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sweetbutpsychobutsweet · 4 months

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What We Left Behind in the Flames

Chapter 10

Thorin Oakenshield x AFAB!Reader

Summary: sleeping arrangements are debated and a late-night talk with Bilbo has you reliving moments of your childhood with Thorin by your side

Warnings: no use of y/n, angst

Author's Note: Thank you sooo much for your patience with my new updating schedule (if you can really call it a schedule lol) If there is anyone I forgot to add to the taglist please just send me another message to let me know. Enjoy and have a happy new year :)

Word count: 1528

“Search to the back,” Thorin calls out to Dwalin, “caves in the mountain are seldom unoccupied.” The rest of the company starts to shuffle into the damp cave. “There’s nothin’ here,” Dwalin’s voice calls out and you all start to drop your things down in relief. “Right then,” Gloin rubs his hands together in anticipation, “let’s get a fire started!” “No,” Thorin stops him, “no fires, not in this place.” You shiver and pull your cloak tighter around your shoulders. There is a horrible draft in the cave and you’re already soaked to the bone from the rain storm. “Get some sleep,” he instructs you all, “we start at first light.” You plop your wet things down onto the cavern floor. Everyone’s starting to unpack the necessities for the night, unfolding bedrolls and blankets. Finding free spaces on the cavern floor to claim. You’ve never put much thought into where you slept when setting up camp with the company. If you were in a particularly bad mood, you’d sometimes try and sleep as far away from everyone as safely possible. But now that you stand here, shivering in your rain soaked clothing, there is only one thing you desire: warmth. And if you cannot have a fire, there is one enticing alternative…

Your gaze drifts to the other side of the cave where Thorin speaks with a frustrated looking Balin. The two are huddled closely together. Do you dare sleep next to Thorin tonight? The two of you had certainly crossed quite a few boundaries already, but only ever behind closed doors. Never while the rest of the company was there to witness any form of affection between the two of you. Would Thorin object to allowing them any kind of clue as to what has already transpired between the two of you? Do you even want them to know? It almost feels like admitting some sort of defeat. Thorin finally wore you down after all your claims of not being able to stand him. Fili and Kili would never let you hear the end of it. “Bofur,” Thorin calls out, “take the first watch.” He turns away from Balin, briefly catching your eyes as you stand there watching him, still frozen in indecision. You can tell he’s having the same internal debate over your sleeping arrangements. He averts his gaze from yours and instead turns his back to you, heading towards the furthest corner of the cave. Ouch That decision has been made for you then. It should bring you some relief but instead all you can feel is…hurt. But there’s really no reason to. Just because the two of you had been semi-intimate a couple of times doesn’t meant that you’re now…together. You aren’t even sure if you want to be with Thorin that way. Publicly, romantically, or however it was you used to imagine the two of you growing up. Back when you were just a young, foolish girl. So certain that the dashing dwarven prince you’d grown up with would be by your side forever. One way or another. Marriage and courtship were never anything the two of you discussed but Dwarven society demanded that you would both marry someday. Not long before Smaug arrived, your parents were already bringing by the occasional suitor. Desperate to try and marry you off, as if that would ever tame your wild nature the way they hoped it would. And of course Thorin would need a queen. A fully dwarven queen. Someone of status, not the half dwarf girl he spent all his time with. But even though you both knew you’d be married off eventually, it was always implied that you’d still be in each other’s lives. You’d been best friends since childhood, why would that ever have to change? You couldn’t imagine ever having to live without him. That is, until you did. Until he left you no choice.

You pick your things back up with a huff. Fine then. If we wants to give you an orgasm then immediately go back to being a grumpy asshole, that’s on him. You toss your pack against the cave wall. Angrily unpacking your things next to a very quiet Bilbo. Thorin has always been very hard on the hobbit, tonight especially. After nearly plummeting to his death over the slippery cliffside, the last thing he needs is Thorin’s aggressively cold shoulder. You feel bad for the poor thing, but you’re too busy festering in your own frustrations to say so. After piling on every single blanket you own, you angrily lay down to sleep. Glaring up at the cavern and pulling the blankets all the way up to your chin. Everyone else is already asleep. Snoring away in a deep slumber, clearly exhausted from the day’s journey. Your eyelids are starting to droop as well. But just before you can drift off, a soft voice whispers your name from beside you. Your eyes snap back open and you turn to look at a sheepish Bilbo. “Can I ask you something?” he whispers. You yawn and rub your eyes, turning onto your side to see him better. “I don’t mean to pry, but I heard some of the other’s mention you’re only half dwarf. Is that true?” “Yes,” you nod, “on my father’s side. My mother is-was a human.” “Is that common in Erebor?” he asks curiously. “Not at all,” you laugh quietly, “My father was a very well respected lord in Erebor. My mother was the daughter of a merchant from Dale. He would take any excuse he could to go into town and visit her stall. When they eventually decided to get married there was quite a fuss. My mother’s family wanted nothing to do with her- or me for that matter. But luckily my Father was very good friends with Thorin’s father, Thrain. They’d grown up together, they were as close as brothers. He blessed the union and when I was born he helped ensure that I was treated as a full Dwarven citizen, just like everyone else.” “It must have been hard growing up though, I can’t imagine everyone was as accepting as Thorin’s family.” “At times,” you admit, “but I had friends in high places. And people would rather hold their tongues around me than risk the wrath of those friends.” “You mean Thorin?” Bilbo asks bluntly, and you peek over your shoulder at your king, making sure he is still asleep. “Everyone says you two used to be thick as thieves, practically inseparable.” You can see the steady rise and fall of Thorin’s chest even from here. “He was my best friend,” you confess in a soft whisper, not tearing your gaze from him. Even in his sleep Thorin looks cross. That ever present frown still on his face as he holds his sword close to his chest, as if someone will attack him in his dreams.

“What happened?” Bilbo asks, and you squeeze your eyes shut at the memories of dragon fire and the anguished screams of your kin. “Smaug didn’t just take our home and our loved ones,” you can still feel Thorin’s strong arms wrapped around you as he drags you away from the flames, kicking and screaming in protest. “Every dwarf that walked out of those halls that day, did so with a piece of themselves missing. Joy, innocence; it all had to be left behind in the flames. Thorin had to step up and become a king, everyone was looking to him now. And I finally had the freedom I’d always longed for, but at a price I wasn’t willing to pay. We both had to leave behind our childhoods in Erebor, we had to grow up quickly to survive this new reality. We started to show our true colors, and neither of us liked what we saw.” “You were angry,” Bilbo translates, “both of you.” “There are many different kinds of anger, Master Baggins. His made him stubborn and afraid, mine made me reckless and bitter. Those don’t mix well together.” “I don’t see why you two can’t get that back now,” he insists, “you were both young and grieving, surely enough time has passed since then?” “Time has nothing to do with it,” you hiss, a sharper edge coming into your tone, “He’s done things I can’t forgive, and he’d never forgive me if he knew half the things I’ve done since we last parted ways.” “What have you done?” “You wouldn’t understand!” you snap, your voice slightly louder than you had intended. “Go to sleep, hobbit,” you insist, rolling onto your other side to turn your back to him. After a moment or so, you hear him settle back into his bedroll. Your gaze falls back to Thorin’s spot across the cave. You could have sworn you saw his eyes close as soon as you look back in his direction, but you’re too tired to care. Your eyelids droop as you fall into a deep sleep, dreaming about that view from the doorway of the inn, tears running down your face, curses and insults screamed at his back as Thorin walks away.

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@exhausted-humxn-being @marsmallow433

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

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sweetbutpsychobutsweet · 5 months

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Good Girl

Chapter 9

Thorin Oakenshield x AFAB!Reader

Summary: Thorin wants you to eat something, and he knows exactly how to persuade you...

Warnings: no use of y/n, angst, 18+, NSFW, minors do not interact, oral sex (fem receiving), slight choking (but not in the way you think😂)

author's note: I seem to have acquired a taste for leaving you on cliffhangers😉 sorry not sorry

Word count: 2036

“Good girl,” he growls and shifts back to a seat, pulling you up with him until you’re practically sitting in his lap again.

He brings a hand up to gently brush your hair out of your face.

“Eat,” he commands you, and it’s like a spell is broken. You rip off a chunk of the roll with your teeth and start chewing as fast as you can. Thorin’s nose comes down into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply and burrowing his face into your mess of hair. The second you’ve swallowed a bite of the bread you’re frantically shoving more pieces in your mouth. Desperate to finish the meal as fast as possible to make it to your promised dessert.

You shove the last pieces of the roll into your mouth, hurriedly gulping down the mouthful as your hands come to the laces of his tunic. Desperate to see more of him, feel more of him. Your fingers fumble with the laces and your brain becomes so overwhelmed by your desire for him that for a moment you forget how to eat properly and you choke on the last bite in your throat.

You cough, gasping for air as Thorin curses under his breath and brings a hand up to your jaw, tilting your head back so you can swallow the rest down. Thorin laughs as you catch your breath.

“I haven’t even done anything yet and you’re already choking for me,” you roll your eyes at him and using all of your bodyweight push him on to his back beneath you. Now straddling his waist you press your hands down onto his shoulders and grin.

“Well I’ve yet to see if there’s even enough to choke on,” you reply leaning forward to catch his mouth in another kiss as one of your hands slides down towards the hem of his pants. He reaches an arm around your backside his palm coming down on one of your cheeks with a rough smack. You gasp in surprise and pull away from his lips with a jolt.

Before you can continue his free hand is shoving an apple back into your mouth.

“So impatient,” he teases as you bite down into its ripe flesh. “You seem to have forgotten why we’re here in the first place.”

“Oh I haven’t forgotten,” You swallow the apple and wipe the juice from your chin. “I’m simply suggesting that we multi task a little bit.”

“You just tried that remember?” Thorin laughs and brings his hands down towards your hips. “You nearly killed yourself with a piece of bread.”

Before you can respond he’s flipping you back onto the ground, pinning you down by your hips.

“Why don’t you focus on that,” he nods towards the apple still in your hand, “and I’ll focus on you.”

His fingers reach around the waistband of your pants and with a firm yank they’re pulled all the way down to your ankles, leaving nothing beneath your bottom but the cool grass. You take a harsh bite into the red flesh of the apple as Thorin extricates your feet from your trousers. The clothing is tossed off to the side and your legs are gently pulled open before him.

The cool air hitting your bare sex is quickly warmed by the intesity of his gaze. He wraps a strong hand around your ankle, bringing your leg up to meet his lips. A slow, torturous path is traced up your leg, kissing and biting every inch of flesh. You’re so impatient for him to devour you but his wet mouth against your hot skin is such a soothing sensation itself a moan tumbles from your lips as your hand holding the apple falls away from your mouth dropping towards the grass.

Thorin catches your wrist with his free hand before it can hit the ground. He guides the apple back up to your face, and you take a reluctant bite, anticipating what he’s going to say next.

“Keep eating,” he warns, “if you stop, then I stop too.”

He waits until you sink your teeth into the fruit again before bringing his lips back to the inside of your calf. Continuing his slow trail up your leg, Thorin is true to his word. The second you even think about pausing your meal, he stops in his tracks, leveling you with a stern look until you resume eating again.

He’s nipping at your inner thigh by the time the apple has been reduced to its core. You drop it to the ground the second you’ve swallowed the last bite, ready to sink into him next. You reach your now free hand for him, desperate to run your fingers through his dark hair. His cheek is warm against your palm as your hand traces his jawline up to his scalp. Thorin pulls his mouth away from your thigh to tongue the sensitive skin of your wrist instead, those blue eyes locked on your face the entire time.

You follow his gaze as they leave your face, he nodds his head to the abandoned bowl of soup beside you. You tip your head back with a frustrated groan.

“Thorin,” you protest with a whine. He reaches for the bowl himself placing it in your reluctant hands.

“Last one,” he promises, “finish that, and I’ll finish you off.”

“I’m already full,” you insist, and this time you mean it. Your body is too overcome by desire to focus on hunger anymore. You have just enough fuel for him to take you right here on the grass and nothing else matters for now.

You go to set the bowl down again but Thorin stops you with a low growl of your name. He brings a firm hand up to grasp your chin, keeping your eyes locked with his.

“You can either finish it yourself, or I can pour it down your throat and leave you here, bare and wanting. The choice is yours,” You know he means it, and you have no intention of risking any scenario that leads to him pulling his mouth away from you anymore than he already has.

You bring the bowl up to your lips, slurping the broth down as fast as you can. Some of it drips down your chin but you couldn’t care less how utterly unladylike you’re behaving right now. Nothing could be more scandalous than whatever he has in store for you once you reach the bottom of the bowl.

You dip your head back, downing the last dregs of soup as fast as you can. Thorin chuckles from where he waits between your legs.

“A lady if there ever was one,” he taunts you as you wipe the mess off of your face with the edge of your sleeve, tossing the empty dish behind you unceremoniously.

“Your turn,” you purr sweetly, and before you can say another word Thorin’s head is between your legs. You have to slap a hand over your mouth to stifle the cries you can’t contain once his tongue licks a wet trail past your entrance up to your clit.

You let your upper body fall back onto the grass beneath you, bringing your free hand to tangle in his hair again, anchoring him in place. His strong arms come to wrap around your thighs, pulling your core closer to his face. You let out another squeal of surprise as his tongue starts to zero in on your sensitive bud.

Thorin devours your pussy as if he’s been the one starving all along. Tracing careful shapes that leave your mind in scrambles from the overwhelming wave of pleasure creeping it’s way into every inch of your body.

Time becomes a blur of nothing more than pleasure and Thorin’s expert tongue and before you know it you’re already right there at the edge. You whisper his name desperately in warning but he already knows. Tightening his grip he pulls you even closer to his face, quickening the pace relentlessly as your climax jolts through you in such force you have to bite down on your palm to muffle the screams of pleasure.

Thorin continues his ministrations even after you’ve reached the end with a blissful sigh. He finally comes up for air with one long, final lick as he gently lowers your bottom back down onto the grass.

You’re utterly spent, belly full, basking in the afterglow of your climax. You can do nothing but lay there, out in the open, completely bare from the waist down.

A cool sensation comes to your sweaty skin, as you feel Thorin gently wiping the wet cloth between your thighs, cleaning up the mess you’ve both made.

The sky is starting to shift into vibrant shades of orange and pink above you. The hot sun starts giving way to the cool summer evening, but you’re still not completely satisfied.

Thorin slowly crawls his way up your body, blocking your view of the sunset. You don’t mind, especially when he brings his lips to yours, gently lowering more of his body weight down onto you. He kisses his way down your face to settle into the crook of your neck.

“Thorin,” you whine breathlessly, and he hums against your skin in question. “Fuck me please,” you beg. He laughs, pulling away from your neck to look at your face.

“Can you even stand right now?” he brushes a lock of hair from your sweaty forehead.

“I don’t need to be able to stand for you to fuck my brains out,” you insist.

“You’re right,” he says, “and I have every intention of doing exactly that. But when I do so it won’t be in the dirt.” you raise a brow at him in question.

“When I finally get to fuck you,” he says, “I intend to do it properly. In a bed, for hours at a time.” you give him a devilish smile, delighted at the realization that he’s already put a great deal of thought into this.

“Until then,” he continues, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead, “we have a dragon to slay, and a kingdom to restore.” he pulls away, bringing himself back to his feet and handing you your pants and undergarments..

Thorin picks up his cloak and the discarded dishes as you slip your clothes back on. He extends a hand out to you, helping you to your feet. Your legs are still a little wobbly and he maintains his grip on you until he’s sure you won’t just topple right over again.

The two of you start to walk back towards camp, following the cacophonous sounds of your dwarven kin. Before you can fully break through the brush to rejoin them, Thorin stops you with a hand on your arm.

“I mean it,” he warns you, “I don’t want to hear about you pulling something like this again. Promise you’ll tell me the truth next time.”

Your lips quirk up into a smirk, “I promise, Thorin, the next time I’m about to start my period you’ll be the first one I tell.”

He narrows his eyes at you, tightening his grip on your arm slightly before returning your smirk. “Good,” he growls, “because I happen to know an excellent way to delay a menstrual cycle.”

You roll your eyes with a laugh and playfully nudge him with your shoulder.

His gaze softens just a bit and he looks at you with an endearing smile.

“You know, you really can tell me anything, lass. We’re still on the same side after all.”

You give him a weak smile and continue walking back towards the camp. If he senses the sudden shift in your mood he doesn’t mention it as you rejoin the company.

You’re greeted by your kin, all of them happy to see you back on your feet and already in much better health. Thorin instructs Bombur to bring you even more food and you nod your head to the both of them in thanks.

It’s true you’re on the same side, but you certainly can’t tell Thorin everything.

There are some secrets you’d rather take to your grave than ever confess to him.

Next Chapter

Taglist:

@mrsdurin @thetaekwondofeline @enchantingkryptoniteheart-blog

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sweetbutpsychobutsweet · 5 months

Text

You Love Bread!

Chapter 8

Thorin Oakenshield x AFAB!Reader

Summary: You wake up from your fainting spell to a group of very concerned dwarves. Thorin in particular would like some answers, and might just have a few ideas up his sleeve to solve your problem...

Warnings: no use of y/n, angst, NSFW, 18+, Minors do not interact, smut, implied eating disorder/starvation

author's note: This chapter ended up being sooo much longer than I anticipated, so I had to break it up into 2 parts. Don't hate me for where I choose to leave this one off😅

Word count: 2121

Someone is pressing a cold cloth to your forehead when you slowly start to drift back into consciousness. You groan as you start to regain feeling in your fingers and toes again.

It takes a moment for the memory of what happened to flood back in and your breath hitches in a jolt of panic as your eyes snap open and you scramble to get back to your feet.

“Woah, easy there lass,” Fili’s voice comes from behind you and he removes the cloth from your face to place a firm hand on your shoulder, keeping you from getting back up just yet.

“I’m fine,” you grumble, shaking him off.

“No you’re not,” Kili chuckles from your side. “You swooned into Thorin’s arms like some kind of damsel in distress. You need to take it slow.”

The brothers both bring a hand to your back, gently helping you to sit up further. Fili hands the cool cloth over to you and you sigh in relief as you slide it along your neck and chest.

Ironically you feel a lot better than you did before you passed out. A gentle breeze blows through your hair, and looking around you can see you are no longer in the same place you were when you lost consciousness.

Someone has carried you off the path to lie in a patch of grass alongside a small lake. The rest of the company must be waiting nearby as you can hear their booming voices through the trees and can smell the smoke of a campfire and food cooking over the flames. You feel something soft beneath you and look down to find yourself laying on a fur cloak. Thorin’s cloak.

You look around to try and find him. Farther down the lake you see him conversing with Oin and Bombur. They speak in hushed tones but judging by the troubled looks on their faces it’s safe to assume they’re talking about you.

“She’s awake, uncle,” Kili calls from behind you and Thorin’s head snaps to look over at you. He says something to Oin and they both hurry over to you.

“Welcome back, lassie,” Oin says, “you gave us quite a fright.”

“You need to eat something,” Thorin says, signaling to Bombur to bring you some food.

“I’m not hungry,” you tell him, “I just got too hot is all.”

“That wasn’t just heat stroke,” Oin replies with concern, “you’re still very pale and Thorin says you’ve been weak and disoriented all day.”

Of course, he did. You look over at him with a glare.

“Well then he would be mistaken, I’m perfectly fine.” you lie.

Bombur finally returns and approaches you with a bowl of soup and some bread but you shake your head, waving him off.

“I’m not hungry,” you tell them again, “I’m ready to get back on the road I just need a minute to catch my breath.”

“We’re not going anywhere. The others have already started making camp here for the evening, we’ll start up again in the morning,” Thorin insists. He takes the bread from Bombur and shoos him away with the rest.

“But Durin’s day-” you protest, knowing your deadline is fast approaching.

“We can afford to wait a little longer, we already covered enough ground today. Here,” he replies, offering you the bread, “just eat some of this.”

You push his hand away with another shake of your head. You can keep going you know you can. You’ve put a good amount of distance between you and the orcs already; you won’t jeopardize that now.

“In all the time I’ve known you, I’ve never once seen you refuse bread,” Kili comments with a nervous chuckle.

“You love bread,” Fili agrees.

You pay them no mind, keeping your eyes locked on Thorin’s as he thoughtfully examines your face. He’s given you no indication yet that he knows your real motives. How could he?

“Leave us,” he instructs the others, still looking at you.

They all hurry off towards camp without protest.

Fili hands the damp cloth over to his uncle and gives you another worried look before joining the others.

Thorin is still looking at you in silence. Your anxiety gets the better of you and you pull your gaze away to look down at the ground, trying to feign innocence.

He still says nothing.

Does he expect you to speak first? Perhaps he’s hoping that if he waits long enough you’ll divulge everything to him on your own.

That’s not going to happen, you laugh to yourself.

He rises to his feet with a sigh, but you still refuse to look at him as he makes his way over to the nearby lake. You hear him dip the cloth back into the water and wring it out before coming to sit in front of you.

He brings two fingers up to your chin, and gently turns your face to look at him. You’re too exhausted to fight him.

His hand slides down to your neck, gently tipping your head back so he can see you better. You refuse to let your eyes meet his, instead electing to look over his shoulder at the light reflecting off the lake.

You shudder as he brings the cool cloth up to your face, tracing a slow line from your temple all the way down to your jaw.

“Bombur says he hasn’t seen you eat anything since Rivendell. No one has,” Thorin’s voice is gentle and cautious. Not at all what you were expecting.

You finally meet his eyes to see they are not angry as you were expecting. Instead, they’re full of fear. You can’t remember the last time you saw this side of Thorin, if ever.

The cloth makes its way down the column of your neck, inching its way closer and closer towards the top of your breasts. You hate how much you ache for him to touch you there again.

Maybe it’s your desire or his rare show of vulnerability but you can’t help the words that escape your lips.

“Orcs can smell blood,” you whisper.

The cloth freezes just above your collarbone and he looks at you in confusion.

“I’m due to start my monthly cycle in the next few days,” you clarify and can see as the last pieces of the mental puzzle fall into place.

His brow furrows and his hand drops away from your chest.

“You heard what Lord Elrond said. If we are being hunted by Orcs I didn’t want to lead them right to us. I figured if I stopped eating for a while the bleeding wouldn’t start and it would buy us more time to get them off our backs.”

You bite your bottom lip, waiting anxiously for the lecture to begin. For him to yell and shout and tell you how reckless you were, or even worse to send you away from the company until you’re no longer a liability.

But he doesn’t.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispers.

You raise an eyebrow at him, “why didn’t I tell you I was about to start menstruating while we’re being hunted by a pack of orcs?”

“Did you think I’d be angry with you?” he scoffs, “over something you can’t control?”

“No, Thorin,” you snap, “I thought you’d send me away. Again!”

He blinks at you in surprise.

“If me being here puts everyone else in jeopardy, if it puts our quest in jeopardy, then that makes me a liability and it is your duty as king to send me away.”

“Don’t you dare try to tell me what my duty is,” his voice drops into a low growl and his fists begin to clench sending drops of water running down his knuckles from the cloth still in his hand.

“Quest or no quest I am also responsible for the well-being of my people which includes you in case you’ve forgotten. I will not allow you to do something so reckless and idiotic! How can you expect me to successfully lead this company to Erebor if you’re starving yourself while my back is turned? If you had told me earlier we could have found a better solution that didn’t cause you to faint in the middle of the road!”

“You mean if I had told you earlier, you could have left me behind in Rivendell instead of slowing the company down?” you snap back as he moves his face closer to yours. You can see the angry clench of his jaw, and the furrowed lines of his brow that seem to be a permanent facial feature on him.

“I would have thought you’d prefer the company of elves over that of your kin, you certainly seemed to enjoy Lord Elrond’s the other night-”

You still feel weak from hunger but somehow the rage his words inspire gathers up enough strength for you to roughly shove him away from you. He barely budges and you lift your arms to shove him again, but this time he catches you, grabbing you by the wrists keeping you firmly in place. He pulls you closer into his chest until you’re almost nose to nose.

“You will stay here with us and you will do so with a full belly. I need you to keep your strength up for the journey ahead and the orcs pursuing us. And I swear to you,” he says with a growl, “ If I ever hear about you trying to starve yourself again, I will personally shove every last crumb down your throat. Do I make myself clear?”

“Oh I have no doubt you’ve been dying to shove something down my throat,” you purr with a wicked grin, “which is why I don’t intend to give you the satisfaction, your grace.”

His grip on your wrists tightens.

“We’ll see about that,” he growls, letting go of your wrists. Before you can even blink his hands are grabbing your face, pulling your lips into his in an angry, passionate kiss.

You know you should resist him, or at least pretend like you don’t want him as badly as he clearly wants you. But seeing as you are quite literally starving, and he tastes absolutely amazing…

You tangle your hands in his hair and pull him closer to you. You groan in pleasure as his tongue sneaks past your lips forcing himself deeper inside your mouth. His hands leave your face and travel down your body to cup your ass firmly, pulling you into his lap.

You can feel his arousal through his trousers, stabbing your upper thigh, so close to where you want him but not quite close enough.

He drags his teeth along your bottom lip before starting to kiss a slow path along your jawline and down your neck, biting at your flesh as he travels further and further down.

You free a hand from his hair and reach it down between the two of you. You press your palm against his length and he growls into your neck. You want to tease him, to drive him to the edge of insanity until he is completely addicted to you. But not as badly as you want to feel him, all of him. You bring your other hand down to help unfasten his pants but before you can succeed he suddenly has you on your back beneath him, wrists held firmly overhead.

You growl and squirm trying to free yourself but you both know you’re not exactly at fighting strength at the moment. You are completely at his mercy and you can’t stand it.

“Please,” you whine, trying helplessly to press your body up to meet his again but he refuses to budge. “I need it,” you complain.

“Oh, I know exactly what you need,” he whispers, his beard tickling your face. He releases just one of his hands, moving your free wrist to join the other and your breath hitches in anticipation, hoping that hand is about to touch you in all the places that ache for him.

You open your mouth to beg for just that when something soft is suddenly stuffed into your mouth.

You blink at him in confusion before your taste buds can identify the unexpected guest.

Bread!

“You’re going to eat every last crumb,” he demands, “and when you’re done with that you’ll have more. I’m going to stay here and watch you eat every last bite, then and only then, will you get your other needs fulfilled. Do you understand?”

You nod eagerly, unable to speak around the roll he shoved in your mouth.

His breath his hot against your cheek as he brings his lips closer towards your ear.

“Good girl,” he growls

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sweetbutpsychobutsweet · 6 months

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I Wasn't Completely Nude

Chapter 2

Thorin Oakenshield x AFAB!Reader

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

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

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

Word count: 1506

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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sweetbutpsychobutsweet · 6 months

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Smoke, Iron, and Thorin

Chapter 1

Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader

Summary: you prepare for the quest to reclaim Erebor by meeting your kin in the home of a very disgruntled hobbit. However, you don't expect to face your first obstacle before you even step foot out the door, when an unexpected ghost from your past darkens the door of the hobbit hole.

Warnings: eventual smut, no use of y/n, angst

Word count: 1833

Author's note: This is my FIRST fic! The beginnings of this story have been sitting in my computer for sooo long and for whatever reason today I just decided to jump headfirst into being a Tumblr writer! I'm still very new to this, so I welcome all kinds of constructive feedback/criticism. If there are any warnings/tags you think I missed just let me know :) Reader is AFAB! half dwarf/half human, but still grew up in the halls of Erebor. We'll get more into her background and her history with Thorin later on in the series! Enjoy!

“What do you think they’ll have?” Filli asks with giddy excitement as they pass each hobbit hole on their way through the shire.

“what do you mean?” you ask absentmindedly, scanning each door for the symbol Gandalf instructed you to look for.

“For supper of course,” Killi replies. “He said there would be lots of food, and no one can cook quite like a hobbit can.” you can’t deny the intoxicating aroma that has seeped into your nose with every inhale since the moment you arrived in the shire. Freshly baked bread, patiently cured meats, and hearty stews seem to be baking all around you as the sun finishes its descent behind the lush rolling hills of the shire.

Darkness has settled all around as the inhabitants of the hobbit holes settle in for the evening. The only remaining light comes from the lamps illuminating the doorways and the warming hearths inside every cozy little hole.

“I see it!” You shout triumphantly when you glimpse the blue mark glowing on the green door of a hobbit hole.

The two dwarves are so anxious for a hot meal that they’ve already bounded up to the door to ring the bell before you can even blink.

The front door is pulled open abruptly and a very frustrated hobbit groans at the sight of you. A reaction that is not all that uncommon while traveling with dwarves, so the three of you greet him enthusiastically regardless.

“You must be Mr. Boggins,” Kili begins.

“Nope!” the hobbit shouts, “you can’t come in, you’ve come to the wrong house!” he tries and fails to close the door on the three of you.

“What?!” you all shout in confusion. Knowing there is absolutely no way you are at the wrong door.

“Has it been canceled? No one told us.” the brothers protest.

“No, nothing’s been canceled,” the hobbit starts to explain.

You all sigh in relief and continue to push your way further inside.

The home is filled with the overlapping chatter of dwarves and the clattering of weapons being tossed into the arms of the frazzled hobbit.

Dwalin’s booming voice greets the three of you, quickly recruiting you all to join in the organized chaos that is preparing the cramped dining room for even more dwarves to arrive.

Food is tossed about, ale sloshed onto the floor, and poor Bilbo’s house is an absolute wreck. You can’t help but feel sorry for your host, but you also can’t bring yourself to pull away from the merriment just yet.

It had been so long since you’d last been around so many of your dwarven friends. Up until beginning your journey several weeks ago, you hadn’t even seen Kili and Fili for many years.

But their mother, Dis had always been a very good friend of yours. Ever since growing up Erebor, you had felt as closely connected to her family as she was to yours.

Unfortunately, due to the arrival of a dragon, and stubborn dwarvish pride you had long ago gone your separate ways. Save for the occasional letter. Much like the letter you received asking if you would be willing to accompany her two reckless sons on their latest journey.

Kili and Fili were not exactly known for their self-preservation instincts and the journey that lay before you would not be an easy one. But even if it weren’t as a favor to Dis, you would have said yes regardless. Nothing in the world would be able to prevent you from helping to finally reclaim your homeland, and defeat the great beast that took so much from you.

Several pints of ale have loosened your inhibitions and you now find yourself laughing and singing along with the rowdy bunch, not a care in the world.

Until a heavy knock comes on the door.

Silence falls over the hobbit hole.

“He’s here,” says Gandalf.

“Who’s here?” you ask in confusion.

No answer comes, and everyone is suddenly averting their gaze from yours as Gandalf crosses the room to open the door. You have a bad feeling about what’s on the other side.

Gandalf pulls it open with a flourish and is greeted by a deep voice. A familiar voice.

No, you think to yourself. It can’t be.

But sure enough, Thorin Oakenshield is stepping through the front door.

He says something to Gandalf but you can’t fully make out what it is.

Your ears are ringing loudly and a white, hot flame is blazing deep inside your belly.

Suddenly you’re back to the last time you saw him, years ago. Tears streaming down your cheeks in the doorway of the dusty old inn.

“He looks more like a grocer than a burglar,” Thorin laughs as he turns towards the dining room. Where his eyes immediately lock with yours. You can see the exact moment he realizes you’re there. His eyes widen in shock and your name slips past his lips in a breathless whisper.

For what feels like the longest second of your life, he simply stands there taking you in. From the braided strands framing your face to the silhouette of your long green traveling dress. You could almost swear he looked…happy to see you.

And that only adds more fuel to the fire inside you.

“Thorin,” you growl and curl your fists at your side. “What are you doing here?” you hiss.

He narrows his eyes back at you. “What am I doing here? I am the leader of this company, what are you doing here? It isn’t safe for you, lass.”

You scream in frustration. The sexist pig! You have just as much of a right to be here as everyone else and he knows it. Your arm reaches up of its own accord to smack that self-righteous look right off his face. But before your hand can make contact Fili grabs your arm and pulls you away.

You whirl around and shove him away from you.

“You!” you glare between Kili and Fili redirecting your anger. “You lied to me!” they both start to protest but before they can form a single sentence you hold up a finger and they both fall silent.

“You told me, he wouldn’t be here! You looked me right in the eyes and lied to my face,” you grind out, barely containing the urge to strike them both upside the head.

“We didn’t want to,” Fili begs.

“It was our mother’s idea, she knew that was the only way you would agree to come.” Kili finishes.

You laugh humorlessly. “And she was absolutely right, I’m leaving!” you turn on your heel and march straight towards the door. But before you can fully push past him, Thorin’s hand encircles your wrist and firmly pulls you back to look at him.

It was a mistake letting yourself stand any closer to him. As soon as you do his scent envelopes you. Smoke, iron, and Thorin. You yank stubbornly on his grip, desperate to put some distance between the two of you but he is too strong.

“Wait,” he whispers to you, both commanding and desperate. “You cannot make the journey back alone, it is already dark, who knows what is lurking along those roads-”

You scoff and reach your free hand behind you for the dagger concealed underneath your corset. Before he can continue you have it pressed firmly against his throat. You apply just enough pressure that you know he can feel the blade stinging against his skin, but he doesn’t even blink. You lean in closer to him looking deep into his eyes.

“I can take care of myself,” you whisper. “I’ve had a lot of practice at it as of late.” And he loosens his grip just enough for you to yank yourself free. You remove the dagger from his throat and attempt to resume your departure, but this time it is Gandalf who stands in your way.

“I am sorry we misled you, my dear. But I’m afraid we cannot accomplish this task without you.” you lift the dagger up defiantly and point it at his chest, but you both know it is an empty threat.

“I don’t care,” you reply. “It’s not my problem.”

“You do, and it is,” the wizard replies. “I know how you’ve spent the last years, you are the only one who possesses the knowledge and connections we need to accomplish this feat.”

You hear the whispers of confusion from behind you. They clearly didn’t know how you had dedicated the last several years of your life to searching, reading, and studying every resource you could get your hands on in preparation for this exact task.

“I know how badly you wish to return home,” Gandalf continues, as if he could read your mind. “A great deal was taken from you that day, and you are not the type to let that stand. So the question remains: who deserves your wrath more at this moment? Thorin or Smaug?”

You let your arm fall back to your side, tucking the dagger back away.

“Who says it can’t be both?” you challenge him.

Gandalf laughs and shakes his head.

“Oh you are part dwarf indeed my child. Hold onto whatever anger you wish. But don’t let it get in the way of you reclaiming your homeland, defeating Smaug, and finally laying your parents to rest.”

You clench your jaw in frustration. You know he’s right, but you hate to admit it.

“We can do this without her,” Thorin grumbles from behind you. “If she wishes to leave she can, I’ll have someone escort her home safely.”

You finally whirl around to glare at him again. He doesn’t want you here, he doesn’t think you can do it. He doesn’t think a ‘helpless girl’ can hold her own on a dangerous journey such as this one.

You smirk back at him defiantly.

“On second thought,” you place one hand on your hip and extend the other out toward Balin. “I’ll sign that contract now,”

Thorin grumbles and glares at you in protest.

Balin moves faster than you’ve ever seen the dwarf move, handing you the contract before you can change your mind or Thorin can argue against it.

You scribble your name at the bottom and shove it into Thorin’s chest as you saunter past him in search of another pint of ale.

You lost count of how many more drinks you downed before passing out in one of the soft armchairs by the fire.

You stir briefly when a familiar scent meets your nose and a thick blanket is gently draped across your sleeping form.

You could swear you feel the whisper of a touch ghost across your cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

But before you can wake any further, a deep voice starts to sing:

Far over the misty mountains cold…

More voices start to join in the melody, and before you know it you are lulled deeper and deeper back into a dreamless sleep.

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sweetbutpsychobutsweet · 6 months

Text

Care To Make A Wager?

Chapter 5

Thorin Oakenshield x AFAB!Reader

Summary: There's only one bathing pool and all of the pent up tension between you and Thorin finally starts to come to a head in the form of a bet

Warnings: smut, 18+, NSFW, Minors do not interact, angst, fingering, spanking, light choking, biting

author's note: Ahhhh! I'm so excited to finally share this chapter with you guys!!!!!! There will be plenty more spiciness to come between these two, and that is a promise, dear reader😉

Word count: 3686

To say you were in need of a bath would be a massive understatement. After spending so long on the road you felt as though you were covered in a permanent layer of dirt and dust. Your boots were caked with mud and your hair seemed to be harboring an entire forest of leaves and twigs.

When Lord Elrond offered you rooms to wash up before dinner, you were all too happy to accept. You had spent so much time in Rivendell over the years that you knew exactly how to get to your regular guest suite.

The wardrobe was still full of fine gowns and shoes in your exact size. The well-worn books you had failed to return to the great library still sat undisturbed in a pile next to the bed. It took a great amount of restraint to keep yourself from running your fingers along all of the familiar elven luxurious. Not until you had scrubbed all of the dirt and grime from your skin.

There is a large bathing pool right outside your room that you are all too eager to step foot in. It is always filled with warm, flowing water, and the ceiling above remains open to reveal the sky overhead. You grab yourself a clean towel and practically skip through the adjoining door.

Only to stop short when you see someone else has already beaten you to it.

“No!” you shout in frustration and Thorin turns to see you pouting angrily at him from the doorway.

He chuckles at your frustration from where he already stands in the warm waters up to his chest. You take extra care to direct your glare right at his face, refusing to let your gaze wander down to all the exposed skin.

“Sorry lass, not fast enough this time,”

“Thorin,” you growl, “do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting to visit this pool again?” he just shrugs at you. “There's another one down the hall I’ve been told, if you hurry you might still be able to beat the others to it.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” you snap before letting out a sigh.

“I can’t use that one,” you mumble, “it’s too…deep.”

Thorin stares at you in confusion for only a moment before barking out a laugh.

“Are you saying,” he chuckles, “that after all these years you still haven’t learned how to swim?”

You growl at him before turning around to march back to your room.

“Wait!” he calls after you, still laughing. “I’m sorry, lass. We can share if you’d like? There’s plenty of room.”

You turn back to look at him suspiciously. He’s right, it’s a very large pool you could easily fit several people at once. The problem is that sharing it would mean taking your clothes off in his presence. It’s one thing for him to be naked, while you stand there fully clothed. But the depth of the water prevents you from seeing anything below his chest and you have a lot more…parts, that require coverage.

It’s not that you feel insecure about your body, especially with all of the low-coverage outfits you’ve worn while performing. It's just that the idea of Thorin seeing you in that capacity feels… different.

“I won’t look,” Thorin promises, seeing your internal debate.

The water looks so refreshing and warm, you can’t help but think it would be worth the risk.

“Fine,” you relent, tossing your towel nearby and toeing off your boots. “But if I catch you peeking you’re walking out of that pool with fewer parts than you had going in.” He turns around slowly to face the wall when you reach up to undo the laces of your trousers, shimmying them down your legs before letting them fall into a muddy pile with your blouse not far behind.

You cautiously dip one foot into the water, slowly lowering your body all the way in and a contented sigh escapes past your lips before you can stop it.

The water comes up to your shoulders, and you try to rearrange your hair as best as you can so it covers your breasts.

“Alright,” you tell him, and he cautiously turns to face you again.

His gaze slowly trails down every inch of exposed skin, lingering just a moment longer on the ends of your carefully placed hair.

Thorin takes a cautious step closer towards you and your breath catches in your chest. He slowly moves closer and closer to you until he’s standing right before you. If you were to drop your gaze, it would be safe to assume that you could see all the way down his torso, perhaps even further… which is exactly why you keep your chin held high and your eyes locked on his.

He lifts one hand up out of the water and lifts it up reaching towards your chest ever so slowly. Your eyes widen and you temporarily forget how to breathe in anticipation as his hand finally makes contact… with the bar of soap beside you.

He takes a few steps back with that self-righteous smirk on his face as he starts to run the soap between his hands.

“Is something the matter?” he asks you tauntingly, “one might say you look… disappointed.”

You let out a growl and angrily splash water in his direction but he just laughs at your irritation.

You turn around to dunk your head underwater, wetting your hair enough to start lathering in one of the fragrant shampoos sitting by the side of the pool.

With the product now in your hair, all of the dirt and debris finally starts to untangle itself from your head. All except for one particularly stubborn twig that seems to have knotted itself around several strands of your hair in one of the most inconvenient and unreachable places on your head. You yank and pull at it blindly but no matter how hard you try it only seems to make it worse. You could try adding more products but it would be pointless.

“Could you help me please?” you ask with a frustrated sigh. Thorin hums in confirmation behind you and you feel the heat radiating off him as he wordlessly approaches you from behind.

You let your arms fall back to your sides in the water as his strong hands come up behind you to take their place. He delicately starts untangling it one strand at a time. Moving gently to try and avoid causing you any pain. You can’t remember the last time someone’s played with your hair like this, and the sensation causes your eyelids to flutter closed and your shoulders to droop in relaxation as you sink slightly deeper into the water.

“I could teach you if you’d like,” he says quietly, “to swim I mean. It’s an important skill it just might save your life one day.”

“Sure it is,” you reply sarcastically, “you just want an excuse to grope me underwater,”

His fingers still for a moment, “It doesn’t have to be underwater, but if you’re offering…”

You tip your head back to look at him with your eyes narrowed, pretending to give it some thought.

“Hmm, I’m afraid I’ll have to decline your generous offer my king.” you reply formally, “I have very high standards for all my lovers, I only share my bed with those who can give pleasure just as well as they receive it.”

You’re only half joking to get under his skin, but Thorin doesn’t seem to take it that way.

His grip on your hair gently tightens, and he leans down to bring his lips beside your ear.

“Are you implying that I’m incapable of bringing a woman to climax?” he whispers darkly.

Shivers run up your spine and a hot clenching sensation forms in your belly. You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly.

“Care to make a wager on that?” he challenges.

“Very funny,” you smirk nervously, trying to dig yourself out of the hole you’ve quickly gotten yourself in.

“I’m not laughing,” he replies darkly, one of his hands leaves your hair to trace a slow, agonizing path down the side of your neck, before landing on your shoulder.

“I bet I could make you come, right here, right now, using only my fingers.”

You gasp at the filthy images that start to fill your mind and you’re forced to squeeze your thighs together to help relieve some of the ache.

“How about we make a deal,” he drags his other hand along your spine causing your back to arch in ecstasy. “If I can make you come, you have to let me teach you how to swim.”

You laugh at his request, before thinking of a condition of your own.

“And when you can't, you have to let Lord Elrond look at the map.” his hand stills on your back and you half expect him to refuse.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he brings both hands down to your hips and roughly pulls your back up against his chest. “Deal,” he whispers before playfully nipping at your earlobe.

One arm snakes around your belly to anchor you closer to him, while the other reaches up to grab one of your breasts. You moan as his hand squeezes and massages the soft flesh.

He growls into your ear and thrusts his hips deeper into your backside, making it all too clear to you just how his body is reacting to yours.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?’ he asks, his hand on your breast starting to trace slow circles around your now hardened nipple. You bite your bottom lip trying your hardest to suppress the sounds of pleasure his ministrations threaten to pull from you.

“Do you know how many times, I’ve had to find some excuse to slip away, just so I could touch myself to thoughts of you in those damn trousers? It’s all I can think about.”

A wicked grin crosses your face. It brings you great satisfaction to know just how much of an effect you have on him.

“Tell me,” he whispers from behind you, his free arm moving down the curve of your ass to give it a rough squeeze. “When you touch yourself, what do you think of?”

His hand slides around your hip to slowly inch closer and closer down toward your core. You arch your back to encourage him to keep moving his hand closer, but he stops right above the spot where he knows you need him the most.

You let out a whine as he stubbornly keeps his hand frozen in place.

“I asked you a question,” he reminds you, “who do you think of?”

You tip your head back to rest against his chest, your eyes meeting his. You smirk at the dark lust you see in his eyes, swimming with desire for you. You think about lying to him, giving an answer that you know will make him angry, unhinged. But you don’t want to risk him moving that hand any farther away from your core.

“You, Thorin,” you whisper to him, “always you.”

He roughly brings his lips down to yours in a fierce kiss, and at the same time, he slides his fingers down the rest of the way to trace large circles around your core. His hand at your breast reaches up to wrap around your throat, applying gentle pressure to keep you in place as he gives his tongue the freedom to explore your mouth.

You let out a moan before you can stop yourself, and you can feel the smirk on his face without even having to open your eyes. His teeth scrape against your bottom lip as his fingers start to tease circles around your entrance, one finger tracing the outside before pulling further away again.

You whine at his teasing and thrust your hips up to try and bring the entrance closer to his fingers.

He abruptly pulls his hand away when he realizes what you’re doing to roughly grab you by the hip, the hand around your throat tightening the smallest amount in warning.

“Uh, uh, uh,” he chides in your ear. “Behave yourself.”

He removes his hand from your throat and presses it between your shoulder blades, gently bending you over in front of him. He keeps a gentle hand on your hip and brushes all of your hair to one side of your neck, exposing your entire back to him.

Your hands reach up to grip the edge of the pool with a gasp as he starts to kiss his way down your spine slowly.

“Can you do that for me?” Thorin asks, “Can you be good?”

You nod eagerly as his lips hover over the curve of your backside that remains above the water.

You jolt in surprise as a hand comes down to your ass with a sharp smack.

“Use your words,” he demands, gently rubbing the now tender skin of your cheeks.

“I’ll be good,” you whisper hoarsely, “I promise.”

Thorin hums in approval as one hand slides down your bottom to tease the entrance to your core once again. His other reaches up to grab a fistful of your hair. With a gentle tug, he is pulling your head back to look at him.

The hand at your core leaves you briefly empty and wanting. He keeps his eyes locked on yours as two of his thick fingers push into your mouth. You can already taste the sweetness of yourself on him as he presses them deeper into your mouth. Your tongue licking and sucking every drop of yourself from them.

You let yourself put on a little show for him, imagining it wasn’t just his fingers in your mouth. Your eyes flutter closed at the idea of what it would taste like, what it would feel like to have that beast currently pressing against your thighs deep inside of you.

“Eyes open,” Thorin warns with a sharp tug of your hair.

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, leaving you such a disoriented drooling mess that you don’t even notice where he’s relocated those fingers until they’re plunging deep inside you.

Thorin releases the hand in your hair to cover your mouth just barely fast enough to muffle the scream of pleasure you can no longer contain.

You push your hips back onto his fingers, signaling for him to start moving and he is oh so happy to oblige. He does not start slow, his brutal pace has you arching your back and crying into his hand at how quickly you can already feel your climax approaching.

That fire in your body is growing hotter and hotter and yet you still need more.

You desperately reach back behind you, blindly searching for his cock in an attempt to give yourself some kind of anchor in the storm of pleasure. As if sensing your intentions already he growls your name in a low warning, giving his fingers an extra deep thrust to catch you off guard.

You gasp into his hand, your fingertips just barely grazing the tip.

“That wasn’t part of the deal,” Thorin reminds you.

Shit. you think to yourself. The deal.

You were so confident that all of his talk would not be able to translate to the bedroom, that the only reason his fingers were deep inside your throbbing pussy right now was as part of a childish bet.

A deal to finally find the answers hidden in that map, to help you enter Erebor, and most importantly to knock his ego down more than a few notches.

If you let yourself come on his fingers like this he wins. You’ll have lost the wager, and he’ll be able to lord this victory over you for years to come.

You can’t let him win, you just can’t.

You bite down hard on the rough hand covering your mouth to try and distract both of you from your current task but it still isn’t enough to slow his pace. His eyes narrow at you from above, a wicked grin spreading across his face, seeming to relish the pain.

You growl in frustration, desperate to think of some way, any way to put a stop to the rising flame in your core.

You try thinking of the most unsexy things imaginable: Orcs, rotten fruit, trolls, too-tight corsets, chamber pots.

But no matter what you try the only thought you seem to be able to hold on to is Thorin.

Thorin who has his fingers inside you.

Thorin whose enormous cock is still pressed up against you.

Thorin whose beard keeps tickling your bare back.

Thorin whose blue eyes look like the hottest part of a burning flame.

Thorin whose deep voice sends shivers down your spine.

Thorin who left you.

Who abandoned you, lied to you, broke your heart.

A hot angry tear slides down your cheek and you bite harder into his palm, enough to feel droplets of blood start to roll down your chin and mix with the salt of your tears.

You hate him. He betrayed you, broke your trust, and left you all alone. And he has the audacity to still make you feel things for him? After everything?

Perhaps after everything, he owes you this much. A mind-blowing orgasm, deal be damned. You’ll convince him to share the map some other way.

You’re feeling a pleasure so intense, so intoxicating, that when his fingers finally hit that one perfect spot inside you, you let yourself come undone on him. You’re too high on your own bliss to even care that you’ve lost the bet.

You wait for Thorin to start gloating, to rub it in your face that you were wrong. But he doesn’t.

He just slowly removes his fingers from your core and his bloody palm from your face and quietly disappears behind you in the water. Your head suddenly feels impossibly heavy and you let yourself slump over the edge of the pool, exhausted and trembling.

Thorin reappears behind you with a gentle hand on your back, while the other brings a warm cloth against your skin.

He gently turns you to face him and you’re too tired to put up a fight. A strong arm wraps around your back to hold you upright against him. He brings the warm cloth to your face, gently wiping the mess off your chin and your lips, before trailing it farther and farther down washing every inch of exposed skin with an intense focus.

It’s getting harder and harder to keep your eyes open. Sensing your fatigue he drops the cloth as soon as he’s done and starts to slowly lead you out of the pool.

“Wait here,” he whispers as soon as you’re out of the warm water’s embrace, cold and shivering. You cross your arms over your chest to try and warm yourself before a soft towel is gently wrapped around your body. You attempt to take one, shaky step back towards your room and are immediately swept off of your fawn like legs into Thorin’s arms.

He carries you back into your suite, the both of you undoubtedly dripping water across the marble floor as he gently places you on the bed.

You’re almost disappointed to see that he now has a towel covering his bare waist.

You expect him to leave you now if he has no interest in gloating, but instead, he crawls onto the bed with you. His body heat is such a welcome feeling that you don’t protest when he settles in right behind you wrapping a strong arm across your wet skin and pulling you in closer towards him by your waist.

“You were trying to fight it weren’t you?”

You shiver at the sensation of his breath tickling the back of your neck.

“How could you tell?” you ask him.

He chuckles against your ear before giving it a playful bite.

“You always have this look on your face, whenever you’re trying to restrain yourself. I’ll admit it’s not a look I see often as you tend to say or do the first thing that pops into your head without thinking it through,” he grunts as your elbow reaches back to jab him in the ribs.

“What made you change your mind?” he asks in a serious tone. “You could have easily fought me off if you wanted to.”

“I know,” you reply with a sigh. “As much as I hated the idea of letting you win, I figured after everything you put me through, betraying and abandoning me, at the very least you owed me a mind-blowing orgasm.”

You can feel Thorin tense up behind you. You crane your neck to look back at him and he’s staring back at you with an intense look on his face that you can’t quite place.

“I would have thought you’d be flattered to hear me refer to it as ‘mind blowing’” you laugh nervously. He blinks at you and gives a weak smile before slowly untangling his arms from your waist so he can rise to a seat on the bed.

“The others are waiting,” he says, “we should head to dinner before someone comes looking for us.”

You nod silently, not having enough strength to call him out on the convenient change of subject.

“You go ahead,” you tell him, knowing you’ll need some time to process everything that’s just happened. “It might take me a while longer to finish getting ready,” you lie.

He rises from the bed, still clearly deep in thought as he crosses the room to head back to his own suite. He pauses for a moment with his hand on the doorknob, like he has something else he wants to say to you. But instead, he just disappears through the door without another word.

You let out a deep exhale and press the heels of your hands into your eyes.

“I can’t believe I just let Thorin Oakenshield finger fuck me,” you groan.

Next Chapter

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sweetbutpsychobutsweet · 21 days

Text

The Wandering Widow

Chapter 12

Thorin Oakenshield x AFAB!Reader

Summary: while recovering from the close call with Azog, you and the rest of the company seek shelter in a nearby tavern. unfortunately, it happens to be a tavern you have a lot of history with. will your traveling companions discover the connection between you and the seedy tavern?

Warnings: no use of y/n, angst, 18+, NSFW, minors do not interact, attempted fingering, brief descriptions of bloody wounds/injuries

Author's Note: This one ended up being a looong chapter but the next few installments include scenes I've been excited about writing for a while😊 I've already started writing the next one so hopefully it shouldn't take too long to post! Thank you so much to everyone who has already shown so much support to the previous chapters. It really makes my day getting to read all of your sweet comments😘

Word count: 3473

You’re vaguely aware of the sun shining down on your face, warming your skin. You squint at the bright light before the sun is blocked out by a shadowy form standing over you. It calls out your name and you groan in response.

“Am I dead?” you ask and the shadow laughs. “Not for lack of trying,” Kili says and you peel an eye open to squint at him.

“Thorin?” Kili nods to where the others are sitting a few feet away from you. You turn your head to see Gandalf crouching over a still-unconscious Thorin. Before you can start to panic, the wizard waves a hand over his face and Thorin jolts awake. He calls out your name hoarsely and Gandalf motions to where you still lay.

“Don’t worry,” he assures him, “she’s just fine.”

Dwalin and Gandalf help him to his feet and Kili brings a gentle hand to your back as you sit up.

Shaking off the help, Thorin takes a few steps closer, towering over you. He extends a hand out, and while you would normally wave it off, this time you let yourself take it. Sliding your hand into his you let him pull you to your feet until you’re standing face to face.

He takes a step back, keeping his hand intertwined in yours as he looks you over head to toe.

Your head is still throbbing from where you were knocked to the ground. Thorin’s gaze falls on the wound, his eyes widening in concern.

“I’m fine,” you assure him before he can overreact. Especially considering he’s in much worse shape than you are.

“You could have died,” he whispers hoarsely, brows furrowing in concern.

“Well you made almost getting killed by an orc look like so much fun,” you shrug, “I thought I’d join you.”

He shakes his head with a sigh, clearly satisfied you can’t be too badly injured if your sense of humor is still intact.

Reluctantly he drops your hand, stepping around you to address a relieved-looking hobbit.

“And you,” he snaps, “what were you doing? You nearly got yourself killed!”

Bilbo blinks in shock. “Did I not say that you would be a burden?” he continues, stalking closer to the hobbit. “That you would not survive in the wild? That you had no place amongst us?”

Bilbo drops his gaze sadly and you’re about to give Thorin another head injury when he continues.

“I have never been so wrong in all my life,” Thorin sighs, enveloping the hobbit in a warm embrace.

“You saved my life, you saved her life,” he gestures to you with a rare smile.

“But I am sorry I doubted you.”

“No, I would have doubted me too,” Bilbo assures him. “I’m not a hero or a warrior. Not even a burglar.”

You laugh and step forward to give the hobbit’s shoulder a gentle squeeze as the eagles fly off overhead with the sunrise.

Thorin suddenly goes still beside you. You follow his gaze over Bilbo’s shoulder and gasp.

“Is that what I think it is?” Bilbo asks as you all walk closer to the edge of the cliff. Gazing in awe at the single solitary peak sitting on the horizon.

“Erebor,” Gandalf confirms. “The lonely mountain, the last of the great dwarf kingdoms of Middle Earth.”

“Our home,” Thorin smiles and looks over at you, a warm feeling blooming in your chest as he interlaces your fingers with his again.

You don’t tear your gaze from his until a chirping noise catches your attention as a dark bird glides overhead, seemingly headed to the same place as the rest of you.

“A raven!” Oin exclaims. “The birds are returning to the mountain!"

“That my dear, Oin,” Gandalf corrects, “is a thrush.”

“But we’ll take it as a sign,” Thorin says from beside you, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “A good omen.”

“You’re right,” Bilbo agrees, “ I do believe the worst is behind us.”

“I should hope so,” you sigh. “I for one don’t think I could stomach seeing one more orc until I’ve gotten at least a few ales in me.”

“We should find lodging in a tavern tonight,” Thorin agrees, “somewhere we can rest before continuing our journey.”

“Oh no!” you gasp turning to face him fully.

“Oin did you hear that?” you call out to the healer. “Thorin just agreed with me, it must be worse than we thought.”

The rest of the company chuckles as you all start to gather your things.

“I do believe The Wandering Widow is only a few miles from us,” Gandalf supplies. You freeze at the name, looking up to see the wizard giving you a mischievous grin.

Of course, you mutter to yourself, why wouldn’t Gandalf know your connection to that specific tavern?

You narrow your eyes at the wizard, daring him to reveal what he knows to the rest of the group. He just gives you a conspiratory wink and continues down the rocky path.

That wizard had better keep his mouth shut if he knows what’s good for him.

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

The tavern is exactly as you remember it.

It’s been a few years since you last set foot on the booze-soaked floorboards, but not a single thing has changed since then. The decor is exactly the same, with the smell of mead and stale smoke still lingering in the air.

Even after all this time, you know there’s still a chance that the staff will recognize you. So you elect to disappear among your kin, sticking close to the group with your hood pulled over your head and your gaze cast downwards.

Gandalf split off from the group upon your arrival, volunteering himself to haggle with the owner over reserving rooms for all of you.

“He’s been gone awhile,” Bilbo remarks from behind the large mug of ale set in front of him. He took all of one sip of the drink before trying to surreptitiously slide the drink further away from him without anyone noticing.

“I’ll go check on him,” Balin offers, sliding his chair back.

“No,” you stop him, “I’ll go, I could use another drink anyways,” you lie.

While it is true you’re not nearly as drunk as you’d like to be, you suspect you already know the reason for the delay.

You can feel Thorin’s eyes on the back of your head as you go, reluctantly pulling off your hood as you duck out of the room.

Your mood has noticeably shifted with the anxiety over returning to this tavern with the company in tow. Thorin made no mention of your change in mood during the journey here, but you know he's noticed by the way you keep catching him watching you with that concerned look in his eyes.

Thankfully he doesn’t bring it up. Either because he’s too relieved you’re both alive to pick a fight right now or because he can sense how badly you’d like to avoid this conversation with him right now.

You can hear the raised voices before you even push the door open.

Sure enough, the wizard is in a very heated argument with the tavern owner.

“Have you gone mad?! No establishment in all of Middle Earth would charge that much per night!”

“Well, good luck finding another establishment willing to accommodate that many dwarves at once.” Grumbles the red-faced proprietor. “1500 a night. Take it or leave it.”

“Bertram Blackwood,” you sigh dramatically from the doorway, “are you trying to take advantage of my friend here?”

Both of the men turn to look at you in surprise. Bertram whispers your name in surprise.

“As I live and breathe,” he chuckles dryly. “Didn’t think I’d be seeing you anytime soon. Not since you disappeared like a thief in the night.”

“I didn’t actually steal anything,” you remind him, “I only took the money I was owed.”

“Took a lot more than that,” he grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest, “lost a lotta my regular customers when my headlining act up and left.”

“Yes I do recall hearing lots of complaints across the land when a famous tavern dancer suddenly stopped performing,” Gandalf chuckles.

How he was able to figure out that was you, is a mystery you aren’t prepared to solve right now.

“I’m afraid I was presented with an opportunity I couldn’t refuse. But that’s not important right now. Perhaps, you’d be willing to give my friends and me a discount? For old time's sake?”

You bat your eyelashes and try to give Bertram your most charming smile.

He just scoffs at your attempts. “If you want to bring ‘old times’ into it, it’s just gonna cost you more, girl.”

“We’ve been traveling for some time now, and many of us are injured,” Gandalf pleads, trying to appeal to his emotional side. You should have explained to the wizard that Bertram Blackwood has no emotions to appeal to.

“You think you’re the first to show up on my doorstep with some sob story? You don’t stay at The Wandering Widow for a vacation, you stay when everything else has gone to shit.”

“Okay, okay,” you sigh, rubbing your temples. “What if we pay you the regular rate and…” you huff reluctantly, “I’ll put on an encore performance while we’re here.”

A triumphant smile creeps onto Bertram’s face and Gandalf raises a brow in surprise.

“But!” you stare them both down, “you both have to swear that you won’t breathe a word of this to the others. Especially, Thorin.”

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

After swearing them both to secrecy and paying for the rooms, you and Gandalf return to the others with arms full of ale.

“Everything alright?” Thorin asks the both of you as you slide another drink over to him.

“It is now,” you assure him, as you bring another mug to your lips.

“The owner was trying to overcharge us but we handled it. We’ll have several rooms for the next few nights.”

He nods tersely and goes to reach for the ale you set in front of him.

As soon as he lifts his arm he visibly flinches in discomfort, reminding you that hours ago a warg tried to turn him into a chew toy.

“Have you had Oin look at those bites yet?” you ask and he nods over to where Oin and several other dwarves are slumped against the table, surrounded by several empty tankards of ale. “Our healer seems otherwise engaged at the moment.”

“I can do it,” you offer, not wanting to see him pushing through the pain any longer.

He raises a brow, unsure about your healing abilities. And rightfully so after all your botched attempts to patch the both of you up as children when you were out getting into trouble.

“I can at least dress it for you,” you assure him, “so it doesn’t get infected. It’s not like I’m offering to perform surgery or anything.”

“As long as you promise not to use any sharp objects near me,” he grumbles, slowly rising from the table with a groan.

“I’m afraid I can make no such promises,” you sigh, leading him up the stairs to your rooms.

“As long as I don’t lose a limb I suppose you can’t make things worse,” you glare over your shoulder at him, and the small smirk he tries to hide as he climbs up the stairs behind you.

Reaching the end of the hallway, you push open the door to a spacious bedroom. Thorin closes the door behind you with a click as you shrug off your cloak.

It's only then that you realize what you’ve just volunteered yourself for. The two of you are now alone for the first time since… he convinced you to end your survival fast using sexual favors.

And if memory serves, the warg bit him around the midsection which means… “You’ll have to take off your shirt,” you instruct him, purposefully trying to avoid making eye contact.

Instead you busy yourself by digging through your discarded bag, searching for the tinctures and bandages you might need.

Taking a shaky breath you finally turn to face him, biting your bottom lip absentmindedly at the sight of him pulling his shirt overhead. His back is still to you and you let your eyes trace the corded muscles of his back.

You’re so lost in thought that you forget to avert your gaze as he turns to face you. He smirks when he catches you watching him. “See something you like?”

You roll your eyes, strolling closer to him with your arms full of medical supplies.

“Just sit down,” you grumble, tossing the items onto the bedside table before giving his shoulder a gentle shove until he sits down in front of you.

Your fingers absentmindedly run down his chest as you assess the wound at his midsection. Teeth marks line his abdomen in a semi-circle, still red and angry.

You bite down on your lip again, not expecting it to be this bad. It's a miracle he walked all the way down the mountain without showing any signs of distress. Whatever healing Gandalf used to bring him back to consciousness must have helped to keep the discomfort to a minimum.

“You’re lucky to be alive,” you mumble, walking across the room to dip a clean rag in the basin of hot water. If he hadn’t been wearing several heavy layers that warg would have bitten right through him.

“As are you,” he reminds you, wincing when you gently bring the damp rag to the edge of his wound. Bringing your free hand to his shoulder, you step closer to Thorin. Until you’re standing directly between his legs.

When you bring the rag back to the edge of the wound he tries to jerk away again. But this time you maintain a firm grasp on his shoulder to keep him in place.

He clenches his jaw and his hands snake up your thighs to rest on your hips. Fingers dig deeper into your flesh with every stroke of the cloth. His grip is so strong it should be painful, but instead you have to suppress a moan at the feeling of Thorin's fingers bruising your skin.

“I haven’t yelled at you yet,” he grinds out, trying to distract himself from the pain.

“You yelled at the hobbit,” you remind him, “isn’t that close enough?”

He lets out a weak laugh as you set the cloth down and pick up the tin of salve beside you.

“You jumped in first,” he grunts as your sticky fingertips brush against his skin. “He was just following your lead.”

“I suppose,” you hum absentmindedly.

“It was reckless,” he grumbles.

“Mmhmm,” you apply the rest of the salve to the wound.

“You almost died right in front of me,” he reminds you.

“I know, I was there,” you reach for the bandages, beginning to wrap his wound.

“I almost lost you,” he whispers, “I- you can’t do something that dangerous again.”

Your fingers go still on the bandages and you look up at his face.

“Why do you think I did it in the first place? Out of boredom? You were the one who ran head first into the jaws of a warg, did you think I was going to just sit back and watch you lose your head?”

“Is losing your own head any better?” he narrows his eyes at you.

“This is the part where you thank me for quite literally sticking my neck out for you.” You tie off the bandage at his midsection a little tighter than necessary before tossing the excess off to the side. “Is it really so hard to accept help when you need it Thorin?”

Crossing your arms over your chest you level a steely glare at him.

You expect him to return the look, but instead he just reaches for the discarded rag beside you. Brushing your hair out of your face, he lifts the rag up to your head. You try to jerk yourself away but his free hand is still at your hip and he holds you firmly in place.

“Is it really so hard to accept help when you need it?” he throws your words back at you and you relent with an irritated huff.

He gently wipes all the blood and dirt from your face. Removing all the evidence from your most recent brush with death. As if it will be enough to make either of you forget you almost died in each other's arms. The only time you want to be lying on top of Thorin like that is in a much different scenario.

A scenario you can't help but imagine, now that you're alone together again.

As Thorin focuses on cleaning your face, you focus on studying his. His brows are furrowed in concentration as he cleans the head wound.

Thorin stills when he catches you watching him, and you don’t bother to divert your gaze.

“Don’t look at me like that, lass,” he growls in warning.

“Or what?” you tilt your head at him, the edges of your mouth quirking up into a smirk.

He remains still as a statue under your challenging gaze. You slowly glide your hands up his bare chest, wrapping your arms around your neck. He growls your name under his breath, nostrils flaring as he tries to restrain himself from taking the bait.

You know it's probably not the best time for it. You’re both injured, and it’s been a very long day. But that only seems further reason for the two of you to release the tension on each other.

You lean forward to rest your forehead against his and he drops the cloth, encircling his arms around your waist.

“Can you tell me what you’re sitting on right now, my king?” you whisper.

“A bed,” he grumbles as you gently press your lips against his forehead.

“And do you recall what you said would happen the next time we came across a bed?” you pull back to look at his face and his eyes darken at the memory of the last time your limbs were entangled together like this.

“I only said I would fuck you in a bed,” he smirks up at you, “I didn’t say it would be the next one.”

“Suit yourself,” you sigh dramatically, “I’ll just have to ask someone else.” You go to pull away from him and with a low growl, he yanks you right back in until you’re practically in his lap. He releases a hand from your waist to grip your jaw, pulling your face down to his.

“There will be no one else,” he growls before crashing his lips against yours.

You moan against the kiss before bringing your hands up to his shoulders, giving him a gentle shove back onto the bed. You break your lips from his to crawl your way up his body. Careful to not jostle the wound at his abdomen.

You’re about to seat yourself on Thorin’s lap when he suddenly wraps his arms around your waist, flipping you both over so he is towering above you.

Burying his face in your hair, he slowly glides his tongue against the junction where your neck meets your shoulder. Playfully biting at your skin you wrap your arms around his neck again, pulling him down closer to you with a deep moan.

Thorin's free hand brushes against your side, tracing the curves of your body all the way down to your ass. “Did you really think I would pass up an opportunity to have you all to myself?”

He snakes a hand down your trousers, cupping the heat between your legs. You tighten your arms around his neck, keeping your bodies glued together as he starts to tease your dripping entrance.

His lips brush the shell of your ear. “You’re all mine tonight,” he whispers before plunging a finger all the way inside of you.

You open your mouth in surprise, a cry of pleasure traveling up from your diaphragm. But before it can pass your lips you’re interrupted by the creak of the door swinging open.

You both jump at the intrusion, turning to see Kili and Fili standing frozen in the doorway with eyes wide. “Uhhh,” Kili’s jaw goes slack as he grips a bloodied rag in his hand. “Kili, uh, sliced his hand on a broken bottle,” Fili mumbles trying to look anywhere but at the two of you. “Balin said you were already patching up Thorin so we thought…”

With a heavy sigh, you let your head fall back against the pillow beneath you, looking up at Thorin. He narrows his eyes at you, subtly shaking his head.

“Come on in,” you grumble across the room, reluctantly pushing Thorin off of you.

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sweetbutpsychobutsweet · 6 months

Text

Like We Used To Be

Chapter 4

Thorin Oakenshield x AFAB!Reader

Summary: Thorin attempts to extend an olive branch to you, but the arrival of some new allies might put a further strain on your already complicated relationship,

Warnings: canon typical violence, jealous!Thorin, angst, no use of y/n

author's note: I'm truly blown away by the amount of support I've already received on the last few chapters. I hope you're ready for tomorrow when I post the 5th installment because things are about to SERIOUSLY heat up🥵

Word count: 1740

“Where did you two go to if I may ask?” Thorin demands of you as soon as he is freed from his burlap sack.

“To look ahead,” Gandalf replies at the same time you say: “none of your business.”

The two men start discussing the possibility of a cave nearby but you have already stalked off to re-gather your things. It would probably be safe to assume the group will no longer wish to stay in this spot. You’re shoving blankets and food back into your bag when you hear someone approaching from behind.

Not just someone. You already know it’s him before he even speaks your name, but you refuse to turn around and look at him.

“Are you alright?” he asks gently.

“Me?” you turn around with a laugh. “I’m perfectly fine, you’re the one who was almost eaten by mountain trolls.”

“We had it handled,” he grumbles.

“Right,” you drawl with one eyebrow raised, “that’s why half of you were in burlap sacks while the rest were roasting over the fire like chestnuts. Is there a reason you followed me over here, or were you just hoping to worsen my already sour mood?”

He chuckles and looks down at his feet, “I can’t recall the last time I saw you in a good mood.”

“I can,” you whisper. Judging by the look on his face you can tell there is no need to elaborate for him that back before everything went wrong between the two of you, simply seeing him walk into the room would be enough to put a smile on your face.

He looks up at you with those piercing blue eyes and you force yourself to avert your gaze, knowing if you let yourself look too long you’ll be done for.

“About what I said earlier,” he clears his throat and clasps his hands behind his back as he takes a cautious step closer to you. “I’d like to apologize. Of course, you are as much a dwarf as the rest of us. Erebor is your home as well as mine”

You look up at him again in surprise. An apology from Thorin is a rare thing indeed. Could what Gandalf said be true? Does he respect you?

He takes another step closer to you and you can practically feel the warmth radiating off of him. If he sees the blush creeping into your cheeks he makes no mention of it.

“I regret that every interaction we have had on this journey has been so…”

“Hostile?” you offer breathlessly and he chuckles lowly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

“Yes,” he admits, “I do hope, that by the time we reach Erebor, we can find a way to become… friends. Like we used to be.” his fingers gently brush up against yours, slowly starting to interlace them together, one by one.

“Like we used to be,” you repeat back in a whisper.

Like we used to be before you left me behind a bitter voice in your head reminds you. And all at once your ill feelings towards him come rushing back in.

You yank your fingers out of his grip and step away from him.

“Things have changed a great deal since then, Thorin,” you remind him. “We’re not children anymore, we’re not the same people we used to be. I think it's time we both accept that and move on.”

His jaw clenches like he has something to say, but he just nods at you and interlaces his hands behind his back as if to resist reaching for yours again.

“Very well, if that is how you truly feel we will speak no more of it.” he clears his throat anxiously. “We believe we’ve found a troll cave nearby, the others are waiting to investigate.”

He turns on his heel without another word and takes off in that direction.

You follow a ways behind him, wondering to yourself all the while: what would have happened if you had said yes?

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

“You are being hunted!” Gandalf cries as Thorin’s sword drips with the blood of the slain Warg at his feet.

With all of your ponies now long gone, and an orc pack suddenly on your tail, the company has no choice but to try and outrun them.

Your lungs burn and your legs ache as you keep pushing further and further through the clearing. Putting all of the strength you have into making it to the one rock formation large enough to conceal you all from your pursuers.

“Where are you leading us?” Thorin asks Gandalf suspiciously. He refuses to answer, shooting a look in your direction that gives you a feeling that wherever it is, Thorin is not going to be happy about it.

Wherever it is has to be better than here you think to yourself, as one of the orc scouts and his Warg hop atop your hiding spot, inches away from discovering you all concealed below.

Before he can find you, Kili steps out far enough to shoot the Orc off, sending him tumbling to the grass by your feet.

The small victory is short-lived however because now the rest of the pack knows where you are.

You’re all forced to run again in vain. Only to find yourselves surrounded on all sides, with Gandalf nowhere to be seen.

“He’s abandoned us!” someone shouts.

“Hold your ground!” Thorin commands from somewhere behind you.

Despite the ache in your arms you hold your twin blades up high, prepared to put up a fight until the very end.

“This way you fools!” calls Gandalf from behind another rock.

You follow the rest to find the wizard at the entrance to a steep rocky slope into a hidden cave below. You don’t fight Thorin as he offers you a hand to make your way down to join the others, tumbling down shortly after you.

The sounds of the orc pack still pursuing you come from outside but are quickly silenced by the unexpected blaring of a horn and the whistling of arrows.

A slain orc falls down into your cave with one such arrow lodged in his flesh.

Thorin pulls it out and you both already know its origin before he grumbles: “Elves”

The mental map in your head now tells you exactly where you are, and without a second thought you take off running down the narrow pathway, the rest of the dwarves calling after you in protest.

You stop in awe at the familiar scenery before you.

“The valley of Imladris,” Gandalf announces, “in the common tongue it’s known by another name.”

“Rivendell,” you and Bilbo both whisper in unison

“Here lies the last homely house east of the sea,” Gandalf says affectionately.

“This was your plan all along,” Thorin accuses him, “ to seek refuge with our enemy.”

You look over at him and scoff, “Would you rather take your chances with the orcs?”

“You have no enemies here Thorin Oakenshield,” Gandalf assures him. “The only ill will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself.”

“In that case, Rivendell is about to become a very hostile environment,” you mumble to yourself but Thorin elects to ignore you.

“You think the elves will give our quest their blessing? They will try to stop us!” he protests,

“Of course, they will!” agrees Gandalf, “but we have questions that need to be answered. If we are to be successful this will need to be handled with tact and respect. And no small degree of charm. Which is why you will leave the talking to the two of us.” Gandalf declares, nodding in your direction.

“The nicer you are the sooner we get to leave,” you translate for Thorin with a condescending pat on the shoulder before taking off down the path towards Rivendell.

“Mithrandir!” Lindir greets Gandalf as he descends the elegant staircase before the two begin conversing in Elvish.

“Stay sharp,” Thorin warns the others. And you roll your eyes at the tension your kin are so clearly maintaining while in a beautiful place such as this.

“I must speak with Lord Elrond,” Gandalf says switching back to the common tongue.

“My Lord Elrond is not here,” Lindir replies apologetically.

“Not here? Where is he?” Gandalf questions in alarm.

But it is short-lived with yet another blaring of a now familiar horn.

“Close ranks!” Thorin shouts in alarm as an elven group on horseback approaches.

“Lord Elrond!” Gandalf greets the elf as he dismounts his horse before responding to the wizard in elvish.

“Strange for orcs to come so close to our borders, something or someone has drawn them near.”

“That would be us,” you offer from behind him with a smile.

Elrond turns sharply at the sound of your voice, his face lighting up in excitement as he calls your name.

“My darling! It's been too long since you’ve graced these halls!” you laugh as he pulls you into a warm embrace.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to make the journey sooner, but I have so much to share with you!”

“I imagine you do!” he replies, “why don’t you start by telling me what a lovely creature such as yourself is doing traveling with a group of brutes such as this?”

You turn to look back at Thorin, who has a fierce scowl on his face as he stares directly at the place on your arm where Elrond’s hand still rests.

“Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain!” the elven lord greets him.

“I do not believe we have met,” he replies curtly.

“You have your grandfather’s bearing,” Elrond responds, paying no attention to Thorin’s hostile tone. “I knew Thror when he ruled under the mountain.”

“Indeed?” Thorin curls his fists at his side, “he made no mention of you.”

“Thorin! Be nice,” you warn him.

Lord elrond takes another step closer to him and starts to speak in the elvish tongue.

“What is he saying?” Gloin shouts in alarm, “Does he offer us insult?”

“No master Gloin,” Gandalf assured him, “he is offering you food.”

The dwarves take a moment to discuss amongst themselves, but you already know what their answer will be.

“Ah well,” Gloin says, “in that case lead on.”

Lord Elrond politely offers his arm to you, and you make a point of glaring back at Thorin before accepting it as the elf lord leads you up the stairs.

Next Chapter

Taglist:

@mrsdurin @thetaekwondofeline

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sweetbutpsychobutsweet · 30 days

Text

At Least We'll Be Together

Chapter 11

Thorin Oakenshield x AFAB!Reader

Summary: Thorin's greatest enemy is alive and well, and wants to put an end to not only your quest but your lives. It seems you're not the only one who wants his head...

Warnings: no use of y/n, angst, violence

Author's Note: Finally got this to post! This one is much more plot-heavy, but only as a setup for the next chapter. It's one I've been planning for a very long time so I'm excited to share it with you! hopefully very soon:) I think I've fully updated the taglist below but if there's someone I missed just let me know! ♥

Word count: 1945

“Cut off his head!” the Goblin king declares as they pin Thorin down. One of them raises a jagged blade above his head, but before a scream can escape you, the cavern is suddenly exploding with a burst of light. Your ears ring and your eyes burn as the force of the blast knocks you off your feet. The goblins holding you in place release their clawed grip on your arms as everything goes silent. Then, from the stillness: “Take up arms,” a voice commands. Blinking the stars out of your eyes a tall, gray wizard appears. “Fight,” he commands, “fight!” You and the rest of your kin spring into action, shoving the horde of goblins off of you as you go to reach for your discarded weapons. Bombur reaches the pile first, tossing weapons up overhead. Thorin’s blade soars through the air, returning to his hand just in time to stop the goblin king’s club from coming down on him. The king tumbles off the platform into the darkness below. Catching your own swords in mid-air, you bring them down on the trio of goblins skittering your way. Slashing through flesh effortlessly, your beloved blades help clear the path before you. “Follow me!” Gandalf calls, “quick!” You all take off in a sprint down the rickety bridges and platforms. Swarms of the angry creatures are hot on your heels as they seem to pour in from every direction. Gandalf leads the way through the caverns, slicing down goblins like weeds. Thorin follows close behind him taking them out three at a time as they continue pursuing you. One tries to crawl up the bridge beneath your feet and with a solid kick to the nose, you send it tumbling back down. Another one crawls up from the other side, grabbing your ankles with its claws. Before you can bend over to slice at its hand another one jumps you from behind, wrapping its arms around your neck and sinking its teeth into your shoulders. You cry out from the pain and Thorin looks over his shoulder at you, brow furrowed and steely gaze instantly locking in on the assailant. Pushing through the pain, you slice the goblin at your feet off by its fingers. Before you can remove the other one from your neck, Thorin is pulling him off for you and tossing him over the edge. Another goblin drops down behind Thorin, a jagged knife raised to pierce him in the back. “Get down!” you cry and Thorin does without a second thought as your blade swipes over the space where his head used to be, removing the goblin’s instead. You continue farther down the path, fighting your way to the mountain’s surface with the goblin swarm still close on your tail. Suddenly your path is blocked by the enormous leader himself. “You thought you could escape me?” he scoffs. “What are you going to do now wizard?” he sneers at Gandalf who thrusts his staff into his eye before slashing his sword across the king’s belly. “That’ll do it,” he grunts as the wizard delivers the final blow to his neck. His now lifeless body collapses, the weight toppling the bridge beneath you as it starts tumbling down, bringing all of you with it until you land on solid ground with a thud. “Well, that could have been worse,” Bofur supplies before he’s promptly crushed by the goblin king's corpse following your descent down.

You all groan and grumble, pushing off the debris of the collapsed bridge as you scramble to your feet. Looking up in horror you see even more goblins than before, headed right for you like a tidal wave. Far too many for the company to fight off. “Only one thing will save us, daylight!” Gandalf cries, pulling the rest of you out of the bridge’s remnants as he leads you toward the beam of light streaming through an opening to the surface. The underground caverns give way to the slopped mountainside, illuminated by the vibrant orange of the sun setting overhead as you all scramble down the steep slope. Only stopping to catch your breath when Gandalf finishes his head count. “Where’s Bilbo?” he asks. “Where is our hobbit?” None of you can recall seeing him since you first fell down into goblin town. You can’t remember if you’d seen him since your previous conversation that evening. You had been too focused on staying alive to notice his absence. “What happened exactly?” Gandalf demands, “Tell me!” “I’ll tell you what happened,” Thorin grumbles, “Master Baggins saw his chance and he took it. He has thought of nothing but his soft bed and his warm hearth since first he stepped out of his door. We will not be seeing our hobbit again. He is long gone.” The other dwarves look at each other in silence. “Can’t say that I blame him,” you grumble to yourself, wiping the goblin blood off your weapons with your pant leg. “No, he isn’t,” the hobbit reappears from behind the trees. ��Bilbo Baggins,” Gandalf laughs, “I’ve never been so glad to see anyone in my life.” “Bilbo,” Kili sighs in relief, “we’d given you up.” “How on earth did you get past the goblins?” Fili asks “Well what does it matter, he’s back,” Gandalf interjects sensing the hobbit’s reluctance. “It matters,” Thorin insists, never one to let something go, “I want to know. Why did you come back?” “Look,” Bilbo scoffs, “I know you doubt me. I know you always have. And you’re right, I often think of Bag-End.” He shrugs. “I miss my books, and my armchair, and my garden. See that’s where I belong. That’s home. And that’s why I came back. Because…” He looks at all of you in turn, scanning your faces. “You don’t have one,” he says sadly, “a home. It was taken from you. But I will help you take it back if I can.” Everyone, including yourself is at a loss for words. Thorin looks like he’s about to say something, but before he can a howl pierces the silence. The orc pack has found you again. “Out of the frying pan,” Thorin whispers. “And into the fire,” Gandalf finishes, “run, run!” You all take off in a sprint as darkness comes over the mountainside, the wargs scampering down after you. They corner you on the side of a cliff, there’s nowhere else to go. “Up into the trees!” Gandalf says, “Climb!” You scamper up a tree as the rest of the wargs catch up to you, the orcs riding astride them with hunger in their eyes. One in particular breaks through the pack on his white warg with a knowing grin on his face. You’ve only seen him once before, but still, you’d know him anywhere. “Azog,” Thorin whispers in disbelief as the orc sniffs the air with a taunting smile.

Fear the pale orc rasps in black speech. I remember your father reeked of it, Thorin, son of Thrain Thorin’s knuckles turn white on the tree branch he clutches. “It cannot be.” You bite the inside of your cheek at the dark look on his face. He’s going to do something stupid, you just know it. Kill the others Azog commands as the rest of the wargs are unleashed, growling and clambering up the trees to nip at your heels. Branches snap and trunks shake, pulling free of their roots as they start to topple over like dominoes. You all leap from branch to collapsing branch, until your entire company is stranded on a lone pine at the very edge of the cliff side. There is only one defense left: magic. Lighting a large pinecone aflame above you, Gandalf starts to drop them down to you all in turn, one after the other you all start to hurl them toward the orc pack, setting the entire cliffside aflame. It seems to work at first until the tree beneath you starts to groan from the weight of your entire company. It topples over even further, dangling you all over the cliff’s edge. The roots crack and groan, and you’re so focused on not losing your grip on the branch that you don’t notice Thorin rising to his feet and drawing his sword. Not until he starts to stalk right towards the pale orc. “Thorin!” you cry as he runs straight through the flames, oaken branch held high overhead. With a ferocious cry, he charges at Azog. The white warg leaps over him, dodging the attack and knocking Thorin off his feet. Thorin stumbles, disoriented, as the warg captures him in his jaws with a crunch. You hear the others calling out his name but it all fades to white noise in the background, all you can hear are his anguished cries. You don’t know where you find the strength, but you manage to pull yourself all the way atop the tree branch you’re dangling from. It cracks beneath you in protest as you climb to your feet but by the time it starts to snap free beneath you, you’re already leaping to the next one, sprinting along the collapsed trunk with both blades held high, straight towards the white warg. Thorin struggles in his grasp as he tries to hit the beast’s snout with his sword but all it does is anger him. You jab your blade right under its jaw and it releases Thorin with a howl, tossing him aside like a rag doll. The warg swipes its large paw at you in retaliation. You narrowly miss its claws but still aren’t fast enough to avoid the blow to your head as it knocks you over too. Your head smacks against the dirt beneath you as you fall over, dizzy and disoriented. You can hear Thorin’s groans of pain close by and you blindly reach a hand out for him, your fingers clutching onto his arm.

Bring me their heads Azog commands one of the other orcs who stalks over to you with heavy steps. Using your remaining strength, you pull yourself atop Thorin’s chest, shielding his body with your own. If the orc is going to take your heads, he’s going to have to start with yours. Your eyelids feel so heavy as you rest your forehead against Thorin’s. The tickle of his breath against your face assures you he’s still alive. The orc grabs a fistful of your hair and you let out a pained cry as he yanks your head up, bringing the curve of his blade against your throat. Thorin’s eyes flutter open in alarm as the orc starts to lift your weight off of him, and in a panic, he tries to reach for the discarded sword by his side. The orc tightens his grip on your hair and raises his blade high overhead, ready to remove your head from your shoulders. But before he can bring the blade down, Bilbo of all people is tackling the orc to the ground. His grasp on your hair is loosened and you collapse back against Thorin. He sighs beneath you in relief and his eyelids flutter closed. “Thorin,” you croak against his chest. He brings a shaky hand to the back of your head. Gently cradling you against his chest as he loses consciousness beneath you. The cries of your kin ring out from behind you as they all charge into battle. Everything starts to go black as your eyelids flutter closed, the sounds of battle and the screech of birds overhead echoing around you. We’ll be alright now, you think to yourself. And if we’re not, at least we’ll be together.

Taglist:

@mrsdurin @thetaekwondofeline @enchantingkryptoniteheart-blog

@exhausted-humxn-being @marsmallow433 @sverdgeir

@champagne-glamour@yve-barr @krampus236 @nerdthickly

@lyl1pad @bruhk

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sweetbutpsychobutsweet · 9 days

Text

Knock Before Entering

Chapter 13

Thorin Oakenshield x AFAB!Reader

Summary: Thorin will have to exercise a great amount of restraint to not maim Kili and Fili, and when it comes time to grace the Wandering Widow with an encore performance you will have to find a way to take the stage with the rest of the company being none the wiser.

Warnings: no use of y/n, angst, 18+, NSFW, minors do not interact, brief descriptions of bloody wounds/injuries, mentions of sex work if you squint

Author's Note: This chapter ended up being waaaaaay longer than anticipated so I've broken it up into multiple sections. Which means the next one is already mostly done🥳 Thank you all so much for the love for the previous chapters and the cockblocking nephews😂

Word count: 2505

“Sooo,” Kili tries to suppress a smile as you pull the last shards of glass from the cut on his hand. “How long has this been going on?” He looks over his shoulder at his uncle, who is sitting in a chair across the room. Arms crossed over his chest and a scowl etched on his face, Thorin hasn’t said a word since you were cock blocked by his nephews. Instead, he elected to just pull his shirt back on and remain in the room, brooding in the corner while you patched up Kili.

Fili still remains in the doorway, refusing to step foot in the room as if that will help save him from his uncle’s simmering rage.

“You know I have some sewing supplies,” you remind Kili. “If you irritate me enough I could decide this wound is in dire need of stitches.”

“He only wants to know whether we won the bet or not,” Fili sighs from the doorway.

You lift a brow in question, not lifting your gaze as you continue cleaning his brother’s wound. “The entire company placed bets on how long it would take the two of you to jump into bed together.”

Your head snaps up, immediately looking over at Thorin. He doesn’t meet your gaze, he just tips his head back to the ceiling with a heavy sigh.

“When did this happen?” you scoff.

“In Bag-end,” Kili winces when you start to apply the salve to his palm. “The others will be relieved to hear the wait is over.”

“The others don’t need to know,” you warn him as you reach for the roll of gauze beside you. As you do you catch Thorin’s gaze. Finally falling back on you, his eyes are filled with an emotion you can’t quite place.

You had expected him to agree with you. But instead, he looks…surprised. Like he hadn’t expected you to be so adamant about hiding your complicated relationship from the others.

Everything is still so messy and new. You don’t even know what you would call it yet.

You’re certainly not courting. Thorin could never be formally involved with someone from your background. He is a king. And a king is meant to marry a proper lady of good standing. Not a rebellious half-dwarf such as yourself. If there’s one you know, it’s that you are not meant to be his queen.

So does that make you… lovers? The term makes you cringe. It implies a much longer relationship than the situation will allow. This will only last as long as the journey to Erebor. Thorin will marry another and you will be on your way with the mountain at your back once again. This is all meant to be a temporary arrangement. If anything, it feels more like you have stumbled across an alternative way to tolerate each other’s presence.

These days it feels like the two of you only get along when you have your limbs are tangled together in secret.

And Thorin hasn’t exactly gone out of his way to make your relationship known to the others. He isn’t the kind of person to indulge in any kind of public displays of affection or to insist on putting a label on whatever it is the two of you have. Perhaps you misinterpreted his desire for privacy as an agreement to keep your relationship a secret.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost say Thorin looks hurt that you want to hide it. The look he gives you brings a stab of guilt into your chest. Tearing your gaze from him, you busy yourself with binding Kili’s hand. Whether you misread things or not, Thorin still takes your side regardless.

“What either of us do behind closed doors is no one else’s business,” he grumbles at his nephews. “Let this be a lesson to the both of you on the courtesy of knocking before entering.”

“Did uncle knock before entering you?” Kili whispers with a smirk and Thorin jumps from the chair so quickly it clatters to the floor. Fili leaps from his place in the doorway fast enough to block his path to Kili.

You quickly tie off the bandage and rise to your feet, inserting yourself between Fili and Thorin before they can start throwing punches.

“That’s enough,” you hiss at the both of them. Thorin still has murder in his eyes as he towers over you, glaring at his nephews.

“He was only joking,” Fili defends his brother, who’s now come to stand at his shoulder.

“I don’t want to hear either of you speak about her in such a manner again,” Thorin growls at them.

“Please forgive me,” Kili looks at you with a genuine nod of remorse, before stifling a laugh when he whispers “auntie” under his breath.

Thorin goes to take another step towards him as the two start to snicker. You bring a firm hand to his chest before he can make it past you. “Quit it,” you hiss as you shoot a warning look his way. You can feel the barely suppressed growl in his chest beneath your fingertips, but he does as you say and remains planted firmly in place. Keeping your hand on his chest, you turn to look over your shoulder at the boys.

“We’re done here, so you’re both going to go back to your room and go to bed.” You instruct. “And neither of you will breathe a word of this to anyone. Otherwise, those eagles will send you back to your mother in pieces. Understand?”

They both nod their heads grimly. Knowing better than to test you when you’re this close to resorting to violence. They silently turn to leave.

You walk them out. Latching the door firmly closed behind them and sliding the lock in place.

Letting your hand linger on the rusted metal, you dread turning to face Thorin now that it’s just the two of you again.

This time being alone together doesn’t carry the same implication. The moment has officially passed. The previous mood dead and buried.

With a steadying breath, you turn to face him. And just as you predicted Thorin is looking at you with an expression you’re all too familiar with lately.

“Care to explain what that was about?” he crosses his arms over his chest again.

“You’re the one who didn’t lock the door,” you deflect as you brush past him to the bed. Beginning to pick up the discarded supplies and tossing them back into your bag.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” he grumbles. “Why didn’t you want them to tell the others?”

“Why is that so wrong?” you turn to face him again, a hand on your hip. “Are you obligated to keep the company informed on everyone you sleep with?”

“No, but I don’t feel the need to go out of my way to hide it.”

“If you want to be the one to answer the endless tirade of questions about us, be my guest Thorin,” you roll your eyes. “Questions that I’m not sure either of us even have the answer to.”

“Only because we haven’t discussed it,” he reminds you.

“Is that really how you want to pass the time now that they’re gone?” you set a hand on your hip with a scoff. “Talking?”

He clenches his jaw, taking a step closer to you.

Your breath catches in your chest as you look up at him towering over you.

“I can’t help how much you infuriate me,” he growls, bringing a hand up to run through your hair. “No one drives me as crazy as you do.” His hand slowly comes to the side of your face, caressing your cheek.

“Every time you open your mouth I lose control.” He starts to trace your bottom lip with his thumb, watching in awe as you wrap your lips around the digit, beginning to suck. He growls as you gently scrape your teeth over his skin.

His other hand wraps around your waist, beginning to pull you in closer to him. You bring your hands to his chest, sliding them up the hard planes of his pectorals.

As your hands slide up, his starts to slide down. He grabs a handful of the soft flesh of your ass, eliciting a moan from you around his thumb.

Knock knock

You both groan and turn to glare at the offending door yet again.

“Not now,” Thorin shouts but the knocking persists.

Reluctantly stepping away from you with a huff, Thorin stalks over to the door. Unlatching it and yanking it open roughly.

Gandalf stands in the doorway. “Apologies for the interruption,” he says. Not looking the least bit sorry as his gaze bounces between the two of you in a knowing look.

“Can this wait?” Thorin grumbles at the wizard.

“I’m afraid not,” he replies, “we need to discuss the path we’re going to take for the journey ahead. The others are already gathered down in the kitchen for supper.”

“Very well,” he huffs, looking over his shoulder at you. “Shall we?”

“Actually,” Gandalf raises a hand to halt you both before you can head out the door. “Your assistance is needed in the tavern.”

He gives you a pointed look and you sneak a glance out the window behind you. The sun is already going down. You had promised Bertram you would put on your encore performance at sunset tonight.

“Ah yes,” you clear your throat, “I…promised one of the barmaids I would help her with some… lady troubles.”

Thorin raises a brow in confusion. “Can’t it wait? You’ll miss supper.”

“Oh, I’m afraid lady troubles never wait. I’ll join you all later.”

You shoulder your way past the two of them, Thorin looking confused at your abrupt departure.

You shoot Gandalf a pointed look as you head for the stairs and he gives you a small nod in understanding. You can only hope that he fulfills his promise to keep the company occupied long enough for you to secure the night's lodgings

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

“You’re late,” Bertram grumbles from behind the bar. “The crowd’s starting to get antsy.” He nods to the restless patrons filling the dimly lit room. The musicians are already tuning their instruments and drunken folk from the nearby towns gather around the stage impatiently.

Considering it was on such short notice, you’re quite impressed word traveled this quickly. You already recognize many regulars in the audience from when you would take to the stage on a nightly basis.

“Apologies,” you mumble while pulling up the sheer fabric at your chest yet again. “I had some wardrobe troubles.”

Either you’re misremembering how uncomfortable the costume was or it’s somehow become tighter and itchier since the last time you wore it.

There are several loose layers of fabric over your hips and chest that are meant to be removed with a flourish throughout the performance. But it’s the pieces underneath that cling tightly to your body. They cover the only parts that will be left to the imagination so you don't want to risk them slipping off.

“Pretty sure this is the only profession where wardrobe malfunctions work to your benefit sweetheart,” he scoffs nodding to the musicians on stage to signal your arrival.

“Now break a leg, and make me some money,” he waves you off and you saunter away towards the stage.

The musicians begin to strum the opening of a familiar melody and the crowd starts to hoot and holler as you slowly climb the steps to center stage.

Blowing a kiss and waving to the crowd your feet tread a familiar path as your hips start to sway, seemingly of their own accord.

Muscle memory kicks in as you let yourself get carried away by the music. Swaying and twirling, smiling and winking as the onlookers cheer.

The music rises to a crescendo and with a roll of your neck and a flip of your hair, you begin to ever so slowly slip the fabric off of your shoulders.

It flutters to the ground, leaving nothing but a long strip of fabric covering your upper body.

Everyone cheers, and you lift your arms above your head with a dazzling smile. Maintaining the pose just long enough for them to drink in the sight.

Continuing your path across the stage, familiar patrons start to clamber closer to the edge of the stage. You’ve done this routine so many times they know the grand finale is drawing near.

With another spin, you quickly slip the tie at your hip free. Holding it taut in your hand your eyes quickly scan for a volunteer.

A big burly man with a long beard calls out your name with a cheer, holding his drink high overhead in a toast. You extend the piece of fabric out to him and he gladly accepts.

“Hold on tight,” you instruct with a wink and he does exactly that. Holding the end of the fabric in place, you begin to twirl away from him in a whirlwind, the skirt unraveling around you as you do so.

The crowd goes wild as the rest of the fabric disappears, sliding down your legs to pool at your feet as you strike another pose showing off your now bare legs.

Gingerly stepping over the pile of fabric you resume your dance, twirling to the other end of the stage.

Your next move is to reverse the movement and travel in the exact opposite direction. But before you can, a strong pair of arms reach around your waist from behind, dragging you backwards off the stage.

With a shout, you are abruptly set on your feet in front of the absolute last person you want to see right now.

“What are you doing?!” Thorin growls, keeping a firm grip on you as his eyes take in the very small amount of fabric in such a public place.

“I’m a little busy right now,” you hiss. The crowd has already started to shout in protest and the musicians have stopped playing, looking at each other in confusion.

You’re more than a little pissed they let someone just grab you from off the stage but that’s a conversation for another time.

You try to pull yourself from his grasp, if you get right back up there and finish the performance you’re sure you can remedy the situation.

Bertram is already pushing through the crowd, red in the face with his sights set on you.

Thorin’s grip only tightens on your arms, a muscle in his jaw tensing. He releases you for a brief second, and you foolishly think he's letting you have your way. But before you can climb back on stage, he is suddenly wrapping his cloak around your bare skin and tossing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"You and I are going to have a little talk," he growls as he carries you out of the tavern kicking and screaming.

Taglist:

@mrsdurin @thetaekwondofeline @enchantingkryptoniteheart-blog

@exhausted-humxn-being @marsmallow433 @sverdgeir

@champagne-glamour@yve-barr @krampus236 @nerdthickly

@lyl1pad @bruhk @eri-s-big-sis

80 notes · View notes

sweetbutpsychobutsweet · 6 months

Text

Anger Translator

Chapter 3

Thorin Oakenshield x AFAB!Reader

Summary: Thorin's stubborn pride threatens to derail your entire quest before you even reach the Lonely Mountain. Your frustration leads you to question why you were deceived into joining the company in the first place

Warnings: angst, no use of y/n, Thorin being Thorin

author's note: I'm down with a super nasty cold rn so I'm cranking these chapters out pretty fast this weekend. Thank you all so much for your support on the last few chapters.🙏

Word count: 1531

“We have a map we cannot read, Lord Elrond could help us!” Gandalf pleads.

“He’s right,” you agree. “If anyone will know how to read the map it’s Lord Elrond. I know he would be happy to help us.”

Thorin looks between the two of you with disgust.

“Help? A dragon attacks Erebor, what help came from the elves? Orcs plunder Moria, desecrate our sacred halls, the elves looked on and did nothing! And you ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather, betrayed my father?”

“You are neither of them. I did not give you that map and key for you to hold onto the past.” Gandalf reminds him, but it only serves to anger Thorin further.

“I did not know that they were yours to keep.”

You roll your eyes in frustration at his stubbornness as Gandalf storms off in a huff.

“Everything all right?” you hear Bilbo ask, but you’ve already turned your attention back to Thorin, who is still sulking in the remnants of the farmhouse.

“I don’t expect you to be happy about it, but like it or not we are not going to make it very far on this quest without a little outside help.”

“I will not jeopardize this quest by letting these items fall into the hands of elves,” he spits.

“Fine,” you place your hands on your hips, “then what exactly is your plan? To journey all the way to the lonely mountain only to realize we still have no idea how to make it inside Erebor? You’ll have wasted our time and put our lives at risk for nothing, Thorin!”

“And what would you have me do?” he snaps. “Fall on my knees before an elven lord? Disgrace my father’s and grandfather’s legacy?”

You roll your eyes in exasperation, feeling the two of you starting to slip into an oh-so-familiar argument.

“You would not be disgracing anyone Thorin. Yes, it was kind of shitty of them to turn their backs on us like that, but can you blame them? Can you honestly tell me that if the roles were reversed, you would risk the life of a single dwarf to fight a battle that had nothing to do with our kind? If Smaug had attacked Rivendell instead of Erebor would you have offered help?” He remains silent but keeps his fierce gaze locked on you. “And I can assure you there will be no groveling or begging required. Lord Elrond is a friend of mine, he would be happy to help us for nothing in exchange.”

Thorin takes an abrupt step away from you, and you instantly realize that was probably information best kept to yourself for now.

“A friend?!” He scoffs and moves closer to tower over you. You force yourself to stay rooted in place. “I see now where your allegiances truly lie. Tell me was he a patron of yours? Did you entertain your friend with private performances?”

Your hand reaches up to make contact with his cheek with a sharp slap.

“How dare you! In case you’ve forgotten I am a dwarf as well Thorin.”

“Half dwarf, you mean.”

He knows how deeply those words wound you, but you refuse to let him see how they’ve hit their mark. You turn sharply on your heel and storm away before hot, angry tears can escape the dam behind your eyes.

You hear Thorin call your name but you ignore him as you allow your feet to carry you through the thick brush, letting yourself become lost in the woods.

It makes you so angry how easily his words can get to you like that, and he knows it too. Despite the years spent apart, you did grow up together, you’ve known each other your entire lives, and he knows exactly how to get under your skin.

After all, when the other lords and ladies of Erebor forbid their children to speak to you, and the other dwarves your age called you names and refused to let you play with them, Thorin was the one who would comfort you and wipe your tears away. Anyone who dared to utter the words ‘half breed’ would find themselves with a bloody nose or a broken limb. After a while, the two of you became inseparable. You were such close friends that not a soul in Erebor would dare to cast you so much as an unkind glance or risk the wrath of their young prince. He never cared about your parentage. As far as he was concerned you had just as much a right to call Erebor your home as anyone else.

Until Erebor belonged to no one. No one but Smaug. Leaving you with no home, no family, only Thorin.

But not long after that, Thorin was gone too.

You push deeper into the woods, determined to find a tree for your sword to take out all the pent-up frustration.

But rather than a tree you find a wizard.

Gandalf sits on a stump, pipe between his teeth, clearly needing just as much of a break from Thorin as you do. You should find comfort in the fact that your frustration is shared, but instead seeing him only adds fuel to your fire.

“You are on good terms with plenty of elves yourself,” you snap at him.

The wizard raises a brow in question and takes another deep inhale from the pipe.

“You could easily gain access to Elven libraries and seek help from Lord Elrond without me, so why force me to come along?”

He lets out a low laugh followed by a small cloud of smoke.

“Well you are quite right about all that my dear, but no matter how begrudgingly you may have joined the company no one is forcing you to be here. And do you really think that’s the only reason I wanted you here? To be an elven emissary?” he laughs and your brows furrow in confusion. “It’s true you will undoubtedly play a large role in helping us gain assistance from the elves, and I do not believe there to be another soul alive who has studied as much dragon-related literature as you have, but none of those are the true reason you are needed in this company.”

The gray wizard makes room on the large stump and motions for you to join him. You continue to let your confusion and annoyance show as you slump onto the spot next to him.

“Thorin Oakenshield will make an excellent king, that much is certain. He has already done tremendous work for your people and that is all without a crown, a throne, or even a kingdom.”

Despite your differences, you know he is right. Thorin is a great leader, although you would rather be burned alive than admit it aloud to anyone.

“But,” Gandalf continues, “No king is without flaws. And his stubborn pride will be the downfall of us all if it doesn’t change. He needs someone to keep him grounded, level headed. An equal that will tell him the truth even if no one else will. He needs you.”

You open your mouth but can’t seem to form any words. You simply blink up at the wizard in confusion.

“The others respect him as their king, and while a few may attempt to reason with him when he isn’t allowing himself to see clearly, they don’t interact with him in the same directness you do. You are not afraid of his anger, you don’t shy away from challenging him, and above all, he values your opinion. He respects you.”

You let out a laugh of disbelief and push yourself out of your seat to fully turn and face him.

“I don’t know what you have in that pipe, but whatever it is you’ve clearly been smoking far too much of it. Thorin does not respect me, he sees me as a burden. He left me to fend for myself when I needed him the most. I am not here to be his anger translator, I only agreed to come along so I could see my homeland restored once again and finally give my parents a proper burial. The second I have accomplished that I am leaving and never looking back. I intend to put as much distance as possible between Thorin and myself as I can for as long as we both shall live.”

Gandalf picks up his pipe again and fixes you with a stare that seems to say he doesn’t quite believe you. “Well then,” he says, rising to his feet. “It seems your mind has been made up.”

You cross your arms over your chest in confirmation.

“Have you informed Thorin of these plans, if I may ask?”

“Oh yes,” you scoff sarcastically, “because I run all my important decisions by him.”

The old wizard sighs in defeat.

“The sun will be rising soon,” he says, rising from his seat, “and I do believe our companions are about to be eaten by trolls. Perhaps it is best if we intervene.”

You follow after him with a nod, before the full statement clicks

“Wait! They’re what?!”

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sweetbutpsychobutsweet · 5 months

Text

The Voice of Hunger

Chapter 7

Thorin Oakenshield x AFAB!Reader

Summary: You and the company need to make a quick departure from Rivendell, and the journey seems much more challenging now that you have begun your survival fast. How long can you keep your plan a secret, and how long can you keep yourself from strangling Thorin in your hangry state?

Warnings: hangry!reader, no use of y/n, implied eating disorder, mentions of smut, mentions of starvation, fainting, panic attack

author's note: I hope you are all ready to experience a tale as old as time: a hangry woman trying to restrain herself from committing murder😂

Word count: 1598

“Be on your guard,” Thorin calls out from farther ahead on the rocky trail, “we’re about to step over the edge of the wild. Balin, you know these paths, lead on.”

You keep your eyes glued to the ground beneath your feet, with one hand braced against the cliffside to help maintain your balance. Of all the places for the dizziness of hunger to kick in, why did it have to be here?

The paths are narrow and treacherous. One misstep could easily send you toppling over the edge to meet the jagged rocks far below.

True to your word, you haven’t had a bite to eat since dinner. With the sun rising overhead you wouldn’t think it was that long ago. Except that being on the road for so long already meant rationed portions between you and the rest of the company. All of you had been deprived of a decent meal for quite some time now. And your anxiety over the orc pack on your tail and your fast-approaching cycle seemed to take even more out of you.

Your entire body felt too heavy to carry. Your feet drag against the rock beneath you as you fight against the fatigue and dizziness slowly consuming you.

“Master Baggins,” Thorin calls to the hobbit who keeps stopping to look back toward Rivendell. No doubt feeling conflicted over having to continue on without Gandalf for now.

“I suggest you keep up,” he warns the hobbit. Both you and Bilbo know Thorin would leave him behind in a heartbeat, so he scampers off after the others.

You hurry to pick up your pace, not wanting to fall too far behind the group. In your haste, you fail to notice the loose rock directly beneath your feet until it slips out from under you, sending you tumbling forward.

A strong hand grabs you by the arm to catch you before you can fall onto your face. You catch yourself on the cliffside again with your free hand and look up to see a very concerned Thorin studying your face.

“Careful, lass,” he says, his hand still on your arm holding you upright.

You try to laugh it off weakly but he doesn’t find the humor in it.

“Are you alright?” he asks, taking a step back to look you over from head to toe.

“You’ve been acting very strange ever since we left Rivendell.”

You should have known Thorin would notice something was off with you. Of course, he would. Even after all of the time the two of you spent apart, he still probably knows you better than anyone else in all of Middle Earth. The thought should comfort you but it doesn’t. Instead, it brings back a feeling all too familiar to you whenever you’re in his presence: anger.

“I’m fine,” you snap and yank your arm out of his grip and brush past him to continue up the trail after the others.

He doesn’t say anything in response to your sudden outburst but you can hear the heavy thud of his boots following behind you.

How dare he act all concerned about you. And how dare you let yourself get that close to him in Rivendell. Honestly, what were you thinking? He abandoned you all those years ago, and ever since you stepped foot out of the shire he has done nothing but question you and your right to be there. And how do you respond? You let him finger you in the pool!

You try to suppress a growl of frustration, but instead, it travels down into your stomach to let out a roar of hunger.

“Are you hungry?” Thorin asks from behind you, clearly trying to suppress a chuckle.

“No!” you snap, throwing a glare back at him from over your shoulder.

“You’re certainly acting like you are,” he mutters under his breath.

You freeze in your tracks, curling your hands into fists at your side.

Don’t do it you hear the voice of reason in your head beg, don’t pick a fight with him right now. But unfortunately for both of you, the voice of hunger seems to be the one in control right now.

“Is there something you’d like to say to me?” you snap, pivoting on your heel to stomp towards him.

His eyes widen in surprise as you bring yourself nearly face to face with him, tipping your head back to look him right in the eyes.

“Do you think, you get to act all concerned about me now? Like I’m supposed to believe I can trust you with my well being after everything you’ve done?”

He opens his mouth but doesn’t seem to know what to say.

“What? Do you think you’re obligated to care about me now because of what happened in that pool? Well, let me assure you that what happened between us was a one-time thing! It meant nothing! So if you think-”

“I think you’re cranky and need to eat something before you rip us all to pieces,” Thorin replies so calmly it only pisses you off further.

“Well I think you’re a pain in my ass!” you growl and stomp away from him again.

Thorin lets you go without a fight, and you could swear you hear him chuckling softly from behind you.

After a while, the high rocky terrain gives way to grassy fields. At first, the even pathway seemed like a welcome change, but the afternoon sun now hangs high overhead, beating down on your company hot and sweltering.

Before your abrupt departure from Rivendell, you had the opportunity to change into more travel-worthy garments. You swapped your slippers for thick riding boots, and your flowy gown for trousers, a tunic, and a loosely laced corset. You had clasped a fur cloak over your shoulders to keep out the evening chill. It had long ago been discarded and shoved into your pack.

Despite the layers and layers of fur your kin wore, it seemed that you were the only one affected by the heat. They carried on unbothered, while you roasted away beneath your remaining layers. You tugged at the edges of your clothing, trying to air out the layer of sweat coating your skin.

While the others laugh and chat amongst themselves without a care, you pull up the rear a sweaty, cranky mess. Thorin must have warned the others to give you a wide berth because they leave you to suffer in peace. Knowing better than to try and pull you into mindless conversation in your current state. Kili and Fili take turns wordlessly passing you the water flask every so often. You’re too tired to refuse their help.

After several hours pass in the hot sun you decide you can’t take it anymore. You groan in discomfort and reach for the laces of your corset. You tug and pull until the offending fabric is loose enough to be blissfully removed from your chest. You shove the corset into your pack and tug at the fabric plastered to your sweaty skin, letting it air out in the nonexistant breeze.

Almost as if he could sense you were removing clothing, Thorin looks over his shoulder at you. He raises an eyebrow in alarm and opens his mouth to comment. But you beat him to the punch, shooting him a look that dares him to try to start something with you right now. He closes his mouth and looks back at the path ahead, but not before stealing a quick glance at the curves of your upper body, now exposed from the way the sweaty fabric clings to your form.

Fili hands you the water flask again and you silently take it with a long gulp.

This is better, you tell yourself. Your stomach has stopped growling and you’ve convinced yourself that the dizziness and slight shake in your hands is a side effect of the heat, not your survival fast. The sun will go down soon and everything will cool off. You’ll be able to rest and gather your strength for the next day, and the next, and the next, and the next…

You try to find your inner strength by thinking of your home. Erebor. Those vast halls you grew up in.

Halls now housing Smaug. The fire-breathing dragon that will most likely still need to be killed when you arrive. That is, if the orcs don’t get to your group first.

Suddenly these approaching enemies and your all important quest all press down on you at once. Your breathing becomes more rapid, as your chest heaves, heart pounding.

Why is it so hot?

Maybe if you take your tunic off as well you’ll feel better. You start to reach for the edge of the fabric but your fingers suddenly feel too heavy. Everything starts to become fuzzy, moving as if in slow motion as the world starts to spin around you.

You think you hear someone call out your name, but you can’t tell. Your mind refuses to focus on anything else but the heavy weight pressing down on you.

Your legs finally give out and you collapse, the darkness closing in around you as a strong pair of arms catch you and gently lower you down.

A frantic chorus of voices are calling your name but they all seem so far away and you can’t find the strength to care as you give up the last of your strength to surrender to the heavy darkness, drifting off into unconsciousness with the scent of smoke and iron heavy in your lungs.

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sweetbutpsychobutsweet · 5 months

Text

Owe You One

Chapter 6

Thorin Oakenshield x AFAB!Reader

Summary: A new discovery about the nature of orcs leads to a drastic decision on your part. And Thorin surprises you by behaving in a very un-Thorin-like manner

Warnings: angst, no use of y/n, implied eating disorder/starvation to avoid menstruation

author's note: Hope y'all enjoyed the events of last chapter😉 I'm working on creating a master list for my page so it's easier to navigate through my fics in the future!

Also, without giving away too much of what happens in this chapter, I added in the warnings that there are mentions of the reader starving herself to delay getting her period. Because it doesn't come from a place of body dysmorphia I didn't want to mislabel it as anorexia, but if this is a potentially triggering topic for you please be aware that you might want to skip the next few chapters.

If you or someone you know is suffering from an eating disorder you can call the helpline at ♥888-375-7767♥

Word count: 1622

You allow yourself a few minutes to just sit on the bed in your towel. It takes some time to form a coherent thought, and even longer to regain feeling in your legs.

Once you do finally gather enough energy to stand you make your way over to the armoire to dress for dinner. Your stomach is already starting to rumble in anticipation of the feast you know will be waiting for you just down the hall so you decide to dress quickly.

You choose a dress you know you can slip into easily, not wanting to fuss with pulling on trousers at the moment. You pull on a clean chemise to go underneath, then choose one of your favorite evening dresses to pull on. It’s a dark, forest green color, made of a shimmery fabric that catches in the light with your every movement. The sleeves flow down your arms before splitting open at the elbow to drape loosely down the rest of your arms. The laces cross in the front of the bodice instead of the back so you can tie them easily yourself.

Not wanting to wrangle with your wet mess of hair you simply pile it on top of your head and pin it in place. You step into a pair of matching silk slippers and head out the door, following the mouthwatering smell of Elven cuisine.

You force yourself to walk slowly down to the dining hall, worried the others might be suspicious if you arrive too soon after Thorin does.

You pass through elegant archways to find your company poking at the vegetables before them with great displeasure. But not quite as much displeasure as you feel when you realize the only seat left is right next to Thorin.

You had hoped to avoid him for a while in a vain attempt to put off the inevitable discussion that will need to be had. About what happened between the two of you, and what exactly it means moving forward.

“These swords were made for the goblin wars of the first age,” Lord Elrond is explaining when you take your seat between him and Thorin. “How did you come by these?” he asks curiously.

“We found them in a troll hoard on the great east road shortly before we were ambushed by orcs.” Gandalf replies with excitement.

Lord Elrond looks at you with suspicion. “And what were you doing on the great east road?”

“Weren’t you listening?” you ask as you start to pile food onto your plate, “we were being ambushed by orcs.”

Your Elven friend simply laughs, knowing better than to try and get an answer out of you.

“We’re incredibly lucky you arrived when you did,” you tell him, “we’d probably all have our heads mounted on spikes by now if it hadn’t been for you.”

“We were doing just fine,” Thorin grumbles from beside you but you elect to ignore him.

“They are vicious creatures,” Lord Elrond agrees with you. “While you’re here I’ll have to show you some literature I recently found on some of their hunting strategies. Some scholars seem to believe that orcs are able to smell blood from several miles away. If their intended target loses so much as a drop of blood they’re as good as dead with an orc pack on their trail.”

You freeze with your fork midway to your mouth.

Blood? You think to yourself in panic as you start to do the math in your head.

You drop your fork onto your plate in alarm and everyone turns to look at you in concern. You smile sheepishly and reach for your water goblet with a trembling hand. Everyone turns back to their conversations.

Everyone except Thorin. Whose gaze you can feel burning a hole in your head.

You refuse to meet his eyes, too afraid that if he sees the panic on your face he’ll be able to realize the exact same thing you just did.

Orcs can smell blood, and your menstrual cycle is due to start in five days.

If its true that even a single drop can attract orcs from miles away, then the pack currently hunting you will certainly notice if you suddenly start to lose a large amount of blood.

If Thorin and the others find out that the only female member of the company is about to pose a great risk to everyone’s lives then the only logical solution would be for them to leave you behind.

For Thorin to leave you behind. Again.

You’ll be left bleeding and alone while they go off to continue reclaiming Erebor without you.

You know it isn’t fair to blame them. It’s not their fault you have this monthly inconvenience any more than it's yours. It is for the good of the company that you stay behind for a little while if you’re about to start bleeding.

Unless you don’t start bleeding, you realize.

You look down at your plate as an idea starts to form in your head.

The stress of the journey will likely cause your cycle to come late anyway. But if you were to stop eating for just a few days, that would definitely prevent your cycle from coming. At least long enough to put more distance between you and the orcs.

You push your plate away from you, your decision made. Certainly, you can manage to go a few more days without eating, if it means saving the company from any further risk. Your stomach grumbles at you in protest and you can tell Thorin is still looking at you with suspicion. But that will be a problem for later.

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

“Our business is no concern of elves,” Thorin’s voice echos off the walls of the dark study you have all gathered in.

“Here we go,” you mutter to yourself.

“For goodness sake, Thorin, show him the map!” the wizard cries with mounting frustration at the leader of your company.

“It is the legacy of my people, it is mine to protect as are its secrets,” Thorin replies stubbornly.

“Thorin,” your voice is gentle but assertive and for the first time since dinner his eyes finally meet yours.

“You can trust Lord Elrond, I promise.” he remains silent as his eyes search your face. You can still see the dark cloud of his inner turmoil as he struggles to hold his ground against you and Gandalf. His resolve may be starting to crack, as he realizes this is in the best interest of the quest. But knowing Thorin he would rather die than admit defeat.

“Save me from the stubbornness of dwarves!” Gandalf cries, “Your pride will be your downfall. You stand here in the presence of one of the few in middle earth who can read that map, show it to Lord Elrond!”

Thorin gives no indication that he heard a word Gandalf said. His gaze has not left yours.

“If you won’t trust Lord Elrond, will you at least trust that Gandalf has our best interests at heart?” you ask him with a sigh. “Will you trust me, Thorin?”

He remains silent, clenching his fists at his side, and your irritation grows as you steel yourself for him to refuse yet again.

But he doesn’t.

He reaches into his tunic and pulls out the map.

“Thorin, no!" Balin protests but Thorin simply shrugs him off and hands the map over.

Lord Elrond begins to carefully unfold the map as you repeatedly open and close your mouth in shock, not knowing what to say.

Thorin averts his eyes from you as Lord Elrond and Gandalf begin discussing amongst themselves. Their voices fade around you in a blur and your attention drifts away as it can only seem to focus on one thing: why would Thorin do that?

He never backs down, not even when he realizes he’s in the wrong. Even before there was this tension between the two of you, convincing Thorin to set aside his pride when he feels so strongly about something is next to impossible.

What could have possibly caused him to change his mind this time?

“Cirth Ithil,” you hear Lord Elrond say and your attention immediately snaps back to the present moment.

“Moon runes!” you translate with breathless excitement.

“Of course!” Gandalf cries, “An easy thing to miss.”

“Well in this case that is true,” continues Lord Elrond, “moon runes can only be read by the light of a moon of the same shape and season as the day on which they were written.”

“Can you read them?” comes the important question.

Lord Elrond leads the others off to a moonlit space where the runes will be illuminated. But before Thorin can follow the others you reach out to grab his arm, pulling him back from the group.

He turns over his shoulder to look back at you but avoids meeting your eyes.

“Why did you do that?” you ask him, “What made you change your mind?”

He gently removes your hand from his arm and turns to face you fully. Your breath catches in your throat as he takes a step closer to you and memories of what happened in that pool earlier that same evening come rushing back.

You hadn’t noticed until now that a strand of hair had fallen loose from the others, and hung by your cheek. Thorin reaches up gently to tuck it behind your ear. His warm palm lingered against your cheek.

“It’s like you said,” he mumbles as your eyelids flicker in anticipation, “I owe you one.” his hand falls away from your face and you can’t help but feel more than a little disappointed as he turns to follow the others outside.

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