#bilbo baggins one shot

[nostalgicnarrator]

Over Hill and Under Mountain

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Word Count: 1,555

Parings: Thorn X Bilbo

Description:

Thorin leaves Erebor to visit his dear friend Bilbo, will new feeling shine through? What will happen?

Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

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Note:

Listen to me I’ve never done anything like this before, I have written and sure I have posted one of two things and immediately abandoned them. If you want to give me constructive criticism or feedback please do I wanna get better at this kind of thing.

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Thorin had sent a letter to Bilbo not too long ago by raven, telling him of his departure from his kingdom and hopefully swift arrival. It had been a year since he had last seen his hobbit.

Thorin had found himself missing his hobbit. Even with the regular letters between them, now It had only been a week since he had gotten the last letter and Thorin had begun to feel a sort of ache in his chest the longer he went without contact from Bilbo.

Now the King Under the Mountain found himself hundreds of miles away from his Lonely Mountain, the one he had left in questionably capable hands, right back were it all began a year ago now, and getting himself lost once again on the roads and in the Shire. passing farms and burrows, even at one point finding himself on the road to brea. He had turned red when he realized, though he wont tell you that, and turned back hoping to find the burrow of his hobbit.

Thorin grumbled as he thought to himself and took another turn down a path he swears he’s seen hundred times before. ‘Now if I can just- have I already been here before?’ Thorin thought, sighing. ��Mahal, am I even in the right place?’

When Thorin passed a deceptively familiar-looking farm, one he had to have passed twice now, he sighed and swung his pack off his shoulders to fish for a map. Maybe it can help him figure out where he was.

That’s when he heard a very familiar voice. “Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, as lost as a chicken with no head.” The voice was full of a teasing tone as it spoke.

Thorin whipped around and looked at the familiar small hobbit, his caramel-colored curls wild on his head, suggesting that he hadn’t done much more than wake up and throw clothes on. The hobbit seemed to be wrapped and almost gilded in gold in the light of the early sun, the old dwarf couldn’t fight himself from blushing at the hobbit.

His undershirt was a buttery yellow, a little warn but clearly loved, and his pants an emerald green that could put any gemstone that the king had seen to shame. The bottom of his pants were embroidered with flowers and other things hobbits seemed so enchanted by. The hobbit had no waistcoat, so his suspenders were visible. He stood not a few paces behind where Thorin stood. Thorin only just began to notice how long he had been staring at his hobbit.

Bilbo was smiling broadly, chuckling fondly at the sight of the bewildered and red faced king. Thorin didn’t wait long to rush forward and embrace his friend in a hug, which the hobbit gladly returned it with just as much enthusiasm. Thorin patted Bilbo’s shoulder affectionately and looked down at him when he pulled away from the hug.

Thorin smiled as he spoke. “Bilbo Baggins, and here I thought I’d have to stumble around here for a day until I found you.”

Bilbo laughed and grasped at the dwarf’s arms as he leaned a little closer before teasing. “Now what kind of hobbit would I be if I let one of my guests stumble his way around here like a newborn fawn?” Bilbo said as he moved to hook Thorin by the arm to lead him up a path toward his burrow. “Let’s get you inside and I’ll find you something to eat! I’m sure you are starving.”

And that’s where Thorin found himself, sitting in an uncomfortably comfortable armchair in the living room of Bilbo’s burrow. He watched the small hobbit as he made tea, to quote, ‘hold him over’ till Bilbo was done cooking.

The warmth that wafted from the kitchen seemed to almost lull the king to sleep. The next time his eyes opened, Bilbo was handing him a warm mug of tea that smelled and tasted sweetly of elderberry and mint And a cloth that held a sweet blackberry tart.

Bilbo headed back to the kitchen to continue his task of making breakfast for the two of them. Thorin stood to follow after him, leaning against the door frame as Bilbo mixed something together in a bowl. He found himself observing the hobbit’s every movement, from the way his curls bounced as he worked to the concentration furrowing his brow.

‘He really is quite charming,’ Thorin mused, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. ‘The way he moves about his kitchen, so at ease, so… endearing. Why didn’t I see it before?’

Bilbo grinned at Thorin when he pulled himself a chair over. After a brief silence, Bilbo asked, “How are the renovations of your kingdom going?”

Thorin sighed, closing his eyes as thoughts of Erebor’s restoration filled his mind. They had found that the old techniques of his forefathers had been forgotten or abandoned for more useful skills during the time they had lost their home. But Thorin couldn’t help the pride that swelled within him at the thoughts of his people and how he and his Company had reclaimed his home. And how he feels that his hobbit was to thank for that.

Thorin let his voice sound as tired as he felt, as he spoke, “They are progressing well, but it seems many of the secrets of my people have seemingly been forgotten over the years.” He looked at the mug he held, now half full and tart long gone. He rolled the mug in his hands, it being a tad bit smaller than any other mug he was used to. It had flowers and soft things painted underneath its glaze.

“Still,” Thorin hummed and looked to Bilbo now. ‘Have his eyes always been so sweet?’ “It will be grand and restored to the best of our ability.”

Bilbo hummed and went back to cooking. He scrambled eggs in a hot pan. “Well, I wait patiently to see. You better keep me updated properly this time.” Bilbo said with a bit of a teasing tone and smile. Then he stopped what he was doing, looked at Thorin again as he set a plate down on the counter, and started plating food.

“I dare ask, you are staying a few days, are you not?” Bilbo asked. Thorin felt his breath catch in his throat. He had to think a little harder than he was used to, to speak.

“Yes,” Thorin nodded as he spoke. He found himself once again thinking of Bilbo, the way his eyes sparkled with curiosity and care. ‘Why does my heart quicken every time he looks at me?’ Thorin wondered, a bit confused by his own feelings.

“Then, who is running the kingdom in your absence?” Bilbo inquired.

“Fíli,” Thorin replied with a fond smile. “He is capable and eager to prove himself. And I am not one to disappoint.”

Bilbo nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer. “Ah, well, I am sure he is quite excited, and I am sure Lady Dís is not pleased at your sudden absence not too long after you have taken back your mountain.” Bilbo teased lightly as his eyes shined with mischief.

Thorin found himself chuckling and nodding softly. “No, she is not, but it will be a good experience for the lad to practice how it truly is to run a kingdom.”

“I see…” Bilbo hummed and pulled a loaf from the oven, setting it at the table to cool.

“How has the Shire been?” Thorin found himself asking as he helped Bilbo’s food find its way to the dining room table.

Bilbo’s face lit up happily as he smiled “Oh! Well, the Shire has been peaceful, as always. You know how things can be here, quiet!” He started digging through the cabinets for more plates. “And! I’m sure you saw on your way here but the fields are green with new crops, the harvest looks promising.” He said.

As Bilbo went to grab his cutlery as he spoke he gasped and looked to Thorin before almost yelling. “Oh! Do you remember what I told you happened a week ago well! It had happened again!!Lobelia Sackville-Baggins has tried to make off with my good silver again!”

Thorin watched Bilbo with growing affection and amusement as he animatedly recounted the events of the Shire. ‘He gets so heated over these things,’ Thorin thought, finding it endearing. ‘How could someone be so fiercely protective and yet so gentle?’

They continued to talk as Bilbo and Thorin prepared and set up breakfast. The aroma of freshly baked bread and bacon filled the air. As they sat down to eat, Thorin felt a deep contentment.

As Bilbo went on about the Shire and what had been happening since his last letter to the king only a week ago, Thorin thought to himself, ‘This visit with Bilbo,’ he mused as Bilbo went on about how some children had trampled over his marigolds, ‘will be as lovely as I imagined.’

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There it is, please don’t get to mad at me if I have made a mistake or messed something up. Okay, please leave feedback! Let me know what I can do better next time!

[literaltyblackthorn]

bilbo probably felt the same way about the ring that thorin felt about the arkenstone and i think about that often-

[dont-go-where-i-cantfollow]

ok, but what about some bagginshield?

When the dwarves were captured, Bilbo was not able to remain composed. Would they be harmed? Would they be mistreated? Would their weapons be left or taken so that the prisoners couldn’t even think of escape? And what if someone is hurt and needs urgent help? Bilbo had no idea how elves treated their prisoners, but he was sure that nobody in his company wanted to experience it. 

A group of armed dwarves, led by their king, imprisoned in an elven dungeon and awaiting judgment, isn’t it just wonderful? Warring races always try to put a spoke in one another’s wheel, and when a bunch of armed shorties falls into the hands of the forest elves, it is naive to believe they will be released without a proper investigation. They are not in RIvendell, there are no friendly elves. There are only forest keepers fighting anyone who dares to disturb their peace. 

Bilbo uses his ring once again, becoming completely invisible to the guards. He is aware of how sharp all the elves’ senses are, but he crosses his fingers and tiptoes past two guardians who are cracking jokes and laughing out loud. He is almost caught by a tall elf in white clothes (is he someone important? or maybe he’s even an elven prince? the hobbit does not know him and he is not particularly interested in making acquaintances with anyone right now), who is reprimanding one of the female warriors accompanying the dwarves before. Bilbo has no idea what they are talking about, but he is ready to swear that they are not discussing anything good. 

The keys are stolen (The hobbit starts to understand what the dwarves were talking about; he really is a skilled burglar), and Bilbo makes his way to the prison cells. He hears how dwarves are getting angry, discussing how they would punish all these nasty forest creatures for imprisoning them, and he can finally take off his ring. Asking his companions to remain quiet, so as not to be noticed, he takes the keys out of his pocket and pushes them through the bars. Some of the dwarves are sitting here together, some alone, but all of them are jumping on their feet and trying to exit the cells as quickly as possible. 

When Bilbo approaches Thorin’s cell, he doesn’t even have time to greet the dwarf king. He is pulled by the sleeve so that his face fits neatly between the bars, and he is kissed as if he has just returned from an incredibly long journey. Thorin is holding him by his hand, his other hand touching the soft spot where the neck meets the skull, and the hobbit has no choice but to surrender. He exhales into the kiss, closing his eyes, and relaxes for a few seconds, feeling the warm waves of shivers coming down the spine. 

He was worried about all the dwarves who were traveling with him, but especially about their king. He was afraid that, because of his status, Thorin would be treated differently, forced to talk about their journey, or even tortured, but no. Here he is, standing in front of Bilbo, with leaves in his hair, and trying to squeeze the living hell out of him. He was afraid, too, Bilbo thinks, but he will never admit it; he is too proud to be caught caring for this little hobbit with sticky hands. 

They break the kiss and Thorin looks at his hobbit as if he has grown a tail in these few hours they were separated. There’s no tail, his ears and feet are the same size they were before, but the dwarf king looks at Bilbo with such attention and even… worry? Of course, he will never say this out loud, but this troubled look on his face speaks louder than words, and so does this sparkle in his eyes, similar to the one occurring right before you start crying.

‘’Thorin, let me open the door please, and then we can hug properly.’’

‘’Finally, you stole something worthy! Well done, little burglar!’’ Thorin steps aside and waits for Bilbo to deal with the lock. Before this adventure, Bilbo would have taken offense at such words, but now? Right now he understands that the moment the door is open, he will be enveloped in a hug so tight, he will hear his bones crack. Thorin can’t show his emotions properly, but the hobbit doesn’t ask him to do so: he knows what the dwarven king feels; he couldn’t doubt him even if he tried. 

Tonight, when they manage to get some rest, Thorin will hold him in his arms, cover his face in many kisses, and whisper about how he prayed for his hobbit to be safe while they were imprisoned; but for now, there is a battle awaiting them, and Bilbo hopes that his companions are ready to fight. 

[creativemessbyvd]

BAGGINSHIELD 101 DISCORD EVENT FANFIC: "HARVEST SEASON"

Title: Harvest Ghosts

Status: Complete 1/1 Chapters

Word count: 10,789

Reading time: 53 min.

Rating: General

Pairings: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield

Summary:

--They didn't have tales of the spirits coming back to visit, and the only thing comparable to that was...

"What if it's the Harvest Ghosts?"

Frodo's tiny voice was heard above the near shouting, and it shut down all conversation. As one, all the dwarrow turned to Bilbo, expecting a reply. Bilbo could feel his Quest Headache returning. --

Bilbo is busy being Consort 3 years after the Retaking of Erebor, the last thing he needs is ghost stories affecting his upcoming events (including his wedding) during the busiest time of the year: Harvest.

Do I know anything about gardening or farming? Absolutely not, and neither do the dwarves. Had the idea all month long but I couldn't actually write until like Wednesday. I didn't mean for it to be 10,000 words long v:

Have a fic of misunderstandings and Bilbo being a BAMF Consort for Erebor, also Frodo, Sam, Pippin and Merry being absolute sweethearts. I haven't written in months and I also have a deep pain that no meds so far have fully taken care of bc I have a kidney infection so this might not make full sense, forgive me for any mistakes :c

Some out of context gifs (and slight spoilers) under the cut that will only make sense once you read the fic. Also! It's inspired by Abbott Elementary :3

[am1dnightdreary]

In desperate need to write some silly one shots for Bagginshield or other LOTR/The Hobbit ships. Please gimme prompts!

[strawwritesfic]

Bilbo Baggins x Female!Hobbit!Reader: Save

Summary: The beginning of your own story might be worth writing down someday as well.

Rating/Tags: All (Post-Hobbit; pre-Fellowship of the Ring; The Green Dragon; Drinking; Alcohol; Server!Reader; family problems; inheritance problems; meet cute)

Challenge: “160 Collective Drabbles” challenge by BobaPop on Lunaescence Archives.

Tag List: @imaginesfire​

Save

Any Hobbit worth their salt could recite upon command any number of stories about far-off lands and daring adventures. Children might shudder in their beds thinking of shadowy forests filled with creeping spiders; even adults could blanch over news of wolves spotted near Buckland. But that was all such tales were in the end: Distant news and exciting fiction, meant to entertain and never to touch its listeners. Nothing could ever really involve the Shire. The people of Hobbiton were free to continue their vicarious quests–until one day such a quest did involve the Shire.

“I already told you, Otho, I don’t have a mountain of gold hidden away to give to you. I’m certain that if I did, there would be nothing left after I was forced to buy back my home and all my possessions.”

You looked up from your work behind the counter to see one Bilbo Baggins sitting at a table across the room. He had a mug of ale clutched in one hand and a look of polite distaste on his face. 

Upon recognizing his drinking companions, you couldn’t say you blamed him for looking like that. Otho and Lobelia Sackville-Baggins were not your favorite customers when they were minding their own business. Throw in harassing other patrons, and you couldn’t help but shoot them an ugly look of your own behind their backs.

Normally, you would have tried to throw them out. Now that you were in serious competition with your younger brother over the inheritance of the inn, however, you decided it would be better not to make a scene. "A patron is a patron, so long as they’ve got gold to spend," as your father had reminded you since you’d started working at the Green Dragon in your tweens. Apparently your brother had no trouble remembering this, though you suspected his good memory was because he didn’t spend much of his time on the clock doing any work, not because he lacked any hint of your admirable temper.

“[Name], quit lollygagging. Table Eight wanted supper fifteen minutes ago,” your father called over the usual evening hubbub. 

His watchful eye prevented you from eavesdropping further on Bilbo and his guests, so you flashed your haggard father a grin, picked up a waiting tray of food, and dove back into the throng.

The Green Dragon had been owned by your family since it had been built several generations ago. Sometimes you got the feeling your father would have gladly given up five square meals a day to be rid of the responsibility of running the place. Not so you. Working at the inn made you come alive more than any other place in the whole of the Shire. You had been hanging around it since you were old enough to follow your father to work as a youth and working there since you were bold enough to convince him to give you a job. By necessity, you knew every nook and cranny, every regular’s name, and every story ever told by the grand stone fireplace.

Except, that was, for Bilbo’s story. Even knowing that the mere sight of Otho and Lobelia would anger you, you sneaked another peek over at their table as you set the food down on another surrounded by ravenous tweens. Sure enough, the trio was still there. Bilbo’s polite façade appeared to be fading quickly as he listened to the two of them rant.

“[Name],” whined one of the tween boys, “you’re in the way.”

You hastily removed your hand before any of them could mistake it for part of their meal. Your constantly-hungry youth wasn’t so far behind you that you had forgotten what it felt like.

“Make sure to pay before you leave this time. Don’t want me to have to talk to your parents again, do you?” you asked.

None of them replied. 

With a deep breath and a roll of your eyes, you turned away. Before you lay a buzzing dining hall. Hobbits laughed and ate and drank in seemingly every inch of the building. It warmed your heart to see so many happy people enjoying your family’s business. All except for Bilbo, of course, who had dismissed faking politeness entirely and now stared grumpily into the space about his relatives’ heads as they prattled on about whatever it was they had a bone to pick about that night.

Before you could even attempt to interrupt the conversation, your father caught your eye and motioned impatiently at the growing assortment of food and drink waiting to be delivered. You picked your way toward him, progress hindered by the many customers that stopped you to say hello. The conversation at Bilbo’s table had grown quite lively by the time you arrived at the bar to pick up another order.

Truth be told, Bilbo’s fascinating disappearance and reappearance were not the only things about him that kept you looking at him. Neither were his rumored riches; you planned to take over the Dragon and raise your own small fortune, after all. Bilbo had, in fact, always interested you. He had had his own schedule before he’d left the Shire, coming in once a week to drink and listen to the same old stories you did day after day. Always polite, that Bilbo, if admittedly not forcibly friendly like most of the others. You had never had to throw him out for poor behavior, at any rate.

That night was the first night he’d been back to the inn after all his time away. You’d been dying to talk to him since the minute you saw him walk through the door. Between your job and the Sackville-Bagginses, you hadn’t had a chance.

Then an idea occurred to you–a wonderful, terrible, perfect idea. Before any of your fellow workers could guess that you were up to something, you filled your tray with the waiting glasses of ale. Your plan might not have had the best timing, considering the dinner rush and how flustered your father had already become, but he would have to do without you. You were only one Hobbit, and if your father truly believed passing the Green Dragon onto your brother (who was, as usual, suspiciously absent that evening), then what good was your working your fingers to the bone to please customers?

You turned and marched purposely toward the table at which Bilbo, Lobelia, and Otho sat. As you drew nearer, you could understand why Bilbo looked as pained as he did.

“As far as I’m concerned, you forfeited your right to Bag End when you left without saying a word and without electing an heir. The hole is ours,” Otho was saying.

“Is it,” said Bilbo.

Lobelia gave him a very nasty, almost un-hobbotish sneer. “You clearly aren’t right in the head anymore. Dragons? Dwarves? Why don’t you just admit you got into some messy business with that Gandalf fellow and step aside for Otho to be head of the family?”

“Difficult to do when I’m not at all mad, my dear Lobelia. For why should you think I had gold to spare if I never had my grand adventure?”

“You’re a fool,” she said, “a fool and perhaps even a criminal. We could go over your head, Bilbo. Mark my words.”

“Consider them marked. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

“We aren’t done here,” Otho growled, getting up to follow Bilbo away from the table.

Oh, yes you are, you thought. 

Just as Otho reached over to pull Bilbo back into his seat, you arrived along with half the dining hall’s drinks. Otho standing up actually provided you with the perfect opportunity. All you had to do was angle your feet just right, and–

Lobelia’s scream told you that you had succeeded. Your staged trip and fall managed to tip all the ale on your tray so that it spilled over the Sackville-Baggginses heads. There they sat, dripping in abject shock, as Bilbo stood staring on in astonishment.

“Oh no!” you squealed dramatically. “Did I do that? I’m ever so sorry. I’m such a klutz!”

With a lurch toward Lobelia, you made to press a towel to her sopping hair. She flinched away before turning the full brunt of her wrath on you.

“You-You-You,” she said. Apparently, your act had rendered her unable to form complete sentences. 

This unforeseen bonus didn’t last long; before you could so much as attempt to offer a fake apology, Otho got in your face: “I’ll have your job for this, girl,” he said, and any desire to apologize, falsely or otherwise, vanished. 

You hooked a thumb over your shoulder toward where you’d last seen your father running around like a chicken with his head cut off. “Boss is that way.”

The two left without more than several glares in your direction. You watched only long enough to see your father shoot you a knowing, aggrieved sort of look when the Sackville-Bagginses approached him. 

Shrugging, you turned away. Well, it was difficult to feel sorry for him. If he really wanted a supper rush without incident, he really ought to have forced your brother to show up for his shifts every once and awhile, especially if you were expected to give up your inheritance without a fight.

All the same, you knew better than to leave a mess behind. You began to pick up the (thankfully unbroken) glasses littering the table and were almost finished by the time Bilbo spoke:

“Thank you.”

You had assumed he had taken the opportunity to escape your inn entirely, actually. His voice surprised you, and even more so that he was standing exactly where you’d left him. 

“You don’t need to thank me for being clumsy,” you answered, then smiled mischievously at his blank expression. “It looked like you could use a rescue. Those two shouldn’t bother you again tonight.”

“Thank you,” he said with more feeling.

“It’s your first time back since your adventure. Wouldn’t want you spooked off forever.”

Much to your confusion, Bilbo hesitated before he replied. His eyes slid toward the door and back to you, and then he took a wide step backward. “Right,” he said. “All the same, I think I had better get going.”

As you looked on, he began to shuffle toward the front door. You realized with a jolt exactly what he thought: Bilbo believed you, too, were after his gold. He didn’t exactly look less nervous when you followed after him either.

“That’s a shame,” you said. “I really was hoping to hear your story.”

That got him to pause. “You…were?”

“Sure. Dwarves and dragons and spiders and elves. Sounds better than half of the stories the rest of them have been telling all week. I'm getting a little tired of the time the creek froze over and let the wolves in, personally. ”

“Mine is a rather exciting tale,” Bilbo confessed, then seemed to decide you weren’t so frightening that he couldn’t size you up. “And you are?” 

“[Name]. My dad owns the place.”

At that, a look of slight disappointment crossed his face. You didn’t understand it, not until he went on: “Then I suppose you wouldn’t be able to join me at my hole for a cup of coffee and a chat? I find myself wanting a quieter atmosphere, but I could do with some company still.”

The words no, not tonight were right on your lips. You couldn’t just abandon the inn, or your father for that matter. 

But on second thought, why couldn’t you? Really, your brother ought to have been there by now to take over, and there were other servers, too, picking their slow ways from table to table. Besides, when was the last time you’d been given time off, or even a break for that matter?

“You know what?” you said. “I’d love to.”

“Delightful!” cried Bilbo, and he held out his arm. 

It took you less than half a second to place your tray on top of one of the other server’s trays as she passed by. She gave you a wild-eyed, panicked looked, but you did not explain. 

You’d hear all about your lack of responsibility in the morning once your father discovered you had slipped away. For the time being, you were just like any other Hobbit. Who cared about work, the inheritance, or the inn when there was such a fine story to hear and such a fine Hobbit to tell it? Even as you thought about the lecture you were in for, you couldn't find yourself regretting your decision. 

[miklansur1]

Introduction:

Hello! This is an introduction because I am new to tumblr but I want to become a writer.

Even if I am still getting used to the apps settings.

Now to the basics:

You can call me Miklan.

My pronouns are They/them.

My birthday is on July 5th.

My MBTI is ISTP

Since I am a new writer, I am mostly going to stick to one fandom, Aka The Hobbit.

In the future I’ll decide whether to include more fandoms but for now, it’s just The Hobbit.

I’m open to request and I’ll try my best to answer them as soon as I can.

Masterlist:

Thorin:

Thorin x F!Modern!reader: Fluff

But for now, have a good day/afternoon/night! <3

[tickles-ivory]

Wrote a short One-Shot based on the post below:

Sometimes Those Who Wander are Indeed Lost (721 words)

[crossingbaranduin]

queerplatonic bagginshield

that is all, i just have a Lot of thoughts about em tbh

[johnmurphysgirl]

DEPTH; BILBO X THORIN DRABBLE/ ONE SHOT.

The yearning for his hobbit hole in Bag-End had yet to cease; the rolling hills of the Shire calls to him on his arduous journey, for which he must ignore. A peaceful little life he had had. Most days, he tries to distract himself with thoughts of his arm chair, his dishes, second breakfast, and most importantly, tea time. 

It's easier to yearn for something he had known, rather than the man sleeping a few inches from where Bilbo sat, unblinking in the damp cave they'd found themselves in. He could not help it. It didn't matter how hard he'd tried, he found himself drawn to the King under the Mountain in ways Bilbo could never imagine before.

It is wrong, it is wrong, it is wrong, his mind tortures him in the dark; wrong, for whatever reason, didn't really matter. 

The thing that truly matters is what Thorin would think of him, if he knew. If he knew what it was exactly Bilbo thought about in the dark, how watching Thorin sleep never once bores him. In fact, Thorin has never looked more beautiful.

 His eyes are relaxed; unguarded in the safety of his dreams. A soft but still somehow smug smile on his lips. Bilbo groans.

 He's doing it again isn't he?

Bilbo is too lost in his hopeless daydreams to notice Thorin's eyelids flutter, and then open. His eyes adjust to the darkness of the cave, before they settle on Bilbo's pensive face. He doesn't speak. Not yet. Instead, he, too, takes a moment to soak in the others' appearance. To see a side of him that the others would never get a chance to. 

After all, Thorin is not blind. If it weren't for Kili's incessant teasing, and Bilbo's eyes following him everywhere, he probably would be; but he isn't. 

"It is late," Thorin says, interrupting the silence with a voice thick with sleep. "I will take over your watch. You, master Baggins, sleep." 

Bilbo nearly drops his watch in surprise at Thorin's voice, before he shakes his head. 

"No, no, don't you worry a nickle about me," he says instead, a soft smile on his face. "You need it more than I." 

Thorin snorts uncharacteristically; what have they turned into? A gallant knight and a chivalrous King? Instead of offering a reply, he moves and sits besides the master burglar; the two sit in companionable silence for quite a while. The gentle breeze floating in through the open mouth of the cave enough to comfort the two men, as their arms gently touch but neither move to pull it away. 

It's just them. No need to fret themselves with titles and confusion, of what they could or couldn't do, or whether their interaction is entirely proper. A hobbit and a dwarf; but so much more than that. 

"I'm.. sorry, Thorin," Bilbo says after a while. "I can't sit here and look at you and pretend that I don't wish to.. to.." 

"I know, Bilbo," Thorin interrupts, his blue gaze piercing into the Hobbit's eyes. He doesn't think about what he's doing, what he could change, or how this will all be perceived in the daylight hours. Thorin knows if he allowed himself to think, he would never have leaned closer, so close he could feel Bilbo's breath. "A thousand sunsets could never compare to the innocence of a first kiss." 

It's all so uncharacteristic; so Kingly of Thorin, as if he were saying it to a fair maiden in a garden, but he meant them. The words he uttered so carelessly. He meant it, and he wasn't sure what scared him the most.

 Before he can get lost in throes of doubt, he leans forward just enough and presses their lips together. 

[thelibraryoferebor]

You guessed it! Oneshots (Mahal help us all) 

The Stubbornness of Dwarves by Khazadqueen (ama) 

|| teen - 6.8k - completed ||

Legolas's attempts at courting Gimli have fallen flat on their face. Somehow, Dwalin finds himself playing matchmaker--neither of them are really sure how it happens.

Not Quite First Sight by Ita

|| general - 2.7k - completed ||

After a heavy dose of dwarvish medicine, Thorin falls for his intended all over again.

In More Than the Wisdom of Years by jezebel_rising 

|| not rated - 4.2k - completed ||

A kink-meme fill with the prompt: So the battle happened and Thorin lived (barely, but he's managed to escape death) his nephews too. The treasure has been divided and Elves and Men went on their way. Dwarves are set on rebuilding Erebor to its former glory and there's just one little thing left unsolved - setting their burglar on the way.

I would pretty much like it form the point of view of Dis, who just arrived to Erebor to take care of her boys (brother included) and sees what a mess Thorin's made of everything.

The fill kind of went sideways from the original prompt. Hope you all enjoy!

Once More by RainyDayDecaf

|| general - 4.9k - completed ||

Bilbo thought he would be ready for this moment. For meeting Thorin Oakenshield for the first time, for the second time. He has never been more wrong in all his life.

Never Forgotten by DesertLily

|| general - 1.2k - completed ||

Bilbo Baggins dies peacefully in his home a month before his eleventy-first birthday. He leaves behind a nephew and a forgotten love half a world away.

So Crowned by Howland

|| general - 4.1k - completed ||

If Bilbo's said it once he's said it a thousand times before. He doesn't even like jewels. 

---

Thorin, Bilbo, and choosing a Consort's crown.

Scrumptious by kathkin

|| general - 1.1k - completed ||

“Well,” said Frodo, stirring his tea. “The good news is I met my new neighbour this morning and he’s very handsome.”

“Oh, yes? What’s the bad news?”

“The bad news is I can never talk to him again."

Predilections by kathkin 

|| general - 7.5k - completed ||

Sam had always thought of himself as a very open-minded hobbit - but it could be that there was a difference between knowing that Mister Frodo did things, things certain other hobbits might say were unnatural, in his bedchamber, and seeing him there in his nightshirt with another lad’s hands all over him.

In which Sam walks in on Frodo in a compromising position and comes to a realisation (eventually).

It Runs in the Family by Imagined

|| teen - 9.6k - completed ||

At first, Bilbo is very glad to hear of the new alliance between Erebor and the Shire. He is even more excited when he learns that some of his family members are coming to the Lonely Mountain to discuss the details.

That is, until the dwarves (and Thorin, who is decidedly not and never shall be his) start getting along a little too well with one of his more adventurous cousins, and Bilbo starts doubting about his place.

All the Rivers Sound in My Body by pibroch (littleblackdog)

|| teen - 5.7k - completed ||

As much as he might like to cut a natty figure in a proper waistcoat and trousers with a reasonable inseam, Bilbo knew there were many more important things to bother with at the moment. 

Rebuilding an entire dwarven kingdom, for one. And airing out the stink of dragon would be nice as well.

[ai-katsuu]

hmm did thorin and the rest remember, as they were watching Smaug destroy laketown, that literally four of their members, a third of their company, was there?? was thorin just going to let his nephews burn?? was the dragon sickness that bad?

[the-greatlibrary]

Finding Your Place by lvmehtme - E, One-shot

Bilbo is meant to return to the Shire at the start of spring, but he's conflicted when things develop between him and Thorin. Tauriel is a good friend and helps him think through the pros and cons of staying in Erebor, until, finally he comes to his decision. Also, Dwarves are odd when it comes to age differences between the races and Bilbo has had it up to here with their coddling!

[an-honest-burglar]

Bilbo had never seen battle before, let alone the aftermath of one. It was almost worse. The wounded and dying surrounded him as he walked through the halls of a place utterly unfamiliar to him. He had no idea what he was doing here. How did he get to this place? Was he even wanted here? No one had talked to him since he had run down Ravenhill to get help. They looked at him now with a sadness he couldn’t comprehend. He wondered if it had been too late, if his efforts to save them had been all for nothing. His red rimmed eyes blurred as fresh hot tears rolled down his face. It had only been a day, and yet it felt like ages. He walked and walked and walked down endless halls and corridors inside this place that he thought he had been so desperate to save. He felt fresh guilt gnaw at him, he had only wanted to protect him. To protect Thorin from himself. 

And look how well that turned out, he thought to himself as he turned down a familiar hall. He hadn’t meant to come here. He wasn’t ready. It was too soon, too fresh. What if Thorin hated him? He had to. All those words said on Ravenhill, he thought he was dying, he must have lied to Bilbo, to spare his feelings, his guilt and shame. Had he done the right thing? Would Thorin’s rage still be there? Would the sickness still fog his eyes? Bilbo couldn’t bear it. As he was about to turn to leave, he noticed movement out of one of the doors and looked up in time to see Óin walk out, wiping blood off of his hands. He was sweating and looked pale. He looked up just in time to see Bilbo choke on his tears, turn heel, and run.

Two days passed and Bilbo found himself walking down that hallway again. He had never meant to end up here but in his dissociative state, he always found himself at the stone door. He stood there and stared at it for a long while. He wasn’t ready to see Thorin. But would he ever be ready, could anything in his life ever have prepared him for this? How in the world had he gotten to this. As he stared at the intricately carved and ornate door, he started marveling at the pattern before him. How it arched and branched in many directions, how one line would be steady until it split into different paths. He reached out his hand and traced a line as far as he could until it came to a fork. He pulled his hand away instantly and swiftly went back to his endless wandering.

Everyday he found himself once again in front of that door. Just outside of the room, so close to what he cared most about in the world. On the fifth day after the battle, he came to the door, only to find it was slightly ajar. Cautiously, as not to disturb anyone inside, he pushed the door open a hair more, just to get a peek inside. He just had to know. He saw Thorin, he was still asleep in a bed that seemed too small for a King. He was covered in furs and wool blankets, or at least his legs were. His chest was exposed save for a large bandage around his middle which was slightly red-ish pink. His breath came quickly and raggedly. He was sweating and shivering and panting. There was a cloth on his forehead that Bilbo could tell hadn’t been refreshed in a while. Slowly, Bilbo opened the door further. He walked into the room on quiet feet. He was not ready for Thorin to wake, he was not ready to talk to him. But he could do this kindness for him. He would do anything for him in truth.

Bilbo reached over and grabbed the cloth. He was right as it was bone dry, save for the sweat that had soaked into it. He found a small water bowl on the table next to the bed and soaked the cloth. He rang it out, and crept back over to the side of the bed. With a kind of gentleness that he forgot he had possessed, he placed it on Thorin's forehead. Thorin stirred and groaned slightly and Bilbo jumped back startled. 

“Please,” he said in his sleep, without opening his eyes. Bilbo inched closer to him, desperate to be near him, but still so scared of which Dwarf lay slumbering fitfully in that bed. Was it the brave, loyal and stoic King he had met in Bag End, or was it the cruel and mistrusting King Under the Mountain? Who would wake? If he ever woke. 

“Please,” he said again, “Bilbo, I beg you,” He trailed off before finishing.

Bilbo stood paralyzed, does he go and take the hand of that noble Dwarf laid out in front of him? Does he run away to protect himself? How did this happen to him?

“He’s been asking for you for days,” A voice came from the doorway and Bilbo spun on his heel to find Óin. 

“He, he has?” Bilbo’s voice cracked and he suddenly found his mouth very dry. 

“Aye laddie,” Óin took a step towards him, Bilbo stepped back. He was wrong, he wasn’t ready for this. This was too much. He could only take so much. 

He tried to get words out, but choked, and ran for the door. 

.     .     .

Thorin awoke in a room he barely recognized. Seven days had passed, but of course he didn’t know that. In his mind he had been on top of Ravenhill just seconds earlier. The eagles flying above and the hobbit by his side. Bilbo. Where was Bilbo? He leaned to the side of the bed and tried to stand, his head pounded and his whole body ached. It was as if the whole mountain had fallen on top of him. After a few unsuccessful attempts he managed to stumble out of bed. He had to find Bilbo. Had to tell him how sorry he was. Had to make sure that his brave little burglar was alive and well. Had to tell him how he felt. He had tried to hide it for so long. No longer.

He walked to the door and swung it open to find the halls empty and quiet. It was nighttime and the torches that lined the halls were covered in dust, filling the space with a musty sort of smell. Throin had no idea which way to go, so he just started walking. When he reached a fork, he would pick a path and follow it until he was forced to make another choice of which way to go. He made a silent prayer to Mahal that his efforts would not be in vain. That he would find Bilbo before he passed out from exhaustion. Óin would be furious to see him out of bed but he didn’t care. Some things were more important. 

And so he walked on and on, the fresh white bandage covering his wounds starting to stain red as he felt his stitches come undone. He couldn’t tell how long he’d been walking, it could have been minutes or hours, he didn’t care either, he just kept going, trusting that his feet and his heart would lead him in the right direction. In the night, the mountain was silent, the only noise his footsteps echoing off the halls. He felt like a ghost, unnoticed, but seeing all that was around him. He just kept going and going, until he seemed to find himself back where he started. How strange, he hadn’t meant to go in a circle. 

But he was ever so glad he did.

As he looked down the hall of the Infirmary, he saw Bilbo. Standing in front of the door he was supposed to be behind. He watched for a second as Bilbo seemed to be deciding something, finally he began to walk towards him. 

Bilbo’s head shot up immediately and he gasped to see him. Bilbo took only one step back as Thorin walked closer and closer to him.

“Bilbo,” he began.

“Thorin, I-I’m so sorry. You have to know I never meant for any of this to happen. I know you’re angry with me, but you must understand I only ever wanted to help you. I never meant to betray your trust but you, you weren’t yourself. And I couldn’t just sit there and watch, I had to do something!”

“Bilbo,” Thorin said again as he continued stepping towards him. Bilbo didn’t move. The hobbit looked so scared of him, he felt a bolt of guilt flare up inside of him as he watched Bilbo shake. 

“I just know you hate me for what I did. You can’t have meant those things you said. How could you have meant them? How could you have forgiven me? You trusted me over your own kin! How could you have forgiven that easily?”

Thorin kept walking towards him slowly, he was dumbfounded by the words the hobbit was saying. He understood why Bilbo did what he did. Why would he lie to him about his forgiveness? 

“Please Thorin say something, say you hate me, say you’ll never forgive me, say you want me gone from your sight!”

Thorin finally was within reach of him, he stared into his eyes and took his hand. And with a gentleness he forgot he possessed, laid a kiss upon it. Bilbo stopped shaking almost instantly. 

“Bilbo, I’m so sorry for every way that I have hurt you,” He quickly looked Bilbo over to make sure he was still whole and hale and thank Mahal he was. “I do not deserve you or your forgiveness. And yet you still offer it.”

“And I do not deserve you or yours, and yet you still offer it.” Bilbo said as he grabbed Thorin’s other hand. Tears rolled freely down both of their faces, they felt no shame over them, for not all tears are an evil. Without thinking they found that they were leaning into each other, and suddenly their foreheads were touching. They were clinging on each other, breathing the other in, holding on and never wanting to let go. The kiss they fell into was gentle, forgiving and wholly unexpected. 

Little one-shot inspired by this post! I've never written fanfiction before so who knows how good this is but I like it. Hopefully the people in the notes of this post that I wanted to see this (@spookylolbit and @kilibaggins) like it too lol!

thinking about bilbo and thorin after thorin wakes up from his wounds post-botfa. thinking about bilbo not knowing if he's wanted. thinking about thorin demanding to see billbo as soon as he wakes up and bilbo thinking he's mad just to have thorin gently take his hand and quickly look him over to see if hes hurt. thinking about bilbo breaking down crying because thorins OKAY. hes ALIVE. thinking about thorin gently bringing their foreheads together.

[atrustfulplace]

imagine: you are chilling in front you your house getting high. along comes an old family friend who you last saw when you were six, you are now in your 50s. after a brief convo where he is kind of a dick to you, he’s like damn you’ve changed :/. and your like yeah bestie it’s been five decades why the fuck are you here. he leaves. later that night a shit ton of people show up and trash your house. just throw and absolute rager. halfway through the family friend from earlier shows up. he announces in full earshot of everyone that he wants you to come with him to rob a bank. you of course say wtf??? one of the people who broke into your house calls you a pussy. another person shoves you a contract which declares if you get shot robbing the bank they will not pay for your funeral. you pass out. when you wake up you find the contract on your table and your house almost completely back to normal. you stare at the contract for a moment and decide, fuck it this is just as a good a midlife crisis than anything.

this is what happened to bilbo baggins

[kateksmallcuteowl]

June 29: Single Parents/Uncles AU for an event by @bagginshieldweek24

I deeply regret that the challenge is a day late! Exams are merciless to me, and even though I started drawing in advance, I still couldn’t handle the deadline 😅 I promise to catch up with feedback tomorrow, after passing bioinformatics exam.

More headcanons and details under the cut>>

— It’s an alternative Middle-earth universe with hobbits, humans, dwarves, and elves, but set in modern times.

— Thorin grew up in Erebor in a royal family (which makes sense), is accustomed to good coffee, can distinguish different types, and knows which brewing devices are best. Now he has moved to London for work and discovered that both dwarf and human coffee shops would often use cheap beans or bad coffee machines, or they grind the beans incorrectly, or even set the wrong amount of grams of coffee per espresso shot. In general, they save money wherever they can, mostly selling the vibe and relying on the fact that taste isn’t important to most of the customers. Elves occupy the niche of coffee connoisseurs, but Thorin would rather drink filter coffee from a kettle on the roadside than go to elves. And then he discovers that hobbits, little hedonists, love good food and GOOD COFFEE! Of course, in hobbit cafes, he has to sit on low chairs and by the small tables, and at first, the other patrons looked at the dwarf in their company strangely, but it’s worth it. Thorin is willing to sit with a bent back if he gets a quiet and cozy atmosphere, excellent Wi-Fi, and delicious coffee (an office in London is good, but sometimes you need to get out of the four walls to not get nuts).

— Thorin rarely drinks pure espresso, preferring softer variations. He also has a sweet-tooth.

— Bilbo is a children’s book writer, mainly known for a series of fantasy novels about a brave hobbit who traveled over and under the mountains, rode in barrels, and played riddles in the dark (Bilbo, in canon, wrote his memoirs, which all hobbits except Merry and Frodo knew primarily for Hobbiton children, so I think he would primarily write for little hobbit kids).

— It’s not a real feather he uses, but a ballpoint pen with attached feathers, like those sold in souvenir shops. Bilbo bought it after a tour to the Tower of London. He likes the ✨vibe✨ and the fact that he can twirl the feather part around his lips when he’s thinking. (It’s literally an instruction on how to seduce Thorin)

— Mr. Baggins only drinks doppio. The cup is big compared to him because it’s hobbit ceramics, and the portion sizes for hobbits, who love treats, are no smaller than human ones.

— Bilbo has taken care of Frodo since his parents drowned in an accident. Frodo is about 8-9 years old here.

— I love the headcanon that hobbits’ ears react to their emotions, so the fact that Frodo doesn’t lower them when Bilbo scolds him is a good sign. Bilbo is a good uncle.

— Thorin and Bilbo have seen each other several times on Wednesdays. Usually, they don’t care about other patrons, but barista keept trying to serve a doppio to the stern scowling dwarf in black leather jacket, and a cappuccino with whipped cream to the little curly hobbit in a plaid sweater. They’ve had to swap their drinks several times.

— Thorin read Mr. Baggins’ books to his nephews in Erebor and quickly figured out who always sits at the table near the window in his favorite cafe. Thorin likes Bilbo’s books but doesn’t know if he’s married because he keeps his personal life private. Seeing Frodo, he immediately assumed he was Bilbo’s son, considering how the little hobbit looks at him.

— Bilbo immediately noticed the stern ( handsome) dwarf sitting with his eyes glued to his phone, but he always felt too awkward to speak with him. How do you even start a conversation with a stranger, especially from another race? So when Frodo, rather bluntly, commented on his appearance, of course, Bilbo was embarrassed. No, he absolutely agrees with Frodo. The exotic braids, unusual for short-haired hobbits, look amazing on the tall dwarf, and the iron clips highlight his blue eyes perfectly, but isn’t that a bit rude to point that out? Wouldn’t a dwarf decide that he is trying to mock his culture?

— Bilbo saw that while he was scolding Frodo, Thorin turned away and for some reason tugged angrily at his braid, so he decided to muster the courage and compliment him himself to ease the awkwardness and not seem rude (not at all because he would gladly say what Frodo did himself and not because Mr. Dwarf has much more attractive features he’d also like to make a comment on, not at all, what are you talking about, no-no-no).

— The dwarf didn’t seem offended at all.

— They started talking and found out that Thorin’s nephews love Bilbo’s books (Bilbo was flattered by this news. He’s still surprised when his books are read by anyone other than hobbits. (Gandalf didn’t tell him that his books are popular among all races. Mostly because for other races they play the role of kids books where main protagonist is a cute mice)).

— And in the end, as we see, they exchanged numbers 🌚🌝

— They will meet again, but without Frodo and not just for coffee.

— The end✨✨✨

I’m still experimenting with a flat-color style and lineart so I’ll be glad to know what do you think about it. Hope the comic was enjoyable!