenly finding it very difficult to maintain your balance.

“You are trembling, amrâlimê—are you still cold?” Thorin asked, and you could almost hear the mischievous smirk you knew graced his face.

“Oh, very, very cold, My King,” you replied, using the title you knew enticed him so when spoken in a low, breathless voice.

He groaned and squeezed your thigh before removing his hand and letting your skirts fall back in place. Disappointment surged through you, but then you felt his hands fiddling with the ties to your skirt, and you shivered in anticipation. He struggled for a moment, perhaps due to the lingering numbness in his fingers, but he refused any help you offered him, so you were forced to stand there, desire simmering under your skin.

When at last, all your layers of skirts lay in a puddle at your feet, Thorin instructed you to face him once more. In his eyes, you saw all your desire and love reflected, and you exchanged a soft smile as he closed the space between you, then reached for the ties of your corset. You sucked in a breath as the tips of his ringed fingers brushed against your bosom through the thin fabric of your chemise. Thorin halted for a moment, his eyes fixed on your heaving cleavage, painted golden in the low light of the fire, then began to unlace your corset, passing the ties through each eyelet until the corset released its hold on your bosom and hung loosely about you. Without losing a second, Thorin pushed the garment off your shoulders and dragged your chemise along with it, leaving you in nothing but your stockings. You expected him to hasten to take them off, but he did no such thing.

Reading the confusion on your now flushed face, Thorin said, “I want you to keep your stockings. After all, we would not want you to get cold.”

You shivered, somehow finding the suggestion scandalously alluring, and then before you knew it, Thorin stroked one of your beaded nipples, and you whimpered. That simple, teasing touch was enough to drive you wild with need, and Thorin knew it—oh, how he knew. But you also knew that you had just as much power over him; you had not touched him at all, and yet his eyes were dark with lust, his sensual lips half-open, as though begging you to taste them, and when you stole a glance lower, you noticed the significant bulge in his leather trousers. You licked your lips.

That was all it took. In an instant, Thorin’s lips crashed against yours, devouring your mouth as though he had not tasted your sweetness in months. Your tongues tangled, getting lost in this dance you both knew by heart, tightening the knots of desire deep in your belly. His cheeks were warm now, but his beard was slightly damp from the ice that had melted, and you welcomed the coolness of it. One of his hands got lost in your now loose hair while the other continued to lovingly caress your curves, his rings cold against your now burning skin. A muffled mewl of surprise escaped you when he squeezed your buttocks and pulled you flush against him, his belt and leather clothes rough against your belly.

“Not fair,” you managed to wine between two fervent kisses. “You are still fully dressed.”

Thorin pulled away just enough to meet your gaze and raised one eyebrow. “Then by all means….”

You smirked. It was your turn now to tease, er, warm him. With nimble fingers, you pushed his fur-lined coat off his shoulder, then reached for his belt. Thorin’s eyes grew heavy under your ministrations, and when you unlaced his tunic just enough to plunge your hand into the loose neckline and graze his skin, he groaned into your ear. Heat pooled between your thighs at the intoxicating sound, and you pressed your thighs together, desperate to release the growing tension in your core. Thorin helped you by pulling his tunic and undershirt over his head, revealing his broad, sculpted chest to your admiring gaze, but left you to take care of his boots and trousers. His boots you tossed away impatiently, almost carelessly; his trousers, on the other hand, you took your time to remove, letting your fingers caress the trail of dark hairs just above the hem before grazing his bulge with the tip of your fingers. He groaned again, and fuelled by your own arousal, you caved in and pushed his trousers down his legs, allowing his impressive hardness to spring free.

The next thing you knew, Thorin was pinning you into the fur-covered bed with all his glorious weight, his manhood rubbing against that secret place between your legs, leaving you breathless, and Thorin moaned when he felt just how aroused you were.

“I do believe you are warming up, dearest,” he said playfully as he raised himself on his elbows to admire your body. “Mahal, you are so beautiful, bunnelê.”

You sighed upon hearing the endearment he knew you loved, but your expressions of pleasure grew louder and more breathless as he explored your curves anew, caressing you in all the right places. All the while, you splayed your hands on his sculpted chest, following the lines of his raven tattoo and tangling your fingers in the curls covering his pectorals. Then you sank your hands into his dark mane, cradling the back of his head to bring him closer to you as he bent down to suck on your nipples, drawing a breathless cry from you. Instinctively, you spread your legs apart, offering him access to that secret place between your thighs that desperately needed to be filled by him, and after caressing your folds and sensitive pearl until you thought you would burst, he entered you. Impossible warmth spread through your limbs as he stretched you, and the tenderness in his deep blue eyes was like a warm blanket around your heart on this cold winter day.

The whole world faded away, and the endless day of walking in the storm seemed to belong to another lifetime as you became one with your husband. Your One. His calloused hands caressed your thighs, then grasped your ankles to wrap you around him, bringing you even close to him, and even through the thick wool of your stockings, you could feel the warmth of his flexing muscles. Together, you abandoned yourself to this familiar passionate dance, moving perfectly in sync, the flames in the hearth the only witnesses to your love. It did not take long for both of you to reach your peaks of pleasure, and when that wave washed over you, licking you from the inside out, you cried out, uncaring that the other guests in the inn could surely hear your passionate laments. Your whole body burned with pleasure, and when Thorin spilled himself inside you, groaning in your ears and cradling you close, you thought that you actually looked forward to the day you would find yourself once more in need of such treatment after a wintry storm.

Eons later, you lay on the soft furs, your limbs entangled as you shared a languid, open-mouthed kiss. The fire burned more gently now, and except for a few flickering shadows on the stone wall, darkness submerged the room, but you could still see the soft, content smile on Thorin’s face, and your heart was warmed by the sight. As though he could feel your gaze on him, Thorin leaned in and buried his face in the crook of your neck, causing you to giggle.

“Perhaps it would not be so terrible after all it the storm kept us locked up in here for a few days more,” Thorin said, his voice muffled as he pressed myriad kisses into your neck. You smiled and pulled him even closer to you. No, that would not be terrible at all.

Tag list: @lathalea @linasofia @mcchiberry @fizzyxcustard @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @i-did-not-mean-to @xxbyimm @middleearthpixie @myselfandfantasy @notlostgnome @laurfilijames @enchantzz @swoopswishsward @quiall321 @dianakc

Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from my taglist!

#the hobbit #thorin fanfic #thorin x reader #thorin x you #thorin x oc #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin oakenshield x you #thorin oakenshield x oc #tolkien secret santa #tss 2022

326 notes · View notes

lathalea · 1 year

Note

For the Sweet Bingo, hopefully no one else has thought to ask for kissing on a ferris wheel and Thorin. I think it could be interesting if Yrsa somehow made an appearance. I do love her! Ultimately, it is your playground. Hopefully the muses are kind. Happy writing!

Hello hello @sweetestgbye! Guess what, it's finally happened, here is your request for the Sweet and Spicy Bingo by @fellowshipofthefics-- sorry it took so long and enjoy! :)

Relationships: Thorin x Yrsa (from Blame it on Cider)

Rating: G

Warnings: none

Author's notes: A modern take on Thorin and Yrsa's relationship. Since @sweetestgbye gave me a free hand with picking a Sweet and Spicy Bingo prompt, I chose "soulmates".

✨Soulmates✨

“Are you crazy, Thorin? I’m not getting up there!” Yrsa huffed and stomped her foot. And stomping her feet while wearing those new ruby-red high heels was a very difficult thing to do. But she was on a date with the hottest guy at the uni, a.k.a. Thorin Thrainsson, a.k.a. her boyfriend, and she just had to look her best. Especially since today he wore his hair (his amazing hair!) loose and he smiled at her with that soft little smile of his that softened his features, and looked at her with his dreamy blue eyes… making her knees unusually weak. But she was sure the cider they had just been drinking was at least partially to blame. She took another sip and stole a glance at the huge Ferris wheel, the newest–and biggest–attraction of the local amusement park. No, she was most certainly not getting up into that monstrosity, even though everyone in her home town kept on talking about how great it was. For a whole week Yrsa tried to ignore all the Instagram pictures or TikToks everyone kept on posting: “Look, this is me on the Ferris wheel!” “This is me and my bae kissing on the Ferris wheel!” “My doggo takes a ride with me on the Ferris wheel!” “Cute baby’s first time on the Ferris wheel!” “Mikey gets sick again on the Ferris wheel!”

Somehow, Yrsa did not think it was great at all.

“I got us tickets for the midnight ride, see?” Thorin took out four green tokens from the pocket of his leather jacket and purred seductively. “We’ll have the whole pod only for us. It's a full moon tonight, just think how romantic it will be: you, me, the moonlight in your fiery hair…”

“Thorin Thrainsson, I know exactly what you’re doing and sweet-talking me won’t work!” Yrsa poked her finger into his chest (very hard chest, she might add, and a very enjoyable one too, especially when not covered with that black rock band t-shirt he was currently wearing. She was referring, of course, to how well-defined his muscles were. She needed to see his bare chest often. For science. She needed to pass her anatomy exams somehow, right?), “I refuse to become one of the slaves of the consumerist society and go on this ride to hell! Besides, we can do so many other things, like go for a walk in the park…”

“At midnight? I thought you didn’t like that cemetery nearby,” Thorin furrowed his brow.

“Well… true, but still… We have options! Lots and lots of them! And all of them are on the ground!”

“Yrsa,” Thorin murmured, his half-lidded eyes cast a smouldering glance at her. “I know you’re not a fan of heights, but I’ll be with you all the time, holding your hand, just like I do now. You will be fine. I promise.”

Yrsa looked at their joined hands and then back at Thorin’s face. Very handsome face. And that wavy hair of his, dark as the night around them. And the way his lips moved… and she knew what these lips were capable of doing when they were alone. And they would be very much alone during the ride on the Ferris wheel. She swallowed.

No, Yrsa had to stand her ground.

“I won’t be fine! Can you imagine me hanging in the air, 300 feet above ground? It’s not natural!” She waved her hand emphatically, her ruby-red nail polish sparkling in the lamplight.

“I thought that this could be something special,” his rumbly voice reached her ears despite the hustle and bustle of the amusement park around them. “It’s our first anniversary, after all…”

“Oh. Is it? Yes, you’re right! How could I forget? it’s August, and our first kiss was at that wedding… You were so unbelievably grumpy, remember?” She chuckled.

“Only because you kept on brushing me off all day long!” Thorin grunted.

“I was just after a messy breakup,” Yrsa sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m still ashamed of how much I’ve drunk that night. But I’m glad you hadn’t given up on me then.”

“It’s not often I wake up next to a gorgeous woman who insists I’m her soulmate and then falls back to sleep, drooling on my chest…” “Hey!” Yrsa protested.

“... in a very cute and feminine way, of course,” Thorin grinned.

“Nice save!”

“Thank you,” Thorin made a mock bow, making Yrsa giggled and took another sip of cider from her paper cup.

“One year already, huh?” She hummed. “Our anniversary. I’m sorry, I feel so stupid, I should have remembered…”

“You remember all the Latin names of the bones in the human body and I remember the important dates and appointments. That’s how we roll, right?” Thorin pulled her close so that she was facing him now.

“Right,” she pecked him on his bearded cheek. It smelled like cider, strawberry ice-cream, and that sandalwood fragrance she had given him for Christmas. “Has anyone told you you’re the sexiest mechanical engineering student I’ve ever met?”

“Not often enough,” he rumbled, his lips drifting towards hers, but Yrsa tilted her head back.

“Am I not getting my one year anniversary kiss?” Thorin frowned.

“It depends,” Yrsa wrinkled her nose.

“On?”

“On whether we are going on that contraption from hell,” she pointed at the said contraption moving in a steady, circular, and slightly sickening motion above them.

“Yes, we are,” Thorin said with conviction.

“No, we aren’t,” Yrsa said with conviction.

“So… are you withholding kisses from me? It’s blackmail!”

“It’s called a self-preservation instinct!”

“Yrsa. The Ferris wheel is safe. I swear. It’s brand new, it passed all the tests—I was helping with the fatigue tests, remember? You will be alright!” Thorin squeezed her hand.

“I won’t!” Yrsa shook her head.

“Look at that kid, he just got off the Ferris wheel and he’s beaming!” “It’s Mikey Dorisson, he’s going to puke.”

“No, he’s not, he’s… oh. Well.”

“I told you.”

“But his sister looks happy!”

“Because she’s just uploaded another TikTok vid of him puking,” Yrsa scowled.

“Well, you won’t puke!”

“Because I’m not going!” “Even if I ask you to close your eyes so that I can give you one kiss for every minute we’re up there?” Thorin purred, pecking the tip of her nose. “Hmmm… how about one kiss every ten seconds?” Yrsa batted her eyelashes innocently. “That can be…” Thorin started.

“What’s up, bro? Hiya, Yrsa!” A dark-haired teenager in a worn, navy blue baseball cap waved at them.

“Frerin! What are you doing here?” Thorin growled.

“I came to see how you were doing! Yrsa, have you said ‘yes’?” Frerin gesticulated excitedly.

“He meant the Ferris wheel,” Thorin interjected, but Yrsa clearly saw the deadly stare he directed at his younger brother.

“I don’t— Ouch!” Frerin made a jump. “Ah, yeah. Right. Sure. I meant the Ferris wheel. So, are you going?”

“I’m not sure. I haven’t prepared my last will yet,” Yrsa whispered conspiratorially, making him laugh.

“I wouldn’t go if I were you,” Frerin replied with a glint in his eye. “Can you imagine spending so much time alone with my big bro? He’ll probably start telling you everything about the centrifugal force and all that other boring stuff! And what if you catch a cold? It’s very windy up there, you know. Oh, and…”

“Shut up, Frerin,” Thorin groaned, clenching his fists.

“Actually, Thorin was about to bribe me with some cotton candy…” Yrsa stated.

“Were I now?” Thorin’s eyebrow travelled up his forehead. Slowly.

“Yes, you were, “ Yrsa exclaimed enthusiastically. “Cotton candy and that big white teddy bear from the Mirkwood Shooting Gallery.”

“You know how I hate that stuck-up guy who runs the place,” Thorin sighed with a frown.

“But the teddy bear is sooo cute!” She batted her eyelashes again. It always worked. “Please?”

“Well…” Thorin hummed, but Yrsa knew him well enough to know she had already won.

“And you better keep on hugging me all the time we’re up there,” she wrapped her arms around his upper arm and pecked his cheek. “Deal?”

“Deal!” Thorin pulled her into his arms and kissed her right on her lips, most probably ruining her ruby-red lipstick, but at that very moment she did not really care. She could never say no to his kisses. So she reciprocated.

“Guys! You’re disgusting!” Frerin groaned theatrically. “I’m going to get some ice-cream. Who wants some?”

Sadly, no one replied to him. Thorin and Yrsa were too busy.

***

“I’m going to name him ‘Beorn’.” Yrsa hugged her giant teddy bear as she settled herself in her Ferris wheel seat.

“Like that guy who rented us his vacation cabin?” Thorin wondered.

“Yeah!”

“I don’t see the resemblance.” “Well, Beorn here is… fluffy. Just like that guy. He reminded me of a big teddy bear.” She chuckled and sat the bear on the seat opposite her.

“Beorn? A big teddy bear? Didn’t you mean a big, rabid bear?” Thorin put his arm around her shoulder.

“No, that’s you,” Yrsa grinned, but then the Ferris wheel started moving, making her pale. “I’m going to need that hug and kiss now.”

Thorin, of course, complied.

“Yrsa…” Thorin whispered as their lips parted. “You can open your eyes now. We are on top now and the view is…”

“No.”

“Not even a tiny bit?” He murmured into her ear and moved away before she could protest.

“Nuh-uh,” she shook her head, her eyes still closed.

“Not even if I tell you that I have a little something for you? For our anniversary?” Yrsa decided that Thorin using his deep, purring voice had to be classified as a crime. She couldn’t say no, could she? She opened one eye. Just a little bit. Just to see why Thorin had stopped embracing her.

What she saw made Yrsa open her other eye and gasp. Thorin was kneeling on one knee in front of her and held something in his hands.

“Yrsa… I have to tell you something. You knew it from the moment we first met, but it took me a whole six months to realize that you were my… soulmate.”

“T-Thorin?” Her voice trembled. Somehow, Yrsa forgot that she was sitting in a small pod 300 feet above ground in darkness, sailing through the air with the moon hanging above them. “What are you saying?”

“I’m trying to say that you are the one I want to spend my whole life with.” Thorin opened the little box he held in his hand. Against the bottle green velvet, something glittered like the stars above them. “Will you marry me, Yrsa?”

Before she drowned in the low, velvety rumble of his voice, in the deep blue sea of his gaze, Yrsa managed to whisper, “Yes.”

At that very moment, she was not afraid of heights at all.

💙💙💙 Read it? Like it? Spread the love and reblog it! 💙💙💙

📜 Searching for more stories to read? Check out my masterlist!📜

Taglist: @fizzyxcustard @shrimpsthings @dark-angel-is-back @sherala007 @jotink78 @rachel1959 @linasofia @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @legolasbadass @yourqueenunderthemountain @guardianofrivendell @elrawienthewhite @xmly-xo @mrsdurin @nelleedraws @beenovel @vee-vee-writes @mcchiberry @dumbassunderthemountain @errruvande @laurfilijames @emrfangirl @s0ftd3m0n @lilith15000 @kami-chan1512 @ragsweas @enchantzz @aduialel @myselfandfantasy @thewhiteladyofrohan @middleearthpixie @i-did-not-mean-to @blairsanne @fckmini @clumsy-wonderland @wormsmith @mailinsblogofstuff @medusas-hairband @xxbyimm @knittastically @saucyminxbrainspill @quiall321 @frosticenow @i-am-the-raven-queen @ruthoakenshield @asgardianhobbit98 @thespiritoflife @justfollowtheroad @saltwater-in-the-afternoon

If you'd like to be tagged in my fics (or removed from the list), please let me know!

#thorin oakenshield #fanfic #fotfics #sweet and spicy bingo #thorin x yrsa #blame it on cider #thorin x oc #thorin #thorin fanfic #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction

74 notes · View notes

thesheelfsworld · 2 years

Text

Trust me or f*ck off

Warning: mild swearing

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x reader; Thorin's Company x reader

Summary: Being an outsider, it was expected that the dwarves were doubtful of you, but they should at least let you do your job!

Author's Note: As always, English is not my first language, so please be nice and enjoy!✨

Here are part 2, part 3.

I was starting to lose my patience.

I was offered this job because I am a seasoned warrior. Gandalf knew it, I knew it. Hell, half of Middle Earth knew it, but Thorin Oakenshield apparently did not. And he also didn’t seem interested in finding out.

He had been doubtful of me since the beginning, which I thought was okay because I was a stranger and why should he trust me? He has lost more than enough and he felt I was jeopardizing his quest. I knew and understood all of it, I did! But he was barmy if he thought I would just sit there and be thrown inside a circle of dwarfs with Bilbo every time trouble ensued.

I had been hired to protect Bilbo, so being next to him was natural and necessary to fulfil my duty, but seriously, if I get pushed around one more time while I’m trying to kill some orcs I am going to fucking lose it!

We were intercepted by a relatively small group of orc scouts, everyone fighting off those foul beasts. I had been guarding Bilbo when a warg attacked us from the front, but it was not my first time facing such an enemy. My movements were sure and deadly as I fought back. The situation was under control, the warg was already severely injured and starting to lose assertiveness due to blood loss, only one final blow to end the fight, but before I could do so, blasted Thorin Oakenshield pushes me off with his big ass audacity and kills it! The fuck was his problem!

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?” you screamed as you pushed yourself off the ground, Bilbo offering you a hand which you promptly refused, too pissed off to accept any kind of help.

“What am I doing? Keeping this company safe is what I am doing,” he scoffed as if it was the dumbest thing I could have ever asked him.

Oh, fuck no. Anger radiating off of me, I came face to face with that short little king.

“I did not need you barging in. I had it under control. I am not a damsel in distress, I am a warrior like any of you, or even more so because I have actually been fighting for a living for most of my life,” I gritted, lips tight with refrained anger and embarrassment by being treated like this.

Thorin held my gaze, he was not going to cower from my glare, but I already knew that and I was willing to take this pissing contest as far as he wanted to take it because I was done.

“You do not talk to me like that and you most certainly do not tell me what I can and cannot do. I am your King! I will do as I see fit,” and as soon as he said that, he turned on his heel and left me with the words in my mouth. I moved to go after him, give him a piece of my mind when someone grabs onto me.

“Lass, that’s enough. Yer only going to make it worse,” Bofur stood there, with my arm in his hand and a sorry look on his face.

I looked around the company, they had all seen our little stand-off, and could not help feeling even more embarrassed, and in turn, angrier.

“I am not the one in the wrong! I have been pushed aside, manhandled, literally kicked out of the way, and belittled throughout this entire journey. I am a warrior, a great one at that! but you refuse to see anything past my gender. You think I am weak and in need of someone to protect me, like a damn child. I am no respected member of this company. He has shown me that is what he thinks of me and you have all stood with him on it. I’m done.” The finality of the sentence made the comments of calming down to a prompt stop. “And he is not my king.” With that, you turned around and left in the opposite direction where Thorin had stormed off.

Thorin had been standing not too far from the group when you had your little outburst.

In all honesty, he was not sure how everything went downhill so fast. One moment, he was fighting off orcs when he saw the warg approach you. He could not immediately go to you because he had his own fight and he and Dwalin were having each other’s backs. However, he still kept an eye on you. He saw how well you were handling the situation, and truthfully, you did not need his help, but logic and rational thinking were not always Thorin’s best qualities. He was anxious (and maybe even worried, if he was being honest), and as soon as he was done with his own fight, he went to you. To help you, that is.

Only, apparently, you did not want his help? How was killing something that was attacking you a bad thing? And then you started yelling at him, and why were you even angry? Thorin had half a mind to walk off that fight before something else was said and he got furious, which for him, was not all that hard; and he got the last word, so that was a win. He was proud of his decision.

But hearing how they-he had made you feel …. That was not what he thought of you. Your quick thinking and knowledge of the lands they travelled through saved them many times and the dwarves truly valued your input. But fair is fair, and Thorin knew that you were right.

None of them had let you fight if they could help it. And that might have been a bit his fault. He had been talking to Dwalin and Balin about the group’s safety, especially Bilbo’s and he might have, very casually, said something along the lines of protecting you inside the circle of dwarfs because … well, he did not want anyone getting hurt. Simple as that. Dwalin heard that as orders and then everyone took it in stride, they thought it was only natural to take care of the only woman in the group as well. Didn’t really put much thought into it. But they had made a mistake.

After you left, Thorin rejoined the company. Not one of them said anything, guilt making its way up their chests and settling there. Until Bilbo spoke:

“She is right, you do realize? And I am not blaming you, I also drag her with me into the circle when danger finds us, despite having seen her kill more orcs than I can count and barely break a sweat,” his voice a bit saddened.

Thorin knew he had to take responsibility for this. Even if he had not said anything, and they still took care of her, he should have said something.

She was employed for this quest because she had more experience in fighting than many of them, she knew the lands because she had travelled most of Middle Earth several times, she was a ranger. She knew what she was doing. He realized that now. He had to make it right.

---------------------

Part 2

Feel free to give me some feedback in the comments!

#thorin oakenshield #the hobbit #tolkien #dwarf #thorin's company #thorin fanfic #middle earth #lotr #jrr tolkien #hobbit #the hobbit trilogy #bilbo baggins #thorin x reader #thorin x oc #botfa

230 notes · View notes

thorinsspringforge · 2 days

Text

Thorin’s Spring Forge 2024: Grand Finale!

The reveals are just around the corner! Our AO3 collection goes live in 9 hours - at 11:00 am EDT / 17:00 CET.

Watch this space for more info soon! 🤩

#tsf24 #tolkien event #thorin Oakenshield #tolkien fandom #thorin fanart #thorin fanfic #the hobbit

31 notes · View notes

gloomwitchwrites · 4 months

Text

Misunderstanding

Thorin Oakenshield x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: explicit sexual content, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal fingering, possessive / jealous Thorin, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie, established relationship, table sex

Word Count: 1.5k

A misunderstanding gives Thorin cause to remind you that you're his.

A/N: For @protosslady

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist

“My queen, how should we allocate these funds?”

You glance at the parchment and frown. With Erebor reclaimed, reconstruction has begun, but with it comes all sorts of complications and roadblocks. Most of Erebor needs serious repair and attention. The majority of the remaining population lives outside, something that Thorin is increasingly growing upset about. He wants his people back home, and that is admirable, but with Smaug previously making a home here, the structural integrity of some portions of Erebor are in question.

Sighing, you consider all the options before answering. “Let us focus on residential areas for these. When those spaces are suitable for habitation, we can begin moving people out of tents and into homes. That is priority.”

“Of course, my queen.” The aging dwarven men around you bow deeply, many of their long, gray beards brushing the ground.

As they straighten, the door to your private study bursts open. Thorin stands in the doorway. There is a fire in his gaze and his chest heaves as if he’s just run a mile. It’s startling. He’s upset, but you’re not sure why.

Everyone around you turns and bows toward their king.

Thorin’s gaze passes over each of them before landing on you. He strides into the room, purpose in every step.

“Leave us,” he commands, his voice ringing loud and clear in the room.

They all bow a second time before quickly collecting their things and making a swift exit. Thorin approaches, and you move toward him, reaching out once the last of them have closed the door behind them.

“Thorin—”

Your husband reaches for you, pulls you in by the waist until you’re pressed up against him. His hand is on the back of your neck, the small hairs catch in his fingers as Thorin slowly arches your throat.

The look of hunger in his eyes is different. He wants you—needs you, but there is something else swirling there, lingering in his heart, making you question this sudden intensity.

“I need to kiss you,” he says, and it’s almost a groan.

“My lips are right here,” you reply with a soft giggle. “You may always kiss me whenever you wish.”

Thorin shakes his head slowly. “I’m not talking about your mouth.” Thorin leans in, his lips almost brushing yours, but his free hand grabs at your upper thigh, indicating where Thorin is wanting to put this mouth.

“Oh,” is all you say in surprise.

The hand around your neck slides away, and then Thorin is gripping your hips, moving to the undersides of your thighs to lift you off the stone floor. You wrap your arms around his neck, and Thorin deposits you on a nearby table.

While he is careful with you, there is an underlying harshness you notice in his gaze. That fire from earlier is still there. It’s like Thorin needs to punish you, or consume you, make you bend to him until you’re nothing but a perfect, pliant thing under his hands. The idea of it warms you between your legs. Your thighs rub together and there is no hiding how slick you are.

Thorin pushes your legs apart and steps between them. He starts at your knees, then your thighs, hips, and up the sides of your body until his hands grip the front of your dress.

“I’m feeling impatient,” he says, before putting all his strength behind his next movement.

With two quick jerks, Thorin rips the front of your bodice open, tearing the dress cleanly in two. Before you can even utter a verbal protest, Thorin’s lips are pressing against yours in a demanding, hungry kiss.

“I’ll buy you more,” he murmurs before his hands return to your body, this time caressing bare thigh. His touch is a forge fire, and you burn, surrendering to him as you begin to fall back against the table, legs widening as he settles between them.

You moan as Thorin kisses his way up your leg and to the inside of your thigh. Every brush of his lips sends pulses of heat from his mouth to your pussy.

“Please,” you whimper as Thorin’s lips brush against the spot that’s aching for his touch. “Please.”

“Tell me,” he says, the pad of his thumb parting you. “Is this for me?”

“Yes,” you reply as you hear just how wet you are.

“Only me?”

“Yes,” you say again, voice nearly breaking as he strokes over you.

Thorin’s hands grip your hips and tug you closer to the edge of the table. Then he pushes your legs wide open until the insides of your thighs feel stretched. He drags his fingertips through your wetness.

Your soft moan becomes a strangled gasp as he licks a wide stripe up your sex. Mewling with pleasure, you grab at him, one hand tugging on the neckline of his tunic, the other digging against the table.

“Delicious,” he groans. The tip of his tongue circles your clit, and without thinking, you pull hard on him, ripping some of the fabric.

His hand snatches your wrist. Thorin guides it down to the side of your thigh. Then, he grabs the other one. Does the same. With one hand, Thorin keeps your hands from straying. His grip is unyielding, and while you tug a bit, you meet firm resistance.

Thorin shakes his head. Then his head dips back between your legs, and you’re completely lost to him. Your eyelids flutter shut as he sucks your clit and traces around your entrance with a free finger. Then he presses in, and you groan loudly.

“Mine?”

“Yours.”

Thorin is inserting a second finger, pumping them in and out of you as his tongue laps at your clit. The coiling tension within your core twists tighter with every drag of his fingers and each swipe of his tongue.

Thorin curls his fingers and your back arches off the table. You feel his grin, and then he stays the course, working you at that perfect pace until you fall apart around him, crying out his name, the sound echoing around the room.

Thorin retreats but he does not back away. Instead, his mouth is on your bare skin, biting and sucking, leaving marks behind as he trails up your body. They are harsh, demanding, possessive marks of ownership. Rarely is Thorin ever like this, but he does not stop until he makes it to your mouth, sliding his tongue inside so that you can taste yourself.

This lingering moment is short. The second Thorin breaks the kiss, he undoes the front of his buckle, and the two of you are desperately pushing it away.

When Thorin slides in, you both moan loudly. You fall back against the table, clinging to his arms as he sets a pounding, steady pace that rocks the table. Each thrust makes the wood vibrate at the legs scrape across the stone floor. This a frenzied mating. A dire need. Whatever has possessed Thorin makes him hungry for you in a way you’ve rarely seen him.

His next thrust hits deep, and the friction is intense, pulling the coil tighter again until you’re keening, leaning up from the table as your body squeezes around him. That orgasm breaks him. His resolve snaps, and then you’re trapped beneath him, your fingernails digging into his skin as Thorin takes for himself.

He groans, leans forward, forehead resting against your own as he finishes. You feel it pooling within you, threatening to escape the moment he pulls away.

“I heard that you spent most of the day with a man,” murmurs Thorin, his nose lightly brushing against yours.

The middle of your brow scrunches in confusion. “I don’t understand. Why would that upset you?”

“It was reported to me that the relationship seemed…close.”

Frowning, you think back to the events of the day. You consider every place you visited and everyone you talked to. As you shuffle through all the possibilities, you pause on one, and then laugh so hard you snort.

“What?” he asks, drawing back slightly.

“Did the person reporting on me mention that man was my older brother?”

The tops of Thorin’s cheeks turn a bright red. “They—no. They failed to mention that.”

While part of you is annoyed that Thorin would immediately gravitate toward the worst, you also know that he’s under immense stress, the kind that might tear away and chip at his own confidence.

“Next time, when someone tells you something like that again, what are going to do?”

“Talk to you first,” he replies, his cheeks growing even redder.

“Although, I did like this.” You emphasize your meaning by rolling your hips, moving along his softening length. “Perhaps I should be a little friendly with an actual stranger. What will that get me?” you tease.

Thorin drags you off the table and into his arms. “That’ll get you bent over the nearest surface.”

“Is that a promise, my king?”

“Willing to test me?”

You grin, knowing that you certainly will.

taglist:

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

266 notes · View notes

freyasigtryggrsdottir · 1 year

Text

For the dreaming - Chapter one (Thorin x Reader)

Story: Five years after the battle of Five armies, everybody live their own life. Thorin is the king, but lost one of his arm and he has PTSD, Kili is still try to be with Tauriel and Fili walks on his own path.

The king sometimes hear a voice, and with time, this is the only thing, who helps him, to not give up.

One day, Thorin agrees to marry Clarissa (not the reader) in an arranged marriage, because he and the dwarves need a heir.

Every royal in Middle Earth goes to Erebor to festive, thats why, where Thranduil bring his daughter, the half elf half mermaid reader. Nobody knew about your existence, even Legolas too, because your mother were always nervous and tried to protect you. And thats where your journey begins.

Hearts will break.

But true love always find a way.

Taglist: @mrsdurin

Notes: English is not my native language, so sorry for the mistakes

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Slowly the winter came to the end, and spring begin to bloom. Middle-earth was in the fifth year after the Battle of the Five Armies. The residents slowly returned to their old lives, buildings were rebuild, some wounds healed, warm summers passed, but there were painful points that never heal. Thorin, King of the Dwarves, paid for the victory with his left arm, but Kili and Fili escaped unscathed. Everyone was happy, yet something oppressive settled on Erebor and its people. They were happy, they laughed, they cheered, they worked hard so that the once great kingdom would become the old one again, but something changed. Thorin was no longer himself, he experienced the absence of his arm as a loss, even though the kingdom flourished, he turned even more inward, which got to the point, where he did not liked to meet anyone, outside of his inner circle, in person. He did his royal duties, but soon dwarves started to gossip, that he is already weak and don’t have potency anymore, the servants often heard strange sounds from his suite, as if a lion was ravaging and roaring, moreover, he did not even manage to produce an heir, he simply could not find a woman who would take him or see in him that thing, that he was looking for into women, although he didn't really wanted to find his One yet, because he knew, that something was wrong with himself. Along with his arm, he lost faith, hope and love, sometimes he would have liked to overturn the huge table in the throne room, especially when that day played out again before his eyes. He often thought about what he could have done differently, at times he tried to reassure himself that Erebor finally belonged to the dwarves again and that Fili and Kili were alive. Kili was still courting to Tauriel, but what could he do ? They loved each other and it seemed like it was serious and the elf woman was slowly getting used to commuting between Mirkwood and Erebor. Unlike his younger brother, Fili often disappeared, even for weeks. At the beginning, he spoke before he went to away, but with time, he didn’t said a word, but he always returned, sometimes worn, in blood-soaked clothes, but he was never wounded. Each of them processed the darkness of war differently, Kili became more kind and Fili became more mysterious. In addition, Thorin has recently started hearing voices, at first he thought he was mad, but thanks to Gandalf's magic, it turned out that it was not an illness, but the voice of a real person. The king heard, a girl, whose words were sweet and whose words were tinkling, even if he did not hear clearly, only from a distance, and sometimes poorly. Thorin loved those moments, and in time, he realized how much he wanted to hear her more. He didn't know the girl, but something stirred in him. Sometimes he imagined what it might be like. Blond? Brown? Low? High? It didn't matter as long as he could hear her. In time, he found himself fleeing to her.

"I don't want to go" it was that sweet voice again, but now it was tormented and sad.

Thorin raised his head at the sad wake-up call. He grunted and got out of bed. Looking out the window, he could already see that it was dawning. He wondered what happened with his hope? Pain? Injured? Surely not. He shook his head.

"Then don't go" he whispered "Come to me"

Sometimes he answered to her, because he wanted to believe that the other could hear him, and that maybe one day, one fine day, they would meet.

He got up and put on his black tunic, pants and fur. His younger brother is visiting him today to discuss an important matter. Pressured by the people, he commissioned her to help him choose a wife, and now he found someone. He didn't felt he liked it, but he had duties as a king, and sometimes it meant painful decisions.

It was just him and Dain in the room. In front of them was a portrait of a smiling female dwarf with brown eyes, red hair and a red beard in a green dress.

"Then it's settled," the younger man happily slapped the table.

Thorin just sighed worriedly. He agreed to marry Dain's wife's sister. He also realized that he had to produce an heir, and for lack of a better one, he trusted his brother. Gandalf already expressed his opinion a few days ago that he didn't think it was a good idea and that he should wait, but Clarissa came from a good family, and maybe they will even love each other with time. Even the king knew in his heart that this was impossible, but he had to fake it. He thought he would be relieved by the decision, but it only weighed down an even bigger stone on his heart, and he thought of that voice again. He wondered where she is now?

After the meeting, Thorin stared sadly out of the window. The clouds were gathering. He had called Kili and Fili to him a few minutes ago, and he was waiting for them to announce the big news to them, before the whole Middle-earth was filled with the news that Thorin, Son of Thrain, King of Erebor, King of the Dwarves, was getting married. Try as he might, he couldn't picture himself at her wedding. Dain left to fetch the bride as fast as he could, and then the courtship period would officially begin, and with it, the reception of guests, who would stay until the end of the ceremony, and some even until the end of the week-long celebration. It seemed like too many tasks to organize and not enough time for that. His gaze drifted to the location of his missing arm. He still felt pain many times. If it hadn't been for that damned Azog, he wouldn't be living as a cripple now. With his good hand, he hit the table so hard that it split in two with a great crack, and an animalistic, angry growl broke out from his loungs. He was there again that day. Azog broke out from under the ice, but he still had time to jump away, and the next moment everything was covered in blood, and his left arm was lying on the ground. Thorin didn't felt the pain, only the adrenaline rushing through him. Then he saw Fili and Kili on the ground, and something inside him snapped, and from there, the image broke. The next thing he remembers was when Azog's severed head being carried away by the water, and Gandalf and Bilbo helping his nephews.

Two guards burst through the door, but Thorin waved them off, still panting and struggling with his pounding heart. He was used to these attacks, but because of this, he also became insecure about himself, because they could happen at any time.

"You called us" Fili appeared, followed by Kili.

"Yes…" Thorin sat back down "I'm getting married and you must be present"

In dwarven culture, marriage was a larger ceremony, where the heirs to the throne had to be by their ruler's side throughout, thus indicating their dedication and loyalty to the king and the new queen.

"But uncle" spoke up Kili "Isn't it early? Besides, Fili wanted to go find someone today," he grinned at his brother, who just shook his head.

"That can wait" sighed Fili sadly.

"Who do you need to find?" Thorin raised one eye in interest.

"Someone who saved my life and became a good friend of me" he answered more quietly as he looked at the floor.

"After the ceremony" Thorin growled.

When the king announced who the bride was, the boys were amazed, because they knew her by sight and hearing, and hated her. Clarissa was a fury, who was good for nothing and no one, and Dain's staff hated her because she fired the servants and talked to them like they were nobody. Kili looked knowingly at Fili, who just nodded. They will crucify her so that woman will run away on her own and never think of setting foot in Erebor again.

When you entered the gates of Mirkwood's palace, you were amazed. You didn't want to come here, but after the death of your mother, your father decided it was time for you to get to know the upper world and its people. Thranduil was acknowledged as his daughter, but this whole world was new to you. You were used to the water, the happy, endless swimmings, the many friendly aquatic animals, and the hiding lifestyle. You learned early, that the world on earth was too complicated and often aggressive, races killed each other for shiny treasures that were valued more than anything else. The mermaids, they had nothing and yet they had everything. Treasures from sunken ships were always thrown in one place, in a ditch, their homes were in caves, which were decorated with seaweeds and shells. Hierarchy existed here as well, but it was more similar to that of a wolf pack, where the leader, the most experienced, did everything he could to ensure that the team survived, the weaker and injured were helped, and the stronger were given more serious tasks. However, this closed community was often dangerous for outsiders. If a foreign species got close to them, with the exception of animals, they killed it, so that no one would know where they lived. Half-breeds were considered really special because mermaids didn't mix with others, in history, you were the third one they knew about, so you always felt a bit like an outsider. You didn't really belong to either the water or the earth, and at night, you liked to sit on the rocks and enjoy the light of the moon, and in the spring, the smell of freshly blooming flowers. Thranduil helped where he could, you even met Legolas a few times and he treated her like a sister, with love, even though he was afraid of water. And now you were sitting on Thranduil's stag as the elves stared at you, heading for the throne room.

Your father sat on the throne, beside him stood Legolas and a female elf you had heard of named Tauriel. Your brother rushed over and helped you off the animal, which you thanked and just stared at the huge room. The road leading here was friendly, although a bit dark, but you thought the green leaves and colorful flowers were amazing.

“I'm glad you're here” Legolas hugged you happily “That's Tauriel” he pointed at the woman as you bowed.

"I am pleased, Lady Tauriel"

You would have touched your tails as mermaids as hello, but now all that was left was what you had learned from others, and you hugged her as well, which the other woman happily reciprocated.

Thranduil walked slowly down the stairs. His head was adorned with a crown, his steps resembled of a cat, and you wondered why you didn't inherit the grace from him. On dry land, you felt more awkward and in danger because you couldn't move quickly, and you hated walking because you felt the ground wobble under your feet, causing you to trip sometimes.

Thranduil stopped in front of you and looked you over carefully, then hummed appreciatively. You wore the blue, long dress, that he sent to you. But suddenly there was some upheaval. 2 guards appeared holding Fili and Kili tightly. All eyes were on them, and the atmosphere changed from calm to chaotic.

"Fili?" you asked in disbelief, but relieved.

The blonde dwarf just smiled, ran up to you and kissed your hand. Kili took this opportunity to pull Tauriel in for a deep kiss.

"What are you doing here? Do they want to hurt you?” Fili asked worriedly and reached for his sword, but you put your hand on his and shook your head.

"I have come to my father"

The dwarf looked a little confused as he considered the situation, then his gaze drifted to Thranduil and he scowled. You were somewhat close to Fili. A few years ago, you mutually saved each other's lives, he freed you from a fisherman's net, and you pulled him to the shore, when he almost drowned. Since then, he has visited many times and you have talked about all kinds of things. You even let him stroke your pink and blue tail. For mermaids, their tales were the mot important, so let Fili to touch yours meant you trusted him and vica versa.

"May I know what you were doing here unannounced?" Thranduil snapped gruffly and wanted to kill the dwarves with his eyes, who didn't seem to care, and even smiled at him.

“We came because Thorin invited you to his wedding” Fili said the words easily “And I hope you come too” he smiled dreamily at you as you blushed but didn't answer.

#thorin #Thorin Oakenshield #thorin x reader #thorin fanfic #thorin fanfiction #thorin x reader fanfic #thorin x reader fanfiction #thorin oakenshield fanfic #thorin oakenshield x reader #richard armitage #hobbit #hobbit fanfiction

33 notes · View notes

queeniesrose · 1 year

Text

Happy New Year's y'all. Hope you all are having a good day! Each one will be NSFW and a part of the Modern AU series! I will also be having each character's drabble in its own post! This drabble will include mentions of AFAB genital body parts.

Master Post

Warning: This is NSFW so if you’re under the legal age or uncomfortable with content like this, please skip over this one!

New Years - Middle Earth

Thorin: Did you just fall for me?

It wasn't often that you and Thorin went to a bar with friends. Much less have enough drinks to get you drunk. New Years was an exception to the first and somewhat the second. You were at your group’s favorite bar, The Misty Mountains. As Thorin was catching up with some of his friends, you were sitting with your friends. Drinks were flowing for everyone, some more than others.

As you finished your drink, you looked around for your partner. You spotted him a few tables over, unsurprisingly he was already staring at you. He smirked as you caught his gaze. “I will be back y’all.” You say as you get up, a little bit unsteady. Only thought on your mind was how much you needed your partner. “I’m in need of a little something.”

Thorin watched as you stood up, getting ready to walk over. Turning towards his friends, ”They look a bit… drunk? Definitely buzzed.” He laughs, a mischievous and scheming look appears on his face, one side of his mouth twitching up. He leans towards Dwalin, lowering his voice a little bit, “What if… What if they were to just. Ya know, fall right into my lap?” He looks away from Dwalin, moving his gaze towards his approaching partner. Taking note of Dwalin moving his foot slightly, so it would be in their path to him. “Come here, my Love.” He calls out to them, patting his lap. “Come sit with me.”

You laugh seeing him pat his lap, picking up your pace as you close the space between the two of you. “How you doing, handsome?” You say, not realizing Dwalin had his foot directly in your path, tripping over it. You let out a little yelp as you fall forwards, landing in Thorin’s embrace. You looked at Dwalin for a moment, before turning your head towards Thorin, “Sorry ‘bout that Dawlin, didn’t see your foot there. Mighty fine lap you got here handsome.”

Thorin laughs, pulling you onto his lap, “Did you just fall for me?” He asks, giving you a peck on the lips. He tightens his grip around your waist, as he ground his hips into yours. He slips a hand down the front of your pants, rubbing circles around your core, teasing you. “‘Cause it sure as hell looks like you did. Why don’t we get out of here, love? We can have some fun at home.”

#The Hobbit #Lord of the Rings #LOTR #Middle Earth #Middle Earth x Reader #Tolkien Universe #Reader #Reader Insert #X Reader #Spicy Queenie #Thorin x Reader #Thorin #Middle Earth Thorin #Reader x Thorin #Thorin Fic #Thorin Fanfic #Middle Earth Thorin x Reader #Queenie's Modern Middle Earth

31 notes · View notes

bitter-sweet-farmgirl · 11 months

Text

The Wormhole, Part 1

Long time no see, Tumblr friends! To put it simply, college and real life have been my focus for these past few months and now that things are (hopefully) slowing down a bit for the summer, I hope to maybe scroll this hellsite more often than once a month.

Writer’s block has also been defeated (for the moment) and I’ve got a fun new story in the works. This one here is just one I’ve been sitting on for awhile. Enjoy!

Character Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield x Modern!Female OC

Content Warning(s): Mentions of manipulative behavior from an ex-boyfriend and his appearance.

Summary: Reverse of the “Girl falls into Middle Earth” trope. Thorin finds himself mysteriously transported to the modern world after surviving BOTFA and winds up in the care of a New York Academy of Arts teacher, Estel Cavanah. She has no idea why this man is so incompetent with the day’s technology.

“…And as you can see, the honey shade matches up pretty well with Nashville blue. The darker tones cool the orange.” I paused to glance at the clock on the other side of the room. The neon red numbers signaled the looming end of my class period.

Or, by the way my students were shuffling in their seats and surreptitiously packing away pen and paper, perhaps it was more of a couldn’t-come-soon-enough.

“Seeing as we are almost out of time, I’ll let you all go. See you on Friday!” I smiled as the room immediately erupted into a flurry of movement. The students, all eager to head home to relax at the end of a long day, feverishly packed up the last of their things and filed out of the room. It was almost insulting how quickly they wanted to leave my class. But I could understand their hurry; I had been a student once, and no matter how much I loved art, sometimes I couldn’t wait to get out of the classroom.

I turned to my own desk to pack up my stuff for the day, only to pause when a knock broke the silence. Annoyance sprung to life at the thought of having to spend more time here when I could be at home.

Slowly, I turned around, wondering what student had dropped by. But it wasn’t a student. The person wasn’t even a resident of the state!

“Zach, what are you doing here?!” I asked incredulously, unable to believe that the man was even standing in my doorway. “You live in North Carolina!”

“I came here to talk with you,” he said. I shot him a look.

“Zach, there is a reason phones were invented. Besides, what is so important that you come up to New York without calling me?” I asked, propping my hands on my hips. Then another thought occurred to me. A much darker and more disturbing thought. “How did you even know where I was? We haven’t talked since high school!”

Zach just shrugged, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he walked further into my classroom. “That’s not really important, Estel—”

“Oh, I really think it is…”

“…I just wanted to see if you wanted to get back together. I think we made a mistake when we broke up.” Zach kept walking, and I began to feel the cold chills of anxiety trickle down my spine. I stepped behind my desk, putting it between me and him.

I really didn’t think he would do anything, but at the same time, it felt like a very real possibility.

“Zach, we dated in high school. We’re adults now. If it didn’t work out then, I don’t think it will work out now. Now, get out of here before I call security.” I made a show of picking up my cell phone and unlocking it.

He stopped walking, finally taking his hands out of his pockets to raise them in the air. “Woah, slow down girl. Let’s just talk, okay? Just because we didn’t work out in high school doesn’t mean we won’t work out now.”

“I really don’t think it does… And don’t tell me what to do, Zach. You’re the one who’s shown up out of the blue after stalking me!” My finger hovered over the keypad on my phone, waiting to dial the campus police.

“I’m not stalking you!” The words burst out of Zach like an avalanche. Immediately, his face became apologetic, and he took another step towards me. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me, Estel…”

Instantly, I was brought back to my days as a high schooler trying to figure out both my life and manage a boyfriend at the same time. Everything pointed towards us becoming high school sweethearts. Then one day the daydream shattered. I was introduced to just who my boyfriend really was, and he wasn’t the man I had thought he was.

Early on in our relationship, he’d stood behind me in my goals and dreams. When I said that I wanted to be a teacher, he told me to follow my heart. But when the topic came up again a few months later, he wasn’t as supportive.

To put a long story short, he wanted to get married young and start a family. My going away to college in a different state would put a damper on his goals. That made me the selfish one in the relationship.

And he didn’t want that. He did his best to hold on to our relationship and convince me to stay with him, but in the end I had to be true to myself and follow the path my heart was leading me on.

I wasn’t sad when it ended; I felt freer than I had felt in what seemed like forever. And the saying about hindsight being 20/20 was a constant presence in my mind as I went over our relationship. I noticed manipulative behaviors that I hadn’t picked up on before. I realized how lucky I was to get out of it early. To be true enough to myself not to give up my dreams for a guy.

Gathering my courage, I slipped my laptop into my bag. “No, I don’t want to hear anything from you. We aren’t ever getting back together, Zach. I don’t even know why you would think that. Now, I have to go.” Grabbing my bag, I slung it over my shoulder. Holding my phone—keypad at the ready—I marched past Zach.

I left him behind just like I had all those years ago. No glances over my shoulder for one last glimpse. I just wanted to go home where I felt safe.

The walk to my car had never felt longer, even in the broad daylight. Clicking the button on my fob to unlock it, I pulled open the door and threw my bag in before climbing into the driver seat. As I sat and collected my bearings, a niggling thought rose in my brain.

If Zach knew where I was teaching, chances were he knew exactly where I lived. Right down to the apartment number.

All of a sudden, home no longer felt as comforting. It felt dangerous to go back to, despite how much I wanted to. And I had no choice.

Scanning the parking lot, I pulled out of my space.

~~~

I showed up early at the stable I worked at part-time, not feeling safe at my apartment. Coincidentally, it was also owned by my brother who was too busy managing the family estates down in Havana to spend much time managing it. That job fell to me as his little sister.

The black sheep of the family.

I could only hope that Zach didn’t know about it. Maybe I could buy a sleeping bag and camp out in one of the empty stalls for the night… Or text Ash and see if I could crash at her apartment for the night. She wouldn’t refuse me.

At least, not if her on-again, off-again boyfriend, Mike, wasn’t around. Then I really didn’t want to be in the same flat.

Pulling out my phone, I unlocked it and began typing out the message to her when the bugling of a stallion ripped through the air. I frowned, the noise out of place at the normally serene stable.

Then I heard the screaming.

Shoving my phone in my pocket and throwing open the door, I bolted out of my car and towards the one pasture that contained a stallion. The most ill-tempered beast I’d ever had the displeasure of handling. Although, given that I didn’t get involved too much with horses, wasn’t really saying much.

Quickly catching up to a teen who was also hurrying towards the commotion, I grabbed their arm to stop them. “Grab a lead rope!” I gasped before taking off again. I could only wonder which cocky new teenage boy had decided that he would be the one guy Ferrari—the stallion—liked.

And exactly how much legal trouble I was about to get into.

Turning the corner to the gate of the paddock, I stopped and did a double take. The man currently dangling from the mouth of the bay stud definitely was not one of the kids employed here. Nor did he look like the sort that frequented prestigious stables like this one. He looked more like a well-kept hobo than anything.

“GET THIS BLOODY HORSE OFF ME!” The man bellowed, catching sight of me standing like an idiot on the outside of the paddock.

I snapped out of the daze I’d gone into and looked around wildly for the stable hand I’d stopped earlier. “Where’s a lead rope!?”

I was answered only by a stream of curses from the man as Ferrari shook him like a ragdoll. Then pounding footsteps heralded the arrival of the kid with a lead rope.

Snatching it out of his hand, I jumped the fence and sprinted towards the grappling pair. “Ferrari!” I screamed, trying to get his attention on me and away from the unknown man. “Ferrari!”

But the stallion paid no attention to me and continued to grind his teeth into the shoulder of the man he had cornered.

As Ferrari tightened his grip, the man swung at him, calling him a variety of colourful names as he tried to pull away from the stallion.

I darted in, clipping the lead rope onto Ferrari’s halter. Then I swatted his rump with the end of the rope to get his attention. Instantly, Ferrari dropped the man and went after me. Jumping out of the way of his teeth, I waved my hands at the man now crumpled on the ground.

“Get out of the pasture! Go!” I yelled at him, dodging Ferrari again. “He hates men!”

The man didn’t move, and I began to worry about what it would mean if he was dead. Probably more legal troubles than if he was injured, that was for sure. Beckett was going to be absolutely thrilled.

“Estel, I’ll take him!” A feminine voice called, and I shot a quick glance over my shoulder towards the stable. Chelsea—one of the most experienced horsewomen employed here—was jogging towards me.

As she approached, Ferrari began to calm down. Chelsea had a way with him that none of the other female employees had. His ears were stilled pinned tightly back and he danced in place, but he wasn’t trying to bite me anymore.

“Hey, Ferrari…” She cooed, taking the lead rope from me, and stroking his nose. Ferrari snorted suspiciously. “Come here, boy. Let’s get you inside, huh?” She pulled gently on the rope and led Ferrari away.

That left me with the unfortunate man who had found himself in Ferrari’s pasture. As I ran over to him, he suddenly pushed himself up off the ground, clutching his shoulder and grimacing in pain.

“Sir, are you alright?” I asked, dropping onto my knees beside him. From a distance, he’d looked like one of the bums that littered the streets of New York, but up close was a different story.

He obviously had some concept of hygiene—he certainly smelled nice—and his beard was neatly trimmed. And as he raised his head to look at me, he revealed startling blue eyes that pierced me with a distrusting gaze.

“I’m fine.” He spat in a voice that carried the thickness of an unfamiliar accent. “Where am I?”

“Blacktop Stables in New York. Now, I think I should take a look at your shoulder. Ferrari is a man-hater, and it looked like he had you good.” I reached out to gently pull his hand away from his shoulder.

He let out a short laugh. “Horses have never liked me. You have healer training then?” He asked, resisting my attempts to pull his hand away so I could look at Ferrari’s handiwork.

“If by healer training, you mean medical training, then yes, I know a little.” He dropped his hand, revealing a slobber-soaked fur vest. “Umm… I think I’ll need you to remove your shirt…”

He grunted, unbuckling the belt that held the vest closed before shrugging it off. A dark blue, velvet looking coat followed directly after. The movement of his arm caused him to grimace and let out a hiss of pain. Beneath it was a metallic sort of shirt that looked like some sort of armor. He pulled the armor shirt over his head, leaving him in only a blue shirt that reached almost to his knees.

“Blast…” He hissed through clenched teeth. Gingerly, he lowered his injured arm back to his side.

By this point, I felt like I was watching the clothing version of a clown car. I couldn’t help but wonder if he had another two shirts underneath this one.

Unbuttoning what I guessed was called a ‘tunic’, his upper body was finally revealed. And it made the artist in me want to weep tears of joy.

If ever there was a perfect body, he had to have it. Thick, muscled arms hung from broad shoulders. There wasn’t a speck of fat on his torso to hide the chiseled abs this man possessed. And he was able to make it look like the most natural thing in the world, unlike some of those shirtless male models I had tried to use as inspiration in the past.

“You said you have healer training?”

The distinctly masculine voice broke me out of my…reverie. Quickly, I focused my gaze on his face. Away from the abs that I was itching to sketch.

“Uh, yeah. Let me take a look here…” I peered at the bite mark on his shoulder. Ferrari had left him deep indents of his teeth, but the skin hadn’t been broken. Already I could see the purple bruising characteristic with horse bites forming in a wide circle around the bite marks. His excessive layers of clothes had saved him from a much worse injury.

Not that he wouldn’t go through hell in the coming weeks. Bites of this severity literally made you unable to move the arm without excruciating pain for weeks.

“Will I live?” The question was quiet, and I glanced up to see a whisper of a smile on his face. Oddly, I got the sense that this wasn’t an unfamiliar question for him to ask.

“I can almost guarantee you will,” I shot him a small smile. “Just put some ice on it, take some ibuprofen, and try not to use that arm much for a few weeks.”

He frowned. “Ibuprofen? What is that?”

The fact that he was unaware of one of the most basic over-the-counter drugs was baffling. Everybody knew what ibuprofen was!

“It’s a medicine you can take if the bite hurts too much. And from what I’ve heard, a bite like yours hurts like hell.” I explained, leaning back on my heels. “If you aren’t able to get any, I could give you some.”

“No, I’ve had worse than a horse bite.” He dismissed my offering. “Now, you said we were in someplace called New York? Is that on the Anduin?”

I stared at him. “The Anduin? I’ve never heard of that. New York is a state in the United States. East coast?”

The look I got back told me he’d never heard of any of it.

This whole thing was weird. First he showed up out of the blue in Ferrari’s pasture. The same pasture that had seven-foot fencing supplemented with electric wire and was surrounded by private ground. And somebody would have stopped him inside the stable.

Second, there was the whole deal with his clothing. It looked nothing like anything made today. That and he wore armor. To be quite frank, it didn’t even look like it was from this world.

Third, he had never heard of the US before, and he was living in it.

Or maybe I was turning into one of those off-the-grid hippies who believed in UFOs. There had to be a logical explanation for all this. It wasn’t like he actually had come from a different world. That was preposterous.

He probably just hit his head or something when Ferrari was slinging him around. I reasoned with myself. He’s probably just a little confused right now.

Standing up, I motioned for the man to join me. “Follow me and I can get you a bandage for your shoulder…” I paused, waiting for him to introduce himself.

“Thorin,” the man supplied with a nod of his head. “At your service.”

“Estel, uh, at yours.” I fumbled, hoping I hadn’t just entered into some deal with the man. Turning around, I took one look at the stables and felt my heart stop beating in my chest.

Zach was standing at the gate of the paddock.

“Oh, no….” I whispered, frozen in place. I’d felt so sure that he’d had no idea that I worked here. Beckett certainly didn’t advertise by using me. “He followed me…”

“Is something wrong?” Thorin asked from behind me. I looked back over my shoulder at him, taking in his broad frame. He had his clothes bundled up in his arms, hiding his torso from the world. Dark brown hair sprawled across his shoulders, untamed by any sort of hair tie.

“Um,” I looked back over at Zach. He was staring at Thorin; a small frown on his face as he took him in. Automatically, I began formulating my “it’s not what you think” speech in my head. I knew what it looked like. A man and a woman out in a field, alone.

Except…That was exactly what would get him off my back. If I was a taken woman, he couldn’t come after me.

“Thorin, I know this is asking a lot, given that we don’t know each other, but I really need you to pretend you’re my boyfriend. He,” I nodded over in Zach’s direction, “is my ex from a long time ago and he’s been stalking me, trying to get back together. I just need you to pretend for like a day and then we can part ways.” I pleaded, looking up into light blue eyes.

Thorin stared back at me, then glanced up to look at Zach. “You don’t want his attentions?” He asked, and I nodded.

“Yeah, I just want him to leave me alone,” I sighed. The defeat I felt over my helplessness must have carried into my voice, because the iciness began to fade from his eyes.

“You’ve told him this?” His voice took on a gentler tone.

“I made it very clear, and he obviously didn’t listen.”

“Then I will pretend to be your…boyfriend.” He agreed, a small smile turning up the corners of his mouth. Instantly, his tough, rough-hewn aura faded to be replaced with a sense of security. “He will not lay a finger on you, Miss Estel.”

Like it? Love it? Reblog it!

Credit for banner goes to @shdo-xplosion

Tags:

@kumqu4t @pixierox101 @elvish-sky @ladylouoflothlorien @lothloriien @shadowhuntyi @hellonogblogstuff @justfollowtheroad @fizzyxcustard @thewhiteladyofrohan @xxbyimm @legolasbadass @elles-writing @lathalea @saltstatic @i-did-not-mean-to @middleearthpixie @mrsdurin

*I know there are probably some of you not on this taglist that would like to be on it, so just shoot me a message!

#the wormhole #au #thorin oakenshield x oc #thorin oakenshield #thorin #romance #slow burn #fluff #new york #estel #reverse girl falls into middle earth #the hobbit #modern au #fanfic #fanfiction #thorin fanfiction #thorin fanfic #modern thorin fanfiction #modern thorin fanfic

16 notes · View notes

linasofia · 1 year

Text

Around the Riverbend

This is my entry for the TSF 2023 event. I teamed up with the wonderful artist @legolasbadass and the masterpiece above is her creation. Link to her original post. Give her some love!!😍

I had so much fun during this event and it's thanks to you, @legolasbadass. 💙💙💙

Fandom: The Hobbit

Relationship: Thorin Oakenshield x OFC

Summary: In Nordic folklore, the Neck is a malevolent water spirit who took the form of a naked man and played a violin or harp so beautifully that he would enchant women (and children) to follow the music and lure them down into the river—where they would eventually drown. This is a story about Thorin, a lonely Neck who one day witnesses a beautiful woman washing clothes in his river.

Warnings: A bit angsty

The sun shone brightly from a clear blue sky, and the horizon appeared to tremble from the warmth. The air was filled with tiny winged warriors, ready to defend their queen if a sudden threat to their miniature realm should appear. A narrow river cut through the endless green landscape, separating the fertile hills from the real wilderness. On both sides of the river, where its banks met crispy grass, wild thyme, lupins, and buttercups covered the ground, filling the air with their characteristic smell. The dark, glittering water followed the countless bends without obstacles, for the persistent river had tamed the landscape long ago. Only the ancient rocks—created when the world was still young and violent—refused to bow to its will, but time had made the stones’ surface smooth and slippery. No matter how strong the sun appeared, the river would always be there to offer all living things a chance to quench their thirst or cool off from a long walk. But the river was also treacherously deep in some areas, and it was said it had a soul. The river gives, and the river takes, was a saying well taught among the gentle folk living over the hills, and songs were sung to honor those who paid with their life when the river was capricious.

The air stood still above the river and reached a higher temperature than it had for a long time. The banks along the river were dry, causing any movement to stir the sand. Not even a gust of wind made the leaves rustle, and the only sound heard was the distant noise from a waterfall. During these warm summer days, the light never went to sleep—for this was the land of the midnight sun.

On a large rock by the shallow end of the river sat a tall figure who dipped his feet in the water. Sturdy trees in distinct shapes grew close to the banks, and their branches provided shelter from the merciless sun—and cover when the brooding-looking creature needed to remain unseen. From a distance, he looked like an ordinary man, a warrior even. He was broader over the shoulders than most men who came to swim in the river, with muscular arms and large hands. His wide chest was covered in curly hair, dark as a moonless night. The most unusual cerulean shade graced his eyes, causing his stare to resemble both the sky and its dramatic reflection in the water. Despite his thick fingers, the creature could play the harp more beautifully than any other tones ever heard. He was a Neck—a water spirit—and the only of his kin, as far as he knew. During the golden hour, when the river bathed in warm light and before the animals came down to soothe their burning throats with water, the Neck let sweet tones roll from his strings—to calm his loneliness. Many were those who had listened to his music and blindly followed him without thinking of their safety. A golden harp was his only possession, and its delicate strings were made of fair hair taken from the scalps of the innocent maidens he had enchanted in the past. The countless strings were thin but twisted hard to last a long time. Not even the sharpest sword could cut off the strings, and the fingers on whoever was trying to play his instrument would bleed. On one occasion, he had tried to replace a broken string with his own hair, but the harp made a shrieking sound during his first attempt to strum it. From that day, he learned that only the fairest of hairs could create the tones he craved.

The wind had whispered an unknown word to him for as long as he could remember. The word bore a resemblance to thunder, and eventually, the Neck named himself Thorin. He was a lonely spirit, bound to the life-giving river and unable to leave it. Some would certainly call his destiny sad—if they knew he existed. But he always stayed out of sight, and the animals who came to drink barely felt his presence. Thorin had no knowledge of his age, but he knew he had seen the oak closest to the river bank grow from a small acorn to the impressive tree it was now. His long, dark hair was marked by time and for every summer that passed by, his reflection revealed how the thin braids at his temples gradually turned whiter. Thorin lived off what the river provided him, but his restless mind always searched for the pure soul who would make his lonely misery end. He was certain she was out there; it was only a matter of time before his One would make her way down to the river. She was destined to pass the cruel sacrifice of drowning, and he would give her the ability to breathe in his kingdom, far beneath the glittering surface. Then she would be his to cherish—forever.

Slowly the shadows in front of the old oak became longer, indicating the sun’s journey over the sky. Thorin watched the stillness of the water around his favorite rock and snapped his fingers to create the smallest vibration. His harp lay next to him, and it glowed like fire in the sun. Suddenly, he became aware of a movement further down the river. Thorin usually stayed in the more narrow parts of the river where the water was shallow, allowing him to keep sight of both banks at the same time. When he squinted, he saw the shape of a person moving along the river, walking straight in his direction. A woman, more precisely. Without disturbing the water, Thorin slipped down from the rock and hid behind it with water up to his waist. He waited in silence as the woman came closer, but he knew precisely how to move to avoid discovery. She carried a large basket, and as she sat it down near the water, directly in front of him, he understood why she had come. From his position behind the rock, Thorin could easily observe her, and the first thing he noticed was her hair. The woman had long, fair hair—forced into a thick braid and secured at the end with a blue ribbon. In the afternoon light, her hair shone like the sun itself, and Thorin gaped at the sight. She wore a dress that reminded him of the many cornflowers growing beyond the sandy banks. The fabric was of a simple kind, as so often when hugging the body of a woman from beyond the hills. Over the years, Thorin had noticed that the peaceful people living near the water and traveling by foot often wore these kinds of fabric to shield their bodies. On a few occasions, he had seen small groups of riders and carts pulled by large horses. Those people often wore fabrics that glittered like frostbitten river reed in the sun, but they never stopped long enough for him to learn who they were or where they came from. Usually, their animals drank water, and then they were gone as quickly as they came. The folk from the hills beyond the river were of a different kind. They regularly came to the river to bathe or clean their belongings. Some of them were only children, and those were the times Thorin had most trouble remaining undiscovered, for young minds are curious by nature and far more reckless than their parents. And they liked his music.

The woman in the cornflower dress grabbed something from her basket and waded out in the river until the water reached above her calves. Then she sank the dirty fabric into the water and started to whip it with the piece of wood she held in her other hand. Water splashed around her, staining her dress—but she did not seem to care. Thorin watched her as she worked, and something about her intrigued him, and it was not only because of her unusual hair. The woman was young but not as young as the previous maidens who had failed to resist his harp. Her sleeveless dress was of a simple cut, offering him a fine view of her tanned skin. She was clearly used to working hard; her feminine muscles were strong and well-defined. With tireless strength, she carried on, working through the small mountain of clothes in her basket, and Thorin found himself wishing she had even more chores to do. Every time she stretched her back, he admired the curves of her body, and when she bent down over her basket, he could not tear his eyes from her behind. Thorin felt confused; he had seen beautiful maidens before, naked even—as they sometimes came to bathe, alone or in a group. Without knowledge of what waited in the dark water, they unconcernedly exposed their skins to his eyes. He had never been attracted to any of them as much as the fair-haired beauty.

As he gazed at the woman, Thorin came to think of another young maiden from long ago when his braids were still dark as the eyes of a heron. He had never forgotten the fiery maiden who came to the river evening after evening, yet always alone. The warm light of the sun made her hair glow like copper as she lowered herself into the river, and in the cover of the dark water, Thorin dived under the surface and swam very close to her. He had a feeling she knew someone was watching her, and she was not afraid—she liked it. The way she used her hands to clean her body was something he had never seen, and he allowed himself to take great risks to be near her. Hidden by the dark water, he could have reached out to touch her—but he never did. When he got bored of just watching her, he grabbed his harp and let his seductive notes fill the air. She was so easy to snare. Sadly, she was not who he was searching for, and she paid the ultimate price for his misjudgment. Thorin dressed her body before he left her at the bank further down the river. Such beauty was better to cover before someone with foul intentions found her. Someone like him.

Clear, light tones suddenly filled the air, and Thorin listened intently. A sweet melody floated over the water—like mist rising on early summer mornings. The young woman had stopped beating the dirt out of her laundry and was rinsing and twisting the fabrics. As she worked, she gave air to the feelings she carried inside, and Thorin had no problem understanding the longing behind her words—for they lived inside him as well. Long strands of hair escaped her braid and framed her face beautifully. She pushed the locks back repeatedly with her wet hands, but the hair had a will of its own, it seemed. The locks wanted to be free, to be able to dance in the wind on stormy days and caress her cheeks when she lowered her chin. Absently, Thorin stroked the strains on his harp. The length of her hair was perfect, but his harp was still intact. He had no need for it—yet.

The melancholic melody she was singing penetrated Thorin’s skin, found its way to his tormented soul and wrapped itself around his lonely heart. An unfamiliar and strange feeling spread in his chest, making his heart beat faster. Her words could have been aimed directly at him when she sang of all the beautiful things he had never known but still instinctively felt he wanted; tenderness, love, and someone to hold close. The young woman’s voice was unlike anything he had ever heard, purer than the morning’s first ray of light and softer than a swift summer breeze. Her tones would harmonize perfectly with his—if he caressed the golden strings. Together they could create something extraordinary.

Thorin observed her every move carefully, and from his hiding place, he could not spot any signs of belonging on her body. No rings on her fingers nor braids in her hair—nothing indicating that she already had a chosen one in her life. Even if her hips were wide enough to bear children, no man seemed to have claimed her yet. Thorin felt a rare stream of heat rushing through his body at the thought. He was suddenly warmer than he had ever experienced, not even during the year’s hottest days. The heat came from the depth of his core, created by the music of his pulse and her singing in his veins. For a moment, he wondered if he was ablaze, and he lowered himself deeper into the water to cool off the burning feeling on his skin. The water never failed him; it helped his skin to control its temperature, and his mind regained its usual sharpness. The young woman in the cornflower dress was special in a way he could not explain to himself—all he knew was that he could not tear his eyes from her. When he turned to the river for guidance, he was suddenly met with silence. It was as if the river was forcing him to feel for himself. Could she be the one he had spent a lifetime waiting for? Was he looking at his One? His grip around his harp tightened.

When the basket was filled with wet fabrics, she left it by the river. After a quick glance around, she grabbed the hem of her dress and lifted it in modesty as she waded out in the water until it reached up to her thighs. She wore no stockings, Thorin noticed, as he caught a teasing glimpse of her skin before the water shielded the sight. Her cheeks blushed like the sky during sunset, revealing how warm she was after her hard work, and Thorin marveled at the satisfaction she appeared to experience in the cooling water. How he wished for her to pull the dress over her head and throw herself out in the deeper part of the river. The water would wash away all her sweat and help her forget the chores for a while. Maybe she was a good swimmer—some of the people over the hills actually were—and could easily make it to the opposite side of the river. If so, he would follow her. Protect her. When Thorin was underwater, his eyes adapted well to the darkness, and it allowed him to see things others could not. It also made it easy for him to approach those he wanted to avoid being seen by. Humans’ skins sometimes glimmered like the scales of a trout in the water, but this woman was not that pale. The sun had kissed the delicate skin on her arms, yet Thorin suspected not all of her body had been exposed to the burning sun. The thought of seeing what she hid under her dress made him quietly groan. Greed slowly corrupted Thorin’s heart—she could belong to him. Her voice already had the power to brighten his inner clouded sky, and if he took her to his kingdom, she too would be bound to the river. She would never be able to return to the place she came from, and they could be together—forever.

When the first mellow note vibrated through the air, the woman looked up with a startled expression. She instantly let go of the hem, and the skirt fell down into the water and created a pool of wet fabric around her. Thorin let his fingers run along the strings—echoing her melody—and it made her smile softly. Her face was beautiful while frowning, but now, when his music made her features light up like the sun, Thorin realized he was smiling as well. At first, she seemed to hesitate, but then she took a few steps in his direction and started to sing again. Without thinking, Thorin gave his harp life, and the notes rose to the sky effortlessly. The woman’s soft voice harmonized with his music, followed the same winding path, and spoke of promises neither of them understood. He watched her as she came closer, and to his delight, he saw the same golden light in her eyes as he had seen in others several times before. When she fell silent, Thorin knew he had succeeded. She was defenseless, captured by his music, and she would follow him to whatever place he led. With a pleased grin, he dived under the surface, swam quickly further away and then emerged again. The moment he broke the surface of the water, light from the sun hit his wet skin and made it sparkle. His hair appeared to be even darker than before—as well as his eyes. But the beautiful fair-haired woman did not even blink; only the sweetest of smiles formed her lips into a sensual shape. Thorin lifted his harp again and tenderly caressed the strings. Another of his melodies floated over the water—tones filled with the deepest temptation—and formed an invisible leash to wrap around the neck of whoever heard them. It never failed to make the listener unable to resist following the sound of his harp. And it did not take many heartbeats before the woman started walking, her eyes resting on a spot far beyond what Thorin could see. As soon as she came closer, Thorin dived again, and then again, leading her away from the relatively safe parts of the river. Around riverbend after riverbend, she followed him, and he played with growing desire in his heart. He wanted her—needed her. Her body and soul would eventually be his. Blinded by greed, he ignored what would happen to her if she was not his One. The river got deeper, she was up to her waist in water, and the river started to become restless. It tore at her dress as if trying to wake her from her trance. But it was to no use, for no woman nor child could stand against the power of Thorin’s harp.

The rumble of the waterfall became louder, and Thorin increased his effort so he would not lose what he had worked so hard for. His music needed to drown the noise from the fall, or the woman with the fairest hair would wake from the enchantment too soon. He just needed to lead her around another riverbend, and then they would finally be looking down at the gate to his kingdom. Thorin could picture her falling, but he was supposed to follow her—and catch her—before she passed the point of no return. If her body were resilient enough, they would then be able to enter together.

The river banks narrowed the gap between them, the trees grew even closer to the water, and their long branches framed the magical-looking scene. The air was filled with mist rising from the fall, and it gave the area a spectacular light. The fall itself was dangerously high, and the river sent cascades of water over the edge, creating a mesmerizing—but violent—entrance to the Neck’s underwater realm. Below the fall waited a long row of black, large rocks, and only Thorin knew how far they reached—and how to avoid getting smashed against them. The melody changed to compliment the dramatic nature, and by the brink of the fall stood his woman—waiting—in her soaked dress. The water was less deep here, so he could see more of her, and while the dress clung to her body, he greedily took in every shape and curve. Soon he would be able to touch her. She would slip on the flat rocks he knew were placed right in front of her. They all had. In perfect harmony, the two of them would then spend the rest of their days together, and never before had his heart been more convinced he was right. All he demanded was a few more steps.

One of his precious strings suddenly broke and was left hanging by a single piece of hair, forcing Thorin to stop briefly and rethink his notes. Losing a string was not critical, for most of his melodies could be played in a slightly different way, but it disturbed him enough to shift focus. Instead of continuing, he came to think of her song and the meaning behind the beautiful words she sang while working. Parts of the song spoke of longing for someone who could heal a shattered heart, but at the end of the many courses, one line stood out from the rest, and he remembered the words clearly: I ask you to be mine.

Thorin was already holding his harp in place—ready to fulfill what he had started—when an unwelcome feeling of doubt erupted in his chest. He tried to ignore it, but the cold feeling spread with his blood to all parts of his body and made his skin itch as if he had a rash. Like a massive tidal wave, realization hit him, and it threatened his inner river dam to collapse. He was not asking her to be his, and even if her words of love were true, she had certainly not approved of what he was determined to do. Despite that, he was more than ready to put his own needs first and take what he wanted. Thorin took a deep breath to steady himself and bring order to his chaotic mind. But what if what he truly needed was something deeper? Something pure, formed by consent between two souls and spoken with mutual words. True love. He tasted the words. True love could not be forced, he knew that deep inside his lonely heart, yet he spent all his life denying it.

The waterfall roared his name, and Thorin started weighing his options. If he broke the enchantment and approached her, the risk of having her running for her life was exceedingly high. She could hurt herself badly on the slippery rocks. He was aware of their differences in appearance, and his natural nudity was not customary—maybe even disapproved of—among the gentle folk living over the hills. On many occasions, he had seen the men who came to swim in his river and none of them were sculpted like him below the waist. Never in his long life had he lifted an enchantment, and therefore, he lacked knowledge of what would happen when she drew her first breath without his invisible leash. Thorin knew he possessed a mighty power, and he sensed a risk she might not recover quickly from it. He watched the woman as she trembled. The currents tearing at her clothes were strong and cold, and her skin was silently protesting. Her beautiful smile had the power to wake the northern light, but his mind refused to leave him alone. Would she be able to love him if she knew how he captured her and sent her tumbling down the waterfall? Could she forgive him if he passively watched her body fight in the water until no air was left in her lungs? When the light of day finally disappeared from her eyes—and his kiss marked the beginning of their union—would she then accept him as her One? Thorin could feel every heartbeat vibrating in his chest, and his breathing turned shallow as he slowly shook his head in answer to his questions. When he lowered his harp, he perceived the truth; he wanted her to choose him out of free will—not by death.

Dark clouds started to gather in his inner sky, and his lonely heart tore at his soul. Together they could end his misery, and a lifetime of searching would be over. But the possibility he earlier refused to ponder crept over him. Another thought—cold and sharp—sank its massive claws in his exposed heart, and when it got a tight grip, Thorin knew he could no longer hide from his own mind. His self-doubt fed from him as a starving leech and rapidly grew stronger. If the woman he was about to claim as his was not the one he so desperately wanted her to be, history would repeat itself. She would fight a doomed battle against the river but eventually end up on the river bank—as so many had done before her. Thorin acknowledged the longing in his body, but the more he thought of the meaning behind the words in her song, the more he questioned himself. Even if her lips no longer moved, he could still hear her beautiful voice echoing somewhere between his hope and despair. Time was running out, and he needed to continue if he was not going to let her slip from his grip. But Thorin’s fingers refused to strum across the strings. He tried again, but no tones came. Desperation boiled in his blood until suddenly, he understood. He could not proceed. She deserved to make her own choices; her life belonged to her, for she was indeed special. With a heavy heart, he took in the shape of the woman he was convinced—until just a few breaths ago—was meant to be his forever. Her fair hair was damp, and she seemed to sway like a young silver poplar during an autumn storm.

By the river stood an old weeping birch, dipping its long branches in the water. Thorin had seen the leaves fall from the old tree every autumn, but he had never been more grateful for the shelter it provided under its green ceiling. From a distance it was impossible to see beneath the branches, but Thorin could peek out. When he was certain he was well hidden, he sat down—and waited.

Time seemed endless, and Thorin was just starting to wonder if the woman would recover at all when all of the sudden, she shook her head. With a confused expression on her sweet face, she looked around, and for a short while, her gaze lingered on the old birch. Thorin’s breath caught in his throat, and suddenly he feared she could see him. Or sense him. But then she turned her attention to the water and carefully took a few steps backwards. Her slender hands rubbed her naked arms as if waking them from a slumber or bringing warmth back to the skin. The woman reached for her skirt and collected as much as she could of the wet fabric before slowly walking to the opposite side. The banks were steeper on that side, and she crawled, visibly dizzy, up from the water. Her dress that used to bear a lovely shade of cornflower before, was dirty when she reached the safety at the top of the bank. She looked back over the river, and Thorin could only guess she carried a strange feeling in her chest. Even if she did not remember how she got to the fall, she most likely understood at least part of the danger she barely escaped from. The noise from the waterfall was usually enough to keep sane folks at a distance.

Under the tall weeping birch, Thorin remained unseen, and he lowered his head, ready to be judged by the river. Pieces of his shattered heart scraped against his lungs as dry sand on sore skin, and it made it harder for him to breathe. Very carefully, he plucked a few strings, and the sad notes reminded him of large drops of water dripping into an already filled bucket. His knuckles were unnaturally white—caused by his tight grip around the harp—and a salty taste lingered on his lips when he slowly ran the tip of his tongue over them. For the first time in his life, he had done an unselfish act, and even if he doubted the pain was worth it, he could now call himself honorable.

That night, the glowing sun unexpectedly came to rest below the horizon and abruptly marked the end of summer. The people living over the hills spoke about the strange whim of nature long after the remarkable event. As darkness fell over the landscape, Thorin slowly loosened the fair strings from his harp and let them float away with the river. They glittered like gold when they disappeared over the edge of the waterfall, and Thorin sighed deeply. Stars glimmered in the sky, and the moon’s pale light made Thorin’s temple braids shine like silver. He was a fascinating creature, but as so often with lonely souls, completely unaware of his beauty. Without even the slightest hesitation, Thorin took a deep breath of the warm evening air, then gracefully entered the gate to his realm for the last time—and sealed it.

💚 If you like my writing, please consider spreading the love and reblogging.💚

Taglist and others who might be interested: @lathalea @legolasbadass @laurfilijames @i-did-not-mean-to @enchantzz @fizzyxcustard @middleearthpixie @xxbyimm @mariannetora @haly-reads @sunnysidesidra @rachel1959 @knittastically @quiall321 @medusas-hairband @fulltimecrazy @s0ftd3m0n @emrfangirl @glimmering-darling-dolly @lilith15000 @clumsy-wonderland @theawkwardbutterfly @exhausted-humxn-being @beenthroughalot @chaikittie @piscesvancouverite @sotwk @dontaskmehowdontaskmewhy @mrsdurin

#tsf23 #thorin oakenshield #Näcken!Thorin #thorin #richard armitage #the hobbit #fanfiction #thorin fanfic #thorin fanfiction #thorin fanart #collaboration

58 notes · View notes