#Richard armitage fanfic

[legolasbadass]

Late

A/N: Well, yes, I am back with more Richard and Lorelei! What can I say? I just love these two so much and cannot control my muse 🙈

After watching Missing You a few weeks ago, I just couldn't stop thinking about RA in those suits in his office, which gave me major Professor Armitage vibes, so I decided to revisit an old one-shot I had written and here we are 😈

I actually posted this one on AO3 a little while ago, but figured I should post it here as well. However, given that engagement is a bit low on here, I may only post future fics on AO3, so be sure to subscribe to my profile and the series so you don't miss out!

Summary: Richard and Lorelei are getting ready for an alumni event at the college when they get a little distracted...

Relationship: Richard Armitage x OC (Professor AU)

Word count: 1.6K

Rating: E

Read on AO3

“The black or the grey one?” I ask as I step into the bedroom, holding up two dresses. “The grey one is a little boring, but the black is a quite short, so I’m not sure it’s really right for an alumni event…”

Richard, who was fiddling with his tie, pauses and looks up at me. Then, with a mischievous smirk I know all too well, he walks toward me and says, “I like this one,” as he wraps his arms around my naked waist.

Though my blush tells him all he needs to know, I shake my head and step out of his embrace. 

“Be serious,” I say as I turn to face the full-length mirror. “I need your help.” 

“You know what? I think you’re taking this too seriously and it would do you good to relax before we leave.”

Ignoring his suggestive tone, I toss the black one on the chair next to the door and start to unzip the grey dress. The more conservative and professional choice. 

Richard, however, has other plans. He steps in and takes the grey dress from my hands, tossing it aside before wrapping his arms around me from behind. 

“Not the grey one. It’s too serious—and it doesn’t do you justice.” As he speaks, he caresses my bare stomach with one of his large hands, staining my skin with goosebumps. 

“Richard,” I groan in frustration. “You’re not helping!”

“Why don’t we just stay here, then?” he suggests, ignoring the look on my face to press a lingering kiss onto my shoulder, and despite my best intentions, I lean back against his broad chest. 

“We can’t stay here; our presence is expected,” I say, trying to remain reasonable. “Besides, I’ve never been to one of these events before.”

“It’s boring—trust me,” he replies, now moving to nuzzle my neck, his beard scratching me softly, and when his lips close in on the sensitive spot below my ear, I can’t hold back my sigh. 

“Well, I won’t know until I go, won’t I?” When he doesn’t reply, I shake my head. “You’re just trying to get into my pants.”

With a wide smirk, he looks up to meet my gaze through the mirror in front of us. “I’d say I’m pretty close.”

I can’t hold back my laugh, causing Richard to smile against my skin. “The event is in an hour, so you’re gonna have to control yourself and help me get dressed,” I insist despite very much wanting to stay here with him and let him continue. His hand on my stomach does not move, but the mere thought of it exploring all the sensitive places of my body makes me lick my lips. Suddenly, Richard’s smile widens, and I know he has not missed the frustration in my voice. 

The hand that now moves across my back is further proof that he can too easily read the signs of arousal in my body. When his fingers close in on my bra and effortlessly unclasp it, it takes a great deal of effort for me to protest. 

“Richard,” I groan and turn my head toward him as he pushes the straps down my arms and onto the floor, but I forget what I intended to say next as he silences me with a deep, hungry kiss. 

Despite all my best intentions, my resistance crumbles in an instant. His beard scratches my heated skin in a most alluring way as his tongue slips between my lips to meet mine, sending fiery tingles swirling through me. Even months into our relationship, his kisses are enough to make me yearn for him in ways I had never thought possible with previous partners. His passion is intense, sometimes even rough, but he is always tender and patient, leaving no inch of my skin uncherished, and now, despite the ticking clock, all I can do is melt in his arms and beg for more of his intoxicating caresses. 

Desperately needing to touch him and give him as much pleasure as he lavishes upon me, I try to turn around to face him, but he holds me firmly in place. One of his arms is wrapped around my middle, holding me tight against him, while the other hand moves to cover my breast and squeeze it, his thumb grazing my hardening nipple. Need begins to pulse in my core as he continues to tease me, but as pleasurable as his touch is, I need more. I need him , but he holds me tight, and when I finally manage to beg for him to let me touch him, he shakes his head. Then, to my surprise and confusion, he gently turns my head toward the mirror.

“I want you to watch as I pleasure you,” he explains in a low, almost growling tone. 

Heat pools between my thighs at his words, and I cannot help but whimper. Shyness surges through me as I see myself in the mirror—my hair slightly in disarray, my cheeks flushed, and my chest heaving—but the burning lust in his gaze and the large hands that explore my curves chase that feeling away. As though hypnotized, I follow the hand that now slides down my bare stomach and, finally ,  under my knickers. He stills for a moment, his eyes gazing into mine, and the smile that graces his lips tells me he knows exactly how much I am enjoying this. 

With the tips of his fingers, he teasingly traces my folds, coating me with my arousal, all while his other hand continues to caress my breast. Unwittingly, my hips buck against his hand, wordlessly begging for more, and a pleased sigh escapes my lips when he grants me my wish. He lets go of my breast for a moment to drag my knickers down my legs, then wraps his arms around me once more. There is something so incredibly arousing about standing completely naked in front of the mirror while he stands behind me, dressed in his black suit, and a low moan escapes me even before his hand returns to worship the most intimate parts of my body. 

“ Richard… ” I whimper when his thumb brushes against my clit, sending sparks of pleasure through me. 

In response, Richard chuckles against my ear before biting my earlobe, and I shiver. I am sure he will slide a finger inside me or even make me face him so he can make love to me, but he does no such thing. His fingers settle into a steady rhythm against my clit, one he knows will shatter me in no time, and I am forced to hold onto his forearm to steady myself as my core throbs against him. When a particularly powerful jolt of pleasure erupts inside me, I arch against him, my bum pressing into his growing hardness, which leaves me with no doubt as to how much he wants me, yet still, he does not move. 

“I want you,” I manage to say between breathy moans, looking up to meet his eyes in the mirror as he continues to caress me. 

To my surprise, despite his ragged breaths against my ear, he replies by saying, “Later,” then presses a lingering kiss into the crook of my neck. 

His fingers increase their pressure on my clit, and that tightening, throbbing ache deep inside me grows almost unbearable as I stand suspended on the edge of release. Nothing I say makes much sense, but Richard does not need words to understand that I am now begging him not to stop. He knows I am close, even if only by the way I now roll my hips against him to increase the friction of his hand. I desperately want to keep watching us in the mirror, but as wave after wave of rapture crashes against my core, I let my eyes flutter close. 

“I told you to watch,” Richard suddenly growls in my ear. 

Whimpering, I obey him, and the burning intensity of his gaze and the perfect movements of his fingers against me bring me over the edge. The whole room spins around us as sweet, burning ecstasy licks me from the inside out, leaving me a trembling, moaning mess in his arms. Only once he is sure my orgasm has subsided does Richard remove his hand, though he still holds me tight against him, for which I am very grateful as my whole body feels boneless. 

“What time is it?” I ask reluctantly after a while, still slightly breathless. 

“We’ll be a bit late,” Richard replies, causing me to groan. “Don’t worry, love.”

“But what about you—”

“Don’t worry about me—we have to go.” He finally lets go of me, and I turn around to face him, only for my gaze to drift down to his very prominent bulge. My core throbs at the sight. “Just get dressed; that will already make it easier for me,” he chuckles. “And we can continue this when we come back.”

“Alright,” I say with an apologetic smile. Then, as I reach for my bra and knickers, my eyes widen, and I exclaim, “Shit, I still don’t know what to wear.” 

“What about your navy dress—the one with the short sleeves and the polka dots.”

“Wait, that’s actually perfect!” I say with a relieved laugh. “And you say you have no fashion sense.” 

“I just know what looks good on you, sweetheart,” he replies with a smile, and my heart flutters.

If you enjoyed this fic, be sure to reblog and leave a comment! 💗

Tag list and people who might be interested: @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @i-did-not-mean-to @xxbyimm @middleearthpixie @enchantzz @myselfandfantasy @notlostgnome @laurfilijames @swoopswishsward @quiall321 @dianakc @sazzlep @albionscastle @evenstaredits @louk419 @sweetestgbye

[richardarmitageshands]

At the ripe old age of 28, I finally learned how to add links on here. Five chapters are up, 20 are written.

There is M/M smut, F/F smut, and ultimately M/F MARATHON SMUT (the longest sex scene I've ever written, plus many shorter ones)

[legolasbadass]

This is still one of my favourite fics ever! The way you write Astrov 😍😍🔥

Into The Woods

Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3

Armitage Summer Splash #5

Fandom: Uncle Vanya (2020)

Trope: Drunken admission of feelings

Quote: “I cannot believe you did that!”

Relationship: Dr Mikhail Astrov x Female OC

Warnings: 18+

Words: 3,3K

Thanks @lathalea & @legolasbadass for your help and feedback! 💚

***

The scent of pine is strong as I hurriedly walk barefoot along the narrow trail leading away from the cabin, leaving the laughter and singing behind. Dry pine needles cover my path and the soft carpet created by mother nature silences my footsteps. The night is still young, but the birds have already put their little ones to sleep. Warm air is surrounding me and the midnight sun prevents my skin from getting cold despite the late hour.

His voice calls me back, but I keep on walking, eager to put some distance between us. The way his eyes shone with a special light when I met his gaze, and his lips left a small burning mark on the back of my hand, made me question what he really wants from me. Dr. Astrov, or just Astrov, as most people seem to call him outside work, is a friend and colleague of my brother, and the main reason why I am at this party in a cabin located deep in the forest. My brother raised an eyebrow when I, too quickly, accepted his invitation. But the truth is that as soon as I heard that Nikolay was having his birthday party at Astrov’s place, I knew I needed to be there.

I stumble a little when a treacherous pine root briefly captures my foot and it makes me sway. But I do not fall to the ground and my dress brushes against my knees as I carry on at a hurried pace. I need fresh air. My head is spinning both from the strong wine I have been drinking all evening and the shift in Astrov’s eyes when he looked at me over the edge of his glass. Those beautiful sapphire eyes rested on me and it made my world spin. When he took my hand and slowly placed an old-fashioned, but very sensual, kiss over my knuckles and then another on the back of my hand, my needs exploded under my skin. I do not know if it was good or bad that my brother decided to interrupt our interaction by proposing a toast which made everybody look at him. Including Astrov. Maybe my brother saw what happened, maybe he did not, but his timing was… questionable. After the toast, our flirty moment was gone and one of my brother’s other friends stole Astrov’s attention by questioning him about some work-related matter. I emptied my large glass and excused myself, put the glass on the counter and headed for the door.

I can hear him calling my name again and his deep voice fills the air with his presence. He has the type of voice that travels through walls when he speaks, a commanding voice, suited for leading armed men in combat or, when dropped to a low murmur, women to his bed. His voice sounds closer now and my heart picks up speed. I have, unintendedly, turned this into a chase but when I look over my shoulder I do not see him yet. I smile to myself and slow down. I don't really want to run away. Rather the opposite. The rays of light from the midnight sun find their way through the green ceiling created by the treetops and caress my cheeks. The air is filled with diligent small buzzing insects refusing to go to sleep and I giggle with a slightly drunken smile at their perseverance in work when one of them circles my head. Eventually, it must have come to the conclusion that I am not a flower and abandons me for other targets.

Suddenly, I hear movement behind me and I cannot resist turning around. My heart makes a flip when I see him. Astrov’s hair glows every time the rays of warm light touch him and when he runs to quickly close the distance between us, his linen shirt hugs his chest in a way I cannot ignore. He stops in front of me, pulls his hand through his hair and gives me a questioning look. His eyes make me forget everything else and even the movement of the earth seems to slow down as the thin lines around his eyes deepen and his alluring lips form a smile.

”Are you running away from me?” His voice is playful but in his eyes I see a hint of insecurity, despite his slightly drunken state. He does not really know me that well and cannot tell what I am thinking.

”No… I just needed some fresh air. It is very warm inside and maybe I drank a little too much.” That is not a total lie but not the main reason for me to leave the cabin.

”It is. But it’s an amazing party. Nikolay always knows how to be a great host.”

”Yes, he does!” My brother means the world to me and hearing Astrov’s recognition of his efforts makes me warm inside.

Silence rests in the air and I look down at my naked feet. I have no idea why I left without my sandals but at the moment it felt less important to put them on. I have always loved to walk barefoot, preferably on grass or summer-warm cliffs by the sea, and feel the changes in nature under my feet. My mother always said I was a summer child, with bruised knees and calluses on my feet, sun-bleached hair and a natural tan, earned by countless hours playing outside. Darker freckles graced my face as soon as the spring sun appeared in the sky and just as much as I hated them as a young girl, I grew to love the characteristic look it gives me.

”I’m going for a walk, do you want to come along?” I suddenly hear myself say and I raise my head to meet his gaze. He gives me a warm smile and I feel the earth moving again as we start walking together deeper into the forest. At first, Astrov walks in silence beside me but it takes only a few minutes before we find that endless stream of topics we both can relate to and find joy in. He is so easy to talk to and it might be the wine making me bold but when his hand brushes against my hand for the third time, I take it. The second he wraps his long fingers around my hand, I know I am in trouble.

We walk without any plan for direction, talking and laughing, but without advancing beyond holding hands, which now feels more natural than breathing. I have no idea how far we have walked or for how long we have been gone, but the forest changes in its nature. Before us the waters of a big dark lake glitter in the sun. The surface is perfectly still and the trees closest to the lake cast their long reflections over the water. An old charming wooden rowboat is tied to a large rock and I smile when I get closer. Someone put in a great amount of time to keep that boat in a decent condition. It seems almost like a waste of time out here where no one can see it. The warm light from the midnight sun makes the whole picture absolutely bewitching.

It must be the amount of alcohol in my blood, but the lake is calling me and I suddenly feel an urgent need to throw myself in the alluring dark water and cool the skin on my body. I steal a glance at Astrov and the way he looks back at me makes my heart beat even harder than before. I really need to cool down, before I make a complete fool of myself. And still a mischievous idea forms in my head.

”Do you think the water is warm?”

”I know it is. I went for a swim in the lake yesterday when I got here. I bathe here all the time but I usually take my bike. When I am not trying to catch up with a beautiful barefooted woman running around in the woods, that is.”

My heart makes a flip but I ignore it. Instead I give him a daring smile.

”Let us take a dip. It would be a waste to walk all this way and not do it. Look how beautiful it is.” I wave my hand vaguely at the lake and Astrov gives me a look filled with disbelief.

”You do not have any swimwear…”

”Neither do you, I think. Are you prudish?” I giggle when his disbelief turns to a grin.

”Far from it.” He starts to unbutton his white linen shirt and I pull my summer dress over my head and toss it in the grass. I put my hands on my hips and watch him as he struggles a little with the last buttons. I am somewhat relieved that he is not sober either. I wait for him to pull the shirt off and when he does it’s a reward to watch, to say the least. His tanned skin glows in the warm light and the well-defined muscles on his upper body make it impossible not to stare. He is far from bulky, but he looks naturally strong, like he does a lot of heavy work in the woods or in his enormous garden surrounding the cabin in his free time. Dark hair covers his chest and I cannot help but imagine how it would feel under my hands. His shoes and trousers soon rest in a pile together with his shirt and I smile softly as I reach for the clasp of my bra.

”Wet underwear is not a favorite of mine. Why stop now?” I say with a wink. It must be the wine talking, I am not usually this comfortable with taking my clothes off and when the last piece of soft lace slides off me I lower my gaze, but I do not miss the soft gasp coming from Astrov. Feeling less cocky when fully naked, I turn to the lake and quickly wade out in the surprisingly warm water. Without looking back I throw myself in its dark embrace and I love the cooling feeling it has on my skin. The lake is deeper than I thought, even close to land, and therefore it quickly becomes colder the longer I swim from the shore. Behind me I hear a splash but when I look over my shoulder I only see the movements of the water. I wait for him and he appears right by my side, closer than I expected. I can almost feel him as he slowly swims around me. His hair is slick with water and it makes him look even more alluring than before.

”I cannot believe you did that!” He grins at me and I playfully splash some water at him. ”It has been a very long time since I was skinny dipping.” He doesn’t seek revenge for my splashes, but I can feel the movements in the water when he swims next to me. Neither of us say anything else but the nakedness is pulling us closer to each other and the air feels heavy and like it is charged with electricity. He watches me intensely and his wet lashes make his eyes even more expressive than usual.

”This was a nice idea.”

”I only have good ideas, Astrov.” I give him a teasing smile and he chuckles.

”So it seems.” His voice drops to a murmur and it sparks the small torch inside me and heat starts to pulsate deep inside my core. ”And please, call me Mikhail.” He is so close to me now and when he slides an arm around my waist to pull me even closer, I place my hands on his shoulders. ”Can I call you Misha?” I whisper softly and the warm affectionate glow in his eyes is answer enough.

His lips are soft and warm when they meet mine. Mikhail turns out to be an amazing kisser and when he intensifies our kiss by letting his tongue meet mine in a sensual slow dance, I moan into his mouth. His grip around me tightens but the deep water is not ideal for lusty moments. He pulls me with him back to where he can reach the sand and stand steadily, like one of the tall pines watching over us and what is inevitably happening. Eagerly he moves his hands and grip my thighs, lifting me in the water and urging me to pull my legs around him. I do as he wants and gasp as his skin meets my most sensitive parts. With one hand around my back and one under my bum he assaults my lips in a series of heavenly kisses. I kiss him back with all my feelings running freely in my body. I can feel the effect I have on him and he does not attempt to hide his own arousal. It rests against my skin and when he rubs me over his hardness, I whimper. His hands travel over my body, explore it under the surface of the water, where none of us can see. My body answers to him in a way I have never experienced before and when he slides his hand between our bodies to gently caress my sensitive bundle of nerves, the needs in me explode. I let my head fall back with a moan as his skilled fingers make me feel what their full attention means. Then he lifts me higher so he can reach more of me and my body is so ready it takes me by surprise when my climax washes over me. I cling desperately to his body as my body shakes in the water and when I come to my senses again, he kisses me deeply. Fire dances in his eyes and his hold on me tightens.

”God, you looked so amazing when you came. I want to see you like that again.” His words vibrate against my lips when he murmurs them and all I can do is wrap my arms around his neck as he starts walking out of the water. He puts me down on the grass, grabs his shirt and spreads it out before he gently lays me down on it. At least most of my back rests against it but that feels less important. The gesture is just another tender detail from his side.

Misha quickly covers my body with his and the fire in his eyes burns steadily as I part my legs to give him enough room. I want him just as much as he wants me and when he presses the top of his hardness against my opening, I gasp. Without breaking eye contact he slowly enters me, allowing me to feel every inch of his thick shaft and the stretch my body needs to perform makes me see stars. I hug him tighter, my body begging him to settle closer and deeper. When he finally rocks his hips against mine, the world around us disappears and all that is left are two bodies, slowly driving each other mad with lust.

As if he is able to read my mind and body like an open book, Misha takes in every single hint I give him and he soon finds the perfect angle and pace to bring me closer to the brink of relief. He rests his hands on either side of my head, allowing him to look at me and see all my reactions, not only feeling them with his body. I have never had a more present lover and the way he tends to my needs, like my pleasure is the most important thing in the world to him, only deepens my already strong feelings for him.

When I come again it is with his name on my lips, desperately pulling him close to me and digging my fingers into the firm muscles on his back. I can feel how hard I clench around him and the low groan erupting in his throat tells me how good it feels for him as well. He follows me after a few more thrusts, I can feel him swelling and then he stills, panting heavily, but with the sexiest smile I have ever seen. The fire in Misha’s eyes is replaced with something more tender and my heart aches at the sight. He bends down to place a soft kiss on my cheek.

”I do not usually believe in love at first sight,” he then says softly, ”but I have never felt like this before. I mean, not after the short time we have known each other.”

”Technically this is not a first sight, we have met before.”

”I know I am drunk, but not that drunk. I do remember the last time. It was a way too short meeting but I thought you were stunningly beautiful. No wonder Nikolay is a little protective when it comes to you.”

I giggle at his comment on my dear brother. Water drips from his hair down on my neck and chest as he slowly shakes his head. ”You must think I’m crazy. No sane man says that kind of thing after…well…after sex. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

”I feel the same,” I say with a sudden shyness. The truth is that I have not been able to stop thinking of him since the last time we met. But I am not ready to confess that. At least not tonight. Misha's deep kiss seals our statements and then he sits up on his knees.

”I could stay here until morning with you but maybe we should go back, or what do you think?”

”It might be for the best. I guess people will soon start to question where we went, if they have noticed that is.”

I stand on unsteady legs but Misha supports me as I grab my clothes. My hair is still very wet and creates a damp spot on the back of my dress. I watch Misha as he shakes his shirt but it is beyond rescue. The traces of grass and soil in addition to the soaked material makes him laugh and he tosses the shirt over his shoulder like it was a towel. I swallow hard. He looks too good to be true wearing only his beige trousers. He gives me a contagious smile and reaches for my hand as we start our walk back.

We walk in silence for most parts, like we both need time to process the evening, but when I for the first time think I recognize the surroundings, Misha breaks the silence.

”Do you think Nikolay will kill me for this?”

”Let us hope he is drunk enough to not notice that my hair is wet and you are missing a shirt.” I cannot prevent the laughter from escaping me.

”Nobody can be that drunk. Not even your brother.”

”Good point.”

”He better get used to it because I am not letting you go.” Misha stops in his tracks and pulls me into his arms. The kiss is filled with emotions and when he breaks it, he rests his forehead against mine. ”I am serious. This is not only for tonight. Not for me.”

My heart flutters happily at his words and I caress his cheek. His beard is so soft under my fingers. ”Not for me either.”

Far away I can hear the sound of music and laughter. I give Misha a smile.

”Come on, let’s give them something to talk about.”

***

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

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed.

[must-be-mr-boggins]

Smaug ghost-wrote this before interrupting the moment.

[jay-wasstuff]

[middleearthpixie]

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

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

The Harp

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

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

Warning: None. Just fluffy fluff

Rating: G

Word Count: 4.7k

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And yours as well.”

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

“I will be here.”

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

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

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

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

It was at that moment, Thorin lost his heart.

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

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

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

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

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

If only…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wonderful. What time?”

“Half seven?”

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

****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So I’ve noticed.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You looked back at him. “Lived in?”

He nodded. “Lived in.” 

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

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

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

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

Blacksmith

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thorin?”

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

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

“What are you doing here?”

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

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

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

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

“Might I see?”

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

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

“It would be rude of me to continue.”

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

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

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

“Don’t?”

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

He stared down at it. “What is it?”

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

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

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

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

You nodded. “He did, indeed.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

“Hardly.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You what?” you asked softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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[richardarmitageshands]

Do yourself a favor and go read my brilliant friend's incredible book!!!

Second Chances

A North and South Story

Fandom :North and South

I wrote a book! It is available on amazon as an ebook or a paperback.

Chapter one is posted on AO3 which also works as a one shot. Below is the synopsis (blurb) of the book, and the link to AO3 x

John Thornton appears to be a successful self-made man, and a leading figure in Victorian England’s manufacturing town of Milton. But his outward facade hides the reality. The only beacon of light in his life is when he attends weekly lessons with Richard Hale, and has the chance to catch a glimpse of his tutor’s daughter, Margaret.

Despite having previously proposed and been refused, John’s love for Margaret is steadfast. An unexpected event allows John to help her when no one else will, bringing them closer, and making Margaret question her earlier perception of the brooding mill master.

Margaret’s life is no less troubled. She longs for a measure of control, having been sent unwillingly to live with relatives for much of her youth, and the necessity of conforming with their wishes. But when tragedy strikes, she once again must bend to the will of her family.

A deception borne from greed stands in the way of John and Margaret’s second chance, and John will need help from friends and family if he is to uncover the truth.

No one has ever fought for Margaret – until now.

[lathalea]

Entangled 3/10

Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield x Dwarf OFC (The Hobbit) Rating: G (subject to change) Warnings: ANGST Summary: Arranged marriages are common among the dwarven nobility. After reclaiming the Lonely Mountain, the Kingdom Under the Mountain needs to be rebuilt. Thorin agrees to marry a lady from the Blue Mountains, securing a mutually beneficial alliance with the Broadbeam Dwarves. Lady Mista is said to be a practical and hard-working dwarf-woman, willing to give him an heir who would secure the line of succession. A decent queen material, his advisors say. If only Thorin could let go of his past… You can find this fic on AO3 (search for lathalea). ✨ Chapter list: Chapter 1 (Prologue) | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3... ✨ Entangled Masterlist

Khuzdul:

Azsâlul'abad - the Lonely Mountain (both the mountain and the dwarven kingdom known among Elves and Men as Erebor)

Tumunzahar - Nogrod (my headcanon for this story is that the dwarven city of old had been rebuilt and populated by the Broadbeams)

‘Urdêk - local name of ‘the Lonely Mountain’ (referring to the dwarven Halls within the mountain), used by its inhabitants

Zabdûna undu ‘Urd - Queen Under the Mountain

‘Urd - local name for Lonely Mountain (referring to the Mountain itself)

Later that night

Mista sighed, finally freed from the weight of her crown and royal garments by Katla, her new maid. The girl knew her duties well and quickly helped her change into her sleeping gown. As soon as Katla curtsied and left the bed-chamber through a gilded door, wishing her queen a “fruitful night”, Mista – who did not feel like a queen at all at that moment – poured herself a glass of water. Her throat was parched, and her whole body felt stiff. She glanced at the other door in her chamber; the dark walnut door that led to the King’s chambers, but it was still closed, and no sounds seemed to come from the other side. Apparently, she still had some time for herself.

Mista took off her glasses and squinted, looking into the mirror in an opulent golden frame. This sumptuous object hung on the wall in her new chambers in the royal wing of the dwarven kingdom of Azsâlul'abad. The reflected image was blurry, and so she squinted harder, stretching her neck forward. Finally, she made out a dwarf-woman, plain and far from being a beauty, her mousy hair unbraided — except for her marriage braid – and still adorned with scores of diamonds. Diamonds are the bride’s best friends, an old saying claimed. Yes, she was a bride and she was wearing a luxurious, crispy white sleeping gown. Why? Because, by a turn of fate, on this very day she fulfilled her dearest, her most secret wish: today she wedded the only Dwarf she loved. 

Mista became Thorin Oakenshield’s wife – and the Queen Consort of Azsâlul'abad.

And now she was waiting for her lord husband to fulfil his marital duties.

A knock on the door — the dark walnut door — jolted her from her reverie.

“Come…” She cleared her throat and tried again, hoping her voice did not tremble too much, “Come in.” 

She had barely enough time to stand up and straighten the silks of her sleeping gown. It was hard not to notice that her fingers were trembling more than her voice.

The King Under the Mountain, Thorin II Oakenshield, entered the room. Gone were his crown and his opulent wedding attire; he wore plain bedclothes, but his dark, wavy hair streaked with silver was braided only with his marriage braid, exactly like hers, just as the tradition dictated. She couldn’t stop herself from admiring his strong shoulders, his lush beard pleated into two thick braids, and his regal profile. Years passed since their first meeting in Tumunzahar, and yet her heart fluttered as if she were that girl hiding behind a statue again. “Good evening, My Lady.” He stopped by the fireplace, slowly taking in the room. Surprised, Mista could not help but notice the tension in his movements. Surely, he could not be nervous, was he? Not him, not now, away from the prying eyes. He was the fearless hero of Azanulbizar, after all, and she was only a bookish, unremarkable girl. It simply could not be. “Good evening, My Lord,” she replied and stole an apprehensive glance at the four-poster bed beside her. “Are your chambers to your satisfaction, My Lady?” Her newly wedded husband asked, putting his arms behind his back and taking in the room as if he was seeing it for the first time. Was he? Impossible, Mista scolded herself. Princess Dis informed her that he hadoverseen the renovations himself to ensure they offered the utmost comfort to his new wife.

Mista cleared her throat and took a deep breath.

“Indeed, they are, My Lord. I am very grateful. These rooms have exceeded my expectations by far,” she admitted truthfully. She was used to the comfort and splendour of Tumunzahar, but Azsâlul'abad’s opulence was unmatched.

“I am glad to hear it. If you  are ever in need of any one thing, please do not hesitate to ask for it. As the royal consort, Lady Mista, you shall receive only what is best in my kingdom.” He spoke in a steady tone, his low voice slightly hoarser than before.

“Thank you, My Lord, for your generosity,” she lowered her head, wondering whether he was just as uneasy as she was. He thanked her with a nod and observed her silently for a few moments. Mista knew very well how she must look in his eyes and swallowed in embarrassment. Her figure was not what they call “statuesque”, her bosom was too small to be considered enticing, and so, if anyone asked Mista, the low cut bodice was a waste of the tailor’s skill. Besides, she was a bit on the stocky side, and not in that feminine way that was so highly admired among dwarves. As her mother had pertinently put it, “curvaceous” was not the word that described Mista’s figure. Apparently, she resembled a stone slab the most. Crude, angular, and plain. To put it simply, she knew well that she was not the most graceful nor alluring woman in the dwarven kingdom of Azsâlul'abad. Therefore, she felt a bit of relief at the fact that her new lord husband’s gaze did not stray below her neck.

“Let us sit down for now.” He pointed at the two armchairs standing nearby, “and talk.”

Mista hid her confusion at this statement, and joined him quickly by the fireplace. Talking meant that the moment she both dreaded and hoped for would be delayed.

After a few moments of silence, the King finally spoke, his voice solemn, “We have found ourselves in quite unusual circumstances, My Lady. We have been joined in the eyes of Mahal and our people, and are expected to consummate our union. I believe, however, that the best course of action would be for us to wait until we… are better acquainted with each other.”

“Oh, I see…” she replied, taken aback. Something stung in Mista's chest. Was she that unalluring to him? She mustered all her strength to appear unmoved and quickly added, “That is very… thoughtful of you.” “I gathered that you may not feel too comfortable,” his throat bobbed as he looked away, “sharing your bed with someone you have only met for the first time yesterday.”

A surprised, nervous chuckle escaped her, but she stifled it quickly, “Are you jesting, My Lord?” “I am not certain I take your meaning.” He frowned. “We met for the first time in Tumunzahar, at the feast in honour of your family’s arrival to our city,” she explained, cheerily at first, and then — not so much as the signs of puzzlement became more pronounced on his face. The King, her newlywed husband, knitted his eyebrows together. A ball of ice began to grow in her stomach. 

Mista added, her voice barely audible, “And you… you asked me to dance.” “Did I, My Lady?” he tilted his head slightly and looked above her head, perhaps attempting to recall the event. “That must have been… eighty years ago?”

“One hundred and three,” she interjected quickly and then felt her cheeks burn instantly. “I wore a blue gown adorned with sweetwater pearls and you asked me about them. We discussed pearling; I believe you wanted to try it yourself in order to find a pearl for your sister.”

Recounting those long-gone events she treasured in her memory for so many years, she saw an absent expression on his face and the enthusiasm in her voice slowly died off. Mista had hoped that the King, Thorin, would easily recall how he laughed at her silly dragon story or the moment when he showed her how to make a raven out of her dance card to her mother’s utter bafflement. Sadly, the handsome features of his face said the opposite.

“My apologies, My Lady,” he replied, shaking his head slowly. “I am ashamed to say it, but I must admit that I cannot recall that particular event. It seems that too many years have passed since then.” Silence fell after his words and she lowered her gaze, clasping her hands on her lap to prevent them from shaking. Suddenly, in her well-warmed-up room, she felt cold.

“Forgive me, I seem to have forgotten my manners,” Thorin Oakenshield stood up swiftly and made a small bow. “I did not mean to imply that your age…” “No offence taken,” she swallowed the lump in her throat as he sat back down. “We are not younglings any more. You were correct, My Lord. That feast happened long ago. Anyone could have forgotten.”

Anyone. But not Mista. She kept on cherishing the memory of that meeting, and when she first heard about the offer of marriage, she could not believe her ears. She thought that perhaps Thorin Oakenshield remembered her fondly for all these years and… nevermind. It was clear that she was mistaken. He did not recall Mista at all. Why would he? She was simply one of the many uninteresting maidens he had danced with. Plain and easy to forget. So unlike her stunningly beautiful sister Adla who never learned the bitter taste of rejection; whose husband waited impatiently for their wedding night – and with whom Adla now had three sturdy sons.

Thorin Oakenshield drummed his fingers on the armrest of the chair but remained silent. Mista stared at the elaborate pattern of the carpet under her feet. Somewhere deep in the bowels of the mountain the mine bell struck for the third time since midnight when the King poured wine into two goblets that stood on the nearby table. Only then did he finally speak. “As you know very well, My Lady, this… marriage,” he said that last word with a hint of uncharacteristic hesitation, “was to serve several purposes. Did your father inform you about all the clauses of the contract before sending the proposal to me?”

Her eyes widened. 

“Before…? I do not understand. Were you not the one to offer the alliance between our houses, My Lord?” Thorin II, the King Under the Mountain, frowned, “The offer came from your father.” “Oh… I see,” her throat tightened. Her eyes pricked. “Were you not aware of this?” The King’s eyes searched Mista’s face. “Father spared me the details,” she admitted, trying to ignore the dull ache deep inside her that seemed to come in waves. It was not the first time Lord Tair, her father, did something of this sort, but she promised herself it would be the last time. The Lonely Mountain and the kingdom beneath it was beyond his reach. 

“I have been informed of the cornerstones of the deal: you give the Broadbeams of Tumunzahar the trade licences and I…” Mista swallowed. “I give you heirs.”

Somehow, she managed to keep her tone of voice casual. Her voice did not tremble this time. What a relief. Perhaps she was not as alluring as Adla, perhaps her husband — unlike Adla’s — was set on delaying the consummation of their marriage, but at least she kept her dignity intact. She would only need to hold in the tears until she was alone again. 

“That is indeed a very straightforward approach,” the King offered with a nod. “I understand that this must sound to you like a soulless contract, but rest assured that I aim to follow all the clauses of the agreement. And as the Queen Under the Mountain, Zabdûna undu ‘Urd you will be treated with the utmost respect due to the royal consort.” “Of course, My Lord, I did not expect anything less of you,” she uttered. He had been a true gentledwarf when they had met for the first time, after all. One hundred and three years ago. “Your reputation is that of an honourable Dwarf. That is why I agreed to this marriage.”

“Then I will strive to maintain it. May I reciprocate by saying that although I do not yet know you well as a person, your conduct gives you great credit. I admired how composed you were during the ceremony, but perhaps that is not a surprise, knowing that you come from such an ancient and noble house. And I have heard of your admirable work in the Blue Mountains. All those traits are exactly what the kingdom of ‘Urdêk needs from its Queen,” the King gave her a small smile.

“I am happy to hear it, My Lord,” she whispered, looking at her hands on her lap. Your admirable work. Warmth spread in her chest. “May I ask what ‘‘Urdêk’ means? I don’t think I am familiar with this word.”

“Forgive me, this is how we call this kingdom – our home within the Mountain,” he offered. “We do not often use it when talking with outsiders. But now, you are one of us, My Lady.”

Mista’s throat tightened, but she was somehow able to utter a handful of words. “Thank you, My Lord.”

“The task before us both,” the King continued, unaware of the sudden wave of emotions that washed over her, “is to serve the Kingdom Under the Mountain to the best of our ability. Our people will rely both on you and me now.”

Our people. You and me. Those words rang in Mista’s ears like the loudest mine bells after a discovery of a new gold deposit would.

“I will strive to learn my duties as fast as I can and help you with your work, my king,” she replied, feeling his gaze on her face, but unable to meet it.

“Perfect. Time is of the essence, so Lord Balin has taken the liberty to find a capable secretary for you. She will introduce you to the way things are run here. And if you have any questions, do not hesitate to ask him. You can trust him – he taught me most of what I know about ruling this kingdom. He will be more than happy to offer his advice to you as well. There is a lot of work ahead of us; my wish is to make the Mountain fully habitable to our people as soon as possible.”

“You can count on me, My Lord,” she replied enthusiastically. “The people of ‘Urdêk, the Longbeards, the Broadbeams, and everyone else — our people — are returning and they deserve to find new homes here.”

“It brings me great joy to hear you say it, My Lady Mista,” the King took a goblet in his hand and raised it, as if to toast her, before taking a sip. “Once again the proverbial generosity of the Broadbeams turns out to be worth its weight in gold.”

“As you know, I have never visited Azsâlul'abad before, but I have heard many tales of its greatness of old. What I have seen so far only confirms these tales — and I wish to help return the Lonely Mountain to its former glory if I can.”

She looked timidly at the King from under her eyelashes and saw a flicker in his eyes as he peered at her.

“And I will do what I can for you to feel at home here, My Lady,” he gestured at their surroundings. “This kingdom is now yours as well.”

“You are very kind, My Lord,” Mista bowed her head reverently.

For a moment, they sat in silence. 

“Well, this was a productive conversation, My Lady,” he clapped his hand against his muscular thigh and then rose from his chair. “I will not impose myself upon you any further. You must be exhausted after today’s ceremonies. Allow me to bid you good night,” King Thorin, her husband, made a hasty bow and returned to his chambers.

The sound of the closing door echoed dully in the silence of her bedchamber.

For a long while, Mista stared blankly at the dark wooden surface behind which her newly wed husband disappeared, without even once addressing her as “wife”. She was barely aware of the tears that fell from her face onto the soft fabric of her nightgown. Even this elegant piece of clothing was not enough to make her alluring in the eyes of the King. If she only were as enticing as Adla…

It was Mista’s wedding night and she felt like the greatest fool in the world.

✨ Chapter 1 (Prologue) | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3... ✨ Entangled Masterlist 💙💙💙 Read it? Like it? Spread the love and reblog it! 💙💙💙

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[ronidrakaina]

Outlining and writing my time loop Battle of the Five Armies Bagginshield Fanfic. Trying to not be too perfectionist but to also not get stuck in writing. For the Readers 📖🏔️⚔️

[friendoffailures]

If I ever find myself in the vicinity of Richard Armitage, I’m gonna convince him it’s a genius idea to give me every bit of backstory that he wrote for Thorin and then lock us in a room together for at least 4 1/2 hours to discuss every single sentence at length.

[caribbean1989]

The Hobbit - writing masterlist

Here you can find all fanfics I have written for The Hobbit. The full list can be found under the break.

KEEPING SILENT

Characters: Thorin, Bilbo Genre: hurt/comfort, angst Summary: Thorin heard his Company answer from all around him. Apart from some minor cuts and bruises, no one had sustained any serious damage. Well... no one apart from Thorin himself...

Thorin is injured during an Orc attack, and decides to keep that piece of information to himself.

Read on: AO3 | FF.net | Tumblr

[legolasbadass]

Italian Holiday, Part III

Summary: A few weeks before Richard leaves for Boston, he and Lorelei go on holiday in Italy to make the most of the summer and the time they have left together.

This story takes between the penultimate and last chapter of Office Hours and contains major spoilers for that story, so make sure you read it first!

Relationship: Richard Armitage x OC (Professor AU)

Word Count: 1.3K

Rating: T

I am sitting on the balcony, wearing shorts and one of Richard’s t-shirts, my knees tucked under my chin, when he finally returns to me. His hair is still wet and unruly from the shower, and his white shirt clings in places to his damp skin, but none of that is as enticing to me as it usually would be. Right now, I can only watch his face, which is still clouded in frustration and hurt. 

“I’m sorry,” I say hesitantly, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry I snapped at you like that. I didn’t mean to.” 

Richard remains silent, his eyes fixed on some dehydrated potted plant in the corner of the balcony. 

“I’ve just been so stressed lately. You know what the pressure is like, especially when you’re just starting out. And you’re right—I do need a break. I desperately need a break. But when I allow myself one, I just start to feel like I’m at risk of falling behind and missing out on opportunities, and I can’t afford that. I mean, even when I’m giving my research my full attention, it doesn’t always turn out the way I want it, like with this paper…” 

“What paper?” he asks, and I look up, almost surprised to hear his voice after his unbearable silence. 

“I submitted a paper for this edited collection on maps in contemporary fantasy, but it got rejected. I just got the email about it today.” 

Understanding dawns on Richard, and his eyes soften as he takes a seat next to me. “I didn’t even know you’d submitted a piece for that.” 

“Well… at first, I didn’t tell you because you were so busy preparing for Boston. We were both so busy. And then I started to feel more anxious about it as time went on but… I don’t know… you already had so much on your plate—I didn’t want to bring this up when it’s so minuscule compared to you working with Stanley Griffin.” 

“Sweetheart… you have to tell me these things. I want you to tell me—no matter how busy I might be.”

“I know—I’m sorry,” I sigh, running a hand through my messy hair. “Honestly, I feel so stupid for not telling you after making such a big deal out of us needing to share everything with each other.” 

He reaches out to gently squeeze my thigh. “I just want to be there for you, like you’ve been there for me,” he says softly. “I would hate to think you’re not sharing things with me because you think I’m too busy.” 

“You’ve never made me feel like that, Richard, I mean it. You’re always so supportive,” I hasten to reassure him, and his shoulders slump in evident relief. “This was all in my head and—and I’m sorry. I promise I’ll talk more. Because I really don’t like it when we fight, and you don’t deserve me snapping at you like that.” 

He offers me a soft, crooked smile. “I don’t like it when we fight, either.” 

I smile back at him hesitantly, the tightness in my chest slowly dissipating. Then he lets go of my thigh and, leaning back into his chair, opens his arms in invitation. 

“Come here.” 

My smile widens as I eagerly take refuge in his awaiting arms. Once I am comfortably settled on his lap, he wraps his arms around me and presses a series of tender kisses into my hair as I rest my head on his chest, comforted by the steady beating of his heart and the smell of rosemary and sandalwood from the soap he is so fond of. We remain in this embrace for a long while, basking in the sun’s rays. In the streets below, the city is alive with tourists and locals enjoying the warm summer evening, the gentle hum of their voices and laughter rising up to us, blending with the distant sound of music. But up here, it is just the two of us, sitting in comfortable silence, wrapped around each other. As it should be. 

“Do you want me to just keep holding you or can I offer my opinion on the situation?” Richard eventually asks. 

I pull away from him just enough to meet his eyes. “Your opinion?” I respond, raising a hand to brush one rebellious strand of hair away from his forehead. 

“I really do think you deserve a break. I know how stressful those first few years after you get your PhD are, especially when you’re trying to secure a permanent post at a university. But overworking yourself will just hurt you more in the end. And, sweetheart, you’ve accomplished so much in the past year alone. You started working at Exeter, your first monograph was published, and you organized an incredibly successful conference, at which you also presented an amazing paper. I didn’t even do half that the year after I got my PhD, and I turned out alright, didn’t I?” 

I chuckle, feeling so grateful to have him by my side, yet still unable to completely shake off the knot in my chest. 

Sensing my discomfort, Richard presses a tender kiss onto my temple. “What’s really worrying you?” 

I take a deep breath as I snuggle deeper into his embrace. “I just… sometimes I worry—what if I don’t get offered a permanent post at Exeter? What will happen with us then?” 

“Oh, sweetheart…” he breathes out, squeezing me tight. “Firstly, I think, if somehow, the college were to not offer you a permanent post, they would be making a terrible mistake, and it would make me question if it was really the right place for me,” he says playfully, causing me to chuckle. “Secondly, I think, if it came to that—which I really doubt it will—then we will just figure it out. We’ll make it work just like we’ll make this year apart work.” 

“Really?” 

He offers me a tender smile. “Really. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m quite mad about you, so trust me, I’ll do everything to ensure I get to kiss you, hug you, and make you smile and laugh every day.”

I smile, his tender, honest words, combined with the love shining in his eyes, making my heart swell tenfold. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” he responds before kissing me softly.

“No, I love you more,” I whisper against his lips, giggling. 

 “I fear this could go on for quite some time,” Richard chuckles as he pulls back, gazing lovingly into my eyes. “How about we just have dinner here tonight?”

“I’d like that.” 

“I could go to the shop and get some ingredients while you take a shower.” 

“You take such good care of me,” I say as I press a lingering kiss onto his bearded cheek, feeling so much happier than I was earlier. 

After exchanging a few more kisses, I stand up, glancing at the pastel-coloured houses on the other side of the street as I stretch, but before I can open the French doors leading inside, Richard rests a hand on my back, urging me to turn around. 

“I don’t remember packing that t-shirt,” he says with a frown, clearly amused.

I bite my lower lip. “Oh, er, I brought it, actually. In my own suitcase.” 

“Oh?” 

“Well, you see, I knew I would end up borrowing a t-shirt from you to sleep in, but I wasn’t sure if you would think to account for that when calculating how many t-shirts to bring, and I also didn’t want you to use up your limited luggage space with clothes I would be wearing so…” 

Richard laughs before leaning in to capture my lips in a deep, languid kiss, and all I can do is wrap my arms around him, the sparks he ignites in me letting me forget about the strain in my neck from tilting my head up so much. 

“Have I mentioned how much I love you?” he muses after we pull apart eons later, breathless, our cheeks warm and our lips slightly swollen as we stand under the golden evening sun. 

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[thorinsspringforge]

TSF25 Poll Time!

Thorin’s Spring Forge 2025 is just around the corner (HERE!) so let’s begin with a very important poll!

[legolasbadass]

I read this fic again and I died again 🔥🔥🔥🔥

When is part 3 coming out? ;)

The Game

Part 2

Fandom: Obsession (Coming to Netflix April 2023)

Relationship: William Farrow x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+

A/N: You can read the previous part here. This is what happens when my muse listens to my friends. You know who you are… 😈😈

I reach the fifth floor, and the gentle voice in the elevator announces my arrival before the doors slide open. Soft, warm–beige carpet tiles lead the way into a long hallway where old-fashioned lanterns illuminate the walls. The dark paint on the walls makes the hall appear more narrow than it is. All doors obviously look the same, but I don’t have to walk far to find the right one. I hold up the key card, and the lock immediately clicks. Room 505 is of a generous size, with a large sitting area and an even larger space for the king-size bed. The room smells faintly of William’s cologne and shower gel, and the wet towel in the bathroom tells me he showered recently. Another of his jackets hangs on a hook by the door, and I can’t resist pressing my nose against the dark fabric. He always smells heavenly good, and having his scent around me like this awakes an even stronger longing for him. I wonder how long he will make me wait for him. The heavy curtains are open, and it allows me to see the setting sun’s breathtaking evening act. The sky is on fire in the west, and the last burning rays of light fall on the treetops like a golden crown. Very soon, it will be dark.

For a moment, I consider closing the curtains, but then I remember the remote location of the charming, old hotel. With the stunning view comes privacy, and to my satisfaction, I discover that it’s impossible to see into William’s room from the hotel. I could walk around without clothes, and only the sky would notice. In fact, that’s exactly what William ordered me to do; wait for him—naked. The memory of his hoarse whisper makes me shiver. I dim some of the lights, not too much, but enough to make the atmosphere in the room even more sensual and luxurious. Then I take off my shoes and place them next to William’s sneakers. My feet sink down into a thick carpet as I walk back to the window. The window stretches all over the wall, and I can see my reflection thanks to the partly dark sky.

I remember the night I first met William. It was between courses at a newly opened restaurant downtown. I saw him the moment he entered through the large glass door. He was with a smaller group of people, and still to this day, I have no idea who they were. I never asked, and he never brought it up. God knows I’m not a patient woman, but that night I waited a small eternity for the right moment to make him aware of my presence. And the perfect moment came—eventually—and the rest is history. I grin at the memory of our heated encounter that followed in a dark alley later that night. It was the result of hours of teasing looks, desire built without spoken words, and neither of us could wait any longer. It did not matter that we had only just met. He took me—harshly pressed against the wall—and I burned in his grip as I had never burned before. When we parted, I knew I had to see him again.

My daydream almost becomes too much, and I sigh in frustration as I reach for the zipper in my dress. I send a prayer that William will join me soon. I have already waited long enough, and my impatience is growing fast. I need him so badly it hurts, but I also know the rules; when he leads, I follow. And he doesn’t approve of me touching myself before our meetings—unless he can watch. The silky fabric slides off me, and the sparkling effect from the champagne in my blood causes me to giggle. As I step out of my underwear and let them join my dress on the floor, I look at the faint reflection of myself in the window. I’m confident with my body. I like what I see, and I know William does too, for his eyes speak a language of their own when he watches me. As I rest my gaze on the almost dark horizon again, I suddenly hear a click from the door. A wave of excitement washes over me, and I quickly turn. He is here.

William enters the room, and I can instantly tell by the look in his eyes what he expects from me; obedience. I smile at him, but his lips don't move to mirror mine. Instead, he takes off his jacket and hangs it next to the other one. All of a sudden, there is a tension in the room—like the air is charged with electricity—and he walks slowly towards me. His gaze is fixed on me, and the way he hungrily takes in my naked curves is enough to make my breathing heavier. I love when he looks at me like that. I am his.

No words are uttered, but I still know what he means when he lifts his hand to brush my cheek with his fingertips. His steel-blue eyes always reveal his state before his body does, and I don’t need words to tell him how I feel. Our love language is of a different kind, and as I submissively lower my gaze, I catch a glimpse of admiration in his eyes. He leans in, just as he did downstairs less than twenty minutes ago, and his masculine, alluring scent speaks directly to my core.

“Are you going to be a good girl tonight?” His voice is nothing more than a low murmur, but I know what he is doing: making sure we are both up for whatever his dark and heavenly-twisted mind is planning. And I love him even more for taking the time to properly care for me.

”Yes, Sir,” My answer falls naturally from my lips, soft as a whisper—but still strong enough to make my consent vibrate in the air. William smirks back at me—the type of smile he makes when he knows exactly where he has me.

”Show me your hands,” he commands. As I turn my palms up and hold my hands in front of me, William grabs my wrists and presses my palms together. ”Like this.” Then he puts one hand in the pocket of his trousers and pulls out a carefully rolled red ribbon. He rolls it out and runs it playfully between his fingers. The silky ribbon is long—long enough to secure more than just my wrists—and the thought sends a shiver of excitement down my spine. I watch him as he wraps the ribbon tightly around my wrists three times. I can’t stop myself from moaning as he pulls the end between my hands to tighten the ribbon. The silk cuts into my skin, not so bad it hurts, but hard enough to remind me that I can’t escape from him. William secures his creation with a knot and gives the backside of my hands a brief caress with his thumb. A playful smile hides in the corner of his mouth, and it makes me want to kiss him. I want to taste his lips and feel his tongue tickle mine. I need him to kiss me like there is no tomorrow until I can’t breathe and have to gasp for air. I know he can see it in my eyes, and he cups my face with both his hands and places teasing kisses on my lips. He breaks our kiss much too soon, but I know better than to protest. If I behave, he will give me everything I want. My darkest desires—which remained a well-preserved secret until I met him—will be answered once again.

William starts to roll up his sleeves. With the facial expression of a displeased workerpreparing himself for hard labor, he reveals his strong forearms to me. They are covered in soft hair, and he knows very well how attractive I find it. Then he opens a few more buttons in his shirt as if he is standing in the blazing sun and needs to cool down. I bite my lip to hinder myself from begging him to take it all off, and I can see in his eyes that it amuses him. ”I know you struggle to be patient,” he suddenly says. His voice is calm—he has regained control over himself, and I secretly admire his ability to take the role of the scolding Master. A smile dances over his lips as a reminder of the bond we share, but then his face becomes stern. ”Turn around.” I obey and meet our reflection in the window. William closes the distance between our bodies, and I lean back on him as he wraps one arm around my chest. I lift my bound hands to try to caress his arm, but he quickly catches me and pushes my hands down again. Then he grips my hair, forces my head backwards, and it makes me collide with his firm shoulder. ”Stand still, or I will make sure you can’t even move an inch.” The threat sounds more like a promise, and I grin to myself. I will do as I’m told—for now. William lets his warm, large hand glide over my upper body, and I let out a pleased sigh. His touch is gentle—like a tender lover—and the contrast to the harsh grip he has on my hair is intoxicating. The small words of affection while he continues his path over my body ignite my lust, and the more I want him to continue further down, the more he teases me. I whimper softly as he grabs me tighter. ”You are exquisite, sweetheart,” William mumbles. As he bends down and scrapes his teeth against my neck, I moan again. ”I love listening to you. Don’t hold back.”

My skin burns when I finally feel his fingers approaching my most sensitive parts, and I press myself against his hand to urge him to continue. But I should have known better. As soon as I grind against his fingers, he withdraws his hand. ”Already being disobedient? I told you to stand still.” I hear the grin in his voice, but then the skin on my thigh stings. I jump at his sudden move, but William is faster than me and tightens his grip around me again. ”I thought you learned your lesson last time but it seems I need to remind you again.” My skin stings again. And then again. My body responds to his rough treatment with an appreciative blush. Then he lets his hand rest on my shoulder, and I know what’s coming. A gentle squeeze follows, and then, a single word; ”Kneel.”

I smile at his command and drop to my knees with my back still against him. The thick carpet is very soft, and I thank the hotel for providing such nice comfort for their guests. In this position, William really towers over me, and he places his hand on my head, almost as if giving me a blessing. I meet his gaze in the reflection of the window, and his voice is hoarse as he speaks again. ”Look at yourself. This is what you want, is it not?” I nod at his question. He buries his hand in my hair and yanks my head backwards. It hurts as I stare into his steel-blue eyes, but I don’t protest. I want this just as much as he does.

”Yes, Sir,” I correct myself as my neck is being stretched. The seconds pass agonizingly slowly, but then suddenly, William lets go of the tight grip. He rubs his fingertips against my scalp in a soothing gesture before he releases my hair, and the subtle comfort he offers makes my heart swell. I sit back on my heels, with my knees spread wide—just as he demands—and waits for him to move. I know he likes to watch me, and tonight, more than ever, it appears. When he finally stands in front of me, he fills my whole vision. With a few of his long fingers, he catches my chin, and when he speaks, his voice has reached that dark, ominous register that reminds me of distant thunder.

”For every time you misbehave I will deny you relief. When you squirm in desperation—remember—you put yourself in the situation.”

William reaches for his belt and unbuckles it. Then he slowly pulls it from his trousers and folds it double. He has not yet used his belt on my naked skin, but the sight of the hard leather in his hand makes me gasp. William, however, seems to have other plans, for he tosses the belt on the floor and proceeds to open the button in his trousers. I enjoy watching him undress, almost as much as I love undressing him, and when he pulls down his zipper, I can’t resist lifting my bound hands toward him. The bulge in his trousers is proof enough of how much he enjoys this, but the look in his eyes when his member is freed from his boxers leaves no room for misunderstandings. He doesn’t have to tell me what to do; I have waited far too long to see him like this, and when he takes a small step forward, I welcome his leaking top with my tongue. His masculine smell and taste are incredibly arousing, and I greedily reach for him. The ribbon hinders me from using my hands the way I want, and I try to twist them to see if William was merciful enough to leave some room for adjusting my hands. He was not.

”No hands,” William groans as I close my lips around the top of his shaft. I don’t dare disobey him so soon again, so I let my hands fall down in my lap. Memories of his latest aftercare come back to me as he lets out a ragged breath. William was a bit more forceful the last time we met and took full advantage of my mouth. Afterwards, when he held me tenderly in his arms, I admitted that I loved every second of it. I also told him he could go harder on me—even force me—if he wanted to. Back then, he seemed to hesitate, but now, as he harshly grabs me, I can sense him coming to terms with my request. William turns so I can watch us both in the reflection. Slowly he pulls out of my mouth and tilts my head so I can see what he sees when he slides between my lips. The slightly blurry picture of us will forever be stored in my memory—whatever happens between us.

Guided by the sounds he makes, I caress him with my lips, lick his heavy shaft, and allow him a gradually deeper sensation. William twirls my hair between his fingers, and after a while, it becomes impossible to see anything in the window. Instead, I try to focus on the silky skin of William’s hardness—and my own breathing. He meets every movement of mine, and his thrusts soon become short and quick. I can hear in his uneven breathing that he will not last long if he continues.

A small stream of saliva escapes my lips as William suddenly steps away from me. I gasp for air as if I have just crossed the finish line in a cross-country race. Without a word, he grabs my arms and pulls me to my feet. ”You’ll be the death of me,” he mutters in an unrecognizable voice as he squeezes my arm. Something in his voice makes me actually believe him. He would do anything for me. William’s gaze still bores into mine as he starts to undress. As he removes his shirt and pulls down his trousers, impatience stir inside my body like a slumbering lioness waking up. The struggle to remain obedient grows, and I love the smirk William gives me. He knows what he’s doing to me, and I have a feeling he plans to enjoy it to the fullest. When he finally is naked, he grabs me by the elbow and leads me away from the window.

The large duvet is still untouched—William did not even throw his belongings on the neatly made bed. With a single push, I fall backwards on the bed, and he follows me and catches my wrists before I find a decent position for myself. As he uses his weight to hold me down, I can feel how incredibly warm he is. Effortlessly, he pulls my bound hands over my head, and the promising gleam in his eyes sets me on fire. ”Remember what I said,” he hisses before he gives my earlobe a playful bite. ”Your behavior will impact the outcome of this night. Be good—or be bad. It’s up to you.”

”I’ll be good for you, Sir,” I moan as he drags his nails along my arm, from the silky ribbon all the way down to my ribs. If I were less aroused, it would tickle, but now he leaves a burning trail on my skin. William lets out a short, raw chuckle. I know he doesn’t believe me—I don’t even believe it myself. His hardness presses against me, and I spread my thighs wide for him. A soft pleading slips from me. I didn't mean to beg, but my all-consuming desire has a will of its own. He only needs one hand to hold my arms in place over my head, and the other one explores every part of my heated body. The way he touches me—an overpowering combination of sensual and demanding—builds an aching feeling in my core, and soon he has me squirming under his hand.

”So eager,” William mumbles as he moves his hips in position. The bulging veins on his forehead strain against his skin and reveal his silent struggle to control himself. I know he wants to bury his full length in me, and I arch my body as an invitation. His long fingers gently wrap around my neck. With his thumb, he caresses my soft skin, and when he feels my frantic pulse, he adds a slight pressure. I gasp and try to move, yet he does not even blink as he sucks in air between his teeth as a warning. I trust him with every fiber in my body, but my heart leaps in my chest when he pierces me with his burning gaze. The way he suddenly claims my body makes me cry out. His swelling girth meets the slick resistance of my body in the most breathtaking way, and William’s groan echoes in my ears. I lose the air in my lungs as he presses me down, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. His fingers dig into my skin as his grip on my arm tightens, and every thrust echoes within my body. William’s breathing blends with mine, and our fire—the flaming desire we ignited months ago—will burn until there is nothing left of us. In the inferno he creates, I lose my grip on reality and float into the unknown as an ancient explorer on a damaged ship. Captured beneath him, all I can do is follow his moves, and he leads me on a path neither of us was prepared to follow. His face is filled with love, but he craves more—much more—and every time I think we will join in bliss, he denies me what I need. Heaven knows I try to be good, but there is something about the way he takes me, and it makes me completely forget all the rules. William seeks to punish me. I close my eyes in agony as I feel him repeating his torture, and I howl his name in desperation as he almost pulls out. At this moment, I don’t know if my love or hate is strongest, but the more I twist my hands, the deeper his ribbon cuts. My restraints hinder me from touching his body, but the groans he makes as he slams his hips against mine again sound painful. Finally, he suffers too.

It starts as an ache, then builds to a sweet pain, and my body silently screams for relief. I will never understand what William senses, but he knows so well where my limits are. I stand on the edge of my own release—ready to cry if he denies me again. But this time, he doesn’t pull back. Instead, he focuses all his efforts on the one angle that has me trembling. His words of praise and promises give my climax the final push over the edge, and we both fall—in a wordless cry—into the pool of ecstasy where our souls once again melt together.

Nothing but our joined breathing can be heard as he stills. My heart hammers wildly in my chest, but it’s his soft kisses on my cheek that I feel the most. With a gentle hand, he caresses my hair and mumbles words that my heart longs to hear. His voice is thick and filled with emotions as he looks into my eyes and swears his love to me once more. And I allow him. It’s easy to forget about reality when your body is filled to the brim with satisfaction. As he slowly sits up between my thighs, I study him. He is the most handsome man I have ever seen, and for now, I ignore the world outside his luxurious hotel room. William releases my wrists and carefully rubs my sore skin. My hands are a little numb from being bound so long, but his tender treatment soothes more than he might realize. Then he lifts them to his mouth and gently kisses the thin skin on the inside before blowing softly. ”You should not struggle so much, it burns your skin.” The concern in his voice fills me with a different kind of warmth.

”I don’t mind a few marks, you know that,” I reply with a teasing smile.

”I would lie if I said I don’t like seeing the marks on you, but I prefer if they don't become a problem for you—for us.” His confession doesn’t come as a surprise to me, and I watch him in silence as he rubs his thumbs over the angry red marks. Tomorrow they might be a reminder of our heated night. William is still out of breath, but to him, my comfort is more important.

”It will not become a problem,” I quietly assure him, even if I know that is a promise I will not be able to keep. The marks on my body are nothing compared to the obsession escalating between us. We are currently both ignoring it, but it would be insane to deny that we are in serious trouble. Our type of love always comes at the highest price. And sometimes, it hurts.

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[loupsgarou]

Mountain Sound ch3 bit // ao3

"You've been sitting quietly for too long, in my opinion," Gandalf tutted, a contrast to her respective indulging the hobbit, drawing away and looking at the lone woman to ask patiently, "dear one, could you give us a moment?"

"Fine," Bryn half-sighed her consent, looking at Bilbo with an empathetic smile before turning to leave both wizard and halfling in the smaller sitting room. Remembering to tuck the vial into a pouch on her belt only to return it to Gandalf later, a slight bristle played at the hairs on the back of her neck as she felt eyes on her.

Looking at the source standing near the doorway of the dining room speaking with Balin, taking the form of Thorin Oakenshield, Bryn locked eyes with him before she slid her eyes closed and continued to walk past the two dwarves to leave them to their conversation and incidentally ignore the dwarf lord. He had been forced to tote her along on this otherwise-mad venture, after all, and she wasn't a lovestruck giggling maiden won by his fierce blue eyes.

Why the gods had made him handsome seemed to be a cruel joke imposed on her life…

[archivewriter1ont]

🤔,👻,💥, and 🛏 for the ask game!

Thanks for the asks! ❤️

🤔 Are there any new characters you want to write about?

I'm actually super excited about this! I just found out about the Febuwhump event, and one of the prompts is perfect for some new characters I've loved for a while but never written about. I'm a HUGE fan of the Pendergast series by Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child (my next cats will be named Vinnie and Aloysius) and have been thinking of writing a short fic about D'Agosta's reaction to Pendergast's sacrifice in Book 5: Brimstone. That will be posted in February but I'm already working on it so I can have time to get it as close to perfect as possible!

Another new kind of fic I might try to write is for C.J. Archer's Cleopatra Fox series, because as much as I love her slow-burn, low-spice detective stories, we are in book 9 (NINE) and there has been no real emotional progress and only two brief kisses that Cleo overthinks for the rest of that book and the next. Richard is perfect for her but she just won't admit to her pessimistic (and sometimes toxic-feminist) side that he's not like the guys she's seen in the past. I listen to the series on audio, and during the last book people at work actually thought I was mad at my spreadsheets but I was really just mentally shaking this girl by the shoulders like "Open your eyes, ma'am!" So (deep breath, don't continue the rant)...I would love to attempt a fix-it sort of thing where I finally get the resolution that I want and they go on happily solving crimes together, whether her family disowns her or not. Her family isn't particularly likable to begin with, except for Flossy who is a funny little dear, so I don't see where that's a huge issue.

Summary: If I write a Pendergast fic, I just want him and D'Agosta to acknowledge that at this point they are blood brothers, maybe for Aloysius to fess up a little about why he's so averse to hugs, and for them to admit that they would die for each other since they have each actually tried to like twice already. If I write a Cleo/Richard fic, I just want an honest admission by Cleo that she was wrong about love and that marriage to a man who she fell in love with at first sight who lets her do as she pleases and who "gets" her at a level that her family never could, would maybe not be so bad.

👻 Is there a new genre you'd like to write?

I'd actually like to try my hand at...I guess it's not really romance, because of the simple fact that I don't like what most romance/romantasy novels contain (to each his own, but I'ma pass). But stories like in The Secret of Chimneys by Agatha Christie, in which the guy and the girl actually are perfect for each other and their souls mesh the minute they meet, like "Wow what took me so long to find you?" At the moment that's my Cleo Fox/Richard Armitage HC story, or Tech/Phee and Hunter/Sheona (OC) for the Bad Batch. In the case of the Batch, they all deserve a happily ever after. I'm just not sure how well I could write that kind of thing.

💥Is there a chapter, scene, or WIP you're most excited to write? Share a snippet or tell us about it!

Yes! I'm super excited about writing The Codex, which I've talked about a little already but will happily do so again at length. It's in the very beginning stages but I would love to get it done this year, especially with the TBB comics coming out!

Basic Idea: Near the beginning of the Clone Wars, Clone Force 99 is assigned by Commander Cody to escort Obi-Wan Kenobi to an unexplored Outer Rim planet. Their objective is to find an ancient Sith/Jedi relic that has been coming up in underworld chatter, an object known as the Codex. (It's actually a real thing in SW. The Codex focuses and enhances a being's Force potential but was lost for millennia.) Kenobi hasn't met the Batch before, but as soon as he does he senses something like Force sensitivity in Hunter.

Without prying too much, the general tries to discover what the sergeant's abilities may be as the mission goes on. (Think random questions and conversations regarding Force things about which Hunter has literally no clue. The poor sergeant thinks Cody gave them the crazy general, which he did, but for other reasons.) When they get to the temple, a dark Force user is already there for the relic and a nail-biting race for the artifact ensues through underground tunnels, light sabers and blasters lighting up the dark, like a crazy Preston&Child chase sequence. Lots of opportunities for the young Batch to prove their stuff as relatively new soldiers -- cave-ins and explosions for Wrecker, split-second thinking and obscure knowledge for Tech, and stuff to kill and make fun of for Crosshair. Hunter is dealing with his own issues because of the Force thing but he's also thrilled to be out in the field, tracking and getting the job done. (Another side effect is that Obi-Wan is in real fear for his life at one point, sees these boys causing chaos and destruction, having the time of their lives, and thinks that it should be illegal for that much energy and death-wishiness to be packed into four men. It's enough to supply the entire 7th Sky Corps but somehow they got all of it.)

The plot twist is that Kenobi is emphatically not the hero of the story. The Dark Force user takes the "room temperature challenge" courtesy of an unlikely person who used the Codex and surprised everyone, including himself.

I just think a Force-sensitive Hunter would be a fun character to explore, and I like the idea of the Bad Batch saving General-the-Sithslayer Kenobi. I also think that Obi-Wan would see the four young batchers (scrawny in too-big armor, fresh off Kamino, arguing amongst themselves with intense stray puppy vibes) and just go "Adopt" because he's been around Plo too long and it's turned up his own dad instincts. (If not precious kiddos, why precious kiddo shaped?)

🛏 Is there a new trope you'd like to write this year?

Do AUs count as tropes? Because buddy do I have some stuff I've been thinking about. I love the Modern Batch AU my sister came up with; I also have plenty of ideas for an "Order 66 didn't happen (or if it did it didn't work bc Cody is awesome)" kind of AU. There's another one I've been thinking about, which I've been calling my Rescued AU, that also includes a Force-sensitive Hunter, but the Bad Batchers are much younger than the other clones, Ahsoka is older, Fives lives and Echo is never blown up, and Rex and the command batch figure out who the Sith Lord is early on in the war. Somehow this saves the galaxy and everyone lives happily ever after.

If not AUs, I think the "presumed dead" trope is fun (for me, obviously not the characters). It was done well in Brimstone and I've had a WIP called Glory and Honor that's been collecting dust forever, in which Cody is presumed dead after a terrible campaign that was caused by either Krell or Tarkin (still not sure if it's going to be an Umbara alternate or take place in a more original setting). Kenobi is distraught because he was wounded and taken from the field before Cody disappeared, and has no way to know for sure if the commander was killed instantly as reported or if he was left to die slowly in the carnage. Cody obviously survives and fights his way back to his Jedi and his men, and gets a good swing or two in on the bad guy responsible (which is why I'm kind of hoping it's going to be Krell, so I can have Cody kill him off as he deserves).

If you read ALL of that, I applaud you. I am notoriously long-winded😂Sorry!