#hobbit fanfic

[tamurilofrivendell]

Crush | Legolas x Reader

Pairing: Legolas x Female Reader

Summary: Reader is a royal guard who Legolas becomes enamoured by.

Word count: 2,990

requested by anonymous (happy (late, I'm sorry) birthday, I hope this was okay for you)

tags: @coopsgirl @birbixo0912 @desert-fern @ancient-rime @silverose365 @lady-of-imladris @asianbutnotjapanese @deadlymistletoe @thewulf @whiteladyofithilien

It was a recent change, you becoming a royal guard. Once an opening had become available, of course, you lunged at it. You had wanted for a very long time to attain such a position and thankfully your ambition and your skills had not gone unnoticed. You got what you wanted and soon settled straight into the role. Some days your duties seemed endless but you felt like you were protecting your home, helping to defend the realm you so loved, and it made even the most exhausting of days worth it.

This particular day, you were following the king himself around as he went from place to place tending to various different things. Usually Feren himself would have accompanied Thranduil, however he was away from the halls at a nearby settlement and you had been plucked from the rest to be the guard who went with the king this day and you did not think you could be more excited and more eager to not mess up.

It was a long afternoon.

You had gone to a meeting about various boring politics which you had zoned in and out of as you stood at the back of the room behind his chair. Then he'd trailed around various rooms checking on the armoury, the production of various things you didn't expect him to care much about such as cloth and flour, and also to the cellar to check on the wine stores. Now, you were walking away from the orchard, where the Orchardist had given a very unnecessarily in-depth talk about his apples and the large yield of the trees. He'd seemed exceptionally proud, which was nice, but he talked a lot longer than was necessary when it came to something like fruit.

"I think... he certainly knows an awful lot about apples." Thranduil mused as the two of you stepped onto the path. "And now I, too, certainly know an awful lot more than necessary about apples."

You stifled a laugh, not wishing to be rude but truthfully you had been bored stiff the entire time. Thranduil had not looked anything but attentive while you'd been fighting to keep your expression neutral, but he just had more practice than you did.

"It is good that our stores will not run low any time soon." You replied as diplomatically as you could, though the king caught the deeper feelings in your tone and he smirked a little in amusement.

"Indeed." It was, after all, a good thing that the trees produced such large quantities. Not just the apples, either. It meant their crop continued to thrive and they would not starve if he needed to close the gates for any reason. Not that he anticipated anything. "Anyway, I think I will be alright to return to my chambers alone, thank you. You may go."

"As you wish." You nodded, falling out of step with him and watching as he swept away and disappeared round the corner back into the part of the building that led to his private quarters. You stayed where you were for a moment, wondering what to do now, and then you turned around to head back to your own chamber. Perhaps a bath would be a nice idea after such a long day of trudging around and being on your feet.

As you turned, your eyes fell upon another figure a short distance away, sitting underneath a large tree in the courtyard with a bow between his fingers. Prince Legolas seemed to have already been looking at you when your gaze was drawn to him and you blinked, a bit taken aback by that fact. A beat passed and then you stepped towards his direction but his eyes immediately dropped to the bow in his hand as he went back to cleaning it, acting as if you no longer existed. Oh. He must not need anything after all then. You'd thought maybe he recognised your role when you'd been walking with his father but... no matter, you decided, turning away and heading away back down the path.

What you didn't see was the way Legolas' eyes flickered back up to watch your retreat. He had been sitting out here for about an hour now, taking his time while cleaning his bow and enjoying the mild weather. The bow had once belonged to his mother and he took more care of it than he did with his others. He had noticed his father coming through but he had not wanted to draw much attention to himself, the older elf had looked quite worn out. It wouldn't show to anyone else of course but to Legolas it was clear. He almost hadn't paid you any attention at first. When he had, he'd done a double take.

She's beautiful, was his immediate thought, something which brought a faint blush to his cheeks and so he was glad that nobody was paying too much attention to him. You'd made his father smile too, he noticed that, which only raised your merit in his eyes. After a few moments, when you were out of sight, he looked down again and went back to his bow. Interesting.

Three days later, you were one of the guards standing somewhere below the throne, keeping a careful watch while the king went through the rigmarole of people coming before him in audience to ask him for things or bring forward suggestions for his court and the realm.

Legolas walked into the room just as the last elf was escorted out. He strode right up the walkway towards the throne, intent on reaching his father to give him an appraisal of the forest beyond. For a brief moment, his eyes flickered towards where you stood... and he paused, coming to a stop altogether.

"Legolas." His father's deep voice shook him from his trance after a moment and he blinked up at Thranduil, who was looking down at him with a raised eyebrow.

Legolas shook his head, clearing his throat as he forced one foot in front of the other. "Ah... yes." He muttered, willing his cheeks not to flush, which luckily they did not. He launched into a rundown of what he'd seen in the forest and you could only stare at him for a long moment, confused at the prince's unusual behaviour, before you turned your eyes away, focusing them on the entrance to the throne room.

He was gone again quicker than you would have imagined but he stole another glance over his shoulder on his way out, eyes settling on you once again, just for the briefest of seconds, before he disappeared.

As you stared at the space in the doorway he had just occupied, you heard the sound of a snort being smothered from somewhere behind you. Turning, you looked up at Thranduil, who cleared his throat and looked stoic as ever but something about him almost looked amused. A glint in his eyes maybe?

"That is all, you may go." Was all he said as he rose, descended the steps and vanished just as his son had, leaving you staring after him as well. After standing frozen for a long moment, blinking in confusion, you left the room and decided to just put it from your mind. You must be imagining things.

The next two weeks passed in much the same manner. Legolas kept seeing you around everywhere he went as if you were haunting him. It was strange, he thought, that he'd gone so long without a glimpse and then suddenly you were everywhere. He thought he must just be an idiot. Overthinking it. You had not shown any interest and he felt like a bit of a weasel staring at you the way he had. Besides, he did not have time for anything, did he? He had things to do. He was a prince of the realm and he had duties...

...however, his mind did not let him rest. It tormented him with the image of you and eventually he decided he had to just say something, get it out of his system, and then he could go back to the way things were.

So, a day later, he approached you.

You had the day off and you were still trying to figure out how to spend it. You didn't feel like reading, you didn't feel like training, you didn't feel like doing much of anything but you were so bored that wandering around in the halls was driving you a bit mad.

"You look lost." Came a voice from behind and when you turned you saw Legolas standing there. You were startled, not answering immediately because it was the first time he had ever actually spoken to you.

"Mh?" Was your first very clever response, which made your face redden and, in turn, made him laugh. "I mean... uh..." You continued, scrambling to form actual words. He was smiling at you, kindly yes, but it was clear he was amused.

After another moment you laughed as well and the tension seemed to evaporate. "I am bored." You admitted.

"I see." Legolas chuckled, nodding as he turned his head to look around. The realm was quiet today, the halls barely occupied. "I was actually going to go into the forest." He turned his gaze back to your face, telling himself not to get lost in your eyes. "If... if you wanted to join me."

You couldn't be certain but it seemed as if the prince had stammered over his words a little. As much as you had not spent a lot of time around him, from what you'd seen that seemed unusual. A beat passed and then you smiled, nodding. "I'd like that."

His small, almost bashful, smile was enough to send your heart fluttering in your chest as he turned and gestured with his head for you to follow.

The forest was quiet too but in a different way than the halls. There it had felt a little suffocating in your boredom. Here it was peaceful. The change of scenery seemed to do your mind some good... though perhaps the company had something to do with it too.

Legolas was funny, you came to realise, once you got past his quiet, sometimes almost shy-seeming demeanour. He was charming... handsome, but that was not something you only found out today, no you'd thought that for quite some time already.

He took you on a mini tour of his favourite spots and then you both found yourself sitting up in a tree above a small pond, just talking. Getting to know Legolas made your heart stir in a way you would not have imagined. There was something about him, the way he spoke, the way he looked at you, the intent look on his face as he listened to your responses as if he truly did not want to miss a single word, that had your stomach in knots and your eyes glued to his face.

You met him again the next day, and then the next. It became routine that the two of you would spend time together during time off from your duties. You even started sparring together in the training grounds and Legolas seemed impressed by your skill with a blade. You went on walks through the forest. You talked about your lives. He became such a close friend that it was a wonder to you that you had ever not had him in your life in this capacity at all.

One day, while you were both sitting by the river in the afternoon sun, you noticed that he was a little quieter than normal.

"Is everything alright?" You asked him outright after a moment of studying the way the tiniest bit of tension had crept onto his brow where usually there was nothing.

Legolas blinked, turning his eyes from the flowing water to your face. "Hm?" He asked, as if he had not even heard you.

"I asked if everything was alright." You repeated.

Legolas shook his head in response, contradicting himself when his response was a simple: "Oh. Yes, everything is fine."

You did not buy it. A beat passed in which you just stared at him with a raised eyebrow and he shifted under your gaze before letting out a sigh.

"Alright, I confess. There is... something on my mind." He said.

"What?" You asked, watching him glance down at the stick in his hands that he had been fiddling with for a time now. "Legolas." You prompted after a moment.

Legolas swallowed, as if nervous, though you could not understand why he would need to be that way around you. Until he spoke, of course.

"I have been thinking a lot lately." He said, his voice soft, gaze on the river before he gathered the courage to turn his face to look at you once more. "About us."

Us. It was like a magic word that sent a shiver through you as you stared back at him. Did he mean... as in...? You swallowed now, feeling your own nerves rise. "Us?" You asked in a way that urged him to continue.

Legolas nodded slowly, blue eyes studying your face closely. "Yes. Us." He repeated, wishing he had planned out what he wished to say in his mind, but of course he had not planned this moment with you today at all. He had not intended for his thoughts to become visible. "You see, I..." He glanced down, breaking the stick in half before discarding the pieces and looking back up at your face, the one that had plagued his thoughts since that first day he saw you with his father.

In that moment, he decided to just say it. All of it. Just tell you because somehow keeping it inside unspoken was worse. "I like you very much. As... more than just a friend."

The world almost seemed as if it stopped for a moment. A second where everything just froze, your gaze locked with his. Was this actually happening or were you still asleep and this was all some trick of the mind? "What?" Not what you'd wanted to say but it's what came out of your mouth.

Legolas, unfortunately, took this as a bad sign and he looked away again, clearing his throat as a slight crease returned to the space between his eyebrows. "I... I just mean that..." He went quiet.

"No, no..." You said quickly, shaking your head. Damn it! "I meant... well, since when?" You had not dared to think that the prince's interest in you would be anything but platonic. He had never shown any interest in you beyond that!

However, as you thought about it now, yes he had. In the way he spent almost all of his free time with you. The way he listened so closely and intently to every single thing you said, hanging off your every word. The smiles, the lingering glances. The time he'd picked a flower from the forest floor and tucked it behind your ear without saying a thing but the look in his eyes that you'd ignored had said more than any words ever could.

You'd turned a blind eye.

"I like you very much too." You managed. "More than a friend."

Legolas blinked in a way that made him look completely stunned, quickly turning his face back so he could look at you. He was quiet for a moment and then a smile started to spread over his face. "You do?"

You nodded quickly, desperate now not to make him think any longer that you had absolutely no interest. "Of course, yes, I... I was just surprised to hear you say it, I didn't think-"

"I thought I was quite obvious." Legolas half mumbled, chuckling as his cheeks turned slightly pink.

"Oh, you were." You joked, laughing softly. "But... I think... I was not paying attention."

A small, comfortable silence passed between the pair of you as Legolas kept his eyes on your face and you forced yourself not to look away either. His smile widened.

"Then..." He continued after a moment. "If I asked if I could... court you-"

"Yes!" The word flew from your mouth before he could fully finish his sentence, causing colour to creep into your own cheeks as you watched him chuckle with amusement at your eagerness.

"In that case," the prince said, standing up and offering you his hand to help you to your feet. "Tomorrow, we begin properly." His minds eye filled with images of a picnic in a beautiful spot, of getting to know you better than he already did but this time in the capacity he most wished... maybe a kiss, but he would not get too ahead of himself.

"But I have duties." You said, taking his hand and allowing him to pull you up onto your feet, your heart racing at the contact as it always seemed to do, an extra thrill of excitement in it this time. "I stand the throne room tomorrow."

Legolas paused and then waved his hand, turning to lead you back down the trail towards the halls once more. "Leave that to me." He was determined to spend the whole day with you, to begin this courtship properly.

After some prodding as to why Legolas wished to wrangle a day off throne room duty for one of the guards, Thranduil found out about the change in the relationship between you and his son. However, he did not look the slightest bit surprised as he poured some more wine into his cup with a barely concealed smirk.

"I did think it would have taken you a little less time to ask her, my son... but better late than never." Was all he said while Legolas did his utmost not to shift in uncomfortable embarrassment under the amused glint in his father's eye.

#legolas x reader #legolas x you #legolas fanfic #lotr x reader #the hobbit x reader #lotr fanfic #hobbit fanfic #ugh i'm a little out of practice with legolas and he didn't fully cooperate like I wanted him to #but if I fiddle anymore with this I'll delete it lmao

[middleearthpixie]

Can you please write a fic where Thorin falls in love with a human girl, but he thinks she is disgusted by his looks? 🙏

Hi there, Nonny!! I know it took me forEVER, but here you go and i hope you like it! 💜

The Harp

Summary: You and Thorin are friends, but then you find out his feelings for you run deeper, and he’s holding back because he feels he is not good enough for you.  

Pairing: Thorin x fem!Reader (post-sack of Erebor, pre-quest for Erebor)

Warning: None. Just fluffy fluff

Rating: G

Word Count: 4.7k

***

He came into the dining room at the same time each evening and always sat at the same table—the one in the far corner, which was also the darkest corner of the room. He was polite, but kept to himself and you noticed how he always sat with his back to the wall and rarely did his eyes pause from scanning the room. 

The other diners eyed him with just as much suspicion but then again, they all eyed each other with suspicion as well. It was second nature to this lot, as they came from all four corners of Middle Earth. No one was actually from Emyn Vanya. No, every warm body had come from somewhere else to this tiny village on the outskirts of everywhere and yet somehow in the middle of nowhere. Some came to start over. Some came to forget. Some came to do both and some were just passing through. But everyone was from somewhere else and almost no one wished to discuss where that somewhere else might be.

You couldn't help but notice him, for he was a dwarf and the Grey Gander did not see many dwarves in their dining room. And not only that, but he was a handsome dwarf, to boot, with black hair, touched here and there with hints of silver, that spilled over his shoulders in a long tangle of curls. His most striking feature was his eyes, however, for they were the most piercing shade of icy blue you’d ever seen. There was a hardness within those pale eyes, one belied by his polite demeanor and deep, if soft, voice. 

Night after night, this man came in alone. He sat alone. He spoke to no one other than you when you approached to take his order, just as you did this evening. He was polite, if reserved, and spoke only when absolutely necessary, which was an interesting change from the patrons who grew louder and more opinionated as they dove further and further into their cups. 

“Welcome back,” you said with a smile as you approached him. “Might I fetch you a drink to begin?”

“Thank you. A tanked of ale would suit.”

“Of course. And do you know what you’d like or are you still trying to decide?”

He looked up at you with those striking eyes. “The hunter’s stew.”

His order never varied and you were certain you could just bring him a bowl of the stew without asking, which was why you couldn't resist a bit of playing with him. “I think we should start calling that your usual. Perhaps we should change it on the menu itself.”

That earned you one of the dwarf’s rare smiles. “I am not so certain that is necessary.”

“Well, you’ve been in here eight of the last ten nights and have yet to order anything different.” You couldn’t help teasing him. You sensed a hint of sadness in him, one that might explain the hardness in his eyes. And while it was a bit of a risk, teasing this man you didn’t really know, you had to admit, his smile made the risk worthwhile.

“But,” you added, taking your teasing further than you normally did, “you would have to tell me your name first. I certainly cannot ask to rename it Dwarf Stew. That would give the wrong impression, don’t you think?”

A darkness flashed through his eyes and you knew you’d overstepped. Your mind raced as you struggled to come up with something to smooth over his obviously ruffled feathers, knowing your employer would be furious if your flippancy drove away a paying customer. “I mean… that is… I apolo—”

“No,” he interrupted softly, shaking his head, “there is no need to apologize. And you’re right, it would sound odd. So, I suppose then, it would only be fair to tell you my name, wouldn’t it?”

Your heart beat a little faster at that. Perhaps it was but your imagination, but his voice sounded lower than it normally did. Lower and bit growlier. Had he, by any chance, noticed you the way you’d noticed him?

No, that was madness talking. Very few people noticed you aside from being their serving girl. You tended to blend into the background far too easily and since so many people in Emyn Vanya were only passing through, they paid little heed to you.

Still, that didn't stop you from replying, “It would, yes.”

To your surprise, that earned you a laugh. A genuine, honest-to-goodness laugh and one that sent flutters through you as it rolled across the small table in your direction. Like his voice, it was low and silken, and those flutters made you forget your own name for a moment.

“Very well,” he nodded, his eyes meeting and holding yours, “I am Thorin.”

You offered your name in return and added, “It’s wonderful to make your acquaintance, Thorin.”

“And yours as well.”

Heat climbed into your cheeks and you ducked your head, saying, “I will be back in a few moments with your ale,” you hesitated, then added, “Thorin.”

“I will be here.”

Thorin sat back as you darted off and couldn't believe his cheek. What had possessed him to even think to flirt with you? Your interest had to be only because he was a paying customer, because there was no way a woman as beautiful as you could possibly be interested in him. 

The first time he stepped into the Grey Gander, he’d noticed you at once, noticed how easily you smiled and joked with the tavern’s patrons. Your laughter was a silvery melody that made everyone turn in your direction and smile even if they had no idea what it was that made you laugh. 

He noticed everything about you—from that amazing smile and intoxicating laughter to your beautiful eyes and easy grace with which you moved about the crowded dining room. You never seemed impatience, or irritated, and even when someone gave you a hard time about something, you never lost your temper and somehow managed to defuse the most volatile of situations. 

The second night he’d come in, he’d witness such a scene, almost reaching for his sword, propped against the table, when the giant of man actually grabbed you by the arm. He had no doubt he’d have intervened if you needed it, but you didn’t. You smiled at the man as you peeled his fingers from your wrist and very sweetly informed him that if he touched you again, you’d turn him from a rooster to a hen in one fell swoop. 

It was at that moment, Thorin lost his heart.

A foolish notion at best, as you would never feel about him the way he did you. Why would you? He was a dwarf. He had no home. He had been in line for a throne, but now supported himself by moving from place to place, taking work where he could find it. 

That was what brought him to Emyn Vanya. His trade was blacksmithing and the village needed one. So, there he was, in the dining room of the Grey Gander, admiring you from afar and wishing he stood a chance at winning your hand. 

It was just as well, for what did he have to offer you? A king with no kingdom was no better than a pauper, really. Not to mention, he certainly couldn’t compete with the men of Emyn Vanya, who were all taller, slimmer, and far more attractive than he certainly was. You would be a fool to even consider him.

But, he watched you from afar, watched as you moved from table to table, how you brought a beaming smile to the face of an old crone, how you soothed angry children bickering over a toy, how you made a crying infant smile by making silly faces until they could do nothing else. 

How you focused on him as if he was the most interesting man in the room and not, for lack of a better phrase, a homely, homeless refugee. 

If only…

He sighed as you approached with a tankard in one hand. His heart beat so much faster when you met his gaze. His mouth went as dry as the plains between his lost kingdom of Erebor and the city of Dale after the dragon Smaug torched it from one end to the other.

You set the tankard before him. “Your supper will be ready in but a few minutes, Mr. Thorin.”

Mr. Thorin. He smiled, shaking his head. “No Mister. Thorin is just fine.”

“Oh, well that wouldn’t be proper now, would it?” Your eyes almost sparkled as your easy smile curved your lips. “After all, we only just met.”

“This is true,” he nodded, reaching for the tankard. Then, on impulse, he added, “Perhaps you might join me one evening?”

You looked taken aback and he immediately berated himself silently. You fool! What is wrong with you?

But then you smiled. “I think I would like that. I have an off night tomorrow. Would that work for you?”

He was stunned, not only by your agreement, but by your suggestion. No woman ever approached him that way. He’d always been the one to ask. You were bold and he admired that. So, he nodded. “That would work just fine for me.”

“Wonderful. What time?”

“Half seven?”

“Half seven it is,” you told him. “And I’ll be back in but a moment with your supper.”

****

What were you thinking? How could you just blurt out an invitation to him that way? He must think you a harlot, or a wanton woman for doing so. 

But at the same time, as you smoothed a hand along your skirts, you had to admit, you looked so forward to seeing him without having to wait upon him. It was a nice change of pace for you. A break in the monotony of your life that was work, sleep, and more work.

You’d told him where you lived, a rundown little flat above the florist’s shop, and at half eight, when the knock came at the door, you nearly jumped clear out of your skin. Then, laughing at your foolishness, you hurried to the door, before he thought you’d changed your mind and left. 

You smiled as you pulled open the door. “You are early.”

“I allowed myself extra time in case I found myself lost. I’m still new to these parts and this town takes a bit of getting used to.”

“If you remember the streets run east and west, and the avenues run north and south, you might fare better.”

He bobbed his head. “I would, but there are three florists on this street alone.”

“It is a very competitive business in Emyn Vanya.”

“So I’ve noticed.” 

You hesitated a moment and then stepped aside. “Come in.”

As he stepped over the threshold, you tried not to dwell on how shabby your flat was, with its scratched and scuffed hand-me-down furnishings. After you paid your rent and made certain there was food on the table, there was not much money left for luxuries such as nice furniture. Normally, it didn't trouble you. This was your home and you thought it cozy, if a bit rundown. But, when you tried to see it through Thorin’s eyes? 

You saw exactly how awful it must have looked to him. Threadbare sofa. The armchair had a hole in the cushion thanks to a broken spring, which meant that not only was stuffing peeping up from the hole, one received a nasty poke in the backside, should they think to sit there. 

And of course, there was that awful water stain in the far corner. You had no idea from where it had come, only that no matter how much you tried to paint over it, it bled through. You’d given up trying when paint fell into the luxury category.

But, he reached up for the frogs at his throat and then whisked his cloak off to drape over his arm. “This is lovely.”

Lovely? You looked about, wondering exactly what he found so lovely about it. “It’s a bit… ah… worn, don't you think?”

“Lived in, is how I would describe it.” He smiled at you. “Homes should be lived in. That is how they become such. Otherwise, they are but houses, flats, nothing more than buildings.”

You looked back at him. “Lived in?”

He nodded. “Lived in.” 

Then he looked back at you and for a moment, you were rendered speechless. Did he have any idea whatsoever as to how handsome he truly was? Because if he did, he certainly did not act as if he did.

Of course, you kept that to yourself, especially when that night, a deep friendship was born. You had dinner together on the nights when you weren’t working. You spent off days together, sometimes running errands with each other, sometimes just doing nothing. He had a knack for the acrostics printed in the village newspaper and the two of you spent your share of days or nights looking up which answers you thought would work. It didn't matter. He had quickly become your dearest friend and while you loved that, you’d also begun thinking that perhaps there was a bit more to your relationship than only friendship.

It was too bad he’d never given any indication at all that he saw you as anything more than a friend.

So you stayed quiet. Autumn gave way to winter and the Yule holiday was only a few days off when you made your way to Thorin’s forge at the northern end of town. A bitter cold wind whipped down the narrow alleyway where his shop was located and you didn't have to look to know you were near it. The carved wooden sign identifying the forge creaked on its hooks as it swung in the wind. Through the swirling snow, you could still make out the word etched into the wood. 

Blacksmith

Beneath that word, Thorin had carved symbols as well, and when you’d asked, he’d smiled and explained that they were a language called khuzdul, which was his native language, actually. He’d attempted to teach you some of it, and showed nothing but patience as you fumbled over seemingly simple words. Little by little, though, it became easier and left you wishing you had something like that to share with him. 

But then you found something. One night, over several goblets of wine, he confessed that he once played the harp, but had lost his when he’d lost his home, but that was all he would say about either the harp or what happened to his home. So, you’d saved a bit of your pay each week and put it aside and then went to the music shop at the far end of town and found what you’d hoped would be a suitable replacement harp. It wasn't a big, grand instrument, as those were far beyond what you could ever hope to afford, but you hoped he’d like it the same. You couldn’t remember the last time you were so excited and impatient to give someone a gift as you were this one, which was why you braved the worsening weather.  

So there you were, at the far end of a gray-shingled building with a roof in need of repair, listening to the almost melodic sound of metal striking metal. The closer you drew to his workshop, the warmer the air grew and as you rounded the corner, a blast of heat hit you square in the face. It was a welcome sensation as your cheeks felt quite numb from the cold. 

He had his back to you and heat shot through you at the sight of him, shirtless in deference to that blasted heat, the muscles in his back and along his shoulders bulging as he held a piece of iron in one hand, a hammer in the other. The clang rang through you when he brought the hammer slamming against the iron, again and again and you couldn't help but just stare. 

Your eyes roamed over his naked back, heavy with obviously well-earned muscle, and inked with black lines of varying sizes that covered his entire shoulder, stretched across his back, and into the opposite shoulder as well. You had no idea what the symbols and lines meant, but they looked very similar to the ones carved into the forge’s sign, so your guess was they were dwarfish runes or words.

The heat in the forge was brutal regardless of how cold it was beyond the walls. Sweat prickled along your back as you stepped closer. You didn't want to startle him. The iron with which he worked began with an orange glow, but slowly, as he pounded it flat, the glow faded and when he set down the hammer and used a pair of tongs to pick up the flattened piece and thrust it into a tub of water, steam actually rose from the tub.

“Thorin?”

He jumped, letting go of the tongs as he spun around and now heat shot up into your cheeks at the naked chest you found yourself staring at. Like his back, his chest was just as broad, with black hair swirled from one nipple to the other and down across his belly. More symbols had been inked across it, meeting with the design on his left shoulder.

“I am so sorry,” you stammered, tearing your eyes from that impressive sight to meet his startled blue eyes, “I was trying not to startle you.”

“What are you doing here?”

You hugged the package close. “I had to go and pick something up and thought while I was out, I’d stop by.” You peered around him, at the iron still resting in the water. “What are you making?”

“A sword.” He reached for the towel draped over the workbench and swept it across his forehead. “You should not be in here. It’s far too dangerous.”

“I will come no closer then. But tell me, who commissioned the sword?”

“No one. It is mine. I work on it when I’ve a bit of free time.”

“Might I see?”

“It’s not even close to being finished.” He came around the bench and stood before you. His black hair was damp at the temples. 

“You don't have to stop on my account, you know.” You took a step closer to him, the urge to reach out and touch him so powerful, it nearly overwhelmed you. You wish you had the courage to tell him how you’d come to feel about him, as you’d had when you’d left your flat. You’d left there full of fire and determined to confess your feelings for him, but unfortunately, by the time you reached his forge, that courage evaporated like the water in the tub had. 

“It would be rude of me to continue.”

“Not at all. I think it would be fascinating, watching you work.” 

His gaze shifted slightly to his left and you followed it to see what he looked at—a heavy dark gray henley lay draped over a chair by his desk. Without thinking, you shifted the package to one arm and reached out to catch him by the upper arm as he stretched for his shirt.

“Wait, don’t,” you said, shaking your head.

“Don’t?”

You nodded. “I—what is this?” You traced your fingertips along the thick black lines curving his shoulder, unable to believe your own brazenness but unable to halt your touch as well. 

“It’s my… my… it’s a raven,” he managed, his voice deep and huskier than usual. He cleared his throat. “The symbol of my clan, and my family crest.”

You could not keep yourself from tracing along those lines as little by little, the image of a raven wearing a crown slowly showed itself to you. You’d held back from telling him how you felt for so long, now that the opportunity to perhaps go beyond friendship had presented itself and you were not about to let it slip by. But… you had to be careful. It was a delicate matter and that called for delicate handling. The last thing you wished to do was destroy your friendship with him.

With that, you lowered your hand “It’s lovely.”

“Thank you.”

“This is for you, by the by.” You pressed the package toward him. “I know Yule isn’t for several more days, but when I went to pick this up, I grew far too impatient to wait.”

He stared down at it. “What is it?”

“Well, you have to open it to find out.”

He took the package and slowly unwrapped it and then just stared, his blue eyes growing shiny as he murmured, “How did you know?”

“You told me, silly.” You nudged him with your shoulder. “Remember? We were talking about how my neighbor plays the harpsichord and how awful it sounds and you told me you once played the harp. So, I asked Mr. Trumble if he could find me a harp for you and he did me one better. He made this.”

“He—” those blue eyes met yours, wide and incredulous—“made this?”

You nodded. “He did, indeed.”

He gazed down at the harp, and then back at you. “I—this—this is beautiful. I thank you.”

“There is one condition to it, however.” You nudged him once more. “You must play it for me.”

“Oh, I couldn't now. I’d be far too rusty.”

“Well, once you flake off all the rust.”

“Fair enough.” He offered up a smile brighter than any you’d ever seen from him. “You shouldn’t have done this, though. Save your wages, don’t spend them on me.”

“I didn't mind.” You shrugged as if you spent that kind of money all the time. “And it’s Yule, so it was but a small sacrifice.”

He stepped closer. “This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me, you know. I will treasure it. And you.”

And with that, he leaned in and to your surprise, pressed his lips to yours. You froze at first, caught by utter surprise, as this was the last thing you’d expected him to do. For one maddening moment, you wondered if perhaps you were just imagining it.

But then, his lips moved softly against yours and your toes actually curled in your sensible boots when he brought his hands up to cup your face, and you knew that this was, in fact, actually happening. And how wonderful it was! The sensations that rippled through you were soft and sweet, the crisp, coarse hair around his mouth tickling at first, but then you found you didn't mind it so much as it was a caress of its own. 

Your head did a slow spin, his kiss leaving you lightheaded and when your hands came to rest on those massive upper arms of his, your fingers pressed into muscle that greatly resembled stone of their own accord. You were afraid your weak knees might buckle on you at any moment.

His kiss was slow and sweet, teasing and gentle and when his lips parted and his tongue swept gently along yours, your head spun even faster. A rush of heat swept through you. Your lips tingled. Your heart beat harder and faster and it took every bit of will you had to not melt right into his arms. 

When he drew back, his eyes were soft, swirling with an emotion you couldn’t quite place and he seemed as breathless as you were as he murmured, “I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time now.”

“What?”

He nodded. “I do and I did and now I just want to do it again.” Then he paused, a hint of sheepishness creeping into his smile, into his eyes, “Unless, of course, you’d rather I didn’t.”

“No, I’d not rather that at all,” you told him, smiling as you curved a hand against his cheek. “In fact, I’d like it very much if you would do it again. And again. And I think you should keep doing, no matter where we might be.”

A low chuckle rumbled up from the depths of his chest. “So, I am not about to send you screaming into the snow?”

“Hardly.” 

“Are you certain? I mean,” he rubbed his bearded jaw ruefully, a sheepish smile coming to his lips, “I know people whisper about me and poke fun at me behind my back.”

“They whisper about you because they are fascinated by you. And no one pokes fun at you. I know they think you’re quite an excellent smithy, judging by what I’ve heard. And I won’t even tell you what the women say about you.”

To your surprise, his sheepish smile faded and a darkness came to his eyes. “I can only imagine.”

“Have I said something wrong? I thought I was complimenting you. Do dwarves not like to hear how handsome they are thought to be?”

“Handsome?” He snorted as he shook his head. “That’s kind of you, but I’ve seen my own face and that is not how I’d describe it.”

“Well, perhaps you should but have Mr. Sinclair examine your eyes, for you are not only handsome, but very handsome.”

He stared at you, clearly not believing a word you said. “Thank you, but you are just being kind, as you’ve been since we met.”

“Thorin,” you caught his hands in yours, “I’ve been wishing you’d notice me as more than simply your friend, that you’d kiss me, and perhaps I’ve been too brazen in taking the first step. If you wish me to leave you alone, I will.”

“Leave me alone?” His eyes went wide and he shook his head once more. “No, no, I don’t wish that at all. In fact, I—”

A scarlet flush swept up into his cheeks and he went quiet. You waited for him to continue, your heart hammering away at your ribs. All you wanted was for him to pull you into his arms, to tug you flush against that massive chest, and kiss you until you forgot your name.

“You what?” you asked softly.

“I lied. About the sword.” He smiled then. “It’s for you, actually. For Yule. I meant it to be a surprise.”

“For me? But I don't even know who to wield one.”

“Worry not, for I will teach you. When the weather breaks.”

“You did this for me? You would do that for me?”

He nodded. “I would do anything for you, you know.” His eyes softened then as he smiled. “I love you.”

This was the last thing you ever expected him to say and you could only stare at him for a long moment, as your stupid brain forgot how to process words. The best you could muster was a whispered, “What?”

“I love you. I’ve been wanting to tell you for some time now, but how could I when I thought you would be embarrassed to be courted by me. So, I relegated myself to knowing we would only ever be friends, but now…”

“Embarrassed to be courted by you? Are you mad, Thorin? Are you absolutely and completely mad? Because you would have to be to think any woman alive would be embarrassed to be courted by you.” You shifted to wind your arms about his neck. “And no one has ever made something for me. At least, not something as beautiful as a sword. So, if I didn't already love you in return, I would have most definitely fallen at this moment.”

He smiled. “So, all this time, it would’ve only taken a sword to win your hand?”

“I’m a very simple woman, Thorin. You should know that by now.”

Your heart skipped a beat as he eased his arms about your waist, pulling you flush against him. He leaned closer, his lips just brushing yours as he murmured, “I’ll keep it in mind.”

You tried to think of something witty to reply with, but then his lips met yours once more and rendered words unnecessary.

***

Like it? Love it? Reblog it! Comments are also welcomed!

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketchy-loo6195 @sherala007 @enchantzz @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @sorisooyaa @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc @msjava1972 @buckybarnes-thorin @glassgulls @evenstaredits @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @albionscastle @absentmindeduniverse @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms

#The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #AU #Thorin Fic #Is it hot in here? #Romance #Richard Armitage #Thorin x reader #Thorin x you #nonny asks #pixie answers

[buttered-my-biscuits]

The First Kiss

Summary: (Y/K)’s first kiss with Fili & Kili - (Separately)

Pairings; Kili x Reader, Fili x Reader

Warnings; Hinting of Sexual Activities, Very soft; playful and fluffy.

Word count:

Fili - A Masterpiece: 737

Kili - The Game of Chase: 841

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Translations:

Berzêl. (Sun of all suns (gold)

Abnâmul: Beautiful

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Fili

It was a frosty winter morning, the cold nipping at your nose as your breath fogged the air. It was early enough that the birds only just began singing.

The others were packing the last of the camp, talking quietly amongst themselves. You’d ask to help, but were politely rejected.

So, instead, you allowed yourself a moment of silent solitude. Strolling thru the wet and dewy forest, you stopped on the edge of the hillside; the sunrise was to die for.

Pinks and golds and purples painted across the sky, the sun just barely peeking above the horizon. A soft breeze littered the clearing as you took a deep clarifying breath.

A branch snapped behind you, breaking your serenity.

Instantly, your dagger was pulled from its sheath, already raising to attack. A hand, however, stopped your arm from behind, as a deep chuckle erupted from one’s chest.

“It is just me, no need for such violence.” Fili offered with amusement.

“Well say something next time, before my blade decides otherwise, by accident.” You snapped back with a sigh, turning to meet those icy blue eyes.

Said eyes were crinkled at the corners, dimples standing attention on each of the tanned cheeks.

“My apologies, Berzêl. I did not mean to startle you. I was just simply curious as to where you wandered off to.” Fili chucked again, his eyes shifting to the sunrise behind you.

Following his eyes, you turned halfway and laid your own upon the horizon once more, watching as the purples and pinks slowly faded to red and orange.

“I cannot remember the last time I actually watched the sun rise…” you said quietly, the tranquility returning to the clearing. “They’re so beautiful… masterpieces presented to all right before our very eyes.”

Fili watched you wonder at the sky with a warm smile. The morning sun slowly extended its golden rays through the morning fog, streaks of gold shining on your rosy cheeks and through your hair.

“Abnâmul…” He whispered quietly, his eyes never leaving your face.

“Huh? Did you say something?” You asked as you turned your head to him once more. Instead of speaking, however, he crept in close. Sliding his arm slowly and gentle across your back, he turned you so that you two were chest to chest.

You looked up into his pale eyes, confusion splaying across your features. Fili raised his other hand and brushed a lock of your (h/c) hair behind your ear, before coming to rest against your cheek.

Time nearly stopped in it’s place as he leaned down.

The kiss lasted no more than a few seconds, Fili pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, the tips of your noses still touching.

He was reading you; his expression tinged with worry — worry that maybe he should not have done that.

After a moments time, and after the initial shock wore off, a soft giggle escaped your lips.

Confusion slowly creeped its way across his face at your reaction, causing another giggle to escape.

Leaning up, you closed your eyes as you rubbed your nose alongside his. You practically felt the sigh of relief exhaled from his lungs. He returned the gesture, your noses slid slowly and intimately against one another.

This time, it was your lungs that released a sigh as you felt his lips press against your own once more.

Your hands found themselves wrapped around his neck, his earthy yet sweet smell intoxicating you as his own hands landed on your hips.

He pulled you in against his chest, his tongue swiping against your lips requesting access. Access you happily granted.

A battle began between tongues, a soft moan escaping your throat as you fought a losing battle.

Far too quickly, though, your lips parted.

The two of you retreated to your earlier stance, foreheads and noses against one another again; both of your eyes closed as you took in the moment.

Once more, a giggle made its way past your lips. Another. Fili happily returned the sound; the two of you high on endorphins.

The sun had made its way higher into the sky; the colors of a sunrise no more.

“We should get back to camp before they worry…” You whispered, your arms still wrapped around Fili’s neck.

“I agree.” Yet, neither of you moved.

Another kiss was shared. Then another. And another.

…The others could wait a bit longer.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Kili

The game of Chase

Word Count: 841

Your feet echoed across the stone as you ran as fast as your little legs could carry you. Your heart beat at rapid speed.

Another set of footsteps could be heard following quickly behind, though these footsteps were heavier — louder.

You squealed in surprise as you were grabbed from behind, being thrown over a broad shoulder.

“I got you!!” Cheered a loud, deep voice.

Your hands beat against said shoulders, struggling to escape the strong arms that kept you captive as you screamed once more.

One swift jab of your knee to your captivators stomach sent you tumbling off and landing with thump against the stone floor of the mountain.

A groan of pain rang through the air before they yelled “That’s cheating!”

“It’s only cheating if you’re a sore loser!” You returned back, a cocky smile painted your face and you huffed from exertion.

Quickly scrambling to your feet, you began the game of chase once more. However, you were too slow.

A strong hand reached out and grabbed yours before you could run away before shoving your back against the wall. Had a hand not strategically been placed behind your head, you would have surely been left with an ache.

“Kili! What gives!” You cried out, finding yourself trapped between his arms.

“I win.” Kili stated matter of factly as he heaved — out of breath from running for so long.

As the adrenaline slowed down, the realization of how close the two of you were, settled in.

Your breath hitched as you stared into his beautiful brown eyes. Hints of gold speckles mixed with warm amber.

You were not the only one who took notice of the close distance.

Kili’s eyes flickered to your lips before returning to your eyes. Slowly, ever so slowly, he leaned in.

Too slow.

Just as his lips ghosted your own, you tore out of his grip and down the hall with a giggle.

Kili visibly deflated for a moment before a devious smile plastered itself onto his face.

You turned, halfway down the hall to lock gazes with him, offering a big playful smile. “You…” he growled before taking off after you.

Another playful scream escaped as you fled towards the door you knew would lead outside. Pushing it open you attempted to slam it behind you, but you were too slow.

The wood creaked as Kili’s brute strength pushed against the other side. With one last shove, the door swung open, causing you to tumble backwards right onto your rump.

In an instant, Kili was on you. Pushing you backwards with arms on either side of your head, his thighs locking your own together.

Laughter rang loud and clear from the two of you, Kili’s a bit more devious, excitedly celebrating yet another victory.

A soft breeze rustled your messy (h/c) hair, bringing with it the soft sweet smell of spring.

You two had ended up in one of the lesser known royal gardens. One that scarcely had visitors. Your breath panted out harsh breaths as you struggled to catch your breath due to laughter.

As your laughter whittled away into giggles however, a gasp tore itself from your throat.

Soft and gentle lips found your own — Moving slowly and languidly. Releasing a euphoric sigh, you felt your own eyes slip closed, your hands finding dark brunette locks to reside in.

Kili kissed you deep and intimately, pushing you into the soft grass beneath you, taking in the smell of your sweet strawberry oil you often used on your hair after a bath.

A deep groan released itself from his chest as he deeper the kissed further, his tongue slipping between your lips.

Your hands tightened in his hair as his tongue plundered your mouth. Tearing himself from you, his mouth quickly moved to your jaw, kissing and sucking gentle down to your neck.

Sighs and moans filled the air as he kissed a rather sensitive spot right below your ear.

“Kili…” you tried, his name sounding a bit too breathless. “Kili.” You tried again.

With one last kiss against your sweet spot, he pulled himself from your neck, staring into your eyes.

Your breath hitched upon looking at him. His eyes were dilated, honey brown quickly turning nearly black.

Releasing his silky locks, your hands slid down to rest upon his shoulders. Locking eyes, you gave one last playful smirk, before shoving him to the side, rolling the both of you over so you were the one sitting in victory.

A victory he was very much willing to let you have.

His hands gripped your hips as your thighs made their home on each side of his. Leaning over him, it was your turn.

You kissed him once, twice. Your arms found their place beside his head, dropping to your elbows as your tongue fought for dominance.

Your victory however, did not come.

Kili gripped your hips, before grinding up against your own. Your back arched as you cried out.

Licking his lips, Kili smiled deviously. “I win.”

#the hobbit #hobbit #hobbit fanfic #kili #fili #fili x reader #kili x reader #fancfiction #fanfic #Fili x you #kili x you

[lordoftherazzles]

Dragonhearted by LordOfTheRazzles

bagginshield | beauty and the beast au | explicit

Thorin lives a life of solitude since Smaug’s curse fell upon Erebor. That is until a brave hobbit turns the mountain upside down with little fear of Thorin’s snarls, scales, enchanted company, and learns to love a beast.

↳ NOW ON AO3

#the hobbit #bagginshield #thilbo #thorin oakenshield #bilbo baggins #thorin x bilbo #bilbo x thorin #hobbit fic #hobbit fanfic #bagginshield fic #beauty and the beast au #razzywrites #fic: dragonhearted #I wanted to try something new with my fic adverts so here we go

[doctor-mccoys-sanity]

The top Hobbit fanfics being fix-it fics and so many time-travel fix-it fics says so much

#the hobbit #hobbit #jrr tolkien #tolkien #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield #thorin #bilbo #bilbo/thorin #bagginshield #lotr #hobbit fanfic

[exhausted-blue-panda]

I was inspired by @domesticgoddesswriter and her fanfic Legends where Thorin carves Bilbo a walking stick with the company in geometric shapes. I wanted to do their full bodies originally but I decided to just go with their heads to make it easier on myself and have more space. I'm still working on the burning process but it will be a part of my Bilbo costume for the Renaissance festival this year. I'm still considering how to draw the journey on the other side ❤️❤️

#bilbo baggins #the hobbit bilbo #thorin x bilbo #the hobbit #bagginshield #fanfiction #hobbit fanfic #cosplay #wood burning #oh my god my hand is cramping so bad but i love them so much

[wolfsbane-and-nettles]

Bilbo's lucky ring should only be worn for so long…

Some art for the upcoming chapters of "chosen horizons". I plan on doing more pics like this as sort of a promo for part two of “Chosen Horizons”, and so I can practice my drawing. I’m pretty happy with this, and can’t wait to do Thorin next!

#bilbo baggins #the hobbit #hobbit fanfic #the hobbit bilbo #hobbit fanart #bagginshield #bilbo #digital art

[viablemess]

I need fili centric hobbit first pls I've skimmed ao3 too much and keep finding the same ones. Send me your fili centric fic no matter how many or how few readers you have I wanna love on them

#the hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction #hobbit fanfic #fili durin #fili #durin family feels #fili and kili #au fanfiction #fanfiction #ao3 #ao3 fanfic

[whorinsmokenshield]

Malalkhrukûn (January)

Summary: Bilbo Baggins is a hobbit. Just as grass is green, the sky is blue, and the Lonely Mountain is tall, Bilbo Baggins is a hobbit through and through, and no one would know this better than himself. Yet strangely, while underneath the dwarf whom he calls king, he’s never been more acutely aware of just how much of a hobbit he is.

Rating: Explicit

(Hi I wrote this for the Year of Bagginshield prompt 'Body Worship' for January. Prompt list by @acorns-and-oakleaves. Ao3 upload here)

~~~~~~~~~~

If Bilbo Baggins were ever able to meet the Valar of his choice, he would choose Aulë, for he would like to shake his hand and thank him in-person for the creation of the dwarves.

There was not a race in Middle Earth, not even the elves, that was able to match up to the raw strength, presence and stature that the average dwarf possessed (at least, in Bilbo’s opinion). They came in a variety, but most shared the same notable characteristics: arms like stone columns, chests like barrels, stout height, thick fingers, and cords of granite-dense muscles strapping every inch of their bodies. Bilbo has long thanked Yavanna that no one in the Shire had ever caught his eye, for had he been married when he laid eyes on his first dwarf there’s no telling what he would have done. Bilbo has similarly thanked Aulë every day that he was blessed enough to even be able to lay eyes on one in his life. Not to mention laying eyes on a particular dwarf; a mighty specimen of a king who might have been carved out of marble, with oiled raven-black locks and piercing sapphire-blue eyes. That Bilbo existed on the same plane as Thorin Oakenshield was an uncountable blessing in itself.

That Bilbo was currently situated underneath Thorin Oakenshield was a turn of events he would not have arranged in even his most fantastic dreams.

The steps that came before being pushed into the king's bedchambers were a blur of hot touches and gravelly whispers that skittered down Bilbo's spine like chills. Bilbo did not know what he had done to catch Thorin's eye that day, but he had half a mind to ask him so that he might do it every day. The scorching wall of Thorin's body had crowded him through the parlor of the royal apartments to the king's bedchambers, moving like a juggernaut until Thorin could kick the door closed behind them and turn the golden lock. At once Bilbo was grabbed by his shoulders, spun around, and kissed within an inch of his life.

Thorin leaned over him and ravished his mouth, beard scratching the skin of his chin and cheeks in the best possible way, then Thorin bit Bilbo’s bottom lip to trick him into opening his mouth.

Bilbo was making cut off moans and noises that were frankly embarrassing, worse still as he let the king dip his tongue into Bilbo’s mouth and take him for a dance, but Thorin was no better. Thorin was groaning from deep in his belly and grasping Bilbo’s arms like he thought Bilbo would sink into the floor. (Which, if Thorin were to keep kissing him like this, Bilbo just might). When the king retreated to gasp for air he would drone little words under his breath that made Bilbo’s body vibrate. There were ones that Bilbo knew: bunmel, the beauty of all beauties; ghivashel, the treasure of all treasures; kurdel, his heart of all hearts. Then there were ones that Bilbo didn’t know, ones that he’s thought before that Thorin was keeping a secret on purpose; galthûn, àrsûn, úkrad, and others. Each one being whispered into his lips made Bilbo feel like flint being struck against steel.

Bilbo was urged backwards, for he was just a sheep against a shepherd’s rod, until the backs of his knees hit the bed and buckled so that he hit the mattress on his back. Thorin climbed over him, hot breath heaving, hands on either side of Bilbo’s head to prop himself up. Bilbo had his own hands up and around Thorin’s neck, cupping it like something precious then thrown around his shoulders as if afraid to fall. 

He kissed Bilbo again, again, long and heavy and blindingly hot. Thorin’s hair fell around him in a black curtain and created a pocket of just the two of them, panting and staring up and down into the other’s eyes and at the other’s lips until they inevitably reconnected with twin moans of pleasure.

Thorin hoisted himself further up onto the bed on his hands and knees, trapping Bilbo’s body with his own, and Bilbo thought he could die like that. Under Thorin Oakenshield, on top of royal down sheets, there was little that could compare. Bilbo was the most blessed creature in Middle-Earth.

Then Thorin shifted his weight and dragged his knee up so that it split the space of Bilbo’s thighs, and if he thought his noises were embarrassing before, it was certainly nothing against the whimper of anticipation he let out when Thorin pressed against him.

“M-Mercy…” Bilbo stammered, bringing his hands down to grip Thorin’s tunic. He’d worn it at the guildmaster’s meeting that morning, and all Bilbo could think about was what lay underneath. It was beautiful Durin blue, but couldn’t hold as much as a candle to the carved majesty that it covered.

“Do not speak to me of mercy,” Thorin replied with a teasing, throaty tone that set Bilbo on fire. He dotted every other word thereafter with a trailing kiss from his lips down the column of his neck, and a grind against his hip. “Wearing the crown, made by my own hands, in this fitted robe. The way you spoke to the master of textiles, I should have taken you over that table.”

“Oh, Thorin- Thorin!” Bilbo squeaked as Thorin nipped at the skin in the hollow of his throat and made him squirm. “Y-you said it was a circlet, n-not a c-crown- oh. A-And I don’t even remember what I said to the master- oh, please Thorin!”

Thorin’s hand had decided on its own to wander, and while Thorin ravished every inch of exposed skin above Bilbo’s collar his fingers had begun to play at the hem of his trousers, running along the seam and dipping under just enough to make Bilbo want to beg for him to stop or go.

“To be frank, marlel,” Thorin kissed him to catch the whimpers that were falling from his lips. “Neither do I.”

Thorin’s knee had been creeping higher and higher up the bed and by now was firmly against his overly-clothed cock. Bilbo couldn’t help himself, and his hips moved to grind against Thorin’s muscular thigh. He wasn’t the only one that was overly clothed.

“Off. Now. Please?” Bilbo tugged at Thorin’s collar and coat with each word, and added a bit of a whine to the last one that he knew would turn Thorin into a dwarf of action.

“Your wish is my command,” Thorin bestowed one last smooch, sweeter than the ones before it, and pushed up onto his knees to strip his top half.

Bilbo would have bemoaned the loss of his dwarven roof if not for the show that he was immediately gifted. He laid flat on his back and watched with rapt attention, relishing in Thorin’s heated eye-contact, as Thorin shucked his coat and outer tunic and bared his beautiful, stone-carved arms to the room. Smith’s arms, warrior’s arms, arms that have beaten steel, silver, goblins and orcs into submission. Thorin tore off his undershirt and Bilbo was left winded.

His chest was as firm as marble, and looked nigh unpierceable (if Bilbo didn’t painfully know better). Crossed with puckered scars that were the furthest opposite of revolting, he looked like a battle-tested breastplate. His belly was large and strong, and Bilbo couldn’t help but crave to drag his hands over it- to run his fingers through the dense, coarse hair that darkened it in a mat from his collar to his groin. Bilbo was awed by the sheer majesty that radiated off Thorin’s skin. If he walked around just like this, Bilbo had no doubt every man elf and dwarf from here to the Blue Mountains would not hesitate to bend their knees. Bilbo sure didn’t.

All of this, not even to mention the outline that Bilbo could see against the fabric of Thorin’s trousers. Hard as oak, thick, mouthwatering. They’d done this before, of course they have, but each time Bilbo felt like he was seeing and feeling it anew.

“What are you looking at?” Thorin’s voice breached the fog that had settled over Bilbo and glazed his eyes. Bilbo couldn’t believe he was being teased at a time like this, as if he could get any harder or more desperate.

“You are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen in my life,” Bilbo mumbled drunkenly. And by Yavanna, he thought he saw a bit of red dash across Thorin’s cheeks.

Thorin shook his head with fondness. “Hobbits and their honeyed words.” 

“You know other hobbits?” Bilbo asked, bemused and teasing. 

“I do not need to, for you are the pinnacle of them all, íbinê.” Thorin stepped out of his trousers and pants and knelt back on the bed in a smooth set of movements. “No other would even compare.”

Bilbo swallowed, half at Thorin’s words and half at- well…

“Well, then,” Bilbo said for the sake of saying something.

“But as sweet as your words are,” Thorin said, and settled back over Bilbo so they were hip to hip, his bare chest pressing against Bilbo’s cured thrice-damned robes, his breath brushing against the hollow of Bilbo’s ear. “I prefer it when you’re speechless.”

Bilbo trembled in his hands. “Oh.”

Thorin put his nose back to Bilbo’s throat and inhaled like Bilbo gave him breath. He pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses to the skin of his neck. Bilbo fought not to move too much, for every time he shifted the thick line of Thorin’s cock ground against his crotch and Bilbo was liable to faint. The king ran his hands down Bilbo’s flank until they hit the hem of his outer robes, then they went further and ducked beneath the fabric. 

“You, Master Burglar,” Thorin rumbled, perhaps just to make Bilbo shiver, and plucked at Bilbo’s robes impatiently. “are terribly overdressed for the occasion.” Thorin’s palms dragged two hot lines up and under his undershirt, over his stomach. Bilbo yelped as they squeezed his waist.

There was a lot of give in Bilbo’s waist; more than other places on his body, save for his thighs. Unlike Thorin, he was not made of sculpted iron and chiseled stone. He was only a hobbit, after all. Bilbo looked up at Thorin and saw the unparalleled strength and gods-like physique that Thorin wielded as well as he wielded an axe. He had to know what he looked like, how other people looked at him. Thorin was beautiful. A masterpiece, hand-crafted by his Maker. 

Bilbo was…well, Bilbo was a hobbit. A soft, squishy hobbit, with a body from a life of luxury and plenty, scarcely muscled even after so many months on the road. A body that Thorin has seen before, but…Bilbo felt odd, now. Perhaps all of that ogling he’d been doing hadn’t done him any good. He could reach up and take Thorin’s chest in his hands and it would give very little because Thorin led a life of discipline and hardship, and his whole being was evidence of it. 

Thorin had grown up around dwarves, and his attraction had grown around that. Was Thorin disappointed by him? The softness, the large feet, the lack of beard? Bilbo hadn’t even considered the beard before. Being smooth-shaven was a sign of deep shame in dwarven society, wasn’t it? 

Was Thorin even attracted to him, physically? That thought was not a pleasant one. Did Thorin force himself to overlook that every time they made love? Perish the thought. It made Bilbo want to hide under the covers.

Bilbo’s heart fluttered as Thorin began to work at peeling away Bilbo’s layers, but it fluttered for the wrong reasons. It fluttered with nerves, like he was about to be sick with them. Thorin had seen his body before- more than a dozen times, and not all in the bedroom. He didn’t know why now of all times was when he’d decided to feel so insecure. It was decidedly inconvenient to be ashamed of one’s body when in the presence of another who was trying very ardently to get him naked.

Too distracted with his internal turmoil, Bilbo hadn’t even noticed that he’d stiffened up until Thorin’s warm hands froze in place.

“Bilbo?” He asked. There was no tease in his voice. “Alright?”

“Fine! I’m-I’m fine, keep going,” Bilbo assured. Thorin withdrew completely. He took his hands off Bilbo’s body and propped himself up over him.

“Do you need to stop?” 

“No, no, I just…” Bilbo sighed and scrubbed his hands down his face. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m being ridiculous.”

“Never.” Thorin sounded deathly serious. He sat up and off Bilbo, and at once Bilbo both missed his heat and was thankful for the breathing space. He felt like he was about to cry. Damn it all. “Did I do something?”

“No. No, of course not, no. Nothing you did. It’s…” Bilbo couldn’t help but bite back the whole truth. “It’s just…myself. I’m having a hard time tonight, and I don’t know why. We do this all the time, I should be used to it.“

Thorin frowned at him, and Bilbo knew he wouldn’t get away with his half-sentences any longer.

“If you don’t want to do this, Bilbo, you don’t have to.” The concern from his voice came around to his eyes, and seemed to actually be rising into fear. “You should have told me if I was making you uncomfortable.”

“Thorin- no, that’s- I don’t mean it like that.”

“Then what do you mean?” Thorin started to shuffle back off the bed and that was the last thing Bilbo wanted, so he grabbed Thorin by the wrist to stop him. Thorin could shake him off, but stopped his retreat anyway. “If not me, then what? Hm?”

“I mean…I…” The words just wouldn’t come. Bilbo flushed with frustration and averted his eyes from Thorin’s to see if he could find his thoughts again. “Blast it, I don’t know. I don’t know how to say this. You’ll think me a fool.”

His king took pity on him. He took Bilbo’s hand off his wrist and held it. With the silent confirmation that that was alright, he then began to maneuver them both. “Come here,” he said, and sat on the bed behind Bilbo and sat back against the headboard. He coaxed Bilbo back with him so that Bilbo was leaning with his back to Thorin’s bare chest, with Thorin’s chin and beard settled against the crown of his head and Thorin’s arms around his middle. Exactly where Bilbo didn’t want them to be.

He bore it- though, normally he wouldn’t have to. Normally he’d be perfectly content, as warm and fuzzy as he would be if he were a cat stretched out in front of a fire, but Thorin’s proximity to the current object of Bilbo’s ire filled him with nothing but dread and stress. He felt like he’d ruined everything.

“Talk to me, ghivashel,” Thorin mumbled into his ear. “I would have you lend me your troubles so that we could share them. Please.”

“I…” Now Bilbo was going to cry. When Thorin spoke in that way, as if he were penning a love letter, Bilbo felt overwhelmed. Normally he was overwhelmed with something more primal, but now it was just fondness and guilt.

“Was I pushing too much?” Thorin asked, gently. “I thought you were reciprocating. Was I wrong? I won’t be upset. I…I understand I may come across…overly passionate”

Bilbo scoffed, incredulous. Thorin was aware of his faults, how he sometimes failed to read signs of Bilbo’s intentions purely because of how they sometimes differed from a dwarf’s, but Bilbo thought that the body language for being mindless with arousal was mostly universal. “Certainly not.” 

“Then?” 

There was nothing that could be done for it. Bilbo squeezed his eyes shut.

“Do you find me attractive, Thorin?” He asked with a voice as small as he felt, as small as Thorin’s hands on his stomach made him feel. Those hands twitched and tightened.

“Of course I do,” Thorin said the very second he processed the question. “You have a doubt in your mind about how much I adore you, labthûnimê? Have I made it so?”

Bilbo sighed. The hard part came now, where he tried to keep himself from sounding as vain as he sounded in his head. 

“Of course not. I don’t doubt that you love me, that you…adore me.” (Thorin’s blunt passion with words still made him blush even now, in his naked lap) “Not at all. But…are you attracted to me?”

He was quiet for a moment, likely thinking, and Bilbo found himself wishing he didn’t have to think so hard about it. Wishing that he'd just get it over with- or, rather, channel a hobbit and say something indirect and vaguely sentimental to avoid answering the question.’Your soul is gorgeous to me’ or ‘you have a beautiful heart.’

Thorin then said, “I don’t understand, ghivashel.”

Blast it, now Bilbo had to be specific.

“Well…put simply…” Bilbo’s gut churned with nerves. “Well…Thorin, you’re…gorgeous.”

“I…thank you?” 

Bilbo was glad that they were back-to-chest, for his cheeks were burning and he was in no mood to be teased for it.

“I mean that you are the most handsome dwarf in the mountain, by far, and…well, excuse me for being romantic, but I do think that you are the most attractive man in Middle-Earth. You’re strong. You exude power, your presence is astonishing. Your hair, your beard, marvelous. I’d use more colorful words, but I don’t fancy myself a poet, and I simply acknowledge that there’s very little that could compare to you.”

Bilbo swallowed.

“Certainly no hobbit. Soft and guileless as we are. And I know we've done this before but…I…I suppose I just looked at myself for the first time after looking at you, and…i-it’s a bit like putting pumpkins against potatoes, if you asked me. Only one of those makes a decent pie, anyway. Oh, I'm sorry, this is so ridiculous.”

Thorin’s hands began to squeeze and tighten.

“Oh, Bilbo.”

Bilbo didn’t love the tone of his words- the pity he thought he heard in it. He didn’t want pity, he just wanted Thorin to understand. What he really wanted was to hide under the bed until Thorin forgot all about this blunder and they could both go back to being blissfully ignorant of Bilbo’s sudden insecurities, but if Bilbo always got what he wanted he’d have been cozied into his armchair in Bag End before he’d even reached Rivendell.

Thorin gripped Bilbo tight enough to hurt and buried his face into Bilbo’s hair, sighing heavily and heating Bilbo’s scalp with his breath. 

“I’ve not been good to you, bunmel, if there is even a bit of you that thinks you are not worthy of me. It is I who is not worthy of you.”

Bunmel, the beauty of all beauties. He would use that one, given what Bilbo just confessed to him.

“I don’t want your pity,” Bilbo bit out grumpily, nestling into Thorin’s arms. “You asked, I answered, I don’t want you to make it anything more than what it is.”

“This is not pity,” Thorin ground out. “This is shame. My shame. How long have you felt like this? Why have you never said anything?”

“Thorin, it doesn’t matter, ” Bilbo insisted. He wanted to pull out of Thorin’s embrace, but he was putting those smith’s arms that Bilbo had just been admiring to good use. “I’m being childish and vain, and again, I’d thank you not to not to make it more than it is. And what good would telling you have done, even if I’d had these thoughts before? Not much you can do about it- you may be king, but you are neither Eru nor Yavanna.”

“I would not have allowed that thought to fester. I would not have allowed it to even take root. And I would have done this much sooner.”

“Done…” Bilbo furrowed his face. “What, exactly?”

Then Bilbo was flat on his back, head towards the foot of the bed, as Thorin had gripped him and flipped him and pushed him down as if they were sparring. He forced himself between Bilbo’s knees and shoved him into the mattress. It sent a jolt through Bilbo’s heart, his hands flying up to Thorin’s bare shoulders. Thorin was still naked. Somehow, Bilbo had almost forgotten.

“Thorin?”

Just like that, Thorin’s gentleness was almost gone. The heat in his eyes was not playful, but intense as a wildfire, nearly angry, but only just. He grabbed Bilbo’s hands, one and one, and pinned them to the bed above his head, leaving Bilbo’s front exposed.

Bilbo, who had flagged since the start of his spiral, was now very much at attention.

“Would you like to keep going?” Thorin asked, and fixed Bilbo with a very penetrating stare.

Bilbo flexed his throat. “Y-Yes?”

“Yes?”

He nodded nervously.

“Then stay there,” Thorin ordered. Bilbo did not feel inclined to disobey, for some reason.

“What are you doing?” He did, however, feel a little indignant at being manhandled like that. Just a little, but a little was enough. 

Thorin didn’t answer him, the bastard. He sat up on his knees, hands barricading Bilbo on his left and right…and looked.

Just looked.

Bilbo was spread out for him like a vulnerable feast in dwarven robes, and Thorin’s eyes wandered over every line and shadow of his body. Bilbo saw the expression for the first time, ‘undressing him with his eyes’. His face flushed just as hard as it had when Thorin had his hands under his clothes. That dread in his stomach returned just the same.

He broke his rules and brought his hands and arms down to shield himself- or rather, he tried. The moment he moved in that direction Thorin snatched his arms and pinned them again.

“Th-Thorin!” he yelped.

“Stay. There.” Thorin grumbled into Bilbo’s ear, a wave of heat and lightning following. “Or I will keep you there.”

Oh oh oh, he should not have said that. Bilbo was getting harder now than he had been before. His cock pushed against his pants.

“O-Okay, okay,” he whispered tightly.

“Hm.” Thorin retreated again. Bilbo kept his hands where they were as if Thorin had bolted them down. He wouldn’t lie: the thought of disobeying him was not appalling. But he needed to see where Thorin was going with this.

Thorin consumed him with a hunger Bilbo had scarcely seen, going as far as to wet his lips when his gaze sauntered over the swell of Bilbo’s belly and the apex of his thighs. The heat behind his gaze only grew wilder, a fire in a coal mine.

“Íbinel, if you think there is an inch of you that is not more desirable as gold, you would be sorely mistaken.”

Bilbo watched the plane of Thorin’s throat flex as he swallowed.

“I would have you know what I see when I look at you,” Thorin groaned. “I would have you know every thought that comes to my mind, and know it as absolute truth.”

Thorin descended on Bilbo just as he had before, but it was much different now that Bilbo wasn’t allowed to grab him back. His king started by wrapping his hands around both of Bilbo's biceps and licking a hot, wet stripe up the side of Bilbo’s neck. His hips moved agonizingly slow against Bilbo’s pelvis, grinding their members together.

“Thorin!” Bilbo squeaked, and a firm squeeze from Thorin’s hands silenced him.

“Your skin tempts me like no other. The allure of gold does not even compare,” Thorin breathed into his neck. “Soft. Unmarked. You should be wearing my bruises for the mountain to know whose you are.”

Wasn’t that a tempting idea? Bilbo thought so, once the feeling of Thorin’s tongue on his pulse-point stopped corking his thoughts. 

“I-I thought…dwarves…valued s-scars?” Bilbo huffed out.

“Scars are strength. They are a mark of survival. Proof of a will to live.” Then Thorin leaned up and in, until his lips touched the shell of Bilbo’s ear again, and his hands squeezed Bilbo's biceps. “You have nothing to prove. Not to me. Not to a single dwarf in this mountain. I have seen you survive with my own eyes. No scar could compare to watching you stand before my enemy and emerge unscathed.” Thorin moaned into his ear. “The things I wanted to do to you on that rock, and damn the company.”

Bilbo couldn’t reply, as Thorin’s hands were moving quickly. From Bilbo’s arms to the opening of his robes, Thorin spared him a meaningful look (at once both an assurance and ‘don’t even think about moving’) and pulled the layers apart to reveal Bilbo’s tunic.

“You look good in my colors,” said Thorin, whose hands had not stopped wandering. They came to rub over Bilbo’s chest and draw out a shaky sigh from Bilbo’s lips. “You’ll look better without them.”

“You and that damn line, I swear, you never run out of ways to- sweet Mahal!” Thorin had pinched one of his nipples with his thumb and forefinger through the fabric of his tunic. How he had even found it was a talent in itself.

“Look at you. I’ve got you cursing in the manner of my ancestors.” He straddled Bilbo’s lap to distract him as he made short work of Bilbo's robe, tossing it off somewhere in the room. He shuffled back down (damn him, and damn the drag of his cock down the length of Bilbo’s crotch that made him whine) and laid himself down on Bilbo’s legs. His chin was in line with Bilbo’s waistband, his fingers rubbing circles just a breath away from the skin of Bilbo’s hips. The electric sensation of almost made his hips jerk a little. So Thorin pinned him down with a bruising grip. 

Wearing his bruises for all the mountain indeed. Though he hoped that these ones weren’t meant to be public.

“But were it up to me,” Thorin said, back in that alluring, raspy tone that made Bilbo’s head spin. “The only name you will know by the end of this night will be mine.”

“Oh,” Bilbo whimpered. Then cried, “Oh!”

Thorin’s hands rucked up the bottom of his tunic to lay just above his stomach and Thorin dipped his tongue eagerly into Bilbo’s navel. His beard scraped deliciously over his skin, and his hands pinched and massaged and rubbed along his stomach as Thorin lavished it with his mouth. Bilbo was almost trembling under the strange sensation, hands clenching and unclenching. Feeling the flesh of his stomach give and pull like a soft pillow had Bilbo blushing, in good ways and bad. After many long, trembling minutes of what Bilbo could only describe as veneration, Thorin spoke again. 

“I cannot even fathom how this troubles you.” Thorin murmured, his words making damp buzzes against Bilbo's skin that felt like static shocks. “Galthúnel.”

Between his whimpers he stuttered out, “I-I'm soft. I'm n-not as strong as you are.”

“Yes,” -kiss- “you are.”

“I'm- mph-” Thorin nibbled a red spot at the bottom of his stomach, top of his groin, then soothed it with his tongue. “Not like you- oh, stop it!”

“No.”

Using both hands Thorin pushed up Bilbo's shirts until they were over his chest, then up and over his head. Shirtless and exposed, he glanced past the tempting view of Thorin's heady eyes; he could see the flesh of his stomach, tweaked and wet and oversensitive. Well-loved.

Thorin's nose traced a line, passed across his navel and up to his chest, and made eye contact with Bilbo from under his black eyelashes at a very dangerous angle that had Bilbo throbbing in his pants. “You are far stronger than me.”

He knew Bilbo was going to try to retort- he must have known - for the moment Bilbo opened his mouth Thorin latched onto one of his nipples. Bilbo squeaked and threw his head back, his hands fisting into the sheets over his head and straining with the force of his will to keep them still.

There weren't many words to describe the pleasure of Thorin's hot mouth and the scratch of his soft beard laving over Bilbo’s chest, Thorin’s other hand crawling up to pinch and drag his untended one. Bilbo had to resort to mindlessly pushing his hips up to try and relieve the ache that had settled there, and the heat that was beginning to grow. Thorin was grinding down just as he was, rutting at half of Bilbo's speed, and Bilbo half-worried it would be over before it got better.

Bilbo longed to slide his hands into Thorin's hair and tug the way he liked it, but Thorin knew his every move. His biceps only twitched and Thorin had released his pinch on one of his nipples to clamp down on his arms again. 

“Thorin,” Bilbo moaned. “Thorin, Thorin- please!”

Thorin had nibbled on him again- the bastard. Bilbo felt lucky he didn't squeal like a lass. Thorin gave him no time to recover, and bestowed his attention on the other. Bilbo's chest was slowly heaving, and he felt certain Thorin would be able to feel his pounding heart through his skin.

The pressure and friction against his cock was not enough, not even close, but it tugged him along like a wheeled toy on a string, closer and closer and closer.

“I'm- you have to-” Bilbo would have been humiliated at how quickly he was going if he had the space for thought around the slick movement of Thorin's tongue catching on the nub of his nipple. The slight scrape of teeth nearly sent him over with a desperate whimper. His hips worked harder and harder against Thorin's cock, chasing his end. “Thorin, Thorin, Thorin.”

Thorin pulled back and clapped his hands down on Bilbo's hips to still them. The stimulation was gone, and though Bilbo's legs twitched and futily resisted the weight of his hands he could feel the edge shrinking back. That wheeled toy was rolling its way right back down the hill.

“Not yet, Íbinê.” Thorin smirked down at him. His weighty cock reaching for attention between his legs belied his self-satisfied expression, but they both knew that Thorin has infinitely more patience than Bilbo had in these matters. He could go for hours. Had, in the past. 

Bilbo squirmed a bit, testing the strength of Thorin's grip. He didn't give an inch. 

“I-I-I can go again. You know I can. As much as you want,” Bilbo said breathily. 

Every dwarf seemed to have a favorite bit of information about hobbits. For Bombur it was their ability to put away meals. For Bofur it was their dedication to the craft of partying. 

For Thorin, it seemed, it was their general lack of any sort of refractory period at all. He’d said before he thought perhaps that dwarves and hobbits were made for each other in this respect, given how difficult it was to get the average dwarf ‘up and running’ versus how easy it was to get a hobbit to pop off in as much time. Compared to a dwarf It took next to nothing to get Bilbo singing like a bluejay, and Thorin loved to play him like a harp in an inordinately long symphony.

“Oh, I know you can. Masaddazulmuzm,” Thorin purred. That was one word Thorin refused to translate. “But you'd like that too much, and I haven't been able to prove anything to you yet.”

Bilbo didn't have anything to say to that, given that he was still trying to catch his breath and regulate the pounding of his heart. His hands still laid limply above his head, and there he intended to keep them until Thorin said otherwise.

Thorin leaned back over him, firm as an iron blanket, and though he kept his hips quite a distance from Bilbo's he laid a sweet, heavy kiss on Bilbo's lips. It was slower than all the others, and felt as if Thorin was trying to speak through it. He was an eloquent dwarf, with a mastery of beautiful words, yet there were times like this where there was not a word in any language that either of them knew that was sufficient to convey what they were thinking. Bilbo thought poetry was sweetest when it was being pressed against his lips.

Bilbo laid there and let himself be kissed. Certainly a change of pace, but not a wholly unwelcome one. Thorin dragged his hands down Bilbo’s flank, squeezing gently, and stroking his thumb over the divot of his hips through his trousers. Bilbo’s lips twitched. His whole body felt like a bit of raw skin, but in a decidedly pleasurable way, and the pressure of just Thorin’s thumb was enough to make him jump.

Thorin pulled back a little, allowing their faces barely two inches between them. Thorin’s hot breath brushed over Bilbo’s lips when he spoke to fill the weighty silence.

“There are some days where I simply can’t believe that you’re real,” he whispered. His thumb rolled in gentle circles- not meant to be enticing, more soothing. “When the sunlight catches you just right, I lose my breath. All these beautiful curls, blessedly long enough to braid. Prettier than any stone in the mountain. I would have you as crowning the jewel of my throne, if I knew you would let me.”

“Well, perhaps I don’t always fancy being pinned up against a rock to be gawked at,” Bilbo said.

“I know that to be deeply untrue.”

Thorin moved his hand, and at last they were lying chest-to-chest, with Thorin a warm weight over Bilbo’s front and his beard a pleasant scratch against his skin. Bilbo’s legs twitched again. Thorin swept his palm slowly up the side of Bilbo’s face, crawling up to knit into his hair and let the strands run over his fingers.

“Like pure, spun copper,” Thorin muttered. “And it holds the finest braids my hands have ever woven.”

Thorin’s attentions seemed to have shifted, as both of his hands came to cup Bilbo’s face, to draw the pads of his fingers over his lips and nose and to dance about in his hair like a tailor appreciating fine silk. He had a tiny, mischievous grin whenever his fingers passed against the shell and tips of Bilbo’s ears and caused a shiver to wrack him.

“As much as I’m enjoying this,” Bilbo said. “I thought you were meant to be teaching me a lesson?”

Bilbo tried to tempt him, gracefully rolling his hips against Thorins and groaning as the heat returned.

Thorin thrust down, pinning Bilbo’s lower half with his pelvis. Drat.

“I am,” he replied lowly.

His eyes weren’t focused on any particular thing for too long- Bilbo’s eyes, his nose, his lips, and especially his hair all fell under his gaze. He appeared to be getting lost in the lines and planes of Bilbo’s face.

“There is not a part of you that I do not adore,” Thorin continued. “From the hair on your head to the hair on your feet. Your beautiful eyes. Your adorable” -he pinched at the tip of Bilbo’s left ear and made him jerk- “ears. I hunger for you like no other, make no mistake.” In a slick movement one of his hands dropped and squeezed the still-sensitive flesh of Bilbo’s waist quite firmly. “But when I look at you, every inch of you, I see a being so purely beautiful you could have been plucked right from the garden of your maker.”

Thorin’s hand lowered, and squeezed again. His waist, to his hip, to his thigh, to his knee, and back up to rest on his hip again. More specifically, his waistband. Thorin’s thumb teased at the edge of it, flicking the lip of the fabric, and he stared openly at Bilbo just to watch his face get redder with anticipation.

Bilbo trembled. “Please.”

Thorin smiled. “Your wish is my command.”

He hooked his thumb into Bilbo's waistband and yanked down. He did the same on the other side with his other hand, and dragged Bilbo’s trousers and pants down in one move.

Goosebumps exploded over Bilbo’s skin as the chill of the room hit his cock all at once. Thorin was able to fully remove his bottoms and toss them, once again, somewhere into the ether to be picked up later. They both sat naked before the other, staring like statues that faced each other across a shared hall.

“No matter how many times we do this. Each time, you are more beautiful than you were the last,” Thorin husked. 

Thorin dropped a kiss to Bilbo’s lips and positioned himself over him. He gave him another, this time to the underside of Bilbo’s chin. Then to his Adam’s Apple, to the dip of his collarbone, to his sternum. Lower he climbed, taking his time as if they had eons of it, his lips and beard making Bilbo’s belly jump as he quickly lavished his navel again, until his head was set between Bilbo’s thighs and Bilbo was so anxious for his touch that he was almost panting for it. 

Bilbo looked down at him. Thorin looked up. He grabbed the meat of Bilbo’s furred white thighs and pried his legs apart, Bilbo’s cock bobbing in front of his face. He pressed some teasing, tonguing kisses into the joins of his hip and thigh, chuckling when Bilbo whined and quivered, then he took the head of Bilbo’s cock into his mouth and swallowed him down to the root.

Bilbo clapped his hand over his mouth before he could moan embarrassingly loud. The grip Thorin had on his legs kept him pressed to the bed and prevented his hips from bucking up into the wet heat of Thorin’s mouth.

Thorin slid off, the drag of his tongue curling over Bilbo’s head and punching a sob out of him, muffled by his palm. 

“Hands, galthûn,” he warned.

Bilbo obeyed, and uncovered his mouth. Thorin rewarded him by taking him all in at once until the tip of Bilbo’s cock hit the back of Thorin’s throat. He moaned even louder but was forced to resist the urge to silence himself, and ended up curling his hand into a fist and slamming it back down on the bed above his head.

Thorin worked with his mouth and hands. His head bobbed up and down, taking his cock in leisurely pulls, and his fingers were massaging Bilbo’s stones. Bilbo was considerably smaller than him in every way, so it was no hardship on his jaw (so he’d claimed before), and he could just about take all of Bilbo in one hand alone.

“Ah…ah…f-fuck…Th-Thorin, oh, Thorin,” Bilbo gasped. The grip his hands had on the sheets was painful. “So good. You’re so good, ‘s so hot, you’re so…I-I…” Bilbo couldn’t take his eyes off Thorin, until Thorin looked up at him from under his eyelids, lips stretched around Bilbo’s cock, and a rush of heat shot down his body just as soon as he felt Thorin’s thumb press against his fluttering hole.

“Thorin!” Bilbo shoved the back of his head into the mattress and keened as he spent into Thorin’s mouth without so much as a warning even to himself. His lover swallowed him just as easily as he had his cock. His hips jerked and strained against Thorin’s hands, giving spurt after spurt until he was left with just the aftershocks. His thighs quivered, flinching like they meant to close around Thorin’s head, and his chest heaving in beautiful exertion.

“Sorry, ‘m so sorry, I-I didn’t even…oh, mercy.” Bilbo was still catching his breath. Thorin popped off of his sensitive cock- literally ‘popped’, with the sound his mouth made -and licked his lips like Bilbo had given him a faceful of honey instead. Bilbo was glad for it- he had a feeling they were nowhere near done, and the image of Thorin catching his cum with his tongue was almost enough to get him ready for the next round.

“Pleading yet again mercy,” Thorin rumbled. “Yet you give me none yourself, writhing on my bed as you are.”

“And whose fault is that?” Bilbo breathed, then he yelped as Thorin’s calloused hand took hold of Bilbo’s shaft and picked up where his mouth left off. Bilbo could tell by the look on his face that Thorin was drinking up every last oversensitive pant that he tugged out of him.

“Mine,” Thorin grunted. His hand picked up some speed. Bilbo wasn’t as ready for him as he thought; a cold fire had engulfed his stomach, as if begging for a chance to breathe. Thorin leaned over him, propped up on one hand, voice as low as distant thunder. “It is my hand that undoes you. My mouth. My cock.” 

Bilbo cried as Thorin gave him a squeeze, nearly ready to shout, ‘too much!’

Instead, what he whimpered was, “Yours! Just yours.”

“Do you want my cock, Suzmazumimê?”

“Oh, please,” Bilbo drawled. He was fighting with himself to keep his hands over his head, twisting the sheets in his fingers, when all he wanted to do was grab Thorin by his beard, yank him down, and demand he stick his cock in him before Bilbo exploded.

“Will you beg for it?”

“I’m about to start!” Bilbo snapped. Thorin squeezed him harder and wiped the next thought out of Bilbo’s head.

Thorin then smirked, and he said, “You won’t have to.”

Bilbo furrowed his brow. Thorin loved it when he begged.

“Won’t?” Bilbo asked, dazedly.

“No. And do you want to know why?”

Bilbo wet his lips. “Why?”

Thorin’s thumb swiped over the head of Bilbo’s member right before he released him, and he grabbed the back of Bilbo’s head to pull him up into a searing kiss.

“Because you are beautiful,” Thorin whispered over his lips. “The fact that you let me anywhere near your gorgeous ass is a gift. Being able to fuck you is an absolute privilege, Bilbo Baggins; I should be the one begging you.”

Bilbo’s face flared up like a bonfire. 

“Please,” Thorin breathed again, sticking tiny, mouse-like kisses to Bilbo’s nose, cheeks, and lips. “Let me show you how beautiful you are. May I be granted the privilege of fucking you, Master Baggins?”

“Yes,” said Bilbo, feeling dizzy and nearly confused. He shook his head and sputtered, “Wh- of course! Thorin Oakenshield, if I don’t have you inside me in the next 10 seconds I’m going to- ah!”

“To what?” Thorin tilted his head, some of his hair tumbling off his shoulder.

“To-, to-,” Bilbo fought to find his words again, which Thorin was making exceedingly difficult by the steadily increasing pressure his thumb was putting on the skin behind his balls. When it began to rub in gentle circles, pressing further, grazing just so on the skin of his sac, Bilbo thought he felt something in him snap.

“Oil- inside- now,” he whined and pushed his hips down, hoping to make Thorin’s finger slip into where he wanted it most. “Please, please, please-”

“I told you, úkrad, there is no need to beg.” Thorin parted from him with one last kiss to his nose. “Your wish is my command.”

Bilbo was suddenly alone, strangely cold, when Thorin backed away to reach for their nightstand. He took that breathing space to get situated, shuffling his hips into a more comfortable position, spreading his legs, relaxing back into the bed to try and slow the thrumming of his heartbeat. He was mostly unsuccessful with that final task, as at that point his thoughts had been overtaken with a steady mantra of ‘finally’.

Thorin reappeared with a glass vial, half-full, and knelt right back between Bilbo’s legs like he was born to be there. He popped the cork of the vial, making heady eye contact with Bilbo all the while, and spilled a generous quantity on his hand. He restopped the bottle with just one hand, tossed it away onto the other side of the bed, and…and looked. Just looked. Again.

“I thought you said I wouldn’t have to beg,” Bilbo whined.

Thorin’s eyes dragged down his front. “You don’t. But you just have a little more patience than that, ghivashel.”

“I feel I have been very patient with you, Thorin.” Bilbo also had a feeling that the effect of his indignance was sorely mitigated by his flushed, twitching cock, blushing skin, and gentle panting. He watched Thorin liberally smear the oil over his right hand.

“Just a little bit more, my love.” Thorin’s eyes were fixed on his hole. Bilbo thought he saw his pupils dilate, but it was hard to tell in the low light.

Thorin then took Bilbo’s waist in his left hand, his right disappearing from Bilbo’s sight. When he felt the pad of Thorin’s index landing on the skin of his entrance, circling and rubbing oil around the rim, Bilbo’s stomach jolted and he closed his eyes in anticipation.

Finally, finally, finally-

“Look at me.”

Bilbo whined. 

“Look at me.”

Bilbo peaked his eyes open.

Thorin hummed with satisfaction. “There are those eyes.”

“Thorin!” Bilbo griped.

“Easy, easy.” Thorin had a loose smile on his face. “I just had to make sure I wouldn’t miss my favorite part.”

Bilbo thought to ask what he meant by that. Then Thorin’s finger slid knuckle-deep into his hole and Bilbo was moaning.

“Beautiful,” Thorin breathed, though Bilbo could barely hear it over the blood in his ears.

The initial stretch made pleasure zing over his skin. Thorin’s finger was thick- as thick as two of Bilbo’s own -and he moved in slow, even strokes that were agonizingly pleasurable. Agonizing in how slow they were, when Bilbo was just a few seconds away from tossing himself down on his front and demanding Thorin fuck him like an animal. But Thorin’s grip on his hip doubled as an anchor to keep Bilbo from fucking himself down on Thorin’s finger and forcing Bilbo to take what he was given. The prod of his index was almost exploratory, dragging across Bilbo’s walls and teasing his inner rim as it worked him open.

All Bilbo could focus on was the feel of it, until Thorin brushed over a spot that kicked a yelp out of Bilbo’s chest and made his cock twitch hard.

He saw, from under his hooded lids, how Thorin’s lazy smile sharpened.

“There you are.”

All that happened next seemed to happen immediately, in Bilbo’s mind.

Thorin thrust a second finger up alongside the first, and while Bilbo was gasping Thorin put them right up against his prostate and pressed.

Bilbo wailed, precum drooling over his cock, hips rolling and fighting Thorin’s grip.

Thorin groaned, and began to fuck Bilbo properly with just his fingers. 

“Oh, oh, more, p-please,” Bilbo moaned, meeting each thrust, legs falling open like he couldn’t physically keep them closed. “Thorin, love, I-I need- harder.”

Thorin wedged a third finger inside of him, and Bilbo’s head was thrashing from side to side.

“I love how wanton you are, íbinel,” Thorin grunted. “I would take the expression on your face and paint it if I possessed the skill. Hang it over my throne, in every hall. Every dwarf in the kingdom would know this beauty.”

He tried to imagine, as Thorin’s fingers pushed him along to his second orgasm, the image of himself in ecstasy hanging for all to see. Bilbo couldn’t blush with embarrassment even if he tried, as every ounce of blood that wasn’t racing through his veins was pooled in his cock.

“Oh, but I never could,” Thorin whispered. “They will simply have to burn with envy, knowing that this,”- he properly jabbed Bilbo’s prostate once more -”your pleasure, is mine and mine alone.”

Bilbo could think of little more than Thorin’s hands and the climbing pitch of his own moans, which Thorin also picked up on. He thrust his fingers even faster, leaning in to close his mouth of one of Bilbo’s nipples as he did before and watching him from under his eyelids.

“Ah, ah, ahhh, Th-Thorin!”

The swipe of his rough tongue over the nub was what did Bilbo in, and he stuttered out a moan and gasp as his hips kicked and he spurted cum over his and Thorin’s chests. Thorin fucked him through it, praising him, rubbing his prostate firmly until Bilbo thought he might weep with the hot-and-cold, staticky feeling of too-much pleasure. His breath was skipping in his chest, which Thorin stroked to help calm him down. His fingers were still inside him, not moving. Thorin was looking at Bilbo like a bag of precious gems.

When Bilbo caught his breath Thorin spread his fingers and pulled an overstimulated mewl from Bilbo’s lips. He shushed him with a swift kiss, and whispered sweet nothings to soothe him through the rest of the stretch.

Thorin was big for a dwarf, and was quite proportional. He was also determined to eliminate any possible chance of Bilbo getting hurt by his own hand (or cock, in the case) and went the extra mile with the stretching before the main deed. Right now his love and care felt like sugar in an open wound, but Bilbo would be remiss to tell him to stop. The timer on his refractory period was ticking down very quickly, and his cock was making a valiant effort to wind back up.

Bilbo spared a look at Thorin. He hadn’t thought to before, with his mind so blurry with lust.

Thorin’s cock was so hard it looked painful; it was flushed deep red from root to tip, great vein bulging on the underside, leaking steadily onto the sheets. The pitch black nest of hair at the base made it stand out even more starkly. Thorin had a gleam of sweat over his chest and neck and a loving, focused expression as he worked Bilbo open. When the pain bled to hot, burning pleasure and the sounds that fell from Bilbo’s lips were more moans than groans, Thorin eased his fingers out of Bilbo’s ass with one last graze of his prostate.

“Thorinnn…” Bilbo whined, dipping his hips down to try and grab him back. He was so empty now, so chilled. If he hadn’t been sure something greater was coming Bilbo might have demanded his dwarf put his fingers right back where they were.

“Oh I know. You’re incorrigible,” Thorin said. He took his cock in hand- which Bilbo watched, with rapt attention -and hissed through his teeth as he gave himself a few pumps. Thorin’s head rolled back and he clenched his jaw tight, looking like he was fighting off spilling into his own fist. Bilbo felt flattered, having not been able to touch him the whole time they were here and still having him nearly overcome with his desire.

“You’re gorgeous,” said Bilbo.

“And you are nothing less than divine.”

Thorin loomed over Bilbo, his hair falling over his shoulders, his arms and legs caging him. Thorin’s cock dragged through the spill left on Bilbo’s belly as he rubbed up against him, teasing him and taking his own edge off.

“No more,” Bilbo pleaded. He kept his hands still, but he moved his lower half up to meet his lover’s. “No more teasing. I need you inside me. Thorin Oakenshield, if you don’t fuck me right now I truly might cry.”

“Mm. We can’t have that. You’re far too beautiful for tears.” But Thorin kept up his slow and dirty grind, and Bilbo actually did hiccup in his frustration and desperation.

“Please, my love. Please, fuck me,” Bilbo begged.”

“Shh shh shh. I’ll take care of you. I’ll always take care of you,” Thorin soothed. “Just answer one question, ghivashelimê. One question, and I’ll give you what you need.”

“Anything,” stammered Bilbo. “Anything you want.”

“Just one question…” Thorin rested his forehead against Bilbo’s and gave him a significant look. “Do you believe me?”

“B-Believe you?” Thorin’s cock had begun to rub up against the side of Bilbo’s in Thorin’s grinding, and was making it hard to focus. “Believe what? Wh-what do you mean?”

Thorin stayed his hips, and the only movement was in the rise and fall of his and Bilbo’s breathing.

He asked, “Do you believe me now when I tell you that you are one of the most desirable creatures on this earth, and that I want nothing more than to ravish you until you can’t speak any name other than my own?”

Bilbo’s breathing stuttered a little, and his heart ached. For all that his head was swimming, it allowed him to piece together most of everything that Thorin had said to him since he pinned him down- everything that Thorin did to him not withstanding -and he’d been nothing but earnest. Genuine in his lust over Bilbo’s body, genuine in his very evident appreciation, and genuine in the compliments and praises he’s lavished over Bilbo every time he’s opened his mouth. Bilbo had never felt more attractive than when Thorin was pawing at Bilbo’s curves and ravishing his soft belly, when he only had eyes for Bilbo’s face as he took him down his throat, and when he was watching Bilbo roll through an orgasm with nothing but pure adoration and heat in his expression. And he felt like a fool for doubting Thorin for even a moment.

Gingerly, Bilbo moved his hands. His shoulders and arms were aching and sore, his palms itching from the nail-indents Bilbo had pressed into them, and he brought his hands down between them to cup Thorin’s face. Thorin let him do this, and let Bilbo stroke his thumbs over Thorin’s cheekbones and bury his fingers into his beard.

Bilbo took a deep breath and said with conviction, “I believe you.”

The grin he got in return was downright wolfish.

“Good.”

Thorin crushed his lips against Bilbo’s and took his thighs in hand, spreading Bilbo’s legs apart as far as they could go. Bilbo tried to help, spreading until it hurt, and tangling his hands in the hair at Thorin’s scalp. Thorin hummed deliciously into their kiss, and Bilbo felt the blunt, slick head of his cock pressing up against his entrance.

Thorin began to roll his hips, and as soon as the head of his cock breached him Bilbo broke their kiss with a low moan. He gripped Thorin’s hair tighter. Thorin had one hand on his own cock to guide his way, the other encompassing all of Bilbo’s waist and squeezing in time with his rolls.

“You take me so well,” Thorin muttered as his cock speared Bilbo inch by inch. Bilbo was too overcome with the stretch and fullness to return much more than a whine. “So well. So beautiful. No other could compare.”

He kept his thrusts shallow and even until his hips were flush with Bilbo’s ass. When they connected, Thorin gasped like he’d been holding his breath and his grip on Bilbo’s waist became two on his ankles, bringing Bilbo's legs up and onto his shoulders. Bilbo's puffed as he tried to settle himself, and he opened his eyes to find Thorin’s piercing blue gaze looking at him like he were made of mythril.

“Beautiful,” Thorin whispered again. Overcome, he pressed a kiss to Bilbo’s ankle, and began to move. 

His cock fit into Bilbo perfectly, stretching him on every inward thrust and coaxing high moans from him. His movements got faster and faster, driving Bilbo against the mattress. He tried to keep eye contact with his king, but his eyes kept rolling up into his head as Thorin’s cock dragged against that spot inside him and made him see lights behind his eyelids. Thorin was grunting with ecstasy each time their hips connected, each slap of their skin making Bilbo clench on his cock.

Thorin descended on him, folding Bilbo’s legs against him until they were close enough to kiss. He did most of the kissing, as Bilbo’s mouth was loose with pleasure and he couldn’t seem to control it around the yelps and long moans that Thorin was punching out of him at each downward stroke. His lips found Bilbo’s cheeks, his chin, his forehead, the corners of his lips, and his deep huffs were interspersed with praises.

“You were made for me. Made for my cock. Take me so well, so perfectly, you’re so perfect. Amrâlimê, úkrad, bunmel, Bilbo, Bilbo, Bilbo-”

“Thorinnn…Thor-in, Thorin, oh, ah, Th-Thorin, Thorin!”  Bilbo cried. His love had been right- that was the only thing he knew how to say.

“Say my name. Say it. That’s it. So perfect. So beautiful,” he ground out, his thrusts getting sloppy but frantic. 

“‘Mmm gonna- ‘m gonna-” Bilbo gasped with half-lidded eyes. “G-gonna make me cum, I’m gonna cum, please, don’t stop- ah! Oh, don’t stop, don’t stop!”

Thorin let go of Bilbo’s legs and instead grabbed his waist like he was grabbing the hilt of a sword. Bilbo let his legs fall to the side and wailed as Thorin’s thrusts became longer, deeper, and harder, his cock grinding against his prostate. One sharp pound jabbed his cockhead right into it and Bilbo came with a keen, splattering over his chest and stomach.

Thorin fucked him through it like his last one, drawing it out and making Bilbo feel like he was about to catch fire. Loose moans still popped out of him as Thorin chased his own end, grunting Bilbo’s name alongside more Khuzdul that Bilbo was hopeless to decipher. After a few seconds, Thorin’s hips stuttered and he was coming with a groan like an earthquake rattling the mountain, flooding Bilbo’s insides and wrenching one last cry out of Bilbo before collapsing onto him.

They stayed together in the humid air, the only sound being their collective breaths trying to catch. Thorin shifted a bit so he wasn’t crushing Bilbo under his weight (despite that currently being Bilbo’s preferred way to die) and stuck lazy kisses on each bit of skin that he could reach. Bilbo lifted his limp, jelly-like arms up so he could rub Thorin’s scalp and bring out that little rumbling sound he made whenever Bilbo played with his hair. A few long moments of this, then Thorin’s softened cock resting inside him became a little uncomfortable. Thorin felt the same, and at last pulled out of him with a quiet groan. He lifted Bilbo under his shoulders and pulled the both of them back so that they were resting properly on the bed, heads against the mussed pillows, and so Thorin could tuck him against his body and breathe into his hair.

Bilbo floated on a cloud of contentment as Thorin’s arms came around him and held him like something precious. One hand traced lazy runes into the soft skin of his chest, and the other did nothing but give him warmth. Thorin pressed his lips into Bilbo’s sweat-damped curls, over and over, and Bilbo hummed with absolute peace.

“I want to make you a new circlet,” Thorin murmured after a while, clearing some fog from Bilbo’s head. “Dahlia flowers. Rubies, set in mithril. I would weave it into your hair alongside your beads. You would radiate beauty like Kementári herself.”

Bilbo’s eyes burned. Red Dahlias. Did he know…? He must. He was so specific about the color, and he knew them by name. Bilbo’s thoughts ran in a manner that reminded him of all those long lessons in flower language from his mother when he was a faunt, reciting from memory what he’d been taught.

Red Dahlias. Red for inner strength, perseverance, and the ability to overcome hardship. Dahlias for commitment, for a bond that endures. 

An enduring relationship in spite of hardship. A bond in spite of betrayal. A commitment to forgive in the face of deep, passionate love.

Thorin mistook his silence. “Too much?” he asked.

“No!” Bilbo said at once. He was fighting the urge to sniffle. “No, no, it’s…that…that would be perfect. More than perfect.”

“And the dahlias…they’re-”

“Perfect,” Bilbo whispered. He wriggled in Thorin’s hold, twisting around until they faced each other. “Who told you?”

Thorin looked falsely wounded. “You assume that I didn't learn for myself the language of your people?”

"No I- oh, I didn't mean it like that, you ass." Bilbo flicked his chest. Then he contemplated for a moment. "Did you? Learn it yourself, I mean."

"I had...some help. Mostly so I didn't insult you by accident. But the bulk of the research was mine. I wanted to surprise you."

"You did," said Bilbo. "Even I can't think of another flower that would be more perfect for us. You did well."

Thorin inclined his head, and pressed his kiss to Bilbo's brow. He held his lips there like he meant for the moment to be carved in stone.

“Thank you, úkradimê.”

Bilbo tucked his head beneath Thorin’s chin, reveling in the scrape of his beard, and drifted away in his arms.

~~~~~~~~~~

Translations for the Khuzdul used:

Labthûnimê- my adoration (adoration-of-me) Galthûn- ‘delicious one’ Àrsûn- ‘hot one’ Amrâlimê - my love Úkrad; úkradimê- ‘greatest heart’; ‘my greatest heart’ Íbinimê; íbinel- My gem; gem of all gems Marlel- love of all loves Masaddazulmuzm; Suzmazumimê- rabbit; my bunny (little rabbit)

Thanks for reading! Let me know if and how you like it. You can read the Ao3 upload at the link above at my main acc Sullen_in_Love.

#the hobbit #thorin oakenshield #bagginshield #bilbo baggins #fanfiction #my writing #hobbit fanfic #smut #bilbo x thorin #thorin x bilbo #body worship #year of bagginshield

[fukoronoko]

Omg I need someone to write a fanfic about Thorin (and maybe also Kili for pain reasons) dying but Fili actually surviving and not only having to deal with the grief but also running a whole ass mountain now.

Because guess what?

You always knew you would be the next king but you didn’t expect it to happen like this.

So now you got this new kingdom, the whole situation with the men and elves, grieving the loss of your family and also a sobbing hobbit who just lost his husband

#i‘m trash #fili durin #fili and kili #the hobbit #lotr #fanfiction #hobbit fanfic

[tamurilofrivendell]

Sleeping Beauty | Chapter 17

Previous Chapters [1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16] Read on AO3 [x]

Pairing: Thranduil/Fem. Reader Summary: A Sleeping Beauty inspired tale with Thranduil the Elvenking, and a female elf living in Mirkwood under the care of Radagast, who is actually the ‘lost’ daughter of the late High King Gil-Galad. Taglist: @jinlizz-dragondrama @firelightinferno @bubbleyukismile @coopsgirl @achromaticerebus @sleepyamygdala @smalltownbigheart @qmabailor @genderfluid-anime-goth @0chemicalwaste0 @silvercobra @thesunschild777 @atlanticowe @whore-of-many-hot-men

Anarórë.

She had said your name. Your true name. You had always known it. With the name being wiped from the books of history entire, to keep you safe, lost to time and forgotten, Radagast had had no problems with telling you that was your name. But the wizard had made it so that, to you, it was second to Lothíriel. It was still not wise to go around introducing yourself that way to all and sundry just in case - it could never be known who the Enchantress' spies were. So it had become the name that you'd mostly just be called if you were in trouble. He only ever used it in moments of great need, most often when he pushed his call into your mind when you strayed too far away and he could not find you.

You had not told Luithien that name.

It hit you then, far in the deep recesses of your mind.

Luithien. It meant Enchantress in the Sindarin tongue.

Another cold chill ran up your spine and you felt a sense of dread gnawing in the pit of your stomach. You took another step back, eyes locked on the woman's face. "How do you know my name?"

She stood with her hand still outstretched, the corner of her eye twitching slightly when you did not immediately move towards her as she had commanded of you. Slowly, she lowered her hand, clasping both of them together in front of her. She looked you up and down very slowly, in a calculating sort of manner that seemed to make your very soul feel uneasy. When her gaze landed back on your face, her smirk returned. "You are a clever girl." She said softly. "You already know. Don't you?"

You swallowed hard, a lump in your throat. You felt suddenly trapped, cornered, a fawn before a wolf. Yes. You knew. You had walked right into her trap. She had been here the whole time, plotting, watching you. She had already made contact and you were too stupid to realise it. Her name! She had made it so obvious but you were too dense! Oh, how you cursed yourself!

The Enchantress.

"Come. Here." She said again, her voice louder this time, more commanding. Her smile had vanished.

This time you did move, taking a step back towards her, though your mind screamed against it. You felt as if you had no control, as if you could not stop yourself, as if you had to walk towards her. Your eyes widened at this, as you realised finally that she must have laid some spell upon you, that she had such powers of persuasion. You didn't realise that you were stronger than most, that you had already fought against it where usually she met no resistance.

She seemed to relax just slightly as you did as you were commanded. She decided that whatever grip you had kept on your own free will was surely overcome now by her own power. She was stronger. She felt satisfied in that knowledge. "Closer."

Another step, your eyes wide, your heart racing in your chest so fast it was a wonder you did not pass out at her feet. The knowledge that you had walked so dumbly into the very trap Radagast had spent his life protecting you from filled you with despair and anger and shame. How could you be so stupid?

As you stared up at the Enchantress, who somehow now seemed so tall that she was looming over you, her presence no longer comforting despite her pretty exterior, you thought about Thranduil. He flickered unbidden into your mind and it was almost as if the image of him snapped you out of something for a moment.

You blinked.

Your gaze shifted to the side slightly, across the room, to where a large black door stood ajar.

One more glance at the woman in front of you and then you turned and ran.

"Oh, for goodness sake, just get on here!" Radagast urged Feren, who was still having trouble with the horse he was attempting to mount.

The beast wanted to be anywhere but near him, it seemed. Feren was beginning to panic, not wanting his king to be too far away without him, not if there was a chance the Enchantress could come close again. If the girl was out there alone, she was an easy target. Nobody knew how long she had been gone from the palace! And Thranduil should not have run off alone like that!

He glanced at Radagast, looking like he'd rather not get on the back of the rabbit sleigh, but he was too intent on getting after Thranduil as quickly as possible so he gave in very rapidly and hurried towards the wizard and his impatient rabbits.

Just then, there was a commotion from up ahead, in the direction of the settlement. The thundering of hooves and voices crying out in the wind as they called out the name of the new rider who had appeared so suddenly from the trees.

"Ah!" Radagast's eyes lit up at the sight of the approaching figure, who eased his horse to a stop just beside the two.

Gandalf had come at last.

Gandalf looked down at Radagast from beneath his bushy brows as he sat upon his horse. "Something tells me I have arrived later than you expected." He mused, looking around, seeing nothing of The Elvenking and sensing that he was not there at all.

"As usual." Radagast muttered under his breath.

This was heard and quite easily ignored by Gandalf as he turned his attention back to the brown wizard. "Where is Thranduil?"

Thranduil, as it turned out, had made some progress already in the brief time since his departure. His horse was swift and knew its way through the forest well enough to know where to avoid the most twisted of roots.

The Elvenking was making for the clearing where he usually met you. He didn't know if you would even have been able to find your way from the palace back to where Radagast lived, where you'd grown up, but something inside him was screaming at him to go in that direction and so he listened to it.

Still, the longer he rode without seeing you simply lost under the trees, the more his anxiety began to grow. Something didn't feel right about any of this. How was it possible that you had gotten out of that room, out of his hall, and past the settlements without anybody seeing a thing? It did not make sense and the longer he went without seeing anything (you, a trail left behind, something) the more he began to get suspicious.

Surely not...

Surely she could not have gotten her hands on you. You had been safe in his realm, nobody could touch you, not even the Enchantress could get inside and he knew that. Right? Thranduil gritted his teeth as he spurred the horse faster, the poor animal going as quickly as it could go through the forest. A tree branch bit at his face but he barely even felt it.

He didn't like this one bit and the sooner he found you again, safe and well, the sooner he could relax.

"Come on." Gandalf's voice was gruff as he urged Feren and Radagast to hurry.

Feren had relented and gotten onto the back of the wizard's sleigh, uneasily holding on as the rabbits bounded through the forest. Gandalf was running alongside the sleigh on his great steed, which Radagast thought was quite something considering how fast the rabbits could go when they really wanted to.

"Your letter was rather vague." Gandalf stated. "Tell me exactly what has happened."

Feren held on, unsure how the wizards could carry on with a normal conversation while moving so quickly and haphazardly through the trees. The slight swaying of the sleigh was making him feel dizzy.

Radagast filled in the blanks that his letter to Gandalf had left out, the grey wizard's face growing more and more grim with each word uttered. This was not good.

The Enchantress.

Gandalf had actually started to believe that she had vanished from the world altogether. Scarcely had she been heard of or seen in the last few centuries, though of course his own mind had been elsewhere.

This situation troubled him. He had not been in Lindon that day but he knew the story well. He also knew Radagast had been hiding you all these years and for good reason.

His mouth set into a thin line as he pondered all of this information, thinking about how the Enchantress would seek to destroy not only you, but perhaps Thranduil himself as well, who was now alone somewhere up ahead of them, cut off and vulnerable.

"She has her Gandalf, I know it." Radagast said then, voicing what he had not said out loud to Thranduil when they all discovered you missing. But he could sense it, he could feel it in his bones. The Enchantress had you in her grasp.

"Then we'd better hurry." Gandalf said grimly, urging his horse faster as Radagast did the same with the rabbits. Feren squeezed his eyes shut, feeling sick.

#thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #thranduil fanfic #thranduil fanfiction #lotr fanfic #the hobbit fanfic #hobbit fanfic #sleeping beauty

[middleearthpixie]

Something in the Night ~ Chapter Eleven

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

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

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

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x ofc Nina Carren

Warnings: Unprotected intercourse, a little teeny bit of angst

Rating: M

Word Count: 4.5k

Khuzdul: kurduwê - my heart

  Abnâmul-beautiful

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @fizzyxcustard @lathalea @legolasbadass @xxbyimm @kibleedibleedoo @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @knittastically@notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc @msjava1972 @glassgulls @evenstaredits @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @sazzlep

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

Previous chapters can be found here. 

Nina managed to avoid Thorin for the rest of the day, which actually wasn't all that difficult, as she remained in her chambers and had no idea where he had gone. He might have left, for all she knew. In fact, she almost hoped he had. It would make things easier. 

She saw him at supper, however, and it was with a mixture of relief and apprehension, as more than once, he looked over at her as if he was going to say something, only to turn back instead to Thranduíl or Legolas. Her heart actually felt as if it skipped a beat when he got up and moved to sit beside her. “We plan to leave at dawn’s first light.”

She nodded. “And should I meet you?”

“Only if you wish to travel with us.”

“Do you wish me to travel with you?”

Irritation flashed through his blue eyes. “Why would you ask me that?”

“I think it’s obvious, don't you?”

He glanced across the table at Dwalin, and then toward their hosts before looking back at her. “I apologize for overstepping earlier, Nina. It was foolish of me and right of you to halt things as you did.”

“You needn’t apologize,” she told him. “I overstepped just as much and I thought we were going to pretend it never happened?”

“I just—I sense you’re still angry with me.”

“I wasn’t angry with you at all. You were angry with me.”

He drew in a slow breath. “I wasn't angry with you.”

“So, then it never happened?”

“It never happened.”

“Good.” Although she smiled as if a huge weight had been lifted, the truth was, she felt anything but happy over this turn of events. On the walkway, when he kissed her, it reminded her of all the feelings she’d had that snowy night in Esgaroth, when she first laid eyes upon him. Reminded her of all the feelings that were so wonderful and frustrating at the same time and how she’d wished with everything she had that he would notice her.

And now he had and it was all for naught. She was no longer that same lovestruck girl. Too much had happened since then and now for her to ever be that girl again. 

Which was too bad, really, as she thoroughly enjoyed kissing him and if things hadn’t worked out the way they had…

She could easily fall under his spell, for the King Under the Mountain had no idea how truly desirable he was, and she had the feeling that Mirkwood was not the only thing magical around her. 

“So, I will see you in the morning,” she told him, pushing her chair back. 

“We will wait for you at the eastern gate.”

“Good.” She stood and smiled at Thranduíl. “Thank you for a lovely supper, Your Majesty. If you will excuse me, I think I will go and get what will probably be my last good night’s sleep for some time to come.”

“Of course,” Thranduíl replied. “Good evening.”

She turned and left the dining hall to go back to her chambers. After she and Thorin parted ways that morning, she had gone down to the stream that flowed not far from her chambers and gathered the clothes she wished to wash. Heeding his warnings about enchanted waters, she took great care to pay close attention to her surroundings, but nothing seemed at all amiss to her.

Even so, she’d washed everything as quickly as she could and laid it out on the rocks to allow it to dry and now, her sword at her hip, she went to retrieve everything. Hopefully, it would be dry enough to pack. It had been a clear day, with sun filtering through the treetops, so she thought there was a good chance everything would be just fine. 

Carefully, she picked her way around tree roots, branches, and the typical woodland debris as she made her way to the bank where her trousers and tunics lay spread out on rocks that were still warm.

She’d chosen wisely.

She was just folding her trousers when the sound of a branch snapping gave her pause. Her sword lay at her feet, so she swept it up and rose, saying, “Who goes?”

“I thought I told you to stay away from the streams?”

Her shoulders relaxed as Thorin came around the bend in the path. “You did and this one is fine.”

“Nina.”

“What? The air feels fine here. And besides, I am not your responsibility. I’m certainly of the age where I can decide for myself where to launder my clothes.” She resheathed her blade, then crouched to pluck the shirt she’d laid out from its rock.

“You need to be careful.”

“I am being careful.” She gave up trying to fold anything and just stuffed the mostly dry clothes into her sack. Then she rose, slipping the strap over her shoulder. “Why are you even here?”

“Because I wanted to make certain you made it back to your chambers all right.”

“Back to my… we aren’t in the wild, Thorin.” She pushed around him to march back toward her chambers. 

“We might as well be. I told you, Mirkwood is not always as it seems and dark magic permeates it. I am on cordial terms with the elves here, but they don't know you.”

“The elves have nothing to fear from me, either. And somehow, I think they know that.” She didn't slow down, didn't break her stride as she made her way along the path. “And stop following me.”

“I will. Once you are safe in your chambers.”

“Argh!” She rolled her eyes, and promptly stumbled over an exposed root, but managed to keep her footing and continue on.

At her door, she turned to find him still right behind her. “See? I’m fine. Now, you can just go about your business and I will see you in the morning.”

“Nina,” he reached for her, catching her just above the elbow to halt her, “I know this place and I know what it can do to a body.”

“And I am fine. Nothing reached forth from the water to grab me. No nymphs or balrogs or anything.” She opened her door and stepped over the threshold, setting her sack just inside it, her sword alongside it, and then sighed softly. “I appreciate your concern. But, I’ve made it all this way on my own, remember.”

“I know, but… I cannot help it.” He gestured to her. “May I?”

“Come in.”

He thumped into her chambers, his heavy boots echoing loudly against the wood floor. “I’m not checking up on you because I think you’re incapable of taking care of yourself. Or because I think you are inept. I’ve seen for myself you aren’t. But, I also want to make certain you are safe, Nina. And I’ll not apologize for that.”

“I’m not asking you to apologize for it. But I also don't need you to worry about me. Really, I don’t. I’ve been taking care of myself for quite a bit now, and I’m mostly good at it.”

He arched one brow. “Mostly?”

“Well… every now and then something goes wrong.”

“Such as a to-do at a tavern?”

“Exactly.”

“I know, but…” to her surprise, he closed the space between them and her heartbeat picked up as he reached to catch her face in his hands, “that won’t stop me from wanting to be certain, as I said.”

“Thorin,” her head spun, slowly at first, but as his thumbs swept lightly across her cheeks, the dizziness grew, spreading through her, “I thought we agreed this morning never happened?”

“I know,” he murmured, leaning in until his lips just brushed hers. “Do you truly wish to pretend that, though?”

“I just—” She couldn’t catch her breath as he brushed her lips with his again, the last of her resolve melting away at the gentle caress. No, she didn't want to pretend that at all. Not tonight. Tonight, she wanted to forget everything that led her to this point. None of it mattered. Not one bit. All that mattered was the feel of his hands against her skin, his lips sweeping hers, and the heat that rose from his body to sink into hers.

He pulled back just far enough to offer up a smile laden with promise and whispered, “You just what, Nina?”

She smiled and without thinking, caught the front of his henley in a fist and tugged him back. “Never mind. Just kiss me, dwarf…”

A low rumble of laughter rolled up from him as he did just that, and leaned in to capture her lips in a soft, gentle kiss. It did not remain soft and gentle for long, however, as a slow fire crept into it, the tip of his tongue brushing her closed lips, teasing them into parting before sweeping along hers in silken caress that she reciprocated. Her hands came to rest on his shoulders, as solid as the rest of him, the rise of muscle across them like granite. As the kiss deepened, she slid her hands up along the sides of his neck, into his hair, cool and soft against her fingers. On their own, her fingers twisted into those soft locks, her heart thundering like mad now as he backed her flush against the wall.

It wasn't like anything she’d ever felt before, the solid bulk of a dwarf’s body was so much different from the thinner, more sinewy Men who’d stolen kisses from her before. This was… this was like being engulfed by him, surrounded by a maleness that no Man could ever hope to possess. And when his hips slowly, steadily arched to meet hers, she shivered at the obvious  evidence of his arousal. How could she miss it, when that most definite bulge met her most sensitive cleft and she shivered against him?

His tongue moved slowly, teasingly along hers in a caress that sent her head spinning wildly and her heart pounding out of control. The room around them grew so hot, her breath grew so impossible to catch, and when he broke the kiss to sweep his lips along her chin and down the front of her neck, Nina was powerless to do anything other than let her head thud dully against the wall and let her eyes close as the delicious heat swept through her.

His fingers curled into the hem of her tunic and he swept it up, pulling away to allow her room to lift her arms for him to slip the shirt from her back completely. The air was a warm kiss against her skin, a caress as wanton and wicked as any and when he came flush against her again, the rough weave of his henley scraped sensually against her skin, against her nipples, which beaded from the friction. 

She bit down on her bottom lip as he brushed his lips over her chin. The coarse fur of his beard scratched her, but it only heightened her pleasure as he pressed hot kiss after hot kiss down toward the hollow of her throat, his breath warm and hard against her overheated skin. She clung to him, her hips rocking to meet his, his desire becoming her own as inside her, knots tightened and that heat surged through her. 

He slid one hand up from her hip, along the slope of her waist, and she sucked in a hard breath when it cupped her left breast and his thumb just barely swept over the already tight, aching bead of her nipple. 

Gripping two handfuls of his shirt, she tugged and he obliged, the rough garment sweeping up and off him to fall into the darkness at their feet. Her hands came to rest on his shoulders, his skin hot and firm, the muscle like granite beneath his skin. She ached to touch him, to sweep her lips over any part of him she could, to explore and tease and make him ache for her the way she ached for him.

Because she did ache for him. Her entire body cried out for his, pleaded with her to find some way to make him spirit her to the bed in the corner, where her legs would part of their own and she would welcome him hot and hard and powerful inside her. 

Knots twisted in her belly. Delicious knots of sinful delight that tightened with each sweep of his tongue against hers, with each pass of his roughened thumbs over her oh-so-sensitive nipples. Her arousal came damp and hot between her thighs, and she wanted to peel off her trousers, to wrap her legs about him, and ease that ache in any way she could. 

His lips were hot and damp, his kisses punctuated with teasing flicks of his tongue, playful nips with his teeth as he moved along the curve of her neck, then swept back down along the same path.

He kissed down along the inner curve of her left breast and she whimpered from the fiery pleasure streaking through her. Her eyes were so heavy-lidded, but she forced them open, drinking in the sight of him as he sank to his knees before her while raining a path of teasing kisses along her belly.

He looked up then, his eyes smoked sapphire as he caught the button of her trousers and slid it free. The linen skimmed along her legs, and when he looked up, fire filled his gaze, his eyes blazing sapphire to steal the breath from her lungs. 

“Abnâmul,” he whispered, his voice husky and low as his fingertips just grazed along the backs of her thighs.”

“I—I don't know what that means,” she managed to whisper back. “I don’t speak your tongue.”

A devilish smile played at his lips. “It means you are beautiful.”

Heat flared through her. Heat from his words. From his gaze. From his touch. It was a wonder she didn't melt into a puddle right then, especially when he leaned in and pressed a hot kiss just below her navel. 

For a moment, she thought he might move lower, and she tensed in anticipation.

But then, he kissed her belly above her navel. And higher still. And with each kiss, he rose until he loomed over her once more. 

His mouth found hers again, hot and demanding and she matched his fire with one of her own, winding her arms about his neck, tightening them to pull him flush against her. He offered no resistance, wrapping his arms about her to lift her from her feet. She caught his sigh in her mouth when she teasingly wrapped her legs about his waist and in that moment, he arched into her. She couldn’t hold back her sharp inhale as pleasure zinged through her from the contact and she shivered against him. 

He carefully turned, moving slowly toward her bed, and when he reached it, he bent, pressed her down, and arched once more, this time his breath hitching when she rocked up to meet him firmly. 

Thorin drew back, straightening up and in the soft light, Nina was certain she’d never seen a sight as utterly amazing as the half-naked dwarf standing before her. The light played softly about him, highlighting the swells of muscle across his arms, his shoulders, packed beneath the dark hair spread wide across his chest and down along his belly. He wasn't slim, as Men were, but instead far more compact and solid, as if he could pick up a fully loaded cart, horses and all, and not even break a sweat.

He was beautiful.

And she wanted to see more of him.

She sat up and without thinking, bent to him, pressing her lips against his lower stomach, just above the fastenings of his trousers. His hands came down onto her head, his fingers threading into her hair, tightening on her when she flicked her tongue against him, through that crisp hair, against the warm skin beneath it. 

Her fingers moved nimbly, working open the fastenings, curling about the waistband, shoving down to send the heavy fabric grazing down his thick thighs, over his equally thick calves, to puddle about his ankles. He carefully stepped out of them, kicking them behind him.

Nina gazed up at him, her heart hammering her ribs as she hooked her fingers in his warm linen small clothes. In a heartbeat, she would finally see this man in all his glory and was as anxious as she was terrified at what awaited her.

“What is it?” he murmured, tracing a forefinger along the curve of her cheek. “Have you changed your mind?”

Her tongue glued to the roof of her mouth, which had gone far too dry to allow her to speak, she shook her head, swallowed hard, then whispered, “Have you?”

“I’ve not, no.”

“Neither have I.”

A hint of that devilish smile returned and he reached to cover her hands with his. “Then allow me to help you.”

With that, he stripped off his small clothes and  she smiled as she drew back to drink in the sight of him. 

He was perfect. 

Absolutely perfect.

His big body held very little fat, honed to perfection by whatever it was dwarves did that kept him in such fine form. She let her eyes feast upon him, let her fingers move lightly through the dark hair swirled thickly across his chest, down over his belly, where it joined a far denser patch.

Her mouth went dry at the sight of him, thick and hard and proud and the pit of her belly fell away. He was the first naked man she’d ever seen and somehow, she felt there was not a man alive of any race who would ever top this one magnificent dwarf. 

Swallowing hard, Nina leaned in to press a hot kiss above his navel this time. That dark hair was so soft, tickling her nose and her lips. Thorin let out a low sigh as he pulled back, shifted, and bent to capture her lips once more. As the kiss deepened, he gently pushed her down onto her back and came up over her, his dark hair tumbling over his shoulders to surround them.

He caught one hand, pressing it down into the bed above her head, linking his fingers with hers to offer up a gentle squeeze as he carefully came flush against her and their lips met in a kiss that was more tender than fire, but no less passionate. 

With his free hand, Thorin let his fingertips dance along her skin, the caresses light and teasing, the sensations sweet and sensual as they fluttered through her. Her fingers threaded through his soft hair, twisted and tugged as those fingers swept lower, along her belly, down her thigh.

Into the darkness between them. 

Her legs parted of their own accord and her back bowed as he slid those fingers into the heat between her thighs, into the dark red curls damp with her arousal now.

He caught her gasp as he slid a thick, slow, teasing finger inside her and did something utterly magical. She couldn't hold back her cry as fiery pleasure swept through her, didn’t even try to hold it back. How could she, when it just felt so amazingly good?

Actually, good did not even come close to what Thorin made her feel. Nothing could compare to the white-hot pleasure scorching through her at that moment, the pleasure that made her blood sing and her body hum as he teased and tortured her in the most deliciously sensual way possible. She arched to meet him, his name a breathless whisper on her lips, every fiber in her body tensing with the need for release. She was so close… so very close…

“Thorin!” His name erupted in a cry that she immediately tried to quell by clapping a hand over her mouth. “I didn't mean to be so loud… I hope Dwalin doesn’t come in search of you. He might think we’re doing battled in here.”

“If he comes in search of me, I’ll tell him where to go,” he whispered back with a smile. Then, he did something magical with that finger that made her pulse all around him once more and as he eased it out, he shifted, and then—

He filled her slowly, allowed her to adjust to him, and she bit down on her bottom lip at the sensations running riot through her. She arched to meet him, to accept him completely, as he slid deep, he shivered against her. 

His first thrust was long and silken. His second, even more. His lips found hers, her rhythm found his, and they moved in a slow dance, the pleasure feeding from one to the other as he brought them both back to that summit. 

She tightened about him, throbbing as he arched hard and deep, and her fingernails sank into his shoulders, her hips arcing toward his. Nothing ever felt so wonderful. Nothing would ever feel so wonderful. It simply couldn’t. Each thrust brought forth and new and delectable sensation, a pleasure unlike any she’d ever felt—hot and sweet and wild and amazing. 

Knots of sweet bliss tightened hard inside her, aching with the renewed need for release. She teetered on the edge, her thighs pressed hard against his sides as she will him to send her over the edge. She’d go mad if he didn't shatter those knots and burned for him to do just that.

“Mesmel…” a low string of words she didn't understand bubbled to his lips as his thrusts came faster and harder now. The fingers linked with hers tightened about them. His climax bore down upon him, judging by the power of those thrusts, by the tension winding through him. 

He moaned low in his throat, his thrusts increasing in strength, in depth. The knots began to loosen now as the first sweet, fiery tingles took hold of her, swelling and multiplying as he growled her name and practically tore the linens from the mattress with his free hand, while nearly crushing hers with his other. “Nina!”

Her name exploded from his lips as he thrust hard and deep and came in a powerful shudder that triggered her own climax and left her clinging to him, her fingernails dragging hard across his back as her fingers tensed of their own accord. Her eyes squeezed shut at the explosion of her release, at the white-hot tingles burning through her. She wrapped herself around him, gave herself up to the fire that threatened to swallow her whole. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t hear or speak beyond a breathless cry. All she could do was let that wave wash over her, let it carry her out to sea, and so she did, her surrender complete.

Thorin sank against her, his breathing as rough and ragged as hers and tears stung her eyes as she wrapped her arms about his neck and his head came to rest against her breast. “Oh…” was all she could manage to breathe.

His own breath was a hot blast against her skin. “Oh, indeed…” he managed to whisper back, a hint of laughter woven into his words. 

He lifted his head to regard her with sleepy cobalt eyes, a sharp contrast to the long black hair that fell about them. He said nothing, but bent to capture her lips with his in a soft, lingering kiss that had every bit as much passion woven into it as their lovemaking had, and when he pulled back, he whispered, “Am I crushing you, kurduwê?”

“I’m fine,” she whispered back, reaching up to thread her fingers through his hair, tucking it back behind his right ear. She had no idea what kurduwê meant, but had no energy to ask. The tranquility that settled over them was unlike any she’d ever felt, a complement to the passion that had just raged between them, like the calm after a fierce storm.

Thorin shifted and eased from her, then stretched out alongside her, pulling her into his arms as he sank into the pillows. His breathing had return to normal, though his breath hitched when she curved up against him and laid her hand gently on his chest. She could feel his heart beat, which started out at a race, but slowed to a more relaxed pace and when she let her head come rest against him, she gave in to the peace and let her eyes close. 

The only sound was that of Thorin’s deep, even breathing and occasional snore. Nina lay alongside him, his arm about her shoulders, her head resting against him, but sleep refused to come. 

What had she done? 

What had they done? 

She had not meant for this to happen. It was a terrible idea to sleep with him because now her thoughts were muddier than ever. 

Carefully, she slipped from the bed, easing from beneath his arm, and held her breath as she waited for him to wake and demand to know what she was doing and why she had her sword out.

For she did just that. Crept over to where her sword stood against the wall and slid it from its sheath, then crept back to the bed. It would be over in a moment and she could slip off into the darkness. By the time Dwalin or anyone came looking for Thorin tomorrow, it would be too late and she would be in the wind.

It would be so easy.

Except…

He slept on, peacefully oblivious to her struggle. The silver streaks in his black hair glinted in the pale moonlight that filtered through the treetops, just as the sun did during the day. The long curls spread across the linens. His lips were softly slack. His chest rose and fell with each slow, deep breath.

Her gaze went lower, to the scars on his lower abdomen that she’d seen earlier, but couldn't bring herself to ask him about. She’d heard what happened at Ravenhill between him and Azog, although the pale orc was never called by name at the time. All Esgaroth survivors knew was that Thorin had been wounded in battle at the hands of a great pale orc. She only assumed now that orc was Azog. 

Her hands trembled as she brought the blade up and held it over him. The bounty Azog had offered for Thorin Oakenshield’s head had been a small fortune. Payable in gold. It would have been more than enough to keep her comfortable for a long time. 

This was her plan. This was what she set out to do, to avenge Lenna, and Rhys and Ena. 

One move was all it would take.

He was asleep. He’d never feel a thing.

She tried to make her hands move. Tried to make her arms listen.

She couldn't do it. 

Not any longer.

Shame, hot and steaming burned through her. Tears blurring her vision, she managed to return her sword to its sheath and crawled back into bed alongside him. Forgive me.

She had to tell him the truth. 

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

[buttered-my-biscuits]

Fever Kisses

(A/N); First, I’d like to apologize to everyone for falling off the face of the earth this last YEAR. I’ve been diagnosed as Immunocompromised, so it’s been a fun ride catching every single cold known to man :’) Currently getting over a 3-week long cold, and I’m Miserable, so I need a healthy dose of our favorite dwarven brothers. — This is also my 1st Fic/Drabble ever, so here goes nothing!

Summary: A wet rainy night proves no challenge for dwarves or hobbits. The same, however, cannot be said for humans.

Pairings; Kili x Reader, Fili x Reader

Warnings; Fevers/Sickness, Very soft and fluffy fluff, with a bit of angst and drama.

Translations:

Ibrizinlêkh: Sunshine

Bunnel: Treasure of All Treasures

—————————————————

The rain poured harder than ever before, showing no mercy to the trees, the bees, and certainly no dwarves.

The dark and stormy clouds blanketed the skies, casting shadows amongst the rolling hills. Soaked to the bone, through cloaks and tunics, still the company of Thorin Oakenshield trudged on.

Dwarrow are hardy folk; cold and damp environments bothering them none. Humans on the other hand, however, do not share the same trait.

(Y/N) found herself at the back of the line, trudging her way through ankle-deep mud, her arms wrapped around herself in hopes of holding onto whatever warmth was left. Kili stayed close, whereas Fili opted to lead the pack side-by-side with Thorin.

Quiet conversation could be heard from certain members of the company, including the one beside you. Kili regaled you with his adventures with the Blue Mountains and how Fili had scored a 5-point Buck with a single throw of a dagger, enhancing his story with wild gesturing hand movements.

“— And man, you should have seen Amad’s face when we got back with the buck! I daresay she had never looked more proud!” Kili boasted properly. “…(Y/N)?”

You looked up, meeting his soft honey eyes, not realizing you had stopped in movement. “(Y/N), are you alright? Are you tired?” Kili took a step towards you, concern etching its way onto his face. You stared at him, a strange, skin-crawling feeling rolling up your spine, a harsh shiver wracking your frame.

Kili closed the short distance between you, his hand gently landing on your arm before repeating his question. Only, this time, as the sound hit your ears, it sounded as though he were not speaking Common Speech at all. Your face scrunched in confusion, before it hit you. You felt a gasp rip through you as you quickly grabbed hold of Kili’s tunic, your legs feeling as though they were to give out. Your vision swirled as though you were one with a tornado, nausea quickly settling in.

Beyond the ringing of your ears, you could hear Kili yelling something, before the shadows of the others came into your peripherals. You tried to breathe, feeling the weight of a thousand bricks upon your chest — you felt as though you were suffocating; your vision began to darken with infectious black spots. Increasing your hold on Kili’s tunic as one last whimper escaped, you felt yourself fall.

—————————————————

“…(Y/N?)” Kili called back to you, having paused in his story at your stillness. He closed the distance between you two, lying his hand on your arm. He called to you once more, only to be met with confusion. He found himself mirroring your expression, if but only for a moment, before that expression quickly turned to terror as your body seized.

One arm shot out to hold up your weakening frame, the other gripping your arm tightly. “Uncle!” Kili shouted, his panicked tone ringing through the air. One look back from both Fili and Thorin had them sprinting to the back of the line.

“What happened to her?” Fili inquired while quickly reaching out with the goal of steadying you. His fear quickly grew as your weak frame shuddered one last time, before alast going limp. Barely catching you in time, he quickly hauled you upwards into his arms, your head lolling heavily against his chest.

Thorin laid his hand upon your too-warm forehead, quietly cursing in Khuzdul. “We need to find shelter. Now!” Thorin barked at the others, watching as they quickly scrambled towards the rocky cliff side.

—————————————————

Safely inside the dry remains of the cavern, a fire was hastily made while Fili and Kili worked to lay out a bedroll for you. Oin frantically dug through his pack, looking for his medicines and ailments as Thorin dug through his own looking for anything dry.

“We need to get her into dry clothes. This will do for now.” Thorin held out an oversized, but dry Tunic.

Fili and Kili shared a look, waiting for their Uncles’ instructions. Surely he didn’t expect them to undress her? Sensing his nephews hesitance, Thorin grumbled under his breath. “All of you. Turn away, now!” Thorin barked once more, before shedding your jacket. Together with his nephews, they worked to undress you, much to said nephews embarrassment.

Moments later, you lay peacefully upon a bedroll, clothed by nothing more than Thorin’s tunic, and a blanket modestly wrapped around your lower half.

Oin knelt beside you, lifting your head gently as he pressed a small glass vial to your lips. “Come on lass, swallow it down.” Oin quietly prayed, pouring the liquid onto your tongue, before sighing with relief at the sight of your body naturally swallowing the rather horrible tasting liquid.

“And now we wait.”

—————————————————

You were floating through the air — clouds more specifically. You were sure of it. You breathed in deeply through your nose, smelling the distinct smell of… a campfire? Surely not in the clouds…

You forced your heavily eyelids to open, finding yourself looking up at a pair of dwarves, whom were sitting side-by-side, heads leaning against one another as they both slept peacefully.

You attempted to recall how you got in said dwarves’ lap, but your brain felt far too mushy and not up to the task. You brought your hand up to Fili’s arm, with the intention of pulling yourself up. However upon doing so, you found yourself with not even enough strength to close your fist around said arm. Grumbling slightly, you tried again.

“Would you like some help?” A tired voice whispered beside you, causing you to jump. You looked up to see ice blue eyes peering back at you, a soft smile creeping their way into them.

At your silence, Fili brought his hand to your forehead once more, clicking his tongue at his findings. “You still have a fever. You need to rest more.” Fili pawed at your blanket, bringing it farther up your body, before tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Here, Fee. Get her to drink some water.” Kili, awakened at the commotion, handed Fili an opened canteen. Slowly, Fili helped you sit up with a hand at your back, the other bringing the canteen to your lips. You sighed at the feeling of the cold liquid sliding down your throat; Refreshing. A few sips and Fili lowered it, much to your dismay. “Not too much at once, Ibrizinlêkh.” He chuckled, handing it back to Kili.

Swiping your tongue over your now moist lips, you sighed contentedly and closed your eyes, before shimmying back down to rest your head upon Fili’s chest once more.

Eventually, quiet conversation broke out between the two brothers, offering you distraction while you rested your heavily eyelids. Before long though, you found yourself peering back up at them, breaking said conversation as they both returned your gaze, a sight of content and fondness donning their faces.

Without thinking, you found yourself gripping Fili’s outer coat, raising yourself up to his chin. Using your other hand, you placed it on the back of his neck, gently guiding his nose to rest alongside your own. Instinctively Fili closed his eyes upon the close proximity; you gently lifted your head slightly, to rub your nose along his. Up, down. Up, down. And a third time, before resting your forehead against his. “Thank you…” You whispered quietly, before pulling back to reveal a stunned look upon his face. Had your brain not been mush, you surely would have laughed.

Looking to his right, you found Kili staring, dumbfounded at your stunt. Chuckling, you reached for his cheek. Despite his confusion, Kili leaned forward until his nose lay along side yours. Up, down. Up, down. A third time. Slowly, intimately.

Pulling back, you found yourself wearing a content smile, theirs quickly mirroring your own. “Goodnight” you offered softly, before settling back down into Fili’s arms.

“Goodnight… Ibrizinlêkh.”

“Goodnight, Bunnel.”

—————————————————

As the sun climbed over the horizon, you stretched comfortably, before opening your eyes. Once again, you found yourself peering upwards at a pair of blue eyes, alongside a pair of honey-brown.

“Good morning you two!” You yawned.

“Good morning (Y/N)” Kili returned,

“Good morning.” Fili whispered softly.

The company worked to pack up camp after each companion ensuring your health, before Thorin set them off once more.

Beginning your steps, you were stopped by a couple of hands — one upon your wrist, and the other on your arm. “(Y/N), can we ask you something?” Turning to meet both Fili and Kili’s eyes, yours in question. “Last night… you had… uhm.” Kili started, looking to his brother for assistance.

Fili touched his own nose, before continuing: “you had rubbed your nose with ours… what does that mean?”

You quickly found yourself stifling a laugh behind your hand, furthering their confused expressions. “Did I offer you both one? I’m sorry! My fever must have did away with my manners… it’s called an Eskimo Kiss. Thank you for taking care of me yesterday, both of you.” You grabbed each of their hands, offering a quick squeeze before turning back and following the others.

Fili and Kili found themselves standing there, baffled, before your words soaked in. The next sight, was picture worthy… Their faces quickly resembled that of a strawberry.

“An Eskimo Kiss?!” They squealed, quickly chasing after you.

—————————————————

I wrote this on the fly, on my phone at 3AM, as I personally have my own fever, so if this is horrendous to read, I blame my fever.

I do not have a Beta, nor did I honestly proof this before posting… but regardless, I hope y’all enjoy! This wasn’t supposed to be this long, but, that’s how fics/drabbles are supposed to go, right?

Goodnight and to the doctors I go!

#hobbit #hobbit fanfic #kili #kili x reader #fili x reader #the hobbit #fili

[lordoftherazzles]

Where The Shadows Lie by LordOfTheRazzles

bagginshield | vampire/slayer au | explicit

Bag End Bed & Breakfast collects more dust than customers these days. An unexpected visit lands a company of royal vampires into Bilbo’s care. As he learns to coexist, he discovers secrets to his lineage.  

↳ NOW ON AO3

#the hobbit #bagginshield #thilbo #thorin oakenshield #bilbo baggins #lady dis #frerin #the company of thorin oakenshield #vampire!au #modern!au #hobbit fic #bagginshield fic #hobbit fanfic #razzywrites #fic: where the shadows lie

[cosmic-glow]

Notes: Alone during Halloween night (Sumhain), you notice two eyes watching you in the darkness of the lake.

Warnings: Kíli x fem!reader; Triton!Kíli; Reader has hair; Reader at the bottom of the sea; SFW.

The lights of the small house still shone behind you as you walked away, you could still hear the excited conversations coming from inside. It was Samhain night, your favorite night of the year, and you had just argued with your parents, to the point where you were so stressed that you chose to get up from the table and leave the house, slamming the door behind you. Hot tears clouded your vision but you refused to let them fall.

As you always did, you went to the large lake near your house. Something about dipping your feet in the cold water and playing with the smooth rocks you found on the shore while watching the light reflecting off the water calmed you. Distracted and a little calmer, but still upset, you picked up a rock and threw it at the water, it bounced twice before sinking. When you lowered your head to look for another stone you heard a sound in the water that made you alert, when you got up and looked around you didn't find anything at first, but when you looked more closely over the water you were surprised to find another pair of eyes, staring at you, shining in the dark of the night.

- Who are you?! - pressed the stone tighter against your hand, threatening to throw it, taking a step back.

The creature with bright eyes and wet brown hair that stuck to its face approached slowly, you didn't hesitate, little by little the being emerged from the water, it was a man, with long brown hair that outlined his jaw, a sparse beard and penetrating brown eyes, there were fins where his ears should have been, some scales on his shoulders. That glow in his eyes... You knew perfectly well what he was: a triton. You had never seen one so close up, only in books. As the man came out of the water, you reproached yourself as ran your eyes down his naked torso.

- What is a human doing alone on the night of Samhain? - all you could pay attention to was how his smile had sharper teeth than usual.

- You still haven't answered me: who are you!

- I'm Kíli, sorry I didn't introduce myself before, I've seen you here a few times, but never as angry as today.

Analyzing the man, you lowered your arm, but still holding the stone.

- If you had already seen me, why never came to talk to me?

- Well, there aren't many of my kind left, I had my reasons to be scared - he approached and sat down on the edge of the lake.

You had already heard many legends about merpeople, legends that told of their powers of manipulation to enchant people, to attract them and take them to the bottom of the sea. And yet you approached him, his eyes attracting you more and more.

- I see... I've never seen a triton so close up before - revealed and sat down in front of him.

- And I've never seen a human up close - he smiled.

- Can I? - you asked shyly as you raised your hand and approached his face, without touching him.

Kíli nodded yes, carefully you brought your hand closer to the fin. Was cold, his skin was thin and delicate, extremely smooth like silk, still damp. Your hand came down closer to his face, there were some scales on the side of his face, his eyes were the darkest you had ever seen, very carefully you ran your fingertips over the gills on the side of his neck, sending goosebumps all over his body. When you looked down you could see his tail, it was a shiny emerald green, the scales started just below his hip.

- Can I? - His sudden voice snapped you out of your fascination.

- What?

- Can I see you too? - he asked, extending his hand just like you did.

When you said yes, Kíli brought his hand closer to your ear, carefully running his fingers over it, curious. He felt your face and hair, admiring each new and different texture. Kíli held your hands and brought them close to his eyes, there was no thin and transparent membrane between your fingers like his, your hands were smaller and soft, when he looked up and met your eyes he became shy and let go of your hands.

- Yeah... As I thought - he said, crossing his arms.

- What? - slightly furrowed your eyebrows.

- You are beautiful - he smiled.

You automatically looked away from him and couldn't control a smile, deep down you knew exactly what that was, he was trying to seduce you, every merpeople did that, it was so obvious, but so addictive. You didn't want him to stop.

- Yes, you are exactly as the books say... - he opened his eyes wider, anxious - ... Charming - he smiled more cheerfully than before.

- You still haven't answered me why you're out here alone.

- I fought with my parents... I preferred to leave home and since I had nowhere to go...

- I understand... - he was silent for a while, analyzing the situation - ... Would you like to spend Samhain with me?

You couldn't hide how surprised you were by the proposal, eyebrows raised and eyes wide, the words getting jumbled on your tongue before you could say anything back.

- With you? Here?

- No - he laughed at your innocence - Not here, at my house, I can take you there and we'll be back at dawn.

- How? The merpeople's houses are underwater, aren't they? I have to remind you that I can't breathe underwater - you both laughed.

-Yes, I know that, dear, but I can make you breathe underwater... With a kiss - the surprised look returned to your face - if you want, of course.

Analyzing the situation, you studied every possible risk, remembering how you had never experienced any adventure, remembering your father's screams at you, the anger you felt...

- Okay, - you decided.

Slowly, Kíli approached, giving you time to give up, but you had already made up your mind. His lips were soft and rested gently against yours, his hands bringing you closer. The kiss was delicate, his mouth was hot, giving you goosebumps with the growing desire, his arms wrapped around you and you let yourself be carried away. Opening your eyes as your lips parted, you realized you were now underwater. Scared, you held your breath, afraid of drowning, you looked up and realized you were very far from the surface. You felt a warm hand wrap around yours, it was Kíli, with a smile he took your other hand away from your mouth and nose and said that you could breathe without fear and in fact you managed to your surprise.

Still holding your hand he took you deeper into the water, fish of the most varied types passed around you, a cloud of bubbles dancing as the school followed its path, sea flowers that you had never seen before opened up to you, it was like you were in a dream, and honestly, you didn't want to wake up.

Sorry for any typos;

Buy me a coffee?

October Calendar

Masterlist

#kíli #kíli x reader #kili x reader #kili hobbit #kili x fem!reader #kili #kíli hobbit #kili fanfic #kili oneshot #kili imagine #kili drabble #kili headcanons #hobbit fanfic #hobbit imagine #hobbit oneshot #hobbit x reader #lotr x reader #lotr fanfic #lotr oneshot

[unendingwanderlust]

@trickstergoddessblog and I partnered for @fellowshipofthefics's The Hobbit: An Unexpected Collaboration 2023 to bring you a sweet, fluffy Bagginshield fic and to cause Fili irreparable psychic damage!

All Fíli and Kíli wanted was to play a harmless prank by taking advantage of Bilbo's ignorance of dwarven culture. They'd have Bilbo propose to Thorin, Thorin would kindly refuse, and they'd all have a merry laugh about it.

To their shock, however, Thorin actually accepted...

RATING: G WARNINGS: None. RELATIONSHIPS: Bilbo/Thorin, minor Kili/Tauriel WORD COUNT: 3471

READ ON AO3

#thauc23 #bagginshield #thilbo #hobbit fanfic #bilbo x thorin #thorin x bilbo #eden writes