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laurfilijames · 1 year

Text

Spark To A Flame

Part 2

Part 1

Pairing: Fili x female reader

Words: 6,512

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Mentions of injuries. Unprotected intercourse. Slight breeding kink. Cum play.

Summary: With the threat of another attack looming closely, Fili defies Thorin's orders, resulting in an argument between them and Fili to go in search of the ponies, as well as a quiet moment with you.

A/N: I've wanted to write a spat between Thorin and Fili for a while. They are equally as stubborn here and ironically both in the wrong, and are far too proud to realize it.

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It was impossible to sleep despite how tired and achy your body was; staring into Fili's cerulean eyes as he laid across from you taking precedence over giving into the rest your bruised limbs craved since the accident.

"I'm sorry," Fili whispered, his brow furrowing slightly as he reached his hand that wasn't tucked up under his head to touch your soft cheek.

"For what?" you questioned, unsure what he could possibly be sorry for.

He shrugged his shoulder that wasn't propping him up, his features scrunching up as he began to think of how to explain himself.

"For waiting this long to admit how I feel for you." He blew out a long sigh. "What if I had lost you before you knew?"

"But you didn't, Fili," you assured. "I'm right here, as is everyone else." You reached forward and brushed a stray curl from his face, giving him a gentle smile. "As far as I'm concerned we have all the time in the world, but I don't mind making up for what we wasted."

He chuckled lightly as you leaned over to kiss his lips, unable to feel satisfied with the amount you already had kissed them, your hand carding up his chest that radiated warmth onto your palm.

His thumb smoothed back and forth on your cheek, and when you slowed your kiss to a stop, he looked at you with concern.

"You're cold."

"Hmm, a little," you confirmed, having opted for more privacy over warmth when it came to choosing your sleeping location.

"C'mere," he cooed, tugging you closer to his bare chest where you happily nestled your face into it. You slipped your arm over his waist, letting your fingers travel languidly up and down his back, and through your touch it seemed more heat poured from his skin, his chest rising and falling deeply with breaths you assumed were controlling the latent, but quickly increasing want within him.

In return, his hands began their exploration of your body, slowly teasing the hem of your thin tunic further up your midsection, his palms emitting heat onto your freshly exposed skin wherever they landed.

Fili met your lips tentatively first - like he knew as soon as he tasted you on his tongue he would no longer be able to control what he was forcing himself to keep suppressed - only to increase his demand over your mouth the moment a breathy moan passed your parted lips.

His heavy body rolled on top of yours to guide you onto your back, his vast thigh landing between yours, and with one sweeping motion of his knee against the inside of your leg, Fili parted them to allow space for him to settle against you.

With a forceful grip on your chin, Fili clutched your jawline with his thumb and finger while his tongue filled your mouth and rolled against yours the same time his hips ground at your center. Your nails tore at his back, clawing for reprieve from this tormenting ache you were starting to realize was more a risk of death than any explosion or orc ambush was.

His hand loosened its hold on your jaw, trailing slowly but with enough pressure to assure you he had complete control over you, down your neck that drummed with a frantic pulse, all while his kiss became more furious and his hips pressed harder on yours.

You knew your skin would be raw and tender from the assault he put on it with his beard; the scruff hairs scratching you with every movement, causing heat to spring to the surface where he abraded your sensitive flesh, his face moving south to your chest where you pressed it up to meet him with the arch of your back.

Fili growled, the sound of one of his kin snoring loudly nearby disrupting his lusty inebriation, and with a heavy sigh he peered down at you ferociously, his blue eyes steely with a passion that made your heart rate pick up speed.

His mouth flew back to your neck with a silent vow to ignore your surroundings, his lips sucking and tongue licking in an effort to capture your taste, the absence of his mouth on yours allowing you to breathe out a suppressed whine that you struggled to keep quiet.

The salty sweetness of your skin made his mouth water, intoxicating him in a way he knew would be hard to sober from and would seek again and again, no amount of ale or pipeweed able to sate him like you did.

Dragging his teeth down your neck to scratch over the thin skin covering your collarbone, Fili continued his pursuit, and landing on your peaked nipple that revealed itself through your tunic, he sucked on it harshly, pulling it into his mouth with his talented lips to make it harden even more.

A cry slipped from you, the noise followed by Dwalin snorting loudly after likely being woken briefly from your disruption, forcing Fili to pause his efforts.

He glanced behind him, watching his comrade turn in his bedroll, his beast-like snores beginning again immediately.

Not having forgotten what he was doing, Fili latched onto your other nipple, soaking this side of your shirt with his saliva, the abandoned one left to the elements as the cold air clung to the wet material to keep it painfully raised. His hand replaced his mouth, instead adjusting himself to kiss you to help muffle your soft whimpering which only became heightened as he continued his exploration of your body, the hardness between his legs rolling and pressing into you expertly.

Growling against your lips, he gripped your breast with barely-contained barbarity before slipping it down your waist, softly compared to his previous actions; the ticklish sensation causing you to arch into him. Landing at the top of your leggings, his hand dove between the material and your skin, his fingers making contact with your wet, waiting sex, and you moaned desperately into his mouth, meeting your tongue with his faster in response to the pleasure he had you drowning in.

You clawed at his back, pulling him closer to you in a muted plea to never cease, rocking against his hand to increase what was already making you feel blinding heat build in your core.

All too suddenly, Fili tore himself away from you, inhaling sharp breaths to regain his lost resolve.

"We shouldn't," he whispered, a poor attempt to convince both of you as he looked at you hungrily.

"No, we shouldn't," you agreed, the conviction in your own words a farce. "We can't. Not here."

"No," he shook his head, wiping his hand over his beard with a desperation for patience and countenance.

Your hands wrapped from his back around to his chest, your fingers twisting pathways through his chest hair, coaxing him to lean down over you again and reattach his lips to yours.

"You're making this impossible," he said in a gruff voice, not removing his mouth from yours.

"I'm sorry," you fibbed, smiling as you nudged the strain in his trousers with your core, causing him to hiss.

"You are not."

"No, I'm not," you admitted, sighing as you finally accepted that nothing more would be happening despite both of you wanting to plunge into the depths of rapture that you were already wading in.

Fili pressed a lingering kiss upon your swollen lips again, whispering as he pulled away. "I'm due to take watch next anyway, and it's best we aren't caught by poor Ori coming to get me," he chuckled, sitting back on his heels to peer down at his obvious arousal.

Fili reached for his tunic and slipped it over his head, allowing you to admire the flex of his muscles as his body shifted back into his clothes.

"You get some rest, eh?" he advised with a gentleness in his voice. "You're going to need it."

With a wink and another self-satisfied chuckle, Fili stood, his expression changing to a wince, and hobbled over toward the front of the cave.

The night was quiet; allowing Fili to use his ears to seek out any potential dangers as opposed to his eyes that could barely see a thing from how dark it was. He looked up at the sky, the thick clouds that threatened rain covering any light the moon was giving, making him wonder if its shade was more yellow or silver tonight and what pattern of stars he was missing out on.

He struck a match against the side of the rock he sat upon and brought it to his pipe, lighting it and inhaling the sweet pipeweed gifted to him by his dear friend who's wearied eyes thanked him as he covered his yawns with his crocheted mitts when Fili sent him inside for warmth and sleep.

There wasn't much to listen to aside from the occasional hoot from a nearby owl and the slight breeze rustling in the trees, allowing Fili to simply sit and enjoy the quiet, sighing calmly into the cool night air as he finally acknowledged the pain in his leg he had been minimizing and the persistent ache between them that called for his attention above all else.

As his thoughts began to wander back inside the cave with you, thinking of what you had done so far and all that was left unfinished, a scent of smoke different from what came from his pipe filled his nostrils, making him sit up straighter from against the rock face he was leaning on.

Keeping still and even holding his breath in an effort to hear better, Fili waited for any indication of where the source of the smoke was coming from, his eyes scanning the area carefully through the darkness until he finally spotted a glimmer of flame off in the distance in the northwest corner of the forest.

His eyes remained fixed on the orange glow for long enough to observe that it wasn't moving, making the assumption it was where the orcs had set up their camp, and deciding he would stay on watch for the rest of the night to ensure they remained in the same location, Fili leaned back again, placing his pipe between his lips, his gaze locked on his enemy.

"Fili, why didn't you wake me?" Kili's groggy voice sounded from his left as he emerged from the cave with the subtlety of a goat. "Was I not meant to take watch after you?"

"Hmm," Fili confirmed, his tired eyes still watching where the smoke wafted up from the treetops in the dim light of the early morning.

"Then why-" his brother paused, following his line of sight as he stretched his arms in the air. "Oh."

Fili glanced up at him, his eyebrow cocked, watching as Kili figured it out on his own without him wasting the little energy he had left to explain.

"Does Thorin know?"

"Not yet." Fili admitted, slowly getting to his feet, his leg sore and stiff, his limbs plagued with even more ache than before. "They haven't moved all night. It's difficult to tell if they're seeking us out or waiting for us to walk into another one of their traps."

Kili stood staring ahead, mulling over his brother's words in his mind, his expression serious.

"You can take over now," Fili grinned, clapping his hand firmly on Kili's shoulder, the force making him stumble and rebalance, and left with a limp to head inside the cave.

Thorin stood beside Dwalin in the center of the company's temporary dwelling, the remaining members of the company moving around them to prepare for setting back out as they stood like two immovable pillars, speaking to each other in hushed voices.

"Uncle," Fili interrupted, earning an annoyed glance from Dwalin and an unreadable one from Thorin. "The orcs have set up camp over on the Northwest corner of the forest. I watched them all night and it doesn't appear they've moved, but I'd bet the Arkenstone they're about to begin their search for us again."

Thorin gave a curt nod as he processed his nephew's words, and hearing a dismissive snort from Dwalin, Fili turned to glare at him.

"Hogwash. They aren't lookin' fer us, lad. That attack was random."

Fili opened his mouth to speak, only to be quieted when his Uncle spoke first.

"Dwalin is right. We will set out as planned, with a couple of groups splitting off to search the forest for the ponies as we go."

"Thorin I don't-"

"Fili. We need to move on, this venture is already taking longer than intended. We need not waste any more time."

With a clench of his jaw and a long, frustrated sigh through his nostrils, Fili decided to let his concerns dissolve, Thorin and Dwalin clearly not concerned over the possibility of another ambush, and stalked over to his bedroll where you stood repacking your bags, steeling himself with a deep breath in order to disguise his hobbled gait and the anger coursing through him.

"Morning," he smiled, tensely at first, but the sight of you instantly turned it genuine and helped wash away his fatigue and weight of carrying the worry Thorin chose to ignore. "How did you sleep?"

His voice was tender, and almost bashful, and when you slipped your arms up around his neck, his cheeks blushed pink.

"I didn't sleep much at all," you admitted. "I kept wondering when you were coming back."

You looked at him with concern, seeing the strife and fatigue settling in his blue eyes turn them a stormy hue, making you rub your fingers back and forth at the base of his neck to help ease the tension you felt in his shoulders.

"Fili, what's wrong?"

His eyelids fell shut, basking in the brief moment of reprieve you graced him with, making him wish he could fall asleep in your arms and forget about everything else.

"They're just two stubborn rams, is all," he jeered, nodding his head in the direction of Thorin and Dwalin.

"That's nothing new," you spoke through a slight grin before searching his eyes again in knowing there was more that was plaguing him.

Fili sighed, his hands finding your waist to clutch as he sought reassurance. "No, it isn't. Though I really wish they would listen. Maybe it's because I've been awake for too long and I'm making this bigger than it is, but I can't help but worry."

Realizing he still hadn't explained everything to you based on your quizzical look, he breathed out again and continued.

"I watched the orcs all night. I know where they've set their camp and it's very close to the path Thorin wants to take. I do not know if they'll move on from there, or hang around to see if we come across again."

"Are you worried about another attack?"

"How can I not be?" Fili leaned his forehead against yours, praying to Mahal he would be able to keep you and everyone else safe.

Heavy boots tread across the soft, earth floor, the pace of the company sluggish and exhausted and unable to hide the remnants of injuries as they plodded along; the wishes to relocate their ponies ever prominent in their increasingly-less hopeful hearts.

Fili readjusted his pack on his shoulder, turning back to glance at you, his expression a combination of protectiveness and something else you couldn't quite place.

His gait continued to waver from its usual confident stride, the pain and fatigue that burdened him already and now the addition of his worry revealing itself the further you carried on.

You reached forward and laced your fingers with his, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, the corners of your mouth lifting up when he gave a firm one in return.

Up ahead, Thorin paused, turning to face his cortege.

"Bofur, Ori, make your way West. Keep your eyes open for any signs of the ponies. Kili, Fili, I want you headed East off the path. We will all meet directly North before the day's end."

Fili felt heat rise up through him, watching as Ori and Bofur agreed without question and took a few steps off the path in the direction of where the orcs had been.

"Thorin," Fili barked, confused at why he would be sending them walking directly into a possible trap. "Did you not listen to me?"

"We need supplies, Fili. It's a risk we must take in order to find the ponies."

"Ori, Bofur," Fili called, forcing his friends to turn to him with an uncertain look. "Do not go West. Stay with the company until we are sure there are no orcs near our set course."

"Fili!" Thorin shouted, storming over to him quickly to grip the furs on the collar of his coat. "You dare defy my orders?"

"We are still injured and the orcs are many in number. The chances of surviving another attack with just two of them is scarce."

As Fili held his Uncle's challenging stare, he stood tall, refusing to back down, his rebellion only further souring the scowl on Thorin's face.

"As I said, we need to retrieve our supplies or we will be in just as much danger as going to look for them. How much longer can we go without food or medicine, and how much longer can you walk on that leg?" Thorin hissed, giving him a dismissive look. "We all survived the initial attack…"

"And I will not stand by and watch another one happen! You already put us in danger once by going this way in the first place. You knew the enemy would be here. Had you listened to my suggestion of taking the other-"

Thorin lunged at him, his face inches from his, his knuckles white as he clenched harder at his disobedient heir. "That route was longer and just as dangerous! Do not second guess my authority, Fili!"

"I second guess it when you give me too many reasons to!"

Thorin's grip tightened on his jacket as he pressed his fists into Fili's chest with a warning shove, his temper rising exponentially, his voice lowered but powered by so much rage that it didn't need volume to get his point across."Fili, you know nothing of-"

"I know enough to not let it happen again!" Fili spat, continuing to contend despite what consequences would come of it, his arms forcing Thorin's to release him as he pushed back at his Uncle's chest to free him of his grip.

"Do not disrespect me! I am your King!" he bellowed, making Fili almost laugh at what lengths Thorin would go to in order to spare his pride and re-establish his rein.

"Then do not disparage me! I am your heir, your kin! I have a say and deserve not to be dismissed by you. You have forced me to sit back and let bad things happen too many times, Thorin, and I refuse to anymore."

You felt frozen in place as you watched the argument happen between Fili and your King, feeling like you hadn't taken a breath in ages and that your mouth would never hold moisture again until finally Fili turned away from him and stomped over to you to the best of his ability, his hand gently taking hold of your elbow.

"Let's go," he ordered softly, leaving the answer as to where that was unclear.

Still shocked from what you had just witnessed, you followed him easily, allowing him to guide you to wherever he needed to go in order to cool off, the question of your safety not a concern in knowing his fury would be enough to scare off even the most terrible creatures.

Once sure you were out of earshot, you finally allowed one of the many questions on your mind to slip past your lips as you trotted alongside the fuming Prince who still had a hold of you by the hand.

"Where are we going?"

He glanced at you without fully turning his head, his expression a mix of anger and something that looked beguiling with how his eyes were cast downward to meet yours.

"To look for the ponies," he said matter-of-factly, confusing you even more.

"Is that safe?" you asked without a second thought, not able to hide your surprise after the events that occurred only moments ago, pausing in your strides momentarily.

"I know better than him what and where is safe," Fili said confidently, neglecting to halt his own hindered steps, the emphasis on 'him' revealing he wasn't going to let this situation go any time soon.

Blinking, you sighed and continued following him, thinking how stubbornness ran true and strong in the Durin bloodline, the corners of your mouth pulling upward hesitantly as you kept to yourself how similar he was to his Uncle despite not currently wanting to be.

"Fili, did we not come from this direction?" you asked after a while, convinced now that your surroundings had begun to look familiar and the odd shape of a tree or valley off to the side became recognizable, and you cursed yourself for not having paid more attention to your route; your focus solely on keeping an eye out for signs of your lost equines, but your distraction primarily at the fault of the gorgeous Prince limping a step ahead of you who radiated an intense air from him as his frustrations turned into something more tangible.

"We did," he confirmed, stopping beside a smooth boulder nestled comfortably between various trees and lush greenery, grabbing both of your hands to hold in his as he pulled you before him.

Tilting your head to the side, you looked at him quizzically, your expression asking for your curiosity to be answered as to why you were backtracking.

"Sometimes," he began, dipping his head to reach close to your lips without touching them, his eyes flickering across your features. "I like to retrace my steps."

His hands slowly abandoned yours, moving instead to hold onto your waist where they barely made contact, the sensation of his fingers ghosting up along your sides making you sigh longingly. Your tunic lifted away from your skin as his hands forced it to travel along with them, exposing your warm flesh to the fresh air, and unconsciously, your fingers began working at the fastens of your jacket to allow Fili to continue revealing any part of you he wished to see.

His lips brushed yours teasingly, the roughness of his hands scratching your sides, the sensation making your nipples harden and ache for his attention.

"There are other things I like to retrace as well," he purred, his voice low and sultry, his fingers continuing to explore your midsection in the places he had before, the memory of his touch etched into you and reigniting the fire that had settled into embers awaiting to be woken again.

Your eyelids slipped closed, battling with yourself over giving in to what you so fiercely wanted or ignoring the cruel temptation and continuing on with the intention of finding the ponies, only to be disrupted when Fili picked you up and sat you atop the rock beside where you had been standing.

"Fili," you breathed, his name used as the weakest plea, not truly wanting to stop him from settling between your spread legs as he did now, his hands gripping your hips tightly before slipping them beneath your shirt where he tugged it past the crest of your breasts and over your head.

"Here?" you asked, a worried expression decorating your face as you glanced at his that appeared too carefree and slightly mischievous. "After everything that's happened?"

"Especially so," he answered, confidently. "I need you."

The way he stared at you with such surety made any reservations vanish, the intensity in his unbelievably blue eyes enough to convince you it would be impossible to resist each other any longer than you already had.

Fili leaned in, capturing your lips in a needy kiss, your mouth easily parting to allow his tongue the access it forcibly demanded.

Sighing into his mouth, you met his kisses with a matched eagerness, your fervor growing so rapidly it made your head spin. Your fingers tangled in his tresses, and with a slight press against the back of his head, you pulled yourself closer to him, scooching your body to the edge of the rock so your core was firm against his belly; the ardor in your movements causing Fili's to become even more intense and desperate.

Roughly, his hands tore at your trousers, tugging the laces open enough to allow them to slide over your bottom, the material chafing your thighs as he ungraciously peeled them away from your jittery legs.

Feeling too exposed and at risk, but not enough to care, you relished in the freedom granted to you in being naked; the cold, smooth rock under your seat contrasting cruelly with your searing skin, the slight breeze rustling leaves in overhead trees the same as it was your hair, the air mimicking Fili's beard to tickle you in places he hadn't yet.

Beginning to work at removing his jacket, your fingers fumbled over the weathered leather, your dexterity compromised by such inebriating lust, and just as you succeeded at discarding it, Fili grabbed your hands and planted them behind you, forcing you to arch your back in such a way your breasts collided with his waiting mouth.

"Fili," you moaned, the sensation of his hot tongue on your charged flesh making you want to beg for more instead of requesting one of the many other things you needed. "I want to see you."

His grip on your wrists tightened a moment before releasing them, and immediately you clutched at his tunic and ripped it over his head, your fingers exchanging the moss they clawed into for the thick skin and dense hair on his chest. Wasting no more time in freeing him from his trousers that were stretched to the point the laces revealed what they tried to conceal, your mouth watering at such a sight, you slid your hands down his belly and pushed at the leather hanging loosely from his waist.

His veined shaft sprang out, bouncing in the open space between your bodies, his size unsurprising to you, but encouraging more slick to gather in your folds in preparation for the assault you would endure from it.

Fili hissed when you reached out to take hold of the hot, silky flesh in your hand, his head tipping back in a request for restraint as you stroked it from tip to base and back again; the sight of his chest heaving and pulse thrumming wildly in his neck spiking your desire to a level you knew you couldn't leave unfulfilled.

With an assertive grip, Fili took hold of your outer thighs and pulled you closer to him, his head breaching your entrance, the contact of your naked heat against his stiff member making you suck in a rickety breath.

He was met with resistance as he pushed into you, slowly stretching you inch by inch and pausing when your moans grew louder and your nails dug deeper into his shoulders, allowing a moment of respite and consideration before ascending into the inevitable onslaught of pleasure.

His lips connected with yours softly, and remaining still and only halfway inside you, he kissed across to the corner of your lips, then your cheek, his moustache tickling your skin to cause shivers to burst over your entire body. Finding the hollow of your neck, he focused there, the sensation letting you sigh out a long breath that showed you were beginning to relax, cuing him to proceed in filling you to the hilt while his lips continued to add to the plethora of stimulation that would lead to your demise.

Dragging out of you, he pushed back in, his teeth scraping on your neck as he quickly let his caution fall, and wanting to see what he was capable of doing to you, you rolled your hips forward to match the tempo of his developing thrusts.

It didn't take long to sink into a natural rhythm; your bodies working together as if they had time and time again, the lust and love shared for each other set ablaze like kindling introduced to latent coals.

Fili knew this wouldn't last long, feeling the unavoidable climb of his orgasm taking hold of him faster than ever before; bursting under his skin as he succumbed to every exquisite feeling of you after having wanted nothing else since the day he first set eyes on you.

Attempting to keep kissing you, he pressed his mouth to yours, tangling your tongues until the pleasure became too much and distracted him from his task, resulting in sharing open-mouthed, panting breaths as his hips slapped into yours erratically.

Your fingers raked through his hair, signaling your own proximity to detonation, effectively spurring him on to chase that explosive, damning high, his efforts at quieting himself executed in the form of feral grunts and relentless force as he pummelled into your wetness.

His breathing became increasingly ragged as he neared his end, and in a blur of awareness, came to the realization he shouldn't finish inside you.

Slower, he willed himself, trying to extend this bliss with you for as long as he could, but each drag of his engorged cock through your tight channel kept him toppling ever closer to the edge.

"Will you be by my side when I am King?" he asked, his voice hoarse with ecstasy, his own words and thoughts of making you his Queen to love and bear his heir causing him to quiver with the most intense rapture.

"Yes, Fili," you gasped, your climax lingering just beneath the surface, your walls choking him and sending him into a barbaric frenzy. "I'm yours."

A possessiveness washed over him, his own wishes enhanced by your constant encouragement, dragging him further into a haze he didn't want to emerge from.

He growled with frustration, bucking into you harder and harder with each thrust, wanting nothing more than to fill you; to claim you as his and allow his seed to saturate your most intimate depths.

The thought alone drove him to his end, but before he let himself indulge in his selfish desire, he pulled out of you and gripped his cock that was wet and warm from you, using your slick that coated it to pump his shaft until he took aim at your lower belly and painted you with white spurts.

You whined; disappointed by the loss of him and also at being interrupted at the point of climax, but your pleasure continued in seeing yourself covered in his thick seed that decorated your stomach and waiting sex.

With his belly rising and falling in the aftershocks of his high, Fili swiped his fingers through the mess he created on your skin and dragged it between your folds, driving them deep inside you and hooking them to massage you expertly until you took up your song again.

You looked so perfect; eyes screwed shut and breasts heaving as you were brought back to that sacred place by his touch, and collecting more of his spend on his thumb, he circled your swollen bud until he felt you squeeze his fingers like a vice and your mewling grew into a call that couldn't be quieted.

Clutching his shoulder almost painfully, you held onto him to support yourself, now able to rock your hips in the way you needed in order to capture the pleasure you sought. He watched you in awe as you used him to come undone, and feeling your arousal soak his hand even more, Fili refused to relent, instead working you in harsher movements until you wailed his name and convulsed before him.

Slowly, he settled his pace, allowing you to grind on him until every ounce of your pleasure was ridden out, his other hand reaching up to hold your head and pull you into his kiss that was desperate and fuelled with hunger and differentiating from the languid strokes of his fingers.

Ceasing massaging you, he waited for you to slow the purl of your hips, and once you did, his smile threatened to break the seal of your lips as you returned his kiss with intense eagerness, your hands grasping at him feverishly as you returned to reality.

"You are incredible," he murmured, leaning his sweat coated forehead against yours, sharing the same laboured breaths and furious heartbeats.

A bird flew overhead from out of a nearby bush, the sudden appearance making you jump and Fili reach for one of his blades that had been deposited on the boulder beside you, sobering both of you from your dream-like state.

With another kiss to your raw lips, Fili bent for his tunic and jacket, pulling his waterskin out to wet the material to use as a cloth to clean you.

Carefully, and with a gentleness he lacked moments earlier, he wiped away the sticky mess he had made on your skin, and still not sated of tasting you, returned his lips to yours until his duty was forgotten and he leaned you back against the surface of the stone and climbed over you.

"I want more of you," he whispered. "All of you."

His hand smoothed back your hair, his fingers catching in it slightly to force your head back, exposing your neck vulnerably to him where his pupils dilated at the sight of seeing your pulse thrum aggressively.

Another bird flew and landed on a branch above you, its presence unnoticed, your senses honed in once again on each other rather than your surroundings.

The cracking of a stick sounded nearby, prompting Fili to pause, lifting his head from the solace of your neck to listen, his eyes scanning the area the noise originated from. When he didn't hear or see anything more, he flashed you a smile, seeing hesitation and worry replace your lust-drunk look, and slowly returned to his worship of your heated skin, his ears listening intently.

Something drew closer, and subtly, Fili's hand slipped from your body and took hold of his sword's hilt, waiting for his moment to defend.

Crunching footsteps seemed to echo in the quiet, and Fili did his best to slow his breathing and keep his blood from rushing into his ears, the vibration of his pulse almost deafening him to what he needed to focus on.

Carefully, he rose onto his knees, bracing his weight onto his other arm that didn't grip his weapon, his stance protective as he continued to cover you with himself.

His brow was furrowed seriously, his eyes squinting as he finally caught a glimpse of what creature was sneaking up on you; the swayed, tawny-coloured back of a familiar beast coming into view behind a dense thicket of brush.

Releasing his serious expression, he softened his features, his eyes turning rounder as he peered down at you, and pressing his index finger to his lips, he nodded behind you, prompting you to turn your head back and to the side to see what had encroached on your privacy.

You could hardly believe your eyes, seeing your lost ponies grazing happily just beyond where you lay, gripping your fingers on Fili's arm to display your excitement without spooking them off.

As cautiously as possible, you both stood from the large flat of stone, Fili gingerly shifting his weight from his bad leg onto the good one, forcing you to watch him closely as you redressed and began to tether each pony to lead them back to the rest of the company.

His mood seemed to outshine any discomfort he still felt, the relief in finding your mounts alleviating any dread at the thought of having to continue on foot, leaving you feeling the radiating effects of his aura.

Courteously, Fili assisted you onto your pony's back by giving you a leg up, his hand lingering on your thigh longer than was necessary, his eyes alight with a renewed want that left your skin burning not only to his touch but under his gaze as well.

“I must admit,” he began, looking at you with a cheekiness you hadn't seen in days. “I didn't come out here to look for the ponies. I wasn't ever expecting to find them, but I'm glad we did.”

He patted your mount's neck, smiling at it warmly as he smoothed his fingers across its velvety muzzle.

“Then what was the purpose of coming here?” you quipped, pretending as if you didn't know the reason.

He grinned at you, his dimples flashing and the glimmer in his blue eyes making you forgive any deceit in his intentions.

“I can show you again if you'd like.”

He chuckled, the sound going straight to your core that ached for him again already, and when he winked you were tempted to abandon all reason and responsibility in exchange for the reckless lust he brought forth so quickly in you.

“I think we've already pressed our luck," you got out, the words feeling strangled in your throat as you wished they weren't true, wanting nothing more than to abandon all care and fear of another ambush.

Fili nodded, agreeing with you sullenly as he walked around to his pony who stood grazing beside yours, stepping his foot into the stirrup to swing his leg over its back, the action causing strain on his injury and making him wince and curse under his breath.

He directed his steed to walk beside yours, and leaning across until he was nearly out of his saddle, he captured your lips in a quick kiss.

"I'll be alright," he assured, not missing your worry over him.

Smiling, you urged your pony forward to keep up with him, and after a moment asked a question that had been pressing on your mind.

“Are you going to apologize to Thorin?”

Pursing his lips, Fili sighed deeply, mulling his answer over in his head until he eventually gave you a sideways glance and replied with a slight smugness in his tone.

“Finding the ponies is enough of an apology for both of us.”

He focused on the path ahead, his statement holding some finality to it, letting you know you shouldn't pry any more or share your opinion on the matter.

“I'm sure he'll be pleased," you said, knowing how much Fili wanted to make Thorin proud despite their disagreements.

“And Fili?” you added, the more positive ring in your voice making him look over at you with an eyebrow raised. “The ponies found us.”

Your lips stretched into a wide smile, growing into even more of a grin that allowed your laugh to pass through when Fili joined in; his amusement at your earlier mischievous behaviour voiced in his alluring chuckle.

---

Taglist:

Everything:

@guardianofrivendell

@midearthwritings

@cassiabaggins

@lilith15000

@trishthedishofreis

@linasofia

@unbeatablecurlgirl

@the-poldarkian

@lathalea

@enchantzz

@blairsanne

@legolaslovely

@middleearthpixie

@i-did-not-mean-to

@sketch-and-write-lover

@jotink78

@medusas-hairband

@feeweeeee

@missihart23

@fortheloveofdurin

@i-am-still-bb

@roobear68

@ichoosechoasandbeingqueer

@legolasbadass

@spngingerbread21

Fili:

@shethereadinghobbit

@ragsweas

@faeriefics

#fili #fili smut #fili x female reader #the hobbit #the hobbit au #the hobbit fanfic #fili durin #fili fic #dean o'gorman

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justafairytailofinnocence · 13 days

Text

Modern Thranduil x anxious reader

Caged birds with broken wings

Chapter 1:

A Dance with tardiness

Synopsis: An antisocial, anxious writer in her early 20s attends a ballet class under the teachings of a mysterious, reserved, austere dance instructor. They form an unlikely within their solace and past.

Warnings: mentions of blood

Chapter 2

A/n: This fanfic doesn't follow along the lines of the hobbit but rather a loosely spin-off au that only uses some characters. I do not own the right to them as they are Tolkien's characters and I respect his creation. (even if the characters might be ooc). Feel free to comment, reblog and like. Let me know if you'd like a chapter 2.

I tended to daydream often, more so when I listened to the music. The tune and tone of the song that played one after the other sent me to the realms I immersed; typically, anyone would daydream into another realm far better than their own: a princess, pirate, elf, fae—anything. My imagination is my realm of comfort, a sealed bubble that I can freely roam however I wish. Unfortunately, within fantasy, we must face reality. Within my reality, I’m not much of an importance, at least not one to have a whole written memoir about. I’m more of one of those faces you’d pass by in the street or grocery store, not giving any second thought to. Though I’d prefer it that way, I’m not much of a talker but rather a writer; I’m more fluent in my words than my speaking. Every attempt I’ve made, I’ve stumbled or become still; my chest would rise heavily and lower deeply. I always asked how people can do it, how they can speak—talk—communicate like it’s a piece of cake. I’d rather shroud myself in my isolation than speak to another living being.

At my desk, in my somewhat clean apartment, I was planning my next latest story in a saga of 3 books. So far, I’ve managed to get in contact with a publishing company via email who were willing to get behind the idea of a feature-length young-adult romance novel, a romance novel about a pirate king and a fae queen. The first chapter was still relatively underdeveloped, yet I’m willing to spend an entire day finishing it. I had only five months to publish the entire chapters. I’ve been a fantasy fan ever since I was a child. To me, fantasy is what the word impossible turned into possible. For ten years, I’ve been writing, and never once has it stripped me of what I truly adore.

Whilst my fingers pressed against the keys on my keyboard, I received a text message on my phone from the side of my desk surrounded by papers. It was from my mom, who was wondering about my well-being. As always, I respond with the usual ‘everything’s going well—I’m pumping out new chapters for my new novel, ‘A Puncture in Time’, you know—the one with pirates and fantasy, new chapters soon to come ;)’. Even though she’s smart enough to see through my little façade, she writes back, ‘Hey listen, I know it’s hard right now, but I can assure you, things will get better; it just takes practice; I know you’ll meet someone you’ll find it easy to talk to’. I sighed heavily; within her words, I have faith, yet doubt. Should I choose to believe her, bite the bullet and try to speak up or wallow in a lie that can send her mind at ease? Before I wrote back, she sent a post with a link. I furrowed my brows as curiosity swelled my thoughts, my finger tapped the link. It was an ad. An ad for ballet classes. I thought it odd why she would send me something like this: I’m no dancer; I’m certainly no ballerina.

I replied with a question mark ‘?’.

A message bubble popped up: ‘…’ I awaited her reply.

As she was still typing, I took the liberty of glancing through the ad quickly. The tab loaded with a cursive font in bold ‘Les danseuses se réjouissent’. Scrolling past the stock images of ballet dancers, I came across a small section of different levels offered: beginner, Intermediate, and advanced. My mind raced with doubt; I had no experience in ballet, at least not since I was a young child. I wondered to myself, ‘Do I really want to take this? After all, I’m not exactly one for groups’. However, my mind was put at ease when my eyes came across an option for ‘one-on-one private lessons’. At least, I wouldn’t be with people who were far more experienced—let alone a group; the thought of many eyes staring at me—would have my heart sink. As I clicked the option, I was astounded; there were no reviews, pictures, or even a description of the instructor. I was sceptical. Surely, if you were to teach a class, you’d have at least a brief introduction of yourself. Even as an author, I have a concise introduction in my publications. I lightly sighed, weighing my options; on the one hand, it’ll please my mom, get me out of the apartment, and keep me fit; on the other hand, despite being private, I’m meeting someone I don’t know. Who knows what this person’s intention is, even if it’s for a class.

Finally, I heard a ‘ding’ as she replied, ‘Please try, at least for me; it’ll be good for your health, and you once mentioned you wanted to be a ballerina. I know the world isn’t always what we want it to be, but I know you can make it shine; I’ve seen it in your novels; give this a chance, give them a chance, to show them how you can shine, because I know you’ll be the brightest star there :).’

My eyes softened as I read every word; I couldn’t deny she had a way of getting through to me. She was always a caring woman, along with my dad. They were the only two people I could speak to without pressure or the weight in my chest.

I pressed back onto the tab with the private lessons. I clicked to see the booking dates—there’s an option to book for tomorrow, and the price is only $45 per lesson. For the price, it wasn’t too bad; yet still expensive. I filled in the details required to send the booking through, yet my finger hovered as I was about to press ‘confirm’. My mind came to a tussle of thoughts and hesitations; this would be the first time, in a long time, that I would speak face-to-face with an actual living being. However, I recalled Mom's words, ‘Because I know you’ll be the brightest star there’.

Breathing in—I pushed it, I pressed confirm.

I did it. I’m going to attend a ballet class. My head slowly lowers onto my desk, surrounded by papers. My hair dangled over my forehead. The adrenaline that reached the height of my mentality came crashing down. It’s like going on a rollercoaster you didn’t ask for, coming from the highest point of the rail down to the pit below. I start to feel light-headed. I want to sleep. I want to stay here. Perhaps I’ve made a mistake. What if this doesn’t work out?

I rose slowly from my desk chair, picked up my phone, and texted, ‘I’ve booked lessons for tomorrow…I hope you're right about this.’

I watched as once more, awaiting her response, ‘…’

‘Oh, I’m so happy, you’ll fit right in, I know it :)’ she texted.

I didn’t respond. She’s pleased, at least.

I decided to call it a night; I’ve had enough pressure for one day. I logged off, cleaned the papers on my desk, pushed them into a neat-ish pile and headed to the bathroom to shower. As I opened the door, I went inside to set down my pyjamas by the medium-small bathtub’s acrylic side rim. My bathroom isn’t big exactly, but neither is it small. It’s moderate for what it was: a bathtub, shower, toilet, sink, and a medium-sized mirror in the same room. It’s not precisely palace material, but it helps soothe my thoughts. I held my hand out as I turned on the shower, feeling the trickling water against my skin. The temperature quickly changed from cold to warm in just five seconds. Once I was satisfied, I stripped bare, sliding my long-sleeved green shirt off and sliding my darker tracksuit pants. I tossed my unmentionables inside the bathtub. I stepped inside the shower, allowing the warm water to run freely down my skin. I shut the shower enough to have a slit entrance still. I grabbed the soap, rubbing it over my skin, arms, legs, and body. I splashed water on my face as the water rinsed the suds away. I hovered my hands in my eyesight, glancing closer at my fingers. I could see the redness and patches from where I’d picked my skin; it’s a habit I developed since childhood. The habit would annoy Mom, often whispering or saying straight, “Stop picking”, even touching my hand to remind me. Unfortunately, this habit hasn’t subsided; I sometimes even look at my skin with little care, picking the cuticles or rough patches.

Once I finished scrubbing my body with soap, I turned off the water and opened the shower door to step onto the bathmat. I grabbed a towel from the single towel rack located beside the shower. I dried my body, running the towel over my skin. As I wrapped the towel around my body, I glanced at my face in the mirror above the sink. They say eyes are the most expressive in emotion. My narrowed, pinkish lips thinned.

I snapped out of my gaze, continuing to slip on my long blue pants decorated in owl prints, then, the next, a long-sleeve top with the basic purple on them topped with a giant owl embroidered in the front area. Owls have always resonated with me, whether it's their symbolism or captivating beauty. I placed the towel on the side of the bathtub’s rim. I picked up my previous clothes and took it into my bedroom. My bedroom was also medium sized, having a queen-sized bed and an oaken cupboard with a mirrored wardrobe. My room was decorated with tiny figurines I’d collect overtime, albeit from movies I’ve fancied or books. I placed the clothes in my hamper basket behind my door. My body relaxed when my eyes lingered toward my bed, the messy, deep blue sheets draped to the left side. I dismissed the thought of tucking them in for the time being, only plonking myself onto the mattress and wrapping myself within the single cotton sheets and doona drifting off.

Dreaming is the easy part, letting what visions came to my mind run wild. Sometimes, it’s suitable for inspiration, but other times, it's nightmares. The imagination is still enchanting, although, this time, it was peculiar. I was in a birdcage decorated with gold; the entrance was bolted shut; my hands gripped the golden rods holding the cage together. I tried to scream but to no avail. I tried to shake the cage, yet I was too small to provoke movement. My body lowered, feeling the coldness of the metal plate below. I had nothing but rosy ribbon pointe shoes. I suddenly felt myself, in no control, rise as though my limbs were attached to strings. I started to dance, my arms and legs stretching to fit the perfect movements. Eventually, I stopped mid-movement, standing on one leg while extending the other behind. I couldn’t move; I was frozen in place. I could do nothing but shut my eyes.

Suddenly, I woke up; my eyes fluttered open from the confusion I had just endured. Rising from the bed, I pondered for a few seconds. ‘What on earth did I dream about?’. My hands pressed against my face, trying to comprehend my dream and reality. I pulled the sheets off me and got up for the morning. A typical morning for me results in the usual routine: dressing, brushing my teeth and hair, and then looking forward to what the day offers me. Until I remembered that I had booked that class. I typically picked out green tracksuit pants with a white singlet, hoping that would suffice. I picked up my purse and headed out the door to my car. I entered inside, placing my purse in the front seat as I turned on the white car. I noticed outside that it started to snow. Snow is beautiful, especially the little snowflakes that fall into your hand and dissolve upon touch.

As the car started, I prepared to drive to wherever it was that awaited me. The location was further from where I lived; it must’ve been at least twenty-eight minutes. The drive wasn’t particularly bothersome for me; when you live in New York, you get used to the traffic.

As I drove, the snowflakes emerged in more significant numbers. Eventually, I found parking just next to the side of a café. I wasn’t aware if it was for the staff or guests. However, it seemed empty with only a few cars, so—if I get called out on it, I’ll move my car. No one seemed to notice, so I assumed I was okay. I grabbed my black parker from the back and zipped it up. Exiting the car, I stopped to admire the snow falling for a few seconds. It was January 4th, so the snow season was still here. My hands shoved in my pockets, beginning to wander toward where I needed to be. According to the ad, it was building ‘52’; it was vague, I know, but it was the details given. I trudged through the snow, seeing building after building, until I came across something with the number ‘52’, where I needed to be. My hand gripped the gold-looking handle attached to the glass door. As I entered, I came upon a staircase; I took one step after the other. I quickly glanced at the ad to see what floor it was on, yet to no avail. Was it the ‘4th floor? Oh god, oh god, please don’t resort to me asking someone. My fingers started to twitch; I raised one of my fingertips to my lips, feeling the rough patches. My thumb started scraping off the first layer, and small blood trickles formed. I ran my fingers over my lips again as I trailed up the stairs. I could feel my chest becoming heavier, my mind swell with thoughts of self-doubt. Suddenly, the anxiety soon started to subside as my eyes saw the sight of a door. My fingers hesitantly wrapped around the door handle; I took one breath in, trying to be brave. I pushed it open—only for my worst nightmare to come to life.

My breathing became heavier, my heart sank, my eyelids widened, and I could feel myself hyperventilating. There was a group of ballerinas staring directly at me. There must’ve been at least four? Five? Looking my way! Their ages varied, going into their late 20s.

The one brunette asked in French “es-tu perdu, cherches quelqu’un”.

I couldn’t concentrate; my mind dwelled with clouded thoughts of judgment. I pressed my finger against my lip, trying to feel the rough patches.

Another asked in English, “My friend asked if you’re searching for someone”.

Quickly, my eyes diverted to the ground, avoiding their gaze. “I-I-, pr-viate, less-on”. I stumbled over my words.

“Lessons? Private lessons?” the girl spoke once more.

I nodded, avoiding eye contact.

As I quickly glanced, a middle-aged woman in her mid-forties stepped closer; I assumed she was the dance teacher. “Are you referring to the private dance lessons advertised? the one taught by Mr. Oropherion?”.

I paused for a moment, trying to gather my words. Mr Oropherion? Is he the teacher I’m with?

“I-Is. This. Right. Floor.” I tried to sound out the right words, but it was impossible. Perhaps my conscience was right; perhaps this was a terrible idea.

The middle-aged woman, confused, pointed toward the direction I needed to go. “you’ll need to head up one more level, then head to your right” Her voice was calm with a hint of soprano.

Still avoiding eye contact, I left, not even saying thank you, focusing on wanting to escape. I closed the door in front and let out a heavy breath. My head lowered to touch the tip of my hands. I wanted to melt in that moment; I wanted nothing more than to return home. However, I reminded myself that I was doing this for Mom. I breathed in once more, looking up at the door; my hands quickly released, and I began to walk quickly, edging further up the stairs. My mind came crashing down, feeling the dreariness wash over me. Feeling tired, I finally, at last, came across the door I needed to be. It was blank, the painted white withering away around the edges. My hand reached the doorknob, feeling the roundness, turning it slightly. I could feel the adrenaline kick in. I was hesitant, but my nerves started to build.

I started to whisper to myself, “Just a general hello, that’s all it takes—

You're doing this for Mom—

Give them a chance to show them how I can shine; give them a chance to see who I am because I’ll be the brightest star there”.

I breathed in, closing my eyes and opening the door. As I tried to force my eyes open, I was confused. There was no one here. It was an empty space surrounded by mirrors with bar beams attached to them. My eyes scanned the room, yet no one was there. I suppose I should be relieved, maybe the teacher had caught a sickness and decided to ditch the whole class. I wandered further inside; I might as well take a quick peek. I unzipped my black parker with a furry hood, tossed it on the coat hanger and took off my shoes, leaving my white socks on. I stood in the middle of the dance room, embracing the quiet ambience. I looked in the mirrors, reflecting my figure. Was this even what ballerinas wear? Who even is Mr. Oropherion? If he doesn’t show up in the next 15 minutes, I’m heading off and not returning.

Perhaps Aelwynn, the fae queen in my novel, would’ve also been able to dance freely and eloquently in movement. I still wonder what would entrance the pirate king Sarek Salazar. I never pictured him to be devilishly handsome, though. I suppose Aelwynn would be a beauty, but there must be more to it—beauty can only go so far in their bond; what would their obstacles or hardships be? Perhaps the fae queen is somewhat intertwined with difference, the opposite of a fairytale. Aelwynn is fair, kind, beautiful and strong; she meets all the criteria for something otherworldly, yet what if Sarek is her opposite, a beast? No—What if he was average, a gross-looking thing? Pirates are anyway; what if he wasn’t powerful, just an average man with greed—and the dynamic changes, challenging Sarek to choose between the love of his life or treasure?

Or he would choose—

Suddenly, I heard a male voice emit behind me: “You best have a thorough explanation, girl. Do not even think about squandering my precious time.”

My breathing became heavier as I realized someone was speaking to me. I did not turn around; I was afraid to. Instead, I avoided eye contact, too paralysed to move. My head stooped low, and my hands stood to the side. He spoke again, “Clearly, you are here for a reason, are you not? I’ll admit your intrusion is rather fatuous.”

I didn’t glance up; I couldn’t look; I needed time to gather the words to explain. What should I say? Hey, sir, some ballerinas told me to come here, and I fear speaking to people.

“I see you have a mouth; that means you must have a tongue. Go on, speak.” His voice was deep and tranquil, composed yet icy.

I took a deep breath in, slowly turning around. As my legs moved, I slowly gathered the courage to look into the man’s eyes, even if I muttered a ‘hello’. It would be enough. As my head glanced up to meet his, I noticed his appearance.

He—was like—something out of a fairytale. His face was lean and chiselled; his eyes were like ice; his blueish-greyish irises complemented his cold gaze. His hair tressed down like water reaching his chest, light like snow. Whilst his skin was pale in comparison, a fair tone in colour. His attire seemed far more affluent than mine, donning a black trench coat with white underneath. His trousers complimented the darkness of his coat, and his black loafers were polished. I glanced at his right finger, an oval-shaped ring with a diamond glass stone crafted in sterling silver.

“Did you hear me not the first-time girl?” his tone turned stern.

My mouth moved, finally finding the words to speak. “H-hello, I’m Y/n”.

“y/n?” he muttered.

My eyes glanced downward once more as I slowly nodded.

“So, you have a voice after all, pray, tell. Why are you lingering in my domain?” he said shortly.

I muttered “private lessons”, though my voice sounded like a whisper.

“Ah, so you’ve seen the ad; I suppose you haven’t wasted our time after all, although you are five minutes late; I expect punctuality, to be exactly on time at the hour.” His voice sounded stern once more.

Well gee, it’s not like it’s my first time here, and gotten lost. My eyes still avoided his; I couldn’t look up, so I nodded.

He didn't react when I avoided his gaze, dismissing it. However, he commented on something else: “Your posture is lamentable. Stand up straighter like so.” The tip of his finger lightly touched my chin, lifting it to meet his gaze. I didn’t turn away precisely, yet I still flinched. My breathing slowed down as I once more met his gaze. His eyes narrowed, and his lips thinned.

“You stand there like a bird, wounded by the natures of evil, ignorant of the world’s knowledge, caged and sheltered from the shadows that lurk within the realm. Tell me, little bird, care to spread your wings?” I glanced at myself in the mirror, standing straighter. I could feel the flush in my cheeks, but I didn’t say anything, only breathing slowly.

His finger pulled away, and he turned his back to me, walking away.

“I expect to see you here tomorrow at exactly the seventh hour of the night”.

“Do not make me regret my decision, or you shall return to the cage from where you came, little bird”, He muttered.

With that, he walked out of the room, distancing himself further and further away. At that moment, I stood in disbelief for a few seconds, trying to understand what had happened. However, once my thoughts were collected, I gathered my things and scurried out of there, wanting nothing more than to enter my car. Once I exited the building, I was hit with the coldness in temperature as it touched my face.

I opened the car door, tossing my things in the back, turning the engine on. I looked back, trying to see the building to the left. As I drove, my thoughts were plagued with astonishment. I didn’t look away; I maintained eye contact for longer than three seconds, and—I managed to speak my name without stumbling over my words. My emotions displayed were as if I’d seen a ghost. Yet—his face—his appearance—it reminded me of snow; I always loved snow; even when I was a child, it was the happiest of my memories. I recall when my parents took me to the park; I was fascinated by the sight of the winter wonderland, my face lighting up with delight and laughing with joy. I always find that snow rekindles the fond memories I have.

Perhaps Mom was right after all; this might be the start of something I’ve never been able to do. Talk.

#thranduil au #thranduil x you #thranduil #thranduil oropherion #the hobbit au #the hobbit #thranduil fanfic #lord of the rings #thranduil ballet au #thranduil headcanon #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x reader #thranduil oropherion x reader

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ameliasalt · 1 year

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the hobbit au where cody is the king trying to take back his homeland with a gang of people who are all related to him somehow and obi-wan is the mild mannered and gentle companion who is surprisingly useful in life or death situations.

#star wars #star wars the clone wars #commander cody #obi-wan kenobi #codywan #the hobbit au #fili and kili are fives and echo

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valiantstarlights · 11 months

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[Dreamling Week Day 2: Dragons] A New Beginning

This is a The Hobbit AU where Dream is Smaug and Hob is Bilbo. I hope you like it! 🖤

CW: angst (grief, depression, suicide ideation) with a happy ending

Dream basks in the morning sunlight, pipe to his lips, looking just like any other hobbit smoking an Old Toby. Unlike other hobbits, however, his pipe-weed remains unlit. He's really just breathing from his dragon lungs and exhaling smoke from his mouth or nostrils.

On the other side of the garden, Hob is patiently teaching Daniel how to water the plants so they receive just the right amount that they need. His low voice and occasional chuckles, as well as Daniel's frustrated little hmph!s and wondrous little ooh!s serve as a balm to Dream's scarred soul.

He has never expected this to be his life.

Only a year ago, he had been a bitter old dragon, done mourning his wife and son for a hundred years but unable to move on. He didn't know what else to do in his life except wait to die in the place where their murderers lived, surrounded by their riches that mean absolutely nothing to him.

The last thing he expected to come into his life was a thief that brought sunshine with him. And the last thing he expected the thief to do was to sit with him and talk about the world outside the mountain.

And the way that Hob, the little hobbit thief, talked about the joys of food, the journey from the Shire to Erebor, the smell of the changing seasons...

Dream had gotten so used to the awful feeling inside him that he never realized he had been starving. Not just for food, but also for stories. For companionship. For someone to look upon his true form and not feel an ounce of fear.

When Hob the hobbit ("Stupid nickname, yes, I know," Hob had said, eyes crinkling in amusement), with his sunny smile and carefree manner, opened his small satchel and offered Dream some nuts and dried fruit from his trail mix because he was worried that Dream was hungry, it was when Dream realized that the creature in front of him was the rarest and most precious gem of all.

Hob barely had to convince Dream to leave, because Dream himself wanted to leave with him. ("Relocate," Hob insisted.) Hob was, perhaps, the only one who could have done such a task without inciting violence of any kind.

Hob walked out of the mountain accompanied by a dragon in the guise of an elf. And while Dream could have transformed himself into a dwarf, a human, or a hobbit, transforming into an elf felt like he was giving a proper farewell to his wife and son, who were elves.

The entire company was angered by the presence of an elf in their home, and some of them even drew their weapons when Hob explained that, "No, he is the dragon, and he's willing to leave."

Dream could have easily reduced the dwarves to ashes, but Hob had placed himself firmly between the dwarves and Dream, with his back turned to Dream. Ready to defend him and drawing his own blade.

Dream could not help but be more enamored of him. Being a dragon means not needing to be protected by anyone. But that this small being would be brave enough to face more than ten dwarves if it comes to it just to protect Dream...

Dream is not stupid enough to let such a treasure go. He made sure Thorin Oakenshield knows the debt he owes to Hob. Made sure Hob was paid fairly for his services right then and there. He reminds them that he is still a dragon, even if he is currently wearing an elven face.

Thankfully, and despite Thorin's early stage gold sickness, the rest of the company is sensible and honorable enough to pay Hob for his service.

Hob went home with Dream, and a wagonful of treasure. They did not leave until Dream himself was satisfied that the payment is indeed just. And one knows never to cheat a dragon.

The return journey was pleasant. Surprisingly so. With Hob for company, it was like Dream was still a young dragonling with fresh eyes to see the world.

Let the dwarves reclaim 'their' mountain that had once been Dream's in the dawn of the world. Let them squabble amongst themselves and politick and Thorin grow mad with gold sickness--it doesn't matter much to Dream anymore.

He has taken the one truly precious thing from the mountain. And no, not the Arkenstone.

The hobbit thief.

"Dada!"

Dream looks to the side where Daniel is holding up a clump of weeds with tiny flower buds. He graciously accepts the bouquet and lets Daniel climb up to his lap and babble while pointing at the clouds.

"I think he's had enough of gardening," Hob says and sits beside him, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Hello, love."

Love.

A thing he has not felt since Calliope and Orpheus. An endearment he has not been called for more than a hundred years. An emotion he had felt growing stronger in his chest ever since Hob came into his life.

Dream, the dragon, living with his new family in the Shire, where there is also neighborhood drama and petty thievery. (No one steals from Hob anymore. Not since Dream reclaimed every single thing that had been stolen from Hob's house while he had been away on his adventure to Erebor, including a wooden button that had belonged to Hob's grandmother.)

Those aside, the Shire is a peaceful, slow-paced kind of place where every day feels like a vacation. There are feasts, and birthday parties, and sometimes Gandalf visits and spoils the hobbit children with a firework show.

(Dream thinks the fireworks are pretty quaint, but follow Hob's instruction to stay quiet about his opinion on the matter.)

But most of all, The Shire is a place where Hob loves to live, where he thrives, and where their family can live and grow in peace, away from all the wars waged by other races against each other.

And so Dream considers this place his home too.

"Hello, Hob," Dream says. He wraps an arm around him, the one holding the still unlit pipe, the one not holding their son and the bouquet of weeds, and gives him a proper kiss on the lips. This morning, Hob tastes of honey on pancakes, and ginger lemon tea. Dream knows he himself taste of fire, but Hob insists that all he tastes is freedom and adventure. Hob is smiling when they part, and is looking at Dream like he still cannot believe he's real. It's flattering. Dream loves his husband so much. "Shall we prepare second breakfast?"

Hob does not know it yet, but being mated to Dream would ensure that he (and their children) would live long lives. Dream doesn't think that Hob would hate him for his sudden near-immortality since, between the two of them, Hob is the more enthusiastic one about being alive. Dream is just happy to re-experience life as Hob sees it. They go on to have many adventures in the future, accompanied by their half a dozen children.

#I just want Dream to be happy in every universe your honor #retired Dream living peacefully with Hob vibes #the hobbit AU #dreamling #DreamlingWeek #DreamlingWeek2023 #the sandman #my writing

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cusimmrbrightside · 2 years

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you know what type of AUs destroy me inside out but I still love? Ones where thorin is seen as ugly in dwarves standards/ cultures but to hobbits he’s like- the epitome of attractiveness

#thorin x bilbo #thorin oakenshield #bilbo baggins #bagginshield #the hobbit #the hobbit au

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silvermoon-scrolls · 22 hours

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Guardians of the Galaxy AU

Staring Kili as Star-Lord, and Fili as Gamora

For @deanobingo, and @gatheringfiki's AUpocalypse - Comedy week

Feel free to share how you would cast the other characters ^^

#the hobbit au #GF AUpocalypse 2024 #deanobingo2024 #silvermoon art #fiki #durincest #the hobbit

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mrkida-art · 1 year

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#the hobbit au #shitpost #my art #thorin oakenshield #dís #dragon sickness #gold sickness #the hobbit fanart #erebor #king thorin #HAHA I need to sleep #lady dís

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tetchy-frog · 8 months

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More Thorn’s Moving Mountain!

This one is just a silly little sketch.

He had me at the Arken-Eyes lol. I imagine that Thorn is fairly unflappable except for Bilbo, who of course has plant powers like Sophie does in the books, but also is just an unstoppable force! Dísifer is both impressed and afraid.

And yes, Thorn’s hair does follow Ghibli’s hair physics of “moves when u get angy!”

#the hobbit #thorin oakenshield #thorin and company #bagginshield #the hobbit au #bilbo baggins #thorn’s moving mountain #thilbo #my sweet blorbos #my silly little gays

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dragon-pups · 4 days

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Arda Marauders 5/8 Crosshair

Equivalent of 23 years, know as Hindoron ("Grey Eagle") to the Rangers of the North.

Crosshair can commonly be seen with Omega tagging at his heel learning everything she can about long range combat from him. The two of them are known to get into some trouble when left on their own, but they commonly bribe susceptible members of their squad to turn a blind eye to their mischief.

Wields a long bow both on and off horseback, but will switch to a short sword when needed or when things get personal.

Rides a 5 year old blue roan Brabant stallion named Mayday.

#bad batch #star wars the bad batch #the bad batch #crosshair #tbb #sw tbb #bad batch crosshair #sw the bad batch #the bad batch crosshair #Arda Marauders #lotr au #the hobbit au #bad batch in the hobbit

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justafairytailofinnocence · 11 days

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Caged birds with broken wings

Chapter 2

A/n: I've made chapter 2, enjoy :).

Chapter 1

I was having the same dream again; I was light in thin air. My movements were fluid as if there were no gravity to keep my legs grounded. My right leg stayed in place whilst my left leg was raised, turning inward toward my supporting leg. I spun over and over without the slightest feeling of light-headedness or dizziness. No matter where I moved, the gold plate within the birdcage did not shatter. My arms raised in mid-position as I extended my left leg, hoping to free myself from this prison eventually. My chest felt light; my mind had no fear, even within this cage. I felt the quick flashes of wind touch my face with every motion. I wanted to spread my wings. I wanted to be free. I wanted to be released from my cage. I wanted to reach the world outside. I. wanted. to. Fly. The same spinning visage of the golden bars occurred repeatedly, experiencing the same routine. The golden plate never shattered beneath me, holding my weight. A sense of comfort washed over me, as though seeing the same scenery brought ease to my mind. As I spun, I felt a surge of adrenaline to try something different, to spin in the other direction, to break the dance routine. I tried to push my arms down and lower my left leg. To no avail did my body react; I still spun. The second time, I pushed my arms down slightly harder, yet again to no avail did my body react. The third time, I pushed even harder, the pressure becoming uncomfortable; despite myself spinning, I pushed more not giving up. I pushed—spinning more—I pushed—spinning further—I pushed harder—I can feel the pain rising—I. just. need. to. push. harder. I could feel my face flinching from the pain rising in my limbs going against the force keeping me dancing. Eventually, with one final push, I yelled out, falling to my front as my arms moved to prevent my face from hitting the ground. I breathed heavily, in and out, as my body lay on the ground. Hair strands poked out from the once neatened bun as sweat slid down my face. The final scene panned out to witness me lying there, still, static, trapped within the golden bird cage.

My eyes opened as my vision tried to adjust to make sense of my reality. Once again, it was a nightmare or inspiration. I placed my hands on my face, rubbing my eyes awake; it’s not the first time my sleep schedule has gone off. Once my eyes had adjusted, I noticed I was at my desk with my computer opened from this morning. As my hand ran along my head, I felt something attached to my forehead—paper. I ripped it off, holding it in front of me, realising it was a character sheet for the fae queen, Aelwynn. How late did I stay up last night? I must’ve been writing the first chapter; I recall updating something—huh? On the sheet containing Aelwynn, I noticed her hair was white. I didn’t recall colouring her, but I couldn’t exactly remember what happened last night. As I examined her hair, my finger ran down the traced lines. I quickly grabbed my pencil, drawing extra features of her appearance and outfit. As the pencil traced the outline, it turned into a white gown flowing in motion with the wind as she held a staff made of the oldest oak and decorated in diamonds and quarts. To top it off, I added a crown placed at the back, with pointed edges facing up made from silvery steel. As my hand holding the pencil came off the page, I stopped to glance at her new design. My eyes lit up with amazement as my lips became agape; I was in utter awe of my new creation. Yes! This! This is Aelwynn, the way I wanted to interpret her, an otherworldly beauty that’s kind and graceful, how a true fae queen should look!

However, my eyes glance over to another piece of paper to the side, one depicting a rough sketch of Sarek, my expression nearly dropped. I had figured out Aelwynn, but I’ve yet to figure out how to design the Pirate King. I placed the rough sketch into the pile of papers and neatly folded them on my computer desk. Glancing at the computer, I saw the first few pages written within the document, and the pages went into detail regarding the first drafts. The first couple of chapters read of the pair's first encounter crossing paths: The fae queen danced around the forest alone on an island untouched by man, guarded by heavy forces of magic. She protected the will of fairies and the sources of time. One day, the shield guarding the forest broke. A band of corsairs slashed their way through the dense greenery in search of a plethora of magic jewels. Instead, what they stumbled upon was worth much more than any coffer full of gold or silver. Standing in front of Sarek’s gaze was a woman draped in white, her hair of silver and skin of ice. She danced with the younger fairies of the forest. In his greed, he was smitten; he ordered his men to take her and everything she had. She fell prey. Tears shed down her smooth cheek; she pleaded ‘to take her instead, leave her domain in peace, and they shall be granted with what they desired most’. They complied with her request, binding her in rope, leading her into a world not of her own. She gazed into the eyes of a man whose greed was far more than his ambition; his appearance was—

I jolted from my seat upon hearing my phone’s ringtone; looking at the number, I recognised it was my mum. I picked up the phone, holding it to my ear. I was expecting a ‘Hello, aren’t you going to tell me about your day?’ or ‘You didn’t ring me yesterday; how did you go?’.

I picked up the phone with a “Hi—mo—uh mom”, I said with a slight stutter.

“Y/n, oh, it’s good to hear your voice; I was nearly worried you weren’t going to pick up yesterday,” she said in a high-engaging tone.

“Yeah, sorry I was bus—”.

“So? How was it?” She sounded excited, yet I forgot what happened.

“Was what?” I replied, confused.

“The ballet lessons, the one you attended yesterday.” Once I remembered, the thought sank in; I hadn’t told her these were private lessons.

“O-oh, the lessons, yeah, it’s excellent; I’ve made many connections already.” My lips curved into a smile, trying to make my voice sound sincere.

“Excellent! See what I told you? You're already shining brightly”. I smiled to myself; hearing her words made me feel heartened.

“So, tell me, what’s the instructor like? Is he supportive of you? I know you have trouble speaking to people, and I want to make sure—”

“He’s fine, Mom. He’s—” I pause for a moment, thinking back to the time I met him in that room alone. When our eyes met, I didn’t flinch nor look away. His eyes were like ice, and his hair was like snow; it ignited something I hadn’t remembered in a long time.

“Different.” That was all I could respond with.

“Is he cute?” She asked. I nearly flushed with embarrassment, feeling my cheeks red like a beet.

“What?! N-No! N-not in that way” Where did that come from? Did she really expect me to say yes?

“Oh, I suppose he might be too old for you; what about the guys in your class? Are they any good-looking?” she responded.

“I don’t know; I hadn’t noticed.” I wanted to end this conversation as quickly as possible.

“Oh, hm, well, what about the girls? Surely there are some good-looking girls there too”.

“W-What!” I was flabbergasted.

“I’d be accepting either way—”.

I replied, “Currently, I’m—fine with just me, myself and I”.

That answer had seemed to satisfy her for now.

“Oh, well—of course, if that’s what you're happy with, I’m just happy you're getting out there and speaking to someone. That’s a massive achievement, and I’m so proud of you for that!” she sounded happy, at least.

I sighed deeply. “Thank you”.

“Baby steps, that’s all it takes”, was her final response before I hung up the phone. Sometimes, despite them being my parents, I stumble over my words, even speaking over the phone.

I sighed, gazing at the time. I had no idea that my first lesson was only for an hour. I wouldn’t mind being there early; it was better than falling asleep. What am I saying? I’d much rather sleep! I recall Mr. Oropherion saying he wished me to be there precisely during the seventh hour. Man, the way he phrased it was weird. I quickly rose from my desk, grabbed what I needed, grabbed my car keys, and changed into yesterday's outfit. I should probably stop by to find a leotard, a tutu, or even a pair of pointe shoes. Once I was prepared, I dashed to the car. Making my way through the door leading outside, the cold air hit me; the temperature must’ve dropped vastly since it was dark out. It was nearly seven, after all. To my stupidity, I forgot to park the car inside. Shit, shit, shit, the cars frosted. I panicked, quickly running back inside to grab my parker, zipping it up and then wrapping a scarf around me in the not-so-neatest way possible. I rushed into the kitchen and opened the lower drawer beneath my stove to grab the pan with a deep bottom. I turned on the water quickly, adjusting the temperature to lukewarm. I filled the pan, aiming to get it as full as possible. I tried to walk slowly yet hastily without spilling the water; once outside, I made my way to the car windows, pouring the water slowly. Each one dissolved; I was careful, at least, to make sure it wasn’t hot. I used the sleeve of my parker to rub away what remained of the frost. The frost hadn’t wholly dissolved, but it was enough to see. Quickly, I ran back inside to place the pan back on my kitchen bench. Shit, oh shit, oh shit, I’m going to be late! Coming out of my house, I made it to the car, yet I forgot to lock the front door—I pressed my hands against my forehead, feeling the stupidity rise within me. I sloshed through the snow, heading to the front door to lock it and then back to the car door.

I finally entered and opened the white car door, thank God. I backed out of the parking lot and drove toward where I needed to go. As I drove down, the snow fell heavily, and buildings passed by, turning to blurry visions as I drove further into the distance. It took half an hour to get there, but at least I would make it, I hope. I went to the same car park I had parked in yesterday and turned off the engine. As I got out, I saw many buildings covered in snow. I took a second to look into the sky, feeling the tiny snowflakes touch my face. “Beautiful”, I muttered. I held out my hand; I wanted to feel it; to touch the fragile beauty. As one dropped from the sky, it landed perfectly in my hand. I curled my fingers, feeling the flake melt within my grasp. Such beauty yet fragility. I opened my hand to see it dissolved; my eyes softened at the sight. I can understand; if I were to fall freely, speak my mind, and show my true self, even if someone touched me, I’d melt within their grasp.

Suddenly, I heard someone’s footsteps behind me emitted with a laugh. I turned my head to see the on-coming sight of two ballerinas draped in blue and pink leotards topped with jackets. I recognised them from the class I accidentally stumbled into yesterday. I quickly turned my head, shut the car door, and began to walk briskly. I didn’t want to speak with them, not after how I made a fool of myself. My head lowered into the scarf as I looked down, trying to avoid eye contact. Hopefully, they’ll ignore me. I got to the entrance just in time, or so I thought; I could hear them trailing behind. In a panic, I opened the entrance glass door to the dance studio, walking swiftly up the stairs to where I needed to be. Whilst I walked up the stairs, I could hear them speaking; I didn’t tune in, keeping to myself and focusing on getting to the floor I needed to be. My legs picked up the pace as I heard them walking up. As I got to the fifth floor, I peeked over the side of the staircase railing. I could only see the top of their heads, one brunette and the other raven. I sighed deeply to myself; I realized I lied to Mom. I hated doing that, but—it made her happy in ignorance. Out of curiosity, I attempted to speak out to them, to say hello; perhaps then, I could feel proud of myself. “H-h-hi”, I uttered in a whisper. But before I knew it, they were gone; I was too late.

I couldn’t do it; I couldn’t speak. Why was it so damn hard? Why am I so afraid to show them—me? I could feel the tears prickling the corners of my eyes.

I rubbed the corner of my eyes, letting out a sniff. I needed to be strong, at least for the time being. As Mom said, ‘It’s just baby steps; that’s all it takes.’ I took a deep breath in and exhaled; I made my way toward the empty dance studio I was before. It was nice and quiet, peaceful even, I couldn’t hear anyone. I unzipped my parker and took off my shoes. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the windows with blue curtains pulled over them. I wandered over toward the curtains hiding the tall glass windows. My hand reached out, feeling the cotton edge, I slowly pulled the blue curtains to the side. Looking outside, I was in awe; it showed the snowfall. As the tiny flakes gently fell against the window’s glass, I listened, hearing the gentle tapping against the glass. I backed up to the middle of the room, my train of thought departing as I watched the wonderous sight before me.

Suddenly, I heard a stern voice from behind my shoulder. “You're late”.

I quickly turned, only to notice Mr. Oropherion appear out of nowhere. Seriously, was he lurking around the corner watching me this whole time? Are there secret entrances so that he can purposefully remind me?

“I-I, apologies, Mr. Oropherion, I—” Damn it, I can’t even gather my words!

“You’re precisely five minutes past the hour; I presume you have a gift for tardiness”, he spoke coldly.

Is he serious? Why is he treating me as if I’m an hour late? Don’t tell me I’m in trouble for only being five minutes late.

My eyes narrowed, and I could feel my breath slowing down. I didn’t make eye contact with him, but I could hear his footsteps walking from behind me.

“We begin with the simple plie, a simple move you can surely manage,” he said in a clear, deep voice.

My head stooped low; I could only see his feet moving toward the barre attached to the mirrors. I followed suit, raising my left arm and gripping the wooden barre. “Start bending your knees; move your right foot over here” He placed his leg next to the side of my foot, pushing it gently into the correct position. I didn’t pull my leg away, even though I wanted to. As he corrected it, I gazed down, still avoiding eye contact. As I was in position, I closed my eyes, trying to bend my knees and drown out the idea of someone behind me. “No, you’re bending too far”, he softly muttered. As he approached, my breathing grew heavier. He didn't seem to notice, but I felt my chest rise and fall deeply. I froze in place, not knowing what to do. I didn’t want to look at him; I didn’t want to look up. I didn’t want to show him me! I muttered in a whisper, “P-please d-don—”. I felt his hands touch my waist lightly to guide me.

However, I yelled, stumbling back.

I felt like a deer in headlights; my eyes widened as I gasped for air. Mr. Oropherion stared in confusion, more-so, bewilderment; his hands were left hovering. “You do realise my intent was not of ill purpose; do not mistake me for one with a sickening mind”, he spoke cautiously, not wanting to increase the situation.

I covered my face with my hands, feeling foolish. My head stooped low, wanting to hide my tearful gaze. “I’m so sorry. Oh god, I thought I could do this, but I can’t. I’m so afraid, I’m so afraid.”

He approached slowly, maintaining his icy gaze. “Afraid of what?” he questioned in an austere manner.

“Speaking—talking—Showing myself to the world”, my voice cracked.

“I—'m afraid of what they’ll think, of what they’ll see”, I admitted.

He stayed silent, just as I suspected; he wasn’t fazed. I mean, why should he be? After all, I’m just a random person he met a day ago, someone spewing out all this inner turmoil.

I didn’t expect him to respond, and his answer wasn’t what I expected.

“We are not all born with perfection; there are those of us who have been bruised by imperfection. If you dwell too much in fear, it will overtake you, sending afoul things within your mind to come forth and surface. Whether you wish to remain trapped within it or face it to make a difference, is your decision,” he advised.

Even though his words weren’t the most comforting, he held a point. The first time I saw him yesterday, I gazed into the eyes of a man who rekindled a moment I thought was lost. A time I didn’t live in fear, a time I could look into the eyes of another being and speak freely. If I could do it then, I can do it now.

I lifted my hands away from my face, revealing my sorrowful eyes—the eyes of a fearful bird. I turned to his gaze, trying not to look down, showing my irises. His narrowed eyes slightly raised. I stood upright as my breaths slowed. My almond eyes relaxed at the sight of him. Perhaps, if I aim to speak to him again like before, I can train myself to speak to others. I took the time to gather the words I wanted to say. Inhaling slowly, I spoke the words I wanted to say. “M-Mr Oropherion, I d-don’t want to be a-afraid anymore, I w-want to be free”.

His icy eyes lowered. “Well, well, it seems the little bird has learnt to spread her wings once more; however, little bird, you shan’t take flight just yet, for it will take time to heal your wounds, but I shall teach you”.

I inhaled deeply, allowing myself to grab hold of the barre and stand straight. I tried to bend my knees again, yet he wasn’t satisfied. He moved closer to guide me; this time, my head turned to meet his gaze. His hands hovered just where my waist was. I maintained eye contact for a moment before turning to the front as if permitting him. His slender hands touched my waist lightly; I could feel him pushing me up only slightly and then down. “Hold that position; ensure that your knees are bent until they are over your thumbs.” He muttered. I could feel the pressure of trying to keep my balance.

“This next move is a Grande plie. Lower yourself and lift your heels off the ground.” His hands gently pushed me lower on the ground, my heels lifted slightly as I was told. As he lowered me, I glanced into the mirror, falling silent.

I saw my eyes with eyebags beneath them, the same hair falling to my shoulders, and my lips; however, this time, something was different. Something changed. Something made a difference. In the mirror, there were two, two people.

A small smile faintly formed on my lips.

For once, I wasn’t alone.

#thranduil x reader #thranduil #the hobbit #thranduil fanfic #the hobbit au #modern thranduil #modern thranduil au #thranduil x you #the hobbit x reader #thranduil oropherion x reader #thranduil oropherion #thranduil fluff #thranduil angst

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