#thorin oakenshield x you angst | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thesecretwriter · 1 year

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my king, my love - thorin oakenshield

pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x female reader

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

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

word count: 2.2k

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

minors/ageless blogs dni.

masterlists

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He stepped toward you, but you retreated.

“You should go,”

He can hear the defeat behind your words.

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

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

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

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

Bofur smiles at you sadly.

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello uncle,” Kili greeted.

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

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

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

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

You gasp and hit him upside the head.

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

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

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

Everyone in the kitchen freezes.

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

“Everyone out now,”

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

“Not you amrâlimê,”

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

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

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

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

“Like what?” you say sharply.

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

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

He signs tiredly.

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

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

“I miss you,” you whisper.

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

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

His own heart skips a beat.

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

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

Only then did he realise that you were crying.

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

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

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

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

Thorin is rendered speechless by your words.

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

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

Thorin stood there and knew what he needed to do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Coming out with his hands raised in surrender is Thorin.

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

You put your dagger away.

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

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

You gawk at him.

Is he serious?

That is the opposite of what you wanted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thorin-“ you’re cut off by Thorin.

“No. I need to say this,” he insists.

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

You shake your head at his words.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘m right here,” you reply.

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

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

“Thorin, what if someone walks in,”

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

You could feel him harden beneath you.

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

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

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

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

“And I you,” you state.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/n,” he warns.

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

“Need to feel you,” he groans.

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

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

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

“Thorin,” you plead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You peer at him in disbelief.

“You mean…”

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

“You mean it?” you ask.

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

656 notes · View notes

rynneer · 2 months

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Misty Memories Cold

When you wake in Fíli’s bed with no recollection of anything after a disaster in Mirkwood, he’s ready to risk anything, even his uncle’s wrath, to bring back what you had together.

Cold.

You’re cold. It’s dark. You’re falling. Someone reaches for you. Too late.

The water folds in around you. It floods your nose. It floods your ears. Your limbs don’t work. You can’t swim.

Muffled shouts. You open your mouth to cry back. It fills with water.

Choking.

Drowning.

Drowning drowning drowning dr–

You wake with a jolt, sitting up in bed.

Bed?

You pat the sheets around you. Yes, you’re definitely in a bed, not curled up on the leaf litter in Mirkwood.

“I guess it really was a dream,” you whisper, shoulders slumping. But as you run your fingers across the hem of the blanket, you frown. It doesn’t feel like the old quilt on your bed. It’s thicker, softer.

Something is wrong.

You look around the room as your eyes begin to adjust. There’s a fireplace across the room, the dying embers casting just enough light to let you make out the vague shapes of furniture in the darkness. The walls and floor are stone, adorned with plush rugs. The wind rattles the shutters outside the window, hidden behind thick curtains.

This is not your bedroom… and you are not alone. A dark figure stirs next to you beneath the covers. You scramble out of bed but find the floor farther away than expected. You land hard on your side. “Ow!”

You slap your hand over your mouth, but it’s too late. The figure sits up with a groan, rubbing at its face and leaning to peer over the edge of the bed at you. There’s no mistaking that mustache, those braids.

“Fíli? What… where are we?” And why are we in bed together?

Fíli blinks a few times to clear the sleep from his eyes. “What do you mean?” he asks hoarsely, his voice rough. He rolls out of bed and kneels in front of you. “We’re home. In Erebor? You know, the mountain? Big pile of rocks and snow? It’s rather hard to miss.” He raises an eyebrow, trying to coax a smile from you.

Instead, you scoot backwards, putting space between you and the prince as you process his words. “But we were just in Mirkwood,” you protest. “How did we get here?”

Fíli’s confusion turns to concern. “Y/N, that was a year ago.” He shifts closer and brushes a thumb over your cheek. “Are you feeling alright?”

You stiffen against his touch, heart in your throat. Ever the gentleman, he’s never touched you without permission before. But something about the way his palm cups your face feels familiar. “I don’t know,” you whisper, shaking your head. “All I remember is falling into the stream.”

“You don’t remember the elves? Fighting for the mountain? All the time we spent together?” He uncovers a long braid in your hair. “Our wedding?”

“Wedding?!” It’s true, you’ve harbored feelings for Fíli since the two of you met in Bag End. You’d admired him in the book and movies, and to see him for real… it did something to you. But you never thought he would return your affections—how could he? You’re a plain, young woman from another world, and he’s a handsome prince, heir to the throne.

Fíli searches your face, expression unreadable. Finally, he stands, offering you his hand. “Come on.”

You take it hesitantly. His fingers lace through yours, and he helps you to your feet. Strangely, you find that instead of being taller than the dwarf, you’re just level with his chin. But before you can comment on this, Fíli pulls you out the door and down a narrow hallway.

He leads you to a large sitting room, taking you to the sofa next to yet another fireplace. “Wait here,” he orders softly. “I’ll fetch Thorin.”

“Thorin’s alive?” you breathe. “What about Kíli?”

“Kíli would like to know what the pair of you are doing up and chattering in the middle of the night,” replies a voice from behind you. The youngest Durin leans against the wall with his arms crossed, hair still tousled from sleep.

You tip back your head and close your eyes. “They did it,” you sigh in relief. “Oh, thank God, they did it.”

Kíli raises an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

Fíli pinches the bridge of his nose. “Let me get Thorin first. I would rather not explain this twice.”

“Again.” Thorin paces in front of the fire.

You rub your forehead. “I told you, that’s it,” you groan. “I fell in the water and woke up here.”

Kíli shakes his head. “It makes no sense.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

Thorin flashes you a warning look.

“It was no ordinary stream,” Fíli points out. He sits with you on the couch, his hand resting on top of yours. Every once in a while, he gives it a reassuring squeeze. “It had some sort of foul magic. She wouldn’t wake for days.”

“If it’s magic that we’re dealing with,” you glance at Thorin warily before continuing, “it might be a good idea to talk with the elves.”

“Absolutely not,” Thorin snaps. His lip curls in disgust. “I refuse to invite them to interfere in our private matters.”

Kíli’s eyes brighten. “What about Gandalf, then? Where would we find him?”

They all look to you. You close your eyes, teasing and tugging at the cobwebs that cloud the part of your mind where your Middle Earth knowledge is stored. “He’s… there’s no guarantee we even could find him. Gandalf doesn’t have a home, exactly. He wanders. They don’t call him the Grey Pilgrim for nothing.”

“So we don’t know where Gandalf is,” Fíli starts slowly, “but we do know where the elves are.”

“And Gandalf wasn’t in Mirkwood with us,” you add. “There’s no guarantee he even knows about the enchanted stream—but Thranduil definitely would.”

Thorin crosses his arms. “Out of the question.”

“Did you not make peace with Mirkwood?”

“Peace does not mean friendship,” Thorin retorts. His voice, raised in frustration, echoes off of the polished stone walls. Down another hallway, you hear a door slam. Thorin groans at the sound of approaching footsteps.

“And just what in Mahal’s name is everyone shouting about at this hour of night?”

A new dwarf steps into the firelight. In the dim light, she almost looks like a copy of Thorin. But as she approaches, you can see her features are softer, her eyes rounder, her beard thinner. And there’s no mistaking the Durin glare that she levels at Thorin, her blue eyes just as piercing as they are tired.

You glance at Fíli with uncertainty. He squeezes your hand and leans close to murmur in your ear. “It’s just Amad. Mother,” he translates when you don’t seem to understand.

Dís. You nod quickly.

Thorin looks at you, then back to his sister, standing with arms crossed and an eyebrow raised expectantly. As they exchange words in their rough native tongue, Dís’s expression of irritation turns to one of soft, motherly concern. She comes closer to you and gently brushes away a few strands of unruly hair from your face. “You must be tired, natha.”

“Daughter,” Fíli whispers.

“A bit,” you reply quietly, finding yourself suddenly shy with the full attention of a mother focused on you.

“Poor dove,” Dís tuts. She straightens up and pats you on the shoulder. “Fíli, take your lass back to bed. We will speak in the morning.” Thorin looks like he means to protest, but Dís silences him with an icy glare. Planting a kiss on the top of your head, she pushes Kíli and Thorin back down their opposite hallways. Fíli pats your hand and follows her quickly, his words in Khuzdûl fading as he gets further away.

Finally alone, you let out a long sigh. For the first time, you get the chance to look yourself over, to see what has changed. Your hair is longer, brushing the small of your back. When you run your fingers through it, you find braids styled to match Fíli’s. A dwarven marriage custom, perhaps? There’s a thin, gold band on your finger, too, lined with tiny sapphires that sparkle in the firelight. A little smile tugs at the corner of your mouth; at least you kept some piece of your own marriage customs.

And while Fíli has been bare-chested this whole time, you’re wearing a dark green shirt, no doubt one that used to be his. It’s long enough on you to serve as a nightgown. A blush rises on your face when you realize the deep v-neck exposes the dip between your breasts—and has been exposing it to everyone else this whole time.

“Amrâlimê?” Fíli’s voice from the hallway is soft. He pokes his head into the sitting room. “Aren’t you going to come to bed?”

You gnaw on your bottom lip, suddenly very interested in the fireplace. In anything that isn’t Fíli’s too-kind face. “Do you want me to?” you ask hesitantly.

It’s silent for a few seconds. Fíli sighs heavily and comes to kneel before you, taking your hands in his. “Y/N, you are my wife. Of course I want you to come to bed. It is our bed.” His eyes search yours, desperately looking for the light he knows should be there. “Do I not have your love?”

“I mean, sure,” you reply softly. Your voice is strained. “I just… I don’t understand how I have yours. You’re the crown prince, you’re perfect. And I’m just… me.”

“You are so much more than that,” Fíli murmurs. “You are everything to me.” He kisses your forehead and stands. Before you can say anything, you’re swept up in his arms. Startled, you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck to avoid falling, but he carries your smaller frame with ease.

You frown, remembering your observation from earlier. “Shouldn’t I be taller than you?”

“Ah. Well.” Fili’s chuckle makes his chest vibrate against your cheek. “That’s all that we thought the stream did. Make you properly sized.”

“Properly sized?” you repeat in disbelief. “You call this properly sized?”

“You complained about it endlessly,” Fíli continues. A playful smile tugs at his lips. “Until you realized how well you fit in my arms.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re very funny.”

“I’m also handsome, charming, brave…”

“Shut up.” You smack his shoulder lightly, but hide a smile as you tuck your head beneath his chin. Maybe you can get used to this.

But as he kicks open the door to his—your—room, and you see the bed with its rumpled covers, you tense.

“Y/N?” Fíli’s breath tickles your neck.

“It’s… just a lot, all at once,” you mumble.

He squeezes you, then lowers you gently to the bed. “I understand,” he murmurs.

“You really don’t, though.” Pent-up frustration simmers within you. “When’s the last time you fell into a stream, woke up, and found out a year had passed and you’re married?”

“Are you upset that we’re married?” Fíli asks, his face falling.

You feel a pang of guilt for snapping at him. This can’t be any easier for him. Running your hand through your tangled hair, you shake your head. “It feels like one moment, I was a girl with a crush, and then I wake up, and suddenly I’m a married woman. I’ve missed out on everything.”

“It’s in there, somewhere,” he whispers, stroking your cheek. You flinch away, your body unsure of how to react to his touch. Hurt flickers across his face, but he pulls back. “Can I fix your braids?” he asks. There’s desperation in his eyes.

Recognizing his need to touch you in whatever way he can, you nod slowly, and turn. The gentle, rhythmic tugging as he combs and re-braids your hair is hypnotic, and you find your eyelids drooping.

“There,” Fíli says, turning you back to him. He smiles sadly. “Beautiful as ever.”

Your heart aches. Whether it aches for him, the dwarf searching for his loving wife in the uncertain girl before him, or yourself, longing to be that loving wife, you do not know.

After a moment of hesitation, you lean in and reward him with a quick kiss on the cheek. His beard is prickly against your lips. “I’m tired,” you whisper when you draw back.

The kiss brings a real smile to his face, however small it may be. Fíli pulls back the covers and you wriggle underneath them. You settle into a dip worn down into the mattress from hundreds of nights before. Fíli slides into place behind you, his chest against your back. You stiffen slightly, but force yourself to relax.

“Is this alright?” His deep, quiet voice vibrates through your body.

You nod. He can have a little cuddle, as a treat. As an apology.

He takes that as a signal to test the limits further. You can tell he’s holding his breath as he drapes his arm over your waist. “Is this alright?”

“It’s cozy,” you mumble sleepily, letting the warmth of his body overwhelm you.

Fíli lets out his breath, pulling you tightly against him and nuzzling his face into your hair.

As you drift off, you do your best to pretend you don’t notice his quiet tears.

You began to stir, finding your face pressed into something warm and firm. As you tried to pull away to look around, you were met with resistance. You made a disgruntled noise.

“Y/N?!” Suddenly, a hand yanked your head backwards. Wide eyes searched your face frantically. You just barely registered who held you before he pulled you back in a crushing embrace. “I thought we’d lost you.”

“Fíli?” you mumbled, your voice muffled by his coat. “Can’t breathe.”

He released you, finally letting you get your bearings. The two of you were alone in a small, stone cell. Torchlight flickered just outside the wrought iron bars, casting a dim, orange light into your cell.

A shadow crossed over the door. “Oh, so she is alive. Here, then.” An apple landed on the ground in front of you, followed by a waterskin. “That’s the most you get until tomorrow. Make it last.” The shadow retreated, footsteps echoing down a long hallway.

Pieces began to slot into place in your mind. You nodded slowly. Mirkwood, elves, imprisonment. “How long have we been in here?”

“A few days at most, given how often they’ve brought food and water. But it’s hard to tell.” Fíli seemed distracted, eyes scanning your body. “How do you feel?”

You frowned and patted yourself up and down. “A bit sore, but I think I’m fine.” You untangled yourself from Fíli and tried to stand on shaky legs, your knees instantly failing beneath you.

Immediately, he jumped up and grabbed your waist from behind to steady you. “Y/N?” His voice was soft. “Y/N, please do not be alarmed when you turn around.”

“What?” You twisted in his grasp and looked up into his concerned face.

Up. You had to tilt your head up to meet his eyes. He was big. You tried to back away but the space was so narrow, you collided with the wall after just a single step. “You’re taller,” you stated, almost robotically. “But you’re a dwarf. You can’t be taller than me. I’m supposed to be the taller one. How did you get taller?”

“I did not get taller,” he corrected you. “You got smaller.”

You just stared at him blankly. Fíli sighed, gently taking hold of your arm and easing you back to the ground. He took the apple from the floor and placed it in your hand. “Eat,” he ordered quietly. “You haven’t had any food in days. It was hard enough to get water into you.”

Instead, you rolled it between your palms absentmindedly. “How long was I out?”

“Just over a week. We were trying to cross a stream, and you fell in.”

“Instead of Bombur,” you interjected.

Fíli raised an eyebrow. “If you say so. Glóin managed to snag you,” he continues, “and when he pulled you out, you were… well, smaller. But you wouldn’t wake up. You even slept through the spiders. I was so afraid that you were gone before I could tell you–” he broke off, his voice thick. He tore his eyes away from yours, a blush rising on his face.

“What?” You reached out and took hold of his chin, turning his face back to you. Yet his eyes still avoided you. You crawled closer, kneeling between his outstretched legs. Your traitorous heart pounded hopefully against your ribs. “Tell me what, Fee?”

He shook his head. “No, no, it’s foolish. I shouldn’t… you wouldn’t…” Finally, he looked back up at you. “I love you?” He phrased it as a question, his blue eyes filled with hesitation. It was strangely endearing, seeing the normally confident prince so bashful. Fíli lifted a cautious hand to your cheek, fingers just barely brushing your skin.

Surprise temporarily robbed you of your voice. Mistaking your silence for rejection, Fíli quickly pulled his hand away. Shame and hurt flashed across his face. “Forgive me,” he blurted out, ducking his head. “I should not burden you with feelings you can never return.” He pulled his legs back in and moved further into the shadowy recesses of the cell.

But you crawled after him, refusing to let him go that easily. “Fíli, why didn’t you say anything?” When he remained silent, you wound your fingers up in one of his braids and tugged, forcing him to turn his head towards you. “Why are you so sure that I can’t feel the same?”

A cautious spark of hope flared to life in his eyes. “Because you’re perfect, you’re beautiful,” he murmured. “You deserve so much more than I can give.”

You smiled, eyes tracing his face. The gold locks that framed it, the sky blue eyes, the flushed cheeks. And those soft, pink lips, parted ever so slightly as he awaited your next words.

But words were the furthest thing from your mind. Refusing to hold back any longer, you grabbed Fíli by the collar, lunging forward to claim his mouth.

His eyes widened, then fluttered shut as his hands grabbed at your waist. Fíli pulled you back into his lap and wrapped his arms around you, reaching up to comb through your tangled hair with his fingers.

A rock clanged against the bars of your cell. “Get a room!” came Kíli’s voice, echoing down the hall.

You broke away with a laugh. “This is a room!”

Kíli’s only response was a disgusted groan as Fíli grabbed at your face for more.

#fanfiction #fíli #kíli #the hobbit #thorin oakenshield #dís #fili x you #fili x reader #modern girl in middle earth #amnesia #falling back in love #everybody lives #soft Fíli #angst and hurt/comfort #it gets angstier before it gets fluffier

94 notes · View notes

rattyoakenbitch · 1 year

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꒰ general otp dialogue prompts ꒱

cw - angst, allusions to suicide

"is this okay?"

"you look so beautiful.. even with all the bruises"

"just because you're a couple years older than me doesn't mean i'm a little baby!"

"you.. have a crush on me?" "yyyessss.." "jeez, did you bump your head?"

"what the fuck is this?"

"you should steer clear of people like me. you deserve better."

"shh, they're finally sleeping"

"you're so good to me and i.. i don't understand why"

"you're so beautiful" "and you look like a frog" (lovingly)

"i know what'll fix this.. where's my tattoo/piercing equipment?"

"i don't see myself living past 25 and i don't intend to."

"i'm sorry i don't know why i'm crying i just-" hiccup

"dammit, [name], i/we don't want you to die!" "well i do! i do!"

"you are the human embodiment of sunshine, y'know that?"

"you just had this lost puppy look on your face and it was impossible not to fall in love"

inbox open!

if you use any of these prompts, please tag me! i'd love to see your work :)

#otp prompts #dialogue prompts #fluff prompts #angst prompts #romance prompts #writing prompts #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit thorin #thorin x you #thorin x reader #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin fanfiction #thorin oakenshield x you #thorin oakenshield fanfiction #thorin oakenshield #lord of the rings #lord of the rings fanfiction

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fili-urzudel · 2 months

Text

From Afar - Thorin Oakenshield x Reader

Part 3 to Second and Girl in Calico

Summary: Thorin must live with the reality that he has created, and despite everything, is determined to do so with some degree of joy. Based on the song From Afar by Vance Joy.

Warnings: heartache (to be expected from this series), angst, closure!!

Word count: 1.1 k

Your family accepted Thorin's invitation. Later, you also accepted an invitation of Bard's: to settle in Dale. After that, your visits only became more frequent. It took a year or so—though you would say only a few months—for your daughters to warm up to it all, Asa in particular. The girl had her father's black hair and your eyes, and a will that could move mountains. It was no wonder she had charmed Fíli like she had.

Naturally, your families had to come closer together after that. You or Symir were usually there at least once a week, acting as chaperones. Dwalin was forced to enter Dale once in a while to do the same. Kíli and Lena had a good deal of fun making fun of their older siblings, but the lovebirds bore it all with grace.

It was you and Thorin chaperoning—from a respectful distance—in the gardens of the Erebor Conservatory when Fíli formally decided to propose marriage. You couldn't help yourself—you covered your mouth with your hand and grabbed his upper arm to avoid expressing your joy too loudly. Thorin laughed and smiled and let you cut off his circulation as he watched the happy blush on his nephew's face. And pretended not to notice the strands of hair beneath your fingers.

The engagement ball was... an event. But we need not consider that at the moment. Before the two kingdoms were to know anything of the happy news, the two families gathered in the private dining room of the Durins to celebrate among themselves.

As the fathers—or at the very least, father-like figures—of the couple, Thorin and Symir once again found themselves in each other's company. Neither minded. They had struck up a friendship, finding that there was no reason for ill-will between them, and had they met under different circumstances, they would almost certainly be friends. There was no harm in being friends under these circumstances as well.

Thorin could hardly deny the similarities between Symir and himself. The dark hair was a start. Both were quiet, dedicated to their families. Loyal and passionate. Hardworking. The race, the height, the build, the eyes, the social standings were all different. Of course, those didn't really matter. The most important difference was that Symir stayed.

Thorin tamped down that persistent ache in his chest once more. There was no use in dwelling upon something he could not change. It would only serve to keep him up at night. Not that he slept much anyway.

"I'm going to go see if they need any help in the kitchen," you said, picking yourself up to your tiptoes to peck Symir on the lips. He graciously stooped to make it a bit easier.

"I'll miss you," he said jestingly, warmth in his tone and a smile on his face. "Don't be gone too long."

"I'll be back before you know it," you promised.

Thorin never knew quite where to look.

Symir took another drink, allowing his smile to comfortably fade and letting himself listen to the music before speaking. "You're still in love with her, aren't you?"

Thorin took a long, steady breath, not sure how Symir wanted him to answer. He is your friend. Despite everything, he is truly your friend. "I still love her," he finally corrected. There was a difference. Both he and Symir knew there was a difference. "From afar. I would... I would never dream of disrupting the happiness she's found with you."

"From afar, hm?"

Thorin took a breath. "It can be farther, if you need it to be."

Symir's mouth twisted for a moment. He took another drink. "Not necessary," he finally delivered. "I don't see the danger in it. As long as you're comfortable as well."

Thorin let his hands hang at his sides. He wasn't. He never really was. He was gripped with guilt every time he looked at you, but he knew that if you weren't around, it would only be worse.

"I am glad that you will be family soon," he said instead. "I am glad that my nephews will have people like the two of you in their lives."

You were happy. Fíli was happy. Asa was happy. That was what mattered.

Symir looked down at him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "You are a good man, Thorin Oakenshield. I am glad that we have met."

The king got a feeling inside that Symir knew what he was thinking, and yet allowed him the dignity of ignoring it. Allowed him to learn to cope with it on his own. Trusted him to do so.

Fíli caught him leaving, running to catch up to him before he reached their wing. "Uncle!"

Thorin turned.

"May I speak to you?"

They sat on a settee in the hall.

"I can't help but notice your hesitance," Fíli said honestly. "You seem happy, but... there's just... something, I'm not sure what. Do you have concerns? Do you disapprove of our union? I value your insight, uncle. Please, tell me."

"No!" Thorin answered quickly. "No, I do not disapprove of your union. It brings me the greatest joy, to see you so happy, and I know that Asa's family are the good sort of people."

Fíli watched him carefully. "Then what is this," the word dawned upon Fíli visibly. "sadness I see about you?"

"It is what every dwarf wishes for," Thorin said softly. "To overcome the trials of his time so that those who follow are not plagued by them. So they are happy... when it was more difficult for him to do."

Fíli sat back, digesting his words. "You regret not marrying?" He asked. The words had not dared to leave his mouth in years past.

Thorin looked at him, but said nothing.

"Uncle, it is not yet too late, you know," Fíli tried to be helpful. "You are king of Erebor, the most powerful and most beloved ruler of—"

"For the one who my heart belongs to, it is," Thorin admitted. "It is too late."

Fíli whispered your name as a surety. The silence from his uncle was all the answer he needed. "Why did you not say anything?"

"I feared it would influence your decisions, and that would be the last thing I wished," Thorin said earnestly. "I still hope it does not."

"This causes you pain, uncle."

"No," Thorin insisted. "Nothing that I cannot bear."

Fíli sighed. Thorin could see the battle in his young nephew's mind and hoped that he lost. "Very well."

"Be happy, gamzûn," Thorin advised, pressing his forehead to his nephew's.

They stood in front of multitudes at the engagement ball. And they laughed, and they smiled, and for all the world, they were as happy as any new family could be.

Thorin supposed it was better to have you in his life in this way than not at all.

#lotr #lotr fandom #lotr fanfic #the hobbit #lotr headcanons #the hobbit headcanons #the hobbit x reader #thorin oakenshield #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin oakenshield x reader angst #thorin oakenshield fanfiction #thorin oakenshield imagine #thorin oakenshield fic #thorin oakenshield x you #thorin x reader #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit thorin #mae writes

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intoxicated-chan · 4 months

Text

𝐘𝐨𝐮❜𝐫𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐝 𝐌𝐞𝐭 𝐌𝐞

Summary ➳ Thranduil’s words ring in your head as reality of your immortality hits. You should’ve known that it was too good to be true.

(A/n) ➳ Inspired by “Rolling in the Deep” by Adele. This is going to have two other endings, one happy ending and angst ending.

Word Count ➳ 1.4k

Content Warnings ➳ Female reader, Reader is an Elf, pet names (amrâlimê, meleth nîn), heavy angst, mentions of death, mentions of violence…

Thranduil’s words hit you hard when you were brought in front of him while the rest were locked up. He sat cockily on this throne and spat out words that enraged you right down to the core. But it made sense… You were an Elf, not a half-Elf. You cannot choose between immortality or mortality.

You would walk the lands of Middle-Earth until you were struck down or go to Valinor. Dwarves live long but not close enough to compare to an Elves’s lifespan. Even so… Even after death, Kili will go where you cannot follow.

“If you love him, and you are confident that he loves you. It would be best if you parted ways now or until either of you die on the field.” Thranduil spoke soft and low. “You have enough time in your life to find another or none at all. You will face his death or he will face your immortality. It’s a relationship that will never hold happiness.”

“I can’t go with you Kili.” You pulled your hand from him while stepping back into the direction of Mirkwood. “I cannot continue with you all.”

“W-What do you mean?” Kili was already in pain, was it the adrenaline or the pain throbbing from his thigh that was keeping him from thinking the worst? “Come on, we don’t have enough time. The orcs are on our tail.”

“Let me rephrase…” You took a deep breath to relax your beating heart and to clutch the hilt of your stolen sword tightly. “I’m not coming. This is where my journey ends.”

“You can’t say that! You’re part of the company-!”

“I am part of no company. I came with you all out of pity.”

“You’re lying!”

“This is where it ends for me-!”

“Enough!” Thorin interrupted, marching to you and Kili, he was already angry, tired, and completely drenched. “If she wishes to leave then let her! We have no time to carry dead weight!” He said before turning back to the rest of the Company who were trying to decide what to do.

“(Y/n), surely this isn’t you. You cannot turn back now, we are so close.” Kili pleaded with you, using whatever strength to stand on his own.

“Kili-”

He snatched your hands, holding them together in his own bloody hands to lay a kiss on them. “Please, do not go. Don’t go where I won’t be able to follow. I want you to lay your eyes on my home, I want to do it with you.”

He looked up at you with watery eyes and a tear falling…

Kili then gripped your shirt with both of his hands to pull you down into a frantic kiss. His lips quivered as he held back the urge to burst into tears right in front of you and the rest. “I beg you, amrâlimê.”

“...Goodbye, Kili.” You pulled away once more and could see everyone staring at you. You gave no time for them to say anything, only a silent nod in Thorin’s direction before rushing back to Mirkwood and hopefully talking of leaving the forest the same way you came in, even if it met you’d have to face the spiders again.

You chose to lay down your sword and leave for Rivendell to spend your many years in solace until you were ready to sail to Valinor. You believed that Thranduil informed Lord Elrond that you were on your way since he welcomed you with open arms but he refused to say anything.

There were many Elves, but not once have you attempted to have conversations with them. You kept to yourself, reading, walking, eating and then bed, almost like a pattern.

It continued for months until you received two letters. One from Thranduil and one from Kili. But they were delivered at the same time, the messenger explained that Thranduil let Kili write to you one last time.

Thranduil wrote to you, his words solidified your choice to leave the Company behind. Yet there was guilt still residing since what you said was a lie. You joined because you genuinely wanted to help, you hoped that it would’ve been easier on the rest.

When it came to Kili’s letter, you wanted to push it aside, hoping to read it when you felt ready. But you knew you couldn’t push it back anymore.

‘Amrâlimê,

It has been some time since I’ve last felt your warmth, or heard your voice, or held your hands. I miss the way you speak in rhymes, or stories of your adventures and battles. I wished you too could have laid your eyes on Erebor, and I’m still sure you will love it here. Everyone knows you didn’t mean those words, they didn’t take it to heart. They wish for your return as well, as do I.

I wish to spend the rest of my days with you and you alone, and if I must come and find you then I will. You have my heart, you have me in your hands, and my home isn’t truly home if you aren’t there with me.’

You still had a second page to read but you broke down, sobbing as you held the letter like your life depended on it. You were fighting with yourself, you were desperate to rush back to Erebor and see him.

But Thranduil’s words once again rang through your head. You can go back to Kili but then face his death or you could stay here but still face his death… Either way, he dies in the end. There was no way around it.

Lord Elrond comes into your line of sight, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. You managed to slow your tears and clear your throat. “When is the next ship to Valinor going to leave?”

“If you make this decision, you cannot go back.” Lord Elrond warned you. “You still have time to be with him. Do not make a decision you will regret.”

“I’ve had my time, I know my choice. Kili should be with his people.”

“(Y/n)-”

“Kili shall receive my sword, Fili will get my knives, Thorin will have my collection of jewels, and Bilbo will be gifted my journals.” You looked back at the nicely boxed items. “The rest can get a choice of my belongings.”

“You have planned this out from the start, haven’t you?”

“Elves can only love Elves, it’s easier without heartbreak.” You folded Kili’s letter neatly. “I would like to thank you for the hospitality.”

“A group is leaving now.” Lord Elrond can see that you weren’t going to change your mind, he sighed and nodded. “I wish you well (Y/n).”

“Thank you once again, Elrond.” You grabbed your cloak and wrapped it around your shoulders as you left your room and towards the group of Elves leaving for Valinor as well.

‘Kili,

From the day you sought me out and I watched you climb that tree to proclaim how you wished to be with me. Or the hours by the campfire exchanging stories. It saddens me that this will be my final words to you, if there was some other way for us to be together without it being painful then trust me when I say I would run right back to you.

You amazed me each day, the jokes, your skills, you will continue to surprise me from this day and until my last. I will think back to you and your smile, but please understand that my decision is for the best.

With all of my life, meleth nîn. Someday, we shall meet again but not in this world.’

“This is a lie.” Kili slammed his hands on the table. “Where is she?!”

“Kili!” Fili pulled him back.

“I speak nothing but the truth, she left for Valinor, she’s days away if not then boarding the ships.” Elrond informed the two brothers. “Either way, she’s gone, beyond your reach.”

But Kili still refused, he shook his head angrily. “That’s still a chance.”

“You won’t be able to change her mind.” Fili warned him.

“If she wanted to… She would say it to my face.” He rushed off, nearly taking a tumble down the steps.

Fili chased after him, grabbing his arm to stop him. “You heard what the Elf said, she could be boarding the ships.”

“Or days away!” Fili froze as he saw tears swell his eyes. “I cannot let her go, I promised myself that wherever she goes, I will go. I could not do it the first time, but I am now.”

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harrypoppinss · 9 months

Text

Empty promises

Kili Durin x afab!reader

Warnings: heavy angst, established relationship, mention of character death, pre BOTFA

Summary: With the battle closing in and Thorin fighting the dragon sickness, you seek comfort in your one.

—————

The past few days have been rough to say the least. You had successfully made it to Erebor, and it has been reclaimed by Thorin the only problem was that he had fallen into the same sickness that his grandfather had. The dragon sickness from the gold that was claimed by Smaug after the fall of Erebor all those years ago.

The Orcs were near, you had a feeling. Thankfully though, Kili had lived through getting a poisoned arrow in his thigh and he was now in Erebor with his brother and the others that had been comforting him through the incident. Now here you were, wandering the halls of Erebor in search for your one.

You had never known a castle to be so confusing until now, but luckily you had spotted your brown haired boy sitting along the gigantic hole in the wall, gazing out at the lost city of Dale. You walked up behind him, before gently taking a seat beside him and like clockwork, his hand found yours.

“How are you feeling my love?” You asked him, being his knuckles up to your lips as you kissed his hand softly before allowing it to fall into your lap, still grasping onto your own. Kili sighed as he moved closer to you, his head finding your shoulder as your head rested on his. “As well as I can,” he said in a soft tone, his gaze not wavering from the empty city infront of Erebor that used to be so full of life and love.

The two of you sat like that in comfortable silence for a while, the only sound reaching your ears was his gentle breathing and the sound of the crickets singing in the tall grass outside. As you gazed out into the landscape, you couldn’t help but let a feeling of pure fear wash over you. Soon you would all be fighting for you life against Azog and his troops for middle earth.

“Amrâlimê?” Kili said in a soft whisper, making you glance at him as he lifted his head off of your shoulder to meet your gaze. “Yes love?” You asked back, your free hand grasping his other one has your thumbs rubbed over his knuckles. His eyes fell to your hands before he lifted then back up to look at you. “Are you afraid to die?” He asked you, catching you off guard completely. You looked at him like he had grown two heads, he had just been on the brink of death with the arrow and he was asking you if you were afraid to die?

“Well…” you said as you looked back out into the now peaceful landscape that you knew would be filled with blood and death soon. Sighing softly you looked back at your lover, a sad expression covering your face. “I am,” you said after a moment, before you brought both of his hands to your lips this time, kissing his knuckles once more. “But, I’m more afraid of losing you to the hands of the Orcs.” You said as you dropped his hands back into your lap as his eyes scanned your face.

“Oh Amrâlimê,” he sighed with a soft smile as he saw the faint tears building in the backs of your eyes. He reached out, bringing you into his chest as his hand ran along your hair gently. You arms wrapped around his neck as you nuzzled your face into his shoulder, the tears fall from your eyes staining his shirt temporarily. “I will never leave you, not in death nor in glory,” Kili whispered to you softly. “I would rather spend a thousand lifetimes fighting for you than allowing myself to be taken away for you in such a way.” He finished, tears of his own spilling down his cheeks as he pulled away from the hug to rest his forehead against your own.

“Promise?” You croaked out, your eyes meeting his brown orbs as you watched the corners of the crinkle softly as he couldn’t help but allow a small smile to overtake his features. “I promise, in this lifetime and the next.” He said, before he leaned in, placing a gentle kiss to your lips. If only he knew in the end, that the promise he made would have to wait until the next time you two meet again, until the next life when your souls will bound together as one again.

———————

Amrâlimê - My love; love of mine

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justsomerandomfanfic · 2 years

Text

Amralizi - Thorin Oakenshield X Female Reader

Title: Amralizi

Thorin Oakenshield X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Balin, Fili, Kili, the rest of The Company (Mentioned), Rivendell (Mentioned), and Reader's mother (Mentioned)

WC: 1,563

Warnings: Nervousness, awkwadness, embarassment, mention of blood, mention of death, crying, slight angst, and huge fluff

Thorin watched you across from the fire. His deep blue eyes watching your every move as you brushed your hair. It was long, and looked soft, Thorin couldn't help but stare and wonder if it was as soft as it looked. You had joined the company in Rivendell, a human among elves. Thorin didn't understand it. But, you were a beauty in Thorin's eyes. You looked like a goddess, even covered in orc blood. He watched as you placed your brush down, carding your fingers through your hair one last time. Thorin's heart pounded with each beat of his chest, feeling his hands begin to sweat.

Making sure there weren't any stray knots, you dropped your hands into your lap, sighing. It had been a long day, traveling for hours and slaying orcs along the way. The company had made camp in the small mountains, hoping they could get some sleep before more of the journey ahead. You stretched out your arms above your head, groaning as you did so. Your arms and legs ached. Well, everything ached. You were tired, and just wanted to sleep. Finally, you slid down on your bedroll, covering yourself with a small fur blanket, before finally drifting off to sleep.

Thorin sighed, feeling a presence beside him, Thorin turned to glance at Balin before turning back to your sleeping figure.

"You like her?" Balin asked softly, but it sounded more like a fact than a question.

"Yes," Thorin breathed, glancing over at you again. "I'm sure she's my One."

"I see." Balin replied, looking away from Thorin, gazing out into the dark night. "She's a human, Thorin."

Thorin scoffed. "It doesn't matter what she is."

Balin shifted uncomfortably before whispering. "You'll outlive her."

Thorin didn't speak, staring into the dying embers of the fire instead.

"I've heard humans only live up to their eighties or nineties." Balin began, before sighing, "And, you know how long we live."

Thorin nodded slowly, "Even if I do outlive her," He said quietly, "I would never leave her side."

Balin nodded, pursed lips, before looking into the fire himself, "If you are sure... You should tell her."

Thorin's breath caught, he started to speak, but stopped himself. A thousand different things ran through his mind. There was no chance that you felt the same way he did. It was an impossible thought to have. But, he saw it in your eyes when you looked at him, when you were near him. He knew that you were drawn to him, and he was drawn to you. You always stood beside him, walked beside him, fought beside him. Though, he didn't know if what you felt was friendship or love.

"I will." Thorin whispered, smiling gently. "In due time, though."

"Alright then," Balin nodded, "Good luck."

~~~

The net morning, you awoke bright and early, immediately you began to roll up your mat and folded your blanket and tying it to the mat and in your backpack it went. Searching around for your brush, you couldn't find it. You furrowed your eyebrows, wondering where your brush had gone off to. Sitting down, slightly defeated, you huffed. Running your fingers through your hair, you cringed when you hit a few knots.

Thorin stood up from his spot, taking a deep breath before waking over to you. His hands began to sweat and his heart began to beat faster than ever before. Pausing beside you, you looked up, smiling a little.

"Good morning, Thorin. Are we heading out?" You asked and Thorin shook his head.

"We'll be staying a little longer today. I heard Bombur and Bifur were going to make breakfast."

You nodded, "I can't wait. Is there anything else, Thorin?" You asked, noticing as the king continued to stand by you.

"Yes, I noticed that you were having trouble with your hair." He spoke, sitting down on a log beside you.

You nodded, frowning slightly, "Yes, I must have misplaced my brush last night."

Thorin chuckled a bit, "Well, if you're looking for a new one, I have one in my pack." He said, reaching inside his own bag and pulling out a very large hairbrush.

"You brush your hair?" You teased, giggling softly as Thorin blushed.

"Yes... Sometimes." He spoke, "May I... May I brush your hair?" He asked,

You smiled warmly, "Of course, Thorin."

He picked up the brush, feeling his face burn and heart quicken.

Clearing his throat, he gestured to the log, "I'll sit on the log, and you can sit in front of me."

You agreed, moving onto the soft grass, where you leaned your back against Thorin's knees. Stroking your hair with the bristles, he sighed happily. Holding your hair gently in his other hand, Thorin skillfully brushed through your many knots. You leaned into him, sighing as he worked.

You closed your eyes, enjoying the moment. It was peaceful, and you felt safe. Feeling as Thorin finished brushing and ran his fingers through your hair, the tips of his fingers scratching your scalp lightly. He was amazed at how soft and beautiful your hair was.

"May I... Braid your hair?" Thorin asked softly, gazing longingly at the back of your head.

You bit your lip, keeping your eyes closed.

"Of course," You mumbled, opening your eyes.

Taking a deep breath, Thorin leaned forward, untucking strands of your hair from behind your ear, sectioning three pieces of your gorgeous locks. Breathing deeply, he began to braid your hair. Some of the dwarves, busy with whatever they were doing, paused. They all froze when they saw Thorin braiding your hair.

"Uncle!" Fili called to Thorin, as Kili stood next to his brother carrying sticks in his arms from the nearby woods.

Thorin glanced up to his nephews before continuing his braiding. You slowly opened your eyes, noticing the dumbfounded and in awe face of your dwarven friends.

"What's wrong, boys?" You asked, as if nothing was amiss.

"Nothing..." Kili spoke, his voice wavering as he tried not to laugh.

Fili snorted, "We'll get more sticks."

Most of the dwarves left the clearing, Balin giving you and Thorin a smile before following.

Finishing his braid, Thorin pulled out one of his beads, clasping it to your braid, tying it off.

"Do you know what braiding means in Dwarven culture?" Thorin asked, voice still soft, not wanting to break the peace.

You hummed, turning around to face Thorin. Sitting on the ground, and him on the log, you were eye to eye.

"Braided hair is a sign of love." You said, "A symbol of courtship."

"Ah." Thorin replied, smiling faintly.

He didn't think that you would know. You gently took his large hands in yours, caressing his calloused palms.

"Why do you want to court me? When you could have anyone you wish?" You muttered, keeping your eyes on his boots.

Thorin laughed a little bit, "You're my One, amrâlimê." He said, "I don't care if I'd have to fight a hundred Orcs to get you, you're worth it."

You smiled light, feeling as Thorin let go of your hand you cup your cheek, lifting your head to look up at him. His eyes met yours, and you felt your breath catch in your lungs. You felt your heartbeat pound loudly in your ears. You gazed into his eyes, feeling your heart race as you stared at him.

"Even if we don't have much time. I want to be with you... Please, amrâlimê."

You leaned into his touch, placing your own hand over his. "I may have lied to you when we first met." You began, before casting your gaze away and biting your lip.

"What do you mean?" Thorin asked, gently rubbing his thumb against your soft cheek.

You cleared your throat, looking down at his feet instead of his eyes. "I'm only half human."

Thorin paused for a moment, "Half?"

You laughed a little sadly, "I'm half elf. My mother is from Rivendell." You shut your eyes tight.

"I was scared that if I told you before that you wouldn't let me join. I know of your hate of elves." You sighed, "Just please, if this is real... If you turn me away, I..." You couldn't finish, tears rushed down your cheeks.

You were surprised when Thorin wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. You cried softly in his chest as he held you.

"Shh," He murmured, kissing your forehead. "I could never do that. Not to you, amrâlimê."

Pulling away slightly, you looked into his deep blue eyes. "Really? You don't hate me?"

Thorin shook his head, "I could never. And, if you allow me, I would like to make you my Queen."

You smiled, wiping away the tears from your face. "Yes, Thorin. Yes."

Thorin held you closer, stroking your hair. Looking into your eyes, he licked his lip before leaning in. His lips gently pressed against yours, and you moaned softly. Thorin kissed you passionately, pressing his body against yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck, running your hands through his hair as he growled lightly. Thorin broke the kiss, breathing heavily as he stared at you, fingers fiddling with the courtship braid in your hair, so much love in his eyes.

"Amralizi, Y/N." Thorin sighed, unable to wipe the smile from his face.

"I love you too." You smiled, kissing him again.

______________________________________________

Amralime = My love

Amralizi = I love you

#thorin oakenshield #thorin durin #thorin imagine #thorin x you #thorin x y/n #the hobbit #fluff #cute #slight angst #thorin x female reader #thorin x reader #thorin oakenshield imagine #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin oakenshield x you #thorin oakenshield x y/n #thorin oakenshield x female reader

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lathalea · 1 year

Note

One sentence game:

"I cannot do this anymore, Thorin!" you spat out, fists clenched tightly as though it might help you curb the desire to hit him, kiss him, or just burst into tears.

Thank you so much for your ask! It's been a crazy week but I have a moment to catch up with my asks so here I am! Thanks for making my creative brain cells work 💙 I couldn't decide which version to pick, so... how about two? 1. HEAVY ANGST INCOMING, BRING TISSUES (Whoops, I can't count to five, don't count the sentences, okay?)

"I cannot do this anymore, Thorin!" you spat out, fists clenched tightly as though it might help you curb the desire to hit him, kiss him, or just burst into tears. "I can't keep on pretending I barely know you while my mother keeps on searching for a husband for me!"

"After tomorrow, you will not have to any longer. At dawn, I am leaving at dawn to reclaim the home of my people," he held your wrists firmly and yet gently at the same time, pressing your clenched hands against the hardness of his chest, his eyes searching your face. "You will not see me again."

"So… this is goodbye?" You gasped, suddenly starting to tremble, your vision becoming blurry.

A moment before his lips covered yours in a greedy kiss, you heard his murmur, "Zamaralmizi hikhthuzul".

Those were the last words he spoke to you again when the sun painted the sky pink moments before dawn.

***

Countless years have passed; your hair turned from its vibrant colour of youth to the silver of life's winter, and you still wondered what his words may have meant. Finally, you managed to convince a Dwarven merchant passing by your village to translate them for you. "It means 'I will love you forever', my lady," he offered, taking another gulp of your best wine. "May I ask where you have heard this phrase?"

"It is of no consequence," something stung in your chest as you spoke those words. "The Dwarf who spoke those words left the world of living many years ago." You did not say that he had never left your heart. You doubted that the merchant would care.

Zamaralmizi hikhthuzul, Thorin.

2. TRUE LOVE 😍😍😍

This crack drabble is dedicated to @the-fragile-heart-of-a-lady because I know how much you are hoping for a slow burn romance fic about the greatest man of Esgaroth…

"I cannot do this anymore, Thorin!" you spat out, fists clenched tightly as though it might help you curb the desire to hit him, kiss him, or just burst into tears. No, not Thorin, but Him. The most handsome and elegant man in the whole Rhovanion - or maybe even in the whole Middle Earth - the man who now stood just a few steps away from you with a knowing smirk.

His alluringly balding head covered with patches of greasy copper hair, his salacious grin that revealed beautifully rotting teeth every time he looked at you, and the heavy scent of spoiled fish mixed with decaying cabbage, so unique his… The one you yearned for was none other than the Master of Laketown, not the Dwarf you had promised to marry a long time ago before you met this great specimen of manhood by the Long Lake.

Without hesitation, you took off your engagement bead from your hair and returned it to Thorin - and turned to the true master of your heart.

Leave me a word or two and tell me how you (dis)liked it! :) P.S. Please, no throwing rotten cabbage at me, okay? Thanks! 😈

#thorin #thorin oakenshield #the hobbit #sexy beast #master of laketown #esgaroth #crack fic #thorin x reader #thorin x you #master of laketown x you #thorin oakenshield x reader #angst

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thewulf · 4 months

Note

Okay this is a lil creepy lol sorry. But I saw in your likes LOTR & The Hobbit FF!

Would you write for them? I don't see it on your list and wanted to see before I asked. Have a great day!

Hahaha not creepy. I do that sometimes for my fav writers. They always have great taste imo.

Heck yeah. Legolas was my first crush ever hahaha Orlando Bloom is just yessss, he doesn't get enough love. Will Turner toooo oh my gosh swoooon. Also Aragorn?? Good lord.

But yes! I actually just rewatched the series too. I forgot how fun the dwarves were in The Hobbit. Such a good series.

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gloomwitchwrites · 2 months

Text

Missed Hints

King Thorin Oakenshield x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): fluff, light angst, humor, pregnancy, suggestive themes, fade to black, established relationship

Word Count: 1.8k

With the pregnancy confirmed, you decide to drop little hints until Thorin makes the connections.

A/N: for @protosslady

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist

“You’re pregnant, your majesty.”

Those two little words are enough to make time freeze. You are cold, a bit hesitant, and completely unbelieving of what you’re hearing.

“Are you sure?” you ask slowly, needing to know if you’ve heard her correctly.

The midwife, Lena, smiles broadly. “As sure as the sun rises in the morning. I’ve been doing this for close to thirty summers now. Rarely am I ever wrong.”

Lena’s assistant, Petal, matches Lena’s smile with one of her own. It is radiant and sunny, a stark difference from your sudden anxiousness. “This is wonderful news,” she exclaims. “King Thorin will be so pleased.”

“Indeed,” agrees Lena. “And so will the people when it’s formally announced.”

Both women sigh at the same time, but you are not nearly as excited as they are.

You and Thorin did try for a child many times in the beginning of your marriage. It was enthusiastic—and constant—but nothing ever came of it. While it bothered you, Thorin never seemed to care. He told you that all he wanted was you and that anything else was a bonus.

That is still true. Thorin loves you.

But Thorin is being pulled in a different direction. Erebor needs attention, and Thorin throws himself into service attempting to tackle every obstacle and difficulty on his own. Most nights, he comes to bed late—usually when you’re already asleep. When you wake, he is usually gone, off to take care of his abundant duties. They are piling up, becoming a burden. Thorin does too much, and while you admire him for his dedication, you miss him.

To know that you’re pregnant is a surprise. It’s not that you and Thorin haven’t been intimate, it’s just that it hasn’t been nearly as frequent as in the past. While Thorin is gone, you have your own duties and responsibilities. When the two of you do have quiet time together, intimacy is brief but passionate and almost always followed by the two of you falling asleep in each other’s arms.

“How far along?” you ask, trying to place exactly when it might have taken.

When your cycle never came, you didn’t think much of it. That happens sometimes. But then didn’t occur during the next expected timeframe. With its absence came irritability and random bouts of sudden crying you couldn’t explain. Certain foods smelt odd, and while you weren’t emptying the contents of your stomach, constant nausea made it difficult to complete daily tasks. You knew then that something was different. And now the midwife has confirmed it.

But even with an answer, you’re not sure how you feel.

“I’d place you at about ten weeks. Perhaps eleven,” answers Lena with a slight shrug of her shoulders.

“That far?” you squeak, wincing immediately with how upset you sound.

Lena and Petal’s smiles start to diminish. Their enthusiasm melts away, replaced with furrowed brows and soft lines of concern.

“Is everything all right? You look a bit faint?” Lena places her hand on your shoulder.

“Yes,” you reply, though it sounds like you’re gasping for air. “Surprised is all.”

Their smiles return but it’s subdued.

This is supposed to be a happy occasion. A child means an heir, and it also gives the people hope for the future. Much of Erebor is still in pieces from Smaug’s habitation. That doesn’t even begin to include all the damage and death from the battle. Dale, which was once abandoned and forgotten, is starting to see life again as well. The races of Men are returning to it, hoping to rekindle its long-extinguished flame.

A royal child is a symbol of hope. It’s a moment of celebration for everyone.

“I think a bit of rest for the remainder of the day will do you some good,” says Lena softly. “We will prepare some ointments that you can use to relieve any aches or pains. Bloating is likely, and as the body makes room for the little one, you’ll have some discomfort.” Lena taps her bottom lip and then turns to Petal. “We’ll need to prepare some liquid supplements to take with meals.”

“Of course,” nods Petal. She begins packing up their supplies.

Lena squeezes your shoulder before letting go. “I’ll come check on you in a few days. Bring a few things with me. We’ll talk more then, preferably with the father present.”

“Yes,” you reply, absently rubbing your belly. “That would be best.”

The two women bow and depart quickly, leaving you alone in the royal bedchambers. The room is quiet and your breathing sounds too loud in such a large space. With hands clasped, you twist them over and over again in agitation, needing to move but unsure of how to quell the anxiousness. It’s stubborn like the deep roots of a tree that refuse to give up the dirt.

How are you to tell Thorin? How do you approach this when you rarely see him. It’s just one more thing to burden him with. Perhaps, if you dropped a few hints? Covertly toss the pregnancy in his direction and see if he picks it up?

You know deep in your gut that you shouldn’t worry over this. Thorin will be happy. He will be.

You spend the rest of the day as Lena instructs. Reclining, resting, and reading. Thorin is supposed to return tonight for evening meal. Whenever he promises an early arrival, Thorin means it. Rarely does he make promises he cannot keep.

As dinner is brought in, and the table is set, Thorin walks through the door. There is a bit of soot on his cheek like he’s been in the mines, and his cheeks are slightly flushed. When he notices you, he beams, and there is so much love there that you simply want to melt into a puddle on the floor.

“My love,” he says, moving toward you swiftly. The embrace nearly sweeps you off your feet. He plants a kiss on your forehead and draws back.

“You’re filthy,” you laugh, looking him over. Thorin has been in the mines.

Thorin shrugs sheepishly. “I had to help dig. Structural issues.”

“Wash your hands at least,” you playfully tease.

“Not interested in eating a bit of dirt?” he asks with a laugh.

“Go,” you giggle, pushing away from him.

Thorin disappears and you take a seat at the table. He reappears a few minutes later, face and hands clean. The clothes he wore before are also gone, replaced with simple, fresh attire. He takes a seat next to you, gaze darting over the spread.

“I’m starving,” you begin because it’s true even though you’ve been consistently snacking all day. “It’s like I’m eating for two.”

First hint dropped.

Thorin laughs, and the sound is sweet like honey cake. “I promise, love. You couldn’t eat for me. My appetite is insatiable.” When Thorin says insatiable, he pointedly glances at you with a heated stare.

You perfectly understand his meaning.

You attempt a different angle. “I’ve also been having the oddest cravings,” you say, starting to load your plate.

“What do you mean?” asks Thorin before he pops a chunk of bread into his mouth.

“Different foods. Things I’d never eat together otherwise.” It is common knowledge that pregnant women will often crave highly specific foods and food combinations.

But Thorin doesn’t appear to pick up on the hint. He frowns, then shrugs, continuing to eat without making a comment.

Sighing, you pick up one the freshly made rolls. “I think these buns need a bit more time in the oven.” You stare hard at Thorin, mentally sending message after message. “What do you think?”

Thorin glances up at you then down at his own plate that has five of them. “I think they’re perfect but if you’d like them more done, I’ll let the kitchen know in the morning.”

“Thorin,” you say flatly.

“Yes, my love?” His head slightly tilts, and his gaze becomes pointed. He’s starting to pick up on your agitation. You don’t mean to be cross, but you were hoping that he’d figure it out so you wouldn’t have to tell him outright.

Setting the roll down on your plate, you promptly divert the conversation to a different hint. “We’ve never talked about where we’d put the nursery.”

Thorin’s brow rises toward his hairline. “I didn’t think you wanted to discuss that until we crossed that hurdle?”

Does he hear himself? Does he understand the context of what’s coming out of his mouth?

“You’re right, Thorin. I didn’t want to discuss it until we needed to.” You repeat his words back to him, slightly leaning toward him as you speak to emphasize the point.

Still, it brushes right over his head.

“Some of the advisory council members have brought up financial concerns. Rebuilding Erebor is important but the needs of the people are pressing. Food. Proper housing.” Thorin begins slicing into the chunk of roast on his plate.

Maybe you are going to have to say it outright.

Licking your lips, you ignore Thorin’s change in conversation. “I did receive a few inquiries about baby clothes. Offers to knit a few items,” you shrug.

“That’s kind of them,” says Thorin slowly. “But why—” he pauses, “you’re not—"

Thorin’s features suddenly shift, becoming almost unreadable. His jovial expression is gone, replaced with a stern consideration.

Are you going to have to shout it at the top of your lungs?

Thorin’s lips part. Promptly shuts. Opens again. “Are you…” he begins but does not finish.

You start to nod, urging him on.

Finally, like light igniting in the dark, Thorin’s face transforms into one of shock, then pure joy.

“Truly?”

“Found out just this morning.”

Thorin abruptly stands, pushing himself and his chair away from the table. He is moving toward you, grasping your hands, bringing them to his mouth to kiss your fingers.

“Why not say anything?” he asks.

“I did,” you laugh. “Many times.”

Thorin momentarily frowns before his mouth turns up into a soft smile. “Clever.”

“You’ve been busy and I was unsure of how to tell you.”

Thorin’s thumbs rub little circles over your knuckles. “You can always tell me anything. Whatever is happening. Whatever is on your mind. I wish to hear it.” He kisses the tops of your hands. “Especially something like this.”

“Are you happy?” you ask, voice cracking at the end.

“Happiest I’ve ever been.”

Thorin pulls you up from your chair, his large, muscled arm sliding behind your waist. He drags you to him, his eyelids lowering seductively, all gentleness leaving him to be replaced with desire.

“Are you up for a bit of celebrating?” he asks.

“What kind of celebrating?”

“The kind that landed us here.”

“Thorin,” you gasp, lightly slapping his chest. He snatches your wrist, kisses the pulse point there.

“The food can wait,” and his voice ends on a soft growl.

“Thorin,” you repeat, this time with a rasp to your tone.

He seizes it, draws you even closer. “The food can wait?”

You nod. “It can wait.”

taglist:

@foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @singleteapot @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @protosslady @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @cherryofdeath @mrsdurin @therealbloom @ninman82 @thewulf @ferns-fics @beebeechaos

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rynneer · 1 month

Text

Misty Memories Cold

When you wake in Fíli’s bed with no recollection of anything after a disaster in Mirkwood, he’s ready to risk anything, even his uncle’s wrath, to bring back what you had together.

Fíli paces the living room, running a hand through his tangled hair, only succeeding in tangling it further. Shafts of dawn light peek through the window, taunting him with reminders of the sleep he did not get. His head snaps up when he hears footsteps from down the hall. “Y/N, I–”

But it’s not you. Instead, Thorin stands before him, arms folded and looking at his nephew expectantly.

“Where is she? She never returned to our chambers.”

Thorin nods back toward the way he came.

“Is…” Fíli swallows hard. “Is she upset?”

“She came to my door last night, would not say what was wrong, and began to cry.” Thorin raises an eyebrow. “So, is she upset?”

Fíli’s heart sinks. “She was crying?”

“Sobbing would be a better word.” Thorin shakes his head and sighs. “Fíli, what happened?”

Fíli turns his head away, face growing hot with shame and guilt. “I said hurtful things. Foolish, hurtful things.”

“Such as?”

Is he really going to make me repeat it? Fíli steels himself as if he’s the one on the receiving end. “I asked her if it was real. The dance. The kiss. Or if she only did it because it was expected of her. Because people were watching.”

“You are right. That was foolish and hurtful,” Thorin snorts.

Fíli sinks down onto the couch, pressing the heel of his palm to his forehead. “I messed up.” He runs his hand down his face. “Some husband I am,” he mutters.

Thorin studies the wretched dwarf in front of him. Fíli is hunched over, shoulders drawn and tight. He stares dully at the ground. Every once in a while, he shakes his head to dispel some thought, mustache braids swaying with the movement.

“You are dismissed from your duties today,” Thorin says curtly.

Fíli looks up, dumbfounded. “But the trade negotiations—as heir, I should be there!” he protests.

“Kíli will take notes for you. Mahal knows he needs to pay more attention during these meetings anyway.”

“But–”

Thorin silences him with a hand on his shoulder. It’s not Thorin, King Under the Mountain, looking down at him, or Thorin Oakenshield, the warrior.

It’s Uncle Thorin. The dwarf who raised him, who held him as a child when he cried, who sang lullabies to him when he thought no one else was listening. The softer Thorin.

“Fíli, make peace with your wife.” Thorin squeezes Fíli’s shoulder and takes his leave.

Fíli watches the heavy, wooden doors shut with a thud, as if waiting for Thorin to change his mind. To return, to berate him for how he treated his One.

But the doors remain closed. There will be no reprieve for Fíli, nothing to stall him before he has to face what he did. He says a silent prayer as he stands and trudges to Thorin’s chambers. As he reaches a hand out to the door, he freezes. Dread of what awaits him keeps him rooted in place.

Don’t be ridiculous, Fíli scolds himself, shaking his head sharply. It’s just Y/N. Nothing to be afraid of.

He knocks first, but receives no reply. With a deep breath, he carefully pushes the door open. His eyes scan the dimly lit room, finding no sign of you at first. Then, movement in a wingback chair facing the fireplace catches his eye.

Fíli takes a cautious step forward. “Amrâlimê?”

You don’t respond to the endearment.

He changes tactics. “Y/N? Can we talk?”

You poke your head around the side of the chair for a second before turning back and burrowing further into the cushions. “Go away,” you mumble, pulling the blanket tightly around you. While Fíli’s frustration had softened over the sleepless night, your surprise and hurt had hardened into bitter anger.

“Y/N,” Fíli closes the distance. He traces his fingers along the chair’s arm. “Please.”

“Go away!” you snap again. You press your face into the opposite arm of the chair and cover your head with the blanket. It’s petulant, you know that, but you don’t care. Maybe it will soothe your pounding headache.

“No, my love,” he says gently, but firmly. “We need to talk.” Fíli settles on his knees so he’s level with you and pulls the blanket off of your head.

You scowl at him, but with his careful, honest eyes searching your own, you can’t hold it long. Your gaze drops to your hands, clutching the blanket tightly. “Still?” you ask at last, voice soft.

“Still what?”

“I’m still your love?”

Fíli gently pries your fingers apart until he can hold them, rubbing them to coax warmth into your cold hands. “Always,” he murmurs. “You will always be my love.”

Hot tears fill your eyes. “Then why’d you have to get mad at me?” You try to pull your hands away, but he squeezes them tighter.

“Oh, no, no, amrâlimê, I was not angry with you.” He reaches up to brush strands of hair away from your face.

Your glare tells him you don’t believe him.

“I was not angry,” Fíli insists. “I was…” He shakes his head while he gathers the right words. “May I speak plainly? Without upsetting you.”

You look at him warily, but give him a tiny nod.

Fíli brings his hand back to your hair, smoothing your marriage braid with his thumb. “I am afraid,” he whispers. “I am afraid that I’m losing you. I am afraid that you have gone somewhere that I cannot follow.”

The tears finally spill over your cheeks. The walls of anger you’ve hidden behind crumble, and you wrap your arms around Fíli. You bury your face in his neck and cry. Your hands claw at his back, desperately searching for purchase.

Fíli immediately pulls you from the chair and into his lap on the floor. “Oh, Y/N.” He kisses the top of your head, patiently waiting for you to find your words again.

“I want to remember,” you sob. “I want to love you the same way you love me. I want what we had. I don’t know what we had but I want it back!”

Fíli hugs you tighter as your chest heaves and breath shakes.

For the first time, you don’t recoil from his touch. You need to feel him. Soft skin over hard muscle, coated in gold curls. The weight of his chin on your head. Every inch of him warming you.

You sniff. “Has it been good?”

“Hm?”

“Our life together.“

Fíli lifts his chin from your head and loosens his grip, encouraging you to pull back enough to look at him. “It’s wonderful,” he says. His eyes grow distant with a faint smile. “We both have our duties as the future king and queen, of course, but I treasure every spare moment I get to spend with you.”

The wistful happiness on his face only makes you feel worse. “I’m sorry I took it away,” you whisper.

“You’ve done nothing wrong.” Fíli returns to the present, hand rubbing gently up and down your back. “We can start over. You are still you. The brave and clever woman I fell for. My little fighter. And I am still me.” He tilts your chin up and kisses you, quick but soft. “I waited eighty-two years to find you. What’s a little more?”

You shake your head, sending fresh tears spilling over. “It won’t be the same.”

“What if it could be?”

You both jump at the voice. Fíli pulls you back into a tighter hold while his eyes grow darker, scanning the room for threats. The protective lion.

The owner of the voice stands in the doorway, studying you with a careful eye.

“I have an idea,” Tauriel says.

“You cannot seriously be suggesting we take her with us.”

Gandalf leaned back in his chair, puffing at his pipe. “At worst, she makes for an interesting companion. At best, her knowledge of the journey could prove useful.”

“At best, she is a distraction and at worst, a burden,” Thorin retorted. He cast a disdainful look at you, standing in the corner. Bilbo had run out of dining chairs. “The girl’s never touched a sword in her life.”

“Neither has Bilbo,” you muttered.

Kíli snickered.

“Well, I, for one, do not intend on leaving a stranger in my home while I am not here,” Bilbo declared, hands on his hips.

“So you are coming!” Nori exclaimed.

“I never said that!”

“If it’s any consolation,” you interjected, “I’m not exactly thrilled to be here either.” The whole thing was starting to give you a terrible headache as everyone bickered over your presence. Or maybe it was the copious amount of smoke filling the dining room. Either way, you needed out.

“Where do you think you are going?” Thorin demanded as you made for the door. “This is not finished.”

“Somewhere where no one’s blowing smoke in my face,” you snapped. You yanked open the door, barely remembering to duck as you exited. Of course, the awkward height of the doorknob makes it almost impossible to forcefully slam the door behind you, but you did your best.

Some of your frustration melted away as you took in your surroundings. Since you’d just shown up on Bilbo’s doorstep, an overnight bag in hand, you hadn’t gotten the chance to appreciate where you were. It was almost enough to take your breath away. Stars scattered across the sky like tiny diamonds spilled over dark velvet. More stars than you’d seen in your life. Fireflies flitted about the garden, flashing and winking at each other in the night. Small, round windows set into the hills, little puffs of smoke drifting from chimneys nestled in the earth, hobbits settling into their evening routines. You plopped down onto the wooden bench just inside the gate.

The Shire.

Damn it.

Middle Earth.

Damn it.

You put your head in your hands and let out a heavy sigh. You didn’t look up when the door opened and shut again, not until you felt the wood of the bench bend beneath you.

“Care for a smoke?”

Of course it was them. The curious little boys. You lifted your head to see Kíli already lounging next to you, kicking his heavy boots up onto the fence. Fíli sat on your other side, offering you your backpack.

“Didn’t want to go rummaging through your belongings just to find your pipe,” he explained as he tossed it into your lap.

“I don’t have one,” you said.

“Ah, that’s alright. You can borrow mine,” Kíli offered.

The smell of the pipeweed was almost sickening. You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Did you not hear me tell Thorin why I left?”

“Something about smoke?” Kíli puffed out a series of increasingly smaller smoke rings. They vanished in the cool breeze.

“To get away from the smoke. Just… never mind.” You shook your head. “Did Thorin send you to make sure I don’t run away and spill his plans to the world?”

“No,” Fíli said, as Kíli said “yes.”

You just rolled your eyes.

Fíli leaned back, lighting his own pipe. “So,” he said through teeth clenched on the end of his pipe. “Not from around here, eh?”

“That’s one way to put it,” you replied with a shrug. “I guess I should get used to it. To this.” You gestured vaguely towards the rest of the Shire.

“It’s not bad,” Fíli remarked. “Peaceful. Quaint.”

“Boring,” Kíli added.

You groaned, putting your head back in your hands.

“I hope you won’t be sulking like this on the road.” Fíli nudged your side with his elbow. “It’d be a bit of a downer.”

You looked up at the dwarf prince. The stupidly handsome and charming dwarf prince. His stupidly handsome and charming brother. Your stupidly handsome and charming favorite dwarves.

Don’t get attached, warned a voice in the back of your mind. You know what happens.

You tried to shut it up, but it refused to be silent. It all flashed through your head—Fíli falling from the broken tower to the ground in front of his brother. Kíli bleeding out as Tauriel leaned over him. Bilbo crouching at Thorin’s side as the king slipped away.

“It’ll be fun, having a lass along,” Fíli interrupted your train of thought. He leaned his head back and blew out a steady stream of smoke. “We’ll watch out for you, naturally. Keep you out of trouble. We would not want you all battered and bruised by the time we face the dragon.”

“You are way more chill about this than you should be,” you said. Absentmindedly, you fiddled with the zipper on your backpack. “Do you actually understand what you’re supposed to do?”

Kíli stretched his arms over his head. The bench creaked in protest as he shifted his weight. “Sure. Get to the mountain, kill the dragon, get the gold. Simple.”

“If you expect it to be that easy, you’re fucked.”

“Ooh!” Kíli’s eyes lit up. “She’s got a mouth on her—I like that in a girl.” He winked, but his mischievous expression dimmed a little when he looked over at his brother.

Fíli’s brow was furrowed. He tilted his head as he peered at you. “You speak as if you already know our path.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Clearly, they did not listen very closely to the argument between Thorin and Gandalf after you let slip some key information about the quest, things no one else should know. Your gaze fell to your backpack in your lap, not wanting to meet the prince’s eyes. It’s far too modern for your rustic setting. It didn’t belong.

And neither did you.

“Because I do,” you admitted at last. “I read the book. I saw the movies. I know how it goes.”

Fíli’s face lit up. “Do we win? I bet it will be a spectacular victory.”

“Not telling.”

“Come on!” Kíli pressed. “Nothing?”

You flashed him a warning glance. “Look, I’m just along for the ride. I’m not here to change things—if Thorin will even let me come. But I doubt it.” You kicked at a pebble beneath your feet, watching it skip out onto the path worn into the hillside from hundreds of carts and hobbit feet. “I seemed to have pissed him off just by existing.”

“Ah, you’ll win him over eventually,” Kíli remarked with a lazy grin. “He’s a softie at heart, really—oh, hello Thorin.”

You held your breath as heavy footsteps tromped down the steps. How long had he been listening?

Thorin crossed his arms and glowered down at you. His eyes then flickered to his nephews, leaning back casually while you sat stiffly between them. “I want the three of you awake before dawn,” he said finally. “We leave at first light to retrieve the ponies.” With one last, wary glance at you, he turned away.

You finished processing his words just as he put his hand on the doorknob. “Three?”

Thorin halted. “Do not make me regret this,” he grunted.

And then he was gone.

Fíli clapped you on the shoulder, almost knocking you off the bench in the process. “Well, you heard him. Up before dawn.”

“I think I’ll stay out just a bit longer.” You relaxed a bit on the bench as the brothers stood.

“Suit yourself,” Fíli shrugged. When he was halfway up the steps, he stopped and turned back around. “You do have a name, right? We can’t just keep calling you ‘lass.’”

“Y/N.”

“Pleasure to meet you, m’lady.” He winked and vanished inside with Kíli.

All the air rushed from your lungs as the door closed, leaving you alone in the garden of Bilbo Baggins. In Hobbiton. The Shire.

You shook your head.

What did you get yourself into?

#fanfiction #fíli #kíli #the hobbit #thorin oakenshield #fili x you #fili x reader #everybody lives #angst and hurt/comfort #it gets angstier before it gets fluffier

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fizzyxcustard · 11 months

Text

Those Hands.

Masterlist of fan fiction

Fandom: The Hobbit

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Insecurity, comparison, angst, sexual references, mutual pining, idiots in love.

Comments/Notes: From the imagine, "Imagine that Thorin is in love with you (from the race of Men) but constantly compares his body and features with other men, thinking you find him disgusting." Requested by multiple readers and anons. (THANK YOU!)

I hope you like the fic. As always, like, reblog and comment if you enjoy. If you wish to be added to any of my tag lists, let me know.

Thorin watched every little interaction that you had with other males, whether they be Dwarves, Men or Elves. He couldn’t help but watch you blush, avert eye contact and use self-soothing gestures, such as touching your face, curling your hair with your fingers, or rubbing your upper arms.

Since Thorin had been crowned King of Erebor, and re-building was underway, many people visited the mountain. Bard came from Esgaroth, often meeting with Thorin in council, to discuss trade deals and assistance in building. Much to Thorin’s distain, Thranduil of the Woodland Realm, also came. Again, he joined the council to converse around the subject of trade deals in precious metals and gemstones.

Your relationship with Thorin was entirely built on trust. The two of you had been companions out on the road during the quest to re-take Erebor. He had always valued your opinion, spoke with you in private, and kept you close to him on his council of advisors. Erebor was now your home, despite you being of the race of Men. Your family were all gone, meaning that the Dwarves had now taken that place, welcoming you into the fold and treating you as one of their own.

One morning, council was busy. Neldra, one of the kitchen staff, was on hand with jugs of cold drinks and pots of tea. Then once all the drinks were laid out neatly on intricately laced doilies, she came back with a trolley of fresh pastries.

The smell was divine; you took an inhale and let the scent overtake you. Apple and cinnamon were among the selection: your favourite.

You reached out to take one of the pastries, only to feel another hand graze yours. “I apologise,” a voice came, from the direction of the hand.

It was Bard, from two seats down to your right hand side, who had stretched across to grab one of Neldra’s famous delicacies. “It was no bother,” you replied. “You first.”

“Ladies first. I insist.”

Thorin’s blue eyes studied the scene going on before him. No one else had noticed the exchange between you and Bard. Upon the impact of yours and Bard’s hands, Thorin felt a jolt in his chest. It rose up into his throat, and he closed his eyes for a brief second. The red hot sensation bore into him, feeling as if it were forming a hole straight through him. Upon opening his eyes, Thorin looked at his hands, then glanced across to Bard’s. The man’s hands were broad, but his fingers long and slender. Very much unlike Thorin’s. The Dwarf King’s fingers were short and bulky, with stubby ends. Surely Bard’s hands would have the dexterity and skill to caress your skin, drawing shivers from you. A Dwarf’s hands would be too calloused and thick to evoke any kind of pleasurable sensation upon a woman from the race of Men.

Chatter continued, along with eating and drinking. In that time, Thorin tried his hardest to push the negative thoughts from his mind, and concentrate on the conversation at hand, which involved the realms of Erebor and Esgaroth exchanging skilled workers and apprentices.

Thranduil was also present and merely rolled his eyes as the conversation got underway between Bard and Thorin. The Elven King did not like to waste his time, and being in this council meant that there were stints of time where his input was not needed.

“Would you like another drink?” you asked Thranduil, picking up the nearest china pot of tea.

“I would much prefer wine, but since I’m not within my realm, I would not say no.”

Thorin’s gaze darted over to Thranduil, and then to you. He saw you brush a piece of hair behind your ear, and then look up at the Elven King sat opposite you. Your ears were small, with one golden hoop earring in each lobe. Then Thorin looked at Thranduil’s ears; pointed at the tip, finely structured. They weren’t big, round and sticking out. Thorin’s ears were ugly, and thankfully he could keep them hidden under his long hair. Secretly, he had always imagined you whispering against them, your lips brushing them. It made Thorin shiver.

Once council had concluded, Thorin left the chamber and headed back to the royal wing. Once inside and he stood in front of his full length dress mirror, staring at the protruding ears on the side of his head. Then he studied his large hands, thinking back to Bard’s.

The males from the races of Men and Elves made you blush in a way that Thorin never had. Their bodies were more finely crafted, which complemented yours. They had finer features with smaller noses and brows.

Thorin shifted back and sat on his bed, his hands in his lap. He took one more glance at them, feeling disgusted at what he saw. They would never be good enough for you. None of his body would ever be good enough for you. Everything about him was oversized, not delicate and handsome like Bard and Thranduil. Both of them had lost their wives, and may have wished to re-marry, so they would make better husbands for you.

***

The following day and Thorin was sat in the council room, signing documents. His quill scratched loudly against the parchment.

You walked in, holding a further stack of documents in your hands. “These should be the last ones,” you said, offering a smile.

Thorin looked up at you. No blush on your face to be seen.

“Is everything alright?” you asked. There was something in his eyes, a thoughtfulness. Maybe even a sadness. You sat down in an empty seat next to Thorin. “What’s wrong?” On impulse, you placed your hand on top of his.

Thorin looked at your hands, watching your thumb gently caress his knuckle. How huge his hand looked against yours. But how right it felt, as if the size did not matter, and they were still able to fit together as one.

“There is nothing wrong,” Thorin said, forcing a weak smile. “I hear that Bard is leaving this afternoon. Will you not be wishing him farewell?”

“I barely know him,” you replied. “I’d feel it strange to do so.”

“Would you wish to get to know him?”

“I don’t know. Why do you ask?”

“Surely you find him handsome,” Thorin continued, pulling the new stack of documents over towards him.

“Not really. Can’t say I do. There’s some reason to you asking this, Thorin.”

“Why would I have any reason?”

“There’s always a reason to anything that you ask. I know you enough by now. Talk to me. You’ve always given me more trust than I deserve, and never questioned me liked this before.”

Thorin took a deep inhale and looked at you, dropping his quill. “Who do you find handsome? If not Bard, maybe Thranduil?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Why ever would you think I’m attracted to King Thranduil?” The whole idea was so comical that you couldn’t help but keep giggling. “It takes….” You couldn’t stop the giggling. “A special….kind of woman….to…..”

Thorin also began to chuckle, watching your face turn red in amusement and delight. His heart somehow felt lighter as he watched you, and that overwhelming love for you rose. It was a love that would allow him to do anything to make you happy. It was a love that would make him sacrifice his very life to keep you safe. It was sacrificial and unconditional.

You could see the glow in Thorin’s eyes and the smile which curled his lips upwards. He was the one you found handsome, above all others. The intensity in his eyes made butterflies swarm in your stomach. His proud presence caused you to shiver whenever he entered a room. His voice was enough to make your imaginations travel to another place where only the two of you were, locked away in comfort, pursuing wondrous pleasure.

You edged closer to Thorin. “You said you want to know who I find handsome?”

Thorin’s heart was hammering now and he was sure that you would be able to hear it.

“It’s you.” Your voice was a whisper. “It’s always been you. How could it not be you? Why would you ever think I’d be attracted to Bard and Thranduil?”

Thorin closed his eyes in embarrassment. “My features and body are not like theirs.”

“So why would that not make you handsome?”

“My hands…”

“Your hands?” you giggled. This time a blush did hit your cheeks, and it was even more vivid than it had ever been when in the company of any other man. “You have found out my secret.”

“What secret?” Thorin asked, shifting ever so slightly closer to you. He had never wanted you any more than he did in those moments. The very thought that it was him that you found handsome was making his whole being rise, but anticipation was now racing down his spine in shivers.

“I have had a fantasy for some time now, since meeting you, of what you could do to me with those hands,” you said, biting your lip.

Thorin couldn’t hold back any more and moved even closer to you, his hand cupping your cheek. His breath was elevated and his eyes were sparkling with so much joy, but slight fear.

His lips crashed against yours and you both groaned upon impact. Within seconds and the kiss had grown deep, your tongues both meeting. You couldn’t help but whimper as Thorin’s lips left yours and trailed down your neck. His beard tickled your skin and then as he grew more impatient, you could feel the tickle become a bristling, sharp sensation. Your hands became lost in his hair as he nuzzled at your neck, groaning and grunting.

Thorin felt your fingertips brush over his ears, and it drew an overwhelming shiver from his very core.

“I love you, Thorin,” you said again. “Now show me what you can do with those hands.”

***

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bookworm-with-coffee · 11 months

Text

Insecurities. . .

(Kili x Reader)

(A/N); Hello and welcome, readers!! As always, thank you for stopping by!! I thought it was high time to write a fic for Kili! After all, who can resist that cheeky smile of his?? Do enjoy! ❤

Plot; Comfort drabble

Pairings; Kili x Reader (Romantic)

Warnings; fluffity-fluff and some angy-angst

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The evening was cheerful, the Company of Thorin Oakenshield having stopped for the night after a long day's travels. Peaceful ambience of the forest began to increase in the nightfall, the breeze light and cool as it swayed through the rustling trees.

Firelight filled the camp with a warm flickering glow, the smell of woodsmoke and Bombur's cooking potent in the air. Conversation was easy to find and delightful, as always. Bofur, Dwalin, Nori and a few of the others were sat together, conversing in what sounded like their native tongue. The intricacies and mysteries of Khuzdul still left you amazed, despite how it was only merriful banter.

You had stood by Bombur, offering to take Bofur's place tonight as the food-server. Each bowl of soup was steaming hot, your steps having to be quick to avoid burning yourself too badly from the scalding liquid as it dripped from the bowl. Each Dwarf had eagerly taken the food that was offered, exhaustion fueling their hunger. Even Bilbo and Gandalf seemed relieved to finally be eating this evening. The days were long and draining, trudging through the wilderness in the everchanging landscape. You too found relief in finally dropping down beside the youngest of the two Princes once your rounds were finished.

Fili, who usually kept him company of a nighttime, was occupied in the audacious conversations nearby. The booming laughter that rang out almost startled you whilst you settled in alongside Kili, him offering the occasional soft chuckle at the words being thrown between bites of his food.

Darting to you, the Prince's hazel eyes glistened with the embers of the campfire. A soft smile of amusement crossed his face, the action always seeming to offer you comfort. "What are they on about now?", you quirked a brow, his expression becoming contagious.

"By this point in the conversation, I don't think you want to know".

"Enlighten me", you encouraged, laughter slipping from the Princeling's lips. It was hard for Kili to restrain his smile when he finally obliged.

"They're taking bets on whether or not Bofur uses his hat in the bedroom".

"Pigs", you huffed, a moment's silence passing before you added, "He clearly does". The Prince snorted, his soup suddenly travelling through his nostrils. Something akin to a guffaw escaped his lips, whilst he desperately tried to grapple his composure in your now shared laughter.

"Agreed", he managed to wheeze out, wiping at his face and mouth.

In moments like this, you appreciated the bond that had formed between you both. Despite the seriousness of the quest at hand, you always found yourself at ease within Kili's easygoing nature and cheeky humour. He always had a way of soothing your anxieties with his jokes and lighthearted conversations, always looking on the brighter side of things. And although he was oblivious to such things, you'd come to find him to be quite beautiful.

It was hard not to when the light of the fire danced over his features, illuminating the strands of hair that fell effortlessly over his face. You'd come to admire those wavy tresses with their now auburn glow, sitting over his strong and broad shoulders. You wondered how he cared for them, keeping them so clean despite the lack of hygiene this quest entailed.

With his head turned and gaze fixed on the forest ahead, you found that his messed half-up had lost a few strands that dangled, masking the Prince's handsome face from your current view. His metal clasp was now sitting loosely on the back of his head. And although it offered him a fitting style, you wished to fix it for him.

Dinner became suddenly forgotten in your new endeavours when you decided to test the waters with Kili. Reaching for the strand that had fallen loose over his face, your fingertips worked the silken strands behind his ear with a delicate precision. The Prince almost seemed to stiffen at your touch, his breaths halting whilst goosebumps ignited across his skin. His lips had parted, lashes fluttering. No woman had ever touched him like that before. And although there was nothing sensual about your touch, it made every part of him light up like fire, craving more of that soothing gentleness.

Sensing his quiet, you became hesitant to continue. "May I fix your hair for you?". Your question had his hazel orbs clouding in confusion, scanning your face for any sign that you may have been jesting. He nodded shyly, his voice seeming to waver slightly,

"Please". That being all the confirmation you needed, you pulled the large clasp from his hair, the thick layers falling loose. Excitement bubbled in your chest whilst you shuffled closer to the handsome Dwarf.

Steadying his breaths, he resisted the shudder that passed through him when your fingers began working through his hair like a gentle comb. You began to remove the small tangles, relishing in the soft touch of his hair. The moisture in the strands was not greasy or dirty in nature and his waves bounced back, unaffected by your touches. The Prince's eyes had fallen closed, his dinner being long abandoned in his blissful state. The sensation of your nails brushing over his scalp had him drawing his bottom lip between his teeth to fight the pleasurable sighs that dared to leave his throat.

The boisterous conversations that once ensnared his attention had faded from his ears. He was barely able to register your voice when you spoke so gently to him. "Your hair is so beautiful", you marveled, spindling his soft hair between your fingers playfully. "How do you keep it so soft and lovely?". The young Prince felt his throat tightening from shock, pondering what your interest was in his hair. In his opinion, there was nothing special about his tresses.

Kili gathered no attention from women, unlike his fellow kin. His complete lack of facial and body hair meant that to any respectable Dwarf, he was considered ugly or unattractive. At your compliments, it was only normal for him to be in a state of disbelief. You were the first and only woman to take interest.

"It's nothing special", he finally murmured. "I just use a light oil after I wash my hair".

"You need to lend it to me sometime", you insisted with a grin, your eyes seeming to sparkle with mirth. "It works wonders on your hair. It's so beautiful". Kili felt his heartbeat increase, his tone falling quieter amidst his further disbelief.

"Do you think so?". In a sudden surge of confidence, you replied,

"I know so. You have the most gorgeous looking hair out of all the Dwarves in this Company". His eyes had blown wide, his lips parting in surprise. "It looks lovely pinned back", you added, finally binding his hair securely with his clasp. "Or left out". You shrugged. He grew confused when you shuffled in front of him. "But, I think I like your fringe the most. It frames your kind face without hiding it".

You were so close now, your (e/c) eyes trained on the delicate strands that made up his bangs. Your touch was featherlight and uncalloused, your face screwed in concentration. In your current focus, you didn't see the admiration and awe for you that shimmered in his gaze. Never had he gotten attention like this, even from a friend. Friend. He despised that word when his thoughts drifted to you. But, how could you possibly ever find him attractive?? His lack of facial hair and muscle was unmanly, even by human standards.

You were strangely beautiful to Kili. You weren't as tall or lithe as the Elves, nor as creamy-skinned or graceful. You had perfect little imperfections in your skin and freckles. Your hair had character, being curly. And you almost always wore your hair out of your face, the odd stray hair coming to frame it perfectly. And from the moment he sensed his feelings for you some weeks ago, Kili had felt his confidence decrease. He felt as if he had no chance with 12 other eligible Dwarves in the Company that could easily win you over with their toned bodies and lavish, braided hair.

The Princeling wasn't oblivious to how you often spent your time with Ori, looking through his books and learning how to knit the varying patterns he practiced. And despite how Ori was much younger than Kili, he had an attractive amount of body hair. He was nowhere near as confident as the Prince, nor as rehearsed in the prowess of battle. However, it didn't stop the envy that crept its way into his heart and mind. Looks had always mattered to everyone else before, so why would it be any different now?

When your cooler hands brushed over his face whilst you worked, it left burning tingles in his skin. You noted the perfect shaping of his eyebrows, running your thumbs over them to smooth any stray hairs. His features were strong, to be expected of a man in Dwarven culture. You swept loose pieces of his fringe from his cheeks, his stubble seductively rough beneath your skin.

Some part of you preferred Kili without a beard. All the hair that hung from the others was so extravagant, but you liked seeing more of his face. His cheeky smile was your favourite thing to see, even on a bad day. Perhaps a beard would hide that?

Raking his fringe up for slight volume, you found yourself taken by how ethereal he seemed. You questioned yourself on whether or not it was your lack of food and rest from the day, but you couldn't ignore the fondness that crept into your soul at being so close with him. A smile marked your face, setting the last strands of his dark locks aside.

"Beautiful", you'd murmured, a sense of accomplishment filling your heart. The warmth of his skin increased beneath your lingering fingertips, his hazel gaze playing over your softer features. To his greater surprise, there was only genuity in your expression. Not wanting you to retreat from him, Kili placed his heated callouses over your own, fighting the way his eyes slightly glazed over with tears.

"Thank you". He offered you one of those boyish smiles, taking comfort in the suppleness of your skin beneath his own. You caressed the stubble beneath your skin, grazing your thumb over the smoothness of his sharp cheekbone. Kili chuckled in amusement, "I look a bit more dignified now".

"Nonsense. Your hair looked fitting either way", you laughed softly, squeezing the warmer hands that held your own. "It's truly beautiful. Stubble and all". His dark brows had risen, wonder filling his kind gaze. You really didn't mind his lack of body hair??

"I always thought my stubble was– I thought it may have been unsightly", he confessed with the hints of a nervous smile, your brows creasing in light concern. "Beards are of high importance in my culture".

"Not in mine", you shrugged, slowly trailing your thumb over his dimples and slightly chapped lips. "Besides, how else would I be able to see that gorgeous smile?". The shy grin that slowly splayed onto his face at your words was the happiest one you'd ever seen on the Prince. Your words had dissolved any unsurities in his heart. "That's the one", you giggled, Kili trying and failing to restrain his smile.

"I think I like yours better", he murmured, sweeping one of your stray curls from your face. "It's the one I fell for, after all".

The small gap between you both closed, Kili's burning lips meeting yours in a gentle touch. It started off unsure and light, becoming almost fervent when your head tilted and lips parted to allow his tongue to slip past them. Using his hand resting along your jaw, he guided your head closer to his own, relishing in the need to be as close to you as possible. His stubble scratched the skin of your face pleasurably, a soft sigh exhaling through your nose.

The both of you separated, your lips swollen and tingling from the caresses and nibbles of his own. Kili's eyes finally fluttered open after a few moments, skimming your face with a soft tenderness. "Abnâmul", he whispered, running a heated digit over your tingling lips. "You'll have to let me do that more often".

"I'll have to think about it", you mused, squeezing the hand that cradled your face affectionately.

"Hopefully not too hard", Kili sighed in pretend dejection, tracing his thumb along your cheek. "I do really love you".

"I'm glad the feeling is mutual", you chuckled softly, pressing your lips to his with a playfulness. No longer burdened with his insecurities, Kili's laughter chased your own,

"Me too".

The End. . .

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Hey, everyone! I hope you all enjoyed this fic! As always, any and all feedback is welcome!! If you wish to be a part of my taglist, check out my masterlist and let me know what you'd like to be tagged in! ❤❤❤

* * *

Translations;

Abnâmul = "beautiful", (Khuzdul)

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TAGLIST; @fizzyxcustard @lathalea @emrfangirl

#kili #kili durin #kili x reader #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction

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sweetbutpsychobutsweet · 4 months

Text

What We Left Behind in the Flames

Chapter 10

Thorin Oakenshield x AFAB!Reader

Summary: sleeping arrangements are debated and a late-night talk with Bilbo has you reliving moments of your childhood with Thorin by your side

Warnings: no use of y/n, angst

Author's Note: Thank you sooo much for your patience with my new updating schedule (if you can really call it a schedule lol) If there is anyone I forgot to add to the taglist please just send me another message to let me know. Enjoy and have a happy new year :)

Word count: 1528

“Search to the back,” Thorin calls out to Dwalin, “caves in the mountain are seldom unoccupied.” The rest of the company starts to shuffle into the damp cave. “There’s nothin’ here,” Dwalin’s voice calls out and you all start to drop your things down in relief. “Right then,” Gloin rubs his hands together in anticipation, “let’s get a fire started!” “No,” Thorin stops him, “no fires, not in this place.” You shiver and pull your cloak tighter around your shoulders. There is a horrible draft in the cave and you’re already soaked to the bone from the rain storm. “Get some sleep,” he instructs you all, “we start at first light.” You plop your wet things down onto the cavern floor. Everyone’s starting to unpack the necessities for the night, unfolding bedrolls and blankets. Finding free spaces on the cavern floor to claim. You’ve never put much thought into where you slept when setting up camp with the company. If you were in a particularly bad mood, you’d sometimes try and sleep as far away from everyone as safely possible. But now that you stand here, shivering in your rain soaked clothing, there is only one thing you desire: warmth. And if you cannot have a fire, there is one enticing alternative…

Your gaze drifts to the other side of the cave where Thorin speaks with a frustrated looking Balin. The two are huddled closely together. Do you dare sleep next to Thorin tonight? The two of you had certainly crossed quite a few boundaries already, but only ever behind closed doors. Never while the rest of the company was there to witness any form of affection between the two of you. Would Thorin object to allowing them any kind of clue as to what has already transpired between the two of you? Do you even want them to know? It almost feels like admitting some sort of defeat. Thorin finally wore you down after all your claims of not being able to stand him. Fili and Kili would never let you hear the end of it. “Bofur,” Thorin calls out, “take the first watch.” He turns away from Balin, briefly catching your eyes as you stand there watching him, still frozen in indecision. You can tell he’s having the same internal debate over your sleeping arrangements. He averts his gaze from yours and instead turns his back to you, heading towards the furthest corner of the cave. Ouch That decision has been made for you then. It should bring you some relief but instead all you can feel is…hurt. But there’s really no reason to. Just because the two of you had been semi-intimate a couple of times doesn’t meant that you’re now…together. You aren’t even sure if you want to be with Thorin that way. Publicly, romantically, or however it was you used to imagine the two of you growing up. Back when you were just a young, foolish girl. So certain that the dashing dwarven prince you’d grown up with would be by your side forever. One way or another. Marriage and courtship were never anything the two of you discussed but Dwarven society demanded that you would both marry someday. Not long before Smaug arrived, your parents were already bringing by the occasional suitor. Desperate to try and marry you off, as if that would ever tame your wild nature the way they hoped it would. And of course Thorin would need a queen. A fully dwarven queen. Someone of status, not the half dwarf girl he spent all his time with. But even though you both knew you’d be married off eventually, it was always implied that you’d still be in each other’s lives. You’d been best friends since childhood, why would that ever have to change? You couldn’t imagine ever having to live without him. That is, until you did. Until he left you no choice.

You pick your things back up with a huff. Fine then. If we wants to give you an orgasm then immediately go back to being a grumpy asshole, that’s on him. You toss your pack against the cave wall. Angrily unpacking your things next to a very quiet Bilbo. Thorin has always been very hard on the hobbit, tonight especially. After nearly plummeting to his death over the slippery cliffside, the last thing he needs is Thorin’s aggressively cold shoulder. You feel bad for the poor thing, but you’re too busy festering in your own frustrations to say so. After piling on every single blanket you own, you angrily lay down to sleep. Glaring up at the cavern and pulling the blankets all the way up to your chin. Everyone else is already asleep. Snoring away in a deep slumber, clearly exhausted from the day’s journey. Your eyelids are starting to droop as well. But just before you can drift off, a soft voice whispers your name from beside you. Your eyes snap back open and you turn to look at a sheepish Bilbo. “Can I ask you something?” he whispers. You yawn and rub your eyes, turning onto your side to see him better. “I don’t mean to pry, but I heard some of the other’s mention you’re only half dwarf. Is that true?” “Yes,” you nod, “on my father’s side. My mother is-was a human.” “Is that common in Erebor?” he asks curiously. “Not at all,” you laugh quietly, “My father was a very well respected lord in Erebor. My mother was the daughter of a merchant from Dale. He would take any excuse he could to go into town and visit her stall. When they eventually decided to get married there was quite a fuss. My mother’s family wanted nothing to do with her- or me for that matter. But luckily my Father was very good friends with Thorin’s father, Thrain. They’d grown up together, they were as close as brothers. He blessed the union and when I was born he helped ensure that I was treated as a full Dwarven citizen, just like everyone else.” “It must have been hard growing up though, I can’t imagine everyone was as accepting as Thorin’s family.” “At times,” you admit, “but I had friends in high places. And people would rather hold their tongues around me than risk the wrath of those friends.” “You mean Thorin?” Bilbo asks bluntly, and you peek over your shoulder at your king, making sure he is still asleep. “Everyone says you two used to be thick as thieves, practically inseparable.” You can see the steady rise and fall of Thorin’s chest even from here. “He was my best friend,” you confess in a soft whisper, not tearing your gaze from him. Even in his sleep Thorin looks cross. That ever present frown still on his face as he holds his sword close to his chest, as if someone will attack him in his dreams.

“What happened?” Bilbo asks, and you squeeze your eyes shut at the memories of dragon fire and the anguished screams of your kin. “Smaug didn’t just take our home and our loved ones,” you can still feel Thorin’s strong arms wrapped around you as he drags you away from the flames, kicking and screaming in protest. “Every dwarf that walked out of those halls that day, did so with a piece of themselves missing. Joy, innocence; it all had to be left behind in the flames. Thorin had to step up and become a king, everyone was looking to him now. And I finally had the freedom I’d always longed for, but at a price I wasn’t willing to pay. We both had to leave behind our childhoods in Erebor, we had to grow up quickly to survive this new reality. We started to show our true colors, and neither of us liked what we saw.” “You were angry,” Bilbo translates, “both of you.” “There are many different kinds of anger, Master Baggins. His made him stubborn and afraid, mine made me reckless and bitter. Those don’t mix well together.” “I don’t see why you two can’t get that back now,” he insists, “you were both young and grieving, surely enough time has passed since then?” “Time has nothing to do with it,” you hiss, a sharper edge coming into your tone, “He’s done things I can’t forgive, and he’d never forgive me if he knew half the things I’ve done since we last parted ways.” “What have you done?” “You wouldn’t understand!” you snap, your voice slightly louder than you had intended. “Go to sleep, hobbit,” you insist, rolling onto your other side to turn your back to him. After a moment or so, you hear him settle back into his bedroll. Your gaze falls back to Thorin’s spot across the cave. You could have sworn you saw his eyes close as soon as you look back in his direction, but you’re too tired to care. Your eyelids droop as you fall into a deep sleep, dreaming about that view from the doorway of the inn, tears running down your face, curses and insults screamed at his back as Thorin walks away.

Next Chapter

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buttered-my-biscuits · 5 months

Text

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

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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.

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“…(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.

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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

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