#armitage summer splash

[lathalea]

Thorin Oakenshield - Entangled / The Best Day of My Life

I swear, this is my last fic for the Armitage Summer Splash event. Today I’d like to treat you to a little fic that may or may not become a longer story one day. If you’re interested in reading about what happened next - let me know!

WEEK 2 - PROMPT 13

Trope: Comfort Quote: “It was the best day of my life.” Image: link

Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield x Dwarf OFC (The Hobbit) Rating: G (subject to change) Warnings: ANGST A/N: This short one-shot turned into a longer fic. Here is the next chapter of this story.

You can find this fic on AO3.

Khuzdul: Azsâlul'abad - Lonely Mountain (the dwarven kingdom of Erebor) Tumunzahar - Nogrod (my headcanon for this story is that the dwarven city of old had been rebuilt)

Entangled Chapter 1

I have only one secret. I am in love with Thorin Oakenshield. But he is not aware of it. Even though I pass him every day in the long walkways of Azsâlul'abad, the reclaimed Kingdom Under the Mountain, he does not see what lingers in my eyes.

I had irrevocably fallen for the King Under the Mountain when I saw him for the first time at a great feast in my home city of Tumunzahar. Back then, he was simply Thorin, son of Thrain, an exile with a worthless title of a prince, living with his people in one of the harshest regions of the Blue Mountains, barely making ends meet. Among my people, the Broadbeams, no one believed that the Longbeards would ever reclaim their homeland, not while the dragon still reigned under their Mountain.

One would think that it was love at first sight, but it had not been prince Thorin’s handsome face that made my heart flip. I had met too many dapper noblemen to know that looks could be deceiving. In any case, allowing my feelings to bloom only because a Dwarf in his prime happened to be good-looking was pointless. None of them ever noticed me anyway; not with my average looks, to put it mildly, or the fact that I happened to wear glasses. Whenever an official function was about to begin, my mother would say:

“Mista, dear, remember to take this dreadful contraption off your nose before you enter the feast hall. None of the Dwarves here wants a know-all for a wife!”  In her opinion, young ladies should spend time on more useful activities than devouring books one after another.

“But Mother, I can barely see a thing without my spectacles!” I would usually reply, even though I knew that there was no point in arguing. It was enough that my mother barely tolerated my constant reading even though she kept on lamenting my choice of activities.

“Adla will be there to help you,” she usually offered, but we both were very well aware that my sister had other things on her mind than accompanying me everywhere. She was—and still is—the pretty one. As soon as the music would start, she was off to break yet another heart or fall in love with yet another dashing warrior.

To be honest, I did not mind. Adla lived for social gatherings. It was better that I did not appear beside her, scaring off her admirers and potential suitors. Since my chances in the marriage market were not the highest, at least she should be able to find herself a good husband and make our parents happy by giving them grandchildren. 

With a conspiratorial wink, Adla would disappear into the most fashionable crowd of the season, while I would usually find myself a secluded corner, preferably behind a large statue of someone very important. Those were the best hideouts — their stern visages intimidated most of the guests who gave every single of those statues a wide berth, preferring to admire them from afar. And that usually left me undisturbed. As soon as I was alone, I would put on my glasses and read to my heart’s content. My sister would appear nearby when it was time to leave and we would return to our mother with innocent smiles on our faces. Both Adla and I were perfectly happy with that arrangement.

That memorable feast when I first met Thorin was no different. One day, my family received an invitation. A celebration was to be held in honour of the newly arrived Longbeard guests — the members of the royal family of Azsâlul'abad in exile. The rulers of the Lonely Mountain, or, as the Elves call it, “Erebor”. My sister’s excitement was as great as my unwillingness to frequent this event, but one look at my mother’s face told me that I wouldn’t be able to talk my way out of it.

Shortly after arriving at the great hall, I sneaked into my hideout in an attempt to finish a chapter of an exciting book. Just as I began reading, the voices of two Dwarves engaged in a conversation reached my ears. It was easy to recognize their owners — they belonged to the highly desirable group my mother called “eligible bachelors” — unmarried and rich enough to make them interesting as potential husband candidates. Not for me, obviously, even if my mother did not seem to acknowledge this truth. She was truly determined to find me a husband while I was truly determined to finish that book. And then another. And another.

“What about that pretty Adla girl?” One of those eligible bachelors said.

“That one kisses like fire. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that Firebeard blood ran in her veins! But that’s all you’re going to get from her. Kisses. She’s one of those boring proper girls.” The other one gave out a groan. “According to my sister, Adla wants to marry well so she’s saving herself for her future husband, whoever that poor fellow might be.”

“Any chance of her having a less proper sister or a cousin?”

“There is a sister, yes, but you wouldn’t like to poke her even with a stick,” his friend chuckled. “Ugly, dull, and blind as a bat. My sister calls her ‘four-eyes’.”

“Ah, I remember that one. Are you sure that’s Adla’s sister?”

“Positive. Adla tried to make me dance with her one day,” he huffed. “Would you believe it? Do I look like a charity?”

“You look like a horny bastard!” His friend laughed loudly. “Maybe if you had danced with her ugly sister, Adla would have let you into her bed?”

“Not a chance. Not even for Adla. I don’t want to be seen with someone who looks as if her mother lay with a petty Dwarf,” the first one cackled and his companion joined him eagerly. My vision blurred. The echo of their voices died down as they walked away from my hideout.

Ugly, dull… I closed my eyes to stop the tears rolling down my cheeks. 

…and blind as a bat. I took off my glasses to brush away the wetness from my cheeks. Four-eyes. The last thing I wanted was for my mother to question me about the reason behind my red eyes. I had to get a grip on myself for now. I would cry my heart out into my pillow at night.

She looks as if her mother lay with a petty Dwarf. Those words stung, but my mother’s pity would have been even worse. I knew I was not a beauty, but hearing it confirmed from male lips and then seeing it reflected in my own mother’s eyes would have been unbearable.

“Forgive me the intrusion, my lady,” a low, rumbling voice suddenly reached my ears. “Are you in need of assistance?”

A simple but clean linen handkerchief appeared in front of me. I took it without thinking and only then looked up straight into its owner’s kind, cornflower blue eyes.

“Thank you,” my voice was barely audible, but at least my sniffling had stopped. “I… I’m better now.”

“Was the book so moving?” the unknown Dwarf tilted his head towards the leather-bound shape that lay on the pedestal of the statue. Along with this movement, his dark, almost black hair flowed down his right shoulder like the dark, silky waters of a mountain lake. 

Suddenly, I became aware of his close proximity. With the exception of my brothers, I had rarely, if ever, been so close to a man, and this Dwarf had a strong presence, not only because of his height and strapping physique. Although he looked significantly older than me, perhaps around ninety or so, by Dwarven standards, he was considered young, so it was certainly not the gravitas that came with advanced age. And yet, there was something about him, a solemn quality that sparked awe in me and made my heart beat faster. It felt as if I were given the privilege of looking at a marble statue of an ancient ruler that had suddenly come to life.

At the same time, I could not help but notice a warrior braid in his hair and the lack of a marriage braid. A bachelor, then. My mother would have been proud that I actually made use of her teachings for once. She wanted her daughters to assess their prospective “targets” as soon as they could and not waste time on the Dwarves that had already been taken. The problem was, if that Dwarf in front of me knew that one of the first things I did was to check his marital status (even if it happened by accident), he would probably run away as fast as he could.

“The book? No, not at all.” I shook my head nervously, trying to fill the prolonged silence with my blabbing. It was better than sharing the true reason behind my tears. “It is actually quite an amusing story about a Hobbit—a cobbler’s apprentice—who found a clever way to kill a dragon.” “A Hobbit dragon slayer? Truly?” One of his thick eyebrows arched. “Do tell. How did they manage to get rid of that beast?”

I did not have to be asked twice to answer this question, the events of the story still fresh in my mind. Besides, it was not often that someone was willing to discuss books with me – or at least listen to my musings about them. 

“Actually, it was pretty straightforward. Everyone knows that dragons eat sheep, right?” I spoke, gesticulating excitedly. “A vile dragon had been terrorising the South Farthing for months and the local Hobbits were helpless. Finally, the young cobbler, his name was Rufus, had enough. He took a sheepskin, four sticks, and a lot of twine – and then made a fake sheep. He stuck the sticks into the ground so that they resembled its legs, covered them with the sheepskin and filled it with sulphur, stones, iron nails, and other nasty things. Then he sewed it together, shaping it like a lamb. When the dragon came, it thought that this was a real sheep – and devoured it at once. Soon after, the monster felt very thirsty. Its insides felt like fire and so it drank from the nearest river to quench the burning thirst. The dragon kept on drinking for hours until its belly became round like a ball – and exploded with a ‘bang!’”

I could not stop myself from giggling at the absurdity of the story. The Dwarf in front of me first blinked and then chuckled. The sound of his voice rang pleasantly in my ears and I wished I could amuse him more just to hear his laughter again.

“Hobbits and their gift of confabulation. If only slaying a dragon was that easy…” without my glasses, I could not see it clearly, but I thought I noticed a shadow passing over his handsome face, disappearing as fast as it emerged.

Only then did I take a better look at the Dwarf’s unusually short beard — a sign of mourning. And I took in the colours of his garments — royal dark blue with the sigil of the House of Durin. And there were his temple braids, too. At that moment, I understood why I had never seen this Dwarf at any of the feasts before. My throat tightened in terror.

“I am so sorry.” I covered my mouth with my hand. “Forgive my thoughtless prattling, Your Highness! I did not mean any disrespect with this story…”

“Please, my lady, there is nothing to forgive. It was I who asked you about the book, was it not?” His voice made me think of dark buckwheat honey, sweet and thick.

“But the dragon…” I muttered, completely mortified, trying to gather my wits. “I did not mean to ridicule the fate that befell your people.”

“My grandfather happened to be a wise Dwarf and he used to say that sometimes ridicule is the only way forward. I find that a smile is worth its weight in gold, especially in hard times. Would you not agree?”

“I guess so,” I swallowed, avoiding his intense gaze and ignoring the burning sensation in my cheeks. “Either way, it was rude of me. I’ll better relieve you of my presence, excuse me, Your Highness.”

As I reached out to grab my book and leave, his hand landed flat on its cover. “The Faery-tales of the Shire”, the title said, gilded letters peeking from between his fingers, but at that moment, I could not focus on anything other than the shape of his hand. It was wide and masculine, with strong fingers adorned with a couple of massive rings. One of them looked as if it had been made of mithril. The Dwarf’s sun-tanned skin contrasted with the paleness of my own hand that seemed to be at most half the size of his. A peculiar thought rattled in my brain. How would it feel if he took my hand in his?

“This will not do. My family arrived here to make friends, not to scare off maidens. Let us begin again, My Lady, and forget what has transpired between us so far. What do you say?” His stare clearly told me that he would not take ‘no’ for an answer.

“As you wish, Your Highness,” I nodded faintly.

“Very well. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Thorin, son of Thràin. And with whom do I have the pleasure of speaking, my lady?” He made a customary bow. My cheeks burned even more than before at this display of courtly behaviour. I had seen Adla treated in such fashion numerous times by her admirers, but before today, I had never been on the receiving side of it. 

“Mista, daughter of Milva, at your service, Lord Thorin.” I managed to curtsy and when I looked up at him, Thorin, son of Thràin, stood closer than before.

“I am honoured to make your acquaintance, Lady Mista, daughter of Milva,” he admitted with an alluring smile that hid in the darkness of his beard.

I stopped myself from sighing like a witless goose. Maybe I was barely ten years over half battle-age, but that did not mean I would swoon only because a stunningly handsome Dwarf smiled at me once.

“The honour is all mine,” I managed to mumble instead.

“The feeling is mutual, I assure you. It is not every day one hears amusing stories. To show my gratitude, I would like to offer you my company during the next dance,” he reached out his hand towards me in an inviting gesture, palm up.

“Excuse me?” I stared at it with my eyes open wide. My ears must be deceiving me. There was no other explanation.

“Lady Mista,” he spoke again, my name rolled off his tongue with ease, making my heart make a silly flip. “May I have the pleasure of a dance with you?”

I lifted my gaze to his face, its features softened by a warm smile, the second smile he directed specifically at me, and then my fingertips rested on his palm. His skin felt slightly coarse in that particular, pleasant way, so different from mine. He must have noticed me trembling, for he covered my hand with his to steady it, the corner of his lips curling up in a reassuring way.

“I… thank you for this generous offer, my lord,” my eyes shifted to the glasses that rested next to the book. “But I’m afraid I’m not a desirable dance partner. I can’t see much without my spectacles.”

“How about you wear them for the dance, then?” He offered as if it was the most usual thing in the world.

“But… It is simply not done, not at a great feast like today! Besides, I would not look presentable enough to be your dance partner!”

“It is simple,” he shook his head. “I wish you to enjoy this dance and if your spectacles make it easier, then this is what we are going to do. Do not fret, my lady, if there are any remarks from other guests, I will be more than happy to handle them. How does that sound?” I blinked ferociously, trying to chase away the tears forming in my eyes and a flood of emotions that threatened my heart to burst. Without a word, I put on my glasses. The world around me suddenly became sharper, and that included the face of the Dwarf who seemed not to care for my looks nor for the contraption resting on my nose, the constant source of my embarrassment. Whatever Thorin’s ulterior motives were, some attention-starved part of me forbade me from thinking about them. I should do as the main characters of “The Faery-tales of the Shire” did and enjoy the sudden change of fate while it lasted.

“Thank you, My Lady,” Prince Thorin offered, placing a light kiss over my knuckles that almost made me gasp in surprise. “Are we ready now?”

I nodded, but my cheeks must have turned to beetroot red by that moment. I did not know how one reacted to such gallant manifestations of reverence, but my future dance partner did not give me much time to ponder this matter and led me toward the very middle of the dancing hall. I tried not to notice the glances and curious whispers of the other guests. Lowering my head, I tried to focus on Thorin’s touch, his hand holding mine and its inviting warmth.

I, Mista, the ugly bookworm, the ‘four-eyed bat’, was about to dance with none other than the heir of the line of Durin, Prince Thorin Oakenshield. This had to be a dream, but I hoped I would not wake up before its end.

Soon after the music started, I glided in Thorin’s strong arms through the hall, feeling his firm hold every step of the way. To this day, I do not know whether he realised the depth of my nervousness, but his closeness and lighthearted comments created a shield between me and the other guests who must have been staring at us in disbelief. Throughout the dance, Thorin treated me in a most courteous way, as if I were a princess, his equal, and not a daughter of a merchant, barely of courting age. He was the first one and the only one who danced with me during that feast; over a hundred years have passed and yet I still remember the reassuring way he held me in his arms as the music reverberated against the walls of the great hall. They said he was a warrior and yet his demeanour told me there was much more to him than just battles. The way his cornflower blue eyes rested on my face with interest while I spoke, the way he led a conversation with me while we danced, the way he made me feel special like no one had before — all those things made my silly, inexperienced heart beat faster and faster, even though I knew it was hopeless to dream. Thorin was not only a prince but also belonged to an exiled clan, and judging by the simplicity of his attire, he would not be able to afford a decent dowry. Apart from all that, what use would he have of me as his wife, of all the maidens gathered here?

When the dance ended, far too soon, Thorin escorted me to my mother, pressed his lips to my knuckles as the courtesy dictated, and left the feast, disappearing from my life and taking my heart with him.

And even though I did not see him again until one hundred years later, it was the best day of my life.

I have only one secret. I am in love with Thorin Oakenshield. But he is not aware of it. Even though I pass him every day in the long walkways of Azsâlul'abad, the reclaimed Kingdom Under the Mountain, he does not see what lingers in my eyes. And he never will.  His heart belongs to another.

Would you like to know what happened next? Here is the next chapter of this story.

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General taglist (please let me know if you'd like to be added/removed): @fizzyxcustard @shrimpsthings​ @dark-angel-is-back @sherala007 @amelia307 @anyaspidergirl-blog @jotink78 @rachel1959 @saltwater-in-the-afternoon @linasofia @legolasbadass @yourqueenunderthemountain @reblogunderthemountain @guardianofrivendell @elrawienthewhite @tschrist1 @nelleedraws @beenovel @vee-vee-writes @mcchiberry @dumbassunderthemountain @errruvande @laurfilijames @emrfangirl @s0ftd3m0n @lilith15000 @kami-chan1512 @ragsweas @enchantzz @aduialel @myselfandfantasy @thewhiteladyofrohan @elliepie1226 @middleearthpixie @i-did-not-mean-to @blairsanne @fckmini @clumsy-wonderland @wormsmith @mailinsblogofstuff @medusas-hairband @xxbyimm @guylty

Thorin tag: @i-am-the-raven-queen @ruthoakenshield @jaskierthelover @asgardianhobbit98 @thespiritoflife @justfollowtheroad

#thorin oakenshield #the hobbit #richard armitage #thorin fic #thorin x reader #thorin x y/n #thorin headcanons #thorin fanfic #armitage summer splash #fanfic #angst #romance

[sorisooyaa]

Body Swap - June 21st

Characters and Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield and Thranduil / Thorin x Wife!Reader

Movie: The Hobbit

Taglist: @fizzyxcustard​ @lathalea

AN: Ok, Thorin, Thrandy plz don’t come at me, this was just a joke!! Love you both!! 😂 @i-did-not-mean-to​ this is what I meant Angel! Also, I’m sorry no graphic for this, and I’m really busy for the next few days. Ok bye bye, Haldir is whining for my attention again! 😂 - Haldir: Shalini! Get off that thing and look at me chasing my tail or I will chew your slippers again!

“It suits you!” You winked mischievously at your husband. His eyes flashed at you, the icy colour sending chills down your spine.

“I feel very uncomfortable that the fact you like me in this wretched figure, dear wife,” Thorin grumbled. You had to admit, it was odd hearing your husband’s voice fall from the elven king’s lips.

“Who are you calling wretched figure, Oakenshield!” The shouting from the other side of the room made you almost throw your head back in laughter. It greatly amused you; the once tall regal elven king now standing in the body of a dwarf to assert dominance, “If anything you should be grateful, to be blessed for the chance to wear a body so gifted and crafted by the eyes of Eru Ilúvatar.”

“I feel disgusted to have the body of a traitor,” Your husband growled out as you rolled your eyes. You placed a hand gently on his shoulder- or well, Thranduil’s shoulder. As amusing as all this was, it was uncomfortable to suddenly address your king and husband within the body of King Thranduil. The touch of velvet silks underneath your fingertips was not welcoming, nor was it, loving as the leather your husband always wore.

You have heard the fairytales from your own world before, the enchantment of the glass slippers, the curse of a rose, the darkened taste of death from a red apple, to possess the body of an animal and many others, though this, here, was truly something you never thought you would have ever come across. But your husband was within a world where magic flowed with free will, and dangerous curses lurked on the horizon. To be honest, this really, shouldn’t surprise you too much, compared to the many other things you have seen and heard (thanks to that certain wizard with tall pointed grey hat).

“You both do realise this is your own fault?” You stressed out, now strengthening your voice to overthrow them both.

“Pray tell, strange little human, how so is this our fault?” The elven king mocked from within your husband’s body. ‘Strange little human,’ well it was a nickname that started from your initial meeting with his crazy, big, giant tallness!

It wasn’t your fault the humans from your world were in the height range of dwarves. The elven king couldn’t believe you were a human during that first meeting while on the quest to reclaim Erebor.

“Both of you, as per usual, argued non-stop!” Your eyes twitched ever so slightly with each word, every little fight between these two- you swear, sometimes you just wanted to suffocate the both of them.

“I sent you both for a bonding trip, and you come back with some odd curse?” You groaned out, wanting to facepalm yourself for ever thinking this was a good idea. Maybe you should have listened to Balin’s warning, then you wouldn’t have screeched at the sound of Thranduil’s voice from inside your bed chambers, the one you shared with Thorin.

You had however whipped yourself around to find the body of your husband, but he grunted his disapproval of anything and everything he found. You had to listen to a whole speech from Thranduil as you made your way over to Mirkwood about how offensive of a treatment this was.

At times you felt like pulling your own hair out in the middle of these two, but you accepted your fate.

“I don’t know why, I agreed to this stupid ordeal!” Thranduil’s grunted, his voice falling from Thorin’s lips.

“That’s because I promised to give back your precious necklace, you moron! Now, shut up, and think about what happened on your so-called walking trip!” You almost screamed at the elven king, now having enough of his attitude.

The glare you received was familiar, the features of Thorin’s beautiful face moulding together to wear the emotion, but the person was different. You saw it through the eyes... because even if your husband was ever mad at you, he would not let you receive the full heat of his anger, a simple gaze from you or the touch of your skin on his would be enough to melt it all away.

“I do not remember meeting anyone,” Thranduil hissed out, you knew his patience was running out faster than the current of the river just outside, “Except that odd-looking elderly lady on the road on whom that stupid dwarf made a rude remark about and it had angered her!”

You raised an eyebrow, that sounded more like a Thranduil thing, than a Thorin thing.

“You wretched fool! That was you!” Thorin barked at him. Sometimes you actually felt like you were stuck in a nursery, with two of the naughtiest kids known to mankind!

“Thorin, honey, just wait,” You tried to cool how the rising anger within your husband, “An odd-looking elderly lady?”

“Yes, why does it matter?” Honestly, at times like these, you understood why Thorin would often speak out wanting to meet his fist to the elven king’s jaw until it was out of place. But you rather whack him in the head with his own berry-filled crown, though you couldn’t, even though you desperately wanted to, because it was your husband’s body that would receive the damage.

“You idiotic king of these stupid trees!” You whined, running a hand over your face, “For all, we know, that elderly old lady whose appearance you mocked about could have been a wicked witch!”

When a look of realisation passed over the faces of both kings, you rolled your eyes and let out a laugh.

“Then... what do we do now?” Your husband spoke, with a frown Thranduil’s features. For a second, you thought, if Thranduil wasn’t an ellon but a human, like yourself from your world, he would have been probably been concerned over the wrinkles frowns and smiles caused. You covered your mouth trying to keep in a laugh as you imagined Thranduil as a version of Victoria Beckham.

“Amrâlimê?” Thorin questioned at your sudden giddiness.

“I will tell you later, husband,” You promised him with a wink.

“For now we must find a cure for... all this,” You gestured vaguely at them in whole.

“How do we break this curse?” Thranduil made himself known again, of course, he couldn’t stay quiet for too long.

“You both kiss!”

The snap of their alarmed shocked faces towards you made you throw your head back in laughter until you were holding onto your stomach in stitches and tears dwelled in your eyes.

“Y/N!” Thorin grunted at you.

“I’m kidding! I’m kidding!” You said, still laughing, “Let us find this elderly lady then. Unless... you two are actually willing to kiss!”

“Absolutely not!”

“I would rather die!”

You giggled as they answered you quickly with strong disapproval.

“Alright then, let us go find this witch. Maybe she’s the wicked witch of the west in middle earth?” You hummed, nostalgically, remembering the fairytale of Dorothy and her ruby red slippers.

You laughed at the confused expression on their faces, “I will tell you the story on the way!”

#armitage summer splash #richard armitage #thorin oakenshield #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin and thranduil #thorin and thranduil fights #thranduil #thranduil oropherion #thranduil of mirkwood #the hobbit #body swap #thorin and thranduil fight like kids #from shalinizhara's temp acc

[fizzyxcustard]

Soulmates (Armitage Summer Splash. Day 7)

As part of @lathalea and I's Armitage Summer Splash, I present to you, day 7.

Masterlist of fics for Summer Splash

Prompts: "I've never loved you." / Soulmates trope.

Fandom: The Hobbit

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, heartbreak, insecurity, sexual references

Summary: You know in your heart that you are Thorin's One, his soulmate. But how can you be his queen? Insecurity racks you at the very thought, and you try to break his heart with one lie, which he immediately sees through.

Comments/Notes: If anyone would like to be added to or removed from my tag list, please say. And, finally, I'm writing about THORIN! My dearest Dwarf king. I'm so sorry it took this long to get to you.

That night which you spent with Thorin would always be the pinnacle of your existence. To be physically worshipped by a man who was so beautiful that it made breath catch in your throat whenever you gazed into his crystal blue eyes. His touch, so careful and so heartfelt. Every time his skin made contact with yours and sparks flew. There was no other way you could describe it. He was your soulmate. You were two pieces of the same puzzle, meant to be locked together and be one.

Even after your lovemaking, he lay beside you, his breath gradually falling back to its normal, resting rate, and he gazed at you with such adoration in his eyes. You could feel the love pouring from him, like a heat.

That one night had sealed it. You were meant to be with Thorin forever. But all you could see now was a crown. A barrier. The battle of Five Armies had deepened your love so much for him. However, the crown that sat on his head and the robes draped over his strong shoulders, reminded you of the queen you would never, ever be.

***

Erebor was now won, and Dwarves from various clans and kingdoms began to arrive at the mountain city's gates. They wished to come and pay tribute to the battle, and to the king who had re-claimed the mountain back from the clutches of Smaug the dragon.

Thorin was growing restless. He hadn't seen you since horns had been blown, signalling that the battle had ceased. He had kissed you, drawing you in against him. Not only had he been victorious in the fight for his kingdom, but he had been victorious in finding his One.

Thorin asked many people, enquiring as to your whereabouts. Until he asked Oin, a Dwarf whom you had grown close to on the journey.

"She's set up a room on the east side, just a few doors down from the King's Library," Oin told Thorin.

The king nodded his head to his friend and thanked him, then began his search for you.

In your room, you sat at the desk which was to the right hand side of the four poster bed. There were pots of ink, quills and pieces of parchment which had lain here for decades, gathering dust and cobwebs.

Your door knocked.

As you opened the door, you gasped at the sight of Thorin.

The king swooped in and kissed you hard, his hand curling around your cheek. Both of you succumb to the desire which had built over many months, and only been truly explored once when at Beorn's Barn in the dead of night.

You were both breathing heavily as you parted from the kiss and Thorin pressed his brow to yours. "My love," he whispered.

"Please don't," you sighed, realisation hitting you of how beneath him you would always be.

You moved into the room, and Thorin swept in behind, shutting the door behind him. "What is going on?"

"We can't do this," you said, looking up at him with tears in your eyes.

Thorin's breath hitched. You distinctly heard it. "W...why? I do not understand..."

"All of this, everything. It's wrong."

"How can it be wrong?" Thorin asked, his eyes full of sadness and question. "You are my One. I feel that, and I know you feel it also. Our love is strong."

"I've never loved you," you said. The lie pierced your heart straight to the core, cleaving it in two. The pain hit your throat, red hot bile threatening to spill forth.

Thorin's eyes grew dark in anger. "Do not lie to me."

"I'm not....lying...." Everything was crumbling and your whole being broke down into weeping.

Thorin pulled you into his arms, feeling your tight grip. There was no way he could believe those words. Just in that moment, the way you were holding him, that was love.

You sobbed in his arms, and he remained silent, just holding you.

Gradually, you looked up, only to see those beautiful blue eyes gazing back at you. He smiled.

"How can I ever be a queen? It's so absurd a concept..."

"Is this the reason you have avoided me for two days and tried to lie to me? Quite badly, I must add."

"Am I that bad a liar?"

"Definitely on this occasion. How you could even consider that night we shared to not evidence our love for each other, is beyond me. You are my One, and I feel that in every fibre of my being, and with every breath."

"I'm scared, Thorin. How can you wear that crown every day and know what to do?"

Thorin sighed. "I was raised in this mountain, and everything I did as a child and young Dwarf was preparing me for this. I had no other choice; this was always my destiny. However, you have a choice that I never did."

"How do you mean?"

"You can walk away right now, leave. Or you can accept my proposal of marriage and take up the crown. That choice is yours, and yours alone."

"You've just seen the mess I've made of trying to walk away, so of course you know what my answer is going to be. You being born to be the king was just as much your destiny as mine is to be your wife."

***

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[legolasbadass]

Undercurrents

Armitage Summer Splash - Prompt #29 

Trope: Vacation/holiday

Quote: “I never thought we would find a way to each other.”

Relationship: Thorin x reader

Rating: T

Warnings: Light angst (I promise it’s nothing! This is an otherwise very fluffy fic)

A/N: LB writing about forbidden love again? Who would have thought!

Thank you to @lathalea and @fizzyxcustard for organizing this event! Here is a summer splash for the Armitage Summer Splash 🤣 (I stole this pun from @lathalea, as well as the title lol)

You dismounted your pony just after dark, when the lavender sky had nearly faded to gray, submerging you in the peaceful silence of the warm summer night. All around you, the forest was strangely quiet, in spite of the racket made by trees, frogs and water. You were beginning to worry you had somehow gotten lost—or that he would not come at all—when, as though out of a dream, the distant echo of branches cracking under hooves reached your ears. A smile floated to your lips, and a few moments later, your lover’s familiar frame emerged from the thicket, breathtakingly regal even in his worn travelling clothes.

When you told him of your worries as he dismounted his pony, a soft smirk graced his bearded face. “I am afraid I may have gotten lost,” he responded in that deep, rumbling voice that never failed to make your whole body melt. “I hope you have not been waiting for me too long, amrâlimê.” 

A blush smeared your cheeks at the intimate word which you were still not used to hearing from those tempting lips. “No, not long,” you reassured him. Then, more shyly, you took a step toward him, the smell of pine and leather and musk that was uniquely his surrounding you, and said, “Though for a moment, I worried that you would not come—that someone had discovered our plan and stopped you from leaving your Halls.” 

In response, Thorin closed the space between you and brought his large, calloused hands to cradle your face. 

“I thought—I thought we would never find a way to each other,” you admitted past the sudden tightness in your throat. 

You noticed guilt brewing behind Thorin’s intense azure gaze, but he gave you no time to speak as he leaned his forehead against yours and spoke words that made your heart swell tenfold. “We will always find a way to each other.” 

You shared a soft, languid kiss beneath the moon, quite content to remain in this embrace until the end of time, but after a while, you could not help but speak the words Thorin hated to hear, but which you knew you could not ignore. 

“My father will not change his mind. He would rather die than see his only daughter wed a poor, exiled king,” you spoke bitterly, using your father’s words which you despised so. Thorin might be poor and half a world away from his kingdom, but he was still the greatest leader to have walked this earth since Durin himself, and beyond that, you loved each other more than anything, and that should have been all that mattered. 

“Even if it takes years, I will never give up,” Thorin said adamantly. “I am certain there must be something I can do or offer him in return that will make him change his mind.” 

I will never consent to this union unless Lord Thorin reclaims Erebor. 

For months now, your father had tortured you with these words, and whenever he asked you what Thorin thought of this proposition, you would find any excuse to change the subject, because how could you ever say such a thing to Thorin? You knew what his reaction would be. He would leave straight away, regardless of the danger, and you could not risk his life even for the prospect of becoming his wife. It was torture to pretend like you meant nothing to each other in public and wait weeks, even months sometimes, to spend a few moments together. But that torture would be nothing compared to the agony of living in a world without him, you were sure of it. 

As though aware of how dark your thoughts had turned, Thorin pressed his lips against yours in another tender kiss, then said, “Let us put all that aside for the moment. We escaped Ered Luin to enjoy ourselves, did we not?” 

The playful smirk that accompanied those words made you blush and chuckle. Then, in what you hoped was a seductive voice, you leaned in to whisper in his ear, “I can hear water—there must be a stream nearby.” 

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Thorin concurred. “It has been far too long since I have seen you naked, bunnelê.” 

“Thorin!” You exclaimed and slapped his arm, even though your whole body grew warm instantly, and you could not deny that it had been far too long since you had seen him naked, nor that you had experienced the most scandalous and deprived dreams in your prolonged separation. 

It did not take you long to find the stream. It ran through a clearing, its calm surface reflecting the starry sky and the bright full moon. The rocks on the side were still warm from the sun, and as you stepped over them and reached out toward the water, you realized with a smile that the water was just pleasantly warm.

When you turned back around to face Thorin, it was with a soft smirk as you reached for the laces of your coat. His eyes darkened considerably as he took in your every move, and when at last you freed your body from the fabric of your undergarments, exposing your curves to the silver light of the moon and Thorin’s starved gaze, he let out a low growl that made your whole body sigh with need. Heat tightened your belly, but it was the tender words Thorin whispered that brought a smile to your lips as you undressed him with careful but eager hands. 

Oh, yes, it had been far too long indeed since you had rested your eyes upon your lover’s magnificent body. From his broad, powerful chest to the slim taper of his waist and his thick, muscled thighs, Thorin’s body was the body of a warrior. And yet, it aroused in you the most tender thoughts and the desire to kiss every inch of him—to be held and loved by him until the end of time. With gentle fingers, you reached out to him, the coarse hairs on his chest equally arousing and reassuring as you caressed him, revelling in the sensations you had been deprived of far too long.  Your fingers skimmed over a scar he had suffered at Azanulbizar, and the sight of it propelled you to throw yourself into his arms. Every scar was a reminder you could have lost him, but they were also a reminder of how precious moments like these with him were, and you wordlessly thanked Mahal for this night and your lover. Your Thorin. 

You shared a myriad of tender kisses before you led him into the water. It was cold for only the slightest moment before you acclimatized to the temperature, Thorin’s strong body against yours warming you instantly. Once you had fully submerged yourself and felt refreshed, you wrapped your arms around Thorin’s neck. His wet hair stuck to his head, water rivulets dripping from the ends to stream down the valley of his chest, and when you reached out to kiss him once more, his damp beard against yours made you shiver. When you were both breathless, you pulled away, though you remained in your tight embrace as Thorin leaned his forehead against yours, his cerulean eyes even more heavenly than the starry sky above you. 

“We should come here more often,” he said, one of his large hands moving upwards from your back to caress your hair. 

“You will have to help me come up with new excuses for my absences, then. I am running out of ideas,” you admitted, pressing a chaste kiss onto his lips. “Where did you say you were off to this time?” 

“I told everyone I was going hunting,” he said, “though I doubt they will be pleased when they see that I have caught nothing but a beautiful dwarrowdam.” 

You raised your eyebrows, trying your best not to laugh. 

“That sounded better in my head,” Thorin said in response to your expression, causing you to chuckle. “I am afraid you make me lose my head, amrâlimê.”

“Then I am gladly at fault,” you replied with a soft smile before claiming his lips once more, and there was no more talking for a long while as you gave in to your longing and passion, the forest and the moon the only witnesses to your love.

—

Khuzdul translations:

Amrâlimê: My Love

Bunnelê: My treasure of all treasures

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Let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist!💙

#the hobbit #thorin #thorin fanfic #thorin x reader #thorin x you #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin oakenshield x you #armitage summer splash

[mismaeve]

After Hours

↳ Armitage Summer Splash, Nr.9 Trope: Coffee Shop Prompt: "You've never cared about me. Only yourself" RA Character: Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader, Modern AU Warnings: None Word Count: 2.1k A/N: Well, I don't know what this is, all I know is that I was rushing and I was excited. I've not written for him before at all, so go easy on me. I'm very insecure about this piece, but here it is. Hope it will be somewhat enjoyable. And also, thank you so much @i-did-not-mean-to for encouraging me and believing in me. Love you tons!

Why you had agreed to this disaster in the making, you couldn’t tell, but when the dark-haired bundle of muscle and unruly gruff finally arrived – an hour late as per usual – you realised it no longer mattered.

It wasn’t surprising either when you caught yourself sporting a self-indulgent look of smugness while watching the star quarterback stroll past the group of cheerleaders and otherwise swooning girls that stalked his every move with dreamy eyes and wishful sighs – made even better by the fact that Thorin appeared to be completely oblivious to it all – as he made his way towards the counter where you were waiting for him. You had to admit, it felt good being the sole reason for his being there. Not to mention, it would give them all something to talk about, even if they didn’t know the full story as to why Thorin kept meeting you at the café where you worked at precisely – a good hour later – 5pm every day.

Having long decided that you weren’t going to be one of those girls, you quickly replaced your smug grin with a slightly annoyed expression, after all – he was late.

“Hey,” Thorin greeted you with his usual half-smile, half-smirk, otherwise known as the lady charmer, that was fool-proof and bound to work on any female in the near vicinity. Except for you, that is.

“You’re late again, Thorin,” you offered him an unimpressed look while reaching for a clean mug to fill it with freshly pressed coffee. No milk and two sugars; you could thank your lucky stars that he wasn’t one of those coffee-snobs who somehow always managed to make complete fools out of themselves by using words they barely knew or understood and subjecting themselves to trendy drinks they’d otherwise find repulsive. No, Thorin was into the classics.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Coach wanted to talk after practice,” he sighed, a formless shadow descending upon his sun-kissed features, making him appear somewhat thoughtful, regretful even.

“Bad news?” you asked as you placed the steaming hot cup of coffee in front of his now sulking frame.

Although football wasn’t necessarily the one thing Thorin was most passionate about, he still enjoyed it, and judging by the looks of him now, something must have gone wrong. It couldn’t have been that bad though, he was too good to be taken off the team or even benched for the season for whatever reasons, so it had to be something else. A healthy rivalry among teammates gone too far? Early practice drills when normally half the town would still be snoozing?

“I’ve been offered varsity captain,” Thorin mumbled while avoiding meeting your questioning gaze.

Varsity captain was a huge deal, the kind that often came with scholarships and Ivy League Schools. While Thorin wasn’t interested in becoming the new poster boy for Princeton, he was in sore need of those scholarships. His foster parents had been good to him, but they lacked the funds to lend Thorin a helping hand in terms of college tuition.

“And that’s bad?” you raised an eyebrow, not understanding why he was acting as if someone had just told him his entire life was over when in fact it was getting brighter by the minute.

Slowly, almost begrudgingly, Thorin met your gaze. He looked very serious and almost mournful, the complete opposite of how a guy should look like after being offered varsity captain.

“Means I’ll have no time for music,” he said at last, his dark eyes watching and waiting for your reaction. Music had been the reason behind you starting to meet at your workplace after school to begin with, naturally Thorin thought you wouldn’t be too thrilled about his latest accomplishment on the football field when he had spent the better half of the first semester trying to talk you into mentoring him, after which you had warned him that he wouldn’t be able to do both things at once. Or do them well, for that matter.

Your heart sank against your will once you realized where he was going with this. You had known better than to ever dream that he’d pick music – you – over football if it ever came down to it. As passionate as Thorin was about music, he found himself pressured to lead the kind of life that was expected of him, and no one expected or even suspected him of being interested in music, let alone humbly dreaming of making a life out of it.

But what broke your heart even more was the devastating realization that he wasn’t even going to try and make it work, hence the guilty gleam in his brown eyes. He was going to sacrifice one for the other, just like any other sane and rational – impulsive and stupid – teenage boy would do, never mind the consequences or whose feelings might get hurt in the process.

“You’re unbelievable,” you breathed out while slowly shaking your head, a part of you still refusing to believe the madness he was knowingly subjecting himself to. His best years wasted and spent on doing something that would leave a bleeding hole in his heart.

“You don’t get it,” Thorin insisted, hoping that he’d be able to make you see things his way, or at least try and make you respect his decision however moronic you might think it to be.

“I’m pretty sure I do. You’re about to throw everything that you worked so hard for away at the slightest inconvenience. Instead of trying and putting effort into both things, you choose the easy way out by ditching one for the other,” you felt you couldn’t control yourself, the hurt had taken you by surprise and just like any smart girl, you knew the best defense was a very good offense.

“And what pisses me off the most is you don’t even love football!”

You hadn’t realized you were shouting until it was already too late. Half the café had heard you and would soon be tweeting about how Thorin Oakenshield, the best quarterback Erebor High had seen in decades, turned out to be blasphemous about the very thing that would secure his golden ticket out of their sorry excuse of a town.

Not only had you embarrassed Thorin – who looked positively taken aback by your sudden surge of fiery temper – in front of half the Pep Squad and other patrons, but you had also humiliated yourself at the place you worked and would probably continue to work long after Thorin had gone away for college. Provided your superiors would see fit to forgive you this little – horrific – incident.

“Look, I’m sorry, really I am,” Thorin tried to take your hand in his, but you moved yours away before he could reach it.

“Sorry? For wasting my time? For having me foolishly believe in you?” you demanded as you felt yourself surrender to another eruption of blind rage, caused by the bitter and foul betrayal of your so-called friend. Thankfully, you could restrain yourself enough to keep your voice down.

“You’ve never really cared about music or making it work. You’ve never cared about me. Only yourself,” your uttered words embodied the heartbreaking realization that made your stomach hurt, a heavy fist gripping your insides and pulling them whichever way was possible. What a little fool you had been after all, falling for his charm and empty platitudes, thinking he had been sincere when you should have known better.

You were worse than a walking and singing cliché.

You had expected there to be ‘I’m sorry’ texts and a couple of missed calls, maybe even a groveling voicemail or two. But there had been none of that. Nothing.

As days went by, you were suddenly faced with the harsh reality of how your life would look like without Thorin Oakenshield. The morning shift no longer rushed by, fueled by your excitement to see your friend – crush – and your afternoons were spent in deafening solitude, no longer filled with the hearty laughs of the dark-haired boy who dreamed of becoming a musician.

His sheet music laid untouched on your desk, devoid of his nearly undecipherable scribbles and remarks. The sweet and thoughtful notes remained a dark ink on white paper, unable to be heard and loved.

Had it really been your right to be this harsh with him, or had it been your wounded pride and heart that had lashed out irrationally without a single regard for the consequences of your petulant outburst. Who were you to tell him how he should or shouldn’t live his life when all you had ever done was mess up your own? How despicable you were for calling him selfish, how rich it must have sounded – the kettle calling the pot black.

With a sigh that spoke volumes of your inner disgust towards yourself, you closed the book and let it slip from your hands and onto your lap. Your eyes drifted to your cellphone, right there on your nightstand where you had left it after your previous debate of whether you should bite the bullet and call Thorin first.

What would you say anyway? I’m sorry for being a bitch? For being such a girl about it – that alone was enough to make you shiver in subtle loathing – when we both know it makes sense for you to see it through as varsity captain. I’m sorry for having thought there could be more between us? None of them sounded right, yet all of them were the truth.

 Were you scared? Ashamed? Worried that you might have lost the best thing to ever dare venture into the dumpster fire that was your life? Devastated because maybe you had already fallen for him and now there was no hope left?

All of the above.

Just as you had decided to take a break from your own personal pity-party and see if the next chapter of your book would manage to restore your will to live, the screen of your cell lit up with a picture of Thorin.

Reassuring yourself that a heart skipping a beat or two was not life threatening, you threw aside your book and reached for the cellphone.

The café was deserted, all the blinds had been lowered and drawn, and the majority of the lights were off save for the one directly above where Thorin was sitting on one of the barstools with his hand-me-down guitar on his lap. His expression was stone hard and unreadable when he motioned with his hand for you to take a seat at the table closest to him.

Confused as you were, but not about to disobey and ruin any luck of moving past your argument, you stiffly led yourself to your ordained seat while your eyes remained peeled on Thorin who held your gaze until he was certain you weren’t going to get up and storm out. Again.

A few nervous heartbeats later, he began to play his guitar, filling the dark and desolate café with a beautiful melody. It wasn’t one you had heard before and you had listened to them all which made you suspect that this one must be new and composed entirely without your help and expert guidance. It sounded lovely even as it bore faint hints of sadness and regret - that could have easily just been wishful thinking on your part.

And then Thorin Oakenshield began to sing. The usual gruff and edginess were replaced by a deep soft velvety voice that got the hairs on your arms rising in awe and a swarm of spring butterflies burst free from their timeless cocoons. His voice was filled with love and longing as he told the story of the girl with the beautiful gift, one she had tried to share with a silly boy who hadn’t been ready for her yet.

Fighting the tears that were beginning to sting your eyes was pointless, how could you resist when Thorin sang about the girl with the gentle soul and burning heart, whose love was a great vast ocean, so deep and wild; whose courage was an endless blue sky for as far as the eye could see; whose temper was a hot and bright blaze, wicked in its untamed ways. And how all the silly boy could do was try his best to keep up and not drown and pray that one day the girl might take pity on him and forgive him his ignorant ways, for despite his less than admirable actions, his heart too was longing and burning for hers.

 Hot tears of gratitude and relief trickled down your cheeks, your heart undeniably touched by his creative apology and thoughtful gesture, one that had ultimately left you speechless and fluttery, and wanting for more.

More songs, more love, more nights like this one and more of Thorin Oakenshield and that angelic voice he possessed.

Liked it? Likes/reblogs/comments are hugely appreciated and encouraged!

Thank you @lathalea and @fizzyxcustard for organising the event!

Divider by @firefly-graphics, moodboard created by me

#Armitage Summer Splash #thorin #thorin oakenshield #modern au #coffee shop au #thorin x reader #thorin x you #the hobbit #tolkien #thorin fanfic

[linasofia]

Bunnelê

Armitage Summer Splash #12

Trope: Oblivious of feelings

Quote: “How dare you!”

Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader x Raymond de Merville (Modern AU)

Words: 2,8K

Warnings: 18+

@lathalea @legolasbadass I don’t know if I should thank you or blame you right now. 😈

It all happens so quickly. The shock wave from the explosion throws me backwards and I fall helplessly to the ground. My back takes most of the impact but I can't stop my head from mercilessly hitting the ground. I gasp for air as my lungs press hard against my ribs. Black smoke fills the air and I cough as I try to breathe. With an increasing feeling of surrealness, I stare at the burning car beside me. I can hear shouting from the distance growing louder and more frightening, but my body feels heavy and refuses to move. The sharp sound of sirens cut through the air. Iron shoes on four-legged beasts, galloping on wet asphalt and snorting heavily. Commanding voices in the air, demanding full obedience. I can’t keep my eyes open and the pulsating feeling at my temples slowly fades away together with my consciousness.

Someone is calling my name. A dark, rich voice finds its way through the massive wall of shouting and noises around me and just hearing the familiar sound calms me a little. It’s a voice that I usually hear outside my café, spoken in a much softer tone than the roar that suddenly erupts from his chest as he turns to command his partner. When I open my eyes, it takes a while for my eyes to adjust, but then I see him. At first, I do not recognize him due to the full riot gear he wears, including a helmet with a thick visor and some sort of extra vest for protection that makes his chest look even broader than usual. He shields me from everything else when he leans over me, blocking the sun that creates a halo around his helmet. His gloved hand rests lightly on my forehead and when he speaks my name again, I answer with his: ”Thorin.”

”I’m here. You need to go to the hospital. You’re bleeding.”

I try to sit up but he gently holds me down. ”Stay down, Raymond is getting an ambulance for you. They will decide how to move you. I don’t want to make your injury worse by making unqualified decisions. For now, you’re safe just where you are.”

”I’m sure it's fine, Thorin.” I try to smile but I feel my dry lips crack as I move them. His concern for me makes me all warm inside. Over the last months, Thorin and Raymond have been regular visitors at my café, when on duty. On warm days I have given both riders and horses water to drink and on colder days they always buy coffee. They seem inseparable and in a way, I envy the strong bond they must have, both to each other and to their horses. To put your own life in danger, to help others in need, surely it must form their character and bring out their greatest sides. My temple is hurting and Thorin adds pressure to it.

When I hear the echoing noise of hooves against the asphalt again, I slowly turn my face towards the sound. I see the big black stallion, Hades, standing just a few meters away from me. In his saddle, as always, sits Thorin’s partner, Raymond. From this distance and with his visor down, I can’t really tell it’s him, but I would always recognize Hades, even now in riot gear, just like the officer on his back.

Flashing blue lights suddenly reflect in Thorin’s visor and soon a medical team surrounds me. Thorin hovers by my side but not until one of the angels from the ambulance team says, in a sharp tone, that they have the situation under control, does he mount his horse Electra again. The chestnut mare shakes her head impatiently and it almost looks like she tries to tell her master what a jerk he is. The evening is far from over and they are needed elsewhere, can’t he see that? The last thing I see before the ambulance door closes is the back of two officers riding to join their colleagues.

I don’t like sleeping at the hospital. Thankfully I have very little experience of it, but a broken arm from a riding accident as a young girl still awakes some memories as I stare at the white sterile ceiling. I’m very grateful that I got my own room, and when the doctor told me that he wanted to keep me overnight for monitoring, I accepted. I needed a couple of stitches and I suffered from a concussion. It makes me dizzy and at times I feel really sick. When sleep finally claims my body, I welcome it with open arms, feeling utterly exhausted.

The room is dark, only illuminated by large chandeliers and a few lanterns that cast flickering shadows on the walls. No windows or doors let the light inside but the air still feels pleasant. In the middle of the room stands a bed, robust with a wooden frame. At the foot of the bed stand two men, wearing nothing but their own gloriously tanned skin. They are about the same height, broad shoulders, well-sculptured bodies and the only difference between them is the amount of hair on their chests. One of them has been blessed with more and when he shifts, the light reveals the grey strands gracing his dark chest hair. The other man is a little less hairy but his hair creates the most inviting trail over his stomach. The soft enormous bed, neatly made with finest Egyptian cotton sheets, moves as the two men slowly crawl from the opposite corners towards me like predators, but I don’t feel like I’m in any danger. I still don’t see their faces but somehow I already know.

With a hammering heart I wait for them in bed, silently lying on my back. When I feel their warm bodies against mine, I briefly close my eyes and take a deep breath. One of them gently pulls at my shoulder so I come to rest on the side and when I open my eyes again, I meet Thorin’s burning gaze. He gently strokes my cheek and when he speaks, his usual commanding and deep voice is now raspy and it fills my body with irresistible need. Behind me, I feel the other man position himself close to me, place his hand on my waist and squeeze the soft flesh. When he greets me, I smile to myself. Raymond’s voice, smooth as velvet but dark as the sea, is filled with lust, matching my own desire that is rapidly building in my body.

Thorin leans in and covers my lips with his before I can even think of a proper response to them. Our kiss starts as a tender one, but soon his hunger takes over and his tongue slips between my lips. The sensual dance he leads me into is filled with emotions and not only the passionate and raw kind. Raymond’s hand doesn’t stay on my waist for long, and his hands glide over my skin as if he tried to map my body, fueling my desire. He nibbles at my shoulder and when Thorin suddenly breaks the kiss, I feel Raymond’s teeth scrape against my skin. His beard is soft and I find it more than arousing when he drags his jaw along my shoulder. I whimper as his grip on me tightens. With a swift move Raymond rolls me over to face him and the darkness in his eyes makes me gasp. He doesn’t follow Thorin’s gentle start, instead he greedily rolls his tongue against mine and steals my breath away. I feel Thorin peppering my neck with wet kisses, his short stubble is rough on my skin, while his hand caresses my hip and moves along my thigh. I burn under his touch as he gently lifts my leg and places it over Raymond’s thigh. Then, as Raymond continues to kiss me deeply, I feel Thorin advance to explore the sensitive parts between my thighs. When his fingers trace my soft and slick skin and find my little bundle of nerves, I moan into Raymond’s mouth, making both men even more eager. With one hand Raymond catches my wrist and pulls it over my head. His other hand seeks the softness of my breast, teasing me by running his fingers around its outer lines and over my ribs, making me shiver under his touch. My soft plea for more is silenced by Thorin who slips one of his thick fingers between my folds. I hear him groan appreciatively against my neck as he works his fingers to pleasure me.

As soon as my breathing becomes uneven, Thorin intensifies his efforts and I pant his name while I feel the orgasm building in my core. He answers me with a moan as I clench around his fingers and the world around me temporarily disappears as I float in the warm stream of lust washing over me. Thorin slowly withdraws his fingers, leaving me with a feeling of emptiness. My body aches for him, for both of them, for more of everything they might offer. Raymond releases my arm and I roll over to face Thorin.

“I need you,” I whisper, my voice still needy and unsteady. Thorin’s azure eyes are burning and without a word he grabs my leg, lifts it so he can position himself in the best possible way and with his gaze fixed on mine, he enters me. Even if he is slow and gentle, I struggle with his size. Raymond’s raspy “Good girl” as Thorin reaches the bottom, buried deep inside me, sends a wave of heat through my body and I grip Thorin’s upper arm tightly. His muscles are firm, like the strong neck of his loyal horse and while Thorin gives me time to adjust to him, Raymond trails my spine up and down with his long fingers. It helps me relax my body and shortly after Thorin finally rocks his hips against mine, causing a throaty moan to escape my mouth.

The steady rhythm Thorin sets soon makes me see stars. I can tell he likes to watch me by the way he follows every shift in my facial expressions closely. While Thorin is more focused on my physical pleasure, Raymond seems determined to drive me crazy with his words alone. The way he speaks his praises is like pouring fuel on an open fire. Teasingly, he circles the roundness of my bum with his hands, gently squeezing my flesh and spreading my cheeks, exposing the split to him. When he presses a finger against me I can’t stop my body from arching against him. His voice drops to a low register that must have been made for female pleasures only. With a groan he asks for my consent and when I give it, he creates the most heavenly feeling with his long finger. He mirrors Thorin’s pace and it fills me with a desire stronger than the gravity of the earth. I don’t recognize my own voice when I beg him for more.

Raymond puts his hand on my leg, rasps my name and with a resolute move he adjusts my position to his advantage. His grip is firm, just enough to let me know how he wants me and in that moment Thorin slows down, allowing Raymond to put the bulky top of his member over my rear entrance. I’m being pulled towards the inevitable and all I manage is to cry out my desperation for them.

My own cry wakes me from my dream but I silence as soon as the morning light seeping from the small gap between the blinds hits me right in the eyes. Someone is speaking my name from a distance but I don’t understand why. I slam my arm against the bars on the hospital bed as I try to move away from the merciless light.

”Please be careful so you don’t hurt yourself.” That voice again, so dark and alluring. I meet the cerulean eyes of the man standing beside the bed. He looks strangely familiar. The shape and color of his eyes, the patrician nose and his dark beard. I let out a small gasp of disbelief. He resembles both Thorin and Raymond so much, they could easily be brothers. I blink a few times. Is this a trick of my damaged brain? The man is dressed in a shirt with the collar open and over that he wears a white coat. I glance at the name tag and then back at Dr White’s face.

”How do you feel? You were tossing in your bed and due to your injury, the nurse got worried. It’s not unusual to suffer from nightmares.”

”I’m ok.” I feel heat spread over my cheeks at the thought of Dr White hearing my cries. I can’t deal with the embarrassment but I try to convince myself that he seems to interpret it as something totally different. Dr White keeps asking a few more questions but I’m too tired and delusional to answer them properly. He leaves me after a while and I close my eyes as he shuts the door. I need to rest. And I feel nauseous.

A week later I’m back at the café, serving guests and making sandwiches as usual. The street still bears traces of the tumult that escalated into a riot after the big game last week. The visiting team’s supporters decided to take out their anger over their loss in the city center. The glass is swept away, some broken windows have already been replaced and even the car that exploded next to me is gone. Only the marks it left on the asphalt tell the story of the violence that occurred.

Just after lunch hour, when things are slowing down again, I hear the sound of hooves coming from outside. The door is wide open and the city noise mixes with the occasional sounds coming from the espresso machine. My heart picks up speed. I always enjoy meeting the city’s finest patrolling police officers, but today I feel more nervous than before. As usual I can’t resist the temptation so I walk over to the door and greet them.

”How do you feel, bunnelê?” Raymond asks, his French accent covering his words like mist covers the meadow on a crispy summer morning.

”How dare you?” Thorin snears at him. ”How dare you call her that? You have no right!” I can hear the anger in his voice and I wonder what Raymond’s words really mean.

”Since you don’t have the courage to use it, I might as well do it.” Raymond grins at him and Thorin shoots him an icy stare that is impossible to miss. I can almost see his blood boiling in his veins.

”I feel ok now. Still tired but nothing else. Thank you both for helping me.” I quickly answer with a grateful smile.

”Should you not rest longer? I can’t imagine the doctor's approval of you already working.” Thorin sounds concerned, the anger in his voice is gone and he looks intensely at me.

”I don’t have time to rest anymore. I can’t keep the café closed for so long. It’s not good for business. And Sarah can’t help me more than she already does.”

Raymond shakes his head. ”You’re not very obedient, are you?” Something in the way he says the word obedient brings back memories from my dream, and I blush. I can’t look either of them in the eyes without exposing myself, so instead, I turn my attention to Hades and Electra.

”Shall I get the bucket for them? They look warm.”

”I’m sure they are. Please, if it’s not too much trouble.” Thorin answers and gives Electra a tender stroke over her neck. Her chestnut coat shines like a ruby in the sun. I nod and go back inside to fill the bucket with water. In the kitchen, while the water splutters down in the bucket, I think of Thorin’s reaction to Raymond’s foreign word. It didn’t sound French. Over the last weeks I have noticed a small change in Thorin. He seems to be increasingly concerned for my well-being and while Raymond is more direct and has a habit of speaking without a filter between his mouth and brain, Thorin is getting more and more thoughtful and attentive to my reaction. It confuses me greatly but also feels very right.

When the bucket is finally filled, I carry it outside. The street is empty, my four-legged guests have disappeared together with their riders and I can’t help feeling a sting of disappointment in my heart. I put the bucket down and go back inside to serve a new guest. With their kind of job, you never know what to expect. But I have a feeling they will return later. The thought makes me warm and I shine together with the sun as I smile at the young woman on the other side of the counter. Today is a very good day.

Did you like it? Please like, comment or/and reblog! ❤️

Taglist and others who might be interested: @lathalea @legolasbadass @fizzyxcustard @middleearthpixie @i-did-not-mean-to @laurfilijames @enchantzz @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @xxbyimm @kibleedibleedoo @mariannetora @s0ftd3m0n @haly-reads @sunnysidesidra

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#armitage summer splash #thorin oakenshield #raymond de merville #fanfiction #richard armitage #thorin #raymond #modern thorin #thorin fanfic #modern au #pilgrimage #modern raymond #reader insert #Bunnelê #Bunnele

[errruvande]

The broken king

I know i'm late for the prompt, but I wanted to write this so bad, so here it is. The 4th day of Armitage Summer Splash!

Trope: Betrayal Quote: “You’re the best thing that happened to me.”

Character: Thorin Oakenshield AN I wanted it a bit more angsty than it turned out to be, but still, enjoy 💖 I love some post-dragon sickness Thorin

For several weeks there wasn’t any sound heard from Thorin’s quarter. For several weeks nobody had seen Thorin leaving his room to eat, or to talk to anyone, he almost missed his coronation, if Dwalin hadn’t drugged the king out of his royal bed into the coronation hall, squeezed him into appropriate clothing and put his weakened body on the throne by himself. 

Nobody could identify what Thorin’s behavior awaked in them. Feeling so close to being miserable and small but so full of anger and frustration, their heads were about to explode into a million little pieces, because of what Thorin didn’t do. Live as he made his dream come true.

He’s brought back his kingdom, gave his people home once again, their home, home they once lost and finally found. Gave his nephews a future. Why was he himself so miserable, so gloomy?

That was the first day in weeks they heard voices in Thorin’s quarters. Filli and Killi were trotting by his rooms to their own, faces made grim as fast as the door was within their eyeshot. They felt so lonely in the giant kingdom without their uncle being the cautious pain in their asses, but it was their favorite pain and their favorite uncle, and they wanted his grumpy warnings back. Never have the two brothers thought they will be missing their uncle’s tiresome lectures about what the king’s heir can and cannot do, and him rollking his eyes when he find out they did something stupid again. Killi and Filli just missed their uncle.

“Have you heard that?” Fili stopped midstep, head just slightly turned to Thorin's door. “He’s talking!”

Kili’s eyes widened in a matter of seconds, following his brother’s gaze with curiosity, he almost squealed. “I can’t believe he’s coming back!” He narrowed his eyes on his brother with a sly smile, before his hand hung on the doorknob. But before Kili had the opportunity to pull the knob down and push the doors open, Fili slapped his hand with his, making Kili jerk in pain, brows knitted together in frustration.

“We can’t just burst into his room!” Fili hissed. He always has been the most cautious out of two of them, probably because he had to guard his little brother from any given danger Kili was determined to drag himself into. “He sees us, he hides again!”

“Then we make a little gap and peep through…” Kili flashed his hand back on the doorknob and pulled it down, pushing the door so slightly so it couldn’t release any creak.

“What have I done? What have I brought onto my people?” They heard the gravy voice of their uncle filling the room, and for once they both shrugged, sharing a look filled both with happiness, for they finally heard Thorin’s voice again, and fear, for he was talking gloomy, self-destructive nonesens.

“I had everything! I had friends, family, I had their trust and their love and now I have nothing!” The crown slid on the floor, gliding to young Durin’s eyeshot. Thorin collapsed near the heavy circlet and Fili and Kili heard the one tiny sob. “I’ve ruined everything I had…” 

He bent forward and wrapped his palms around the crown, staring at it for a long minute, sniffling inaudibly. Then he stood up on his shaky legs, balancing himself with his hand, Thorin put the crown on his bed, waiting for the weariness to end and dragged himself to the mirror.

Brothers saw the mirrored face, pale and much slimmer than it was when they had been traveling. Shivers ran down their spines as they looked each other in the eyes, holding back emotions the mere sight of his uncle boiled in them as Smaug's breath boiled the gold in the forges.

“You’re the best thing that happened to me.” He looked at his own reflection, finger stuck to the glazing. Thorin took a deep breath, fighting back tears, or what was left of them. “You, Thorin Oakenshied, are the best thing in your life and you betrayed yourself! Your kin, your principles, everything!” They saw his lips twitching in ugly attempt to stop the tears rolling down, to make his voice sound heavy and strict as it once sounded. “You were so weak, so miserable, you almost killed your friend out of greed, and now you’re killing yourself…” He cupped his face in his palms, letting the cry fly out of his mouth and break into the skin of his hands, but Kili and Fili saw his whole body waving with agony. “You told them you don’t want to die hiding, clawing for breath, but…” He studied himself in the mirror, mouth turning into a scowl, and overlooked the dirty room he hadn’t been leaving for a few weeks on end, when he finally saw the two pairs of eyes glowing in the door gap.

“Mahal help us!” They shot the door and hastened themselves to leave the corridor, when Fili suddenly froze midstep, lifting his worried eyes on his little brother. He shook his head, turning slowly and making his way back to Thorin’s door.

He found Thorin still standing on the same spot, eyes glued to the place he saw his nephews peeping on him.

“Uncle!” Fili burst into his room and in a few moments Thorin felt his older boy’s arms locking around him, and a moment later the second pair of hands had been wrapped around him as well. “All the things you said,” Fili was spluttering all over his words, breathing into Thorin’s neck, not willing to let his hands off his uncle. “don’t say that again! You have us, have all of us, our love and our trust, and you are more than just worthy of having these! Imagine the look of joy on Balin’s face when he sees you walking to the throne room? Bombur will be so happy to see you eating his food again! We all will be happy to see you live.” 

Fili tore his face off Thorin’s neck and looked him in the eyes, in hope to find at least a little hope and live in them. “Don’t blame yourself for those actions, you were sick, you weren’t yourself when you’ve done it, please, uncle, stop torturing yourself. We don’t blame you, we never will! We need you!” Once more he embraced his uncle till felt he could hold his arms no more.

“You’re so grown up now…” Thorin wrapped his hand around Fili’s shoulder and another around Kili’s. “You’ll be a great king, Fili.”

Fili smiled, seeing the glint in his uncle’s eyes. “Someday maybe, but now I have my King, the greatest king of Erebor.”

Thorin couldn’t kill the smile that was slowly stretching on his face, as well as he couldn’t kill the burbling sound when Kili squeezed him even tighter in his embrace.

“Uncle?” Fili peeked at Thorin, eyes ever so smooth and warm; Thorin pulled one brow up. “Your friends are waiting for you.”

Thorin bent his back a little to see his nephews better, and the love nestling in Fili and Kili’s eyes while they were looking at him pierced his mind like the finest elven arrow. 

“They’ve been waiting for me long enough,” he looked at himself in the mirror. He could’ve looked better, but it wasn’t the main question then. He finally was at ease with himself, finally wanted to step out of his cage. Kili tore himself off Thorin and jumped to the bed, taking the crown in his hands gently as he could and put it on Thorin’s head, looking at Thorin’s reflection proudly. “I won’t let them wait any longer.”

Tags: @lathalea @fizzyxcustard @thespiritoflife

#armitage summer splash #thorin oakenshield #thorin #thorin fic #thorin fanfic #the hobbit

[biblophilefox82]

Deadly Love

Armitage Summer Splash June 3rd

Prompts: Unrequited love & "I did it for you... for us"

RA Character: Thorin Oakenshield (BotFA)

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x GN!Dwarf!Reader

Warnings: Angst, mentions of battle, wounds, cutting off limbs, killing things, reader's death

Rating: M

Word Count: 1,831

A/N: This is my first contribution to RASS, as I've nicknamed it - Richard Armitage Summer Splash! Thank you, @lathalea and @fizzyxcustard for making this event

You knew full well that Thorin Oakenshield didn't have it in his heart to love you. He couldn't, the rage and grief of days long passed fueled him upon the journey to Erebor. You knew it well, but you didn't care. Dwarves only loved once, after all. And if a dwarf couldn't wed their One then they would never wed again.

You had fought long and hard with your family to go on the journey, and they relented after you-  admittedly- guilt-tripped them. Your skills in the forge as a blacksmith were unparalleled. You had spent your entire childhood there, learning from your father who had passed when you were the young age of fifty-three. Well, young for a dwarf like yourself

You had come along the journey knowing full well that you could never once let your feelings get in the way of your head. And you tried to not let them by surrounding yourself with your family and newfound friends.

Your brother had taught you how to wield a battle axe and hold your own in a fight, but you had extended your knowledge by getting battle lessons.

A journey with such high stakes as this quest is bound to have at least one death, as was estimated by many people in Ered Luin. A quest for death, it was called by a few gossipers. Not many thought it would succeed, the fear of the dragon resting inside the halls great and still coursing through the people.

There had been a few close calls, but luck was on the company's side for a time. It started to dwindle when the mountain was reclaimed. You yourself had thought Thorin strong enough to resist the call of the sickness, of the dragon hoard. But he was not. Even the other dwarves of the company were slightly affected by it, for they would not follow Thorin so aimlessly when he orders them to search hoards upon hoards of treasure for a single over-glorified stone.

You had said your thoughts about it to yourself as you searched, the words unheard and you were thankful they werent.

When battle was preparing, Thorin refused to let you fight.

"You're a weakling, I cannot let a weakling on the battlefield," Thorin spat at you, the words hitting you like bricks and only solidifying the fact that you would never find love.

So, you decided to rush into battle while Thorin was getting over his sickness. The others followed you, your stature and size being built up to look like the gold sickness-riddled king.

Thorin had run out, searching the  battle field for his company. He was met with a confused Balin, who frantically rushed up

"Thorin! Why are you here? Didn't you just start riding one riding the goats to catch up with Dwalin and Fili?" Balin yelled over the roar of orcs and dwarves as swords clashed against swords

"No! I was in the mountain, I didn't rush out with you!" Thorin yelled back, thinking his youngest nephew had led the charge as he attempts to find the boy on the battlefield while still battling orcs

"Then who led the..." it clicks for Balin, whose words get lost on his tongue as his eyes find the figures riding battle goats up Ravenhill.

You had led the charge. You rallied the troops. You were the one to give the warriors upon the battlefield the strength to fight, not their true king who they thought you were.

"Y/N led the charge!" Balin screamed to Thorin as he pointed to the hill, Thorin stressing over the lives of his nephews who were also riding up. He jumped on a goat, running after the group of four fiercely

Thorin had many thoughts rushing through his head, worry for his nephews, anger at them, anger at you. Never once did he worry or think about you in a good light, for he hated you in the moment for being so stupid.

Thorin rushed up the mountain, making it in time to be greeted by his sister's sons limping. They had been ordered to retreat by "Thorin" after Fili fell down a cliff after being dropped by Azog.

You had saved him, knowing that he would survive the fall. He had fallen into a ravine before. You had thrown a dagger, the weapon narrowly sticking to Azog's remaining hand.

Fili was going to be alright, you knew when the prince had pulled himself up with the help of Kili after you shouted an order for them to retreat. They protested, but you yelled at them further.

Now, they stand watching their true uncle in confusion. "You... but... what... how?" Kili sputters, looking to Thorin and then behind him where he last saw his "uncle"

"Y/N, they impersonated me," Thorin growls, stomping forward to inspect Fili, whose leg is clearly twisted in the wrong way. He had accepted death as he fell, his relaxation causing his chance of survive to increase

"What?! No... we have to go back, uncle! We have to save them. Azog will kill them!" Kili demands frantically, Fili agreeing between grunts of pain

"No. You will not, Kili. I will handle this on my own. You take your brother and go. Get him help. That's an order," Thorin demands, pushing Kili towards the goats as he runs past with his sword in hand.

He slashes at the orcs he comes across, eventually taking down Azog's spawn, Bolg, with the help of Dwalin. The warrior knew nothing of the impersonation as the pair ran towards the remaining sound of battle.

Bilbo had found them, rushing up to Dwalin and Thorin in confusion

"Thorin, I thought that you-" Bilbo started, only to be cut off by the angry king who gave him a fierce look.

"I did not lead the charge. Y/N impersonated me; treason," Thorin grumbled, Dwalin silently coming to that realization.

"T-treason?!" Bilbo stuttered and spat, "They're out there fighting Azog, Thorin! Putting their life on the line to save Erebor isn't treason, it's the exact opposite of the definition!"

The hobbit huffs and puffs with worry for you, who he had become close friends with.

Thorin goes to speak again when the trip hears an ear-piercing scream. Your scream, they realize as they run towards you.

The group stops on a ledge and are forced to watch.

Your arms shake under the force of Azog's blow, your feet barely to keep you up anymore after you were stabbed through the foot. Your helmet comes off, your hair sticking to the side of your face.

Azog was only angered further as he realized that he did not, in fact, have Thorin Oakenshield but an impostor.

You swing at Azog's remaining arm, your finely sharpened sword cutting through his flesh and bone with ease. You had taken one from the armory to avoid suspicion and not brought your own. Azog roars in rage and in pain, swinging wildly.

You swing back, cutting his modified arm and his neck in one swift motion. The momentum you built up has you falling to the floor, coughing and in pain. You gather enough strength to finish Azog off, impaling him through the chest as three figures rush towards you on the ice.

Bilbo reaches you first, tears in his eyes as he presses his hands to your chest and stomach. You do not know why, but you also do not have the strength to stop him physically

"No... no," Bilbo sobs, Dwalin and Thorin reaching your broken form.

Dwalin's throat bobs at the sight before him, Azog dead and you...

Blood comes from your neck to chest and stomach, the wound you have unfixable. It's too deep. Deep enough to see bone. Deep enough that Bilbo gets up and wretches, Dwalin taking your body to solid land as Thorin stands over Azog.

One final blow is delivered to the corpse, the head of the beast who caused so much heartache to Thorin detaching from its body.

Thorin turns, walking over to you as Bilbo requests your survival. A weak attempt, Thorin knows as he comes to stand over your body. Dwalin kneels beside you, your hand clutched in his. You had gripped him tight and with fear in your eyes, tears blooming in the side of you eyes as you had to suffer through Bilbo's sobs.

Your eyes turn to Thorin, your vision focused enough that you recognize him but unfocused enough that everything else behind him is blurry.

You go to speak, but cant get your voice loud enough. So, Thorin comes by your head. He realized that he was wrong in those few moments he had to watch you fight and now as he has to watch the light slip from your usually bright eyes.

"I know that you..." you gulp, wetting your lips as you try to get your words out. Your words are raspy, but hearable to the three males who surround your dying form

"Would ne...ver lo.... love me the... the way tha..t I... love..." you cough, blood in your mouth as you speak, "you... but... I did this for you... for us..."

Bilbo sobs harder at the confession, Thorin feeling numb and Dwalin feeling like he failed. Dwalin beats himself up about it as they kneel there around you. He could have differentiated between the two people, but he didn't. He clouded his mind and had practically aloud you to rush to your death

"Do..n't bla..me you...rselves... I did this... my...se..lf... tell..." you cough again, Dwalin shushing you as he pushes Thorin out of the way. He runs a hand over your brow, sweeping your hair out of the way of your face softly

"Tell ma.... tell ma I love her. Tell my... siblings... I'm sorry... I'm... so..rry..." you cry, gripping onto Dwalin's hand desperately as Thorin starts to blame himself and the sickness for your death. You had saved his sister's sons, he realizes. You didn't have to, but you did. You didn't have to take on Azog, but you did. And Thorin would have been the one under that blade had he recovered in time and lead the charge

"Bilbo... plant... a tr...ee for me... plea...se..." You request, hand coming to weakly grip Bilbo's as Thorin tells himself to do the same; to plant and grow a tree in Erebor in honor for your sacrifice

"Be... a good... king, Thorin," you request, eyes traveling to the king as Bilbo speaks

"Hey, hey, hold on Y/N... look at the eagles," Bilbo coos, the great eagles who saved their lives earlier in the journey swooping over head.

A beautiful view, you say to yourself as the pain slowly disappears along with your vision. You are subjected to the sobbing of your friends as you try to speak; try to request they stop crying.

But you cannot speak, you cannot move, you cannot do anything.

What a sad fate, you say to yourself as you slip into the peaceful abyss, the sounds of a forge ringing in your ears as light surrounds you, comforting you like the peaceful and comforting feeling of a fire-warmed home....

#richard armitage #armitage summer splash #The Hobbit #thorin x you #thorin x reader #thorin fanfic #the hobbit fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction writer #lotr fandom #the hobbit fandom #thorin oakenshield #botfa #fanfiction

[lathalea]

Hello there! Did you really think I wouldn't participate in this ask game? Well, here I am, and of course, this is about Thorin😂 😈

One thing about myself: I love books, and more importantly, I love talking about books with just about anyone (as if you didn't know that lol)! Basically I'm just a bid old nerd who wants some cuddles while reading together.

I'm a sucker for forbidden love (again, shocker, right?) but this time let's go with friends to lovers. Gimme all the fluff!

And my chosen au is the au that's not actually an au because we all know the Durins survived, aka everybody lives au!

Why hello there, stranger! 💙 Did you really think I'd forget about your ask? Not a chance!

First of all...

(Sorry about the delay though. The heatwave is killing me.)

And now, let's get down to business 🥳🎈🎁 This is both the Imagine Ask Game imagine (💞 - Friends to Lovers with Thorin) and my newest fic for the Armitage Summer Splash event so I hope you'll excuse me the almost-a-fic-but-a-bit-like-an-imagine general style of the story.

WEEK 4 - PROMPT 28

Here are the tarot cards for your ask:

And here is the prompt:

WEEK 4 - PROMPT 28

Trope: Dream Quote: “Let’s skip to the good part.” Image: link

Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield x Dwarf OFC (The Hobbit) Rating: G Wordcount: 4165

You can find this fic on AO3.

Khuzdul: Amrâlimê - my love

Dream Come True

Smaug was dead and Erebor was being restored. Leaving Ered Luin and moving to your homeland was like stepping into a fairy tale. You were born in exile, but your grandmother told you many amazing tales about the true home of your clan. When the time came and Thorin Oakenshield reclaimed the Lonely Mountain, you and your family joined a caravan and headed east.

When you arrived in Erebor, you instantly fell in love with the place. It was even better than your grandmother’s stories. Luckily, your family’s old home wasn’t overly damaged, so you started your new life fairly quickly after moving back in. 

As a serious book-lover, you had one dream: to become a librarian. Since your grandmother used to be one of the librarians under the Mountain back in her day, she had taught you all you needed to know to become one. She was too old to return to her former work, but her recommendation along with your earlier work experience in a cosy little bookshop in the Blue Mountains made it possible for you to work at the Great Library of Erebor. 

In the beginning, the job meant mostly cleaning up the mess Smaug left and trying to rescue the damaged books or at least copy their content before their frail parchment pages perished forever. You often stayed up late at night, trying to decipher faded runes on the yellowed pages of yet another ancient volume, but it was worth it. So what if half of the time you actually spent on reading books instead of mending or sorting them? You had always made sure to finish the most urgent tasks before treating yourself to another chapter of “Brok The Barbarian” or “The Wuthering Red Mountains” or “The Haunted Manor of Mirkwood”. Well, almost. Sometimes Mistress Gudrun, the head librarian, would find you surrounded by a heap of books you had been sorting all morning with one of them in your lap as you devoured its contents. It was completely not your fault. That book simply happened to open of its own accord—by accident—on a very interesting page. Mistress Gudrun would shake her head with a chuckle and then leave you be. She knew you were one of the most passionate of her apprentices, even if rather easily distracted. But some things could not be helped. Besides, you reminded her of her younger self a little bit.

One night you were still at the library, finishing the task of cataloguing the “Art of War” section when you heard a suspicious noise. A sound of a door being unlocked and opened. And it was not just any door – it was the side door that was only used by the staff to enter and leave the library at any time through a conveniently placed tunnel. It even had a sign: “NO UNAUTHORISED PERSONNEL”. 

Then you heard slow, heavy steps. They didn’t sound like any of your colleagues’ steps. What if it was a thief?! You grabbed the heaviest tome you could find and stalked towards that door. In the flickering light of the library lamps, you saw a shadow of a movement ahead of you. Without thinking, you gathered your courage and attacked the supposed burglar with the leather-bound tome. That would teach them not to steal!

The book hit something hard. You heard an “Oof!” and then your priceless weapon was torn out of your hands before you could react. You blinked and your mouth fell open at the large silhouette in front of you. In the faint light you saw none other than your king, the legendary Thorin II Oakenshield. You recognized him, of course, you’d seen him in the Blue Mountains many times before, but never from such a close distance. He stood there, tall and proud, with his dark locks majestically flowing down his shoulders… and massaged his arm with a frown on his face. “Do you assault all the visitors who come here to read?” he uttered an irritated growl.

You swallowed. You had just attacked your king. You hoped that the infamous dungeons of Erebor weren’t as full of hungry giant cave rats as the rumours said. After muttering apologies to your king, you explained the situation and, to your surprise, heard his explanation in turn. He was in need of some light reading after a long day and this entrance to the library was the closest one to the royal chambers. And, of course, he had the key. He was the king of this mountain, after all!

It was your lucky day: he didn’t imprison you or hang for treason and instead you offered him a few books that would make good evening reads. He took them gladly, even “The Crucible”, one of your favourites, a lighthearted story about a Dwarf, an abysmal cook, who tried to make the perfect stew for his three beloved wives. Don’t judge, okay? Culinary novels are an important element of dwarven literature!

This was how your friendship started. Yours and the king’s, not yours and that stew’s of course. Thorin and you bonded over the written word and he became a frequent late evening visitor in the library. Since then, you spent many hours – or even whole nights – discussing the stories you had both read or criticising the authors who wrote too much angst and not enough fluff. And sometimes, you would simply talk about anything and everything.

Thorin appreciated these visits more than you knew. Even if he spent a tiring day with his advisors, he knew that he’d find you in the library in the evening. With you, he could forget about his duties for a short while and enjoy both your quick wit and your charming smile. You helped him rekindle his old love for books, something he hadn’t had the chance to enjoy much when Erebor was lost. But now it was different. He reclaimed his kingdom, his people were safe, and he was finally able to find some time for leisure. So he spent it with someone he learned to appreciate and admire. You. The person with whom he could be himself. Someone who wasn’t an advisor, nor a sparring partner, nor a courtier. Someone who didn’t want to get into his good graces just because he was a king; who didn’t expect favours nor special treatment. Someone he had been thinking of as his close friend for a while now.

One day Dis approached her brother and discreetly let him know that there were rumours of him having a dalliance with a mysterious lover. Apparently, someone saw Thorin sneaking out of the royal wing late at night; someone else saw him returning shortly before dawn, and several nobles commented on the shadows under his eyes when he arrived at the morning council meetings. Some even wondered whether Thorin acted dishonourably, having trysts with an unsuspecting young lady, but not courting her openly. Or worse – what if he seduced multiple innocent maidens under everyone’s nose?! Was that conduct worthy of a king?! “Preposterous!” Thorin exclaimed. In anger, he told Dis what he had been doing and whom he was meeting. She replied, “I suspected as much. I can see that she makes you happy and it fills my heart with warmth. Have you told her of your feelings yet?”

Thorin had no idea what his sister meant. You were his good friend, nothing more! But then Dis told him that he should stop acting like an empty-headed mountain troll. She reminded him that she was not blind and spoke about all the little glances he cast at you when he thought no one was looking. Or about that meeting at the marketplace the other day when you both stood in the middle of a crowd together, oblivious of your surroundings, passionately discussing the ending of a book you had both recently finished. Oh, and the fact that he would rather spend nights in the library than sleep in his own, comfortable bed spoke volumes, too. And what about that tiny issue of him rejecting every single suggestion of marriage she or Balin proposed?

Thorin started seriously thinking about what Dis said. Was it possible that something more than friendship blossomed between you? He recalled the way you smiled at him whenever he appeared in  the library. He remembered the reluctance with which he said “good night” to you every time he had to leave. And each time he did, he saw some mysterious emotion twinkling in your bright eyes. The eyes that made him think of precious gems. And then, there was that warmth he felt deep inside. And that tingling sensation whenever your hands accidentally met.

He needed to think.

***

It had been over a week since you saw Thorin last and you started to worry. It was unlike him to disappear this way without telling you in advance that he would be busy with matters of state or that he had to leave for a diplomatic visit somewhere. As far as you knew, he was still in Erebor. 

Around that time you noticed that whenever you passed through the library, people would stare at you and whisper. The elderly Master Wurf, the biggest local gossip and the chief of the fine arts section, tsk-tsked at you and told you he expected more of you. 

When you asked him what he meant, he simply replied, “Do not feign innocence, young lady, it does not suit you. Have you no shame?” Did it have anything to do with the fact that he stumbled upon you and Thorin late at night in one of the secluded areas of the library a few days before? Master Wurf refused to say anything more. In fact, he started openly avoiding you, and he was not the only one. Even your friends began treating you in a very weird way, suddenly interrupting their conversations whenever you appeared or making themselves scarce. One of them even had the audacity to ask whether you could fix them with a permanent position as a royal clerk since you had “access” to the king. He winked and chuckled when he said it, but you found nothing funny about this. Things turned even less amusing when the amount of crude remarks towards you multiplied and you even received several very improper proposals. And then one day you heard your nosy neighbour speak to her husband, “Look, that harlot is coming! I wonder how much the king pays her for…”

“Stop wagging your tongue, woman, and give me my dinner!” her spouse bellowed.

“Woman?! Woman?! After 157 years of marriage you have forgotten my name, you smelly boar?! I’ll teach you…”

The familiar sounds of their customary weekly fistfight ensued followed by their passionate exclamations of love that usually came after, but you did not hear it. You ran home, teary-eyed, and locked yourself in your room. “The king’s harlot”. Those words stung more than they should. But what hurt even more was that Thorin stopped seeing you so abruptly. In these circumstances, you  came to a conclusion: he did not want to see you again. His reputation as a king was worth more to him than your quiet friendship. He did not even have the decency to speak with you in person. Perhaps you were not as close as you had thought you were. Those late night conversations, fiery discussions, private jokes you shared… all of it was gone now. You were left only with memories of those moments, of his cerulean eyes, and of that low, velvety voice speaking your name.

Now, your reputation was ruined. You could wave any hopes of finding a spouse goodbye. No one seemed to believe you, and it was probably a matter of time until Mistress Gudrun would dismiss you from the library for indecent conduct, even if it was just based on some gossip.

As you wallowed in self-pity, there was a knock on the door and before you could say “enter”, your grandmother barged into your room.

“My dear girl, are you sleeping with the king?” she asked in her charmingly blunt way, staring you straight in the eye.

“Of course not, granny!” you exclaimed. That one time when you and Thorin both dozed off late at night in the library and your head happened to rest on his very comfortable shoulder surely didn’t count! You still remembered the moment when you both woke up, staring sleepily into each other’s eyes, his lips barely inches from yours. No, that dot not count even a bit!

“What a shame,” she sighed and sat next to you with a grunt. “So all those things I hear are only unsubstantiated rumours?” “I’m afraid so,” you reached for your handkerchief in an attempt to dry your cheeks.

“And here I was thinking that at least you had some fun!” “Grandma, he is the king!” you gasped. “Oh yes, he is, and he is quite a handsome one, is he not?” she grinned.

“Come on, granny! Thorin and I are just friends! He sometimes visits the library, nothing more!”

“Are you well, my dear? Your cheeks are red. You are not blushing, are you?” “Of course I am not blushing! It is the heat, I must have put too many logs into the fireplace, that is all,” you tried your best bluff.

“If you say so, dear,” your grandma nodded, patting your hand. “Then I guess there must be some misunderstanding with that royal messenger at our door…” “What? What? What? What are you talking about, granny?” you almost jumped up.

“A nice young fellow has just arrived with a dinner invitation for you from king Thorin,” she smiled sweetly at you. And when your grandma smiled sweetly, that was an equivalent of a shark baring his teeth.

“Tell him I’m not unavailable! I’m sick! I’ve gone to visit our relatives in the White Mountains!” you panicked.

“Truly, child? Is that the best you can do? All my teachings for nothing…” she hung her head theatrically. Our last relatives in the White Mountains moved away from there over 200 years ago during the last Orc War. Do you want the king to think that you are related to an Orc?”

“No! Granny! Oh no! I just… I don’t want to see him! Because of those horrible rumours, he’ll probably tell me that… this is the end of our… our friendship,” you sobbed while your heart raced like crazy in your chest. “I can’t… I can’t face him. Not now. I just want to be left alone until it all blows over.” “Very well, my child,” your grandma gave you a reassuring hug. “If that is what you want, I will make it happen.”

***

You spent several peaceful days at home, taking a sick leave. Even your granny agreed that you deserved some rest. Secretly, you hoped that the rumours would soon die down and everyone would once again leave you alone. It felt strange to spend the evenings at home with your family instead of copying the old parchments and waiting for the familiar squeaking sound of the opening door, along with Thorin’s customary “Good evening”. Oh, how you longed to hear his voice once again, to sit with him and simply enjoy his presence…

Instead, two more dinner invitations came, each of them written with golden letters on the best parchment you have ever seen, but you refused them both. Those were the formal invitations from the king, not your friend Thorin, and they did not bode well.

After that, a mysterious package arrived to you with no return address. Inside, there was a rare edition of a book you have always wanted to own. There was a fresh rose sticking out from between the covers and when you opened the book at that page, you saw a note. It contained a very short and very clumsily composed poem about your eyes being compared to gems. You recognized the elegant handwriting at once. And the rune “T” at the bottom of the page.

It was not possible. It had to be a mistake. Thorin never really liked poetry. And what about that beautiful flower? And the precious book?

“Are my old eyes failing me or is this a threefold gift?” your grandma asked, putting her book away.

“Granny, we both know you have eyes like a hawk! Wait… a threefold gift?” you forgot to breathe. The rose. The poem. The book. Three pieces. Exactly like the tradition said. Oh, shoot.

“What will you send him in return?” your grandma’s tone was alarmingly casual. “You can’t keep a courting gift waiting for too long, you know…” 

“That’s… I don’t plan to send him anything,” you put the beautiful gift box aside, not wanting to look at it any longer.

“Do you know when was the last time Thorin Oakenshield sent his last courting gift?” you heard your granny’s soft voice.

“I don’t,” you admitted, your throat tightening.

“The answer is: never. The whole kingdom assumed he was devoted to his craft and therefore uninterested in marriage. It seems that we all were wrong and he found someone special after all,” she mused.

“You don’t understand, granny. Thorin is an honourable dwarf. He knows about that gossip and he realises how damaging it is to my reputation so he is trying to do what he feels is right out of his sense of duty. Plus, I’d make a very bad queen…”

Your grandmother just shook her head and, to your surprise, said nothing, leaving you with your dark thoughts.

***

The next courting gift from Thorin came a week later. Another exciting book, another clumsy but sweet poem, and another flower (a daisy, as pink as your lips, as the new poem claimed). Your grandma simply looked at you from behind her half-moon spectacles but, again, did not say a word.

You put the gifts into your wardrobe with an attempt to forget about them. As tradition said, if you were not interested in the courtship, the only thing you had to do was simply not to respond to these gifts and leave them be. And that was exactly what you did. After reading the books, of course. The courting traditions did not say anything about not being allowed to reading them. That was what books were for, weren’t they? 

The problem was, the third gift came a week later, another one a week after that, and then they just kept on coming. Your free wardrobe space was shrinking rapidly. Meanwhile, your granny and the royal messenger became fast friends and she even began baking her delicious cinnamon buns every Friday — because that was the day he would come with another courting gift from Thorin. At the same time, you absolutely did not feel any anticipation every Friday morning. You were not interested in empty gifts sent to you out of misplaced pity. Not at all. And yet, you still missed Thorin, your dear… friend.

***

Almost  two months passed and everyone seemed to have forgotten about your alleged scandalous affair with the king — or perhaps they had simply become bored with it. The gossip mill of Erebor was now busy with another topic: the royal jeweller’s wife gave birth to twins and the rumour had it that each of the babes was supposed to have a different father. When your grandmother heard it for the first time, she laughed to tears together with the royal messenger who, along with that piece of gossip, brought you another courting gift. A brand new, illustrated copy of your favourite “The Crucible”, a touching poem with loneliness as a main theme, and a simple forget-me-not flower. Now you too had tears in your eyes.

One day you stayed at the library longer than usual, determined to finish making the inventory of the newest books that arrived from the Blue Mountains. You were so focused on the task that you hadn’t heard the characteristic squeaking sound of a particular door being opened.

“Good evening,” the rumbly, familiar voice broke the silence that surrounded you. And then you heard your own name spoken in that very special way you secretly adored.

“Thorin?” you almost jumped in surprise. He stood before you, just as he did that first time you had met here, wearing a simple dark blue tunic that emphasised his strapping figure of a warrior, his hair slightly ruffled, his temple free from the Raven Crown of Erebor, but this time there was no frown on his face. Instead, a slight smile danced on his lips. Mahal, how you had missed seeing him. “I am glad to see you here again. May we talk?” His eyes searched your face and one look into them was enough to melt your resolve.

Your conversation started awkwardly at first. Thorin was convinced that he offended you somehow and wanted to know what he could do to make amends. He wished to understand why you refused to see him and avoided him for so long. Brimming with strong emotions, in a trembling voice you spoke of your disappointment and all the misery the rumours had caused you. “... and when you stopped coming to the library, I thought I lost a… friend,” you finally admitted quietly, stifling a sob.

“You have never lost me. I needed to reflect on some matters in solitude, but now I know that I have failed you. I believed those rumours would harmlessly disappear. For that I am asking for your forgiveness and if it will be granted to me, I still would like to continue being your… friend, if I cannot be anything else.” 

While listening to his words, you looked at your hands that somehow found themselves in his large, warm palms of a blacksmith. You discovered that you liked the feeling and the sensations that came with it. You did not want him to let go of you even if you probably should.

“And what else would you like to be?” you asked, unable to ignore the effect his closeness had on you. These were the same hands that gently picked the flowers, carefully chose the books and wrote those awkward poems for you every single week while you were apart. And the regal features of his face were now softened by a hopeful smile that reached all the way to his eyes.

“Do you remember that old parchment we once read together? The one that said: ‘Life is but a book and every day – merely a page’?” Thorin squeezed your hands gently.

“I do, but what does it have to do with you and me?”

“I would like to reopen that book with you. But not where we left off. Let us skip to the good part. Let us write new pages for as long as we live. Together. What do you say?”

“Together,” your voice wavered, “as… friends?”

Thorin’s hands moved to your arms, shoulders, then to your neck, and then cupped your face, making your breath hitch. His face was so close to yours now, your nose brushed against his. You could even feel the warmth of his breath and the softness of his hair against your cheek. As you took a deep breath, your lungs filled with that unmistakable scent of pine needles, leather, and ink. So unmistakably, reassuringly Thorin.

“No, not at all as friends,” he murmured, gently pressing his forehead against yours, and then added one little world that turned your world upside down, “Amrâlimê.”

“Do you mean it?” your eyes widened. “Truly?”

Without a word, Thorin took out a little wooden box out of his pocket. There were his and your runes carved in its cover. When he handed it to you,  you took it from him and opened it. Inside, you saw an elegant mithril braid bead and a beautiful matching ring adorned with diamonds – symbols of eternal love. No Dwarf would offer such breathtaking gifts simply out of duty. 

You wanted to pinch yourself when Thorin took one of your hands and placed it over his heart.

“Truly. I do not wish to only be your friend. Not any longer. I want to share my life with you, if you will have me.”

Your vocal cords refused to cooperate. All you could do was nod and wrap your arms around him, tucking your head under his bearded chin. 

“Is that a ‘yes’, Amrâlimê?” Thorin whispered softly while the gentleness of his arms encircled you.

“Oh, Thorin. I didn’t dare to dream that this day would ever come. Yes.”

He took your hand into his a placed a careful kiss on the back of your palm. And then he slipped on your finger the ring he had made with his own hands during that time you were apart. When you met his gaze, the eternal diamonds shone in his eyes.

On that day you learned that some dreams do come true, after all.

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General taglist (please let me know if you'd like to be added/removed): @fizzyxcustard @shrimpsthings​ @dark-angel-is-back @sherala007 @amelia307 @anyaspidergirl-blog @jotink78 @rachel1959 @saltwater-in-the-afternoon @linasofia @legolasbadass @yourqueenunderthemountain @reblogunderthemountain @guardianofrivendell @elrawienthewhite @tschrist1 @nelleedraws @beenovel @vee-vee-writes @mcchiberry @dumbassunderthemountain @errruvande @laurfilijames @emrfangirl @s0ftd3m0n @lilith15000 @kami-chan1512 @ragsweas @enchantzz @aduialel @myselfandfantasy @thewhiteladyofrohan @elliepie1226 @middleearthpixie @i-did-not-mean-to @blairsanne @fckmini @clumsy-wonderland @wormsmith @mailinsblogofstuff @medusas-hairband @xxbyimm @guylty

Thorin taglist: @narniaandthenorth @i-am-the-raven-queen @ruthoakenshield @jaskierthelover @asgardianhobbit98 @thespiritoflife @justfollowtheroad

#happy birthday #legolasbadass #thorin oakenshield #richard armitage #fluff #thorin imagine #thorin x reader #hobbit imagine #thorin fic #tarot #armitage summer splash #tarot ask game #fanfic #romance #friends to lovers #the hobbit

[sorisooyaa]

Looming Anniversary - June 27th

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x Wife!Reader

Movie: The Hobbit

Taglist: @fizzyxcustard @lathalea​

A/N: Dedicated to all of us that desperately wants to give Thorin a hug!

You sighed and made your way over to your king and husband. He hadn’t been listening to a word you were saying for some time now. You had even left the room a few minutes back. He had not noticed your exit nor your return.

He sat there, on the chair of his study desk and gazed off into the distance. His eyes forgetting the present and being immersed in whatever his mind played as he gazed out into the outside. The cold draft blew in through the open doors of the balcony and he hadn’t even moved to close it, he simply gazed out into the view it gave him, but it wasn’t the low clouds or the wind that danced with the tops of trees, and bristles or fallen leaves he watched.

What he watched was in his mind’s eye and made him fade away from this world, mentally, because physically, he was still here. But how can one truly be here without bringing themselves to feel and react to the emotions a moment in time had brought forth?

You carefully placed your tray on his desk, and the aroma of the strong tea and freshly baked biscuits filled the room, but it was only when your hand had accidentally brushed against his did he awake into the moment again.

“Amrâlimê...” It was a heavy whisper laced in light shock as his eyes travelled to you, taking in both yourself and your movement. You smiled softly at him and grabbed the chair he had always set aside for you.

Sitting down carefully, you rested your hand on his, allowing your thumb to caress his strong calloused hands. These hands travelled through battlefields with the tight grasp of heavy weapons, powering through, channelling his bravery through every fight, but they also loved and caressed those close to his heart, one he cherished. So, you should know, for these hands held you tenderly close at night, keeping you warm and safe, made you come undone with their gentle but fast and firm strokes, caressing your skin as if they were silk on silk, and wiped away every tear that ran down your cheeks.

“I thought you would like some tea,” You said, cheerfully and grabbed the teapot. This time Thorin watched you, carefully, as you poured the tea into the mug, you were well known for those clumsy hands throughout this kingdom. They weren’t strong and made for heavy lifting like every other dwarrowdam, for you were half-human, inheriting all but your height from your mother.

You placed the mug carefully on the table and brought his hand towards it, he willingly let you, before he grabbed it himself and took a long gulp. You took your bottom lip in between your teeth, a little worried, hoping it wasn’t too hot to burn his insides.

“Don’t,” Thorin scowled, releasing your bottom lip from the hold of your teeth. The habit teased him endlessly and once he dove himself forward to release your lip with his own teeth, before pulling you in for a heated passionate kiss that led the both of you into bed for a night of ecstatic moans and whimpers.

Today, however, there seems to do much weighing on his mind to even think of making love, even though he would still gladly grant you the permission if you requested. But you didn’t, knowing it was the comfort he needed right now, rather than a release, the both of you can set that once aside for later... or after.

“Alright, but will you tell me what plagues your mind, husband?” You asked as you dipped a piece of biscuit into the tea and brought it to his lips.

He took it, the taste of it bringing little to no comfort to him, then, Thorin had signed out, “Nothing, dearest.”

You frowned, but it slowly turned into a light glare and you cupped his face gently, turning him to you, “Don’t lie to me,” You spoke the words sternly, “We are married, your bearings are also mine, husband. Do not keep yourself locked up from me,” You said, your thumbs caressing his face, and he hung his head down in shame, but your brought his gaze back to you, “I’m your one, know that I’ll never judge or dishonour you, for you are the breath of my life. I love you just the way you are, and I would like to comfort you in your time of need, just as you do for me.”

Suddenly, a broken sob reached your ears, and your heart sank, shattering at the sound of your strong dwarven king and husband breaking down in your arms.

“Husband? Thorin?” You pleaded, trying to brush past his tears and address whatever was their cause.

“The days are nearing to that time once again,” Thorin released his words in a strangled sob, a part of him shamed to allow tears near his beloved; allow him to destroy the walls he kept high and let you see the broken dwarf behind it all, but you were his one, his wife and queen, if he dared to share a tear or any broken part of himself, it would be with you, for he trusted you with everything within himself.

“Tell me, what days are nearing again? Thorin?” You gently brushed his hair and wiped away the tears streaming down his face and over his bearded cheeks.

“The days my grandfather was killed, how we lost so much and more during the battle of Moria, the disappearance of my father... everything!” He growled out, trying to keep his tears at bay.

“Oh, Thorin!” You immediately stood, and wrapped him to you, letting him bury his face into your body as you gently rocked him and ran a hand through his hair. He snaked his arms around your waist, gripping you tightly as he released a sob, that he had been trying to hold in. The sight fractured your heart into tiny pieces it was almost impossible to put it back together, at least not until you saw your husband smile again. You know by ‘we’ he had meant himself and his sister.

“Oh, my love,” You whispered. You wanted to ask for how long he had been holding this in, shoving it down into the pits of his heart like it did not matter and keeping up the appearance everyone expected of him.

But that was now important right now, “It is alright, their souls are safe. They have lived and taught you everything they possibly could. They are proud of you. You have come a long way. You, Thorin, my dear husband, raised your small family of your sister and her sons, reclaimed your once lost home, gave meaning to your nephews’ lives, and allowed your sister to seek out happiness again, with Dwalin. You have done so much, and more,” You held him closer, and kissed the top of his head.

“When my mother passed,” You began slowly, remembering the day how she had grown weak and frail; the final moments before humans had passed into the unknown, “My father told me, ‘when you loose someone... you gain a star, and they will look over you, shining in the sky for you’ live by that Thorin,” You whispered, holding him tenderly close.

You had dearly wished that Thorin and yourself had found each during those times. Therefore, from the very beginning, he could have sought the comfort he longed for. In all honesty it was Fíli and Kíli, that found you in the old human village, lost and in need of a blacksmith to strengthen your father’s sword.

They had led you to their home, a small wooden house at the end of the road. There, your future beloved was sitting on the couch just returning from his work, and Dís was within the kitchens trying to cook. Then, almost every day of the week you travelled to the other side of town, something drew you to him, and a part of you knew darn well, but could he take you, half-human and half-dwarf in?

While Dís and yourself had become quick friends, in seeing that you were close in age, only a few years younger than herself, with Thorin ,it was harder to befriend, even though you had caught him watching you from afar many times.

It was barely a year before the quest before Thorin had strode over to ask your hand in courtship; it utterly surprised you. You would have sworn you would have fainted, if you hadn’t been sitting down already. It was odd how suddenly Thorin asked you to mee him at the flower meadows outside of the town. Thorin asking your hand in courtship was the last thing you had expected, but nevertheless, you had accepted.

When Thorin had left you for the quest, you pleaded with him to take you with him, but he insisted you stay, for the outcome of this journey was uncertain. He had left you that night with a long passionate kiss, unable to promise you anything. You cried for days, not knowing his whereabouts or whether he was alive or not.

When Erebor was finally reclaimed and Thorin had barely made out alive through the dragon sickness and the battle of the five armies, the first thing he had done upon your arrival was ask your hand in marriage. It shocked you to the core, for you had only been courting for a barely year, but, you had still accepted. Even if many others would have said it was too soon, the timing was perfect for the both of you because you know this story was meant to be. And Thorin had promised himself he would marry you if he made it out of this alive, that was the only thing keeping him going throughout the quest.

But even then, you had wished you had met him sooner, it was cruel what the world did to keep the both of you waiting until the damned end when your soul was already broken and unwilling then; only then were you allowed to meet. It wasn’t fair how your husband could not grieve, expected to go on and become the new king and leader. Not one moment could he cry out the pain and anger. He was forced to suppress it under every thing, until now, it finally broke free, channelling through him in waves of anguish.

You sighed as Thorin let his emotions run their course. Your dress had long soaked with his tears as he kept his face buried into your stomach, but you couldn’t care less, trying to offer as many words of comfort and warmth as you possibly could. Your fingers ran through his wavy obsidian curls, holding those silvery-white streaks, and gently you continued swaying softly. You pressed soft loving kisses to his head and face, anywhere else you can; breathing him in.

Some moments later, you heard the heavy and slow breaths Thorin tried to take in. Tt was an attempt to calm himself down. For a moment, you felt his arms loosen before... as quickly as they came loose, they tightened back around you. It was as if he was second-guessing himself. He was holding onto you like you were the only thing keeping him together.

“May we stay like this? For a moment longer?” He breathed out softly, kissing a kiss to your stomach.

You smiled, whispering back to him, “Of course we can, Thorin, my love…” You pressed another kiss to his head and lingered your lips there for a long moment this time around, wishing and hoping your love and affection were enough to blanket him from memories of old. Simply, you kept your arms wrapped around him snugly, holding him close and without any judgment, only the pure love you had for him. And you prayed it would bring him the comfort he deserved.

#armitage summer splash #richard armitage #thorin #thorin oakenshield #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin x reader #thorin x wife!reader #thorin x you #thorin x y/n #the hobbit #post-botfa #everyone lives au #Hope you like <33 #soriyaa graphics #shalinizhara graphics

[fizzyxcustard]

Do Not Lie To Me. (Armitage Summer Splash. Day 27.)

As part of @lathalea and I’s Armitage Summer Splash, I present to you, day 27. 

Masterlist of fics for Summer Splash

Prompts: “Do not lie to me.“ / Anniversary trope.  

Fandom: Robin Hood

Pairings: Guy of Gisborne x Fem!Reader

Warnings: A little angst. Then fluff. And smut.

Summary: You and Guy have been friends for years, since teenagers, and you celebrate your anniversary every year. When you are late, Guy questions why, believing you to be interested in another man.

Comments/Notes: If anyone would like to be added to or removed from my tag list, please say. This fic was a result of watching Robin Hood over on my Discord server and having discussions with @sweetestgbye about how Guy needs a woman who loves him.

"Where have you been?" Guy asked, his voice full of accusation at your late arrival. Today was the anniversary of the first day you and Guy had met as teenagers. And each year you had always celebrated that, making sure you shared a special meal at sunset.

He was sat on the grass outside your home, waiting. His hands were clasped, resting on his leather-clad knees.

"I had to...um....get some supplies for tomorrow's baking day," you stuttered.

Guy got to his feet, towering over you and looked down. "Do not lie to me," he instructed. "You have been spending time with Tom again, haven't you? The jeweller's son. I saw you heading towards the workshop this morning."

"Guy, please...I don't understand why this is such a big issue for you," you said, hitching over your breath. "We're friends. Why don't you want me spending time with other people? If you must know, there was a reason I went there and have visited the last few days."

"We may be friends, but I've started hoping for more," Guy said softly, stepping closer to you. "I can't help myself anymore."

You gasped, feeling your heart race. You watched as Guy pulled off his glove, anticipation racking through you so strong. Then his hand reached up and curled around your blushed cheek. "I've prayed for this day for many years now, and I just hope with everything inside me that you're not doing this because I'm a substitute for Marian. I watched you chase her for years, your heart be broken and beaten by her. I'd never do that to you, and you never saw that." The words poured forth from your heart.

"I never thought you would love me in that way. I never felt like anyone could. Your friendship was always the one thing that kept hope alive in me. If anything, Marian was the substitute for you."

*

Candlelight danced that evening as you and Guy made love. Both of you were tangled together, kissing, caressing. Your bodies were synchronised, blending, rocking, becoming one being. Everything felt so natural, so right, as if your bodies were made to fit into one complete piece that could never be broken apart.

Guy was over you, his hands roaming you. Inside you was where he always wanted to be; safe, warm and wanted. He was completely submerged in your love, forgetting all those years passed where he had given up on his dream of you being his.

Once you had both climaxed and fell down into one another's arms, you brushed a stray piece of hair from Guy's forehead and smiled, resting on your elbow.

He kissed you softly. "You never told me the reason as to why you were at the jeweller's so often."

With a broad grin, you reached across into your satchel and pulled out a leather pouch. "This was for today, being the anniversary of friendship. However, after what has just happened, it feels more like a proposal."

Guy raised an eyebrow and took the brown pouch from you. He pulled the cords apart and then opened the pouch, feeling something cold fall onto his hand. It was a silver ring, with a simple black onyx stone in the centre, with the initial G engraved.

You watched Guy's steel blue eyes fill with tears as he stared at the ring. One tear finally fell down his cheek and he pressed his forehead to yours. "Marry me," he whispered.

"Yes, my love. You know I will," you replied.

***

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[legolasbadass]

Eina’s Secret

Armitage Summer Splash - Prompt #8

Trope: A secret is found out.

Quote: “Show me your face.”

Relationship: Thorin x OC

Warnings: None

Thank you to @lathalea​ and @fizzyxcustard​ for organizing this event! This short piece is a preview of a new fic I’m currently working on. Hope you enjoy it!

Even in the middle of the night, when darkness spilled through each alley of the library like ink, Eina knew exactly where she was. The difficulty was remembering where she left her notebook earlier. She wanted to slap herself for being so foolish as to forget it in a public place; she was always distracted lately, embarrassingly so, which many had begun to notice no doubt—thank Mahal no one had yet begun to ask her what was keeping her so distracted. For the first time in her life, Eina was grateful for comments about her concerning love of books and how it would surely addle her mind and prevent her from distinguishing fiction from reality. She would never have the courage to attend another ball if the truth of her feelings became a source of gossip.

Yet those fears were nothing compared to the ones that now plagued her, as she searched in vain for her notebook. Eina dared not even think of what might happen if her secret was found out! She would be mocked surely by the whole court, and especially the dwarves of the council chamber who had only recently begun to tolerate her presence among them and treat her as more than a “soft lady,” to use their demeaning words. The shame it would bring, and not only unto herself, but her whole family—oh, she really could not think of it!

As an unsettling tightness took hold of her chest, Eina stopped, took a deep breath, then suddenly remembered. At least, she thought she did. With more determined but still careful steps, she crossed to the other side of the library, pulling the hood of her cloak lower over her head despite knowing no one frequented the library at this hour. If the fortunate recovery of her memory was true, her precious notebook should be resting on the table she knew was tucked between the two bookshelves at the end of the alley—

A shadow in the corner made her gasp, and Eina could only be grateful that she had not brought a candle or a lantern; she would never have forgiven herself if she had burned even one page of the thousands that surrounded her. The shadow belonged to a man, that much she was certain of, and as he took a step toward her, her entire body grew cold. She would have recognized that imposing frame anywhere, and even if she had had any doubts, the tingles on her arms and the rapid beating of her heart as he spoke in that deep baritone voice would have convinced her that she was in deep trouble.

“Show me your face.”

—

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[middleearthpixie]

Stolen Moments

Armitage Summer Splash # 12 ~ Thanks again to @lathalea and @fizzyxcustard for creating this challenge!

Trope: Oblivious to feelings 

Quote: “How dare you?”

RA Character: Thorin Oakenshield

Relationship: Thorin x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Some angst

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,936

Khuzdul Translations: 

Mimûna - Little one (f)

Kunbûnaul - Son of a bitch

’Adad - Father

Raklûna - precious, darling one (f)

Kurduwê - my heart

***

There were times when you would cheerfully throttle Thorin blue and this was absolutely one of them. You rose onto one elbow to just stare down at him. “Are you mad?”

“What?” His eyes went wide as he tucked one arm up beneath his head. “Why would you ask me such a thing?”

“Perhaps because I think you might have gone mad?” You pushed up from your elbow, sitting upright. What had been one of the most wonderful afternoons of your life was all of the sudden coming apart. Instead of lying there on the soft skin, your head tucked against Thorin’s chest, your fingers trailing lightly through the dark hair that covered it, and your leg resting over his, while you fought off the delicious drowsiness that always followed a romp with him, you were now dealing with a bellyful of uncomfortable knots. Even the air around you felt different now. Minutes earlier, lust and desire, swirled through it, took away some of the early autumn chill to replace it with the heat of unbridled passion. You treasured these times with him, when the rest of the world faded away and you lost yourselves in one another. 

But now, that air of romance faded into the trees around around you. You pulled your fingers thorough your hair to shove it out of your eyes, away from your face. “Why would you do that? Why can’t things just be as they are now? This is perfect.”

“Perfect?” He also sat up, then reached for his trousers, which lay in the soft grass where they’d fallen when you shoved them down his legs not quite half an hour earlier. “We sneak about, jumping at every sound, convinced at any moment, someone will catch us. That is hardly perfect, mimûna. I’d rather not have to worry about it. I’d rather not have to sneak about any longer, to pretend when I see you in the square that we don’t know each other like this. I’d far prefer being able to do something as simple as hold your blasted hand or steal a kiss and not care who might be lurking about.”

You would have loved the same, to be honest. Sneaking about was fun at first. You loved having the delicious little secret tucked away inside your heart, loved see him in town and being able to share a smile with him, while others wondered what it was you smiled about. 

But as the summer went on and gave away to autumn, and the air grew chilled with the change of season, that secret lost some of its lustre. Snuggling under a skin with him was cozy. Having to emerge from it into the nippy air was not. You’d become quite adept as dressing without moving said skin, but the fact was, you were growing tired of sneaking and hiding as well. You would far rather fall into a soft bed with him than roll around on the ground, where an ill placed stone or stick could interrupt an otherwise lovely moment. 

However, what Thorin suggested was nothing short of madness and could never come to pass. You understood that. Why didn't he?

Still, you felt a pang of disappointment as he stepped into his trousers and drew them up over his thick thighs. “We do not jump at every sound,” you told him, trying—and failing—to keep the sulkiness from your voice. 

“We do, and if you’re honest with yourself, you will admit it. And can you honestly tell me you like skulking about and hiding us from everyone?” 

“Well… no…” you hedged. “I don’t like it. But—”

“But nothing.” He shook his head without looking up while he fastened his trousers. Then he stretched one hand to snag your chemisette to hold out to you. “So, this is a solution. It’s the perfect solution and I fail to see why you don’t agree.”

“It would be the perfect solution,” you shot back, dragging the linen over your head, where from inside the bodice, you added, “if it wasn’t for the fact that I am not fit to wipe your boots, never mind marry you!”

He didn't reply, and when you emerged from the chemisette, it was to find him glowering at you. “What?” You tugged the wrinkled linen down and stood, then tried to smooth out at least some of the wrinkles. “Why are you looking at me that way?”

“Not fit?” His voice lowered to an irritated growl, so deep, it sounded as if it might actually have risen from the soles of his feet. “Why would you say that?”

“Because it is the truth.” You gestured to the skin he’d spread out over the ground earlier, when you’d met up at your special glade by the river, down past the bend, where few people ventured. It was secluded and romantic and the only place you didn’t truly worry about being caught alone with your prince. In the summer, the grass was lush and vibrant green, the trees’ leafy canopies provided welcome shade when the temperatures soared, but those canopies were now red and gold and yellow as they prepared to drop with the cold weather. 

When he just stared, you rolled your eyes at his stubborn determination to remain blind to the truth of your romance. “My father is but a tradesman and my mother is of Man who chose to leave both of us. I am not worthy of the prince’s attentions, never mind being his wife. You know it and you are mad if you think you can change that.”

Thorin’s eyes narrowed further. “Why do you spew such nonsense? You know I care not about your lineage and your father is a baker. There is nothing wrong with that. And of course I can change it. I can and I will and I alone have that power, remember.”

“You would never do that to your people, Thorin. You have too much respect for them and their opinions, and you know how they would feel about me becoming queen.” You shook your head as you slid into your own trousers and fastened them. This wasn't the first time you’d had this argument, but it was the first in which it came following his actually proposing to you. “This is all I can ever be to you, Thorin. And all we can ever have are stolen moments that no one else can ever know about. You cannot marry me. And even if you could, I would not say yes because it is a pipe dream at best. Should you ever ascend the throne, I cannot be queen.”

“What throne? There is no throne here.”

Your eyes stung as you drew your loose blue tunic over your head. Your hose, your boots, your sword, all lay in a row, where you’d shed them in your haste to be naked with him. You cherished the moments you had, each tryst a delicious secret you tucked away into your heart. You knew one day, those memories would all you would have of him. One day, he would marry, of course, but it would not be to you. No, he would take a full-blooded dwarrowdam as his wife and you would be able to do no more than watch from a distance as he settled into his new life, as he raised children with this now-nameless woman. It made your heart ache to think about, as you’d loved him since the first time he’d kissed you, so many months earlier. He was your first lover and would be your only lover, for no other could possibly compare to him. 

“Thorin, you know what I mean. Just as you know this cannot happen.”

“Why? And if you tell me you are unworthy, I swear to Mahal, I will toss you in that river.”

You glanced over your shoulder at the river question. It was too wide to cross at this bend, the current swift and merciless, the blackish waters sweeping tree limbs and other debris by in the blink of an eye. “Perhaps you should do that,” you said without thinking, not looking at him. “Then you wouldn’t feel duty-bound to marry me simply because we’ve made love.”

“Duty-bound?” Anger threaded those two words together. “Is that how you see this? Is that what you think? That I only wish to marry you because it is the honorable thing because of this?”

You met his now-furious gaze. “Thorin, we both know this can never go beyond this. It simply cannot.”

“It could, if you would not be so blasted stubborn!”

“I am facing the truth, which you also need do. A match between us would never be allowed and if anyone discovered what we’ve been doing, I would be shunned and you know this.”

“I know I love you. And I want you to be mine. I want everyone to know you are mine. To know that I am yours.”

“You don’t love me, you love the idea of me.”

“How dare you?” He stalked past you to gather up the skins, the now-empty bottle of wine you’d shared when you first arrived in grove. He stowed them in his rucksack, then fastened said rucksack to his pony’s saddle. “How dare you think to tell me what I feel and why I feel it? Think you when I said I love you, I was lying? That I didn't mean it? Do you think I would say such a thing and not mean it?”

“It was the glow of the moment talking.” Why couldn’t you just stop talking? Your tongue seemed far more determined than ever to destroy your relationship with Thorin far sooner than it had to be done. Your heart ached. Your eyes stung. And yet, short of stepping on said tongue, you couldn’t seem to hold back your words. “Go find one who is better suited for you, Thorin. One who is fit to be your queen. For we both know she is not me.”

He shook his head, muttering, “Kunbûnaul,” beneath his breath as he swung up onto his pony’s back. “If that is what you wish.”

You just stared up at him, your heart aching as you knew this was how this had to play out, even as it broke your heart to utter your next words. “It’s what must be done.”

“Fine.” He nudged the pony’s side and your heart shattered into a thousand pieces as he rode off and left you in the suddenly thick silence. Not even the rush of water permeated that silence. Your eyes stung, but you managed to hold back your tears when you turned to walk down to the water.

You’d loved Thorin for so long. At first, you hated him. Just wanted to show him up and prove you were every bit as skilled and capable a warrior as he was. You did that, of course, but you also found so much more than just the satisfaction of making him eat his words where you were concerned. You’d never loved anyone except your father and that was hardly the same thing.

And it wasn’t only the physical pleasure that you loved, although you did absolutely love all that went with making love with him. However, it went so much deeper than that. You could and did talk about everything with him, from the utterly serious to the absolutely absurd conversations that left you both in tears from laughing so hard. There was no one else in the whole of Middle Earth you wanted to share things with as you did with him. He was the first person you wanted to see each day and the last one you wished to speak with each night. Thorin knew you better than anyone else ever could. 

With him, you felt complete. You felt whole. He didn't try to change you, didn't try to make you feel as if you were wrong for not being like the other dwarrowdams in Ered Luin, for being hopeless where the more feminine arts were concerned—you had far more skill with a blade than a sewing needle any day of the week. He tried to convince you being only half-dwarf was perfectly acceptable to be with him. 

Except you knew it wasn’t. Not in the end, any way. And when he’d first brought up the subject of marriage, you laughed it off. Afterglow talking, since it came about after a very romantic tryst beneath a full moon and under a sky filled with glittering stars. But then he kept bringing it up, and each time, you tried to gently steer him the other way. How could he not see that you were unfit to be his bride? Why did he refuse to accept it? He was far more sensible than that, and not normally given to flights of fancy. 

But this time, as he sank against you, his body trembling, his lips gentle as they swept along the side of your neck, he whispered, “Marry me, mimûna… marry me so we might spend every night this way. So I can hold you as we drift off to sleep and when I wake up, your face is the first thing I see each morning.”

It was the first time he’d actually proposed to you. Your heart ached so badly as you shook your head. 

“You know I cannot do that.”

“You can. You need only say yes.”

If only it was as simple as saying yes. You would do so in a heartbeat if it was, but the world did not work that way. Not for you, anyway. 

You picked your way around the rocks, around fallen trees, through the reeds, to the sandy bank at the water’s edge, where you sank into the chilled earth and drew your knees in and wrapped your arms about them, watching the river rush by. It flowed by swiftly, a wide brownish-black ribbon that cut through the earth and disappeared around a bend not far from where you sat. More than once at the height of the summer heat, you and Thorin splashed in the river, melting into one another, bodies entwined, lips locked, as he tried to show you things he couldn't necessarily put into words. You wished so badly to believe that your love for one another would be enough for any of the obstacle you were sure to face, should you be foolish enough to accept his proposal. But you were a realist and knew the truth—it was nothing more than a pipe dream at best.

The sun sank low in the western sky and as dusk crept in, so did a hint of a chill. You’d lost track of the time and when you finally returned home, your father was nearly apoplectic with worry.

“Where have you been?”

“I beg your pardon, ’adad,” you said, shrugging out of your light coat to hang on the peg by the door, “I went for a walk and got myself a bit lost.”

He didn't look as if he believed you, but merely shrugged and ladled a bit of stew from the pot over the fire into a bowl and passed it to you. He filled one for himself, then you both sat at the small table, where you’d shared so many meals, just the two of you. A fire crackled low on the hearth in the sitting room as well. Winter was creeping in and it wouldn’t be long before every hearth would be ablaze to ward off the chill. 

It was only unfortunate that nothing could removed the chill of loss that seeped into your bones. 

“I had an interesting visitor earlier,” he said, dipping his spoon into the thick broth.

“Really?”

“Thorin Durin.”

You froze, and looked up to meet your father’s worried eyes. “What—whatever did he need you for?”

“He came to ask me something. About you.” He lowered his spoon into his bowl, letting it come to rest against the side of it with a soft clink. “He wished for me to give him my blessing to court you.”

“What?” The blood drained from your face, leaving you cold and numb. What did he think asking your father would accomplish? It would still change nothing where the rest of the clan was concerned. “When did he do this?”

“Not quite an hour ago.” His eyes narrowed. “Have you struck up a relationship with him, raklûna? Be honest with me.”

You paused, using the bowl of your spoon to push a bit of turnip deeper into the thick, peppery broth. There was no sense in trying to lie. Your father would know. He always did. 

Looking up, you swallowed hard and nodded. “I have, ‘adad, yes.”

“And do you wish to marry him?”

“I would in heartbeat. But—” 

“But what?”

“I cannot be his wife and we know this and he knows it and—”

You went to shove back from the table, only to have him grab your by the hand to hold you still. “Why? He told me he loves you and he sounded so very sincere that I do not doubt him. Do you love him back?”

“Does it matter? I am not full-dwarf and not worthy—”  

“Balderdash!” He shook his head. “You are every bit as worthy as any full-blood dwarf and I’ll not listen to you spew such garbage as to tell me otherwise! Have I not raised you to be proud of who you are? Of where you come from?”

“Well, yes, but— ”

“I told him he has my blessing, raklûna, for he does. If you love him, then you should be with him. And you are every bit as worthy as any other woman in Ered Luin. Even more so, for you’ve proven yourself time and again where he is concerned.”

“‘Adad, it is of no matter now.” Your appetite drained and you pushed your bowl away. “I’ve already sent him away. He doesn’t love me, but rather loves the idea of loving me.”

“Sent him away? You sent him to our front door, is where you sent him, you know.”

“Which he shouldn’t have done.”

“Why?” Your father shook his head, his expression graver than you’d ever seen. “Raklûna, do not be so foolish as to think you know his mind better than he himself knows it. To do so would be a colossal mistake. One you will regret making and very soon.”

“I know, but it changes nothing.” You pulled your hand from beneath his, sat back, wiped your mouth, then rose from your chair. “Excuse me, ‘adad, I have a bit of a headache.”

He didn't argue with you, but let you leave and once you were safely ensconced in your small bedchamber, you slid down along the closed door, buried your face in your hands, and gave into the tears that had plagued you since Thorin rode out of the glade. 

You lay there in the dark, unable to sleep, just staring up at the ceiling. You had no idea what time it was, but your father was still awake, moving about the sitting room, judging by the creak of the floorboards. He was right. It was a colossal mistake to assume you knew Thorin better than he knew himself.

And now you’d ruined everything. 

For a few short months, you’d been so happy with him. You’d allowed yourself to believe there could be a future with him. And when the time came when you were faced with that future becoming reality, what did you do?

You ruined it.

“Blasted fool,” you muttered, swiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “You absolute idiot. You had all you wanted and threw it away. And for what?”

The knock at the front door made you jump at first. But then your heart leaped into your throat and your pulse pounded through your head when you heard Thorin’s deep voice. “I hope I am not disturbing you.”

You could almost see your father shaking his head. “Not at all, son. She is in her room.”

Footsteps drew near and you held your breath until black dots danced before your eyes, your heart racing so madly, you wondered which would make you faint first.

He didn't knock, but just opened the door, filling the doorway like an avenging angel of sorts. Rain spattered his dark green traveling cloak, covering it with dark splotches. He said nothing at first, but glowered at you as he’d done in the glade.

“Will you hear me out?” he finally growled, coming fully into the room to close the door behind him.

You nodded. “I will.”

“Good. I love you. And I care not what anyone might say or think about that. And I am not so foolish to think that it will be a smooth journey, should you accept my proposal. But, I am foolish enough to believe that together, we will find a way to get through it, that we can and will make it work and in time, it won’t matter. 

“But know this, there is no one else I wish to be with. There will never be anyone I will wish to be with, either. If I cannot have you, I will not have another.”

“Thorin, are you certain this is what you want?”

“How can you ask me that?”

“I have to know.”

He crossed to you, catching your hands to draw you up and into his arms. “I am yours, as I have been since the first time we were together. I love you, you know. I love you and I care not how hard I might have to fight for you. You are worth that. We are worth that. I wish I could make you see that’s truly how I feel.”

“I do see it,” you told him softly, easing your arms about his neck. “And I am so sorry for what I said, for my foolishness. I do love you back, you know. So very much.”

“So, will you have me? Just as I said the first time we were together.”

You smiled and drew him down to meet your lips. His arms tightened about your waist, his hands sliding down over your backside. He backed you toward your narrow bed, gently pushing you down onto it and as he covered you, you smiled up at him and whispered, “My father is just in the next room.”

Thorin smiled, his eyes dancing with mischief as he said “So be very quiet, mimûna.”

“Thorin!”

“What?” He bent to kiss you, his lips teasing and gentle. When he drew back, his eyes glittered in the low light of the candle flickering on the small desk by the windows. “Will you marry me or do I have to compromise you right here and now.”

“I’m fairly certain you’ve already done that.”

“I’ll do it loudly enough now to leave no doubt in your father’s mind what I’m doing to his daughter.”

Your cheeks grew warm. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Do you wish to find out? Or will you simply stop being so blasted stubborn and say yes?”

You sighed as you smiled up at him. “Ask me again, kurduwê,” you told him, tracing a finger along the edge of his beard. “Ask me to marry you.”

He brushed your lips with his, murmuring, “Will you marry me?”

You slid your arms about his middle and pulled him flush against you. “Yes."

***

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[enchantzz]

The Safe House

Richard Armitage - Daniel Miller

Berlin Station (TV Show)

Word Count - 1058

Adult / 18+ / Rated E

The TV Show Berlin Station centers around the CIA in Berlin and their activities. Daniel Miller is one of the CIA agents in the show, portrayed by Richard Armitage

Armitage Summer Splash Story 

Trope: Only one bed

Quote: “I never knew it’d be like this.”

Thank you for the wonderful Summer Splash idea @fizzyxcustard and @lathalea

He knew he had to stay professional, but it took everything. Daniel’s job was to protect the witness, but did the universe have to throw sex on legs as a witness on his path? 

He knew that she was attracted to him as well. He noticed her little games of seduction, but he tried to keep his head in the (CIA spy) game and not get distracted by her slender figure, her long legs, her long hair, which brushed over his forearm when she stood so close to him, peering out of the window, like he did.

He had told her several times to stay away from the window, but she wasn’t very obedient. He even raised his voice and threatened to tie her up if she came close to the window again. To his frustration, or maybe amusement, this only seemed to spark lust inside of her, he could see it in her eyes.

She had told him that she wasn’t afraid and that was good and all, but he had to answer for it if something bad happened to her and he wasn’t about to let her ruin the job. 

The apartment was small, just one room with only one bed and a couch. They had to wait for another day before they could safely transfer her to New York, where she was to start a new life, out of reach of the criminals, who were trying to dispose of her for revealing company fraud.

'How long do we have to stay here?’ she asked Daniel.

Daniel was peering out the window, checking if no suspicious looking people were hanging about.

'It’s hard to say,’ Daniel answered. 'We have Hector looking into a lead and Valerie is arranging safe passage for you to New York.'

‘I never knew it’d be like this,’ she said, pouting.

'What do you mean? He asked, turning to face her. 

'I mean, like this.’ She gestured with her arms and pulled a face, looking bored.

When he didn’t say anything, she continued, 'So, how do you propose we spend the time until I can get out of here?’ She was stretched out on the couch, twirling her long locks around her finger. Her short red skirt accentuated her long legs. She followed his moves, not taking her eyes off him. His eyes, in return, trailed over her legs, up to her top and her luscious lips, finally meeting her dark and mischievous eyes.

She patted with her hand on the couch, beckoning him to sit down. He should not, but he couldn’t help himself. He was drawn to her like a moth to a flame. His legs moved, walking towards her as if he was not in control of them. He found himself sitting down next to her. 

‘I’m sure we’ll come up with something…,’ Daniel whispered, his eyes trailing to her bosom, losing his focus on the job, instead becoming completely focussed on her. She smelled like summer flowers. Her perfume was intoxicating.

‘You don’t need to keep watch?’ she asked.

‘Oh, I’m watching alright,’ he smiled. ‘Always good to keep your eyes on the target.’

‘Target..,’ She repeated, gently trailing her fingers over his arm, which didn’t help at all with the focusing.

‘I should really…you know,’ he stammered and swallowed hard.

‘What?’ she asked, sitting up, her face now close to his. He could feel her breath on his lips.

Fuck it, he thought. He gave in and closed the small gap between them, capturing her lips with his. He placed his hand on the back of her neck, feeling the soft hair under his fingers, pulling her closer,  deepening the kiss.

It was no surprise to him that she was receptive. She had been eyeing him from the start, a thirst in her eyes, that he was all too willing to quench. In no time, she had him out of his shirt and she had pulled her top over her head, revealing the laced bra, which matched her panties, as Daniel found out, when he pulled down her skirt. Not long after, the clothes were draped over the couch and floor, leaving them naked and hungry for each other. 

She was a feisty thing and she didn’t waste time. By the time he had managed to put on a condom, she had already nibbled on his ear and grazed his shoulder with her teeth, scratched her nails over his muscled arms and bit his nipple. Gently, but still enough to send shivers down his spine. 

She moved to sit on top of him,  but he wanted, no, he needed to be in control of her.  He lifted her up and carried her the short distance to the one bed in the back of the room. He grabbed her wrists and pushed her down on the mattress, pausing for a moment,  warning her with his eyes locked onto hers,  not to move.  He held  her in place while he kissed her neck and took his chance to nibble on her ear. He spread her legs with his, positioning himself on top of her, making sure she had nowhere to go.

He felt her protesting,  heard her frustrated groans,  but he was determined. He pushed inside of her, letting out a groan and holding still for a moment. God she was tight. He started moving and even though he thought he had a tight grip on her, she managed to manoeuvre on top of him at some point and she started riding him. He inhaled sharply at her moves. He held her hips while she moved ever so deliciously on top of him, taking him in deep. It didn’t take long for both of them to finish. Panting, she fell down next to him on the bed, both trying to catch their breaths.

After a moment, he turned to face her. She propped herself up on her elbow and with a grin on her face, she said, ‘Well, at least the one bed in this room won’t be a problem.'

Daniel smiled. That wasn’t the only problem that was solved as far as he was concerned. Also his problem of keeping her entertained and away from the window, had been solved and he didn’t mind a bit. After all, he was keeping a close eye on her. A very close one.

divider by @firefly-graphics

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[aduialel]

Armitage Summer Splash - Day 7

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Artwork found from Pinterest "As A Lonely Raven" by wyldraven in Deviantart

Trope: Soulmates

RA character: Thorin Oakenshield

Taglist: @lathalea @fizzyxcustard @linasofia

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#armitage summer splash #thorin #thorin oakenshield #the hobbit #thorin x you #thorin x reader #richard armitage #soulmate moodboard #soulmate aesthetic

[linasofia]

The Night Train

Part 1 l Part 2 l …

Armitage Summer Splash #29

Fandom: Berlin Station

Trope: Vacation/holiday

Relationship: Daniel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+

@lathalea & @legolasbadass thanks once again for your feedback. 💙💙

I can feel his gaze on me even if he shields himself with dark sunglasses. I sense the tension in his body every time I glance back at him. He tries to hide his interest, but he is not as subtle as he probably thinks. When the ticket inspector arrives to scan his electronic ticket, the man sitting oppositeme removes his glasses and hands over his passport without a word. I let out a small involuntary gasp. I have already noticed his sharp and masculine jaw, his alluring dark beard, and his patrician nose. Not to mention his wide shoulders and broad chest covered in a tight white t-shirt under his dark green jacket. Now, as he meets my gaze after retrieving his passport, I stare into his cerulean eyes. A small blush forms on my cheeks as an indecent thought crosses my mind. This is the night train, and I will most likely see more of him when the darker hours finally arrive. I have never slept in a mixed sleeping car before, and my first thought when I discovered the mistake with my booking was to cancel. But now that I know who my travel companion is, I thank my lucky star that I did not.

The train moves fast through the landscape, and I try to focus on the book I bought in haste at the train station. It started out really good but I feel my interest in it fading. It gets harder to think of anything except his large hand that casually rests on his thigh. He looks out of the window and seems lost in his thoughts. Then, suddenly he clears his throat, and when I look up at him, he smiles.

”I’m Daniel.”

His voice takes me by surprise. It’s much deeper than I expected and far more sexy. I give him my name and when he repeats it, it sounds like a teasing caress. I swallow hard. The man is a walking hazard for women with a weakness for tall, dark and handsome men. Women with easily triggered imagination, such as myself. After a few stumbling steps our conversation flows easily and I really enjoy his company. I notice how he avoids talking about his job, but it does not bother me. He only explains that he travels a lot periodically, and since I can think of many reasons for a businessman to travel, I leave it be. It’s rude to question a stranger about their personal life, especially if they steer the conversation in another direction.

The sun hangs low over the horizon as we walk over to the dining car for a quick meal. The tables are very small and it’s crowded, but we manage to find seats and share a dinner as new acquaintances. His knee comes to rest against mine under the table and when I don’t withdraw, he gently captures my legs between his knees. A certain intimacy grows between us, like a silent promise for more, and something dark and passionate glows in his expressive eyes as he gives me a questioning smile. When he places his hand over mine, I know that I’m not imagining things. I can almost reach out with my hand and grab the tension as we walk back to our sleeping car. Daniel waits for me to enter first and then closes the narrow door. I hear a metallic click when he locks it behind us.

With two long steps he invades my personal space and pulls me into his arms. I grasp his shoulders as his lips meet mine and he kisses me, soft and sweet at first, but soon, as I run my hands through his hair, he deepens our kiss.

I pant for air as he breaks the kiss and, with a groan, lets his lips and tongue explore my neck. His beard scrapes roughly against my skin but it only intensifies the strong desire I feel for him. He ignites my inner fire as he slips his hands under my top and explores my lower back with the hands I spent so much time before trying to ignore. I quickly understand that Daniel is a man of passion and the language he speaks with his hands, mouth and tongue is universal. With experienced fingers he undresses me and when my clothes create a pool at my feet, his eyes roam my naked body and his lips form a sexy smile, all while my own hands impatiently pull at his jacket. How he managed to get me naked so quickly is more than my incoherent thoughts can muster but he seems determined not to stay dressed. He tosses the green jacket on his bag and then he lets me pull the t-shirt over his head. His blue well-fitting jeans join our small mountain of clothes and without giving me time to admire his body, he pulls me with him toward the narrow bed on his side. With a low murmur, he makes himself comfortable, half-seated with an extra pillow behind his back. With a firm grip on my wrist he drags me down in his lap, making me straddle him over his boxers that now do very little to hide his arousal.

His voice is hoarse when he speaks my name again, and I moan as he wraps his arms around my back. Heat explodes in my veins at the feeling of his hardness, and I secretly curse the fabric between us. I have never been known for my patience, but this man has gained more power over my desires alarmingly faster than any man or woman before him. He sets my skin on fire with his hands only, and the way he caresses my lower back and the roundness of my bum makes me eager for more. I feel my own heat pool in my core, and I know how ready I am for him before he even touches me where I need him the most. His kisses over my neck and chest make me melt in his arms, and when he gives my neck a playful bite, I whimper his name. When he finally lets his finger slip between our bodies, I moan loudly. Daniel lets out a raw chuckle that sends another wave of heat to my core while he mercifully gives me what I have longed for. I grind against his finger to increase the friction and my eager moves make him grip me harder with his free hand.

Suddenly he withdraws his hand and gives me a playful smack right on my bum. The unexpected sting surprises me a little but when I meet his gaze, his lips form the word ”up”. Obedient, I rise on my knees, allowing him to pull his boxers down. With one hand he grabs his shaft and gently rubs the top against my slickness. I try to sit back on him, but his hand on my waist hinders me.

”Not yet,” he murmurs huskily and the look in his eyes would have set me aflame if I was not already burning. My breath hitches every time he teasingly lets me feel the head slide between my folds. Then, when I’m close to losing control over my own words, his fingers dig into the soft flesh of my hips as he roughly pulls me down on him. He hits the bottom as I sit down on him and the way he stretches me feels heavenly.

”Do you want to give the neighbors a show? I don’t mind if you’re loud.” Daniel gives me a wicked grin as I desperately try to silence my own moans. I place my hands on his shoulders for balance and while both of his hands explore my overheated body, I feel supported as I start moving against him. The bed is hard but it gives the perfect resistance for my knees and I can easily set the pace I want. I don't know if it is the angle, his girth or the words of praise Daniel showers me with that makes me lose control of everything around me sooner than I ever thought was possible. Or maybe it’s just the naughty feeling of enjoying the night with someone I don’t really know, on a train that rushes through the darkness somewhere in Europe. My nails dig into his shoulders as I try to delay my orgasm but when Daniel rasps his ”Come for me,” I let go and fall over the blissful edge into absolute satisfaction. The orgasm assaults all my senses and I’m almost not aware of how Daniel joins me with a few hard thrusts.

I fall against his chest and he wraps his arms around me again, holding me close in a very warm embrace. His chest heaves almost as quickly as mine, and when he kisses me again. We both giggle as we need to break the kiss to catch our breath. Daniel lifts me off his lap and with some good old will, we manage to fit in his bed together. I lie with my head on his arm, his chest close to my face, and the closeness makes me even warmer than before. He has a very masculine scent, spicy but something also makes me think of gunpowder. It must be the smoking sex, I tell myself, again avoiding the thoughts of his profession. We do not speak much after that. It’s late and we both only want to enjoy the moment and not think of tomorrow. And so we rest in silence, tightly wrapped in each other's arms. The sound of the train lulls me to sleep and a smile floats to my lips.

When the first rays of the morning sun seep through the badly fitted curtain in our sleeping car, I wake. My neck feels stiff, I must have laid very still the whole night. Daniel sleeps behind me, with one arm draped over my chest. Very carefully I turn to face him. He is even more handsome when he sleeps. The relaxed expression suits him and I have to stop myself from waking him with a kiss on his forehead. A small frown suddenly forms on his face.

”Good morning,” he mumbles without opening his eyes.

”How did you know I was awake?”

”I just did,” he answers. ”I felt it.”

Silence falls over the room again, but not the unpleasant type. Eventually we need to get up, since we are approaching our destination and the estimated time of arrival is announced over the speaker system. We collect our belongings, take turns to visit the claustrophobic toilet and then, as the train slows down, reality hits me right in the face. This is it. Within minutes he will be out of my life, walking against whatever adventure he is going on and I will continue my journey to reach the final destination on my vacation. I swallow hard. He is not the first temporary lover I have had, but he sure took a shortcut to my heart. I will miss him when he is gone.

As the train finally stops and we walk through the corridor toward the door, I can’t help but admire his back. His hair is short in the neck and I can remember how it felt last night against my fingers. His scent and the feeling of his skin will stay in my memory for a long time. When we reach the platform, Daniel turns to face me.

”So….” he pauses and looks intensely at me. ”I have a car waiting for me.”

”Go,” I say with a fake smile. ”I have a connecting train to catch.” The train doesn’t leave in another 3 hours, but I don’t tell him that. He bends down and gives me a quick kiss on my cheek. To spare me the embarrassment of him maybe catching the sadness in my eyes, I say a quick farewell, turn my back against him and start walking into the building made of old red bricks, the grand central station. I bite my lip to prevent tears from falling and I curse my own stupid feelings. Determined not to look back over my shoulder I keep on walking. Until I hear him calling my name. I don’t really believe it at first, but when his booming voice drowns out all other sounds, I can’t ignore it. With his bag over his shoulder he strides hurriedly towards me, stoppinga meter awaywith an insecure look in his eyes that mirrors my own feelings.

”I would be a fool if I did not ask for your number at least,” he says and the smile he gives me breaks my last defense. I smile back at him. ”Give me your phone.” I quickly enter my number and with a smile I add a contact name: Night Train.

”Give me a call,” I say as I hand the phone back to him.

”I will. And I really need to go now.” He bends down, gives me a kiss filled with promises and then he is really gone. I watch him disappear in the stream of bodies moving all over the station, despite the early hour. I head for the nearest coffee shop. As I sip on my hot morning coffee my phone gives a discrete signal. I pick it up and read the short text. A smile spreads over my face as I type my answer and when I slide the phone back in my bag I feel the sun on my face, shining through the large window. Warmth spreads in my chest. This is not the end, it’s just the beginning.

*****

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#armitage summer splash #richard armitage #daniel miller #berlin station #fanfiction #night train #vacation #reader insert #daniel miller x reader #daniel miller fic