#Thorin fanfiction

[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.”

taglist:

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

[fckmini]

cats in love that remind me of thorin and bilbo!!

ft. this extra one because hes silly!!

[harrypoppinss]

How the Dwarfs show PDA

Thorins company x gn!reader

Warnings: an insane amount of fluff, implied smut

Thorin

Being the King of Erebor meant that he had a lot of responsibility on his plate. Even before the Dwarfs defeated Smaug and reclaimed Erebor, he wasn’t overly affectionate publicly; that didn’t change once he re-built his kingdom. Kissing is a no go, but instead he would just always have you hold onto his arm as you walked, or vise versa. But when you’re alone in your shared chambers, its like he can’t get enough of you. Thats when he always makes up for the lack of attention and affection that he can’t openly show like he wants to, but if he sees someone flirting with you then thats thrown out of the window; literally. He will pull you up onto his throne and make-out with you infront of everyone if he wants to… and he has… many times. But most of the time; not very into PDA.

Fíli

Like his Uncle, he has a lot of responsibilities since he’s the heir to the throne. But he doesn’t let that stop him. Once he’s done with his daily duties as the prince of Erebor, he gives you his undivided attention and affection. He always makes sure you’re able to stretch your legs, so he usually like to take late night walks through the mines as you two attempt to not be seen by the guards. One time though you did get caught doing… something. But that’s a story for another day and time. Sometimes he will literally just slip away from the meetings to go and be with you but only if Kíli is there to cover for him. He doesn’t have a problem with showing you how much he adores and loves you, even if that means getting his head chewed off by Thorin for skipping his royal duties.

Kíli

This man is literally the definition of PDA. He doesn’t have as many duties as his brother so he gets to spend his free time with you. He doesn’t care who watches you two as you walk through the halls of Erebor with his arm tucked tight around your shoulders; paired with a proud grin on his face that reads “yeah thats right they’re mine”. He doesn’t care if his Uncle scolds him for it, you’re his one. He tends to pepper kisses all over your face at random times, which inturn makes you incredibly flustered, sometimes his own brother has to pry him off of you. He’s just a lovey-dovey type of boyfriend and he is not afraid to show it to the whole Kingdom of Erebor.

Dwalin

Not a fan of PDA at all. However, if he sense that you’re having an off day, or if he sees someone openly flirting with you…. well then it’s like he’s a whole new person. He’ll pull you into his chest as he rubs circles on your back, giving the person that was attempting to flirt with you a death glare and grinning when he watches them basically shit their pants and scramble away. If its the scenario where you’re having an off day he will find someone to cover for him most of the time with a threat before taking you back to your shared house as he gives you his undivided attention and affection. All in all; this man can quickly become the worlds biggest simp for you.

Bofur

Like Kíli, he’s the definition of PDA. As soon as he gets home from work he’s all over you; literally. He will physically jump on top of you if you’re ignoring him, especially after a long day in the mines. Which usually leads to you forcing him to get up off of you so you can fix him a bath. Even when you’re doing that, his hands are wrapped around your waist as his chin rests on top of your head. In public it doesn’t change, his fingers are laced with yours and he’s constantly finding an excuse to kiss you. You have something on your lips? Kiss. You turn to look at him? Kiss. He wants your attention? Multiple kisses. He just adores showing you how much he loves and cherishes you, even during the journey to reclaim Erebor.

————————————————————

A/N:

Where to request a prompt for a character from LOTR/The Hobbit, Supernatural, The walking dead, FNAF? Here!

The masterlist? Here!

The prompt list? Here!

[mlmxreader]

Kingslayer | Thorin Oakenshield x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Thorin

21 "I have spent a lifetime alone... and now I know I'll never be alone again"

36 "It's where I come from"

37 "You can take a lot of things from a man" ❞

: ̗̀➛ When Gandalf hires a sellsword, Thorin takes a liking to them a little bit much.

: ̗̀➛ mentions of murder

: ̗̀➛ @vampiboi

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

You were used to being alone. All your life it was all you had ever known; a cold bed, a quiet room, an empty chair opposite your own. All you had ever known was the cold hand of being alone, and it had become something you had grown numb to; you didn't take any notice of it anymore, as if the chill had become naturalised within your system.

You never knew what it was like to have somebody there with you; you never knew what it was like to be loved and to feel the warmth of home. Home was just some distant rumble amongst the clouds that you didn't understand; you laid your boots wherever you stayed for the night, and never stayed for long either.

Your talents as a tracker and a scout became useful to many, and when you met Gandalf, you were suspicious at first; with his thick grey eyebrows and the brim of his grey pointed hat covering his eyes, you could never be sure what great secrets he kept hidden within his long silver beard.

But money was money, so you agreed to lend him your sword for a while. A skilled fighter, you weren't exactly an uncommon sight amongst other sellswords; but for whatever reason, Gandalf chose you. He hired you for your sword, your tracking abilities, and your scouting skills; you never questioned any more of it, until he handed your contract over to Thorin Oakenshield.

"You're to obey his commands, now," the tall and booming wizard told you. "Thorin will see you are payed fairly."

Money was money. You didn't mind so much. Whatever gold your sword was worth, you weren't one to question who paid for it, or how. You had done many things for some coin in your pocket; slaying orcs, clearing out trolls from caves, destroying goblin nests, slaughtering spiders.

It was all the same to you. Loyalty was not your forte, and Thorin seemed to know that; you were distant from everybody else, and even when the Dwarves were destroying Bilbo Baggins' hobbit hole, you stayed outside. Guarding the door. Just like Gandalf, you were prone to wander and to scout ahead as much as run off to track down something to eat.

But every command Thorin gave you, you executed it without hesitation or question. His money was good, and he was a man of his word. While the others slept, you would stay up, guarding them and watching over them until dawn broke; you didn't have to, but if your employer was to be killed in his sleep, you wouldn't have anyone to pay you.

Gandalf would check in on you on occasion, but whenever he spoke to Thorin about you, he would receive nothing but praise. Thorin had a soft spot, it seemed, and it made the old wizard smile as he nodded along; it was why he had picked you to begin with.

After all he had heard from your previous employers, not only were you perfectly skilled and qualified for the adventure, but you were exactly the type that Thorin liked.

But as the others slept, Thorin couldn't; he knew where you would be, on the edge of the camp that they had made and smoking your pipe, and dragged himself over. Sitting beside you on a rather large rock. He noticed your sword, and the words engraved upon it in your own language; Kingslayer. He raised a brow.

"Kingslayer?"

You nodded. "I killed a king with this sword."

"Why?" Thorin asked, assuming that there must have been a good reason for it.

You shrugged. "He was killing children. Ordering his men to kill them as they slept in their mothers' arms. So I drove my sword through his chest until it came out the other side."

"Were you paid?" He questioned.

You shook your head as you let out a soft laugh. "No. I was paid to kill his second in command. So I did. But when I saw the order... I killed him, too. A bonus, I suppose. Compensation."

"That was noble of you," he said quietly. "Do all sellswords have morals?"

You glared at him for a moment with a raised brow. "No..."

"And what about you?" He asked. "If I offered to pay you, would kill children?"

"I'd have one question," you told him.

"Go on."

"How much?" You asked.

"You can do it yourself, but you don't like it when Kings do?" He asked.

You shook your head, clicking your tongue. "A king who gives the order should be the one to wield the sword."

"And what about me?" Thorin mused. "I give you orders."

"You pay me," you huffed. "I don't give a rat's if you're a king. Money is money."

"And what of loyalty?"

You scoffed. "I'm loyal to the highest bidder. I have no home, no banner, I have no king. I have nowhere, except whoever pays me the most."

"What if I were to buy your services permanently?" He asked. "Would you have a home, a banner, a king, then?"

"You couldn't afford it," you scoffed. "A sellsword is one thing, but a tracker and a scout are another - my rates are higher each day."

"I'm sure I can afford it once I take my home back," Thorin said assuredly. "Your skills are impressive, Kingslayer, you would do well as a guard."

"A guard?" You chuckled. "No one's ever asked me about that before."

"I'm sure no one else has seen how brave you are before," he admitted. "I could give you your own home. You would be your own master."

"But still employed by you," you pointed out.

"Would you consider it?" Thorin questioned.

"If the money was good enough," you agreed. "Thirty gold coins a day."

"I can afford it," he agreed. "Come here."

You stood up as he did, sheathing your sword as you followed him up the small hill, he positioned you in front of himself, and pointed over your shoulder.

"That mountain over there," he started, "it's where I come from. It's my home, and once we reclaim it, you will be my guard. My right hand. You will be in charge of my armies and my affairs. For forty gold coins a day."

You hummed, clenching your jaw at the closeness. There was no doubt that Thorin was beautiful; his dark hair with a spattering of grey here and there when you looked close enough, blue eyes that made sapphires look dull, and his voice... his baritone, thunderous voice.

You cleared your throat as you took a step aside, holding out your hand.

"I will hold you to your word," you warned.

"I'm a king," he chuckled, shaking your hand. "You have not just my word, but my family's honour behind it."

You smiled, still holding onto his hand. "I have spent a lifetime alone... and now I know I'll never be alone again."

Tugging you closer by the hand, Thorin smiled back as he nodded. "You will have me... and I'll forge you a new sword - one of the finest steel and with the sharpest blade. It will cut a dragon's throat."

"Like a black arrow?" You asked.

"Yes," he nodded. "You will shed your Kingslayer title."

You smiled as you laughed softly, shaking your head. "You can take a lot of things from a man - a title earned by action is not one of them."

"Believe me," he whispered, allowing his gaze to drop to your lips. "You won't be the Kingslayer for all time."

[rattyoakenbitch]

꒰ general otp dialogue prompts ꒱

cw - angst, allusions to suicide

"is this okay?"

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

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

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

"what the fuck is this?"

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

"shh, they're finally sleeping"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

inbox open!

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

[cauliflowertree]

thorin oakenshield—i fell in your arms tonight.

—thorin oakenshield x human!reader

summary: you've sustained a serious injury.

warnings: blood, injury, mentions of death.

word count: 0.9k

fanfic no. 042.

a scout had been the beginning of a series of unfortunate events, the remnants of which had left you with an arrow in the abdomen. through the tumultuous ordeal, the adrenaline coursing through your veins had propelled you to safety, but once the imminent peril had dissipated, the realisation of your injury had taken its toll.

try as you might to ignore the searing pain, your body's plea for aid, as the dwarves discussed amongst themselves where to go from the cave you cowered in together, you felt the stone wall against your back as your body began to give way.

but the dwarves had made their decision - you would venture through the narrow passage and hope the destination to which it led would be hospitable to your company. but as thorin watched those he was responsible for head one by one after one the other through the small entrance, he noticed your stillness.

eyes flickering down to your hands that held a wound gushing crimson liquid, his breath hitched. "you're bleeding."

"it's minor," you lied, battling to stand up on your own two feet without the support of anything else.

gandfalf helped you to steady yourself while thorin removed your hand from the stab wound, examining the injury for himself. he said nothing for a moment, looking to gandalf with a gaze that felt as if he had finalised your future.

"do not act as if this is where you leave me. i am perfectly able to carry on, i simply need a bandage."

"of course," gandalf said with a weak smile. "thorin," he urged.

shakily, thorin called for oín, the healer of your small company. oín was gentle with you, having grown fond of you over the course of the journey, despite the entirety of the dwarves having been sceptical of a human joining their cause.

he bandaged you as well as he could, sealing your wound beforehand with a small portion of his own ointment, and declared you fit to continue. but thorin was still wary this decision and decided to remain close to you, should you find yourself struggling and in need of a helping hand.

the journey through the slender passageway was treacherous for none but you, feeling with every step a sharp pain in your abdomen that could not be tamed. thorin winced with you, feeling his stomach churn at the thought of losing you on the road. every breath that hissed through your teeth frightened him, and he gently laid his hand on your back, reassuring both you and himself that this path would eventually end and you would be able to rest, though he was not sure himself of this hope.

it wasn't until you arrived in rivendell that you felt some sense of ease, though it was to vanish upon thorin's protests. his distrust of elves prevented him from walking any further into the sanctuary you so craved. to be so close yet so far to relief was agonising, and the anxiety forced your body to the floor, writhing in pain as you began to bleed through your bandages at an alarming speed.

thorin was immediately silenced, rushing to your assistance as he rested your head on his bent knees, cradling your cheek as oín removed the bandages to try his best to help. you had never felt such pain, such blistering agony that forced the tears from your eyes unwillingly.

"i'm frightened," you stuttered through uneven breaths. "am i going to die?" you found yourself asking, ignorant to such an injury and its consequences, blinded by the fear this suffering had imposed upon you.

the dwarves fussed around you, gandalf was adamant that you needed elvish medicine, but thorin was still, contrast to what you saw in his eyes as you laid with your head in his hands.

"no," said he, firmly but gently, determined to see you live through this affliction.

elves descended, ushering the dwarves away, receiving serious objections from the dwarf prince, though he relented eventually when he saw there was nothing he could say to convince them to let him stay with you. last you remembered was thorin's blue eyes trailing after yours with worry evident within them, just as the rest of the company's.

｡+ﾟ☆ﾟ+｡★｡+ﾟ☆ﾟ+｡★｡+ﾟ☆ﾟ+｡★｡+ﾟ☆ﾟ+｡

when you woke, feeling a soft bed beneath you, a tautness in your abdomen and sunlight creeping into your resting place, thorin smiled. he had waited for hours by your bedside, refusing to eat or sleep until he knew you were out of danger. with elvish medicine and care, it did not take long for you to wake, feeling a great deal more refreshed than you ought to have done after your ordeal.

"how are you feeling?" he asked softly.

"better," you replied earnestly, sitting up carefully.

the sun's rays were dipping below the horizon, casting a strange crown above thorin's head that was oddly fitting. he came to sit beside you, placing his hand in yours.

"i was worried."

"i know," was your response.

"you should be more careful," he teased.

"you should work on your heroics," you laughed, squeezing his hand.

"agreed," replied thorin with an easy smile, pushing the hair from your face, snaking his arm around your neck so his hand rested on the back of your head and pulled you down to him.

your foreheads rested together for a moment in silence, a moment to be grateful for this turn of events, before gandalf cleared his throat behind you, revealing the entire company watching the scene before them with smiles on their faces, both from relief and amusement.

requested by @auroracalisto

🏷 @velvetcloxds @entishramblings

[l-itraklies]

Thorin x reader headcanons

He gets so jealous, for no reason. Like, your sparing with Dwalin for a little to long, and he'd pull out the king voice and pretend he needs to urgently speak with you

He'd have jewlery made for you all the time, like an unreasonable amount of it two. Oh you got a new dress bam new jewelry set to match

He likes to sit and talk about things, you make him feel comfortable so he' less tense when he's around you

On good days he'll have your favorite breakfast made and bring it to you in bed and just talk

He'd clear out entire days for you and have Fili run things while you do whatever

Sparing with you is fun for him because he's a fighter, and you're his S/O.

He likes going on pony rides throught the kingdom and will take mental notes of whatever you say you like

[sotwk]

The Task of Living (Thorin x unnamed OC)

Love Confession feat. Thorin Oakenshield 

Valentine 2023 Event by @sotwk

Summary: Two years after his triumphant reclamation of Erebor, Thorin returns to his former village in Dunland, seeking the woman he has loved since long ago.

Prompt: “You have to come back to me. Because I cannot do this without you.”

Requested by and Dedicated to: @the-fragile-heart-of-a-lady. Thank you for the request, the follow, and for letting me do a little something to help you feel better! This definitely turned out longer and more detailed than I had planned, so I hope it brings you some joy and comfort! <3

Word count: 2.4 k

Content: Romance, angst, drama, fierce dwarf-maiden, Everybody Lives AU, post-BotFA, King Thorin

Rating: T (Teens and up)

Warnings: Some sensuality

To Read on AO3: Link

Divider credit: @firefly-graphics

The Task of Living

Third Age 2943

Dunland

“Is she… is she yours?” 

You smoothed a hand over the unbraided chestnut curls of the dwarf-child on your lap and shook your head. "My sister's. You probably don’t remember her."

His coal-black eyebrows knitted together, but only for a second. "Rith," he spoke her name with a triumphant little smirk that made you itch with a desire to smack it off his face. He set down his tankard of mulled ale on the table and leaned forward, the rickety old chair creaking underneath this small movement. “And how is she?”

“She is dead,” you said flatly, enjoying the flinch that wrinkled his perfect features. “Killed in an orc raid on the village six years ago, she and her husband both.” You gave your niece a quick hug and set her down, patting her lightly on the back. “Why don’t you go and help your Grandmother with the stew?”

“She needn’t have bothered, truly.” His keen blue eyes scanned the single-room cottage that presently housed three women across three generations. Although his gaze seemed mostly curious, his interest suddenly made you feel embarrassed about the dwelling’s small size and worn-out shabbiness.

“Of course she had to,” you hissed, rising abruptly from your chair. “What else are we expected to do when a king shows up at our doorstep, with no forewarning, but to scramble to pay respects and offer up what little provisions we have?” 

Thorin rose to his feet, slowly, as though a dreadful weight burdened his stooped shoulders. Still, he towered over you, his regal demeanor undeniable despite his obvious attempts to dress in simple garb, with no raiment upon him other than the ancestral crown on his head. 

“A caravan is on its way here,” he said. “Two dozen wagons loaded with enough food and supplies for a year. Enough for this whole village and its neighbors. It should arrive in a few days. The cargoes are heavy and the roads are troublesome. I decided to ride ahead with my guard because…” He faltered, but took a breath and pressed on. “...because I could not wait to see you.”

Oh no. You backed up a step, subconsciously resisting the allure of his presence, the implication of his words. Before you could turn away, he spoke again, “Perhaps we might move this conversation outside. There is still light out; we can take a short walk.”

Perhaps it would be easier to breathe and keep a clear head outdoors with all the fresh air. As you exited the cottage, you felt Thorin’s hand cup lightly around your elbow, in a courteous gesture to help you down the steps. You jerked your arm away, irritated by the silly nicety reserved for soft, high-society ladies who likely kept his company now.

In the corner of your eye, you spotted several armored soldiers by the sheep pen, tending to their ponies. You marched on in the direction of the little brook that bordered your property, determinedly and defiantly, leaving Thorin to hasten his steps to keep up.

“If I may say so, you look well--” 

You stopped and spun around without warning. "Why are you here, Thorin?” You grimaced and corrected yourself. “Pardon me. Why are you here, your Majesty?”

“Thorin,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “You need not be so formal with me, not after so many years of friendship between us.”

Friendship. That word could not have burned you worse than a glowing hot iron straight out of the furnace. And suddenly it was thirty-five years ago, when you stood before each other in similar surroundings all the way in the shadows of the Blue Mountains, and Thorin told you with utmost conviction, that he could not accept your marriage proposal. 

And you exploded. All the grief and pain and anger that you had shored up behind a wall inside your heart flowed like fiery lava on the slopes of an awakened volcano. 

“Are you trying to hurt me?!” you cried. “Is that why you have come? Now that you have accomplished your great destiny to regain your throne, you thought it might amuse you to return to your former haunts and toy with the commoners you used to dwell amongst? Are you already so weary and bored of counting all the gold in the great Kingdom Under the Mountain?”

Thorin squared his shoulders and set his jaw against the accusations, incorrigibly stubborn as you had always known him to be. “I came to help. Both you and your kin.” He gestured at the house behind them, and the others beyond. “This land was also my home once.”

“It has not been your home for a very long time, Thorin.” You wrapped your arms across your chest, whether to shield yourself from the winter chill or from the dwarf who had shattered you irreparably, you weren’t certain. “Allow me to refresh the King’s memory since it has been so long: you abandoned it for the Blue Mountains. I was there. I left my own family and moved across Eriador to follow yours. But a humble life at the Lune would not satisfy you either, and you refused to settle and put down roots.”

At least not with me. You swiped at the corners of your eyes, furious at the tears that wouldn’t stop their descent. "You should not have come back here. We will manage well enough without Erebor's charity."

The old Thorin might have exchanged your rejection with biting words of his own; such was the pride that ran through the Durins' veins. But the face of the dwarf-lord before you softened as he continued.

"I came for you. To tell you I have not forgotten everything we shared together." The tone of his voice had changed; it cracked with desperation, pleading with you to accept his declarations. And then he uttered your name, and hearing it on his lips roused an ache inside you that was too much to bear. 

You started walking again, stomping over the thick snow, following the line of naked trees along the frozen brook. He kept up with you in determined strides, raising his voice to a near shout as his passion grew.

"I have thought of you every day since we parted. Every memory I had of you, I kept close, even though it burned me as often as it kept me warm, because I refused to surrender hope that this day would come for us."

You shook your head wildly and pressed your hands over your ears, as though these gestures would be enough to make him stop. 

“Amrâlimê, please...”

"Do. NOT. Call me that!"

You whirled around and punched him, slamming your fist into his chest, stopped by a wall of thick leather and muscle. While you considered yourself strong for your race, your strength fell short against a Durin. Thorin did not budge an inch, or even wince. Perhaps your predictable temper was the part of you least easily forgotten. So you hit him again. And again. Until you were pounding both fists repeatedly against his torso, his shoulders, his arms, anywhere you thought you could get him to feel just a small fraction of the agony he had put you through for over thirty years. Still Thorin refused to move or throw up any kind of self-defense. 

How dare he! How dare he address you as such, in the tender manner that haunted you for decades even after you left the Blue Mountains to escape the unbearable sight of him. The precious endearment he would whisper into your ear on occasions of stolen intimacy, sigh into your hair in moments of peaceful contentment, moan against your skin whenever he made love to you.

Through your rage, you sensed the guards approaching to rescue their lord, and instinct prepared you to turn around and fight back like a cornered animal. But Thorin raised his hand at them in a signal to halt, and he finally reached out to catch your flailing wrists, easily ending your assault.

"I love you. As Mahal is my witness, my heart has ever belonged to you alone." He encased your hands tightly within his and held them against his chest, tugging you to him. "And you love me still, I can see it, however wretchedly undeserving I am."

You could not even think of struggling. It was too late. He was too close now, close enough for you to feel how real he was--his piercing eyes, his strong, calloused hands, the scent of smoke and steel that clung to the very hairs of his warm skin. These were not just a fantasy conjured by delirious longing, or a dream from the nights you cried in your sleep. Thorin was here. Alive and well, and here. 

“I am truly sorry for all the pain I have caused you. Forgive me, Amrâlimê,” he murmured hoarsely, tracing the curve of your bottom lip with his thumb, sweeping down the softness of your jaw. “If I can have nothing else from you, I beg you to grant me that last kindness.”

That single moment of exposed vulnerability, of breathtaking sorrow and regret that radiated from him, reached you more than any of his expressions of passion. How much have the years changed him? The Thorin you knew could never bear to admit he was wrong about anything. Was it possible that rising to his kingship finally taught him humility? 

“You have my forgiveness.” As you spoke this pardon, the remaining flames of your anger blew out to nothingness.

And Thorin smiled, his sweet, gentle smile, rare as the most precious gem but many times as beautiful. Your own smile felt like it would break your cheeks. He pulled you into his embrace and you sobbed into his neck, wondering if it was possible to die of happiness. 

Drawing back, Thorin cradled your face between his hands, smoothing your tear-streaked cheeks, and rested his forehead on yours. “May I…?” Your breaths mingled in the soft whisper, and his eager lips already brushed yours even as he waited for permission.

"I may only ever kiss My One, whom they call Oakenshield," you said softly. "Where can I find him under the fine trappings of this great King?"

In response, Thorin gripped the heavy golden crown on his head and lifted it off. It slipped carelessly from his fingers and fell to the snow-covered ground with a dull thud. 

"Let me show you," he said, and waited no more. He kissed you with the hunger of years of longing, deeply and greedily, pausing only when you whimpered for breath you could not catch. He backed you up underneath a tree, which you leaned against to aid your weakening balance as Thorin pressed on, his mouth leaving your swollen lips only to descend your neck, worshiping every inch of skin he could access.

"Durin help me," he growled into the curve of your shoulder, exposed where he had nearly torn your sleeve off. His chest still heaved from exertion and barely restrained lust. "I must have you again." He raised his eyes to meet yours, and the look in them made you swallow hard, conscious of your own depraved desire for him. "But it should be in the proper way you deserve."

"You are the only one I would ever have," you said, combing your fingers through a section of his thick black hair, now beautifully mixed with silver stands. 

He took your hand to his lips, kissing your palm repeatedly before saying, "So would you return to Erebor with me?"

Your hesitation made him wrap both arms tightly around you, his entire body tense with the lingering fear of being separated from you again.

"You have to come back to me. Because I cannot do this without you."

"Do what?" you asked, caressing his beard to calm the anxiety you regretted causing him. "What task is it that the great hero of Erebor needs a humble peasant's help in accomplishing?"

"The task of living." Thorin cupped his hand underneath your chin and gazed at you with soft, earnest affection. "A life with you was the only treasure I ever desired, but duty forced me to deprive myself of it. But no longer. I have avenged my family and restored our honor and our house. I have led our people back home. The time has come for me to pursue my own joys and pleasures, and those exist only in you."

"But my lord. My love," you whispered, once again moved to tears by the gladness his words roused in you. "Am I still a suitable match for you now that you require a consort to rule a kingdom by your side? I am not fit for the legendary grandeur of Erebor." You gestured at your attire, from your unadorned hair, your plain brown wool dress with a patched up skirt and worn, dirt-caked boots. "Just look at me."

"Indeed. I look at you with great pleasure," Thorin said, with a smirk that immediately made you blush. "When I look at you, I see my dreams fulfilled. I cannot imagine providing Erebor with a braver, kinder, wiser, or more radiant Queen."

"If you would still have me, that is." He held out his open palm to you, revealing an item he produced from the folds of his robe. Fading sunlight bounced off the high polish of the small, silvery-grey stone. You gasped when you recognized the betrothal bead you had offered him so many years ago. He must have rescued it after you had flung it away in your heartbroken grief, and kept it safe with him all this time. 

"I fought through dragonfire and armies of orcs so I may live to see this day, so I may get a second chance to accept and wear this." Hope and fear battled in his intense stare, which bore down on you with heavy anticipation. "But now the course of my fate rests entirely upon you. Will you have me?"

He held his breath in the brief silence before you closed his fist around the bead and smiled. "I will have you for the rest of my life and whatever else lies beyond, Thorin Oakenshield." You placed a tender kiss on his knuckles. "So let us go home and see to this task of living… my King."

Tagged by request: @aduialel @fizzyxcustard @lathalea @laneynoir @auttumnsayshi @achromaticerebus @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @blueberryrock @scyllas-revenge @glassgulls @ladyweaslette @heilith @absentmindeduniverse; @undeniableadrenaline

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[enchantingkryptoniteheart-blog]

**Scene addition - snippet from ~The Best of Intentions-

I am almost done with my rough draft of this piece and I am now going back through to add in scenes to fill out the storyline better.

**Mistlynn*

The days bled into one another and soon over a week had passed. Her bruises had finally faded from her skin, although some tenderness with her jaw, shoulder and ribs remained as an irritating reminder. Luna was healing as well, albeit not as quickly with her injuries being more severe in nature.

She was still in her cell, and much to Mistlynn’s surprise she didn’t seem too upset about her detainment. She slept most of the day and through the night on the soft hay filled cushion that had been provided or her. It was a nice change from what they were used to, especially after she had fled her kingdom.

She now found herself restless. Seeing the little glimpses Dis had shared with her along with her time spent in the library, she was eager to learn and see more of this magnificent mountain kingdom.  She ventured out to explore what lay above and below her in vast, carved chasms and walkways. It never ceased to amaze her, every day as she perused the ancient walkways and observed the everyday life of this kingdom she had been taught to fear and despise.

The dwarves regarded her with a thinly veiled curiosity as she walked amongst them, taking in everything with a wonder she couldn’t keep from her face. Although wary, they were all kind. She figured after the commotion she caused all would disregard her with suspicion, but if they King deemed her trustworthy enough to walk their halls, then that was fine and well with them. She was often seen walking with Dis or Balin, and that further solidified her place amidst their sacred halls.

The market was her favorite place to spend time in. The aroma of spices and perfumes excited her, while the vibrant colors and sounds of laughter and music enchanted her. The extent of artistry of every booth and shop made her question all that she knew, the beauty of such flourishing life had seized her by her soul, and the idea of ever leaving this place of wonder pained her more than she thought was possible.

The flower market was such a place she found herself lost in as she took in blooms of varying size and color with an eagerness that spoke of a hunger, she never realized she had. A particular bloom of voluptuous, silken petals in the most delicate shade of pink, much like the inside of the seashells she used to collect from the beach to make necklaces for her mother, captured her attention. She closed her eyes and breathed it in, and if happiness was a smell she had no doubts this would be the source of it.

She couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her lips as she felt her body and mind truly relax for the first time in years. A deep laugh from behind her broke her reverie. She froze instantly as the deep, sensual voice that haunted her dreams began to speak from behind her.

Her teeth ground together, her hands clenched tightly at her side as she quickly stepped forward, past the pink blooms, to hide behind the tall jugs and vases filled with water and more flowers.

She crouched, her hands braced against the cool, damp clay of the jars as she strained to hear what the voices were saying. It appeared as if they hadn’t seen her, otherwise his tone wouldn’t be so warm and welcoming. She scowled at that thought.

She peeked around the jars slowly, just in time to see Thorin crouch in front of a young girl with chocolate curls and rosy cheeks. The girl was holding a flower crown in her tiny hands, her smile radiant as she looked up into the face of the Dwarf King with a look akin to adoration.

Her eyes grew wide in surprise as she watched him lower his head, so that the young girl could place the flower crown upon his head.

He had a grin on his face, his dimples on full display as he chuckled warmly. “What do you think of my new crown Fili?”

She then noticed the golden-haired prince she had held at knifepoint before kicking him in the groin the day of her failed escape attempt. He was smiling as well, his posture relaxed. “Much improved from that old heavy behemoth up in your offices.” He smirked.

Thorin’s laugh rumbled freely from his chest. “I will not argue.” His eyes twinkled brightly as he pulled out a gold coin from his pocket and held it up to the young girl, who gasped in excitement as he held it out to her. “I shall wear it proudly, my lady.”

Mistlynn blinked wordlessly, struggling to comprehend that the Dwarf King before her was one in the same as before.

Her heart skipped a few beats as she held her breath. She watched the little girl giggle as she grinned up at him. “Thank you, my King.” She giggled as she took the coin from him.

Thorin’s smile grew even wider as he stood up to his full height, to look at the dwarrowdam that was running her fingers through the young girls hair fondly. “You have done an amazing job with your shop, Lady Raila. It’s been so long since I have seen such a variety. Your parents would be proud.”

“Thank you, your majesty. The new trade routes you negotiated have helped tremendously with my supply. It was my parents dream to reopen their shop here in Erebor and to raise Coryn in our ancestral home.”

“If you or your sister is ever in need of anything, please let us know.” Thorin’s voice became solemn as he looked at the florist earnestly. “Our mothers were the closest of friends. I would like to honor their memories by ensuring you and Coryn are successful and comfortable.”

Mistlynn bit her bottom lip as guilt set in for how she had treated Thorin. This new side to him was disconcerting, and her traitorous heart was doing her no favors. Memories of their fight echoed in her mind, making her swallow thickly as regret coiled in her stomach, a cold and bitter thing.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to hold any sort of disdain for King Thorin, not when she kept seeing glimpses of how attentive and caring he was to his family, his friends, and his people.

She had never seen her grandfather or father treat the people of her kingdom in such a way. They had been aloof, always leaving the dealings of everyday matters to their advisors that acted upon their orders. The stark difference between the inner workings of Erebor under Thorin’s rule, and that of her fathers in the White Kingdom spoke of an uncomfortable truth she was slowly starting to realize.

Lost in her thoughts, she failed to notice the presence of another coming up behind her silently. “That flower crown is rather dashing, don’t you think?”

An undignified, choking sound escaped her as she spun around in alarm, causing her to knock the jars with her back as she lurched away from her unexpected visitor.

She caught the wobbling jar with her hands before it knocked into the other jars. She shot a murderous glare up at the younger Durin prince. He was looking down at her with a mischievous grin, his honey brown eyes bright with mirth at her reaction.

“Aule’s beard. You scared me.” She seethed with a harsh whisper. “Who do you think you are, sneaking up on me like that?”

“Me? Sneaking up on you? I’m not the one hiding behind flower jars spying on my Irak’adad while making eyes.” Kili crossed his arms over his chest as he looked down at the flustered dam, his smirk daring her to argue with him.

She stood up fully, her eyes flashing with a ready retort before she remembered she was trying to keep her presence hidden. She crouched again. “I am not spying.” She hissed. “And I am not making eyes! How dare you even suggest such a fiendish notion.”

“Well, excuse me. I didn’t realize sneaking around a flower shop was a normal thing for you.”

“It’s not! I was here first, minding my own business, before you three…” Her hushed rant was interrupted by Fili.

“Kili? Who are you talking to over there?”

Mistlynn’s eyes grew large with a horrified look that made Kili bite his bottom lip to stop the laugh that was threatening to escape. Mistlynn dared to look around the jars, only to see that not only was Fili looking in their direction, so was the florist and Thorin.

“Makk an E ha’ak[KA1] !” she cursed, her voice shaking nervously. “If you will excuse me.” She went to brush past him, but he stepped in front of her.

“Where is the fire? My brother and I have heard so much about you from our Amad. Would you like to accompany us for the rest of our walk so that we may become better acquainted?” Kili grinned as he watched her try to get around him while still trying to slink away.

“Sar em Gabura[KA2] . Why are you Durin’s so bloody tall?!” She cursed before she stood back up to her full height. “I appreciate your offer, but I really must be going.”

“Kili?” She heard Thorin’s distinctive voice call out, and the nervous fluttering’s of her stomach became rock hard and plummeted. She fell quickly to her knees and began to crawl quickly through the maze of strategically placed water jars.

“Lady Mistlynn?! Kili’s confused laugh followed her as she maneuvered through the tall jars of flowers, towards the entry door of the shop. Her eyes zeroed in on the open door as she pushed herself towards her goal.

The very moment she left the jars a pair of black boots tipped with a finely detailed metal stepped directly in front of her, blocking her only escape.

She swallowed thickly as the world seemed to hone in and slow around her. She forced herself to look up, directly into the icy eyes of Thorin, the very dwarf she had been trying so hard to avoid. She gulped; her mouth suddenly dry as she watched him cock his head to the side as he studied her. “Lady Mistlynn. What a surprise.”

She slowly got to her feet as she rubbed the palms of her hands on the front of her trousers. “Your majesty, fancy seeing you here.” A forced smile stretched her lips. “I was just looking for ...” she chanced a look to her right before snatching the closest thing she could reach. She brought a stem of small yellow flowers in front of her. “These … delightful …flowers. I was looking everywhere.”

Her inner dialogue was scathing as she watched his eyes glance down towards the flowers before returning to her face. A smile threatened his lips as he raised a curious eyebrow at her. “You were looking everywhere for snapdragons?” She became wary of the teasing lilt that wrapped around his words.

“Yes. Snapdragons. My favorite.”

‘Curious choice. Especially since you were smelling that peony just as much spirit as you were that book in the library when we walked in. I was wondering why you were hiding back there.”

Mistlynn blanched as her grip on the defenseless stem of snapdragons tightened. She couldn’t force herself to look away from the teasing smile that was now on his face.

“I offered for her to join us on our stroll through the market.” She didn’t even notice that both Fili and Kili were now standing to the side of them, watching their interaction with a rapturous glee.

“I didn’t realize you were watching me.” She breathed as she continued to hold his gaze without blinking.

Thorin chuckled, thoroughly enjoying their stare off. “Don’t be mistaken M’eudail. Until I am certain of what your intentions are in my kingdom, I’ll always be keeping a close eye on you.”

Mistlynn swallowed thickly as she felt heat rush to her cheeks and flash across her neck and chest. She silently thanked the god’s she was wearing her white tunic that covered up the majority of her blush from his keen, soul devouring gaze.

“Well, it certainly is a pleasure to meet you under much calmer circumstances while unarmed.” Fili’s voice was jovial as he stepped beside his uncle, intentionally interrupting the intense moment that was unraveling before him, much to his and Kili’s amusement.

The tension was so deliciously thick he could feel it settle between Thorin and Mistlynn like a thick autumn fog. His Amad was going to be delighted when he regaled her of this encounter. The energy that crackled between the two of them was palatable, and if he had been doubtful of what she meant to his uncle, he certainly wasn’t doubting it now.

Mistlynn’s eyes darted to the eldest prince, thankful for the disruption of her and Thorin’s exchange.

“I do apologize for the manner of our first meeting, it wasn’t personal.” She smiled ruefully at the elder prince’s sunny disposition as she fought to stop her heart from beating out of her chest.

Fili gave her a wry smile as he laughed heartedly. “The skill you displayed with my borrowed daggers was impressive. I’ve never seen a fighting style quite like yours. It was … unexpected.”

“She jumped off the bloody balcony and rode them down those banners. Then proceeded to throw us around like rag dolls. That’s more than just skill with daggers.” Kili nudged his brother, not bothering to hide the admiration in his voice.

“It was reckless, is what it was.” Thorin interrupted Kili sternly, giving both princes a stern look before looking at Mistlynn pointedly.

Mistlynn found herself smiling at Fili and Kili, feeling an immediate comrade with the two princes. She raised her brow at the sternness of Thorin’s voice. “I don’t know why my recklessness should concern you. If I had fallen to my death, it would have been less of a hassle for you. You wouldn’t be sporting that cut on your chin.”

Thorin blinked in surprise at her retort before frustration and anger made his expression darken. He stepped forward, closer into her space so that she was forced to look up at him. “I don’t appreciate your cavalier attitude towards the fact that you could have killed yourself with your heedless actions. It is not something you should jest about.”

The intense candor mixed with that brand of irritation that seemed to be his trademark pinned her in place.

“I doubt the need for such reckless stunts is no longer needed. Am I right, Lady Mistlynn?” Fili pressed, sensing Thorin’s ire. “She knows no that she is amongst friends now, am I right?”

“Of course. You have my word I will refrain from such stunts. As it were.” She bit out, as she let her annoyance show in her returning glare.

Fili and Kili shot each other a look. It seemed like no matter what interference, they couldn’t make Thorin or Mistlynn focus fully on anything else but each other.

Mistlynn felt her resolve crumble under the intensity of his eyes. She managed to look away from him, in a rare display of compliance she returned her eyes to the stem of yellow snapdragon’s still clenched in her hands. She could still feel the heat of his gaze on her face, her skin prickling like it was about to be set ablaze.

“We still have engagements to meet. Let us leave Lady Mistlynn here to admire her …snapdragons.” His voice was low, deceptively calm. She let her eyes fall closed for a brief moment as his words washed over her.

“Thank you for your invitation, Prince Kili. But I am already late for my meeting with Master Balin. I would love to accompany you next time.”

Kili and Fili both smiled at her warmly. “We would be honored to have you with us. Until next time, Lady Mistlynn.” Fili inclined his head, while Kili answered in kind with a flourishing bow. She couldn’t help but smile at his antics.

Mistlynn gave them a forced smile as she inclined her heads towards them as she fiddled with the stem still in her hands. As she stepped towards the door, she finally realized that it was still in her hands, on the verge of being mangled in her nervous hands. She cleared her throat as she quickly put the stem back into its jar before rushing out of the door.

“Mahal, Uncle.” Fili whistled out as he gave Thorin an incredulous look.

Thorin looked over at him quizzically, finally tearing his gaze away from the door Mistlynn disappeared out of. “Don’t give me that tone.” He growled. “You were literally praising her antics as if they were something to be admired.”

“She is very easily one of the most admirable dams I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.” Kili hummed. “Present company included, of course.” He bowed towards Raila, who had been silently observing the entire exchange from behind her counter.

She shook her head, a knowing smile on her lips as she walked over to the jar of pink peonies. She pulled out a dozen of the biggest and brightest and began to arrange them. “What Prince Fili is trying to say, if I may be bold, is that a way to a dam’s heart, warrior or not, is through a bouquet of her favorite flowers.”  

She quickly wrapped the fragrant blooms in a rich green paper before tying them with a silky white ribbon. She approached Thorin before he could respond and put the bouquet in his arms. “Lecturing a dam of her recklessness before putting a courting bead in her hair will make it only harder for you to win her affection.”

Thorin scoffed, his cheeks heating as he looked down at the flowers. “I am not trying to win her affection.”

Fili and Kili both laughed as Raila smiled teasingly. “Trust me. You will thank me later.”

 [KA1]Make an E ha’ak - Son of a she dog - khuzudul

 [KA2]May it melt - Khuzudul

Taglist❤️ I appreciate you all!

@fizzyxcustard @i-am-pinkie @mrsdurin

[lathalea]

Remember that Thorin fanfic?

Some time ago I wrote The White Raven, a tale about Thorin Oakenshield and his Raveness, about the legend and the truth, love and fate. Do you still remember that story?

I would like to post a new chapter soon and I'm wondering if you are still interested in seeing this story here? It will be posted on AO3 for sure, but some of my readers have moved on from tumblr to other places and I'd like to see how many of you are still around and willing to read my stories on tumblr these days?

What are your thoughts? Let me know! The fate of The White Raven is in your hands 💙

[luna-redamancy]

Hey cutie 🥰 I know you probably have 8000 requests rn BUT I adore you and your writing and was wondering if you would be interested in a lil Thorin x wife!reader fluff? Maybe they’re babysitting young Fili and Kili and discussing having one of their own but Thorin’s stubborn and won’t allow it until they reclaim Erebor 👀

It's been a million years- I hope you enjoy:

“And….Up!” You cheered as you scooped Fili from off the ground, swinging him up in your arms and into the air, holding him up and spinning around. Fili’s face lit up as the young dwarrow erupted into giggles, eyes shutting in glee as you spun him around the sitting room.  

“Ups!” Kili tugged on Thorin’s pant leg, no longer amused by the book that his uncle was originally reading him, now demanding to have the same fun as his brother. 

“Ups!!” The small dwarrow spoke more urgently, getting upset with the lack of quick response by Thorin. 

“Aye, aye, I heard you,” Thorin chuckled, setting the book back on the shelf before Kili was also scooped into the air, the two boys being swung around. 

“Down we go,” You spoke dramatically as you dropped your arms so Fili swung low to the ground, “And up!” You cheered, laughs coming out of you as the giggles of Fili became infectious. 

“And back to aunty!” You pulled him close to your chest, Fili clinging to your neck as you spun him close to you, hugging him against your form. After a few minutes of spinning and maneuvering the young dwarrows, you and Thorin brought the boys to the dining table.

“Lunch?” You asked them, your grin seeming permanent as Fili fought to stay in your arms, but eventually dropped his clingy behavior in favor of playing with a wooden toy sitting on the table from earlier play time. 

“‘Unch!” Kili echoed, nodding feverishly with wide eyes. 

“Pumpkin soup?”

“Umpkin-oop!” He cheered, warming your heart as you pressed a kiss to both their foreheads before exiting into the kitchen. 

. 

After lunch had ended, the boys succumbed to their drowsiness, laying on the floor together with blankies and their stuffed animals curled into their arms. 

Sitting on Thorin’s lap in the big armchair by the fireplace,  you sighed happily as Kili rolled onto his tummy and pushed his stuffed bear against his face. 

“You know,” You spoke softly as to not wake the boys, hand drifting to your belly, “Moments like these make me yearn for one of our own,” You leaned your head against Thorin’s shoulder as he absentmindedly rubbed your thigh. 

“Aye,” He agreed, feeling soft as his two nephews slumbered. “Not now, but one day,” Thorin said almost absentmindedly. 

“One day?” You sounded confused, knowing the two of you were in your prime now. Truly, if you had it your way the two of you would already have had a child. Already being married for over two years. 

“I wish for my child to grow up in the same halls I did,” Thorin spoke simply, imagining his own little dwarrow babe crawling on the smooth stone floors, growing into a young adult shadowing him to take over the throne one day. 

“Thorin,” You sighed, already have argued many times over trying to reclaim Erebor, especially after seeing his grief of losing his family during the attempted reclamation of Moria. 

“Âzyungel,” Thorin replied, ever the stubborn one as he pressed a kiss to your temple. 

“Our lives in the Blue Mountains are temporary, I do not want to uplift our child’s sense of stability half-way into their upbringing and thrust them into something foreign,” Thorin reaffirmed his reasoning. 

Sighing through your nose, you nodded, leaving Thorin’s lap in favor of going to Kili, adjusting the blanket over his shoulder and pressing a kiss to his hairline. 

“Lukhudel, please do not be upset,” Thorin could read you like a book as you moved to collect the toys up and put them back in their respective places. 

“I’m not upset,” You whispered to him over your shoulder, freezing in your movement when you heard Fili shuffle to settle into a similar position like his brother. 

“I’m just disappointed, there’s a difference.” You murmured, knowing if Thorin had his mind set on something, not even Mahal could change his mind.

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[gloomwitchwrites]

Obsession

Thorin Oakenshield x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): Stalker AU, mutual stalking, mutual pining, unhealthy behavior, slight tension, flirting

Word Count: 900

A/N: Requested by @protosslady for 3.5k Spooky Bingo (Stalker AU)

One sided-stalking becomes a mutual endeavor.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // 3.5k spooky bingo masterlist

A little thrill runs up your spine.

It's a dangerous game you play.

A series of behaviors that go far beyond the bounds of appropriateness.

But you cannot help yourself. The itch to watch—to linger—is a tangible yet unrelenting need.

Many women fawn over Prince Thorin. They openly follow him, throwing themselves in his path with the hope that he might take the bait. They are unafraid and their behavior is acceptable. Why would they not? Prince Thorin is handsome and without a wife. Surely, he would find favor with someone.

But you do not.

You do not throw yourself in Prince Thorin's path.

Yet you trace his every step. Have learned his habits. You go out of your way to be where he is at all times if just for the chance to see him.

It's an obsession. A dark need that won't abate. It is wrong to do this, to dig around and dwell when he has no idea who you are.

At least the other women are forthright with their admiration and longing. Their intentions are clear and plain for all to see. They hide nothing from him nor anyone in Erebor. And they are utterly unashamed of what they do.

You? You are ashamed.

It is a deep wound. A gnarled gash.

But it is an impulse.

One you chose to indulge.

And it’s not like you ever approach him. It’s not like you’re actively seeking Prince Thorin’s attentions, though you believe that he will eventually notice you.

If Prince Thorin crosses your path, you suddenly become keenly interested in a nearby wall, or you observer your nails as if dirt sits under them. But the whole time, you’re observing him from the corner of your eye—tracking his every movement and step.

And on that same note, Prince Thorin does not stop.

He says nothing to you.

You are hyper aware of his presence at all times. You take note of his conversations with others. If you find something out about him—like he’s been enjoying a particular treat of late—you make sure to leave a small gift for him.

No note. No name.

Just an offering. A sample.

The other women who clamber after him wouldn’t date. And when they do, you make sure those gifts disappear completely before Prince Thorin has a chance to see them. One of these days, a few of the miners are going to find a pile of broken gifts at the bottom of a mine shaft.

And what is the point, really? Will Prince Thorin actually find this attention favorable?

Eventually.

Surely.

You are the most dedicated. You respect his personal space even as you watch from afar. You’re the one who is actually trying by observing and listening, not fawning.

It is an impulse.

A pull.

This is more than attraction—more than lust.

You will have him.

Eventually, you will have him.

It is council day. Thorin always attends.

Like clockwork, you watched him enter at his usual time and place. But many hours have passed, and it is now far beyond the normal time for his departure. Others have passed under the arch, but Thorin has yet to emerge.

Worry sets in.

Have you missed him? Did you somehow forget his schedule? You wrote it all done. There is an entire journal hidden in your home that has it all written down to the minute. Have you completely messed this up?

"A stalker? I'm flattered."

You nearly jump out of your skin at the soft purr of Prince Thorin’s voice. Turning around, you press yourself up against the stone. He is right there, invading your space. Placing a hand against the rock behind you, Prince Thorin leans in, stopping all escape.

"I've been watching you," murmurs Thorin.

Watching…you?

"Me?" you ask, voice small and timid.

He nods. "On council days, you wait here. For me. But you've never approached. Why?"

"I—I don't wait for you." Thorin arches an eyebrow, unimpressed. You swallow, glancing away. "Perhaps I do,” you mutter.

"Do you like me?"

"My prince?" you ask, startled.

"Do you," he repeats. "Like me?"

You've certainly been watching him, tracing his every step, and observing his movements with the hope that he will happen to walk by you. A glimpse is all you want—all you crave.

But Prince Thorin is seeking an answer, and you are unsure of what to say. Admitting that you do would be a relief, but it's clear he knows you've been haunting his schedule like a wraith.

The corner of Thorin's mouth twitches with amusement. "On council days, you wait at this wall for me." He shifts, his gaze angled at the archway he should have come out of. "I exit there to go to the mines." His gaze returns to you. "When I assist in the royal treasury, you're somehow lingering nearby, acting like you're supposed to be there. Everywhere I am, you also are."

"I don't know what you're talking about,” you reply quickly.

"But you,” Prince Thorin emphasizes. “Visit the market when fresh flowers are delivered from Dale. Your favorite treat from the bakery is the apple tart. And you always haggle with Alfrin over jewelry and yet pay full price anyway."

"How—"

"Are we to keep playing games? Or will you allow me to take you on a proper date?"

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[vee-vee-writes]

Floral Arrangements (Thorin x gn!reader)

A/N: I have been working on this for ages but couldn't finish it, so here is part one. Hopefully I can get on to writing part 2 soon if people are interested.

The reclamation of Erebor by the company of Thorin Oakenshield had come with mixed emotions for (Y/N). You were excited to return to your childhood home with your two brothers. The three of you were given standard family quarters and small allowance to help you to settle in. The only downside was that so many who returned were also skilled in dressmaking, crafting, and forging leaving the three of you out of the job. To honour your fathers’ memory, the oldest of your brothers joined the royal guard, fulfilling your fathers’ old position. Both you and your youngest brother had no desire to follow suit.

Instead, the two of you decided to set up your own business outside of a stall in the market square. Flowers were neither common nor traditional in gifting practice within Longbeard culture. But the two of you were counting on the clans’ heavy involvement in the human world. It wasn’t uncommon for dwarves to adopt foreign human practices, even those of gifting and courting means. Thus, the two of you decided to adopt and adapt.

You took care of the purchasing, finances, displays and arrangements for the stall. There was limited private garden space within the mountain and requests for a private plot outside of the mountain for flower growth going unanswered, you had resorted to buying fresh flowers from a farmer just outside of Dale. Your fresh floral arrangements and bouquets proved popular enough amongst the mountain residents and its visitors, but they certainly were not what set your business apart.

The true jewel of your enterprise was the flowers crafted of precious metals and jewels of the most vibrant hues you sold. A sign of un-wilting and passionate love was the motto associated with them. Such a product was much more suited to the nature of dwarven love and courtship. You designed singles, arrangements and bouquets while your brother brought them to life.

With the introduction of said product, the popularity of the stall had doubled. The word had soon spread of the glittering creations and dwarves from across the seven kingdoms travelled to visit your stall. Within its first year and a half of operation its notability had grown to such heights that you were able to move from a stall to a rather comfortable store. This notability had additionally brought the attentions of the royal family upon you.

It was a warm afternoon when you received word from a steward that Princess Dis would be stopping by to look at your wares. After his departure you had bustled around the store preparing for the royal visit. A visit by a member of the royal family to look at your joint creations was incredibly humbling. Your bustling was disrupted by the sound of a customer entering the store. Peering up from where you knelt behind the counter you were shocked to see Princess Dis herself was already here.

“Pardon my lady, I was not expecting you yet” you politely greeted while stumbling up to your feet. “There’s no need please” Dis gestured at you kindly to continue what you were doing. “How can I be of service to you? Would you just like to browse or were you looking for something in particular” you gently prodded. The last thing you wanted was to drive away a customer like Dis Durin by being overbearing and pushy.

“I’d heard of the brilliance of your jewelled flowers and decided to come and have a look at the crafts myself” she praised glancing around, “do you make them yourself?” “No Ma’am. I design and arrange them, but my brother is the one who crafts them” you answered in earnest. “Well, you are both truly talented. The delicacy with which your brother has crafted them and your eye for colour are truly well paired together” she praised. Embarrassed by the praise you bowed your head in thanks and smiled shyly at the Princess in return.

Dis fluttered gracefully about your store for the next half hour inspecting the different florals on display, making conversation with you as she went. Eventually though she asked about whether you took custom orders. The two of you had never actually made a specified custom order for a client, instead you typically just sold the premade stock. Every piece was one of a kind so most customers were content by the uniqueness that the piece they choose offered. However, this was the future Queen mother, the honourable Lady Dis which had ruled in Thorin’s stead while he was on the quest to Erebor. So, you agreed that the two of you would be happy to make her a custom piece. Dis had been excited by the offer and promised to come back in several days’ time to plan out what she would like. With her departure you shut up shop and rushed home to tell your brothers of the great news.

  ----Several days later ----

You hadn’t seen nor heard from the Princess. You both were disappointed that Dis hadn’t followed through and placed an order but kept your heads up. After all the reason that you had moved to the shop was because of the influx of other noble and rich customers. Instead of dwelling on Dis’ missed order, you carried on organising and designing to pull your previous customers back.

It was late one evening while you were preparing to close the shop for the evening when a surprise visitor appeared in your shop. With your back to the doorway, you had failed to hear the quiet footsteps making their way up behind you. It was the unfamiliar gruff tone of a clearing throat that alerted you to the other presence. Whipping around you stepped back in surprise. Before you stood Thorin, Son of Thrain, son of Thror, King under the Mountain.

Remembering your manners, you were quick to greet and bow to the King with all of the Court courtesies you had been taught as a child. Thorin nodded in acknowledgement of the respectful gesture as you rose. “My sister visited you store a few days ago and has been raving about the crafts you sell ever since” the King began, “I convinced her out of investing in one because my nephews and I would like to get one for her birthday.” You smiled broadly as you dwelled on the King’s words. Princess Dis had not forsaken your store nor had forgotten your arrangement. Instead, she had gushed about to the rest of the royal family.

Switching back into business mode you got straight to work, “Were you interested in buying one of our premade arrangements or were you looking to commission a custom piece as your sister was looking into?” Almost instantly Thorin answered, “a custom, if you are free now then I would like to go over the details while I have time.” His curtness took you slightly off guard, but you tried not to let it show, “of course, I will just close the shop front so that nobody comes in and disturbs us. Then we can begin.”

You had been quick to close the shop front as you had done many other nights and then led the king to your workstations in the rare of the shop. After settling in you had questioned him rigirously about what he was looking for. From the types of flowers, sizing, number, types of jewels, and colouring of the joinery the two of you had discussed it all. Thorin’s demeanor had relaxed the more the two of you spoke, seeming almost as if he was enjoying the informalities of the conversation. He had even asked personal questions of you while you had jotted down notes of the details, he fed you; who had come up with the idea for the shop, how many of you run it daily, where you had lived during the clan’s refugee years, if many of your family members had been able to return to the mountain, your age, and even if you were married.

By the end of it you had come up with a comprehensive plan of what the Durin’s were looking to have done for the matriarch. You promised Thorin that over the next few days you would come up with several design compositions to showcase to him. He smiled warmly at you and promised to return in a few days’ time as he bid you, his farewells. Giddily, you found yourself looking forward to a visit from the mountain king, a man truly unobtainable to you due to his status and yet had asked about your marital status out of curiosity. A dwarf could dream.

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[elvenlia]

❗️❗️ I took inspiration for this story from the "Do you love me." Scene in Bridgerton.❗️❗️

Please enjoy 💜

-----

When Athelia imaged regaining the lonely mountain back with the company, she imaged it to be a joyous moment. And it was, at first...

She had heard the tales of Thorin's father and grandfather succumbing to the dragon's sickness within the walls of the mountain. How it drove them mad, to the brink of insanity and made them unrecognizable to their kin. He had expressed to her how he never wanted to succumb to the same fate, she had comforted him and told him how he was far to strong and stubborn of a man for that fate to take him so easily.

She believed it too, she believed her words. The man she had come to love was strong willed, hard headed and set in his ways. She would have never imagined he'd sway even in the slightest if it wasn't something he wanted.

Oh how wrong was she...

The days seemed to grow longer within the mountain. Or maybe it was she who grew down in spirits and caused the days to drag on. Or possibly her beloved insistent pacing and deep grumbling in the throne room which she was forced to endure.

Thorin had gone mad. Wide eyed and wire haired, as soon as he placed the crown atop his head and deemed himself the king under the mountain. She grown to despise the man under the crown, she hated his cruel words and foul behavior. Even more so, she hated how he had been treating his friends, no, family. All that made the long gruesome journey with him, he treated them as it they were nothing but dirt under his feet. Locking them all within the mountain, no one enters and no one leaves.

But on the rare occasion, she'd see him. She'd see Thorin, her beloved, just by the look that dwelled deep within his eyes.

And oh, did she love him so...

It wasn't strange for Athelia to have found Thorin stowed away amongst the gold and treasures. Though on this particular evening, she had noticed the tears welling within his eyes and the stern expression on his face as he glared down at the gold. As if he was battling a whole hoard of demons on his own. Slowly, Athelia approached him, leaving some distant in between.

"Thorin - " She called out to him, breaking him of his trance and pulling his attention to her.

"Athelia..." He breathed and for a moment she thought he was going to come to her and embrace her in his arms. He did not, instead he gave her a hard glare.

"You should not be near, Athelia, it is not safe for you." His words were harsh on her ears, she instantly shook her head.

"Thorin, I will not go, I love you- "

"I have gone mad, Athelia, can't you see?!" He had cut her words off with his own, his eyes blown wide, crazed, as he spoke. His voice booming off the gold and precious gems.

Athelia's own gaze now narrowed, her shoulders set back as she took a few steps closer to him. She was never one to back down, always to brave for her own good.

"Do you love me?" She suddenly asked, leaving Thorin breathless and frozen. Even though he had never spoke it aloud, she knew he did, she could feel it within her soul.

His tears now ran freely down his reddened cheeks, his expression turning into dispare as he stared at her. His fist clenched at the fabric covering his chest.

"I am not in my right mind, I know you see it- please -" He was practically begging her. "Take your leave with the hobbit - you are not safe here with me. "

"No, Thorin, I will not leave." She stood her ground, her expression stern and unmoving.

"You must! " His voice echoed against the stone walls. " My mind is fleeing my grasp, I cannot tell you whether I am here nor there, I do not know where the earth ends and the heavens begin - "

" Thorin!" She cut his words short, taking a step closer to him once again, pointing to herself. "I will stand with you between the heavens and the earth, I will tell you where you are!" Her voice raised each time she stepped closer until finally she stopped.

"Do. You. Love. Me."

He heaved a sob as more tears poured from the depths of his ocean eyes. "Yes, I -" His words choked him as he stuttered. "From the first time that I saw you entering the hobbits home-" another sob left his throat. " I have loved you desperately, I cannot breath when you are not near."

She closed the distance between them, her own tears now shedding and trailing down the flushed skin of her cheeks.

"I love you, Athelia. My heart calls your name..." Thorin finished, another sob racking his body as Athelia took him into her arms.

"We will get through this, together. You are not alone, Thorin." She whispered softly to him, as she cupped his cheeks and held his face so she could see him, truly see him for the first time in far to long.

The man that stood before her now was not the King under the mountain, but Thorin oakenshield. Her Thorin, her beloved dwarf.

Oh, how she loved him so...

[mlmxreader]

Good To Be King | Thorin Oakenshield x gn!reader (🍋)

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Thorin

6 “You’re my home, no matter where we are”

17 “I have loved you every day, and I won’t stop now”

123. Hair pulling ❞

: ̗̀➛ You and Thorin finally have time to be together for the night.

: ̗̀➛ spanking, bondage/tied up, cockdrunk, praise kink, hair pulling, dom/sub, brief mentions of cockwarming & strangulation

↳ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

You were tied to the headboard, your ass in the air and your wrists bound so that your face pressed against the pillow, squirming as you panted heavily, waiting for Thorin to finally give you what you wanted after hours of terrible teasing and torture.

A firm slap was delivered to your ass, making you yelp as you harshly bit down on your bottom lip, pushing back in a vain attempt to gain any friction whatsoever.

Sweat budding on your brow and covering your entire body with a thin sheen; your skin seemed to glitter in the candlelight, glistening.

You were aching for him, your asshole clenching as you thought about finally having his cock again; already able to picture how it would stretch you out so much, so thick and so long that you still wondered how you could take him at all.

Another firm smack to your ass made you shiver, feeling his calloused and warm hands gently run down to your thigh, gripping it tightly, almost bruising the soft flesh with harsh fingertips.

You needed him, squirming as you chewed more at your lip, pulling the flesh from it until you could taste copper on your tongue.

"Thorin, please," you breathed out, voice hoarse and raw. "Please fuck me already. Please."

Thorin smiled, kneeling behind you and putting his hand between your shoulders as he hummed softly. "If I go too far, what do you do?"

"Call out blacksmith," you started, "and tug three times in a row at the restraints."

"Well done," he praised, his voice so much more gentle than his hands. "Good."

"Now, please," you all but whimpered. "Please, fuck me, my King."

He paused, lining himself up before gently thrusting into you. Giving you time to adjust to his length and girth; he let you make the first move, pushing back against him and letting out a long, breathy moan.

Thorin trusted you enough to be a little less strict, planting his hands either side of your head as he snapped his hips.

Your asshole was so tight around him, he filled you almost completely, enough to make you press your face into the pillows as you moaned a little louder. Rolling your hips and easily keeping up with his rhythm.

Thankful that you could finally fucking have sex.

After being surrounded by his kin for so long, never able to get away long enough for even a quickie or some oral, you couldn't deny that you were pent up; frustrated and in utter agony.

You used to have sex at least twice a day, and it felt unfair that you had to wait months. But good things came to those who waited, and now you were bound to a strange bed as Thorin fucked you like he used to; after managing to slip away from the others, you and Thorin had stumbled upon a farmhouse with a room to rent.

With the inhabitants gone for the night, you seemed to have all the time in the world for each other.

He rutted into you, grabbing the back of your neck as he picked up the pace of his movements.

His cock felt so good, filling your ass and stretching it so fucking well; drool slipping from your mouth as you rocked back and forth, eagerly taking the pounding as you felt his other hand wander. Landing on yours as he entwined his fingers with yours.

The slapping of skin mixed and mingled with breathy moans and short, sharp praises; a well-known and rehearsed melody from an all too eager and willing orchestra.

The strings of the violins were tugged every time Thorin gripped you a little harder, knowing all too well that you would have bruises where his fingertips dug into your flesh.

You did your best not to fall out of line and ruin the melody, desperate to keep up with him as much as you could. Needing to keep up with him.

Your breath heavy as a puddle of drool formed under your chin, your tongue lolling from your mouth; incoherent noises coming from the back of your throat as you lost focus of everything else but the feeling of him pounding into you.

Even when Thorin paused to knock your thighs apart gently, you still fucked yourself against him; completely and utterly undone for him, drunk from the feeling of his cock and wanting nothing else. Fuck.

He was so good to you, always treating you exactly the way you wanted; always giving you everything you wanted when you wanted it.

Thorin was never shy about it, never thought twice; if you wanted to be his cocksleeve and cockwarm him as you slept, he was all too happy to oblige.

You were his spouse from the forest; their royal highness of the woodlands and the ruler over all of its trees and deer. The lordship over the foxes and the deer. Their majesty in his bed.

The empré of his desires. The Prime over everything he held dear. His monarch.

Anything you wanted, from his hand around your throat and his cock buried in your ass through to his hand in your own and the softest of his kisses, was always yours.

You knew that you were getting close, though, your ass clamping down and clenching around his cock as you whimpered and whined his name incoherently; the letters didn't form properly, just a string of syllables that made no sense leaving you as your legs started to shake, freezing in place as your eyes rolled into the back of your head and your toes curled.

Thorin didn't stop, coaxing you through finishing until he froze, his cum filling your tight ass as he let out soft, breathy praises. His voice faltering as he grunted and let go of you.

His hands shook as he undone your bindings, smiling as he sat beside you and pulled you onto his lap; his touch was so gentle as he traced your throat, admiring your features in the dim lights for a moment.

"Are you alright?" He asked quietly, tenderly.

You nodded, swallowing thickly in a vain attempt to capture your breath. "I'm good."

Thorin nodded, softly pulling you down so that he could kiss you; he slipped his tongue between your lips as you tugged at his hair, making him grunt as he pushed his hips up against you. Another tug, and he pulled away, laughing softly.

"Already waiting for round two?"

You gave his hair another tug, grinning as you nodded. "I can't help it. I haven't... haven't had your cock in so long... I missed it."

"Give me five minutes," Thorin said gently, taking a quick look outside the window. "Do you think they're alright?"

You nodded, kissing his neck softly. "You worry too much, y’know. You always have."

He smiled, putting his hands between your shoulders as he coaxed you closer. "I can't help it... we lost our home."

"I didn't," you hummed, pushing yourself up and daring to rub the tip of your nose against his. "You're my home, no matter where we are - I'm always home."

He nodded, sighing heavily. "You know, I have loved you every day, and I won't stop now, but... wouldn't it be nice if we didn't have to rent rooms all the time just for some privacy?"

"It's temporary," you pointed out, moving to kneel between his legs. "Besides, we've got one night - and I intend to service my king as much as I can."

[wild-lavender-rose]

The Hobbit Masterlist

- One-shots -

Thorin Oakenshield

My King

Crown

My Love For You

The King and The Ceramicist

Your Child

Dance With Me

Secret Tattoo

Durin’s Day

I’m So Sorry

Read to Me

Time to Breathe

Kili

Heirloom

Fires of Foolishness

Freedom

Thranduil

First Kiss

Stairs

Legolas

Midnight Kiss

A Moonlit Dance

Bilbo Baggins

A Birthday Wish

- Hurt/Comfort -

Legolas

Saving the Enemy

Saving the Enemy (part 2)

Saving the Enemy (part 3)

Saving the Enemy (part 4)

Saving the Enemy (part 5)

Saving the Enemy (part 6)

Kili

Holding You

Snowkissed

Fili

Later

Survivors

All is Well

Thorin Oakenshield

The Miner’s Granddaughter

Saving his Enemy

Saving his Enemy (part 2)

Thranduil

A True Lady

- Would Include... -

Kili

The Morning Before You and Kili’s Wedding Would Include...

Legolas

Legolas Comforting You on Your Period Would Include...

- Preferences-

Study Fatigue

Pets

Unusual Punishment

- Misquotes -

Thorin Oakenshield

#1- Wandering

#2- Hairstyle

#3- Courting

#4- Nine Ravens

Kili

#1- We Have a Wizard

#2- Napkins

Fili

#1- Kitten

Kili x reader x Fili

#1- When Do We Leave?

- Drabbles -

Thorin Oakenshield

#1- Sleep

#2- You Winced

Bard

#1- Care for You

#2- No Shame

Fanfic Masterlist