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gloomwitchwrites · 2 months

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Missed Hints

King Thorin Oakenshield x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): fluff, light angst, humor, pregnancy, suggestive themes, fade to black, established relationship

Word Count: 1.8k

With the pregnancy confirmed, you decide to drop little hints until Thorin makes the connections.

A/N: for @protosslady

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist

“You’re pregnant, your majesty.”

Those two little words are enough to make time freeze. You are cold, a bit hesitant, and completely unbelieving of what you’re hearing.

“Are you sure?” you ask slowly, needing to know if you’ve heard her correctly.

The midwife, Lena, smiles broadly. “As sure as the sun rises in the morning. I’ve been doing this for close to thirty summers now. Rarely am I ever wrong.”

Lena’s assistant, Petal, matches Lena’s smile with one of her own. It is radiant and sunny, a stark difference from your sudden anxiousness. “This is wonderful news,” she exclaims. “King Thorin will be so pleased.”

“Indeed,” agrees Lena. “And so will the people when it’s formally announced.”

Both women sigh at the same time, but you are not nearly as excited as they are.

You and Thorin did try for a child many times in the beginning of your marriage. It was enthusiastic—and constant—but nothing ever came of it. While it bothered you, Thorin never seemed to care. He told you that all he wanted was you and that anything else was a bonus.

That is still true. Thorin loves you.

But Thorin is being pulled in a different direction. Erebor needs attention, and Thorin throws himself into service attempting to tackle every obstacle and difficulty on his own. Most nights, he comes to bed late—usually when you’re already asleep. When you wake, he is usually gone, off to take care of his abundant duties. They are piling up, becoming a burden. Thorin does too much, and while you admire him for his dedication, you miss him.

To know that you’re pregnant is a surprise. It’s not that you and Thorin haven’t been intimate, it’s just that it hasn’t been nearly as frequent as in the past. While Thorin is gone, you have your own duties and responsibilities. When the two of you do have quiet time together, intimacy is brief but passionate and almost always followed by the two of you falling asleep in each other’s arms.

“How far along?” you ask, trying to place exactly when it might have taken.

When your cycle never came, you didn’t think much of it. That happens sometimes. But then didn’t occur during the next expected timeframe. With its absence came irritability and random bouts of sudden crying you couldn’t explain. Certain foods smelt odd, and while you weren’t emptying the contents of your stomach, constant nausea made it difficult to complete daily tasks. You knew then that something was different. And now the midwife has confirmed it.

But even with an answer, you’re not sure how you feel.

“I’d place you at about ten weeks. Perhaps eleven,” answers Lena with a slight shrug of her shoulders.

“That far?” you squeak, wincing immediately with how upset you sound.

Lena and Petal’s smiles start to diminish. Their enthusiasm melts away, replaced with furrowed brows and soft lines of concern.

“Is everything all right? You look a bit faint?” Lena places her hand on your shoulder.

“Yes,” you reply, though it sounds like you’re gasping for air. “Surprised is all.”

Their smiles return but it’s subdued.

This is supposed to be a happy occasion. A child means an heir, and it also gives the people hope for the future. Much of Erebor is still in pieces from Smaug’s habitation. That doesn’t even begin to include all the damage and death from the battle. Dale, which was once abandoned and forgotten, is starting to see life again as well. The races of Men are returning to it, hoping to rekindle its long-extinguished flame.

A royal child is a symbol of hope. It’s a moment of celebration for everyone.

“I think a bit of rest for the remainder of the day will do you some good,” says Lena softly. “We will prepare some ointments that you can use to relieve any aches or pains. Bloating is likely, and as the body makes room for the little one, you’ll have some discomfort.” Lena taps her bottom lip and then turns to Petal. “We’ll need to prepare some liquid supplements to take with meals.”

“Of course,” nods Petal. She begins packing up their supplies.

Lena squeezes your shoulder before letting go. “I’ll come check on you in a few days. Bring a few things with me. We’ll talk more then, preferably with the father present.”

“Yes,” you reply, absently rubbing your belly. “That would be best.”

The two women bow and depart quickly, leaving you alone in the royal bedchambers. The room is quiet and your breathing sounds too loud in such a large space. With hands clasped, you twist them over and over again in agitation, needing to move but unsure of how to quell the anxiousness. It’s stubborn like the deep roots of a tree that refuse to give up the dirt.

How are you to tell Thorin? How do you approach this when you rarely see him. It’s just one more thing to burden him with. Perhaps, if you dropped a few hints? Covertly toss the pregnancy in his direction and see if he picks it up?

You know deep in your gut that you shouldn’t worry over this. Thorin will be happy. He will be.

You spend the rest of the day as Lena instructs. Reclining, resting, and reading. Thorin is supposed to return tonight for evening meal. Whenever he promises an early arrival, Thorin means it. Rarely does he make promises he cannot keep.

As dinner is brought in, and the table is set, Thorin walks through the door. There is a bit of soot on his cheek like he’s been in the mines, and his cheeks are slightly flushed. When he notices you, he beams, and there is so much love there that you simply want to melt into a puddle on the floor.

“My love,” he says, moving toward you swiftly. The embrace nearly sweeps you off your feet. He plants a kiss on your forehead and draws back.

“You’re filthy,” you laugh, looking him over. Thorin has been in the mines.

Thorin shrugs sheepishly. “I had to help dig. Structural issues.”

“Wash your hands at least,” you playfully tease.

“Not interested in eating a bit of dirt?” he asks with a laugh.

“Go,” you giggle, pushing away from him.

Thorin disappears and you take a seat at the table. He reappears a few minutes later, face and hands clean. The clothes he wore before are also gone, replaced with simple, fresh attire. He takes a seat next to you, gaze darting over the spread.

“I’m starving,” you begin because it’s true even though you’ve been consistently snacking all day. “It’s like I’m eating for two.”

First hint dropped.

Thorin laughs, and the sound is sweet like honey cake. “I promise, love. You couldn’t eat for me. My appetite is insatiable.” When Thorin says insatiable, he pointedly glances at you with a heated stare.

You perfectly understand his meaning.

You attempt a different angle. “I’ve also been having the oddest cravings,” you say, starting to load your plate.

“What do you mean?” asks Thorin before he pops a chunk of bread into his mouth.

“Different foods. Things I’d never eat together otherwise.” It is common knowledge that pregnant women will often crave highly specific foods and food combinations.

But Thorin doesn’t appear to pick up on the hint. He frowns, then shrugs, continuing to eat without making a comment.

Sighing, you pick up one the freshly made rolls. “I think these buns need a bit more time in the oven.” You stare hard at Thorin, mentally sending message after message. “What do you think?”

Thorin glances up at you then down at his own plate that has five of them. “I think they’re perfect but if you’d like them more done, I’ll let the kitchen know in the morning.”

“Thorin,” you say flatly.

“Yes, my love?” His head slightly tilts, and his gaze becomes pointed. He’s starting to pick up on your agitation. You don’t mean to be cross, but you were hoping that he’d figure it out so you wouldn’t have to tell him outright.

Setting the roll down on your plate, you promptly divert the conversation to a different hint. “We’ve never talked about where we’d put the nursery.”

Thorin’s brow rises toward his hairline. “I didn’t think you wanted to discuss that until we crossed that hurdle?”

Does he hear himself? Does he understand the context of what’s coming out of his mouth?

“You’re right, Thorin. I didn’t want to discuss it until we needed to.” You repeat his words back to him, slightly leaning toward him as you speak to emphasize the point.

Still, it brushes right over his head.

“Some of the advisory council members have brought up financial concerns. Rebuilding Erebor is important but the needs of the people are pressing. Food. Proper housing.” Thorin begins slicing into the chunk of roast on his plate.

Maybe you are going to have to say it outright.

Licking your lips, you ignore Thorin’s change in conversation. “I did receive a few inquiries about baby clothes. Offers to knit a few items,” you shrug.

“That’s kind of them,” says Thorin slowly. “But why—” he pauses, “you’re not—"

Thorin’s features suddenly shift, becoming almost unreadable. His jovial expression is gone, replaced with a stern consideration.

Are you going to have to shout it at the top of your lungs?

Thorin’s lips part. Promptly shuts. Opens again. “Are you…” he begins but does not finish.

You start to nod, urging him on.

Finally, like light igniting in the dark, Thorin’s face transforms into one of shock, then pure joy.

“Truly?”

“Found out just this morning.”

Thorin abruptly stands, pushing himself and his chair away from the table. He is moving toward you, grasping your hands, bringing them to his mouth to kiss your fingers.

“Why not say anything?” he asks.

“I did,” you laugh. “Many times.”

Thorin momentarily frowns before his mouth turns up into a soft smile. “Clever.”

“You’ve been busy and I was unsure of how to tell you.”

Thorin’s thumbs rub little circles over your knuckles. “You can always tell me anything. Whatever is happening. Whatever is on your mind. I wish to hear it.” He kisses the tops of your hands. “Especially something like this.”

“Are you happy?” you ask, voice cracking at the end.

“Happiest I’ve ever been.”

Thorin pulls you up from your chair, his large, muscled arm sliding behind your waist. He drags you to him, his eyelids lowering seductively, all gentleness leaving him to be replaced with desire.

“Are you up for a bit of celebrating?” he asks.

“What kind of celebrating?”

“The kind that landed us here.”

“Thorin,” you gasp, lightly slapping his chest. He snatches your wrist, kisses the pulse point there.

“The food can wait,” and his voice ends on a soft growl.

“Thorin,” you repeat, this time with a rasp to your tone.

He seizes it, draws you even closer. “The food can wait?”

You nod. “It can wait.”

taglist:

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

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harrypoppinss · 1 year

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How the Dwarfs show PDA

Thorins company x gn!reader

Warnings: an insane amount of fluff, implied smut

Thorin

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

Fíli

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

Kíli

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

Dwalin

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

Bofur

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

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A/N:

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

The masterlist? Here!

The prompt list? Here!

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mlmxreader · 3 months

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Kingslayer | Thorin Oakenshield x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Thorin

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

36 "It's where I come from"

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

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

: ̗̀➛ mentions of murder

: ̗̀➛ @vampiboi

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Kingslayer?"

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

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

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

"Were you paid?" He questioned.

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

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

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

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

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

"Go on."

"How much?" You asked.

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

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

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

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

"And what of loyalty?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Would you consider it?" Thorin questioned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Like a black arrow?" You asked.

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

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

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

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rattyoakenbitch · 1 year

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꒰ general otp dialogue prompts ꒱

cw - angst, allusions to suicide

"is this okay?"

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

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

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

"what the fuck is this?"

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

"shh, they're finally sleeping"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

inbox open!

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

#otp prompts #dialogue prompts #fluff prompts #angst prompts #romance prompts #writing prompts #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit thorin #thorin x you #thorin x reader #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin fanfiction #thorin oakenshield x you #thorin oakenshield fanfiction #thorin oakenshield #lord of the rings #lord of the rings fanfiction

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cauliflowertree · 1 year

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thorin oakenshield—i fell in your arms tonight.

—thorin oakenshield x human!reader

summary: you've sustained a serious injury.

warnings: blood, injury, mentions of death.

word count: 0.9k

fanfic no. 042.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

｡+ﾟ☆ﾟ+｡★｡+ﾟ☆ﾟ+｡★｡+ﾟ☆ﾟ+｡★｡+ﾟ☆ﾟ+｡

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

"how are you feeling?" he asked softly.

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

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

"i was worried."

"i know," was your response.

"you should be more careful," he teased.

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

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

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

requested by @auroracalisto

🏷 @velvetcloxds @entishramblings

#thorin x reader #thorin x you #thorin x y/n #thorin fanfiction #thorin fic #thorin imagine #thorin drabble #thorin oakenshield #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin oakenshield x you #thorin oakenshield fanfiction #thorin oakenshield imagine #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit x you #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit fic #the hobbit fanfiction

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l-itraklies · 1 year

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Thorin x reader headcanons

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#the hobbit x y/n #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit x you #the hobbit #thorin x reader #thorin x you #thorin x y/n #thorin fanfiction #thorin oakenshield

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sotwk · 1 year

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The Task of Living (Thorin x Reader one-shot)

Love Confession feat. Thorin Oakenshield

Valentine 2023 Event by @sotwk

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

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

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

Word count: 2.4 k

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

Rating: T (Teens and up)

Warnings: Some sensuality

To Read on AO3: Link

Divider credit: @firefly-graphics

The Task of Living

Third Age 2943

Dunland

“Is she… is she yours?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If I may say so, you look well--”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Amrâlimê, please...”

"Do. NOT. Call me that!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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#thorin #thorin fanfiction #thorin x reader #thorin x you #thorin oakenshield #the hobbit fanfiction #sotwk fanfiction #valentine event 2023 #follower request

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kasha-formerlydrabbletastic · 2 years

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Whilst On Your Knees

Thorin (The Hobbit) x Fem!Reader

Summary: The reader and Thorin get into an argument before the reader storms off to the armory to blow off some steam. Thorin follows her there, sexy times ensue.

Inspired by this imagine found at @thereandbackagainimagines

Word Count: 1,733

Warnings: MATURE 18+. MINORS - DO NOT INTERACT. Implied argument, cunnilingus.

Bebother and confusticate that Dwarf!

Fuming, you slam the massive wooden door to your bedroom shut, leaving an infuriating Thorin in bed to grumble to himself while you storm through the hallway, into the sitting room, and out the door of your shared quarters. This door slams, too, echoing along the stone walls of the otherwise silent corridor. Your bare feet pad along the chilly floor, but you pay it no notice as Thorin's words resound in your mind.

"Why are you being so difficult?" he had snarled not two minutes ago during a discussion about policy with the Elves; you are the queen after all, why should you not have a say in regards to foreign relations? Not to mention, queen or not, your temper isn't nearly as mercurial as his, making you far more suited to dealing with Thranduil than him.

Luckily you hadn't said that to his face. Mahal knows how that would've transpired.

Your nightgown flutters around your feet as you pass door after silent door, marching by torchlight to the armory where you'll gladly take up a sword and practice until you collapse into exhaustion if it meant getting your mind off the subject.

And that is just what you do.

Given the late hour, there is no one awake, and you ran into no one on your way to the armory, optimal conditions in the quest to abate your frustration. Without a soul in sight, you take up a sword, weighing the balance of it in your hand before slicing it through the air. You step into your favorite routine, getting lost in the movements as your concentration narrows down to simply knowing how to cut down your foe, bring him to his knees in submission.

Entranced by your imaginary victories, you hardly notice when Thorin steps into the armory himself; he slows the moment he lays eyes on you, standing near a rack of axes, watching as you move with such grace, such precision. The knot in his chest loosens, even if he had already decided to grovel at your feet for forgiveness, and his lips twitch into a gentle smile. He knew you'd be down here, pulled himself out of bed only moments after the front door slammed shut. He had been surprised to see how quickly you had moved, but walked at a slower pace to allow you some room before he so rudely invaded it to plead.

Something, though, tingles on your neck, your senses standing on end as you slow the swing in progress. You wheel around, your sword at the ready before you spot your husband.

"Thorin," you speak through your teeth.

"Amralime," he replies, and you roll your eyes.

"What do you want?"

"I've come to apologize," he says, slowly stepping forward. "It is only ever after you've left the room that I realize how stupid I've been, and this time was no different."

You grit your teeth, still not quenched of your anger with him, but lowering your weapon all the same.

"Oh, is that so? What changed your mind then?"

You turn your back on him, returning to your practice and awaiting his answer.

"The realization that I could never have gotten to where I am without your keen mind," he says, his voice low. "The same as always."

You huff, carrying on. You assume he's waiting for you to respond, and you let him stew for a moment. He deserves it, after all, with his earlier insistence that you were wrong about the Elves. Seconds pass, then minutes start to tick by, and part of you wonders if he's simply given up, gone back to bed with no satisfaction to be had. Before the full thought forms to turn around and check, though, you feel his strong hand around your forearm, gently bringing it down and turning you about.

"What, Thorin?" you nearly growl.

His eyes, as blue as ever, fix onto yours, wide and apologetic as he slides the sword from your grip.

"I want to make this right," he says. "I would rather not go to bed angry tonight."

"Should've thought about that before you said I was barking mad wanting to extend aid to Mirkwood."

You make to turn around again, but he doesn't allow it. In fact, he takes both your wrists in his hands as he falls to his knees before you.

"I was wrong," he says before pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "And I am sorry."

You sigh, grappling with your frustration and the sight of this man on his knees before you, groveling. Your heart begins to soften as he continues to press kiss after kiss to your hands. His own hands move to the outside of your thighs, his fingertips pressing into your flesh as he looks up at you.

"Forgive me?" he says, inching forward on his knees, his hands sliding to the backs of your thighs to pull you closer.

A tingle of another kind bleeds from the contact, crawling along your skin to settle in your core; he is at the perfect height for it, you think, and would likely be most willing to do anything you say.

"Thorin," you say, unable to keep the sultry tone from your voice. "I will gladly forgive you."

"You willl?" he replies, his eyes going wide with relief.

"On one condition."

"Name it."

Your hand finds his jaw, your fingertips scratching through his beard as you look him dead in the eye.

"As long as you can glean another thing you can do for me whilst on your knees like that," you say, the corner of your lip pulling into a smirk, "you shall earn my forgiveness."

For a moment, Thorin simply stares, contemplating your words before it clicks into place. He grins, letting his hands fall to the hem of your nightgown to lift it up.

"Mmm," you hum as his lips meet your knee, his beard tickling the sensitive skin of your thighs as he trails kisses up, up, up. His teeth graze your hip as he moves across your skin, pressing kisses against your womb before he swipes the tip of his nose along your folds, grazing your clit gently and taking a deep breath in.

"Mahal, the scent of you," he growls before licking a stripe between your lips.

A shot of bliss strikes through you and you gasp, your fingers burying into his hair immediately as he gets to work; his tongue works over your clit, lapping at you like the nourishment you are. His hands wander, one holding your nightgown up while the other grips your backside, pulling you closer to him the longer he's at worship. He's intent on guiding you into oblivion as he sucks on your clit, pulling at it with vigor before letting his tongue slide down into your cunt. He savors you, the nectar that drips from you coating his tastebuds as he repents.

Your hips press forward as your grip in his hair tightens, grinding against his face before he drops your nightgown altogether.

In the next moment, he parts your legs with his arms, scooting you up onto his shoulders as he lays back onto the floor, inviting you onto his face. A moan dances from your lips into the air as he pulls you as close to his face as possible, part of you concerned that you might smother him. That concern is quickly swept away as he tightens his arms around your thighs and doubles his efforts with his tongue, eager to please, eager to atone for his transgressions.

"Ah, Thorin," you cry, your hips beginning to grind against his mouth.

A growl rumbles from his chest, making you quiver with his heat. It isn't long until the thrill licks up into your belly; you stand on the precipice of ecstasy, looking down into the maw of oblivion with nothing but Thorin's tongue to thank for it.

He doubles his efforts, knowing how close you are with the whimpers that leave your lips, his fingertips pressing bruises into your thighs.

"Ah!" you nearly shout, your legs trembling as you finally tip into mind-numbing pleasure. "Fuck! Thorin!"

The rush floods your veins, coursing through you from toe to tip as your cunt pulses around nothing. Thorin's tongue refuses to quit, however, working you through your orgasm, into the immediate overstimulation, and right back into maddening arousal once more.

Thorin takes advantage of your distraction, flipping you onto your back as he lays on his tummy between your legs, inserting his fingers into your quivering hole. At once, he beckons another climax forward as he crooks his fingertips into your g-spot and his free arm rests over your hips. He keeps you in place as he maintains his pace, and you mewl, your hands wandering your body in every attempt to heighten the sensation. Your fingers find your nipples through the thin fabric of your nightgown, and you pinch them, roll them between the pads of your fingertips as your orgasm rebuilds.

The sounds Thorin makes are feral, moaning and very nearly growling with his satisfaction as he takes his fill of you. Just knowing how wrecked this man is by you, how constantly starved he is for your pussy, sends you sky high, adding to the rhythm of his tongue and fingers.

Your orgasm comes closer and closer as your moans and whimpers fill the room to the ceiling, barreling through you as Thorin pulls your clit between his lips and sucks. You come around his fingers, your walls gripping them tightly as your body convulses.

He doesn't stop until you beg him to.

"Thorin," you breathe, batting gently at his head with your hands. "Enough."

At your words, he slows, placing gentle kisses to your clit, your lips, before re-emerging. His eyes are clouded with desire, his mouth coated in your release.

"I think, my lady," he says, almost breathlessly, "that we shall continue this in our quarters."

He braces himself upon his arms over you, lowering down to kiss you; you taste yourself on his lips and his barely contained erection brushes against your tender sex.

"Will we even make it that far?" you giggle as his mouth wanders down your neck.

Thorin pushes up to look you in the eye, mischief gleaming in his as he says, "Time will tell, amralime."

#thorin #thorin oakenshield #thorin x reader #thorin fanfiction #the hobbit #thorin smut #reader insert #richard armitage #richard armitage smut #the hobbit smut

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lathalea · 9 months

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Remember that Thorin fanfic?

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

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

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

#lathalea asks #thorin #the white raven #thorin oakenshield #the hobbit #fanfic #thorin x reader #thorin fanfiction #botfa #erebor #tumblr #ao3

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luna-redamancy · 1 year

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pumpkin soup?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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vee-vee-writes · 1 year

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Floral Arrangements (Thorin x gn!reader)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

----Several days later ----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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gloomwitchwrites · 4 months

Text

Misunderstanding

Thorin Oakenshield x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: explicit sexual content, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal fingering, possessive / jealous Thorin, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie, established relationship, table sex

Word Count: 1.5k

A misunderstanding gives Thorin cause to remind you that you're his.

A/N: For @protosslady

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist

“My queen, how should we allocate these funds?”

You glance at the parchment and frown. With Erebor reclaimed, reconstruction has begun, but with it comes all sorts of complications and roadblocks. Most of Erebor needs serious repair and attention. The majority of the remaining population lives outside, something that Thorin is increasingly growing upset about. He wants his people back home, and that is admirable, but with Smaug previously making a home here, the structural integrity of some portions of Erebor are in question.

Sighing, you consider all the options before answering. “Let us focus on residential areas for these. When those spaces are suitable for habitation, we can begin moving people out of tents and into homes. That is priority.”

“Of course, my queen.” The aging dwarven men around you bow deeply, many of their long, gray beards brushing the ground.

As they straighten, the door to your private study bursts open. Thorin stands in the doorway. There is a fire in his gaze and his chest heaves as if he’s just run a mile. It’s startling. He’s upset, but you’re not sure why.

Everyone around you turns and bows toward their king.

Thorin’s gaze passes over each of them before landing on you. He strides into the room, purpose in every step.

“Leave us,” he commands, his voice ringing loud and clear in the room.

They all bow a second time before quickly collecting their things and making a swift exit. Thorin approaches, and you move toward him, reaching out once the last of them have closed the door behind them.

“Thorin—”

Your husband reaches for you, pulls you in by the waist until you’re pressed up against him. His hand is on the back of your neck, the small hairs catch in his fingers as Thorin slowly arches your throat.

The look of hunger in his eyes is different. He wants you—needs you, but there is something else swirling there, lingering in his heart, making you question this sudden intensity.

“I need to kiss you,” he says, and it’s almost a groan.

“My lips are right here,” you reply with a soft giggle. “You may always kiss me whenever you wish.”

Thorin shakes his head slowly. “I’m not talking about your mouth.” Thorin leans in, his lips almost brushing yours, but his free hand grabs at your upper thigh, indicating where Thorin is wanting to put this mouth.

“Oh,” is all you say in surprise.

The hand around your neck slides away, and then Thorin is gripping your hips, moving to the undersides of your thighs to lift you off the stone floor. You wrap your arms around his neck, and Thorin deposits you on a nearby table.

While he is careful with you, there is an underlying harshness you notice in his gaze. That fire from earlier is still there. It’s like Thorin needs to punish you, or consume you, make you bend to him until you’re nothing but a perfect, pliant thing under his hands. The idea of it warms you between your legs. Your thighs rub together and there is no hiding how slick you are.

Thorin pushes your legs apart and steps between them. He starts at your knees, then your thighs, hips, and up the sides of your body until his hands grip the front of your dress.

“I’m feeling impatient,” he says, before putting all his strength behind his next movement.

With two quick jerks, Thorin rips the front of your bodice open, tearing the dress cleanly in two. Before you can even utter a verbal protest, Thorin’s lips are pressing against yours in a demanding, hungry kiss.

“I’ll buy you more,” he murmurs before his hands return to your body, this time caressing bare thigh. His touch is a forge fire, and you burn, surrendering to him as you begin to fall back against the table, legs widening as he settles between them.

You moan as Thorin kisses his way up your leg and to the inside of your thigh. Every brush of his lips sends pulses of heat from his mouth to your pussy.

“Please,” you whimper as Thorin’s lips brush against the spot that’s aching for his touch. “Please.”

“Tell me,” he says, the pad of his thumb parting you. “Is this for me?”

“Yes,” you reply as you hear just how wet you are.

“Only me?”

“Yes,” you say again, voice nearly breaking as he strokes over you.

Thorin’s hands grip your hips and tug you closer to the edge of the table. Then he pushes your legs wide open until the insides of your thighs feel stretched. He drags his fingertips through your wetness.

Your soft moan becomes a strangled gasp as he licks a wide stripe up your sex. Mewling with pleasure, you grab at him, one hand tugging on the neckline of his tunic, the other digging against the table.

“Delicious,” he groans. The tip of his tongue circles your clit, and without thinking, you pull hard on him, ripping some of the fabric.

His hand snatches your wrist. Thorin guides it down to the side of your thigh. Then, he grabs the other one. Does the same. With one hand, Thorin keeps your hands from straying. His grip is unyielding, and while you tug a bit, you meet firm resistance.

Thorin shakes his head. Then his head dips back between your legs, and you’re completely lost to him. Your eyelids flutter shut as he sucks your clit and traces around your entrance with a free finger. Then he presses in, and you groan loudly.

“Mine?”

“Yours.”

Thorin is inserting a second finger, pumping them in and out of you as his tongue laps at your clit. The coiling tension within your core twists tighter with every drag of his fingers and each swipe of his tongue.

Thorin curls his fingers and your back arches off the table. You feel his grin, and then he stays the course, working you at that perfect pace until you fall apart around him, crying out his name, the sound echoing around the room.

Thorin retreats but he does not back away. Instead, his mouth is on your bare skin, biting and sucking, leaving marks behind as he trails up your body. They are harsh, demanding, possessive marks of ownership. Rarely is Thorin ever like this, but he does not stop until he makes it to your mouth, sliding his tongue inside so that you can taste yourself.

This lingering moment is short. The second Thorin breaks the kiss, he undoes the front of his buckle, and the two of you are desperately pushing it away.

When Thorin slides in, you both moan loudly. You fall back against the table, clinging to his arms as he sets a pounding, steady pace that rocks the table. Each thrust makes the wood vibrate at the legs scrape across the stone floor. This a frenzied mating. A dire need. Whatever has possessed Thorin makes him hungry for you in a way you’ve rarely seen him.

His next thrust hits deep, and the friction is intense, pulling the coil tighter again until you’re keening, leaning up from the table as your body squeezes around him. That orgasm breaks him. His resolve snaps, and then you’re trapped beneath him, your fingernails digging into his skin as Thorin takes for himself.

He groans, leans forward, forehead resting against your own as he finishes. You feel it pooling within you, threatening to escape the moment he pulls away.

“I heard that you spent most of the day with a man,” murmurs Thorin, his nose lightly brushing against yours.

The middle of your brow scrunches in confusion. “I don’t understand. Why would that upset you?”

“It was reported to me that the relationship seemed…close.”

Frowning, you think back to the events of the day. You consider every place you visited and everyone you talked to. As you shuffle through all the possibilities, you pause on one, and then laugh so hard you snort.

“What?” he asks, drawing back slightly.

“Did the person reporting on me mention that man was my older brother?”

The tops of Thorin’s cheeks turn a bright red. “They—no. They failed to mention that.”

While part of you is annoyed that Thorin would immediately gravitate toward the worst, you also know that he’s under immense stress, the kind that might tear away and chip at his own confidence.

“Next time, when someone tells you something like that again, what are going to do?”

“Talk to you first,” he replies, his cheeks growing even redder.

“Although, I did like this.” You emphasize your meaning by rolling your hips, moving along his softening length. “Perhaps I should be a little friendly with an actual stranger. What will that get me?” you tease.

Thorin drags you off the table and into his arms. “That’ll get you bent over the nearest surface.”

“Is that a promise, my king?”

“Willing to test me?”

You grin, knowing that you certainly will.

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elvenlia · 9 months

Text

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

Please enjoy 💜

-----

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

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

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

Oh how wrong was she...

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

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

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

And oh, did she love him so...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do. You. Love. Me."

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, how she loved him so...

#fanfiction #lord of the rings #lotr fanfic #the hobbit #thorin x oc #thorin x reader #thorin oakenshield #lotr headcanons #lotr x reader #bridgerton #thorin fanfiction #hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction

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mlmxreader · 4 months

Text

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

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Thorin

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

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

123. Hair pulling ❞

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

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

↳ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thankful that you could finally fucking have sex.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Already waiting for round two?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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wild-lavender-rose · 1 year

Text

Delicate

Pairing: Thorin x fem!reader

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Summary: While training with Fili, you sustain an injury to your arm. Your husband Thorin finds you trying to stop the bleeding and is infuriated with Fili. Angered by his outburst, you remind him that you are far from the delicate queen he thinks you are.

Warning: Description of injury, swordplay, brief insinuative kissing

“Come now, Fili.” You twirled your sword and shifted into a position of defense. “We both know I need the practice.”

“She speaks the truth.” Kili’s scoff caused you both to shoot him a look. He held his hands up in surrender. “What? You saw how she handled the last orc attack. If Thorin had not been there to save her,”

“Kili.” Fili’s deep voice was enough to quiet him. He turned back to you. “Fine then,” his sword rose. “Should you need me to stop,”

“Just begin.” You ordered, jaw set.

Kili was right, your swordplay was weak when the orcs had attacked your little hunting party. An orc had overtaken you easily, disarming you and getting you to the ground with an awful wound to your side. If Thorin hadn’t been there to block the orc’s final blow you would most surely have died. It had taken weeks to recover. But now you were strong and well and furious at yourself. You needed to get better at fencing, you had to. Hence your current position in the armory’s gigantic room dedicated to practicing for battle, awaiting Fili’s first blow.

It came unexpectedly, knocking you back a couple steps. Kili tensed, his casual position leaning against the wall growing forced. You gripped your sword with both hands.

Fili stepped forward. “You’re too focused.” He swung his sword twice. The clang of metal echoed throughout the room. “Allow your instincts to take control, they will serve you well.”

You shook your head, blocking his swing before taking one of your own.

He sidestepped it easily, striking out for your legs. You gasped as you fell, rolling over in time to block his death blow.

Fili’s eyes were worried. “You’re dead, my lady.”

You growled and pushed up, ignoring the sting in your leg as you fought back out of anger, of fear. Fili walked backwards, blocking every blow. “Better.”

“I must be the best.” You jerked back as he jabbed at your stomach, sweat growing hot on your skin.

“It’s impossible.” Kili called out.

You looked at him, gasping as Fili sliced his sword along your arm. “Focus on your opponent.” He ordered. “You cannot be the best if you do not,”

“Fili, that’s enough!” Thorin’s voice boomed, startling you both.

Your sword fell limp by your side as you looked to see Thorin striding towards you. “My love,”

“How dare you taunt her? Has she not been through enough?!” Thorin’s shoulder brushed yours as he advanced on Fili.

“No, Thorin, you do not understand,” you reached for him. “I asked for his assistance in this matter, both him and Kili.”

“You asked for this?” Thorin nodded to your arm.

You looked down, heart twisting at the cut Fili left when he sliced his sword along your bare skin. “It’s, it’s just a scratch.”

“I thought such things were implied,” Thorin’s tone was dark and murderous as he turned on Fili once more. “You are to be gentle with my queen during training, Fili.”

“Yes, uncle. I’m sorry,”

Anger flared within you. “I do not wish to be treated gently, not by Fili nor anyone else.” In two steps you were standing between Thorin and Fili, glaring up into his stormy expression without fear. “Perhaps if my training had been harsher I would have been able to protect myself from the orcs.”

“That is no reason for-,”

“That is every reason.”

“My love,” Thorin’s expression grew tainted with worry. “Your skin, it, I cannot stand the thought of it carrying anymore scars,”

“And why not?” Your anger grew as you tugged your shirt up, revealing the ugly scar hiding underneath. “I would rather have a million scars to remind me I am getting better than a scar to remind me of the time I failed.”

Thorin opened his mouth, then closed it. Kili and Fili were silent.

A tear slipped down your cheek. You shoved it away, brushing past him to stalk out of the armory, your sword clattering to the ground.

# # # # #

“Do you need help?”

You looked up from where you were cleaning the cut on your arm to see Thorin lingering in the doorway to your shared chambers. You had changed into a white dressing gown, your left leg exposed up to the thigh, revealing yet another cut Fili had given you when he had knocked you to the ground. Thorin’s eyes lingered over the wound but he made no comment.

You bit your lip and returned your attention to the wound. “I am capable of tending it myself.”

“Do you…wish for me to leave?”

“No. They are your chambers as well, my king.”

Thorin stepped into the room and shut the door behind him, his voice remaining soft. “I wanted to…to apologize. For my actions.”

You stilled. Thorin was not known for being quick to apologize.

“When you…when the orc attacked you and you were injured, I thought that I had lost you. I don’t ever want to feel that way again.”

“Then allow me to train.” Your gaze met his once more. “You are not the only one who felt helpless that day. I must learn to be better, Thorin. I cannot, I will not stand by quietly and expect you to save me.”

“And I support you.”

“What?”

“I support you,” Thorin crossed to kneel before you, putting the bloody cloth you had been using to take your hand in his. “I will help you to train and I promise I will not go easy. I will train you as if, as if you were one of the men.” His gaze shifted down to your bare thigh. “Or, I will try at least.”

This caused you to smile. “Thank you, my king.”

Thorin smiled back, the gesture causing his eyes to twinkle with relief and something else. You watched as he leaned down, shuddering as he brushed a feather light kiss beside the cut on your thigh. “I love you.” He whispered.

“I love you.” You breathed.

“Please, allow me to help you, I must…make amends for my actions.”

“Yes, my king. You may proceed.”

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thorne-kreizler-fanfiction · 1 year

Text

Big Fight (Thorin Oakenshield)

Type of Fanfic: One-Shot

Relationship: ThorinXFem!Reader

Word Count: 2060

Summary: Thorin and you went into a big argument and are close to make amends.

Warnings: Jelaousy. And just a few mentions of a heated argument in a marriage.

Author's Notes: ∙English is not my first language, so please be nice.

∙If you want to give constructive criticism or correct my grammar (revise my work before I upload it) you are more than welcome to write to me or send me an ask suggesting it. This shot in particular was revised by @sssiriusly (go read their fics).

∙I have to say that this idea emerged after reading @fizzyxcustard's One-Shot: “Misunderstanding” (by the way, I really really hope you like this!).

Suggestions: Reblog, write your reaction and enjoy!

...

You were the wife of Thorin II Oakenshield, king of Erebor. At the same time, you both were extremely mad at each other.

Two months ago, you had a big argument with Thorin, the biggest fight in the history of your relationship. The truth was, you barely remembered how it started; with the jealousy of Thorin. He caught you laughing with another dwarf and ignored you the rest of the day, until you confronted him. Then Thorin screamed at you, which made you angry and made you bite back. With uncontrollable anger from both sides, the argument escalated until he hurt your feelings, and you hurt his.

It happened the way it always did; Thorin got offended and then didn't know any other way of defending himself than spitting your flaws and mistakes on your face. Besides, he would turn the tables and your words to make you seem like the bad guy.

“Do not speak to me of loyalty!” He said. “He hasn't stopped getting closer to you in such an inappropriate manner, and you have never done anything to stop him! People might think you actually enjoyed it!”

You closed your eyes and placed your forehead into your hands, trying to forget about the argument. But the memories kept coming back to your mind.

“I'm so sick of you!” You screamed. “Go away and never talk to me again!”

You shook your head, sighing. You had to work on your outbursts, as well as Thorin's needed to work on his jealousy.

Luckily, a knock on your chamber's door (you and Thorin slept in different rooms again) distracted you from the memories. “¿My Queen?” You heard Lily's voice, your personal servant.

“Come in.” You said with a small voice. Lately you hadn't talked to anyone. At your request, you stayed in your chamber every day, not being bothered by anyone, and only going out to read under the sun to stretch your body and relax for a moment. But you never came across anyone, avoiding all kinds of contact. Neither did you eat with Thorin, like you used to do; You had asked for servants to take dinner to your chamber.

“My Queen,” Lily said, while entering the chamber. “I have come to bring your dinner,” she took a pause before talking again “and to tell you the King asked me to bring you this…”

“Do not say more.” You interrupted her, looking through the window with a frown, watching the midday sun. “Please leave it on the desk and retire” you said with a brittle voice. The situation hurt you a lot, but unless Thorin apologized in person, you didn't wish to maintain contact with him. That was your pride taking over you.

“My Queen,” Lily spoke again, after leaving the tray in the desk. “he insists on me telling you he wants you to join him for dinner…”

“Please, get out.” you repeated and closed your eyes. “I do not wish to be bothered.”

You heard the door closing and laid in bed. You allowed yourself to be true to your feelings for the first time in days, and started crying. You cried until you were so exhausted that you fell into a deep sleep.

…

Thorin had been in the dining hall for an hour. He had tried, since midday, to concentrate on his duties, but the thought of whether you would accept or not his invitation to dinner was unsettling him.

The servants started to run everywhere, cooking as fast as possible and preparing the table for the King who had arrived earlier. When dinner was ready, Thorin asked to speak with Lily.

“Tell me what she said” he demanded, his voice slight but deep as always.

“My King,” she whispered, knowing what was about to come “she asked not to be bothered…” Thorin slowly nodded, closing his eyes while growling. “She never gave an answer, but…”

“You can leave now” Thorin interrupted.

“Yes, My King” she rushed to the kitchen.

“I'm so sick of you! Go away and don´t talk to me again!” he remembered your words, and the anger grew stronger in him.

The door closed, and to that it followed the noise of plates, cups and food crashing against the floor with a loud sound. Thorin yelled from the deepest of his chest, getting up. He then took the tablecloth and stretched it until he had thrown every bottle and tray to the ground. He pressed the fabric between his hands while agitatedly breathing. The guards flinched, and it had been heard from the kitchen the mess Thorin made, making the servants prepare themselves to clean the dining hall.

The King left and the place remained silent.

…

You opened your eyes and stood up quickly after realizing you had fallen asleep. You looked around and saw only darkness. When your eyes got used to the gloom, you lighted the candle from your light table and the fireplace. You sat for a while in front of it, eating the dinner that had been brought to you hours ago.

You were feeling numb, but not physically. You couldn't think of anything or concentrate on your feelings, only on the rising fire in front of you, warming your body.

When you finished eating, you decided to read a while under the moonlight. You took the tray to your desk, and there you saw it; a letter. You frowned, and when you started thinking and stirring in your memories, you remembered that Lily had left something Thorin wanted to give you. But that had been many hours ago.

You dropped the tray and rapidly took the envelope. The truth was, that even while acting indifferent, you cared about Thorin, a lot. No stupid fight could ever make you stop loving him and worrying about him. While your plate and cup tinkled, you sat in front of the fireplace and opened the letter. It read:

“I wish to apologise for my manners. What I said wasn't fair, and I haven't been sincere with you and my feelings towards you, my givashel. I do not wish for this fight between us to keep affecting us. Please, do me the honour of joining me for dinner tonight.

-Thorin Oakenshield”

You put your hand to your mouth, both trembling. You looked out the window, and deduced it was almost midnight.

You sighed with repentance and ran out of your bed chamber. While you rushed to the dining hall, going down stairs and walking through corridors, many heads turned to look at you. You even met Dwalin while he was coming out of a door in one of the hallways. Well, you rather collided with him.

“My Queen!” he exclaimed, surprised.

“I am so sorry, Dwalin.” you sighed, agitated. “I am in a rush.”

“Then I won't stop you.” he said and stepped aside, so you could follow your way.

You lowered your head as a quick greeting and kept on running. Before stepping on another pair of stairs, you turned around so Dwalin could hear you asking:

“Do you happen to know, by any chance, where Thorin is?” you shouted.

“I do.” he said, not turning around to look at you.

“Oh…” you went to where he was. “And… Could you tell me?”

He sighed and looked at you. “He asked not to be bothered by anyone, no exceptions... I cannot tell you” he murmured looking away, as if he didn't want you to hear his answer.

“Dwalin…” you lowered your head with tears in your eyes. “Please,” you almost went down on your knees to beg “tell me where he is. I made a mistake and need to make amends with him.” Since you didn't hear an answer, you kept on trying to persuade him. “I think you realise Thorin and I haven't been… well.” he looked at you. “You worry about him as much as I do, and I'm sure that if we don't solve our problem now, he might lock himself in… wherever he is.” Dwalin looked away, sighing.

And then you remembered; you were the Queen of Erebor. You shouldn't be begging to talk to your husband. So, you spoke as serious as you could “I order you to tell me where he is.”

Dwalin looked up, surprised, concern and repentance invading his eyes. “He's at the blacksmith's.”

You looked at him with a hopeful smile. You whispered a “Thank you” and rushed to the forge.

…

The rhythmic sound of the hammer against the iron and Thorin's growls invaded the place. He still thought about you. It had not been possible for him to take you out of his mind during the night, so he made it his goal stay there, crafting and refining to appease his feelings.

Even before opening the gate, you could hear your husband’s growls, and that worried you. It wasn't a new thing for him to get even with his crafting, but this time, you thought you were the reason of his huge anger.

You opened the gate slowly, almost not wanting him to hear you. But he did, and the sound of the hammer stopped. “Is asked not to be interrupted.” he said with a low, agitated voice. He then turned around, and when he saw you, the hammer fell to the ground with a loud noise.

The place stayed silent. You couldn't watch him, and less could you talk to him. For a moment you thought of running back to your lonely chamber and locking yourself up. What if he was still mad? And what if he didn't want to see you?”

“Amrâlimê” Thorin whispered and slowly approached you.

In that moment, all fear and doubt vanished. You remembered the times he called you that, kissed you and made you remember you were his One. And when you saw him, you remembered how much you loved him and longed for being with him.

When you met his gaze, Thorin quickened his step and came fast in front of you. He took your hands in his and went on his knees, resting his forehead on your wrists while he kissed your knuckles. “Amrâlimê…” he repeated, and you felt his warm breath against your hand. You were frozen. “You are here.”

“Yes, I am.” you whispered without knowing what to say.

“You sound doubtful” Thorin said, insecure, and slowly raised his head, linking your gazes. “Don't you want to be with me?”

“I do, I do. I do want to be with you.” you said quickly. “Is just that… I wasn't expecting this reaction from you.”

“After moons of not seeing you, how else would I react?” he asked, getting up. You could see him close, admiring his bright eyes and paying attention to every one of his handsome features.

“Is just that… I never thought you would want to see me.” you said, lowering your gaze.

“And why would I not want to see you?” he asked, almost confused. “I love you.”

You looked at him raising your eyebrows, outraged. “Allow me to think...” you said looking at the ceiling, crossing your arms. “First you treated me like a traitor, then you did not come looking for me in months, and after that you told Dwalin not to be bothered by anyone, no exceptions…”

“I asked that to Dwalin because I did not see the possibility of you looking for me.” he said, a bit ashamed.

“Why would I not look for you? I love you.”

This time Thorin was the one who raised his eyebrow. “Allow me to think...” he mimicked your corporal actions. “First you told me not to talk to you ever again, then you locked yourself in your chamber for months, and after that you did not come to join me for dinner…”

“I fell asleep before reading your letter.” you explained, laughing. “I am sorry.”

Thorin shook his head, and put your foreheads together. “I am sorry, givashel.”

You both looked at each other, melting in a hug and closing your eyes. Little by little, you were getting closer and closer until you kissed; It was a slow kiss, deep and loving. You both had to talk about Thorin's jealousy and your outbursts, but that kiss told you that you wouldn't be doing it alone; You would work together in the amending of your relationship.

...

#thorin oakenshield #thorin #thorin x reader #thorin x fem!reader #thorin fanfiction #thorin son of thrain #syd-marchs-fanfiction #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction

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