#sorisooyaa

[epilogue-and-prologue]

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

[fizzyxcustard]

for the ask, rose, mine, rouge and pumpkin SO MUCH PUMPKIN!!!!

sending you lots of love and hugs!

Thank you so, so much my love! I hope you’re doing well. ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

I love you, too!

#sorisooyaa #ask

[middleearthpixie]

Brilliant Disguise ~ Chapter Twenty-Seven

Summary: Speech therapist Josephine Asharm has been brought into Erebor to work with Bifur, but trying to find her place among people who eye her suspiciously would be difficult enough under normal circumstances, but when Sophie finds herself caught between the king, his most trusted lieutenant, and the dwarf she’s there to help? She’s certain no good can come of it. Being of Man, not only does she stand out in the dwarf kingdom, she’s not entirely certain she’s actually welcome there at all. 

Thorin only agreed to allow Sophie to live amongst them out of a sense of duty to Bifur, who is recovering from an odd head injury (is there any other way to describe having an axe blade lodged in one’s head, only to have it later dislodged during the Battle of the Five Armies?) Before the battle, he spoke only khuzdul. But since it? He’s regained the ability to speak Westron—if only he could but remember any of it. As for Thorin? He’s trying his damndest to ignore the speech therapist, not to mention his own growing feelings for her, even as he is also recovering from his near fatal wounding in the same battle. 

Both Sophie and Thorin are haunted by their pasts and are uncertain of their futures, but sometimes, chances must be taken…  

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x OFC Josephine (Sophie) Asharm 

Warnings: None 

Rating: T

Word Count: 1.7k

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Previous chapters can be found here.

Thorin straightened up and stepped away from the table. “Do you think she will like this?”

Heather looked up at him with solemn blue eyes and nodded. “I think so, Mister Thorin.”

“Good.” He smiled as he bent to scoop Heather into his arms. “Now, do you remember what you’re supposed to do, mimûna?”

She nodded. “I do.”

Heather had been an asset as she’d helped him set up the dining area in his flat, transforming it from a somewhat cold, cheerless alcove into a warm and welcoming space. He’d smuggled in china and crystal from the butler’s pantry, along with fine silver and gold candlesticks and pure white table linens that were only used for the most elegant of occasions (such as any royal wedding that might appear on the horizon) and now, soft golden light from the flickering white candles warmed the entire room. 

“Should I go fetch Mama?”

He nodded. “Don’t tell her why, but don’t let her worry, either.”

“I won’t.”

“I know you won’t.” He pressed a kiss into her temple. “And don’t tell anyone else you might see on the way, either.”

She bobbed her head as he set her down. “I won’t. I promise.”

“Go.”

She slipped around the door and he tried to ignore the flutter of a thousand butterflies in his belly. Tried, but failed. It was foolish to be so nervous. He knew she would say yes when he formally asked for her hand. After all, she’d already said yes. 

And yet, he was every bit as nervous as he’d been in the moments leading up to their first kiss, as he’d been in the moments when he’d teetered on the precipice of making love to her for the first time.

But at the same time, he wasn't nervous. He’d never felt for anyone, not even Elmaya, what he felt for Sophie. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her, nothing he wouldn’t give her, and he wanted to be the ’adad to Heather that she deserved, to give both of his girls the lives they deserved. 

Still, his belly danced with fluttering wings, which made sitting still impossible. So, he paced. Back. Forth. Around the table. Into the great room. Back into the dining area. And by the time the door opened, he almost leapt from his own skin.

“Mister Thorin?” Heather held her mother’s hand and smiled. “And I didn't tell anyone.”

All at once, his stomach calmed, his need to pace faded, and when he turned to see Sophie in the doorway, her eyes wide and already shimmering, he smiled. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d gotten lost.”

“I’ve come to know Erebor almost as well as you and my daughter know it,” Sophie replied with a smile. 

“Come in, then, and have some wine.”

Sophie eased her hand from Heather’s to tousle her daughter’s hair. “Did you know about this?”

Heather looked up at her mother with solemn, wide eyes. “I did. But I promised I wouldn’t tell you. Are you mad?”

“No, love. I’m not mad at all.”

Thorin reached for one of the crystal goblets, offering up a silent ask that his hand wouldn’t tremble and spill claret all across the snowy white table linen. Mahal listened and granted his wish, and he took a sip of wine to steady his nerves once more. 

Then, he smiled. “Miss Heather, I have something very important I wish to ask you,” he told her, setting the goblet down to hold out that hand. 

“Me?”

He nodded. “Yes, you.”

She stared at his outstretched hand, and then met his gaze. “What is it?”

He crouched to meet her eyes and caught her hand in his. “You know how important you and your mother have become to me, I hope.” He waited for her to nod and when she did, he went on, “and I know how important you are to your ’amad, so I feel it only fitting I ask you first.”

“Ask me what, Mister Thorin?”

“I wanted to ask you—to get your blessing, mimûna—if you would allow me to ask your mother to marry me.”

Heather pressed her lips together, her eyes shimmering as she looked up at her mother and then back at him. Her expression was far more serious than he’d ever seen, and his heart melted as she whispered, “Do you promise to note ever make her cry?”

“I give you my word, Miss Heather. I will never make her cry.”

“And you promise to make her laugh and bring her flowers and tell her stories about Princess Heather and the dragon with the beautiful scales?”

He nodded. “I promise to do all of those things.”

She blinked, then looked up at Sophie again. “Mama, would this make you happy?”

Sophie’s eyes shone as well as she nodded. “I would make me terrifically happy, Heather.”

“Then I think it would be all right,” Heather said, turning back to Thorin. “But only if I can call you ’adad.”

“I would be honored for you to do that, Miss Heather.” He reached out to brush the tip of her nose with his forefinger, then said, “Can I ask you to do one last thing for me?”

“What?”

“There is a box over on that table in the corner by your ’amad. Would you fetch it for me?”

Her dark curls bounced as she bobbed her head and practically skipped to the table in question, where she brought back the small teak box. She set it in his hand and stepped back as he straightened up.

“I’ve heard tell in your world that a man proposes marriage by offering his intended a ring, to let those around her know she is spoken for.”

With that, he lifted the box’s lid. Inside, on a bed of moss green velvet, was one of the most beautiful pieces Balin had ever crafted. The ring itself was mithril, and set into the mithril, ringed by diamonds so pure and white, they were nearly colorless, was an oval-shaped sapphire of the deepest blue he could find. 

“Oh, my…” Sophie whispered, a hand coming to her lips. “Thorin, that is… that is beautiful…”

“Balin does fine work,” he said, “so, let’s see if it fits, shall we?”

Her hand trembled as he slipped the ring onto her fourth finger. It fit as if made for her. As he slid it into place, he said, “Will you marry me, Josephine Asharm?”

She nodded, whispering, “Yes.”

He leaned in to brush her lips with his, both of them laughing when Heather grumbled, “Ew. Squishy sounds.”

“Oh, forgive me, Miss Heather,” he replied with a grin as he pulled back. “And you know, I almost forgot, but I have something for you, as well, mimûna.” 

“You do?”

He nodded. “I do, indeed. I know Lady Dís explained to you the importance of dwarves’ hair and the braids we wear, didn't she?”

“She did. And she wove this into my hair.” Heather cradled the braid Dís had woven into her hair so many weeks ago, the braid Sophie smoothed and fixed on a regular basis.

“I was wondering if you would allow me to do the same?”

She stared up at him and slowly nodded. “I’d like that, Mister Thorin.”

“Good. So would I.” He crouched, reaching into the box once more to pull out the small square of moss green velvet, where, beneath it, lay a small silver cube. He plucked it from the box carefully, and held it out. “Does this meet with your approval, Miss Heather?”

She squinted as she studied the cube. “What does it say?”

“Uzbadnâtha. Do you remember what that means?”

She nodded slowly. “Princess.”

“And when your mother and I marry,” he told her softly, “you will become Princess Heather.”

“I will?” Wonder wove through her words and her eyes went perfectly round. “I’ll be a real princess?”

“I am the king, mimûna,” he reminded her with a soft chuckle. “And the daughters of kings are princesses. So, you shall be Princess Heather. If you wish to be, that is.”

“I like how it sounds.” She looked up at him, her eyes wide and shimmering once more, then pointed to the rune. “Can you put it near Lady Dís’ braid?”

“Of course I can.” He set to work, taking great care not to tug her hair to hard as he carefully wove the rune into the plait, and when he finished, she threw her arms about his neck and squeezed him so tight, he thought he might actually pass out from lack of air.

Later that night, after supper was finished and everything cleared away, Sophie smiled as she came into the sitting area and found Heather sound asleep on the sofa. Usually, when she was anywhere other than her own room and she fell asleep, Heather would curl into a ball, would make herself as small as possible. 

But not this time. This time, she lay stretched out, peaceful in her dreaming and seeing it almost brought more tears to Sophie’s eyes.

She didn't jump when Thorin’s arm eased about her waist. Apparently Heather wasn't the only one who felt safe there.

“I should get her home,” she whispered, leaning her head against his shoulder. 

“Let her sleep, mesmel. I have a second bedchamber that she can have all to herself, just as she does in your flat. It’s plain now, but she can decorate however she wishes.”

She smiled up at him. “Are you certain about that?”

“About her decorating or staying?”

“Decorating. She is only four, remember.”

“I know. But she is a wise four who has seen far more of the world than she should have. Now, she gets to be a child and if that means decorating her room in colorful dragons and princesses, I’m fine with it.”

“You’re taking on a ready made family, you know.”

He turned to her, easing his free arm about her waist. “I know.”

“One you were not expecting to take on.”

“I know.”

“And she can be a handful.”

“I know.” His eyes sparkled like the sapphire on her finger. “And I look forward to the coming days, and with any luck, we will add to this family. Heather should not be an only child if we can possibly help it.”

She smiled as she wound her arms about his neck, threading her fingers through his thick hair. “I wholeheartedly agree, Your Majesty.”

“Somehow,” he murmured, his lips just brushing hers, “I thought you would, mesmel.”

The End

#The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #Thorin x OC #AU #Thorin Fic #Is it hot in here? #Romance #Richard Armitage

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Slipping through my fingers all the time...

@sorisooyaa & @eunoiaastralwings

Here we go...

Done by the amazing @mysandwichranaway, here is Nerdanel holding her firstborn son, long after he was a size anywhere near appropriate for being picked up!!!

Aren't they beautiful???

Would you look at all that hair too? Gorgeous!!!

Please reblog and spread the word about my friend's talent!!! Commissions are open regularly (go check their profile & treat yourself)! I've been informed that they'll be open after the 20th of this month!

#fanart #mysandwichranaway #sandy is the best #Maedhros #Nerdanel #Maedhros & Nerdanel #big puppy #big boy #mommy's boy til the end #so beautiful #Nelyo our beloved #good son

[luthriel-tinuviel]

Faceclaim for Lúthriel Tinuviel: Bogdana Kadritskaya

Edited by @sorisooyaa 💝

#Lúthriel Tinuviel #faceclaim #silm oc #silmarillion oc #the silmarillion #bogdana kadritskaya

[eunoiaastralwings]

Can I please request a Celegorm x reader smut? He’s trying to court the reader but she is super shy and doesn’t know and he asked her to a ball but she says she’s going with someone else, he get jealous when he sees her dressed beautifully and is dancing with the other elf. Reader walks away for some reason and Celegorm confronts her date, all Feanorian temper and makes him leave, he dances with reader and takes a walk with her, kisses passionately and confesses, she gets shy but agrees, he’s sm

characters celegorm x reader

fandom tolkien- the silmarillion

a/n hi anon— i got another celegorm smut request, see below— so to make my life easier i’ll be combining these requests—  don’t be mad :) —it’ll be a 2 part fic— part 2 contains the smut, where the relationship would be well est!— my sister is very excited for this — she loves celegorm and i might get killed for this but she really wanted a witcher gif lmaoo- lowkey wrote this for my sister too! the beautiful banner gif as always is made from my lovely mellon @sorisooyaa

warning jealous, feanorian temper/possessiveness, possessive behavior, intense make out session in the end- lmao it’s celegorm what do you expect!

“You look rather beautiful today, little kitten. . .”

You let out a little yelp when the 3rd prince of Feanor— came out of no where again to greet you.

The basket of flowers you were holding slipped from your grip— but Celegorm caught it before it hit the ground— or rather he kicked it up with his feet and caught it in his hand.

He held it— for a moment inspecting the flowers you were picking here— the meadow just before the forest.

You encountered him many times—  feeling rather intimidated by his bulk build, mischievous eyes and wide smirks that only meant one thing— you always tried your best to avoid him.

But the silver haired prince was always one step ahead you— predicting your movements like you were his prey and it delighted him whenever you let out a small startled yelp — whenever he seemingly came out from no where.

You bit your lip and fisted the skirt of your dress— when he threw some of the flowers out— he had grown accustomed to your quietness— though he would have preferred if you spoke your mind to him. 

“Some of these flowers aren’t worthy enough for your attention— they would die too quickly.”

He muttered and threw some out the basket.

“And others. . . are rather poisonous.”

Your eyes widened— the white flower you really liked was poisonous?

How was something so beautiful— poisonous?

Celegorm rolled the flower in his finger and threw it away.

He stalked closer to you— you kept your eyes on your feet and backed up slightly.

But your tiny feet couldn’t keep up with his large strides— he was instantly a breath’s space from you— he smirked and wrapped an arm around your waist.

You gasped and stared at him wide-eyed, your hands coming in between— the flustered mess you were becoming only made him chuckle.

It amused him— the little reactions from you.

“We wouldn’t want anything bad happening to the little kitten— now would we?”

You gulped— unable to meet his eyes you looked down again.

He gestured to someone behind you— from the sound of the loud breathing and large hooves— you knew it was Huan.

Celegorm held out the hand with the basket to him— when beautiful flowers, some rare was placed into your basket your eyes widened again. 

You should have known he would do that again— even after you quietly told him you didn’t need any of the great flowers found from inside the forest.

“You should come with me next time— there are many beautiful floras awaiting in the forest to be picked by your hands.”

He said— after he carefully noted your reaction.

You gulped and tried to free yourself from his grasp— only he was too strong to your liking.

“Prince. . . I apologize but I must leave now. . .”

“You may. . .”

He said— and suddenly let go of you.

But the second you took a step away— he instantly grabbed you back, delighted with himself hearing another little yelp from you.

“But not before my little kitten answers my question.”

He smirked— there was something he was planning and you knew it.

“You know of the town ball hosted by my dearest mother— yes?”

You meekly nodded— after you recalled the announcement and something else that happened earlier today.

“Well, would my little kitten— join me?”

Your eyes widened again— and you looked at the 3rd prince like he had grown 2 heads— you blinked a few times unbelieving.

“Oh my—  Has my little kitten lost her voice-”

“I can’t. . .”

You cut him off gently as you could.

He frowned— the hunter prince did not seem happy with your reply.

“And why not?”

He almost growled.

You trembled in his arms— so he let go of you slightly— but not enough for you to escape from his arms.

“Because my prince. . .—  some. . .—  someone else has already asked me. . .”

Celegorm’s grip tightened again— his eyes grew darker.

“Who?”

He almost whispered to you menacingly— that had you shaking in his arms again.

The silver haired son of Feanor let out an annoyed sigh— his hand came around your chin and gently he made you look up at him.

The sight of your shaking and biting your lips was driving him mad.

He longed to crash his lips against your mouth— to steal your breath away and have you breathless and needy for him,

“Tell, my little kitten— who asked you?”

He had to breathe in through his nose—  he needed to control himself.

Or fuck— he was going to lose his shit and ravish you, ruin you— to mark you as his— so no other elf dared to come fucking close to you.

“Umm . . .”

You gulped.

You debated if this was the right thing to do— but one way or another Celegorm was going to get the name he wanted.

“Lord Aldon. . .”

Celegorm gritted his teeth— recognizing the name of one of the lower ranking lords.

“And my little kitten said yes?”

You gasped as his hand around your chin and waist tightened.

The sound of you whimper made Huan let out a grunt— it a warning signal telling Celegorm he was hurting you.

With a string of curses he let you go roughly— though he didn’t intend it like that.

You whimpered— tears pooling your eyes at the roughness and you cowered away while you rubbed your chin—no doubt a mark let there. . . at least it will fade before the ball.

“Why would desire to go with a measly little elf like him and deny me?”

He almost shouted at you — but remembered to keep himself in line.

The last thing Celegorm wanted to do was scare you and make you run away— though he was seemingly doing a good job of that.

“He is kind!”

When you raised your voice a little and defended the elf— it surprised him.

Before it fueled his anger again— you were defending another elf with passion.

He wanted to be that elf.

How was he not that elf?

He brought the best flora of the forest— rare and beautiful to match with your eyes and the color of your lips— he was done everything to catch your attention— he had once, even rescued your from a wild boar that broke out of the forest.

What more did he had to do?

There were many elven maidens lined up for him— but out of all them he had maddening need to have you for himself.

It was like sense, a call— the call of an alpha when he realized his luna was close and within reach.

Without another word— he growled and turned away from you.

Celegorm couldn’t believe his eyes when you stepped into the ball— in a glimmering silver dress that made you shine brighter than Arien’s sun— even she might be jealous of your beauty.

Your hair was flowing more freely down your back— your eyes were sparkling and Celegorm thought he was floating.

The moment reminded him of a story told by his mother— of a beautiful maiden stealing the heart of a prince during a ball and a dance under the stars.

Oh how he wanted to race over to you— he didn’t care Curvo could clearly see he was lovestruck for you in that moment.

He was just about to step forward when another elf— the measly little lord Aldon stepped forward and took your hand.

Celegorm gritted his teeth— his fists were balled as he watched Aldon hold you, spin you around and erupting little giggles from you.

“She seems to be enjoying herself?”

Curufin spoke beside him— only fueling that anger.

“Shut up, Curvo!”

He said as he kept glaring at both of you.

The glass in his hand had cracked— and Curufin quickly took it out of his grasp before a scene was created.

“Bastard. . .”

Celegorm growled under his breath — he continued glaring at the elf-lord, he would be sure to strip him off his title.

“Come, my love— one dance, please!”

Celegorm watched when Curufin’s wife came and whisked him away to the dance floor— he wished you would to that.

Even his red-faced baby brother— had found a partner for tonight.

It should be him who has his hands wrapped around you— spinning you and having your body flushed against his.

When you had excused yourself after the end of the dance— to go speak with a friend— Celegorm grabbed the opportunity to confront the measly little lord.

He took long hard strides towards him— like he was stalking his prey— playing with them before he went for a brutal kill.

Celegorm watched in satisfaction when Aldon grew pale.

“If you want to breathe fresh air and see the light of day tomorrow— I suggest you leave and lose your sights on Y/N — do we understand?”

He growled lowly— he didn’t want to make a scene, especially at an event hosted by his beloved mother.

But if the elf didn’t understand— he would gladly drag him off and create his chaos elsewhere.

But when the elf scouted away like a coward— Celegorm was pleased.

Curufin smirked at him from the other side—oh yes, father junior definitely saw.

When you returned after aiding a friend— you were surprised to see the silver haired prince instead of the lord you were dancing with.

“It seems the measly lord has abandoned you, little kitten.”

He smirked when you looked around worried.

“It is alright, prince— I will find him-”

Before you got the chance to step away— Celegorm pulled you into a dance.

“It is not worth your time to wander about people, who are unworthy of you.”

That made your doe eyes look up at him— you looked at him, really looked at him.

For a moment— it reminded him of Caranthir, the quiet ones always watched closely.

“You scared him away. . .”

You concluded and sighed.

“Perhaps— and I did it for good measure.”

He said and spun you around— then pulled you flush against him.

You blushed— unable to keep your eyes locked with his eyes, suddenly shy again.

It only amused him— his hand possessively gripped your waist and you were sure by the end of this dance, there’ll be a bruise there.

Celegorm had to fight the urge to bring his hand lower— or dip his head into your neck, to pull and nibble at the soft skin there until you were mewling under him.

“Why?”

You sighed— there was no escape when it came to Celegorm.

“Because he’s unworthy of you— only I. . . get to have you. . .”

He said.

His hands tightening and he dipped his head closer to you— foreheads touching.

“What. . .”

You asked meekly.

“Do you not understand I want you?”

He questioned.

“You only want me. . . for one thing.”

You answered— quietly.

He smirked.

“Yes— I want sex from you.”

He said nonchalantly and you almost choked on your breath.

“Oh — but there’s so much more I want from you, little kitten. . .”

You frowned at him.

When the dance came to a stop— he gestured you to follow, his hand tightly wrapped around your wrist.

The outside gardens were filled with the sculptures belonging to his mother— and it amazed you— you couldn’t believe you were looking at the works of the talented queen Nerdanel.

You were admiring a sculpted frog on a flower when the silver haired prince spoke.

“I have brought the wildest and rarest floras of the forest, saved your from a wild boar, made sure you could be invited to this ball— do you think I would do these things just for anyone?”

You looked at him— it was true prince Celegorm didn’t do anything without reason.

It finally hit you and your eyes widened.

“The flowers were courting gifts?”

“Why else would I be looking for flowers on a hunt, you stupid girl”

He answered you with a bored tone.

“Oh . . .”

You blushed.

“Then— you go and accept the offer of a lord that barely did anything for you. Tell me, little kitten— what did he present to you as a courting gift?”

You played with the skirt of your silver dress.

“Nothing. . .”

You mumbled— very quietly.

Celegorm had to almost strain his ears to hear you.

“Nothing?”

He laughed— then growled

“He’s a right bastard! You truly couldn’t understand that measly lord was trying to pull up your dress?”

“Isn’t that, what you want too?”

You almost shouted at him.

Then— Celegorm instantly pulled you flush against him.

“Yes. . . but I also want that fast little beating heart inside your chest, kitten, I want to be consumed by your thoughts day and night— I wouldn’t secretly invite you to a ball— I’ll let the whole of Valinor, even Arda know that you’re mine. I keep you within arm’s reach— and let no one dare wiggle their way through to have you. . .”

He growled out.

You stared up at him wide eyed.

His thumb stroked the flesh of the lip you were always biting — possessively.

“You’re mine, little kitten. . . only mine. . .”

With that— Celegorm didn’t hold himself back, he let out his unfiltered raw emotions to kiss your lips firmly.

One hand in your hair, tangling and pulling it— tilting your head and the other grabbing your backside— it was indeed inappropriate behavior for two elves that barely even began courting— but there was something about all this that felt right to you.

So you wrapped your arms around him— and kissed him back with the same amount of passion.

His lips brutalized you — strong and possessive bites and nibbles, then diving his tongue into your mouth, exploring you— moaning and mewling trying to keep up with him,

When you pushed at his chest— silently telling him you need to breathe.

He groaned— and gave your lips one last kiss then pulled away.

The sight of you awestruck and love drunk— eye half open, ajar swollen lips drove him insane.

He wanted nothing more than to ravish you and ruin you completely— here and now.

But he knew you weren’t ready for that— but that didn’t mean, he didn’t back you against the wall and kissed you breathless again— his hands touching every part of your body— over your dress sensually.

He kept whispering against your lips with loud grunts and groans:

“Only mine. . .” 

silm taglist: @doodle-pops

tara’s taglist: @mslizziesblog @aeonianarchives @spidergirla5 

#celegorm #celegorm x reader #turkafinwe #tyelko #tyelkormo #the silmarillion x reader #tarawrites #the silmarillion #the silm #the silm x reader #celegorm the fair #sons of feanor #jrr tolkien #tolkien elves #tolkien

[nerdanel-the-wise-istarnie]

❄ Nerdanel's Feanorian Christmas ❄

I have seen a lot of blogs do this and I wanted to try myself :)

🎁Nerdanel has kindly allowed to let everyone ask anything and everything to her during this holiday season. She's willing to answer everyone Christmas letters until the 13th December 11 GMT (tonight). So only about 2 weeks as she's a very busy elf woman taking care of 7 kids, her hot-tempered husband and being the best sculptor in all of Valinor.🎁

❄ ·⊰ RULES:

୧ *·˚ ❝The same rules apply as before, but here are a few new ones to ensure fun and safety ┆↰

❄ There's a limit of one question per ask please because Nerdanel is very busy (building gifts for her 8 membered family). However, there is no limit on the number of asks from one person.

❄ You can ask her NSFW questions, however you must be 18+ to do this and these questions will be tagged accordingly.

❄ Will you like your letter to be privately send to your inbox so no one else can see, please state so in the ask with emoji:🤫

❄ Anons are allowed, however it would be more personalized if you wish to reveal yourself and as said before no one but Nerdanel will know who are if you choose the option above.

❄ Don't forget to have asks enabled if you choose the option of secret letters. DMs are too clustered and Nerdanel doesn't really like it. You can reply her privately too if so you want :)

❄ We know people love her unconditionally, both pre-oath and post-oath, but for this holiday season, please only pre-oath!

❄ If you could kindly follow and reblog, it would be great so more people can know about this <3

❄ ·⊰ PROMPTS:

Dearest Nerdanel, can you send me:

😲- a letter with a secret; the ladies love to gossip. Or would you like to know one of Nerdanel's secret recipes? Like her personal hot chocolate recipe that even Fëanáro doesn't know but tries to steal a second mug of it. Or do you want to share a secret with her?

🥰- an emotional support message? We all know Nerdanel is certainly one of the best at giving advice and this is why we had the option of secret letters, what advice would you like from her, it can be anything. She'll hug you and cry with you; kindly wipe your tears. Even ask Carnistir to knit you something or anything from herself or one of her other sons :)

💌- send her a love letter (describe 2 things about yourself anything you love about her). Word of advice, just don't let Fëanáro see you.

📝- ask her any question (the option is limitless, it can be anything about her sons, what they like for or to do for Christmas, how to make them swoon, how does she keep her husband's fire under check if the Ñolofinwë's or Arafinwë's family come over? Anything!).

🔥 - a very naughty letter (18+ only; choose a prompt if you like), again and big time, do NOT let Fëanáro see you.

🎅 - a gift from her (Nerdanel will make you something special, just let her know your favorite color and share one thing or more about you).

❄ ·⊰ NOTES:

Have fun and enjoy.

Pretty aesthetic by @sorisooyaa as per usual :)

Please kindly reblog so more people can see. Spread the love and joy.

#☆★⠀ ❛ ✧⠀ .⠀ ꜜ ⠀Ꮺ —— christmas letters #nerdanel #rp blog #christmas letters #nerdanel x reader #house of feanor #feanor x reader #maedhros x reader #maglor x reader #caranthir x reader #celegorm x reader #curufin x reader #amrod x reader #amras x reader #ambarussa #ambarussa x reader #feanorians #feanor #maedhros #maglor #celegorm #caranthir #curufin #amrod #amras

[quiet-flower-wonderlings]

QUILDALÓTIEN

aesthetic by @sorisooyaa

Follow From: @eunoiaastralwings

Other RP Blogs: @luthriel-tinuviel | @illicit-unknown-shadows | @son-of-the-moon-and-sun | @tears-of-burden

Non-Tolkien: @shadow-hazehuntress | @spider-lily-droplets

AU/Canon Divergence Friendly- RULES

Feel free to reach out – with an idea of your own

ARTWORKS: Loréwen and Quilda | Mírë, Loréwen and Quilda | Elvëion x Quilda | Quilda | Quilda magic | Glorfindel x Quilda | Quilda in the forest | Elvëion x Quilda

Ataresse: Quildalótien

                          - q. quiet flower

Amilesse: Olótiel

                          - q. daughter of Cluster of Blossoms

Sindarin: Dínenloth

                        - s. quiet flower

Nicknames: Petal, Quilda, Dínen, Blossom

Gender: Female

Visual Age: 25

Order of birth: Only child, but adopts her friends as siblings is possessively overprotective of them. Really sees @son-of-the-moon-and-sun (oc - Arien and Tillion's son) as an older brother.

Social Class: Wealthy, Princess Valinor. Survived citizen of Gondolin. Healer. Eventual protector of Lothlorien.

Titles: Princess, Protector of Lothlorien, Ex-betrothed of Turkafinwë (Celegorm), Future Lady of the House of the Golden Flower (in canon and in Gondolin).

Weapons: none - but able to do archery and a bit of sword fighting.

Magical Ability(s): healer of all creatures and nature. She also has the ability to grow wings if she wants to – any type. Ability to survive the harshest conditions – different animal and flower spirits combined. Has the ability to turn regular animals to strong (mythical) creatures.

Proficiency: Healing. The ability to turn regular animals to because powerful and strong.

APPEARANCE:

Height: 6’7

Build: Lean, Lithe

Race/Ethnicity: Valar’s daughter

Hair Color: Platinum silver, blue-silver tinted towards the end

Hair Style: Half up, Half down - likes to tie hair with ribbons or left long

Eye Color: Deep seafoam

Eye Shape: Almond

Skin: Fair, sensitive

Hands: small, thin fingers, squoval nails - unhealthily scratched because of her nervousness in Middle Earth and sometimes cracked nails too.

Scar: Scars from Celegorm's abuse and self-inflicted scars on hands and arms in Middle Earth. Some on her neck from his abuse too.

Types of Clothes: Gowns mostly made of velvet, but likes to wear high-low trouser dresses too.

How do they wear their clothes: Neatly and very put together

What are their feet like: Clean slippers or soft boots, sometimes likes to walk barefoot alone in the woods.

Mannerisms: Scratching her hands when nervous, always has a guilty conscience, too kind for her own good.

Important/Usual Accessories: flower bracelets - she used to love making flower bracelets and crowns for her parents too.

ABOUT:

Alignment: (chaotic) Lawful Good

Occupation: healer - then eventual protector of Lothlorien.

Canon Love Interest: Glorfindel

RP Love Interests: Elvëion

Multiship: Yes

Sexuality: Pansexual

Likes: Art, reading, writing, affection, romance plays, music, Valinor

Dislikes: Yelling, arguing, hitting, being mistreated.

Fears: Middle Earth and oath-blinded Celegorm, Giant spiders, orcs and being alone.

Favorite Colors: Purple, Pastel soft colors, loves anything silver-colored too.

Literature: Romance novels

Hobbies: sewing, healing, reading, gardening.

Favorite Childhood Memory: She's a late bloomer with her powers so the first time she activated her powers - to save a young Tyelkormo.

Least Favorite Childhood Memory: Nightmares - they were small visions of future but unclear.

PERSONALITY:

Personal Triggers: Unnecessarily drawn weapons, screaming, abuse, yelling, sudden movements

What words or phrases do they over use: “’tis I” or “what’re you doing, your royal hunting highness?” (in Valinor - teasingly to Tyelkormo). “It was my fault” or “I’m at fault” or “I did not mean to” (in middle earth).

Are they more optimistic or pessimistic: Optimistic in Valinor (flirty, cheerful and bright), very pessimistic in Middle Earth - and optimistic again when she is in Gondolin, but pessimistic again after its ruin. Slowly optimistic again early into the 3rd age.

Love Language: Acts of service, quality time and physical touch (in that order).

Strongest Character Trait: Her abilities as a healer, forgiveness (sometimes can be a weak trait as she continuously forgave Celegorm's abuse).

Weakest Character Trait: Timid, naïve

Greatest Fear: Middle Earth or oath-blinded Celegorm or being abused someone else.

Overrated Virtue: Temperance and solemnity

If they could change one thing about themselves: Her naïveness and fear of Celegorm in Middle Earth - wishes she had the power to stand up for herself and protect herself again.

Songs:

(Turkafinwë x Quilda) You Broke Me First by Tate McRae, Secrets and Lies by Ruelle, Love the Way You Lie by Eminem ft. Rihanna.

(Glorfindel/Potential RP love interest too x Quilda) You don't know by Katelyn Tarver, In Silence by Janet Suhh, The One That got Away by Katy Perry (cover by Brielle Von Hugel), Young and Beautiful by Lana Del Ray, Angel baby by Troye Sivan, It’s You (Destined to You OST) by Park Won, Enchanted by Talyor Swift, Dandelions by Ruth B.

EXTRA NOTES:

Quildalótien is the daughter of Oromë and Vána - she had magic of her own where she's able to grow forests like her mother and tame animals like her father. She’s a healer to

She meets Celegorm at an young age because of her father, they bond and she somewhat falls in love with him, even though he's an elf.

Quildalótien is a late bloomer in her magic – she was only able to activate them when she well into her teenage years when Tyelkormo was in danger and she saved him from a fatal fall. It was then they started courting.

She was the happiest when she got her powers. She has the ability to heal creatures and people incredibly fast and the animals respected her immensely she is able to give them powers too (like Huan was made by Oromë), she has a bit of Vána's powers too. She also has the ability to grow wings if she wants to – any type.

They had gotten engaged just before the silmarils had been stolen or the darkening happened.

But later when Celegorm has taken the oath, he leaves after a fight with her. She's desperate enough to follow after him ignoring the calls of her parents.

During the time she chooses to go with Celegorm that's when her parents are disapproving – Oromë even goes as far as threatening to disown her hoping she would change her mind.

But she doesn't – because of it Manwë strips her off her powers and she has no way of defending herself which makes her more dependent on Celegorm and easier for him to manipulate her. She may or may not get her powers back.

When she finds herself again Vána is in depression when she leaves and she grows no flowers until she feels her daughter as regained her powers and found herself again Oromë also in regret and pain.

But when she sees that Celegorm has changed and no longer the elf to once loved she flees. But Celegorm captures and manipulates her to stay. She joins Celegorm but doesn't take part in any of the kinslayings - she thinks she's in love with and so descides to stay with even though he's continously breaking her heart.

Celegorm is abusive towards her - even raises his hand against her. However she's still not swearing to the oath but still wanting to be beside him - "Do not except me to protect you silly girl - if you don't plan on binding yourself to this oath." - he's tries to manipulate her to take the oath telling her he loves her. But of course, that's all a lie she discovers when he's lusting after Lúthien.

After Celegorm's death she flees and tries find a place for herself. She ends up in the borders of Gondolin battered and bruised getting attacked by orcs but she's saved and get taken into Gondolin – in canon she gets saved by Glorfindel.

In canon, she's too afraid to love again - but seeing her love of flowers and everything Glorfindel falls in love with her. He gets some sort of conection with her because he's the lord of the hoise of the golden flower. It takes her a long while to open up to when and statlrt courting, she finds herself again through him and gains her powers back again. Jokingly, but with the a little truth – she's referred as the future lady of the house of the Golden flower. But when Gondolin is attacked and she loses Glorfindel again, she's depressed again. But she still has her powers, with the help of Glorfindel she has gotten better at archery and swords fights, received combat training from him too. She joins in the war against Moregoth and later leaves to the elf realms (in rp too), where she is in Lothlorien with Lady Galadriel and becomes a protector Lothlorien. Later (in canon) when she's in Rivendell, she reunites with Glorfindel, they find their lost love and get married.

#Quildalótien #the silmarillion #silm oc #silmarillion oc #the silm #the silm fandom #original character #Olótiel #pinned post #Dínenloth

[epilogue-and-prologue]

Devotion

Fandom: Robin Hood (BBC TV Series)

Ship: Guy of Gisbourne x Robin Hood's Sister

Trope: Ennemies to lovers (sort of) - Angst with a fluffy ending

Note: @sorisooyaa Second one. I still don't know what to make of it, but it's there sooo....

Word count: 9 258

Warnings: SMUT (because I cannot write a story without a sex scene apparently), violence in acts and in words, threats of rape, threats, betrayal, mentions of starvation and torture. (Promise it's only in passing) Mentions of christian faith from the reader and from Guy.

Tag-list: @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @middleearthpixie @glassgulls @evenstaredits @fizzyxcustard (I know you love Guy, I hope I did him justice :) ) @sotwk

“I want her imprisoned and hung! Now!”

The outrage was a novelty. Usually, you were only accompanied by the sound of the merchants, maybe the laughing children running around. You were not technically allowed to go out on your own, but the walls of your room were beginning to imprint themselves onto your mind and going crazy was not a death you were willing to live. The heavy hood on your head covered you enough for the Sheriff’s and Gisbourne’s men to patrol by without recognizing you. You were exchanging pleasantries with an old woman, when nearby a tall and broad-shouldered man had screamed after a thief.

“She stole a full loaf of bread! Arrest her!”

Of course, you had not seen the scene. You figured that he was right, the young girl struggling to get out of his grip, proof enough. She was still holding the bread trying to find an escape with her eyes when she landed on you. Why was it always you? You sighed, excusing yourself to the merchant before walking towards the commotion.

“Kind Sir, you would not deprive a young girl of food, would you?”

Only then did he look at you. He was towering over you, still not releasing the girl. With the cloth of her ragged tunic, you could not see, yet it was certain in your mind he was going to leave a mark.

“Only if she pays for it! It’s my life’s work lady. “-I will pay for it. As for you, Sir” you pointed a finger at his face, coming closer, making him step back, “God will see to it that your unchristian behaviour is punished.”

The merchant’s face fell as if the threat really frightened him, and in a swift movement, you pulled the girl out of harm’s way and behind you. She was shaking and crying. Two pieces of silver fell into his hand. Even then, the man did not seem satisfied. This time, he grabbed you by the arm to shake you down. Before you could do anything, the hood you were wearing fell backwards, revealing your face to the soldiers passing by. You panicked. If the Sheriff knew you were there, he was going to have you executed. You were a prisoner of his. Not a guest. He had made sure you had known that when they had found out about your existence.

Being Robin’s sister was not always an easy path to be on. Even if he had left you to watch over your parents’ estate, Robin had been foolish enough to think the Sheriff had principle. Or honour. As soon as he figured out you were related, a mysterious invitation demanded your presence in the city. For your protection. It came from the king. Or so you thought. Upon arrival, you were stripped of your clothes, dressed in rags and left in a prison cell for an unknown period of time with only water and stale bread. He wanted to break you, and he did. After a prolonged time in the shadows, you finally yielded, begging him to take you home. You did not know where Robin was, he knew that. What he wanted was to have you on his side, at least in appearance. You were living within the city walls, under constant surveillance. Luckily, some men and women within the castle were still on Robin’s side and helped you out of that godforsaken prison. What little privilege you had, you had because of your status. The Sheriff could not stop you from spending your own money, nor sending letters containing orders for your employees left to fend for themselves. He wanted to have your goodwill, to turn your brother to disgrace in the eyes of the people and finally capture him. After weeks and months, nothing had changed. The people of Nottingham were still on his side, no matter what. Even worse, they were suspecting something was afoot after you had arrived overnight, seemingly uninvited and did not make any public appearances for a long while. This would be the last straw to your precarious peace with the Sheriff. You turned to the girl, petrified behind you. “Run!” And she bolted. The soldiers noticed your predicament and were walking towards you. Your fingers were digging into the man’s forearm. He did not move. The bruise would have to be covered for the next few days, you thought. If you didn’t get caught before then. You closed your eyes, tears threatening to fall. Upon the soldiers approaching, the merchant thought his case won.

“Finally! I demanded your presence long ago! -Sir, unhand the lady, if you wish to keep your hand.”

The tone was unmistakable, his voice as level as could be. Gisbourne. You were dead.

Escorted by soldiers, you left the market without a word for any of your “saviours”. You could feel the animosity of Gisbourne’s men, angered by all the running around you had provoked. As you came to learn, your escapades were not as sneaky as you had thought. Vaisey had known about them all along, only authorizing them under the scrutiny of his guard dog. Alongside his men of course, tired of spending all their time running after you. Guy of Gisbourne was not what you would call a kind man. Sometimes, he would surprise you and everyone else - probably himself too - by making a merciful decision, such as leaving the girl and not sending after her. You hoped she was alright, these days survival was the only priority. The thought of having her steal again made you inexplicably sad.

Unexpectedly you were propelled forward, the horse under you coming to a halt. You ended up grabbing anything you could, forgetting who was in control of the horse. Hence, finding yourself face first into Gisbourne’s back, your hands clasped around his waist. Of course, he would not let a lady walk back to the castle. Even though you had walked from the castle in the first place. What it told you was not that he was a gentleman, but that he did not want you to run again. The hassle of having to find you the first time was enough for him.

“Milady. You can let go. We have arrived.”

He untangled your hand from his body with a quiet and soft chuckle. The sound surprised you both. A faint red tainted his cheeks as he dismounted. Your eyes scrutinized the man before you. His palm extended towards you, eyes cast downward. His body was stiff, his back straight, a hint of care in his manners. In hindsight, you had never seen him raise his voice at any woman. Not that you were interested in the man, in the first place. He was handsome, yes. When no one was looking, at the Sheriff’s table, you had noticed the way his eyes filled with something… something close to longing. His smile was so rare too. Although, you knew better than to trust appearances and did not dwell on the thought. His hands were covered in blood. That was who he was. Who you were, was someone who would do anything to stop him. This was the only thing you needed to know about Guy of Gisbourne.

You dismounted on your own, the rejection a not-so-subtle way of telling him to leave. Predictively, your clumsiness stroke. Luckily, the last man on Earth you wanted to, caught your waist, steadying you. The warmth of his hands knocked the air out of your lungs. For what felt like an eternity and in the blink of an eye, his palms settled there, thumbs moving in a slow soothing motion. You could feel the heat of his breath on the shell of your ear, his body slightly hovering above you. Every sense was heightened by his proximity. Until you pushed his hands back. Just as he had done with you, you slowly eased his fingers from your waist. The loss was felt deeply. Without turning around, you whispered a muffled “Thank you.” Frowning to yourself, the inner turmoil caused by his touch would not leave you. It had been so careful almost tender. Something stirred in you, unsettling you in the deepest. Gisbourne’s presence had never felt hostile to you, even if you knew of his actions. Somehow, he never felt like a threat to you, even as a sworn enemy and rival of your brother. He could have used you, punish you for what your brother had done - whatever that may have been. Marian was a good part of it, you knew that. She has chosen Robin, not Gisbourne. A cold feeling ran through you: had he ever stopped loving her? Despite everything had he not stopped caring for her? Worse: why was the notion of him caring for someone else, was so upsetting for you? The answer never came. In the shadows, he followed your steps, guiding you silently towards the main hall. You thought you knew what was to come. This moment between the two of you changed everything. But so little at the same time. You were still a prisoner. He was still a monster. Nothing would change that. You gained back composure as you stepped into the hall, hearing his steps closely behind you, ever watchful.

“Milady of Locksley. What a surprise to see you here! And here I thought I would find you in your chambers, quietly reading as a lady is supposed to. Not very lady-like of you to go running around with peasants.”

Vaisey’s breath stunk of wine and red meat. His nose was a mere inch away and you could count the riddles around his eyes as if they interested you. He stepped away, a cheerful expression on his face. That was a first.

“You see, milady, I am afraid that I will have to keep you much longer than anticipated. Indeed, your brother has yet to show a decline in popularity, and you have yet to help us find him… -Sheriff, with all due respect, which is to say none, could you get to the point? I have a better story than yours to get back to.”

Your words rang in the air, echoing through the room. His face was twisted. He gripped your jaw. He, too, would leave bruises you’d have to cover. Somewhere behind you, you could feel Gisbourne straighten. Just as an archer ready to shoot, the arrow taunted and eyes on the target.

“Stupid, silly, little girl. You do not know who you are playing with, do you?”

He observed you, from one side to the other, manhandling your jaw, hurting you more and more. One of your teeth was bound to break if he kept at it. Deliberately, he gripped your throat, not enough to hurt but enough to know he could strangle you in a second.

“Sir…”

It had escaped him. Knowing full well what his superiors would and could do to him, at that moment, Guy did not care. For if he had learned something about you, all those afternoons and mornings watching over your every move, is that you were kind. Smart. Rebellious and resilient more than he could ever be. If he had been foolish enough to say it aloud, he would have said his feelings for you rivaled those he had for Marian. But he could not. Not yet. So, instead, he said the only thing he hoped would save you.

“What? Don’t you see I am occupied?”

He steeled himself for what was to come, stepping next to you.

“Sir, I fear that if any harm were to come to her, the riots would only grow stronger. Would it not be wise to lock her in her room and limit her outings as you thought? -She defies me. She defies you too, you know. Sneaking around, losing your men in the marketplaces and the streets of Nottingham.”

Vaisey eyed his right-hand man. Unfortunately, the appointed Sheriff knew where people’s weaknesses laid, and he knew how to manipulate them.

“Unless… you have a soft spot for maidens in distress? First, Marian and now this one?”

A shiver ran down your spine as he focused on you once again. His hand had an ever-growing grip on your throat, even with you were desperately trying to get his hand to give, nails biting into his flesh, leaving blood and red trails on his wrist. The world was becoming darker with each passing heartbeat, the air barely passing through your lips and nose. Then, abruptly, he released you, and you fell to your knees. Gisbourne did not move, only clenching his fist in frustration as you were coughing harshly at his feet. This was humiliating. When you gained back your breath, you stood up, voluntarily stepping forward, standing your ground. Vaisey laughed, pouring himself another cup of wine. His face lit up. An idea had emerged in his brain and you were not sure you wanted to know what it was.

“Gisbourne, since you cannot seem to keep notorious thief Robin Hood’s little sister under control, how would you like it if I made the task easier for you? -What do you mean?”

He looked you over, lurking at your body as if it was a piece of meat ready to be eaten.

“I mean, that his little bird is not going anywhere. But what better way of keeping her from running if she was bound to this place… in holy matrimony.”

Before you had a chance to realize it, Vaisey ordered his guards to keep you quiet and still. This time, tears did spill, down your cheeks, wetting the hand of whoever was keeping you from speaking.

“I would have taken her for myself, alas my interest lie elsewhere, and I have no patience for a wench who can not keep her place.” The Sheriff licked his lips, visibly amused and excited by your predicament “Although, I would have had a good time taming her.”

Gisbourne was heaving. He could not… would not entertain the idea of marriage. It felt beyond him. A muted hope lit up inside him. Was it the only chance he’d have at love? The beacon was extinguished just as it appeared. You did not want him. None of the women he had cared for wanted him. Guy knew himself to be many things, including a murderer. But forcing your hand, he could not do it.

“My lord, I can not accept. -Oh, but you’ll have to. This” He gestured to you, as you were still struggling against the hold the guards had on you. “Is your punishment. Everything she does you will have to answer for. If you lose her or if she escapes, your head rolls. It was simple enough to keep her within the castle, but you spectacularly failed at that too. I should hope that chained to you, you would not let her go. Find a way to make her tame. Put a baby or two in her, that will keep her occupied.”

The thought of it made you want to gag, your body used and abused, violated beyond recognition, your very existence not your own. You would rather die than suffer such a fate.

“Her presence here is essential. Her brother will come in search of her. If he has not already. The sister escaped you, why would the brother be any different? -Sir… -That is an order! She will be your wife and you will be her husband. I do not want to hear another word from you before I see Robin Hood’s head on a spike. If not his, then it’ll be yours.” Vaisey stepped closer to Guy, a finger pointed at his chest. “Find a priest. Marry the girl. Spread the news and her thighs. The brother will come running. He is a hero after all, is he not?” A dark chuckle escaped his lips. “Now out of my sight before I change my mind and have you both hung.”

The guards released you within the confines of your bedroom. Gisbourne had not followed. He was probably searching for a priest at this very moment. You felt stupid for ever thinking something could be salvaged about him. Whatever your heart and body were telling you, they had to be wrong. That moment had been a fluke, a passage of weakness you would soon come to forget about. Nighttime came and still no sign of him. Maybe, just maybe, he had fled, to save himself from impending death. Your skin was tingling where he had touched you still. The bruises on your arms and throat were more painful though, erasing any softness you could have felt. Despite your initial doubts and hopes, Gisbourne did show up. With a priest. Neither addressed you, only stepping in the room without being invited to. Even if you had wanted to speak, your throat felt as if it was about to rupture.

“Is this the lady?”

Guy nodded. His breath hitched in his throat upon seeing your arm and neck. The purple marks were still there, an awful reminder of what you had survived. And what he could not prevent.

“Place yourself in front of one another.”

You looked at Gisbourne, words stuck. You frowned. He looked so lost. Awkward, bashful even. He took his gloves off, revealing his hands. He took yours in his with careful movements, minding your injuries. It confused you, his gentle manners and his murderous ways. You followed him, moving according to the priest’s demands. You would not be able to escape this, even if you ran he would catch you, you could not scream, and he had to have bribed the priest into some sort of agreement. It was all orchestrated to trap you. The lump in your throat made it even harder to breathe. The robes of the priest smelled of wine and sweat. He was probably somewhere else when Gisbourne had plucked him out. He did not even ask for your consent. Merely mumbled the vows and added: “You may kiss the bride.”

Gisborne was unreadable, even at such a short distance. Closing your eyes in the hopes it would pass soon, the warmth of his fingertips putting a strand of your hair away made you jump. You heard a sharp intake of air before he leaned in and put his lips to your cheek. It was slow, thought-through, and delicate. So many adjectives, you would never have associated with him, as late as of this morning. Once the priest went, he lingered in the room, fidgeting with his gloves. It felt as if he was about to say something. But he shut his mouth and left the room. He did not come back. Not even to claim what was his to claim. Insomnia plagued you that night, not being able to sleep more than a few hours at a time, until dawn came, all too soon.

Somehow, the Sheriff had organized what he called an “impromptu” dinner for your “hidden” union. One he intended to see to the consumption. The thought left you quiet and frightened. The bruises on your forearm and neck were now yellowish, healing slowly but surely. Unlike your ego. Vaisey was a snake. He needed to be treated like one. Poisoned by his fangs. Nevertheless, this was not the most pressing issue at the moment. Your heartbeat was erratic, panic settling in your bones at the Sheriff’s initial intentions. Gisbourne had not appeared again after last night. Hopelessly, you had thought he would. To talk at least. This was a brutal way of marrying someone. Your faith had guided you all your life. This marriage even if forced was to be respected. You were to spend the rest of your lives together and it felt strange to avoid each other like so. A young maid knocked on the door, before entering your room. She helped you get changed, and left again without a word. This silence around you was going to drive you insane. You grabbed your coat, opening your bedroom door in a hurry, only to be met with two guards and Guy of Gisbourne about to knock.

“Oh.”

Guy looked you over. You were breathing rapidly, from what he assumed to be the hurry you were in, your dress in a maroon colour he immediately recognized. Despite the Sheriff’s threat, you were about to go out. He gritted his teeth.

“Leave us.”

The guards hesitated. He threw them a look over his shoulder and they left rapidly. Without asking you, he stepped forward, making you go back into your room. Your hands were still clutching your cloak. Fear took you over as he closed the door behind him.

“Do you have a death wish?”

His eyes met yours, his full height towering above you. You craned your neck to meet his stare with the powerful force of the steel hiding in them.

“The Sheriff specifically asked for you to stay here. -I know.”

Your voice was hoarse and harsher than you intended it to be. His hand inched toward your neck, and you flinched. He pulled back when he saw it, not wanting to hurt you more.

“If you know, then why were you about to leave?”

He signaled to your hands, holding on to the cloth for dear life. He kept overstepping into your space, making you step back until you could not anymore, stuck between the wall and his unimpressed stare.

“I wasn’t… -Do you think me a fool?”

You bit your lip. Answering him would only bring more trouble.

“Do not answer that. I do not need your wits today.”

He sighed, lowering his head in an exasperated gesture. He was resigned, you would always defy the Sheriff’s authority. He only had to make sure you were not slandering his name. Or running off into the forest. Away from him, he thought.

“If we want this” he gestured between the two of you, even with the minimal space left. You could feel his breath against your cheeks. It only made them warmer, remembering the dream from the night before. “To work, you will have to follow the rules.” You scoffed, undignified.

“I am not one of your men, you cannot tell me what to… -I am not trying to tell you what to do, I am trying to protect you!”

He was angry. Frustrated by your actions. You knew he was right, even if you did not want him to be. He was right. It felt excruciating, the tear in your mind almost able to be touched, between reason and feelings, between the will to leave and the fact that you would be leaving everything behind. Including him. You looked up, staring straight into his eyes, willing yourself to put up a front. Always. The only thing you had not accounted for was the way he looked at you. His mouth agape, affection clear on his face. His pupils were blown, as dark as the abyss you were falling into. His brows furrowed in frustration and fear. You wanted to think he was genuine in his intentions, but the voice of reason was always pulling you back. He wanted your brother dead, you told yourself. That was more than ample reason to hate the man, anger flaring up in you, destroying everything in its path. You lowered your eyes, missing the way he pulled away from you, wounded, stepping back until he opened the door and turned one last time to you.

“I have no intention of forcing your hand. You make your own choices. Yet, those choices implicate me now. Would you consider it the next time you try to run away? -Why would I? My brother is in danger because of you! Because of you and your misplaced attachment!”

The words had escaped you before you could think. It was as if the place was set on fire all of a sudden. He did not touch you, but he might as well have with the brutality of his words.

“My misplaced attachment? Do you remember who your brother is? Who you are loyal to? His actions have led to lives lost! He is a thief! -Just like the Sheriff and you then! My loyalty is the only thing keeping you and your men from killing him! He is my brother! We grew up together! We…” Tears swelled in your eyes. Your hand drew his eyes to your collarbones and the yellow bruise on your throat. Guilt washed over him. He let that happen to you. The sadness, the anguish of not knowing if Robin was alive, everything for him to see written plain as day on your face. What husband did he make causing you to suffer, not being able to defend yourself…

“We grieved our parents together. We shared secrets, waves of laughter and scrapped knees. Late night stories and early morning horse-rides…” Something in you snapped. You turned away from Gisbourne, fearing for your life if he was to reach out to you.

“I had to marry you. Spend the rest of my life… with someone who wants to kill the only family I have left. Do you see the torture I am in or are you just blind?”

His silence made you wonder if he had not left the room altogether. Guy was taken aback by your sudden outburst. His honour depended on him achieving what the Sheriff asked him to do. His heart on the other hand… Seeing you hurt, desperate, and your spirits broken was the last thing he wanted to do. Marian came to his mind, fleeting, only passing through to remind him: she did not choose him. Neither did you. Would he ever learn? His love was not worth it. His affections were not required. All he loved, he loved alone. It was time he accepted it. A soft thud echoed in your bedroom. He had put a box on a table, near the fireplace.

“I will leave this here. If you will, I… I could accompany you. Outside, to the market, wherever you want to go.”

You did not answer, wrapping your arms around yourself, the sobs finally stopping. It was pathetic. How much you wanted him to say he was sorry, so you could forgive him.

“I hoped…” his throat felt tight, keeping the words at bay for a minute “I hoped that at least, my company would not be such a burden for you to bear. Maybe not now, but in the future. I have no wish to see you suffer. Nor in pain.”

A muted metallic sound let you know he had left the room. When you turned around, a faint smell of leather and heat was still lingering in the air. It made your heart clench. You went on to look at the small wooden box he had left on the table. Your fingers opened it before you could think the action through. A wedding band. You closed it in a hurry, afraid and happy.

The banquet arrived all too fast. Vaisey had outdone himself. Or told someone to. The decorations were nothing short of ostentatious, tapestries hanging from the walls, candles being lit everywhere, and tables full of plates capable of feeding more than a family of four could have in months. It was disingenuous, a display of wealth you could not bear to see. Gisbourne arrived soon after you. He looked at your hands. The band was there, settled perfectly on your finger. His chest filled with pride.

“Milady. -Sir.”

You bowed to him, willing yourself to be impassible. So far, if your companion’s stare was any indication, it worked. He offered you his arm, and you felt yourself tremble, laying your hand on his forearm. Without breaking eye contact, he grabbed your hand and kissed it tenderly, his lips leaving a hot feeling where they met your wedding band. It had taken you hours to decide whether or not you were going to wear it. Not wearing it would mean a sign of defiance to the Sheriff and you did not need any more of his wandering eyes on you, whereas wearing it meant… meant you belonged to someone, which left a sour taste in your mouth. Out of the two evils, at least you knew one of them to be more benevolent than the other.

“The newlyweds!”

The cry made you stiffen in fear. Your hand gripped Guy’s arm in response to it. He stood up, head high, putting himself a step before you, in a posture you assumed to be of protection. Was he protecting you? The thought was quickly erased from your mind, and the hope accompanying it was sniffed out when he let go of your hand. Vaisey was arriving towards you. Instinctively, you stepped forward almost colliding with Guy’s shoulders. Your hand wasn’t even an inch away from his.

“Gisbourne. Any news on the Locksley front?

Men have been posted at all entries. Guards as well.”

You clenched your jaw, looking at him sideways. The bastard.

“Oh. Milady of Gisbourne is not too happy about it. Remember, if you can’t tame her, I’ll be happy to do it myself…”

Guy’s face was stern. No emotions transpired. There, next to him, you worried he might lurch and kill the Sheriff with his own hands. Your palm met his wrist as he was about to raise his hand. His eyes snapped to you, surprised by your gesture. Though, you were not looking at him. With a saccharine smile on your lips, you addressed Visay straight on.

“I will have you know Sheriff that my husband sleeps with a sword next to him. I, on the other hand, prefer a good old dagger. Covered in poison of course. Would you like to know the provider for such a weapon? Coups are so frequent these days. Especially with…” you eyed him up and down, biting back a smirk. “Temporary replacements.”

Your tone was laced with charm and softness, yet the sharp threat underneath it all was clear.

“If that was all, I believe the first dance is ours. You’ll excuse us, will you not?”

Visay gritted his teeth, Gisbourne visibly approving of your behaviour.

“Of course, Milady.”

He let you pass in front, stopping Gisbourne in his tracks. “Get him. I will not accept another failure from you. Think about what I could do with her once you’re out of the way…”

You had stopped a few steps ahead, looking around, head high as always, saluting nobles of the court in a rehearsed manner. Guy nodded curtly before leaving Visay right there. The Sheriff did not know if he had made a wise choice when putting the two of you together. He hoped for more fight, even some evident traces of violence on you. Anything to get the Hood’s blood boiling. As usual, he feared his amusement had gotten the better of him. He should have taken care of this himself.

The feast lasted until the heavy hours of the night, leaving drunkards and young couples behind. Your feet were killing you, the wine still present in your body making you lean into Guy a lot more than you would have done sober. He was not complaining. Your hair smelled divine, with fresh flowers and honey. Maybe he had drunk a little too much himself. Or not enough for what he was about to do. He accompanied you back to your chambers, opening the door for you to step in. Without a second thought, you took your shoes off, walking barefoot on the cold stone floor, a sigh of contentment passing through your lips. The guards were dismissed. Gisbourne, hypnotized by you, smiled despite himself. You were flushed, eyes just as fiery as ever, but, still, not looking at him. He put his hand inside one of his pockets. What he had between his fingers was enough to get him executed for treason. Although he had made his choice, Guy was not sure what your reaction to this would be. You were his to protect and to love. To serve too. His choice was made. The price for it would come soon enough.

“Your brother left this for you.”

You opened your eyes, not quite believing your ears. Guy was reaching out, putting a piece of paper in your hand. He closed your fingers around it, seeing your face going from one emotion to the other, not knowing what to do with yourself. You sat down on the edge of your bed, carefully opening it. A small flower fell. A forget-me-not. You smiled. Guy’s heart skipped a beat when you brought the flower to your lips. How he wished to be those petals, graced by your breath. Graced by you. What you read made you laugh, and cry a little. The whole time he just stood there waiting for you to finish it. The closed door next to him was calling for him to leave. Hope in his chest told him to stay, just for a little while longer. The letter wasn’t even that long. In essence, Robin was asking for you to keep your head low until he would come and save you. He had not abandoned you. Your eyes met Guy’s over the paper. He seemed out of place, a prisoner of his world. He had done that for you. Collected a message from Robin for you. He had risked his life for you. A warm feeling erupted in your chest akin to birds in flight. The relief in your eyes stopped his breath. You got up from the bed, your dress caressing the floor in gentle sounds. He felt more than he saw your hand on his chest, pulling yourself up. Your lips on his cheek melted everything. The armour, the mask he wore, his barriers, walls… Everything, in one kiss. His breath hitched when you pulled away.

“Thank you.”

The words rang in his ears. His hand came to rest upon yours, right above his heart. The drumming beat underneath your fingers echoed your own. He leaned, his forehead meeting yours in an intimate embrace. Soon, he pulled away, earning a heavy sigh from your lips. Your head bowed questioned him. He pulled your chin up, delicately.

“What is the matter?”

Close like this, his voice resonated through you like a lightning bolt in the dark. Your eyebrows were knitted together, hesitation etched in your eyes. You showed him the letter.

“Is this… are you still going after him?”

His hands went to your cheeks, keeping your eyes level with his. There was nothing but pure devotion in his eyes. It made you shiver. Only then, did you realize the power this man held over you. And you over him.

“I have cared for you long enough to know I would do anything not to hurt you. Including betraying my values and duties. I would burn the world to the ground if only to make you smile at me.”

He looked at you intently, his thumb tracing the shape of the apple of your cheek, drawing his fingers lower still, settling on your jaw. The sensation was overwhelming you, your ragged breath fanning over his cheeks, your sensations swallowing your thoughts entirely.

“Guy.”

He was startled by the sound coming out of your mouth. That name had been nothing short of a curse for him, yet it felt the greatest blessing of them all in your mouth.

“Yes? -Kiss me.”

A split second passed before he pulled you in by the waist, closing the distance between the two of you. His kisses began gentle, tender, turning hungry, harsh, pulling moans and whimpers out of you. He was gripping your hips, before embracing your whole body in his arms, willing for you to be one. His lips traveled to the junction of your shoulder and neck, gently nipping. You yelped, alarming him.

“Are you hurt? -No. Quite the opposite…”

He frowned, barely catching his breath before you pulled him with you towards the bed. You met no resistance. You made him sit, placing yourself between his legs, your hands coming to rest on his shoulders. His hands moved up to your hips, enticing you closer. His forehead met your sternum, your fingers carding through his hair, dark locks untangling between your knuckles. The air was stifled between desire and agony, not knowing how far things could go, or how far either of you wanted it to go. So, you stayed there, him hugging your body as he would a lifeline; you kept him there, caressing his face in slow motions, reassuring yourself he was indeed real. Time passed without either of you noticing, until Guy looked up at you, murmuring your name, mouth barely opened, scared he would chase the dream away.

“Aren’t your legs hurting? -A little. Nothing I can’t…”

His hands were faster than your words as he pulled your knees up, one after the other, making you sit on his lap. An involuntary gasp passed your lips. His smirk was quickly hidden. Without another word, he kissed you again, leisurely mapping over the expanse of your stomach, your back, your ass, your thighs. It knocked every hesitation you might have had out of the window. You willed your legs wider apart, pulling your dress higher than needed, revealing skin and heat. Your fingertips toying with the collar of his shirt were finally met with his as he pulled it off. His eyes met yours, ever so inquisitive. His scars were visible, some deeper than others. It was only fair to show him yours in return. As if reading your mind, he pushed you off of him, getting up from the bed and turning you around. The only sounds you heard were the unmistakable sound of a blade and the snap your laces made as they were cut through. The corset fell to the floor, your hands pulled the rest of the clothes down. Your back was littered with traces of whips. Some of them were so deep, it must have been hard to move for several weeks after that. As he did not move, you turned around awkwardly covering your breasts, modestly trying to hide them.

“Who?”

His hands grabbed your face, anger transpiring.

“Visay.”

He looked at you, all frowns and tears unshed. His eyes were glimmering with them. You reached to him, erasing them in earnest. “I’ll kill him for…” Your lips shushed him in a heated kiss. You guided his hands on your body, eyes pleading with him. Not tonight. Not now. Obedient as ever, he complied. You laid down on the bed, his body hovering above you. His lips and moans were tantalizing. As if in trance, he followed down the path from your jaws to your collarbone, mindful of the bruises there, worshiping this body of yours in every touch, every moment. His movements were calculated, even if hesitant, always asking you if you were feeling good, making sure your desires were fulfilled. You could feel the hammer in his chest resonating through your ribcage, through the skin, in echo with you. Soon, you found yourself closing your eyes, your breathing altered in a shapeless rhythm. Your knuckles were turning white, your hands clawing at the sheets like a woman possessed. The way his tongue curled against you made you lose all train of thought. As if he had done it thousand times before, his lips were making sinful sounds, while his nose was pressing against the apex of your thighs. The pleasure you felt, kept on growing and growing until you could not hold it anymore. Silently, you arched your back a soundless cry leaving your lips. Guy pulled away. His head leaned against your thigh, an easy smile appearing on his gleaming mouth. You could feel, still, his hand on your hip drawing mindless patterns there. You reached out for him. Before you could think of anything to say, he pulled you to his bare chest, leaving no space between you two. Without an afterthought, his rough fingertips were caressing the birth of your back in a soothing gesture. It lulled you to sleep quickly, feeling safe and sound in this bed with him. The thought almost made him cry. Him, whose only purpose was to fight, to obey, to threaten and to be violent, had found in you a new home. A new reason for a new beginning. He promised himself then, that whatever was to happen next, he would never let anyone ever, hurt you again.

Upon the morning, your hand reached out for him in a familiar gesture you did not know you had. His face was peaceful for once, a deep sense of contentment settling in his brow. Leaning up, you placed a delicate kiss on his cheek bone. He stirred a little, his hand curving around your waist, pulling your body closer to him. The cold air of the room and the sunlight sneaking through the window brought a sense of urgency over you. He had spent the night here. In your bed. You sat up in a hurry, pulling your night dress over your head. But, before you could get yourself more stressed out, he pulled you in bed with him, visibly very widely awake this time.

“What are you doing?”

The gruff of his voice made you shiver slightly. You caressed his jaw, the stubble there scratching your palms, a hint of a worry in your voice. “You spent the night.”

He smiled lazily into your hair, his hand settling at the nape of your neck.

“Yes. I believed it is allowed between a husband and his wife.”

Oh. Oh. Would he believe you had forgotten about that? Yes, it even made him laugh. You were so cute when confused like this. Mornings were not on your side by any means but this was new. The domesticity was new. You did not know how to feel about it.

“I… -You forgot. -I did not. -You did.”

You hit his shoulder, half a smile on your face. He pulled your chin up, hooded eyes meeting yours. His lips leisurely covered yours in a deliberately slow kiss. His chest was warm against your palms. Eager to meet his skin, your fingers ran across the planes of his back, while he pushed you down, spreading your thighs with his hips. His hands made your back arch against him, your breasts peaking under him meeting his chest through the cloth of your dress. He was hard against your abdomen. Desire pooled there, down, between your lips as well at the idea of him deeply seethed inside you. Guy must have sensed it, for he pulled any remaining garments off of you, before taking your hand in his. Kneeling on the bed, he put your sweaty palm against his waist, letting you found your way to the waistband of his trousers. The leather there clung onto his skin, just a little too tight not to notice the bulge threatening to snap the cloth in two. Your fingers were shaking as you undid his bounds. Then, once you were done, he pulled them down and he was finally bare in front of you. In the morning light, he was glorious. Breathtaking. You leaned against one of the post of the bed, biting your lips hard. You were clenching on nothing, seeing him there. He smiled wickedly at you, all but throwing himself on you, devouring your mouth in a hungry haze you never wanted to snap out of. Quickly, his fingers find the hair between your thighs, caressing down until he met your clit, drawing heavy, long, drawn out circles around it. He felt so powerful. More powerful than he had ever been before. Graced by God in the perfection that you were. He felt trusted and trusting. Your eyes met his in a silent plea. The need for him was plain and simple. Still, he could not help himself.

“Are you sure?”

Surprised, he followed your pull on his neck to your lips, all but falling into you.

“Yes. God, please, yes.”

The ushered tone to his ears, your legs secured around him while your hips could not help but press onto his cock. He readjusted his hold on you, entering you in one swift movement. The cry escaping your lips was nothing short of sinful. He could live only hearing that noise, over and over and over again. The burn of him soon left to be replace by untethered pleasure. It was foreign and familiar at the same time. You could feel him inside of you, move and hold on to you as he would a lifeline. His grip on your hips tightened. Those bruises you would cherish, you were sure of it. Your chest fell and rose with each movement. It elicited so many sensations in you, you were incapable of forming words or thoughts. His mouth met your shoulder in an attempt to keep quiet but to no avail. You felt his release deep inside you, quickly followed by your own.

As he pulled himself off of you, a knock resonated through the room. You exchanged an inquisitive look with Guy. You were not expecting anyone today. A second knock, much more impatient, hit the door. You pulled yourself up, and covered yourself in your night dress, opening the door slightly. It was pushed open by none other than Visay.

“Well, well, well, what have we here? Lovebirds huh? How sweet is that?”

The guards behind him laughed heavily. You doubted they were genuine. Guy had barely had the time to put on his trousers.

“Gisbourne, I need you to make a sweep in the castle and in the town. Apparently, our dear Hood was there yesterday. Yet, he still escaped you.” His forefinger dug into Guy’s chest. He remained stoic, almost calm. His eyes felt heavy on you, sparing only a glance before Visay almost kicked him out. In a flash of remembrance, you wondered where the letter he had brought you the day before was. But before you could recall, Visay gripped one of your wrist twisting it until you could no longer move your arm. The guards, even if not entirely in agreement with him, were afraid, and frightened men were even more loyal to the one holding the chains than the one being beat up with them. Their eyes told you that if you made a move, they’d make you pay double for it. On the verge of stepping out of the door, Guy turned around, eerily quiet. He was buttoning up his shirt, taking his time. Somehow, you knew what he was about to do before he did it. He pulled out a knife out of one of his boots and threw it in Visay’s direction before he was grabbed by the guards. He was pushed to his knees in an instant. Visay merely laughed before releasing you and picking the knife up.

“Oh my poor Gisbourne. Has your brain gone to goo?…” He kneeled in front of him. Gesturing towards you he added: “Or has the pussy been that good?”

Without a second thought, Guy spat in his face. Visay’s first instinct was to strike him, so he did. His second instinct was to strike him a second time, but he thought better of it. He had quite the tools at his disposal to make him yield. Including you. The knife in hand, he turned around and pushed you down.

“Poor little bird… Doesn’t know what’s best for her? I’ll show you what’s best for you, you bitch.”

You knew exactly what he meant to do as punishment for Guy’s affront. One of his hand blocked your wrists above your head, as his knee was pulling your thighs apart. The knife started to tear at the cloth you were wearing. It would not hold long against it. Despite his best efforts your husband could not get out of the grip the guards had on him. Still, he trashed like a man possessed. Yelling insults and threats you could not hear. You could only hear that old man on top of you, his knife leaving marks deep in your skin, trying to entice you into keeping your legs open for him. You knew how to trash around too. One of your knees made contact with his groin and he doubled over in pain. Guy stopped moving when he saw you had the knife in your hands. His face went white when he saw the blood on you. Visay was less than happy about your little stunt. While the room had gone quiet, even the guards not daring to move, Guy jumped to his feet and knocked Visay down in one motion. He pulled him by the collar, and knocked his head and body against the wall so hard, he would have a concussion later on. For the moment you did not care. Everything was hurting, your thighs, your chest, your arms. The monster had left almost no part of you intact. Suddenly tired, you relinquished the knife to Guy’s expertise. Without an afterthought, he plunged it into Visay’s guts. The man was moving like a loose puppet, making the blade only go deeper in the wound. The loyal men did nothing. They were too afraid of the one who had defied their boss and won. In a disarray, the soldiers let both you and Guy leave unscathed. And you followed him. As you would to the ends of the Earth. You felt a fool for trusting him too fast. Yet, he had thrown away everything he held dear and holy, for you. Only for you. But you were so tired. Before you could stop it, you collapsed against the stone floors.

When you opened your eyes, everything was dark. A little light came through some kind of cloth above you. Had the sky been torn? Your head was pounding, but at least, you could feel your arms and legs. As well as a light movement from where you were. Using your hands you pushed upwards and sat up. Horses. It smelled like horses. And the grass. God, how much you had missed the smell of grass. You were in a carriage, it seemed. One of hay, perhaps? It was too dark to tell. Your wounds stung as you moved around. Only then did you notice the fresh bandages on your limbs and the new brown cloth of a gown you did not own. A hand pushed you back down. A woman’s hand. Her words were hard to understand but when you saw her face, you knew exactly where you were. Or at least where you were headed.

“Marian?”

She called your name again, this time you heard loud and clear.

“You need some rest, please, lay back down. -How? Where?… Where’s Guy? We were with Visay and then… -Slow down. We know. He told us.”

You frowned. Her voice was soothing you yet your thoughts were spinning out of control.

“He told you? What…?”

The carriage came to a stop then. The light came in as someone pulled the cloth apart, revealing the early evening sky behind them. You could recognize that face anywhere.

“Robin!”

You winced as you jumped off your feet and out of the carriage, hugging your brother as if your life depended on it.

“Oh my God, I really thought for a second…” You pushed out of the embrace in a swift motion, keeping him at arms length. “Wait. You had me so worried! I’ve spent months in that castle trying to escape and you come in now?! I’ve been waiting the whole time! What took you so long!” You slapped his shoulder and he pretended for a minute to be hurt.

“I am sorry I could not get you before. We had our own adventures to deal with. But as soon as I heard you were married to Gisbourne I had to come to get you! -You do hate the man. -I do. I did. He did help you escape though.”

You smiled fondly at Robin, his soft side always a reminder of the good in this world. An anxious thought reached your mind.

“Where is he, Robin?”

A queasy smile on his face, he gestured to the head of the carriage. There, you could see Guy’s silhouette dismounting. His eyes met yours. He ran to you.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

His eyes were mischievous but the strong hold he had on your shoulder was a sign he was not joking. He pulled you against him, kissing the crown of your head, his hands settling on your face. His thumbs moving in slow circles on your cheeks, settling himself in your warmth and real breaths.

“I am alright now. Thanks to you.”

A pained expression appeared on his face.

“No. I… was helpless. I could not save you. I could not protect you… I…”

The kiss was meant to be reassuring and innocent. Instead it turned hungry and passionate. Out of the corner of your eyes, you could see Marian and Robin walking away silently.

“You did save me. You save me, everyday. I don’t know what I would have done if I had been forced to marry someone else but you… -Perish the thought. I’m never letting you marry anyone else.”

Your laugh echoed in his ear, like a sound he knew by heart and was discovering for the first time in years. All of a sudden he felt emotional. Needing to tell you how much he adored you.

“I never realized it until now but I think… I truly think I was in love with you even before we met…”

Your stunned silence drove his thoughts in the wrong direction.

“You don’t have to say anything. I know you don’t feel the same. Not yet anyway. It’s alright. I have you, so, everything will be alright.”

His arms tightened around your waist, your forehead against his chest. A moment passed in silence. The words were escaping you, but they’d have to do anyhow.

“ Guy… I… I can not imagine a future without you in it. Our relationship moved so fast, it shook me a little. But… I don’t want a life where you’re not in with me. No. I cannot and will never picture a life where you are not tied to me like you are right now. If this is not love, I don’t know what it is…”

His eyes were fixed on the horizon, the forest behind and the people in the camp talking. He was listening to you, you knew that. If he was hearing you was something else entirely. Your fingertips found the side of his face and forced him to look at you.

“Guy of Gisbourne, I believe I was not in love with you before we met. I know I hated you with everything in my being. And then you touched me and everything changed. You fell for me softly and reverently as you do with all things. I fell for you - as I do in life - passionately and wholeheartedly. I don’t regret it. I love you, Guy of Gisbourne… Whether you like or not.”

He looked at you with awe, wondering for a moment how lucky he could have been to find you in this life. He had been right about something. With you, everything was going to be alright.

#robin hood bbc #guy of gisbourne x f!reader #robin's sister!au #gisbourne x reader #tw: smut #tw: physical abuse #tw: mental abuse #tw: religion #devotion #one-shot

[doodle-pops]

@sorisooyaa's idea lmao!

Rapunzel TANGLED!

Rapunzel - Luthien

Eugene - Beren

Maximus - Huan

The two evil thieves- Celegorm and Curufin

the evil step mother - wait for it. . .

FEANOR!!!

Thingol should be Mother Gothel since he wanted to keep Luthien to himself and away from the world. Yes Thingol is Mother Gothel...imagine him singing to Luthien 'Mother Knows Best'. He even locked her away like Mother Gothel

Yooo Huan as Maximus is a legendary scene I look forward to, everything else I agree on.

#tangled au #thingol #luthien #doodlepops responds

[middleearthpixie]

Brilliant Disguise ~ Chapter Twenty-Six

Summary: Speech therapist Josephine Asharm has been brought into Erebor to work with Bifur, but trying to find her place among people who eye her suspiciously would be difficult enough under normal circumstances, but when Sophie finds herself caught between the king, his most trusted lieutenant, and the dwarf she’s there to help? She’s certain no good can come of it. Being of Man, not only does she stand out in the dwarf kingdom, she’s not entirely certain she’s actually welcome there at all. 

Thorin only agreed to allow Sophie to live amongst them out of a sense of duty to Bifur, who is recovering from an odd head injury (is there any other way to describe having an axe blade lodged in one’s head, only to have it later dislodged during the Battle of the Five Armies?) Before the battle, he spoke only khuzdul. But since it? He’s regained the ability to speak Westron—if only he could but remember any of it. As for Thorin? He’s trying his damndest to ignore the speech therapist, not to mention his own growing feelings for her, even as he is also recovering from his near fatal wounding in the same battle. 

Both Sophie and Thorin are haunted by their pasts and are uncertain of their futures, but sometimes, chances must be taken…  

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x OFC Josephine (Sophie) Asharm 

Warnings: None 

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.2k

Tag List:  @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard

@legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being

@rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-mer-6195 @sherala007 @enchantzz

@knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell

@jotink78 @sorisooyaa @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321

@dianakc @msjava1972 @buckybarnes-thorin @glassgulls @evenstaredits

@heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @albionscastle @absentmindeduniverse @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms

@sazzlep @night-ace

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here.

That night, Sophie had trouble sleeping. Between the pain in her ankle and the nightmares that plagued her, no sooner did she doze off than she jolted awake either in pain or terrified. Sten haunted her sleep, mocking her with his icy smile and oily words as he promised her that not only would she never be free of him, he would take Heather away from her forever. She heard the splash of him hitting the water. The squelch of the hammer striking him. The way the water reddened around him. And finally…

Silence.

And each time she lurched awake, Thorin was there, wrapping her in his arms, whispering reassurance that she was safe, that Heather was safe, that Sten would never trouble her again. Then he held her until she drifted back off to sleep, only to repeat the scenario throughout the night. 

Sophie awoke to find herself alone. For a brief moment, she wondered if she’d imagined the previous day’s events. But then she shifted and the sudden throb in her ankle assured her that it had actually happened.

Still, she sat up and carefully slid to the edge of the bed, where her crutches were propped against the beside table. It took her a moment to situate herself, and then she carefully maneuvered from her room. 

It was slow going, but she moved to Heather’s room, only to find it empty, her bed neatly made. A hint of apprehension twisted her belly. Thorin might have gone back to his own flat, but where was Heather and why hadn’t he at least left a note?

She tried not to panic, but her nightmares clung to her, made her crutch toward the sitting room with her heart beating almost triple time. She had to see Heather for herself, to make certain her nightmares had been just that—only nightmares. 

And as she came into the sitting area, she stopped as short as one on crutches could stop and as she did, Heather looked up. Putting a finger to her lips, she whispered, “Shhh, Mama. Mister Thorin is sleeping.”

Sophie smiled. Thorin was indeed sleeping, stretched out on the sofa with one leg straight, the other bent, his foot flat on the floor. Heather sat in the vee of his legs, a picture book open across her lap. “I was reading to him,” she whispered as she closed the book and then carefully climbed over him. 

He snored, but remained asleep and Sophie gestured to the knit blanket draped over the sofa’s back. “Why don’t you cover him, love?” 

Heather nodded and came around to tug the blanket down, before carrying back around to cover him. Then, she whispered, “There.”

“Why are you both in here?” Sophie asked.

“I had a bad dream, Mama. When I came into your room, he was there. I thought he slept on the sofa?”

Sophie smiled as she smoothed Heather’s hair away from her face. “He was sitting with me last eve, because I had a bad dream of my own.”

“Why?”

“I don't know. Sometimes your mind likes to play tricks on you.” She gestured for Heather to follow her into her room, where Heather climbed up onto Sophie’s unmade bed. “What did you dream?”

Heather’s nose crinkled. “I don't remember, Mama. But Mister Thorin said I could sit in the sitting area and read, so we didn't wake you.” 

She looked up at Sophie, her blue eyes narrowed. “Does he really sleep on the sofa?”

“Why would you ask?”

“Because he was under the covers with you, like I do when I cuddle with you. Was he cuddling with you?”

Sophie smiled. “He was. As I said, I also had bad dreams.” 

“Why?”

Sophie hesitated. She hadn’t planned on telling Heather about Sten, but at the same time, she also felt Heather had the right to know. Not all of the details, of course, but just enough to know she never need live in fear of Sten any longer. 

“Mama?”

“There’s something I need to tell you, love. About your papa.”

Heather’s eyes widened. “Is he here, Mama? Did he come for us? Do we have to go back with him?”

Her voice rose with each word, fear creeping into her words and expression and Sophie carefully sank onto the bed beside her, letting her crutches slide to the floor as she hurried to gather Heather in her arms. “No, love, no… you’ve nothing to fear, sweetling.”

“I don't want to leave here, Mama. Please don't make me…”

“Shhh…” She drew Heather across her lap, rocking her gently as she smoothed Heather’s tangled dark hair. “You’ve nothing to fear, baby, I promise you. We are not leaving Erebor. Not any time soon.”

Heather lifted her head. “Do you promise?”

“I promise, love.” Sophie brushed Heather’s hair away from her face. “And you never need worry about him coming back, either. He will not trouble us again.”

“Why?”

“Because he—he had an accident. On the lake. Mr. Bard told me about it. Yesterday, when I was in Dale.”

“He’s… gone?”

Sophie nodded slowly. “He is gone.”

“And he won’t come back?”

“He won’t come back.”

“Ever?”

“Ever.”

Heather smiled. “But Mister Thorin is here.”

“Yes, he is.”

“And he won’t leave, right?”

“I don't think so, no.” 

“Good.” 

Sophie pulled Heather closer. “So, you’ll be happy to remain here?”

Heather nodded. “I would, Mama. It means I can see Miss Oakmane every day and play with Gimli all the time.”

“And what more would you need?”

Heather bobbed her head more emphatically. “Nothing, Mama. That would be perfect.”

Sophie gave her a gentle squeeze. “It sounds perfect, sweetling.”

Heather nestled her head against Sophie’s breast and cuddled quietly for a long moment, but then, she picked up her head. “Mama?”

“What, love?”

“Can I—” she looked toward the door, in the direction of the sitting area—“Do you think…”

“Do I think what, love?”

“Well…” Heather linked and unlinked her fingers, studying them intently. “Do you think Mister Thorin… that is…”

Sophie bit back a smile, but she didn't hurry Heather at all. Instead, she waited, her smile becoming more difficult to hide as Heather’s forehead wrinkled and her eyebrows drew close together. She had the feeling she knew exactly what Heather was going to ask, which made her eyes sting. 

“Do you think Mister Thorin would be mad if I called him papa?”

“What do you think?”

Heather shook her head, her expression beyond serious now. “He told me ’adad means papa and that he would like being tha—” her eyes went wide and she pressed her lips together. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”

“Why?”

“Because I wasn’t. I told Mister Thorin I wouldn’t say anything.”

“You’re keeping secrets with him?”

“Are you mad, Mama?”

“It depends on the secret,” Sophie replied carefully.

“I can’t tell you, but it’s a good one. Promise.”

“A good one?”

Heather nodded. “A very good one.” 

“Then I won’t be mad. And, I think Mister Thorin would like it very much if you called him papa, but just to be sure, you should ask him.”

“I will. But,” Heather looked up at her, “please don't tell Mister Thorin I told you about what ’adad means.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

Relief swept across Heather’s face. “Thank you, Mama.”

“There you are.”

Sophie looked up as Thorin appeared in the doorway, his hair poking up in all directions and his eyes puffy with sleep. He rubbed the back of his neck with a wince. “How’s your ankle feeling?”

“I’ve had better days, to be honest,” she said, patting the bed. “Come and sit.”

He offered up a sleepy grin as he sank beside her. “We should think about going up for breakfast.”

Heather sat up. “Can I go find Gimli, Mama?”

Sophie nodded. “You may, but if he is not in the Great Hall, you are to come right back here.”

“Yes, Mama.” 

Heather climbed down from the bed and hurried from the room, leaving Thorin to offer up a look of concern. “Aren’t you worried she’ll get lost?”

She shook her head. “Not any longer, really. She knows Erebor almost as well as you dwarves, you know.”

“So, she’s come to think of this as her home, then?”

“To a certain extent, yes.” Sophie shifted slightly as her ankle began to ache. 

“And what about you, Mrs. Asharm?” His eyes softened, his smile almost mischievous. “Have you come to think of Erebor as home?”

She met that soft gaze, a gentle flutter rippling through her belly as she did. “I have, yes. I don't like to think of the time when I’m no longer needed here.”

“What makes you think that will ever happen?”

“Bifur is doing remarkably well and really no longer requires therapy, so…”

“And what if I asked you to stay, mesmel? Would you?”

“Are you asking me?”

“I might be.” He smiled then as a hint of color swept along his cheekbones. “I’d actually not planned on this, but I think perhaps this suits better.”

“Thorin,” she asked softly, even as her heart beat a triple-time staccato against her ribs, “what are you going on about?”

“I love you, Sophie. And I don't want to think about a time when you might not be here, either. So, perhaps we should arrange it so neither of us has to think about it.”

She barely heard him over the thunder of her pulse in her ears and her throat and mouth felt oddly dry as she whispered, “How so?”

His fingers skimmed along her cheek, tucking her hair behind her left ear as he said, “Will you marry me, Sophie?”

Her heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“I love you, I love Heather. I want us to be a family and I know that the timing isn’t the best, but… it feels right to me and I can only hope it does to you as well.”

“Thorin…”

“Marry me, Sophie. Be my queen and I promise to treat you as such for the rest of my days.”

Sophie’s eyes stung with unexpected tears as she gazed into the blue eyes she’d come to know and love so very much. “And you want to take on a ready-made family?”

“You know how I feel about you, and how I feel about Heather and yes, I am ready to do just that.” He smiled, his fingers lingering along her neck. “So, will you marry me?”

“Are you certain?”

“I have never been more certain of anything, Sophie.”

“Absolutely certain?”

“Sophie.” His eyes glinted, crinkling at their outer corners. 

“One hundred percent certain?”

He leaned in to press his lips to hers, his kiss soft and lingering and when he drew back, he whispered, “Do you need more convincing, mesmel?”

“Ask me again, Thorin.”

His smile widened. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

He rose over her, covering her, and as his lips met hers, he whispered, “Mênu tessu.”

Sophie wound her arms about his neck, pulling him flush. “As you are my everything as well, Thorin.”

He bent to capture her lips with his, his kiss soft at first, but then deepening as he shifted to settle between her thighs. She parted her lips, her toes curling at the silken glide of his tongue along hers. A hint of pain flashed through her injured foot, but it was quickly forgotten at that soft caress. 

She let her fingers slip along his hair, let them wind through it, as the soft tingles took root deep within her. She welcomed his weight against her, and a hint of disappointment swept through her as he pulled away to whisper, “We should probably not do this, in case Heather comes—”

“Gimli wasn’t in—what are you and Mama doing, Mister Thorin?”

Thorin drew back with a soft chuckle. “Nothing, mimûna.”

“Were you… kissing? Ew.”

As Thorin rose once more, Sophie sat up, tucking a wayward curl behind one ear. “You don’t approve, Heather?”

Heather’s nose wrinkled. “It sounds so… squishy… when you do it.”

“Squishy?” 

Heather nodded. “Squishy.”

Thorin reached down to tousle her hair. “Then perhaps it’s best you stopped it, Miss Heather. Besides, there are a few things I need to attend to and I could use your help.”

Heather stared up at him. “Me?”

He nodded. “Remember, you said you would help me.”

“I did!” Heather turned to Sophie. “Can I go with Mister Thorin?”

Sophie looked over at Thorin. “What do you have to do?”

He grinned. “You will just have to wait and see, mesmel,” he told her, bending to brush her lips with his. “But trust me, you will like it.”

“Thorin, what’s going on?”

Heather beamed up at her. “It’s a secret, Mama.”

She looked from Heather to Thorin, and when he winked, she had the feeling their secret had something to do with his proposal. With that, she smiled and nodded. “Very well. I suppose you will share when the time is right.”

“So, I can go with Mister Thorin?”

“Yes, love. You can go with Mister Thorin. But, make sure you keep him out of trouble.”

“I will, Mama.”

Thorin winked at Sophie as he scooped Heather up. “You rest, mesmel. We will see you later.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” 

He turned his smile to Heather. “Shall we go, then?”

She nodded. “We have a lot to do.”

“Then you should go,” Sophie told them, settling back against the pillows. “Especially if you have a lot to do.”

Heather grinned, her arms looped about Thorin’s neck. “You’ll love it, Mama. You’ll see.”

#The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #Thorin x OC #AU #Thorin Fic #Is it hot in here? #Romance #Richard Armitage

[i-did-not-mean-to]

April Alphabet Masterlist

So...here are my stories for the April Alphabet.

I've decided to also offer (supplementary or alternative) inspiration for my birthday celebration.

A - Archery - Kíli x OC (for @fandomfaeryreads)

B - Battle - Ori x reader (for @maalezzo)

C - Courtship - Gil-Galad x Glorfindel (for @maglor-my-beloved)

D - Dress-up - Erestor for @eunoiaastralwings

E - Escape - Boromir x OC for @scyllas-revenge

F - Flowers - Haldir x OC for @sorisooyaa

G - Gold - Fíli x OC (for @laurfilijames)

H - Horses - Éomer x OC (for @laurfilijames)

I - Inebriated - Nwalin (for @lordoftherazzles)

J - Jewellery - Celebrimbor x Maeglin (for @maglor-my-beloved)

K - Key - Ori x OC (for me)

L - Languages - Faramir x Éowyn (for @scyllas-revenge)

M - Mountains - Angbang

N - Nighttime - Námo & Irmo (in honour to @cílil)

O - Ordinary - Russingon

P - Picnic - Bagginshield (for @myeaglesong)

Q - Quiet - Finwëan Widows (for ME)

R - Royalty - Gondolin OT3 (for @jaz-the-bard)

S - Swords - Eönwë for @cilil

T - Tragedy - Bagginshield (for @maalezzo)

U - Unexpected - Beleg x Mablung (for @lycheesodas)

V - Voices - Maglor/Daeron/Finrod

W - Waterfall - Thranduil x reader (for @scyllas-revenge)

X - XOXO - Ori x OC, Fíli x OC, Teacher AU

Y - Yearning - Boromir x OC (for @lathalea)

Z - ZzZ's - Éomer x OC (for @laurfilijames)

This was fun!

#og post #April Alphabet #Fotfics #Fotfics april challenge #Masterlist #LOTR #Silm #Hobbit #IDNMT writes #fanfiction #writing #tolkien writing #jrrt #Spotify

[luthriel-tinuviel]

Lúthriel Tinuviel

Faceclaim for Lúthriel Tinuviel: Bogdana Kadritskaya Edited by @sorisooyaa

#Lúthriel Tinuviel #silm oc #the silmarillion #faceclaim #Bogdana Kadritskaya

[eunoiaastralwings]

Hello! You are SO TALENTED! Absolutely amazing! Can I please request a Maedhros x female reader, please? Mae is super protective and reader really doesn’t mind. But one day she’s had to run a letter to her boss forgets to bring the guards Mae makes her take everywhere and she gets lost in heavy rain. Mae gets super worried and goes out searching for the reader, he finds her but she’s wet and cold. And it’s all protective Mae taking her home, warming her by cuddles and whispering how he loves her

Under the Raindrops

characters maedhros x female reader

fandom tolkien- the silmarillion

a/n oh hun— thank you! am very happy you're enjoying it here! sorry for the wait - am still recovering from whatever this is. gif banner as usual from my talented mellon @sorisooyaa- i needed something simple— she made it perfect! &lt;;/3

You sighed— Maedhros was giving another lecture to your group of personal guards.

As annoying as it was for some— you had understood were his concerns laid and did not add to his plate by arguing.

Courting a Nolder elf— a Feanorian at that, put your life at danger more than you could ever know.

Back in Valinor, a time you were ready to get married— your Maitimo was more carefree— he wasn't constantly looking over his shoulder to check if you were still there.

His protectiveness over you had doubled since departing from his mother, losing one of his youngest brothers and his father— you had never seen your beloved tall redhead elf so broken.

After that— he was trying with everything in his power, to keep the rest of his family safe— which included you.

You didn't say a word as he wandered to his office— he gave a small nod over his shoulder, that's all.

You dearly missed your times in Valinor— moments where you could sit on the clean grass and watch the setting sun.

Or late nights beside the fire— Maedhros holding you close to his chest.

At times you felt like crying— the distance between yourself and him that was set after taking the oath was growing bigger and bigger.

As much as you hated to admit— you felt like a little doll for him— to sit still and look pretty.

But despite all those thoughts— you still knew how much your elf loved you— he wouldn't be constantly worrying about your safety if that wasn't the case.

You sat in your room as the evening dragged on into the night— you couldn't help but think you were certainly forgetting something. . .

It was your day off from work— but there was something picking at your mind— an unscratchable itch.

It didn't stop until you saw a pristine white envelope on your desk— your eyes widened and you gasped.

OH SHIT!

The letter you were supposed to deliver to your boss today.

You should have listened to Maedhros and delivered it yesterday— but you, being the master of procrastination left it off until today— on your day off.

Of course, you would forget it— you felt so stupid.

You instantly grabbed the letter and raced out the door— forgetting your guards or to inform Maedhros.

The dark clouds from the evening were now splattering rain— you hoped it wouldn't pour until you got back.

But the moment you reached your boss's home the rain poured down— drenching you top to bottom.

Thankfully— the letter was still kept safe and given to your boss without being wet.

He had offered you a ride back— worried you would get lost in the heavy rain.

But you politely declined— and was already running out before he could ask again.

But moments later you couldn't find the road— the rain was so heavy; it blocked your vision —and you couldn't see past your own nose.

You shivered and hugged yourself— yes, you had forgotten your cloak too.

When you tried to turn back— in the direction of your boss' house to take that offer— you couldn't find your way back either.

You blinked so many times— you lost count.

You felt like crying— lost and alone. . .

Had Maedhros even realized you were gone. . .?

“What do you mean by she's in not in her room?”

Maedhros almost shouted at the guards— the 8ft Nolder elf had their knees shaking in fear.

“We do not know— she didn't notify us of her leave.”

Maedhros frowned— it was rather unlike you to do that.

He groaned— then ran his hand through his bright red hair— he wished you were here to run your fingers through and pull out the knots— braid them if you wanted too.

Maedhros wasn't able to get a moment a peace— now his senses were hypersensitive.

He walked back and forth the length of your room— his guards had already informed your horse was still here— peacefully sleeping in the stables, oblivious to its owner's disappearance.

So, when the eyes of the oldest of Feanor's sons landed on your empty desk— he knew exactly of you whereabouts.

“Bring me my horse!”

He commanded.

He bit back his anger— he had told you to deliver that letter yesterday.

Now that tiny mistake— it made up your fate.

So when Maedhros climbed onto the stallion readied for him with rain showering like an unstoppable storm— he desperately hoped you weren't too far out of his reach.

He led his horse down the rained and flooded roads.

You were the one thing that reminded him of Valinor— of the times with his mother—you gave him the moments of peace in this life after the oath in his blood.

Maedhros wasn't ready to lose you— he never would be. . .

You shivered and sobbed under the heavy rain— then crashed to the flooded ground too cold and tired.

It felt like a giant hailstorm— you felt sick because of how fast it was draining your energy.

You sobbed into your hands— feeling paranoid you would be lost out here and no one would ever find you— and if they did you would probably be dead by then.

It was the middle of the night in heavy rain— and your enemies could be just on horizon— you didn't know.

So, you screamed out when you heard the sound of a large horse approaching you.

“Y/N, meldanya!”

The owner of the horse spoke— and you cried out in relief.

“Russo!”

You threw your arms hastily around him— in fear thinking it was your imagination and then in relief feeling him real.

He carefully wrapped his arms around you— Maedhros held you close to his chest and he murmured about your stupidity.

“What were you thinking, melda?— Look at you! You are all wet! You're cold!”

He spoke—completely alarmed and took off his outer thick long robe and wrapped it around your tiny shaking shoulders.

You sobbed into his chest— while apologizing profusely.

He sighed and ran a hand through your hair— then lovingly kissed the top of your head.

You slowly lifted your head to look up at him —then looked into his burning blue eyes for a long time.

“I missed you so much. . .— I missed you so much!”

Maedhros knew exactly what you meant— he knew how drastically he had already changed.

He knew how much you missed the old elf he was— sometimes he did too. . .

“Áva sorya” (Don't dread).

He whispered to you— and kept gently brushing your wet hair.

Without another word— he easily lifted your small and tiny body — compared his tall and broad body— into his arms and climbed to in horse with ease.

Maedhros whispered sweet nothings on the way back— he kept you covered from the heavy rain with his body and cloak as much as possible.

When you finally reached back— he let his guards take care of the horse and immediately made his way to your room.

With respect— Maedhros stepped outside as you changed sending maids in — if you needed them.

Once you were done— you called him back in and your Maitimo rushed in.

As the maids were sent out— he quickly began a fire inside the fireplace mantle.

He tried to forget the memories the sparks and flames made him remember and quickly sat beside you on the couch.

You didn't waste time and pushed yourself into his warm embrace— feeling safe and warm.

You weren't wet, cold and alone anymore.

He rubbed his hands up and down your arms— you were still shivering and Maitimo held you close as he possibly could.

“Am here. . .— right here. . .”

He said and kissed your hair.

“Am so sorry. . .”

You whispered.

“It's alright. . . you're safe now, meldanya”

“Am sorry for worrying you— I should have listened to you-”

You sobbed and hiccupped.

“Y/N, melda, you could be here in your room— and I still would be worried about you. . .— not a moment is there when am not worried about you. . .”

“No?”

You squeaked.

He let out a chuckle— looking like the old Russo that always had a sibling or more clutched to his arms and legs, cleaning up their mess.

“Yes— I'll always worry about you— you know this. Melinyel, Y/N” (I love you).

“I love you too. . .”

He smiled— then leaned down to your lips and kissed you— softly.

“I will always love you. . .”

taglist form

tara's taglist: @mslizziesblog @wandererindreams @aeonianarchives

silm taglist: @doodle-pops

#maedhros #maedhros x reader #maedhros silm #the silmarillion #the silm #the silm fandom #silm #silmarillion #the silm x reader #the silmarillion x reader #silmarillion x reader #tolkien elves #tolkien #jrr tolkien #russandol #maitimo x reader #maitimo #neylofinwe #tarawrites #answered #queued for night

[nerdanel-the-wise-istarnie]

Nerdanel the wise

While still in his early youth he wedded Nerdanel, the daughter of a great smith named Mahtan, among those of the Noldor most dear to Aulë; and of Mahtan he learned much of the making of things in metal and in stone. Nerdanel also was firm of will, but more patient than Fëanor, desiring to understand minds rather than to master them, and at first she restrained him when the fire of his heart grew too hot; but his later deeds grieved her, and they became estranged. Seven sons she bore to Fëanor; her mood she bequeathed in part to some of them, but not to all.

The Silmarillion, "Of Fëanor and the Unchaining of Melkor."

Nerdanel faceclaim (Eleanor Tomlinson) edited by @sorisooyaa

#nerdanel #the silm #the silmarillion #Nerdanel the wise #nerdanel rp blog #the silm fandom #silmarillion #silm fanart

[childrenofarda]

Name: Nyarmë

Species: Maia of Irmo

Appearance: Softly curling blonde hair with tips that change colour, blue eyes. Usually barefoot, and occasionally gives herself wings. Faceclaim is Emma Myers.

Description: Nyarmë is a maia with a very sunny disposition. She’s probably the happiest and most cheerful maia you’ll meet. She’s playful, caring, sweet and optimistic. An extrovert, and will usually be the first to approach you and introduce herself.

She can be a bit naive about the Children and the world of Arda, particularly its more negative aspects. But she loves stories, both telling them and hearing them, and she uses the power of dreams to share them.

Her primary role in the Gardens is provide elves with joy and comfort. Because of her love of stories, she’s often tasked with sending dreams to children.

She likes to be around others, and doesn’t cope well with being alone. She is a deeply devoted friend (sometimes whether you want her to be or not), and has difficulty stepping back when she isn’t needed. Her best friend is a Maia of Mandos. They’re polar opposites and an unlikely pair, but they work.

Moodboard by the amazing @sorisooyaa​

#muse description #nyarme