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sweetbutpsychobutsweet · 14 days

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Mine

Chapter 14

Thorin Oakenshield x AFAB!Reader

Summary: You and Thorin disagree over your recent choices, and it seems this argument can only be settled one way...

Warnings: no use of y/n, angst, 18+, NSFW, minors do not interact, Pin V sex, fingering

Author's Note: Thank you all so much for your patience. I know this took a lot longer to post than I thought. The smuttier chapters always take me longer to write because I know those are the ones we all read the most😂 I promise it will be worth the wait and there will be plenty more to follow!♥

Word count: 3913

You shout his name in protest, kicking and struggling in his grasp. But his seething rage seems to have only made him stronger. He doesn’t even flinch when you beat your fists against the broad muscles of his back. And every effort you make to kick him in the face is easily dodged as he carries you up the stairs.

Bertram is following right behind him.

“Put my dancer down this instant!” he demands, struggling to keep up with Thorin’s angry strides.

“This is why I told you not to let him find out!” you shout from over his shoulder.

"You put her up to this?!” a yelp escapes you as Thorin whirls around at the top of the stairs, still dangling you over his shoulder. You can feel the growl reverberating against where your thighs are pinned to his chest.

“It was her idea,” you hear Bertram scoff. “Did you really think accommodating so many of you at once would come cheap? I was prepared to throw you out on your asses until she offered an encore performance to sweeten the deal.”

“Encore?!” Thorin’s grip tightens around your legs and you’re suddenly very grateful that you can’t see his face right now.

“An encore that has yet to be completed thanks to you. So either she goes back out there and puts on one heck of a performance or you and the rest of your companions will need to find accommodations elsewhere tonight.”

“From what I saw, she’s already given you more than enough of a ‘performance’ for one night. You and I can come to another arrangement in the morning but she will not be stepping foot on that stage again as long as I live.”

“That might not be as long as you think if you don’t put me down this instant, Thorin!”

He ignores your protests as he continues down the hallway, kicking open the door and depositing you back on your feet in the middle of the room.

You immediately rip his cloak off of you, balling it up and tossing it back at him. But it just falls to the floor in a pile as he turns his back to you. Opening your pack he starts to pull out various articles of clothing, tossing them over his shoulder to you.

“Get dressed,” he grunts. Shirts, pants, chemises, and skirts sail through the air but you merely bat them all away in defiance. It’s almost like he expected you to refuse when he looks over his shoulder at you. When he runs out of your clothes to toss at you, he simply starts to toss some of his own instead.

“Lack of clothing isn’t the problem here,” you remind him.

“Then what is?” he snaps, kicking discarded piles of clothing out of the way as he stalks closer to you. “Temporary insanity? Lack of attention?”

“Yes, Thorin,” you scoff, taking a step closer to him until the two of you are practically chest to chest. “I was so desperate for your attention that I decided to take my clothes off in front of a crowd of strangers.”

“You’d dance half naked for strangers but Mahal forbid people find out we have any kind of intimate relationship.”

“Are you still upset about that?!” you roll your eyes. “Not everything I do is about you, Thorin. It’s like Bertram said: he wanted to charge us far more gold than even Smaug has right now. We have a history, so I offered to do him a favor in exchange for lodging.”

“A history?” he scoffs.

“Yes, a history,” you snap. “I told you I used to be a tavern dancer to pay my way across middle earth. This tavern happened to be a frequent stop for me. Now quit deflecting!”

“I’m not the one deflecting, lass.”

“Then what do you call it when someone is pretending to be upset about information they already knew, in order to avoid talking about the real reason they’re angry?”

“What, pray tell, is the real reason I’m upset with you?”

You take a step closer to him, tipping your head back until the two of you are practically nose to nose. “I fixed things and it kills you. You can’t stand the fact that I was able to solve a problem for you. Mahal forbid the great Thorin Oakenshield show any signs of weakness, let alone allow a woman to solve a problem for him.”

“Now who’s deflecting?” he smirks and you let out an angry huff, crossing your arms over your scantily clad chest.

Thorin’s gaze dips down to where your breasts are pressed together above the shelf of your arms. He takes in the sight of your provocative attire for the first time in this new setting. Very little is left to the imagination in your current state. You have to resist the urge to shudder at the chill his gaze sends down your spine as he studies every inch of your exposed skin. His jaw clenches and you know he’s remembering just how many people were recently looking at the exact same ensemble.

He brings a hand to your chin, tipping your head back so you have no choice but to look directly at his scowling face. “No one gets to see you like this ever again, understood?” he growls and the corners of your mouth quirk up.

“Let me guess, except for you? That’s quite selfish of you Thorin.”

“I don’t care,” his grip tightens on your jaw, pulling you closer to him until your lips are just a breath away from each other. “You’re mine.” He devours you hungrily, pulling your bodies closer together. Your hands slide up his chest, clawing at the fabric separating the two of you.

“Mine,” he repeats with a low growl, abruptly releasing his grip on your face and taking a step back. Before you can protest, he is tossing you over his shoulder yet again. You let out a gasp as he tightens his grip around your bare thighs.

Trudging through the piles of discarded clothes on the floor, Thorin crosses the room to toss you down on the bed. You go to push yourself up onto your forearms but he is already climbing up your body to tower over you. Your lungs are heavy with the intoxicating scent of him as he pulls your mouth back to his. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him even closer to you, wanting his entire body weight to crash down on you until there isn’t any air left inside of you.

You shudder in delight when he breaks from your lips to kiss a path along your neck to nip at the shell of your ear. “Mine,” he says again, rising above you to fully admire your form trapped beneath him.

“Mine to touch,” his hands brush along your collarbone, traveling farther down your chest to trace the swell of your breasts. He bunches up the strip of fabric covering your top, lifting it to expose you fully. You think he’s just going to untie it, but instead, he tears the thin strip of fabric in two.

“Mine to admire,” he continues, ignoring the way your jaw has dropped at the loss of your only performance attire. Thorin doesn’t seem like he’s planning on letting you go anywhere in an outfit of that kind ever again, so perhaps it was part of his plan all along.

You narrow your eyes up at him in defiance, but he only smirks down at you. Watching the anger leave your eyes the moment his warm hands cup your breasts. Your jaw drops open again, but this time to release a moan as he squeezes and massages the flesh between his fingers.

“Mine to enjoy,” he declares keeping his eyes locked on yours as he lowers his face down to one of your breasts. Continuing to massage the other he gently sucks and bites at your now sensitive buds.

They’ve begun to darken and perk up ever since they were given his attention and he wastes no time worshiping the two mounds of flesh before him.

Wrapping your legs around his midsection you pull him closer to you, arching your back off the bed as you start to grind your core up against the hardness you feel trying to escape from his trousers.

Thorin gently scrapes his teeth against the tender flesh in his mouth and you groan at the sensation. Impatiently, you begin to tug at the edge of his shirt, desperate to have access to just as much of his skin as he does of yours.

Relenting to your unspoken wishes, he sits back upright above you slipping the material overhead. Your fingers connect with the warm skin exposed to you, tracing the muscles and ridges with your fingertips. You start to chart a path farther down his abdomen towards where you’re aching for him. You stop when your fingers brush against the rough material of the bandage you wrapped around his midsection. You were so caught up in your desire you completely forgot that he’s still seriously injured. Your hands go still, hesitantly hovering over the wound.

Maybe this isn’t the time. Despite how badly you want Thorin to fuck you into the mattress right now, you can’t risk doing any further damage. Especially with the rest of the journey still ahead of you. You’re so lost in thought you don’t notice Thorin’s hooked a finger under your jaw until he’s tipping your head up to look at him. “I’m fine,” he assures you but you still scrunch your nose up in thought.

“We should wait until you’re feeling better, as your physician I-”

He lets out a laugh, bringing his face down closer to yours. “You’re not a physician, lass,”

“I didn’t say I was a physician, I said I was your physician. I tended to the wound, I think that makes me responsible for its-”

He cuts you off again, this time with a gentle brush of his lips against yours. “You’re a truly maddening woman,” he whispers into your mouth, “and I won’t feel better until I’ve sufficiently had my way with you.”

“I suppose that could be considered an alternative form of treatment,” you mumble, all concerns disappearing from your mind as he brings your mouth back to his.

Your fingers tangle into his hair, gripping the strands to pull him closer to you until all of your senses are overwhelmed with him. The way he smells, the way he tastes, the way the warmth radiating off of his skin makes all the blood rush to your cheeks.

The rough pads of his fingertips trace delicate lines down your stomach, disappearing underneath the remaining piece of clothing covering your aching core. His fingers circle your clit with a touch so featherlight it elicits a needy whine from your lips.

“Please,” you whisper hoarsely against his lips. You’ve both been denied this pleasure so many times today alone. If your poor dripping cunt doesn’t receive some attention soon, you fear you might melt into a puddle beneath him.

Your fingers give a firm yank to his locks again, and with a warning growl, he plunges two fingers deep inside you. Your back arches off the bed, pressing your bare breasts against his chest as your mouth opens with a silent scream. Your eyes see nothing but stars and yet you can sense that self righteous smirk on Thorin’s face as he starts pumping his fingers inside you with a steady pace, stroking your inner walls in that one thrilling spot that makes your toes curl as you writhe and whimper beneath him.

“I know you don’t like to listen, darling,” he whispers above you, “but here is one order I know you will follow,” blinking, your eyes start to focus again on Thorin’s face looking down at you with a wicked smile. His eyes are filled with a darkness that makes your core clench around his fingers as he quickens his pace, bringing his thumb to trace circles on your swollen bud.

“Come for me,” he commands. And you do, without a second thought. Yanking a hand free you clamp your palm over your mouth to cover the cry of pleasure that escapes you. He doesn’t let up on his ministrations, even when your other hand tightens at his scalp so fiercely it’s a miracle you haven’t yanked a fist full of hair out yet.

With a heavy sigh, your body finally goes limp beneath him.

Chuckling, Thorin gently removes his hand from your spent cunt, bringing his soaked fingers to his lips hungrily. Your jaw drops at the sight, never breaking eye contact as he cleans every drop of your juices from his skin.

It looks so appetizing when he does it, you can’t help but stick your tongue out, batting your eyelashes up at him in the hopes that he’ll share. With a knowing smile, he is slipping his soaked fingers into your mouth for you to suck on. His eyes go wide in excitement, not only from the seal your lips have created around his fingers but also because your own fingers have slipped into his trousers. You wrap them firmly around his hardened cock, stroking as much of it as you can reach.

With his fingers in your mouth and his cock in your hand you look up at him with a pleading look in your eyes.

“So needy,” he chides with a click of his tongue. “You want more already?” you nod enthusiastically from around his fingers.

He brings his lips to your temple with a gentle kiss. “How could I deny such a beautiful creature?” reluctantly pulling his soaked fingers from your mouth, he reaches for his ever tightening trousers to finally free his member for your use.

Bringing your fingers down to your soaked bottoms, you slip them down your legs as far as you can. Kicking his trousers free, Thorin pulls the soaked fabric the rest of the way down your ankles discarding them somewhere in the mess behind you.

“Spread your legs for me, lass,” he commands, towering over you as he strokes his throbbing member in his hand. Blinking in shock, you open your legs wide for him, less from the command more from the sight of the cock before you.

You were far from a virgin at this point in your life. You’d met many different people throughout your travels and as a result you’ve had multiple lovers over the years. But try as you might to rack your brain you can’t think of a single cock you’ve seen that’s nearly as magnificent as Thorin’s.

It’s long and girthy, just looking at the strong member makes your cunt clench in anticipation.

“Fuck me Thorin,” you look up at him pleading, suddenly desperate to have it inside you, “please.”

“Mahal,” Thorin scoffs, “I don’t recall ever hearing you ask for something so nicely.”

Bringing a hand to your exposed thigh he starts to brush the tip of his cock against your weeping entrance, gathering all the wetness he can as he lets out a chuckle at the desperate whines escaping you in anticipation.

Finally lining himself up with your entrance, he brings his free hand to the mattress beside your face, caging you beneath him. He looks down at your face one final time, searching for any sign that you aren’t as desperate for this as he is.

“Fuck me,” you ask again, wrapping your arms around his neck. “And don’t be gentle.” You whisper into his ear.

That’s all the encouragement he needs, with a grunt he slams into you so quickly it knocks the breath out of your lungs. You nails scrape against his back as they scramble to find purchase while Thorin begins pounding his hips into you at a breakneck speed.

Honoring your request, he is not the least bit gentle with you. Your cries of pleasure are quickly drowned out by the sounds of slapping skin as he relentlessly thrusts into you so hard the bed begins to tremble beneath the two of you.

Let it break. You think to yourself. Nothing could pull either of you out of this cloud of lust that envelopes you. If it shatters beneath you, you’re certain Thorin will just continue pounding into you on top of the rubble.

“So tight,” he growls, “so warm. Feels just like heaven, I knew it would.”

You bite your bottom lip at the thought of Thorin fantasizing about this very moment. You can so clearly see him with his cock in his hand, imagining it was your cunt clenching around him just as it is now.

Untangling your arms from around his neck, Thorin reaches for your wrists, pinning them to the pillow above your head. “Don’t move them,” he commands with a sharp snap of his hips that makes you yelp.

Continuing a steady pace, he reaches for your legs behind him. Pressing one of your knees into your chest, he tosses the other over his shoulder. Gently kissing the exposed flesh of your calf he resumes his pace in this new position.

Throwing your head back you release a guttural moan, clenching your hands into fists above your head. With each thrust, Thorin hits deeper and deeper places inside yourself that seemed to have been previously left unexplored.

Every time the tip of his cock brushes against your cervix it makes you cry out louder in ecstasy. You’re itching to bring your hands back down to cover your mouth and suppress the noises the rest of the tavern will surely have heard by now.

“Keep them there,” Thorin reminds you, watching intently as you struggle to obey him. “I want them to hear.” He growls. “I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

He removes your leg from his shoulder to press it down against your chest like the other, folding you in half and pinning you into the mattress by the backs of your thighs.

“Say it,” he commands, leaning over you as he somehow increases his speed even more.

You groan beneath him, you know exactly what he wants from you but you can barely string together a coherent thought right now, let alone a sentence.

“Say it,” he says again, bringing a hand to your jaw to force your eyes to look directly into his.

“I’m yours, Thorin” you whimper beneath him and he crashes his lips into yours.

“Louder, lass,” his pace becomes more frantic and you can tell that he’s getting close.

Looking directly into his dazzling blue eyes you cry out: “I’m all yours.”

In just the nick of time, he pulls out of you with a shaky moan, spilling his seed all over your stomach.

The room is filled with the sounds of you both panting breathlessly. The air is heavy with the scent of sex and sweat. Your limbs feel so weak you can do nothing but lay on the bed in a post-orgasmic puddle, your eyelids starting to droop closed. You feel the mattress shift as Thorin rises from between your legs. You peel an eye open just in time to see him cross the room, still completely naked, to grab a wet rag.

He catches you watching him as he turns back to you, a gentle smile on his face as he returns to your side.

You can’t recall the last time you saw him look so… relaxed. His familiar scowl is nowhere to be seen as he gently wipes the cloth across your stomach and between your legs, a look of utter bliss on his face as he watches you watch him with a soft smile.

Once he’s wiped you clean he starts to rummage through the mess of clothing still littering the floor. You can spot dozens of your blouses and chemises from where you lay on the bed, but Thorin still grabs one of his own shirts from the pile.

“Sit up for me, a moment,” he asks gently. You push your aching limbs upright as best you can, Thorin’s hand hovering at your back to help you upright.

He slips his clean shirt over your head, helping to navigate your arms through the sleeves.

“Good girl,” he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead as you lay back down.

Once you’re settled back into a horizontal position he grabs for another set of clothing. You watch silently as he pulls on his shirt and pants from earlier. He reaches for his boots next and your brow furrows.

Is he leaving? Now that he’s gotten what he wanted from you and made a mess of the room. Is he just going to walk out that door and find another place to sleep for the night?

Thorin spots your look of confusion as he pulls his other boot on. “Don’t fret lass,” he assures you, “I’ll be right back.”

He gently slips out the door and you listen to the heavy sounds of his footsteps retreating down the hall. Your eyelids are still heavy, and you’re fighting sleep that threatens to overtake you. Only a few minutes pass until you hear him returning.

Shifting in the bed you push yourself up onto your forearms with a yawn as he reenters the room. You can smell the stew before he even opens the door and it instantly makes your mouth water.

“You missed dinner,” he reminds you, passing the warm dish into your waiting hands. “I had a previous engagement,” you reply with a mouth full of broth.

“Don’t remind me,” he growls as he kicks his boots back off, locking the door behind him.

“I’d say it worked out pretty well for the both of us,” you shrug. Thorin doesn’t say anything as he crosses the room to you, pulling the blankets out from underneath your bottom to tuck you into the bed fully.

By the time he’s wrapped you up underneath the covers and climbed in beside you, you’ve already inhaled the entire bowl. He laughs as you set it down on the bedside table with a hiccup. You sink deeper into the covers beside him and he reaches his hand up to your face, wiping a dribble from the corner of your mouth.

“Tomorrow we continue our journey,” he informs you and you nod in understanding. “In that case I certainly hope I’ll be able to walk in the morning.”

He laughs and pulls you into his chest. “I’d carry you,” he murmurs, burying his face in your hair. “I’ll carry you all the way home if I have to.”

You hum in contentment as you let yourself burrow deeper into his chest. Ignoring the stab of guilt in your chest when he says the word ‘home’.

It may have been your home in the past but it can’t be any longer. You wonder if you should tell him that you don’t plan to stay in Erebor long enough to call it home again. But then he begins to trace patterns with his fingertips over your lower back and you feel your eyes start to flutter closed.

Not now, you tell yourself. Not tonight.

Because you’re realizing that there is nowhere else in Middle Earth you’d rather be right now, than wrapped up in Thorin’s warm embrace. And you don’t dare do anything to spoil this perfect moment.

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shiinata-library · 5 months

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Imagine: You can speak to animals in Middle-Earth

Thorin, Fíli, Kíli, Bilbo's reactions when they understand you can speak to animals in Middle-Earth

N/A: I haven't written in English for a while. I may be rusty…

Thorin

“The inn is this way,” you say to Thorin several times during the journey when he is lost in towns that you pass through. Or something like “I think the stable with our ponies is at your right, then at your left.” Or, “Oh, Balin is looking for you at the town's entrance, hm, straight on, then left after the bakery.”

At the beginning of the journey, it surprised you how many times Thorin could be lost. But now, you eventually get used to it.

The only thing you’re not used to is the look on his face every time you help him. Surprised and suspicious. While you just want to help him…

Well, could you tell him it's some ravens that are letting you know when he needs help? “The king is looking for Master Balin.” “The king doesn’t walk in the right direction.” “My lady, the king wants to go to the inn.” They are polite but they never give you the choice…

Other animals speak sometimes with you and you love to listen to them. It’s surprising how much you can learn with them. The best place for that is in Beorn’s house. Thanks to his hospitality, you can walk around his house and speak to animals you have never spoken to before. It’s fun and it especially changes your mind after everything has happened during the journey.

Yet, when you thought ravens have let you in peace, two of them come for you in an evening. You have just finished dinner and the night has almost fallen. They ask for help, explaining their baby is trapped in an orc’s trap. At first, you want to refuse : it’s almost night, Beorn is already out in bear’s form, and some orcs are also soon out.

But you can’t let a baby raven die, right? So you follow them in the forest behind Beorn house. A forest that looks welcoming by day, but much less so at night.

Thanks to other animals' help, you finally find the trap, more or less quickly, and free the little one. As he thanks you, you notice the silence around you, especially the ravens. Then, you notice the darkness of the forest. You remain motionless until you hear a voice behind you.

“What are you doing here?” a cold, hard male voice says behind as you turn to him and realise it’s only Thorin. Even in the dark, it’s impossible not to recognise his voice.

Damn, your heart is dead by now. You don’t even find the good words. “It’s our fault, my King,” one of the ravens says as he comes closer to you on a branch. He explains everything to Thorin while you look at him astonished.

“Don’t tell me he could understand you from the start!” you say, upset as you turn to the raven. “Why did you use me all this time if he could understand?” you progressively raise your voice, ignoring where you are.

“Roäc is the only raven I can understand,” Thorin says. “But now is not the time to speak. Let’s go back to–” When he stops talking, you shiver. You can feel you’re not alone. The ravens and the other animals are already left. Thorin suddenly takes your hand and pulls it. You start a quick sprint to Beorn’s house and you’re glad no orcs found you.

You enter the house out-of-breath. Thorin turns to you, not making the effort to hide his anger. He shouts at you that you should never have gone outside, that you’re stupid, that you could die easy. And like Bilbo before, that you shouldn't be here with them.

Oh, hm, it really hurts to hear all of that. You remain silent, looking down until you notice he is still holding your hand. His hand is so big but warm. Oh. Hm. It’s hot all of a sudden, isn’t it?

“Well,” he starts, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry if Roäc bothered you many times. And thank you for saving his little one.” Is he embarrassed? Oh, you would give anything to have more light to see if he is blushing!

“It’s nothing. He and other ravens helped me during the journey, so it's normal.” Now you look him in the eye, you don’t know what to add. He also seems engrossed by your eyes.

Maybe something could have happened. Well, only if his nephews didn’t enter the room abruptly, shouting they were looking for him. Or maybe it's just postponed for another time…

Fíli

“Kíli is looking for you,” you say to Fíli once you find him cleaning one of his swords among a lot of them scattered on the floor. An impressive collection that you always wonder if you already saw all of them or not. “This time is because Dwalin has made fun of him and he wants revenge. It seems he can’t leave without you less than an hour,” you resume, smiling as you see him putting away his swords one by one. “The maximum was three days,” he replies, laughing at his own answer. “I'm surprised you found me before him.”

Can you tell him you asked for help from a bird and a dog? The town where you stopped isn’t big but it seems that Kíli couldn’t find his brother ; or maybe it was Fíli who didn't want us to find him. Anyway, you offered your help and with your capacity, it’s always easy to find someone, in exchange for some food or other information. Animals are easier to convince than humans.

“I guess I’m lucky,” you answer, shrugging as you start to walk with him. “Speaking of luck, you should speak to Oín about your recent injury. It could become infected.” Despite your serious tone, he looks at you with a smile, the radiant smile that swings the beads from his moustache, but doesn’t say anything about it. When you join his brother, they immediately start to plan to take revenge on Dwalin, leaving you to your own business before Kíli asks for your help.

During the journey, you notice Fíli disappears sometimes for a short time. You guess you need time alone when you’re a prince with an uncle like Thorin and a brother like Kíli. Even Dwalin and Balin seem to expect a lot from him. It looks exhausting, even from where you are. But, you always eventually find him when someone is looking for him, and luckily for you, he is never upset with it.

Yet, one evening when you were looking for him because Thorin needs him, you got lost in the forest. Because of the darkness of the night, your foot catches on a root and you fall suddenly to the ground. Great, now you’re hurt in addition to being lost…

You chose to sit down for a while, waiting for the pain to pass. Then, you strangely notice there are no animals around you to help you. It’s not good. Not good at all. The only time you didn't find animals in a forest was when there was an orc camp nearby.

When you wait in this kind of situation, it’s hard to know how much time passes, but the forest is totally dark when you decide to go back to the company’s camp. Now, you can only count on your luck to find the right path and not to meet orcs…

You barely walk when you hear silent branches crackling not far from you. Just a few metres from you, one orc with a small lantern is walking. An orc scout. You don’t have time to take out your weapon that he is already running after you.

When you are about to run, a raven rushes to his face, blinding him, while someone comes from nowhere and kills him without a sound. The lantern falls in the ground and you recognise Fíli. The raven doesn’t wait to fly away, letting you both alone while he crushes the lantern and the fire with his foot.

“How did you find me?” you ask, surprised, as he takes your hand and starts walking away. “Wait, my foot is hurt, I can’t walk fast…”

He stops his steps and takes you on his back as if you weighed nothing. Oh, his hair smells like earth and metal. “My uncle’s raven helped me,” he eventually says as he starts walking. “And some of your friends showed me the forest but my uncle’s raven was the only one who wanted to go with me in this forest’s part.”

“My friends?” you frown. “A squirrel, a bird and, hm, a frog,” he says. “The last one was really hard to follow.”

You stay silent for a moment, understanding he knows you can talk to animals. “How do you know?” you eventually ask, shyly hidden behind his back.

You hear him laugh first as you both get out of the forest, seeing the company's camp nearly. “You talked with all the animals you meet. It's not hard to guess.”

“So, everyone knows?” you exclaim, glad to be out of the forest given the volume of your voice. “I don't think so,” he says as you breathe in relief. “But I can ask them if they know about it.”

You don't need to see him to know he's smiling. You travel enough with him and his brother to know when they take advantage of a situation. “What do you want to hold your tongue?” you ask, a little upset. “Nothing,” he replies as he puts you on the ground, his smile widening when he sees your annoyed expression. “Nothing yet,” he hurries to resume. “Let me think about it and I'll tell you.”

As you both almost join the company's camp, the light of the fire shows his proud face. You don't know what you should expect from his future request, but you know he already enjoys it…

Kíli

If there is something you enjoy the most in this journey, it’s teasing Kíli. His reactions are always entertaining!

It started at the beginning of the journey when he asked the company where his knife was. Thanks to a little bird’s murmur, you found it for him. He was very surprised. It was honestly so cute.

Now the journey continues and you often answer his questions. You can even predict the rain. It’s amazing for you and troubling for him. Maybe you should tell him the truth before he imagines anything. But, well, his expressions are too cute and innocent to stop.

Some dwarves are still suspicious about you, and this doesn't get better with all your answers. So, you would like to avoid Kíli and his questions, but it’s impossible. You’re becoming more and more friends with him, and he often speaks with you, especially in the evening after dinner, when everyone is busy with their own things. (In truth, his brother is also often with you both, when he is not with his uncle and Balin.)

Yet, something changes when you arrive in Beorn’s home. When you realise the skin-changer can also, more or less, speak with animals, you spend a lot of time with him. Used to live alone, you thought you were bothering him, but he seemed interested in talking to you about some animals, their habits, their preferences or the manner to ask them a service.

So, as Kíli doesn’t know about your ability, he doesn’t understand your obsession for him. “Obsession” may be an exaggeration, but he really misses you. He tries to speak with you, but you often say that you’re busy with Beorn.

A night when Kíli notices you’re not sleeping yet, he looks for you in the house. His worry increases when he doesn’t find you and nobody can tell him where you are. Even if Beorn told them not to go out at night, he ends up outside, walking around the house.

“No! Don’t get too close to me like that!” he hears you exclaim in the distance. “Don’t force me to use my strength against you!” Then he realises your voice is coming from in the barn behind the house. “No, stop! I already told you not to touch me like that!” Alright, Kíli is now running to you, abruptly opening the front door.

Following Beorn’s instructions, you spend your evenings talking to some animals and all the animals have their own personality. And this bloody dog is too affectionate and full of energy to speak with.

When Kíli enters, he shouts your name, waking up all the animals in the barn. He can’t understand them, but they’re furious against him. He runs to you until he notices the dog next to you. “What’s happening here? Are you hurt? Who is touching you? Even if he is very tall, if Beorn tries–”

“What are you talking about? Beorn didn’t do anything!” you suddenly say, standing up. Then, the dog you were talking with pokes you in the leg with his muzzle. “No, he is not!” you whisper, visibly embarrassed.

“He is not what?” Kíli asks, raising an eyebrow. You start to walk to the exit, but the dog is following you.

“Yet, you seem important to him!” the dog barks as he walks before you and goes out when you open the door. “He often looks at you during the day. Even his brother is sick of hearing him talk about you all the time.”

“Stop saying nonsense. Join the others for the night and we’ll continue tomorrow,” you reply, not noticing that Kíli looks at you talking to the dog until the dog barks again before leaving. “So, ask him what he dreamt about yesterday night, you will know!”

The dog finally runs away, leaving you and Kíli alone walking to Beorn’s house. He stays silent, hoping you would explain what happened. Yet, you surprise him so much by asking him what his dream was last night that he can’t help but blush and lose his words. His eyes suddenly open wide and he even takes a step back. He was far from imagining that you would ask that question and you clearly understand it when he quickly wishes you a good night before leaving you alone in the entrance.

You stay a while thinking about what happened until you choose to go to sleep, hoping the dog will be talkative tomorrow.

Bilbo

Talking to animals is so great. In exchange for information or services, they can tell you a lot of things, especially where the best fruits or nuts are. You’re clearly never hungry.

And it didn't escape the hobbit's notice! Bombur or some others saw it too, but they are still too suspicious about you to speak to you. So one afternoon, usually at tea time, Bilbo approaches you on his pony and asks you where you find your apple. You’re happy someone other than Gandalf talks to you, so you gladly tell him and give one from your bag.

That’s how you started your friendship with Mr Baggins. You even call him “Bilbo” now. But you never dared tell him your capacity. He'd think you were crazy, wouldn't he?

Bilbo knows you hide something from him, but everyone has their secrets, so he never asks you how you find those fruits and nuts. It’s only in Mirkwood that he discovers your ability.

Mirkwood, as everyone else, turns your head and you have trouble staying focused. It’s only when the spiders attack that you notice you aren’t with the company but you can still hear them shouting in the distance. A giant spider finds you, then another. It’s clearly impossible to flee, so let’s try talking?

Well. You try the same technique that Bilbo used with the trolls, but they are more intelligent than them. “It’s the first time a meal can understand us. It’s amusing, don’t you think?” one says to the other. “You’re right, let’s enjoy it a little longer.”

They talk to you until you don’t hear anything but them. No dwarves’ shouting anymore. Some other spiders join their friends and now, you’re in the middle of a circle of so many giant spiders that you’re ready to faint. You continue to speak, hoping the elves will be here any minute.

But to your surprise, you hear one of the spiders cries and falls, then another. But you don’t see any elf.

Then Bilbo appears, provokes the spiders, runs far away before disappearing again. All the spiders run in his direction, leaving you alone. You take advantage of it to free the dwarves and then, the elves finally find you like they should have.

After the elves’ dungeons and the escape, it’s only on the freezing Bard’s boat that you can speak again with Bilbo. You sit next to him, wrapping yourself to keep you warm. “I haven't had time to thank you for the spiders yet…” you say, knowing he saw you talk to them. “They seemed to enjoy chatting with you,” he chuckles.

“I prefer to chat with you,” you say, closing your eyes and letting your head fall on his shoulders. Some dwarves smile but remain silent. You can’t see it but Bilbo’s face has never been so warm despite the cold of the lake.

#the hobbit fanfic #thorin x reader #fili x reader #kili x reader #bilbo x reader #the hobbit imagine

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thesecretwriter · 1 year

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my king, my love - thorin oakenshield

pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x female reader

warnings: angst – a fight with thorin, fluff – sweet moments from thorin & smut – in a library, minors dni.

summary: in which y/n and thorin are courting each other, and though they live in the same kingdom, they have never felt more apart.

word count: 2.2k

a/n: as promised, here is the thorin oakenshield fic. I will forever be a thorin Oakenshield loving girl.

minors/ageless blogs dni.

masterlists

“All I’m asking for is some time with you. I barely see you anymore,” you express sadly.

Thorin is aware of his absence from your side, and while he wishes he could spend every waking moment with you, the kingdom requires his attention too.

“The kingdom is thriving under you rule. Since the war of the five armies you have not rested,” you say frustrated.

“Amrâlimê… please,” he pleads with you to understand.

You have been nothing but understanding to Thorin. He needed to put himself first.

“King Thorin, you’re needed for a discussion regarding the trade,” one of the kingdoms advisers said interrupting you and Thorin.

You look away in defeat, you knew he would go to the discussion regardless.

He stepped toward you, but you retreated.

“You should go,”

He can hear the defeat behind your words.

With one last look to you, he followed the dwarf.

“I thought after the war things would be better,” you tell Bofur as you help him in the kitchen.

“His just doing what he believes is right,” Bofur tries to reason.

“Hasn’t he been doing that since the beginning?” you ask sadly.

Bofur smiles at you sadly.

“I think we should bake a cake,” Bofur suggested, he was trying to make you feel better and knew your love of sweet treats.

“That’s a good idea,” you smiled at him and began to take out what you needed for baking.

“Just a little taste,” Thorin heard Kili’s voice echoed through the halls.

“You better not, I will wack you with this spoon,” he heard you threaten.

Growing curious at the commotion, he followed the source of the noise and came to the sight of you trying to pry Kili away from your mixing bowl.

“Hello uncle,” Kili greeted.

You grew tense at his words and took that as your chance to continue mixing.

“What’s happening here?” his question was directed at you, but Kili answered.

“Our dearest y/n here is baking. She refuses for me to have a taste of the batter,” Kili complains.

“You better stop worrying her before she really does wack you laddie,” Bofur chuckles as Kili swipes his finger into the batter.

You gasp and hit him upside the head.

“Ow,” he rubs his head but enjoys eating the batter.

Your eyes finally meet Thorin’s eyes which hold longing in them.

“Your majesty,” you greet him by bowing your head.

Everyone in the kitchen freezes.

Not once have you ever addressed Thorin as that, he always made it known that you were his equal.

“Everyone out now,”

Everyone exits immediately. Just as you’re about to do the same, Thorin’s grip on your arm stops you.

“Not you amrâlimê,”

When he knows the other dwarves are out of ear shot, he turns you towards him and settles his hands on your waist, pulling you to him.

“You know I see you as my equal,” he murmured and moved a few stray strands away from your face.

“I’m addressing you as what you are, our king,” you say with no emotion.

“Please don’t say it like that,” he says sadly.

“Like what?” you say sharply.

“Like that is all I am to you,” he shouts.

“Isn’t that what you are?” you ask stubbornly.

He signs tiredly.

“To everyone else, yes, but to you I am Thorin,” he leaned in and settled his forehead to yours.

You don’t say anything else to him. He finds comfort in the silence and having you close to him.

“I miss you,” you whisper.

“I’m right here,” he insists pulling away.

“Yes, but you’re not here,” you take his hand and settled it on your heart.

His own heart skips a beat.

“What are you saying?” he asked scared of what you might answer.

“It feels as though I am not bound to you, as though you’re not my other half,” your words break with a sob.

Only then did he realise that you were crying.

“I am and always will be yours,” he assures you.

You can’t take the overwhelming of emotions you are feeling, so you step away from Thorin for some space.

“My heart has belonged to you since the beginning,” he says further.

“No Thorin. Your heart belongs to the kingdom, and maybe I’m being selfish in saying this, but I have not felt your love as of late,”

Thorin is rendered speechless by your words.

You knew your words hurt him, but this all you’ve been feeling lately and Thorin needed to know if before it escalated to mahal knows that.

“I need to go. Excuse me,” you say wiping your tear and walking out of the kitchen.

Thorin stood there and knew what he needed to do.

It had been 3 days since you had been avoiding Thorin. You exited any room he stepped foot in and even used others as an excuse to avoid interacting with him.

“I never knew the kingdom had a library,” you say to Balin as he guided you through the old hallways.

“The library has not been used since the time Thorin’s grandfathers ruled,” the door to the library had an emblem of ancient Dwarfish words.

“I’ll let you explore it las,” Balin said respectfully bowing his head.

You thanked him as your ran your hand over the door.

Just by the sight of it, you knew it was made by non-other than the dwarves themselves. You had seen Thorin make many objects with the skills he attained.

You unconsciously reach for the courting bead occupying a braid in your hair. The very same one that Thorin made just for you.

With a sigh, you push the doors of the library open. It was dimly lit inside, but not enough for you to not be able to see.

The smell of vanilla surrounded you, the scent being your favourite.

You walk into the library and take in the sight of the shelves occupied with books that tell the many tales and history of dwarves, elves, men, and creatures alike.

As you linger along the bookshelves, the sound of shuffling captures your attention. You reached for the satchel around your waist and grab your dagger.

“Who is there?” you ask cautiously making your way toward the noise.

You hear the noise again. “Show yourself,” you demand.

Coming out with his hands raised in surrender is Thorin.

He is dressed in clothing he once wore in the blue mountain, not the royal attire that you found him in as of late.

You put your dagger away.

“Why didn’t you say it was you?” you ask annoyed.

“I wasn’t sure if you would want to be in my company,” he answers.

You gawk at him.

Is he serious?

That is the opposite of what you wanted.

“That is the last thing I would do,” you say and walk toward him.

You knew you couldn’t avoid him forever, in fact you had only been avoiding him to gain a clear thought process from the events of the days before.

He smiles in appreciation when you stand in front of him.

“What do you think of my attire?” he asked with a raise of a brow.

“Very handsome,” you reply in the same tone as his.

“I thought you would be busy,” you say to him curiously.

“It was about time Fili got some guidance in ruling the kingdom,” he casually states as he held his arm for you to take.

You loop in your arm in his and look to him questionably.

“I take it was no coincidence that Balin showed me the library then?” you ask.

“No. I asked him to bring you here. I know you find solace amongst books,” he answered and led you further into the library.

You walk past bookshelves and come in sight of a couch fitted for two, beside it a table with a candle and a few books.

“I thought it would be fitting for me to show you some of my favourite books,”

He motions toward the couch for you to sit, he takes a book from the table before joining you.

You watched him in awe as he flips through the pages.

He can feel your eyes on him but does his best to avoid making eye contact with you.

“This a story my mother would read me when I was little. Its about two dwarves who were in love but couldn’t be together due to their families’ differences,” he tells you.

You look down to the book and see that it has illustrations of the story. You run your fingers up and down the page, Thorin intwines his fingers with yours.

“Amrâlimê. Since the day my mother first read me this story, I made a promise to forever love the dwarf I would one day come to love,” he said finally meeting your eyes.

“Thorin-“ you’re cut off by Thorin.

“No. I need to say this,” he insists.

“I haven’t been true to my promise, and in the few days without you, it made me realise how easily I could lose my love,”

You shake your head at his words.

“Thorin, no matter the distance between us, I could never stop loving you. All I wanted was for you to take care of yourself,” you explain.

“I understand, but that does not take away from the fact that I have indeed been neglectful to you,” he leans forward, and you feel the tip of his nose touch yours.

You stare into his eyes, and they speak more words than you could ever verbally express.

He connects his lips to yours and pulls you impossibly closer to you.

You moan into the kiss when he makes you straddle him.

“‘miss you,” he murmurs against your lips.

“‘m right here,” you reply.

You pour all your emotions into the kiss, making sure Thorin is aware of just how much he means to you.

He hands roam your clothed body. When he goes to trail kisses down your neck, you come to your senses.

“Thorin, what if someone walks in,”

“They don’t know we’re here,” he states and goes to undo the lace at the back of your dress.

You could feel him harden beneath you.

“Been to long,” his words were becoming slurred on lust and love.

He easily undid the top of your dress and took time appreciating your breasts. You moan at the feeling of him teasing you.

He looks up at you in awe, never had he been so in love.

“I love you,” he says as he pulls back to look at you more.

“And I you,” you state.

He wraps an arm around your waist and moves so that he is above you and you lay beneath him. Your legs are secure around his waist.

“You’re addicting amrâlimê,” he lays kisses as he rids you of your skirt.

He takes the time to admire your beauty. Your chest rises from arousal and your lips are parted, craving to has his lips on yours.

He does quick work of taking off his own shirt and pants, the be as bare as you are.

“My love,” you announce as you reach for him. He smirks at your words and feels his pride rise.

You feel his cock brushing against your thigh and reach between the two of you to take hold of it, he hisses in reaction.

“Y/n,” he warns.

You rub the tip of his cock to your wet folds, coating his cock and make him moan in pleasure.

“Need to feel you,” he groans.

You align his cock with your entrance and move your hips forward, indicating for him to move as well. Thorin does not waste a moment. He puts all his body weight on you and fills you to the brim.

He swears in khuzdul under his breath, but does not hesitate to rock his hip forward, not leaving space between the two of you.

You are all but moaning in his ear and letting his know just how good he is making you feel.

“Thorin,” you plead.

“I know amrâlimê. I know,” he acknowledges your pouted lips and knitted brows.

He buries his head in your neck and inhales your scent, feeling himself becoming intoxicated by you.

He knows you are close when he feels your nails scratching down his back.

“Yes amrâlimê, mark me as yours,” he encourages.

His words tip you over the edge, and your tightness makes him meet his moment. He kisses you through his orgasm and moans into your mouth.

All that can be heard in the quiet library is the sound of both of your laboured breathing.

“I want to marry you,” he murmurs against your lips.

“Isn’t that the purpose of courting?” you ask with a chuckle.

He takes his cloak to cover the both of you as you cuddle on the couch. You cuddle into his check as his arms hold you close to him.

“I want there to be a wedding, soon,” he explains.

You peer at him in disbelief.

“You mean…”

“Yes, I mean that we should begin planning our wedding right away,” he chuckles at your expression.

“You mean it?” you ask.

“With every beat of my heart. I want to make you my queen.” He admits.

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wordbunch · 1 year

Text

LOTR/TH characters with an extroverted partner

a/n: guess who’s written something again!!! can you believe it? I hope to get back into writing a bit more 😁 thank you @goingtoladyworld for requesting this, it was a great idea and I enjoyed writing it 😘 if you like it, let me know, and consider reblogging so others can potentially see it too 💛

INCLUDES: Elrond (whichever version you want to imagine, will be fine), Aragorn, Thorin, Legolas, Haldir

ELROND

is absolutely in love with your energy

admires how you carry yourself in social settings and how you can have a friendly conversation with basically anyone

sometimes he’s too overworked and tends to forget someone’s name or some basic information about them - then he always looks to you for help and appreciates it so much when you remind him of things like that

doesn’t at all mind being “in your shadow” in large groups, actually he enjoys the fact that you’re outgoing and everybody knows you and he can just be there with you

gets the tiniest bit jealous (or insecure-ish) when he sees how much people gravitate towards you and your shimmering energy, but he would never ever want you to change that about yourself

🎊

ARAGORN

actually it’s very convenient that an introverted KING has an extroverted partner to lean onto during royal functions or balls or such

he’s very dignified and he says what needs to be said, but someone has to take it up a notch, spice it up, and it’s going to be YOU

if he is stuck in an awkward conversation or someone is annoying him needlessly, he will give you a “help me” kind of look

it almost makes you laugh because there’s this royal manly man who looks at you like a lost puppy, but of course you’re going to cut in and save his introverted ass

in case you ever feel a bit insecure about your personality or think that you’re “too much”, he will immediately reassure you with the kindest words and a decent amount of kisses

🎊

THORIN

in case you ever start to feel insecure and think that you’re being too loud, too much or anything like that, he will reassure you instantly and tell you how perfect you are to him + include a decent number of kisses, just in case

he will side eye anyone who comes up to him with something that he deems stupid or unnecessary… except for you

everyone is in awe of how your very presence makes him change his demeanor

many times he will complain and grunt about not wanting to go somewhere people-y (because he knows that many will want his attention), but as long as you’re there, he will survive

he literally refuses to go to any kind of social occasion without you (you are sunshine he is midnight rain)

if his words toward someone are harsh, you will expertly jump in and soften the blow and just quickly look at him with slight disapproval

🎊

LEGOLAS

he doesn’t overtly admit it, but he’s impressed by how you carry yourself and give your time and attention kindly to others, he considers it a valuable skill and is very thankful to have such a person as his partner to strike a balance

I don’t actually consider him that much of an introvert, he’s just… himself and a bit odd

he can go off on a tangent about something that randomly crosses his mind and then you have to be the one to save the situation, and rescue whoever is the poor soul that ended up listening to the elf’s poetic monologues

he doesn’t dislike socializing, but you’re the one who pushes for it more, and he’s very rarely going to refuse

you love to dance and he needs time to get comfortable enough to dance with you in front of others, and then he will absolutely not take his eyes off of you - you keep him grounded

🎊

HALDIR

when you’re feeling like being a tease, you enjoy making him only slightly flustered in front of others, whether it be through some comment you whisper to him, or through physical affection - he is more reserved in public and you respect that, but sometimes it’s just a little fun to make the tips of his ears go red

bestie he is SUFFERING in social situations

nearly a death grip on your arm half the time

you find it slightly amusing how mortified this elf gets if he needs to make a speech or confront somebody

he can’t believe how someone could ever be extroverted but, goodness, does he appreciate the way that you are!

will try to find any excuse to avoid socializing with people he doesn’t know well

breathes an absolute sigh of relief when you pick up a conversation that grew awkward because he was giving short, seemingly disinterested answers

in private, you will lovingly make fun of him for all of that, but you two complement each other nicely

🎊

✨ taglist my beloved ✨ @lotrnonsense @lazymeriadoc @starlady66 @entishramblings @thesolarangel @silversword7000 @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @averys-place @valkyriepirate @i-killed-ramsey @emmaarenstarr @noldorinpainter @asianbutnotjapanese @adamgetawaydriver @fenharel-enaste @ironmandeficiency

#elrond x reader #aragorn x reader #thorin x reader #haldir x reader #legolas x reader #lotr fanfic #lotr imagine #lotr headcanons #lotr x reader #lord of the rings #lord of the rings headcanons #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit headcanons #the hobbit #thorin oakenshield #the hobbit x reader #from my pocketses

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undreaming-fanfiction · 3 months

Text

(likely a modern AU so the timeline fits)

Eddie feels so very, very torn about the Hobbit movies. He loves the music and hums "the Misty Mountains Cold" before he can catch himself, but he not very silently screams about all the crap that was added for no reason and, the bad CGI? A travesty, your honor! He glares at the screen when Legolas appears and utters "where the fuck did you come from?", he loves the casting choice for Bilbo but absolutely roasts the idiotic way that the screenwriters butchered Bilbo's relationship with the dwarves and the way it evolved.

But the thing he never forgives those movies for is that unbelievably idiotic love triangle and the way it made others tear up when Eddie's soul temporarily left his body to punch Peter Jackson. Because it DOES. NOT. MAKE. SENSE. There was no development. The flirting was bad, trust him, he knows what good flirting looks like and this ain't it. Eddie hates it with passion, especially the scene that overshadows the incredibly powerful one with Thorin's death. He is PISSED. The scene is so so SO lazy and Thrandúil did not deserve this disrespect. Shit, even the weird added ginger elf Tauriel did not deserve it. Yes, we're talking this scene:

Eddie mocks the shit out of this. He gobbles up all the memes and there is a 50/50 chance in the months after he saw the fateful scene that his contempt for it would bubble up.

"Hey Eddie," asks Steve whe he sees Eddie between moving boxes when they finally find an apartment together . "Why aren't you packing?"

And Eddie, instead of saying "I'm taking a break," clutches his chest and chokes out, "because it was real, Steve!"

When Eddie goes to buy groceries and Steve unpacks them, he notices that Eddie bought two bags of potatoes instead of one. "Why did you get two?" he asks.

Eddie rummages through his pockets and produces the receipt. "Because the discount was real!" he says with a mock sob and points at the potatoes being 30% off.

And Steve is a patient man, he really is, but when Eddie tells him that the claws were real as a response to his question why is Eddie all scratched from their cat and refuses to elaborate, he threatens that if it doesn't stop being real, he's going to get a set of the Hobbit movie posters for his side of the bedroom and proudly display them.

Eddie bitches, moans, threatens, but eventually he moves past the idiotic love triangle.

When they lie together, falling asleep, Eddie mutters into Steve's neck "I can't believe that stupid threat worked on me. Why would you even thing about something like that?"

Steve turns to him with a deadpan expression and says:

"Because it was real."

#steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #steddie drabble #stranger things drabble #steddie watches hobbit #one half of steddie hates certain parts of hobbit

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conkers-thecosy · 5 months

Text

Bad Blood by Conkers

“Would it be an imposition to ask your assistance, Master Baggins?”

Bilbo started at the question, his face already flushed from the turn of his previous thoughts now feeling quite hot. His head snapped up to find Thorin watching him, his expression unreadable as he held the comb out in silent offering.

“You want me… to…?” Bilbo carefully licked his lips, frowning hard as he tried to figure out if there was some way he could be misunderstanding the request.

“I cannot see what I’m doing, and I fear my efforts are only making matters worse,” Thorin clarified, then withdrew the comb a little, looking uncharacteristically unsure of himself. “If you would prefer not to, of course, I wouldn’t insist.”

“No!” Bilbo stepped forward and took up the comb, shaking his head vigorously. He realised it was far too strong a protestation, and felt his face burn even hotter as he refused to meet Thorin’s eye. “I only know it’s a… private thing, I suppose, for you lot. I’m a hobbit, of course, and we groom each other quite casually, so it’s not got the same meaning, you see. I’m only surprised that you asked.”

“You’re right, it is a personal matter for dwarves,” Thorin conceded, sitting himself down on the floor so Bilbo could reach, missing the way the hobbit rolled his eyes at him for not simply using a chair. “Grooming, as you call it -especially hair- is something reserved between only the very nearest and dearest.”

“Then I’m sorry you only have me here now,” Bilbo bit his lip, his hands and the comb hovering uncertainly around Thorin’s locks, unsure where to start. “I’m sure any of the others would have been more preferable to you.”

Suddenly the dwarf turned, taking up Bilbo’s small wrist in his large, warm hand, and their eyes met. That strange, fierce emotion was back in those blue eyes, and Bilbo felt completely arrested by the sight so close to him.

“Don’t say so,” Thorin told him, his deep voice gentle. “I would not have asked if I did not wish you to do it.”

#bagginshield #the hobbit #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield #conkers-theficwriter #thilbo #bad blood fic #this is an old fic but I suddenly realised I hadn't made a proper post for it except for the initial text/snippet #many thanks to dinobeech for the graphic!

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heliads · 11 months

Note

LISA YOU DID NOT GIVE ME TIME TO PREPARE FOR THIS!!! However, I already had a few ideas in mind for the next time you opened requests, so:

May I pretty please request a Thorin Oakenshield + gender-neutral reader where the reader is a fairy who comes along on the journey to Erabor because Gandalf thought they needed another magic-user? Reader is a very sweet sunshine who gets along great with all the other party members, but because Thorin doesn’t trust fairies the same way he doesn’t trust elves (because they didn’t assist the dwarves after Erabor fell the first time) he refuses to let them get close to him. However, he does start to get closer to them and develop feelings for them as time goes on, but after the Battle of the Five Armies (where everyone lives, obviously) they can’t find the reader for a while and Thorin is terrified they might be dead. And when they finally find them relatively unharmed Thorin freaks out and confesses his love because he doesn’t want to lose them, and then there’s a very nice fluffy ending??

Of course, if you don’t want to write this, that’s totally cool!! Thanks and I hope you’re doing well!! <3 <3

YESSSS i am ascending to a higher plane thank you for this SUBLIME request

masterlist

The water is wide, the mountains high; no journey worth taking was ever meant to be easy, so you may assume from the first few treacherous days of your travels towards the Lonely Mountain that this quest of yours will be quite worthy indeed. It is not in your nature to spend much time musing on the unhappiness of a time, only to find its merits, but, well, there are far more sources of unhappiness than happiness on this particular journey.

It would not be too much of a leap for even your optimism to be brought down a notch or two, to say the least. Already, your smiles are lacking a little at the seams; your jokes, not among your finest work. Patience is stretched thin amongst the company, and the shadow of Erebor is no closer to the tips of your boots than the Shire far behind you.

The Shire was not your home, though, only the starting point. The last member of the company was Bilbo Baggins, your burglar, and he took quite a bit of convincing before he was willing to set a single foot beyond the familiar confines of his home. You’re not sure he was wrong to question the idea of the quest, though, nor if he regrets it already or not. Danger dogs your heels like a bloodhound, plus the rest of the company is nothing like any of the hobbits Bilbo has ever met.

Bilbo Baggins would not be the only one confused by his company, however. As a faerie, you’ve had the opportunity to travel far past the bounds of your city, to meet characters both kind and cruel. The Fae cluster in settlements like elves, but they disperse themselves to the winds, too. Most of you end up tossed to the whims of Fate soon enough, anyway. This was your chance to get to know the world you inhabit, and it appears you’ll get far more of a tasting of it than you ever expected.

It’s not terrible. That should go without saying. You are not unhappy that you are here, nor bitter that you signed the contract to join the company of Thorin Oakenshield when you could have stayed at home to rot. It is a good cause, this, and it will bring you both glory and treasure, should you want it.

The biggest problem, if you were going to be completely honest with yourself, would be that dwarf tasked with managing all of you, Thorin. You get along splendidly with all of the other dwarves, and Gandalf has been a friend of yours ever since you wowed him with a particularly ingenious magic trick when you were small, but for some reason you have never been able to win over Thorin himself.

That is not for lack of trying, not in the slightest. Gandalf was the one who requested that you join the company, certain that having another magic user on their side would not be the worst thing in the world as you passed through dangerous territory and had to take on a dragon later on. You showed up to meet the company with the best and purest of intentions, but Thorin seemed unable to accept the fact that you really wanted to help.

In truth, you don’t think he wanted to accept it. Thorin is displeased with the faeries the same way he’ll never forgive the elves, for the same reasons he’ll glare icily at humans. When Thorin’s kin fell along with Erebor, the faeries didn’t help. Thorin begged for aid, but the faeries did not respond. You’ll never fully know why, nor were you personally responsible for the betrayal, but that does not stop Thorin from treating as if you were the linchpin keeping support from his people.

It doesn’t matter, though. It doesn’t have to matter. Thorin’s personal feelings are not why you signed onto this quest. You joined because an old friend asked, and because the idea of helping to liberate the dwarves’ homeland from a dragon seemed like a good thing to do and a fascinating way to pass the time. Faeries don’t take things seriously. They never have.

So, you let your caution with Thorin fly away from you on an eagle’s strong wings, and you throw yourself into helping whenever you can. Gandalf is pulled away from the company soon enough for a myriad of causes, and even Thorin can admit that your magical skills come in handy soon enough. You save all of their lives dozens of times over, and you find real friendship in the company while you’re at it. Nothing a little optimism can’t handle.

Some of the nights get long, though, and the warmth of a covert campfire can only keep your tired frame from shivering for so many hours. They say the bones of the Fae are hewn from diamonds, your blood, the eternal nectar of the gods, but at this moment, you want only the mysticism and riches of a good meal and clothes that actually protect you against the chill. The mountains only get colder as you travel through them, and you don’t think you’ll be able to shake the prick of gooseflesh for decades if not centuries.

You’re on watch at the moment, scanning the dark horizon around you for monsters or orcs while the rest of the company rests. You’ll have another hour or two before you have to wake the next guardian– Bilbo, actually, who’s still snoring with the rest– so you should have plenty of time to yourself until then.

You should, at least. You don’t, because someone here is still awake. You had cast a spell on yourself to amplify sound and sight at the start of your watch so you could spot intruders that much more quickly, which is why you’re aware of one heartbeat other than your own that isn’t in the lull of sleep. When you tilt your head to the side just enough, you can make out someone staring in your peripheral vision.

Thorin. Who else? At first, you feel a rush of indignation bubble through your veins. There’s no reason for him to be awake on a night like this. Everyone is exhausted from weeks of hard travel, but he’s forced himself to forgo rest so he can make sure you are actually doing your job. After all this time, he still doesn’t trust you to do watch properly. It’s infuriating.

Sick of pretending like you don’t notice, you turn abruptly to stare him dead in the eyes. You expect Thorin to do something: address you, maybe, or do something to acknowledge that he’s been caught, but instead he just holds your gaze coolly for a moment longer before turning on his other side. Half an hour later, he’s asleep.

Heroes. You’ll never understand them. The Fae are not the stuff of legends; your people prefer to linger in shadows and sunlight both, existing for themselves and for the glory of magic. Heroes, quest-leaders, warriors, they were never someone you grew up with. They have different motives, ones you don’t understand. They think they need to watch your back just because it’s the right thing to do. It confuses you, makes you believe things that might not be true. You don’t need someone like Thorin messing with your head right now, but he seems perfectly content to do it anyway.

The rest of the night passes without issue. You finish your watch shift without anything impactful, and rouse a deeply annoyed Bilbo to take over after you. Thorin doesn’t trouble you again, and indeed, the next day he seems perfectly content to act as if nothing had ever happened.

No self-respecting faerie would ever let themselves drop a grudge, though, so you manufacture a way of bringing it up before long. The company disperses in a long line, the slower ones trailing behind while Thorin keeps up the charge at the front. You make your way up to him, waiting until everyone else behind you is sufficiently far away so as to not hear a word of the inevitable quarrel, then cast Thorin one sidelong glance.

“Would you like to tell me why you’ve been watching me?”

Thorin actually stumbles while he’s walking, but manages to right himself just in time. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

You weren’t expecting him to outright deny it. This past night hasn’t been the only time you’ve caught his eyes on you. It has happened from the very start of the quest, actually. At first, his gaze was pinned to you like a wanted poster, full of judgment and suspicion. Recently, the hostility has gone down, but that doesn’t make him any less willing to look away. His gaze chases your heels as you clamber over rocks, lingers on your fingers as you fight. All this, and he still wants to act as if nothing has happened.

You scoff. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Let’s discuss last night, then. You keep staying awake during my watch. Why? Do you really trust me that little?”

Thorin shakes his head, keeping his gaze firmly trained on the horizon. “I do trust you.”

This does actually come as a surprise. He hasn’t been able to admit it aloud, likely because that would contradict his whole idea that faeries are selfish creatures who left his people to die in the fall of Erebor, but apparently he’s made an exception for you.

“Then why not let me conduct my watch in peace?” You pry.

Thorin jerks a shoulder up and down once, a taut and tense version of a shrug. “I don’t want any lapse in judgment to injure the people I care about.”

You feel your relatively good mood drop. Thorin lashes out often, most frequently when he’s sure he’s only leading his company towards their imminent destruction, so you shouldn’t take it personally. Kind of hard not to, though.

“So you think I’m blind to attackers and I’ll get everyone killed, is that what you’re saying?”

“No, I’m just worried that there are things out there worse than one of your spells,” Thorin argues, but he doesn’t sound too convincing anymore.

You shove your hands into the pockets on your coat. “You know, I just don’t get it. If you’re this opposed to faeries, why did you ever let Gandalf convince you to let me join your company?”

“I didn’t want to at the start,” Thorin begrudgingly admits, “but that was at the start, like I said. Things are different now.” He pauses, voice heavy with secrets as of yet left unsaid, then adds, “We’re different.”

You think this might be the most honest thing he’s ever shared with you. It makes you feel– a lot, actually. It makes you feel things you have not considered until now. Thorin does trust you and he does have reasons he wants to keep you around. In fact, he might even be counting you among the people he cares about and wants to protect.

You don’t have much time to think about it, not on the road and not even after you reach Erebor and immediately have to contend with an infuriated dragon. Thorin shows you the place after you have a moment of relative peace, pointing out the details his ancestors built into a home that has not been his in quite some time. It is as if he wants you to remember all of it. It is as if he wants it to be yours as well.

Peace does not last forever, it never does. One day, you’re exploring every room and corridor of Thorin’s home beneath the Lonely Mountain, the next, you’re watching army after army pour over the surrounding hills. No one likes power when it isn’t theirs. The thought that Thorin might finally have claim to his ancestral land wasn’t well favored by anyone in the vicinity, apparently.

That only means that you’ll have to fight twice as hard to keep Erebor in the hands of your friends. Even when the elves ride up to your doorstep with the humans, even when the orcs arrive out of nowhere, you stay and fight. Always. That’s what you do for the people you care about.

Thorin had asked once if you were going to leave. He’d posed the question slowly, hesitantly, eyes on any other object in the room except you, but you’d still had the perfect view of the relief on his face when you told him you would stay until it was done. There was still an open question of what you would do when it was over, but surviving a battle of this magnitude was the first crisis to deal with. Anything else could happen later, once everyone made it through alive.

That alone seemed like an impossible task, and by all accounts, it should have been. Never before in your life have you cast so many spells of such strength, saving the lives of your friends and ending those of your enemies all in turn. When it is over, you are covered in blood and ash, utterly exhausted, and injured, but your heart beats, at least, and that is enough.

You were separated from the rest of Thorin’s company during the progress of the battle, drawn out to find the best vantage point from which you could cast your spells. At first, you were going for long distance attacks, lobbing fireballs and extensive charges from a crumbling rooftop, but orcs quickly descended upon you and you were forced to resort to closer quarter magic instead.

Perhaps that is why they thought you were dead. When they could no longer see your spells from across the battlefield, there was no way to tell for sure if you were still alive. You were far away from them, fighting off the last of the enemy, and you didn’t find them for a while.

More specifically, they didn’t find you for a while. Later, you hear that Thorin had been in a sort of frantic haze, going over every rock and stone in his path in an all consuming quest to find you. You weren’t with Fili and Kili, who were immediately folded into the search party, nor were you alongside the other dwarfs. Bard had not seen you. Neither had some of the elves. By all accounts, you were gone. Vanished from sight.

That was the one thing Thorin wanted to hear the least. A body is something you can handle, a final decision. If he could not see you, he assumed you were either dead or about to be, and only his actions could save you. He would run himself ragged trying to find you and stop your death before it happened. He would have forced all the orcs in the land back to the fiery hellhole they came from, fought every monster and defeated every enemy, if it would have stopped a sword from piercing your heart.

And so, when he finally stumbled over a rocky outcropping and saw you calmly casting a spell of healing on one of his cousin’s soldiers. You had turned upon hearing him approach, and the last of Thorin’s terrors left him in one fell swoop. You were alright. He was alright. Everything, although damaged and broken and wholly consumed with ash and blood, would somehow end up okay.

Not much was said. Both of you lacked the words. Too many friends had been lost, not enough saved. Erebor would be protected, though. You swore that oath at the start, back when you joined the company for the first time, and you promise it again now. The Fae will have to wait a little longer to welcome you back. You would like to stick around a for a while.

requested by @starlit-epiphany, i hope you enjoy!

tolkien taglist: @rogueanschel, @retvenkos, @gods-fools-heroes, @crazyhearttragedy

#thorin oakenshield #thorin oakenshield imagines #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin oakenshield oneshot #the hobbit #the hobbit imagines #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit oneshot #tolkien #tolkien imagines #tolkien oneshot #the hobbit thorin #the hobbit thorin imagines #the hobbit thorin x reader #the hobbit thorin oneshot #thorin #thorin imagines #thorin x reader #thorin oneshot

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ravensliterature · 2 years

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Poisoned Arrow

A/N: I know it’s been a minute and I am sorry. I really had a blast writing this one and I hope you like it!

Part II

pairing: Thranduil x Reader

warnings: Mentions of blood, poison, fluff,

w/c: 1924 (Yeah she is a little long)

Prompt: The reader is Thranduil’s wife and a part of the company. While leaving through the barrels without her husband’s knowledge she get’s hit by the poison arrow. Thranduil is trying to save his wife before it is too late.

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She had been shot. His queen had been hit with an arrow. Thranduil could see her falling from the sky, slowly descending through the fading blue and bright stars of the last night. Her lights died as she fell to the ground with a yelp. The arrow had pierced her leg after she tried to open the gate. His heart seized tightly hearing her cries as he attempted to run to her side, cutting down any orc in his way. However, he didn't make it in time, as she had jumped into a barrel following her father down the river.

Y/N was the daughter of Thorin, but her heritage was elven. When young, Thorin found an elf girl and raised her while living in Erebor. She grew into a beautiful woman and was betrothed to Thranduil for the alliance at a young age by King Thrór. However, when the dragon attacked, it was all put on pause, and Thorin and his family fled to the Blue Mountains.

Thranduil would not give up on her as he fell in love with her the moment he laid eyes on her at their announced betrothal. He journeyed himself to find his distant love until seeing her again in the Blue Mountains. He never imagined he’d ever have another chance to meet his beloved again, but when he did... everything changed. Thranduil asked her to marry him again, hoping he wasn't alone in his feelings. Apparently, she had loved him as well and agreed, but things weren't how they should be. Thorin's hatred for elves had increased and never approved of the betrothal.

The argument with Thorin and Y/N spiraled until she left with Thranduil without saying goodbye. A year later, the wedding came around, and Thorin refused to see his daughter marry that elf. He insisted she live in the Blue Mountains, a place far away where dangers were less likely to come and away from elf-kind. Shortly, Legolas was born and grew into a handsome man. Their lives were peaceful until years later when Gandalf knocked on their door.

Gandalf told her that he was building a company in the hopes of reclaiming her childhood home. It had been decided that Y/N would join the company and take part in their quest. She wanted nothing more than to go back to Erebor, return her home, and connect with her father like she once had. So, she took her chance and left. Thranduil hated her putting herself in danger, but who was he to rob her of that connection she missed so dearly?

"Y/N!" Thorin yelled as he ran to his daughter's side.

Y/N's barrel washed up on shore as she used her upper body to crawl to more solid ground, trying not to put too much pressure on her leg.

"I'm here," she breathed as she looked up at Thorin. The dwarf prince scooped her into his arms, holding her close as if afraid someone was going to try something else. Worry and fear were etched over his face, and he saw the pain in his daughter's eyes.

"Oin," Thorin exclaimed, "Please look at the leg. The arrow is cut, but there still may be fragments inside."

The healer kneeled down next to Y/N, looking at her leg. His brow furrowed with concern before he turned back to his friend. "She should be fine, but we need to get her to a town with proper equipment. I'm concerned about it getting infected," he spoke softly. Thorin nodded, helping his daughter stand on her own two feet. She slowly began to walk until she found an arrow pointed at her head.

Thranduil glared the orc down as Legolas held a knife to its neck. He wanted to know what it was doing in his kingdom and why it dared to hurt his wife. It couldn't be allowed to live, but he needed to know.

"In time, all foul things come forth," he said as he circled the orc with a sword in his hand. Legolas continued to hold the blade to its neck, "You were tracking the company of thirteen dwarves and an elf. Why?"

Malice and distaste were in his voice, knowing his father's fears and what it had done to his mother. This thing was not a creature but a monster sent to destroy them. Its intentions are unknown for all to know. The orc cackled, "Not thirteen, not anymore. The elf, we stuck her with a Morgul shaft. The poisons in her blood. She'll be choking on it soon."

Legolas' grip tightened on the knife, causing it to tremble. He needed the orc dead, or he'd kill it himself. A threat against his parents' safety was enough to make him want to do it. Thranduil's breath left him in a gasp. As anger bubbled in his chest, he felt like he was trying to find air. His son's gaze remained on the orc. It knew exactly what it was talking about, the poison that poisoned the elf.

"You like killing this orc?" Thranduil said lowly, almost too calmly, "You like death? Then let me give it to you!" he yelled as he pulled out his swords. Legolas watched as his father charged toward the orc. Before he could blink, the blade made contact with the orc's skull. Blood poured from the wound, but instead of retreating, it rushed forward like a tidal wave. "Legolas, come with me. We must save your mother."

Y/N was breathing heavily as she leaned against the wall of Bard's house. Her father forced her to stay behind because of her leg. Of course, he was concerned for his daughter, but she felt robbed. She wished to help reclaim her home like the rest of the company. Her cousins, Fili, and Kili, opted to stay behind and help take care of her until she was ready to go to the mountain. Oin stayed behind as well, as did Bofur, but he just missed the boat.

However, the pain had gotten worse, and she could tell something was wrong. The leg wound wasn't healing as it should, and she could see the fear in Oin's eyes each time he examined it, even if he didn't tell her. Y/N was worried. The arrow hadn't hit anything vital, yet it could still become infected and kill her. She chuckled to herself softly. Maybe it was best she stayed at home after all.

Her breath was ragged, and her head was light. Her vision swayed slightly as she tried to stay upright, leaning against the wall. She was losing consciousness, but she knew that the battle was not over yet. The pain was becoming unbearable, and she closed her eyes, taking in a few deep breaths. Finally, her body gave way, and she collapsed. "Y/N!" the dwarves yelled as they helped her up. Y/N was writhing in pain as she felt the poison all over her body. She could feel the heat of the flames searing her flesh, and it felt like it was consuming her whole body.

"Put her on the table," Bard said in a frantic tone. They set her gently on the table as she continued to convulse.

"We need something to put her head on so she doesn't hit the table!" Oin shouted. The others quickly searched for anything that could possibly stop the venomous poison. They found only herbs that had been used long ago, and they were useless. The poison was spreading through her veins faster than anyone had realized, and it was eating away at her life. Oin examined the wound more closely. It had turned a black color, and it could be seen going through her veins. This wasn't a normal poison.

"I need kingsfoil! Where is it?" Oin exclaimed to Bard. The Fili, Kili, and Bofur looked around in confusion at the mention of a plant, but they didn't have any of it. Only Oin owned the plants. "Kingsfoil? It's a weed. We feed it to the pigs!" Bard replied in confusion. "Pigs, I got it!" was heard as Bofur zoomed out the door. Y/N struggled for air. Every breath hurt her throat as she coughed painfully. The poison in her body was beginning to eat away at her life. She was dying. That was the last thought that went through her mind before another wave of pain hit her.

Suddenly everything except for Y/N went quiet as footsteps could be heard on the roof. The roof broke, and a dark figure jumped down from above, landing right next to Bard's daughter and stabbing the orc in reaction. The young girl grabbed the orc and then fled as more fell through the ceiling. Fighting ensued as they tried to defend the girls and a table-ridden Y/N.

Thranduil and Legolas ran through the town of Dale in the hopes of finding Y/N and the dwarves. However, they stopped in their tracks when they saw orcs running on the ceilings above the water town. They both knew immediately where they were going. Thranduil ordered Legolas to stay behind while he went to search for his mother, "Stay safe my child, leave none alive."

With that being said, Thranduil continued to run at his pace faster than before. Thranduil continued to run until he heard fighting in one of the homes. With his guard up and weapons, he approached it in the hope that his wife was still alive. Upon approaching the door, he noticed the familiar scent of blood. His heart sunk in his chest, realizing she might be... He opened the door to find three orcs surrounding her, the dwarves, and the humans as they were struggling to defend themselves. One of the orcs was about to strike Y/N when Thranduil shot his bow, sending the arrow right into its skull. He then drew his sword, slashing at any orc in sight.Thranduil rushed to her side and caressed her cheek, hoping to see the spark of life in her eyes. "My darling Y/N, open your eyes," he whispered.She weakly shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Nin Meleth..." she murmured."Do not speak, my love," he said softly, brushing some hair away from her sweaty forehead.Just then, Bofur burst through the door, panting and holding a bunch of kingsfoil. Thranduil took the leaves from him and quickly began to prepare them. "She needs elvish medicine. If we don't heal her leg soon... She doesn't have much time left."Thranduil soaked the leaves and pressed them onto her wound, chanting an elvish incantation that sounded almost like a prayer. As he administered the treatment, he watched her face relax, the furrows in her brow smoothing out as the poison receded.Y/N looked up at him with those beautiful eyes that had always filled his heart with love. He could see the pain fading, and with it, the poison from her body. He bandaged the wound and held her hand, tears escaping his eyes as she smiled up at him. His heart swelled with joy as he leaned closer and kissed her. It was a kiss filled with relief, love, and the promise of healing."Father," came a soft voice, breaking the tender moment. Thranduil and Y/N turned to see Legolas standing at the doorway, a gentle smile on his face.Their foreheads rested together, and a small chuckle passed through Thranduil. "Oh, no. We've been caught by our own son."

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finnofamerica · 1 year

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Insatiable - Dwalin X Reader X Thorin | Smut

Summary: In an effort to break up the monotony of your and Dwalin's sex life, the two of you agree to bring in a third for a night. Who is better than Dwalin's best friend?

Word Count: 1,976

Date Posted: 05.28.2023

TW: AFAB Language used, threesome, double penetration, mentions of somnophilia, anal, spitroast, oral, bondage (cuffs), Blindfolds.

Note: This is a D/s fic. Remember that kink is customizable, and there is no right way to do it as long as you’re keeping safe. We play here by Safe, Sane, and Consensual, but there is also Risk Aware Consensual Kink and Personal Responsibility, Informed Consensual Kink. Don’t yuck anyone’s yum; I am willing to answer any questions that I can.

🔞MINORS DO NOT INTERACT🔞

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You were sure that everyone in Erebor knew of your husband’s appetite. His hunger was rivaled only by Bombur, though Dwalin worked it off in his battle training with the Kingsguard. When you were making the rounds with your deliveries, you loved to sit and watch all the handsome dwarves train. Your eyes always find their way back to your handsome husband. Though your absolute favorite days what Thorin and Dwalin’s “private” trainings, spectators including Thorin’s nephews and yourself. While you harbored no feelings for Thorin beyond the fondness of a good friend, you’d have to be blind not to be attracted to him. The two of them were often shirtless during their training sessions, and you had the opportunity to ogle the muscles on them both.

You knew your husband bragged about you to his friends. You’d have to be deaf not to hear it because the man was neither subtle nor discreet. You knew he’d brag about having a woman who bakes because “The sweeter she eats, the sweeter she tastes.” You didn’t mind this, though it caused women to look at you with envy and most of the men to do the same with Dwalin. His bragging had turned your cunt into some mystical rumor that you were sure would be passed down through the ages until the rumor became legend.

“Dwalin,” You rubbed the man’s shoulders after a long day of training. It was almost an act of worship the way that you knew he protected you. “I would like to try something different.”

“Different, how?”

“Well, husband, it’s not that I’m disappointed with our lovemaking, it’s just that I’ve come to know what to expect, and we keep repeating the same patterns. I just think it would be nice to switch it up every now and again.”

“Like adding another? I’ve seen the way that you eye Thorin during our training. I don’t think he’s enjoyed the love of a woman in many years, long before Smaug.” Dwalin suggested.

“You know I don’t feel for Thorin.”

“All the better. I won’t have to worry about his kingly ass stealing you from me. Would you like to invite Thorin in some time?”

From then on, Dwalin had his lips sealed. None of your efforts to coax the information out of him worked. He refused to tell you when Thorin would be joining your bedroom affairs. Nearly a full season had passed since the night you suggested bringing it up, and you worried that Dwalin had forgotten.

The chill of winter soaked deep into the mountain that hardly even the forge furnaces could fight. The well-crafted living quarters were nice and toasty, and their fireplaces were well-stocked with wood from Tranduil’s domain. The fires burnt with the smell of nutmeg and allspice, hailing in the holidays when families gathered and feasted on slow-roasted boar.

You dressed in one of your favorite outfits, heading down to the bakery where you worked alongside dwarven masters. They were initially unsure of a hobbit in their kitchens, but after a heaping batch of your lemon poppyseed scones, they changed their minds and welcomed you heartily. Given the holiday season, the kitchens were plenty busy preparing for the King’s Yuleblot ball. The bakers, the tailors, and all the chefs were quite busy preparing all the orders as Balin and Fili ran around making sure their shipments from across middle earth were in order.

When Bunty, the head baker, came in with a cupcake just for you, you realized it was your birthday. You’d been so busy that you’d forgotten. Dwalin had forgotten. He’d never forgotten your birthday in all the years you’d been together. Normally he’d wake you up with his tongue; this morning, you’d woken up alone.

Dejected and beaten by a long day of baking, you’d managed to drag yourself back to your and Dwalin’s shared living space. You swung the heavy door open; Dwalin stood there naked as the day he was born. His impressive cock hung heavy between his thighs.

“Dwalin!” You squealed, covering your eyes as your face heated. “Oh, stop this shying. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” Dwalin spun you around, landing a swift slap to your ass. He leaned down, relaxing you with his lips against your neck, kissing and biting along the way. “Strip and lay on the bed.”

You didn’t have to be told twice to obey your husband’s direction. It was your honor to serve him as long as he continued to spoil you with his loving caress. He treated you like you were his goddess, regularly bringing you gifts and telling anyone and every one of your beauty. Dwalin kissed every inch of your naked body as he locked you in cuffs expertly crafted just for you. A gift for your anniversary.

You’d always heard of dwarves’ insatiable appetite. You hadn’t expected their sexual appetite to be just as insatiable. You could almost swear that you’d been in this room for days, locked in these special dwarven cuffs lined with fur. Dwalin spent his sweet time driving your anticipation through the roof, teasing you relentlessly with all the tools in his arsenal.

You whined, arching your back as a warm tongue and cool breath licked along your pussy. The light grazes of his beard scratching delightfully against your thighs. One wide calloused palm pushed against your lower stomach, increasing the sensation of the fingers stroking inside of you. Your lover knew every inch of your body but still took his time exploring every nook and cranny.

A hand gently caressed your cheek, turning your face to the edge of the bed.

“Come on, Darling, open up,” Dwalin coaxed you, making it abundantly clear that it was not your husband eating you out. You let your mouth fall open with a light moan. The fact that Dawlin was sharing you was even hotter than when he’d mentioned wanting to try it one day.

The tip of his thick cock touched your lips, glossing salty precum over them. Slowly he fucked your mouth, warming you up as he edged closer and closer to the back of your throat.

“Fuck, you feel good,” Dwalin moaned, making whoever was between your legs chuckle. The vibration around your clit made you whine, arching further against his lips, hoping to increase your pleasure.

“And tastes good, too,” The dwarf between your legs remarked, sounding pleased. His voice was so familiar, yet you couldn’t place it. You were too overcome with pleasure to care right now. You moaned around Dwalin’s cock; the overwhelming urge to please both men filled you.

“Indeed,” Dwalin grunted, “Always happy to be used for her husband’s pleasure.”

They were talking about you like you weren’t in the room, and you could practically feel yourself drip around the mystery dwarf’s fingers.

“Such a greedy little cunt. May I fuck her, Dwalin?”

“Aye, though you may never want any other pussy after.”

The man between your legs slowly removed his fingers, noisily slurping up your juices. You heard the rustling of clothing being removed and thick, calloused hands adjusting your chained-up legs, so he could fit himself between them. His thick cock stretched you out as he slowly slid himself inside, making you gasp around the cock burying itself in your throat.

Once the mystery man was fully seated inside you, he slowly pulled out until just his tip was still inside you, only to slam himself back into you. You squealed at the ferocity of it. He was fucking you like a man starved of this affection. Every stroke hits your G-spot, creating that familiar tightening sensation in your core.

“That’s it, Amralimé,” Dwalin removed his saliva-coated cock from your mouth, allowing you to moan freely, volume increasing threefold. Lips attached themselves to your nipple, both the mystery man and Dwalin focusing their attention on your pleasure. “Are you gonna cum on his cock?”

“Yes,” You whined, back arching, trying everything you could to increase your pleasure. “Please, may I?”

“You may cum for your King.”

Thorin?! It was clear to you now who the voice belonged to, and you wondered why you hadn’t placed it sooner. There was no one that Dwalin would trust with his wife other than his best friend. Your pussy quivered before releasing an explosion of pleasure through you.

“That’s a good girl,” Thorin cooed in your ear as you clenched around him, hips twitching. You panted, collapsing back against the bed.

“Oh, we’re not done with you yet,” Dwalin threatened you with a good time, the clinking of the cuffs being released from around your ankles. The two men gently flipped you over so you were on all fours.

“You were right,” Thorin remarked, “I think this lady has ruined a world of pussy for me.”

“Take her ass, Thorin. You’ll never know anything tighter.”

Dwalin settled himself beneath you, easily supporting your weight as Thorin eased himself into your tight ass. It hurt, at first, a lot. Your tears were being absorbed by your silken blindfold. The whole time Dwalin comforted you through the pain, telling you what a good job you were doing and how good a girl you were being.

After a beat, the pain eased as your tight ass got used to being stretched out around such a thick cock. Thorin slowly began to thrust his cock in and out of your ass as Dwalin lined himself up with the entrance of your pussy, using Thorin’s tempo to ease himself inside. The feeling of two cocks inside you was damn near overwhelming. It was otherwordly. It had you flying so high into blissful pleasure that you never wanted to come down.

“Fuck, she’s tight,” Thorin groaned, thrusts growing uneven. Each of their mismatched thrusts made you moan and squeal. The wet slap of skin against skin filled the room, accompanied by whimpering moans and grunts. “And I might’ve thought you were wrong for marrying a hobbit.”

“I told you she felt better than any dwarven lass you’d find.” Dwalin had been bragging about his wife from the moment he’d met you. He knew that you were the one for him, and your sweet pussy was just a bonus.

The playful ribbing was lost on your ears. You could swear that you ascended to the next world. The two made fine use of your holes, surely reaching ascension themselves.

“Fuck, I’m gonna breed her sweet ass,” Thorin grunted, trying his best to maintain a steady pace. He didn’t want to blow his load too soon. Besides, he knew better than to breed another man’s woman without permission.

“Aye, have her ass. She’ll not be pregnant by you either way.”

Thorin’s hips stuttered as he gripped yours, burying himself deep within your ass. You could feel his cock twitch as he spilled his load. Dwalin followed suit, moaning your name as he filled you with his seed. It was any wonder how he’d not gotten you pregnant by now.

They both slowly eased themselves out of you, and unable to support yourself any longer, you collapsed on your husband’s chest. He pulled down your blindfold, allowing you to gaze upon his gruff, handsome face. Dwalin unlocked your cuffs, kissing both of your wrists and holding you tightly, while Thorin when to warm a wet rag and clean up the semen that was dripping out of you.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you chose Thorin.” You remarked sleepily, exhaustion now seeping through your over-expended body. Thorin gently pressed the rag to your pussy, then your anus, the heat easing the dull ache the men had left behind.

“Well, someone needed to get him laid,” Dwalin chuckled heartily.

“Happy birthday, Miss Y/n.” Thorin finished dressing, leaving Dwalin to tend to you for the rest of the night.

“Happy Birthday, Amralimé”

Tags: OPEN

#dwalin x reader #dwalin x reader x thorin #thorin x reader #thorin oakenshield x reader #the hobbit x reader #05.28.23 #Dwalin x reader smut #thorin x reader smut #dwalin x reader x thorin smut #Thorin oakenshield x reader smut

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imakemywings · 8 months

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Hey, are you still bitter/salty over the characterization of Thranduil in The Hobbits movie? It's been 9 years and I'm still pissed because despite how beautiful Lee Pace's Thranduil was, I felt like it warped the perception of who Thranduil really is as a king, father, and son. Even Oropher's reputation in the fandom kinda sored.

Anon, I will be salty about that until I'm cold in the ground.

There are actually a number of things I like about The Hobbit films. Lee Pace does a wonderful job with what he was given; he really captures the ethereal grace of a being who is above mortal concerns. I love the aesthetics of Mirkwood and its people in the films. And I'm not salty that they tried to beef up his character a little--there's really not much to go on in the books, so adding the tragedy of his wife weighing on him and complicating his relationship with Legolas (do NOT talk to me about how the films massacred Legolas) wasn't a bad way to add more emotional weight to his story. Neither was adding his alluding to the War of Wrath to give him more personal feelings about the waking of Smaug.

But the thing they tried to do where they wanted to make Thranduil ~morally ambiguous~ was so yuck. In the books he has beef with the Dwarves, yeah--because they were trespassing on his land, refuse to tell him why, and have a significant chance of stirring up a dragon if they continue. IF he overreacted, there were some relevant issues at play here. And Bilbo himself describes Thranduil as a well-liked "king of a good and kindly people."

In fact, Bilbo is so taken with Thranduil that at the Battle of Five Armies, Bilbo explicitly thinks that if he were made to choose among them, he would side with the Elvenking. Yes, OVER Thorin.

I've detailed before why the movie switching Bard's gunning for war and Thranduil's reluctance to fight from the books makes no sense, so I won't get into it again, but yeah.

Final thoughts are that the Elves in Mirkwood in the films have so little joy? In the books, the Company stumbles across them feasting and partying in the woods; in the movies, Legolas' scout contingent captures them without any prior contact. All three of the main Elves in the story--Thranduil, Legolas, and Tauriel--are so sober and serious the entire trilogy; I think Tauriel is the only one who smiles or ever looks happy. YES the Elves of Mirkwood are dealing with a lot--Sauron in the backyard and all--BUT the book also shows how much joy they still have, and I think that's really missing from the movies, from Thranduil and all the rest of them.

Also, they cut Thranduil laying Orcrist on Thorin's tomb and that makes me sad.

#asks #anonymous

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sweetbutpsychobutsweet · 7 months

Text

You Love Bread!

Chapter 8

Thorin Oakenshield x AFAB!Reader

Summary: You wake up from your fainting spell to a group of very concerned dwarves. Thorin in particular would like some answers, and might just have a few ideas up his sleeve to solve your problem...

Warnings: no use of y/n, angst, NSFW, 18+, Minors do not interact, smut, implied eating disorder/starvation

author's note: This chapter ended up being sooo much longer than I anticipated, so I had to break it up into 2 parts. Don't hate me for where I choose to leave this one off😅

Word count: 2121

Someone is pressing a cold cloth to your forehead when you slowly start to drift back into consciousness. You groan as you start to regain feeling in your fingers and toes again.

It takes a moment for the memory of what happened to flood back in and your breath hitches in a jolt of panic as your eyes snap open and you scramble to get back to your feet.

“Woah, easy there lass,” Fili’s voice comes from behind you and he removes the cloth from your face to place a firm hand on your shoulder, keeping you from getting back up just yet.

“I’m fine,” you grumble, shaking him off.

“No you’re not,” Kili chuckles from your side. “You swooned into Thorin’s arms like some kind of damsel in distress. You need to take it slow.”

The brothers both bring a hand to your back, gently helping you to sit up further. Fili hands the cool cloth over to you and you sigh in relief as you slide it along your neck and chest.

Ironically you feel a lot better than you did before you passed out. A gentle breeze blows through your hair, and looking around you can see you are no longer in the same place you were when you lost consciousness.

Someone has carried you off the path to lie in a patch of grass alongside a small lake. The rest of the company must be waiting nearby as you can hear their booming voices through the trees and can smell the smoke of a campfire and food cooking over the flames. You feel something soft beneath you and look down to find yourself laying on a fur cloak. Thorin’s cloak.

You look around to try and find him. Farther down the lake you see him conversing with Oin and Bombur. They speak in hushed tones but judging by the troubled looks on their faces it’s safe to assume they’re talking about you.

“She’s awake, uncle,” Kili calls from behind you and Thorin’s head snaps to look over at you. He says something to Oin and they both hurry over to you.

“Welcome back, lassie,” Oin says, “you gave us quite a fright.”

“You need to eat something,” Thorin says, signaling to Bombur to bring you some food.

“I’m not hungry,” you tell him, “I just got too hot is all.”

“That wasn’t just heat stroke,” Oin replies with concern, “you’re still very pale and Thorin says you’ve been weak and disoriented all day.”

Of course, he did. You look over at him with a glare.

“Well then he would be mistaken, I’m perfectly fine.” you lie.

Bombur finally returns and approaches you with a bowl of soup and some bread but you shake your head, waving him off.

“I’m not hungry,” you tell them again, “I’m ready to get back on the road I just need a minute to catch my breath.”

“We’re not going anywhere. The others have already started making camp here for the evening, we’ll start up again in the morning,” Thorin insists. He takes the bread from Bombur and shoos him away with the rest.

“But Durin’s day-” you protest, knowing your deadline is fast approaching.

“We can afford to wait a little longer, we already covered enough ground today. Here,” he replies, offering you the bread, “just eat some of this.”

You push his hand away with another shake of your head. You can keep going you know you can. You’ve put a good amount of distance between you and the orcs already; you won’t jeopardize that now.

“In all the time I’ve known you, I’ve never once seen you refuse bread,” Kili comments with a nervous chuckle.

“You love bread,” Fili agrees.

You pay them no mind, keeping your eyes locked on Thorin’s as he thoughtfully examines your face. He’s given you no indication yet that he knows your real motives. How could he?

“Leave us,” he instructs the others, still looking at you.

They all hurry off towards camp without protest.

Fili hands the damp cloth over to his uncle and gives you another worried look before joining the others.

Thorin is still looking at you in silence. Your anxiety gets the better of you and you pull your gaze away to look down at the ground, trying to feign innocence.

He still says nothing.

Does he expect you to speak first? Perhaps he’s hoping that if he waits long enough you’ll divulge everything to him on your own.

That’s not going to happen, you laugh to yourself.

He rises to his feet with a sigh, but you still refuse to look at him as he makes his way over to the nearby lake. You hear him dip the cloth back into the water and wring it out before coming to sit in front of you.

He brings two fingers up to your chin, and gently turns your face to look at him. You’re too exhausted to fight him.

His hand slides down to your neck, gently tipping your head back so he can see you better. You refuse to let your eyes meet his, instead electing to look over his shoulder at the light reflecting off the lake.

You shudder as he brings the cool cloth up to your face, tracing a slow line from your temple all the way down to your jaw.

“Bombur says he hasn’t seen you eat anything since Rivendell. No one has,” Thorin’s voice is gentle and cautious. Not at all what you were expecting.

You finally meet his eyes to see they are not angry as you were expecting. Instead, they’re full of fear. You can’t remember the last time you saw this side of Thorin, if ever.

The cloth makes its way down the column of your neck, inching its way closer and closer towards the top of your breasts. You hate how much you ache for him to touch you there again.

Maybe it’s your desire or his rare show of vulnerability but you can’t help the words that escape your lips.

“Orcs can smell blood,” you whisper.

The cloth freezes just above your collarbone and he looks at you in confusion.

“I’m due to start my monthly cycle in the next few days,” you clarify and can see as the last pieces of the mental puzzle fall into place.

His brow furrows and his hand drops away from your chest.

“You heard what Lord Elrond said. If we are being hunted by Orcs I didn’t want to lead them right to us. I figured if I stopped eating for a while the bleeding wouldn’t start and it would buy us more time to get them off our backs.”

You bite your bottom lip, waiting anxiously for the lecture to begin. For him to yell and shout and tell you how reckless you were, or even worse to send you away from the company until you’re no longer a liability.

But he doesn’t.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispers.

You raise an eyebrow at him, “why didn’t I tell you I was about to start menstruating while we’re being hunted by a pack of orcs?”

“Did you think I’d be angry with you?” he scoffs, “over something you can’t control?”

“No, Thorin,” you snap, “I thought you’d send me away. Again!”

He blinks at you in surprise.

“If me being here puts everyone else in jeopardy, if it puts our quest in jeopardy, then that makes me a liability and it is your duty as king to send me away.”

“Don’t you dare try to tell me what my duty is,” his voice drops into a low growl and his fists begin to clench sending drops of water running down his knuckles from the cloth still in his hand.

“Quest or no quest I am also responsible for the well-being of my people which includes you in case you’ve forgotten. I will not allow you to do something so reckless and idiotic! How can you expect me to successfully lead this company to Erebor if you’re starving yourself while my back is turned? If you had told me earlier we could have found a better solution that didn’t cause you to faint in the middle of the road!”

“You mean if I had told you earlier, you could have left me behind in Rivendell instead of slowing the company down?” you snap back as he moves his face closer to yours. You can see the angry clench of his jaw, and the furrowed lines of his brow that seem to be a permanent facial feature on him.

“I would have thought you’d prefer the company of elves over that of your kin, you certainly seemed to enjoy Lord Elrond’s the other night-”

You still feel weak from hunger but somehow the rage his words inspire gathers up enough strength for you to roughly shove him away from you. He barely budges and you lift your arms to shove him again, but this time he catches you, grabbing you by the wrists keeping you firmly in place. He pulls you closer into his chest until you’re almost nose to nose.

“You will stay here with us and you will do so with a full belly. I need you to keep your strength up for the journey ahead and the orcs pursuing us. And I swear to you,” he says with a growl, “ If I ever hear about you trying to starve yourself again, I will personally shove every last crumb down your throat. Do I make myself clear?”

“Oh I have no doubt you’ve been dying to shove something down my throat,” you purr with a wicked grin, “which is why I don’t intend to give you the satisfaction, your grace.”

His grip on your wrists tightens.

“We’ll see about that,” he growls, letting go of your wrists. Before you can even blink his hands are grabbing your face, pulling your lips into his in an angry, passionate kiss.

You know you should resist him, or at least pretend like you don’t want him as badly as he clearly wants you. But seeing as you are quite literally starving, and he tastes absolutely amazing…

You tangle your hands in his hair and pull him closer to you. You groan in pleasure as his tongue sneaks past your lips forcing himself deeper inside your mouth. His hands leave your face and travel down your body to cup your ass firmly, pulling you into his lap.

You can feel his arousal through his trousers, stabbing your upper thigh, so close to where you want him but not quite close enough.

He drags his teeth along your bottom lip before starting to kiss a slow path along your jawline and down your neck, biting at your flesh as he travels further and further down.

You free a hand from his hair and reach it down between the two of you. You press your palm against his length and he growls into your neck. You want to tease him, to drive him to the edge of insanity until he is completely addicted to you. But not as badly as you want to feel him, all of him. You bring your other hand down to help unfasten his pants but before you can succeed he suddenly has you on your back beneath him, wrists held firmly overhead.

You growl and squirm trying to free yourself but you both know you’re not exactly at fighting strength at the moment. You are completely at his mercy and you can’t stand it.

“Please,” you whine, trying helplessly to press your body up to meet his again but he refuses to budge. “I need it,” you complain.

“Oh, I know exactly what you need,” he whispers, his beard tickling your face. He releases just one of his hands, moving your free wrist to join the other and your breath hitches in anticipation, hoping that hand is about to touch you in all the places that ache for him.

You open your mouth to beg for just that when something soft is suddenly stuffed into your mouth.

You blink at him in confusion before your taste buds can identify the unexpected guest.

Bread!

“You’re going to eat every last crumb,” he demands, “and when you’re done with that you’ll have more. I’m going to stay here and watch you eat every last bite, then and only then, will you get your other needs fulfilled. Do you understand?”

You nod eagerly, unable to speak around the roll he shoved in your mouth.

His breath his hot against your cheek as he brings his lips closer towards your ear.

“Good girl,” he growls

Next Chapter

Taglist:

@mrsdurin @thetaekwondofeline @enchantingkryptoniteheart-blog

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triple-asstro · 1 year

Text

That Heartbreak Prince, Kíli

summary: kili and his lover bicker over who should stay warm with the help of kili's jacket.

word count: 1.5k

saw @mikathemonster's post about there not being enough kili fics and i agree, so i wrote this! hope you all like it <3

(yes that was a taylor swift reference, love her and her music <3)

Curse Mirkwood, and curse those elves.

Traversing through the Mirkwood forest wasn’t going to be a difficult task, and you weren’t expecting anything more. It still bitterly stung when they ordered you to drop your weapons and pulled both you (and the future Queen of Erebor, but that’s a tale for another day) from your hiding spot, riddled with cobwebs. Not even the heart-eyed expression on Kíli could sweeten your sour mood, no matter how adorable it was.

Those cobwebs still rested on your head, being swiftly removed by Kíli and tossed into the right corner. The stone walls of the prison stinged your eyes, spotting multiple dried bloodstains scattered on the floor; potentially years old based on the maroon colouring.

“Even with these cobwebs, they never seem to hinder your charm amrâlimê,” Kíli remarked, a cheeky smile appeared on his face. A grin plastered on your face, eyes forgetting from the stain. It seemed Kíli spotted your observation, as if your minds were linked into one. “Hm, already observing our prison?”

“Of course. Sadly, there’s not much to observe,” you wistfully stated.

Kíli’s eyes squinted, deep in thought. His eyes crinkled around the corners, and his eyebrows did the most unique thing when he’s in this state of mind. They would furrow together, one slightly higher than the other, creating a brief unibrow, which was always an amusing sight to witness. He viewed the landscape you were analysing before, spotting the dried blood.

“What about that? Quite the decoration, isn’t it?”

“Not particularly,” you began, Kíli’s eyes softening at what was coming next. “That kind of bloodstain because of its dark maroon colouring means that it’s been a while since anyone inhabited this place. Blood has a more vibrant colouring if it’s only been a few weeks or less, darkening over time. I could potentially see how the Elvenking would have that stain appear since it’s been quite some time since there haven’t been travellers in Mirkwood for capturing, or any that didn’t escape.”

Kíli widely grinned, his puppy eyes more enchanting than ever.

“I’m rambling again, I assume?”

“No, just talking. Talking in that alluring voice I love dearly.” he responded, inching closer on the stone chair, grabbing your hand. Your heart ignited, as if a string was interlinked between us, only conjoining once you and Kíli’s hands were reunited. An odd phenomenon, but one you weren’t complaining about.

A giggle echoed from outside, one that called both you and Kíli to peer from the emerald-green bars. Just down one level from you, was that future Queen of Erebor, draping Thorin’s fur coat over his sleeping figure. The coat flew through the air, waving almost majestically before slowly faltering down. Even his coat had a regality added to it.

You could feel Kíli’s giggles graze your cheek, his head lazed on your shoulder. “Cannot believe this is happening to my mother’s brother. He’s probably going to grumble like usual.”

“Probably. It’ll be worth every second, however.” you mentioned, jolting back like children once you saw her wide-eyed gaze dart towards you both. The laughs shared between you both were the only laughs shared that night, the rest of the Company were too busy grumbling and attempting to escape. Granted, you were trying that too but it was more whittling away the gates with spare rock and rubble.

Eventually, exhaustion overtook you, as it did with everyone, some more slowly than others. It was hardest with Kíli, his mind refused him any rest, much to your displeasure. The journey had proven its toll on you and you wished to find any solace that sleep could offer you. It proved to be difficult with this repetitive ticking sound. It was an itching sound that burrowed deep and refused to budge, like glass clinking on stone. With one more tick, you jostled up, darting your head right.

You saw Kíli, his bored downturned eyes following a round object he had in his palm. He tossed in the air, the object floating before missing his hand and clattering to the ground, being caught by your outreached hand. You also took a slight note at his sudden lack of his jacket, which you quickly found draped around your body. His jacket, your body, interlinked as one.

You examined the stone he’d dropped, the object shining a blue iridescence with intricate runes etched onto the surface. It had to be a labradorite mineral from the looks of it. “What is this?”

“It is a token,” he stated, picking it up from your hand, fingers tracing over the engraved runes.

“If any but a dwarf reads the runes, they will be forever cursed.”

He swiftly showed you the stone, as if it was to unleash a horrible curse on you, causing you to jerk back. He paused, tucking the stone away behind his back, causing you to rest back into your previous position. You’d had enough foolishness for one night.

“Or not.”

You rose back up, now in a mix of confusion and intrigue. But you weren’t going to admit that, for if you did, you’d just be playing into his game and you didn’t want to enlarge his ego anymore than it already had.

“Is it a token, then?”

“Hm? Oh, yes,” he said, sitting down next to you. “It was a token gifted to me by my mother. I remember her shoving it in my hand before me and Fí set off. ‘Promise me, Kíli. You better come back in one piece, with your brother if you can.’ She practically made me memorise it.”

“I can help with that,” you said. “Getting back home in one piece, I mean. I’ll protect you.”

“Nonsense, who will protect you then? You could get hurt.”

“You could too, you dolt.” you reminded, watching in slight hilarity as his expression blinked, as if his mind was completely empty. You shoved his shoulder, sending him stumbling back to his seat opposite of the room. “Now, get rest.”

With a pout, Kíli obliged, curling up into a ball. Sounds echoed from above, sounds of cheering and music. Guards occasionally passed by, even one with auburn hair watching your cage with close precision. You’d never heard of an auburn haired elf, but she quickly left before you could speak.

Kíli’s small shivers drew your attention away, however. The way his face contorted in unease and frigidity made guilt tug at the jacket wrapped around you. Eventually, it was strong enough for you to take off the jacket and drape it over him, the coat flying in a similar way to Thorin’s. When it fully rested over his body, you returned to your bed, resting with ease.

Unfortunately, when you acted in your decision, you unknowingly started a little game. A few minutes passed as you felt a familiar texture cover you. As you slightly cracked your eyes open, you saw him return to his bed as well, a content smile stuck on his face. When you awoke, you found his jacket back on your body, along with the stone he had mentioned earlier, tucked into your palm.

This ‘game’ had continued for quite a while, with you whispering for him to ‘stay still’, but of course Kíli being Kíli, he defied. Finally, you decided to go through with the usual routine, except wait for him to awake, catching him in his act. ‘An excellent plan,’ you thought. You got up, resorting to shoving the jacket onto him and placing the stone in his hand. Instead of turning around, you simply took a few steps back, gaze completely fixated on him.

As predicated, his eyes flung open, clutching the jacket and ready to dash to you before being pinned back by your arm. Eyes wide with shock and mouth slightly agape, he could only stammer at your words.

“Keep it, son of Durin. You need it more than I do.”

His mouth clamped shut, solemnly nodding as you walked back to your place, eager to get some true rest. The game was fun, not to be mistaken otherwise, but rest was a rarity and you weren’t missing it.

When you awoke, it was hard to tell how much time had passed. Whether it’d been minutes or days, your mind was groggy and scrambled. It took a considerable amount of time to process what Kíli was saying, or more excitedly rambling to you. The sight of Bilbo unlocking the lower cage doors, keys jingling filled in all the gaps you needed. You pressed your head through the bars, spotting Bilbo working faster than ever. You clutched your shoulder, feeling a soft leather wrap around you.

A soft leather.

A jacket.

Kíli’s jacket.

“Kíli…”

“You were shivering!” he sheepishly answered. His earnest expression made it hard to stay mad at him for long. You sighed, mumbling something about giving his jacket back as soon as you both got out of Mirkwood and to safety.

That didn’t stop Kíli from having a smug expression until then.

#kili x reader #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit #kili durin #hobbit fic

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lordoftherazzles · 9 months

Text

🍃 A Lesson in Morels ‣ Mushrooms are more than just edible to hobbits. They can symbolize a variety of things - protection, good fortune, but they can also symbolize that you're about to embark on a quest of intimacy with your significant other. (reshirement, explicit, 7.9k)

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🍃 Blinded by the Scars ‣ Bilbo had never known scars could be so sensitive, even after years of healing and time to adjust. With that knowledge, and the idea of something a little different in bed, Bilbo is determined to help his dwarven husband relax. (reshirement, explicit, 2.9k)

🍃 Can't "Rise" to the Occasion ‣ Every evening the Company of Thorin Oakenshield gathers for food, stories, and rest around the campfire on their way to Erebor. Some stories are fun, others are adventurous, but tonight’s theme is scary. Bilbo’s idea of scary and the dwarves’ understanding of hobbit customs throws Thorin’s mind for a loop. (during the quest, gen, 2.3k)

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🍃 A (Green)House Built for Two ‣ Two years after the Battle of the Five Armies, Bilbo begins to show signs of being homesick. Unable to fathom the idea that Bilbo may want to leave the mountain for his Shire home, Thorin takes on a project to bring a little bit of the Shire's greenery to Erebor. (consort bilbo, gen, 5.7k)

🍃 The Icing on the Cupcake ‣ Bilbo Baggins has two great loves: molding young minds and baking. So it comes as a bit of a shock to him when at his nephew's 7th birthday party a third love is added to the list. (modern meet-cute, gen, 6k)

🍃 Mudùmel ‣ After leaving Erebor behind, Thorin is struggling to find his sense of comfort in the Shire. All it takes is an encounter with one of his new hobbit neighbors, and he realizes that the comfort he seeks has been at his side all along. (reshirement, gen, 3k)

🍃 Right As Snow ‣ Yuletide at Bag End is different this year with Frodo as the newest addition to the smial. With a misunderstanding about how well one likes the other, Thorin and Frodo both struggle through their holiday. (parentshield, gen, 10.3k)

🍃 Sweet, Literal Nothings ‣ Ever since that hug upon the Carrock, Fili, Kili, and the rest of the company are always asking themselves: what is going on with Thorin and Bilbo? Across the campsite, sitting nice and cozy next to one another, the two individuals in question have another way of looking at it: how can we mess with the Company? (during the quest, gen, 2.1k)

🍃 Wish Upon a Firefly's Light ‣ A brief respite allows Thorin the time he needs to reflect, gazing upon Rivendell's fireflies. (during the quest, gen, 2.3k)

#bagginshield #thilbo #the hobbit #hobbit fic #bagginshield fic #thorin x bilbo #bilbo x thorin #thorin oakenshield #bilbo baggins #razzywrites #razzywrites: short stories

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epilogue-and-prologue · 1 year

Text

Ship: Thorin x Elf!Reader

Trope: Childhood friends to enemies to lovers

Length: 3 376 words.

Warnings: Injuries, violence, guilt, guilt trip. Thorin being Thorin, Thranduil being Thranduil. Angst with a happy ending.

Note: @sorisooyaa I have something for you. I made a thing. I don't know what to make of it. But I have made a thing. Tags - if I forgot someone sorry and please tell me so I can not forget you next time: @heilith @sotwk @asgardianhobbit98 @middleearthpixie @glassgulls @evenstaredits @fizzyxcustard

Vocabulary point: Nethig = Sister, little sister (diminutive) - Sindarin

You were here to help.

Of course, you had come to help.

The battle of Erebor would be known as the one where great elven and dwarven warriors perished. It would still be an understatement before any of the gods who listened. The Durin line barely survived by the skin of their teeth. If you had not been there to prevent the massacre... Thorin stopped the thought there, fearing what it would bring to mind.

You, whom he had known since he was a mere child, your parents and his - if not in agreement - cordial to one another. At the time, you knew Erebor's halls almost as well as he did, despite having grown in the shadows of the Greenwood. Often, you would meet, in secret, away from the prying eyes of both your families, running away, chasing dragons and seeking battles made out of air.

Now, he wished for these times to come back.

The dwarven king owed you his life and the life of his nephews.

That was why he was at your side, watching until you woke up. If you were to wake up.

Why was he waiting? He knew not. Or, he knew as he had known for years, yet stopped himself from hoping you would know too. He was not the young dwarf he once was, careless with his words and promises, careless in his affections. The sovereign he had become could not make foolish choices as Kili had the luxury of making. Nevertheless, the hope in him would not die, not until you gave him an answer to a question he would not dare ask.

You were there. You were there when his grandfather had refused your brother and your people what was owed to them. The look of confusion and disappointment on your face had not left his thoughts in all those years. Where the regret and sorrow as you followed your brother away from the dragon’s massacre felt like a heavy scar, this first betrayal was still bleeding through the walls of his mind more vivid than it had ever been.

For since the battle, you would not wake. And he would not sleep.

Maybe, this was his atonement for not having intervened sooner in the feud between the elves and his people. Maybe it was punishment for not having told you, as a child, what those feelings were, leaving you blindsided for the rest of your life.

His breath came to a halt when you stirred in your sleep. His surroundings were dark, only lightened by the moonlight shining in the room. Everything was so pale, the sheets, your gown, the light. He felt sick for a moment, in pain with each breath. Thorin was sitting in the most uncomfortable seat he had ever been in, his back hunched over, elbows on his knees, rubbing at his face to erase the deep sleep in his bones.

Thranduil opened the door. His eyes racked over the dwarf’s figure. The deep circles under his eyes and the hollow of his cheeks were clear indicators of his state. Your brother would have been blind not to see your injuries’ effect on Thorin.

Despite what people knew of him, the elven king was not as heartless as he seemed. He had sustained many injuries over the years, many terrifying experiences, and too many meaningless deaths. His heart was a closed sanctuary now, only opened for those he trusted. Even if he was not trusting Thorin, he trusted you. You, who had sought him out all those moons ago, trying to stop a raging war between your families. He had refused to listen and what it had cost him would never be counted accurately. The elf was old and weary of war. He wanted this to end, almost as much as you did. When you were playing in Erebor’s halls, he was with his guardian, resenting you for not having to attend all those boring meetings nor being with him when he had to learn all those awful words in Khuzdul. No. You had learned with a friend. The ultimate betrayal for him was that you were allowed to. No one saw the harm in the shenanigans you orchestrated. You were children, what was the harm? Only when you grew, beautiful as a newborn star, people started talking. He dismissed them all in public. Chastised you in private. “Behave as you were born”, those were his words. It was then that Thranduil had known. It was too late for you. You had fallen for him, having known him for so long. His stubbornness familiar to your equally stubborn mind, the wits of his tongue matching your own, your secret kisses shared in the mistrusted shadows of the woods or the corridors of the dwarven city. You would not let him go. But, soon, even Thorin dismissed you, in favour of dwarf women more suited to be by his side. Your heart was misplaced. Lost with someone who had no use for it.

After that, heartbroken and deep into your mind, you let yourself perish to the brink of death. Thranduil’s wife and son became your only solace, throwing yourself into the family life you yearned for, but could not have for yourself. With your brother, you would not talk of love for the prince. Only a “misplaced trust” as if it was enough to describe what it was you were left with.

That “misplaced trust” was all that was needed for Thranduil to care.

“Thorin Oakenshield.”

His face barely rose to meet the elven king’s eyes, falling back again in an impolite manner, now familiar between the two.

“It’s you.”

The elf had a hard time not snapping at him. But even he knew, the pain he was in. Your brother kissed your brow in slow motion. Nothing moved in the air, as he was adjusting your pillow, smoothing your sheets, sitting down next to you, eyes lost on your face. The room reeked of balms and healing herbs. Thorin ran a hand over his face once more, the stiff figure in front of him immobile and solemn.

“I remember.”

The sound of his voice was barely above a whisper, yet it took up all the space in the room. He had that effect, your brother. You used to be so proud of him when you were little. Trying to get his affection every time you could. He wondered if you would still look at him that way.

“When you were young. Both running around in our legs, trying to get some attention, only to run away just as easily.”

Thranduil might have seen a soft smile appear on Thorin’s tear-stained cheeks if the darkness was not so thick. He did not see.

Instead, the elven king grabbed your hand, ever so cold, between his own seizing your fingers, growing accustomed to your unresponsiveness. All those hours spent in silence by your side had made him weary. The loss of his wife was an everlasting memory at the back of his mind, as he was praying to anyone who would listen for your recovery. Not again his mind would say. Not her his heart would scream.

And maybe it worked somehow, after all those days, all those weeks, because then you opened your eyes.

The light was faint. You could make out parts of the walls and ceilings. It was home. A breath of relief left you, making your chest ache. You winced, eyelids shut close, brows furrowed. Your hand was captured in someone else’s, warm, alive. You were alive. Every part of your body was in pain, sharp, akin to the edge of a fine sword twisting your guts and bones. Soon, you could hear a voice. Voices, you realized. You turned towards the tall figure holding your hand. It seemed to be calling your name.

“Nethig?”

Thranduil. His face came to a focus, his forehead meeting yours as you were holding his hand to your chest for dear life. Tears streamed down your face, not being able to stop them in any way.

On the other side of your bed, Thorin had not moved. His mouth agape, he was waiting for you to see him, to look at him. The minutes and murmurs exchanged with your brother were lasting, echoing in his mind. The chuckle escaping your lips was a balm to his undone heart. King, he was, yet he would have been on his knees and given it all up in a heartbeat if it would keep you from crying as you were.

You could not see past your brother and you did not want to. How stupid could you have been to throw yourself and your soldiers into this death trap? For what? An old flame nothing could light again? Thorin’s affections for you were long past, a mere child’s play you took to heart when he did not. The young and everlasting hope in your chest would not die. In the end, it almost had you killed. Deliberately, Thranduil pulled himself away, his protective gaze still on you. His eyes met someone else’s over your shoulder before coming back to your face. He helped you sit up, one movement at a time.

Upon seeing who it was, you started crying again. Not of joy, nor pain. In relief. How your heart could be a trickster. The moment was clear in your mind, despite the anxiety creeping up your spine. The moment you thought he was going to die in front of your eyes. It was without a second thought, you had pierced the chest of the orc before Fili or Kili could be harmed. For Thorin, your heart had lept in your throat as the menace of losing him became more and more obvious, the more the fight went on. The prince you remembered, the one you had loved, was brave beyond any elven or dwarven standards. He still was. You had hesitated, the ever-nagging thought of him being upset upon being defended by you. Until the last minute. When you had jumped from your vantage point, it had been all a blur, the only thing remaining the clear sky above you, the sun on your skin. The edge of the sword had pierced through armour and flesh, close to your heart. As if hurting it more was a feat anyone could accomplish. In a last stroke of luck, elven warriors had flooded the place, while you were still staring at the sky becoming darker and darker with each passing moment. You could hear yells and angry cries, strong arms cradling your head, and a soft, profound, grave voice begging you to stay alive. In your haze, you had thought… you had thought it belonged to him.

The sobs had stopped. Thorin stepped closer to you, his right hand outstretched. His palm touched your cheek sloppily, checking if he was not dreaming. Yet, you were swiftly pulling him away, careful not to touch him for too long. You exchanged a few words with Thranduil, and he stepped away, one final hard stare at the dwarf before leaving the room.

“What are you doing here?”

It was more to yourself than to him that you asked this question, in a hoarse voice you did not recognize. His arm lingered in the air, in your vicinity. How much you wanted to bury yourself in his chest and never let him go again. The harm he had done to you, on the other hand, was too heavy on your heart to let go of.

He swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat. The rejection was bitter-sweet. He knew his faults all too well. Against his first instinct, he got up to his feet, grimacing under the weight of his flesh wounds. Seeing you in pain was so much worse than that.

“I…”

Around you, the night lights were shivering, dawn simmering under the cover of the clouds. It was now or never.

“I have something for you.”

A snort escaped you and you coughed. Startled, he approached, but you stopped him with a gesture of your hand.

“If it’s not an apology, I do not want it Thorin.”

There. Plain as day. The look on his face, you never dared to hope he’d show for you. His gaze softened as you mouthed the name you had not spoken of in years. His name. Delightful to hear you say it, if only it had been in different circumstances. Alas, it was not. He had to make the best of this. Even if it killed him. Because a life without you was only worth death, the unmerciful kind, slow and feverish, agonising. He could not bear it anymore.

“I hoped you would agree to listen first and see what to do afterwards. Yet, you stay faithful to yourself.”

His voice resonated in the room even as he claimed the words one after the other, softly, trying not to scare you away. He smiled. One of those precious smiles you came to banish from your mind, year after year, as it plagued your waking hours almost as much as your dreams. You turned your eyes away from him, a heat blooming in your cheeks. Although you could not see his face, you heard him, coming closer to you, sitting near your calves, hands on his knees. He was loud as dwarves are. Sometimes, you dreamt about that noise. Dreamt of him coming home to you. You shook your head a little, the world blurry for a moment before your eyes.

“Could you… would you, at least, look at me?”

His voice was pained, smooth around the edges of his sorrow. He did not recognize that voice as his own. It was the voice of heartbreak. A sweet relief came over him when you finally looked at him.

It was short-lived. Your face, he remembered. Ever-lasting as the poets said. Engraved in his heart, beating erratically with every minute spent in your company. The bruises, the sharp cut going from your cheekbone to your chin. The edge and the indifference. All of that he did not know and wanted to rub off. His hand twitched in his lap, fingers extending into nothingness.

“I am incredibly happy you are alive.”

His words were met with pure harshness, almost hostility. Sorrow in your eyes, a headache growing behind your eyelids.

Thorin licked his lips.

“I came here to thank you. Personally.”

A snicker stopped him. You sniffled again, ungracefully wiping your nose in your sleeve, wincing at the effort it took you. His palm felt warm on your knee. You were not one to bet, but if you had to, you would have assured a tattoo of his palm was to appear on your skin at how hot it felt. How right. Still, unnerved, you did not move.

“I came here because… When we thought… When I thought I lost you, I came to realize how much of an imbecile I had been.”

You bowed your head. Biting your lips, your hair hiding the desperation in you. You could not bear it. Could not bear hearing him say the words without meaning them. He had done so before, what was stopping him from doing it again? It would destroy you.

“Stop. Just stop!”

Tears formed at the corners of your eyes. You did not try to stop them from falling. His hand reached you before you could stop it, meeting your cheek, and wiping away your tears. Stilling your heart in its ribcage, prisoner of his touch, again. His beautiful eyes were worried, brows furrowed, lips pinched together.

“Why are you torturing me so? Telling me what I want to hear? After all those years? Am I just a toy to you?”

You bit your lips harder, drawing blood. Without saying a word, he smoothed the skin there, smearing blood on his fingertips, unbothered merely grateful he could do it at all.

“Never. Amralimê, never.”

He frowned. Only then did you notice how close he was, the word in his mouth settling near your heart, his forehead a breath away from yours. Blue eyes boring into yours, lips parted, his cheek covered by a white and black beard. He had aged, as we all do. How could he still make your heart beat so loud and your stomach flutter so even after all these years? It was uncanny. Impossible. You wanted to take his hands off of your face, gripping his wrists in a vice grip.

He held on, gritting through the pain shooting in his arms, your face cradled in his warmth.

“I have been wrong all this time. I thought I was better off without you. Hoping you would find happiness without this love we did not see coming. But, no one can stop the sun from rising and I could not stop myself from loving you.”

A whimper escaped you when he pulled away, reaching into his coat for a small thing, wrapped in grey cloth, worn with time and travel. Carefully, he grasped your hand putting the itchy material in your palm.

“I should have given you this, at the time. I am giving it to you now. I hope you keep it.”

His words were ringing in your ears as you pulled the package open. Inside was a trinket you recognized immediately. You smiled, half expecting it to be a fever dream.

“A courting bead.”

Clenching your hand around it, you felt the walls around your heart beginning to give. Taking your hand in his, one more time, he pried the cage your fingers made one after the other, relinquishing in the feeling of your fingertips.

“Not exactly.” Giddy with excitement, he leaned close to you, as if in confidence. “It is an engagement bead. I figured we were past the courting steps at this point.

- Are you serious?”

The question had escaped your lips in a bewildered whisper, not quite wanting to believe him. Thorin became self-conscious again, nodding, bashful. He was shy. Thorin Oakenshield had gone soft. The world was going to collapse.

“Why now?

- After this close call with death, I don’t think I have anything more to lose but you.

- What of…?

- The others? I do not care. Not anymore. If you’ll have me, I’ll be there. Whenever you need me. As who you want me to be.”

Without thinking, your hand reached out to his cheek, bringing him impossibly closer. In a familiar gesture, your lips met his.

Thorin had become tender with the years. Surprised and inhaling sharply, his fingers gripped your gown at the waist, in a desperate attempt at getting you flush against him, your warmth comforting his melting heart through your skin.

The pain shot through you interrupting you both.

“My apologies, I’ll be more careful from now on.”

You smiled against his lips, pushing yourself a little bit further into his embrace.

“I doubt that.”

He arched an eyebrow.

“You were rough once. Harsh even. Don’t stop now on my account…”

You bit your lip and saw his pupils darken, a thin line of blue at the edge of it all, holding you down under this lustful stare.

The kiss he gave you next was nothing short of hungry, wild and powerful. You felt the fragility of your body in his hands, even more than you had during the battle. His palms spread a heated river down your waist, straight between your legs. Yet, it would have to wait. Only for a night or two, you thought. If you would restrain yourself. As if reading your thoughts - he had always been good at that - he replied.

“We have all the time in the world for this, now. If you’ll have me.”

He was worried. Still. You could not blame him, after all these years you had spent avoiding him only to find out he felt the same for you as you did for him.

“Yes. We do.”

Your tone left no doubt. Affirmed and self-assured, you knew this would be the beginning of something new. This was a new chapter in a lifetime of stories, you could not wait to find more about.

#thorin x reader #thorin oakenshield #thorin oakenshield x reader #sorisooyaa #the hobbit fanfic #thorin oakenshield x fem!reader #thorin x fem!reader #lotr fanfic #elf!reader #thorin x elf!reader

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