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Imagine being Thorin’s s/o and helping him pull the cobwebs from his hair, insisting that he looks a mess.

amrâlimê = my love

He watched you work with soft eyes, enjoying the way you fussed over him so. There was hardly any need to look presentable, he thought, not when you were locked away in the dungeons of the faithless woodland elves. Still, he sensed it was your way of coping. 

“There,” you said, smoothing your hands over his fur mantel. “Much better.” You stepped back to admire your work.

“Am I presentable, then?” he teased, admittedly in a better humor than when he’d first entered the dark cell.

“As much as Thorin Oakenshield will allow himself to be.”

He chuckled, stepping forward to cup your cheek. “Thank you, amrâlimê.” 

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Imagine Thorin’s (future) s/o being flustered when first meeting him. You’d instinctively call him ‘my king’--something that would immediately draw his attention. 

Quick Context: You are the neighbor of Dralin (an old friend of Thrain, father of Thorin). yet you are also his friend. Your parents are dead, and so you live alone.

You were kind of heart, he noted, watching the way you helped the now elderly Dralin. Hard working, too. 

When he’d come to the home of Dralin Ironclasp, he hadn’t expected many things. Most of all you. Yet here he was, sorely tempted to follow Dralin’s advice and welcome you into his quest.

“Y/N’s in need of a bit of adventure,” argued the battle-scarred dwarf. “Besides, you’d do well to keep a healer close by.”

Thorin studied his mug of warm cider, swirling a finger around the rim. “Most men would hardly advise a young woman to travel alone in the company of a dozen or so dwarves, much less encourage it.”

“Bah,” said Dralin, waving his hand, “I know the honorable Thorin Oakenshield and I would trust him with fifty women.”

“I’m not sure whether to be insulted or not by that,” Thorin murmured, his lips curled into a wry smirk. 

Dralin let out a laugh.

“Who would care for you while she is away?” The old dwarf grinned, knowing he’d won. 

“I’ve children of my own. Besides, I’ve grown lazy over the years. I’m far more able than she thinks.”

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Imagine Thorin asking you to marry him. While you’ve no need of a grand ceremony, Thorin would want to wait until he could marry you within the halls of Erebor. 

“Once this quest is fulfilled,” he said, carefully weaving the traditional betrothal braid into your hair, “I will shower you in riches. Soon, you’ll forget what it is to go cold or hungry.” 

He exhaled, drawing back to eye his work. His thumb smoothed over the end of your braid.

“I only want you,” you replied, making his lips twitch. His eyes softened as he thought of a life with you.

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Imagine your first winter with Jason. There he’d be--impervious to the cold. Meanwhile, you’d be standing a few feet away, clinging to the last shreds of warmth in your body.

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Imagine being on a hike and your mate imprinting on you while in their wolf form. What if you were shy or avoided their human self like the plague? Knowing that you at least like their wolf version, they’d make a point to find you whenever you go on hikes.

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Imagine a skunk living somewhere in the forest...only for the pack to have repeated run-ins with it--resulting in multiple sprayings. *Writhes on the ground while the other wolves laugh.* You, Emily, and Billy would end up buying dozens of bottles of de-skunking shampoo. 

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Imagine finding out the pack will have to patrol closer into town for a few weeks...and making a giant bandana to put around your mate’s neck as a result. Since you’re his imprint, he’d let you, but he’d still pray no vampires see him wearing it. “Just in case someone sees you...This way they won’t think you’re a bear or something. Less chance of hysteria.”

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Imagine helping Emily put flea drops on each of the wolves’ necks. *Grumpy wolves line up grumpily.*

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Image being one of the pack’s imprint. Now, imagine having a dog and trying to pick the perfect surprise treat. You’d ask your imprint to help you, inadvertently resulting in various pack members accompanying you to Petco just so you can exploit their canine senses. “Get the steak ones, Y/N. Oh, and that bone.” *Is met with hearty agreement.* 

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Imagine Beta’s reaction to his s/o being held captive at Hilltop. Even though it breaks Alpha’s orders, he’d still come for you.

Imagine being captured alongside another Whisperer. When Gabriel comes to interrogate you, your friend would warn him of his mistake in taking you. You were Beta’s mate. He was playing with fire.

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@beta-halfmoon​: Will there be new beta x reader content?

On this BOOdalinski’s GIFs? Yup! I actually have a post written for my main blog (BOOdalinski), called Beta Falling in Love Would Include, but wasn’t sure if anyone would be interested. 

I love how calm Beta is. He just has this air of serious...patience. He’s like someone that knows you’re about to say something stupid to provoke him, yet remains quite to see just how deep of a hole you’re going to dig yourself. 

After all, he doesn’t have to let Negan speak. He’s almost bemused by how ‘clueless’ Negan is. Because no one else would ever talk to Beta like this.

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Imagine taking care of Beta’s wound after he gets stabbed. While he’d normally do it himself, the fall left him incredibly sore. Going to your favorite place by the river, you’d notice him struggling against stiff muscles. 

Shyly, you’d gain his attention, “I can help...if you want.” With a grunt, he’d sit back--his way of consenting. As you approach, you wouldn’t be able to resist ogling his bared chest. Lord, he was all solid strength and stubborn lethality. The man was a mountain. Unmovable. Unbreakable.

Studying your reaction, he’d feel a jolt of pleasure at the obvious way your cheeks heated with desire.

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Theory: Beta gets annoyed when people watch him. Sure, he was famous; he’s used to ignoring stares. That doesn’t mean he enjoys being the subject of attention. If he did, he wouldn’t wear his mask 24/7. As his s/o, you’d be the one of the few people he can relaxed around.

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Imagine herding walkers mid-winter and Beta turning to notice you’re shivering. Slowing his stride, he’d covertly remove his jacket and drape it over your shoulders. When, a few minutes later, he turns to check again, his heart would pound at the sight of you bundled up--having slipped your arms into the sleeves to use the extra material as makeshift gloves. Hands clutched to your chest, the jacket’s tail would drag along the snow, creating a little trail. 

Lips twitching, he’d find you utterly adorable.

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(Continuation of the immune reader being ordered to breed with Beta)

Imagine being afraid to tell Beta he’s gotten you pregnant--or even being unsure if you truly are carrying his cub. Taking matters into her own hands, Alpha would decide to tell Beta herself. Imagine her doing this whilst herding walkers--her having ordered you to stay behind with the others.

When she tells him, he’d be unable to respond, lest the walkers turn on him (so the gif is how he’d look). At most, he’d give a shocked stutter-step. On the inside, though, he’d be awash with emotion as the information overwhelms him.

Imagine the intense way he’d stare at you once he returns. He wouldn’t even tell you that he knows--he’d just watch for any signs that Alpha was right.

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Imagine Negan trying to flirt with you (as is his way) and Beta acting possessive. 

If you’re not already ‘mated’, he’d warn you to stay away from Negan. It would be a mistake to trust him. He wouldn’t even realize the true root of his dislike. He’s not jealous--he simply doesn’t want Negan to trick you. It has nothing to do with a secret fear of losing you to the outsider.

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Imagine Beta eye-fucking you from across the clearing. Communicating without words, you’d discreetly wander off for some mid-day sex. While he wouldn’t show it, Beta would be just as eager as you. He’d, in fact, struggle to appear outwardly calm as he follows you into the forest.