#the books are sitting proudly on my bookshelf on top of twilight which is sitting less proudly | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fizzyxcustard · 5 years

Text

A Rose at Twilight - Chapter One

Read on AO3 here

Summary: You notice that someone has been visiting you at night; things have moved and roses start appearing on your dresser. Your nightly visits with none other than Thorin Oakenshield start becoming more intense, passionate, and he is eager for you to return to Middle-earth and be his Queen. However, your abusive boyfriend Ryan stands in your way, intent on making your life hell. Will you and Thorin overcome all the obstacles to begin your new life together as King and Queen? And is your past with an abusive boyfriend the only challenge you now face in a new world? Your new friends and family help you uncover all your strength that you never realised you had. But will it be enough to fight away your past and the rising opposition of you becoming the Queen of Erebor?

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x fem!Reader, fem!Reader x original Male Character, Kili x Tauriel.

Warnings: Physical and mental abuse, hospitalisation, smut, fluff, bad language, violence - more warnings will come as the story progresses.

Notes/Comments: This is a reposting of my original story which I began last year on my original Tumblr account, but have since made chapters longer, editing them together and posting to AO3. If you wish to be added or taken off my tag lists, send me an ask or a message.

Follow Forever tag list: @himoverflowers @theincaprincess @shikin83 @deepestfirefun @houseofrahl @nowiloveandwilllove @mynameisnoneya1991 @blankdblank @captainrainbowpanda @cd1242 @c-s-stars @thorins-magnificent-ass @patanghill17 @trees-and-ink @inumorph @leah-halliwell92 @greendragonette @msjava1972 @thequeenoferebor

Strange things had been happening of late: your belongings had been moving in the night, and one morning you had woken with your blanket on top of you which you normally kept folded at the end of your bed. To make matters worse, you lived on your own and didn't even have anyone else to check with to see if the same thing had been happening to them.

Your first, immediate thought was: maybe a ghost? Your flat had been built on top of an old hospital which was demolished three decades ago. Maybe it was the spirit of a patient who couldn't find rest. The very thought of it made you shudder.

One morning you woke and found a single, red rose on the dresser beside your bed. You shot up, sitting bolt upright as you noticed it and grabbed it, pricking your finger.

“Ow!” you called out and dropped the flower to the floor as a thorn cut into your skin. Blood dripped down your index finger slowly.

Could a ghost really conjure an object out of thin air? Or maybe was something a little more sinister going on here? Could it have been your boyfriend, Ryan? He didn’t have a key to your flat, but maybe he had some how acquired one and was sneaking into your place at night. It didn’t seem the kind of thing he would do, especially leaving flowers. Ryan was far from the romantic type.

You grinned to yourself as your parcel came and the smiley postman handed you the box. “Thank you!” you cried loudly, grabbing the box and racing back inside. It had only been three days ago and you had put in your order on Amazon for the newest addition to your collection: a replica of the Key to Erebor from The Hobbit. It was intended to sit on your bookshelf next to your Orcrist sword and large poster of Thorin from the films.

Laughing to yourself, you opened the box, looking upon the key which was protected in a wood and glass presentation box.

You run into your bedroom and put the new addition to your collection on your bookshelf next to your Tolkien books and then stood back, admiring your pride and joy.

Later on that day and Ryan came to visit you. He was in a bad mood, as usual, complaining about the day’s events at his work, a local garage where he worked as a mechanic.

“Oh, I got my parcel today. My Key to Erebor,” you told him proudly.

He looked at you, his dark eyes narrowing. “Is that all you ever care about?” he hissed. “Your fucking bullshit film collection?”

“I just thought I’d try and lighten the mood a little bit,” you replied, starting to grow nervous at his outburst.

“No, you just wanted to discuss your own crap to invalidate mine,” Ryan shouted back, getting up from the table. “You constantly live in a fucking daydream. You’re pathetic, you know that?”

Tears stung your eyes and you looked down sadly at the table. “I know I am.”

“Pfft. At least you admit it.”

Thankfully Ryan left not long after, lighting a cigarette on his way out. He turned to kiss you but you moved away, his previous words still haunting you, and instantly you felt him grab your arm. “Don’t fucking start again. Just give me a kiss,” he growled. Quickly you kissed him, pecking him on the lips and backed off. You saw him roll his eyes and then he disappeared into the dark evening.

As you shut the door, you pressed your back to the wall and wept. Of course you were pathetic; you had always loved fantasy worlds, hoping that someone would come and take you away where you could live out the rest of your life in happiness. You had never felt you belonged in this cruel world where it was dog eat dog. Everyone was out for themselves, driven by greed, selfishness and conforming to an empty society that valued property ownership, outward beauty and hiding the truth.

In bed you curled under the duvet, crying into your pillow and hoping of a day when you would finally find some kind of contentment.

You drifted off to sleep shortly afterwards, completely oblivious to the figure sat next to you on the bed. His hand drifted through your hair and he smiled down at you, desperately wanting to pick you up in his arms and take you to that place you were yearning for so much.

“If it were up to me, you would be my Queen,” he whispered.

Your sleep was broken that night and you tossed and turned, thoughts of Ryan’s outburst still fresh in your mind. You had drifted to sleep, but now staying within a slumber was proving difficult.

The clock at the foot of your bed shone green in the dark, telling you it was just after half one in the morning. You rolled over, dropping on to your back and for a few seconds you stared at the ceiling, watching the shadows dance on the white paint.

A feeling of being watched washed over you, igniting terror. Your eyes darted around the room, checking for any sign, when suddenly you noticed the outline of someone sat right beside you in your bedside chair. A weak scream escaped your throat and you began to shake from head to foot.

“Do not be afraid,” a voice instructed. That voice sounded eerily familiar.

It can’t be, you thought. I’m imagining things.

The lightest touch caressed your hand and you screamed again, louder, moving backwards so quickly that you hit the wall next to you; a sharp, splintering pain soaring through your elbow. “Please don’t hurt me,” you called out, begging in your fright, still unable to see the form of the person who had broken into your flat.

“Hurt you? Impossible,” the voice came again. “Do not fear me. Never fear me.”

“Who are you?” you asked, your voice shaking and your breathing so sharp in your chest that it felt as if your whole rib cage would explode.

“I think you already have your suspicions.”

You reached over slowly, your hand shaking, and you felt for the lamp on your dresser. Anticipation was surging through you alongside the terror. Was it really who you thought it was?

Light flooded the room and illuminated the man sat next to you.

“This is a dream,” you whispered. You closed your eyes, pressing them shut hard and then opened them again, but he was still there. A smirk was present on his lips as his silver blue eyes watched you in amusement.

“I can assure you that I am real,” he replied, leaning forwards in the chair, smiling at you.

That voice melted within you, a voice so deep and mixed with velvet. His eyes were bright, his hair the colour of a raven with a few streaks of silver, showing his true age, despite still looking young. His lips were still curled upwards into a gentle smile, surrounded by a neatly trimmed beard.

“How can this be happening?” you asked, blinking again, trying to wake yourself up from the dream you were trying to persuade yourself you were having. However, you didn’t wake. Thorin was still sat in front of you, still smiling at you.

In that moment you pieced together all of what had been occurring recently. The rose. The objects moving around your room. Waking up with your blanket over you. “You’ve visited me before, haven’t you?” you asked.

Thorin’s smile grew and he leaned closer towards you. “Yes,” he replied simply.

“The rose? That was from you?”

“Yes. I would gladly give you more.” His eyes studied you. “I apologise if I have scared you. That was never my intention.”

You got up from the bed, watching him as you nearly tripped up over your washing basket. Thorin chuckled in amusement at you, knowing that you were confused, scared and curious about what was happening. He got to his feet, approaching you slowly as you backed out of the room. “I will not harm you, nor will I touch you against your will,” he told you.

You let him come closer towards you; both of you stood eye to eye, the same height. He raised his hand slowly. “May I?” he asked softly.

All you could do was nod, all comprehension and reasoning having left you.

Shivers raced through you as his hand cupped your cheek, and you surrendered. You closed your eyes, allowing the pleasurable feelings to completely consume you. A gasp found its way up through your throat, and you knew right then that you would never find a more pleasurable touch.

This all had to be a dream. Of course it was a dream. That or you were going insane...slowly. Had your obsession with The Hobbit become so integral to your mental wellbeing that you had somehow started hallucinating that the character of Thorin Oakenshield was real and standing before you?

As he cupped your cheek, you moved away after a few seconds, succumbing to tears. “I’m insane,” you said, closing your eyes again, hard, so that it became painful. You grit your teeth. “None of this is real. I’m hallucinating and I’m losing my mind.”

“All of this is real. I am here,” Thorin told you, his voice firm.

“Of course you’re going to say that. You’re a figment of my imagination,” you said, beginning to babble, but keeping your eyes tightly shut. “You’re not really there...” Then you began backing out of the room, until you turned on your heels and dashed into the small hallway and continued on into your kitchen. “You’re not there. If I ignore you then maybe you’ll go away...Yes, that’s what I need to do. Ignore your voice, not look at you and you’ll go away.” The whole time you were racing to your kitchen and you carried on babbling to yourself, trying to convince your sick mind that this wasn’t real.

Thorin followed you, sighing in exasperation, his loud footfalls echoing down the wooden floored hallway. “I am here. Listen to me. Look at me!” Thorin’s voice was full of frustration. “Please listen to me!”

“Go away!” you shouted, slamming the door as you entered your kitchen. “You’re not real. Ryan was right. I’m obsessed and I’m imagining you’re there.” You slid down onto the tiles in your kitchen with your back against the cupboards and wept, drawing your knees up to your chest. “I’m insane. Oh, fuck! I’ve lost touch with reality.”

The other side of the door and Thorin was tempted to barge in, whisk you up into his arms and show you how real he was. But your sobbing from inside hit him hard and he felt a lump in his throat. How could he show you that he was really there? All he wanted was for you to acknowledge him and know he was real. Thorin hung his head in guilt and brushed his fingertips against the door which was keeping him apart from you. “I shall go,” he whispered.

After a few minutes you raised your head from your lap and looked around the dark room. You could just about make out the outline of your dining table and chairs. The clock from your microwave shone in the dark. 2:00am.

You sniffed away the tears and rose from the floor slowly, feeling apprehensive regarding what you would find the other side of that door. You moved towards it, reaching out with a trembling hand, and closed your eyes, inhaling sharply.

He had gone.

In your room and you looked up at the poster on your wall, your eyes studying the image of the man who had just been standing before you, insisting he was real. But now he was just an image printed onto paper. You reached forward and pressed your hand against the image, feeling the cool of the paper. Of course it was just a picture.

For the next hour you lay in bed, terrified of what was going to happen to you now. What if another mental break occurred? Would it happen at work, around your family, or even Ryan? Your eyes kept studying the poster, watching for any kind of movement.

When you woke the next morning, you bat your stinging eyelids against the sunlight. For a few seconds you had forgotten about the previous night’s events, but then they began filtering through and you wept again.

#Thorin oakenshield #the hobbit #fanfiction #thorin x you #thorin x reader #thorin x fem!reader #thorin oakenshield x you #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin oakenshield x fem!reader #chapter one #a rose at twilight #poster comes to life

255 notes · View notes