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bookworm-with-coffee · 1 year ago

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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! ❤❤❤

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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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shirefantasies · 2 months ago

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I Now Pronounce You…Confused- Bofur x F!Reader

I’m really excited for this one! Found a hilarious trope prompt and one of my favorite shows has done this at least once too 😆

Warnings: mentions of alcohol/intoxication, suggestive jokes

Every pound of your head came like the cruelest heartbeat, painfully reminding you you were alive. A little too alive, frankly. It had been a long time, maybe even never, since you had indulged such as you’d chosen to the previous night, distracting yourself enough for the bottle to throw you right into the…cot? Bed?

Oh, stars. Bolting upright, you flung the blanket that was half-draped over your body off, realizing with the motion of your arm and the uncovering of your body that you were, in fact, still in the dress and pinafore you’d remembered putting on the previous day, not a scratch anywhere on you or it. Well, thank the heavens for that at least.

For that as well as the emptiness of the bedroom of sorts you were in. Perhaps you had simply gone awash and someone had walked you back there for a rest. Yes, that had to be it, you reflected as you slowly rose to your feet, slinging one leg followed by the other off the edge and gripping one of the posts for balance. Blast your splitting skull. Blast it all!

But judging by the doorway carved into the far sight of your square little brown quarters, at least there was what appeared to be a small washroom attached to the bedchambers. If not all hope was lost, anyway. Tugging your shifted skirts straight about your waist again, you tentatively squeaked across the old floorboards, glancing up at the molding around the ceiling. Very pointy-looking flowers and the like. That was right, you’d made your way to New Dale.

A traveler. That was what you were. Hadn’t found any reason to settle down yet, and if you’d made as much of a fool of yourself as you suspected, this place would be no exception. New Dale was to be the final stop on the way to see the infamous Lonely Mountain anyway, not much of a potential home, but right close and certainly availed of drink, not to mention quite the handsome mayor. Or whatever that Bard called himself.

At any rate, more than ready were you to disappear through that doorway and, with any luck, into a nice cool bath. You made your way over to it, but right as you made to step through another figure emerged, almost stepping into you, rocking back, and giving a call of shock to match yours.

He was a dwarf by the looks, and mainly height, of him, one a bit your senior and most distinctly wearing a great big hat that made you want to try it on so badly your hand twitched as if to make to swipe it off his head.

“‘N who might you be?”

The dwarf asked, tone not at all accusing, quiet as though he was as hungover as you, and frankly sounding more amused than anything else. The lilt of it carried an unspoken hint of ‘why not?’.

A rhetorical question you were more than happy to answer right back with one. “Were you in here all night?”

The dwarf looked taken aback by that, brown brows rising suddenly, seemingly before he could stop them. “Not like you’re thinking unless you aren’t thinking what I think you’re thinking. I don’t think.”

“What?”

“Can’t remember much of last night,” the dwarf answered, a gloved hand pressing to his hatted head, “but if you’re worried about how well we got to know each other last night, frankly I don’t even know if we got to names!”

You shook your head. “We mustn’t have, for I have not the foggiest what yours could be.”

At that, he smiled and you really took him in, realized what a kind and cheery-looking fellow he was. “Then let these introductions be all the sweeter. Bofur at your service, madam.” As punctuation he bowed at the waist, a hand flipping to extend toward you.

Letting out a chuckle, you gave your name, took his hand and felt your brow rise in surprise at the way he boldly brought your hand to his lips. It brought a smile to them, though, and with that out of the way Bofur waved a hand and bid you use of the washroom, which you gladly took up.

Should you have used the tub fully? Probably, but as it was you were still just a hint unsteady on your feet and drawing water sounded about as appealing as kissing a dragon right about then. Alright, maybe not that bad, but unpleasant enough. As it was you opted to take up a clean white rag and simply scrub yourself up as best you could, harsh hands grating soft fabric against your skin. The soap bar was simple, but a hint of orange blossom carried into the air around you as it bubbled lightly onto your moist body.

Upon finishing, you tugged your clothes back on, wrinkling your nose at the contrasting smell of wear pulling once more onto freshened skin. Drying your hands and lacing your shoes, you made your way back out, taking a curious peek around the doorway as if Bofur had been the product of a wild hangover dream.

Standing a short distance from the corner, the dwarf stood and waved a hand, offering a little smile. Not a figment of your imagination, then. Tentatively you waved back.

"We must've both just nipped off here to sleep it all away without realizing."

"Well, I guess that makes us roommates!" Bofur replied jovially, eyes turning upward with the joy of his smile.

"I guess so," you agreed, giving a smile of your own and emerging from your accidentally-shared room at his side.

Another enemy: a staircase. With a little 'whoa', Bofur pitched a little forward, grasped your forearm for stability, and gave a little hum of satisfaction before holding on completely. Your own rolling brain was silently grateful for the extra balance, the warm weight against you as you gripped the banister's smoothness. Joined like that you arrived down at the bottom and turned into the tavern, which already housed a mild bustle of patrons and servers.

One such woman came up to your side soon after you separated, hands joined at her waist and cheeks beaming with...pride? But what could she possibly-

"Well, if it isn't the newlyweds!" She exclaimed, sunshine positively beaming from all sides of her voice. "Frankly I am a bit surprised to see you out so soon. Well, no matter! Shall I prepare a spot of breakfast for the happy couple?"

"You're joking," Bofur snorted, "Right? We don't even know each other!"

"We met for the first time upstairs just now," you added, nodding agreement before turning back his way, "But I am sure we would enjoy some breakfast, thank you!"

"What are you talking about? You wed last night! No rings or anything, the two of you simply could not wait any longer! Quite romantic."

"I don't understand," Bofur said, gaze swinging up between you and this other woman, "We just got each other's names. Must've been another dwarf."

Leading you to your table, the woman spoke your names before you'd given them, reciting vows that named a brother and cousin Bofur had yet to mention at all, but that he'd apparently thought you'd like last night. Even though according to him the cousin, Bifur, needed some taking care of. Probably didn't hold his ale well. Your vows included an old joke about how you thought you'd be married in trousers, which was something you'd said to your family as a little kid. The name you'd been sure your future husband would have when you were twelve years old. All things this strange woman could never have known. Unless, of course, you'd spoken them last night drunk out of your mind.

"By my beard," Bofur breathed, clearly having come to the same conclusion, "We really did get married! Who in their right mind let us do that? Drunk as skunks, we were!"

"Probably the town justice you shook down 'Until I am bound to this fine woman for all eternity'," the server giggled as you wobbled into your seats, eyes still wide, "So, er, eggs then? Sausage? Bacon? Flapjacks?"

"All of the above," your companion sighed, eyes remaining locked on yours, "And whatever your strongest tea is, please."

"Just tea?" You asked with a sardonic smirk.

"Never got that hair of the dog stuff. 'Sides, don't want to end up like last night again, eh?"

"Maybe if we do it again we'll get divorced."

"I dunno, seems the liquor made us like each other a whole lot more."

"Could've liked each other even better," you quipped drily, glancing down at your clothing.

"You've got me there," Bofur chuckled.

He said nothing more as you waited for your tea, but some barely perceptible shift had occurred in his eyes, which occasionally shot down lower onto your form and then right back up again like they'd been slapped. Your own gaze wavered from his eyes a bit, tracing the line of his mustache down and back up again. He drummed his fingers in some unknown rhythm against the table's wood surface, glancing back up at you with some unspoken question you weren't sure if you wanted to answer.

"Your tea! Tea for two!"

Tension thoroughly cut, you both tore your eyes from each other to meet those of that same server once again, this time setting down a laden with tea things. Beaming at you again, she set a little white cup banded with green and gold, the center of each ribbon bearing lilies. White lilies, of course.

"Get it?"

"Yes," you groaned.

"Ah, lilies, that's clever," Bofur remarked, holding a cup up to his face and chuckling, "'S good, save for the fraudulence and falsehood of it all. Say, do you guys have honey?"

"Of course."

And with that, it was just you two again, you two and the tray and the steaming teapot that matched your cups. Was Bofur not feeling the pit of dread that sunk within you or was he truly that good at masking it? Or maybe he was truly so confident in your situation's coming reversal.

"So I suppose we track down that same justice to nullify this all?" You asked, staring down at your cup under the guise of ensuring nothing of your refreshment spilled.

"Supposing so," Bofur answered, accepting your proffered teapot from across the table, although he refrained from pouring anything, likely in anticipation of the honey, "For now, we may as well enjoy a nice meal, eh? I hear the flapjacks here are especially good."

"Oh? From who?"

"From my love of flapjacks! Now come on, how's about we get to know each other a little? Daresay we're a special kind of friends now. What brings you to New Dale? Business?"

"Quite the opposite," you snorted, leaning back until one of your chair's hard corners poked into the flesh of your back, forcing you to shift quickly to maintain an appearance half as nonchalant as Bofur's, "I had no more reason to go here than anywhere else save my own desire. New Dale was actually just a stop on the way to visit the mountain."

“Mountain?” Bofur asked, brows raised in great interest. “The Lonely Mountain? Erebor? That mountain?”

“Yes,” you giggled, “Any other names you’d like to give or is the hangover leaving your body now?”

“Well, what did you want to see? I’ll have you know your husband lives there."

"Let me see, the architecture, the history, that great mass of gold and gems I've heard so much about, all the beautiful things only dwarves can make."

"Men can make beautiful things, too," Bofur answered, "After all, they made you."

For once, your mind could not conceive of a single protest.

In the shadow of the Lonely Mountain you and Bofur strolled, Bofur pointing out the meaning of this flag and that statue until you had entered the great stone bulk and stared in awe at massive columns of whatever greenish stone and flying colors from a great indoor marketplace. In-mountain. Whatever the lot of it was, it did not smell nearly as dusty and dry in there as your imagination had conjured- how’d they keep it so nice?

Whilst there, Bofur bought you a souvenir. In drifting over the assortment of carven wood implements, your eyes slid back to a great stein numerous times. Inhaling the scent of the sawdust littering the floor behind the crafts-dwarf, you skimmed completely over spoons and even little statues of creatures of the woods to look at the thing, the thing finished smooth and set with some rune. One of joy, according to Bofur.

"You like it."

"No, I don't." A glance at the seller, then back to Bofur. "Well, yes I do, but I don't know if I can-"

Coins spilled onto the table. One, two, three.

"I can. I want you to have it. It reminds me of you, all things considered.”

“Drunken night?” The seller chuckled, crossing his arms and darting his eyes between you two as a smile spread beneath his bushy beard.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Bofur answered with a chuckle before you could put in your own proverbial cent.”

“A stein?” You asked him as you walked off, waving the great big thing like the world’s stumpiest flag. “That’s my symbol now?”

“Come now,” Bofur tutted your name softly, giving a nonchalant little shrug, “‘s just a joke. If you don’t want to be known by this, then tell me what your favorite thing is.”

You’d think he was the homeless one for all his Mahal-may-care attitude, and yet there he was, relaxed and himself inside this mountain with his own people. For once you envied the static life, aching for something beyond the next port-of-sorts as you looked into his eyes.

“Swans.”

“What?”

“I’ve traveled a lot. But one village I saw I’ll never forget. It stood at the foot of a lake, and when you sat along the water you could watch all the white swans paddling across the water. It was so shiny and blue and they were so graceful. Not that they couldn’t kill you on land, but out there on the water? Anyone’d wanna be one of them.”

“I can see it,” Bofur told you, head tilted a bit.

“Really?”

“Sure,” he waved a hand, “You’re just like that! Pretty but don’t make ya mad. I like that. And say, I have just the thing for you then, Swan Lady, and it’ll be much better than some ol’ beer mug!”

Swan Lady. You liked that. It echoed through your head as you smiled and followed Bofur's eager lead deeper into the mountain.

‘Better than a beer mug’ was an understatement- Bofur led you beneath a doorway carven with bear cubs and birds and even little dwarven silhouettes, hanging banners of deep blue and yellow contrasting the stone. Light poured from it, a bright yellow light that still somehow stayed cozy. Firelight. A lot of little firelights. Through the welcoming waves of the carvings was an assortment of shelves lining every wall. Each of them was filled with different delights: porcelain figurines crowned in painted gold, wooden swords with unique hilt ornaments, wolves on wheels with strings matching the colors of their yellow eyes, grey fur, or red maws. Spinning mobiles hung from the ceiling in the form of anything from Erebor’s thrushes to whimsical winged ponies spinning in little skybound derbies. Where, you wondered, should your eyes fall next? Not to the mirrors, carved and waved for distorted reflections. You were still a little too hungover for that.

Bofur answered that question, softly catching your attention with your name before he waved you to a corner shelf. “Look here.”

Tearing your eyes from a squat wooden dwarf knight, you followed Bofur, only to see another pull-along toy, this time white. A swan with neatly carved feathers and eyes serenely shut. Capturing just what you’d described. Well, save for the wrath awaiting anyone annoying. It didn’t need it, though. Not this one.

A smile spread across your face, the stein in your hand lowering forgotten. “You’re right.”

“I am?”

“Of course you are.” You elbowed him playfully.

“I can’t believe it!” Bofur exclaimed with a grin. “Oh, here, come meet its makers, then. My cousin and my brother.”

For some reason, the thought of meeting Bofur’s family brought a little rush of heat. Meeting people wasn’t usually any pressure. Why a couple of toymakers?

Why indeed. Bombur and Bifur were right nice, even if the elder one didn’t speak. He got his point across well enough, and how he’d blushed when you complimented his beautiful swan! The pull-along he gifted you, sending a wink Bofur’s way.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Bofur said again, but that time with a soft smile and gaze that didn’t pull away from yours.

Erebor’s halls were so vast as to almost feel outside despite their clear lack of sunlight or clouds or any such natural effect beyond stone, stone, and more stone. The air was clearer than any cave you’d been in- there must’ve been some sort of ventilation system. Fascinating. It made you want to build one of those wild mining pulleys they had just to shoot yourself to the top and crawl around for it. A few dwarves barreled past you and Bofur, almost knocking you over had his gloved hand not gripped yours. A grip as warm as you’d expected. Not that you’d imagined it. Nor had you imagined the way his voice softened when he told you “just in case”, eyes flicking tentatively up to yours.

“So, how’d you like Erebor?” Bofur’s voice shook your brain by its shoulders, dropping it from its thoughts and sensations of still-gripped hands.

“It was amazing,” you told him, strolling ever slower on your way back to New Dale, “I almost didn’t want to leave! Thank you for everything: showing me around, the gifts, better company than I deserved. I wasn’t the fairest this morning.”

“You- You- Well,” Bofur rubbed the back of his neck before dropping his hand down to take yours, “Plenty fair for me. In fact, can I tell you something?”

Inhaling deeply, you swallowed, something in those hazel eyes yanking a rush of words from deep in your chest. Erebor deep. Deeper than you ever thought you’d go. Deep enough that you almost feared it. You’d gotten outside the justice’s office, great grey-painted door looming before you like a heavy cloud.

“I have to tell you something too,” you told him.

“I want to stay married,” you both blurted out simultaneously.

Bofur’s jaw dropped. He gaped at you for several sped heartbeats before snapping out of it, shaking his hatted head and breaking into the widest, giddiest grin you’d ever seen. That morning you might have called it a dumb one. Right then? All you could say was how beautiful a sight it was. How it looked like home. That very thing you’d taken for granted for all those years thinking nowhere would feel like it. No one would want you. And yet with Bofur by your side it was like all those thoughts had gone poof into the pile of ash he told you the dragon had almost made of his company.

Before you could say anything, though, a pair of warmly clad hands took hold of your hips, yanking you against a fur coat and into the softest, most eager lips that could have devoured you. So intent on such were you, in fact, that you didn’t catch the squeak of a door until a man’s voice interrupted you, forcing you to pull apart, although Bofur’s hold on you remained fast.

“Still can’t keep your hands off each other, can you?” The man, presumably the justice, not that your faulty ale-hazed memory was any help, chuckled. “Newlyweds.”

“Newlyweds,” you agreed, speaking again in unison and gazing into each other’s eyes, your arms reaching to stroke Bofur’s.

“We’re crazy, aren’t we?” Bofur teased.

“Positively drunk on love.”

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#the hobbit #the hobbit imagines #the hobbit x reader #bofur #bofur x reader #bofur x female reader #female reader #human reader #accidental marriage

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nostalgicnarrator · 2 months ago

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𝙾𝚞𝚝𝚕𝚊𝚠𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙻𝚊𝚠𝚖𝚎𝚗

───── ☾ ⍟ ☽ ─────

Word Count: 7736

Parings: Thorn X Bilbo

Description:

Thorin has had it with this outlaw.

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1 / 2 / 2.5

⚠️Warning⚠️

Mature content.

Note:

I put my cowboy hat on first this one, let me know if you want to see more. I might make it into a AO3 book if people want it enough.

───── ꧁✪꧂ ─────

The sun wasn’t even over the horizon when the knock came, loud and persistent, and far too early in the morning for Thorin’s liking.

He was in the middle of a deep, dreamless sleep. The knocks started quietly, just enough to stir him. But they didn’t stop. The knocking quickly turned to banging.

Thorin groaned loudly, dragging his hand down his face. And that’s how he found himself standing at his front door staring at a boy who shoved a paper in his hand.

Thorin half-expected some emergency, not some kid. The problem was that Ered was quiet most mornings, but it had its moments, so when someone comes banging on his door this early, it was usually serious.

Not for some paper. He raised his brow at the young man as he stood there, barely awake himself. The boy rubbed his eyes, swaying slightly as if he might fall asleep standing.

“Telegram for you, Sheriff,” the boy mumbled when he handed it over.

Thorin blinked at the offending piece of paper. It felt heavier than it should’ve, like it carried some kind of unseen weight. Something in his gut told him this wasn’t good, it felt… wrong.

He quickly read the message, his brow furrowing as his tired eyes tried to make sense of it.

꧁——————————꧂

꧁𝚃𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚖꧂

𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚂𝚎𝚗𝚝: 𝟻:𝟶𝟶…..𝚃𝚘: 𝚃𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚗 𝙾𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚕𝚍

𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚍: 𝟼:𝟹𝟶……

𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝙴𝚛𝚎𝚍.

𝙱.

꧁——————————꧂

Thorin stared at the telegram. “B,” he muttered to himself. Just a letter, no name. He turned the telegram over as if he might find some clue hidden on the back.

“Who sent this?” Thorin asked, glancing at the boy. Feeling about as annoyed as a wet cat.

The young man shrugged, still half-asleep. “Dunno. Just got handed it at the post office this morning. Told to deliver it.”

“Great,” Thorin muttered, running a hand through his hair. He shooed the boy away.

He all but slammed the door as he tossed the telegram paper on a table and stormed upstairs. His mind was unhelpfully loud and annoying.

He had no idea who “B” was, or why this person thought it necessary to bother him at this ungodly hour. And why a cryptic message about a train?

It wasn’t like trains were a rare occurrence in Ered. They’re not often eather, and when they did come through they had small shipments. But him getting the notice didn’t make sense. The mayor normally gets the notice about the trains, not Thorin.

He flopped over onto his bed and tried to go back to sleep. His mind rolled through thoughts of who could have possibly sent it.

At first his mind landed on Balin, but that makes no sense, first of all, Balin would’ve waited, second he wasn’t always needed when it came to deliveries. The few times he was, was when the bank got new bills in or gold shipments.

Besides, Balin didn’t deal in cryptic messages; he was direct, always to the point. So If it wasn’t Balin, then who?

He turned the letter over in his mind. Bofur? No, not likely. Bofur wasn’t much for secrets, the man would have blurted out whatever he had to say in the middle of town for all to hear. Probably would have burst into song about it if someone got a little liquor in him.

Bombur wouldn’t send it either, he got his shipments with his brother, and when he didn’t it came by wagon. Sure the man was shy but he knew Thorin and they’ve talked a few times.

Bifur? No, Bifur probably didn’t understand how telegrams worked, so it couldn’t be him. Thorin groaned and rubbed his face again roughly.

None of them would have done it. they all would’ve told him in person if they did actually need help, and at a more reasonable hour.

So it had to have come from outside of Ered. But who, in their right mind, would do this?

“First that outlaw,” Thorin grumbled under his breath. “And now this… I can’t catch a break.”

Thorin hadn’t even caught his breath from that whole disaster, the universe is out for his blood. He could feel it. Thorin sat back up with a huff, he decided to get ready for the day. It was clear he wasn’t going back to sleep any time soon.

And he could feel something was off about this whole situation. It nagged at him like an itch he couldn’t quite scratch. The one thing Thorin had learned over the years was that trouble didn’t usually announce itself. It snuck up on you.

Thorin sighed heavily, he really didn’t want to deal with any more problems, he shoved his boots on and pulled his hair back before plopping his hat on his head. He was already tired, and the day hadn’t even started yet.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎︎ 𐬾 ༅ ༅ 𐬾 ☀︎︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Thorin looked up from his desk when Dwalin walked in, the man looked as exhausted as Thorin felt, he vaguely wondered if the deputy got a Telegram too.

That thought left him quickly when Dwalin looked at Thorin with confusion. Dwalin tossed his hat on his desk, it landed with a soft thud. The man slowly walked around to Thorin before he leaned back against the table. He crossed his arms. Dwalin flinched in pain as he did.

Thorin cringed as he saw, Thorin knew Dwalin wasn’t fully healed, but the man wouldn’t stay home no matter how much he was begged, bribed or told to. So Thorin let him keep working, (more like didn’t have a choice)

“Well, I’ll be,” Dwalin chuckled, eyeing Thorin. “What are you doin’ here so early? You usually ain’t this eager to start the day.”

Thorin sighed, his fingers tapped impatiently on the desk. Without a word, he picked up the telegram card.

“I’ve been debating whether to burn this thing in the stove or not all morning,” Thorin grumbled, handing the telegram over like it was the most offensive thing in fifty miles.

Dwalin took it with a smirk, glancing at the Telegram. His eyes moved to the card back to Thorin, then down to the card again. Slowly, he snatched it up and read it.

After a few moments the smirk slipped off Dwalin’s face, replaced with something more serious.

“What do you make of it?” Thorin asked, already half annoyed by the silence.

Dwalin narrowed his eyes, holding the card up to the lamp light as if checking for anything else. “Thorin,” he began carefully, “do you have any clue who this is from?”

Thorin leaned back in his chair, throwing his hands up in frustration. “No! I’ve been rackin’ my brain over it, and I can’t figure out who this ‘B’ is supposed to be!”

Dwalin paused and slowly turned his head to squint at Thorin. He shot Thorin a look that made the sheriff pause and stare back. “What?” He asked after a beat of silence.

The deputy let out a long, exasperated sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are you stupid, or are you just playin’ dumb?”

Thorin straightened in his seat, the irritation from before coming back ten fold. “Excuse me?”

Before Thorin could get another word in, Dwalin cut him off, shaking the telegram at him. “It’s Bilbo, you idiot.”

Thorin blinked, surprised. His expression darkened. “Bilbo?” Granted he had started to think the same thing but- “That outlaw’s not that dumb! And, even if you were right, why would he sign the telegram? It’s too obvious.”

Dwalin rolled his eyes, tossing the card back onto Thorin’s desk. “He clearly wants you to know it’s him! -You really think someone else is gonna go through the trouble of sendin’ your dumb ass a message like this?”

Thorin crossed his arms over his chest, his jaw clenched. “It could be anyone. What's the point then? Why tell me about a train?”

Dwalin let out a grunt, standing up and grabbing his hat. “I’ll tell ya what-he’s tryin’ to get under your skin or he’s just fuckin’ with ya. And by the look of it, he’s succeedin’.”

Thorin bristled. “Where’s your proof?! I'm tellin’ you! If it was Bilbo, I’d know!”

Dwalin raised an eyebrow as he fixed his hat back on his head. “Fuckin’ shit Thorin! Ya really think Bilbo plays by the rules? Outlaws like him, they make their own rules. Now, we can either sit here and argue about it, or we can head to the train station to see if I’m right.”

Thorin’s eyes narrowed, his pride burning in him. He wanted to prove Dwalin wrong, but he couldn’t deny that there was something about this that gnawed at him.

Thorin stood up, grabbing his own hat and putting it on his head with more force than necessary.

“Fine, We’ll go. If this turns out to be nothin’, I’m holdin’ you responsible for draggin’ me out there.” Thorin grumbled as he stomped out of the office.

Dwalin smirked and quickly followed. “Oh Sheriff, I’m sure it’ll be well worth the trip.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎︎ 𐬾 ༅ ༅ 𐬾 ☀︎︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

They had been waiting for hours. Thorin checked the clock on the station wall and let out an impatient “tsk.” Dwalin, who was leaning against a wooden pole, glanced over at the noise.

“Ya gonna keep doing that every five minutes?” Dwalin asked, sounding frustrated.

Thorin got up from the bench he had been sitting on with a frustrated grunt. “We’ve been here for hours, and there’s no train. It's gettin’ hot, and I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast!”

Dwalin raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Ya sound like a child.”

Thorin shot him a glare, opening his mouth to retort. Another voice interrupted.

“Uncle!” Fíli yelled as he quickly came up the stairs. “There you are! Ma got worried when you two weren’t in the office.”

“Yeah! She brought lunch for you- unfortunately it must’ve mysteriously disappeared” Kíli said as he shrugged before he came over and stole Thorin’s hat.

The boy plopped it on his head and beamed at his brother. Thorin gave the boy an unimpressed look and snatched his hat back. “Uh-huh sure it did. Tell your momma I’m sorry, but we’re waitin’ on a train so-“ Dwalin interrupted.

“I’ll tell you what we’re waitin’ on, we’re waitin’ for that outlaw, Bilbo.“ the deputy said as he glared at Thorin.

“Ohh! That explains the telegram then!” Kíli said as he nodded very seriously.

Fíli paused for a second then slowly looked at Kíli. “What telegram Kee?”

“The one on uncle’s desk! The B at the bottom makes so much more sense now-” Kíli tried to say, but he was quickly interrupted.

“What?!” Fíli shouted and whipped around completely to glare at his brother. “You saw that and didn’t think to tell ma or me?! Kee!!”

Kíli put his hands up in mock surrender “Well if I did, I wouldn’t of been able to eat lunch! And it didn’t seem like a big deal!”

“It couldn’t have been a bigger deal! What if uncle had gone out after him! No one would have known anything! You know he doesn’t tell anyone anything!”

Thorin decided to stop them when Fíli’s hands started twitching. He knew his sister would like to keep both her sons in mostly one piece

“Alright-alright! you two that’s enough-” but then there was a distant screeching noise. Thorin turned to look.

There was a low rumble too, that started to fill the air as a train moved closer, Thorin could see the billowing of smoke in the distance.

Dwalin stood up straighter, adjusting his hat. “Here it comes,” he said, he tilted his head as he watched the train. “…it’s movin’ fast. Too fast-“

Thorin frowned, watching the approaching train. The rumble grew louder each second that passed, the ground beneath them trembling as the train neared.

Dwalin was right, the train was going too fast, Thorin was pretty sure trains didn’t come barreling through stations like that, unless something was very, very wrong.

The train rocketed through the station in a blur of steam and steel, the air whipping around them as it shot past. Thorin barely had time to catch his hat as the force of the train sent a gust of wind blowing through the station’s platform.

Then, Thorin caught glimpses of human shapes through the windows of the passenger cars, people, civilians- were trapped in that train.

“Hell,” Dwalin muttered, his eyes widening. “You don’t think…”

“Were those?” Fíli asked quietly by Thorin’s side.

Thorin’s jaw clenched, his anger flared. Dwalin was right. Bilbo had sent the message, but this wasn’t just some ordinary train coming through town. This was a hostage situation.

As the end of the train sped past, Thorin’s eyes locked onto a figure standing on the roof of the rear car. His heart lurched when he recognized the figure, he was standing tall and confident despite the speed.

Bilbo Baggins, tipped his hat and bowed with exaggerated enthusiasm. When the outlaw looked back up, his eyes quickly met Thorin’s and Thorin felt a surge of anger and adrenaline. Even though he couldn’t see it Thorin could feel the smug smile on Bilbo’s face.

Dwalin let out a low chuckle that immediately had Thorin glaring at him, this wasn’t funny. “Told ya it was him.”

Thorin clenched his fists. “We don’t got time for this, Those people are in danger!”

Dwalin’s smirk faded, his eyes narrowing. “Right. I’ll gloat later.”

Thorin turned to his nephews. “Fíli your honorary deputy till I get back! Understand?”

Fíli stuttered a bit before quickly shouting after them. “What- but! Uncle wait”

“What about me!” Kíli whined with a huff.

“Tell your mother she’s sheriff if I don’t come back!” Thorin yelled as Dwalin mounted their horses.

Thorin kicked his heels into his horse’s side, urging her forward, and Dwalin was right behind him. The sound of hooves thundered against the ground as they raced after the train.

“What do you think his plan is,” Dwalin called out over the wind, giving another flip to his reins as they sped along the tracks.

But Thorin couldn’t answer, his focus was on the retreating figure of the outlaw. how Bilbo had managed this, he’d probably never know.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎︎ 𐬾 ༅ ༅ 𐬾 ☀︎︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Bilbo dropped down onto the Gangway, his boots hitting the metal with a soft thud. He straightened, dusting off his poncho unnecessarily.

The wind whipped around him still. With a quick motion, he stepped into the passenger car. And pulled his mask down. He took a deep breath and looked around.

The inside of the car was dimly lit, the lamps flickered as the train cars swayed dangerously. Bilbo took a moment to survey the “passengers.” Each seat was filled, but not with people, no, he didn’t want anyone to get hurt after all.

Instead the seats were occupied by dummies, dressed in old clothes Bilbo had managed to get from whoever he could, most only being shirts or old hats.

The figures sat still and lifeless, rocking with the cars their heads slumped forward as if they were sleeping. A few had faces sloppily drawn onto their cloth heads.

Bilbo smiled to himself, the sight of the dummies filling him with a sense of satisfaction. The ruse had worked perfectly. He had to give himself credit for creativity.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” He said as he glanced at the back of the car.

Bilbo’s eyes landed on his right-hand man, who was leaning back casually in one of the seats, his arms crossed. The man’s sharp brown eyes scanned the room with an approving nod.

“As impressive as it is crazy,” his right-hand man said as he shook his head. “Are you sure it worked boss?” The man’s tone was light, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes.

Bilbo nodded, walking down the aisle between the dummies inspecting his work. “Oh, it worked. Trust me, Thorin’s the kind of lawman who can’t resist a baited hook.” Bilbo nodded to one of the Dummies as he sat down across from his right-hand man. “Especially if it involves a train full of ‘innocent’ passengers. He’ll be on board soon enough.”

“… Is this all really just to see if those stories about the sheriff hold water?” The man asked quietly as he leaned forward, giving Bilbo a strange look.

Bilbo tapped the man’s hat. He quickly moved to fix his hat with a grumble. “You, my dear friend, worry too much,” Bilbo said with a sly smile. “You know how people love to blow things out of proportion”

His right-hand man smirked back. “I don’t have anyone else to worry over B, and you happen to be the most worrisome thing in my life”

Bilbo rolled his eyes and sighed. He leaned back against the seat, the smile fading from his lips as his usual bravado slipped away. “I’m sorry.” He muttered.

His right-hand man looked over, “What for, B?” He asked, he sounded concerned. “You didn’t do anything”

“For making you help me again… I didn’t realize so much of your old life was waiting for you in that town. If I’d known- I should have known…” Bilbo trailed off, glancing down.

The right-hand man waved it off, letting out a quiet sigh. “No need to apologize for that, boss man. Neither of us knew, and it doesn’t matter now. I’d, without a second thought, go back there if you needed me to.”

Bilbo looked up at the man, He let a smile slip back on his face “I won’t make you go back there again, not unless you want to.”

They sat in silence for a beat, a moment passing between them. Then, with a sharp inhale, Bilbo stood, his grin turning more playful. “Come on, if we don’t hurry, they’ll catch up.”

“Right.” His right-hand stood up and readjusted his hat again to hide his face more. He followed after Blibo as the two men began to make their way further up the train.

“I want Thorin and Dwalin to feel… welcomed when they finally decide to hop aboard.” Bilbo looked back and smiled at his right-hand.

The man nodded. “As welcomed as they can be on this train anyway, all the muscle is in place…”

“Good,” Bilbo said with a satisfied nod. “Let’s make sure everything runs smoothly. I don’t want anyone dying on my train”

“Yes sir boss man,” the man hummed. “Paid off the conductor yesterday. He’ll take us straight through without any interruptions, if he can help it. And the thugs owe us a favor”

Bilbo nodded, “good, then let’s get moving, we need to make sure we can get to the engine to escape.”

The right-hand man shook his head. “You really are crazy Bilbo.” With that, the two of them made their way to the front of the train, the dummies sitting silently in their seats as the train rattled on through the open plains, waiting for the inevitable.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎︎ 𐬾 ༅ ༅ 𐬾 ☀︎︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The landscape blurred as Thorin and Dwalin raced behind the train, their horses being pushed to their limit. The wind howled past them, tearing through their clothes as they thundered over the open plains.

Thorin could feel his heart pounding in time with the rhythm of everything; the gallop of hooves, the rattling train wheels.

Ahead, the train barreled forward, the smoke from its engine trailing behind like a dark cloud. It cut through the open land, speeding forward.

Thorin looked ahead and saw a narrow bridge over a large river, he cussed under his breath and turned his head towards Dwalin. “Dwalin! We need to get on that train! Now!” He shouted as loud as he could.

Dwalin gave a sharp nod and spurred his horse, digging his heels into his horse’s side. His horse surged forward, cutting through the wind as Dwalin leaned low like a horse racer.

Dwalin reached out, his fingers brushing the iron handle on the back of the caboose car, he pushed himself forward, then the train’s wheels screeched loudly as it hit a sharp curve, the cars swaying dangerously from side to side.

He missed the handle and as he was about to fall, in a moment of panic, grabbed the railing with his other hand. The force pulled him out of his saddle, with a grunt of pain Dwalin hauled himself up.

The second his boots finally hit the metal platform with a heavy thud he had to use the railing to keep himself upright. He stood there for a moment, catching his breath, wincing as he gripped his shoulder.

He looked behind him and turned. He shouted over the roar of the wind and train. “Thorin!” He reached out his hand and Thorin nodded.

Thorin's horse struggled to keep pace even before he leaned forward and spurred his horse to go faster. She tried to run faster but Thorin could feel her falter. He leaned out, reaching for Dwalin’s outstretched hand.

Dwalin surged forward, grabbing Thorin’s wrist, and with a powerful yank, he pulled the sheriff off his horse. Thorin’s stomach lurched as he left the saddle, but before he could process the motion, his feet slammed onto the platform of the caboose. He stumbled for a second, but quickly found his balance.

Their horses fell back. But they kept following the train at a slower speed. The train roared onto the narrow bridge and the horse broke off to cross though the river instead.

For a moment, the two of them just stood there, breathing heavily. Dwalin still leaned heavily against the railing, clutching his shoulder.

Thorin glanced at him. “You alright?”

“Yep.” Dwalin grunted, he didn’t even look up.

“You sure? That didn’t look-” Thorin tried to ask but snapped his mouth shut when Dwalin glared at him.

Dwalin gritted his teeth. “Ask me one more stupid question, and I’ll slap you upside the head.”

Thorin raised his hands in mock surrender, “Fine. Relax.”

They stood there in silence for a beat, the bridge speeding past beneath them, the clatter of the wheels filling the air. Thorin looked down at the tracks, watching the blur of the river below, before turning back to Dwalin.

“That was close,” Thorin muttered.

Dwalin let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “the word close isn’t the right word for what that was”

Thorin nodded, glancing toward the train. He exchanged a look with Dwalin, who took a steadying breath before pushing himself off the railing. “Come on, let’s move,” Thorin said.

With a little difficulty, they managed to budge the door that leads inside open. The car was a mess, crates and tools had been thrown around. They carefully made their way through the clutter, checking any would-be hiding places before heading into the passenger cars.

The moment they entered the passenger car, Thorin’s instincts kicked in as he dodged a fist, pulling Dwalin with him. The man was burly, his face set in a seemingly permanent sneer.

he swung again, his heavy fist straight at Thorin. He barely had time to react before the punch connected with his jaw, sending him staggering backwards. He forced himself to recover quickly.

The sheriff squared himself up and threw his own punch, landing a solid hit to the man’s gut. He quickly dodged the next punch and threw another.

Meanwhile, Dwalin found himself face-to-face with a different goon on the opposite side of the car, he was a lanky man with a crooked grin. Dwalin tried to square his shoulders but hissed in pain instead.

He grabbed at his shoulder but the goon lunged didn’t even give him a second to breathe as he swung at Dwalin hard, he quickly put his arms up and blocked.

Thorin, after a few rough exchanges, managed to kick the man in his stomach to force him on his knees before landing a hard jab at the back of the man’s head. The man dropped like a bag of bricks.

Thorin stood there for a moment breathing heavily, he turned to see Dwalin wrestling with his own opponent. Thorin rushed over, landing a quick blow to the man’s side, allowing Dwalin to finish him off.

As they caught their breath, Dwalin let out a sudden laugh. “You’ve gotta be kidding me…”

Thorin turned, confused, only to see what Dwalin was laughing at. stuffed dummies, dressed in old clothes, sparsely sat in the passenger seats. They definitely looked like real passengers from a distance.

Thorin growled and frowned. “Bilbo! Damn that outlaw! Damn him!” he muttered under his breath, stomping through the car, checking each seat as he went. He flipped over one of the dummies in frustration, gritting his teeth.

“Looks like you’ve been had, Sheriff,” Dwalin teased, his voice still strained.

Thorin decided to ignore his deputy, and he straightened up. “We need to keep moving.”

Just as the words left his mouth, the door behind them slammed open. A group of Bilbo’s thugs barreled into the car, guns drawn.

They all stood in stock still. Thorin blinked in surprise before barking, “Move!” As his hand darted to his gun. He shot at the wall behind the men and the goons ducked away. Dwalin and Thorin bolted past them and into the open car the men just came from.

They bolted through the cars as fast as they could, dodging bullets and scrambling over overturned dummies. The train jolted beneath them.

As they ran, Thorin’s eyes darted to the narrow gap between the gangway’s. He knew they couldn’t keep running like this if they didn’t shake the outlaws soon, they’d be overrun.

Thorin glanced back, then quickly shoved his gun back in its holster before grabbing hold of the lever that would uncouple the rear passenger cars. He heaved it downward with all his strength.

There was a metallic clank followed by a sudden lurch as the cars separated from the rest of the train. Thorin and Dwalin stood there catching their breath, watching as the uncoupled cars slowly drift away.

Thorin sighed heavily and turned to Dwalin, “Let’s go,” Thorin muttered, stepping back into the remaining cars. There were only a few more left now. The train began to pick up speed at the lost weight.

Inside, the car was eerily quiet. The stillness was unsettling, the only sound the faint creaking of the train as it rattled along the tracks. Thorin’s eyes scanned the room. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something, or someone, was watching them.

Dwalin stood beside him, his hand resting on the hilt of his gun. “This feels off,” he whispered to Thorin. Thorin nodded and took a step forward.

Then a low chuckle echoed from behind them, sending a cold shiver down his spine.

They spun around, Standing behind them in the doorway they just came from was Bilbo, his face covered by his handkerchief. His eyes gleamed with amusement, and he leaned casually against the wall, as if this were all just a game.

Thorin’s jaw clenched as he glanced toward the other end of the car, his stomach sinking when he saw Bilbo’s right-hand man standing there, blocking their only other way out. They were trapped.

Dwalin moved closer to Thorin, their backs pressed together, as they quickly drew their weapons. Bilbo and his right-hand man drew their weapons in return, both of them moving with ease, as if they had done this a hundred times before.

The four of them stood at a standstill, guns pointed at one another, the tension in the room thick enough to cut.

“Well, well,” Bilbo said, his voice dripping with mockery. “Look what we have here. The fearless Sheriff Oakenshield and his trusty deputy, running through my train like children playing tag.”

“Fucking, god damn it,” Thorin cursed under his breath.

Bilbo’s grin widened beneath the handkerchief. “Now, now, Sheriff,” he said with a teasing lilt. “No need for foul language. Why don’t you be a good little lawman and take a seat? You look like you’ve had quite the day.”

“Not happenin’,” Dwalin growled, his voice low.

Bilbo sighs and rubs his forehead. “You two really are a headache, you know?”

Thorin kept his eyes locked on Bilbo, his mouth moved before his mind could stop him. “Why?” he asked, his voice surprisingly steady. “Why the train, the dummies? What’s your game this time, Bilbo?”

Bilbo’s eyes glinted with amusement as he let his hand drop away from his head, he raised a brow. Why?” he repeated back playfully. “I got bored, Sheriff. It’s as simple as that.” Bilbo shrugged.

Thorin felt the bubbling of frustration again. “You expect me to believe that? You risked all this just because you were bored?”

Bilbo chuckled softly, his eyes never leaving Thorin. “Well, when you’ve lived the kind of life I have, boredom is the most dangerous thing. I like to keep myself entertained.”

“Entertained?” Dwalin spat angrily. “By messing with people? By running around killin’ and stealin’ from innocent folks?”

Bilbo shrugged. “Innocent, not so innocent. It’s all a matter of perspective. I do what I have to.”

Dwalin growled and moved to face Bilbo, Thorin’s grip on his gun tightened and he shot his deputy a look. “Enough! What do you really want, Bilbo?”

Bilbo’s grin widened. “Let’s just say I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. The legend of Sheriff Oakenshield. The man who never misses. So far, not impressed sheriff.”

Thorin’s eyes narrowed, his patience was wearing thin now. “You think this is some sort of game, but it’s not going to end the way you think.”

Bilbo tilted his head, his words taking a more serious edge to them. “Oh, I’m well aware of how this ends, Sheriff. But I think we both know it won’t be-.”

Without warning, Dwalin bolted forward, charging straight at Bilbo. Unable to move faster enough to dodge Bilbo, the deputy ends up crashing to the floor.

The two of them tumbled backward, their guns clattering to the floor as they wrestled, Throin blinked in surprise at his deputy.

The two men grappled furiously, fists flying and boots skidding on the train’s wooden floor. Dwalin, despite his shoulder, was relentless, using brute force to pin Bilbo down.

Dwalin was scrambling for his gun. He was able to snatch it up. Then, just as fast as Dwalin was, Bilbo's right-hand man pressed his gun to the side of Thorin’s head, the cold metal digging into the sheriff’s temple.

“Drop it, Deputy,” the man ordered, his voice ice-cold. “Unless you want to see how fast I can pull this trigger.”

Dwalin froze, his brows furrowed as his eyes darted between Thorin and the gun, his breathing heavy. He looked at his own gun then he muttered a curse under his breath and let his weapon fall to the floor with a clatter.

“Good boy, Now, let’s make this easy.” Bilbo sneered as he got back on his feet, he rubbed his jaw where Dwalin had hit him. Bilbo grabbed Dwalin’s gun and pointed it at him. “Move to the back, nice and slow. Don’t try anything stupid.”

Dwalin glared at Bilbo, his jaw clenched, but he did as he was told, stepping backward toward the rear of the train car.

Bilbo turned to his right-hand man who still had his gun to the sheriff’s head. Bilbo scooped up his own gun and holstered Dwalin’s

“Keep an eye on him,” Bilbo said, nodding to his partner as he took the man’s place. “Make sure he doesn’t try anything else.”

The right-hand man gave a curt nod, he trained his gun on Dwalin as he walked over to the man, his expression hard.

Thorin remained still, the different but not new weight of Bilbo’s gun pressing against his skull. He looked around trying to think his way out. “Why, Bilbo?” Thorin finally asked, just hoping to distract the man. “What’s the point of all this?”

Bilbo chuckled softly, though there was a hint of something else beneath the laugh. “Why not? It’s fun, isn’t it?”

“You call this fun? You risk innocent lives for fun?” Dwalin spat, glaring at Bilbo with open disdain.

Bilbo’s eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head slightly, his finger hovering dangerously over the trigger. “I’d be careful if I were you, Deputy. One more word out of you, and I might just throw you off this train.”

Dwalin’s mouth snapped shut, but his eyes burned with fury.

Thorin glanced sideways at Bilbo, searching for any opening, anything. “You’re not going to get away with this if you kill me, you know,” Thorin said, his voice low.

Bilbo grinned beneath his handkerchief, his grip on the gun unwavering. “Oh, Sheriff, I’m not going to kill you-” But just as Bilbo was about to say more, there was a sudden commotion behind them.

Bilbo’s right-hand man grunted in pain, Dwalin had slammed his elbow into the man’s face. The force of the blow sent them both reeling backward, and before anyone could react, the two men went tumbling out of the back of the train car.

“Dwalin!” Thorin shouted, his eyes wide with shock.

Bilbo’s face twisted in a mixture of horror and confusion. “What the hell just happened?” he muttered, his grip on his gun loosening as he stared in disbelief at the open door.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎︎ 𐬾 ༅ ༅ 𐬾 ☀︎︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Dwalin and Bilbo’s right-hand man tumbled to the ground in a heap, the impact knocking the wind out of both of them as they rolled to a stop in the dirt.

For a moment, they both just lay there, groaning in pain, trying to catch their breath.

The right-hand man rolled over onto his side, clutching his ribs. “What… the FUCK!” he gasped, dragging himself to his knees. “Are you fucking crazy or somethin’? You just threw us out of the back of a train!”

Dwalin was still trying to catch his breath. He spat on the ground and pushed himself to his feet, wincing as his shoulder twinged painfully. “I should be askin’ you that, outlaw,” he growled, “You started this mess!”

The right-hand man groaned, clutching his side as he staggered up. “Ugh! As pig-headed as ever! You could have killed us, you idiot!” He wiped some dirt from his face, glaring at Dwalin.

Dwalin squinted at him, feeling an unsettling flicker of familiarity. There was something about this man; his stance, his voice, Dwalin didn’t know, but it tugged at the back of his mind. “Who are you?” Dwalin demanded, his eyes narrowing.

The right-hand man made sure his mask was still covering his face, by some miracle it was but his hat was long gone. He huffed quietly. “Figured you’d have recognized me by now, Deputy,” he said, “Then again, I guess I didn’t make much of an impression back in the day.”

Dwalin’s jaw tightened, “You… I know you, don’t I?” Dwalin searched the man’s face, hoping to see anything familiar. He landed on the man’s wild Reddish brown hair but, He still couldn’t place it.

“Maybe you do. Maybe you don’t.” The right-hand man said, he cracked his knuckles. “It's too late now.”

Dwalin snarled and charged at him, his injured shoulder be damned. The right-hand man dodged, Dwalin’s fists were heavy, but the right-hand man was quick, ducking and weaving as best he could despite his own lingering pain.

They grappled. Dwalin landed a solid punch to the right-hand man’s gut, forcing the man to double over with a grunt. Before Dwalin could land another blow, the outlaw lashed out with a well-placed fist to Dwalin’s jaw.

The crack echoed as Dwalin staggered back with a hiss. Dwalin reached out for the man, the man scrambled back and made a dash for the distance tree line.

“Damn it!” Dwalin shouted, shaking off the hit and trying to give chase, but his body wasn’t cooperating. The outlaw disappeared as Dwalin stumbled and dropped to his knees, breathing heavily and cursing under his breath.

Wiping blood from the corner of his mouth, he groaned in pain and frustration, how could he let that outlaw slip away from him.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎︎ 𐬾 ༅ ༅ 𐬾 ☀︎︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

It hadn’t been more than a few moments since the two men had fallen from the back of the train car. Bilbo stood frozen, his eyes fixed on the open doorway, wide with shock. His heart raced, but his mind was scattered, unable to focus on anything but the image of his right-hand man and the deputy tumbling off the moving train.

For once, Bilbo couldn’t think clearly. The only thing he could focus on was the nagging concern. It was horribly foreign to him.

Dwalin and-… he couldn’t shake the uneasy worry of whether or not the two men survived the fall. He never left people behind, not if he had a choice. Even if they weren’t on his side.

Suddenly, without warning, Thorin slammed his elbow into Bilbo’s side. Bilbo yelped in surprise, the sudden pain knocking him off balance. Thorin punched him in the jaw, hard and Bilbo stumbled to the floor.

His gun slipped from his hand, clattering loudly onto the ground loudly. As it did the gun went off with a deafening bang. Thorin flinched, instinctively ducking, but the bullet never hit anything.

There weren't any bullets to hit things, Bilbo’s gun had been loaded with blanks, Bilbo could see the realization sparked in Thorin then the fresh wave of anger.

Bilbo held his face where Thorin had struck him, his mind reeling. His thoughts were muddled, he hadn’t expected this, not so soon. Pain throbbed through his jaw, his wide eyes locked onto Thorin’s.

“You-” Bilbo began, his voice rasping with both shock and disbelief, but before he could finish, Thorin was on him.

In a blur of motion, Thorin lunged forward, his hand gripping the front of Bilbo’s shirt with unrelenting force. Bilbo barely had time to react before Thorin slammed him against the nearest wall of the train car.

The impact made his brain rattle inside his skull, his back hitting the wall with a thud. A sharp, involuntary whine escaped him. Bilbo blinked rapidly, trying to catch his breath and clear his blurring vision.

Thorin’s grip on his shirt only tightened, hoisting him higher until his boots barely scraped the floor. The sheriff’s eyes were burning with a rage Bilbo didn’t expect, he could feel the anger radiating off the sheriff in waves.

For the first time in a long while, Bilbo wasn’t sure how to talk his way out of this. He wasn’t sure if he could talk his way out. Bilbo twisted in Thorin’s grip, kicking wildly as he tried to break free, cursing under his breath.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Thorin roared, his booming voice. Bilbo stared at him with wide eyes, “Do you ever take anything seriously?! Is this just some fucked game your playin’?!” Thorin’s eyes narrowed, “Answer me!” he demanded, giving Bilbo a sharp shake that left his head spinning.

But then, Bilbo felt a spark hit him. His struggling faded into nothing as he sized up Thorin, a calculating calm settling over him. He had an idea, it could either get him out of this or go horribly wrong.

Thorin loomed over Bilbo by at least a head or more, the sheriff had broad shoulders. Bilbo could feel every bit of strength in the way the sheriff held him pinned, like he weighed hardly anything at all.

There was no way he’d be able to overpower Thorin, let not like this. no way to just kick the man off him and run. So if brute force wouldn’t get him out of this, maybe charm would.

“Why, sheriff,” Bilbo purred, his voice low,“if you wanted to run me up against a wall this badly, all you had to do was ask.”

Thorin’s eyes widened, and Bilbo watched the sheriff’s grip falter, he let Bilbo down, a confused expression found itself in Thorin’s face. “What-”

Without hesitation, Bilbo drove his knee sharply into Thorin’s stomach. Thorin let out a grunt of surprise as the air rushed out of him quickly.

“Sorry, Sheriff!” Bilbo muttered, “nothin’ personal, really, your just not my type.” In one smooth motion, Bilbo scooped up his gun from the floor, even though he knew it was useless, and bolted for the door at the back of the train car.

Bilbo could hear Thorin cursing under his breath. He could also hear the pounding footsteps behind him as he climbed up the side of the train, hoisting himself onto the roof quickly.

The cold wind stung his face as he studied the hat on his head. Bilbo paused, glancing behind him, his gaze darting to where Dwalin and his right-hand man had tumbled off the train earlier.

Concern bubbled up inside him, worse than before. He didn’t want them to be hurt; he couldn't think about them being hurt.

“Bilbo!” Thorin’s voice carried over the roar of the train. Bilbo locked eyes with the sheriff, he was already running before the sheriff’s feet hit the roof of the car.

Bilbo’s heart pounded in time with the train’s wheels beneath him. His mind quickly searched for a way out. He briefly wondered if he’d survive if he jumped off. A little panic flickered in his chest as he glanced back, seeing just how close Thorin was.

Bilbo desperately wanted to push himself, to find some way out, but the roof was narrow, and there was nowhere left to go. His luck had run out, he had lost.

Thorin suddenly lunged, grabbing Bilbo by the arm, Bilbo twisted himself out of Thorin’s grip, he couldn’t just give up here, he couldn’t. He tried to duck under the sheriff's arms as he grabbed at the outlaw again.

The wind angrily whipped around them, the train car swaying beneath their feet.

Thorin managed to grab Bilbo’s poncho and gave a good yanked, dragging the outlaw backwards by the force. Bilbo twisted and kicked, but Thorin’s grip was relentless.

The sheriff had the upper hand. Bilbo grit his teeth as they continued to struggle atop the speeding train.

Then, without warning, Thorin’s foot slipped.

Bilbo’s eyes widened as he watched the sheriff lose his balance, his body teetering dangerously on the edge. Before Thorin could catch himself, he tumbled off the roof, hitting the tracks below with a heavy thud.

Bilbo froze, his breath catching in his throat as he scrambled to the edge, staring down at Thorin who was lying on the tracks. As the distance between them grew, all Bilbo could do was watch, his heart pounding in his chest.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎︎ 𐬾 ༅ ༅ 𐬾 ☀︎︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Thorin lay on the ground, groaning in pain, every muscle in his body burned and ached. Falling off a train was as bad as he thought it would be. His mind was still trying to catch up with what had happened when, faintly, he heard someone shouting in the distance.

“Thorin!”

It was Bilbo’s voice. There was an urgency to it, one that made Thorin’s heart skip a beat despite everything. He didn’t have time to think about why Bilbo was shouting at him, but instinct kicked in.

“Move!”

Without thinking, Thorin rolled to the side, just as the uncoupled passenger cars came speeding down the tracks, rattling by in a blur of metal. They hadn’t slowed down yet, and had Thorin stayed where he was, he’d have been flattened.

As the last car whizzed by, Thorin lay still, breathing heavily and trying to steady his pulse. He wasn’t sure how close it had been, but he wasn’t eager to find out.

Finally, he took a deep breath and sat up. His head pounded, and every inch of him hurt, but he was alive. His eyes drifted down to the tracks beside him, and that’s when he saw it, his hat. Or, what used to be his hat.

Thorin groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Another hat,” he muttered to himself.

With a wince, he forced himself to his feet, ignoring the sharp pain that shot up his side as he stood. His eyes scanned the tracks, searching for any sign of Dwalin. His heart pounded harder as worst-case scenarios flashed through his mind.

“Dwalin…?” He called as he limped down the tracks, his pace picking up despite the pain.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spotted Dwalin sitting near the edge of the tracks,he held his shoulder. Thorin hurried over, kneeling beside him.

Dwalin’s face was bruised up pretty bad, he had dirt stains all over him. Dwalin lifted his head when he heard Thorin. the deputy grunted in irritation more than pain.

“You look like hell,” Thorin muttered, quickly checking him over.

Dwalin rolled his eyes and grumbled. “Cause you look like prince fucking charming.”

Thorin frowned. “…Did you get him?”

Dwalin gave Thorin a look and tried to get up. “No. Bastard slipped away.” He winced as he tried to move his shoulder. “Got a good hit on me, and next thing I know, I’m eating dirt while he’s running off.”

Thorin cursed under his breath, glancing around. The train was long gone by now and the uncoupled cars were still slowing down in the distance.

Thorin offered a hand to Dwalin and pulled the man up easily, he couldn’t help but let his mind get muddled with thoughts. Bilbo tricked them, had them play his games. What was his angel, what was his plan.

But the loudest thought was one he couldn’t even begin to answer; Why did he save Thorin?

Dwalin noticed the look on Thorin’s face and shook his head. “You think too loud, Thorin. That outlaw’s not gonna slip away forever, we’ll get him.”

Thorin nodded. “Right, let’s get home,” Thorin said, he pushed down his frustration, he didn’t have time for it now.

With little difficulty, the two men limped down the tracks. Bilbo may have gotten away this time, but Thorin wasn’t going to let him for long. He had a plan.

───── ꧁✪꧂ ─────

And also, @shantismurf. Stop it, stop being so cleverly close. You don’t understand! You nearly put the nail in the coffin. You swong and you missed twice and if it weren’t for that, you would have put the damn nail in there.

@shurikthereject @midnightstar789

[For anyone Who didn’t want to @ for this please tell me or I will continue to do so till otherwise.]

#the hobbit #bilbo baggins #fanfic #bagginshield #the hobbit thorin #thorin x bilbo #cowboy au #western #thorins company #outlaws and lawmen

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