#thorin oakenshield fic

[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

[faeriichaii]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[fili-urzudel]

Second - Thorin Oakenshield x Reader

Summary: The reader realizes something about Thorin's priorities.

Part 2 Part 3

Word Count: 0.8 k

Warnings: slight cultural misunderstandings, a little heartache

"Thorin!" You called with a smile, striding towards him at your usual meeting place. It was just a forgotten, low stone wall among an even more forgotten old plot of land. But it had a great view of the sunset, and sitting against it kept the wind out on cold days. It had become one of your favorite places.

He called back to you, a faint grin accompanying it. "You're late."

"Perhaps you're early," you pointed out, jumping up to sit on the wall next to him. 

He gave one short chuckle.

"You seem preoccupied," you commented, trying to keep the comment light.

Thorin sighed through that long, angular nose of his. "I turn one-hundred years of age today," he stated. 

"I know," you said, drawing a small package from your bag. "Congratulations."

He swallowed. "It's been seventy-six years now, since I saw my home. The ravens still have not returned to the mountain."

Your brow furrowed. "Thorin, maybe it's best not to focus too much on that," you consoled. "Focus on living your life well and fully now, instead of just... waiting for that day," you said, instead of a day that may never come in your lifetime.

He didn't respond. "Here," you passed the package to him, pressing it into his palm. 

"What is it?"

You smiled dryly. "Open it and find out."

Thorin studied the round silver object. It looked almost like a ring—that meant something to most men. Or perhaps a bead—which definitely meant something to dwarves—but it was neither, having a narrow incision through it. "What is it?" He asked again.

"It's an ear cuff," you smiled. "I know that most dwarves like jewelry, but a ring or a necklace didn't seem right, and I don't know if you have piercings..." you trailed off. "So I figured an ear cuff could be a good compromise. I tried my best to sort of make it match your beads."

Thorin hoped his face didn't look as warm as it felt. 

To you, it appeared his mind was still far away from you. "Here, I can help you put it on." You turned to straddle the wall, brushing his hair away from his ear. 

Thorin tried his best not to shudder.

"Tell me about something," you requested. 

"Like what?" He tried to keep his voice even as you didn't drop his hair once the cool metal was wrapped into the shell of his ear. You ran your fingers through it instead, gently untangling the knots, your knuckles brushing his shoulder.

"I don't know, something important to you," you suggested, and he swallowed. Would he be able to tell you what hair meant to his people? To him? Would you stop? "Tell me about your creator."

He swallowed. "I suppose... Where to begin? Aule was one of the Valar, and Eru was the only one allowed to create life..."

You listened intently, humming with understanding, until at some point the sun was very nearly set and Thorin's head was in your lap. You didn't know how he had gotten there, only that you had never stopped running your fingers through his hair and he had never told you to. You thought you could stay like that forever.

"Do you remember what Erebor was like?" You asked, filling the silence after he told you about how the dwarves had only narrowly escaped being removed from existence. You felt him tense.

"No," he said, and it sounded as though he had never admitted that to anyone. "I was a child when it happened. I... I see glimpses, but... I don't remember what it was really like, aside from what I've been told."

You brushed another piece of hair out of his eyes after the wind had put it out of place. "And yet you still love it."

Thorin breathed for a moment before answering. "I do."

"You would do anything for a homeland that you hardly even remember?"

Thorin sighed, closing his eyes. "Perhaps it is not the Lonely Mountain that I love. It is my people. They deserve to have their home back. They deserve for revenge to be exacted on Smaug."

"You would do anything for your people," you said, and it was no question.

"Anything."

And me? You couldn't bring yourself to ask. You withdrew your fingers from his hair, balancing on the stones again. "I admire that about you."

Thorin sensed the shift in your tone. His eyes blinked open again, piercing blue staring into your eyes. "Have you ever had something that you would die for?"

"Die for?" You repeated softly, fidgeting with your fingernails. You gazed back at him, unable to look anywhere else. "Worse, I think. Something that I would live for."

[smallesthobbit]

The Hobbit & The Dwarf {P.I} || Thorin Oakenshield

Synopsis - You and your brother, Bilbo, meet Thorin (& Company).

Warnings - SFW.

Notes - Guess this is going to be a few-parter and a slow burner, sorry in advance!

Word Count - 1.2k.

{Caffeinate Me}.

That morning, you had been sitting outside with your brother Bilbo Baggins, smoking a pipe of tobacco and betting who could blow the biggest smoke rings over The Hill when the sun was quickly shaded from your vision. You and Bilbo turned your heads to the side to see an elderly man grinning down at you: he was dressed in grey, with a long grey, scruffy beard, a pointed hat and a staff clasped between his hands. Bilbo looked at the man with wide eyes, as in awestruck before chiming out a loud “good morning!” 

Well, that was the start of a conversation then but to be honest, you weren’t really listening, you were still blowing large smoke-rings over The Hill and basking in the warm shade the mystery man was creating. You had overheard that this man's name was ‘Gandalf’. Not to mention, the word ‘adventure’ was being thrown around a few times, that was before Bilbo stood up and stormed inside leaving you sitting on the lawn with the elderly gentleman. “Your brother,” Gandalf mumbled to you, shaking his head as he walked up to the large circular front door. You watched with curious eyes as Gandalf used his stick to draw a small glowing symbol on the door. Then, once his masterpiece of vandalism was complete, Gandalf turned to you and placed a finger to his lips and chuckled before walking off into the sparkling sunlight. 

Later that day, you and Bilbo had been merrying your way around the markets, picking up food for the week's suppers and buying little trinkets that you found rather appealing. Before you knew it, night had fallen and you were back in your hole in the ground, ready to have a nice, quiet supper with your brother… or at least that’s what you thought. 

You were both about to tuck into your supper for the evening when there was a knock at the large, round front door. With a confused expression Bilbo looked at you but you just shrugged, your face showing equal confusion. Slowly and hesitantly, Bilbo walked to open the door, and the last thing he expected to see was a dwarf. “Dwalin, at your service!” The dwarf spoke loudly, curtseying as he introduced himself. 

“Bilbo and Y/N… at yours,” Bilbo mumbled, looking at you with that same confused expression. 

“Where is it? He said there would be food, and lots of it!” Dwalin said, pushing past Bilbo and walking towards you in the kitchen. 

“He said? Who said?” Bilbo asked, but the question fell on deaf ears as a second knock came to the door. While Bilbo answered the door, you showed Dwalin to the supper table and offered him the food off of yours and Bilbo's plates. When Bilbo opened the door, another dwarf with a white long beard was standing there, a grin on his lips. “Who are you?” Bilbo said, the words tumbling off his lips before he even realised what they were. 

“Balin, at your service!” The dwarf, Balin, bowed to Bilbo and walked into the dining area where you and Dwalin sat. The second the two dwarves' eyes met, they were hugging immediately: it was clear they knew each other, maybe they were even related. While Bilbo spoke his mind to the two dwarves who had now moved their conversation to the pantry there was yet again another knock at the door. Well, expect both yours and Bilbo’s surprise when there was not one, but two dwarves on the other side. 

“Fili-”

“And Kili-”

“At your service,” they chime at the same time. 

“I think there must be some mistake,” you gasped as the two dwarves at the large door looked at you with furrowed eyebrows. 

“Has it been cancelled?” One of them asked. 

“No one told us!”

“No, nothing’s been cancelled,” Bilbo stressed, raking his hands through his hair. 

“That’s a relief,” Kili and Fili smirked as they pushed their way inside. They looked around inspecting the furniture scattered across the room and art that adorned the walls, taking in the homeliness and comfort of the hobbit hole. 

“Kili! Fili!” Dwalin and Balin cheered, pulling the two younger dwarves into a hug. 

“What in the middle–earth is going on here?” You hissed at Bilbo, looking towards the four dwarves now standing in your pantry and inspecting your food. 

“I don’t know! Don’t ask me!” Bilbo hissed back at you, frowning. 

“You invited one too many people for tea and now we have four dwarves we do not know in our home!” You exclaimed, throwing your hands up in the air. 

“I did not-” Bilbo tried to defend himself when he was, once again, interrupted by a knock at the door. “I swear to whoever, if this is someone’s idea of a joke I am not going to be happy!” 

Before Bilbo opened the door, he took a deep breath as he mentally prepared himself for another dwarf or two - but not eight! One after the other they fell on top of each other onto the floor of your home, grunting in pain and discomfort. Just as Bilbo was about to squeal in disbelief, shock and pure horror, a large figure bowed down revealing himself: Gandalf. Bilbo’s eyes met with the wizards and he shook his head, helping the dwarves off the floor and begrudgingly welcoming them into your shared home. “Bilbo my boy!” Gandalf exclaimed. The wizard ducked to allow himself entry into the home. Then he began to introduce each dwarf as they hung up their cloaks. “Dori, Nori, Ori, Oin, Bifur, Bofur and Bombur.” 

“Welcome,” you smiled weakly, watching as the dwarves piled into your kitchen and began to merrily chat with one another. Meanwhile, Gandalf and Bilbo were speaking quietly in the corner of the room. You were lost, standing in the middle of the entrance surrounded by a Company of dwarves. 

“It seems we’re one man short – Where is he?” Gandalf asked, looking around at the dwarves, taking in each of their dishevelled appearances.   

“He’s running late, but he’ll be here,” Dwalin replied confidently. Gandalf nodded his head in response, taking in Dwalin’s answer as fact. Then, the Company began to chat amongst themselves again as they ate and drank. They were growing in confidence when all of a sudden a mighty bang came from the large front door. 

“That’ll be him,” Gandalf said, standing up and heading to open the door. When Gandalf opened the door, yet another dwarf stood there, his head down. “Thorin!” Gandalf chimed, forcing the dwarf to lift up his head. 

The dwarf, no doubtedly called Thorin, offered a weak smile to the wizard before turning to walk towards you and your brother. “So you are the Hobbits Gandalf insisted on bringing to our Company?”

“I say you’ll find no better members than these two Baginses!” Gandalf said sternly, placing a hand on Thorin’s shoulder. Thorin looked between you and Bilbo, an almost knowing smirk on his face. That smirk gave you two reactions: firstly, it made you visibly tense up and secondly it made your heart soar like a bird in the sky. You decided it best to keep your distance away from the one they call Thorin.

[lathalea]

The Shrieking Monster

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨ This is a gift for @babe-bombadil as part of the @whiteoliphaunt 2023 exchange. ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨ Happy New Year everyone! 🥳

Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield & Dis & little Fili & Kili Rating: G Warnings: family fluff Author's notes: A story set in the Blue Mountains about Thorin trying to be both a ruler and a good uncle at once. Young Fili and Kili are making it a tad difficult in their own cute way. Special thanks to @naryaflame for your linguistic help with a name :) If you prefer, you can read this fic on AO3.

Khuzdul: Thorinuldûm - Thorin’s Halls, the settlement of the refugees from the Lonely Mountain in the Blue Mountains Amad - mother

1. 

It was a perfect morning. Thorin stretched and yawned, settling himself on his favourite chair in the kitchen. The air that whiffed into the dwarven stronghold from the outside felt warm on his cheeks and smelled like spring. As he sipped his morning tea, that strong, aromatic blend Dori bought in Bree, his sister appeared at the threshold. She gave Thorin a bright smile and, seeing her steaming mug on the table, she sat next to him. The lazy silence of the early hours of the day was soon broken by the appearance of two dishevelled pebbles, one with a thatch of golden hair, the other – with his hair as brown as a bear’s fur in winter. After the mandatory morning hugs, Thorin readied breakfast while Dís prepared her sons for the day, humming to herself. Thorin could not stop himself from smiling. His sister was probably already thinking of her visit to the market. She adored going there in the morning, especially on the days when the merchants arrived with new goods – and today was one of those days. Thorin sighed. As much as he wanted her to have a very much needed moment of respite – his sister-sons were quite a handful, to put it mildly – he was painfully aware of what it was going to mean to him. Half a day of having his eyes around his head and his ears pricked up for any unusual noises they may create… or worse – the ominous silence. In the past, there was only a handful of moments when he and Dís realised that the boys went completely silent. It never bode well. 

This day, however, started with the pitter-patter of the boys’ bare feet, chatter and laughter, and the clatter of their bowls as they ate their oatmeal. Dís reminded them to behave while she was gone, and left for the market. Fíli seemed very content about this state of things, knowing well by now that staying with his mother’s brother meant visiting various places in these halls, like forges, or assisting Thorin in other exciting ways. It was different with Kíli – his loud wails of protest at being so cruelly abandoned reverberated against the walls of their home. Thorin imagined they must have followed their mother through the corridors of Thorinuldûm for a long while. Her Little Bear, as Dís called him, was still too young to understand the connection between Mommy leaving, and the sudden appearance of candied rhubarb or his favourite cream toffees.

Distracting Kíli from his misery was not easy, but Thorin managed it by offering to take the boys for a new adventure. Their big blue eyes shone as he told them they would be going to the lower levels of the city together. It was a real treat – Kíli had never been there before and Fíli visited them only a handful of times.

Thorin had a mind to visit the Engineers’ Quarter and show the lads around while discussing some technical issues with one of the water engineers. And so they began their adventure. As they descended down the wide stone stairs Kíli stumbled and yawned, so Thorin decided to carry him the rest of the way. Soon Little Bear began snoring in his arms, and Thorin attempted to ignore the fact that his own tunic was becoming gradually soaked through with his nephew’s saliva. He also started suspecting that the moniker “Little Bear” must have surely come from the fact that Kíli seemed to weigh more and more with every step, like a true bear.

“At least he is not crying,” Thorin muttered to himself, and kept on walking. Thank Mahal for silver linings.

As they arrived at their destination, however, the situation got worse. The Engineers’ Quarter was a crowded place that smelled like tar, coal, and burned leather. Not minding the much larger adult dwarves in their soot-stained clothes who carried – or carted – their wares from one place to another, curious Fíli began rushing between them, oblivious of the chaos he was creating. He took a look at the wheelwright’s workshop here, and then he had to see the toolmaker’s booth there; he then insisted on seeing how parchment was being made, and attempted to find the place where they manufactured those shiny cogwheels. If not for his golden mane, Thorin would have lost his nephew at least a couple of times. Brór, the water engineer he had a meeting with, joined Thorin in the chase for the high-spirited boy. Instead of looking at the water supply pipeline blueprints and trying to fix a problem with water pressure, they ended up unwillingly playing a hide-and-run game to the delight of the onlookers. Seeing your own king running back and forth through the great cavern with one giggling pebble strapped to his chest while chasing after the other one must have been very amusing… for anyone but him, Thorin thought with resignation. His resignation grew even more when he noticed Fíli climbing onto a tall work table… and jumping down onto a heap of coal.

When Thorin finally caught the runaway, they were both out of breath. Although it was rather Fíli who caught his uncle – the boy ran into him and clung to his left leg as if a throng of orcs chased him.

Fíli raised his teary-eyed face to Thorin and sobbed out, “A monster wanted to eat meeee…”

“A monster? Here?” Thorin’s brow furrowed.

It took him a while to reassure Fíli that no monster was going to eat him. In turn, Thorin promised to get rid of the said monster that apparently lurked in a nearby chamber, and shrieked at him. He left his nephews in the care of Brór who tried to look solemn, but his twitching lips betrayed him. Thorin grunted and entered the chamber, carefully looking around, adjusting his eyes to the dark surroundings. And then he saw two glowing points of red. And heard the shrieking.

2.

When Thorin returned to Brór, Kíli was fast asleep once again. Leaving Little Bear in the engineer’s care once again, he took Fíli’s hand and led him to the entrance of the dark chamber. When they opened the door, they both heard the continuous shrieking now. His nephew stopped and refused to walk inside, covering his ears and closing his eyes.

“There are no monsters here, Fíli.” Thorin reassured the boy. “See for yourself.”

“Nnoooo…” muttered Fíli, hiding behind his uncle.

“Do not be afraid,” Thorin added. “Nothing will hurt you here. I promise.”

On the bench by the door stood a lantern. It took him a moment to light it. With the lantern in hand, Thorin crossed the threshold and approached the nearest lantern that hung on the wall, and then another, and another. Soon, the whole chamber was bright as day, each lantern giving off a pleasant yellow glow.

“You can come in now,” Thorin smiled encouragingly.

With his ears covered and his eyes set on the shrieking, wobbling entity in the middle of the chamber, Fíli shook his head.

“This is not a monster.” Thorin stepped towards the huge bulbous shape that made so much noise. He placed his hand on the top of the strange shaking thing and added, “This is a washing barrel.”

Fíli blinked and took a good look at it. The two red glowing points did not look like a pair of evil eyes any longer. Those were two ball-shaped lanterns standing on top of the… thing. That shrieking noise now seemed to sound like a couple of cogwheels that needed a bit of oil, and not like a monster’s screech. And the arm that seemed to reach out to grab him before, turned out to be a cast iron lever.

“A… barrel?” Fíli looked at his uncle and took one uncertain step towards him and the strange contraption.

“Correct. A barrel that washes your clothes,” Thorin explained in an even voice and at the same moment the shrieking stopped. “Look, it has just finished the washing cycle. Let me show you how it works. First, you open this hatch, like so… Watch out for the water! These clothes are clean, they only need to be wrung out and dried.”

As he spoke, Fíli slowly started closing the distance between them, his eyes becoming wider and wider.

“... but if you want to wash your clothes,” Thorin continued, “you need to put them inside, here, and add some soap suds. Then you close the hatch, pour some water here, crank this lever a few times, do this, like so, and wait for the washing barrel to finish its work!”

Thorin kept on talking until Fíli seemed to be completely in awe of this new piece of machinery, his fear completely forgotten. He peppered his uncle with tons of questions: how many cogwheels were there, how many times one should crank the lever, what the barrel was made of… and so on, and so forth. When they left the chamber, there was a big smile on the boy’s lips instead of tears. 

On their way back home Fíli exclaimed, “This was the bestest adventure ever!”

Thorin thought that sometimes being an uncle happened to be quite rewarding. Even if his tunic was still wet from Kíli’s sleepy drooling.

***

His attitude completely changed less than half an hour later, when his nephews disappeared. Both of them. At once.

Stumbling over several painfully angular wooden toys, Thorin searched the boys’ bedroom. Nothing. He even looked under their beds (twice!), but there was no sign of the boys anywhere. They weren't sitting in the common kitchen nor searching for snacks in the pantry. Nor in Dwalin’s rooms where Kíli liked to play hide-and-scare with the big warrior. There were nowhere to be found – not in the rocking chair by the fireplace, nor even in Balin’s study by that large desk where Fíli liked to play so often. Thorin closed his eyes. If he did not find his nephews before Dís returned from the market, his sister would have Thorin’s own head on a spike. The wrath of dwarf-women was ten times fiercer than the one of dwarf-men. In the case of his little sister, the number was much higher, at least a hundred times. And Thorin would do everything he could to avoid being on the receiving end of it.

There was no time to lose. He recruited Dwalin, Óin, and Halkatla, Balin’s wife, to the task of finding the boys, but they returned empty-handed. No one had seen the boys since their early lunch. Then, they were supposed to take a nap, and Thorin remembered their yawning as they closed the door to their bedroom behind him.

And now they were gone. Kidnapped? — No, impossible, Thorin thought. Dwarves cherished their children like the greatest treasures they were, and no one else was allowed into Thorinuldûm. There were no goblins nor other dangers here either. It felt as if the boys magically disappeared in a puff of smoke. Thorin looked around the wide corridor he stood in, but he found no traces of the missing boys.

“Have you checked all of their favourite places?” Halkatla asked, her red-and-silver braids clinking as she turned her head towards Óin.

“Aye, we did,” he nodded. “Not a sign of them.”

“Those wee rascals! I bet they are up to somethin’.” Dwalin said. “They remind me of us. Remember that time, Thorin, when we were around their age or so, and half of Erebor was lookin’ for us all day long?”

“It would be difficult to forget it,” Thorin admitted. “We wanted to avoid another boring lesson with our tutor…”

“...and instead we went to explore the mines! What a shame we lost our way,” Dwalin grinned and nudged him. “It was fun!”

“Aye, fun on an empty belly. If only you had not forgotten our food,” Thorin replied, relieved that his nephews had a proper meal at least.

“If only ye had not forgotten that map ye were supposed to borrow from your father’s desk,” Dwalin chuckled.

Before Thorin could form an adequate riposte, a mousy-haired dwarf approached him.

“M’lord, Master Brór says that the pipeline is fully functional again,” the messenger bowed.

Thorin gave him a nod of thanks. At least he brought a piece of good news. Master Brór was a skilled engineer, and the way he handled Thorin’s own sister-sons…

“Either way,” Dwalin continued, “we had a real adventure on that day, hadn’t we, Thorin?”

A thought appeared in Thorin’s mind. Master Brór. An adventure.

“There was one place where we have not searched yet,” he turned to his companions.

“I am listening,” Halkatla tilted her head, reminding him of a curious raven.

“The Engineers’ Quarters.”

***

Master Brór was more than happy to receive words of thanks from Thorin in person for fixing that pipeline issue once and for all. Despite Thorin’s hopes, he had not seen Fíli or Kíli since they left the Engineers’ Quarters with their uncle earlier that day. Dwalin muttered a curse under his breath.

“Well, that’s it. I’m goin’ to check the workshops,” the warrior said.

“I’ll take the ones on the left, you take the ones on the right,” Halkatla followed him.

“Let’s go,” Dwalin replied, his voice trailing off as he walked away. “And those wee cave bats would better be there or I swear…”

Master Brór addressed Thorin, “I will spread the word as you requested, my lord. Someone must have seen them, I am certain of it. They could not have simply disappeared.”

Thorin agreed with him and began his own search. The rocks could not have swallowed them whole! Magic was out of the question as well, there had to be a logical solution to this! Thoring pulled at his short beard in frustration. Wandering through the area and looking for any signs of his nephews in places they visited earlier that day, he wondered if Óin had any luck. The healer was waiting at their home in case Fíli and Kíli returned there on their own. Perhaps the three of them were already sitting by the fire, with Óin telling the boys countless amusing stories, while Thorin and his companions were checking every nook and cranny on the lower level, going out of their minds with worry. He raised his head, listening to a peculiar sound and trying to figure out its source. It sounded like… shrieking. It was not at all difficult to recall Fíli’s eyes shining with fear, awe, and then curiosity at the sight of the washing barrel.

Without thinking, Thorin turned his steps towards the chamber that housed the “monster” Fíli had been so afraid of not so long ago.

When Thorin arrived at his destination, the door was ajar. Thorin could hear the shrieking very well, but there were other sounds too. Very familiar sounds.

He took a deep breath and shouted, “Dwalin! I found them!”

***

When Thorin stepped inside the chamber, the sounds became even clearer. One of them he identified as uncontrollable giggling, and the other one, slightly muted, sounded like: “Woooo! Woooo! Wooooo! A carousel! Woooo! Faster, Fíli! Woooo!”

Thorin breathed out a sigh of relief only to be struck by a pang of dread a moment later.

Fíli stood by the washing barrel, cranking the lever, grinning from ear to ear, and laughing. Kíli was nowhere to be seen, but his enthusiastic shouts seemed to be coming from inside of the barrel. Inside, not outside. Thorin swallowed; he considered screaming in terror, but something told him that this was most definitely an example of behaviour unworthy of a king. It took him a moment to melt the ball of ice that was forming in his stomach. He closed the distance between him and the barrel in a blink of an eye.

Thank Mahal, the hatch was open. Inside, Kíli sat with his back against a wall of the large metal container inside the machine, surrounded by various articles of laundry, with a happy grin on his face, and a stray sock on top of his head. A wave of relief washed over Thorin.

“Uncle Thorin! Uncle Thorin!” Fíli exclaimed. “We’re playing carousel! Want to jump in?”

Thorin did not.

“It is time to return home, boys,” Thorin simply said, taking Kíli out of the barrel. His clothes were damp and he smelled like those violet flowers Dís liked so much, but other than that, he looked happy, and what’s more important, he was in one piece – just like his older brother.

“But uncle...” Fíli started.

“Your amad will be home soon. Do you not want to see what she bought at the market?”

“A sugar horse? She promised!” The boy recalled his favourite treat.

Holding Kíli firmly against his chest with one arm, Thorin held out his hand to Fíli.

“Let us go and see,” he said with a smile as his nephew’s tiny hand grabbed his.

There would yet be time for scolding and for a conversation about not sneaking out anywhere alone, but for now, the only thing that Thorin wanted was to safely bring his little rascals home.

He only hoped they would manage to reach their halls before Dís returned.

***

When Dís crossed the threshold of their home later in the afternoon, she was greeted by complete silence. Her sons were nowhere to be seen, which was very suspicious. They were always the first ones to run to her and see what she brought them this time. She expected Thorin to welcome her and help her unpack her basket, as usual — but he was not there either. Was this that ominous silence she dreaded so much whenever her boys were executing another of their silly mischiefs? Not really. It seemed as if their home was empty… until she heard a familiar sound coming from a nearby chamber. Dís put the basket on the floor and tiptoed deeper into their halls.

The picture that unfolded before her eyes was the last thing she had expected. Her brother was half sitting, half lying on the sofa, his legs stretched out in front of him, his head resting on the backrest, his eyes closed. Fíli was cuddled up to his uncle’s side, his hair tousled, making her think of a skein of golden yarn. Kíli lay on the opposite side of his uncle, his head resting on Thorin’s lap and turned towards her. He had his thumb in his mouth. Dís could clearly see the darker stain of drool on her brother’s trousers and stifled a giggle. 

All three of them were asleep, of course. And all three of them were snoring in perfect unison. If she closed her eyes she could almost imagine that she had a working sawmill in front of her.

This scene was too adorable for Dís to interrupt it, so she decided that she would let her three boys sleep a little longer. There was no harm in a little nap, after all. Besides, she was tired, and there was still some space left on the sofa…As she drifted off to sleep beside them, her last conscious thought was: “Why do all three of them smell like my lavender laundry soap?”

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[fizzyxcustard]

One Night.

Masterlist of fan fiction

Fandom: The Hobbit

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, sexual references, angst, heartbreak, insecurity.

Comments/Notes: From the imagine, "You spend the night with Thorin, and then out of insecurity, you leave him." Requested by @lathalea. Timeframe of post-BOTFA requested by @sotwk

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

Thorin was lay beside you, his breathing slow. You watched his chest rise and fall. His dark eyelashes fluttered and his eyes moved beneath their lids. He had fallen asleep not long after your final round of love making. 

You sighed. He was so beautiful, and didn’t even know it. 

The night had become full of tension, which had followed his coronation celebration. Of course you attended, being a close friend of the new king. For many months and you had travelled alongside him, helping and fighting for him to re-take the mountain kingdom of Erebor. Thorin had taken you aside, complimenting you on your attire for the celebration, his blue eyes alight for you. Your first kiss had been outside the main hall, in a cold, empty hallway. Everything else that had followed was back in his bed chamber. The two of you had snuck away, hand in hand, still stealing secret kisses along the hallways. 

Never before had you ever been touched in such a way as how Thorin touched you. His hot skin sent intense vibrations through you. His gaze made your heart thunder, and pulsate in other parts of your body, acknowledging just how aroused you were. His voice made sighs slip off your tongue so effortlessly. 

You kept your eyes on him as he slept, recollecting the beautiful memories of him opening his heart, soul and body to you. When he had first slipped inside you, he had been over you, his large hands holding your legs open. You had welcomed him so freely in those moments. However, in your second round of pleasure seeking, you had climbed on top of him. He was laid out beneath you, vulnerable, offering it all. Those hands had been clamped on your hips, guiding your movement as the two of you ascended higher towards that wonderful, earth shattering climax. The third and final time, Thorin had been behind you. His lips remained on your neck and shoulder, showing you that even when he could not see your face, he still adored you and admired your beauty. 

This was all wrong. Thorin was the most amazing man you had ever met. And you were just mediocre. Nothing special or of substantial value. You looked upon his sleeping form, studying his slim lips which peeped from beneath his moustache. His beard was neatly trimmed, despite him now growing it longer after reclaiming Erebor. That was a promise he had made many years ago. Once the mountain was re-claimed and he would grow his beard back long, as was custom with the Longbeard Dwarves. 

Slowly, and you slipped out of bed. There was an ache in your chest. You loved Thorin so much more than you could ever express, but you were not worthy of his hand. A royal Dwarf deserved someone of standing and position, not a commoner like yourself. 

Tears fell down your cheeks, reminding you of the man you were originally pledged to many years ago. He had told you he loved you, showered you with gifts, but made it known through his behaviour that you meant very little to him. His actions did not speak louder than his words. And, of course, his attention then swept elsewhere. Thorin would no doubt do the same. Such a beautiful soul would never cherish you and mean it! If this man from your past could not love you, then surely Thorin couldn’t either. 

But you had never been touched, kissed and made love to in such a way as that! Every movement made you quake beneath Thorin’s touch, and his whispers of adoration made you shiver. Maybe he just knew how to please women and had rehearsed the words many times. 

You re-dressed and slipped out of the chamber, giving Thorin one last glance. The ache hit you hard once again and you placed your hand on your mouth, stifling the uncontrollable sobs. 

The halls were quiet and dark, with only the faint light of torchlight guiding your way. And by the time you made it back to your room, you grabbed a quill, ink and parchment. Your hand shook as you tried to write, which meant that your normally laced handwriting became more squiggled. A tear fell onto the parchment, splashing, and caused a swirl of black ink to form under your signature. 

***

Thorin woke, his eyes adjusting to the dark room. He looked up at the ceiling of the room and sighed, recollecting the evening before. And as soon as he saw your face in his mind’s eye, he turned to see you had disappeared. He called your name into the gloom. 

A dread hit him and his stomach twisted into a hard knot. Something was wrong. 

Why would you disappear like this? Even though you could have just slipped back to your own bed chamber, Thorin felt something in the depth of his very being that told him that he would not find you there. 

Thorin pulled on a robe, tying it at his waist, and made his way to your room, his mind full of questions. He didn’t even knock as he got to your door and let himself in, finding the room empty. A lump swelled in his throat. He approached your desk. A candle had been lit, and there under the flickering light, was a piece of parchment. 

My dearest Thorin, 

I cannot remain here. I do not belong. I will never be enough for you, my love. Go and find happiness. May Mahal bless you. 

The letter was simple. 

Thorin crumpled the letter in his hands, feeling a whole array of emotion wash over him. Terror and frustration seemed to form the knot in his stomach, which was now gaining momentum. Only the night before and Thorin had been on the verge of offering everything to you, a life together. That was all Thorin wanted. You, in every way. He thought that you had been willing to give yourself to him. You had even told him you loved him, shivered at his touch, become undone beneath him. The two of you had panted, sweat, groaned against each other. How could he just let all of that go? 

He would not let you go. 

He could not. 

***

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[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."

[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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[esta-elavaris]

Flufftober Day 16: Singing one another to sleep - Thorin Oakenshield/OC [1,006 words]

My Flufftober '23 masterpost can be found here 💜✨

“Thorin!”

Gwen jolted upright from a dead sleep, hands coming up to block a blade that was not there – wielded by a foe that no longer breathed. But it took her a moment to remember that, pain slicing through the long-healed scar that ran across the back of her forearm from wrist to elbow.

Reality registered, her limbs slackened, and she sighed shakily. Sweat drenched her, her nightdress sticking to her, and her heart and head warred for which could pound the hardest. She cursed quietly beneath her breath.

“The dragon?” Thorin’s voice sounded behind her, rough with sleep.

“Ravenshill,” she corrected hoarsely. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

As she spoke, she tried to rub the phantom pain out of her scar.

“You survived,” he spoke quietly.

It was difficult to say whether he was reassuring her of that fact, or himself.

“…despite a bit of touch-and-go in the middle there,” she murmured, hand settling over the scar.

Were it not for the healing abilities of the Elves, she would have lost the arm. It spoke volumes that Thorin had even taken her to them so entirely without reluctance, in the aftermath. As it was, there was occasional loss of sensation here and there, and she’d never move it with the same deftness she’d been capable of before, but it was a small price to pay.

“That’s not what bothers me in the dreams,” she admitted. “In the dreams, I don’t get there in time.”

To distract herself from the discomfort of speaking the words aloud, she peeled off her nightgown, throwing it away from the bed where it landed with little more than a rustling flutter. It was only keeping her cold, the way it clung to her damply lending to her sense of unease. But since she wasn’t willing to lie down again just yet, she only ended up colder as the sweat cooled and dried on her skin.

Wrapping her arms about herself, she tried to steady her breathing – helped by the fact that Thorin sat up and shifted til he was at her back. Her husband was like a furnace, and with his chest at her back she could no longer pretend the tremors were purely to do with the cold.

“You are here,” he said softly into her ear. “As am I. It is over. Although you paid a hefty price to see things as they are now.”

“I’d do it again.”

He did not sound cheered by the prospect, humming lowly in the back of his throat. “I would not ask that of you.”

“Since when has that ever stopped me?”

The rueful sound he made in response had a note of fondness to it. Winding a strong arm about her waist, he pulled her back – the gesture a suggestion more than an insistence, and she knew that if she insisted on remaining upright, he would ease up immediately. Instead, though, she leaned into the embrace, allowing him to lead her to lie down, more atop him than the bed itself. But that helped. She could not convince herself that he was not here, nor that he was not breathing, when his heartbeat beneath her hand, and she could feel each inhale and exhale every time.

“I’m all sweaty,” she protested half-heartedly.

Thorin scoffed. She looked at him properly for the first time since waking then, finding concern clear and unhidden in his striking eyes and his hair mussed from sleep.

“Do you think I care at all about that? No, my thoughts are with how I might repay wife for saving my life,” he mused quietly – likely sensing that she needed the silence filled so that her thoughts would not run away with her.

“You married her, for one thing.”

“A poor reward indeed,” he teased, one corner of his lips upturning. “A punishment, some might argue. Depending on my mood.”

“Stay awake with me?” she asked quietly. “Just for a little while?”

His manner lost what little teasing there had been in it to begin with, his face softening as the hand not at her waist found her hair.

“All night, if need be,” he vowed.

“I’m sorry. If you’re tired-”

She wasn’t used to being this shivering, frightened thing – and beyond her disquiet felt ridiculous for how he was being forced to pander to it, husband or no. But he dispelled her fears with a tightened hold and a firm interruption.

“Do not apologise. Not for this. Never for this.”

“It’s been so long since the last one. I thought it was over.”

“That is the way with them,” he murmured ruefully. “The gaps betwixt them lengthen and lengthen until one day they will be no more. In the meantime, you’ll recover more quickly from them each time. They will…jar you less.”

He spoke from experience, and how could he not? Given all that he’d seen across his years? She knew that Dwarves’ lives spanned further than those of humans, but he’d seen enough for ten lifetimes, even with that difference in mind.

“Do you get them? From the battle, I mean?”

“You dream that you did not succeed,” he said softly. “I dream that you did, but did not live to see that success.”

“I did.”

“You did.”

They lapsed into silence, Gwen slowly managing to match her breathing with his. After the third time he tactfully pretended not to notice her glancing up at him to check if he was awake, he began singing in low, soothing tones to save her the bother. The song was in Khuzdul, she knew not the words (the argument over the fact that Erebor’s Queen should know it being a surprisingly uphill one thus far), but that helped somewhat – focusing on his impossibly deep voice rather than the words it was forming, and feeling the vibrations of it throughout his chest.

When she finally did fall asleep again, it was a dreamless one, and she suspected it came long before he allowed himself to drift off again, too.

Links: AO3 -- FF.net -- flufftober masterpost -- dividers by cafekitsune

[retellingthehobbit]

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*crumbles into dust after finishing this* Thank you for reading! This The Hobbit webcomic adaptation thing takes a lot of effort to put together and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate every comment. I also really appreciate the people who’ve spread the word of this comic to their friends! <3

And finally, we’re at the Song of the Lonely Mountain! Within Tolkien’s canon, The Hobbit is an in-universe book that was “written” by Bilbo Baggins, who occasionally lies/embellishes/exaggerates things. The tonal differences between The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings are explained by Bilbo and Frodo/Sam being different kinds of storytellers, with different relationships to “the truth.” This idea is the core of how I’m adapting the novel!  Bilbo is an unreliable narrator who is literally ‘drawing’ from his own limited experiences;  the different art styles reflect the different perspectives of other characters.   The “dwarf art style” in this chapter is inspired by stonework/metalwork in general— but especially by a mix of art deco, Celtic art, and European folk art. 

The central tension of the comic is between Bilbo and Thorin, who each have wildly different ideas about what kind of  story they’re in. Thorin is in a grand fantasy epic, while Bilbo is in a lighthearted children’s book adventure.  The tragedy is, obviously, that only one side of the story ever gets to be fully told.

On a sillier note, a few years ago I had my first gay crush on a lesbian who sang while playing the piano. This chapter is dedicated to the piano lesbian. I hope they’re doing well, wherever they are. XD

I think I might need a bit of a break but I’m hoping for the next chapter, titled “Dawn,” to arrive on January 13th. And your comments/support really do help motivate me to get more done! ^_^

[heart-select]

Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips

[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?"

taglist:

@coffeecaketornado @thetaekwondofeline @mrsdurin @glassgulls @childofyuggoth

@glitterypirateduck @foxxy-126 @km-ffluv @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @singleteapot

@tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath @ferns-fics @ninman82

@eternallyvenus @beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@thewulf

[bubbles-floating]

Should... should I read Sansûkh again... The urge is strong but time management says no

Let the people* decide!

*the people: my three mutuals who might not even know about the fic, also any strangers who happen upon this post

[fili-urzudel]

From Afar - Thorin Oakenshield x Reader

Part 3 to Second and Girl in Calico

Summary: Thorin must live with the reality that he has created, and despite everything, is determined to do so with some degree of joy. Based on the song From Afar by Vance Joy.

Warnings: heartache (to be expected from this series), angst, closure!!

Word count: 1.1 k

Your family accepted Thorin's invitation. Later, you also accepted an invitation of Bard's: to settle in Dale. After that, your visits only became more frequent. It took a year or so—though you would say only a few months—for your daughters to warm up to it all, Asa in particular. The girl had her father's black hair and your eyes, and a will that could move mountains. It was no wonder she had charmed Fíli like she had. 

Naturally, your families had to come closer together after that. You or Symir were usually there at least once a week, acting as chaperones. Dwalin was forced to enter Dale once in a while to do the same. Kíli and Lena had a good deal of fun making fun of their older siblings, but the lovebirds bore it all with grace. 

It was you and Thorin chaperoning—from a respectful distance—in the gardens of the Erebor Conservatory when Fíli formally decided to propose marriage. You couldn't help yourself—you covered your mouth with your hand and grabbed his upper arm to avoid expressing your joy too loudly. Thorin laughed and smiled and let you cut off his circulation as he watched the happy blush on his nephew's face. And pretended not to notice the strands of hair beneath your fingers.

The engagement ball was... an event. But we need not consider that at the moment. Before the two kingdoms were to know anything of the happy news, the two families gathered in the private dining room of the Durins to celebrate among themselves.

As the fathers—or at the very least, father-like figures—of the couple, Thorin and Symir once again found themselves in each other's company. Neither minded. They had struck up a friendship, finding that there was no reason for ill-will between them, and had they met under different circumstances, they would almost certainly be friends. There was no harm in being friends under these circumstances as well.

Thorin could hardly deny the similarities between Symir and himself. The dark hair was a start. Both were quiet, dedicated to their families. Loyal and passionate. Hardworking. The race, the height, the build, the eyes, the social standings were all different. Of course, those didn't really matter. The most important difference was that Symir stayed.

Thorin tamped down that persistent ache in his chest once more. There was no use in dwelling upon something he could not change. It would only serve to keep him up at night. Not that he slept much anyway.

"I'm going to go see if they need any help in the kitchen," you said, picking yourself up to your tiptoes to peck Symir on the lips. He graciously stooped to make it a bit easier. 

"I'll miss you," he said jestingly, warmth in his tone and a smile on his face. "Don't be gone too long."

"I'll be back before you know it," you promised.

Thorin never knew quite where to look.

Symir took another drink, allowing his smile to comfortably fade and letting himself listen to the music before speaking. "You're still in love with her, aren't you?"

Thorin took a long, steady breath, not sure how Symir wanted him to answer. He is your friend. Despite everything, he is truly your friend. "I still love her," he finally corrected. There was a difference. Both he and Symir knew there was a difference. "From afar. I would... I would never dream of disrupting the happiness she's found with you."

"From afar, hm?"

Thorin took a breath. "It can be farther, if you need it to be."

Symir's mouth twisted for a moment. He took another drink. "Not necessary," he finally delivered. "I don't see the danger in it. As long as you're comfortable as well."

Thorin let his hands hang at his sides. He wasn't. He never really was. He was gripped with guilt every time he looked at you, but he knew that if you weren't around, it would only be worse.

"I am glad that you will be family soon," he said instead. "I am glad that my nephews will have people like the two of you in their lives."

You were happy. Fíli was happy. Asa was happy. That was what mattered.

Symir looked down at him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "You are a good man, Thorin Oakenshield. I am glad that we have met."

The king got a feeling inside that Symir knew what he was thinking, and yet allowed him the dignity of ignoring it. Allowed him to learn to cope with it on his own. Trusted him to do so.

Fíli caught him leaving, running to catch up to him before he reached their wing. "Uncle!"

Thorin turned. 

"May I speak to you?"

They sat on a settee in the hall.

"I can't help but notice your hesitance," Fíli said honestly. "You seem happy, but... there's just... something, I'm not sure what. Do you have concerns? Do you disapprove of our union? I value your insight, uncle. Please, tell me."

"No!" Thorin answered quickly. "No, I do not disapprove of your union. It brings me the greatest joy, to see you so happy, and I know that Asa's family are the good sort of people."

Fíli watched him carefully. "Then what is this," the word dawned upon Fíli visibly. "sadness I see about you?"

"It is what every dwarf wishes for," Thorin said softly. "To overcome the trials of his time so that those who follow are not plagued by them. So they are happy... when it was more difficult for him to do."

Fíli sat back, digesting his words. "You regret not marrying?" He asked. The words had not dared to leave his mouth in years past.

Thorin looked at him, but said nothing.

"Uncle, it is not yet too late, you know," Fíli tried to be helpful. "You are king of Erebor, the most powerful and most beloved ruler of—"

"For the one who my heart belongs to, it is," Thorin admitted. "It is too late."

Fíli whispered your name as a surety. The silence from his uncle was all the answer he needed. "Why did you not say anything?"

"I feared it would influence your decisions, and that would be the last thing I wished," Thorin said earnestly. "I still hope it does not."

"This causes you pain, uncle."

"No," Thorin insisted. "Nothing that I cannot bear."

Fíli sighed. Thorin could see the battle in his young nephew's mind and hoped that he lost. "Very well."

"Be happy, gamzûn," Thorin advised, pressing his forehead to his nephew's.

They stood in front of multitudes at the engagement ball. And they laughed, and they smiled, and for all the world, they were as happy as any new family could be.

Thorin supposed it was better to have you in his life in this way than not at all.

[mithrilhearts]

I am still SCREAMING over this amazing birthday gift @lorbalith shared with me!! This scene from Bookbinder//Songwriter is one of my favorites, and Lor truly brought it to life! 📖🤘Be sure to go follow Lorbalith on Instagram!

bagginshield | band/bookshop au | explicit

Thorin Durinul has always dreamed of making it to the big leagues in the music industry. Ered Luin’s newest citizen, Bilbo Baggins, an aspiring writer and all-around bookworm, has recently taken ownership of the mountain town’s dusty old corner shop, now, Bag End Books. They weren’t looking for love, but now they can’t imagine tackling life’s challenges without each other.

[lathalea]

Teaser Time: The White Raven ch6 is coming soon!

I would like to thank everyone who has supported me so far during my work on The White Raven fic, especially you, lovely people, yes, you who replied to my latest post about it. Your response was so overwhelmingly kind and really motivating 💕💕💕😭 Special thanks to @legolasbadass for being a great and extremely patient beta reader 💙

You gave me strength to continue writing this story and I have a little something for you...

✨💎 As a big THANK YOU 💎 ✨ I'd like to share a small snippet from Chapter 6 with you. Enjoy!

“He’s still breathing!”

“Thorin, wake up! Wake up, ye lazy bastard!” someone growled straight into his ear. “Damn it!”

“Dwalin, look, we stopped the bleeding.”

Those voices again. Pulling Thorin back into consciousness. Into the pain and emptiness.

“Let’s finish dressing his wound and then we’ll take ‘im to Oín,” the growling one said. 

“What’s that, Fili?” the young, familiar voice said.

“Where?”

“Over there, by that pointy rock on the other side of the river.” 

“Looks like a dead Warg to me,” the one very close to him rasped out. A pair of hands kept on doing something to his chest. It hurt. He wanted it to stop. 

“Too small for a Warg, Dwalin. It’s… by Mahal’s beard!”

“Where are you going, Fili? Wait for me!” The first voice sounded irritated.

A sound of hurried footsteps. Iron-heeled boots against ice. 

“Those two can’t sit in one place in peace if their life depended on…” the raspily-sounding one grunted. “I tell ya, Thorin, when ye’re better, we’ll send them on guard duty. First morning shift for a month. That’ll teach ‘em!”

Somehow, it made Thorin want to smile. But now, even smiling hurt.

“It’s a raven! So big! Look at its wings! Why are you staring, Fili?” the youthful voice reached his ears again.

“I think it’s… the White Raven.”

“What?! It’s just a fairy tale!”

“I’ve seen this raven before, Kili,” confidence rang in the second voice. “I think it followed us on the way to Erebor. It helped me fight off a Warg-rider in the Misties just before the eagles came.”

Thorin took a reluctant breath. His heartbeat thrummed in his ears. 

“Whatever it is, it doesn’t look good. There is so much blood… Is it dead, Fili?”

“Let me see… That’s a nasty wound.”

Thorin’s muscles tensed. He wanted to open his eyes. He wanted to speak. But his body didn't want to obey.

And then he heard two gasps at the same time.

“What’s happening?”

“Do you see it too, Fili?”

“It’s… it’s magic!”

“No, it’s a shapeshifter!”

“Look! Look!”

“A woman?!”

Both voices intermingled in Thorin’s exhausted mind, making less and less sense. He needed to act. He needed to… He breathed in. The air smelled like snowdrops.

“Thorin! Ye’re back! And here I was thinkin’…” A tattooed forehead and a bushy moustache appeared before his eyes. “Stop squeezing my hand so hard!”

“Carra…” Thorin managed to rasp out. He could barely keep his eyes open.

“What are ye sayin’?” Dwalin demanded.

“Help…. her…” He tried again. “She is…”

“What? I can barely hear ye.” The last wisps of strength were leaving him. He could feel the darkness beckoning to him once again.

“Yasthûnê…” Thorin articulated slowly. “My… wife.”

The full chapter is going to drop in the beginning of next week, Thorin and Carra can't wait to share their tale with you 💙

Tagging @legolasbadass @linasofia @xxbyimm @quiall321 @i-did-not-mean-to @evenstaredits @exhausted-humxn-being @mrsdurin @emrfangirl @aduialel @littlesweetdressmaker @shiinata-library @estethell @heilith @sotwk @groovycalzoneroadmaker @sazzlep @ponycactus @nokisuu @the-lonely-pillow @myeaglesongart @i-am-the-raven-queen @ruthoakenshield @asgardianhobbit98 @thespiritoflife @justfollowtheroad @fizzyxcustard @knittastically @mcchiberry @the-fragile-heart-of-a-lady and everyone who is interested in this story (stupid tumblr said I couldn't tag more people, sorry) 💙