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peneigh-dzredfohl · 1 hour

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I Have Time.

Part 1 can be found here

Fandom: Robin Hood (BBC TV series)

Pairing: Guy of Gisborne x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Pining, smut, insecurity

Summary: From the imagine, “Imagine telling Guy about your 21st century Christmas traditions.” Part 2.

Comments: If you would like to be added to or removed from my tag list, please let me know. Requested by @sydmarchsstuff

I'm going to sound like a broken record, as usual, but thank you to all of you who regularly engage with my fics. I appreciate it more than you know. :)

The knock at your door had completely broken the spell from around you and Guy. The two of you moved over to your small table, which you noticed that Guy had already set and he began plating the food.

“You really didn’t have to do this,” you told him.

Guy merely smirked at you and then pulled your chair out for you. “Would you like your shawl? You’re shaking.”

As the spell had been broken from around you, you had never even noticed the temperature. Your mind was too pre-occupied with this gorgeous man before you. He aroused you in so many ways, not just physically, but also emotionally. Those icy eyes held so many negative emotions, and whenever in his company, something made you feel sad for him.

Before you could answer and Guy had got your shawl and was placing it around your shoulders. You couldn’t help but notice how his hands lingered on your shoulders for a couple of seconds and then slipped away. The truth was this: you had always found it impossible to read men and know their intentions. Was Guy really interested in you for more than just friendship?

In his own seat, Guy remained silent and still, watching your reaction to the meal he had organised. But you remained closed, your shoulders and back straight, your face straight. He sighed and tightened his fist, not realising that you had noticed him.

“Is everything alright?” you asked.

“No, it isn’t,” Guy growled. His jaw was clenched, and his own uncertainty and indecision was driving him mad. He thought back to pursuing Marian; that had been easier. He had always known that she would never love him, and that somehow spurred him on to try and change her, presenting a challenge. You, however, were so difficult to read, being a different creature entirely. When he had touched your hand earlier, by the fire, you had not moved. Was that his sign?

“Have I done something wrong?” you asked, feeling immediate guilt rise in your chest, and you had no idea what you were feeling guilt for. “Please, Guy, I would never judge you for telling me your thoughts.”

His gaze locked on yours from across the table. “Most women I’ve encountered and their intentions I can read. Yours I cannot. You confuse me.”

“My intentions in what way? As in, romance?” you asked, your eyes wide in shock at this sudden admission. To think that Guy of Gisborne had power and persuasion, beneath all that was a deep vulnerability.

“You could call it that, yes,” he replied simply.

You sighed and looked down into your lap.

Guy watched you, and noticed a very slight smile on your face. What did that suggest? Amusement? Happiness?

“Why do you smile?” he asked bluntly.

“Because I’ve felt the same way about you. I’ve been here a few months now, and I thought maybe I’d be able to read you because you’re not like a lot of the men I’m used to.”

Guy smirked. “Is that so? Indulge me.”

“I don’t mean it in a bad sense at all. Far from it. I’ve never really been what men want back where I come from. I began to think you were the same as that.”

“So, how am I different to these men then?”

“It’s hard to explain, Guy, and you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Guy got up from the table and stepped around it towards you. He leaned down, feeling that intense draw to you, an invisible connection. It beckoned him closer to you, and then he stopped.

You reached for the edge of his leather tunic, which had two fastenings open at the top. You grabbed the edge of the tunic and pulled him toward you, stopping for a second so your faces were no more than two inches apart.

Guy inhaled sharp and then kissed you hard. The two of you succumb to that heat which had been rising for months now. The kiss deepened and your tongues met. You got to your feet and the two of you, still kissing, fumbled over to the bed.

With shaking hands, in anticipation and excitement, you unfastened Guy’s leather tunic, peeling it from him. He threw it to the floor, thankful to get rid of it. And then you continued kissing.

Once completely disrobed, Guy lay over you, kissing you. The kisses were less forceful now, and instead were full of love. You brushed your hand up into his hair, lacing your fingers in the raven locks.

Guy’s hand trailed down your warm body, followed by his lips. “I’ve waited so long for you,” he groaned.

“You have me now,” you replied.

The two of you made love slowly, tenderly, deeply. There was no rush in either of you. Everything was about savouring the moment, remaining joined for as long as you could be.

Guy rocked against you, his head at your neck. Your hands were locked in his and your legs were closed around his waist. With each deep thrust, you felt him press against that pleasure point. It made the waves mount as if each time he hit that spot, it flicked a switch, increasing the electricity. It was building, like a pressure in the very base of your stomach.

Every sensation that Guy felt was pure pleasure, warmth and love. He was encased in you, protected by you. For a second he pulled his lips from your neck and looked into your eyes, smiling as he did so. His whole heart told him that you were his home. Guy had never known a true home, until now. He continued thrusting into you as you kept your gazes locked, and he watched your smile change, transforming your expression into one of wonder; eyes shut, mouth open. This was his sign to thrust that little quicker, and as he did so, he saw your expression mirror your ecstasy even more intensely. His name slipped off your tongue, becoming caught up in a groan. Your body shook around him, and he could feel you tightening his girth.

As the orgasm reached its peak and died away, you opened your eyes, feeling aftershocks flicker down your legs. And it was here that you knew Guy had also reached his climax. His eyes closed and you watched him come closer, putting his lips to yours. He groaned into your kiss. You held him as he rode that beautiful wave out and then let him slip down onto your chest, panting.

Guy closed his eyes, that sense of being at home so intense now. Your heartbeat pulsed against his ear, gradually slowing the longer he remained there, the two of you skin to skin.

The afterglow lingered around the two of you for a few minutes, until Guy spoke. He lifted his head from your chest and looked at you, brushing a stray piece of sweaty hair from your brow. “You have yet to tell me exactly where you’re from,” he said, smirking. “I was hoping that this may have warmed you into trusting me enough to tell me where you are from.”

“You won’t believe me, Guy. I know you won’t,” you replied defensively and pulled yourself up the bed so you were sat up.

Guy shifted beside you and laced his hand in yours. “Trust me, please.”

You sighed and focused on him, finding him the most handsome man you had ever seen. And somehow he was now yours. “I’m from the future.”

Guy stared at you blankly.

“See, I knew you wouldn’t believe me.”

Guy furrowed his eyebrows. “I never said I didn’t believe you. You’ve assumed immediately what I’m thinking. It’s hardly something that you hear on a regular occasion, is it? So how do you expect me to react?”

You continued. “I’m from the year 2022. I’d read stories about time slips and never believed they existed. I always thought they were silly ideas or just stories made up by drunk people. This is why I don’t talk too much about home. England is extremely different to this in the future. It would take me a long time to talk about everything.”

Guy just stared at you and propped up on his elbow, resting his head on his hand. “I have time.”

***

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peneigh-dzredfohl · 12 hours

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Something in the Night ~ Chapter Twenty-One

Summary: Following the Battle of the Five Armies, a seriously wounded Thorin Oakenshield returns to Erebor to recuperate and eventually ascend the throne as king. With the deaths of Azog the Defiler and his son, Bolg, Thorin no longer has to worry about the bounty the Defiler placed on his head and can instead concentrate on restoring Erebor to its former glory.

Nina Carren of Esgaroth has one goal—to make Thorin Oakenshield pay for unleashing Smaug the dragon unto her home—where he destroyed the town and killed her family. The Defiler might be gone, but his bounty remains very much in place, and she fully intends to collect on it.

Finally, the opportunity shows itself for her to do just that, only to have it go horribly awry. Wounded and now at his mercy, neither Nina nor Thorin stopped to think what might happen, should things not go quite according to plan…

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x ofc Nina Carren

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 4.1k

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Previous chapters can be found here.

The infirmary at night was a quiet and lonely place. Especially in the royal chambers, which were closed off from everyone else. Oh, the chambers themselves were lovely, well-lit, with comfortable beds and although she knew the dwarves prided themselves on their gem work, she still gaped at the beautiful stones inlaid in the labradorite walls. Nina wagered her room alone was worth more than the entirety of Esgaroth at its peak, and that gave her such pause. Erebor was built on the riches of the mountain, literally and figuratively, and it boggled her mind just how much wealth it truly held. She’d never seen so much wealth, and certainly not in so small a space.

But to look at Thorin, one would never think him to be a king. Oh, like every other dwarf she’d ever seen (which, of course, wasn't many until recently, and even now, in the infirmary, they kept their distance from her and she from them) he favored jewelry, and adorned his fingers and hair, as they all did. But he wore no crown, nor any fancy robes. Instead, he dressed almost exactly as he had been dressed when he and his Company first arrived in Esgaroth. A most down-to-earth king, indeed.

Her only experience with any man of power was the Master of Esgaroth, who was practically a caricature in his love of what hie considered finery. Truth be told, he was one of the most physically repulsive men she’d ever seen, with his stringy, red combed-over hair and over-fed body stuffed into shirts and trousers that were at best a size too small. He flashed his wealth, mostly stolen by way of taxes on the denizens of Esgaroth, without shame and yet when one stood close to him, as she’d had the misfortune of doing once, it was apparent bathing was not a favorite activity. Not only that, but he tried to hide the smell of unwashed skin with perfumes that were cloying and sickening. He was, as Lenna once said, a poor man’s idea of a rich man, and that summed it up perfectly as far as Nina was concerned.

However, Thorin was not like that. In fact, he was as far from that description as possible. His dark hair shone when the light hit it, the silver streaks highlighting the glossy black curls, and when he passed by? She smiled into the darkness. He smelled of leather and earth and summer nights and she bit back a sigh now just remembering what it was like to be engulfed by them, engulfed by him.

Narnerra had told her she could leave come the morning and while she was impatient to get home and assure Sigrid she was all right, Nina also did not want to leave. She knew that when she did, she would likely not lay eyes upon Thorin again.

She didn't want to think about that. Now that he was no longer furious with her…

She frowned into the darkness. She didn't want to think about that, either. It was best if she didn’t.

The soft knock at the door gave her pause, for in her time in Erebor, aside from that first night, no one knocked on the door past suppertime.

It had to be a mistake, so she ignored it.

Then it happened again.

“Nina?”

Her heart leapt at Thorin’s whisper, her stomach fluttering as she kicked back the covers and rose from her bed to pad to the door. “Thorin?”

“Did I wake you?”

She tugged open the door. “No, but what are you doing here?”

He emerged from the darkness to step into her room. “Narnerra told me you were leaving come the morning and since I’ve a meeting in Esgaroth first thing, I will not have another chance to see you.”

“To see me?” She reached for her wrapper, draped across the foot of her bed and drew it on. “Does your girlfriend know you’re here?”

To his credit, Thorin blushed, which unnerved her to a certain degree. It was confirmation of his relationship with the beautiful dwarrowdam, and it was confirmation she dreaded hearing. Up until right now, she could fool herself into thinking that maybe—just maybe—she and Thorin were on the verge of something.

But that blush changed everything.

OF course, it was silly, not to mention downright foolish, to assume he’d not have another woman in his life. Despite his protestations to the opposite, Thorin was strikingly handsome. And kind. And gentle. And everything any sane woman would want. She’d come so close to be the one he called his… so very close…

Don’t think about that.

“Nina,” he closed the door behind him, leaning back against it, “I had not expected to ever lay eyes upon you again. And I certainly expected to remain furious with you for the rest of my days.”

“So why are you here, then?”

“Because I needed to see you. Before you left.”

“Does she know you’re here? Because judging by how cold she was to me, I doubt she would be happy with you’re being here.”

“No,” he shook his head, “she doesn’t know. And she is not my girlfriend.”

“What is she, then?”

He sighed softly. “At one point, I thought to ask her for her hand.”

That confession was like a punch to the stomach and Nina was thankful for the low light, otherwise he’d see how she blanched. And it had to be terrible, for she actually felt the blood drain from her face. “I see.”

“At one point,” he repeated, stepping up to her. “But I am not so certain that is the case now.”

“Thorin, do not tell me what you think I wish to hear bec—”

“I’m not. I’m telling you the truth.” He caught her face in his hands, his palms warm and his thumbs gentle as they grazed along her cheekbones. “I told you how dwarves do not take lovemaking lightly, remember?”

“How could I forget?” Those thumbs moving along her cheeks made thinking clearly almost impossible for her. Her eyelids grew so heavy, her thought grew just as heavy, and sluggish and she just wished to lean into the gentle caresses.

She forced her heavy eyelids to open and found him smiling down at her. A pleasant warmth came to her cheeks at the heat in his blue eyes. “Why do you stare at me like that?”

“Do you remember what abnâmul means?”

Nina swallowed hard. “I do. Beautiful.”

“You are beautiful,” he whispered, tilting her face to his. “So very beautiful, indeed.”

With that, he bent and as his lips touched hers, Nina melted against him, easing her arms about his waist, parting her lips to receive his kiss wholeheartedly.

He bent her slightly back, his tongue slow and teasing as it caressed hers and for the first time since that wonderful night in Mirkwood, Nina’s spirits soared and happiness radiated through her.

She tightened her arms about him, her fingers curling into the rough fabric of his henley to tug it up from the waist of his trousers. He sucked in a sharp breath as her fingertips brushed along the swath of skin she’d bared, and she smiled when he shivered against her.

He broke the kiss, smiling as he pressed his forehead to hers. “Do that again,” he whispered, and his eyes closed as she did it again.

His eyes slowly opened to meet her gaze once more. Her heart picked up its pace, trebled it as she managed to whisper, “Why are you here, Thorin?”

“Because I’ve missed you.”

“Missed me? Or missed this.”

He straightened up then. “This?”

“Yes, this. The feelings. The pleasure. That.” She managed to pull free from him, and looked up.

“Do you suggest I’m here only for that?”

“Are you?”

“Why would you ask such a thing?”

“Why?” She shook her head. “Well, for starters, you planned to ask another woman to marry you.”

“At one point.”

“Thorin.”

He drew in a deep breath and slowly nodded. “Yes, Nina. I had—at one point—thought to ask Elisin for her hand. But that was before. And now, I find I do not think a match between her and I would be a good one, for I am afraid my heart belongs to another.”

Nina’s pulse throbbed through her temples. “Thorin.”

“And although I had reason enough to be angry with her, this other woman has far more reason to hate me for the rest of her days.” He stepped closer to her.

She took another step backward. “How can you say I have your heart after everything that has happened?”

He moved toward her once more. “Because you have?”

A step back and she found herself flush against the wall, which was lumpy and rough from the gems running through the labradorite. “That isn’t possible.”

“Why?” He brought both hands up to press his palms against the stone on either side of her shoulders. “Who has decided this? Who do you think does my thinking for me?”

“Well, I—I don't think anyone else does your thinking for you, but remember… you are a king and I am a nobody.”

“So?” His eyes softened. “I am only recently a king and you are not a nobody.”

“Very well then, I am also not a dwarf.”

A hint of a smile played at his lips. “Nobody’s perfect, mesmel.”

“You are mad, you know.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been mad.”

“Thorin.”

“I love you, Nina. Now, we can keep fighting about this, or you can just tell me you love me back and then we can make use of that very comfortable bed or the floor, or anywhere else in this room you’d like.”

“I don't even like you at the moment, dwarf. In fact, if I had my steel…”

“You would do nothing, just as the last time.” He leaned in then, and this time, when their lips met, he flattened against her. Not in a dominant way, trying to prove to her he could do whatever he wished to her if the mood struck, but more in a need to feel her against him sort of a way.

At least, that was what she told herself.

Because the truth was she needed to feel him that way. And when he pulled away and she met his heated gaze, she whispered, “You love me?”

He nodded slowly. “I love you.”

“But, I was going to collect on Azog’s bounty on you.”

“But you didn’t.”

“But I was going to.”

“But,” he brushed her lips with his, “you didn’t.”

“But—”

“But you didn’t,” he cut her off gently, and this time, he kissed her more deeply. He lowered his hands to catch hers, to lace his fingers with hers and brought them back up to press gently into the stone.

Her eyes closed slowly as the delicious sensations swirled through her, tilted her head back when he swept his lips down over her chin, along the side of her neck. He nuzzled her, whispering, “Maralmizi, Nina.”

Her head spun as the sensations grew stronger, tingling along her neck, through her belly, to slightly lower, where delicate knots of desire formed to tighten within her. “What does that mean…” she managed to whisper, her fingers tightening about his.

He kissed back up toward her ear, his lips brushing it as he replied, “I love you…”

“Mmmm….” She smiled, then bit down on her bottom lip as the tip of his tongue swept over a surprisingly sensitive patch of skin just below her ear. “I love you back, dwarf…”

His thumbs grazed hers, his lips swept down into the hollow of her throat. He trailed soft, teasing kisses down into the hollow of her throat once more, each one playful and tender at the same time. When he lifted his head again, it was to regard her with blazing blue eyes and his gaze never wavered as he reached for the lacings of her tunic. The leather laces gave easily, the cotton parting slightly, and heat swept through her as he let go of those laces to part the throat of her tunic even wider.

He held her gaze, sliding his hands down along her body, over the rise of her breasts, to the hem of her tunic, and then he swept up, whisking it over her head. His gaze burned hotter as it swept over her, and he murmured, “Abnâmul, mesmel…”

As he spoke, he traced the tip of his finger along the inner curve of her left breast. Fire whispered through her, gentle at first, but it grew stronger as he brushed inward, toward its crest. Her nipple beaded in anticipation of his touch, poking up through the thin muslin of her chemise. He brushed it, slowly circled it, and as the sensations rippled through her, she caught her bottom lip between her teeth, but couldn't hold back her sigh.

“Oh, amrâlimê,” he whispered, his voice husky and his eyes smoldering as they met hers, “I have missed you, you know…”

Despite her sluggish thoughts and that delicious heat swirling through her, Nina nodded slowly. “I’ve… oh, I’ve missed you as well…”

The tingles grew sharper and steadier now as he swept lightly over her nipple, and it took every bit of will she possessed to not simply melt into a puddle. His smile spoke of promises she knew well, and her entire body trembled with anticipation of him.

He leaned in to capture her lips in a soft kiss as as their lips met, no more words passed. His hand came fully over her breast, kneading and teasing until the heat threatened to devour her. Her back bowed, pressing her breast deeper into his palm, a breathless sigh bubbling to her lips at the sensations running riot through her now. Those knots in her lower belly returned, sweet and tight and dropping lower, where the dull ache of arousal bit into her.

His lips caressed hers, and as she slipped her arms about his neck, he pressed firmly against her, then gently drew her away from the wall, turning to guide her back until the backs of her legs bumped her narrow bed.

Thorin urged her down into the soft mattress, and as she sank into it, she smiled at the sight of him above her, dark hair tumbling forward almost as a curtain to keep out the rest of the world. He looked almost feral, his eyes blazing sapphire, filled with desire that mirrored her own, and those eyes devoured her as he caught the hem of her chemise to gently sweep up along her thighs. Heat burned through her as the linen skimmed up over her hips. She waited for him to sweep it over her head, but instead, he bent and pressed heated lips against her lower stomach, which sent fire arcing through her.

Without thinking, she reached for him, shoving her fingers into his hair and as he moved lower, her fingers tightened. The tip of his tongue swept along her hipbone, following by a teasingly soft kiss. Those knots tightened further.

Thorin crept higher now, feathering kisses up along her ribs, taking care around the bandage, pushing linen out of his way, until he found what he sought and his lips closed about her aching nipple. The tip of his tongue did a slow, almost lazy swirl about the taut bead, her back bowing of its own as fire tore through her now.

“Thorin…” His name leaked through her clenched teeth, her fingers twisting tighter in his hair now as he oh-so-sensually tortured her. The ache between her thighs spread slowly through her, her legs parting of their own to let him settle between them.

She couldn't hold back her sigh as he came firmly against her. She’d forgotten just how amazing he felt like this, how much she absolutely loved being surrounded by him, how the rest of the world simply fell away and left them in peace. She had missed him, had missed everything about him and as his lips claimed hers, she lost herself in his kiss.

Still, they were in the infirmary and she had no doubt that any strange noises coming from the royal ward would bring Narnerra or one of her assistants running and the last thing Nina wanted was for anyone to burst in on them.

The bed let out an ominous squeak as Thorin rolled onto his back, tugging her atop him as he did. He grinned even as she froze. “What’s the matter, mesmel?”

“What if someone hears?”

He reached up, catching a wayward curl to tuck back behind her ear. “No one will hear a low squeak. And even if they did, no one would come in here. This is reserved for my family.”

“Which is exactly why someone might, if they thought you were in here. They might think I’m killing you.”

“We both know you wouldn’t, though.”

“We do, yes. They, however do not.”

He trailed his fingertips along her back, which brought a shiver along her spine and had her catching her bottom lip between her teeth even as her eyelids grew heavy. She managed to keep them open, smiling at his murmured, “I’ll take my chances.”

The air stirred, skittering cold across her bare back. “Thorin?”

“What?”

“Why are you still dressed?”

His laughter rang out and when she clapped her hand over his mouth, it did little to dull the reverberation. Peeling her hand from his face, he replied, “You needn’t worry. You and I are the only ones down here this night. And as for your question…”

He gently eased out from beneath her and slid to the edge of the bed to stand. “I won’t be much longer.”

She bit back another sigh as he whisked his henley over his head. Without thinking, she also slid to the edge of the bed, then rose to stand before him. She drank in the sight of him, the flickering candlelight dancing along the swells of muscle along his arms, shoulders, and chest and without thinking, she laid her hand along the curious scars dotting the left side of his chest. “What are these?”

“Reminders to avoid being caught in the jaws of a warg.”

She looked up at him. “What?”

He nodded. “A warg grabbed hold of me, just outside of Goblintown, when I was making my way from the Shire to Erebor.”

She trailed her thumb along one of the nearly perfectly round divots in his swarthy skin. Some were barely visible through the black hair spread wide across his chest, but she could still make them out. Small. Round. White. “And how did you pull yourself from the jaws of a warg?”

“Master Baggins came to my aid.” He must have seen the confusion in her eyes, for he smiled as he laid his hand over hers. “The hobbit who made up the fourteenth member of our company. He came to my rescue with the smallest blade ever forged, but pried me free. It was only one of the times he saved my hide, the last one being after my confrontation with Azog.”

His voice grew so soft, she could barely hear him, and as she brushed her thumb along the tooth mark, she whispered, “You need not tell me if it troubles you to think about.”

“Perhaps some day I won’t mind regaling you with what happened. But there was nothing glorious in any of it. I was a mad king, and warmonger, and I cost many people dearly, as you well know.

“But,” he caught her beneath the chin with a finger, tilting her face to his, “I will spend the rest of my days making it up to you, mesmel. I give you my word.”

He didn't offer her a chance to respond, but bent to her and as their lips met, her questions died on her lips. They no longer mattered and would wait. All that mattered was his warm, bare skin against hers, his arms tightening about her waist, and his lips also warm against hers.

Her hands went to the falls of his trousers, and a moment later, the heavy fabric pooled at his feet and with a soft laugh, he pulled away to remove his cumbersome boots and hose, then stepped from that puddle of fabric on the stone floor.

Her mouth went dry and her belly came alive with a million butterflies as he caught her around the waist once more and lifted her easily. Her legs, of their own accord, wrapped about his waist, and when their lips met, it was like a match to dry kindling. One spark, and embers became flames. Flames became an inferno and within moments, he was pressing her down into the bed once more, pinning her beneath him, and when he slid inside her, she was ready and welcoming and melted around him. There was nothing gentle or tender as he drove into her, but pure need and desire fired his powerful thrusts and she clung to him, her thighs tight against his sides, her arms tight about his neck, her body tight about his.

With swift precision, he brought them both to the edge of madness, every fiber in her body tensed and begging for relief. She pulsed about him, her fingernails biting into the warm skin of his back, and when it was his turn to tense, he crushed her against him, gave a powerful thrust, and shuddered as he came. Nina surrendered to the fiery bliss he sent spilling through her, her body tingling and trembling as his climax triggered hers and she savored every last pulse, every last shiver, every last knot coming undone at his touch. And when he sank against her, breathless, a fine film of sweat along his back, she smiled as she nuzzled him. “I’ve missed you, dwarf,” she whispered, her voice thready and airy as her heart raced and her head still spun madly from the force of their combined release.

He said nothing at first, a hot, husky laugh skimming the curve of her shoulder as he fought for breath. Then, he nuzzled her, and managed to whisper, “Amrâlimê…”

Her fingers slipped through his soft hair, traced along the braid at his left temple. “I don’t speak your language,” she murmured, trailing her fingertip along his cheek as he lifted his head once more. “Teach me?”

“Of course.” His eyes were sleepy, heavy-lidded and seductive without his even trying. “Amrâlimê means my love. And you are, Nina. You are my everything. My kurduwê, my amrâlimê, my mesmel.”

“Thorin…”

“My heart, my love, my jewel of all jewels.” His eyes glittered like perfectly cut sapphires. “And you know how dwarves regard jewels, so… you are my ghivashel, Nina. My treasure of all treasures.”

Nina swallowed hard as her throat tightened and unexpected tears stung her eyes. “I was so certain you would hate me for the rest of your days.”

He carefully eased off her to stretch out alongside her. “I admit,” he began softly, gathering her to curve against him, “at first, that was what I thought as well. But, the more I thought about it, the more time I spent with Elisin—and before you ask, I did nothing with her, not even a kiss—the more I realized I missed you, Nina.”

“Not even a kiss?”

He smiled. “Not even that. I love you, and you are my One. Once a dwarf finds his One, all other women cease to exist as far as he is concerned.”

“But isn’t your One supposed to be another dwarf?”

“Well, yes, but we both know things don’t always go as planned.”

She smiled as she curved against him, tucking her head against his chest, her fingers sweeping lightly along the black hair covering his belly. “I am so very sorry, Thorin. If I could do it over again, I would never have gone to Tarog. I never would have thought harming you would do anything other than make the world darker than it already is.”

“Let’s not speak of it any longer,” he whispered, then pressed a kiss into the top of her head. “We have much to make up for and plenty of time for doing so.”

With that, linens schwiffed softly as he eased over her once more and she lost herself in another magical kiss.

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

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