#Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader

[gloomwitchwrites]

Missed Hints

King Thorin Oakenshield x Female Reader

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

Word Count: 1.8k

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

A/N: for @protosslady

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist

“You’re pregnant, your majesty.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That is still true. Thorin loves you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Their smiles return but it’s subdued.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

First hint dropped.

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

You perfectly understand his meaning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thorin,” you say flatly.

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

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

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

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

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

Still, it brushes right over his head.

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

Maybe you are going to have to say it outright.

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

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

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

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

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

You start to nod, urging him on.

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

“Truly?”

“Found out just this morning.”

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

“Why not say anything?” he asks.

“I did,” you laugh. “Many times.”

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

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

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

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

“Happiest I’ve ever been.”

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

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

“What kind of celebrating?”

“The kind that landed us here.”

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

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

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

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

You nod. “It can wait.”

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[fizzyxcustard]

Those Hands.

Masterlist of fan fiction

Fandom: The Hobbit

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ladies first. I insist.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Would you wish to get to know him?” 

“I don’t know. Why do you ask?”

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

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

“Why would I have any reason?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So why would that not make you handsome?” 

“My hands…” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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[rottencherrypie]

R-18+; Another (Thorin x Reader)

Summary - The dwarven king is determined to make his seed take again.

Warnings - Smut, language, afab!reader, fem!reader, fingering (reader receiving), mention of a womb, female genitalia (reader), bodily fluids, implied previous smut, dom/sub undertones, slight dom!Thorin, "good girl" is used, heavily implied previous pregnancy, breeding kink, overstimulation, implied following sex.

Pronouns & POV - None, third-person

Word Count - 700+ (a short one)

A/N - Another one from the suggestion box on my Instagram! (I am trying to polish up the form a bit, and get through the current suggestions before I post it on here too!) "would love a thorin blurb with fingering. maybe breeding kink too." — (anonymous) I hope this lives up to what you envisioned, sweet one! The only descriptions used for the reader are that their lips are swollen from kissing, their ass is round, and their skin is referred to as "delicate". (I had no idea what to put as the header, so I did a pomegranate and flowers because they are associated with fertility?) Pure smut below the cut!

Read on AO3 Read on Wattpad

The bitter mountain air nipped at your exposed, quivering flesh as the sounds of your exhausted mewls danced throughout the air. A stream of drool cascaded out of the corner of your kiss-swollen lips, dripping down your chin and staining the silken sheets beneath you. Though, the sheets had seen far more within the past hour, stained with the essence of your pleasure and the spilt seed of the dwarven king.

"Shh, shh," The sudden heat of his breath against the exposed flesh of your arse made a shiver roam down your spine, furthering the quivering of your exhausted legs as his rough, calloused hands began to caress the roundness of your buttocks softly. "you must relax if it is to take." The king cooed as the thickness of his fingers delved into your exhausted, sensitive hole.

A fullness that made your nails dig into the smooth fabric beneath you, piercing into the silken sheets and nearly tearing it from the seams as the hot, stickiness of the dwarf's cum was pushed deeper into your aching walls.

"Thorin..." His name left your lips in an exhausted mewl, the corners of your eyes staining with tears. The weight of your chest sunk further into the mattress, further pressing your arse into the air as his thick fingers continued to push inside of you—curling up against your most sensitive spot, forcing another strained sound of pleasure from your soft lips. "...too much...can't...gonna..." A string of nonsensical words fell from your lips, a mixture of a desperate plea for the dwarf to give you a moment of recovery and a cry to continue as that familiar tingle began to spread throughout the pit of your stomach.

"Shh, shh," The dwarven king softly hushed you, yet his fingers continued to move within. The pace at which his hand moved was slow yet calculated—lulling you into a false sense of stability before his fingers spread apart, stretching your inner walls for a moment before quickly snapping back together. "just one more. I know you can give me another." He cooed. His tone dripped with false affection, knowing all too well he was pushing you to your limits—but he didn't care. What the king wanted, the king got—and he wanted you to cum again, just how he wanted you round with another child.

"Be a good girl for me and let it happen." He continued, as did the motions of his fingers inside you. They ranged in variation: one moment curling against your spongy spot, while the next, they scissored against your quivering walls. There was no rhyme or reason for the lack of pattern—he just wanted to watch you squirm. And squirm you did as he suddenly pressed his thick, calloused thumb against your sensitive bundle of nerves.

It tingled, nearly burnt, as the weight of his thumb pressed against your clit—tracing slow circles upon it as your hips mindlessly bucked into his palm. If you were to raise your head from the plushness of the bed and look back at the dwarf, you would see how a smug grin curved upon his thin lips as your wet walls clenched around his fingers—your cunt's desperate plea for release.

Within a matter of breaths, the sound of your muffled cries of pleasure filled the air. The essence of your pleasure gushed out of your aching cunt, coating the king's hand and forearm with its wetness.

"That's it." The king would coo, pressing a kiss upon the middle of your back as his free hand slid to the front of your lower abdomen. Resting right above where a babe would soon grow, keeping you steady as he pushed the remnants of his seed deeper within your walls—as if he was attempting to shove it up to your womb. "It will surely take." His words vibrated against your back as he pressed another kiss upon your skin; the harshness of his beard rubbing against your delicate flesh sent another tingle throughout your body.

"And if it does not?" You managed to question, your mind still in a daze from the endless hours you had spent being pumped full to the brim with the king's seed. Inner walls sore and likely bruised, sheets stained with the few droplets that spilt out from your warmth. "And if it does not," The king began, raising his head from your back—his beard grazing against your skin as the bed groaned at the shifting weight. "then we have all spring to make it take."

It was not a suggestion; it was a promise.

[quillofspirit]

2023 fic recs

If there's one thing to know about me, is that I love to read! and I love to share the good fics, so I figured I would put them all on one list💚

pssst! it's my first time doing anything like this, so if you have recommendations for the format, please do leave them in the comments or drop me a message! thanks xx

Key 🍬 fluff 🧯 spicy 🌡️ smut ⛈️ angst 🌪️ all

For people I have tagged, please let me know if there is anything you’d like me to add or remove — like a link to another account. It’ll be my pleasure☺️

Lord of the Rings (and related)

⛈️🧯Fuck the Forbidden pt. 1 by @entishramblings

Boromir x mermaidfem!oc Teens and Up but read the warnings carefully 9,500 words

Now I want mermaids in everything. why aren’t there mermaids in everything? The descriptions are so well done, everything is so vividly easy to visualize, oh I just loved it.

I am so hyped for pt 2!!

🍬⛈️ Healing Touch by @ass-deep-in-demons

Boromir x fem!oc Teens and Up 4,350 words

My film studies degree was very happy about the descriptions of movement in this one - it’s a little specific but hear me out. It’s much easier to see the actors playing the scene when it’s described this well! THAT ENDING, I have to say I joined Legolas, and I don’t have excuses.

I cannot wait to read the rest of the adventures of Joanna!

🍬 I Might Need to Kiss You by @fizzyxcustard

Thorin Oakenshield x fem!reader 400 words

I was squealing, this is so sweet. like the perfect little pick me up when you need a reminder, and Thorin is nothing if not a good king to his subjects 😇

🍬 Sweet Conversations by @glassgulls

Haldir x fem!reader Teens and Up 5,360 words

did I almost break my mouse when I clicked on this? noooo

Would I do it again? approximately 5 times since ☺️

Who doesn’t love sneaking around and kissing pretty elves, especially when they propose the idea so nicely… Just read it, you’re welcome

⛈️🧯Transformed by @sotwk

Thranduil’s son OC x fem!reader Teens and Up 2,400 words

There are at least two werewolves! When I tell you I read it three nights in a row, just to truly catch all the little things that made me go absolutely feral this so lovely to read. Yes, there’s gore (only a little bit) and there’s angst, but there’s also dialogue that would be made into gifs were it a movie.

Pirates of the Caribbeans

🌪️Catch the Wind by eriathiel (@esta-elavaris)

James Norrington x fem!oc Explicit 418,000 words

101 chapters of epic, pirates, and sweetness. The definition of you will suffer and you will like it. I finished this in like two days, because I couldn’t put it down, like a child on Halloween night going through their whole bag of candy.

⛈️🍬 Fallen Through Time by eriathiel (@esta-elavaris)

Catch the Wind AU Mature Ongoing; 34,000 words

12 Chapters so far, but it’s probably going to make me want to read everything about Theodora again. I am very normal about this character. 😌

Other fandoms

🌡️One of Those days by @capricornafterdark

Jason Todd x fem!reader Explicit 750 words

Sometimes you need to be taken care of, and sometimes its easier to take care of others.

🍬Patience by @velvetcloxds

Charlie Swan x fem!reader Just straight cuteness 600 words

A cute yet serious conversation with Charlie

🌡️That Takes Trust Darlin by @capricornafterdark

Jason Todd x transmasc!reader Explicit 1,950 words

It takes a lot of trust to tell a person about your desires, and even more when you spend your time catching villains.

🌪️ What Happens After You? by StrengthBeforeWeakness

Ominis Gaunt x fem!oc Mature 219,000 words

A badass Ravenclaw, sweet sweet Garreth, and dark!Sebastian. I am tempted to say it’s almost a Hogwarts Legacy AU because the lore in this fic is so incredible, it feels new again.

These are my headers and dividers, please do not use them.

[epilogue-and-prologue]

Ship: Thorin x Elf!Reader

Trope: Childhood friends to enemies to lovers

Length: 3 376 words.

Warnings: Injuries, violence, guilt, guilt trip. Thorin being Thorin, Thranduil being Thranduil. Angst with a happy ending.

Note: @sorisooyaa I have something for you. I made a thing. I don't know what to make of it. But I have made a thing. Tags - if I forgot someone sorry and please tell me so I can not forget you next time: @heilith @sotwk @asgardianhobbit98 @middleearthpixie @glassgulls @evenstaredits @fizzyxcustard

Vocabulary point: Nethig = Sister, little sister (diminutive) - Sindarin

You were here to help.

Of course, you had come to help.

The battle of Erebor would be known as the one where great elven and dwarven warriors perished. It would still be an understatement before any of the gods who listened. The Durin line barely survived by the skin of their teeth. If you had not been there to prevent the massacre... Thorin stopped the thought there, fearing what it would bring to mind.

You, whom he had known since he was a mere child, your parents and his - if not in agreement - cordial to one another. At the time, you knew Erebor's halls almost as well as he did, despite having grown in the shadows of the Greenwood. Often, you would meet, in secret, away from the prying eyes of both your families, running away, chasing dragons and seeking battles made out of air.

Now, he wished for these times to come back.

The dwarven king owed you his life and the life of his nephews.

That was why he was at your side, watching until you woke up. If you were to wake up.

Why was he waiting? He knew not. Or, he knew as he had known for years, yet stopped himself from hoping you would know too. He was not the young dwarf he once was, careless with his words and promises, careless in his affections. The sovereign he had become could not make foolish choices as Kili had the luxury of making. Nevertheless, the hope in him would not die, not until you gave him an answer to a question he would not dare ask.

You were there. You were there when his grandfather had refused your brother and your people what was owed to them. The look of confusion and disappointment on your face had not left his thoughts in all those years. Where the regret and sorrow as you followed your brother away from the dragon’s massacre felt like a heavy scar, this first betrayal was still bleeding through the walls of his mind more vivid than it had ever been.

For since the battle, you would not wake. And he would not sleep.

Maybe, this was his atonement for not having intervened sooner in the feud between the elves and his people. Maybe it was punishment for not having told you, as a child, what those feelings were, leaving you blindsided for the rest of your life.

His breath came to a halt when you stirred in your sleep. His surroundings were dark, only lightened by the moonlight shining in the room. Everything was so pale, the sheets, your gown, the light. He felt sick for a moment, in pain with each breath. Thorin was sitting in the most uncomfortable seat he had ever been in, his back hunched over, elbows on his knees, rubbing at his face to erase the deep sleep in his bones.

Thranduil opened the door. His eyes racked over the dwarf’s figure. The deep circles under his eyes and the hollow of his cheeks were clear indicators of his state. Your brother would have been blind not to see your injuries’ effect on Thorin.

Despite what people knew of him, the elven king was not as heartless as he seemed. He had sustained many injuries over the years, many terrifying experiences, and too many meaningless deaths. His heart was a closed sanctuary now, only opened for those he trusted. Even if he was not trusting Thorin, he trusted you. You, who had sought him out all those moons ago, trying to stop a raging war between your families. He had refused to listen and what it had cost him would never be counted accurately. The elf was old and weary of war. He wanted this to end, almost as much as you did. When you were playing in Erebor’s halls, he was with his guardian, resenting you for not having to attend all those boring meetings nor being with him when he had to learn all those awful words in Khuzdul. No. You had learned with a friend. The ultimate betrayal for him was that you were allowed to. No one saw the harm in the shenanigans you orchestrated. You were children, what was the harm? Only when you grew, beautiful as a newborn star, people started talking. He dismissed them all in public. Chastised you in private. “Behave as you were born”, those were his words. It was then that Thranduil had known. It was too late for you. You had fallen for him, having known him for so long. His stubbornness familiar to your equally stubborn mind, the wits of his tongue matching your own, your secret kisses shared in the mistrusted shadows of the woods or the corridors of the dwarven city. You would not let him go. But, soon, even Thorin dismissed you, in favour of dwarf women more suited to be by his side. Your heart was misplaced. Lost with someone who had no use for it.

After that, heartbroken and deep into your mind, you let yourself perish to the brink of death. Thranduil’s wife and son became your only solace, throwing yourself into the family life you yearned for, but could not have for yourself. With your brother, you would not talk of love for the prince. Only a “misplaced trust” as if it was enough to describe what it was you were left with.

That “misplaced trust” was all that was needed for Thranduil to care.

“Thorin Oakenshield.”

His face barely rose to meet the elven king’s eyes, falling back again in an impolite manner, now familiar between the two.

“It’s you.”

The elf had a hard time not snapping at him. But even he knew, the pain he was in. Your brother kissed your brow in slow motion. Nothing moved in the air, as he was adjusting your pillow, smoothing your sheets, sitting down next to you, eyes lost on your face. The room reeked of balms and healing herbs. Thorin ran a hand over his face once more, the stiff figure in front of him immobile and solemn. 

“I remember.”

The sound of his voice was barely above a whisper, yet it took up all the space in the room. He had that effect, your brother. You used to be so proud of him when you were little. Trying to get his affection every time you could. He wondered if you would still look at him that way.

“When you were young. Both running around in our legs, trying to get some attention, only to run away just as easily.”

Thranduil might have seen a soft smile appear on Thorin’s tear-stained cheeks if the darkness was not so thick. He did not see.

Instead, the elven king grabbed your hand, ever so cold, between his own seizing your fingers, growing accustomed to your unresponsiveness. All those hours spent in silence by your side had made him weary. The loss of his wife was an everlasting memory at the back of his mind, as he was praying to anyone who would listen for your recovery. Not again his mind would say. Not her his heart would scream. 

And maybe it worked somehow, after all those days, all those weeks, because then you opened your eyes.

The light was faint. You could make out parts of the walls and ceilings. It was home. A breath of relief left you, making your chest ache. You winced, eyelids shut close, brows furrowed. Your hand was captured in someone else’s, warm, alive. You were alive. Every part of your body was in pain, sharp, akin to the edge of a fine sword twisting your guts and bones. Soon, you could hear a voice. Voices, you realized. You turned towards the tall figure holding your hand. It seemed to be calling your name.

“Nethig?”

Thranduil. His face came to a focus, his forehead meeting yours as you were holding his hand to your chest for dear life. Tears streamed down your face, not being able to stop them in any way.

On the other side of your bed, Thorin had not moved. His mouth agape, he was waiting for you to see him, to look at him. The minutes and murmurs exchanged with your brother were lasting, echoing in his mind. The chuckle escaping your lips was a balm to his undone heart. King, he was, yet he would have been on his knees and given it all up in a heartbeat if it would keep you from crying as you were.

You could not see past your brother and you did not want to. How stupid could you have been to throw yourself and your soldiers into this death trap? For what? An old flame nothing could light again? Thorin’s affections for you were long past, a mere child’s play you took to heart when he did not. The young and everlasting hope in your chest would not die. In the end, it almost had you killed. Deliberately, Thranduil pulled himself away, his protective gaze still on you. His eyes met someone else’s over your shoulder before coming back to your face. He helped you sit up, one movement at a time.

Upon seeing who it was, you started crying again. Not of joy, nor pain. In relief. How your heart could be a trickster. The moment was clear in your mind, despite the anxiety creeping up your spine. The moment you thought he was going to die in front of your eyes. It was without a second thought, you had pierced the chest of the orc before Fili or Kili could be harmed. For Thorin, your heart had lept in your throat as the menace of losing him became more and more obvious, the more the fight went on. The prince you remembered, the one you had loved, was brave beyond any elven or dwarven standards. He still was. You had hesitated, the ever-nagging thought of him being upset upon being defended by you. Until the last minute. When you had jumped from your vantage point, it had been all a blur, the only thing remaining the clear sky above you, the sun on your skin. The edge of the sword had pierced through armour and flesh, close to your heart. As if hurting it more was a feat anyone could accomplish. In a last stroke of luck, elven warriors had flooded the place, while you were still staring at the sky becoming darker and darker with each passing moment. You could hear yells and angry cries, strong arms cradling your head, and a soft, profound, grave voice begging you to stay alive. In your haze, you had thought… you had thought it belonged to him.

The sobs had stopped. Thorin stepped closer to you, his right hand outstretched. His palm touched your cheek sloppily, checking if he was not dreaming. Yet, you were swiftly pulling him away, careful not to touch him for too long. You exchanged a few words with Thranduil, and he stepped away, one final hard stare at the dwarf before leaving the room.

“What are you doing here?”

It was more to yourself than to him that you asked this question, in a hoarse voice you did not recognize. His arm lingered in the air, in your vicinity. How much you wanted to bury yourself in his chest and never let him go again. The harm he had done to you, on the other hand, was too heavy on your heart to let go of.

He swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat. The rejection was bitter-sweet. He knew his faults all too well. Against his first instinct, he got up to his feet, grimacing under the weight of his flesh wounds. Seeing you in pain was so much worse than that.

“I…”

Around you, the night lights were shivering, dawn simmering under the cover of the clouds. It was now or never.

“I have something for you.”

A snort escaped you and you coughed. Startled, he approached, but you stopped him with a gesture of your hand.

“If it’s not an apology, I do not want it Thorin.”

There. Plain as day. The look on his face, you never dared to hope he’d show for you. His gaze softened as you mouthed the name you had not spoken of in years. His name. Delightful to hear you say it, if only it had been in different circumstances. Alas, it was not. He had to make the best of this. Even if it killed him. Because a life without you was only worth death, the unmerciful kind, slow and feverish, agonising. He could not bear it anymore.

“I hoped you would agree to listen first and see what to do afterwards. Yet, you stay faithful to yourself.”

His voice resonated in the room even as he claimed the words one after the other, softly, trying not to scare you away. He smiled. One of those precious smiles you came to banish from your mind, year after year, as it plagued your waking hours almost as much as your dreams. You turned your eyes away from him, a heat blooming in your cheeks. Although you could not see his face, you heard him, coming closer to you, sitting near your calves, hands on his knees. He was loud as dwarves are. Sometimes, you dreamt about that noise. Dreamt of him coming home to you. You shook your head a little, the world blurry for a moment before your eyes.

“Could you… would you, at least, look at me?”

His voice was pained, smooth around the edges of his sorrow. He did not recognize that voice as his own. It was the voice of heartbreak. A sweet relief came over him when you finally looked at him.

It was short-lived. Your face, he remembered. Ever-lasting as the poets said. Engraved in his heart, beating erratically with every minute spent in your company. The bruises, the sharp cut going from your cheekbone to your chin. The edge and the indifference. All of that he did not know and wanted to rub off. His hand twitched in his lap, fingers extending into nothingness.

“I am incredibly happy you are alive.”

His words were met with pure harshness, almost hostility. Sorrow in your eyes, a headache growing behind your eyelids.

Thorin licked his lips.

“I came here to thank you. Personally.”

A snicker stopped him. You sniffled again, ungracefully wiping your nose in your sleeve, wincing at the effort it took you. His palm felt warm on your knee. You were not one to bet, but if you had to, you would have assured a tattoo of his palm was to appear on your skin at how hot it felt. How right. Still, unnerved, you did not move.

“I came here because… When we thought… When I thought I lost you, I came to realize how much of an imbecile I had been.”

You bowed your head. Biting your lips, your hair hiding the desperation in you. You could not bear it. Could not bear hearing him say the words without meaning them. He had done so before, what was stopping him from doing it again? It would destroy you.

“Stop. Just stop!”

Tears formed at the corners of your eyes. You did not try to stop them from falling. His hand reached you before you could stop it, meeting your cheek, and wiping away your tears. Stilling your heart in its ribcage, prisoner of his touch, again. His beautiful eyes were worried, brows furrowed, lips pinched together.

“Why are you torturing me so? Telling me what I want to hear? After all those years? Am I just a toy to you?”

You bit your lips harder, drawing blood. Without saying a word, he smoothed the skin there, smearing blood on his fingertips, unbothered merely grateful he could do it at all.

“Never. Amralimê, never.”

He frowned. Only then did you notice how close he was, the word in his mouth settling near your heart, his forehead a breath away from yours. Blue eyes boring into yours, lips parted, his cheek covered by a white and black beard. He had aged, as we all do. How could he still make your heart beat so loud and your stomach flutter so even after all these years? It was uncanny. Impossible. You wanted to take his hands off of your face, gripping his wrists in a vice grip.

He held on, gritting through the pain shooting in his arms, your face cradled in his warmth.

“I have been wrong all this time. I thought I was better off without you. Hoping you would find happiness without this love we did not see coming. But, no one can stop the sun from rising and I could not stop myself from loving you.”

A whimper escaped you when he pulled away, reaching into his coat for a small thing, wrapped in grey cloth, worn with time and travel. Carefully, he grasped your hand putting the itchy material in your palm.

“I should have given you this, at the time. I am giving it to you now. I hope you keep it.”

His words were ringing in your ears as you pulled the package open. Inside was a trinket you recognized immediately. You smiled, half expecting it to be a fever dream.

“A courting bead.”

Clenching your hand around it, you felt the walls around your heart beginning to give. Taking your hand in his, one more time, he pried the cage your fingers made one after the other, relinquishing in the feeling of your fingertips.

“Not exactly.” Giddy with excitement, he leaned close to you, as if in confidence. “It is an engagement bead. I figured we were past the courting steps at this point.

- Are you serious?”

The question had escaped your lips in a bewildered whisper, not quite wanting to believe him. Thorin became self-conscious again, nodding, bashful. He was shy. Thorin Oakenshield had gone soft. The world was going to collapse.

“Why now?

- After this close call with death, I don’t think I have anything more to lose but you.

- What of…?

- The others? I do not care. Not anymore. If you’ll have me, I’ll be there. Whenever you need me. As who you want me to be.”

Without thinking, your hand reached out to his cheek, bringing him impossibly closer. In a familiar gesture, your lips met his. 

Thorin had become tender with the years. Surprised and inhaling sharply, his fingers gripped your gown at the waist, in a desperate attempt at getting you flush against him, your warmth comforting his melting heart through your skin.

The pain shot through you interrupting you both.

“My apologies, I’ll be more careful from now on.”

You smiled against his lips, pushing yourself a little bit further into his embrace.

“I doubt that.”

He arched an eyebrow.

“You were rough once. Harsh even. Don’t stop now on my account…”

You bit your lip and saw his pupils darken, a thin line of blue at the edge of it all, holding you down under this lustful stare.

The kiss he gave you next was nothing short of hungry, wild and powerful. You felt the fragility of your body in his hands, even more than you had during the battle. His palms spread a heated river down your waist, straight between your legs. Yet, it would have to wait. Only for a night or two, you thought. If you would restrain yourself. As if reading your thoughts - he had always been good at that - he replied.

“We have all the time in the world for this, now. If you’ll have me.”

He was worried. Still. You could not blame him, after all these years you had spent avoiding him only to find out he felt the same for you as you did for him.

“Yes. We do.”

Your tone left no doubt. Affirmed and self-assured, you knew this would be the beginning of something new. This was a new chapter in a lifetime of stories, you could not wait to find more about.

[ragingbookdragon]

“Dearest sister, will you hold my hand?” his voice carried between the two like soft summer rain and she hummed lowly, reaching over to grasp at the wrinkled hand. “Such warmth, dear sister,” he murmured with a tired smile. “Even as old as we are, they are still ever warm like the hearth.”

“I was sitting on them earlier, Bilbo,” she quipped, rubbing at her nose with her handkerchief. “That’s why they’re warm.”

Bilbo’s laugh was quiet, no longer as strong and hearty as it had been in the years prior. The two sat on the bench facing the sea, the warm breeze carrying the scent of flowers the world had never seen but only in Valinor. She gently rubbed her bony thumb over his. “I’m tired, Bilbo,” she simply said, and he didn’t bother to look at her to know exactly what she meant. “I think I’m ready to go to sleep.”

“We haven’t even had second breakfast yet.”

“Yes…but it’s been quite long since we slept.”

Bilbo inhaled quietly and nodded. “It has, hasn’t it?” he looked over, taking in the sight of his only sister, old and whitened. “Do you think they’ll be waiting for us?”

She knew instantly of who he spoke of, so long ago, a company of fine dwarves, one in particular standing out amongst the rest; she felt tears gather in her eyes and she met his gaze as she squeezed his hand and whispered tearfully, “I so wish to see them again. They’ll be waiting, dear brother.”

He nodded his head and turned back to the sea, shifting ever so slightly so he could rest his head against hers. “I can’t wait to see them again.”

Knowing that sleep was coming for them, she squeezed his hand quickly. “Do you think Frodo will be okay while we’re gone?”

“He will,” Bilbo answered knowingly and closed his eyes slowly. “I know our boy will.”

She blinked and laid her head against her brothers, the world before her beginning to darken as she shut her eyes, a soft smile on both their lips as they drifted off.

***

“Don’t put that there!” she shouted. “Mother did not like the chest of drawers on that wall!”

“I know what Mother liked and disliked, sister, you don’t have to yell!” he scowled as he tugged the piece of wooden furniture again. “Besides, perhaps if you helped instead of sitting there drinking tea, we wouldn’t be having this argument.”

“You are the one who decided to rearrange the home, Bilbo,” she retorted, making the same face back at him. She then let out a breath and rose, holding out her hand. “Come, we should go out to the garden and sit awhile.”

“But the furnit—”

“Will be here when it’s time for luncheon.”

Bilbo let himself be dragged into the garden where the two sat on the small bench, beginning to pass a pipe between them. “Lovely day,” he murmured, and she nodded.

“Indeed. A beautiful day. I dare say the golden butterlilies will be in bloom soon. Mother loved making syrup from them. Perhaps I should.”

“Mmm, and warm honey cakes to go with it,” he said and the two laughed.

As she passed the pipe back, she happened to turn and look down the road, squinting in the distance as a head appeared over the hill. Her eyes widened as more heads appeared behind the first and the face became clear. Jaw dropping in shock, she patted blindly beside her to get her brother’s attention. “Bil—Bilbo, the road, look at the road.”

His expression pinched as he leaned over and looked in the same direction; his reaction was much like hers as his eyes widened and he stuttered, “Is that—”

“It is!” she howled with excitement and beat him to the punch as she rose to her feet and hopped the fence, picking up the hem of her dress as she ran down the road to meet the oncoming group. “You’re back!” she yelled, hearing Bilbo coming behind her. “You waited! We knew you would!”

Skidding to a halt about ten feet from the group, she felt her brother stand beside her; all at once she was overcome with emotion as she met his eyes. “You waited for us,” she whispered and the dwarf before them smiled, so widely.

“My Master Burglars,” he greeted, taking note of the tears streaming down both their faces.

“It’s really good to see all of you again,” Bilbo all but managed to not blubber with a watery laugh.

The dwarves behind chuckled and she took a step forward, holding out her hand; he in return did the same and took her hand in his, warmth bleeding into her palm as he smiled softly at her and murmured, “‘Ibinê, I have waited long for you to join me.”

Her smile faltered as tears dripped down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so, so sorr—”

“Shhh,” he said with an expression of calm. “You lived a good life. I would not have wished you any other way.” Brushing his thumb over hers he lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. “And you know I was with you in spirit every step of the way. Never once did I not know you in your grief, in your sorrow, in your happiness, and love. I witnessed it all, ‘ibinê.”

Her lips trembled and she squeezed his hand, letting herself be pulled into his arms; reaching up she cupped his cheek, brushing a thumb under his eye, a knot welling in her throat as she greeted, “It’s good to see you again, Thorin.”

[somedaylazysomeday]

Dexterity

You are a human who sells wool at Erebor’s open market. You know many of the dwarves who live in the mountain, familiar even with King Thorin - the same king who refuses to let you leave when a bad storm strikes the mountain just before the market closes for the night. He invites you to share a meal with him, along with a conversation that could change your life forever…

Part One - Warnings for mentions of money issues, awkwardness, a bit of dirty talk, oral sex (male receiving), fingering, unprotected piv.

Part Two - Warnings for mentions of pregnancy, shifting POV, tense diplomatic relations, politics, discussions of xenophobia, self-doubt, minor angst. Some sass (and mild language) from Dwalin.

Part Three - Warnings for self-doubt, intense conversations, a heavy makeout session, fingering, unprotected piv sex.

[sweetbutpsychobutsweet]

Masterlist

Thorin Oakenshield x reader

Smoke, Iron, and Thorin (Ongoing)

Chapter 1- Smoke, Iron, and Thorin

Chapter 2- I Wasn't Completely Nude

Chapter 3- Anger Translator

Chapter 4- Like We Used To Be

Chapter 5- Care to Make a Wager?

Chapter 6- Owe You One

Chapter 7- The Voice of Hunger

Chapter 8- You Love Bread

Chapter 9- Good Girl

Chapter 10- What We Left Behind in the Flames

Chapter 11- At Least We'll Be Together

Chapter 12- The Wandering Widow

Chapter 13- Knock Before Entering

Chapter 14- Mine

Chapter 15- Raspberry leaves

Chapter 16-coming soon

[faeriichaii]

There's just inches in between us ~ Thorin x Fem!Reader

A/N: Ok so I just am really obsessed with that one juicy part from the song shameless (I actually don't like the song I just literally listen to that one part on loop) and I immediately thought about Thorin so I guess that's his song now :p Also I literally never have written any kind of smut in my life before so this is totally new 😔😔 I really hope you guys like it!! And have fun 🥰

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Warnings: Smut with plot (MDNI), Unprotected sex, Fingering Kinda enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, kinda fluff?? ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Words: 4.1k (oops lmao) ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Request: No :) ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Amrâlimé ~ My Love ࿐ྂ

Summary: You were the princess of another kingdom, meant to marry none other than the dwarven King Thorin from the lonely mountain. You rarely get the chance to talk to him and decide to visit him the night before the wedding, asking him to give you some attention.

The carriage, you were sitting in was rocking from side to side as you slowly approached your destination. Your hands holding tightly onto the dark green dress you were wearing. Gold details were stitched delicately on the upper half of the garment, making up swirls, as well as flowers. You tried to pretend to be listening to your father, who still was talking about your upcoming marriage. Arranged marriage. Your father set up an arranged marriage between your kingdom and Erebor. The thought of being wed to an unknown man made your stomach churn. “(Y/N) are you listening? This is very important for you to know and accept.” “My king, I apologize for my rudeness but I do not wish to hear anymore about this matter.” You were beyond upset and hurt about the decision your father, the king of Thuiniel, took without even your consent. It’s not like he needed consent. A warning would have been nice. Any kind of sign so you would have known that you will move away from home. So you would have known that you will no longer be a free woman and instead be the wife of another king. So you would have known that you will become a queen to an unknown kingdom.

Your fathers’ eyes mustered you sadly, understanding your attitude towards him. “(Y/N), I know you are hurt and I know you are mad at me, however you yourself know that it will be the best for the kingdom.” The kingdom. During the years, Thuiniel has seen and faced a major number of wars. Most of them went well for you, however nowadays the kingdom is in need of support from anyone they can get. Your two older sisters have been married for years to different parts of Middle-Earth, which resulted in an alliance between these three kingdoms. But even they can’t constantly send support towards Thuiniel. So your father decided to search for another alliance that can give him the resources he needs. And this resulted in you receiving the news just a week prior to the wedding.

A sigh left your lips as you looked out of the small window in the carriage. Trees were lining the path you were traveling on. Your gaze settled on the palace that was built deep into the mountain. “Do you know any important information about Erebor?” You asked your father, eyes still locked on your destination. Normally you would have looked into various books and scrolls in your library before travelling to another kingdom, but the news of your marriage shocked you so immensely, that you already despised everything that had anything to do with it. “Erebor is known for their massive mine, as well as the various jewels and gold they keep deep inside of the mountain.” A hum left your lips as you tried to remember the words you father continued to spill about your future kingdom.

A sudden jolt of the carriage made you realize that you just arrived at your destination. The wooden door opened as a hand was held inside. Your father stood up, took the hand and left you alone in the carriage. You took a deep breath before following your father out of the small compartment. Once outside, you looked around at the trees and the nature surrounding the palace, before focusing on your future home. Home. The thought left a bitter taste on your tongue. “King Thorin Oakenshield, it is very nice to make your acquaintance.” Your father said, before bowing down in front of a dwarf. “Let me introduce you to my lovely daughter, princess (Y/N). Your soon-to-be-wife.” Thorin looked at you before giving you a short nod. You bit your tongue, in order to not snap at his attitude towards you. Taking the material of your dress in your hand, you curtsied and whispered a soft ‘It is nice to make your acquaintance’ towards the king.

After the short introduction, you were shown around the castle as well as parts of the mine underground. The king however was not in attendance. Night approached quickly and you excused yourself after dinner to finally get some alone time in your chambers. On your way you stumbled upon the library of Erebor. Deciding to take a peek, you opened the door. Books and scrolls were lining the shelves of the room. A dwarf was in front of one of the shelves, his attention now on you instead of the book in his hands. “You must be our future queen. Welcome to the palace’s library.” He bowed down in front of you. “My name is Balin, how can I help you?” “Please just call me (Y/N). You smiled softly at the nice man. “I was wondering if you have any good books about Erebor? I should have informed myself about the kingdom before my arrival but I had… difficulties.” “Of course (Y/N). Let’s see…” He was walking around the room, taking the ladder attached to the shelf with him. “Ah this should be a good start.” His hands grabbed a thick leather-bound book that has the words ‘History of the lonely Mountain’ in gold etched into it. Taking it in your own hand you thanked him, before leaving and trying to find your chambers once more.

A yawn left your lips as you quietly ate your breakfast. You have read a little more than you would like to admit and totally forgot the time yesterday night. The history written down in the book completely captivating you. Your gaze fell from your father to the other few people who were chatting happily with each other, until your eyes stopped at the man who sat on your right. Your soon-to-be-husband. His hair was braided on each side of his face. You remember reading about some of the customs of dwarven culture and how important their hair (beard included) is to them. You take a sip of the tea that was specifically prepared for you, trying to stifle another yawn.

“Have you not slept enough?” Thorin asks from beside you his voice a slight hint of irritation. Your eyebrow twitched in annoyance at his question. “My apologies my king, I lost track of the time yesterday.” “What have you been reading?” Cutting into the eggs that were served in front of you, you took a big bite. “I have been reading about the History of Erebor. As a future Queen I would like to learn as much about my kingdom as I can.” “How come you did not study about the kingdom before your arrival?” Setting down your cutlery, you looked at him with annoyance. One of his eyebrows was raised as he waited for your answer. Was he mocking you? “I did not have enough time to remember all the details from Erebor. Especially because a certain someone wished for the marriage to happen as soon as possible.” Your father had told you that normally you would have a few months in advance to get to know your husband and roughly around a year for the marriage. However, Thorin apparently requested that the marriage happens as soon as possible, which resulted in the date being set in a month from now on. After hearing the news, you didn’t just simply dislike your husband but despised him. You still were mad at your father after he told you this new information yesterday, however your hate now mostly lay on Thorins shoulders.

The entire table was quiet as the air went heavy around the two of you. “The reason behind the date being set in a month is to ensure the safety of Thuiniel. Another war could be right around the corner and I would not wish to risk another empire be taken over by Orcs while I am getting married.” Anger flickered in his gaze. You continue eating your breakfast, not wanting to fuel the fire by arguing against the king. A sigh escaped your lips as you finally left the dinner room behind you, followed by your father. “(Y/N) we urgently need to talk.” He takes your arm and pulls you into his chambers. “Have you lost your mind?!” He angrily exclaims, flailing his arms around while walking up and down. “Father, I apologize but he just-“ “No! (Y/N) take a moment to think about your actions! Erebor was the best candidate for an alliance with our kingdom. This alliance can ensure the safety for several decades! You, arguing with the king, could result in him not being interested in the marriage anymore and Thuiniel falling into the hands of Orcs!” You bit down on your lip, as your head was lowered in shame. Your eyes focused on your shoes as you listened to your father’s rant.

He takes a deep breath, before walking towards you and taking your arms gently in his hands. “I know you are hurt and scared, but please please think about the wellbeing of Thuiniel.” A sigh left your lips. “I will father.” With that you left his chambers. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you searched the library, in order to take a good book with you and get your mind off of things. Upon entering the room, you could see Thorins back facing the door. Oh no. “Have you already found the scrolls Balin?” He asked, not looking up from the papers in his hands. You shifted from one foot to another as you decided if you should leave or stay. “I apologize my king, but I am not Balin. Listening to your voice, his eyes snapped up from the papers towards you. “How can I help you princess?” Biting down on your lip you thought a moment about what you should say in order to save the little chemistry you should have as the future royal couple. “I wanted to apologize for my behaviour earlier.” At that, Thorin lay his papers down, intently listening on what else you had to say. “I shouldn’t have reacted this way but neither did I expect a wedding announcement last week. I couldn’t prepare myself, neither did I get a proper chance on finding out who I am about to marry. It is a lot that suddenly falls on top of me and so many more things are piling up without a chance to properly think about anything to be honest.” You looked at the dwarf, who started to approach you. His gaze was locked on your eyes. His beautiful blue eyes. “One month will be enough time to get your head sorted through and get used to living in Erebor. We will get to know each other on the way there and you will learn how to be a queen.” He said, trying to reassure you. Gently, he takes your hand in his. Turning your palm upwards, he places something on top, before closing your fingers around it. “I also took the liberty of reading into your kingdom, Thuiniel, and the few customs you have. This is also the reason as to why I wanted the wedding to happen in a month. Your kingdom is in dire need of a strong alliance due to the wars that happened one after another and I can be of help. I never want to witness other kingdoms defeat due to an army of Orcs.” You blinked at the man in front of you, not exactly knowing how to respond to him. A smile stretched over your lips. “Thank you so much Thorin.” You left afterwards, heading towards your chambers. Opening your palm, you saw a small golden ring in your hand. Taking it between your fingers, you took a careful look of it. A green gem was present in the middle. Gold flowers were etched into each side of the gem, while a small diamond sat atop of the green one. The ring almost looked like a golden crown. Putting it on your ring finger you smiled softly. Maybe there was some hope.

The weeks passed in a storm and you got quite accustomed to living in Erebor. During your stay, you also got to know Thorins’ nephews Fili and Kili. Most of your time was spent with them, while they tell you all about how they got to win Erebor back with their uncle and several other dwarves. Balin also gave you some lessons on important things and events to know about Erebor as well as the dwarven culture. He emphasized on the fact that you have to offer Thorin a bead and braid a strand of his hair. “It will signify that he is a married dwarf and found his One.” He once said. One. It has been stuck in your mind for the past week. You wouldn’t call yourself his One. You haven’t even really gotten the chance to get to know him like he told you, so even if you were his One, you wouldn’t know. You did meet him more often than before however; the conversation was always kept to a minimum. The fact that he still is a mysterious man to you makes your heart twist painfully. You even knew Kilis and Filis entire live story by heart after just a week and can barely remember that he is also called Thorin Oakenshield? Unacceptable. And this is the sole reason as to why you are approaching his chambers after another uneventful day of you two only communicating for roughly ten minutes. Sitting on a chair by his desk, he raised an eyebrow at your intrusion.

“I thought I told you that if you needed anything, you can always ask Balin.” A sigh left your lips, as you made yourself comfortable on his bed. “Well Balin is not you now, is he?” Your arms were folded in front of you, gaze never leaving the king. “Listen Thorin, I have had enough. We barely talk with each other and I still only know your name. I don’t know anything about you and it annoys me. We are supposed to get married tomorrow and the only conversations we held was about sleep and our schedule of the day.” An exasperated sigh left his lips. “(Y/N) I really can’t deal with this or with you right now.” “Excuse me?” One of your eyebrows was raised as the words Thorin just muttered reverberate in your head. Anger slowly started to build up inside of you at his uncalled attitude.

“I think one month should have been enough time to get your head sorted through.” You spat at him. His eyes squint together, ready to say more but you cut him off. “You can’t constantly keep pushing me away. We have to share a lifetime together, if you want to or not. Just because you constantly find excuses to leave me behind and continue to do whatever else doesn’t mean-“ “Whatever else? I am trying to safe your kingdom! Your home!” “This is my home!” You yelled at him, face slightly tinted red. Even if you only have been in Erebor for roughly a month, you already accepted and loved it like it was your home. Which it was. “I love Thuiniel, but it is no longer my home. My father sent me here to marry you and get used to living in Erebor. Thuiniel is not as helpless as you make it out to be. My brother is the one in charge while my father is still here, waiting for the marriage to be fulfilled. My brother is capable of taking care of it and even if he needs help, we have other alliances and not just Erebor.” You take a breath to calm yourself down. “As a king you should not just take care of the kingdom but also of the people surrounding you. And for the time being I must admit, you are a bad king to me.” Thorin approaches you with a few quick strides. His hands lowered on each side of your thighs as he leaned into your personal space. “You dare to call me a bad king? Just because I don’t give you the attention you so desperately need?” His hot breath made your cheeks warm up. Eyes wide you stare into his blue ones, that shine with an unknown fire. You were about to say something, however the lump in your throat prevented you from muttering anything.

“You want attention princess? You shall get it.” His hand moved towards your face, pulling you towards his lips. Shocked at the sudden movement you gasped softly. Thorin took this as an invitation and deepened the kiss. You slowly started to relax into his arms, as you wrapped your hands around his neck. Your mind still was a jumbled mess, however your body was in dire need of his touch as well as his warmth.

Untangling your arms from his neck, you moved up the bed, towards the headboard. Thorin followed you, never once breaking the kiss. His warm hand travelling toward your neck, while his other hand grasped onto your thigh. He somehow managed to position himself between your legs. Breaking apart from the kiss, the both of you had to catch your breath, red cheeks and eyes glazed over with a burning passion. “How much of my attention do you want?” Thorin asked, voice slightly deeper than normal. “I wish to have all of it.” Your hand gently held the side of his face, thumb stroking his rosy cheek. Eyes flitting from his eyes to his lips, you leaned towards him, pulling him into another passionate kiss. Tongues were entangling into each other while your fingers played with the strands of his hair. He moved from your lips across your face, towards your neck. A gasp escaped your lips as you felt his teeth sink into the skin beneath your jaw, marking you. His big hands travelled from your waist to your dressed boobs. Moving his head from your neck, he looked at your dress. “Turn around Amrâlimé. So I can undo your dress.” He quickly moved aside, as you turned around and let him unravel the corset. His fingers brushed against your back as you wished they would continue to travel along your body. “Stand up.” He ordered and you willingly complied. The sleeves of the dress travelled down, as the bodice slowly also moved to the floor, until you were only left in your panties.

“My beautiful queen.” He stood up from the bed and pulled you in by your waist. Your hands desperately grasping onto his neck, as he sat down on the plush mattress, making you straddle him. You felt his hard cock rub against the inside of your thigh. A soft moan escaped your lips. You wanted him. You needed him. Thorins hands slowly moved towards your breasts. Taking your nipples between his fingers he rolled them around. You leaned into his touch as you held onto his shoulders for some stability. Pants left your lips as you decided to grind on his cock, desperate for any kind of friction. Thorin let out a grunt, focussing on your left nipple with his left hand, while his lips rapped around the right one. A moan leaving your lips as his tongue flicked over it. After a few seconds he switched sides. The fingers of his right hand left a ghostly trail behind as they moved towards your awaiting core. Pushing your panties aside, his fingers moved through your wet folds.

A chuckle left his lips. “You really love my attention, don’t you?” The only thing you could do was nod, as he drew soft circles on your clit, making you immediately stop your grinding on his clothed dick. “I need a verbal response my queen.” He stopped moving his fingers around, making you whine at the loss. “Yes. Please.” A smirk was present on his lips as he left gentle kisses on your jaw. “Please what?” He teased as he continued to rub small circles. “Thorin I want you. I want your attention please.” As soon as these words left your lips you were thrown on the bed. Your legs were parted as Thorin began to undress himself. You watched his fingers work to undo the buttons of his shirt before pulling it over his head. Sitting up you let your hands travel from his broad shoulders, over his hairy chest and down his abs until they arrived at the happy trail that led to his hard cock. You slowly undid the button on his pants, before pulling them down together with his underwear. His dick sprung free. He was thick and hard, some precum already leaking from his tip. You carefully wrapped your hand around him, making him sigh contentedly at your touch. He felt warm and heavy around your fingers. You couldn’t even close your hand properly at his thickness. Moving your hand up and down slowly you looked up at him through your eyelashes.

“My king, do you crave my attention as much as I crave yours?” You asked him, sweetly tilting your head to the side still holding onto him. “Yes. Yes I do Amrâlimé.” His hands grasped your shoulders, as he pushed you down on the matress. He spread your legs further apart, before taking off your panties and stepping between your legs. Goosebumps spread across your arms as your wet cunt was hit by the cold air. Thorins fingers immediately worked towards your core. You moaned as he let one of his fingers enter you. He pumped his digit inside you a few times before adding another finger. Your hands held onto his biceps as you felt his fingers curl up inside of you. His lips were on yours as he swallowed your desperate and high-pitched moans. The heat in your lower stomach made your toes curl as you slowly felt the familiar sensation approach. Suddenly it all was gone as Thorin pulled his fingers from you. You pouted at him sadly. “I want you to cum on my dick, not on my fingers.” He said, taking his dick in his hands and moving the tip between your folds. “Thorin.” You gasped as he made contact with your swollen clit. “Please.” You begged him. “What do you want my queen?”

His hands were holding you down by the waist, stopping you from moving around anymore. “I want you inside of me please. I want to feel you.” With that, Thorin lined the tip of his cock up with your entrance. Slowly he pushed inside. Your walls tightened around him making him groan out. A gasp escaped your lips at the slight burning sensation of the stretch inside you. He was big and you really felt it. Your hands held him close by his back, as he started to move inside you. Your spongey walls welcoming him in with every thrust he does. Your moans, mixed with his own grunts, echoed from the walls of his chambers. Each thrust made you feel closer to him and closer to heaven. His lips were on yours again, swallowing each sound you make. Warmth spread through your whole body as you felt the knot tighten in your lower regions. Thorin grabbed your thighs and bend them towards your shoulders. Loud moans escaped your lips at the new angle. His cock throbbing inside of you while your walls tightened around him. You knew you were close and so did he. Hence his finger moved toward your swollen clit. “Cum for me my queen. Cum on my dick.” You gasped at his words. The knot in your lower region came undone as you felt the bliss of your orgasm wash over you. Your nails still digging into Thorins back as he increased the speed of his thrusts until you felt his dick twitch before his warm cum filled you up.

After a few moments of still moving inside you he pulled out, making his cum drip out of your hole. He used his thumb to push his cum back into you. You moved your body properly on the bed, before hiding under the covers. Blush still visible. A chuckle left Thorins lips as he joined you under the covers. “This isn’t exactly what I meant earlier.” You mumbled, face still hidden partly by the blanket. He softly put a strand behind your ear, letting his hand stroke your cheek gently. “I promise you, we will have plenty of time to get to know each other. We will learn to love each other and I certainly will learn to give you the attention you need and deserve Amrâlimé.” He planted a soft kiss on your forehead. Maybe the both of you really have the potential to be the missing puzzle pieces for each other. The Ones you need.

[mismaeve]

Body and Soul

↳ Body and Soul, Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Dwarf!Reader, a drabble Written for @sotwk's writing challenge → here. First prompt → Bed, Second prompt → Hunger, Third prompt → Body and Soul, Fourth (Race) → Dwarf TW: Hurt/comfort A/N: Just a tiny drabble for Thorin, whom I have not written for in a hot minute, so bear with me. Enjoy! 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

The make-shift bed that you had constructed from moss and fallen leaves provided enough comfort to shield you from the hard and unforgiving ground. Littered with razor-sharp stones it would not hesitate to extract its toll in blood from any trespasser that ventured here where the mountains reigned.

You shifted beneath your furs, seeking out what little comfort and warmth you could find. The company had agreed it was best to spend the night in the cover of darkness lest you risked inviting the attention of the enemy that was never too far behind. With fire out of the question, you would have to huddle together to survive the bitter night.  

But it wasn’t the lack of light or warmth that kept sleep at bay. Nor was it the persisting feeling of danger whenever a wild animal howled or when leaves rustled and took to flight. You had even grown accustomed to wind constantly biting your face or rain peppering down on you and soaking your clothes. None of that bothered you.

It had settled in three nights ago and by the looks of it – it wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. The realization hadn’t been easy on the company, much less on your king and lover who felt it rested on his shoulders to provide for his loyal followers and kin. Hunger appeared to be just another thing on the long list of troubles that Thorin Oakenshield was meant to bear on his quest to reclaim his home and crown.

“Are you cold, my love?” Thorin’s voice was laden with worry, his arms moving to pull you closer to him. His warmth soon wrapping around you like a delicate shawl.

“I’m alright,” you reassured him and moved to nuzzle his features, his beard tickling your skin.

“I hate myself for subjecting you to this endless misery,” he growled in anger after your stomach had rumbled loud enough for the entire valley to hear.

“You shouldn’t blame yourself, my love,” you whispered.

You moved to plant a gentle kiss on his brooding forehead, and another on his always aching temple. A tender kiss on the corner of his mouth that lifted slightly in response to your affection. A shared breath before his lips took yours and held them in his own desperate need for solace.

“If body and soul were enough, neither of us would ever starve,” Thorin murmured against the softness of your lips before reclaiming them in another effort to draw away your growing hunger.

“By my honor, after this is done – you shall want for naught,” he said with uttermost determination after your kiss broke. “Every night, Erebor shall feast, and none will know and suffer the cruelty of hunger and thirst. Fires will roar from dusk till dawn to keep you warm and lighthearted,” Thorin vowed before you and the moon and stars.

His promise – however unnecessary – made your heart swell, the feeling of it warming and nurturing your entire being. His devotion to you was what any maiden could ever dream of. His love and generosity knew no bounds when it came to you, or his people. He would sell the skin off his back if it meant ensuring the safety and wellbeing of those he cared about.

“I don’t need all of that, Thorin. As long as I have you, I’ll have more than I could possibly want,” your voice trembled as tears filled your eyes, your heart barely able to contain the love and admiration that you held for your lover and your King.

“I know that, my love, but you shall have it nonetheless,” Thorin said.

“You’ll spoil me rotten,” you pointed out in a playful manner.

“As is my right,” he reminded you and kissed your forehead.

As Thorin continued to list all the things that he would do for you, the hunger you felt gradually became distant and insignificant in the light of his promises and the future he had planned out for you.

General Tag → @heilith @kanafinwe-makalaure @eunoiaastralwings @snowtargaryen @aduialel @a-contemplation-upon-flowers @fizzyxcustard @dawn-petrichor-world @fckmini If anyone wishes to be either removed or added to my taglist, let me know ♡ → Maeve's Taglist Gif by @rattyoakenbitch

[gloomwitchwrites]

Can I request for the 1k event this : talking bath (naughty) with Thorin after a stressfull day

Hehe. You’re making my imagination run wild. I tried to lean toward the gender-neutral side on this one. And, because of the spiciness of the prompt, MDNI.

King Thorin Oakenshield x Reader

ao3 // taglist // 1k event masterlist // main masterlist

Thorin loves a hot bath after a stressful day. Even without a partner, Thorin can enjoy himself. The hot water is a balm, soothing his muscles and erasing his worry. It’s truly the only time he has alone. His entire life is consumed with rebuilding Erebor and taking care of his people. This is his time to do something for himself.

Now, Thorin taking a hot bath after a stressful day with his partner? Even better. It’s the appetizer before the main meal. Thorin prefers taking his bath with you whenever he can. While he takes the majority of the burden in terms of royal duties, you take on a decent chunk yourself, and taking a hot bath together at the end of the day is the thing you both need to decompress.

It always starts innocent with Thorin reclining with your back pressed against his chest. Thorin likes this position because he can hold you and has easy access to your body. Not necessarily for naughty reasons but just because he needs the intimacy of closeness. His arms are always around you, and he likes being able to keep you close. You like it as well because you can just float in the water while Thorin’s natural strength and weight keep you grounded against his body.

You are not allowed to wash yourself. Thorin enjoys doing that himself. He loves lathering up the soap and rubbing every inch of your body down before he even thinks about working on himself. Sometimes he doesn’t allow you to wash him, but when he’s feeling particularly playful, he does. It’s not submission but more of an acceptance. Thorin knows that you like to do this for him, and if he’s feeling indulgent, he’ll allow it.

During the time that the two of you scrub each other down, things can easily grow more intimate. The touches lengthen, becoming caresses. It’s always innocent at first before fingers and hands linger in certain spots, stimulating until someone gets off. Nothing about it is particularly mind blowing. Again, this is the beginning for after the bath, because afterward there is plenty that happens. This is more for fun and relaxation.

It doesn’t always happen but when it does, Thorin makes sure that you have yours first. He is entirely thoughtful about it, but doesn’t cease until he’s certain you’ve had enough. Sometimes he won’t even take anything for himself until the two of you are out of the bath and in bed.

Thorin loves to have wine or ale during this time. He might hand feed you if the two of you are hungry.

Sometimes, when the two of you are out of the bath and dried off, Thorin can’t make it to the bed and has to have you right then and there.

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[fizzyxcustard]

Desperation.

Requested by anon and @skeleton-on-wheels0

Taken from: "Imagine that you find out Thorin is in love with you. But you accuse him of only wanting you because you’re the only woman in the Company and he’s desperate. You deeply offend him."

Again, I’m going to post this as a drabble as it’s fairly short, and I won’t tag anyone. 

“I am in love with you,” Thorin said softly as he stood next to you in Beorn’s barn. The midnight moon shone upon his face, highlighting his silver blue eyes, making them sparkle like aquamarine stones. 

A shiver of anticipation raced down your spine at his revelation. Why on earth would Thorin ever feel something for you? Immediately your mind began rationalising his feelings, churning it all over in your mind. For a few seconds and you were silent. 

“And you do not feel the same?” Thorin asked sadly. “I knew it was best I keep my thoughts to myself.” 

“Thorin,” you whispered, placing your hand on his arm. “I…I know I’m the only woman in the Company and no doubt as a male, you’re going to have urges…”

“That is what you think?” he hissed. “You think this is all about me wanting to seduce you?” 

“Please, I didn’t mean it that way.” 

“Then how did you mean it? 

Something snapped within you, a sore pressure point that had been prodded many times over the years. A place where a deeply buried scar lay untouched, waiting for someone to inadvertently uncover it with their words. A flash of anger hit you full force in your head and chest. “You’re just desperate!” you shouted. 

With that, you turned around stormed away towards the back of the barn and slumped down on a bale of hay. Tears were falling down your cheeks now in quick procession which you rubbed away in frustration, only making your cheeks turn redder. 

Thorin sighed and grit his teeth, sensing that your words came from a place of pain. However, those words had also deeply pained him in return. Did you think so little of him? Trust so little? 

***

The next morning and the tension was still thick between you and Thorin. The whole of the Company, including Gandalf, all sat around a large table, drinking milk and eating honeycakes, specially made by the host himself.  However, Beorn announced gruffly that he had no more honeycakes for that morning’s meal, and you were the last person he was intending to serve. 

All the Dwarves, Bilbo and Gandalf looked on, their mouths full of food. Except Thorin. He was sat opposite you and immediately reached across to you and handed his cake to you. “Please, eat,” he said, offering you the cake and a sad smile. 

“I can’t take your breakfast,” you replied. 

“You can and you will,” Thorin said again, placing the cake on your plate. 

“Maybe we could split it?” 

Thorin didn’t respond, but instead kept his gaze locked on you as you broke the cake in half and then gave a portion back to him. 

***

After breakfast, you and Bilbo began filling the saddlebags of the ponies which Beorn was lending you. He had since made more honeycakes, enough to see all of you with food for a good couple of weeks. 

“May we have a moment, Master Baggins?” Thorin asked, suddenly appearing before you both. His eyes then moved to you, telling Bilbo that he wished to talk to you. 

“Oh, yes, sorry,” Bilbo said, flashing a nervous smile. 

“I wish to talk to you about last night. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable in any way. That was never my intention to do so. But what I told you is the truth, and it has nothing at all to do with you being the only female in this Company. I am quite appalled that you think I would pursue you without any real feelings being involved.” 

Your gaze locked with his and you began to speak. “It was unfair of me to say what I did, and I’m sorry. Very few men have ever shown any interest in me in such a way, and then I become a member of your Company and find that you, the rightful king of your homeland, somehow has fallen in love with me. It reads like a pathetic joke. Maybe once we get to Erebor and you see more women again you may…”

“No,” Thorin insisted. “Why do you think so low of yourself? Who has broken you to the point that you cannot accept a declaration of love? I’d hoped you had begun to trust me by now. It is clear you don’t.” 

“I do trust you. Implicitly.”

“Obviously not. You cannot trust that my words are true, and that they come from my heart. I love you for everything that you are, for the woman you are. Not because of some lack of choice.” 

The sadness in his eyes was so clear to see and it made a lump rise in your throat. To keep doubting his love and pushing him away would be wrong of you. It was obvious that Thorin was speaking truth. 

[rottencherrypie]

R-18+; Burn For You (Thorin x Fem!Reader)

Summary - In a moment of panic the dwarven king proclaims you are his spouse and to your shock, everyone believes him due to a presumed meaningless kiss. Out of the pureness of your company's hearts, you and your 'lover' are sent off upon a honeymoon.

Warnings - Smut, language, screaming, mention of scars, female reader, female genitalia (reader), male genitalia (Thorin), nicknames (mainly reader), creampie, fluff (cheesy fluff).

Pronouns & POV - They/Them, third-person-ish

Word Count - 5,800+

A/N - I apologize in advance if this seems off at all, I had writers block whilst writing. I apologize for any grammar or anatomy mistakes.

Read on AO3 Read on Wattpad

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

The tap of your bare feet against the creaking floor echoed throughout the luxurious room, the massive cypress walls towering over you as you reached the opposite end for what felt like the hundredth time.

The luxurious room you had been sent to out of the kindness of your company's heart, though this kindness was not one you expected nor did you deserve as this kindness was extended towards you in the illusion of a pre-existing marriage between you and the dwarven king. A falsified marriage.

A loud groan escaped your lips as you cradled your face within your soft palms, your torso hunching over allowing your fingernails to rest against the cold wooden walls. Out of all the idiotic, selfish, and outright miserable plans Thorin had to get you involved in he had to settle on this!

It was only a few days prior when the newly crowned king had come rushing over to you, the clink of covered feet meeting the cold ground echoed throughout the stone halls as he inched closer to you.

"Y/N, I do not have much time to explain, however," He began, his voice wavering slightly as the cold mountain air graced his lungs. "I need you to agree with me in a few moments. Please. "

The words were barely given a chance to process as you were approached by another dwarf, a friendly face whom you had accompanied throughout their treacherous journey.

" Thorin! There you are, lad." The elder dwarf stopped a few feet across from you, lowering his head slightly towards you as his lips curved upwards into a kind smile.

"Balin, may we discuss this matter later?" The king pleaded as he inched behind you as if you were a shield against his kind adviser. "We cannot! You have her waiting in there, Thorin...she's mortified ." Balin sighed, his calloused fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as his eyes shut for a moment.

" As am I! " The deep voice boomed throughout the busied halls, all noise within the mountain came to a halt as the words bounced from one end to another. "Thorin, I understand this is not what you had planned but it must be done for our people!"

" I cannot be wed to her! " The king continued to inch further behind you, the pressure of his muscular arm embracing your lower abdomen the only thing that proved he had not fled.

"Thorin, I understand you dislike her but you may grow to love her one day if you just-" The adviser's words came to a halt as his eyes finally opened, the sight of his king's arm wrapped upon your waist making his eyes widen further.

"I cannot marry that woman as I have already wed," Thorin announced leaving the pair of you stunned, your eyes darting between the king who peeked out from behind you towards his adviser. "Y/N is my wife. I shall not entertain such thoughts of marriage outside of my own." The words ringing throughout your ears as your lower fell open, your mouth agape like a fish freshly pulled out of water.

The grip upon your waist tightening as the king stood upon the tips of his toes, his hot breath upon your breath as the corners of his lips curved upwards into a smile. "Go with it, please." The low whisper barely caught your ear as his rough lips pressed against your cheek, a heat quickly spreading beneath the flesh of your cheeks while your eyes widened to match the size of his adviser's.

"You are?" A pale bushy brow raised in your direction as desperate ocean eyes burned into your skull, a low exhale escaping your nose before you leaned into the king's sturdy grip. " We are , we've been wed for a while now." The warm embrace of your soft palm against Thorin's cheek made him momentarily melt within your touch, a familiar touch he had forgotten how long he had truly yearned for.

"We were waiting to announce our marriage, we wished to have Erebor reclaimed before any joyous occasions took place." Thorin's explanation caused the elder dwarf's face to break out into a wide smile, his gaze upon the two of you softening as he welcomed both of you within his tight grip.

"That is wonderful, Thorin! And such a wonderful wife you have wed!" The tight squeeze around you two tightening further for a moment before he released, soft pats on the back being switched between Thorin and yourself as the wise dwarf went on about how wonderful your marriage would be for dwarves and humans.

"Though this is a joyous occasion, I am afraid I have to extend the news to our guests...and pay that bet. I guess that kiss did mean something after all... " The last bits of his sentence barely caught your ear as the wise dwarf turned away from the pair of you, both left in shock within the soft grasp of one another as the wise dwarf rushed off in the opposite direction.

The click of the heavy wooden door unlocking anchored you back from your deep thoughts, the anger within your veins momentarily replacing with hope as you approached the dwarven king. The way your desperate gem-colored eyes peered into his hopefully tugged within the strings of his heart, was he truly that awful to be around?

"Please tell me you found a loop-hole." The softness of your tone further tugged at his strained heart, the low sigh escaping his slightly chapped lips telling you everything before he could even speak.

"Y/N, I am aware this is not ideal-" "Oh, do you Thorin?!" You scoffed as you turned away from the dwarven king, your gaze fell upon the low fire. "I had plans, Thorin! Plans I intend to see through!" The fire crackled and hissed as you tossed another piece of wood into it.

"I know, Y/N. I know." The king's low sigh was shortly accompanied by your bed creaking beneath his weight, his calloused hands cradling his skull as he searched his mind for anything that may save the two of you from this embarrassment. "For now, we should rest and attempt to enjoy this honeymoon."

"So this is what you call a honeymoon?" The words coming out as a low scoff as you rested your upper arm upon the brick fireplace, the soft heat which emitted onto your arm soothing compared to the nip of the bitter air outside.

"Thorin, we have been pacing around our separate rooms trying to outrun this elaborate ruse!" Your voice rising with anger, one hand tightening around the edge of the upper fireplace whilst the other embraced your thumb tightly. "We're doomed, Thorin! We can't escape this!"

"Y/N, stop it." The warning within his deep tone merely added more fuel into the fire which roamed throughout your blood, the subtle dance of anger which swayed throughout your blood at his previous actions turned into a full-blown waltz of rage at this sudden command.

"Oh, please forgive me, your grace!" You scoffed as you turned towards him, his head still rested within his palms as if he were a dwarfling in trouble. "Your grace?" His gaze never met yours as his ocean eyes stayed glued upon the wooden floor.

"You can't even look me in the face!" "That's not true!" The blur of his brunette hair moving back catching your eyes before the deeply pained look upon his face did, the endless waves within his ocean eyes filled with guilt as they burned into you.

"And now I am forced to lie in this mess you made!" Your gaze quickly darted away from his back onto the low fire, fire you wished would overrun this room and save you from this mess.

"The mess we made, Y/N. I did not force your hand." The creak of the bed shifting at the lack of his weight echoed alongside the low crackles within the room, though he was right you did not need to play along, the statement did not aid the anger you felt.

"This was all your mistake!" "How is this my mistake? You agreed to this!" His voice rose as anger trickled into his veins, anger at himself rather than you. If he were man enough and simply confessed far before that woman stepped foot upon Erebor soil this might not have happened yet in a moment of panic, he acted upon an idiotic plan to cling onto you for one last time.

"You kissed me after the battle, Thorin! Do not act as if you have forgotten!" A familiar heat flooded beneath the flesh of your cheeks as the vivid memory of that day came back to you, a memory which always accompanied the lingering sensation of his lips upon yours.

The battle began to die down, corpses of your fellow friends and foes flooded the battlefield alongside the wounded yet you still pushed on. The clink of your covered feet against the icy ground was the only noise you could hear other than the ringing within your ear, the once brutal feeling of the freezing air nipping against your opened wounds going numb as your burning limbs pushed forwards.

Every corpse you passed upon the trail momentarily catching your gaze, each unknown corpse granted filled you with a moment of relief and further pumped adrenaline within your veins. Your sight narrowed down the path before you while you continued to sprint forwards, silently praying to the gods you would not find your friends like this. Not now nor ever.

" Y/N! " The hoarse yell stopped all movement within your body, your head whipping around towards the direction of the voice, a wave of relief washed over you as you began sprinting towards the golden-haired dwarf. " Fili! " Your hoarse voice was full of joy as you threw your arms around him ignoring the ripping pain of your wounds within your skin, one of Dis' sons had survived!

"How injured are you?" The panicked question caused laughter to slip out of the dwarf's chapped lips as you looked over his form, the smallest shake of his head making your brow furrow slightly. "Y/N, this was war. I am lucky to be standing in front of you right now." The warmth of his calloused palm against your clothed shoulder momentarily soothing away the nerves within you, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you nodded your head.

"What of Thorin and Kili? Did they-” ”They live, I promise you that." The joyous news of your friends' survival made your legs tremble beneath you, the panic which once fueled you now drained away as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. "The gods have been kind today." The whisper catching the golden-haired dwarf's ear as you brought him into another embrace, your body trembling as you clung onto his shorter form.

" Fili! " The boom of Thorin's voice interrupting the tender moment between you and the often pesky dwarf you called a friend, the corners of your lips curved upwards into a wide smile as you released the tight grip upon his nephew. " I'm over here, Uncle! I found Y/N! " Fili shouted back as you turned around, relieved laughter slipping through your lips as you waved up at the new king and his other nephew.

In what felt like a matter of mere seconds the remaining kin of Durin stood beside you, Kili was quick to throw his arms around you while Thorin lingered a few feet behind. "Any poisoned wounds I should mind?" "You get shot with one, one , poisoned arrow and that is all you are known for." The youngest dwarf scoffed as he pulled away from the embrace, the attempt to seem annoyed quickly failing as laughter bubbled out of his throat.

Laughter which had died down the moment his uncle began to approach, the crunch of his heavy boots against the ground filling the tense air as your gemstone eyes glanced over him. " Y/N ." His nephews were quick to nudge you towards him, soft giggles barely catching your ears as they attempted to shush each other.

"You're bleeding." His gaze softened as it fell upon your open wounds, worry and rage trickling within his veins as his calloused palm wrapped tightly around your upper arm. "Who did this to you?" A faint hiss escaping your lips as his thumb traced around a wound, a low sorry escaping his lips as you shook your head.

"Thorin that is not important-" The words dying upon your tongue as a calloused palm encased your cheek, the sudden sensation of his chapped lips upon yours and tickle of his beard against your soft skin froze every muscle within your body. Your eyes widening as his lips melded into yours for a few moments before he pulled away, though you had not expected it the lack of warmth against your lips left a lingering desire for more.

" It is important to me, Y/N ." Words that would keep you up from the sweet embrace of slumber, words which would fill your mind within your most peculiar of daydreams, and words you secretly dreamed of being true despite your current anger towards it happening within these moments.

"I was prepared to take my life that day!" The king's deflection snapping you out of your haze of memories, memories you still longed for despite the fear you felt within those moments. "Thorin you do not understand." You groaned, your soft palms covering your face as an annoyed exhale escaped your nostrils.

"Then help me understand, Y/N." His tone softened as he began to move towards you, the floor creaking softly with each step he took. "With that kiss, I stole your fate, Thorin!" The moment your hands slid off of your face you were greeted with his ocean eyes peering into you, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he shook his head slightly.

"Y/N, I stole your fate that day." "Repeating me, Thorin? We are not children." You scoffed moving back from the dwarven king, his eyes softening with sadness at your sudden movement. "I stole your fate-" You began to deflect his words yet the words died upon your tongue as Thorin began to move closer to you. Though his height was not mighty, the anger that had irradiated off of his body made him appear far mightier than Beorn.

"No, I stole your fate!" The boom of his voice bounced off of the cypress walls before catching within your ears, a calloused palm encasing your shoulder with a tight squeeze. "Thorin, I do not understand...you did not mean for this to happen." Your words made the king shake his head with displeasure, the waves within his ocean eyes dying down as he took a deep inhale.

"And now you may be forced to love a man you hate..." A sigh escaped his lips as he released his grip upon your arm, his gaze slowly shifting from yours onto the floor. "Thorin, I..." Any words you could think of died on your tongue as you stared down at the dwarven king, a twinge of guilt trickled within your veins.

"I know you do not feel the same, Y/N, but I burn for you." The volume of his words a mere whisper as his gaze stayed glued upon the floor, the possibility of his one denying his affection far more terrifying than any blade Azog wielded or the heat of Smaug's breath.

"You burn for me?" Your voice matching his in softness as you cradled the side of his face within your palm, his gaze shifting up towards you while he softly nodded into your hand. "I burn for you." He repeated, the waves within his ocean eyes rising with hope as he stared into your gemstone-colored ones.

"Thorin, I burn for you." The words left the dwarven king stunned for a few seconds, his eyes widened in shock as his mouth fell open. "I...say it again." The words a soft plea as he leaned further into your touch, desperate for the warming sensation to assure him that this was in fact reality and not but another dream.

"I burn for you, Thorin. I burn." The words were barely given a chance to leave your soft lips as his chapped pair encompassed them, his lips tasting faintly of ale and apples he consumed moments before his entrance into your room.

The lids of your eyes fluttered shut as the king melted within the touch of your palm, your lips parting slightly allowing his tongue to slip within your mouth. The shared thud of your heartbeats began to rise in pace as the hand which once cradled his scratchy cheek roamed throughout his silky locks as you continued to breathe each other in.

Time around you came to a halt, a wave of warmth tingling throughout your body as you felt the leaning of weight against you, his muscular arms pulled you in closer as he continued to claim your mouth with his.

The warmth upon your lips suddenly departing along with the pressure of his weight against yours, the lids of your eyes fluttering open as the sensation of his lips on yours lingered behind.

"Why did you stop?" The question came out as a whine as your glazed-over eyes bore into his, the corners of his lips curving upwards into a gentle smile as a soft exhale escaped his nose.

"Because I fear if I did not I would no longer be able to restrain myself." The smooth flesh of your chin resting on top of his balled-up fingers as his calloused thumb lightly traced the shape of your plump lips for a few moments before he backed away from you.

"What if I do not want you to restrain yourself?" The floor creaked underneath your bare feet as you closed the newly created gap between you and the king. "Y/N," The bright glint within his ocean eyes dimmed at your words, his teeth sinking into the inner flesh of his cheek. "be careful of the words you speak." He warned lowly, his shorter stature inching closer towards you pushing you back towards the bed as your lips curved upwards into a mischievous smile.

"Or what, your grace?" The words were not given a full chance to escape your lips when his lips covered yours again, the harmonious way your lips melded against one another was purely hypnotic beyond all reason.

The familiar taste of his lips against yours further silenced all thoughts as a wave of warmth spread throughout your body, his toned arms pulled you in closer as they wrapped behind your neck.

The lids of your jewel-colored eyes fluttered shut as the fluttering beneath your ribs intensified, your knees growing weaker with each kiss as you could only focus on how perfectly his lips felt upon yours.

Though the lids of your eyes fluttered shut, his ocean ones stayed half-opened as he would often gaze upon you each time he pulled back for air allowing him to take in all of your perfection at your most relaxed state.

You were everything he could have dreamt of and more within a partner and now he had you for himself, part of him wondering if this was another cruel fantasy yet those thoughts faded away as he felt the sway of your body against his.

His rough hands were quick to slide out from behind your neck and onto your shoulders, pushing you back onto the bed before your knees gave out on you. The bed creaked slightly at the shift in weight as you sank into the plush mattress, your eyes opening at the sudden movement as you shifted your weight up into your elbows propping yourself up to gain a better view of the man who towered over you.

The speed at which your chest rose and fell quickened as his lust-filled eyes burned holes into your sprawled out form, the corners of his thin lips curved upwards. "I need you to tell me to leave right now if you do not want this," The hotness of his breath tickled your lips as his lips hovered over yours. "if you do not want me."

"Thorin, shut up and fuck me." The man before you wasted no time shedding his garments, his calloused hands quick to unravel yours. His hands momentarily hovering over your bare form, all words and thoughts being freed from his mind as he stood there in awe of the deity sprawled out beneath him.

To say the gods had taken their time carving you out of the most luxurious marble was truly an understatement within the king's eyes, each inch of your flesh more heavenly than he could have ever dreamt of. Gazing upon you was as if someone had gathered all of his desires and melted them down into a cast of a human's form, or rather a deity as he refused to believe someone as purely ethereal as you could belong to them.

His calloused hands began to roam your heavenly form, slowly gliding down every curve and ounce of your flesh. The tips of his rough fingers lightly kissing each scar and indent your flesh held for a moment before gliding to the next mass of flesh, though your skin held imperfections, each one only made him love and admire you more.

"You're perfect." The vibrations of his words against your neck accompanied by the faint tickle of his fingers inching closer towards your lower abdomen sent a shiver down your spine, his lips pressing against the flesh between your neck and shoulder, nipping at it slightly sending another shiver throughout your body.

His sturdy hand inching closer to the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs, the tip of his thumb hovering a mere speck above it before delicately coming into contact with it. Small circles being traced upon your clit as he sucked upon the most sensitive spot on your neck, your toes beginning to curl at the sudden sensations as a soft gasp slipped through your lips.

While his thumb toyed with your sensitive bundle of nerves the tips of his opposite fingers ghosted over your glistening entrance, the faint pressure and burn of his thick fingers delving inside of you allowed yet another gasp to slip through your lips.

His fingers filling your dripping cunt to the brim, the gentle stretch deep within you making your eyes loop upwards towards the back of your skull, his fingers moving at a painfully slow pace allowed you to feel every stretch and curl of his fingers deep within you.

"Thorin, please." The desperate whine was music to his ears, his fingers coming to a complete halt inside of you despite your displeasure. "Please, what?" "Please fuck me already." Another displeased whine escaping your lips as the pressure within you subsided, his glistening fingers hovering out of your drenched entrance as he pulled himself away from you.

"Patience, my love." The king hummed lowly, his calloused hand wrapping around his enlarged cock before he aligned the tip with your entrance, rubbing the tip of his cock against it slowly allowing another displeased groan to slip through your lips.

"You're such an ass-" The attempt to speak dying upon your tongue as the tip of his throbbing cock began to push inside of you without fair warning, a mischievous grin spread upon the king's lips as your hands slid up from the bed and onto his hips.

The faint sting of being stretched out as he continued to ease his cock into you accompanied the sting he felt as your nails dug into his toned hips, the gentle sting of his cock stretching out your inner walls allowed your eyes to roll to loop up towards the back of your skull.

Though you had imagined this moment many times before yet nothing you had imagined before had lived up to this, it was as if the gods had handcrafted him meld with and within you perfectly.

"Fuck." He groaned tilting his head backward, the lids of his eyes fluttering shut at the heavenly sensation of your drenched inner walls squeezing around his throbbing cock. His length slowly slid out of out, nothing but the tip resting inside of you for a few moments before he pushed into you yet again.

A slow rhythm arising from his hips as he continued to thrust into you deeply, each inch of his aching cock carving itself deeper within your heavenly walls at each movement he made. The once silent room filled with only the small crackles of the fire quickly filled with the melody of his skin slapping against yours.

The tip of his calloused thumb coming into contact with your sensitive bundle of nerves as the speed of his hips slowly began to quicken, your nails dragging down his hips to the sides of his thighs as a familiar tingle began to rise from the tips of your toes.

"You take me so well, wife." The groan of praise coming out as a tease as his hips continued to slam into yours, each thrust striking the most sensitive spot in your core as the movements of his hips became rougher. His calloused thumb tracing small circles on your clit as he leaned his weight further into you, stretching out depths you had yet to reach before him.

The intense squeeze earned another groan from his thin lips, his eyes squeezing together tightly for a moment as the speed within his hips became faster. The near entirety of his weight in each thrust as he attempted to cling onto the sensation like the way your drenched cunt clung around his cock.

A familiar knot began to tangle within the pit of your stomach as he continuously struck that spot deep within you, your hands sliding away from his hips back to the furs beneath you. "Oh fuck! Right there, please don't stop!" You yelped out, your loud cries ringing throughout the room.

Any concerns which previously lingered within the dwarf's mind fading away at the sound of your moans as his lust consumed him while he attempted to recreate that motion, a faint burn spreading throughout his hips which he paid no mind to as he continuously struck deep within your core.

"Ah!" His hand gliding away from your sensitive bundle of nerves and onto your thighs as his thrusts quickly grew animalistic, small trembles wracking throughout your body as you clawed at the furs beneath you. A faint sheen of sweat glistening upon your forehead as you tilted your head back against the plush mattress, the fresh marks he had left upon your neck on full display.

"Fuck! Thorin, I can't hold-" The choked out words being cut off with whine as the knot within our stomach threatened to split, soft groans escaping his lips as your pussy clenched around his throbbing cock.

"Then don't." He whispered, the burn within his hips turning ablaze at the pace of his animalistic thrusts. Each thrust rammed his cock into the most sensitive spots within your core as he reached his hand back between your legs, his thumb finding its spot upon your tense bundle of nerves as he circled it perfectly.

"Let it all out, my love." He hummed through moans of his own, the knot within your stomach tightening as a familiar static spread up from the tips of your toes, each sloppy thrust nudging you closer to the endless abyss of pleasure you had yearned for.

Despite your grip tightening upon the furs beneath you, your limbs began to feel as weightless as the birds which soared throughout middle-earth.

The rough tip of his thumb gently grazing the now overly sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. "Oh!" Your body arching into his touch as your nails clawed deeper into the furs beneath you, a wave of electricity roaming throughout your body as the knot deep within you snapped. His name was an endless prayer upon your lips as you sank deeper down that heavenly abyss, small trembles wracking throughout your body as your pussy fluttered around his aching cock.

How your flesh bounced so perfectly with each thrust he made, how your hands clawed at the furs beneath you desperate to keep yourself steady, how your inner walls fluttered and tightened around his cock as you sank further down into the abyss, and how his name was the only word you could muster as he relentlessly pounded into your beaten cunt was nearing far too much for the dwarven king.

"Fuck, Y/N!" The low words lightly nudging you back into reality, everything still a haze as your cunt continued to milk around his cock, the crisp air finally greeting your lungs while you trembled beneath him. His hips relentlessly slamming into yours as the strings within him pulled tightly, the knot deep within his stomach at the verge of snapping.

A spew of ineligible moans slipping through his lips as his hips continued to roughly buck into yours, a hand gliding down from your left thigh back in between your legs. The tip of his rough thumb quickly circled on your clit as he desperately attempted to pull on more orgasm from you before he rode out his own.

"Holy fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" The pathetic cries of the king echoing throughout the room as his grip upon your thighs tightened, the skin on his knuckles turning as white as the snow outside your door as the knot within him finally unraveled.

His weight further pressing into you while his hips roughly bucked into yours, his thumb twiddled around the sensitive bundle of nerves sending another wave of electricity wracked throughout your body.

The knot within his stomach completely unraveled as white-hot ribbons painted the inside of your depths, the overwhelming sensation of being filled to the brim with him pushed you off the endless cliff of pleasure.

Your toes curling as your body trembled beneath him, the creak of the bed ringing throughout the room alongside your ragged breaths as he leaned his weight into yours. His head buried within the crook of your neck, his rough hands moving away from their previous positions as he cradled you within his toned arms.

"I've got you." The words were nothing but breathy laughter while his cock continued to pulsate deep within you, the faint tickle of his lips upon your neck accompanied his hot breath as he muttered sweet nothings in dwarvish.

Many of those sweet nothings were confessions of his undying love and admiration for you alongside his soft thanks to the gods for creating you, his better half, his one.

"Are you okay?" His brow furrowing with worry as he raised his head from the crook of your neck, the corners of your lips curving upwards at the worry within his tone. It was as if he was not slamming into you mere moments before, his rough palm cupping the side of your soft face while he looked over your bare form.

"Thorin, I am fine." The hoarse words scratching the back of your throat upon exit, your brows furrowing together as you hummed slightly in an attempt to soothe it. Had you truly been that loud? A faint heat radiating off of your cheeks as you leaned into Thorin's gentle touch.

A relieved chuckle escaped his lips as his grip upon you loosened, pulling his softened cock out of your depths before lying next to you wrapping you back in his muscular arms. A pleased sigh escaping your nose as you inched closer towards him, the weight of your head against his chest allowed his hazy smile to grow wider.

"I'm sorry that I-" His words came to a halt as your finger rested upon his chapped lips, a faint shushing escaping yours as you snuggled further into the king. "Thorin, my love, I do not have the energy for any discussions right now." The soft hum nearly masked by the low crackle of the fire not far from you, the warmth which radiated off of the dwarf beneath melting away the last bit of energy your body held.

A low chuckle vibrated against your finger as he took your soft hand into his calloused one, the faint tickle of his beard grazing upon the back of your hand as he pressed his lips against it. "Rest all you need, my heart. I will still be here when you wake." The soft embrace of the furs around your bare form was quick to lull you into a peaceful slumber, the corners of your lips curving slightly upwards into a blissful grin as you melted into the soothing embrace of your lover.

The welcoming embrace of sleep not far behind for the king yet he forced the lids of his eyes to stay open, wanting nothing more than to gaze upon the beautiful creature who rested upon his chest. The faint golden heat from the fire glowed cradled your stunning features, the faint smile upon his lips grew wider as a pleased exhale escaped his nose, how kind the gods were to bless him with such a strong, clever, and overall stunning spouse.

Within these blissful moments with you, he had finally realized that all the hardships he experienced throughout his travels and the sickness he experienced within the mountain's halls, what he was truly seeking, what truly put him under a spell, was you.

The tips of his fingers lightly traced upon the golden light that cradled your cheek causing you to stir slightly before melting further into his chest, the soft pressure of his lips upon your forehead one of the last actions he did as the soothing harmony of sleep called his name.

The once elaborate ruse had quickly become the truth making the return upon Erebor soil far less stressful than expected, the most stressful event to transpire that day was Dis tackling you onto the cold marble ground whilst screaming up and down the mountain halls that she finally had a sister.

The king's nephews, or rather your nephews, following within their mother's steps as they spun you around gifting you with the title "Auntie" before rushing to every dwarf within Erebor to give a proper introduction of you despite Thorin's complaints, complaints which died down the moment he watched you stick out your hand and proclaim yourself as part of their family.

The simple action sealing your fate within those mountain halls, a fate you welcomed with open arms and a smile similar to how you would greet every dwarfling, and later a tiny red-headed dwelfing, that ran over to you in glee with tales of their own to share.

A wide smile glued upon your lips as your previous company began to tease you upon the knowledge of your new title after an onslaught of tight squeezes, all within Erebor welcoming you as one of their own as news spread throughout middle-earth of the rise of the new heart within the misty mountain, you.

Maybe, just maybe, one of Thorin's elaborate ruses was not so awful after all.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

[greenandsorrow]

QUEUE 🌷

As a non-native speaker of English, the spelling of the word 'queue' often makes me cringe.

If something is on this list, it will eventually be done. The butterfly emoji stands for 'requested'.

⭐December schedule⭐

THE NYMPH'S DAILY GIFTS.

Flowers in December - Luke Danes (Gilmore Girls) x fem!virgin!reader/ nsfw

💫My priorities in 2025💫

What once was. - Henry Winter (tsh) x fem!oc/ nsfw, multichap

Hello my old heart - Thorin Oakenshield x fem!faerie!reader/ nsfw, multichap

🌟Other stuff🌟

"I can fix him." - William Afton x fem!reader/ nsfw, multichap (🦋)

"Cola" - Joel Miller x fem!reader/ smutty, nsfw, multi chap

my masterlist

*updated daily

[glassgulls]

Ship: Thorin x Elf!Reader

Trope: Childhood friends to enemies to lovers

Length: 3 376 words.

Warnings: Injuries, violence, guilt, guilt trip. Thorin being Thorin, Thranduil being Thranduil. Angst with a happy ending.

Note: @sorisooyaa I have something for you. I made a thing. I don't know what to make of it. But I have made a thing. Tags - if I forgot someone sorry and please tell me so I can not forget you next time: @heilith @sotwk @asgardianhobbit98 @middleearthpixie @glassgulls @evenstaredits @fizzyxcustard

Vocabulary point: Nethig = Sister, little sister (diminutive) - Sindarin

You were here to help.

Of course, you had come to help.

The battle of Erebor would be known as the one where great elven and dwarven warriors perished. It would still be an understatement before any of the gods who listened. The Durin line barely survived by the skin of their teeth. If you had not been there to prevent the massacre... Thorin stopped the thought there, fearing what it would bring to mind.

You, whom he had known since he was a mere child, your parents and his - if not in agreement - cordial to one another. At the time, you knew Erebor's halls almost as well as he did, despite having grown in the shadows of the Greenwood. Often, you would meet, in secret, away from the prying eyes of both your families, running away, chasing dragons and seeking battles made out of air.

Now, he wished for these times to come back.

The dwarven king owed you his life and the life of his nephews.

That was why he was at your side, watching until you woke up. If you were to wake up.

Why was he waiting? He knew not. Or, he knew as he had known for years, yet stopped himself from hoping you would know too. He was not the young dwarf he once was, careless with his words and promises, careless in his affections. The sovereign he had become could not make foolish choices as Kili had the luxury of making. Nevertheless, the hope in him would not die, not until you gave him an answer to a question he would not dare ask.

You were there. You were there when his grandfather had refused your brother and your people what was owed to them. The look of confusion and disappointment on your face had not left his thoughts in all those years. Where the regret and sorrow as you followed your brother away from the dragon’s massacre felt like a heavy scar, this first betrayal was still bleeding through the walls of his mind more vivid than it had ever been.

For since the battle, you would not wake. And he would not sleep.

Maybe, this was his atonement for not having intervened sooner in the feud between the elves and his people. Maybe it was punishment for not having told you, as a child, what those feelings were, leaving you blindsided for the rest of your life.

His breath came to a halt when you stirred in your sleep. His surroundings were dark, only lightened by the moonlight shining in the room. Everything was so pale, the sheets, your gown, the light. He felt sick for a moment, in pain with each breath. Thorin was sitting in the most uncomfortable seat he had ever been in, his back hunched over, elbows on his knees, rubbing at his face to erase the deep sleep in his bones.

Thranduil opened the door. His eyes racked over the dwarf’s figure. The deep circles under his eyes and the hollow of his cheeks were clear indicators of his state. Your brother would have been blind not to see your injuries’ effect on Thorin.

Despite what people knew of him, the elven king was not as heartless as he seemed. He had sustained many injuries over the years, many terrifying experiences, and too many meaningless deaths. His heart was a closed sanctuary now, only opened for those he trusted. Even if he was not trusting Thorin, he trusted you. You, who had sought him out all those moons ago, trying to stop a raging war between your families. He had refused to listen and what it had cost him would never be counted accurately. The elf was old and weary of war. He wanted this to end, almost as much as you did. When you were playing in Erebor’s halls, he was with his guardian, resenting you for not having to attend all those boring meetings nor being with him when he had to learn all those awful words in Khuzdul. No. You had learned with a friend. The ultimate betrayal for him was that you were allowed to. No one saw the harm in the shenanigans you orchestrated. You were children, what was the harm? Only when you grew, beautiful as a newborn star, people started talking. He dismissed them all in public. Chastised you in private. “Behave as you were born”, those were his words. It was then that Thranduil had known. It was too late for you. You had fallen for him, having known him for so long. His stubbornness familiar to your equally stubborn mind, the wits of his tongue matching your own, your secret kisses shared in the mistrusted shadows of the woods or the corridors of the dwarven city. You would not let him go. But, soon, even Thorin dismissed you, in favour of dwarf women more suited to be by his side. Your heart was misplaced. Lost with someone who had no use for it.

After that, heartbroken and deep into your mind, you let yourself perish to the brink of death. Thranduil’s wife and son became your only solace, throwing yourself into the family life you yearned for, but could not have for yourself. With your brother, you would not talk of love for the prince. Only a “misplaced trust” as if it was enough to describe what it was you were left with.

That “misplaced trust” was all that was needed for Thranduil to care.

“Thorin Oakenshield.”

His face barely rose to meet the elven king’s eyes, falling back again in an impolite manner, now familiar between the two.

“It’s you.”

The elf had a hard time not snapping at him. But even he knew, the pain he was in. Your brother kissed your brow in slow motion. Nothing moved in the air, as he was adjusting your pillow, smoothing your sheets, sitting down next to you, eyes lost on your face. The room reeked of balms and healing herbs. Thorin ran a hand over his face once more, the stiff figure in front of him immobile and solemn. 

“I remember.”

The sound of his voice was barely above a whisper, yet it took up all the space in the room. He had that effect, your brother. You used to be so proud of him when you were little. Trying to get his affection every time you could. He wondered if you would still look at him that way.

“When you were young. Both running around in our legs, trying to get some attention, only to run away just as easily.”

Thranduil might have seen a soft smile appear on Thorin’s tear-stained cheeks if the darkness was not so thick. He did not see.

Instead, the elven king grabbed your hand, ever so cold, between his own seizing your fingers, growing accustomed to your unresponsiveness. All those hours spent in silence by your side had made him weary. The loss of his wife was an everlasting memory at the back of his mind, as he was praying to anyone who would listen for your recovery. Not again his mind would say. Not her his heart would scream. 

And maybe it worked somehow, after all those days, all those weeks, because then you opened your eyes.

The light was faint. You could make out parts of the walls and ceilings. It was home. A breath of relief left you, making your chest ache. You winced, eyelids shut close, brows furrowed. Your hand was captured in someone else’s, warm, alive. You were alive. Every part of your body was in pain, sharp, akin to the edge of a fine sword twisting your guts and bones. Soon, you could hear a voice. Voices, you realized. You turned towards the tall figure holding your hand. It seemed to be calling your name.

“Nethig?”

Thranduil. His face came to a focus, his forehead meeting yours as you were holding his hand to your chest for dear life. Tears streamed down your face, not being able to stop them in any way.

On the other side of your bed, Thorin had not moved. His mouth agape, he was waiting for you to see him, to look at him. The minutes and murmurs exchanged with your brother were lasting, echoing in his mind. The chuckle escaping your lips was a balm to his undone heart. King, he was, yet he would have been on his knees and given it all up in a heartbeat if it would keep you from crying as you were.

You could not see past your brother and you did not want to. How stupid could you have been to throw yourself and your soldiers into this death trap? For what? An old flame nothing could light again? Thorin’s affections for you were long past, a mere child’s play you took to heart when he did not. The young and everlasting hope in your chest would not die. In the end, it almost had you killed. Deliberately, Thranduil pulled himself away, his protective gaze still on you. His eyes met someone else’s over your shoulder before coming back to your face. He helped you sit up, one movement at a time.

Upon seeing who it was, you started crying again. Not of joy, nor pain. In relief. How your heart could be a trickster. The moment was clear in your mind, despite the anxiety creeping up your spine. The moment you thought he was going to die in front of your eyes. It was without a second thought, you had pierced the chest of the orc before Fili or Kili could be harmed. For Thorin, your heart had lept in your throat as the menace of losing him became more and more obvious, the more the fight went on. The prince you remembered, the one you had loved, was brave beyond any elven or dwarven standards. He still was. You had hesitated, the ever-nagging thought of him being upset upon being defended by you. Until the last minute. When you had jumped from your vantage point, it had been all a blur, the only thing remaining the clear sky above you, the sun on your skin. The edge of the sword had pierced through armour and flesh, close to your heart. As if hurting it more was a feat anyone could accomplish. In a last stroke of luck, elven warriors had flooded the place, while you were still staring at the sky becoming darker and darker with each passing moment. You could hear yells and angry cries, strong arms cradling your head, and a soft, profound, grave voice begging you to stay alive. In your haze, you had thought… you had thought it belonged to him.

The sobs had stopped. Thorin stepped closer to you, his right hand outstretched. His palm touched your cheek sloppily, checking if he was not dreaming. Yet, you were swiftly pulling him away, careful not to touch him for too long. You exchanged a few words with Thranduil, and he stepped away, one final hard stare at the dwarf before leaving the room.

“What are you doing here?”

It was more to yourself than to him that you asked this question, in a hoarse voice you did not recognize. His arm lingered in the air, in your vicinity. How much you wanted to bury yourself in his chest and never let him go again. The harm he had done to you, on the other hand, was too heavy on your heart to let go of.

He swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat. The rejection was bitter-sweet. He knew his faults all too well. Against his first instinct, he got up to his feet, grimacing under the weight of his flesh wounds. Seeing you in pain was so much worse than that.

“I…”

Around you, the night lights were shivering, dawn simmering under the cover of the clouds. It was now or never.

“I have something for you.”

A snort escaped you and you coughed. Startled, he approached, but you stopped him with a gesture of your hand.

“If it’s not an apology, I do not want it Thorin.”

There. Plain as day. The look on his face, you never dared to hope he’d show for you. His gaze softened as you mouthed the name you had not spoken of in years. His name. Delightful to hear you say it, if only it had been in different circumstances. Alas, it was not. He had to make the best of this. Even if it killed him. Because a life without you was only worth death, the unmerciful kind, slow and feverish, agonising. He could not bear it anymore.

“I hoped you would agree to listen first and see what to do afterwards. Yet, you stay faithful to yourself.”

His voice resonated in the room even as he claimed the words one after the other, softly, trying not to scare you away. He smiled. One of those precious smiles you came to banish from your mind, year after year, as it plagued your waking hours almost as much as your dreams. You turned your eyes away from him, a heat blooming in your cheeks. Although you could not see his face, you heard him, coming closer to you, sitting near your calves, hands on his knees. He was loud as dwarves are. Sometimes, you dreamt about that noise. Dreamt of him coming home to you. You shook your head a little, the world blurry for a moment before your eyes.

“Could you… would you, at least, look at me?”

His voice was pained, smooth around the edges of his sorrow. He did not recognize that voice as his own. It was the voice of heartbreak. A sweet relief came over him when you finally looked at him.

It was short-lived. Your face, he remembered. Ever-lasting as the poets said. Engraved in his heart, beating erratically with every minute spent in your company. The bruises, the sharp cut going from your cheekbone to your chin. The edge and the indifference. All of that he did not know and wanted to rub off. His hand twitched in his lap, fingers extending into nothingness.

“I am incredibly happy you are alive.”

His words were met with pure harshness, almost hostility. Sorrow in your eyes, a headache growing behind your eyelids.

Thorin licked his lips.

“I came here to thank you. Personally.”

A snicker stopped him. You sniffled again, ungracefully wiping your nose in your sleeve, wincing at the effort it took you. His palm felt warm on your knee. You were not one to bet, but if you had to, you would have assured a tattoo of his palm was to appear on your skin at how hot it felt. How right. Still, unnerved, you did not move.

“I came here because… When we thought… When I thought I lost you, I came to realize how much of an imbecile I had been.”

You bowed your head. Biting your lips, your hair hiding the desperation in you. You could not bear it. Could not bear hearing him say the words without meaning them. He had done so before, what was stopping him from doing it again? It would destroy you.

“Stop. Just stop!”

Tears formed at the corners of your eyes. You did not try to stop them from falling. His hand reached you before you could stop it, meeting your cheek, and wiping away your tears. Stilling your heart in its ribcage, prisoner of his touch, again. His beautiful eyes were worried, brows furrowed, lips pinched together.

“Why are you torturing me so? Telling me what I want to hear? After all those years? Am I just a toy to you?”

You bit your lips harder, drawing blood. Without saying a word, he smoothed the skin there, smearing blood on his fingertips, unbothered merely grateful he could do it at all.

“Never. Amralimê, never.”

He frowned. Only then did you notice how close he was, the word in his mouth settling near your heart, his forehead a breath away from yours. Blue eyes boring into yours, lips parted, his cheek covered by a white and black beard. He had aged, as we all do. How could he still make your heart beat so loud and your stomach flutter so even after all these years? It was uncanny. Impossible. You wanted to take his hands off of your face, gripping his wrists in a vice grip.

He held on, gritting through the pain shooting in his arms, your face cradled in his warmth.

“I have been wrong all this time. I thought I was better off without you. Hoping you would find happiness without this love we did not see coming. But, no one can stop the sun from rising and I could not stop myself from loving you.”

A whimper escaped you when he pulled away, reaching into his coat for a small thing, wrapped in grey cloth, worn with time and travel. Carefully, he grasped your hand putting the itchy material in your palm.

“I should have given you this, at the time. I am giving it to you now. I hope you keep it.”

His words were ringing in your ears as you pulled the package open. Inside was a trinket you recognized immediately. You smiled, half expecting it to be a fever dream.

“A courting bead.”

Clenching your hand around it, you felt the walls around your heart beginning to give. Taking your hand in his, one more time, he pried the cage your fingers made one after the other, relinquishing in the feeling of your fingertips.

“Not exactly.” Giddy with excitement, he leaned close to you, as if in confidence. “It is an engagement bead. I figured we were past the courting steps at this point.

- Are you serious?”

The question had escaped your lips in a bewildered whisper, not quite wanting to believe him. Thorin became self-conscious again, nodding, bashful. He was shy. Thorin Oakenshield had gone soft. The world was going to collapse.

“Why now?

- After this close call with death, I don’t think I have anything more to lose but you.

- What of…?

- The others? I do not care. Not anymore. If you’ll have me, I’ll be there. Whenever you need me. As who you want me to be.”

Without thinking, your hand reached out to his cheek, bringing him impossibly closer. In a familiar gesture, your lips met his. 

Thorin had become tender with the years. Surprised and inhaling sharply, his fingers gripped your gown at the waist, in a desperate attempt at getting you flush against him, your warmth comforting his melting heart through your skin.

The pain shot through you interrupting you both.

“My apologies, I’ll be more careful from now on.”

You smiled against his lips, pushing yourself a little bit further into his embrace.

“I doubt that.”

He arched an eyebrow.

“You were rough once. Harsh even. Don’t stop now on my account…”

You bit your lip and saw his pupils darken, a thin line of blue at the edge of it all, holding you down under this lustful stare.

The kiss he gave you next was nothing short of hungry, wild and powerful. You felt the fragility of your body in his hands, even more than you had during the battle. His palms spread a heated river down your waist, straight between your legs. Yet, it would have to wait. Only for a night or two, you thought. If you would restrain yourself. As if reading your thoughts - he had always been good at that - he replied.

“We have all the time in the world for this, now. If you’ll have me.”

He was worried. Still. You could not blame him, after all these years you had spent avoiding him only to find out he felt the same for you as you did for him.

“Yes. We do.”

Your tone left no doubt. Affirmed and self-assured, you knew this would be the beginning of something new. This was a new chapter in a lifetime of stories, you could not wait to find more about.

[lathalea]

Entangled 2/10

The first question I'd like to ask you today is: Do you remember a little fic called The Best Day of My Life I wrote a while back? Don't worry, me neither ;) It simmered in my head and what started off as a standalone ficlet, grew into something bigger. Back then, it was written in the first-person narrative, but as it grew into a longer story in my head, I decided to change the subsequent chapters to the third-person perspective. This story was born from an inspiration I found when researching certain medieval traditions, especially when it comes to arranged marriages in royal families, and the role women played in these arrangements. It inspired me to wonder what it would look like in Dwarven societies of Middle Earth. I hope you enjoy it! 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). Special thanks for @legolasbadass for all your help and support 💙 ✨ 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) Uzbad ra zabdûna undu ‘Urd - King and Queen Under the Mountain

TA 2942, one year after the Reclamation of Azsâlul'abad

“Your Majesty, My Lady, brothers and sisters in stone, we have all eagerly waited for this moment,” The High Priest’s sonorous voice rang out in the festively decorated Great Hall of the Lonely Mountain. “May the Pleating Ceremony commence!”

It was happening. 

Mista swallowed. It felt as if the eyes of every single person present in the cavern were on her. As instructed earlier, Mista took off the veil that had covered her hair which was unbraided and adorned only with minuscule diamonds, and stepped stiffly towards the King. Her hands were clammy, and she tried not to stumble. The slippers and the opulent ceremonial gown she wore were incredibly uncomfortable and heavy. What a blunder it would be if she landed on the floor face down at that very moment! The court etiquette did not forbid her to wear her glasses, so at least she could see her surroundings clearly… including the crowds that gathered for the ceremony in the Great Hall. 

Closing her eyes, she focused on her breathing, then something brushed against her temple. Mista flinched like a startled pony.

“No need to be alarmed, My Lady.” A low, rumbling murmur reached her ears. It was the King’s voice; she could have recognized his calm, confident manner everywhere. “Allow me to choose a suitable lock of your hair.” “By all means, Your Majesty,” Mista mumbled, feeling how close he stood to her, his arm brushing against hers, and how his fingers slowly ran through her hair. She did not know that a male touch could be so gentle. The only people allowed to touch her hair before this day were her mother, sister, and personal maid.

“Thank you, My Lady. Would you allow me to compliment you?” the King said and, not waiting for her reply, he  added. “I do not think I have seen such exquisite hair before.”

“I… thank you, Your Majesty,” she whispered, attempting to calm herself. Did the King himself truly think her hair was exquisite? A realisation dawned upon her. Of course not; he must have referred to its uncommon length, that was all. It was the only source of Mista’s pride — perhaps the colour of her hair was plain and common, but she had always kept it long, and currently it reached almost to her knees. And now, the King’s nimble fingers ran through it, once, twice, and then began pleating her hair slowly, each of his movements deliberate. It was a surprisingly pleasant sensation, but even then, she did not dare to open her eyes especially when the tips of his fingers lightly brushed against her cheek, making her tremble at the sensation.

“It may help you to imagine that there is only you and me here.” His quiet voice reached her again. 

“Pardon?” Mista’s breath hitched.

“During straining official functions I tend to imagine that there are only stone statues around me, carved in amusing poses. It helps to tackle the nerves.”

Mista’s eyes fluttered open and met the King’s azure gaze. An encouraging smile danced on his lips moments before he returned to braiding.

“I did not know someone like you could feel… nervous, Your Majesty,” she heard herself say.

“My coronation felt ten times worse than facing the enemy during the Battle of the Five Armies.” His reply made Mista chuckle. His smile widened, making his handsome face even more alluring. For a heartbeat, she forgot how to breathe, simply staring at him. 

Click.

The King clasped his bead around her new braid. Gold encrusted with onyx contrasted with the plainness of her mousy hair, but the pattern made it somehow more refined. She took the braid into her hand and admired its even, elegant weaves.

“It is beautiful, Your Majesty,” she whispered.

The King gave her a thankful nod. Mista felt his intent gaze on her. His Durin’s apple bobbed. Something was not right… Why were his features so tense?

It took her a moment to understand. With her cheeks burning, she took a step towards him. How could she have forgotten that now it was her turn?

“May I…?” Her voice failed her, but no words were necessary. The King lowered his head towards her, his hair flowing freely in front of her eyes. 

With trembling fingers, she picked a thick lock of hair on his left temple and divided it into four parts. His hair was smooth and thick, making her think of a wolf’s fur, but it smelled like sweet oils from faraway lands in the South. Mista wanted to keep on braiding it for as long as she could. She thanked Mahal that she knew her personal pattern by heart — otherwise, she would have surely entangled his hair or ended up with a bunch of knots instead of the braid. Focused on plaiting it, she forgot about everything around her — there was only the King, Thorin, the Dwarf who unknowingly captured her heart a long time ago. Now, with every weave, she was willingly bestowing her whole self upon him.

Her bead was made of bronze and tiny sapphires from the Blue Mountains. For some reason, it refused to close around the King’s braid, making Mista sigh, but then one of his large, warm hands encircled her fingers that held the bead, and pressed it harder together. 

Click.

It was done.

Mista’s heart beat faster and faster as the King Under the Mountain took her hands into his. They were facing each other in a way that allowed everyone gathered in the Great Hall to see them from the side.

“Foreheads,” the High Priest whispered, barely moving his lips, holding something in his hands that glinted in the light of hundreds of lanterns.

The King squeezed her hands gently and lowered himself towards her once more. Mista took a deep breath and stood on her tiptoes so that their foreheads could meet.

His skin was pleasantly warm against hers, his nose brushed against hers, and she could feel the warmth of his breath on her face. Instinctively, she closed her eyes, but the last thing she saw were his lips, slightly parted, and so close, so very close to hers, and there was his beard too, and she wondered how it would feel if…

“What Mahal has joined over the marriage anvil, no power shall break apart until the end of days,” the High Priest exclaimed, his voice loud and clear, like the sound of a gunmetal bell, drowning all of her inappropriate thoughts. 

“Thorin, son of Thrain, Mista, daughter of Milva, you are now husband and wife. Uzbad ra zabdûna undu ‘Urd!”

Loud cheers filled the spacious cavern as the white-bearded priest bound their hands together with a thin but unbreakable mithril chain — a symbol of the eternal bond they forged a moment ago. This was one of the most revered traditions of Mahal’s Children: Dwarves married only once. Mista read a treaty once that explained the origin of this ancient tradition: one of the oldest Dwarven legends said that each of the Seven Fathers of the Dwarves had one spouse, and that each couple was made from one piece of stone, destined to be always together, as one mind, body, and heart. A long time had passed since Mista was an overly romantic lass who believed that each Dwarf had their beloved Other Half somewhere in the world. Now she was over one hundred and thirty years old, and during her lifetime, she saw too many dalliances, clandestine affairs, and broken promises to believe that her people were capable of loving only once and only the right person. Dwarves were a fiery race, with molten lava running in their veins rather than cold pieces of rock. Nevertheless, their marriages were the cornerstones of society, crucially important to every family, and so a wedded couple was supposed to be like a rock: steady and unbreakable. That was Mahal’s will, as the priests said. Therefore, the dissolution of marriage was impossible. If a Dwarf broke their marital vows — which, as dishonourable as it was, happened from time to time — they would still remain married to their spouse. Even death did not end it, as her people believed that they would remain married even in the afterlife, in the Halls of Awaiting. That was why Dwarven courtship would often last many years so that the future spouses had ample time to know each other well before they made this irreversible decision.

Mista’s courtship lasted one month. That was how much time Lord Tair, her father, needed to finalise negotiations with the King Under the Mountain. During that time, she never saw her future husband. That was to be expected — the Blue Mountains were almost half a world away from King Thorin II’s kingdom, Azsâlul'abad. Instead, his envoys arrived with the marriage contract signed in his own hand and a chest filled with customary gifts for his future bride: jewellery, hair combs, and a traditional courtship cloak. There was also a letter addressed to her. It contained all the obligatory niceties along with His Majesty’s apology for his absence due to the fact that his kingdom was being rebuilt and needed all of his attention at the moment. He assured his bride, however, that he was looking forward to meeting her in person and offering her as much hospitality as he had received in Tumunzahar years ago.

He remembered.

Over one hundred years had passed, and he still remembered his visit to her home city. Precisely like Mista. She never forgot how gallant and handsome he was, how his words dried her tears, and how he made her feel as if she, the ugliest girl at the feast, were the only woman in the whole world.

Perhaps that mawkish idea of Dwarves finding their Other Halves was not true, but she was certain of one thing: she still loved the same Dwarf as she did all those years ago. Her heart belonged to Thorin Oakenshield.

And now she was his wife. Her eyes were still set on the glistening links of the mithril chain that joined her hands when she heard the High Priest’s words.

“My King, My Queen.” He bowed with reverence, “It is time for your wedding feast.”

The only thing she could think of at that very moment was how good her hand felt in her lord husband’s reassuring hold.

***

The feast that celebrated their nuptials was an event like no other. Mista had never seen any revelries that were full of equal splendour. Countless guests from all seven dwarven realms were entertained by minstrels, musicians, dancers, and other performers. The food was delicious; wine and other liquors flowed endlessly, like the River Running, and everyone was merry. Mista sat on a grand chair placed on the King’s right hand. Now, both of them wore their crowns and royal insignia, and together, as the newlywed ruling couple of the Kingdom Under the Mountain, they accepted countless toasts and congratulations from the well-wishers throughout the evening. Mista tried her best to act with decorum worthy of the queen she had become hours ago, and she even managed to appear unflustered whenever the customary “May Mahal bless your union with countless heirs!” reached her ears. 

From time to time she managed to steal a glance at the King’s – her new husband’s – majestic profile, struggling to believe that this day was not a dream. But then she remembered the marriage braid hanging at her temple – and a similar braid in his hair. She truly was the great Thorin Oakenshield’s wife.

It was two bells after midnight when the weariness started to creep up on her.

“Is the feast to your liking, lady Mista?” the King turned to her, clearly noticing her attempt at stifling a yawn.

“Indeed it is! Forgive me, the celebrations took a toll on me, I’m afraid,” she explained, feeling the growing heaviness of her crown on her temples.

“It is perfectly understandable,” Princess Dis, the King’s sister, said. “It has been a long day. Perhaps it is time for you to repose.”

“May I…? Does the protocol allow it?” Mista took a hopeful look around the Great Hall where the feast was as lively as it was at its very beginning.

“May I remind you that now you are the Queen?” the King offered. “You may leave whenever you wish to do so.”

“And my brother will accompany you,” Princess Dis interjected, and then addressed the King. “Tonight you are only allowed to leave together.”

Mista caught a strange look they exchanged, and – after a noticeable pause – King Thorin said, “Very well.”

“Shall we, then?” He rose from his chair and held out his hand to Mista.

Leaving the Great Hall was not as easy a task as Mista expected. They had to endure another round of the official farewells, wedding toasts and felicitations from their numerous guests.

“Have a wonderful night!” Princess Dis exclaimed in a sing-song voice as they were stepping over the threshold.

“Aye, and a long one, too!” Dwalin, the King’s Captain, added, and they both laughed.

Their words sounded innocently enough for Mista at first, but they made the King clear his throat in visible embarrassment. 

And then it dawned on Mista. One more thing awaited her.

The wedding night.

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

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