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juniperskye · 1 month

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Why are you in my head?

Sneak Peek: Eddie and you are soulmates. The legend of soulmates is that you start to hear one another’s thoughts around age 16 – not all the time, but when you’re feeling a strong emotion. It simply flows out of you and into the other, the legend also states that the closer you are, the more you can hear them. **The events of season 4 did NOT happen** I did also use some of the dialogue

Bold are Eddie’s thoughts; Italics are reader’s thoughts. (mind you, they are essentially hearing both sets of thoughts)

Eddie Munson x Fem Sunshine! Reader (Soulmate AU)

Fluff - Part 2 Part 3 Part 4** Part 5

Word count: 1364

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, explicit language, let me know if I missed any!

That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

You had known all about soulmates, your mom had told you bedtime stories about soulmates and how she and your dad met throughout your entire childhood. They had been hearing one another’s thoughts for quite a while before your dad saved your mom from being run over by a biker as she stepped off the curb. She’d tell you how when their eyes met she could hear him thinking about how beautiful her eyes were and he heard her thinking about how handsome he was. You have hoped and dreamed of meeting your soulmate since you were four years old.

You had a soulmate, that much you knew. You had been hearing his thoughts for the last few years, they were few and far between which frustrated you. Your mom had explained it just meant he wasn’t close by, which sucked. You were hoping that the distance would decrease, given your family’s plans to move.

Hawkins, Indiana wasn’t exactly a town that people were flocking to…but here you were. Your mom had been offered a job at their hospital there as the supervising nurse and your parents had decided it was too good an offer to pass up. Your dad had contacted the local police department to see if they had any openings, to which they asked for a letter of recommendation and pretty much offered him the job.

Things were working out well for your parents. You hadn’t really been sure about the move. Your soulmate’s thoughts had been pretty quiet the last few days but, a part of you knew it was because your anxiety of this move was clearly drowning out his thoughts.

The car finally came to a stop, and you glance up for the first time since you’d gotten in the car that morning, too focused on the music playing from your Walkman and rereading The Hobbit, again. You looked up to see a modest home in a cookie cutter neighborhood, you were grateful for your parents and their ability to provide you with the things you need, but some days you wished your family wasn’t so…average.

“Sweetie, why don’t you head in and pick your room?” Your mom suggested.

“Really? I get to choose?” You asked.

“You have your pick, other than the master bedroom. You and I will organize the remaining rooms.” Your mom explained.

Damnit, if I could just get the chords right.

You quickly jogged up to the door, letting yourself in. You made your way upstairs first, checking out the two small bedrooms up there that were situated opposite the master bedroom, separated by a full bathroom. While both rooms were nice, they didn’t give you nearly enough room to “express your creative freedom” as your mom had encouraged. On the main level there was a kitchen, dining room, sitting room, powder room, and living room. There had been a door leading under the stairs, you were pleased to see it led down into a fully finished basement that had a full bathroom.

“MOMMMMM! I chose my room!” You called as you ran up the stairs.

There we go.

*Eddie’s POV*

Hell yeah! This is fucking perfect!

The thoughts had rung out like an alarm in his head. Her thoughts had never been this loud and clear. What had changed?

She better let me make the basement my room!

Had she finally moved? He had been hearing all her nervous thoughts about packing up and moving across the country. She must be closer now if her thoughts were coming in like this now.

YES! YES! YES! Now…how to decorate?

He smiled to himself. She seems sweet based off what he knows. He had asked Wayne about soulmates when he was growing up. He’d asked questions like “why can’t I just think of my address, so she could find me?” and Wayne had explained that it didn’t work like that. Thoughts were passed back and forth at moments it was needed – in times of excitement, or when we needed comfort, or to vent. There was some sort of neurological algorithm as to what thoughts were sent when.

*End Eddie’s POV*

You had started unpacking pretty much the second your parents agreed to let you make the basement your room. Your dad had even agreed to take you to the hardware store to pick up paint this weekend.

“You’ll start at the high school on Monday. The principal confirmed that he received your transcripts and all your credit hours transferred, so you’re right on track.” Your dad explained.

“Oh, awesome! Did he happen to send my schedule or anything so I could familiarize myself with it beforehand?” You asked.

Oh fuck…fuck, fuck, fuck! I am so late. O’Donnell is gonna kill me!

Your hand flew to your head, the volume of his thoughts brought forth a pounding in your head. They had never been this loud before.

“Bug? You okay?” Your dad looked concerned.

“Yeah, I’m okay! Just a headache. Too many thoughts in there I guess.” You chuckled lowly.

“Honey, was it his thought?” Your mom questioned.

You hadn’t told your parents much about your soulmate, only that you had been able to hear him and that he was, in fact, a him. They had also been aware that you hadn’t been able to hear him lately – that was when your mom explained that your thought can sometimes drown out theirs.

“Yeah, it was and uh, I don’t know, I guess it was kinda loud.” You shrugged.

“How loud?” Your mom asked.

“I don’t know, loud enough to give me a headache. It was like he was in the room with me.” You looked at your parents, a knowing grin making its way onto each of their faces. “What?”

“Nothing bug. Let’s go see if your principle sent that schedule over.” Your dad wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his side.

Monday morning had come way too soon, though you’d had an incredibly productive weekend. Your room was painted and decorated, you’d finished rereading The Hobbit and had begun rereading Pet Cemetery, you’d also memorized your class schedule.

Your dad dropped you off at school, he also told you he was planning to go and check out a car for you after his shift – that had left you pretty excited.

Finally! My own car!

The day was dragging on pretty slowly…truthfully you were ready for lunch.

Then Vecna will make a surprise return.

What the hell?

This campaign is going to be epic!

His thoughts had come and gone like this since you’d arrived in Hawkins. Just back and forth with random tidbits that left you more confused than anything.

The bell ringing had been your saving grace. It was finally time for lunch, and now you were feeling anxious again…where were you meant to sit?

You looked around and before you could take a step, a voice stopped you dead in your tracks.

Here we fucking go.

“We're the freaks because we like to play a fantasy game. But as long as you're into band or science ...or parties or a game where you toss balls into laundry baskets...”

God he’s hot.

“It's forced conforming. That's what's...killing the kids!”

Assholes.

Kids were either laughing at his outburst or calling him horrible names, but you just stood there. Could this really be him? This super-hot guy who just caused an entire scene in the cafeteria.

“Me, I am army-crawling my way toward a D in Ms. O'Donnell's. If I don't blow her final, I'm gonna walk that stage next month, I'm gonna look Principal Higgins dead in the eye, I'm gonna flip him the bird, I'm gonna snatch that diploma. I'm gonna run like hell outta here…This year is different. This year is my year.”

He took a step back and bumped right into you, but before you could fall to the ground, he grabbed your arm and pulled you up and against his chest.

Holy shit.

You both let out a quiet chuckle.

All at once, colors were brighter, smells were sweeter, touches were softer. Everything came together in that moment; you couldn’t believe it. Here he was.

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mushroomates · 10 months

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the fellowship at fancy restaurants:

aragorn: literally would not care if he ate gas station sushi at a truckstop, does not see the appeal of fancy but appreciates the atmosphere. likes taking arwen out for fancy food, great at scouting out the genuinely good places, not just the expensive ones.

boromir: will fight you over paying the check. his current move is pretend to go to the bathroom, stop by the concierge’s desk and drop off his credit card there. always gets some sort of steak.

merry: deceptively well mannered. is polite and well spoken. offers to foot the bill (rich parents) but it’s an empty gesture cuz my man doesn’t carry a wallet on him 90% of the time.

pippin: gets like 80 appetizers and dessert. eats a little off of everyone’s plate. likes to order of the “secret menu” and enjoys french fries at every fine dining establishment regardless if they are offered to begin with.

frodo: very polite, has a hard time deciding what he wants. ends up getting several things and either sharing it with sam or giving the rest of it to pippin. all hobbits are incapable of bringing home leftovers.

sam: makes frodo order for him cuz he’s worried he will mess up the fancy names. fuckin loves him some fancy potatoes. takes a pic of the menu and tries to re-create it at home, 9/10 times it’s better than what the restaurant has.

legolas: eats the garnish. orders fancy cocktails and then will lick the salt rim off, eat the lemon, or the entire whole cherry, stem and all. likes to get pretty salads and sometimes will requests dressing on the side but not even use the dressing.

gimli: fantastic tipper. will fight with boromir about who pays the bill. has great table manners. will ask staff for recommendations and just order what they tell him to. not a picky eater, even if he hates it he will finish it all.

gandalf: shows up an hour, hour and a half, late. asks for servers to “surprise him” pays in cash, leaves whatever number feels right of hundreds on the table and heads out before the bill comes. he has been known to both dine and dash as well as tip 80%.

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hometoursandotherstuff · 28 days

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This looks like a gorgeous home. It was built in 1997 in Oregon City, OR. 4bds, 3ba, $1.875.

A babbling brook at the front door. Ah, but the owner had a vision. Check out the inside.

The entrance has a floating staircase and 144,000 lbs. of basalt columns.

So, this looks like a water feature under the stairs, but I can't make out what's in that strip under the stairs. Looks like they decoupaged some magazine pages.

According to the description, the rocks were meticulously placed.

Mini cave to the dining area.

This doesn't appeal to my senses. A cool rock cave that leads to a bland, gray, dated dining room. Bleh.

The openings to the rooms kind of remind me of mines. In the living room there's a large stone fireplace and bring your trains, b/c there are elevated tracks hanging from the ceilings.

There's a mural in the dinette and a high open window to the kitchen, for some reason.

There are too many unnecessary stairs in this house. With all the natural elements, I don't know why they painted the family room rose.

The kitchen's nice. I like the counters. It's kind of angular, but I like the simulated brick oven.

You will notice that, for some reason, this home has lots of windows in the walls.

Here comes the train over the pool room. Reminds me of Mr. Rogers creepy ass trolley.

Is that real moss on the rocks?

This is weird. These stair railings are mission style. Look at the built-in drawer on the left and the little door. Some cool, but odd, features.

What is up with all the windows? This one in the primary bedroom has shutters. There's a lot of built-in furniture, too.

The en-suite has a glass block shower.

The basement isn't finished, but has a nice twig display.

Looks like there's a wood shop.

Large back yard with a patio, decks, and hot tub.

22.75 acres of land. This private road leads to an outbuilding.

This is beautiful. You could actually crawl inside that tree stump like some kind of hobbit.

Someone carved this tree.

This building has great potential to be a 2nd residence.

Gorgeous Oregon views.

The 22.75 acre property is gorgeous. Lots of possibilities.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/22091-S-Ridge-Rd-Oregon-City-OR-97045/48279634_zpid/

#unusual homes #houses #house tours #home tour

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gertchy · 9 months

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hi mineblr! i was super happy with the way my last minecraft build came out earlier this year, and i wanted to share it! after reading the hobbit, i just loved the cozy vibes described in bilbo's home. i simply wanted to recreate something similar for myself in mc!

above is the main entry, which directly connects to the main bedroom and study

this is the main corridor that leads into the kitchen and dining room. the trapdoors on the corridor walls actually hide all of my storage!

the corridor leads to the grand library - cant have minecraft without an enchanting room, so i tried re imagining it into the hobbit hole style.

in the end, i'm super happy with the way this build came out since i never focus on interiors like this. i definitely took influence from other builders for the entrance, but most of the interiors and color palette were straight from my cranium.

i'd love to take some screenshots of this build with shaders, but alas it was done on bedrock (and my friends shut down the realm anyways... (╥﹏╥ ) )

hope you enjoy this as much as i did building it!

#mineblr #minecraft #minecraft builds #the hobbit #lotr

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cowboybeepboop · 10 months

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The only one

“Kili, you can’t tell anyone about this.” “So it’s our dirty little secret then?”

Paring: Kili Durin x afab reader

Genre: romantic smut

Word count: 2.2k

Summary: You’re Bilbo's adopted human daughter and he takes you along on the journey. Kili has his heart set on you and after getting involved in the fight he gets angry with you for putting yourself in a dangerous situation.

Warnings: public sex, arguing, jealous Kili, hickeys, p in v sex, hickeys??? Idk what else I always forget

a/n: I did not proofread and its lowkey a summary of the first movie? This is my first smut regarding anyone in the tolkien universe but I did write some sad fluff at some point lmao. Anyways, please like and send any requests if you want <3 tags go absolutely wild

You’ve been an adopted hobbit for the last 18 years of your life, Bilbo was always comforted in the known so when he brought you along with him and the dwarfs on their journey you were beyond surprised. Your presence was unexpected for everyone, except Gandalf of course, and most of the company was against your involvement. The dwarves saw you as frail and weak, the only one on your side was your dad, but of course he was.

Kili has kept an eye out for you since you joined the company, he makes sure you're safe and also just enjoys looking at you.

__________

When Elrond and his fellow elves come back the dwarves pull you and your father behind them and create a circle around you. You stay behind your Bilbo as the elves talk with Gandalf.

Upon your entrance to their dining room you look around with wonder, you sit down between Kili and your dad. “They're so beautiful,” you whisper to Bilbo, he nods with a gentle but awkward smile. Kili’s ears twitch as he looks around, his eyes narrow on an elf who has his eyes on you, he moves closer to you wrapping his arm around you.

“You think so?” Kili questions, his jaw clenching slightly, “I think us dwarves are better looking, stronger too.” he says pridefully, you chuckle in response.

“Is it a competition now?” you cock your head, “You’re very good looking too, Kili.” he smiles wide.

“Is that so? I am the best looking of all of the company, aside from Thorin of course.” you laugh, putting your hand on his arm.

“A bit full of yourself huh?” he shoves your shoulder gently in response. Kilis arms finds its way around your waist as he continues to glare at the elf who dared to look at you, who did he even think he was.

Gandalf, Bilbo, and Thorin wander off with Lord Elrond, leaving you with the dwarfs. You watch quietly, laughing with them and listening to their conversations before you feel yourself drifting off to sleep. Kili quietly sits next to you letting your head fall to his shoulder he smiles, covering you up with a blanket.

__________

After the company left the palace Thorin led everyone to the Misty Mountains, Kili keeps you in front of him. He insists that it’s better that way so if you fall he can catch you. As the rain picks up your feet slip under you, Kili and Fili grasp your arms quickly, pulling you back onto the ledge.

“Thank you,” you say softly as your eyes look over the ledge. Kili keeps a hold of your arm tightly as you all try to avoid the stone giant's blasts. The ground splits under your feet as the mountain takes shape as a giant, you grab onto the stone behind you before everyone begins to slide forward.

The stone giant slams into the mountain, throwing everyone off of it and onto the ground. Thorin yells for his nephews as the rest of the company runs over, Kili helps you up dusting your clothes off and checking to make sure you weren’t hurt anywhere.

After all the commotion everyone settles into the cave, Bilbo pulls you off to the side and quietly talks to you, he tells you about his plan to leave once everyone is asleep. “Why dad? What's wrong?” you whisper to him.

“Thorin is right, we never should've left home, I’ve put you in danger and I can’t let anything else happen to you.” he sighs as he runs his hand through your hair, “It’s okay, we’ll be fine.” he smiles reassuringly.

You both gather all of your stuff and sneak out, he leads you by the hand. He pulls you behind him as he talks with Bofur, you stay quiet looking around the cave. You didn’t really want to leave the company, I mean they were becoming your friends, you enjoyed the company.

“Y/N?” Kili mumbles as he looks up at you, he yawns. “Where are you going?” You crouch down putting your hand on his shoulder.

“Go back to sleep Kili, you need your rest,” you smile sweetly.

The floor splits and you slip down with everyone, Bilbo gets away but you are guided off with the dwarves. Your eyes fill with terror as you look around, you take a hold of Kilis hand squeezing tight as the goblins push you all around. You cower behind him, holding onto his shirt tightly.

Once you get out the dwarves all argue over where your dad went, your head drops as you think that your dad couldn't possibly have left you all alone. He reappears and you rush over to hug him, his hands drop to your waist as he smiles.

“Y/N!” Kili and Bilbo yell at you as you try to defend the dwarves with your small blade; it goes into the center of the wargs head, and Kili grabs you and pulls you up to the tree with him. His hand wrapping around your waist as he holds you close.

“Don’t move,” Kili’s voice is angry as he demands you to stay put. His hands dig into your slides as you look below your feet. Kili’s hands slip away as they start to throw the pinecones, the tree begins to fall, you grasp onto the trunk as tight as you can. His hands wrap around the tree, his eyes focused on you.

As Thorin and your father begin to fight the orcs, your eyes squeeze shut tightly, you try to focus on anything but the attack of Thorin. Kili pulls you up and onto the ground, insisting you stay put as they go to fight. You look forward, clutching the blade you retrieved from the corpse tight. As all of the commotion ensues you feel yourself being picked up by an eagle.

Once you all are in a safe place you watch as Gandalf helps heal Thorin. You stand next to your dad, holding onto his arm, as Thorin goes in for a hug you let go of him and move back. Your eyes wander to Kili who turns his head in order to avoid eye contact with you.

As the company moves forward you come across an area close to a river, Gandalf suggests that you all take a break and bathe. You and Kili were the last to go, you were paired up at the recommendation of Fili.

Kili guides you to the river, holding his weapon close to his chest, he’s been giving you the silent treatment after you got in between a fight. “You can bathe here, I’ll keep watch.” his voice stern.

“Kili..” your voice trails off as you look at his back, trying to pull his attention to you.

“Y/N, just take your bath. It’s getting dark.” Kili’s tone is extremely cold. You pout your lips as you begin pulling your clothing off slowly, once you finish you slip into the cold water.

“You can turn back now,” you say softly before you dip all the way under the water, holding your breath and squeezing your eyes shut. After a while you break the surface of the water sliding your hands over your face pulling the water back with your hair. Kili had turned around keeping his eyes on everything but you.

“Kili,” you wave him over, “come here, please.” you bite your lip as he gives you a bored expression.

“What is it?” he walks close to the bank of the river, his eyes scanning your face.

“Shouldn’t you join me? You're supposed to bathe as well,” he sighs, turning his back to you again.

“Fine, turn away.” he sets down his sword and strips quickly. You face the other way as he slips into the water with you.

“Kili, what is your problem?” you huff, spinning around with your arms crossed over your breasts.

“What do you mean?” his eyes are half closed as he looks at you with a slightly annoyed expression.

You move closer to him, “I mean, you’re acting so rude for no reason. You won’t look at me, you barely talk to me, you’re being so dumb” you glare at him, “So what is your problem?” he rolls his eyes at you.

“I don’t know maybe the fact that you threw yourself into harm's way? You could’ve gotten yourself killed,” he yells at you while running his hand through his hair.

“Calm down Kili,” you move close to him, putting your hand on his arm. “I didn’t expect you to get all worked up like this, I know I should have been more careful but I just wanted to help.” your eyebrows furrow as you look down.

His warm hands grasp your upper arms “You really worried me Y/N,” he presses his forehead against yours.

“You worried about me?” a sly smile paints itself on your lips, “does that mean you like me Kili?” your voice is soft and teasing. His ears turn a deep shade of crimson as he turns his head up.

“Y/N cut that out,” he puts his hand on the side of your neck, his eyes flick to your lips.

“Cut what out?” you wrap your arms around his neck pulling yourself close to him.

“You know what,” he clenches his jaw, your hands running down his back as you wrap your legs around his hips.

Kili pulls your face to his, hovering his lips over yours “Quit teasing me,” he whispers. Your hand snakes up to the back of his head, cradling it as you push your lips against his. His hands move to your waist, his fingers dig into your soft flesh as he hugs you tighter against him.

“Mahal,” he pulls away, pressing soft kisses down your face and onto your neck. You lean back letting his lips trail over your body, your nails scratch his scalp softly as you arch into him.

“Amrâlimê,” he whispers against your collarbone, “you’re driving me insane,” Kili groans. He grasps your face pulling you in for an intimate kiss, he’s getting more intense with his affections, his hands squeezing your hips roughly.

Your hand trails down his chest tracing every muscle on his stomach, he begins grinding against you while holding your hips against him. Pulling away from the kiss you gasp for air, leaning your head against his shoulder, you wrap your hands in his hair pulling it off to the side. Kissing his neck roughly you begin to leave soft marks on his flesh as he massages your ass.

“Y/N..” he mumbles into your ear, you moan softly as he picks you up, moving into shallow water. “Can we..?” his ears flush as he looks away, “I mean, would you mind?” you chuckle softly.

“Mhm,” you move your hips against his thigh, feeling him twitch underneath you. “But we’ll have to be quick..” you kiss his shoulder as his hands pull your hips up, he lines himself up with your hole, pushing the tip in.

“Let me know if it hurts,” he says gently, his hand finding its way to your neck grabbing ahold of it pulling your head back as you moan softly. He bucks his hips up into you, leaning forward you bury your face into his nape hugging him tight as you moan into his skin.

“My precious girl,” he groans as he slowly begins moving your hips up and down, his fingers digging into your soft skin, leaving red marks. You moan into his ear as you begin riding him, your arms wrap tight around his neck, eyebrows furrowing as you squeeze around his dick.

Kili cradles your head against him, holding you as close as he can, thrusting up into you pushing as deep as he can. Your head falls onto his shoulder, he moves a hand down to your sensitive clit, rubbing circles into it.

“I’m so close,” you moan, Kili nods in response.

“Me too,” he groans, his hands exploring every part of your body as he pulls you into a passionate kiss.

“Hey, Y/N, Kili, hurry it up.” Fili yells to you, causing the both of you to jolt up. Kili pushes himself into you as deep as he can. You bite your lip as you cum around him, your hole pulsing.

Your back arches, silent gasps leaving your open mouth as you ride out your high. Your whole body seems to tense up causing Kili to groan while he cums deep inside you. He pulls you off of him giving you a sweet kiss.

“Now we really need to clean up, and fast.” He says lowly, his hands creep up from behind you gasping your sides as he pulls you into deeper water to rinse off. You sigh contently as he holds your body close to his.

After quickly cleaning yourselves up; you both get out, drying off before putting your clothes back on.

“Kili, you can’t tell anyone about this.” you bite your lip as you turn to him, his eyebrows furrow. “Bilbo might actually get so mad he tries to kill you,” you giggle softly as his face relaxes.

“So it’s our dirty little secret then?” coming close to you he wraps his arms around your neck giving you a deep kiss. “But we will get to tell everyone later, right?” he pulls back, eyes scanning yours.

“Yes, Kili,” you kiss the tip of his nose, hands resting on his shoulders, “but let's wait it out for a bit, okay?” he smiles in response.

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minaturefics · 5 months

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Watching, Wanting

A/N: Hello! (its been awhile) I just wanted to indulge in my love for Boromir (ft some faramir bc i love my brothers). Very vague plot if you squint. It's a bit spicy, but nothing explicit!

Reader gets sent out in a storm by Faramir and turns up at Minas Tirith soaked.

Boromir x Reader

Gender-neutral reader

Rated: TEEN

2.3k words

---

The low hills of Emyn Arnen at your feet gave way to soft fields and in the distance the Anduin meandered through the landscape. There were dark clouds on the horizon, grey and heavy, and the faint earthy scent of coming rain was in the air. If you rode fast, you could make it to the city in a few hours, but judging by the clouds, you would be riding right into the storm anyway. You sighed and turned to Faramir. “Are you certain this is of such vital importance that I have to risk getting soaked to the bone?”

He nodded. “My brother requires these maps. I would have sent it with the trade carts this morning but it slipped my mind.”

“Rather uncharacteristic of you,” you muttered, raising your eyebrows at him.

He shrugged, an easy smile on his face. “My mind has been occupied of late. It is no easy feat, establishing a settlement.”

You softened at his words. Eowyn and Faramir had been working from dawn to dusk the past few weeks and the spring rains had been slowing construction and delaying the new workers and settlers journeying to Emyn Arnen.

“Very well.” You tucked the long, flat wooden box into your pack and buckled the waxed canvas securely. “I’ll be off now.”

“Safe travels, my friend,” he grinned and waved.

You swung onto your horse and, with a flick of the reins, started off down the road. As the grass and trees sped by, your thoughts drifted to Boromir.

You had become friends with Faramir first and, in the months Boromir had been away from Minas Tirith, you had helped coordinate the Ithilien Rangers from the city. Boromir had been civil to you when he returned, respectful of your battle and logistical strategies, but distant outside of the war rooms and planning councils. But something shifted one evening.

It was one of the many victory dinners, a smaller, more intimate one for The Fellowship and close companions. The hobbits had pulled you into their game of roughhousing and somehow you had ended up sprawled on top of Boromir. He had been large and solid underneath you, his hands heavy on your waist. You looked up into his grey eyes and your breath caught in your throat.

After that, it seemed as though his eyes were always on you. Across dinner tables, across courtyards, even, once, from across the throne room in full view of everyone.

You thought that with the end of the war, there would be no need for much contact between you and him, that all you would ever do is look, but Faramir had unofficially appointed you as a representative between the city and Emyn Arnen.

There had been so many afternoons spent with Boromir, shoulder to shoulder, pouring over maps and trade routes, so many nights spent eating across from each other in the low light of his private dining room. Yes, he was brave and proud and a fantastic tactician, but all that seemed to vanish when you saw him.

Really saw him.

Him with sleeves rolled up, exposing his strong forearms. His hair tied up, the pale column of his throat on full display. And those training breeches, somehow loose and tight at the same time…

What would he look like sprawled on your bed? Eyes glazed and chest heaving, hair mussed and lips parted. His breath hot in your ear, his voice low and raspy.

Thunder clapped overhead and rain started to fall on your overheated skin. The drops were cool and refreshing and you tipped your face to the sky.

How were you to spend another evening, another moment, in his presence? It was maddening, the way his eyes would blaze, the way he would draw close to you but never touch.

Why would he not act? It is true that you did not hold as high a standing as his family, but the brothers never seemed to care about such a thing. Even though that may be true, surely he understood that it was not as if you could do anything — it would be far more impertinent that you, of a lower standing, should be the first to move.

You shook your head and tightened your grip on the reins. You would ride back tonight to Emyn Arnen, even if you had to make the journey in the dark. It would be too much to spend another night near Boromir only separated by a few doors.

Boromir rushed down with the panicked servant who had burst into his study. What was his brother thinking? Sending you to Minas Tirith in the storm? He rounded the corner and found you shivering and dripping onto the polished marble. Someone had already taken your cloak and pack and you stood in your soaked clothes and saturated boots, clutching a wooden box. He swallowed at the sight of the fabric clinging to your form and strode towards you.

“Riding in such a storm is madness. What was so urgent it could not wait until morning?” You shoved the box into his hands and he stared at it for a moment before shaking his head. “Come, let us get you warm and dry first.”

He led you to his rooms and sat you down before the fire. “You cannot stay in those clothes,” he said, handing you some towels and a blanket along with some of his spare clothes. “You will catch your death.”

“But, Boromir, it is not proper —”

“I do not care. I would rather some impropriety if the alternative is illness or death.” He turned around and faced the wall. “I will not look until you are sufficiently… dressed.”

For a moment, he thought you were about to protest some more until he heard the slick swish of your clothes. He could imagine you, peeling off your layers, bare skin tinged orange by the fire. Heat crept up his neck to his ears. By the gods, he needed to control himself. He squeezed his eyes shut and drew a ragged breath in.

What sort of delightful torture was this? How many days had he spent beside you, close enough to breathe in your scent? How many nights had he spent staring at his bedroom door, willing you to walk through it?

He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the sound of your wet clothes hitting the floor. He had to be proper. A gentleman. A man of honour. He had to be mindful of his position and standing. Yes, his brother had appointed you various titles and responsibilities, but whatever they were, they were still ranked below his own title of Captain of Gondor.

He had heard too many stories of people being swayed and persuaded by the nobility — he would not allow you to feel obligated to reciprocate his own selfish desires simply because he was ranked higher than you were.

There was the rustle of cloth, the whisper of cotton on skin, and he fought the images of you donning his clothes. Oh, how will he ever wear that tunic ever again and not think of you?

You were wonderful and smart and were filled with endless ideas for new laws and trade. But in his quiet moments, he wondered what you would feel like under his touch, wondered what sort of sounds you would make.

How would you say his name? In a whisper? A gasp?

In a cry of pleasure?

He spied the wooden box you had brought with you on the side table and shook his head. Damn Faramir for putting him in such a position! What could possibly be so important?

“I, um — I’m just going to look at what my brother sent. Do not be alarmed by my movement,” he said and heard you hum in assent.

With slow, measured steps, he made his way to the box and opened it.

“Faramir said you needed maps,” you muttered behind him.

There were maps indeed, but they were just the regular sort that anyone could buy at the market cartographer. He frowned, rifling through the parchment, and pulled out the envelope tucked in between the papers.

Brother,

Forgive my deception, but I hope my interference will be forgiven. Aragorn has written to me saying he is on the verge of tearing his hair out at the sight of you two. Eowyn and I are not faring much better here in Emyn Arnen with the constant pacing and faraway looks my, our, friend has whenever they return from the city.

I pray you spare all of us any more heated longing stares.

Best of luck,

Faramir

The nerve of his brother! To send you out in the storm simply for the purposes of… of… matchmaking! The paper crinkled in his grip and his eyes wandered down to the scrawl at the bottom.

P.S. I am not so foolish as to send them out in anything threatening. Spring storms may be chilly, but hardly dangerous.

That mollified him little and he grumbled.

“Is anything the matter?” you asked. “Were they damaged in the rain?”

“No, not at all. It is nothing. Simply my brother being… my brother.”

He read the letter again. Pacing… faraway looks… heated stares… Was his brother implying…? No, that could not be, could it? But, then again, perhaps he did not imagine the way you would linger in the sitting room after dinner or how he would feel your eyes on him sometimes. Your expression was always unreadable, careful and controlled, that he could hardly be sure of what you felt for him. If you felt anything at all.

And yet, Faramir’s letter…

Your bare feet shuffled on the stone. “You may turn around if you wish.”

He folded the letter away and replaced it along with the maps into the box. He turned and his stomach clenched at the sight of you.

You were bathed in the warm light of the fire, your skin aglow, incandescent in the dim light. His tunic was loose on you and the front ties of the collar were undone, revealing the skin of your chest. His eyes wandered down to the pile of wet clothes on the floor and he spotted, what were unmistakably, underthings, heaped on top.

Heat flared low in his belly and he glanced away.

You. Naked under his clothes. Valar help him.

Boromir had that look in his eyes again, all aflame and intense, except he was directing it at one of the tapestries on the wall. You glanced down at the wet clothes at your feet. Well, he could not have reasonably expected you to keep your underthings on, could he?

He was still staring at the wall. His jaw was tense and his hands were clenched by his sides. You took a step forward and he stood straighter. His eyes cut to yours for a moment, smoldering with want, before they went back to the wall. He took a shuddering breath and you took another step.

Perhaps if you couldn’t act, you could make him act first instead.

You fought a smile and walked to stand before him. You could smell him fully then, his familiar musk mingling with cedar from the scent he favoured.

“Boromir,” you whispered.

His eyes snapped to you and he swallowed.

“Boromir.”

You tipped your head to the side and parted your lips.

“Boromir.”

He crashed his lips against yours, his hands coming up to cradle your face. He deepened the kiss, his chest rumbling in a low moan when your fingers curled into his shirt. He tasted like the bitter tea he favoured after dinner. His hand drifted down, skimming your waist before coming to rest on your hip. Your nails scraped at the nape of his neck and he groaned.

His body was warm, hot even. He pressed himself closer to you and you could feel him, hard, against you. Heat pooled in your stomach and you moaned his name. His hand slipped under the hem of your shirt and he pulled back for a moment. “Is this alright?”

You nodded and tipped your head back. “Don’t stop.”

“I’ve… wanted this… for weeks,” he said, kisses drifting towards your jaw. The delightful scratch of his beard was followed by soft, warm lips as he worked his way down your neck. “Wanted you.”

“You should have done something.”

He smiled against your skin. “I’m doing something now.”

His lips paused at the curve of your neck and shoulder, sucking for a moment, as his hand slid up your side, his touch gentle but demanding. Your fingers fumbled with the ties on his tunic and tugged on the fabric. He pulled it off and tossed it to the side and he stood flushed and grinning before you. You trailed your fingers down his solid chest, past his stomach, following the light dusting of hair down.

“Maddening man, you —”

There was a knock on the door and you yelped, startling away from him.

“Who is it?” he asked, voice low and rough. He cleared his throat. “What is the matter?”

“Should we prepare a hot bath for your friend in the spare room?” The servant’s voice was muffled through the door.

His eyes darted to yours before a smirk spread across his face. “There is no need for that, thank you.”

There was the sound of retreating footsteps and you exhaled. Boromir let out a relieved chuckle and pulled you towards him.

“Sending my warm bath away?” You threw a challenging look at him. “How ever will I get warm?”

“I can think of a great many ways.”

“Will I like any of them?”

“I think you will find that you’ll like all of them.”

He dipped his head, capturing your lips, and tugged you in the direction of his bedroom.

---

I never realised just how quick things can head into a mature rating until I wrote this lmao. Not sure if I will ever write smut but well ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (maybe)

Tags: @sotwk @ass-deep-in-demons @thetempleofthemasaigoddess @hippodameia

#boromir x reader #boromir x y/n #boromir x you #lotr fic #lotr fanfiction #lotr fanfic #boromir

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socksracoon10 · 4 months

Text

Being an Elf and falling in love with Thorin

Headcanons below the cut!

When Gandalf had first summoned you, it wasn't a very easy decision to make.

Being a Sindar elf yourself, the choice of having to derail from your own beliefs bruised your ego... especially since you were entrusted with overseeing Thorin and his company.

"My dear (Y/N)," Gandalf sighed, "I can not trust any other elf with such an arduous task. I know you are capable of setting aside your prejudices and aiding these dwarves."

"You saved my life once from the Uruk-hais. I am indebted to you for that, Gandalf. But I believe that this will be the one time I shall repay you for your kindness in this manner. Do not expect more from me." You muttered with a bitter tone.

"I do not plan on it." Gandalf reassured you.

When you first met the company under Bilbo's roof, there was silence. An eerie amount of silence.

The hobbit before you seemed enchanted by your presence.

You learned his name was Bilbo; he was the most sensible out of the bunch at the moment.

Your eyes traveled across the room and landed on Thorin, who had a nasty scowl on his face.

He wasn't expecting you to actually show up. He had hoped that for once that elvish pride would've saved him from having to face another individual of the same kind that had betrayed him years ago.

The silence continued, and you made your presence known. You were here to help the dwarves, nothing more and nothing less. You would accompany them to The Misty Mountains, but you would not step foot into their sacred lair. Not out of respect, but out of the sheer disgust you had for the dwarves.

Not even Eru could force you to enter their dwelling; it seemed as if death was the better option.

The journey there was not an easy one.

And Thorin didn't make it any easier.

He'd pass sly remarks every so often about you, try to demean you in front of everyone. He was constantly fighting a battle to ensure that you were beneath him in every aspect, despite being one of the most skilled elves to traverse Middle-Earth.

"Ah, it's best not to anger (Y/N), Thorin," Gandalf would quip from the background, wanting to ease the tension.

It did nothing.

There was an instance where you had left the group to gain more ground and a safer pathway for the dwarves through the forests.

Yeah, biggest mistake ever and Thorin wouldn't stop nagging you about it.

Those stupid trolls had gotten to them and Bilbo had managed to stall them long enough before Gandalf used the sunlight as a weapon.

"I left for one day... forgive me, I was merely trying to secure a safe path," You hissed at Thorin as he shoved past you.

"A safe path will only do if the company itself is safe first, elf," He spat, glancing over his shoulder. You so desperately wanted to spear your blade through his heart.

The rest of the trip resumed its unsteady silence. You glared at the other dwarves, not wishing to say anything to them. Occasionally, you'd offer a helping hand to Bilbo.

That didn't go unnoticed by Thorin. He didn't really like Bilbo as much, but compared to you? Bilbo was far better, and the stupid burglar was mingling with the wrong person.

However, his concerns of Bilbo shifted to his two nephews - Fili and Kili.

While they still harbored some resentment towards you for being a Sindar Elf, they were still young. They were naive, they did not experience that devastating day when Thranduil's forces abandoned Thorin's desperate cries for help.

And so what did they do?

They talked. Talked, and talked. Especially, Kili. Fili would add a joke once or twice, but if he ever caught Thorin's watchful eye, he'd gulp his words and nudge Kili to quit.

And then slowly, one by one... the dwarves were opening up to you.

Balin was more sympathetic, he was a very kind and wise dwarf. You actually enjoyed his presence.

Bofur was a bit reluctant to talk to you at first, but slowly came around. You noticed this when he asked you if you needed more food on your plate when you were dining in Rivendell. That was enough to tell you that perhaps there could be friendships between the dwarves and the elves.

You saved their asses a couple times, especially with the Goblins. Killed some orcs led by Azog. And then watched Azog brutally wound Thorin.

And then something switched in you. For a moment, you felt your breath hitch at the sight of him, dazed and unconscious. Something began to stir inside of you, and you couldn't place your finger on it. It almost felt... unworldly.

And that feeling continued... even when you ended up facing Thranduil, who was so puzzled at the fact that one of his own kind was helping those dwarves...

"I am repaying a debt that I owe to Gandalf," You explained, your head jutted up high into the air.

"What a terrible way to repay it, (Y/N)." Thranduil grimaced, "If you wanted an opportunity to keep yourself occupied, you could've turned to Legolas and he would've found you a wonderful position among my kingdom. We could use elves such as yourself, you know."

"Ah, but I could not say the same for you," You bit back, noticing the way his eyes widened at your audacity.

Word of your defiance quickly spread to the dwarves as the elves guarding them gossiped about it with such eager interest.

It fell onto Thorin's ears.

He almost thought they were lying to him. He couldn't believe it.

And as you passed Thorin's cell to enter your own, much farther away from the dwarves, you noticed something different about him.

He was smiling at you, a twinkle in his eyes. He seemed... proud? Ecstatic?

When the company and you had escaped via the barrels, you had almost hit a rock down the river. It was surreal to see the way Thorin's hands stretched out to warn you.

It seemed as if he cared.

You took a daring risk to climb off the barrel to kill some orcs, almost slipping across the branch in the process as you jumped back into your barrel.

"Be careful, elf!" Thorin cried out, "You could've gotten yourself killed!"

"And what does it matter to you?" You snapped, furrowing your brows.

He did not respond.

He did not need to.

Because you sort of knew the answer by the way he glanced back at you with a soft smile.

You mattered to him.

More than reclaiming the Mountains? The answer was obviously no.

But when you climbed up and watched him excitedly open the hidden entrance to the inside of the Lonely Mountains, his eyes flashed towards you for a split second.

As if he was waiting to see your reaction as well.

And when you gave in and smiled.

With or without the gold, the Arkenstone or the throne,

He felt as if he was the richest dwarf to ever live.

You mattered to him.

He mattered to you.

And thus began, the love between an elf and a dwarf.

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sweetbutpsychobutsweet · 6 months

Text

I Wasn't Completely Nude

Chapter 2

Thorin Oakenshield x AFAB!Reader

Summary: You and the company are off to reclaim Erebor. But how long will you and Thorin be able to last until you're back at each other's throats?

Warnings: angst, implied sex work, no use of y/n

author's note: I already wrote the first 8-9 chapters of this series so there will be a lot of frequent updates while I'm editing those!

Word count: 1506

The sun has barely started to rise over the hills of the shire when you are awoken by a gentle shake to your shoulder.

“Rise and shine, lass,” Dwalin’s voice pulls you further from sleep.

You groan and pull the blanket over your head. Your head is pounding from the ale and you’d love nothing better to slip into a death-like sleep for at least another week.

Unfortunately, the leader of your company has other plans for you.

“If you aren’t ready in the next five minutes we’re leaving without you,” Thorin calls.

You peek your head out from under the blanket to see him packing his things back into his bag. “Everyone else is already up,” he glares at you.

You shove the blanket onto the floor and reach your arms up overhead in a good morning stretch. “Yeah well, not everyone else drank their entire body weight in alcohol last night.”

“No one asked you to do that,” he reminds you with a grunt.

“Well if you’re going to spend the entire journey to Erebor talking down to me like that, I think I’m going to need a lot more alcohol in my system.”

“If you’re going to have a problem with being under my command, you are more than welcome to stay behind with Master Baggins.” He reminds you.

You push yourself to your feet ready to tell him exactly what he can do with his command, when Balin appears between the two of you before you can continue.

“Honestly you two, we haven’t even stepped foot on the road yet and you’re already at each other’s throats!” Balin redirects Thorin’s attention to going over the map again in the dining room before you can continue bickering.

You let out a huff of annoyance as you stomp off to the spare room to change clothes.

You are determined to not let Thorin’s presence distract you from the excitement of being able to wear pants again. Of course, your mother never let you wear anything other than dresses growing up, and although your dwarven blood has always drawn you to all things sparkly and beautiful, you have always been a warrior at heart.

Fighting in a dress, while not impossible, is both impractical and extremely frustrating. When you aren’t working or traveling you try and wear them as often as you can. Traveling as a woman wearing anything other than a dress and corset attracts too much unwanted attention to make the freedom of movement worth it.

But you figured traveling with a company of 13 dwarves and a wizard was already going to make you stick out, so you might as well be dressed for the fights that will inevitably be waiting for you.

You sigh in relief as you finish unlacing the corset, slipping it and your dress into your pack for now. You replace it with a form-fitting pair of trousers, a flowy blouse, and some comfortable riding boots. You decide to let your hair hang down around your shoulders for now, the braided strands by your face keeping it out of the way enough for now.

There are still a few hunks of bread and fruit left in the pantry for you to munch on while gathering up the last of your things from the hobbit’s home. You regret that you aren’t able to thank your host before stepping out the front door but after last night's excitement and the early hour, he must be dead asleep.

Your pony, Onyx, is waiting for you outside, whimpering happily when she sees you approaching. You whisper sweetly to her as you stroke her mane, letting her nibble on some of the fruit you set aside for her.

She is a beautiful creature, with a strong frame and hair as dark as the night. If it weren’t for her small stature and sweet disposition you’d think she had galloped right out of hell’s gate. You pat her side affectionately as you start securing your things to her saddle.

You feel a pair of eyes on you and you turn slightly to look over your shoulder at Thorin, who is openly staring at the curve of your rear in the pants.

He abruptly turns away when he sees that you’ve caught him staring. And it suddenly occurs to you how long it’s been since he’s seen you in pants, since the battle at Moria, where his grandfather, your King, Thror, was lost. But even then you had been wearing heavy layers of Dwarvan armor. Unlike now, where only a few layers of fabric cling to your form, revealing the silhouette of your curves.

You slowly bend over at the waist, pretending to fix the laces on your boot with a wicked smile on your face. You could swear you hear his jaw clenching behind you. It would seem you’ve found a way to pass the time on the road.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Despite the nip in the air, you decide to forego wearing a cloak. Preferring instead to feel the air whispering against your skin and running through your hair. Even as the rain starts pouring down above you, you ride on. Despite the fact, that your white blouse is now completely soaked through, revealing your chemise underneath.

The other dwarves are very polite about it, if they notice they don’t stare or draw any attention to the amount of skin you now have on display. The same can’t be said of your leader.

You feel a heavy cloak gently come to rest on your shoulders and you turn to see Thorin has moved ahead to ride beside you.

“I’m fine, thank you,” you say, pulling the warm furs off of you and handing them back to him.

“That wasn’t a request,” he replies curtly. Tossing the cloak back to you, more assertively this time. “I won’t have you catching cold and slowing down the entire company.”

You roll your eyes in annoyance and toss it back to him. “I appreciate your concern,” you reply, voice dripping with sarcasm, “but I’ll be fine, I don’t mind the rain.”

He grunts and picks up the cloak again. “If you try and hand that to me one more time I’m going to let it fall in the mud,” you warn him.

He believes you, of course, but isn’t ready to let it go. He growls your name in a low warning. You keep your eyes directly on the road ahead, pretending to be completely oblivious to his frustration.

“I can see your underclothes,” he whispers as if you didn’t already know. You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly. Giving Onyx a gentle kick to pick up the pace, but Thorin stays right alongside you.

“I can see your breasts,” he elaborates. Again you shrug, and that only seems to irritate him more.

“Just be glad I’m not making you pay for it, how do you think I made a living all these years?” you tell him with a wink. He looks at you in confusion for a moment, before it all clicks.

“Did you? Are you a?” you laugh at the panic in his eyes.

“Oh relax, it’s not what you think. I was just a dancer. I kept my clothes on. Most of them anyways…” The legendary Thorin Oakenshield is left speechless as he stares at you with eyes wide, before narrowing them at you in annoyance.

“I went to great lengths to ensure you wouldn’t ever have to do anything like that. And you’re telling me you just threw it all away to dance naked in front of countless men for money?” you scoff at his accusation. It’s true that he secured you a respectable job in a quiet town and a long term room at an inn, but only so he could leave you behind to continue on with the rest of your kin. With a few halfhearted excuses and harsh words he turned his back on you when you needed him the most. He had been your closet friend, the one person you trusted most in all of middle earth and he let his pride get the better of him. All you had left after you watched him ride off towards the blue mountains that day, was a heavy grief and a burning anger that has never fully extinguished.

“Were you even listening? I said I wasn’t completely nude. And don’t pretend like you made some big sacrifice for my benefit. You went to those great lengths just so you wouldn’t have to put up with me anymore.” you snap.

You wait for him to counter with a jab of his own but it never comes.

When you look over at him he’s looking back at you with a sad look on his face.

“Is that what you think?” he asks in a low whisper, “ that I was trying to get rid of you?”

You force yourself to look away from him. And this time when you urge Onyx further ahead of him, he lets you go.

Next Chapter

#thorin x y/n #thorin oakenshield #thorin oakenshield x reader smut #thorin oakenshield smut #the hobbit #thorin oakenshieldx fem!reader #thorin oakenshield x afab!reader #thorin #thorin fic #thorin x reader #the hobbit fanfic #thorin x fem!reader #thorin oakenshield angst #thorin oakenshield x y/n #thorin smut #thorin angst #thorin oakenshield x reader angst #thorin x reader angst

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ecle-c-tic · 10 months

Text

Middle Earth Asks

🥔 po-tay-toes: one of the hobbits invited you for a meal; who are dining with? Which of the seven meals are you enjoying?

🍞 lembas bread: what's the best road trip snack?

🌾farmer maggot's field: what is your favourite plant? Do you enjoying gardening?

🌼 simbelmynë: You've got the opportunity to bring one character back to life, who is it?

🍃 leaves of lórien: what gift would you most like to receive?

📽 action!: rank all six of the films (or three if you're a hater)

🚲 bicycle basket: what is your favourite middle earth meme?

🌟starlight: you're allowed to live in one of the Elf Kingdoms of Middle Earth, which one are you picking?

💀 Hey, did you know-: What is your favourite piece of behind the scenes trivia?

🌙 moon runes: which of Tolkien's languages would you most like to speak?

🧂 best salt in all the shire: which small joys do you most look forward to? (particular tea, using a perfume, rereading a book, etc.)

✂ cutting room floor: of all of the things that didn't quite make it into the movies, what would you have most liked to see?

☕ may I tempt you with a cup of chamomile?: What is your favourite hot beverage?

🐎 bill the pony: who is the best mount in all of middle earth?

🌳 fangorn forest: Which of Tolkien's creechurs is your favourite?

🔮 palantír: you've found a palantir! Who are you hitting up in middle earth? What are you telling them?

⏳ time and age: which poorly aged scene from LOTR is your favourite?

✨ evenstar: Who is your favourite middle earth couple?

🎆 fireworks: you're invited to Bilbo's 111th, what present do you think you'd receive?

🕷 creepy crawlies: which of tolkien's creatures do you think is the most frightening?

💍 my precious: what role do you think you'd play in the fate of the ring?

📜the company of Throin II Oakenshield: who is your favourite dwarf from the company?

🕶 i care not: what common complaint about the movies or novels doesn't bother you?

📢 motivational speech: which film speech do you find most invigorating?

🔥 barbecue: who is the worst antagonist?

🍿 popcorn: list your top 5 supporting characters

🎇 firefly: which (known) deleted scene would you most like to see?

⛏ expedition to Moria: which side character's adventures would you watch a spin-off movie about?

🎞 extra film: is there an extended scene that should have absolutely made it into the theatrical cut? which one and why?

🎵 can you sing, master hobbit?: Which song (from books or movies) is your favourite?

🖋 quill and ink: which of tolkien's themes resonates most strongly with you?

🗝 lost heirloom: which heirloom/object in the films or novels would you like to learn more about?

💿 leitmotifs and orchestras: which of the films songs (Howard Shore or singer) is your favourite?

🍲eowyn's home cooking: which other way could the ring be destroyed? (funny answers only)

🧙‍♂️precisely when he means to: what is your favourite gandalf moment?

⚔ you have my sword: what is your favourite aragorn moment?

🏹 and my bow: what is your favourite legolas moment?

🪓and my axe: what is your favourite gimli moment?

🍄 MUSHROOMS!: what is your favourite moment from the hobbits?

💎 the arkenstone: favourite Thorin and/or company moment?

🧵 spool: list your top five favourite costumes from any of the films.

📕 the red book of westmarch : what is your favourite quote(s)?

💛 family: what is your favourite family moment throughout the novels/films?

👀 the eye of sauron: who are you looking at disrespectfully?

🗺 arda: if you could travel anywhere in middle earth, where would you go?

👑the silver crown: the war is won, the world is saved, the king has been crowned. Who are you partying with at the coronation?

✏ rewrites: here's a pencil, which ONE thing in the novels/films are you changing?

🐺 GROND GROND GROND: which of the battles is your favourite to watch? is there a combat scene in particular that you enjoy?

⚠ fucking buckleberry ferry: from the clip of Dom and Billy discussing the one swear word they could theoretically get by censors, which line would you change?

📚 boxset: how were you first introduced to Middle Earth?

🏔 the misty mountains: the pass is treacherous, which two characters are you taking with you to make it over the mountains?

🌄 the rolling hills of the shire: what is your favourite outdoor activity?

🌋 mount doom: what middle earth take are you throwing into the fire?

⚙ technology: everything is exactly the same but you can give one character a modern invention. Who is it and what are you giving them?

⛵valinor: we're approaching the end of this game, is there a take/opinion you absolutely want to share?

🦅 the eagles: What thing or thought saves the day when it's not going so well?

🦗 weta: you're allowed to take one prop (or the canon useful version) home with you from the set, what are you taking?

☀ when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer: either share a piece of good news or something you're looking forward to.

📖 final chapter: what unanswered questions do you have middle earth?

#lotr #middle earth #the hobbit #tolkien #lord of the rings #ask games #asks #lotr asks #full disclosure i've read the hobbit 5 times and the trilogy once #I haven't started the salmon riot yet #never seen RoP #and i've seen all of the movies (lotr and hobbit) about 1000000 times now :)#chaos mix of MidEarth questions and personal qs #i didn't spell check whoops (its too hot for editing)#i also did the emojis on my laptop so if they don't match well just ignore that #rao's games #rao's asks #this was a fever dream (i wrote the word strongelist a one point)#the worst part about making stuff is walking away from your device afterwards bc I want to constantly refresh my notes 😭

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justsomerandomfanfic · 2 months

Text

Flower Crowns - Dwalin X Female (Baggins) Reader

Title: Flower Crowns

Dwalin X Female Reader

Additional Characters: The Company, Ori, Kili, Fili, Thorin, Bofur, Balin, Oin (Mentioned), Bomber (Mentioned), Gandalf (Mentioned), Bilbo, Bard (Mentioned), Bard's kids (Mentioned), Alfrid (Mentioned), and the Mirkwood Elves (including Legolas and Tauriel (Mentioned))

Requested By: Anon!

WC: 5,252

Warnings: The Hobbit canon violence/weapons/death/etc, Reader is Bilbo's sister, misunderstandings, broody Dwalin, blood, injuries, nicknames, crying (brief), orcs, death, Ones, giant spiders, movie reference to a different movie (bonus points for those who get it), yelling, angst, and fluff

Trudging up the path with a woven basket of homemade muffins, you made your way up to Bilbo's home. You were a bit late. You were supposed to be at Bilbo's over an hour ago, but you had misjudged when you'd finish your muffins. And you knew how much Bilbo loved your muffins, so you were sure he wouldn't be too annoyed by your tardiness after eating a muffin or two.

Stopping at the door, you let out a small huff before knocking on the round door... Only to receive no answer. You frowned, furrowing your eyebrows before just entering. Pushing the door closed behind you, you heard voices from somewhere else in the Hobbit hole, confusing you even more. Had Bilbo invited others to dinner?

"Bilbo?" You called out, beginning to wander over towards the voices that quickly stopped after you spoke.

But before you could say anything more, Bilbo popped out into the hallway, rushing over to you. "Y/N, I believe we'll have to reschedule dinner." He spoke, rushed as he tried turning you around.

Your frown deepened as you twisted around in his hold, your eyes staring at the circular entrance of the dining room, "What do you mean? Who have you invited over?" Your curiosity was peaked now, and you wanted answers.

"Nothing! No one! Lovely seeing you!" Bilbo exclaimed, pushing you backward towards the door, ready to get you out. But before he could, you ducked out of his arms and sped towards the dining room.

You skidded to a halt at the entrance, eyes widening as your jaw dropped slightly. Bilbo sighed, rubbing his face with both of his hands before walking over and standing beside you. Eyes glued to the surprise visitors, you leaned over to Bilbo slightly; eyes unmoving from the surprise guests, "Bilbo... Why do you have thirteen Dwarves and a wizard in your dining room?"

~~~

And that was how you got roped into traveling alongside Bilbo, Gandalf, and the rest of the Company. Gandalf somehow convinced Thorin that having a second Hobbit would benefit the Company. And, unlike your brother, you wanted to go with them. You had read so many books about adventure and heard so many stories... You wanted to get out into the world and go on adventures that you had read in those books.

During the first few days of the journey to The Lonely Mountain, you became friends with most, if not all, of the Company. Kili and FIli, for example - the two youngest members of the Company - took you under their wing. When Thorin allowed the Company to rest, they would teach you how to defend yourself. Most lessons usually turned into fooling around most of the time, despite Thorin's grumblings. Fili and Kili were fun people to be around. They never failed to make you laugh, which was welcomed when having to face orcs and goblins almost daily.

Balin was like a father figure to you, always giving worldly and wise advice. Bomber often let you help in the making of breakfast and dinner. Ori, the sweetest of the bunch, would tell you stories, which you eagerly accepted to listen to every time. It gave you something to look forward to. And Oin, when free to do so, would teach you the basics of healing; showing you what herbs and plants worked best for certain ailments, which ones should be avoided, and so on.

You enjoyed each member of the Company's presence, but Thorin and Dwalin were the only two who hardly spoke a word to you. You weren't sure whether it was because they believed you didn't belong in the company, or because they were just not talkers. You hoped it was the latter.

But between the two, you really liked Dwalin. You liked his gruff demeanor - the brooding look on his face - and in addition, you really found him attractive. His muscular build, strong arm muscles, and dark hair; not to mention the tattoos on his arms - you wondered what their stories were. It surprised you, in the beginning, when you finally let the realization sink in. Even Bilbo, the only one that you had told about this attraction - you didn't fully trust Kili and Fili with the information - Bilbo was shocked, to say the least.

~~~

Walking with Kili and Fili, you snatched up bundles of flowers as you went, weaving and braiding them together into a crown. You had already made one for yourself, and Fili and Kili were quite invested in your creative, colorful craft.

"Where did you learn to create such things?" Fili asked as he watched you bend down, snatching up another flower from the grassy ground.

You shrugged, tying off another flower, "In Hobbiton, of course, Fili, dear," You began, fixing some of the flowers before continuing, "In originality, my mother taught me." You finished, weaving another flower into the crown.

"How does one make such intricate designs?" Kili then asked, twisting the stem of a flower between his fingers in thought.

You smiled back at him, "Well, it is quite simple, Kili, dear," You began, "You just have to braid the stems of the flowers together. Simple really." You answered, spying on Dwalin near the front of the line - just behind Thorin, you glanced over at the two Princes' beside you, "I'll be just a moment." You spoke before jogging over.

Your smile widened as you matched Dwalin's pace once by his side. Looking over and up at him, he didn't acknowledge your presence. It never bothered you, him ignoring you... You understood that Dwalin was not the type of person to just chit-chat, especially when there were bigger things to do and worry about. Lonely Mountain speaking.

Finishing the flower crown in your hands, you offered it up to the Dwarf, a bright smile on your face. "I made this for you." You explained softly, the flower crown - made of yellow, white, and red wildflowers - sitting in your hands.

Dwaling stopped, and so did the rest of the Company. You suddenly felt a wave of anxiety wash over you - all eyes on the two of you - watching as Dwalin slowly turned his head to look down at you, to the crown, and back. And for a moment, you thought that you saw something flash in his eyes, something that wasn’t brooding, determined, or angry. You swallowed, finding yourself unable to take your eyes off his, your ears and cheeks burning as he grumbled and huffed through his nose. You were confused, your hope and happiness dwindling - your hands lowering slowly - as Dwalin turned and continued walking.

Fully dropping your hands to your sides, you watched him go; feeling completely rejected. You knew that it was stupid. It was just a flower crown... And yet, you still held onto it with all of your heart, clutching it tightly in your hand; unintentionally crushing the flowers beneath your fingers. What did you do wrong? You just wanted him to like you... Tears stung in your eyes, but you refused to cry in front of everyone.

The rest of the Company soon passed you, some giving you sympathetic smiles, some patting you on your shoulder or back. Fili and Kili stopped beside you, Kili frowning softly, as Fili gave you a pat on the top of your head; careful not to disturb the flower crown on your head.

"Don't worry, Miss Y/N," Fili spoke, "He'll come around."

Kili nodded, "I assure you, he will." He let out a small chuckle, but you knew he wasn’t laughing at you. That was just him.

You nodded, doubting, but saying nothing more as they turned and followed the group; Bilbo finally coming over. "I'm alright." You muttered, looking up at him. You knew that he was going to ask you if you were alright.

"I'm sorry, Y/N..."

You shook your head, "No, it's okay." You whispered softly, trying to give him the best smile you could give him to ease his worries, "I don't know why I am so caught up in this... I must understand that I'm not really everyone's cup of tea. Not everyone wants to be my friend. If he doesn't want to be friends with me... Then, that's alright." You explained softly. Bilbo stared at you for a long moment before you began walking, dropping the flower crown to the ground.

~~~

The night was cold, the stars shining brightly down from the sky as you huddled close to Bilbo; next to the fire. It was hard to sleep, still not fully used to sleeping on the woodland ground, but you were getting there. And, soon, you found yourself drifting off to sleep.

Dwalin, on the other hand, having the first night watch, stared into the fire before him. It was quiet, aside from the fire crackling and the crickets chirping. Dwalin seemed to be lost inside his own mind, his eyebrows furrowed, and dark eyes narrowed in thought. Hearing a small grunt and feeling the log under him move slightly, Dwalin glanced over to see Balin sitting beside him. Balin hummed lowly, staring at the fire, rubbing the palms of his hands together.

"She didn't know, Dwalin." He spoke softly, not wanting to wake the others from their sleep, and only getting a deep mumble from his younger brother; at the mention of you, Dwalin's eyes flickered from the fire to your sleeping figure; curled up beside Bilbo. "She does not know of our courtship rituals. I should’ve told her more about our culture." Again, getting nothing from Dwalin, Balin continued, "She only wishes you to speak to her. You have hardly spoken a word to her since leaving Bilbo's home." He stared at his brother's side profile, "You can confide in me, brother."

Dwalin continued his silence, his eyes falling upon you once more. He was conflicted. Ever since he saw you enter the dining room of Bilbo's Hobbit hole, Dwalin had been unable to stop thinking about you. The way you moved and talked... Your features were sharp, yet delicate, your lips pouting, and your hair flowing. You were kind, bright, and soft; everything Dwalin wasn't. Dwalin was rough and tough. He had scars, he had seen death, and he had seen suffering. But, you... He had never seen someone as beautiful as you. You were different. Dwalin sighed deeply, looking away from you. He didn't know how to approach you; he couldn't bring himself to act on his feelings.

But he knew that you were his One.

He knew the moment he saw you.

Dwalin hated being vulnerable, and he hated admitting anything to anyone. So he sat, his jaw clenched tight, trying his hardest to fight his growing feelings for you.

"She's my One." Dwalin found himself muttering, far too quiet for most to hear, but Balin heard.

A knowing smile graced his oldened features. "I presumed so." Balin spoke with a hum, "I can only... Advise that you should speak to her. She cares for you. I am sure that she would understand." Balin stated, before letting out a small sigh, standing, "Think about it, will you?" And with that, Balin found his sleep sack, rolling into it and falling asleep.

Dwalin stayed awake much longer into the night, contemplating his decision as he waited for Gloin to take over the night watch. His older brother's words echoed throughout his head, and with a deep gruff, he let his eyes stray from the fire; the light making his eyes burn slightly. His eyes flickered from around the woods that surrounded him, to the Company before finding the stars and the moon in the sky, and finally... Back to you.

You, in your sleep, muttered something softly, unnoticeable. He watched as you rolled to your side, shivering, your hand pulling the fur blanket closer to you. Dwalin's eyes lingered on you, his mouth slightly agape before he snapped his gaze away. Feeling a wave of frustration towards himself, Dwalin's gaze landed on his sleep role.

~~~

The next morning, you woke up to a bright blue sky, filled with white, fluffy clouds. You let out a sigh, eyelids fluttering as you shifted slightly and let out a breath. You groaned lightly before freezing. Your fingers brushed against the fur blanket over you, feeling the coarseness of the material. It was warm. Very warm.

Your eyebrows furrowed; confused. You opened one eye, squinting at the bright sun that was peaking above the tree canopies. Slowly turning over onto your back, you sat up, looking down at the blanket... Or should you say... Blankets?

You stared down at the fur blanket, that was not your own, before flipping the fur up, spying your fur blanket underneath. This second fur blanket - which wasn't yours - was a deep brown color, with little bits of white. Who gave you this last night? Were you really that cold last night that one of the Dwarves had given you their blanket out of kindness or pity? You felt a sense of gratitude fill your chest. Looking down at the furry blanket, you couldn't help but let out a smile.

Looking up, you let your eyes survey the small camp, hopping from Dwarf to Dwarf until they settled on one. Dwalin. A wave of warmth passed over you, watching as he packed his sleep role away and into his pack. As Dwalin stood to leave, he glanced over at you, meeting your gaze for a brief moment; before quickly darting his eyes away, going over to Thorin.

You felt the corners of your lips twitch slightly, a frown threatening to form on your face as you looked at Dwalin's retreating back. Did he hate you? Did he find you annoying? All these questions ran through your head, but you only huffed, getting up from your sleep role. You were not going to let Dwalin's behavior towards you sour your mood. Today was a beautiful day, and you wanted to savor it.

~~~

You couldn't see, and all you could feel was the feeling of falling. You felt as if you were wrapped in something. It was tight around you, almost suffocating. Anxiety washed over you, gripping your heart painfully as your lungs begged for air. But you could hardly breathe. You needed to breathe, but you were trapped. You clawed at the sticky white substance that surrounded you, trying to rip it and free yourself, but you were not strong enough. You felt like giving up, though you knew you couldn't, but as you clawed at the sticky film, you could finally hear what was going on outside of the cocoon. You could hear the Dwarves yelling, yelling about spiders.

Before you could do anything else, someone from the outside ripped open your cocoon. You blinked rapidly at the slight change of light, finding yourself back in the creepy woods. A large hand reached out to you and you quickly grabbed it, the person behind the strong hand pulling you up with force. Stumbling slightly, you felt slightly dazed, the hand still in yours as you found yourself in a giant spider fight.

As you stood amidst the chaotic scene of giant spiders attacking the Company, your heart raced with fear and adrenaline. Eyes unable to leave the giant spiders - tunnel-vision - you gripped the hand in yours; giving you slight reassurance. The air was filled with the sounds of battle - the clang of weapons, the hiss of the spiders, and the shouts of the Dwarves. You could feel the sticky strands of webbing brush against your skin as you dodged and weaved through the throng of arachnids. You felt gross and dirty; and for the first time since the start of this long journey to The Lonely Mountain, you missed your Hobbit home.

With each passing moment, the fight intensified, the odds seemingly stacked against you and the Company. Your wide eyes danced around you, trying to spot Bilbo, but you couldn't find him. You wanted to yell out, to shout, but as your mouth opened, no words came out. There was an odd buzzing noise in your ears, your heart was beating loudly in your chest; harsh against your ribcage. Only then, did you look at the person who held you so close to them. You thought it couldn't have been Kili or Fili, but you spotted the two Princes when you lifted your gaze. Looking down at the hand that held yours, you felt your racing heart freeze for just a moment; an auditable hitch escaped your throat, but you didn't dare utter a sound.

Standing in front of you and holding your hand tightly in his own was none other than Dwalin. You knew it was him. You knew those tattoos. Trailing up his muscular arm, you were finally met with the side of his face. His expression was hardened as he held his weapon tightly in his other hand. Aside from the anxiety and nervousness that had overcome you, you were incredibly impressed. Dwalin, with one hand, fought off giant spiders, whilst also keeping you perfectly safe.

At the sound of something coming from up in the trees, you looked up, watching as no more than two dozen elves jumped to the ground, taking out the last of the large, monstrous spiders from around you. One of the Elves spoke to another, you noted her red hair as they spoke in Elvish. You wished that you could understand them. Your awe of them quickly diminished when they drew their weapons, arrows drawn and at the ready; circling around you and the Company. Soon, they demanded your weapons, and before you knew it, all the Dwarves were weaponless.

"What about her?" One Elven guard asked in a demanding tone. Your eyes lifted up, finding the guard staring down at you. "Hand whatever you have over instantly." He demanded, holding out his hand, only for Dwalin's hand in yours to tighten slightly, gently pushing you behind him.

"She bears no weapons, Elf." He spoke in his deep, gruff, disgruntled voice. The Elf stared down at Dwalin for a moment before staring right back down at you, with a sniff and a small 'humph' he turned away.

The blonde Elf, the one that you believed to be in charge of the whole group, yelled out something in Elvish, and before you knew it, you and your Dwarven friends were being pushed along, being led to hopefully, not your doom. Passing Thorin, you looked at him with pleading eyes, "Thorin, where's Bilbo?" Only for your answer to be unanswered.

Your hand never left Dwalin's, your free, unoccupied hand found his arm; the skin upon skin contact grounded you, allowing you to calm yourself ever so slightly. You finally took a chance to look around, finding the forest opening, revealing a stone bridge. Pillars, beautifully carved, gave way to the entrance of Mirkwood, the Elven Kingdom. You wished you had the time to admire the architecture of the kingdom, but, sadly, you did not. Before you knew it you were being tossed into a cell.

A hand fell upon your shoulder, pulling you to the side, your hands falling from Dwalin's. "Dwalin!" You called out, trying to reach for him, but you were soon shoved into a cell. Stumbling over your feet, you braced yourself on the rock interior of the cell. Hearing the heavy cell door close behind you, you snapped your head up; feeling exhausted, mentally and physically, but you pushed yourself forward. Your hands curled around the bars, trying to look at the cells beside yours. The sound of the now-captured Dwarves - yelling and complaining.

"Miss Y/N!" Fili yelled out, only a few cells away from yours, "Are you alright!?"

"I'm fine!" You called back, "Is everyone else alright?"

Most, if not all, of the Dwarves, replied with various 'ayes’. You sighed in relief, closing your eyes; the chill of the cell door refreshing on your forehead.

Sitting on the floor - you felt the hours pass you by slowly - you pressed the back of your head against the wall; tired. "I wager the sun is on the rise. Must be nearly dawn." Bofur called out, his voice echoing throughout. Your eyes fluttered open, a yawn leaving your parched mouth.

"We're never going to reach the mountain, are we?" Ori asked, sounding resigned, making you sigh.

"Don't fret, Ori, dearest." You spoke up, sounding a bit resigned yourself, but you were determined to keep everyone's spirits high. "We'll make it." You continued, looking out of your cell door, "We will." With that said, you stood up from the ground, wincing as pain shot through your legs. Looking down, you noticed a rip in your trousers that you replaced your usual dress with. Pushing the ripped fabric to the side, you then noticed a red substance that trailed down your leg; coming from a small scratch on your calf. "Well," You spoke up, clearing your throat. "I may have been slightly injured."

Simultaneously, the Dwarves began to talk. Their voices became louder, some with more worry and concern. "Miss Y/N, you are injured!?" You heard Fili call from his cell.

"Yes, tis but a scratch." You explained, hoping the Dwarves would stop fussing over you. You weren't a damsel in distress. You were strong, even with a bloody scratch. "But worry not, dearest Dwarves, it's nothing I can't handle."

"You won't have to handle it for long." You heard, eyes widening - mimicking your bright smile - as Bilbo appeared at your cell door, holding the keys.

~~~

When you joined the Company on their journey, you did not expect that you'd trick goblins, climb bit trees, fly on eagles, fight giant spiders, and barrel ride down a raging river. This was certainly an adventure that you'd go through again, minus the goblins and giant spiders; you'd love to fly with the eagles again.

Somehow, you survived, floating down the raging river, your clothes all sopping wet, and river water dripping from your hair. As all of your barrels fell down a waterfall, you couldn't help but let out a small laugh. Behind you, you could hear the laughter of some of the dwarves. For a moment, you forgot about your injuries; and the exhaustion that was seeping into every fiber of your body. Your hands tightened your grip on the railing of the barrel, praying for it to not capsize or tip over, your fingers growing numb with cold. You tried desperately to ignore what was going on around you. Smelling the fresh air, and hearing the birds chirping above you, almost made you forget everything else.

But at the sound of a horn, you were quickly snapped out of your head, watching as the suited Elves began to shut the gate; the only way to escape. All joy, and a sense of freedom, flew right out of the window. You all collided with each other at the closed gate, you huffed, glaring up at the Elven guards before your eyes caught sight of an arrow flying through the air, and into one of the guards.

"Orcs!" You yelled out, gesturing up at the guards, as the one that was shot fell into the water below; almost hitting you. "Why does it always have to be orcs?"

You dodged the best you could when dead elves and dead orcs fell into the water, along with dodging arrows, and over-confidant orcs that tried to swing at your head.

You were about to call for Bilbo, but when you turned your head, you watched as your brother stabbed a sword into an orc, defending one of the dwarves.

"Miss Y/N!" Ori cried out, making you look over to him, only for him to point above you.

You looked up, your eyes widening at an orc - dead - began falling towards you. Unable to move, almost frozen in fear, you squeezed your eyes shut and shielded yourself with your arms, only for your barrel to be pushed back and out of the way. You opened your eyes, blinking them rapidly as the river water splashed in your face. Looking over, you just saw a glimpse of Dwalin turning back around. Despite the obvious danger that you were all in, you wondered what you could do for Dwalin since he had saved your life twice now.

Turning your eyes to the side, you watched as Kili ran up the side of the stone top of the gate, you covered your mouth as an arrow flew through the air and hit him in the leg. Fili cried out of this younger brother, as Kili then opened the gate, and fell into an empty barrel.

Falling down, yet another waterfall, smaller than the last, you pushed your wet hair from your face, only to grip the barrel with as much force as you could; the raging, white-foaming waters continued. Looking to your side slightly, you watched as Bilbo held onto a barrel, holding onto the sideway barrel, his own death-like grip. You felt a small bit of relief, seeing him safe. You, and the Company, continued down the river, and the longer you tried not to tip over and drown, the more you wished that you weren't in the freezing waters.

Finally, the raging stopped, and the river was calm. Leaning over slightly in the barrel, you brushed your hands in the freezing water, moving your barrel forward slowly, but carefully.

"Make for the shore!" Thorin yelled out, receiving some 'ayes' in return.

Pushing your barrel forward, you pressed your cheek against the rim of the barrel, your eyes drooping slightly as you continued to push yourself toward the shore. Your barrel soon hit the rocks, and you used the rest of your strength to get out of it, climbing up onto the rocks; completely soaked. You trudged up the rocks, wrapping your arms around yourself as you mentally counted those around you, counting fourteen. Mentally, you could rest.

Feeling a hand on your upper arm, you looked to the side, seeing your brother Bilbo. Just his presence made you give him a small smile, seeing the worry in his eyes. "I'm alright." You spoke to him, wanting to reassure him, "I'm just cold."

At the surprise of meeting Bard, the human, you sort of let your brain shut off. You felt your feet move as you followed the Dwarves to Bard's boat. You felt yourself sitting down in the corner next to Bilbo, and hiding from Alfrid, but you were far from the present. You were so tired, mentally and physically, that you let your mind quiet, letting yourself only fade back into the world you knew once you felt the warm fire at your feet.

"Wee lass hasn't spoken since the Elves." You heard a hushed voice, it was Bofur.

You pressed your legs closer to yourself, staring into the flames. The clothing you were given, having been one of Bard's daughters, was warm; the fabric soft - your fingers toyed with the soft material.

"Is she alright?" Ori asked worriedly, only for Bilbo to nod, crossing his arms.

"She's alright. She had told me so." Thorin only gave you a short glance before turning back to Bard.

Dwalin, with his arms crossed, turned to look at you, staring at your side profile. Glancing over at the table that Bilbo sat at, Dwalin said nothing, walking over to the table and grabbing a plate. Bilbo, in turn, watched as Dwalin filled the plate with a few potatoes, two small tomatoes, and a small slice of bread.

Your eyes picked up the sound of heavy footfalls coming towards you, and at the sight of a plate coming into your field of vision, you moved your head to look up. As you looked at Dwalin, his face stoic as usual, you couldn't help but smile. Taking the plate, your fingers briefly brushed against his.

"Thank you, Dwalin." You spoke softly, but before he could slink away, you grabbed his hand, stopping him. For a moment, you thought back to when he held your hand so tightly - protectively - in the Mirkwood forests. "Thank you for saving me. Twice." You smiled at him softly, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. "And I apologize if I had anything to upset you, or make you uncomfortable." He glanced over at you, then down at your hand which was wrapped around his. He didn't remove his hand from yours, giving you the same squeeze that you had received from him earlier today.

Dwalin stared at your hand in his, his jaw clenching before he looked back to you, his eyes softening. "You did not, dorzada." He spoke gruffly, “Eat.” He finished before leaving your side, your hand dropping from his.

You looked down at your plate of food, your stomach grumbling and spinning, as your mind wandered. Picking up the slice of bread, you bit down on it, thinking about the word that Dwalin called you. You wondered what it meant.

~~~

"Oin, stay with Kili." Thorin commanded as the rest of the Dwarves began to gather their things. Without being told, Fili stayed by his brother's side.

"I want to come too." You spoke, grabbing a random weapon from the wooden table.

Dwalin quickly turned, staring down at you, "It will be too dangerous for you, lass."

You huffed, lightly glaring up at the Dwarf, "I have fought trolls, orcs, what have you." You pointed out, causing him to raise an eyebrow. "I want to fight."

"This is against us Dwarves and the dragon." He grumbled, his hand taking a hold of the weapon in yours. "You'll die before the beast does."

"I'm already dying anyway," You shrugged, looking back down at your weapon, "From the moment we're born, we're dying. So, what is the point? I want to help."

Dwalin breathed out of his nose as he took hold of your other hand, "No, no, lass, you are staying here, with Kili, while the rest of us fight."

"Are you telling me, or are you commanding me, Dwalin?" You asked, voice becoming soft as his eyes bored into your own. "Do as you wish then," You sighed when receiving no answer, letting go of his hands, "But please, do not die."

Dwalin humphed, the corners of his lips just twisting up into a small grin, and for a moment, you were stunned. Dwalin was smiling. "Don't worry," He spoke. "I won't." His gaze softened, as he stepped back from you, "Be safe, lass." With that, he started to walk away, only for you to grab his arm and stop him. You didn't say anything else, merely pulling him close to you.

You felt him tense in your abrupt embrace before his one hand, not holding his weapon, circled you. But, it all ended too soon, as he pulled back from you, nodding to you before turning his attention to the group, as they set off to The Lonely Mountain.

Your shoulders sagged when the door closed, a small pout upon your lips, "Do not fret, Miss Y/N," Fili spoke from beside his brother as you turned to look over at the four Dwarves - Kili, Fili, Bofur, and Oin. "They will return."

You let out a sigh, looking out at the window. A fuzzy feeling rose within your chest, and you couldn't help but smile to yourself. After watching them disappear into the distance, the sun went to sleep, "I know."

---

Main Masterlist | The Hobbit/LOTR Masterlist

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pixie-ass · 4 months

Text

Legolas x Fem!Reader

Short story of where reader is from Rivendell, Elronds niece. Based on the Lord of the Rings and takes place the night before the journey begins. Legolas quickly grows fond of her and promises to protect her, a little bit of fluff and shy legolas.

Will probably be writing more of this/making it a mini series! I have lots of ideas for Legolas ♡

Warnings- None

•°.☆.°•

The night was bright, filled with cheerful voices and songs, warm food to fill everyone's belly and soft liquor to lift spirits. Rivendell was glowing with a new atmosphere, one of awaiting adventure and hopeful travels. Everyone was taking advantage of the joyous evening as the next day would be filled with tense air.

Legolas was enjoying the meal and the drink, the serene music sounding through his ears. Lord Elrond always enjoyed having it over meals, especially tonight since there were so many guests of all types, dwarf, man, hobbit, elf, it was a reunion for important matters. Hobbits were dancing, dwarfs were laughing and demanding more liquor, fussing about how this elvish wine wasn't strong enough, and everything was in good spirits.

Legolas found himself laughing at a certain dwarf who was making a fool of himself; the elves were rather calm, Lord Elrond was chatting with Gandalf and a she-elf on the other end of the table, this caught Legolas' eye. He had met her as Lord Elrond's niece, a young she-elf who was fair and strikingly beautiful; she glowed with all the beauty of the forest and rivers, or at least that's how Legolas could see her. She was unaware of his burning gaze, smiling and moving with such an elegance. Legolas was entranced.

She stood up from the table, bowing as she excused herself from the two men, she walked over to the table, stopping in front of Legolas and picking a few grapes from the bundle that was placed in front of him, his breath caught in his chest as she looked up giving him a small grin as she popped a grape in her mouth. He smiled back politely, standing from his seat, bowing, "Lady Y/n, pleasure to meet you." She giggled in response, "Pleasure to finally meet the famous son of Thranduil. There's no need to be so polite."

She delicately lifted his head with her hand, leaving a ghost touch that tingled on Legolas' pale skin. He smiled, fixing his composure, "The night is beautiful, is it not?" He spoke, looking past the pillars and into the night. The moon was shining brightly and high in the sky, illuminating all below it.

"Yes, indeed, though it's always beautiful." Without notice, she appeared beside Legolas, taking another sip of her drink. "Say, would you join me on a stroll? I know where all the beautiful views are." Legolas nodded, smiling as he looked down at her. He held out his arm for her to take, she intertwined hers with his, smiling as she led him out the dining area, leaving behind all the laughter and noise, strolling into the quiet whistles of the night.

•°•°•

As they walked, Y/n would talk, telling him of random things and stories she'd heard, Legolas listened, nodding in response and enjoying every view they saw. The grounds of Rivendell were notoriously beautiful, much different from the daunting forest of Mirkwood that Legolas knew by memory. They stopped in a hidden seating area in front of the river. A waterfall nearby was singing a soothing song as Y/n settled into a wooden seat, Legols sat across from her, looking across the river and seeing the many majestically built buildings in the distance.

"Rivendell is always more beautiful than I remember." He wasn't staring at the view now. He was staring at the maiden across from him. She smiled brightly as she stared up at the moon, the stars reflecting in her eyes, the moon illuminating her, making her seem like an ethereal angel. Legolas couldn't help the feeling in his heart. Since he first laid eyes on her, his thoughts had begun racing.

"Are you nervous for the journey?" She looked over, shifting her eyes to him. Legolas sighed, "Partially, though I've been on many, it's always a bit scary at first since there can be many dangers." She nodded, seeming lost in thought.

"Everything alright, My Lady?"

"Hm? Yes…I'm just thinking, isn't it a bit sad going on long journeys? You leave for so long, unaware if you'll be back or how long it'll be until you see everything you left behind."

Legolas stayed silent for a moment, "At times, but that's the hope that keeps many going. We all have our goals and things we look forward to coming back to."

"I suppose you're right. Everyone is leaving something important behind. The hobbits leave the comfort of their shire, Aragon leaves his love, Gimli leaves his kin, … and me, all I've ever known." Legolas' eyes widened, "You will be joining us, My Lady?" He wasn't sure how he felt about this. Though he knew she was strong, he was sure the journey was far too dangerous. He felt she was too fragile looking, an easy target for the disgusting things that lingered outside her home. She nodded, "Yes. Though my uncle wasn't very happy, I insisted until he accepted. I just want to see what's out there and experience it for myself, not just from the stories I've heard." She spoke with such hope, Legolas swore to himself at that moment he'd make sure not to leave her side.

"My lady… it's much more dangerous than even stories can describe, I've seen it for myself and experienced it. It's no place for you."

Her brows furrowed, and she stood her ground, "I appreciate your concern, Legolas, but I can fight and am stronger than I may seem. My uncle has taught me much. I will be fine." Determination glistened in her eyes, and Legolas only bowed his head.

"Now I think we must head back. Our journey begins tomorrow, we will want to be well rested." Once again, her sweet smile returned, and her soft touch was warm around Legolas' arm again. They strolled back to where the party was in a comfortable silence.

Legolas lost in thought and worried about how he could keep her safe, whilst Y/n was thinking of all she'd see and how she'd put her earned skills to use.

•°•°•

That night, as the feast came to an end, and all the guests had gone to their respectful quarters, Legolas approached Elrond. "Ah, Legolas, always a pleasure to see you." The elf smiled at the other, Legolas bowed in response, a worried look on his face. "What's the matter?" Elrond quickly noticed, approaching the younger elf. "I've come to make a promise to you." Elrond was more than confused. "My boy, did you have too much to drink?"

"I've come to make a promise about your niece, I vow to protect her and make sure no harm comes to her on our journey to Mordor," He got down on one knee, bowing his head and placing a hand over his heart, "You have my word that I will do everything in my power to bring her back with no harm." Elrond now understood, he'd seen how Legolas and Y/n had gotten quite close at the feast, delighted that she ws bonding over an elf close to her age, especially one that had such a high reputation and a kind soul.

Elrond laughed, patting the elf on the shoulder, "I take your word strongly, I trust your ability and that she will be safe with you as her companion. Thank you." With that, his footsteps echoed as they faded in the halls, Legolas standing up and letting out a sigh of relief.

He knew now that he would go through any extreme to keep her safe, more than for his word. He was doing it for her.

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mushroomates · 4 months

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aragorn headcanons:

sketches in his free time. likes to draw plants he’s come across, writes down descriptions for later. makes maps and draws animals.

cannot draw people, for the life of him.

except for arwen. draws her all the time.

used to very bland food, cooking on the road. prefers unseasoned meat, likes to taste the “natural flavor.”

dislikes nutmeg. cinnamon feind

favorite cookie is oatmeal raisin

has very grimy hands all the time. it’s never ending. even after he washes them, it’s like immediate dirt and grease

current theories are: his sword is just really dirty, his clothes are dirty so when he touches them it makes them dirty, or legolas’s favorite- humans naturally produce grime so the dirt is a natural protective layer above the skin.

in actuality it’s because he knows it grosses (some) elves out and likes to be a menace. specifically targets erestor. legolas will also go great lengths to make sure aragorns hands star far, far away from his hair

knows some card tricks. has great slight of hand specially because of these card tricks. didn’t really do anything with this until pippin discovered this fact and aragorn was forced (politely asked) to preform for the hobbits.

this is, in spite of the fact, that they all know a literal WIZARD (gandalf was salty at abt this “false magic”) and also a ring that turns ppl invisible??

sews. really well, actually. enjoys it but rarely showcases this talent- mostly patches and mends garments weathered by his lifestyle. would one day love to sew a dress for arwen but doesn’t know where to start

masterful at subtly deflecting compliments.

very generous with compliments of his own, but are again, subtle.

years of living with elves has made him quite reserved. yet, he is doing his best to unlearn this behavior. such examples include:

telling arwen he loves her. telling elrond he loves him. telling frodo he loves him. really just telling everyone he loves them. he’s even worse when he’s drunk- he rarely gets even tipsy, but under the influence of a fine wine (or mead, he prefers mead or ciders) he will get very emotional.

hugs!! aragorn loves to give hugs. he really tries his best but they’re a bit awkward at times. he’s getting better.

breaking away from the elven raw-diet and dine seasonings with grilled meat and more lately grilled everything.

he will try his best to cook for himself at any opportunity. it was a jarring shift going from being served gourmet eleven dinners to raw venison

love language is acts of service. he likes to cook for his friends, though he’s not as good as it as sam, who cooked a majority of fellowship meals, so he mainly hunts. then legolas offered his hand and gimli felt challenged by that and at this point boromir just felt excluded-

he just wants to do nice things for the people he cares abt.

arwen has not, for a good chunk of her life, tied her own shoes, peeled her own oranges, made her own tea, or woken up without breakfast being made or ready for her.

just. guys. he really really loves arwen. he will do anything for her and it’s almost obnoxious.

it IS obnoxious if you ask legolas. but this is why aragorn does not go to legolas for romantic advice. (legolas once told aragorn that the next time he ties her shoes he should tie them together so that when she falls he will catch her. this is why arwen stoped flats with ties and opted for anything she could slip on instead.)

will never cheat at any sort of game. he will get extremely upset if you accuse him of such.

he does not believe that counting cards qualifies as cheating. boromir strongly disagrees. he mainly sticks to chess, now

is not allowed to play chess with erestor, (sore loser and prone to trash talk) elrond (matches take to long due to overthinking on both ends and this annoys arwen to no end) and either of the twins (they cheat by working as a team)

would 100% believe in bigfoot.

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hometoursandotherstuff · 5 months

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Anyone interested in a Hobbit fixer-upper? Its roof has turned to hay, so the shire is in dire need of some sod. It has quite an oversized garage, though, doesn't it? (The 3rd bay is for an RV.) The 1988 hobbit house in Elverson, Pennsylvania has 3bds, 2ba, $450K.

This is nice, I like the curving stairs, and I'm a sucker for old knotty pine.

It actually looks like a normal house inside, but you can "shire it up." The living room is pretty big and gets lots of natural light.

Open dining area and kitchen. The carpeting has to go, though. Double sliders to the outdoors and some closets, plus knotty pine paneling complete the space.

The kitchen's dated and has the cheap laminate cabinets, but they don't looked chipped or anything. The tile floor is in good shape, too, and the appliances look new. Check.

Let me just show you my idea about how you can "shire it up." It's one of my favorite homes. This is the kitchen in Terri Windling's former home called "Weaver's Cottage," and if this isn't hobbit decor, I don't know what is. Isn't this cool?

And, this is the living room of Weaver's Cottage. Can you picture this home looking like it? If you'd like to see more, here's the link: https://www.terriwindling.com/blog/houses/page/4/

Bedroom #1 is off the the dining room.

This bath has typically retro tile. I've taken off the shower doors in one house I lived in, they're easily removed.

The bedrooms are pretty much the same. Blank canvases.

The upstairs bath has more hobbit-y cabinetry, but I don't know what happened to the one on the right.

This one has nicer tile.

It's nice up here. They working on that structure, and it looks like it may be for a wood burning stove.

There are sliders to a terrace, too. This is a nice space.

There's an RV in the garage. I don't know if it conveys or what the story is.

The house is on a 4 acre lot.

Seems to be a nice area. I don't know how this works in the winter, but there's no paved driveway to this home.

#hobbit house #fixer uppers #houses #house tours #home tour

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bluebellhairpin · 1 year

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Thorin Oakenshield X Fem!Reader

Summary; Meeting up with Thorin's Company at Bag End didn't go as smoothly as anyone expected. But as the journey to Erebor begins, eventually everyone settles into a new rhythm of normal - even you and Thorin.

Warnings; Mentions of nightmares/visions of the future. Reader is female-body-coded, uses she/her pronouns, and is Human.

Listening to; 'Noble Maiden Fair' from Brave - "Sun and moon, guide us, to the hour of our glory and honor."

Part 2

Series Masterlist || Masterlist || Ko-Fi

This is a re-write of a old series! If you'd like to read the original, you can find it Here.

Waking up in a strange place, with little to no memory of the events of the day before, had sent you into a panic.

When things started coming back to you like second nature - your name, places, how to do things and live - you figured, maybe, this wasn’t something to be so worried about.

Maybe it happened often?

You wandered a lot, and on your wanderings down in a place called the Brown Lands, you met someone. Not a man - a wizard - Gandalf was his name, somehow you knew it without him even telling you. You trusted him easily, as if you did know him already - something deep inside told you he wasn’t going to hurt you, that he was good - so when he gave you a map to the Shire - to Bag End - after a meal you shared, you took it with a nod.

The place you needed to go wasn’t far away, a few days of swift travel on horseback and you could be there - but you had no horse - and from what Gandalf said, it would be quite the dangerous journey. Weapons that would’ve been needed were not something you had on hand either. So you stayed in that small town working your arse off in order to have enough favours to pull to get you the resources needed - sturdier clothes, a bigger travel pack, food that could last, a sword, and a horse.

It took you less than two weeks.

You picked out a study mountain horse, with a dark coat and lighter colored mane. His owner said his name was Phar Lap. He was perfect.

You soon found your way over the mountain ranges that lead towards Bree, and by the time you'd made it to Bag End on the night Gandalf said you should be there by, you had already quite a journey and story under your coat to tell.

You’d tied up your horse, and let yourself into the Hobbit-Hole. The door was left cracked open, and no one answered when you lightly rapped against the window.

Ducking in and making your way through hall into the atrium outside the dining room, the dwarfs in your eyeline went silent.

You were relieved to see that everyone Gandalf said would be there had arrived already. The hobbit in front of you followed their gazes and looked over at you, as did the dwarf sitting at the table’s head and Gandalf. The other dwarfs moved to try and see you better.

“And who might you be?” The Hobbit - Bilbo, something in your mind whispered - asked, already irritated from his unexpected guests, but by the dwarfs reaction he guessed you were definitely uninvited, and therefore was even less pleased.

“I invited her, she shall be our number fifteen.” Gandalf said, taking a blow of his pipe. “She’s here to help.” he added and sat back up.

“To take back the mountain, Erebor. Gandalf told me much about your journey already, I’m more than willing to help you.” You said. Something about being in this situation had you giddy. Like you’d been waiting much longer than you knew to be able to meet them - and help them.

“Why might we need your help?” The dwarf at the head said. Thorin, that same voice told you. He quickly ruined your pleasant mood and stood to emphasize his protest - even though he just reached your chin when standing at his full height, he was still making you want to shrink in on yourself. “You aren’t a dwarf, and yet you’re too small, too weak. You’re no Hobbit burglar either. What could you possibly do to help us?” You eyed Thorin, weary, but wondering if he could really be so hostile to a stranger who was offering their help.

“I know things. I see how events play out in dreams.”

“Oh and what use is that exactly?”

“You’re asking me that? You willingly have a wizard in your company, and you’re asking me how visions of the future would help you?” You were very quick to bite back at him, to match his hostility. “I wouldn’t have travelled all the way from The Brown Lands to help you if I doubted if the visions were true. Gandalf wouldn’t have told me to come if he thought I was too weak or small.” All eyes then turned to Gandalf, of which was pretending he hadn’t quite heard you.

“I already told you she’s here to help. I’ve spoken, if you wish to ignore me that will be your fault.” He said promptly after seeing too many eyes on him.

“I don’t mind her coming!” A young blond dwarf said, a smile cracking onto his face as he playfully hit the shoulder beside him - his brother, Kili- on the shoulder. “We could use a pretty face among all the ugly mugs here.”

You looked over at the two younger dwarves bitterly, as the others erupted in laughter. “I’m well aware I’m the only woman here, but I won’t be reduced down to just a pretty face.” A quiet fell into the group as the laughter died down, your stern eyes receiving nods, and mutterings of ‘fair enough’.

“I don’t wish to sound like I’m doing what you just asked me not to do,” A dwarf who looked much too young to be among his associates stood, “But I want you to know that I think you are really, really pretty.” You took in a deep breath, and sighed with a smile.

“Thank you, Ori.” you blurted. You hand even covered your own mouth at the surprise you had for knowing his name. The Company themselves went into an uproar - partially out of annoyance that Ori was the first to tell you his thoughts and get away with it - and partially out of confusion as to how you knew Ori’s name even though you just got here.

“Who are you?” A rough shove to your arm brought your attention back to - Thorin, “And tell me what else can do you, or do we have to still protect you despite your ‘visions’?”

You told him your name. “I can use a sword well, quick thinking - I can hold my own very well in a fight -”

“Fight? Against what? A measly elf?” You felt your eye twitch. He was frustrating you more and more. If he kept this up, your anger would win over how much you wanted to help them. And you wanted that so dearly. You felt anger bubble inside you, ready to burst, but Gandalf interrupted, ducking his head into the conversation.

“Not elves, but she has had more than her fair share of orcs. Even a troll or two.” he said as you turned away to regain your composure, missing the flash of knowing hurt and regret on Thorin’s face before he spoke.

“I didn’t know.” He said.

“You couldn’t have, you don’t know me.” You replied, giving a small smile to let him know it was alright. For now.

“So is she coming?” Bilbo asked, popping himself into Thorin and your conversation much like the wizard did. “Because I would feel more comfortable coming if there was someone who knows what’s going to happen coming along.” He finished. Thorin took a few more moments to think, looking you up and down as he did so.

“I suppose so. The worst she can do is die.” And just like that, the anger was back.

“I can see how grateful you are to my offer of help, Thorin. I shall take my leave instead of staying around and helping the likes of you.” you said and made your way back out of Bilbo’s house and into the crisp night air. Bilbo himself came after you, almost pleading with you to stay a join anyway, or make everyone else leave with you.

“You will need to go after her, Thorin.” Gandalf said, peering down at the dwarf. “You have to bring her back here.”

“Why should I? She’ll be nothing but trouble, even if she can hold her own in battles.” Thorin said, his stubborn irrationality kicking in again. He just couldn’t see why he needed you.

“You yourself noted she was neither Hobbit or Dwarf. What business do I have inviting an ordinary human on this journey?” With Gandalf’s question Thorin seemed to slowly understand. “To tell you the truth, unknown to herself, she is not of this world. She was sent from another specifically to help you reclaim Erebor, to keep those close to you safe until then with her visions - memories.”

Gandalf took a puff of his pipe, and Thorin blinked, letting the words sink in.

“She’s suffered quite enough at the hands of this world’s darker forces to be able to be here tonight, if that alone isn’t enough reason to let her stay with you then you have a denser skull than I remembered.” Gandalf had a point. Thorin was being unreasonably mean. Even when his own kin were unwilling to help, you were here.

Thorin looked over at Balin, who was sitting and listening intently to Gandalf's words. He nodded at Thorin to go after you. Thorin clenched his jaw, let out a yell of frustration, then stormed out. He reached past the front door, pushed past Bilbo, and stomped angrily towards where you went.

A call of your name had you turning on your heel.

“Wait.” Your eyes almost flashed in the darkness under the fur of your hood, daring Thorin to insult you again, but instead they widened at his changed declaration. “You will come with us as Gandalf is advising, and… I’ll try to act more agreeable towards you.”

He couldn’t meet your eyes as he spoke, though. Instead taking a great interest in the hem of your coat.

“You mean less like a jerk, and more like a king?” your head tilted, trying not to let a smirk reach your lips - though somehow you thought he wouldn’t have seen your expression anyway.

“I suppose so.” Thorin said through gritted teeth. “Especially if you decide to be nice in turn.”

“I’m only nice to those who give me reason, your majesty.” you mocked. Thorin felt his frustration rise once more. He sensed you’d be the death of him - of he of you - if you both kept this up. You smirk widened - although there was no joy behind it - as you started walking past him. “Careful there, you might turn ‘unagreeable’ again.”

“If you want to keep vexing me, I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” you turned, facing the equally angry dwarf, of which was now eye-level to you from the hills slope. “You’ll let - no - force me to leave and let your fate, and the fate of the rest of the Company reach the same end that I’ve seen? Trust me - you don’t want what’s coming.” Your voice was quiet, eyes even darker in the night. You watched as his jaw ticked, nose flaring in an effort to keep himself under control. “You do not want more dragon-fire. More lives slain at the hands of orcs. I’ve seen death, blood shed. I see it each and every night when I sleep, Thorin.”

“Well, what choice do you give me now?” Your eyes locked in a fierce hold. Your words hurt Thorin. Gandalf said you were here to help and keep those of the Company safe - you knew their future. If you were saying these things, saying you were to help keep them away from such a horrible fate - one he’d seen bestowed upon many before him - who was he to keep you away?

That alone made him more lenient. You must’ve seen it in his eyes.

“Fine.” You said with a huff. “You may be a king but that doesn’t mean you can be pardoned for acting so horrendously. Even so I will strike a deal with you.”

“Like what?”

“We try not to speak to each other, not to be near each other. Try to stay as far away from each other as possible so we don’t have to fake being civil.” You started, meeting Thorin’s blue eyes once more. They almost looked like they were glowing in the moonlight.” I think I’d be able to bear you much more if I didn't have to speak to you so often.”

“I’d have to agree.” He rumbled.

“We have a deal then?” you asked, sticking your hand out for him to shake. He grabbed hold of your hand, holding it a little too tight.

“Deal.”

Days passed, slowly turning into weeks, and for what it’s worth your plan had worked. Mostly.

You could easily assume Thorin’s temper flared against you just as often as it would’ve if you hadn’t agreed on a deal at all. Honestly yours did too - but only ever to meet his. You tried your best to be civil. But banter turned to bickering, and bickering - when given the chance - would turn to arguments. Tension was building, and often you didn’t know what kind it was exactly.

The Company had stopped for the night to rest under a rocky crevice. Thorin was set to start on the first watch with Fili and Kili before you took over with Dwalin and Ori. You decided to stay up with them. Balin often told stories, and the story Balin would tell tonight would be one you decided not to miss.

Tonight was the story of how Thorin gained the name Oakenshield. Balin told it very well. He often had you enraptured with his decade of tales - you soaked them up like a sponge. Instead of staring at the storyteller to take in every word, you watched Thorin, as everyone did, and found yourself standing with the rest of the company out of respect for your leader and king.

You knew orcs, they'd caused you pain, physical and emotional. Fighting one was enough for you, but an army would take being possessed by the spirits of a thousand warriors. They'd left scars on you - also physical and emotional - and too those wouldn't go away.

You’d always respect Thorin for what he went through, what he did - even if he chose to act like a jerk to you.

With the story told, the night lulled. Dwarves curled up to snore each other to sleep, and you rolled up in your blanket to sleep.

Trees framed your dream.

They peeled back, revealing where you were resting. You knew there were other vantage points where you could see your camp from, you didn’t know how you got there though.

You moved further back, and beside you were wild, vicious beasts. Wargs. Atop them were Orcs. Their eyes flashed in the dark, speaking in tongues you didn’t understand. They turned away, seething, but pleased.

You shot up, reaching a hand for your aching head. Now awake, you took your eyes over a turn of the group. Everyone was here. The bile that rose in your mouth quickly went away.

You were safe, for now.

You looked back at Gandalf, of which had sensed your dream and was keeping a keen eye on you as you woke. Your face had gotten dull, he was worried, but he’d come to understand that some things couldn't be shared.

“My my, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Bofur said from a way across the camp. Unlike Gandalf, the Company didn’t yet fully understand the lengths of your visions. You often had to make up reasons as to why you suddenly looked so shocked, or somber.

“It’s nothing. Just a bad dream.”

“Must’ve been something pretty scary. Perhaps you could spin a tale of sorts?” Bofur prodded, some of the other Company soon turned to face you. Apparently less of them were sleeping than you thought.

“No. No, I’m no good at telling stories.”

“What about a song? It doesn’t have to be a scary one.” Bofur took a puff of his pipe, smugly pushing his agenda. “We haven’t heard a single tale from you yet, I think it’s about time if I do say so myself.”

“Maybe another time, Bofur.” He looked at you, watching as you shoved your hands under your blankets, folding your knees to your chest. He seemed to take the hint, and left you alone, instead now humming a tune of his own.

Thorin looked over to watch you as you settled down again. He’d never seen you wake from a vision before. He never realized exactly what they did to you.

He kept looking between you and the fire to try and make it look like he wasn’t staring. After your waking, it was almost as if he saw you in a new light. Like one switch of many was suddenly turned on inside his mind which enabled him to really see you.

Sure, he’d seen you before, but only superficially, not like this.

This was deeper.

It suddenly occurred to him that - even if you didn’t know it - you had a life back where you came from. A family, friends, maybe even a lover or children. You’d been through hell to get to Bilbo’s that night you first met, only for him to treat you like you were nothing.

Now, he felt pretty bad about it, regretted it even, and felt the strange need to make it up to you.

The problem was he didn’t really know how.

He didn’t know what you liked. Mahal by his pride he wasn’t going to apologize - and he figured from your character you wouldn’t think it meant a whole lot anyway.

He thought about getting you something Dwarrowdam’s liked, pick something up for you on your travels as a gift - but you weren’t a dwarf. The chances of you liking what he’d find you were slim. He then seemed to be hit with an epiphany. Even if you didn’t know where it was, you wanted to go home - a place you’d be sent back to once your purpose was fulfilled.

You wanted the same as him, to return home. He’d help you fulfil your purpose. He’d help you to go home, and be with those who you’d want to be with the most.

You’d forgive him after that. Surely. Even without an apology.

#the girl who knew the end #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin x reader #thorin x you #the hobbit x reader

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bitkahuna · 1 month

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“Did you threaten Fíli?”

Bilbo looked up from his work, thankful Thorin wasn’t in the room. “Yes.”

———

The hobbit shifted on the ground as a light and cool breeze grazed his heated skin, spreading goosebumps across his body. A gentle mewl came from him as the sunrays bore their heat upon him, pining him to the grass with the weight of his relaxed limbs. He could not rise. He didn’t want to, feeling as though he was half asleep. His eyes opened only a moment before rolling back behind lids that fluttered closed, as shiver ran through him from the cool breeze that brushed across his skin again. Bilbo felt on the verge of sleep, constantly teased and taunted back to awareness by phantom sensations that played with his body.

———

The ground beneath his feet crunched softly as he walked while the sun set, casting long shadows. Bilbo’s shadow was so much bigger than himself as it stretched up the mountain.

———

“Bilbo?” Thorin asked as he looked up and saw the hobbit entering. “It’s nearly dinner. Shouldn’t you be in the dining hall?”

“No.” He’d never heard his own voice so low before. It was menacing, like the rumble of an approaching storm.

Thorin sat up straight. The last time he heard such a noise, it was the growl of a starving beast on the prowl before it leapt from the shadows and tackled him. “What are you doing?”

———

“I want the most horrible things, Thorin.” His voice was raw, scratching and clawing its way out of Bilbo’s throat. “I won’t wait. I won’t play coy. I want you.”

Thorin smelt wildflowers and cedar in the air. The hobbit had never been so bold to him before. His head rushed and cock swelled. There was something wild and feral in the hobbit that Thorin both feared and yearned. He would give anything for Bilbo’s sharp teeth to sink into his flesh. “Then so be it.” He growled.

—————

JUST POSTED

#bagginshield fic #bagginshield #thilbo #bilbo x thorin #thorin x bilbo #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit bilbo #hobbit #the hobbit #bamf bilbo baggins #bilbo baggins #fanfiction #ao3 author #fanfic #ao3fic #ao3

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bakuliwrites · 2 years

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Upon a Forest Throne, Thranduil x Reader

Rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

Fandom: The Hobbit/Lord of the Rings

Relationship: Thranduil x Reader

Summary: As Thranduil's Queen-to-Be, you worry his subjects will not accept you. So the Elven King takes it upon himself to show you just how worshipped you are.

Read here in this post or over on my AO3.

The air in the dining hall is stifling. A cacophonous din of voices swirls through the air, weighty and suffocating. Eyes fall on you: some curious, others disdainful.

Interloper, they speak wordlessly, glaring pointedly, Fraud. Thief.

From where you sit at the head of the table, you can sense every guest, every dignitary, trying to feel you out. Attempting to figure out the woman who has claimed their King’s heart, and is soon to claim the throne beside his. Thranduil seems to take no heed of the accusatory glowering and inquisitive gawking. His cool and collected gaze sweeps over his guests before settling on you. You try not to show your discomfort, smiling softly at your betrothed, but the way your hands fidget with the sleeves of your gown betray your growing unease. Thranduil’s dark brows crinkle, his striking azure eyes awash with concern. But before he can say anything to you, he’s interrupted by an attendant furtively whispering something in his ear. He nods in understanding and the attendant scampers off.

“Esteemed guests,” the Elven King’s commanding voice rings through the room, voices falling away to silence, “I invite you to join us in the adjoining salon for after dinner drinks.”

One by one, people rise from their seats, followed by the clink of silverware being abandoned on plates and the scrape of chairs scooting out from the table. You and Thranduil are the last to rise, trailing after your guests as they file into the room next door.

“Meleth nîn,” your voice sounds, barely above a whisper, halting your beloved in his tracks. He looks to you, handsome face scrunched with concern.

“What troubles you?” he hushes, taking this private moment to pass his thumb gently across your cheek.

“Might I have a moment on my own? I’ll join you when I’m finished. I just need a few minutes of quiet,” you request. The crease between Thranduil’s brow deepens. Air falters in your chest, lungs constricting with the anxiety of having to face that whole room staring you down. This is supposed to be a private dinner meant to introduce you to other Elven dignitaries from across Middle Earth. To test to see how you might get along with them as Mirkwood’s Queen-to-Be. Yet, here you are, wanting to escape. The tension is too much to handle. You’ve put on a brave face all night, made small talk with people who obviously don’t want to get to know you, and have been scrutinized like some sort of wretched specimen. You need just a few undisturbed moments to gather yourself before you repeat this all over again.

“You need not ask me for permission,” Thranduil reassures, softly beaming, “Take as much time as you need.”

You slip your hand into his, giving it a small squeeze before you flit through the hallways in search of a more tranquil place. Lost in thought, you allow your feet to carry you where they may. Your steps echo through the grand halls of the palace as you wander aimlessly, mind fixated on the piercing gazes that still seem to prickle along your skin. You find yourself standing before the throne. Swirling tendrils of branches creep their way up the sides and back. Large antlers hang imposingly at the top, mighty and grand. A reminder of the power of the Elf King, himself.

You imagine Thranduil, draped languidly across the throne, his robes spilling over the sides. His subjects look adoringly upon him, admiration and respect in their eyes. And then there’s you. A foreigner and a thief to them. They glare at you from your place beside your soon-to-be husband. Their distaste for you is clear. They’ve made no attempts to hide it. They’d grown used to a kingdom with one ruler. And now here you are, a usurper. Parvenu, you heard one whisper once as you passed them in the hallway. Your sudden fame and status seem hardly fair to them. Earned only because you’ve somehow managed to “bewitch” their King. Though you are an Elf, you are not of Mirkwood, nor are you of any important lineage; and, this troubles them.

“You radiate sorrow tonight, meleth nîn,” Thranduil’s velvety voice sounds from somewhere behind you, startling you out of your thoughts. You whirl around to face him, mouth pursed and brows crinkled.

“I didn’t realize how tragic I must appear,” you return, chuckling ruefully. He smiles softly at you, gracefully ascending the staircase to meet you before his throne.

“Not tragic,” he reassures, his silver-blonde hair cascading down around his shoulders, “But melancholy enough for your betrothed to notice. What troubles your heart?”

“Shouldn’t you be with our guests?” you venture, feeling guilty for taking him away from his royal duties. And knowing his guests must be gossiping about you this very moment, horrified that you would take their King away from them, blaming you for his absence.

“They can wait,” Thranduil responds, cupping your cheek in the warmth of his palm, “I have far more important matters to attend to.”

You allow your eyelids to flutter shut, pressing your cheek further into Thranduil’s touch, comforted by his quiet presence. To many, he is unapproachable, aloof and intimidating. But he has shown you a tenderness and gentility most others are not privy to.

“I fear your subjects do not accept me. And never will,” you breathe, inhaling his familiar scent. Your nose fills with autumn spice and forest rain, settling your racing heart and laying to rest some of your most fretful thoughts.

“Why do you say that?” your betrothed’s even voice inquires. You feel him place his hand on the small of your back and draw you into his chest. You lean your cheek against him, listening to the quiet thrum of his heart.

“I see the way they look at me when I am at your side,” you explain, wanting so desperately to remain locked in his embrace for the remainder of the night, knowing full well that you will eventually have to return to the party, “I’m an intruder to them. Someone who has stolen the affection of their King and used it to rise in their ranks. I sense their disdain for the strange woman who’s dared to promise herself to their royalty and take the throne as her own.”

Thranduil leans back, a stern look cemented firmly on his face. His eyes are serious as they meet yours, filled with their usual regal sheen.

“They will warm to you. Many of them have only known one of their own to sit atop this throne,” he gives a sweeping gesture towards his chair, guiding you up to it, “But as they come to know you, I expect their hostile sentiment to dissipate. And for those that remain disdainful of you- well, their ignorance is truly without end.”

“What if they feel I am not worthy?” you fret, allowing your fingers to graze the end of one knotted arm of the throne, before pulling away as if scalded by it.

“You have proven your worth to me, and more,” Thranduil reasons, gently taking your hand in his and placing it back on the throne. He holds it there for a moment, grasp firm but not too tight, making sure you feel the wood grain beneath your fingertips. Ensuring that you feel that this throne is just as much yours as it is his.

“In time, my people,” he goes on, correcting himself, “-our people will see this. And they will know your worth through your actions. Worry not, meleth nîn. Change is hard for those who have lived long enough to become complacent. They will come to see you as I do.”

“But what if-” you begin, but are silenced when Thranduil lays his lips against yours, swallowing up any protests you are about to unleash. You delight in these private moments with him, when he lets down his guard and shows affection as if no one else is watching. You know there are probably guards around. They trail him through the hallways and now, they trail you, too. Ensuring your safety as the palace's newest resident. You take comfort in knowing that they seem to accept you. It could be through the command of their King, but you sense a genuine interest in your protection from them.

Thranduil pulls back, sweeping aside strands of your hair that have fallen into your eyes. A loving beam tugs at the corners of his thin lips, affection glittering in his blue irises.

“You concern yourself with their opinions far too much,” he chuckles. His look shifts to one more contemplative. He searches your face for something, though you’re unsure of what.

“In some hypothetical world, even if they do not accept you, that will not change how I feel about you,” he finally says. You feel a pang of relief, breathless and free. Your unspoken worry has been recognized, one you never thought to share. One you couldn’t admit, even to yourself. If Thranduil’s people cannot accept me, what if he decides he cannot love me?

Tears bead in the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill down your flushed cheeks. You cling to Thranduil’s robes, grasping tight at the fabric, afraid to let go.

“Is this what has troubled you all these sleepless nights?” he goes on, running his elegant fingers through your hair, “I feel you beside me, lying awake, staring off into the darkness. I’ve sensed how crestfallen your heart has been. Why did you not tell me?”

“I was afraid,” you admit through shuddering breaths, voice muffled against Thranduil’s chest. He raises your face, tips your chin up so you may look upon him.

“Fear not,” he breathes, voice soft and low, his look consoling, “My love for you lies not in the will of my people. It resides resolutely in the chambers of my heart. The threads of my soul. There will not be a day that passes where I will not adore you.”

What little composure you have left shatters with Thranduil’s ardent proclamation of his love for you. His arms envelope you in their warm embrace as you weep shuddering breaths into his chest. He whispers reassurances, hushes your quiet sobs with feather-light kisses peppered across your cheekbones. You need him closer, yearn to show him just how meaningful his words are to you. But your voice catches in your throat, so you do the only thing you can: you press your lips firmly to his, feeling him melt into you as you try so desperately to occupy the very space he inhabits in Middle Earth. His mouth moves fervently against yours, tongue testing your parted lips. You permit him entrance, allow him to graze the underside of your teeth as his hands work to tangle themselves in your hair.

“You are more than worthy of being my wife,” Thranduil utters through shallow breaths in between crashing his lips into yours, “More than ready to be my Queen.”

“My King,” you huff, cheeks blooming with heat, body alight with anticipation, “Are you sure you want to do this here? With all your guests in just the other room?”

He practically snickers. You can feel him grin devilishly against you. You’re nose-to-nose, his brilliant eyes shimmering with impish glee. There’s something breathtakingly sly, dangerous in the most wonderful of ways in them.

“Let them hear,” he whispers, lips tickling the sensitive spot just behind your ear. You can hardly help the pleasured moan that escapes your throat as he trails searing kisses down your neck.

“You deserve to be worshiped as my Queen,” he purrs, breath ghosting along your collarbone. He lifts you into his arms with ease and carries you towards the throne. Gently, he lowers you into it, kneeling before you and slipping off your satin shoes.

“May I?” he asks, his gaze pleading and hungry. You glance around, wondering if the guards are still there, worrying that just about anyone could walk in. Yet, there’s an electric thrill that runs through your veins, an excitement over the thought of Thranduil being so cavalier, so wild and reckless.

“Yes,” you permit, feeling your heart skip a beat as Thranduil presses his lips to the top of one of your feet before trailing more up the length of your leg. With his kisses, he slides his hands up your silken gown, elegant fingers tickling your skin as he reaches higher and higher. Your skirt is bunched around your waist now and you wonder if you ought to just take the whole thing off. Before you can do anything more, Thranduil grasps your thighs and hoists you closer.

“Th-Thranduil!” you yelp before dissolving into bubbly giggles as he nibbles at your inner thighs. He smiles coyly before his fingers start to tug at the ties that hold your undergarments together. They fall away, exposing your heat to the cool air. You shiver at the contact; but, don’t have to suffer for long, for a moment later, Thranduil’s lips meet your clit. He kisses you softly, honoring the sensitive nub with his soft lips. You gasp as he pulls you ever closer, burying himself in your folds. His tongue swipes along them, warm and languid, fingers gripping your thighs as his nose bumps against you.

“Ah, Thranduil,” you moan, your hand tangling in the pristine threads of his golden locks. He hums pleasantly into you, lapping you up as if you are the sweetest succor that has ever graced his tongue. His motions are always so precise, so predetermined. Though he is no less meticulous as he attends to you, Thranduil’s actions today feel so spontaneous. His giving in to pure impulse and passion are certainly enough to show you how deeply he feels for you. To throw caution to the wind, abandon his regal sensibility just to have you right then and there- in the throne room of all places- well, that alone is enough to bring you to ecstasy.

Thranduil’s skilled tongue circles your clit, sending electric tingles through your whole body. He chuckles when you gasp, passes shimmering, mischievous gazes your way when you sigh contentedly. Fingernails tickle the tender flesh of your hips as he kneads and massages. His eyelids flutter shut in satisfaction, icy-blue occasionally peeking through frosted lashes when he deigns to steal a glimpse of your enchantingly flushed face.

“My King,” is all you are able to keen through labored breaths, Thranduil’s tongue darting in and out of your entrance, teasing you terribly.

“You are a vision, meleth nîn,” he whispers before gliding along your folds one last time, “Worthy of sitting upon this throne.”

Thranduil ensnares your lips with his, kisses fervent and astonishingly sloppy. You welcome his vigor, returning his motions with equally impassioned ones. Your hands tug at his silver-gray robes, tossing them to the floor and letting them pool around his feet. He works to quickly undo your gown, discarding it gracefully at his feet as your fingers find their way to his trousers, unlacing them with ease. A throaty gasp escapes his lips as his cock springs free. Swiftly, he lifts you into his arms, twirling the two of you around before settling down into his throne. You straddle him, breasts pressed to his chest, his erection grazing your inner thigh as you position yourself over him.

Thranduil helps lower you onto him, grabbing handfuls of your thighs and ass. As you sink onto his hardened member, you clutch at his back, nails digging into his shoulder blades. He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, groaning sinfully as he slips into you. He allows you a moment to adjust to his length before slowly rocking his hips against yours. With each bounce, you feel his tip hit deeper and deeper, sparking a fire deep in your core. You cling to him, tongue tracing the outer shell of his pointed ear, suckling on his earlobe and trailing love-bites down his neck.

“What will my guests think with all your little markings?” he growls teasingly, thrusting deeper into you, “They’ll see you’ve claimed me. And they should know better than to question that. Perhaps I ought to leave a few of my own on you.”

“Please,” you whimper, the fire in your core burning brighter, stomach fluttering with each husky grunt that rumbles through Thranduil’s chest. He lays his lips to your neck and you know he’ll leave more than just a small marking there. Sighing into him, you direct one of his hands to your breast, silently begging him to fondle and massage. He obliges, a merciful King, indeed. You grind your hips into his even harder, your walls quaking with each movement. His cock quivers inside you and you can feel that he’s close.

“Meleth nîn,” you manage to utter, tone desperate and needy, “I’m so very close.”

He pulls away from your neck, savagely smashing his lips into yours as he mercilessly slams his hips upwards. You grip him tight, teeth biting down hard on his bottom lip as you feel yourself coming undone.

“My Queen,” Thranduil cries, bucking his hips erratically, spilling into you as he reaches ecstasy.

“My King,” you return, the fire in your core bursting brighter than any star in the sky, filling you with euphoria and warmth. Thranduil spills himself inside you, his essence trickling down your thighs as he gives his last few final, languid pumps. Collapsing into him, you allow yourself a moment to catch your breath. Thranduil keeps you close, arms wrapped protectively around you as you settle your heart. When your breathing, and his, is deep and even, you slowly pull yourself off of him, settling into his lap and snuggling close. You feel empty without him inside you, but fulfilled in this private moment.

“You’ve earned this throne. Claimed it as your own, there’s no doubt about that,” Thranduil murmurs, lips brushing featherlight against your temple, fingers carding gently through your hair, “Heed not the misguided words of the people that doubt you. Know that my trust in you and my love for you is perennial.”

His kiss is firm, conveys a light that brightens with each passing moment. His words are genuine and infallible.

“I promise to do right by your people. And you,” you return, taking his hand in yours and weaving your fingers together.

“I know,” he reassures with a knowing smile, “I have the utmost faith in you.”

The two of you take a few moments to enjoy the vast silence of the throne room. Once echoing with your shared moans, it holds now a quiet peace that you could bask in all night long, were it not for your guests no doubt growing antsy with yours and Thranduil’s absence. As you smooth out your disheveled hair and clothes, Thranduil rises to dress himself. You pass him an impish look.

“Perhaps your guests are right,” you venture, pulling back your hair once again. Thranduil looks to you, perplexed.

“Oh? How so?” he questions, one eyebrow quirking up in confusion as he slips his robes back on. A teasing smile tugs at your lips.

“Perhaps I do encourage poor behavior in their King,” you giggle, brushing aside some of his golden hair just to get a look at the love-bites you’ve left behind on his neck.

“Perhaps you do,” he returns with a grin, taking you by the hand and leading you back towards the party, “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

#thranduil #the elven king #the hobbit #the lord of the rings #thranduil x reader #spicy #fluff and spice #i think Thranduil is capable of being sweet #and quite mischievous #lemon #minors dni #my fanfiction #my writing #ao3 #dani writes

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