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#shalinizhara stories
middleearthpixie · 2 years
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Durin's Garage AU ~ Good Trouble - Chapter Seven
A/N - I know it's been a long time since the last update on this, but the story isn't quite finished yet... :)
Summary: When your car breaks down, there is only one garage in town - Durin’s Garage and Engine Repairs. And sometimes, they do more than just tune your engine, check your oil, and top off your fluids…
Everyone in town knows Durin’s Garage and Engine Repairs is THE place to go when your car needs work, and everyone knows that Dwalin Fundinson is to be avoided outside of the garage. He’s an ace mechanic, but trouble otherwise.
Dwalin surprises you with an unexpected declaration and you handle it… poorly…
Pairing: Modern!Dwalin x reader
Warning: M unprotected intercourse (m/f), some angst
Word Count: 4,091
Tag List: Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @ocfairygodmother @exhausted-humxn-being @shalinizhara @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knitastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy
If you'd like to be added or removed from the tag list, just let me know! :)
Previous Chapters here and AO3
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When you opened your eyes the next morning, you were alone, and for a moment, you wondered if maybe you didn’t just have some sort of hyper-real, hyper-erotic dream.
But as you stared up at the ceiling, you knew it wasn’t your ceiling, and the sheets weren’t your sheets. The ceiling was the wrong color and so were the walls. You could also hear soft singing floating on the warm air, and the voice was absolutely lovely. Deep and rich, and perfectly on key. And while a rough burr came with the speaking voice, Dwalin’s singing voice bore no such thing.
You smiled at the sound even though you had no idea what song he sang. It didn't matter.
With a sigh, you sat up and reached for the first thing you saw—a black tee shirt with Durin’s Garage across the front in gold, Old English style lettering—and drew it over your head, over the camisole you slept in. Your cozy gray sweatpants lay draped over the footboard, but his tee was long enough that you decided to ignore the sweats. Your legs weren’t all that cold anyway and the heat in his apartment was far better than could be said for your own. Thick socks kept your feet warm and with that, you followed the sounds of Dwalin singing into the kitchen.
It was a sight you wouldn’t have believed if you hadn’t seen it with your own eyes—Dwalin clad only in black sweatpants but with an apron over himself. One that said—and you also wouldn’t have believed this if you hadn’t seen it yourself—Kiss the Cook. Bacon sizzled in cast iron skillet, eggs did the same in another, and the small kitchen table had been set for two.
“You’re a busy little bee this morning.”
He smiled at you over one shoulder. “I’ve been up since four. Someone put their ice-cold feet against the back of my legs and woke me.”
“Did I, really?”
“Unless someone else snuck inta bed wi’ us last night, yeah. Ye did.” He winked. “It’s okay, though. I forgot to set my alarm and Thorin would have my head if I was late.”
“What can I do?”
“Just sit down and read the paper, if ye like.”
“You still get an actual newspaper?”
“Yeah. Why? Shouldn’t I?”
You moved to the table, where the newspaper sat folded in the middle. “I didn’t think anyone still read a newspaper. I thought everyone read it on their phones.”
“I’m old-school.” He flipped the eggs, swearing softly with the last one. “Ah, damn it. Broke the damn yolk. Anyway,” he looked over at you, “I carry a cell because I have to, not because I actually want to. It’s a pain, if ye ask me. I liked it better when no one could get ahold of me so easily.”
“It’s tough always being in demand, isn’t it?”
“Ye have no idea.”
“I’ll bet women don’t mind being broken down on the side of the road when you pull up and climb down from your truck.”
He chuckled, grabbing a pair of tongs to pick the bacon from the pan and set the slices on a folded paper towel next to the sink to drain the grease from them. “They about wet themselves when I climb down from that cab.”
“But that’s not a bad thing, right?”
“I don’t mean it in happy to see me way.” He set the tongs down and moved to lift the coffeepot from its burner. “Ye’ve seen how people react to me. They’re all afraid I’m going to mug them or worse.”
“They should only know the man who whispers, oh, love, in my ear at just the right moments.”
He brought the pot over to pour you a cup. “If they know who I am at all, they all wonder the same thing ye wondered and really don’t think I would ever speak an endearment of any sort.”
“They wonder the same thing I did? What thing is that?” Your cheeks grew warm at his knowing look. “Oh, right. Your tattoo.”
“My tattoo.”
“And how many of them get an answer about it?” You winced as the words popped out on their own. Wonderful. What a dumb thing to say. You wanted to smack the heel of your hand against your forehead when he didn't respond, but just moved to put the coffeepot back.
“Do ye really want an answer to that?” he asked softly.
That put you on your guard. “I don’t know. Do I?”
He turned back to the stove, grabbing a pot holder, and then took the skillet with the eggs off the burner to slip two eggs onto one plate and two onto the other. “The number who wonder is far greater than the number who know, and let’s keep it at that, okay?”
Your gut kinked. You really did wonder how many women in town had been where you were right now, sitting here with the man who frightened so many people with his appearance alone, while underneath his gruff and brash exterior you knew beat the heart of a true gentleman. How many did hear him growl, oh, love, into their ear as he thrust inside them, as he arched hard and shuddered again them, as he cradled them against him when the sex was over?
Why did you do this to yourself?
“Well, everyone is curious about you, Mr. Fundinson,” you told him with a smile. “You should only hear what I hear at the Dunraven. And every woman wants to tame the bad boy. We’re genetically programmed to want to do that.”
“The bad boy, eh?” He slipped out of his apron and brought both plates over, set one before you, then went back to grab the bacon. “Ye think I’m a bad boy?”
“I don’t know about now. But at first?” You picked up a strip of bacon and bit into it. Crunchy and smoky, with just the right about of burn to it. “Yeah, I absolutely did. You kind of scared me, if I’m being totally honest.”
“I’m sure I did.”
He stripped off the apron and tossed it onto the counter, then dragged out the other chair to sink into it. “And now?”
“Now? Easy, you’re a mush.”
His right eyebrow rose. “I’m a mush.”
“Uh-huh. And I know you go to jelly if I let my nails just brush along your back, or down the backs of your thighs, and I know you murmur endearments when we’re making love, even if you won’t tell me what they mean.” You smiled as his cheeks above his beard went pink. “And I know you that you blush when I point out those things, and I know you’ll blush when you do tell me what they mean.”
“Yer different, mesmel,” he murmured, casting his gaze down at his plate. “I feel comfortable with ye.”
That was not what you’d expected him to say and his whispered words had you pausing in your chewing. “What?”
He drew in a deep breath and looked up to meet your eyes. “I said, I feel comfortable with ye. And I do. I have since the day we met.”
You sat up straighter. “You remember that?”
“Of course I do.” He picked up his coffee cup, holding it halfway between the table and his lips. “I walked into the Dunraven to get lunch for everyone back at the garage and ye were working the bar, and I knew I’d never seen ye before because I would definitely have remembered that. Ye smiled and didn't look like I’d just scared the piss out of ye.”
“I hid it well because you absolutely did scare the piss out of me. But… not for the reason you might think.”
He took a sip of his coffee before saying, “Then for what reason?”
“Holly.”
“Who?”
“The other bartender. Really pretty. Black hair. Blue eyes.” You waited for the typical male reaction at Holly’s name. She was the sort of woman who made men walk into things because they were too busy staring at her.
“Not ringing any bells.”
You didn't believe him. There was no way any guy with a pulse did not know who Holly was, even if they didn't know her name. “Well, anyway, she warned me about you. Warned me away from you, to be honest.”
“Warned ye away from me? How?”
“She said you were trouble.”
“She said I was trouble?”
You nodded. “Trouble. And you know what? She was right. You are trouble.” You got up from your chair and moved around to wedge yourself between him and the table, smiling when he caught you about the waist to pull you up against him.
“Am I, now?”
“Uh-huh.” You traced your forefinger along his beard. “But, you’re good trouble, Mr. Fundinson. The best kind of trouble there is. And every woman should have a Dwalin Fundinson in their life at some point.”
“Is tha’ so?”
“Oh, yes.” You shifted to sit astride him. “And she was asking me about your tattoo."
His eyes glinted even as her offered up a grin and asked, “Which one?”
“I think you know which one.”
The glint sharpened. “I want to hear ye say it.”
“Why?”
“Because I do. Ye turn red at the word dick, ye know. I get the feeling yer face would melt clean off if ye used the word cock.”
He was right. You could think it, but saying it was completely different. But that was all he said about it, even as his hands slid up along your back. “I like how my clothes look on ye.”
“I didn’t bring my robe.”
“Ye don’t need it.” He tugged you closer, easing both hands beneath the tee shirt to skim along your back. “Yer welcome to anything of mine until we get yer things all moved out of your place and in here.”
You gazed down into his eyes. They were absolutely beautiful, almost the exact same shade of blue as the summer sky on a cloudless day, and you leaned in to brush his lips with yours, whispering, “Holly wanted to know if your cock really was tattooed.”
A low, husky laugh rumbled toward you and his hands tightened at the small of your back. “What did ye tell her?”
“I told her it was none of her business,” you brushed his lips with yours again, “and that I wasn’t telling her.”
“Ye can, if ye want. I don’t care.”
“You like the idea of two women discussing your dick, don’t you?”
“I like the idea of ye braggin’ about it.” He kissed you back this time. Harder. His hands tightened on you, pulled you more firmly against him. His lips parted, and when his tongue met yours, you shivered against him. He tasted of rich coffee, smoky bacon, and lustful sin, and you slid your arms about his neck without hesitation, to tug him closer still.
His hands slid up, then down along your back, and he caught the hem of the tee shirt to whisk it over your head, which you let fall back as he kissed his way down over your chin, along your neck. He teasingly nipped at the curve where your neck and shoulder met, and you couldn’t help but shiver against him.
A warm laugh teased along your skin, but then faded as he drew back to gaze up at you. His eyes were smoky blue now, and a sly grin curved his lips as he caught the camisole’s spaghetti straps to ease them over your shoulders. The soft cotton skimmed along your sensitive skin as he drew down the camisole itself and the air came cool across your bared breasts now. “I like how my clothes look on you, but I really like how they look off you.”
Your skin was cool, but not for long. Dwalin’s eyes darkened as he whispered, “Abnâmul,” and bent to sweep his lips along the inner curve of your right breast.
Your eyes closed, your fingers sliding into the cool softness of his hair, twisting them into it, your back arching of its own as he moved along the lower curve, then came up to capture your nipple with his lips. The tip of his tongue leisurely slipped about it, and when he caught it with his teeth, you sucked in a sharp breath and tugged on his hair.
Slide. Nip. Slide. Nip. Your nipple tightened, smoky pleasure swirling through you from where he stroked. A gentle, steady, growing pressure filled the vee between your thighs and without thinking, you rocked against him. His hands tightened on your hips, pulled you hard against him, and you couldn’t hold back your soft moan as his cock ground up against you. Your bodies met just perfectly, as that bulge nestled right up against your clit, and the slight movement sent a tingling pleasure rippling through you.
His beard swept gently against your skin as he moved to your left breast now, teasing and torturing it the same way. Fire slowly crept through you, had you rocking harder against him, your arousal pooling thick between your thighs. He slid a hand along your inner thigh, nudged your thong aside, and felt that wet heat for himself as he slid a thick finger into those damp curls, along your clit, to your opening.
“Oh!” The gasp came involuntarily as he eased that finger inside you. Bent it. Stroked you so slowly until you moved against him, savoring each delicious sensation he offered you. Your orgasm already took root, the sensual tension deep in your core maddeningly slow and sweet.
Your head spun from those teasing caresses, your eyes heavy-lidded. You fought to keep them open, smiling at his low laugh and growled, “Oh, love… ye should only know what ye do to me…”
You slid a hand down through the silver-tipped dark hair over his chest and belly, into the waist of his sweats, and smiled at the hitch of his breath when you curled your fingers about him. “I have a pretty good idea what I do,” you murmured, trailing your fingers along the underside of his shaft, toward the wide head before easing him free from the confines of those sweatpants.
He slid his finger free, leaning in to capture your lips in a smoky kiss as you shifted just so and came down upon his cock as slowly as you could manage. He moaned softly, his fingers tightening on your hips. “Oh… mesmel…” he breathed into you mouth. “Ride me slow…”
Your entire body tingled from the feel of him sliding so deep inside you. Your walls clenched tightly to him, greedy as you rose slightly, then came back against him. Each silken inch of him sent delight screaming through you as you rocked back away from him, and then surged back. He cupped your breasts, his thumbs moving about your nipples, his gaze locked on you, his eyes now more gray than blue, darkened by desire and smoked by lust.
You rode him as slowly as you could manage, despite your body’s demand that you just fuck him hard and fast and make the two of you come in a fiery flash. The knots twisted sharply in your belly, your core warmer by the minute, your need for releasee building with each slow, teasing roll of your hips toward him. Away from him. His crisp chest hair teased your nipples relentlessly, his hands on your hips slid about to cup your backside, to give each cheek a playful squeeze as he moved you faster against him.
“I thought you wanted me to go slow?” you managed to murmured, your breath harder to catch now as the fire built. As the flames licked higher now, spreading through you from your core. You wanted to just melt all around him as he thrust deeper inside you. You tightened about him, let him rake along every sensual pleasure nerve to your core.
“I did and now, I’ve changed my mind… oh, love, ye feel so damn good… ye’ve got me so fucking close already…”
“I’m not quite there, though,” you managed to whisper. And you weren’t. You were close, but not as close as he was.
He offered up a seductive smile and tugged you harder against him. Hard enough that you sucked in a sharp breath as spiked pleasure swept through you. Hard enough that you shivered against him and picked up your pace as you body demanded all along. Forget control now. That was a thing of the past. You couldn’t be slow. Teasing. You’d go crazy if you even tried.
“Mesmel…” His head fell back, a muscle in his jaw bulging beneath his beard. He released your left breast, that hand falling to find its way into the shadows between your thighs, where he slid his fingers into your heat, teasing your clit with his thumb, dragging the pad roughly along that aching bud. The tingles sharpened, your core melted completely now, your arousal slicking his cock as he pumped into you, his thumb as he teased that bead mercilessly.
“Oh…” You couldn’t hold back your moan. You had to move faster, gripping him by the shoulders as your body demanded you ride him even harder now. His thumb move faster, pressed harder, and the tingles grew sharper.
He pressed harder still, shattering you when he dragged his thumb in a hard, slow circle about your clit, harder with each pass until you shuddered again him, your fingernails digging into his shoulders even more fiercely now. You clung to him as fire filled you, your orgasm radiating from the center of your being outward, and you only barely noticed when he rose as if you weighed nothing, when he lifted you and shifted to press you down against the table.
His hands tightened on your hips as he pounded into you, the dishes clattering with each deep, powerful thrust. The table itself might have moved. You neither knew nor cared. All you cared about was the scorchingly sweet ecstasy he sent screaming through you. You squeezed him, lifted your hips to meet him, and with a low, growly moan, he surged hard, crushed you to him, then shuddered as he spilled inside you with a gritted, “Oh… yes…”
He bent over to sink against you, his head coming to rest on your breast, his breath coming across your skin in hot blasts. You let your heavy-lidded eyes finally close, smiling as the remnants of his released triggered a smaller orgasm for you. Smaller, but just as heavenly, and you couldn’t hold back your contented purr as you traced along one of the intricate designs inked into his scalp and just lost yourself in the moment.
His lips skimmed along the inner curve of your breast, his breath a caress as he murmured, “I love ye…”
Your hand, which had been stroking his hair, went still. You opened your eyes and stared up at the ceiling. “What?”
He lifted his head, a sleepy smile on his lips. “I said, I love ye. And I do. I’ve been wanting to say it for a while now, but I thought ye’d tell me to bugger off, but I can’t be quiet about it any more. I love ye.”
“Dwalin…”
“What?” He straightened up, grabbing one of the cloth napkins to press into your hand as he withdrew from you. “No, ye know, don’t tell me. I know by the sound of yer voice, what yer going to say.”
“We just started seeing each other. How can you love me?”
“It’s actually pretty easy, ye know.” He stepped back, taking the other napkin to clean himself off. “I think I fell for ye the first time I saw ye.”
“That’s not even possible.” You shifted to the edge of the table and careful eased down, wincing at the warm trickle of his spend on your inner thighs.
“Why? Hell, Thorin knew he was going to marry his wife the night he met her and told her as much.”
“Well… that’s different. Thorin’s… different.”
“Different? How so?”
You hedged. “I don’t think I can explain it, Dwalin. He’s just… different.”
You winced at the irritation flashing in his blue eyes. “He’s different, eh? Yeah, I suppose he is. I scare the shit out of women and he—well, he doesn’t. I understand.”
“No, that’s not what I mean.” You reached for him as you tried again, catching him by the wrist. “I just never expected this—any of it. And I honestly don’t know what to do with it. I don’t know what to say.”
“I didn't mean to put ye on the spot,” he pulled away, out of your grasp. “And I know I’m not the most polished guy around, or the most poetic or sensitive or whatever, but… damn… I didn’t mean to scare ye as well.”
“Well, it does scare me.” You felt suddenly so very foolish standing naked in his kitchen, so you crouched to swipe his tee off the floor and tugged it over your head. It wasn’t much, but at least you didn't feel quite so vulnerable. “We’ve been seeing each other only a short while, though, and I’ve got this amazing gift for making really awful choices.”
You regretted those words the moment they left your mouth and his eyes widened. Shaking your head, you said, “I didn't meant it the way it sounded. I just—”
“Awful choices. I see. Tha’s how ye see me? What? Ye think yer walking on the wild side by sleepin’ wi’ me? That yer showin’ daddy by fucking a guy like me? Is tha’ wha’ I am to ye? Rebellion? A way ta get back a’him?”
His burr thickened with each word until you could only barely understand him, and you wished you’d not been just such a jackass, but his declaration caught you completely off guard. “N—no. That’s not what I meant at all. Oh, God, of course it isn’t. I mean… you’re you and why would you want… me?”
“Why would I—why wouldn’t I? What sane man wouldn’t want ye?”
“Oh, stop it. We both know I’m nothing special, but I am new and unfamiliar—and so is this and of course it’s all wonderful now and nothing makes you love the world quite like an incredible orgasm, but—”
“But what?” His eyes flashed with anger as they met yours. “Ye think I said because… because what? Because I fucking came? Do I look like a dumb kid who doesn’t know wha’ he’s sayin’? Who has tha’ little control over himself?”
You gut kinked sharply and you really wished you’d just kept your stupid mouth shut. “No, of course not. But… Dwalin, we’re only just getting to know each other and—”
He tugged his sweats back into place. “And I should’ve just kept my fool mouth shut. I should’ve known I’d scare ye off. I shoulda known this was going to happen.”
“Dwalin,” you reached for him, “wait—”
“I have to get ready for work.” He dodged your hand, skirting the table to head for the doorway. “We’ll talk later.”
“I’m sorry,” you said, following him back to his bedroom, “I’m making such a mess of this. And I didn’t mean to embarrass you. It’s just… it’s so soon and I—”
“No. Yer fine. And ye didn’t embarrass me at all. I did that all on my own.” He paused in the doorway, “I’m just confusing love with lust, I guess. And yer right. It is too soon. Maybe we just need to slow things down a little.”
The hard edge to his voice caught you by surprise and you just stared at him for a long moment. “You were the one who pounced on me, remember. So, if you want to slow things down—”
“I do,” he nodded, “and I think it’s for the best if we do as well.”
“Fine.” You folded your arms and offered up a long look. “Do you want me to find somewhere else to stay?”
“Ye can stay here until ye do. I’ll take the sofa, ye can have the bed.”
“Fine.”
“Good. I’m glad we understand each other.”
With that, he closed the door, leaving you to stare at it as you wondered just what the fuck happened.
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eunoiaastralwings · 2 years
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featuring haldir x @shalinizhara (because I miss the great haldir conversations we had)
fandom tolkien- the lord of the rings
a/n an ‘in your face’ to tolkien estate 2.0 pretend oropher snd rúmil are speaking in sindarin
haldir watched as his elleth conversed with that cheerful ellon from her home. Her eyes were sparkling with each laugh, making his eyes start twitching.
He tried to stop, remain calm, Lindir was just an old friend after all. There was no reason for his usually stoic appearance to twitch.
His hand unknowingly tightened on the glass of wine he held, when she moved closer to Lindir, when he wanted to whisper something in her ear. A light crack made him look down.
It ran along the middle, another tough hold would definitely break it.
Before he could react Rúmil grabbed the glass from him.
"Why brother? Is this why they say jealousy is powerful?"
He asked incredulously.
Orophin quickly answered, inspecting it as if it was an unknown weapon.
"I think so, little brother, look how it cracked with a single hold" he snickered.
Haldir held back a groan.
"It is not jealously" the oldest muttered lowly, much to enjoyment of his younger brothers.
"Then what may it be, big brother?" Orophin asked, almost too eagerly.
Haldir ignored the question and forced his eyes on his plate at the untouched food.
"You know, if I didn't know any better I think the elleth you are courting much prefers the company of dear lindir" his youngest said.
Haldir snapped his eyes up at this, the distance between his dark-haired elleth and lindir seemed to have grown smaller.
He didn't know what happened, one minute he was seated beside his brothers, the next he was suddenly upon the two elves- one being his beloved and the other a friend of sorts.
Poor lindir almost jumped at the sudden appearance of the marchwarden, the elleth however, was calm, definitely used to his sudden appearances.
"Haldir, meleth, you are here. You must listen to his story of the twins. I can't stop laughing" his elleth said with eyes that beamed. Her wide smile made him frown, harder than he should have.
"Oh yes, well it happened this one afternoon. They were supposed to be training but they decided it was good idea to cut Erestor's favorite rose bush and place it as flower crown on Glorfindel..."
Her smile widened more as the story continued, deeply immersed in it. Haldir though, Lindir's words didn't even know go in one ear to come out the other.
"Stop smiling so much, he will get the wrong idea!"
The words quickly flew out.
Words with no thoughts.
His elleth jumped this time. Her dark eyes blinking up at him in confusion.
"W-what?"
Haldir only noticed then, he attracted the eyes of many elves around them. Lindir gulped, face flustered.
With a mutter under his breath just for his own ears, Halidir quickly exited from the scene. His eyes refused to look at his brothers, he already knew of the smug looks on their faces.
The elleth sat there, her eyes wide in surprise and confusion.
"I think you should talk to him" her friend offered. She nodded and thanked him for understanding. She ran after her marchwarden. She hated how fast he was able to exit and have himself perched on the highest branch of one of the many tall trees in a matter of seconds.
With a roll of her eyes, she carefully climbed up to him. But the dress she wore almost made it impossible.
"I can't believe you are making me climb this tree with this long dress on, Haldir. And did you have to sit on the highest possible branch?" she asked despite with the knowledge that she will not receive an answer.
It wasn't until the second last branch, her dress really became a disadvantage and her clumsiness to kick in. Her dress caught on the branch with her foot and she slipped.
With an yelp she lost her footing. Though a strong hand caught her wrist and pulled her with ease. Carefully to place her correctly on the branch.
His elleth blushed at being caught clumsy again. She was not like the other elleths. Though she had grace, beauty and a kind heart, the clumsiness made her more human.
It was always amusing to the marchwarden.
"Thanks" she said lowly.
Haldir nodded and sat down, again.
"Are you going to tell me what happened back there?"
"Nothing, other than the fact how you seem to very much enjoy the company of your friend."
The elleth let out a light laugh placing herself beside him.
"Wait, is my mighty marchwadern... jealous? Do I really smell jealousy from you?
"Why does everyone keep saying that?"
His elleth was laughing with tears, throwing her head back.
"Beacause you are, meleth" she chirped.
"I am not" he retorted.
She placed her on hand on his.
"While I'm flattered you feel this. I must tell you, you don't need to be, you are the only one my heart sings for, Haldir. Lindir is my friend. My dear childhood friend, whom I missed so much. He's like a brother, in all honesty. I simply missed him, and wanted catch up with life in Rivendell. That is all."
"That is all?"
"Yes, melelth nin, that is all. My truest smiles are all for you" she confirmed.
"So no need to get jealous, my mighty marchwarden" she said with a giggle and a pinch of his cheeks.
She very much loved how she could make her mighty marchwarden's pointy ears coat in a bright red color. Her jealous mighty marchwarden.
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vladtoly · 2 years
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An Arrangement
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Requested: Yes, by the amazing @shalinizhara who gives me the best storylines ever! 
A/N: I honestly had so much fun writing this, i kind of got carried away 
Warnings: Unedited 
You always knew from a young age that you would end up in an arranged marriage. Not because your father, Il-Nam, had brought it up that much- though he did speak of it a lot- but because you never really got the chance to meet anyone on your own. Your father had always made it his top priority to keep you sheltered, safe. And in the process of doing that, you had ended up with no social circle, no one to even consider as a suitor. It was a lonely life, the one your father created, but it was the only life you’d known.
As a form of escapism, you would read, watch shows, anything to feel apart of something. The characters and their stories warmed your heart, but also made it hurt. You yearned for something new; something other than the daily ritual you had grown so accustomed to. Something about the relationships were nice, too. You knew you would never find a man on your own, that decision made for you, but watching the love unfold before you made the repeating days feel more... okay.
That’s how you ended up staying with your father until your early 30s. You knew he would never let you leave his safety, too afraid of what may happen to you. And with your escape by your side, you saw no need to leave the life so effortlessly handed to you. Until you had to leave.
Your arms rested on the outer railings of the ferry, watching the waves crash against the metal of the vessel. In all the movies you’d seen, when someone was going to marry who they’d spend the rest of their lives with, they were nervous, but happy. But you were only nervous. You had never met this man before; all you knew was what your father had told you before hurrying you onto the boat- he’s a good man and he’s going to take care of you. And you were so hoping that that was true.
Arriving at an island, a man in a pink suit with a mask adorning a square approached you. “Miss, if you’ll follow me, I’ll lead you to the Front Man.”
Your brow creased and you were going to ask who that was, but the man had already turned around to leave. Quickly picking up your bags, you followed him off the boat.
After a short walk, you entered a hidden building and were led to an elevator. The silence in the confined space felt uncomfortable, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. At this point, you were used to your questions going unanswered.
Once the elevator opened, the man motioned for you to exit. It was obvious he wasn’t escorting you any further. So, you grabbed your bags and began to walk down the dark, dimly lit hallway before you. The new atmosphere was surprisingly homey to you, almost like you hadn’t uprooted your life to be here.
“I see you made it safely.”
Letting out a small squeak, you turned to see a man in a black turtleneck and dress pants of the same color. His dark eyes watched you curiously, almost like he was trying to see your next move. And he was handsome, more handsome than any man you’d seen in one of your daily escapes. This must’ve been the man you were marrying.
In-Ho was more or less trying to find out how you were real. Il-Nam had showed him pictures of his daughter before and he had found you gorgeous. But seeing you here, standing in his kitchen, was something else entirely. You were the woman he was marrying.
You put your few bags on the ground. “I’m Y/N. it’s very nice to meet you,” you stuttered out, putting your hand out for him to shake.
He stared at the gesture before making his way to you, taking your hand in his. “In-Ho. It’s a pleasure to meet you, as well.”
Following your first meeting, things had been quiet. You both spoke about small things to get to know each other, but it became very blatant that neither of you was particularly a talker. So, In-Ho showed you your room, leaving you to settle in.
Just as it had been at your father’s home, you settled into a daily ritual. In the morning, you would eat breakfast together before he headed to work, leaving you alone. You would watch the large TV in the living room, lounging on the love seat. You’d help yourself to the kitchen. Then around 7 or 8, In-Ho would enter the suite, removing a black mask from his face. He never talked about his job, so you never asked. In honesty, you didn’t want to ruin the domesticity of the situation. It was comfortable, it was nice, even if he felt more like a roommate than a husband.
You two would eat dinner together, making small talk, more effort to get to know each other. The conversations were more relaxed than the first night and a part of you hoped he wanted to know you, not just for the marriage. But you knew the conversation was ending every night by one phrase he always asked without fail.
He would grasp your hand softly from across the table and ask, “Are you alright, dear? Do you like it here?”
The show of affection always set off butterflies in your stomach, and you could see the relief wash over him when you without a second thought replied, “Yes.”
And as quickly as his hand was on yours, it was pulled away, leaving you empty.
In-Ho admitted to himself days after the first meeting that he hated the circumstances of your meeting. He wished he had denied Il-Nam’s offer in hopes of meeting you more naturally. He hated how he left you every morning without a word, only to return later at night for a mostly silent dinner. He adored, however, how you quietly spoke about your interests, what you did all day while he was gone. It was all such simple actions, but he just loved hearing you speak. But by the end of the meal, he must remind himself of the harsh reality around them, the situation neither of you truly had a say in. Then he would repeat what he said every night, taking your hand, allowing himself the small indulgence of physical touch.
“Are you alright, dear? Do you like it here?”
When you always said ‘Yes’, he would allow himself to feel joy at the answer. Before taking his hand away, feeling empty.
Then, one night, the comfortable routine shattered.
The front door to the suite slammed open, startling you from your show. You looked over the love seat just in time to see In-Ho clutching his shoulder, rushing into his room, and slamming the door shut. You knew you should’ve left it, but your curiosity got the better of you. You silently shuffled to his door and cracked it open, seeing his room empty. Then you heard a pained grunt from the joining bathroom.
Quickly, you went to open the bathroom door and were horrified at what you saw. There was your husband, down to a black tank top, with blood seeping from a bullet hole in his shoulder.
He turned to you, holding gauze to the wound. “Y/N, you shouldn’t see this, just- “
You ignored him, shuffling around in a close cabinet for a first aid kit. Upon finding it, you moved past him to sit on the sink, facing him. You wanted to flush at the close contact, but instead ripped open an alcohol pad package and began to dab at the gory scene.
In-Ho grunted at the sudden sting but allowed you to clean and wrap his wound. After so many nights of cleaning his injuries alone, it was nice to have someone take care of him. He never would’ve allowed it before, much less expected it.
He went to speak before noticing your hands shaking, the gauze held in them falling to the ground. Worry flooded his mind as he took one of your hands in his, the other tilting your face to look at him. Your eyes were red, tears falling silently down to stain your clothes. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, I’m going to be okay,” he tried.
“Please don’t leave me,” he heard you whimper.
It was a simple sentence. But enough for him to pull you into a tight embrace, one hand cradling your head to his good shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere, love.”
“You came in in such a hurry and I came to see you and just the blood- oh my god the blood, In-Ho, I’m so scared, I’m so worried. I don’t want to lose you.” The words tumbled out of you like water from a faucet, your thoughts right out in the open. You had never expected to admit you cared for him in a blood-soaked bathroom, but that seemed to be how it turned out.
In-Ho was shocked by the sudden admission. He knew he cared about you, but he never would’ve expected you to return the feelings. The start to your relationship was so messy, so uncertain. He feared that if he said anything, he would ruin what good there was.
But your words touched him. He adored you. And when he was bandaged, and in a clear head, he would tell you just that.
In that moment though, he kissed your forehead and whispered to you, “I’m not leaving. I’m here as long as you’ll have me.”
163 notes · View notes
ateez-angel · 3 years
Text
Finding Home - (One) Yunho
Pairing: Ateez Yunho x Named Female Reader
Genre: Mafia!au, Angst
Warnings: Mafia, Fluff, Angst
Word Count: 7075
Synopsis: Part of the Secrets Worth Keeping Series, Yunho is in recovery and he needs someone who knows him better than himself to take care of himself.
MASTERLIST
TAGLIST: @sparklychangbin, @rebelspy, @leviathanblaze, @little-kpop-turtle, @shalinizhara, @little-precious-baby, @pirate-hongjoong, @xhjnas, @goddessundulate, @istanbandsforaliving, @cstobitk, @sausage2002, @emese1997, @kaibatool, 
A/N: I wanted to continue parts of the stories with the other members of Ateez, but there stories will more than be likely shorter drabbles or mini series depending on the ideas I have.
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“Yes, I understand that I’m not Mr Jeong, sir. Yes, I’m acutely aware that I’m his personal assistant. I know ever-” I paused as I was cut off, waiting for the client on the other end of the line to calm down from his temper tantrum and be an adult for five seconds so I could get a word in. My stylus spun around the tips of my fingers as I scrolled through the long list of clients with my left hand since half of what the client was spouting was insults. 
I had begun to categorize the list of the clients by their reaction to the news of Mr Jeong’s sudden changes in his schedule. While many were cordial and completely understanding why my boss was unable to meet with them or work with them, others, like this man on the line, liked to berate me, insult my family and tell me that I’m terrible at my job since they couldn’t accept the fact I was calling to reschedule their meetings. I wish I was dealing with their assistants, but some of them wanted to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth.
“Are you even listening to me?” The client barked into my ear, I imagined spit flinging from his mouth as his anger boiled to the point he was foaming at the mouth. My eyes nearly rolled into the back of my head at his arrogance.
“Yes sir, however, I don’t believe you have been listening to me.” I spoke quickly to not allow the man to interrupt me yet again. “Mr Jeong, my boss, was in an unfortunate accident and has just begun his recovery and will not be able to attend the meeting as it is scheduled for tomorrow. So, unless you would like to drive to the hospital yourself, demand you speak with him and see him directly, then I regret to inform you that the meeting will have to be postponed to a later date as you have requested to deal with no one other than Mr Jeong himself.” I paused to softly inhale as I waited for the man’s reply.
After several moments of awkward silence passed, much longer than I supposed it would be for the man who had spent the majority of the phone call throwing insults my way. “Oh, well why didn’t you say that at the beginning?”
If my eyes could roll any further back, I’d be looking like some possessed demon. “I did sir, right before you insulted my father for not raising me properly, my mother for not teaching me manners and questioning whether I was qualified to be in this position in the first place.” There was an awkward silence to follow that as I heard him chuckle on the other end of the line.
“Yes, please accept my apology and get in contact with my assistant for our next meeting if you would please.” Hearing the old man bit his tongue was almost as pleasing as watching karma catch a thief. 
“Yes sir. Have a wonderful afternoon.” I tapped my ear bud as I ended the call, I crossed off the last name on the list that I needed to call today, sighing deeply as I leaned back into the office chair. My eyes looked into the empty office that was walled off by tempered glass where I would usually find my handsome boss plugging away at his work through the day.
I was shocked this morning to come into an empty office and not see the man that had been the main focus of my job for the last seven months. It wasn’t much time later when I received an urgent call from Mr Song saying that Mr Jeong had been in an accident and that I would need to reroute his meetings or postpone them for a month or so. He said that once that was completed I was to stay near my phone if I was needed for any work responsibilities, but that I could return home for now.
I was sure that this ‘accident’ that Mr Jeong was in had to do more with his extracurricular activities than something as simple as a car accident or something of the sort. It had been only a few months into my new position when I discovered the little secret by accident and since then I was brought into the fold so to speak. Mr Jeong never allowed me to participate in any of the illegal activities, but I was made aware of them as I was often making up excuses or reasons why he would be unable to do certain things pertaining to his COO position. He had anticipated me quitting on the spot, but as far as I was concerned, as long as I remained on the legal side of his work then it did not matter to me what he did in his free time. 
It did help sway my decision a little more toward staying on as his assistant when he increased my pay by a significant amount, so where else in the city was I going to be making as much as I did as a personal assistant. The trade off was often long days and sporadic hours on the weekends, but as a woman in Seoul wanting to get by and save up for the finer things in life, how could I leave such a wealthy position? 
Now while I enjoyed this, my boyfriend was always on the fence about it. I knew that this wasn’t healthy for my relationship, since I would often be called away from our dates and more to be able to do work for Mr Jeong, but anytime I explained that the extra hours and more often led to bonuses on top of the overtime pay my boyfriend seemed to calm down. He didn’t appreciate it, but when he found out what I was making he quieted down a little.
I closed everything down that was needed, excited that I would get a little break from the hectic nature of my job. Even though it wasn’t a holiday break, I was essentially on call until I was needed, but that didn’t stop me from thinking of things that I could do in the meantime while I waited for Mr Jeong to recover. Maybe some lunches with my family, a spa day with my best friend and maybe even a date out for once in a long time or a vacation at a pension with my boyfriend. Maybe I’ll swing by the hospital and give him a bouquet or something. I didn’t really care, but I knew that I would take full advantage of this time away.
I hopped in my car and headed back home to my classy apartment, ready to begin this long break, praying that Mr Jeong recovered well, just slowly.
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The clink of wine glasses across the table as I smiled at my boyfriend across the table. “I’m so grateful you accepted my invitation for dinner, I was worried that you wouldn’t be able to come out this evening since you are already so busy.” I sipped the red wine, happy that this night could lead to something more.
“I know, after our coffee date I suddenly got wrapped up in a lot of work and I didn’t have a lot of time off, but I’m taking full advantage of this time away from work.” I set my glass down on the table, my finger tracing over the lip of the glass as I proposed something a little bit more. “Maybe, we can find something for breakfast in the morning.” His handsome and devilish grin grew wide and I took that as a good sign. Glad to see that despite my crazy schedule it was through the last few dates and phone calls gave me the feeling that we still connected well.
As we sipped wine and dined through the night, I found myself relaxing from my usually rigid disposition and calming down with this presence around me. His hand gently rested on mine as we talked, the night growing late as the sound of violins played off in the distance. “I can’t believe a woman like you is so tied down by your job. I mean, I appreciate all that you do.” 
“I know, my job is really hectic, but it’s worth it to cover my two bedroom apartment in the middle of the city.”
“I guess I just didn’t expect a woman with her Masters in Business would be using her skills and knowledge to be a secretary.” 
“Personal assistant.” I correct, my hand curling into a fist below his hand. “Also, I would think that it is in my best interest to use my skills to get me the money that I need to live. Plus, wouldn’t it look good on my resume that I worked under the COO of one of the best companies in the city.”
His eyes widened at my curt statement, holding his hands up in defence. “I meant no disrespect, I just thought it would be nice to hear that someone would be willing to take care of you if you wanted to quit that job.” My eyes narrowed on his figure across from me and wondered what his thoughts were now knowing that I made a lot more than he expected. Was he thinking that I was cheating on him and sleeping with my boss to be able to get that kind of pay? Was he thinking that I would stoop that low?
I could tell that the mood had begun to sour between us as a familiar jingle rang into the air, drawing the attention of other customers in the restaurant as I swiftly reached for my clutch and pulled out my phone to silence it. I read ‘boss’ at the top of my phone and cursed under my breath knowing that this time away would be too good to be true, but at least it was a good excuse to leave before this conversation led elsewhere. “I’m sorry, I have to take this.” Before he could protest, I picked up my clutch and answered the phone as I made my way to the bathroom where I could take the phone call. 
“Yes, Mr Jeong?” I held up the phone to my ear as I stood near the restrooms not wanting to go inside and disturb anyone in there.
“Hey.” The voice was not Mr Jeong’s, but Mr Song’s. “I know this is a weird request, but I need you to come to Yunho's house, right now, he needs you.” I was taken back a little bit, not by the time or place of the request, but the insistence that Mr Jeong needed me. I had been to his place a few times to get him to sign documents, but most of the time I hadn’t left the foyer. I didn’t understand why he would need me now, of all times.
“He’s getting released from the hospital today and asked for me to call you.” Mr Song called out through the phone.
“Ah, yes. I’m not too far from there already, I can be there in five minutes.” With a quick goodbye he hung up the phone and I sighed, at least one problem was out of the way, but who knows what type of problem was awaiting me at Mr Jeong’s penthouse. I quickly pulled out some cash that would cover my half of the meal and walked out to the table with a somewhat frantic look on my face, hoping that he would get the message before I got there.
“I’m so sorry, that was-”
“Your boss?” He sighed, meeting my gaze with one that told me that I should just quit on the spot. 
“Yes. Here is cash for my half of the meal and wine.” I offered apologetically.
“It is the least you could do for letting that job of yours spoil our evening.” He snatched the money from my fingers and turned away, making me truly feel worse for leaving. This wasn’t the first time I had left on one of our dates to meet up with my boss, but work was work. Since he didn’t look favorably on my job, I guess that was a good thing. I wished him a good night and rushed out of the restaurant, heading up the block knowing that it wouldn’t be far before I got to the penthouse.
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I hesitantly stepped out of the elevator, noting that there wasn’t anyone around in the foyer. I recognized the familiar tile and wall paintings and the den in the distance. The click of my shoes echoes in the white tiles must have alerted someone because Mingi appeared around the corner where the den was. “Oh, good you’re here.” His voice seemed a lot calmer than it had been on the phone and he just motioned for me to follow him. “Yunho was sick of the hospital and all of Seonghwa’s condescending comments so he demanded that he be brought back here.” Mr Song explained as I climbed the stairs behind him as he made his way through the penthouse. 
I wasn’t shocked by the style of the house since Yunho seemed to keep the same style in his office. It was a surprising turn for a rich bachelor, but maybe the group that he belonged to kept him too busy to be here all the time. I made no special note of anything in particular since this would probably be one of the few times that I would be here, I began to guess the reason why he called me was so that I could be a goffer between here and office for him which meant that I would spend minimal time in the rest of the penthouse.
Mr Song opened a pair of double doors too where we found Mr Jeong resting in his bed flipping through channels on the TV above the unlit fireplace. He spared us a glance that seemed grim until his face lit up as I entered the room. “You came.” He attempted to sit up higher in the bed, but Mr Song held him back down, not letting him get up.
“Yes, sir. Mr Song said that you needed me and I happened to be in the area so I came as quickly as I could.” I smiled at him, giving him my normal greeting with a bow. His eyes traveled down from my eyes, I realized he was taking in my current state, my black dress, heels and makeup.
“Oh, please don’t tell me that I took you away from a date or something. I promised I would stop doing that.” His lip curled into a pout and his trademark puppy dog eyes drooped in a sad look.
“Don’t worry about it sir, the date was becoming awkward anyway.” I shifted in my heels. “But, please let me know what you need of me.” Mr Jeong looked at his friend and then back at me. 
“Well it has to do with my injuries. Seonghwa says that I need to remain on bed rest with limited movement for a couple of weeks and because of my injuries I am unable to move my arms that much. Seonghwa wanted to assign a nurse to me, but I was thinking that it would be easier to have you assist me in my recovery since you could also help me with work during the day.” He smiled at me with hope in his eyes, but I felt like there was more to it than I was expecting.
“Well, I guess I can just come here in the morning and help you through the day.” I didn’t see any difference helping him here than helping him at the office other than the location.
“No.” Mr Song stopped me. “He would need you to be a caretaker, that means staying here through the night and making sure that nothing happens to him while he sleeps.”
“Wait, what?” I froze, this changes everything. “I can’t take care of you through the night, that’s not in my job description.”
“Yes, but a nurse wouldn’t be aware of his status as a member of Ateez and we need someone on the inside to keep an eye on him when we are unable to. Don’t worry, you won’t be privy to any of the things that will happen, we just need someone here that understands what is going on.”
“Plus, I’m behind on so much work and I’m sure with your help it would be a breeze to finish.” Mr Jeong finished. I crossed my arms over my chest, expecting that I didn’t have much time to think about this. I felt like if I was going to say ‘yes’ or ‘no’ I had to do so now. As I began to way my options more towards ‘no’ Mr Jeong pipped in one more time. “I’ll give you a bonus during this time, that you will get on top of your normal salary as well as a few weeks of paid vacation off. As well as a stipend to cover the costs of your apartment while you are staying here with me. As for the care I need, it’s mostly with eating, work, and keeping an eye on me while I sleep; which I have a monitor for that will alarm you if I am in need of your help which would just be calling Seonghwa and his team here to help me. Nothing too crazy.”
I weigh the new option in my head: a bonus, no commuting unless I need something from the office, my bills and expenses paid and a few weeks of paid vacation. “I guess I can, but I’ll be drafting up a contract that will hold you to your promises.”
Mr Song and Mr Jeong smiled happily with the results. “Good, I’ll send someone to drive you back home to grab your things. Mingi, can you show her the room next to mine where she can stay. Oh and Yoona, will you please just call me Yunho, it’s weird to have you calling me in such a professional way when we are at my home.” I hesitated wanting to keep that professional boundary between us, but this would be a great opportunity for me financially so I didn’t want to screw it up. 
“Yes… Yunho.” I felt heat rise in my cheeks as he chuckled at my response. Mingi nodded and showed me to the room where I would be staying. It was not as big as the master bedroom but big enough to fit half of my apartment and that didn’t include the ensuite bathroom and walk-in closet. Mingi then led me to the foyer where a driver was already waiting for me to drive me back home. “I’ll keep an eye on him until you get back, but please be quick.”
I nodded and stepped into the elevator. This wasn’t how I expected to be ending my time off and I wouldn’t have expected in a million years that I would be a caretaker for my young boss. I sighed, this was going to be different, but the money will be worth it.
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Moving into my boss's penthouse was the last thing I expected to be doing, but at least I could dress professionally even though we weren’t working in the office. Dressed in a pantsuit, I headed down the hallway to tap on Mr… No, Yunho’s door. “Sir, it’s time to wake up.” I heard a mumble through the door before a soft “Come in.” I turned the handle on the door and entered the room, seeing Yunho lounging against the stack of pillows behind him. I turned my eyes to the window not expecting him to be shirtless, “Good morning sir. Is there anything I could get for you for breakfast?”
“Yoona, please just call me Yunho, it feels awkward in my house.”
“Yes, ssss, Yunho.” I met his gaze which gave me the chance to see the bruising and bandages he had around his shoulders and his arms. “And what about breakfast? Were there any dietary needs I need to be aware of?”
“No, just call the normal place and have them deliver a coffee and bagel for me and then we can get started on work right away.” I knew the exact place he was talking about, but considering his injuries a coffee and bagel wasn’t going to be enough for him to eat. He needed nutrition so that he could get better. 
“Sir-” His eyes narrowed on me as I tried to correct myself. “Yunho, while I would normally respect your wishes for a coffee and bagel, I think you need more than that. I’m quite a capable cook and can get you something a little more substantial. Maybe some egg and rice with a side of fruit?” Yunho sheepishly laughed and winced when he tried to shrug his shoulders.
“Not that your suggestion doesn’t sound delicious, the issue is, there isn’t any food in that kitchen. I often just order food since I don’t spend much time here.” Now understanding the predicament, I took out my phone and added a grocery order to the list of things that needed to be finished that day. I already knew this was going to be a long day, but this was the last thing I expected to need to add to my list.
“Alright, I will add that to my list and make sure to contact your doctor and see if there aren't certain nutritional items that I need to get to get you back on your feet quicker. I’ll also make that call for our breakfast order, after that I’ll contact one of the interns to do a delivery of all the items that we need to tackle today, once that is completed, I’ll make sure that you get lunch, plenty of rest in the afternoon and hopefully the grocery order will arrive and I’ll make something for the two of us for dinner. How does that sound?” Yunho nodded, a pleased smile creeping over his lips as he made a mental check of all the things I just listed off. 
“Sounds good. Before you begin, can I get one favor from you?” He slowly moved his arms to point at the door just to the right of me. “Could you grab me a white shirt from my closet and bring it to me?”
“A button up?” I figured since he was not really good at pulling a tee over his head. He nodded and I went inside, seeing all the clothes perfectly laundered and pressed. I picked up one of the white shirts, returning to the bed with the shirt in hand. “Here you are, sss.”  
“One last thing? I need help putting it on.” I cocked an eyebrow before he quickly explained, “My hands are a little shaky.” I sighed and pocketed my phone, slipping the button down white shirt off the hanger. Yunho leaned forward to the best of his abilities as I tossed the shirt over his head, getting it around his back before he didn’t have the strength to lean forward anymore and relaxed back into the bed. Gently I helped his arms into the sleeves, getting a chance to see the painful bruises that were left behind from the accident. I didn’t realize how close I was leaning in until I pulled the sides together to button it up.
I began on the buttons working my way down when I heard him whisper, “Wow.” I looked up and saw his face so close to mine. His fluffy hair was tossed from still from sleep and his deep eyes catching the sunlight made my heart skip a beat and my breath caught in my throat. He cleared his throat, “I just didn’t know you had really long eyelashes?”
“Oh.” I turned my focus on the buttons quickly finishing them up and stood up from the bed, taking a place at a reasonable distance. My face felt warm, but I tried to ignore it. “I’ll get started right away.” I bowed slightly and left the room quickly, heading down to the main floor where Yunho couldn’t see me and placed a hand against my chest. 
This wasn’t the first time that I found myself admiring the handsomeness of my boss and how could I not when I knew so much about his personal life, probably more than a personal assistant should know. I tried my best to keep my personal feelings out of our relationship, but there were times I was sure that I would find looking at me through his office window, that soft smile on his lips and I was sure it was meant for me.
As a week had gone by trying my best to keep my distance from Yunho, but knowing that my presence at Yunho’s penthouse seemed to further anger my boyfriend. A few members of Ateez had dropped by to relieve me for a few hours so that I could have some personal time or time to meet up with my boyfriend. 
No matter how many times I explained to him that this all would be worth it, he still thought it was shady for me to be staying at my boss’ place. I couldn’t count the number of times that I told him that we were just working together, but left out the parts of me helping him throughout the day with other various things. And just when I was on the verge of breaking up with him, he’d apologize and tell me that he was wrong, begging for my forgiveness so I’d do it. 
“Yoona, can I get your help again?” Yunho asked over the phone as I sat at my desk in my room.
“Yes, I’ll be right there.” I made my way into Yunho’s bedroom to find the bed empty, this didn’t happen often and only when a maid was hired to help him bathe. “Yunho?”
“In here?” I stepped toward the sound of his voice where the bathroom was. 
“What did you need?” I leaned against the wall, praying that he hadn’t fallen and needed help getting up or something.
“Can I… uh… get a hand washing my hair? The maid couldn’t make it today and well I still have a tough time lifting my arms. I’m covered in a towel.” I could hear the hesitancy in his voice, but I knew there wasn’t going to be anything that he could do without help. 
“Okay.” I whispered, turning the corner into the bathroom, seeing him in the clawfoot tub with his head hanging over the edge. 
“Thanks, I know I’ve been asking a lot of you lately, but I just can’t stand it when my hair is like this.” He nodded toward the shampoo and conditioner as I kept my eyes away from his body and focused on his face. I knelt behind him and reached out for the shampoo, his hair leaving a small puddle of water in front of me on the tile. 
The strands of his hair were silky in my hands as I massaged the shampoo into a lather. He leaned his head back enough that I could see his eyes closed and he was enjoying the feel of my hands in his hair. My eyes traveled from his face to the bruises seeing that they had healed a little over the week. I was periodically informed by Dr Park about Yunho’s condition and stayed in contact with the hospitals’ nutritionist to make sure that Yunho was getting the things that he needed. 
I was happy to see that he was getting better. He wasn’t wincing as much as he had been and didn’t need as much help with basic things as he did when I stayed over the first night. “That feels really good.”
“I’m glad.” I whispered in all honesty, but he seemed to frown when I took my fingers away from his head. “Rinse.” I commanded.
“Yes, miss.” He leaned forward enough to dip into the water, his hands grasping the side of the tub to pull himself back up from the water. He wiped his face free from water as I kept watching the water drip down the muscles in his neck. “Conditioner.” He said, leaning his head back again enough to see the look on my face.
“Oh yeah.” I quickly grabbed the bottle, only my soapy hands dropped it and it clattered to the floor.
“You okay?” He laughed.
“Yeah, just a little clumsy.” He smirked as I retrieved the bottle and began working the conditioner into his hair. 
“When we first met, I never expected you to be clumsy.” He smiled as he remembered when I first walked into his office for an interview. It was on recommendation from a professor that he was in contact with that got me the position in the first place. “I had a hard time believing your resume, you just seemed perfect to be true.”
“I wish I was perfect.” I whispered as I smoothed my fingers through the tangles in his hair. 
“Why?”
“Because then I could prevent bad things from happening.” I said thinking about my relationship, my parents who had long since passed away, and even the injured Yunho in front of me. My boyfriend’s words crept into my mind as I thought about all the times that I would leave dates to work. Memories of my parents leaving the house to get me some ice cream because I couldn’t just wait one more day. My boss, doing dangerous illegal activities that I was aware of, but too afraid to tell him to stop. 
“No matter how much you prepare for things, some things just don’t work out in the end. That isn’t something you should be blaming yourself for.” His eyes opened as he looked up at mine. “That part that makes you perfect is the different parts you achieve as well as your flaws that make a perfect you. The beautiful you.” I leaned in close, mesmerized by his words, the gentleness in his voice and the look in his eyes. As I grew closer, I felt my knee slip into the puddle of water that had dripped off his hair, unbalanced, I let go of his hair to catch myself on the tile.
“Are you okay?” He turned quickly in the tub, splashing water onto the floor beside me. 
“I’m fine, just a little wet now.” I picked myself off the floor, seeing I had landed in the puddle and now the whole front of my pantsuit was dripping wet. “Do you need anything else? If not, I think I’m going to change.”
“No, I should be good.” I left the bathroom quickly, my cheeks feeling warm again. Not from the embarrassment of my colored bra showing through my wet blouse this time, but because I was positive that I almost kissed him. As I changed I berated myself for almost crossing the line and then I would be everything that my boyfriend said I was. I promised myself that I would avoid the line instead of toeing it like I had been, but that promise didn’t last for long. 
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To keep him busy since Yunho couldn’t spend any time out of the house, I found myself sitting with him playing video games or watching movies with him. One night after a long exhausting day, we were snacking on the food he bought and we decided to watch a movie after playing a few rounds of first person shooter games. I took a deep sigh as I relaxed into the couch, his arms doing much better after a few long weeks in recovery. 
About forty minutes into the movie, my eyes bobbed up and down as I tried to stay awake since I was the one who picked the movie, but soon my eyes drooped closed and I was slowly falling to the side wanting to find a comfortable position. I felt the gentle touch of a hand slowly guide me in the opposite direction, my head landing a warm cushion and a cozy blanket draped around my shoulders. After that I was completely out, snuggling into the warm darkness as the movie descended into pure chaos at the climax of the movie.
When the sunlight hit my eyes the next morning, I tried my best to stay asleep as it was a Saturday and Yunho would be sleeping in like he often did on the weekend. I pulled the blanket up higher until I felt a hand land on my arm. My eyes shot up, making me realize that I had fallen asleep during the movie and now I was curled in the couch with my head still laying on Yunho’s side. 
Looking up at his sleeping face made me smile as he looked comfortable and free of pain and it hadn’t seemed like that in weeks. My heart fluttered in my chest as I felt the warmth of his hand brush up and down my arm and cuddled me a little closer to him. I knew that I shouldn’t stay like this for long, but part of me wished I could stay like this forever. It was the most comfortable feeling in the world and my boyfriend was nowhere near this kind to let me sleep on him like this. I gently pushed myself up, trying my best to not wake up, but as I pushed his hand off of me, he stirred a little. 
Standing up swiftly, I made my way toward the stairs when Yunho’s eyes lazily opened and he stretched. “Morning. You realize it’s…” Yunho interrupted by a yawn. “Saturday.” I paused at the bottom of the stairs, one foot ready to bound up the steps. 
“Yes, I… Um… Need to use the bathroom.” I turned to leave, but he called my name, making me pause again.
“Seonghwa is coming over around noon to check on my progress and if he allows it, why don’t we go out and I can treat you for helping me out for so long. Give you and I a chance to escape the penthouse?” I had a hard time saying no to something like that, we had been cooped up, even though I had left a few times, I’d spent the majority of the last few weeks in the penthouse.
“Alright.” His smile grew and he beamed at my affirmative answer. “Dress up a little nice, you deserve a nice dinner and maybe a dessert from the best place in town.” I nodded and ran up the stairs not sure why I agreed and what I was going to wear, but I knew that I was a little more excited than I should be.
I found myself stepping into the restaurant with Yunho’s hand guiding me through the door. “Ah, Mr Jeong it’s so good to see you again, will you be taking your normal table on the terrace?”
“Yes.” We followed the maitre d into the restaurant where we were led toward the back of the restaurant. Yunho effortlessly picked up my hand and hooked it into the crook of his arm, guiding me along as we walked up a short ramp to the upper level of the restaurant. I didn’t fight it off, worried what type of impression Yunho would get if I pulled away. We were just about to exit the room for the terrace when I heard someone behind me call my name. “Yoona.”
The familiarity of the voice caused me to pause in dread. I turned on my heels to look back at my boyfriend who sat at a two person table with a woman I only hoped was a hooker. “What are you doing here?” He asked, stepping away from the table and approaching Yunho and I.
“Yoona, who is this?” Yunho questioned as I had never given either of them to meet in the past, not wanting my boyfriend to spoil the best job I had. 
“Oh, this is my boyfriend.” I motioned to him as he approached the two of us. “And this is Mr Jeong Yunho, my boss.” I nervously introduced the two to each other, hoping that nothing would happen, but I had wished it too soon.
“Is this a date?” My boyfriend asked, the fury that I had become familiar with beginning to burn in his eyes as he looked between Yunho and I. I let go of Yunho, stepping up and meeting my boyfriend before he could make a scene in the restaurant. 
“Darling, it’s a work meeting, there is nothing that you should be worried about.” I chuckled nervously as I tried to calm down his building alpha personality. “I’ll call you once it’s over with.”
“No, we are leaving together right now.” My boyfriend's hand reached out and gripped my wrist hard enough that I winced from the pain. “Then we can talk at home whether you’ll be working for him much longer.”
“No, I…” I tried to wrestle from his grip as the eyes of the other patrons looked out direction. I felt a hand on my shoulder before suddenly my boyfriend’s grip on me was gone. Yunho’s normally cheerful face was replaced with an unforgiving dead pan as he broke my boyfriend’s grip on me and turned his arm around, holding his arm in place behind his back. “That’s no way to treat a lady.” Yunho pushed him, sending him back toward the table had come from, the woman he was with catching him before he struck the table.
Yunho pushed me behind his large stature in a protective stance. My boyfriend’s face was purple with rage as he gathered himself. “You whore, I bet you've been sleeping with your boss just to get the salary you get.” I was taken back by his words, but I didn’t want to show the hurt on my face in front of the crowd that was around. “You know, let’s break up. I’ve only been using you for your money anyway and since you’re never around I haven’t been able to use…” Yunho’s fist connected with my now Ex’s face, sending him back into the table of food.
Yunho stepped up to my ex and picked him up from the floor, whispering something in his ear that turned his purple face white as he did his best to gather himself from the table. Yunho let the man go and watched as he pushed the woman he was with aside as he bounded down the ramp and out of the restaurant. Yunho turned toward the maitre’d and began to apologize for the mess, promising to help with the clean up.
Yunho turned to look for me, but I was already out the door, humiliation drowning me as I pushed through the crowd at the door who had peeked into the restaurant to see what was going on. I was as quickly as I could be in my heels, pulling my phone from my clutch to call a car to take me back to Yunho’s place so that I could gather my things and leave. How could I be so stupid to keep staying this that guy? How could I be so gullible to not break up with him sooner?
“Yoona!” Yunho rushed after me, grabbing my arm to stop me in the middle of the sidewalk. I refused to turn toward him as he tried to coax me back towards the restaurant. 
“I’m going back home, to my apartment, Yunho.” I faced him, letting him hold onto my hand as I explained myself. “I think I’m going to need some time off so I can get my head on straight.”
“Is it because of your boyfriend?” Yunho leaned over a little to look into my eyes that were cast down at our shoes.
“No, it’s me. I knew that helping you was going to be a bad idea and I feel like I’ve crossed the line of our professional relationship a little and I don’t think that will be good. I don’t want to turn into what he accused me of being.”  Yunho’s hand cupped my chin, bringing my eyes up to meet his.
“You knew, your glowing resume which was a reflection of your hard work and the recommendation is what got you hired before I even met you. You proved to me that you and your skills were capable of doing what I tasked you to do, which is why you have the salary that you do. I just didn’t know that I would begin to develop feelings for you along the way. I was just biding my time until you broke up with that good for nothing sack of wet potatoes because you deserve something so much better.” Yunho pulled me closer, afraid that I would run away from him if he used too much force.
“I do?” My fortitude crumbled as he pulled me closer in his arms.
“Yes.” He leaned in close enough that I could feel his breath on my lips as he waited for me to cross the last step over the line.
“And that’s you?” I wondered out loud.
“Ye-” My lips connected with his before he was even capable of finishing the word. His lips were soft against mine as he pulled me as close as I could be. My fingers snaked up the length of his arms to wrap around his neck and lace into the soft hair that I hadn’t touched since the day I washed it. It was only when someone bumped into us that we broke apart, a red flush decorating my cheeks, but Yunho didn’t seem to mind, he just laced his fingers with me.
“Why don’t we go back home? I’ll order in and then we can see what goes on from there?”
I nodded, giving his hand a gentle squeeze before falling into step beside him, heading back to the apartment that was beginning to feel like home. With the man that made me feel like I was more than I thought I could be.
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Sorry I’ve been gone for SO LONG!
Reminder if you want to be added to the Taglist, leave a comment or send me an ask! My ask box is always opened!
MASTERLIST
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luna-redamancy · 3 years
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(CEO! Thorin x Reader) You Promised
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Thank you so much @shalinizhara​ for the commission! I hope you enjoy your fic and that I did your idea justice! 
Warnings: blood, angst, painful memories (nothing extreme, remembering the death of your past life)
They say that your birthmarks are revealers to how you died in your past life. Some people with thin long ones, looking like a blade, some spanning their entire backs like a burn from a fire. And you, well you had a large thin one, just below your diaphragm. Some say it looks like a sword mark, some say it could have been an ax. Despite all the knowledge and myths about the marks, no one really understood it to a ‘t’. Some hypothesize that it’s designed to help you learn from your past, while others argue that it’s a way for kindred souls to stay connected, to be able to instantly tell when they find each other across their multitude of lifetimes.
Staring at the mark in the mirror, you poked it with your finger, the mark feeling like a freshly healed wound rather than just a normal discolored patch of skin. It was times like this that you thought about it, the time when you were finished brushing your teeth and about to put on your work shirt for the day. The moments where time seemed to be so slow, yet so fast, your mind wandered to the myths and the stories told, wondering if there was anything more to it than that. 
Blinking, you hummed to yourself as you returned to your bedroom to grab your dress shirt. Another long day at the office was ahead of you. 
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“Thorin!” You nearly shouted as your email was nearly exploding from the human resources department, another firing without the proper separation procedure being followed, another scramble to fill the position and not have to back-fill it, another meeting to be had for annual leave payouts. 
“Yes?” The bastard had the audacity to grin at you as you entered his office. Once upon a time, his office amazed you. A rich mahogany desk, plush office chair, floor to ceiling windows, decorated with a running shelf to hold personal photos and fake plants that his sister insisted he display to make him more ‘approachable,’ a couch, a meeting table with six leather roller chairs and two matching leather armchairs in front of his desk. But now, it was an annoyance to round the large table and get across the vast room to cross your arms in front of him.
“If you fire any more employees without consulting human resources for mediation, you might just experience a revolt--”
“By the employees?” 
“By your human resources department, they are fed up! They are tired of policies not being followed and for some reason they think I’m the only one that can change your ways.” You explained. It wasn’t a far-fetched idea, being the only assistant that wasn’t afraid to tell Thorin off without fear of losing your job. 
“I know sometimes they can get on your nerves, but please Thorin, for the love of all things good, try and follow their policies? Or else we may end up with a lawsuit and Legal will be the one in here yelling.” 
Thorin sighed, running his hands down his face. For a split second he looked like he was going to argue, but he reconsidered. He’s seen you hunched over your desk during lunches, even staying way past closing just to figure out what to do when he has fired someone seemingly out of the blue. Guilt swelled in his chest as he looked closer, the dark circles that you’ve tried to hide were easy for him to see. 
“I’ll try.” Was all he said, leaving you with your mouth open like a gaping fish. “What?” Thorin questioned as you broke into a grin. 
Scoffing, Thorin shook his head, holding back the grin from growing on his face. “You would think I just agreed to a two percent increase on your salary..” He mumbled, pulling out the meeting schedule from a previously locked drawer in his desk. “Now shoo, I have a meeting.”
Laughing, you shook your head, briefly glancing at the clock before going to exit his office. “Your meeting isn’t for another twenty minutes, by the way,” You called over your shoulder, laughing again when you heard him curse under his breath.
Time ticked by slowly, yet before you knew it, Thorin was exiting his office for lunch. 
“Enjoy your lunch, Thorin,” You called out, not taking your eyes off your computer as you typed out another email. 
Leaning over, he pressed the power button on your screen, “What was that for?” You turned to face him, his arms now on each side of your armrests, propping himself up. 
“You aren’t staying here for lunch, not today,” Thorin’s proximity made your heart speed up, his expensive cologne filling your nostrils. 
“And what exactly would you have me do? I packed a mean Lean Cuisine for lunch, it’s in the fridge, however that involves me staying in the office.” You crossed your arms, tilting your head as he chuckled underneath his breath. 
“You will join me for lunch and get out of this stuffy office and breathe in some fresh air.” Thorin spoke with finality, however you knew if you really didn’t want to go, he wouldn’t push it. Yet, as you took a moment to respond, Thorin’s palms began to sweat. 
It wasn’t often that Thorin felt this way toward anyone, the number of partners he has had since his teenage years can be counted on one hand, and yet you outshined every single one of the people he has given his heart to in the past. And you didn’t even know it. 
“Fine, fine,” You relented, pushing your chair back from him, causing him to stand straight, allowing you to get up. “But you’re paying,” You pointed accusingly at him, a grin on your face as his expression brightened. “Well of course, I am inviting you out after all,” He winked before going to collect his blazer, his body flexing and the white dress shirt he wore tightened across his back muscles. 
Wetting your lips, you inhaled sharply before turning your screen back on and saving the email as a draft before locking the device. 
Collecting your office keys and phone, you gave him a thankful smile as he held the door open for you. “Why thank you,” You bowed dramatically as you exited the now darkened office. 
“Now where to?”
“Oh darling, now that is a surprise,” The nickname left you shocked, a fluttering sensation in your chest as you raised a brow at him, managing to keep your cool on the outside. 
“Do your worst then,” You teased back, the two of you entering the elevator. 
If only you knew how worse it could get. 
The lunch had started out great, with laughs and shared stories, only for blazing hot coffee to be accidentally sent your way. 
Thorin’s mortified face will now be something etched in your memory, along with the sensation of burning on your chest and abdomen as you instantly react with a yelp, pushing your body away from the table. 
“I am so sorry, are you alright?!” The wait-staff member asked, to which you waved them off, taking your napkin and dunking it in your water before gently tapping it on your skin.  “It’s fine,” You spoke through clenched teeth as they scurried off, leaving the two of you to deal with the burns.
“Let me help,” Thorin said and before you realized it, his hands were quick to grab his own napkin and do the same as you were, his touch grazing over your abdomen and coincidentally, your birthmark. 
“Does it hurt much?” His voice rippled through your memories, and suddenly the man before you wasn’t your boss, not the CEO you meet with every working day, but your lover. Suddenly he had tears in his eyes, voice laced with grief as he crouched over your form laying in the cold barren snow. 
“Not anymore,” You found yourself saying, as your dirty hand, covered with blood and who knows what else, reached to cup his cheek. It hurt like hell but you knew you didn’t want these final moments to be him stressing over making you comfortable. 
“Why would you do that?!” He scolded, yet it sounded weak and lost. The blade from Azog was deep in your diaphragm. You knew you didn’t have long. 
“I can’t lose you, (Y/n), please I can’t--” Thorin began to sob, the toughened kingly facade he kept up for so many years crumbling before you as he begged you to somehow stay alive despite your grave injuries. “We were going to have a ‘happily ever after,’  remember?” He couldn’t help but remember the evenings of gentle whispers of a better future, having a good life filled with love and joy, something you two would get to achieve once Erebor was reclaimed. 
“I’m so sorry,” You couldn’t help but cry, tears now flowing down your cheeks as you tried your hardest to grip onto the thread of life. It seemed like the more you tried, the more you were being pulled away, your eyes growing heavier with each moment. 
“Whatever you do, do not close your eyes, please!” Thorin begged, his own tears falling onto your cheek as your hand dropped from his face, your body being too weak to maintain the position.  
“I’ll find you again, I promise.” 
Your vision went hazy before you blinked rapidly, Thorin’s gaze now locked on yours as tears fell down his face. 
“I promised, didn’t I?” You grinned despite the tears in your eyes,, the burning sensation in your chest now the least of your concern as you reached up and wiped a tear away from Thorin’s face, his face leaning into your touch. 
“You did,” Thorin laughed, pressing his forehead on yours before his hands were cupping your cheeks and pulling you into a kiss full of want and pain, as if to ground each other into reality that you both were together again.  “You promised.” 
Tags: 
Forever Tag- 
Please note that if your tag is in Bold, Tumblr won’t let me tag you!
@lady-of-lies @all-things-fandomstuck  @fizzyxcustard @izzydaelleth @aquaangel18 @raindancer2004 @love-colorfulglittercollection @underthemoon-n @ladylouoflothlorien @ten-tenya-iida @legolaslovely @bthtallmadge2 @abesottedlass @wilhelmyna @tigereyesf @aspookybunny @keijibum @moony-artnstuff @sirkekselord @guardianofrivendell @fluffymadamina @izbelross @fandomhoe101 @anjhope1 @kitkatd7 @mooseetx @themerriweathermage @elvish-sky @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @laurfilijames @frequentlychangingfandoms @cameronsails @linasofia
Thorin- @greennightspider @ashleygrrrl @skylarkvip @makeshift-prime  @jumpingmanatee @meraki--mei @theelvenvalkyrie @dabisburntnut  @queenofmankind @elvish-sky
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midearthwritings · 2 years
Text
*laughing nervously* What the fuck...?
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Th—
Thanks?
Thanks so fucking much?
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I love each and every one of you with all my heart. You guys have no idea how much this blog has helped me throughout the past year. And seeing that so many people enjoy my work??
I wish I knew what to say but, well... I've never had one thousand people supporting me before. So I'm a bit speechless.
I just want to say thank you over and over again because if it hadn't been for all your amazing comments and all the love you gave me, I would've given up.
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Allow me to give special thanks because there are some people who've been literal angels :
@im-almost-me comes first because Kat has been my first friend on here. She's an amazing person and I'm so proud of her and everything she's accomplished since we've met.
@cassiabaggins because she's the first Tolkien blog I've ever followed, and the one who made want to open my blog. Annie is one of the sweetest sounds I've ever met and I'm so happy we're friends.
@laurfilijames has my whole heart. She pushed me and encouraged me to do stuff I was afraid and has always been so supportive.
@messiambrandybuck aka the #1 nicest person on this planet. He deserves the whole world and I can't express how much I love him.
@guardianofrivendell the Tumblr mom. Without her and Tullaina, I would've never even thought about making an OC.
@shethereadinghobbit my dear friend. Talking to them is amazing, and soothing. She's also one of the sweetest souls ever and I'm extremely happy to count her as one of my friends.
@shalinizhara who recently just came back on Tumblr. Love, your support means the world to me, and you know you're always most welcome in my DMs to talk about anything.
@thespiritoflife the Tumblr fairy. Love, you're amazing, your stories is amazing, and I love you with all my heart.
Let's not forget my favorite crackheads : @lady-latte @claraofthepen @anotherbleedinghart and @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse . The discord server has helped me so much recently and you guys made me feel so safe and valid. I hope you all know how much I love you guys.
And obviously, thank you to each and every one of you who follow and support me. I'll never stop being grateful for how welcome this fandom has made me feel.
I love you all so much.
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(I promise I'll do a little something for my 1K, I just need to think about something)
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thewhiteladyofrohan · 3 years
Note
Some random questions that you might’ve answered of talked about before so apologies if you have.
Do you prefer the books or the movies? Do you have a favorite Tolkien based film? (Idk if there’s a term for both series, hobbit & lotr) Least favorite?
Last one; do you have any fanfic recs or fanfic author recs?
- 🦙
IM SO SORRY THIS IS SO LATE
Ok I'm gonna admit something here (i'm pretty sure I said it before lol but whatever) DUN DUN DUUUNNN
I haven't read the books
ehehehe yeah I haven't. Funny thing is that I started reading the Silmarillion first and I didn't understand a thing and then I stopped reading the trilogy alltogether. So yeah. I think I prefer the movies 😂
I think my favorite film would have to be the Two Towers (my girl Eowyn and my husband Eomer get introduced) or The Return of the King. I would like to say the Hobbit movies would have been one of my faves, too, (not that they're bad) but it didn't have the same charm as these og movies. The cgi was horrible and fake and it made it hard to believe that Middle Earth could be a real place (unlike in the lotr movies where everything looked real real).
OOH YES FANFIC AUTHOR
Ok some of my favs are @lathalea @guardianofrivendell @elvish-sky @claraofthepen @beenovel @midearthwritings @im-almost-me @legolaslovely and so many more that I can't remember at the moment. If you want a list of more authors, you can check out @entishramblings masterlist, in which she has a compiled list of some awesome tolkien fic writers!
If you want some fic recs,
Confession by @legolaslovely
Sweet Nothings by @shalinizhara
and so many more stories that have embedded themselves into my mind but I can't seem to remember at the moment.
I'm glad you asked and I'm super sorry this is so late. Have a good day/night!
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middleearthpixie · 2 years
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Where I Belong ~ Author's Note
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Thank you all for the many comments and reblogs on this story. It was one I'd been wanting to write since last fall, only to find out how much my muse really loves toying with me. Not only did Fred (my muse) give me plot bunny after plot bunny for other stories, but they abandoned me when it came to figuring out just how to begin Where I Belong. It wasn't until I sat down to work on a request that I figured out where it began and that request became this story instead.
This story was amazingly fun to write, but it also took a huge toll on me emotionally. I knew going into the first chapter how it was going to end, and the closer I got to that ending, the harder it was to actually write it. I've never had a story drain me the way this one did. And when I finished it late last month, I actually had to take a few days away from writing because I was just that worn down.
I also have to thank @lathalea for helping me solidify the original idea of the story that started out as "Movie Thorin." She helped me work out some of the finer details with endless patience.
I also have to thank @i-did-not-mean-to, @legolasbadass, @fizzyxcustard for talking me down off the ledge more than once, and for their reblogs and comments and all that good stuff.
And definitely thanks to @thewarriorandtheking for making so many awesome Thorin A to Z posts from which I drew a lot of inspiration for the Middle Earth section of this story ... So. Many. To. Choose. From!
Thank you to the entirety of the STGC for their friendship and humor and all the inspirational pics.
And thank you to everyone who read this fic, who commented on it, who reblogged it. I hope you don't hate me too much.
Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @ocfairygodmother @exhausted-humxn-being @shalinizhara @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knitastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy
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middleearthpixie · 2 years
Note
Hi! How about a fic with Thorin where he and the reader/OC go on a romantic outing in the woods? Could be either pre quest of Erebor or post botfa, up to you! 💙
Finally— here it is!
A Walk in the Woods
Summary: Post BOTFA AU where everybody lives
You and Thorin are finally alone for the first time since his near death at Ravenhill. He wants you to marry him, but is concerned that he will not be able to be a true husband to you. And since there is only one way to find out…
Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x Reader
Rating: M
Warnings: Oral Sex (m/f receiving, unprotected intercourse), and some fluff
Word Count: 6,451
Khuzdul Translations:
mesmel - jewel of all jewels
amrâlimê - my love
Mahal - the maker of all things
Ghivashel - my treasure of treasures
kurdelê - my heart of hearts
Maralmizi/Maralmizu - I love you
Mimûna - little one (f)
Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @ocfairygodmother @exhausted-humxn-being @shalinizhara @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knitastically
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There were some days when Erebor still just didn't feel like home. It was so different from Ered Luin, which was really the only home you’d ever known, and it was a far cry from what you found when your family finally made it to Erebor. You’d been raised on the stories of the kingdom in its heyday, but those days were long gone and left in Smaug’s wake was a kingdom in dire need of rebuilding. So, like the others, your days were spent doing whatever you could to pitch in and help in the rebuilding. In time, it would become home. Or so you hoped.
But, there was one thing about Erebor you love beyond measure.
Thorin Oakenshield.
You hadn’t seen him in nearly two years, not since he left Ered Luin to set out for the village of Bree, where he’d followed up on a lead on the whereabouts of his father, Thráin. He promised to return, but then set out to retake Erebor. And the last thing you’d heard was he’d been slain at Ravenhill by an orc called Azog the Defiler.
When that word reached you, you locked yourself away in your room for a week and cried like a child the entire time. During this time, your family decided the time had come to return to Erebor, and you dreaded the move with every fiber of your being. The last thing you wanted was to see Erebor, to be near where your love had breathed his last. He was your One, if in name only, and you mourned him as if you were his wife by law.
But then, when you arrived, you learned Thorin was not dead. Seriously wounded, yes, but he lived still and when you heard this, it seemed as if the entire world brightened. A second chance had been given to you and you seized it.
The first time you’d laid eyes upon Thorin was in Narnerra’s infirmary, about a month after his wounding. He’d still slept more than he was awake, and faced more than one setback, but he’d smiled when he saw you, held out a hand for the few seconds he had strength enough to do so. You slipped your hand into his as his strength faded, catching his hand before it could flop to the bed. His fingers tightened slightly about yours and his voice was no more than a faint whisper as he said, “I was but just dreaming about you.”
From that day on, you haunted his room, encouraged him to move, cheered his successes no matter how small, stayed by his side through his setbacks. And with each day, you grew closer—closer than even you’d been in Ered Luin. And recently, as his strength returned more with each passing day, Thorin began to speak of a future together. And for the first time since the day he’d told you he was leaving, you had hope.
On this particularly sunny summer morning, you stood on the threshold of his room, in Erebor’s infirmary, and just smiled at the sight of him. The Battle of the Five Armies had been fought nearly four months ago, and he was on the mend, but his recuperation was slow and at times, he took two steps back for every one step ahead.
Still, he was alive and in the end, that was all that mattered.
You paused, took a deep breath, and came into the infirmary to say, “Good morning. How are you feeling today?”
He looked up, the faint purplish smudges beneath his pale blue eyes were not quite as pronounced as they had been, but he still looked tired. However, he smiled. “I’m feeling almost back to my old self. Help me convince Narnerra I am more than capable of getting up and going outside for a bit of fresh air.”
“Do you think I’ll be able to?”
He met your gaze and nodded, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. “I think, if you’d been with us when we first returned here, you’d have been able to sweet talk Smaug into simply going on his way.”
“You flatter me, Thorin, but I’m not quite that skilled.”
“You managed to talk me into courting you.”
“I’m fairly sure it was the other way around, Durin,” you said, nudging him gently with your shoulder. “You just wanted to peek inside my bodice, if memory serves.”
“And I was almost successful, if you remember.”
“Almost does not count, and you know it.”
He slowly shifted on his bed and slid to the edge and you held your breath as he rose. He grew steadier each day, and this time, you didn't feel the urge to rush over and take hold of his arm. Instead, you very casually walked up to slip your hand into his. You held your breath, waiting to see which way the wind blew with him.
His thumb grazed yours. “I need no help.”
“And I offer you none.” You smiled up at him. He was tall for a dwarf, almost a head taller than you, and all broad shoulders and wide chest. “I just like the way my hand feels in yours.”
“Liar.” He made no move to pull away, but instead brought your hand up to his lips and when they brushed the back of it, butterflies let loose in your belly.
“What goes on here?” Narnerra bustled back toward them. “Your Highness, you should be resting.”
“I’ve done enough resting. I wish to take a walk, to take in some fresh air. Besides, I won’t be alone. See?” He looked down at you and smiled. “You’ll keep watch over me, won’t you, mesmel?”
Mesmel. Jewel of all jewels. Your stomach fluttered more each time he growled that in reference to you. You nodded. “Of course I will.”
“Have you a chaperone?” Narnerra asked, her dark eyes narrowing.
Thorin shook his head. “We need no chaperone. I am in no condition to do much more than walk, remember.”
You pressed your lips together to keep your smile at bay as the healer looked horrified and gasped, “Your Highness!”
“We will be back before sunset.” Thorin gave a gentle tug on your arm. “Shall we?”
“I will take good care of him, Narnerra,” you said with a sly smile, giving Thorin’s hand a squeeze. “Trust me.”
Beyond the northern walls of Erebor lay a lush forest and at the height of summer, the thick canopy of leaves offered relief from the sun’s heat. You welcomed the shade, the coolness, as summer was not your favorite time of the year at all. Too hot. Too sticky. You definitely preferred the cooler months.
Thorin looked down at you. “I look forward to the day when I need no one’s permission to go for a walk.”
A large boulder lay along the path, missing a chunk from its side to create a seat of sorts, and he sank onto it. He uttered no complaint, but you saw the exhaustion in his eyes, mingled with frustration. He was a proud dwarf, and his recuperation had been far too slow for his liking. But you wondered if he actually knew the extent of his injuries, because you did—Narnerra knew you and Thorin were close, knew what you meant to one another and in a slight breach of protocol, kept you informed on his condition—and to you, that he sat there now was nothing short of a miracle.
“She is concerned, is all.”
He reached for you, catching you by the hip to draw you in between his knees. “She thinks you are ravishing me right now, you know.”
“Actually, I think she thinks you are the one doing the ravishing, and running the risk of hurting yourself all over.” You let your hands come to rest on his shoulders. His hair spilled over his broad shoulders, far softer than you would imagine it to be. He wore a single braid on either side, and into each braid, a single heavy-looking silver ornament bearing words in khuzdul had been woven. The sunlight, when it managed to slip between the shifting leaves, glinted along the glossy strands, and you noticed for the first time, how much silver had woven itself through his raven waves. His beard also bore more silver than you remembered and between that and the scar that now ran from near his right temple down through that same eyebrow almost to his nose and was more white than pink, you noticed he’d aged. It wasn’t a bad thing, for he was still just so handsome, but he had an added maturity now, a sense of calmness about him that had been missing before he left Ered Luin.
“If only you would let me, mesmel. You turned me down whenever I tried in the past.”
You shook your head. “I couldn’t. How could I, how could we, when I knew you’d be leaving? I couldn’t take that chance.”
“And if I had died at Ravenhill?” A hint of mischief came into his eyes, one you hadn’t seen in so long, and hadn’t realize how much you’d missed it until now. “Wouldn’t you have been sorry we hadn’t done it? Wouldn’t you have regretted it for the rest of your days?”
“I would have and I wouldn’t have. Yes, because I would always wonder what lovemaking would have been like with you. But, at the same time, I died that day, when I thought you were gone. Losing you was terrible and losing you after sharing that with you? It would have destroyed me.”
“You’ve no need to worry now, amrâlimê.” His eyes softened, his fingers tightening on your hips. “I am here with you now and I will not die on you again.”
Your throat tightened as those feelings that you’d known that terrible day all rushed back. He couldn’t possibly understand just how you’d mourned for him, how you mourned the loss of the future you both had planned, the children you would never have because there would be no other man. You would have seen yourself as his widow for the rest of your days and looked only to the time when you would join him in the Halls. You swallowed hard and nodded even as your eyes stung with tears. “I know. And for that I am eternally grateful.”
“There is no need for tears.” He tugged you closer, into the vee of his spread legs, both hands on your hips now. “Not any longer, anyway. I give you my word that I am not leaving again. There is no reason why we shouldn’t make up for lost time.”
“Thorin.”
“What? It’s one of the things that carried me through from the Shire, to Rivendell, to Mirkwood to Ravenhill—knowing you would be here in time. Knowing you would wait for me.”
“Oh, I’m sure you saw many pretty girls along the way who would have been happy too snuggle up to Thorin Oakenshield.”
He smiled and his laugh rolled through the trees as he shook his head. “I paid no heed to them, mesmel. I knew what I had waiting for me and as far as I was concerned, you were my wife then, as I hope you’ll be now.”
“Why, Thorin, is this a proposal?”
His fingers brushed lightly over your backside, warm through your light skirt. “Are you saying yes?”
“Are you asking me?”
He tugged you down, folding his arms about you and as his mouth found yours, you slid an arm about his neck, let your fingers slip through his soft dark hair. His beard had yet to grow back to its former length, but it was full still, also soft against your jawline. His tongue slipped between your parted lips and your toes curled in your boots. You knew he liked to kiss this way, as the few stolen kisses you’d managed before he’d left Ered Luin had been just as sensual, just as teasing, and they did the same wicked things to you. Only this time, you would see those wicked things to fruition.
His lips were soft as well. Soft and teasing, almost nibbling at yours. He brushed them over your chin, down along your throat, into the vee of the bodice of your simple pale green dress. His hands slid up along your waist, but stopped just shy of touching your breasts. More’s the pity, as you wouldn’t have minded him doing just that. His hands were huge, but you knew they were gentle—hands that loved just as easily as they killed.
He stood. “Come with me.”
“What are you about, Thorin Durin?”
He smiled. “I’m going to convince you to marry me, is what I’m about. I know I am not whole yet, but—”
You slipped your arm through his, hugging it tight against you, as you let your thumb brush over the solid swell of muscle prominent beneath his shirtsleeve. “Thorin, you are talking nonsense now. Not whole—what does that even mean?”
He led you down the path, deeper into the woods. It was cooler there, the only sunlight coming when the breeze blew and parted the leaves above. It was quiet and peaceful, with wildflowers blooming in masses of riotous colors—orange, yellow, red, with delicate brown threaded through them. They offered up a perfume that was light and fresh and not at all cloying as roses or freesias might be. Here the grass grew lush and green and you smiled as the rush of water are stronger. You rounded the bed and the lake came into view, shimmering like an aquamarine surrounded by glittering black rock of onyx. And on its bank, in that lush, emerald grass, you saw a skin laid out and a small basket alongside it.
You looked up at Thorin, who tried his best to look innocent even as you said, “What is this, Mr. Durin? When did you sneak away from Narnerra to set this up?”
“I don’t know what you mean, mesmel. I had nothing to do with this.”
You let out an airy laugh and squeezed that powerful arm against your right breast. “You are a fibber, my king. And I am onto you.”
He stopped shy of the large skin and turned to you, his expression no longer teasing and light, but utterly serious, his thick dark brows pulled low, a small furrow creasing above his nose.
You laid a hand against his furred cheek. “What is on your mind?”
His eyes grew serious and he cleared his throat. “You do understand that I am not the same dwarf I was when I left Ered Luin.”
“I know that. And I am not the same, either. We’ve both changed.”
“Will you still have me, mesmel? Even if I might never be completely whole again?”
“You need to stop with that nonsense.” You shook your head at him. “You are here and you are in one piece and that is whole.”
He turned to you and your heart beat faster as his arms slid about your waist. “Is it nonsense? What if I never walk without assistance again?”
“Then we have the finest walking stick in Middle Earth crafted for you. Or you lean on me. We will find a way, Thorin.”
He bent to brush your lips with his. “What if we find I cannot… perform… as a husband for you?”
“I was talking to my sister about what to expect—”
“Your sister?”
“Easy, Thorin, she’s married and I had questions. Questions she would answer without breathing a word to my father, mind you.”
His eyes widened. “What did you ask her?”
“You are not the only one concerned with the extent of your injuries and she told me that there are other ways we could…” Heat stung your cheeks, especially as Thorin’s eyes widened and a slight grin played at his lips. Still, you soldiered on. “We could work around any problems, should they arise. If they arise at all. And there is no guarantee they will, but I thought it best to ask, just in case.”
“You think of everything.”
“I don’t know about that, but I did think of this. And if you are willing to explore the possibilities, she said they are almost endless.”
He smiled. “Did she now?”
“Why, Thorin,” you leaned in, coming nose to nose with him, “are you blushing?”
“I do not blush.”
“You do, King Under the Mountain. Do you really wish to know, or would you rather just try first?”
His fingers swept lightly along your hips, warm through the thin muslin of your dress, and sent a delicate tingle through you, warmed you slowly from the inside out. His touch did that, no matter how innocent. When he held your hand and his thumb brushed yours, you wanted to melt.. “If I cannot, I have no wish to disappoint you.”
“You could never disappoint me,” you told him.
“If I am unable—”
“There is but one way to find out,” you returned, brushing his lips with yours. Then you pulled back to wink at him. “So, let’s find out now, and I can run if need be.”
“So you can run?” He arched one thick, dark brow, but his blue eyes sparkled. He knew you teased, that you would never run, no matter what. “But what about what your sister told you?”
“I am but teasing you, Thorin. Have some faith in me, amrâlimê.” You reached up to curve your palm against his cheek. His beard was so soft against your skin. You savored the feel of it, grazing your hand down over his jaw, down along the side of his neck. His pulse beat beneath your fingertips, slow and steady at first, but picked up as you brushed your fingers along his warm skin, down into the open collar of his tunic. “As I said, there are plenty of other ways we might enjoy one another, and if you have no trouble at all, we can still explore them together.”
“Are you certain, mesmel?”
“I’ve never been more certain, Thorin.”
He bent to you. His lips met yours once more and this time, there was so much fire in his kiss, it stole the breath from your lungs. His lips were soft and gentle as they moved against yours, as warm as the breeze that wrapped about you, that pushed you closer to him. You slid your hands up along his neck, curved your palms against his cheeks once more to let your thumbs skim along the edge of his beard, along his cheekbones. You loved him more that you could ever possibly put into words, and hoped your kiss could speak them instead.
He rose carefully, easing his muscled arms about your waist. He loomed over you but while he intimidated almost everyone else, he did nothing of the sort to you. He made you feel safe and protected. You knew that in his arms, nothing could hurt you, nothing could touch you. And you could only hope he felt the same way.
His hands splayed against you, the heat from them sinking into your back. All around you, the scent of honeysuckle and jasmine floated on the breeze to mingle with the scent of those beautiful wildflowers, birds serenaded you softly from the treetops as Thorin pulled you closer still. You parted your lips, your toes curling in your doeskin boots as his tongue caressed yours, as it teased and danced with yours to fire your blood and fairly made you ache with desire.
He slid one hand down over your backside, curved it about one cheek and pulled you against him. You felt the stirrings in his body, felt his response to you as he rose against his trousers. You smiled against his lips, pulling back just enough to whisper, “I think you will perform just fine, amrâlimê.”
“Mesmel,” he murmured, the hand on your backside kneading the cheek he cradled. “I want you already…”
“For shame, my king,” you whispered back, smiling up at him, “surely you wish your woman to be as ready for you as you are for her.”
“Always.” His eyes seemed to darken to almost sapphire as he slid his other hand up along your waist. He just brushed the underside of you left breast, barely grazed it with his thumb, and yet a shiver tore through you, hot and tingling and delicious. He smiled, sliding that thumb along the lower curve, up toward your nipple and when he swept over it, you gasped. You couldn’t help it. Nothing had ever felt so good as that soft caress.
Until he did it again. Only harder. And as he swirled that thumb and your nipple beaded, his mouth slashed down over yours once more. Your fingers twisted in the rich fabric of his tunic, gently pulling at it to bare skin you ached to feel against your own. As the fabric parted, your fingertips brushed the soft hair that swirled across his chest.
The hand on your backside slid up, the hand on your breast slid down and around. His fingers met between your shoulder blades and with the lightest of tugs, he unlaced the back of your bodice. As he parted the muslin, his fingers came warm against your skin, which was also kissed by the light breeze.
He drew back, his eyes dark and swirling with desire as he eased your bodice down, over your shoulders, down your arms, to let it pool at your waist. Beneath it, you wore only a thin linen chemise, and you knew exactly where his gaze fell because your nipples tightened more than you ever thought possible and the heat from his gaze soaked into you like a balm.
“Mahal, You are beautiful, ghivashel,” he whispered, holding your gaze as he reached for you, as he cupped one breast and held it as if it was made of the most delicate crystal.
You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, pulling it as he cradled that breast and took in his effect on you. Your nipple beaded the thin linen, the dark shadow of it plainly visible. His touch came gentle and light and yet made your heart beat faster and your breath come more quickly.
“Thorin…” His name rose from your lips like a mist. Your eyes grew heavy lidded and his caresses made you feel languid. You wanted to lean into him, to melt against him, and tug his tunic from his back to feel his skin hot and bare against yours.
He leaned into you, his lips found yours, and you caught his tunic at its hem to shove up while he pushed your dress over your hips to puddle at your feet. He drew back, smiling as he carefully whisked his tunic over his head and let it fall to the grass as well.
You drank in the sight of his bared body—the heavy muscle that lay across his shoulders and chest, that wrapped about his arms. Dark hair shadowed his skin, from nipple to nipple, from collarbone to the waist of his trousers. Without thinking, you laid your hand against his chest, above the two jagged scars where he’d been run through by Azog the Defiler. They were mostly healed, but pink and raised and ugly. You bent and gently swept your lips across the bigger of the two. His breath hitched. His hand came down to slip into your hair, tugging it from its loose plait as he murmured, “Mesmel…”
You swept another kiss over the lower scar, then across his belly, pausing when you came to the lacings on his trousers. You looked up to find him gazing down at you, his eyes soft and swirling with desire.
With one thick finger, he stroked your cheek. “Why did you stop?”
“I didn’t. I paused.” You smiled and caught the leather cord between your thumb and forefinger. Your gaze went to the lacings, the ridge of his erection clearly visible through his trousers. The lacing slipped free and you smiled at his heavy, husky sigh as you tugged his trousers open.
You eased them down over thighs thick with muscle, along calves wrapped with it. You unlaced his right boot, then his left, and smiled as he braced against you to tug them off. Then, you slipped the trousers free and then leaned in to sweep a kiss along his inner left thigh.
Your mouth went dry at the sight of your dwarf—proud and hard and ready for you. You’d never seen a naked man before and he was a sight to take your breath away. With curious fingers, you traced along his length, his male flesh sleek and hot, and above you, he whispered, “Oh, Mahal… amrâlimê…”
You explored him slowly, with inquisitive fingers and then, equally curious lips. He moaned softly, his fingers sinking into your hair, loosening it completely to send it spilling over your shoulders. You kissed along his length, to the nest of coarse black curls at his base. A hint of musk clung to his skin, and his moan grew louder as you nuzzle those curls. You wanted to touch every inch of him, to let your lips caress whatever they could reach. A drop of silky liquid appeared at his opening, and you slid your finger through it, slicked him with it, smiling as more bubbled up as well, and when he thrust against your hand, his fingers twisted tighter in your hair, his breath came ragged and smoky about the edges.
He tugged on your hair, whispering, “Come here, ghivashel, and let me explore you now…”
You slowly rose and melted into his arms as his mouth slashed down over yours. He caught you in his arms, pulled you flush against him, his mouth hot and demanding as he devoured yours. You slid one arm about his neck and wrapped your other hand about that part of him, stroking as he thrust his tongue deep into your mouth. You caught his moan and gave it back as his fingertips brushed along your inner thigh, crept higher into untouched territory.
He brushed your curls. Parted them.
You gripped a handful of his thick, wavy hair, tugging it as he slid a finger through your arousal. Over the pearl tucked away within those curls, within your folds, towards your entrance. His eyes met yours, a sinful smile lifted his lips and with a gentle push, he slid his finger inside you.
Instinctively, you tightened about him, biting down harder on your bottom lip with each teasing thrust. Pleasure washed over you, gentle at first, but the then waves grew stronger, rose higher, and when his thumb swept over that pearl, you surrendered. Fire filled you, swept through you to scorch you from within. You pulsed around him, your body arching to meet each stroke, the sweet throb of ecstasy flooded you. Your head spun from the pleasure he gave, the pleasure that left you melting in his arms, a breathless cry misting your lips as you not-so-gently tugged his hair. You trembled around him, mindless with desire and aching with need and as he pulled you down to the soft skin nestled in the sweet-smelling grass, you wrapped yourself around him, gasping at the thick thigh he slid between yours, whose coarse hairs teased you, kept you humming even as delicious tingles of your release slowly faded.
He loomed over you, his dark hair spilling over his shoulders to fall around you as if to shield you from the world. Planting his hands on either side of your shoulders, he dipped to meet your kiss. Then, he moved down, over your chin, along the curve of your neck, flicking his tongue into the hollow at the base of your throat.
Your eyes slid shut as he swept hot kisses down between your breasts, and he moved over your left breast, he took your nipple in his mouth, slid his tongue slowly about it, and with each pass, your blood burned hotter, rushed harder through your veins. The ache deep within your core grew stronger, and when he lifted his head to gaze upon you with passion-smoked blue eyes, you melted all over again.
“Will you have me as your husband, ghivashel?”
“If you will have me as your wife.”
A slow smile lifted his lips. “I would be honored to call myself yours.”
“As would I, Thorin. Always.”
He bent to pressed his lips to your belly. You reached for him, let your fingers slid through his thick hair once more. Your eyelids grew so heavy, but you fought them, not wanting to miss a moment of what Thorin did. His lips brushed your lower belly, moved lower until he reached the mound of soft curls shielding you from his eyes.
You’d imagined what it would be like, dreamed what it would be like, having him nuzzle those curls, having him part them, having his tongue slips through them. But your dreams were nothing like the reality of it. His first stroke was gentle, as if he was afraid he’d hurt you.
Hurt you? You’d have laughed at the notion if the pleasure didn't sting you so sharply. Sharp. Sweet. Hot. Amazing. It rippled through you with each pass, fed off itself to grow and twist and fill you from your core outward. Your entire body tingled, your fingers tightened in his hair, you wanted to very much to direct him, to tell him when to speed up or when to change direction, but you couldn’t makes your lips form any words.
With the very tip of his tongue, he traced about your pearl and fire filled you. Your hips acted of their own, rocking up to meet him. He responded by licking harder against you, which made you cry out because nothing ever felt as hot and delicious as this did. Nothing could have ever prepared you for the sweet delight coursing through your body with each slow caress, with each gentle pull against your pearl. The molten pleasure swirled through you, sent your blood smoking through your veins and your pulse racing as you neared the edge of the abyss. You twisted your fingers in his hair, pulled it as you cried your pleasure to the birds, to the trees, to the heavens themselves.
You felt it coming, your undoing at his touch. Your fingernails bit into the hot, smooth skin of his shoulders, digging into his flesh, his muscle, as your body tensed with anticipation, the knots deep in your core twisting until you thought you would go mad with the need for release. You melted around him, tensing, shivering, your hips rolling to meet his lips, his tongue, even the rough scrape of his beard against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. His fingers dug into your thighs as you squirmed beneath him, he held you still as he devoured you in the most sensual way possible and your voice rang out hoarse as you reached the peak, as you hit that amazing summit and surrendered to the magic of his touch. Oh, how many times could he bring this pleasure to life within you? You were eager to find out, now that you’d tasted it for yourself.
“Thorin…” His name was but a whisper on your lips. Your eyes closed of their own, your head spinning so wildly, you couldn’t say much more than that.
“Amrâlimê…” he murmured as you fought you breathe, to remember your name, even. The sweetest of pleasures, your release washed over you, caught you in a sensual embrace and pulled you out to sea.
He pressed a soft kiss against that pearl, but now it too sensitive and you actually whimpered beneath his touch. His lips caressed your inner thigh, over your hip, along the slope of your waist.
“My love,” he whispered as he came up over you, reached between you, and—
You gasped beneath him as he breached you, as he broke through the barrier marking you a virgin and entered you. There was a hint of pain, but it was mercifully brief. Your body tensed against his invasion at first, but as he patiently filled you, you yielded to the thickness of him, caught him and he moaned above you as he seated himself completely inside you and went still.
“Amrâlimê,” he breathed, his lips just brushing yours, “you feel so very good…Oh, Mahal, I had no idea you would feel this way…”
Your head spun as he thrust and your moan mingled with his. He moved slowly, let you savor every delicious inch of that part of him that gave you such fiery pleasure. You moved your hips to meet him, smiling as he moaned low in his throat. This was so much more than you ever could have imagined, so much more than your sister could ever convey. This was so much bigger than you. Bigger than Thorin. You discovered this together. He was your first. Your only. Just as you were his, for you did not doubt his fidelity to you in the least.
You looked up into his blue eyes and when he smiled down at you, you felt your heartbeat quicken. You’d loved this man since you were children, and now he was yours, you were his. And as he shuddered above you and gave a long, powerful thrust, you felt his control slipping away. Felt him tense, to stretch your further as he murmured, “Ghivashel… oh, yes… like that… oh, kurdelê… marry me, my love… be mine forev—oh!”
He surged hard, crushed you against him, and you felt him go over the edge. He tensed. He shuddered. He growled your name into your neck as he came and you wrapped around him, your legs tight about his waist to hold him inside you, to make certain you accepted every last bit of him.
“Thorin…” Your voice was a breathless whisper as you clung to him, as you brushed your lips over his ear, as you let your fingernails graze his back, smiling as he shivered against you and let out an equally breathless laugh.
“Maralmizi,” he whispered, brushing the slope of your neck with a kiss.
You smiled, stroking his hair with one trembling hand. “I think it safe to say you can perform as a husband, Mr. Durin.”
Another soft laugh came as a whisper against your skin. He sank against you, kissing your ear, and when he shifted, it was too gaze down at you with soft blue eyes. “Will you marry me, amrâlimê?”
“I will, Thorin.” You tucked a long curl back behind his left ear. “Maralmizu, my king.”
He just gazed at you for a long moment, a tender smile at his lips. “I missed you, you know, while I was gone. I thought about you, dreamed about you, and I promise you, I will not be leaving again.”
“You better not.” You traced the tip of your finger along the edge of his beard. “Or I will have to find another king.”
His eyes danced with a merriment you hadn’t seen in what felt like a lifetime. “You may carry my child now, amrâlimê. I do not fear your threats.”
You stroked his beard slowly. “I hope I do, Thorin. You will make a fine father.”
He drew back and you almost sighed at the loss of his fullness inside you. He eased off you, gathering you in his arms as he murmured, “That remains to be seen, but I look forward to finding out.”
“As do I, you know.” You traced your fingers through that dark hair swirled across his chest. It was far softer than you’d thought it would be, and when you moved over the left side, you felt his heartbeat beneath your palm, slow and steady, and the enormity of what just happened between you slammed into you like a battering ram. Your throat tightened, your eyes stung with unexpected tears, and you tucked your head against his chest before he could see your emotions wreaking havoc on you.
“What is it, ghivashel?” he murmured, his fingers smoothing along your hair as he drew his cloak over the both of you with his free hand.
“Nothing.” Your eyes overflowed and you tried to ward off your running nose, all for naught.
The skin beneath you was warm and it was cool there in the shade, and you tried to use it to dry your eyes, but fooling Thorin Oakenshield was not quite that easy, as he caught you beneath the chin with a thick forefinger and lifted your face to his. “What is it? Did I hurt you, amrâlimê? I tried to be gentle.”
“You did not hurt me any more than I expected it to hurt.” You looked up, swiping at your streaming eyes with your fingertips. “And I don’t even know why I’m crying. I think it’s… I think it’s just that I didn't expect to feel this way at all. I have loved you since we were but small children, and as I found you, as we realized what was happening between us, you left. And then I thought I’d lost you, and I never want to feel that way again, but I’m terrified it will happen again and I—”
He smothered your words with a gentle kiss. Pulling back, he murmured, “I will not leave you again, mesmel. Not ever. I give you my word.”
You caught his face in your hands. “You better not, Thorin. Or else.”
He smiled, easing over you once more. “Or else what, mimûna? What could you possibly do to me?”
You slid your arms about his waist, trailing your fingernails along his back to make him shiver softly. “I can make the mighty Thorin Oakenshield tremble with just the touch of my fingertips.”
His eyes slowly closed and a seductive smile came to his lips. “You can make the mighty Thorin Oakenshield give you anything you desire, if you but promise him access to the treasures of your body and your love, ghivashel. Anything you desire.”
“I have all that I could ever want right here,” you told him, tugging him flat against you.
Your lips met and that was all it took for you to surrender once more to the magic of him, and as the sun shone down through the leafy canopy, his name bubbled to your lips once more.
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middleearthpixie · 2 years
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Durin's Garage AU ~ Good Trouble
Durin’s Garage AU - Good Trouble
Modern Spin on The Hobbit
A/N: Because we need a little Dwalin love...
Summary: When your car breaks down, there is only one garage in town - Durin’s Garage and Engine Repairs. And sometimes, they do more than just tune your engine, check your oil, and top off your fluids…
Everyone in town knows Durin’s Garage and Engine Repairs is THE place to go when your car needs work, and everyone knows that Dwalin Fundinson is to be avoided outside of the garage. He’s an ace mechanic, but trouble otherwise.
But then again, there is such a thing as good trouble, as you are about to discover…
Pairing: Modern!Dwalin x reader
Warning: Rated E, NSFW 18+ ~ Minor violence, oral sex (F receiving,) unprotected intercourse (m/f)
Word Count: 6,368
Be sure to check out these other stories in this AU
@laurfilijames - Durin's Garage Part 1 Part 2
@i-did-not-mean-to - ‘Nother Time, Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
@fandomfaeryreads - Garages and Gazes - Part 1
Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @ocfairygodmother @exhausted-humxn-being @shalinizhara @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @enchantzz
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Snow swirled past the front windows. The first snow of the year. Well, it was December. The year was coming to a close and you were no closer to your goal of doing something with your life beyond pulling beers and fending off overeager frat boys from the nearby university.
Not that there was anything wrong with bartending. There wasn’t. You loved your job and where you spent most of your waking hours. For the most part, the Dunraven Pub was one of the best jobs you’d ever had. Money was decent. Tips were good. Drunks and those overeager frat boys really were the only downside.
Still… sometimes you wondered if there wasn’t more to be found, somewhere outside the town where you were born and raised. Something was missing from your life. Trouble was, you couldn’t figure out what that something might be. All you knew was things were’t right, and to make matters worse. your father had been growing more and more insistent that you come home. And home was to be avoided at all costs.
The door opened, the gust of frigid wind carrying snow into the pub, and you looked up to see Dwalin Fundinson brushing more snow off the top of his bald head. Actually, would bald even be the right term? Because while the top of his head had no hair (his long, dark hair began somewhere around the middle of his head) it instead was quite intricately tattooed instead, as were the backs of his hands, his forearms, and probably at least up to his shoulders. If the rumor mill was to be believed, even his junk was inked, but you could neither confirm nor deny that little tidbit. You knew better than to get to close to Mr. Fundinson. Everyone knew he was trouble. Always ready for a fight. Not one to mince words. Niceties weren’t necessary his strong suit. He scared the shit out of old ladies, probably.
He was, however, a damn fine mechanic, as seemed to be the case with everyone over at Durin’s Garage and Engine Repairs. They’d been in business since at least the last century and while other garages opened up here and there, none managed to remain in business. Durin drove them all out over time.
He looked to be in a particularly dark mood as he sank onto a barstool at the end of the bar. You walked over, menu in hand, and smiled. “Evening, Mr. Dwalin, what can I get for you?”
He looked up and in the low light, it was difficult to tell that his eyes were blue, but you knew they were. A pale blue, almost gray, really. Pale and cold. You had the feeling he’d seen some things that haunted him. Perhaps that was why he always seemed to be spoiling for a fight. But, you didn’t know him well enough to pry.
“What’s on tap tonight? Anything new?”
You shook your head. “Bobby knows the regulars aren’t interested in any fads, so same thing every week. So, what’re you in the mood for?”
“You have Yuengling Dark Brewed?”
“You know we do.” You took a pint glass from the rack, and moved to the tap to fill it, then set a napkin before him, and the glass atop it. “Am I starting a tab or is this your only one?”
“Tab.”
You knew he’d say that, although his tabs never ran more than three drinks of any sort. He wasn’t a big drinker and you’d actually seen him nurse a pint more often than not, especially if he came in with the men he worked with. While they could be loud and raucous, the Durin men—Thorin, and his nephews, Fili and Kili—were not rowdy. They weren’t obnoxious. They just kept to themselves, and when they showed up, every woman in the Dunraven lusted after them, no matter how old or young said woman might be. The entire lot of them were too handsome for their own good. And even Dwalin wasn’t the exception to that rule. Plenty of women eyed him up like a side of beef as well, but he rarely returned the sentiment. You’d never seen him leave the pub with any woman, and you knew plenty of them tried to coax him out.
And that left you curious.
He nursed his beer and you moved further down the bar as two college boys stepped up. One smiled, showing off way too many teeth that were too white and too lupine. “Hey, honey,” he said, “can I get two shots of Jägermeister?”
You ignored the honey, and looked up at him. “Do you have any ID?”
“Sure.” He tugged his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans and then flipped it open. “See?”
“Take it out please.”
“Why?”
“Because I asked you to.”
He sighed, but worked his license free and slapped it on the bar. Out of state. You picked it up and as sweetly as you could manage, asked, “Do you have a second form of ID to go with this?”
“A second form of—are you fucking kidding me?” His eyes narrowed. “I’m twenty-one. It says it right there.”
“State law requires a second form of ID with an out of state license.” You handed it back to him. “So, if you have any other ID, hand it over. If not, have a nice evening.”
“You stupid—are you kidding me?“
You folded your arms, staring at him as if he was a toddler you’d caught being fresh. He thought he was a tough-guy, but you dealt with guys like him almost every night of the week and if he thought he’d win the battle, he was sorely mistaken. “What was that?”
“You want more ID?” He rifled through his wallet, yanking out credit cards and store rewards cards to scatter across the bar. “There, more ID. Now can I get my goddamn shot of Jäger?”
“No. We’re done and you need to go.” You gestured toward the door with one hand, and swept the pile of plastic cards at him with the other.
He scowled. “You’re refusing to serve me?”
“Are ye deaf?” Dwalin broke in, glaring at him. “Ye don’t have the ID, ye don’t get the shots. It’s no’ a difficult concept.”
“Did anyone ask you?”
You sighed. “Tony?”
Tony was the bouncer and he was there in a moment, grabbing the kid by the arm. “Time for you to go, tiger.”
“Tiger? What the fuck? What am I? Twelve? Get your goddamned hands off me!”
You looked over at Dwalin as Tony tossed the frat boy out of the bar. “Thank you. Next one’s on me.”
He held up a hand. “Don’t mention it. Can’t stand snot-nosed kids who think they know everything. He’s been legal all of five minutes, little shit.”
You couldn’t hold back your smile. “Well, thank you, just the same. Are you hungry? The kitchen’s still open.”
“No, thanks. It’s just been a long day.”
You leaned your elbow against the bar. “Want to talk about it?”
He lifted the bottle of porter to his lips and shook his head, rumbling, “Not particularly,” before he took a pull.
“If you change your mind,” you winked, “I’ll be right over there.”
That got you something of a smile and a wry, “I’ll try to remember that.”
You moved down to the far end to wait on a couple of soccer moms and by the time you were finished with them, Dwalin was gone, a twenty tucked under the bottle. The tip was more than the total of the bill. You smiled as you cleared away the bottle and tucked the tip into your jar.
By the time your shift was over, it was nearly two AM and you were dead tired. But, you were also off tomorrow, so at least you had that going for you. You bid Tony and Bobby goodnight, and made your way out into the cold and the snow. Your car was parked in the far corner of the lot, under the only streetlight. You figured you broke even on danger scale that way—well lit, but far away.
It was still snowing, and the breeze had picked up to sift the powder this way and that. It also muffled footsteps, which was why you never heard the college boy come up behind you until his hands planted firmly against your shoulder blades and he shoved.
You reeled forward, stumbled over your own boots, and went down hard against the pavement. He grabbed a handful of your hair to twist. “Not so high and mighty now, are you, bitch?”
You didn’t hear the second set of footfalls, but then frat boy yelped and let go of you and you flipped onto your back in time to see Dwalin throw a punch that dropped the kid like a sack of sand. No whimper. No yelp. Just a fist meeting his face, followed by a dull thud.
“Dwalin?” You stared up at him, oblivious to the snow soaking into your jeans, and only just noticed the cold that bit into you. “What are you doing here this late? You left hours ago.”
He reached down to catch you by the wrist and tugged you to your feet. “I had a bad feeling about this snot-nosed punk.” He nudged the frat boy with a booted foot, then turned back to you. “Are ye okay?”
“I’m a little shaken up, but okay otherwise.” You looked up at him as you brushed the snow off your ass, from the backs of your legs. Frat boy must’ve gotten a lick in, for a bruise was forming under his right eye, and below that, a small cut. “Did he hit you?”
“Aye, if ye can call it a hit. I’ve been hit harder by my own kin.” He jerked back. “Ah, don’t touch it!”
“Oh, don’t be a baby. Come on, you’ve got a cut under your eye. There’s a first aid kit under the bar, let’s just—”
You started back toward the bar, only to have him refuse to move and stopped you short as he growled, “It’s fine and I don’t need first aid.”
“You’re bleeding.”
He probed at the small cut beneath his eye with a fingertip. “It’s fine. Barely a cut and more like a scratch.”
“Oh my god, you are a stubborn mule.” You crouched to scoop up your purse and the book you read when the bar was slow. As you stood, you faced him again. “Thank you. I don’t know why you were loitering around here so late, even if you did have a bad feeling, but I’m glad you were.”
“Well, as long as yer all right. Ye should go before he wakes up.”
“What if he presses charges?”
“I’ll remind him that he assaulted ye first.”
You looked down at the slide mark in the snow, made by you when you fell, and a shiver ran along your spine. If Dwalin hadn’t been there… it could have been so much worse. It probably would have been so much worse.
You shivered again, which did not go unnoticed.
He shrugged out of his leather jacket and moved to drop it around your shoulders. “Ye aren’t wearing a coat, lass. Are ye mad? It’s nearly freezing out here.”
“I don’t like driving in a jacket and I didn’t think I’d need it to go from the car to the bar and vice versa.” Your stomach tossed suddenly and without thinking, you leaned into him. He was warm. He smelled nice—like the snow itself, crisp and clean. And when he drew an arm around you, you felt safe.
He draped the jacket over his arm. “Let me see ye to yer car.”
“It’s the Jeep in the corner.”
“Ye shouldn’t be parking out here. Yer too far from, the building.”
“Employees aren’t allow to park closer. Those spaces are for customers.”
“Bobby is a jackass.”
You managed a small laugh. “I won’t argue that.”
At your red Jeep Wrangler, you said, “Where is your car?”
“I don’t have a car. And it’s no weather for a bike, so I’m on foot.”
“A bike? As in a motorcycle?”
He nodded. “Yes, as in a motorcycle.”
That didn’t surprise you as all. He definitely looked like the motorcycle sort, and you could easily see him astride one. “Isn’t a little cold out for being on a bike?”
He shrugged. “I don’t feel the cold so much, so no. I guess not. But,” he looked up, holding out a hand palm up to catch the silent flakes drifting around them, “like I said, too dangerous to be on my bike on a night like tonight, so I’m on foot instead.”
“On foot? How far do you live from here?”
“Not far. A mile or so that way,” he pointed toward the center of town.
“You walked here?”
“I took an Uber.”
You bit back a smile, picturing the look on his driver’s face when said driver got a good look at him. “You must have made him wet his pants.”
To her surprise, he grinned. “He did look a wee bit nervous, now that ye mention it.”
“Get in.” You beeped off the alarm. “The least I can do is give you a ride home. Although,” you looked over at frat boy, “think we should at least nudge him?”
“Fuck him.” Dwalin tugged open the passenger door and climbed in. “It’d serve him right to freeze his nuts off out here.”
You couldn’t argue with that, so you didn’t. You climbed into the driver’s seat, kicked over the ignition, and backed out of the space.
Dwalin directed you through town to a small apartment complex not far from Durin’s Garage. You pulled into a guest space and put the engine in neutral, tugging the emergency brake up to engage it. Two slots over, a tarp draped what you assumed was probably his motorcycle and you wondered what kind of bike he owned. A Harley, no doubt. Something jet black and shiny, with a throaty-sounding engine.
“Are ye sure yer okay?”
You nodded. “I’m fine. Really. Thank you again, though. You have no idea how much I appreciate it.”
“Yer welcome.” He looked over at you, and when he smiled, it was like being hit with something heavy—like a cast-iron frying pan—only there was no pain following the blow. “Like I said, I had a feeling he was trouble.”
“Well, people say that about you, too, you know.”
He nodded. “I know.”
“So, why did you really come back?”
“I told ye—”
“You left two hours ago. Where were you?”
“I came home and the more I thought about it, the more I worried. The more I worried, the less I could sleep. So, I caught an Uber and came back.”
“You were worried about me?”
“Yeah. I like ye.”
“You like me.”
He nodded. “I like ye. Ye don’t really think it takes me two hours to finish one silly porter, do ye?”
“I thought you were a lightweight.” You couldn’t resist teasing him. It was a gamble, and you held your breath for a moment.
But then, he chuckled. “I can drink any one of those boys under the table, ye know.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“I can. I just choose not to because someone’s got to look out for them.” He looked up and met your gaze again and you felt the air crackle around you. Without thinking, you leaned across, over the console, and kissed him.
He looked so fierce and frightening, with his long, dark hair and heavy dark beard and mustache, and all of his ink, but the second your lips met, his hands came up to cradle your face. His thumbs moved along your cheeks in soft, sweeping motions. His lips were just as soft, almost surprisingly so, and they moved against your with a gentleness you never would have taken him to possess. His lips parted, his tongue brushed along the edges of your lips, then slid between them to caress yours. He released your face, his arms snaking about your waist and, with almost no effort, he pulled you astride him.
Your knees sank into the perforated leather seat on either side of his hips, and you wrapped your arms about his neck, pressing yourself flush against him. His body was firm and hard, muscles lay thick across his shoulders, down his upper back.
Little by little, the Jeep’s windows fogged up and the heat seemed to work too well. It made your clothes heavy and uncomfortable. His fingers curled into the bottom of your navy blue Dunraven Pub tee shirt, tugged it from the waist of your jeans, and when his hands lay flat against your bare skin, you actually shivered. His fingertips were warm and rough, dragging up along the valley of your spine. They snagged in your bra strap. A flick of one wrist, and the band opened and you sucked in a deep breath as—
“Ohhh…” The sigh leaked from you as those rough fingertips swept along the outer curve of your breasts. His thumbs dragged teasingly about your nipples, sending ripples of icy pleasure spiking through you with each achingly slow turn. Your nipples puckered into taut beads beneath his touch and as they did, a silky heat began to pool between your legs. You rocked slightly forward, and when you met the very firm bulge of his cock straining against his jeans, you smiled and shivered at the same time. It had been a while since you’d fooled around with anyone, never mind that you were fooling around with Dwalin, who reeked of danger and sex and everything your mother always warned you away from, all the while fearing it was exactly what would attract you.
And attract you it did. You’d spent so many nights wondering about him, watching him interact with his friends, how he seemed especially protective toward Thorin Durin. Perhaps the rumors were lies and he wasn’t nearly as frightening as those rumors wanted you to believe.
And then there was the rumor about his ink…
You shivered. This was like being a teenager all over again, hoping like hell you didn’t get caught by the cops because a nosy neighbor saw or heard you. The Jeep’s interior grew warmer by the minute and the only light came from a streetlight on the opposite side of the parking lot. More shadow than light filled the Jeep’s interior, but you didn’t need light to see. You knew what he looked like—trouble. Good trouble.
He pushed your tee shirt higher, his beard tickled your skin as he shifted just enough and his lips replaced his thumb, his tongue slowly swirling about one aching nipple now. Your back arched of its own, your eyes closing as his hands skimmed up your back, then down, his thumbs hooking in the waist of your jeans.The air grew heavy with arousal, with your sighs as he coaxed even more heat from you. Knots seemed to form just below your belly, dropping into your core to spread that fire. You bit down hard on your bottom lip as he caught your nipple in gentle, teasing teeth and flicked just the tip of his tongue over it.
Your fingers wound in the dark hair falling below his shoulders, which was far softer than you’d thought it would be. Your hips rolled toward him, the skim of your thong against your increasingly achy folds offered only slight relief.
He tried to whisk your tee shirt over your head and when you shifted to let him—
Thunk.
Your head met the roof. “Ow.”
“Sorry, love,” he whispered, letting your tee shirt flutter back down. “Are you okay?”
You rubbed the small bump on your head. Just touching it sent pain zinging along your scalp, but you didn’t really care all that much as you smiled down at him. “I’m fine.”
His hands came to rest on your hips as another car swung into the lot and for a moment, you felt like a spotlight shone on you. Dwalin cleared his throat. “I should probably let you go.”
“No,” you said without thinking, “you shouldn’t.”
Those fingers on your hips tightened and the slight smile playing at his lips made your belly flutter with butterflies. “Are you sure?”
His voice was barely a whisper, a hint of disbelief woven into those three words. He seemed so surprised that you might actually want to be with him, and it made you think back to the rumors that floated around regarding this man, both flattering and unflattering, made you think about how you always thought him cute, but were afraid the unflattering things were truth and so never made mention of your crush.
Maybe they weren’t true at all.
And, to be totally honest, you really were curious about that tattoo…
Catching his face between your palms, you smiled and nodded. “I’m positive.”
He smiled and tugged you back to him for a gentle kiss. Then, you vaulted back into the driver’s seat, killed the engine, and pushed open the door. The frigid air bit into you and you were thankful that his building was apparently the one closest to the lot. He thrust open the main door. “I’m up the stairs, first door on the left.”
Your heart beat faster now. This wasn’t something you made a habit of, but sometimes exceptions had to be made. This was one of those times.
He came up behind you, his heavy leather boots thudding dully on the stair treads. Under the bright hallway lights it was easy to see why people were actually afraid of him. He did look like a cross between a Hell’s Angel and a… Hell’s Angel. You would not have been at all surprised to find out he did time for killing someone. He looked that fierce. But you also saw hints of that ferocity tempered by the gentle side you had the feeling he didn’t show to many people.
He held a key-laden carabiner in one hand and as he flipped through his keys, you studied those massive hands, trying to figure out what exactly he’d had inked into his skin. But, try as you might, the pictures made no sense to you.
The keys rattled softly as he unlocked the door and pushed it open, then gestured for you to go ahead of him. You stepped into the warm front hallway, and squinted as he threw the switch and the overhead light blazed brightly. A hint of cinnamon and nutmeg hung in the air, along with a whisper of fried onions, which made you smile because you just couldn’t imagine him cooking. Stupid, really. He certainly had to eat, didn’t he?
Besides, the tiny kitchen was just to your right and you saw for yourself the dishes in the drying rack. Dwalin Fundinson was a regular guy after all.
The door closed softly behind them, the lock tumblers falling into place as he re-locked the door. “So, this is my place. It’s not much, but it’s home.”
You smiled at him over one shoulder then turned back toward the small, square living room. It was spotless, the walls dark gray, the trim bright white. The coffee and end tables were chrome and glass. The furniture had clean lines and fit in with the color scheme. The sofa was dark brown , the armchair cobalt blue. The carpeting was dark blue and looked as if it’d been recently vacuumed. It wasn’t at all how you’d picture his apartment to be at all. This was far homier, even if the chrome didn’t do it for you.
“Not much? It’s fine.”
“Not what ye pictured, is it?” A grin teased at his lips. “Ye can admit it.”
“It’s not, no. And that’s really shitty of me to say, because it’s so terribly judgmental.”
“Don’t worry about it. I know what people think when they see me. I count on it.”
“Well, it’s wrong, whether you expect it or not.” You turned toward him. “And I apologize for it.”
He closed the gap between you, looming over you, all broad shoulders and wide chest. Then, he caught your face in his hands, tilted it to his. “You don’t have anything to apologize for, love,” he whispered, then bent to just very lightly brush his lips against yours.
That light, teasing kiss sent chills through you. Your eyes closed. You gave into the urge to lean into him. And when you did, the hand on your left cheek slid down, along your arm, his thumb brushing the outer curve of your breast. His fingers grazed your waist, then he slid that hand back up up to cup your left breast. Your back arched of its own, pressing that breast deeper into his hand. He offered up a gentle squeeze, even gentler kneading.
He teased you a few minutes, then pulled back and with a heavy-lidded, seductive smile, whisked your tee shirt over your head.
“Pretty,” he rumbled, tracing a forefinger along the satiny strap of your shimmering blue lace bra. His eyes visibly darkened as his gaze lowered to the nearly-sheer bra. The lace only just barely hid your breasts, but offered up enough of a view to be enticing. You had chosen wisely when you tugged it from the lingerie drawer this morning.
Wisely, indeed.
The cups were unlined, just naked, stiff lace that aided in his caress when his thumb brushed over your nipple. It was rough against you, pebbling your nipple with only one pass. You bit down on your bottom lip, fire swirling through you, heat pooling between your legs once more. His free hand slid down along your belly. He popped the snap on your jeans.
You bit down hard on your bottom lip as he tugged open the fly and his fingers eased beneath the lacy thong that matched your bra, into your curls.
Into that heat.
He glided easily through your wet folds, his thumb just barely skimming over your clit, his fingers teasing every bit of slick flesh as he moved closer to your entrance. A thick finger slid inside you, thrusting to reach the small swelling that, when he found it, had you moaning softly into the fragrant air as you clenched about that finger moving so slowly inside you.
Your eyes closed at the sensations running riot through you from a single finger teasing you, bringing you to the brink of insanity. His voice was a gravelly purr, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “I’ve been waiting for you for so long…”
“Why…” Damn it! Your thoughts were like fat, lazy slugs, refusing to form into any sort of coherent pattern. “Why didn’t you say—say anything?”
He slid his finger from you, slid it through your slickness, over your clit once more, and then moved to plunge it back inside you. “A girl like you would never want a guy like me, that’s why.”
“You—you’re wrong. Because I absolutely do want you…” Your head spun so badly, you almost felt faint. He found that swelling again, stroked it to send fire radiating through you. Your orgasm came swift and hot and hard and you gushed over him, your voice a hoarse whisper as you throbbed and clenched about that finger, as you arched and writhed against him. “Oh… holy… oh, yes…”
He teased you mercilessly, finger working inside you, thumb working your clit as you exploded around him. He held you tight, even as your knees buckled from the force of your climax. And when you went limp in his arms, he slid free and bent to slash his mouth over yours.
You wrapped yourself around him, tugging at his dark gray henley to drag it up toward his shoulders. He pulled free just long enough to sweep it over his head, and then he was back, his lips seizing yours.
The rest of your clothing got in the way, tugged off and tossed aside as quickly as possible and when no more remained, you let your hands wander over his solid body, from the bulging muscle of his upper arms and shoulders, down to the thick slabs of muscle along his thighs and calves, you explored him with your hands, your lips, your tongue until he trembled against you.
But, as you moved to kneel before him, he caught you. “No, love,” he growled, “I’m no’ finished with ye.”
He maneuvered you around him, backed you toward the sofa. You sank into the soft cushions, cradled by them as he sank to his knees before you and bend to press a hot kiss into your belly. The cushion shifted beneath you as you gripped a corner when he moved lower. Your eyelids were so fucking heavy, but you would not let them close. Oh, no. You wanted to watch him, wanted to see what he did to you, wanted to see him being so gentle, so loving, with you.
His first stroke came lightly, the tip of his tongue darting against you, but then..
Oh, but then… He shifted and went from short, teasing flicks to long, silky strokes, his heat melding with yours. He swirled his tongue about your clit, down along it, teased you slowly up to the very tip of the aching bead, then down along the opposite side. And with each leisurely pass, your body trembled a bit more. A second orgasm took root, softer at first, but as he applied more pressure, that softness grew into tingly hot fire. He didn’t let up, even as you writhed beneath him. You couldn’t help it. It just felt so fucking good… Everything inside you pulsed in time to his strokes, to his swirls, your hips rocked to meet each velvety caress. You couldn’t hold back your moan as the wave rushed toward you, rising and cresting until—
“Dwalin!” You came in a fiery flash, gushing over his tongue as he continued his sensual torture of your aching flesh. And when he finally eased up, you could barely breathe, convinced you were about to melt into a small puddle on his amazingly comfortable sofa, and you were perfectly fine with that.
He pressed a gentle kiss into the curve of your inner thigh, his beard soft as a whisper against your overly sensitive skin. Another kiss over your hip. Your belly. He drew you up and into his arms and when his mouth found yours, you felt it through to the center of your being.
You had never realized just how hot he was until now. The ferocity factor always seemed to temper everything else. But he really was handsome, in a rough and tumble sort of way. His upper body lay heavy with muscle that came from hard work and not from a gym, and his left arm was sleeved in black and gray ink that stretched over across his chest as well. Some of the ink was hidden behind a spread of dark hair interspersed with silver, but you could still see it, even if it was difficult.
And that ink also stretched down into his flat belly, more visible because the silver-tipped dark hair thinned into a trail running down the middle of his stomach to his navel, then resumed below, where it joined a thicker, coarser spread of dark hair. You reached out to trace one of the thick black ink lines down along his ribs, down to his hip, where it angled toward that thatch.
He caught your hand in his, snaked his free arm about your waist, and gently drew you up from the sofa. He bent to you, his mouth finding yours and as he deepened his kiss, he swung you up into his arms.
His bedroom was the end of the narrow hallway, across from the bath. Your belly whooshed as he set you on your feet without breaking that same kiss, and when he did draw back and his gaze fell completely on you as you stood naked before him, those pale eyes darkened and he growled, “Damn, you are beautiful.”
He caught you around the waist and gently pushed you down onto his large, very comfortable bed, and covered your body with his. The crisp hair on his chest teased your nipples back into stiff peaks, the thigh he eased between your pressed just right into your folds to get your arousal flowing once more. You ached to explore his body, to let your hands run over his skin, over the rounded curve of his ass, along the length of his muscled thighs.
You reached for him, curled your fingers about his hard, hot, utterly impressive cock, then smiled when he exhaled with a low, “Ohhh…”
He arched into your touch, into your grasp, and more than anything, you wanted to look to see if the tattoo rumor was true, but it was too dark even if you could get yourself into the right position. The hallway light offered up just enough to make out his silhouette, to see how his eyes glittered as his gaze locked with yours.
A car alarm sounded in the distance. A door slammed somewhere below you. He shifted jet a fraction of an inch to settle between your legs, which parted of their own to accommodate his hips.
He slid through your folds, your slickness making him simply glide through them. A low growl rumbled from him. He arched away from you, reached a hand between you, and then you felt him press against you.
He breached you, his thick cock stretching you as he fit it inside you, and you shivered at the sensations he sent scorching through you. He teased you, filled you inch by slow, delicious inch, until you were ready to simply melt around him without his offering up even a single thrust yet.
“Oh, love…” His burr thickened as he whispered your name and moved slowly inside you. “Ah, ye feel so very good…”
You wrapped yourself around him, meeting each thrust with a tilt of your hips. He kissed you, slowly. Deeply. His tongue moved in sync with his hips, teased you, drew yours back into the welcoming heat of his mouth. With each thrust, pleasure spiked thorough you, stronger and sweeter, your climax already building.
“I’ve thought about this for so long,” he murmured, his lips brushing yours.
“What?”
He nodded, offering up another lazy, deep thrust. “I have, love. Ye have no idea what I’d be thinking, watching ye, night after night…”
The thought of him sitting on his barstool, watching you sent a delicious shiver through you. You bent your legs, pressed your knees into his sides and smiled as he let out plaintive moan. “So tell me now,” you whispered, as he thrust harder now.
Another deep, hard thrust had you trembling around him. Dear god, his control amazed you. Those thrusts were so powerful, and yet, he managed to maintain his steady pace when the fire within you built so quickly, you were ready for him to just jackhammer both of you into oblivion.
He sped up, arching hard against you as he growled, “This, love. This is what I’d be thinking.”
As he spoke, his thrusts came swifter, more powerful, and that was the end of any conversation as you felt the first tingles of another orgasm. You clenched around him, squeezed him as he neared the end. His breath came in harsh gasps, his fingers curled into the dark blue comforter beneath you as he fought for leverage.
You rocked your hips, meeting each thrust as he surged deep. He sucked in a rough breath, his eyes closed. You melted around him, and as you shattered, he came at the same time. He arched hard, his body jerking with each pulse, and when he finished, he sank against you, his head on your breast. He trembled in your arms, his lips gazing the curve of your right breast as he whispered, “I’ve wanted to do this since the day I met ye, love…”
You smiled into the darkness, letting your fingers smooth over his dark hair, which was cool and silky to the touch. “You should’ve spoken up sooner.”
“I didn’t think I stood a chance with ye.”
“Why?”
He lifted his head to regard you with sleepy eyes. “Look at ye and look at me. Why would I think otherwise?”
With a low groan, he pulled free of you and rose to pad into the adjoining bathroom, where he emerged with a hand towel. “Girls like ye don’t look at guys like me.”
“Nonsense.” You took the towel to clean yourself up. “Of course we do, but we’re also afraid of you to a certain extent.”
“Afraid of me?” He flopped onto his back alongside you.
“Dwalin, you are terrifying and you know it.”
He grinned. “I count on that, actually.”
With a sigh, you finished cleaning up and then rose to take the towel back into the bathroom. When you came back out, you stretched out alongside him. “So, then why would I think you’ve been lusting after me, especially if you don’t say anything?”
He looked over at you, his eyes soft, his expression somewhat guarded. “So, if I asked ye out?”
“I would probably say yes.”
“Want to go out sometime? Dinner, maybe? A movie?”
“I’d love to, Dwalin. As long as you promise we can do this again.”
He chuckled, reaching for you. “Do I look fool enough to turn you away?”
You didn’t resist as he drew you atop him. He felt very nice so tightly pressed against you. Thanh God you had tomorrow off because he started kissing your neck so very nicely and it didn’t take long before you wanted only to claw open his back while he fucked you but good again.
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middleearthpixie · 2 years
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Durin's Garage AU ~ The Chance You Take - Chapter Ten
Durin’s Garage AU - The Chance You Take ~ Part 10
Modern Spin on The Hobbit
Summary: When your car breaks down, there is only one garage in town - Durin’s Garage and Engine Repairs. And sometimes, they do more than just tune your engine, check your oil, and top off your fluids…
The aftermath of the confrontation between Garrett and Thorin…
Pairing: Modern!Thorin x reader
Rating: T
Warning: Violence, angst, character death
Word Count: 5,190
Khuzdal Translations:
Givashel - treasure of treasures
’Amad - Mother
Zamaralmizi hikhthuzul - I will love you forever
Nalish - forever
Mesmel - jewel of all jewels
You can find the previous chapters here and on AO3
Check out these other great stories in the world of Durin’s Garage AU
Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @ocfairygodmother @exhausted-humxn-being @shalinizhara @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @enchantzz
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“No…” You stumbled away from the window, bumping the weapons table hard enough to send several smaller knives clattering to the floor. You could only shake your head, whispering, “Oh, dear God, no…” over and over.
Your heart felt like it had stopped beating, but your pulse roared through your temples. Your throat squeezed tight. Tears stung your eyes. No. You were not going to cry because this wasn’t happening. It just couldn’t be.There was no way you saw what you thought you saw. Thorin said everything would be all right. He promised you it would be. And you believed him.
“It can’t be.” You shook your head. “Any moment, I’m going to wake up and be back in Jersey, and wishing this was real, wishing you were real.”
“Amrâlimê,” he closed the space between you, catching your face in his hands, “this is real. I am real.”
“You can’t be.”
“Why?”
“Guys like you don’t exist.”
“Sure they do.” His thumbs moved lightly along your cheeks. “And when you wake up tomorrow, you’ll be in my bed. And I’ll be right there next to you. And you won’t have to worry about Garrett any longer. All you’ll have to worry about is finding a church and a hall on the same date for our wedding.”
He’d said those words to you not two hours ago.
And now, he was so very still.
You reached for Dis’ hand, waited for her to reassure you that Thorin was going to get to his feet at any moment. He’d get to his feet and throw himself at Garrett and end him. You had nothing to worry about because he was fine. He was fine.
But Dis remained where she was as if frozen, staring out the window with wide, shiny eyes as she whispered, “Mahal… no…”
There was no reassurance. Thorin was not getting to his feet. Garrett rocked back on his feet, his teeth almost lupine as he smiled and called your name. “Time to go, love,” he added, his voice sickeningly sweet.
Your feet refused to move. Your eyes refused to leave Thorin, even as his form blurred before you. You squeezed your eyes shut, seeing him as he’d been right before you went at it on the weapons table.
You eased your arms about his waist and tucked your head against his chest. For a long moment, he just held you, but then, he leaned away. “Everything will be fine.”
“What if it isn’t, though?”
“It will be.” His eyes softened as his gaze held yours. “You’ll see.”
“I just want it over with.”
“Soon.” He slid his arms about you and lifted you to meet his kiss. It was light at first, gentle as a breeze but then…
Your legs wrapped themselves about his waist even as he whispered, “Oh, givashel, this is not a good idea. The others will be here any moment.”
“I don’t care,” you whispered back, tightening your legs about him. You couldn’t pull away from him, though, and he didn't really seem to mind it very much. The emotion of the situation drove you to him, drove you to seek him out for the reassurance that everything would, in fact, be all right. Mithril shifted and metal clattered as he set you on the table and pulled you hard against him, wedging his hips between your thighs.
Hot tears streaked over your cheeks as you stumbled back toward Dis, and when her hand found yours, you clutched it, your heart threatening to stop beating, your stomach threatening to empty itself right there.
But then, something threw off a brilliant flash of sunlight and through the veil of tears, you saw the subtle movement of Thorin’s left hand. Your heart leapt into your throat, even as your brain reminded you it was probably only a latent reflex of sorts.
Then you saw it and knew it was no reflex of any sort, no lingering nerve impulses. Thorin lurched forward and with both hands, drove the blade he held into Garrett’s gut, thrust and twisted. Garrett howled like a wounded animal, lurching back away from him. He staggered backwards, his hands wrapping about the handle to jerk the knife from his belly. Blood seeped into his shirt, spilled over his fingers still pressed to his stomach. It soaked into the fabric and dripped down over his trousers. You grimaced but at the same time, you didn’t care about Garrett at all. All you cared about was getting to Thorin.
Thorin rocked back and with a groan, sank flat against the asphalt once more. You and Dis had the same idea—that you could remain in that storeroom no longer. You sprinted ahead of her, slamming your shoulder into the door in your haste to open it, but you barely felt it as you darted around it. Your feet barely touched the floor as you bolted down the hallway, into the garage, out onto the pavement.
Dis flung herself at Garrett. Her dagger’s blade caught the sunlight and her voice was guttural as she buried the blade in his chest. “Kunbûnaul!”
You dropped to your knees alongside Thorin, ignoring the jolt of pain from slamming against the asphalt. You caught his hand in yours, shaking your head as you whispered, “Oh, please…be all right… please…”
You forced yourself to look down, expecting to see blood pooling beneath him, soaking his tee shirt—which of course was black, so you couldn’t see any stain of any color. But his tee shirt also didn't look wet. Your hopes rose ever so slightly as you drew in a deep breath, then laid your hand on his belly.
His shirt was dry.
What the fuck—?
“Thorin?”
He groaned softly, a bit out of breath as he muttered, “Holy fuck, that hurt…”
You couldn’t breath as you gripped the bottom of his tee shirt and jerked it up.
Mithril clinked softly beneath the cotton, the silver steel links blurry as tears spilled over your lower lashes to splash against your cheeks. “You son of a bitch,” you whispered, laughing and crying at the same time. “When did you—how did you—you son of a bitch!"
His eyes opened and when his gaze met yours, he managed a tired smile. “I’m sorry, givashel. I should’ve told you.”
“Yes, you should have, you big jerk.” You grabbed a handful of mithril to shake it. “I should’ve known.”
“Careful. I might not have been run through, but I was in battle and I was punched in the gut and it still hurts and I’m fucking exhausted.” He tugged the mithril from your grasp and shoved it up. Although the blade didn't pierce his skin, Garrett used enough force that when the blade struck, the tip snapped off but what remained of it left a nasty-looking bruise on his belly.
“Thorin?” Balin came around to kneel on Thorin’s right side. “Oh, thank Mahal…”
With a grunt, Thorin sat up and glanced around. “We need to clean this up.”
“Do we have to worry about the police showing up?” you asked softly. After all, it was, technically a crime scene.
But Thorin didn’t look at all concerned as he slowly got to his feet with only a hint of a wince. “I’ll deal with them when they get here. Dwalin?”
“Aye?”
“Take Dis home.” Sirens sounded in the distance and you swallowed hard despite the fact that the others were all outwardly calm.
“Thorin, I want to stay.”
“No.” He shook his head then turned to you. “Go with her. I’ll come get you when I’m finished here.”
“But, what if—” You couldn’t bring yourself to finish your question, to ask him what if he was arrested for murder.
Flashing lights cut through the dusk and Thorin shook his head. “Don’t argue with me, amrâlimê. I promise you, all will be fine and I’ll see you in only a short while.”
He bent toward you and just brushed your lips with his, stepping back before you could throw your arms around him and pull him against you. “Later, mesmel,” he whispered. “I promise. Now, go.”
Red and blue light swirled about them, bouncing off the buildings, off the windows, off the cars in the lot, and Dwalin didn't wait for any more protests, but caught you and Dis each by the elbows and ushered you around back, to a black Corvette Stingray parked several slots down from Thorin’s pickup.
“Dwalin, there’s only two seats,” Dis pointed out as he unlocked the door.
“I know.” He pressed his keys into her hand. “Try not to crack her up, if ye don’t mind. I’m stayin’ with Thorin.”
You looked over at Dis, who shrugged and said, “If you’re sure.”
“I am. Go.”
With that, he turned to go back around front, while Dis sank into the bucket seat on the driver’s side. “Get in, I guess.”
You lowered yourself into the leather and as the Corvette’s engine purred to life, you said, “What happens now?”
“I haven’t the foggiest.” She put the car into first and steered out of the lot, heading away from the service station so as not to draw attention to themselves.
You sank into the seat and leaned your head back. Your eyes were so very heavy and an exhaustion unlike any you’d ever felt before crept over you. “I can’t believe this is happening. It’s… it’s not possible. It just can’t be. It’s all too fucking weird.”
Dis let out a soft laugh. “It is too fucking weird. But, it’s definitely happening. You know it is just as I do.”
“I know, but how is it real? And how much trouble is Thorin going to be in? How much will you be in? You killed him.”
“He had it coming.” Dis didn't seem at all concerned as she shifted gears and then, just as her brother did whenever you two were in his truck, reached over to pat your leg. “It’ll be fine. We have… an in, so to speak, with the police chief. Thorin won’t be charged with anything, nor will I or the the others, and you no longer need worry about Garrett or any of them.”
“And none of you need worry about him, either.”
She smiled and gave your knee one last pat. “That’s right. We don’t. He’s gone and he was the last of his line, as far as I know. And what was that I heard about my brother wanting to start a family?”
You glanced over at Dis to find her smiling. “I don’t think I could explain it if I tried,” you said softly, shaking your head. “Four days, Dis. I’ve known your brother not even four days and yet I feel as if I’ve known him forever, that I’m meant to be here. And that’s crazy, isn’t it? I mean, who does something like this?”
“We believe Mahal knows what he’s doing,” Dis replied softly. “And I know that until meeting you, Thorin has never given any indication of wanting to settle down or have a family of his own. He seemed mostly content with his life the way it was.”
“Mostly?”
She nodded. “Mostly. There’s always been a sort of restless energy about him, a sense that he felt something was missing but he didn't quite know what that something was. He’d see a woman here, or there, but it rarely went past two or three dates, and he rarely brought any woman he’d been seeing around to meet me.
“But, you’re different.” Dis downshifted at a traffic light and slipped back into first. “Since you came into town, I don’t sense that restless energy in him any longer. And when he brought you over that first time, I couldn’t help but wonder if you noticed how he looks at you. Because he watches you as if he can’t believe you’re there, that you’re with him. I’ve never seen him look at a woman that way. You are meant to be with him, no matter how crazy that sounds to you.”
You sighed softly. “It doesn’t sound nearly as crazy as it did at first. I feel like I belong with him. With all of you.”
“You do.”
The light turned green and you didn't talk again as Dis steered through the quiet streets and then angled the Corvette into her driveway. You followed her up to the wide front porch and paused. The last time you were here, you learned the truth about your lineage. Thorin held you while you cried. You told Dis about how he’d asked you to marry him.
And now you would marry him.
You wondered if his grandfather knew this would happen and purposely kept it from his journal because this was something you and Thorin had to discover on your own. Or perhaps he had no idea, that his oracle could tell him no more than how you would blow into Thorin’s life.
The air held a hint of a bite to it. Fall had arrived. You shivered, wrapping your arms about yourself as you stared into the growing darkness. This little town that you’d never heard of, but that Google led you to, felt like home. These people, whose history was actually entwined with yours, felt like family. You would be happy there, you just knew you would.
It was where you belonged.
“Come inside,” Dis said softly, her hand coming to rest on your shoulder. “We could both use a stiff drink. Thorin and my sons will be home soon.”
“What if they aren’t though? What if your police chief does arrest them?”
“He won’t. I promise you, he won’t.”
You peered at Dis over your shoulder. “How can you promise that?”
“Because I can. We’ve known Gandalf since what seems like the beginning of time. He will not arrest any of them.”
“Why does that not surprise me?”
“You’re acclimating.” Dis winked and gave your shoulder a squeeze. “Come inside and have a drink. There’s one more thing I have to show you and I’d rather do it before Thorin gets here.”
You couldn’t help but smile. “I know I keep saying this, and I’m going to say it again. Why am I not surprised?”
Dis let out a soft laugh, tugging open the screen door. “I promise you, it’s nothing bad. Nothing bad and nothing that will have you questioning your sanity. At least, not any more than you already have.”
You followed her inside, into the cozy, welcoming living room. A hint of cinnamon hung in the air. Cinnamon and apples and a hint of pumpkin spice—all the scents of autumn. Halloween was only a few weeks out and you wondered how many kids were in town and how many trick or treated every year. Then you wondered if Thorin would be adverse to decorating his house for Halloween the way his sister had?
Dis went into the kitchen. “Do you drink bourbon?”
“I do and even if I didn’t, I would tonight.”
“Bulliet to your liking?”
You smiled. “It’s fine.”
“Rocks or neat?”
“Neat, please.”
Dis emerged a few minutes later with two rocks glasses half-filled with bourbon and handed one to you. You couldn’t sip it fast enough, almost sighing at the warmth cascading down your throat, at the way it burst into a small fireball in your belly. It did wonders at steadying your hands and calming your frazzled nerves.
“Come up to my room and I’ll show you what I have for you.” Dis led you the the narrow staircase just beyond the kitchen. “Just, don’t mind the mess. I left here in a bit of a hurry before.”
“It won’t bother me in the least. Trust me, you always know when I’ve been in a room because it looks like a strong wind blew through it.”
“I’m not quite that bad, but I was looking for this when Kili showed up, so I didn't get a chance to put everything else away.”
You followed her down the narrow hallway to the last room on the right, overlooking a wide backyard, complete with in-ground pool that was covered for the colder months. Like Thorin’s house, this one also backed woods, but you could see what looked like a school through the trees.
Dis sighed as she flipped the switch and the lights in the ceiling fan glowed to life. Her room was cozy and welcoming, painted a soft periwinkle with an amethyst colored carpet. It was also a bit of a mess, with books and boxes piled on the wide bed.
“I’d forgotten I had this until Thorin brought you here, and when I did remember, you were already rightly freaked out about who you were and who your father is and I didn't want to add to it at that point.”
As she spoke, Dis crossed to the low dresser, where a small wooden chest stood. “But, since you’ve accepted Thorin’s proposal, I assume you won’t be freaked out by this nearly as much now.”
She turned, the chest in her hands and brought it over to you. “This belonged to our mother. She wore it when she married our father. It was a gift from my grandmother to my mother upon her engagement to Thráin. I think that, if she were here, she would want you to have it, since you are marrying her firstborn son.”
Your heart sped up as she lifted the lid, the hinges groaning softly in protest, and you couldn’t help but stare at the diamond necklace that sparkled up at you from a bed of rich black velvet. You’d never seen anything nearly as exquisite as that piece. “Oh… Dis… this is beautiful.” You looked up at her and shook your head. “But, I cannot possibly accept this.”
“Of course you can.” Dis lifted the necklace from the velvet and moved around behind you. “If we were in Erebor, and things had gone as they were supposed to, you and Thorin would have been married in an elaborate royal wedding and you would be the King Consort. As I said, this is tradition in my family. You can one day pass it down to your son or daughter, or have another piece made for them, as you choose. But, this is yours now.”
You crouched just enough for her to set the necklace at your throat. It was heavier than it looked, the stones set in platinum that warmed quickly against your skin. A choker, it was tighter than you were used to, but you adjusted quickly and as Dis stepped back and smiled, you barely felt the piece any longer.
“Welcome to our small, not-really-wrapped-tightly family,” she said, embracing you warmly. “I’ve always wanted a sister.”
“Me, too,” you said without thinking, stepping back to smile at her. “And I happen to like this small, not-really-wrapped-tightly family.”
“Good.” A low, throaty purr rose in the distance and headlights slashed through the windows in the room across from Dis’. “Because I think you’re stuck with us.”
“You know,” you said as car doors slammed and boots sounded on the walk out front, “I don’t think I’ll mind that, either.”
The front door banged and you smiled at Dis before leaving the room. You managed to take the stairs calmly but as soon as your gaze alit on Thorin, you had to close the space between the two of you.
He caught you easily as you launched yourself at him and like a spider-monkey, wrapped your legs about his waist and your arms about his neck and clung to him as he murmured, “It’s okay now, givashel. It’s okay.”
“Don’t you ever do anything like that again,” you said, your words muffled by his neck.
“I won’t if I can possibly help it.” He gave you a squeeze, then set you down. As his gaze fell on you, his eyes softened. “I wondered how long it would take Dis to find this,” he said, tracing his fingers over the stones warm against your throat.
Kili and Fili came into the living room behind him. “I don’t know about you,” Kili said with no little exhaustion in his voice, “but I’m hungry. Who wants to order a pizza?”
“Sounds good to me.” Fili flung himself onto the sofa and with a soft groan, put his feet up on the arm. They remained there all of ten seconds before Dis knocked them off and scolded him.
“Sorry, ’Amad,” he said, looking sheepish as he shifted to lower his feet flat on the floor.
“I think we’ll pass,” Thorin said, gazing down at you. “I think I just want to go home. How about you, amrâlimê?”
“That sounds perfect,” you said, tucking your head against his chest. You had this sudden need to not share him with anyone else—maybe not ever again. “Let’s just go home then.”
****
Thorin traced the stones in the hollow of your throat with a fingertip. “This look suits you,” he murmured, smiling down at you, his eyes glittering in the flickering glow of the dozen or so candles he’d set up around his bedroom.
“You’re only saying that because I’m naked.”
He grinned. “Nah, you really do look good like this. That you’re naked is a bonus.”
He bent to kiss you, his lips slow and soft and teasing, and when he pulled back, his eyes were just as soft. “What’s on your mind?”
“Is it really over?”
He nodded. “It’s really over, mesmel. I told you that you had nothing to worry about.”
The soft sheets rustled as he eased himself over you, his dark hair spilling over his shoulders to surround you. He braced himself on his forearms to keep the bulk of his weight off you, but you didn't want that much space between you, so you slid your arms about his middle, your hands flat against his back, and pulled him to meet you. “I thought Garrett had killed you,” you confessed softly, your throat squeezing tight as you gazed up into his eyes.
“I had to let him think he did,” he replied. “It was the only way I could get to my dagger. I had to let go of my sword to do so and I knew what he’d do once I did. But he’s gone and you don’t have to worry about him coming back. It’s over. I promise you it is.”
He bent to you, his lips just brushing yours. His beard tickled along your jaw, the ends of his hair tickled along your skin. He kissed down over your chin, your neck bowing as he moved down along it, to flick the tip of his tongue into the hollow beneath the necklace.
Your eyelids grew heavy, but you refused to let them close, gazing down at the silky dark hair fanning over your skin as he moved down along the curve of your right breast. He shifted slightly to stretch beside you, braced on one elbow. The tip of his tongue grazed you, his lips teased you, and by the time he reached your nipple, it’d already shrunk into a tight, aching bead.
He flicked that bead with the tip of his tongue, smiling as you sucked in a sharp breath. Your skin tingled as he swirled his tongue about your nipple while his free hand skimmed along your belly, to the curls between your thighs that were already damp with arousal. All this man had to do was look at you, and your body responded by getting wet for him. Heat pooled between your thighs with each pass of his lips, each sweep of his fingers, and when he slipped those fingers into your slick folds, you couldn’t hold back your sigh.
His fingers glided along your aching flesh, the pad of his thumb dragging over your clit to make you shiver beneath him. He slid up, then back, eased a finger inside you, crooked it, stroked you ever so gently until you rocked up to meet him. Then, he slid it back out, stroked along your inner thigh, smiling as you whimpered in protest, and whispered, “You’ll get what you want, amrâlimê,” as he moved back over you, “I promise. I’ll make you scream my name in a few minutes.”
You smiled, your blood almost boiling, your skin tingling from his attentions already. He swept hot kisses along your belly, nuzzled your damp curls, gently parted those slick folds, and then, with just he tip of his tongue, flicked lightly along your clit.
The sensation rushed through you, tingly hot and sweet and when he did it again, you thrust a hand into his hair, twisting the thick locks you held, rolling your hips to meet each gentle caress. He slid along your clit, down to your entrance, back up to circle the bead once more and with each pass, the fibers, the sinews, in your body tightened. You ached for him to push you over the edge, as each caress brought you so close, you could almost taste the fire. You would go crazy if he didn't make you come already, your body humming and begging for that sweet relief.
“Thorin…” His name rose like a mist from your lips as you rocked up to meet him.
He teased your clit in response, harder and faster with each pass, until the fire engulfed you, the knots burst, and you shattered with a husky, “Thorin!”
He drew out your climax, slipping a finger inside you as he worked his tongue slowly around your clit, leaving you throbbing and pulsing around him. He refused to let up as you writhed beneath him, moaning his name over and over, tugging the pillow from beneath your head with your free hand. White lights danced before your eyes, your blood roared through your head, your entire body trembled and shuddered around him as your orgasm left you limp and clinging to him, desperate for him to fill you and fuck you both to another climax.
“Thorin…” You tugged on his hair, tried to pull him up to meet your ravenous kiss. He obliged, but not before he wrapped his hand about his cock, guided it to your slick opening, and pushed hard inside you.
He surged, filling you, stretching you, seizing your lips with his as he thrust. He moaned into your mouth when you bent your knees, drew your legs back, and he went deeper still. You moved easily with him, wrapped yourself about his body with each pounding thrust. His fingers twisted in the sheet as he fought for leverage, his voice hoarse as he growled, “Mahal, you feel so fucking good… I love you, mesmel… Maralmizi… nalish!”
He thrust hard, his entire body going rigid as he spilled into you, shuddering with each blast. You tightened your legs about him, held him deep inside you, your fingernails raking along his back, your body trembling from the force of his release. You couldn’t see. Couldn’t hear. All you could do was feel and the pleasure scorched you from the inside out, left you breathless and his name barely a whisper on your lips.
He sank against you, fighting to breathe, his face buried in the curve of your neck. You wrapped your arms about him, tears stinging your eyes as you whispered, “Thorin… oh, holy… oh, my God… I love you…"
Little by little, he calmed against you, his breathing slowing as he brushed gentle lips along the curve of your neck. When he lifted his head, it was to regard you with heavy-lidded, passion-sated blue eyes and a smile that was seductive in its drowsiness. He leaned over to capture your lips in a long, lingering kiss and when he drew back, it was to whisper, “Zamaralmizi hikhthuzul, mesmel.”
“I have no idea what you just said,” you whispered back, stroking his beard with one forefinger. “But it did sound pretty.”
“I said, I will love you forever, my jewel of all jewels.”
“I do like how that sounds, Thorin,” you told him, sliding your arms about his neck to pull him back down to meet your lips once more.
****
The room was quiet and dark, the candles all extinguished, the full moon’s light spilling silver through the windows. You lay content in Thorin’s arms, your head resting against his chest, your fingers skimming lightly across his chest.
“What’s on your mind?” His whisper rose like a mist into the darkness, his arm about your shoulders tightening to pull you against him.
“I was never as scared as I was when I saw you fall,” you murmured, lifting your head to gaze down at him. The moonlight played along the silver streaks in his hair, made his eyes glittery like the diamonds in the choker Dis had given you, that you’d put back in its box for safekeeping. “Not even when Garrett stood in front of me with a chef’s knife in his hand.”
“I knew I’d be fine.”
“You knew. I had no idea.”
“I’m sorry I scared you, mesmel. I was only thinking of how to rid myself, and you, of him.” His fingers swept lightly along your arm. “Want to pinch me again?”
“No.” You smiled, tracing your forefinger along his beard where it curved over his chin. “I’m just glad you’re okay. I don’t think I’d want to live in a world without you, Thorin.”
Your voice cracked as you said those words and he tightened his arm about you, drawing you down to press a kiss into the top of your head. “You don’t have to worry about that now, mesmel. I think it safe to say you are stuck with me now.”
“Well, that journal isn’t finished so…”
The sheets rustled and you couldn’t hold back your laugh has he came up to pin you on your back. His hair spilled all around you, free of any of the ornaments he normally wore in it. “You’re mine, you know,” he growled playfully, dipping to kiss you. “And I am not letting you go.”
“Where would I go? You still haven’t fixed my car.” You wound your arms about his middle, trailing your fingernails along his back, smiling as he shivered against you.
He smiled, and when he kissed you again, you felt it clear through to the center of your being. This was the man you were meant to find, and you honestly didn't care if you ever got behind the wheel of your Mustang again. This was where you belonged.
With Thorin Durin.
You never regret the chances you take nearly as much as you regret the ones you don’t take. And this was the one chance you would never regret taking. You knew that as Thorin pulled away and you lost yourself in his beautiful blue eyes.
The chance you took led you to him and that was all that mattered now.
79 notes · View notes
lathalea · 2 years
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Year coming to a close and I wanted to ask;;;
1. Favorite fic of the year.
2. Favorite fic of your own from this year.
3. Favorite writer of the year.
4. Favorite new writer of the year.
5. Favorite headcannon of the year.
6. Favorite event of the year.
First of all, thank you for your ask, Anon 💙 There's nothing better on a lazy winter day than replying fun asks like yours.
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Disclaimer: I've read many, many wonderful fics this year, but right now I'm sitting under a blanket and my belly is full with delicious Christmas cookies (read: sugar coma), so my brain is not working too well. If your fic is not here and you know I read it (I try to leave comments on all the fics I read 💙), it simply means that I'm getting senile and you can throw things at me (preferably cookies) and call me names ("Queen Under the Mountain" is the one I'm quite fond of, btw).
1. Favorite fic of the year.
This is one of the toughest questions in the world! How about I give you three fics I read this year instead? 💚 In Whiskey, Wisdom by @joyfullynervouscreator - Bofur x OC, fake relationship, idiots in love, Gimli as a matchmaker, amazing worldbuilding. This is an ongoing fic with but I promise you, it is worth it! 💚Naughty Thoughts by @linasofia - Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 - It all starts with a horse and its criminally handsome owner named Richard... RA x Reader, E-rated fic. 18+! I'm not normally into RPF, but this fic made me seriously question my usual preferences 🔥🔥🔥
💚 Lonely Souls by @dustbunnyprophet-blog on AO3 - Thorin/Ori, Modern AU, slow burn, reincarnation of sorts, feels, great fic idea. I'm not going to tell you what it's about (no spoilers!), but... give it a try.
2. Favorite fic of your own from this year. It won't be a surprise to some of you, but it's All Is Fair in Love and Trade - AO3 link. Thorin x Ragna (Dwarf OC), lots of negotiations, pining, some angst and a lot of steamy E-rated scenes. 18+!
3. Favorite writer of the year.
Okay, now I'm sure these questions were made to show how pathetic my memory is (think: swiss cheese). I love many fic writers for different reasons and it's impossible to pick just one. It's as if you let me into a library and told me to choose just ONE book. Impossible! I'd take all of them and go home 😁 I'm going to throw some lovely authors at you now but this is not even a half of people whose works I like to read: @legolasbadass @laurfilijames @fizzyxcustard @middleearthpixie @gwen-ever@i-did-not-mean-to @thewarriorandtheking @shalinizhara @linasofia @xxbyimm @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @kibleedibleedoo @guardianofrivendell @justfollowtheroad @shrimpsthings @sketch-and-write-lover @theblogofdurin @luna-xial @fromthedeskoftheraven @scariusaquarius @middleearthmama @midearthwritings @dumbassunderthemountain ... and that's just a short list of blogs off the top of my head. Send me an ask if you're searching for an author specializing in a specific kind of ships.
4. Favorite new writer of the year.
Oh, no! Not again! You're trying to trick me, fiend! ;) Jokes aside, quite a few of the names that I have already mentioned above fit that category, but there is one I'd like to give a shout out to: @elisethewildwolf . Why? Mostly because I admire how much they have developed throughout the year and how much they achieved. This fic author is 14 years old and has already written so many different stories for various fandoms! When I was 14, I wrote one extremely pathetic and very cringey fic that may or may have focused on pining after Luke Skywalker that I'd rather forget so I'm really happy to see someone like Elise who does it so much better! 💙
5. Favorite headcanon of the year.
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My favorite headcanon this year is the cutest canon x canon ship in the world: Boffins. Do yourself a favor and watch The Hobbit focusing on the relationship between Bilbo and Bofur and tell me if it's not the sweetest thing ever. The initial teasing, the protective!Bofur, the awkward Bilbo... Just watch it. I dare you! 😊
6. Favorite event of the year.
Writer's Month 2021 - here's my masterlist. I had tons of fun writing all those little fics and getting an immense amount of feedback. Love you all! 💚
Thank you everyone for keeping me company this year and being wonderful! Let's hope for an even better 2022! 💙💙💙
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middleearthpixie · 2 years
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Durin's Garage ~ Good Trouble - Part 3
Durin’s Garage AU - Good Trouble ~ Part 3
Modern Spin on The Hobbit
Summary: When your car breaks down, there is only one garage in town - Durin’s Garage and Engine Repairs. And sometimes, they do more than just tune your engine, check your oil, and top off your fluids…
Everyone in town knows Durin’s Garage and Engine Repairs is THE place to go when your car needs work, and everyone knows that Dwalin Fundinson is to be avoided outside of the garage. He’s an ace mechanic, but trouble otherwise.
Your first date is coming, and you’re both a little nervous about it.
Pairing: Modern!Dwalin x reader
Warning: None - just some sweet fluffy fluff
Word Count: 3,770
Khuzdal translations: Mesmel - my jewel of jewels
Previous Chapters can be found here and AO3
Check out these other great stories in the world of Durin’s Garage AU
Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @ocfairygodmother @exhausted-humxn-being @shalinizhara @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover
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The flat-bed truck rattled like an empty cracker box as Dwalin steered along Route Seven, which was the main road in and out of town. He had the radio playing loud enough to be heard with the windows open. Ozzy Osbourne’s Mr. Crowley. An oldie but a goodie.
But, he barely heard the lyrics. Instead, his thoughts kept returning to you. He’d known the frat boy was going to be trouble when the bouncer tossed him last night, and it lay heavily on his mind when he’d paid his bill and left. He couldn’t stop worrying about you, worrying the pissed off kid with the serious attitude would come back and cause trouble for you.
His instinct turned out to be right, as usual, which was why he’d learned long ago to listen to it and trust it. It saved his ass more than once and now, it saved yours as well.
He’d been watching you for weeks now. He remembered the first time he saw you, not quite three months ago when he and Thorin had popped into the Dunraven after work one night. He’d been shocked to see Kelly was gone, and in her place, a woman who stole the breath from his lungs and rational thought from his mind without even trying.
You were tiny, and delicate, and he was sure he could lift you with one arm and when he helped you up from the pavement last night, he realized he wasn’t wrong. You were every bit as tiny and delicate as he imagined.
And up close, you were even more beautiful than he thought. When you kissed him, he almost couldn’t believe it was really happened. Girls like you didn’t look at guys like him. Girls like you preferred the frat boys, the rich kids with their fancy sports cars and designer clothes, and big, bouffy hairstyles.
He’d never been so glad to be wrong before.
As he came around a curve, he saw the box truck on the shoulder, its flashers on, and the man he presumed was the driver standing on the far side of the vehicle, looking pissed off. Hard to blame him. It snowed last night, but today the temps were expect to rise into the sixties. A beautiful day, with sunshine and blue skies and no one wanted to be stranded on the side of the road in weather like this.
He rolled to a stop ahead of the box truck and climbed down. “Dwalin from Durin’s Garage and Engine Repair,” he called, slamming the door to the black cab shut. “Ye called for a lift?”
“Yeah. Son of a bitch crapped out on me.”
“Do you know what it is?”
“Do I look like a mechanic?”
“Easy,” Dwalin held his hands up, palm out. “Some guys know enough. What happened?”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “It began running rough about five miles back, at the rest stop. Then, when I got here, it up and died and now it won’t start. And I gotta be in Jamesburg by three.”
“Yer are not making Jamesburg by three,” Dwalin replied, shaking his head. “Ye might want to call and let them know.”
The man sighed as he dug his cell from his front jeans pocket. “Son of a bitch!”
While he dialed and then complained into his Galaxy, Dwalin moved back to the flatbed, climbing into the cabin to start the hydraulics to lower the ramp. As it moved into place, he climbed back out, emergency triangles in one hand and road flares in the other, and set them out behind the box truck. He lit three of the flares to place parallel to the box truck as well. A few months ago, a driver in the next two had gotten killed trying to hook up a disabled vehicle, so Dwalin took no chances.
Then he set to work hooking up the cables to draw the box truck onto the bed, climbed up into the box truck itself to set the transmission into neutral, and then return to the black flatbed again to winch it in and lock it into place.
“Ye can ride with me,” he called to the man still yelling into his cell. The man just waved him off, and as Dwalin turned, he held his hand in front of his chest, middle finger extended, then moved to gather up the triangles, extinguish the flares, and climbed back in behind the flatbed’s wheel.
Finally, the man graced him with his presence, climbing up into the passenger seat and throwing himself down with a heavy sigh. “How far is the service station from here?”
“Not quite two miles,” Dwalin replied, turning over the engine and eased the transmission into first gear. As they slowly rocked back onto the road, he added, “Ye’ll have the best mechanics in the state working on this and it’ll be up and running before you know it.”
“Great. Too bad I’ll miss my drop-off time, which means I get to eat the inventory in there.”
Dwalin looked over at him. “Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do about that. But, it beats standing out on the side of the road. There’s a diner across the street where ye can get a bite to eat while Thorin or Kili takes a look.”
“Wonderful.”
Dwalin depressed the clutch, shifted into second, and then third, and little by little, worked his way up through the gears. There wasn’t much traffic out this morning, at least, not until they crossed the town line. Then the road grew clogged and he had to downshift.
As Durin’s Garage came into sight, he slowed further, and carefully maneuvered the flatbed back into the lot, lining it up with the bay on the far right, which was recently vacated by a green Audi. They jerked back and forth slightly as he crept back, eyes trained on his mirrors.
Then, they stopped and the air brakes hissed as they decompressed. The man climbed down as Thorin came out of the bay, wiping his hands on an oil-stained rag. “This the truck from Seven?”
Dwalin nodded as he jumped down. “Yeah. I told him to go grab a bite across the street.” He nodded at the man, who was already halfway across Main Street. “He’s a real friendly sort.”
“The two of you must’ve got on great, then,” Thorin drawled, tucking the rag into the pocked of his Carhartt jumpsuit.
“Funny.” Dwalin climbed up to begin unhooking the box truck. “So, how was yer night?”
Thorin grinned. “I’m not kissing and telling. Yours?”
“Ye know that bartender from the Dunraven?”
“The little one?” Thorin waited for him to nod, then said, “Yeah. What about her?”
Dwalin smiled and said, “Took her for a ride on my bike this morning.”
Thorin’s grin widened. “‘Bout time, my friend.”
“Yeah, well, I’m taking her out tonight. Dinner, I think. We’re going to the Nest. That’s not too dive-y, is it?” He unhooked the last cable, then moved to climb down. “Get in and I’ll lower ye.”
Thorin climbed up into the cab. “Dive-y?”
“Yeah.” Dwalin paused at the controls to lower the bed and unwind the winch, “ye know, the kind of place that ye'd find me, but would be surprised to find her there. I don’t think she does dive bars on her off days.”
Thorin shook his head. “She doesn’t do them on her work days, either. The Dunraven may be many things, but a dive bar is not one of them.”
“Do ye think she’ll like it?”
“I don’t know. She’s your date!”
Dwalin waited for Thorin to get settled, then he lowered the bed and set the winch to unspool while Thorin maneuvered the box truck carefully into the bay. Once the flat bed was empty, Dwalin rerolled the winch and set there be flat once more and then climbed back into the cab. But before he could put it into first, Kili came out of the office. “We got another one for you, Dwalin. A Chevy Suburban out on Kilmer that has no brakes.”
Thorin came out of the garage. “Not Abrams again.”
“‘Fraid so,” Kili grinned at him, “and she asked that you do the work yourself, Thorin.”
“I don’t think so. I’ve got plans for tonight and they do not involve Miss Abrams or her fucking SUV.”
Dwalin shook his head as Kili turned toward him. “I’ve also got plans, junior. This one is yers or Fili’s. I’ll go get her, but I’m droppin’ her in yer lap.”
Usually, on your off day, you ran all the errands you didn't have time to do during the days when you worked. Your normal shift was noon to ten, although sometimes on weekends you did six to two in the morning, when the Dunraven closed.
And today was no exception when it came to those damned errands. You went to the bank, to the post office, returned a couple of library books before they were late, and as you came out of the library, you saw a big, shiny black flatbed with with words Durin’s Garage written in elegant gold script on the door, and caught sight of Dwalin behind the wheel. Your heart gave a weird little leap and your belly twisted in a way that reminded you of when you were in middle school and saw the boy you’d been crushing on all marking period. It’d been a long time since you felt those maddening butterflies, since just the sight of the guy you crushed on was neigh to unleash them.
It had been such a wonderful night, even if you didn't get much sleep as a result. It was hard to complain, since good sex was absolutely worth a little sleep deprivation.
He wanted to take you to the Nest. You’d never been there before and had no idea what it was like. What was the dress code? Casual? Formal? There were restaurants of all stripes in town, so neither one was too far out of the realm of the possible.
And that left you in a quandary.
What did you wear?
This was the finest of lines you could walk. Too fancy, and he might think you a snob. Too causal, and you risk offending him by showing him you didn't think he would take you to a nice restaurant. Your relationship was so new, you had no idea how easily offended he might be, or how sensitive he might be about certain matters. The last thing you wanted to do was have him think you were judging him and finding him lacking, and the last thing you needed was him doing the same to you.
When you returned home, you had three more voice mails from your father. All were erased, unheard, and you sat on your sofa, cell phone in hand, trying to work up the nerve to call Dwalin. You hadn’t had this many butterflies in your belly since you were twelve and trying to call Jeff Moretti to ask him to borrow his science notes. Which was silly, really, because you already knew Dwalin wanted you to call him, already knew you would see him later.
And yet, you couldn’t make your fingers see reason.
“Oh, you are such an ass,” you muttered, tapping the phone lightly against your forehead. “Just. Call. Him.”
It took you several more minutes of arguing with yourself before you finally pulled up the keypad and dialed. Another minute to hit send. Then you waited.
“The caller you have dialed is not available. At the tone, please leave a message. Thank you.”
You rolled your eyes and at the beep, said, “Hi there, it’s me. I was just calling to see how your—ah—day was going because I—um… I saw you out on the highway and I just thought it’d—it’d be—ah—nice to just say hi. So, hi?”
You winced as you hung up. You tried so hard to sound breezy and casual and you ended up sounding like a total tool. Well, maybe he’d think it was cute. Maybe.
You tossed your phone onto the coffee table and padded down the hallway to your bedroom. One of the selling points of your apartment was the size of the walk-in closet in your room. It was almost a small room in and of itself, and while you tried to keep it neat, sometimes your inner Oscar Madison came roaring to life and it looked like your closet vomited clothes everywhere.
With a sigh, you went back out to the living room to retrieve your phone and Googled the Nest to peruse its website. Casual. Jeans and a nice top would be just fine.
This time, the phone landed in the middle of your bed and returned to the closet, where you stood in the middle of it, forefinger pressed to your lips, and studied everything hanging neatly, arranged first by season, then by color. Winter was coming, although it was nearly sixty degrees outside now. By tonight it would be back in the thirties, most likely. Dwalin rode a motorcycle.
You were going to freeze. It didn't matter what you wore. You were doomed to becoming a popsicle.
Of course, you did get to hold onto Dwalin, and that was nice. But, if your arms snapped off like icicles because of the cold, you’d not only fall off his bike, but you’d probably shatter when you hit the pavement as well. Not exactly a comforting thought.
But you’d worry about later. For now, you had to find the right thing to wear. Nothing too casual, nothing too fancy, nothing too boring, but nothing too sexy, either. First dates were a bitch to begin with, but this was worse when you’d already gone to bed with Dwalin. Now, it didn't really matter to a certain extent what you wore, because he’d already fucking seen you naked.
Still, you chose and rejected about a dozen different outfits and jumped when the buzzer went off. You darted down the hallway to the living room before he thought you’d changed your mind about everything, and hit the intercom button, “Dwalin?”
“It’s me, yeah. Ye expecting someone else?”
“No. Of course not.” You rolled your eyes. “Sorry, it’s habit. Come on up.”
You pushed the button that would unlock the double glass doors in the vestibule, and waited for the knock on the front door, tugging it open when it came. “I’m here, sorry about that.”
He smiled. “Sorry about what?”
“Just.. uh…” you winced, “everything? It’s been a long day. Come on in.”
He stepped inside and let out a low whistle. “Damn… This makes my place look like a dump.”
“Oh, stop it, your place is perfectly nice and you know it.” You closed the door behind him, leaning against it as you watched him take in the large living room, which was almost twice the size of the one in his apartment. You flinched again, trying to see it thorough his eyes and being hopelessly embarrassed by it. His apartment offered up warmth and hominess, but yours? Yours was cold and impersonal, the arctic white walls and dark gray trim chosen by the interior decorator your father hired, not you. But since it technically wasn’t your apartment, changing it was out of the question. If he saw it, you’d never hear the end of it.
“I don’t know,” he said, gesturing to the dark gray sectional sofa that almost perfectly matched the trim. “This looks like something out of a magazine.”
You sighed, pushing away from the door. “It’s my father’s doing. He chose everything about it from the paint colors to the location. He wanted me to be safe because he—he worries. You know how fathers can be. Always afraid I’ll be murdered in my own bed.”
“I don’t have any sisters.” He stared up at the painting hanging over the fireplace. “Only a brother and our father never worried we’d be murdered in our beds.”
He glanced over one shoulder at you. “Is that ye?”
Heat flooded your cheeks as you slowly nodded. The portrait was of you and your parents, done when you were still a gawky teenager and you hated it but if you took it down, the next time your father came to call, you knew you’d hear about it. So the ugly duckling stayed on the wall.
“Ye were cute.” He turned to you, shrugging out of his heavy leather jacket tp drape it over the arm of the sofa.
“Cute? I look like a troll there.”
“Nah,” he crossed over to you, arms folded as he peered down at you, “A goblin, maybe, but not a troll.”
“Oh, that’s much better,” you drawled, rolling your eyes, “thank you.”
“Lucky for ye, I’ve a soft spot for goblins.”
“You know, I don’t think I want to go out with you tonight.”
A low chuckle rolled your way and he caught your cheeks between his palms. “It sounded better in my head.”
“It should’ve stayed there.” You couldn’t resist smiling as his thumbs swept along your cheekbones. They were so light, so gentle, you almost couldn’t feel it, but with each graze, you seemed to grow a little warmer. No man ever had this effect on you before. He only had to gaze at you with those piercing blue eyes, and your heart skipped a beat, your blood warmed by several degrees, and an unfamiliar heat swelled between your legs.
His cologne touched your nose—a sexy combination of sandalwood and hints of patchouli—and that only made the heat warmer still. He also looked almost edible in faded Levi’s and a black henley, which he’d left unbuttoned enough to allow a hint of silver-tipped chest hair to peek up.
He leaned toward you, his lips soft and teasing when they met yours. On their own, your fingers curved about his massive forearms, your lips parting at the slight pressure of his tongue against them. His fingers stretched into your hair, his kiss deepening as his tongue skimmed along yours, as it teased yours with a slow, silken caress. He absolutely knew how to kiss, knew just how to tease and taste and stroke to start a low, pleasant hum through your body. As his lips moved so softly against yours, your hips arced toward his, sought out that part of him that just made you want to melt at his feet.
You slid your hands down his forearms, eased your arms about his waist, your heart skipping a beat when he pulled away. “We should go now, mesmel,” his whisper was low and growly, “for if I keep kissing ye, we are not leaving this apartment.”
His kiss, his words, left you somewhat breathless. “Mesmel?”
He brushed your lips once more, then stepped back. “Ye wouldn’t believe me if I told ye.”
“Try me.”
“Later.” He picked up his jacket to shrug into, then added, “Ready?”
“Dwalin,” you leveled a long look at him, “what does it mean?”
He looked about. “Where is your coat?”
“Dwalin!”
A hint of color appeared along his cheekbones above his bushy dark beard and he took a deep breath before saying, “It means my jewel of jewels.”
That was not what you expected and you just stared at him for a long moment, your face growing warm. No one ever said anything remotely similar to that to you. “In… what language?”
Draping the leather jacket over his arm, he said, “Khuzdal. It’s an old language, passed down through my family for generations. Not many speak it these days.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“You wouldn’t. As I said, it’s almost a dead language.”
“But you speak it? Fluently?”
“I do, yes.” He shrugged into his jacket. “If ye like, I can teach ye some of it.”
“You wouldn’t mind?”
“I wouldn’t offer if I did, mesmel.
“Mesmel.” You smiled then, moving to stand before him, a hand resting on his chest. “Is that how you see me? Already?”
“It’s how I’ve seen ye since the first time I saw ye, if that makes any sense.”
“It does.”
“I told ye I wanted to ask ye out for a long time. Just never had the balls to do it before now.” He glanced down at the long, black wool coat you’d draped over the sofa arm earlier. “We should go.”
Before you could reach for it, he swept the coat up and held it out for you. With a smile, you shrugged into it and then spun about to brush his cheek with a kiss. “I’m glad you finally found the balls, Dwalin.”
He grinned. “Makes two of us.”
You locked the door behind you and led him to the elevator. Once you were outside, you shivered as the wind had picked up to send leaves scuttling along the sidewalk, but as you scanned the parking lot, you didn't see the Harley. “Where’s your bike?
“Ye didn’t think I’d actually make ye ride on the back of it in this weather, did you?” He dug a set of car keys from his jacket pocket and led you over to a sleek, black Corvette Stingray. You looked up to find him grinning at you.
“So, wait.” You gestured toward the Corvette. “This is yours, but you walked to the bar last night anyway??
“Yeah. I don’t mind walking. Especially in the snow. I'd rather walk than risk cracking this up. It took me two years to restore her.”
“Wait? You did this?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I work with cars, remember?”
“Well, I know, but... damn…” You took in the Stingray's sleek lines and mint-condition. “What year is this?”
“Seventy-five.”
“Dwalin.”
“What? I really don't mind being out in the cold. This is my time of the year, so I’m perfectly fine with walking in it.”
“You’re nuts.”
“So I’ve been told.”
You nodded at the ’Vette. “And this is yours?”
“It’s mine.”
You rolled your eyes at him. “And here I thought I’d be freezing my ass off hanging onto you on the back of a motorcycle.”
“Do I look that crazy? It’s too damn cold to ride at night now. But,” he draped an arm about your neck and pulled you close to brush your lips with before growling, "when the weather gets warmer, yer going to be hanging on to me very chance we get.”
“I don’t think I’ll mind that all that much,” you told him, smiling as he kissed you again. “I kind of like the feeling of holding on to you.”
“Is that so?”
“Oh, absolutely.”
He grinned, pulling back. “Let’s go, before they give our table away and we end up sitting near the kitchen.”
86 notes · View notes
middleearthpixie · 2 years
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Durin's Garage AU ~ Good Trouble - Chapter Five
Durin’s Garage AU - Good Trouble ~ Part 5
Modern Spin on The Hobbit
Summary: When your car breaks down, there is only one garage in town - Durin’s Garage and Engine Repairs. And sometimes, they do more than just tune your engine, check your oil, and top off your fluids…
Everyone in town knows Durin’s Garage and Engine Repairs is THE place to go when your car needs work, and everyone knows that Dwalin Fundinson is to be avoided outside of the garage. He’s an ace mechanic, but trouble otherwise.
Your evening with Dwalin ends on a high note and you even get up the nerve to ask him about a certain tattoo…
Pairing: Modern!Dwalin x reader
Warning: E - NSFW 18+ - Oral sex (m receiving)
Word Count: 4,752
Khuzdul translations:
Mesmel - my jewel of jewels
masalnuldum - serious trouble
Abnâmul - beautiful
Kakhf - Shit
Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @ocfairygodmother @exhausted-humxn-being @shalinizhara @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover
Previous chapters can be found here and AO3
Check out these other great stories in the world of Durin’s Garage AU
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The pillow was warm against your cheek and you smiled as Dwalin skimmed a kiss along your right shoulder blade, his, “Are ye all right, amrâlimê? Yer awful quiet,” a whisper on your skin.
“Oh, I’m wonderful,” you murmured, the last remnants of one of the most intense orgasms you’d ever had still tingling its way through you.
He covered you, warm against you, and swept your hair over your shoulder to press his lips into the curve where your neck met your shoulder. “Yer trembling,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear. “Are ye cold?”
“Hardly.” You let your eyes close as he kissed down over your shoulder and along your right arm, easing off to stretch out beside you. The only light came from the nightlight in your ensuite bathroom, behind him, and as you opened your eyes, you could just make out his features. His eyes were open. Heavy-lidded and sleepy, but open. “You’re staring at me.”
“I canna help myself. Yer beautiful.”
You smiled again. No one ever told you they found you beautiful. Cute? Yes. But beautiful? No, they stopped short of that. And while you also thought you were more cute than beautiful, there was something about hearing Dwalin murmur those words that made your stomach twist in a delightful way and made you smile across the darkness at him. “Thank you.”
He reached for you, his hand coming to rest in the curve of your waist, his thumb skimming up toward your ribs. “Are ye still curious about that tattoo?”
Your cheeks grew warm and you tried not to sound as idiotic as you had earlier. “Honestly? I am, yes.”
His fingers tightened about you, tugging you closer. You scrunched over until you were flush against him and his hand slid down over your right cheek, pressing you into him. His lips brushed your ear as he whispered, “It says, masalnuldum.”
Your belly kinked. The rumors were true? You met his gaze. “Are you serious? You have your dick tattooed? And that does that even mean?”
“I am serious. My cock is tattooed. And it means serious trouble.”
You couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not. “Dwalin.”
“What?”
“Well, now you’re just making fun of me. Serious trouble? For real?”
He nodded. “I am dead serious, mesmel. I was young and drunk off my ass when I had it done and when the guy asked me what I wanted, I told him. If you don’t believe me, look for yourself. Although,” he winked, which made you want to smack him, “you might want to talk nice to it for a few minutes, so it doesn’t just say masal.”
“Oh, I am not talking to your dick.” You rolled away from him, glaring at the wall. You couldn’t tell if he was serious or not and you hated feeling like someone was making fun of you. Growing up, you were the kid who was always the last to get the joke, who could never tell when someone was being serious or not. If someone told you the word gullible was written on the ceiling, you’d look because they just might be telling you the truth.
The mattress shifted as he scooted over to curve against you, slipping an arm about your waist to tug you up against his furred chest. “Why are ye mad at me? I’m telling ye the truth. I promise ye I am.”
“You are not.” You tried to ignore the sensations rippling through you as he leaned over and pressed his lips against the side of your neck. Tried to ignore the way his fingers swept so lightly along your belly. The man instinctively knew how to touch you and even after doing your best to destroy one another for the last few hours, he could get you humming and ready for another round without moving a hand lower than your belly. That was skill right there and you were a lucky woman for it.
“I am. I did it as a bet. Guy in my battalion said I didn't have the guts to do it, and I showed him I did, in fact, have them.” His fingers skimmed along your hip, down over the slope of your outer thigh. “Turn the light on and I’ll show ye.”
Although you definitely had the feeling he was just going to laugh at you, you sat up and reached for the lamp. As light blazed forth, he smiled and drew back the covers and, feeling like a combination of voyeur and complete tool, you looked.
Sure enough, there it was along the side of his shaft, in elegant-looking writing that could only be described as looking like runes. His cock was, in fact, tattooed.
“Oh…” You couldn’t keep quiet and without thinking, you traced the very tip of your forefinger along the black ink letters you couldn’t read, but assumed said exactly what he said they did. “You… How did I miss this?”
He exhaled slowly, a hint of a sigh in that breath and you sat back suddenly as he went on with, “Ye weren’t exactly examining it, now, were ye? And ye didn't know it was there, so ye weren’t looking for it, either. That’s how ye missed it.”
You looked up at him, relieved to see him smiling. “I—I don’t know what to say.”
He winked. “Ye want to ask me how much it hurt to get, and whether or not I had to be hard to get it as well, don’t ye?”
“Well…” Heat climbed into your face and you admitted the truth with a sheepish, “Kind of, yeah.”
“It hurt as much as any tattoo hurts, but not as badly as you probably think it did and no, I didn’t.”
You reached over and traced those letters again, smiling as he twitched ever so slightly beneath your touch. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. But, I think I hit empty, so, that might be all ye get for a while.”
Your hand went still. “I’m a little sore anyway.” You looked up at him. “So, how did you get this?”
“I told you, I got it on a bet. We went to the studio, I told the artist what I wanted, he drew it up, I went into the men’s room for a few minutes to get ready and—”
You narrowed your eyes. “Get ready?”
He offered up a wicked grin. “It’s got to be hard to get the stencil on.”
“So, wait,” you pulled your hand away from his cock to press to your lips to still the smile that tugged at them, “you mean you went and jerked off in—”
He chuckled. “Not all the way to the end, no. Just enough so he could get the stencil on, which was a challenge in and of itself, ye know.”
“Uh, no. I didn’t. But I’ll take your word for it.” A giggle popped free and you pressed your hand harder to your mouth. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s okay. It was a challenge because I don’t go walking around at half-mast all the time. Took me three shots before he could get the fucking stencil on and I was starting to sober up. Made it a little easier to keep a boner, but made me second guess my decision as well.”
“But, you couldn’t back out because your buddies were there and they’d make fun of you.”
“Something like that. I was young and dumb and wanted to show them how tough I was. So, I got my cock tattooed and it shut them the fuck up. Not a one of them could go through with it. I was the only one.”
“You have to be nuts to do that.”
“Probably.” He caught you around the waist and tugged to his chest. “But, I’ve never wondered about my sanity, so I think I’m good.”
“You got your dick tattooed and you didn't question your sanity?” You couldn’t resist teasing him. “If that didn’t make you question it, what would?”
“Funny.”
You pulled away long enough to switch off the lamp, then snuggled back down against him. “I have to admit, Dwalin,” you said softly, “I am impressed. You’re even more badass than I thought you were to begin with.”
“And I’m your badass, mesmel. Lucky you.”
“Lucky me.” You tucked your head against his chest, smiling as he drew his arm tighter about you. “You should’ve gotten good trouble tattooed on it instead.”
“Good trouble?”
You nodded, then lifted your head to look up at him. “Because you are definitely trouble, Mr. Fundinson. But you’re good trouble.”
He winked at you. “I like the sound of that.”
****
When you awoke the next morning, you were tucked up again Dwalin’s chest, his arm tight about your waist, his deep, even breaths warm against your shoulder. You weren’t normally a morning person, usually waking up groggy and wanting only coffee. But today, despite a short night’s sleep, you felt oddly refreshed and awake. It was a nice change of pace.
You let your eyes close once more, content to lie there wrapped in warm covers and even warmer man. And you wondered how many of the women who came into the Dunraven and giggled and gossiped over him had any idea what he was really like. Somehow, you didn't think so. They probably saw him as dangerous, a walk on the wild side, and while they were right to a certain extent, they probably didn’t see beyond that. Lord knows you didn’t at first. You tended to believe some of the rumors—the ones about how he probably liked it rough, and probably wasn’t big on caring much whether or not the woman he was with came as much as he worried about his own orgasm.
But now you knew how wrong you were and although he didn’t know you once thought those things, you almost felt as if you should apologize for them just the same. You ‘d misjudged him terribly based on his outward demeanor and a few tattoos.
Tattoos.
You smiled.
He stirred behind you, murmuring, “What time is it?” in a sleep-thickened voice.
“Almost nine.”
“Damn.” He flopped onto his back, bringing up both hands to rub his face. “I don’t remember the last time I slept this late.”
“It’s your day off, though, don’t you sleep in?”
“Not usually, no.” He lowered his hands and turned his head to look over at you. “I hit the gym, I do my errands and get them done and out of the way so I have the rest of the day to do what I want. Although,” he rolled onto his side, propping his head on his fist, “what I want to do will be working from two to ten, so…”
You smiled. “It’s going to fall off, if we keep going at it like this.”
“Nah. It’ll be fine. Trust me.”
As he spoke, Dwalin reached to trace his forefinger along your cheek. It was only the lightest of touches, you barely felt it, and yet, it sent a shiver racing through you. His blue eyes were so soft, it was hard to believe they were every anything else, but you knew differently. Outside of your bedroom or his, those eyes were hard and cold, almost daring anyone or anything to start trouble with him.
Trouble.
Another shiver. You couldn’t stop thinking about that tattoo, trying to imagine a much younger, much cockier, much drunker Dwalin giving into the pressure of a bet. You wondered what he’d been like back then, if those pale eyes had always held that hardness, if he’d always been a barely contained vessel of simmering energy, ready to pop off at any time.
“What’s on yer mind?” His soft words cut through your reverie. “Ye look miles away.”
“I’m not quite awake yet.” You couldn’t tell him the truth. It seemed so silly to you, almost as if you wished for the younger version of the man lying across from you. You didn’t, of course, because based on your own experiences, those men were selfish, both in bed and out, and tended to take women for granted because they knew there would always be another woman in the next room or at the end of the bar, and they didn’t have to work much for the attentions of any other women. Women fell at their feet and were theirs for the taking.
Of course, you’d been his for the taking as well. And as you let your eyes close, as you let yourself savor the gentle sensation of his caress, you tried hard not to think about the future. It was too soon to try to frame your relationship and if you pushed too hard, you’d scare him off.
Living in the moment had never been easy for you. No matter how badly you’d been hurt in the past, you still gave your heart away willingly and for the most part, paid the price for it. And now you were on the verge of doing that same damn thing again.
With that, you sat up abruptly. “I need to get moving before I fall back asleep. Coffee. I need coffee.”
“What’s the matter?”
You rose from the bed and slipped into the gray New York Giants hoodie you kept on your grandmother’s hope chest at the foot of your bed. “Nothing. I just need caffeine. Some horny dude kept me up half the night.”
“Ye were the one asking about my ink, remember. You start”
You peered at him over your shoulder. A mistake. He sat back against the headboard, the sheet just draped about his hips, and offered up a smile so inviting, it was all you could to to make yourself leave your bedroom. “Coffee. And a shower. That’s what I need. In that order.”
You made your way to the bathroom to get the shower started. It took forever for the water to get hot enough for your liking, so it was your habit to let it run while the Keurig fired up. You brought Dwalin a cup, saying, “It’s a bit lighter than the coffee at your place, I hope that’s okay.”
“It’s fine.” He took it. “Thank you. So, tell me,” he said before taking a sip, “is there room for two in your shower?”
Your belly did a flip at the glint in his eyes. “There might be. Why?”
“Just curious. I’m a big believer in conserving water, so…” He shrugged.
“Well,” you reached over to pluck the cup from his hand and set it, along with yours, on the bedside table, “why don’t we go see?”
He offered up no resistance as you took his hand and tugged, but rose and followed you to the steam-filled bathroom. The shower curtain rustled as you stepped in, and then again when he angled his big body in behind you.
One arm slid about your waist, his lips, while with his free hand, he swept your hair over your right shoulder, then bent to press his lips into the curve of your neck into your left shoulder. You bit down hard on your bottom lip as the tip of his tongue swept along your wet flesh, your body tingling with desire already.
Hot water cascaded over you as his hand slid up over your belly to cup your left breast, to knead it, to tease your nipple into a tight bead while his other hand slid down into the west curls between your thighs.
One thick finger slid through your folds, over your clit, to your entrance. He swirled just the tip inside you, then plunged his finger deep as his thumb came upon your clit to roughly drag in a slow circle.
He teased you with those lazy swirls and leisurely thrusts, his voice gravelly in your ear as he whispered, “My beautiful girl… Abnâmul… Mesmel… I want you…”
You couldn’t reply, couldn’t form a coherent thought as he teased you mercilessly, brought you to the edge of madness so quickly. He held you there, suspended over the abyss, fingers sweetly torturing your nipple, your clit. You rocked to meet each stroke, unable to hold back the low moan that reverberated off dark blue tile. You clenched tight about his finger, your eyes closing, your head spinning wildly. You had to touch him, reached up and behind to try to get hold of him, your fingers digging into his shoulders as the knots tightened within your core.
His thumb dragged over your clit to shatter you, spun more roughly about it, pressing hard into you as you writhed against him, as you clenched and squeezed about him. The first hints of your orgasm tingled through you, the knots coming undone as he pulsed that finger in and out of you.
You shuddered against him, biting hard on your bottom lip even as you managed to grit, “Oh, don’t stop… please, Dwalin, don’t stop…”
“Ye like this, amrâlimê?”
You nodded wildly, your hips arching and rolling to meet him. “It feels so fucking good…”
You shivered, the knots fraying now. He moved faster, his fingers teasing and taunting you, driving you utterly wild as the threads splintered and the pleasure burned a path from between your legs to thee center of your being.
“Dwalin!” Your fingernails sank into his shoulders, your entire body convulsed, and steaming hot pleasure scorched through you as he shoved you over the edge. You pulsed around him, melting and fighting to hold onto him as your orgasm ripped through you, left you breathless and spent, sagging against him as he slid his fingers free and caught you to cradle you against him.
You couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. You could only feel and you almost sobbed from the fiery ecstasy ribboning through you. And as you sank again him, he wrapped his arms about you, kissing the back of your neck as he murmured, “That’s my girl…”
Your head cleared enough for you to turn toward him and push up onto your toes to seize his lips with yours in a fiery kiss. But before he could wrap his arms about you, you broke it, sweeping your lips down through the silver-tipped fur across his chest, down his belly. You sank to your knees and leaned in to run your tongue along the length of his proud, hard cock. You swept along the sleek underside, from root to tip, slid your tongue along the word inked into his flesh, and then took him in your mouth in a long pull that had him moaning your name as his hands plunged into your hair.
You weren’t at all interested in teasing him. You want to shatter him, to make him come undone in the same fiery flash you had. You pulled hard, your lips tight about him, your tongue flicking along just beneath the head. He thrust against you, his voice hoarse as he growled out words in a tongue you did not understand.
He grew rigid, tried to pull away, but you refused release him and when he came, you were ready, accepting what he had to offer as he shuddered and moaned and spilled hard. His fingers twisted hard in your hair, his voice hoarse as he moaned your name, as he breathed, “Oh, afsêl… maralmizi… maralmizi…”
He slowed against you, breathing as if he’d run a marathon at top speed, and when you pulled away to stand, he wrapped his arms about you and his mouth slashed down over yours. You returned his hot, soulful kiss, pulling away to murmur, “I have no idea what you said, but you sound pissed off.”
A breathless laugh shook his already-trembling. He tightened his hold on you. “Just—just the oppo—opposite… Oh, kakhf… I need to sit down…”
A soft laugh floated to your lips. “Should I apologize?”
“Fuck, no,” he growled, smiling as he lifted his head. “You should promise me you won’t ever stop doing that.”
“Ever?”
“Ever.”
You slid your arms about his waist. “I can do that.”
“Good.” He pressed a kiss into the top of your head.
“What was that you were saying?”
He glanced down. “What?”
“Those words. What did they mean?”
“Oh, they were just gibberish.” He caught your face in his hands. “The equivalent to you thanking God when you come.”
You smiled. “I thank you, though.”
“Be that as it may, it’s the same thing.”
You weren’t so sure you believed him, but you certainly didn’t want to fight about it, so you let the matter drop. And when he reached for the bottle of your shampoo and proceeded to wash your hair for you, it didn't matter.
After your shower, you dressed for work in jeans and the familiar navy blue Dunraven long-sleeved tee shirt while Dwalin finished showering, since he insisted cold water suited him just fine.
You were combing out your hair when someone knocked at the door. It was a little early for a UPS delivery, but FedEX played by their own rules and although you weren’t expecting anything, sometimes you ended up with your neighbor’s parcels by mistake.
However, when you tugged open the door, you found yourself wishing it was only a mistaken delivery.
Your father looked no happier to see you than you were to see him. “You could at least say good morning, you know,” he said without a hint of a smile. “And it wouldn’t kill you to invite me in, either.”
“Dad, I—uh— come in…” You stepped back to give him room to pass by and bit the inside of your cheek as your gaze landed on Dwalin’s jacket, which lay atop yours on the sofa where you’d tossed them just before opening the door. The shower had shut off, but Dwalin had yet to emerge from the bathroom. You could only hope he found a reason to remain in there a little longer.
Your father saw the jacket, and when he turned back to you, his lips had disappeared, becoming a thin white line as he said, “Have you a friend staying over?”
Before you could answer, the bathroom door opened, steam billowed out, and Dwalin stepped into the hallway, a towel wrapped about his waist. He turned, and you knew he saw your father because he visibly tensed. Heat climbed into your cheeks as you turned back to your father who was now downright scowling at you.
“Yes, Dad. I’ve got a friend staying over.”
“I see.” He stepped around you, adding, “And who might you be?”
“Dad, now’s really not a good time—”
“Of course it is,” he interrupted with a laugh that had absolutely zero humor in it. “I come to see my daughter and find her with a naked man? I’d say it��s the perfect time to be introduced, wouldn’t you?”
“Uh, no. No, I wouldn’t. And he’s not naked.”
“He’s damn near close enough!”
Dwalin cleared his throat and you almost smiled as he curved his fingers over where the end of his towel tucked in to keep it about him. “I’m Dwalin.”
“Dwalin.” Your father pursed his lips and nodded and you wanted to throw something at him when he added, “And you spent the night with my daughter?”
“Dad!” You stepped between them before Dwalin could say anything. Your father would have disapproved regardless, but you knew exactly what went through his mind as he looked at the heavily tattooed man in the towel standing not fifteen feet from him. “It’s really none of your business.”
“I beg to differ,” he told you, staring at you through cold eyes. “This is my apartment and that makes it my business, so if you are trying to rebel by playing about with a Hell’s Angel, that is also my business!”
“A Hell’s Angel? For real? Are you kidding me?” You couldn’t keep the laugh out of your voice. “What makes you think that?”
Your father ignored you, narrowing his eyes at Dwalin. “What do you do for a living, son?”
You opened your mouth, only to have Dwalin hold up a hand as he said, “I’m a mechanic. I work over at Durin’s Garage.”
“A mechanic.” He turned to you and you could see the familiar disappointment in his eyes. “You’re risking getting yourself knocked up by a mechanic? Wonderful.”
You just stared at him for a long moment, torn between wanting to hit him with something and wishing the floor would open up and just swallow you whole. “How dare you?”
“Because I know his sort,” your father growled.
“My sort?” Dwalin stepped closer and you didn't miss how the hand holding his towel was now white-knuckled. “What do ye mean, my sort?”
“I wasn’t talking to you, I was talking to my daughter.”
“Yeah, well, ye involved me, so now I’m talking to ye.”
“Dwalin,” you turned to him, “let me handle this, please.”
“There is nothing to handle,” your father broke in, his hand closing about your upper arm. “But, rather it’s time that you grow up a bit, and come back home.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Dad,” you told him, jerking free from his grip. “I don’t need your permission and I definitely don’t need your approval.”
“Oh, really? Well, you do need my apartment and that is why I’m here. As of the thirty-first, I’ve a new tenant moving in, so you’ll need to vacate here.”
“The thirty-first? I get not quite fifteen days’ notice? Really?”
“Perhaps you should’ve taken my calls,” he said, moving back to the door. He tugged it open and added, “And you get ten days, dear. I have to have the place cleaned and repainted before the new tenant moves in.” His cold gaze landed on Dwalin. “And I’ll have to fumigate as well, I think.”
“Ten days, but—” The words died on your lips as he closed the door behind him. “He’s throwing me out at Christmas. What a bastard.”
“He seems lovely,” Dwalin replied.
You looked over at him. “I’m sorry… I—I don’t even know how to begin apologizing for that.”
“Don’t worry about it. My skin’s thicker than it looks and he’s not the first prick to judge me on first sight.”
You sank back against the door and looked around at all the things you had to pack now. Pack and find a new place and move. In ten days. Wonder-fucking-ful.
“Still,” you looked back at him, still in his towel, and shook your head, “I was hoping you’d never have to meet him.”
His eyes narrowed. “You didn't want me to meet your family?”
“No, I didn’t want to subject you to them. Well, him. It’s just him. And he’s kind of an ass, ass you’ve seen.”
“Yeah, just a bit.”
“And now I have to move? How am I supposed to do that in ten days?”
He smiled. “Yer welcome to come stay with me.”
You spun around to stare at him. “What?”
“Why not? I like ye. And ye don’t have to stay with me forever. Just until ye find a place.”
“But, we just started seeing each other and—”
“I know,” he caught you around the waist with his free arm and pulled you close. “And I like being with ye. And there won’t be any unexpected visitors at my door any time soon.”
“Are you sure?”
He nodded. “I’m positive, mesmel. I’ll clear some drawer space and part of the closet for ye.” He winked. “Will that be enough room, or do I need to find a bigger apartment?”
“Why are you doing this?”
“I told ye, I like ye. And to be honest, I like sleeping next to ye, I like waking up next to ye, and I really like sleeping’ with ye, so…”
“I can stay on your couch.”
“I don’t think so.” He slid his other arm around you and leaned over to brush your lips with his. “If you’re mooching off me, I’m getting something out of it.”
“Mooching! I’ll pay rent.”
He kissed you again. “I’ll take it out in trade.”
Another kiss when you tried to reply, and as you wound your arms about his neck, his towel hit the floor with a soft whump, but neither one of you cared all that much.
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middleearthpixie · 2 years
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Durin's Garage ~ Good Trouble - Chapter Two
Durin’s Garage AU - Good Trouble ~ Part 2
Modern Spin on The Hobbit
Summary: When your car breaks down, there is only one garage in town - Durin’s Garage and Engine Repairs. And sometimes, they do more than just tune your engine, check your oil, and top off your fluids…
Everyone in town knows Durin’s Garage and Engine Repairs is THE place to go when your car needs work, and everyone knows that Dwalin Fundinson is to be avoided outside of the garage. He’s an ace mechanic, but trouble otherwise.
The morning after holds a few surprises, and not all of them are pleasant…
Pairing: Modern!Dwalin x reader
Warning: Some foreplay
Word Count: 4,067
Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @ocfairygodmother @exhausted-humxn-being @shalinizhara @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @enchantzz
Previous Chapters can be found here
Check out these other great stories in the world of Durin’s Garage AU
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Dwalin snored.
And not soft snores, either. He lay on his back, almost growling like a contented bear and you wondered if his neighbors heard him. You thought they might have heard you both earlier, because at one point, something hit the other side of the wall, but you decided you’d rather think of it as a mouse in the wall or something else. You hadn’t meant to be that loud, but damn, Dwalin had some mad skills and a wonderful, seemingly insatiable fondness for performing oral on you, and you’d have to be batshit crazy to turn that down.
But now all was quiet. You lay cozy and warm in midnight blue sheets that were softer than any sheets you’d ever felt against your bare skin, with the thick, fluffy blue and gray comforter, tugged almost to your ear. From your position, you had a perfect view through the large picture window along the far wall. Snow continued to fall, small flakes swirling past the glass to give the illusion of being in a snow globe. The wind howled every now and then, and a hint of a draft leaked around the windowpane, but you didn’t mind. After all, you were cozy.
You still hadn’t seen whether or not his cock was inked. The room remained dark, so any shadow was just that—a shadow. Still, you wondered. The thought of a tattoo needle in such a sensitive place both impressed and horrified you. Did he have a kink for pain? Because if so, he made no mention of it. The closest you’d gotten to feeling any pain was when he caught a handful of your hair and tugged to kiss his way down your bowed neck. Otherwise, he was every bit the gentle, tender lover. Again, such a far cry from the image he presented to the world. You’d never known a man could be so gentle, really. It was a welcome change. A very welcome change.
Kissing seemed to be one of his favorite parts of foreplay. Long, slow, soft, deep kisses that made your head spin and your blood almost bubble like a pot of boiling water. He kissed you everywhere from your head to the soles of your feet and all points in between.
But, the most romantic and most erotic thing he did? He murmured something to you in a tongue you didn’t understand, and did so as he neared climax, growling the words in your ear as he came hard inside you. You had no idea what he’d said, but they sounded harshly beautiful and you made a mental note to ask him in the morning.
You shifted, rolling onto your side, away from the window. The room was too dark to make out much detail beyond his sleeping shadow, but that didn’t stop you. Besides, you already knew what he looked like. He was handsome. He was fierce. He looked as if he could bench press a Buick, rip out the engine and toss it somewhere, and take a grown man apart with his bare hands.
And you knew those hands were as gentle as they were fierce.
The snoring ceased and Dwalin stirred, lifting his head to murmur, “Something wrong, love?”
You shivered at the rumbling endearment. No one ever called you love before and you liked how it sounded falling from his sleepy lips. “Not at all.”
The sheets and comforter rustled softy as he shifted onto his side and his hand came to rest in the curve of your waist. “So, why’re ye awake at—” he lifted his head to peer at the clock on the bedside table table behind you—“nearly four in the morning?”
“I was watching the snow.”
“Ye were watching the snow.” His fingers skimmed lightly toward your ribs, then back down toward your hip. “If you want to leave, you can.”
Your belly did a strange flip. “Do you want me to leave?”
“What? No!” His hand slipped down over the small of your back now. “No, I don’t, but I didn’t… that is, ye didn’t… well, what I mean is—”
You leaned in to quiet him with a light kiss, whispering, “Shhh…” as your lips pressed his. Pulling back, you added, “I’m warm and I’m comfy and I like it here. It’s cozy here.”
“Cozy?”
You inched closed to him, sliding an arm about his middle. “Cozy.” Although it was dark, you peered up at him. “Do you have to work tomorrow?”
He nodded. “Noon to close. Do ye?”
“No. I’m off tomorrow.”
“I’m done by eight. Maybe we can do something?”
You smiled, tucking your head against him. “Something like this?”
A low chuckle rumbled to his lips. “I was thinking more like something like going out somewhere.”
His fingertips sweeping lightly along your back made your eyelids heavy and a heavy drowsiness creep over you. Smothering a yawn, you managed to murmur, “I like the thought of out somewhere, too.”
“Good.” He kissed the top of your head. “Now, go to sleep.”
When you opened your eyes, brilliant, dazzling sunlight spilled into the room, bounced across the carpet, sprung across the bed. Dwalin slept soundly beside you, quiet now, face down, with the covers pulled only halfway up his back.
You slipped from the bed, then remembered your clothes were scattered about his living room. You stood up, then remembered the wide window and the curtains drawn back and held in place with braided silver cord. If anyone was outside and happened to look up, they might be treated to a show. Wonderful.
With that in mind, you sprinted across the room, snagged the hoodie draped over the chair in the corner, and wriggled into it. As it dropped over your head, the scent of something clean and sporty teased your nose. Cologne? Soap? Either way, you liked it.
The heat had yet to kick on and the bare, hardwood floor was still cold as you skittered across it to the hallway. As you caught sight of the trail of clothing that started just inside the door and wound into the living room, and moved to scoop up everything to dump on the sofa.
Your stomach growled, but you didn’t want food. Caffeine. You needed caffeine, would kill for coffee. Maybe you’d find some in the kitchen, so you braced yourself for bare feet on ceramic tile, and wound your way there.
The kitchen was tiny—room enough for one person, only—with what looked like new appliances, butcher block counter and small breakfast bar, and a backsplash of pacific blue tile. A Keurig machine stood on the small square of butcher block between the stove and the refrigerator. You powered it up, then went in search of coffee pods.
They were in a steel mesh organizer in the drawer below the machine, cups were in the cabinet above and you tugged open the right hand door of the upright refrigerator and peered in. A half gallon of milk. A quart of half-and-half (thank you, God!) Eggs. Six amber bottles of Shock Top Belgian White lined the back of the top shelf.
You didn’t know how Dwalin took his coffee, or even if he drank it, so when you brewed the second cup, you left it black. You found sugar, added it and half-and-half to yours and carried both cups back to the bedroom.
He was just waking up, his eyes just wider than slits as he sat up, and rubbed his face with both hands. As he lowered them, his gaze alit on her and he smiled. “Looks good on ye.”
His burr did such odd things to you. His voice was low and gravelly, and that accent only made it sexier. His Rs rolled off it tongue as if they were oiled, and that, whispered in your ear as he crushed you against him? Enough to make your body warmer now.
“My things are all still out there,” you gesture to the living room with your head, and held out the cup of black coffee. “I know your beer order. This one is a mystery to me.”
He took the cup. “It’s perfect the way it is.”
You sank onto the bed alongside him. “I’m glad you’re awake. It’s almost ten and I wasn’t sure if I should wake you or not.”
“I usually wake on my own.” He sipped from his mug, then lowered it. “Are ye hungry? I have to go shopping, but I think I’ve something in the pantry.”
“I don’t eat breakfast most mornings. The thought of food when I first wake up… ugh…”
“No one was expecting ye home last eve, where they?”
You shook your head. “I live alone.”
“So, no one is expecting ye home now, either, are they?”
A sly grin accompanied his words as he reached out and took your cup from your hands to set on his bedside table. He drew you toward him, easing an arm about you as he lay back against the pillows, pulling you over him.
“I probably should not answer that,” you said as his hands skimmed along your back, beneath his hoodie, which was far too big on you.
He smiled and you realized then how few times you’d actually ever seen him smile. He normally looked ready to take someone apart, and while the others laughed and joked with one another, he always seemed to be on alert, as if his main job outside the garage was to look after the others.
But now, seeing him like this, you felt more than a little guilty for believing some of the unkind rumors about him. He was far more gentle than those rumors would have you believe, and mare more generous as well. You’d never known any man like him, and while your past wasn’t exactly littered with men, you’d been with enough to know he was different.
“Where are ye?” His voice was soft, his hands going still at the small of your back.
“I just… I don’t usually do this, you know?”
His eyes widened. “Ye mean to tell me ye were a virgin?”
“Funny.” You made a face at him. “No, I don’t normally just go home with a guy and jump into bed with him.”
His hands slid beneath the hoodie once more. “So why did ye agree to stay with me?”
“I like you. And I was curious.”
He arched one dark brow. “Curious?”
“Women speculate about you, you know,” you shifted off him, stretching out beside him, and let your fingers wander through the silver-tipped hair curling away from his muscled chest. “They ask me about you all the time.”
“About me? Not the Durins?”
“Well, them, too, but you’d be amazed how many are interested in what makes you tick, Mr. Fundinson. And yet, you don’t look twice at them. Why?”
“I had my eye on a cute bartender.”
“Dwalin, I’m serious.”
“So am I.” The sheets rustled softly as he came up over you this time. “I don’t look twice at ‘em because I’m not interested. I’ve wanted to ask ye out for months now, and never had the balls to do it.”
“You should have.”
“Aye, I should’ve. But,” he bent to brush your lips with his, “I’ve got ye where I want ye, so, I’d say it worked out just fine regardless.”
With that, he kissed you. His lips were soft and warm and moved almost lazily against yours. Little by little, he came flat against you, his bulk surrounding you, but not crushing you. He slid a hand beneath the hoodie, up along your ribs. The tips of his fingers just barely grazed the bottom of your breast. Your eyes closed.
His cell rang, buzzing as it vibrated across the nightstand. He ignored it, slowly shifting his hips to settle between your legs. The phone stopped ringing and you breathed a sigh of relief as his cock slid teasingly into your heat. Maybe now you’d be able to see if the ink rumor was true.
You parted your legs as he swept a thumb along your nipple. Like his kiss, this motion was also slow, and leisurely, and it sent chills racing through you. It was nice to be with a guy who seemed to actually enjoy foreplay, who seemed to actually enjoy warming you up, priming you to make certain that when you came together, you were absolutely ready for him.
He swept a kiss along your chin, down your throat. Your toes curled as he kissed down between your breasts. You sucked in a sharp breath as he moved over the inner curve of your left breast. Over that nipple. The tip of his tongue—
His phone rang again. He ignored it. It rang a third time and with a low, “Son of a bitch,” he slid off her, explaining, “It’s Thorin’s ring tone. I should take this.”
Disappointment bit into you, but you nodded. “You probably should.”
He snatched up the phone, hit accept, and growled, “What?” He rolled away with a sigh. “It’s not a good time, Thorin. It really isn’t.”
You tucked your arm up under your head, your gaze lingering over the design across his back. It went from shoulder to shoulder, a mix of heavy and thin black lines and gray shading with hints of white and gold highlights and you thought it might be a bird of some sort, but you weren’t sure.
With a low sigh, Dwalin said, “Fine, yes. I’ll be there in half an hour and ye owe me for this. Oh, ye have no idea how ye owe me.”
He tossed down the phone and rolled onto his back with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, love, but I have to go in early. Lads got a call about a broken down box truck out on Seven and I’m the only one with a CDL, so it’s up to me to go fetch ‘em.”
“It’s all right. I should get going anyway.”
“Tonight, pick a place for dinner. Just let me know how fancy I have to be and what time to pick you up.”
“On your motorcycle?”
“It’s supposed to be dry.”
“Isn’t it cold?”
He smiled. “Wear a coat.
You bit back a sigh. The thought of getting on a motorcycle terrified you, but you didn’t want to say anything. However, you were also out of excuses as to why he couldn’t ride it, so you drew in a deep breath and said, “I’ve never been on a bike before.”
“Then you’ll be in for a treat.” He sat up and slid to the edge of the bed. “Get your jeans on and I’ll take you out for a quick spin before I have to leave.”
Your belly twisted into a million tiny knots and your mouth went dry. “N-now?”
“Don’t look so scared.” He rose, then bent to kiss you quickly. “You’ll be fine.”
You bit the inside of your cheek as he moved to the dresser and tugged open the top drawer to fish out a pair of red boxer briefs. Some of your apprehension faded for a moment as he stepped into them, for like so many other women, you could absolutely appreciate the sight of a man in a pair of well-fitting boxer briefs. And his were most definitely well-fitting.
The muscles across his shoulders and upper back bunched and then smoothed as he tugged open another drawer to pull out a black long-sleeved tee shirt with the words Durin’s Garage in gold down the sleeves.
With a soft sigh, you rose and skirted him to go retrieve your jeans and the rest of your clothes, and wrinkled your nose at the thought of wearing the same underwear. Commando was far preferable, so you just slid into your jeans.
He emerged from he bedroom in Levi’s that had faded just perfectly, with that black tee shirt tucked into the waist, the sleeves pushed up almost to his elbows. In one hand, he held a matte black, full-face helmet that he held out to you. “It should fit you.”
You eyed it. “Why would you think your helmet would fit me?”
To your surprise, a hint of color rose along his cheekbones. “It’s not mine. I mean, it is mine, but not for me to wear. It’s a woman’s helmet.”
“Oh.” Why did that surprise you? Of course you weren’t the first woman to ride with him. It was silly to think otherwise. But at the same time, you couldn’t help the flash of jealousy, either.
Still, you didn’t want him seeing that stupid side, so you took the helmet, which was far heavier than it looked, and said, “Am I gonna die on this thing?”
He skirted the sofa to the coat closet, tugged the door open, and reached in to pull out a leather jacket. “Do ye think I’ll let something happen to ye?”
His voice was low and growlier than usual, which gave you pause. You certainly hadn’t meant to insult him. “No, of course not.”
“Good. Because I like ye. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t let ye near my bike.” He came around to drop the jacket over your shoulders. It was too big and too heavy, but held a hint of cinnamon—probably from the air itself—so you just shoved your arms into the sleeves and tried not to notice how you probably looked like a little girl wearing her father’s clothes.
Father.
You tried to ignore the warning pang at the thought. No. You are not worrying about him now.
“Are ye all right?” Dwalin moved to stand before you, brows pulled low. “Ye just went pale.”
“I’m scared. I’ve never been on a motorcycle.”
“Ye’ll be fine. Just hold on to me and I’ll do the rest. Trust me, yer as safe with me as ye’d be with yer own kin.”
He should only know.
He bent to brush your lips with his, then said, “Get yer boots on. I have fifteen minutes.”
Down in the parking lot, after stowing your belongings in your car, you swallowed hard when he whisked the tarp from a gleaming black, rather beautiful, Harley-Davidson Softail cruising bike. He rolled it up, tucking it under his arm as he said, “I just have to put this in the basement. I’ll be right back.”
You waited, just staring at the motorcycle that looks so innocent, and then back at your Jeep, which you knew was safe. When he returned, your breath was harder to catch for not only was he wearing a matte black full-face helmet, but your heart raced so hard, you almost feared it would explode.
He straddled the bike. “Hop on.”
You eyeballed the rear foot pegs, and then tugged on the helmet and carefully lifted yourself up to ease into the seat behind him. He started the engine and called over it, “Put yer arms around me, love, and hold on.”
You did just that, wrapping your arms so tightly about his waist, he let out a chuckle as he revved the engine. “Easy, love. I need to breathe. Not so tight, if it’s all the same to ye.”
“Sorry.”
“Dinna be sorry,” he glanced at you over his shoulder, “just trust me.”
You nodded, then squeezed your eyes shut again as he lifted his feet and gave the engine gas and you eased from the slot as smooth as anything.
The morning air was chilly, but the heavy leather jacket softened your discomfort. As he steered out of the parking lot and on Main Street, you even relaxed your hold on him a little. There was something exhilarating about being on that bike, and maybe it was just because you were with Dwalin and you trusted him completely that he’d not let anything happen to you, but it was also partly the feeling of freedom that came with being there. And by the time he returned to his apartment complex, you were sorry to see the ride end.
The vibration hummed thorough you still, even after he killed the engine and put the kickstand down. You climbed off, wrestled off the helmet and looked up to find him smiling at you, his helmet in his hand already. “So, what did ye think?”
“I think I’d like to try it again. I liked it.”
“Good.” He climbed off the bike and as you tried to hand him the helmet, he refused it, saying, “Keep it. Toss it in the back of yer Jeep so’s ye have it at the ready. Any time you want to go out, let me know.”
“Thank you.”
He smiled and leaned over to brush your lips with his. “I do have to go now, but I’ll be by later on to pick ye up. Just let me know where ye wish to go.”
“Why don’t you surprise me?”
“Okay, but I’m warnin’ ye, it’s liable to be kind of a dive.”
“I like dive bars. I work in one, remember?”
“How does the Nest sound then?”
“I think it sounds fine.”
“Good. I’ll pick ye up around nine.” His hand came to rest at the small of your back and he walked you back to the Jeep, leaned in, and kissed you just as he’d done last night—slow and deep—and when he broke it, it was to sweep his lips along your cheekbone, toward your ear. “I had a good time last eve, love,” he rumbled, his voice only barley a whisper, “and I look forward to it happening again.”
“Me, too.” You pulled back and climbed up into the driver’s seat. “I’ll see you tonight.”
He winked. “Ye certainly will.”
Your apartment was quiet. So, so very quiet and while you once loved the solitude, now it bothered you. Before spending the night with Dwalin, you’d slept alone forever and while you were used to it, there was something nice about snuggling up to a warm body as well.
Something nice about snuggling up to Dwalin’s warm body. You felt so at ease with him, as if you’d known him forever and were just now realizing you were more than friends. And while you did know him, and had ever since you arrived in town a year earlier, you didn’t know him at all.
Until last night.
The red light on your Tyrannosaurus Landline was blinking. Voicemail. Probably some scammer trying to reach you about your car’s extended warranty, but you listened just the same. And froze at the first message, which had nothing to do at all with warranties or scammers.
“It’s your father,” he said, as if you wouldn’t know the sound of his voice or the number from which he’d called, “and your mother and I have decided this has gone on long enough and it’s time for you to come home. I’m—”
You punched the star key to erase the message and hung up the receiver. Home was the last place you ever wished to be again. Home meant having her father’s business partner’s son foisted upon you and you’d already gone that route once before and had the scars to prove it. You were never going through that again. You only barely survived it the first time.
You were not about to risk a second time.
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middleearthpixie · 2 years
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Durin's Garage AU ~ The Chance You Take - Chapter 7
Durin’s Garage AU - The Chance You Take ~ Part 7
Modern Spin on The Hobbit
Summary: When your car breaks down, there is only one garage in town - Durin’s Garage and Engine Repairs. And sometimes, they do more than just tune your engine, check your oil, and top off your fluids…
Your past catches up with you, but that’s not the only surprise…
Pairing: Modern!Thorin x reader
Rating: M
Warning: Unprotected table sex, oral sex (m receiving)
Word Count: 6,048
Khuzdal Translations: Amrâlimê - my love
Mesmel - jewel of all jewels
Maralmizi - I love you
Givashel - my treasure of all treasures
kakhf - shit
Previous chapters can be found here and AO3
Check out these other great stories in the world of Durin’s Garage AU
Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @ocfairygodmother @exhausted-humxn-being @shalinizhara @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @enchantzz
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The wind howled with enough force to rattle the glass in the windowpanes and rouse you from your not-so-restful slumber. You opened your eyes slowly, not really in all that much of a hurry to greet a new day. Your head hurt from last night’s crying and for a moment, you couldn’t remember what it was that upset you so badly.
But then it all came rushing back. A king named Bard. A land called Dale. Political intrigue between two ruling families that resulted in you being raised in the United States instead and never knowing anything about your father or that side of your family.
It made so much sense now. Your mother had no family in the United States and so for holidays, it was always just the two of you. For special occasions, it was always just the two of you. There were no family get togethers. No reunions. No grandparents to spoil you. No aunts or uncles or cousins. And whenever you asked about your father she abruptly changed the subject, saying there was no sense in dwelling on the past. You never saw pictures of him, only knew that your mother thought you looked like him and that it seemed to make her bitter that you did.
But now, thanks to Thorin and his sister, you had a history. True, it was sketchy, with huge gaps in it that you might never fill, but you knew something of yourself. And yes, you did look very much like your father. Which wasn’t necessarily a terrible thing, for in the photos you saw of him, he was really quite handsome.
And you were a princess. In name only, perhaps, but you were.
You lay there, in Thorin’s big, comfortable bed, just staring out that window at the tree branches whipping back and forth with the wind, the leaves torn from their moorings to whirl and flutter past the glass. You wondered about Dale. What was it like? Thorin was originally from Erebor. Perhaps he had seen Dale and could at least describe it to you. You could look it up on your phone, of course, but somehow, you knew a personal description would be far better.
You sat up as the aroma of frying bacon wafted up the stairs and into the room to tease your nose. You smiled, sliding to the edge of the mattress to ease down, your toes curling against the cool wood beyond the edge of the colorful rug alongside the bed. A long-sleeved tee shirt was the closest thing to you, so you grabbed it and tugged it over your head.
The sleeves, which had Durin’s Garage written along them in that now-familiar elegant gold script, were far too long, the cuffs stretched out by Thorin’s thick forearms, but you shoved them up anyway and followed your nose down to the kitchen.
As you came to the doorway, you stopped, leaning up against the wall. Thorin has his back to you as he stood at the oven, and you did a mental melt at the sight of him in those gray sweatpants and a dark blue tee shirt. A radio sat on the wide windowsill, and the Rolling Stones’ Sympathy for the Devil played low. He sang along with Mick, his voice deep and smooth, and you wanted to just creep up behind him and slip your arms about his waist, but since he was frying bacon, startling him was probably a very bad idea.
“I know you’re there,” he said, then peered over his left shoulder at you. “I can see your reflection.”
“I thought I was sneakier than that.”
“Not much gets by me.” He turned away from the stove and you didn't miss how his eyes darkened. “Have I told how much I like the way you look in my clothes?”
“You may have mentioned it once or twice.” You came completely into the kitchen and sniffed. “Smells good. Anything I can help with?”
“Set the table?”
You looked over to the bank of windows across from him, where a table and chairs would be perfect, if they existed in his house. “Where?”
“The dining room. I still haven’t gotten around to finding a kitchen set I like.”
That seemed like such an un-guylike thing to say, and you couldn’t help but smile as you asked, “Where do you keep everything?”
“Plates here,” he pointed to the cabinet to his left. “Silverware in the drawer there.”
You got the plates and flatware and left the kitchen to go into the small, formal dining room. The furniture, like the rest of what you’d seen, was relatively old-looking—big, heavy pieces of dark wood of some sort. Perhaps an heirloom set handed down through his family. A small, empty vase stood in the middle of the polished oval table, and you offered up a silent prayer of thanks that there was a tablecloth in place, because the breakfront had about fifteen drawers and you had no idea where to even begin looking.
Inside the breakfront, the glass shelves were mostly empty. Except for a few framed photographs. You recognized Fili and Kili, and Dis, right away, but there were two other men and a woman whose face looked familiar, but you couldn’t place.
The floorboards creaked and Thorin’s reflection showed in the mirrored back as he stepped into the room. “Who are they?” you asked, gesturing to the photographs.”
He set down a platter of scrambled eggs and skirted the table to stand beside you. “My father, Thráin, and my mother. And that is my brother, Frerin.”
“You have a brother as well?”
“I did. He died in battle, back in Erebor,” Thorin said softly, “He was between Dis and I.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you, but I’ve made my peace with it. We were soldiers, we knew it was a possibility.” He smiled down at you but you noticed it never quite reached his eyes. “Coffee?”
You didn't want to pursue the matter further, so you smiled. “Coffee would be great. Why don’t you let me get that? Since you’ve gone through all this trouble and everything.”
He smiled. “Trouble? It’s bacon and eggs. They almost cook themselves.”
“Still.”
He moved around to stand in front of you, his eyes growing smoky as his gaze slid over you. “I could get used to seeing this, you know,” he said, reaching out to trace a thick forefinger down over the rise of your left breast.
You bit down on your bottom lip as your nipple beaded through the cotton and a seductive grin came to his face. The tip of his finger slid about that bead slowly. “I could definitely get used to seeing this.”
He leaned in and his lips caught yours, his kiss gentle at first, but then he slid his arm about your waist and tugged you flush against him. His lips parted, his tongue came thick and slow and teasing as you parted your lips to let him in. Your hands came to rest on his hips, your fingers curling about the waist of his sweats. You liked how he looked in them, for when he faced you, you could plainly see the outline of his cock through them, and it was enough to make your body hum at a low level. That he now cupped your left breast and gave it a gentle squeeze only made that hum more a purr now.
You smiled as he teasingly explored your mouth with his tongue, drew yours back into his mouth, his arm tightening about your waist, his hand on your breast. Your head fell back as he broke the kiss, and when he swept his lips along your throat, you couldn’t hold back your sigh. His beard offered up a caress of its own, softly-scratchy against your skin, and that only added to the arousal now swirling through you.
Your hand slid down to cup him through the gray sweatpants and he growled softly against you. You traced your thumb along that firm ridge that grew harder still. His fingers tightened about your breast in response, his thumb rougher as it dragged the cotton against your nipple to send a streak of fire screaming through you.
He released your breast, catching the hem of the tee to skim it up and over your head. The dining room was chilly against your bare flesh, but Thorin didn’t give you time to feel much of it, as he wrapped his arms about you and his mouth slashed over yours.
You slid your hands beneath his tee shirt, up along his smooth back, over his shoulder blades, slid them back down to ease around to his stomach. You slid your fingers through the crisp hair curling away from his belly, up through the thicker hair over his chest, and when you found his nipples, he sighed into your mouth, his hands coming up to curve about your face. His thumbs brushed along your cheeks as he tilted your head just so, deepening his kiss.
He rocked toward you, his hips grinding hard into yours and since you only wore your flimsy thong, each thrust against you sent a ribbon of heat unfurling within you. God bless the inventor of sweatpants, you thought as his thick, hard cock pressed up into you. He rocked into you, the friction of lace against your mound enough to start the heat pooling between your legs. You parted them just enough so that when he did it again, the lace now teased your clit and those ribbons grew hotter and wider.
You slid one hand down, beneath the waist of those sweatpants. His cock was hot and sleek, and when you curled your fingers about him, he sucked in a sharp breath, thrusting into your grip. You tightened your fingers about him, slid your thumb over that small opening to brush that silky fluid along him, to make your next stroke equally silken.
With your free hand, you shoved again the waistband to send those sweats south. And as you nudged them down over the curve of his absolutely perfect ass, you sank to your knees to take them the rest of the way down.
You peered up to find his blue eyes fixed on you, a smile playing at his lips, his thumb smoothing along your cheekbone. “This is a sight I would love to get used to.”
“I’ll just bet you would,” you told him, smiling back as you trailed just the tip of your forefinger along the underside of his cock. His eyelids grew heavy, closing briefly, but when he opened them again, they were smoky and seductive. Without breaking eye contact, you leaned in and flicked the tip of your tongue just beneath that flared head. His eyelids fluttered. His breath hitched. His hands came down to sink into your hair.
You held his gaze as you pulled him into your mouth, your belly twisted at the pleasure that crept across his face, darkened his eyes. His thumb caressed your cheekbone once more as he whispered, “Mahal, you are so fucking beautiful. Do you know that?”
Your cheeks grew warm. No one ever called you beautiful before. Only Thorin did, and maybe it was just because of the passion of the moment, but you didn't care. He made you feel beautiful and that was all that mattered.
You flattened your tongue against his silken male flesh, moving from the root to the tip of his cock in one long pull that left him shuddering against you, his fingers twisting tighter in your hair. You did it again, only more slowly this time, and savored his long, hitched, “Ooohhh…” as you moved back to his base.
Between those teasing pulls, you swirled your tongue along him, around him, up over his tip, along the ridge, and back down, smiling his growled, “Oh, amrâlimê, just like that… nice and slow, baby… oh—oh, holy fucking shit… that feels so fucking good…”
He tried to guide you faster, but you playfully slapped at his hands and popped him free with a low, “I’ll stop right now if you don’t mind yourself, Mr. Durin.”
His eyes were almost all pupil as he managed a smile at you. “Don’t you dare…”
“Then stop it.” You winked at him and drew him deep once more.
His moan rose like a heavy mist, his fingers twisting tighter in your hair, but he didn’t try to take over again. He let you tease him and tease him you did. Slow. Fast. Deep. Shallow. You tried to introduce him to sensations he’d never felt before—although you had no way of knowing whether or not that was true—and judging by the way he moved against you, whispering words in his tongue that made no sense to you. Still, they sounded loving and erotic and since he held your gaze the entire time and a sinful smile curved his lips, you were fairly certain they were words of love.
“Mesmel,” his voice grew huskier, his eyes more heavy-lidded, “baby… oh… amrâlimê… I want to fuck you…”
Those words twisted your insides in the most delicious way. Between your legs, a damp heat pooled again and curious, you eased aside the lace with one finger and shivered as you slid through your wet folds, over your slick clit, and the fire that tore through you with that one simple stroke was almost your undoing.
Thorin shuddered against you and pulled free to catch you under the arms, and hauled you up to meet his fiery kiss. He slid a hand between your legs, up into your heat, and you couldn’t hold back your moan as he slid a finger inside you and roughly crooked it to find that small swelling and when he did…
You pulsed around him, your fingernails digging into his shoulders, your back arching as you rocked to meet each delectable stroke. He drew it out, left you gasping for breath, almost crying from the force of your orgasm, which was sweet beyond sweet, and when he slid his finger free, he tugged your thong down and growled, “Turn around…”
You did, and bit down hard on your bottom lip when he bent you over the table and whispered, “Open your legs wider, amrâlimê…”
The satiny wood was cool beneath your cheek and you closed your eyes as he crouched just enough and fit himself inside you and slid deep. He thrust, lifting you to your toes with the force of it. Her drew back. Then surged.
His fingers bit into your hips as he found his rhythm quickly, his thrusts hard and fast and deep as you clung to him, as you squeezed him to send showers of sinfully tingling sparks through your entire body.
One hand found its way into your hair, which he gripped in his fist, while the other remained on your hip, and you met each thrust with a roll of your hips to send him deeper still. “Oh, yes… baby… just like that…” he growled, pumping faster now. “Mesmel… squeeze me… perfect, oh, so fucking perfect…”
“Thorin…” Your head spun as each thrust brought you closer to the edge of madness. You tensed around him, determined to devour him as he seemed to be just as determined to devour you. That you couldn’t see him, but could only feel him, heightened your pleasure to the point where you were convinced you’d go insane if he didn't make you come.
The hand on your hip moved. Slid between your legs.
He found your clit.
“Thorin!”
Your back arched sharply of its own as the knots burst, as your orgasm slammed into you to send white-hot jets of exquisite pleasure scorching through you. The plates danced across the table, the vase wobbled and tipped over, and when Thorin gave that one last, blindingly delicious thrust, your voice became one with his just as your body became one with his and he lifted you almost off your feet as he spilled hard inside you with a husky, “Amrâlimê…oh, kakhf, Maralmizi…”
He shuddered against you, then peace reigned as he sank against you, his furred cheek coming to rest in the middle of your back. You could feel the furious racing of his heart through his chest, through your back, and his breath came in harsh, hot blasts against your skin.
Your eyes refused to stay open and you had no will to fight them. You felt dizzy, and the pleasure still sparked through you like you’d been touched by a live wire. Little by little, you were able to breathe again, and you actually shivered when Thorin pressed a gentle kiss between your shoulder blades.
“Givashel, I didn't hurt you, did I?” He sounded a little dazed, and when he slid free of you, he actually stumbled back a step.
Your hip had struck the table’s edge of the table at an odd angle more than once, and would probably be bruised come morning, but the orgasm was definitely worth it, so you shook your head. “Not at all,” you managed to whisper. Then you smiled and drew in a deeper breath to confess, “And I have to admit, I kind of like the rougher side to you.”
“Rougher side, huh?” He let out a breathless laugh as he tugged out the closest chair and sank into it, holding out a hand. “Come here.”
You let him catch your hand and he drew you down onto his lap, where he wrapped you in his arms and cradled you against him. You tucked your head against his warm shoulder, smiling when he whispered, “I do love you,” while nuzzling you.
Your eyes closed. Being there, in his arms, tucked up against his big, warm body, was heaven. You’d never felt so cherished or loved as you did when you were with him and it didn't matter that you’d only known him a short time.
When something is right, it’s right, and this feels right.
He wasn’t wrong. Nothing ever felt as right as this did, as being with him did. Your soulmate.
“Are you all right?” A gentle kiss pressed into your temple. “You’re very quiet.”
“I’m fine.” You lifted your head to smile at him. “It’s just… this feels right. Just as you said. And, it’s crazy, I know it is, but I do love you, Thorin. But, how is that even possible? Because by rights, I shouldn’t. It defies all logical and rational explanation.”
“It defies explanation because Mahal has already decided that for us. We just had to find one another. That was the hard part.”
“Or maybe not, since I just had to break down here.”
He chuckled, then let out a sigh as you shifted to sit astride him. His eyes sparkled as he gazed up into yours. “Again, amrâlimê? Our breakfast is probably cold by now as it is.”
“So, then it won’t matter, will it?”
His arms slipped about your waist and he pulled you flush against him. “I can always reheat it in the microwave.”
He tugged you down to meet his kiss and a few minutes later, the two of you tested just how durable that chair was.
Quite durable, thank God.
Sitting in Thorin’s office, listening to him and his nephews work, wasn’t the worst way you could spend a day. The radio was on, the music was classic rock, interspersed with classic metal, which made you feel a little old, actually. Besides, he was working on your car, so you could hardly complain about being there. He’d offered you the loaner car, but after your adventures in town the previous day, you were perfectly content to just sit in his office. You’d borrowed a Stephen Ambrose book on the Normandy invasion during World War II from his library, and sat curled up on the sofa, reading it.
But after awhile, it made you sleepy, so you put the book down and moved over to his desk to sink into his comfortably worn leather chair, and gazed around at the cluttered room, you found you were in no hurry to have your car back. True, things couldn’t stay this way forever, but as long as your car was up on blocks, so to speak, you had a good excuse you remain right where you were.
Thorin’s office was cluttered, but there was comfort in it. A pile of invoices lay alongside the telephone, and on the top was the one for Miss Abrams SUV. You couldn’t help yourself. You lifted it and smiled. Durin’s Garage charged Miss Perfect for labor and parts for nearly a thousand dollars, just as Thorin had told her. Take that, Miss Perfect.
Iron Maiden blared from the garage. The familiar guitar riff to Wasted Years made you smile, but that was nothing compared to listening to Thorin as he belted out the lyrics alongside Bruce Dickinson. His voice was really quite good, even if his vocal range wasn’t quite the same.
You pushed back the chair and made your way down toward the bays. Your Mustang and an older Pontiac were the only two cars in the garage. You smiled as you stepped down into the garage in time to see Kili playing air guitar while Thorin did some impressive head-banging as he belted out the lyrics at the top of his lungs. And honestly, in his grease stained, ripped Levi’s, almost too-tight black tee shirt, with his long wavy hair, and full beard, he looked as if he could be the lead singer of a metal band.
An image of him bending you over the dining table flashed through your mind, bringing a flutter to your belly at the same time. There was something about seeing him this way as well, playful as Kili joined in singing with him, something that just drove home the fact that he was the man you were supposed to be with, and you were just so thankful to Mahal or whatever greater power was responsible for bringing you into this small town. Thankful that Mahal brought you to him.
He looked up and grinned as his voice faded off. “How long have you been there?”
“Long enough to wonder if Iron Maiden knows you could fill in for Bruce if need be.”
Kili moved to the work bench to lower the volume. “Were we too loud?”
“Not at all.” You came around to stand between the two of them, peering into your car’s engine compartment. “It looks so small.”
“It’s a two-hundred cubic inch engine,” Thorin said. “It is small.”
“Is the new one here yet?”
“Fili was on his way to retrieve it at an auto salvage about ten miles from here.” Thorin leaned against the fender. “But, don’t worry, he’ll look it over before bringing it back to make sure it runs. From what Vinny was saying, the carls owner couldn’t keep up with the all the repairs, unlike you.”
“I like tinkering with it, this was just way out of my league.”
“Thank Mahal for that.” He winked, then his grin faded. “But, seriously, you’re going to have to make a decision about how often you want to drive this, because honestly, it’s going to be a lot more difficult to find parts for it in the days ahead.”
“I know.” You couldn’t keep the sigh from your voice as you leaned your elbow on the same fender. “I’ve had this car for so long, though… I can’t see myself driving anything else.”
“We can find something for you.” He shifted, draping an arm about your waist to give you a squeeze. “I’d feel better with you in something else, anyway. You never know who you’ll bump into, if it dies on you somewhere else.”
“Yeah. I might fall prey to a handsome mechanic.”
Kili made a soft gagging noise, to which Thorin said, “Quiet, you. Go find something to do for a minute.”
“I am doing something,” he gestured to the engine compartment, “as you can see, these bolts are not going to remove themselves.”
“Go get lunch.”
Kili grinned. “Here, Uncle? That’s tacky.”
“Watch yourself,” Thorin growled, which brought a hint of a flush to Kili’s cheeks.
“Sorry,” Kili replied softly.
“Don’t apologize to me,” you said. “I agree. It is tacky.”
Kili pressed his lips together and looked up as Thorin said, “I wasn’t planning on pouncing on you here, if that’s what you’re hinting at.”
You smiled at him. “So, you think it’s tacky as well.”
“Depends on the situation.” He winked and you knew he referred to that first night, when he’d lifted you onto the same fender you now leaned against. It was only a few days ago, but it seemed as if a lifetime had passed since that night, but that it also went by in the blink of an eye.
Kili made another gagging noises, then gestured to the open doors. “I’m going to go across the street and grab lunch. Anyone want anything?”
You and Thorin both put in orders for sandwiches and Kili started off across the street. You leaned back against fender, looking up at him. “He’s a sweet guy.”
“He’s a good kid. Him and his brother.” Thorin watched Kili until he disappeared into the diner across Main Street, then turned back to you. “I should have this done in the next day or two, providing no emergencies come rolling up. This engine is fairly simple because of how small it is.”
“You really think I should retire it?”
“I’ve got a garage,” he told you, reaching down to tuck a wayward lock of hair behind your left ear, “and you’re welcome to one side of it if you want to garage her and take her out once in a while.”
You arched a brow at him. “Her?”
“Yeah. All cars are her.” He shrugged. “Don’t look at me like that, I don’t make the rules.”
“Then I have to buy a new car and I hate care shopping.”
“Wait. You’ve gone car shopping?”
You just stared at him. “Well… yeah.” You glanced over at the Mustang and smiled then. “I actually have another car. It’s just… when I decided to leave, I wanted my baby and this one is my baby.”
“Why did you leave?”
You shrugged. “I—I don’t know, really. I just needed a change. New scenery. I didn't even know this town existed until I pulled up Google, closed my eyes, and typed in a couple of letters.”
“And you found your way here.”
You nodded. “My car started acting up just a few miles from here and something made me just talk nicely to it and nurse it into town.”
He caught your face between his hands. “I’m glad you did.”
“So am I.”
He tilted your face to meet his kiss and as his mouth slashed over yours, a sleek black limousine angled into the lot. Your eyes snapped open at the sight and your heart gave an unexpected lurch.
“What is it? What’s the matter?” Thorin’s lips just brushed yours, his eyes opening to meet your gaze.
“I—that is—” The words died on your lips as you slowly pulled away from him to stare at the shiny limousine.
Your heart leaped up into your throat when the rear driver’s side door opened and Garrett stepped out. The sunlight glinted off his shiny bald head when he turned to slam the door shut behind him. You swallowed hard. “Wa-wait here.”
“Wait here?” Thorin caught you by the wrist. “Who is that and why do you look like you’ve just seen a ghost?”
“There you are!” Garrett’s deep voice carried across the lot and while it wasn’t quite as deep as Thorin’s, it had almost as much of a commanding air about it, despite the hint of relief woven into it. “Stevie, I told you we’d find her if we just kept looking. Holy shit, I was so worried about you!”
The other door opened and Garrett’s right hand, Steve, stepped out into the sunlight, his dark hair blowing this way and that with the wind. Garrett rarely went anywhere without Steve, so you didn't know why you were surprised to see him at all.
You glanced over at Thorin, who didn't smile as he followed you out of the garage to where the cement of the garage floor met the asphalt of the parking lot. You wanted to keep as much distance between him and them as you could. Garrett might be taller, but Thorin could take him apart if he wanted to and you didn’t know what sort of jealous streak he might have, if any.
“Can I help you?” Thorin stepped in front of you. “Because your car doesn’t look to be in need of my services.”
“My car? Oh, that, no, that’s fine. I’m not here for a mechanic.” A pair of black Gucci aviator sunglasses hid Garrett’s eyes, but you could feel those pale gray irises on you just the same. And you knew the look in them as well—he always looked at you as if he was just so utterly surprised to find you with him. It unnerved you more often than not, you never understood it. He was a good looking guy, owned his own tech company, made a nice living, and he was a sweetheart. Flowers for no reason. Spontaneous trips to Rome on his private jet because you mentioned wanting Italian food. Weekends in the Bahamas just because you were tired of the cold in the dead of winter. He truly was one of the nice guys and he treated you like a queen in the six months you’d dated. The trouble was, he wanted to get married and you didn’t. Something just didn’t feel… right.
You glanced at Thorin. Now you knew why.
“Then what can I do for you?” Thorin asked.
Garrett smiled. “I—well, she—oh, damn, I feel like such a jackass, but… she’s—” he pointed at you—“my girlfriend.”
You stared at him as if you’d never seen him before, as if this man in the Armani suit and lavender tie had just stepped up and announced that he was from Venus. “We broke up, Garrett.”
“No,” he shook his head, a hint of laughter in his voice, “no, you said you needed time to think. So I gave you time to think.” He tugged off his sunglasses and as that gray-eyed gaze alit on you, you swallowed hard. You hated scenes and this was going to turn into one. You just knew it.
“I haven’t changed my mind,” you said slowly, pulling your hand free from Thorin’s grasp.
“But.. we are so good together. And… and I can give you anything you want and you know it.” Those gray eyes slid in Thorin’s direction and it seemed a hint of triumph gleamed in his gaze, “Can he say the same thing?”
You glanced over at Thorin, and it was his turn to be tense across the shoulders. No, he probably couldn’t whisk you to Europe on a private jet, or escape to the Caribbean on a whim. But who cared? Being with Thorin felt right, far more so than it had ever felt with Garrett.
“I don’t care if he can or not, Garrett. You know I don’t, that things like that don’t matter to me.”
Thorin turned to you, a small furrow forming between his brows. “Who is this guy and what is he talking about?”
You swallowed hard. “He’s why I left, Thorin.”
“Why you…” Thorin looked back at Garrett. “What’s going on?”
“He asked me to marry him,” you replied, looking from him to Garrett and back. Then, you turned toward Garrett. “And I said no. And that hasn’t changed, Garrett. You’re a nice guy, but you aren’t the one for me. I told you, we want different things and I can’t give you what you want.”
“You just need to give me a chance, sweetheart.”
“No.” You stepped back, shaking your head. “Please, you need to go now.You—you just do. Please.”
“But—“ He looked over at Thorin and you saw the resignation in his eyes, heard it in his sigh. “I would have treated you like a queen, you know.”
“I know,” you said softy. “But I’m not the girl for you. She’s out there, and you will find her, but it’s not me.”
His eyes shimmered as he said, “I just wanted to make you happy. But, if being here, with him—and I assume you’re with him, now—makes you happy, then… uh… then I guess I’m happy for you.”
“Thank you.”
“And you,” Garrett held out his hand to Thorin, “are a lucky man, my friend. She’s a great catch.”
Thorin glanced down at you and smiled. “I know she is.”
But you didn't miss how he didn’t accept Garrett’s hand. Garrett let out a nervous laugh, drawing his hand back. “Well, that’s that, I guess.” He looked at you. “Take care of yourself.”
“I will. And you do the same.”
He nodded, then he and Steve went back to the limo and you breathed a sigh of relief when they climbed in and the car backed back from the lot. A minute later, and it rolled away from Durin’s Garage.
Relief surged through you. You had no idea he’d try to find you. You thought when you turned down his proposal, that would be the end of it. Thank God this went as well as it had. It could’ve been far worse.
But your relief lasted only until you looked up and saw the storms in Thorin’s blue eyes. “You never mentioned a boyfriend,” he growled, arms folded over his chest.
“He’s not my boyfriend. At least,” you amended, shaking your head, “he isn’t any longer.”
He turned away without a word and went back into the garage. Kili emerged from the diner, a large brown paper bag in one hand.
“Thorin, wait, you cannot be angry at me because I had a life before I met you.”
“A life you didn’t tell me came with you already involved with someone.”
“I’m not involved with him any longer. You heard me. He wanted to get married and I didn’t. It’s that simple and really, should I assume you’ve had no girlfriends prior to meeting me? Because if you, let me tell you how utterly asinine that notion strikes me!”
“Okay, who’s hungry?” Kili strode in to the garage, leaving an airy scent trail of French fries and pickles. He paused at the sight of you and Thorin glaring at one another. “Uh-oh… What did I miss?”
You glanced over at Kili. “I was apparently supposed to live as a nun until I happened to meet your damn uncle.”
“I never said that!” Thorin countered.
“Should I just go into your office?” Kili asked hesitantly, gesturing toward the office in general. “Because other—”
“Kili!”
“Sorry.” Kili tucked the bag under his arm and hurried out of the garage.
“Why are you angry? Did you honestly expect me to be a virgin? Sorry, Thorin, but there were other men before you.”
“I don’t give a damn how many men there were. You should’ve told me you’d just gotten out of a relationship! Especially with that guy!”
“Why? That would only be pertinent if I was hesitant about getting into another relationship. And yet, when I met you, obviously that wasn’t what I was concerned with.” You stopped, then narrowed your eyes at him. “Wait, what do you mean, especially with that guy?”
“I mean just that. Do you remember my telling you about how war was coming from an aggressive enemy to the north?”
You nodded. “Of course I do. It was why my father came to your grandfather about arranging a marriage between us.”
“Your friend, Garrett,” Thorin said, his voice low and serious, “was the one leading that army from the north.”
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