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mikathemonster · 2 years

Text

"candlelit treasures"

author's note: according to Google Docs, I started this one in LATE JANUARY... so yeah it's been a while. like damn. im embarrassed. but here it is guys!! I honestly got so busy and have been in and out of depressive episodes with how little personal time I now get, but it's all gonna be worth it once I get these major projects out of the way (I'm working on films)! anyways HERE'S YOUR MAN COME AND GET HIM

Pairing: Kíli / Gender-Neutral Reader

Word Count: 4,368

summary: busy days and royal duties have worn down your poor lover, so it's time to let him feel just how much you treasure him.

content warnings: nsfw, porn with a little plot if you squint, soft nsfw, cunnilingus, blowjob, penetration, pet names (starlight), riding, switch! reader, switch! kíli, whining/moaning men (my favorite), all the fun stuff <3

DO NOT REPOST OR COPY. MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.

In the dimly lit room where candles illuminated what the fireplace could not, he leaned back into you, seating himself between your thighs as your fingertips ran across his scalp, massaging and playing with his hair. A sigh left his lips as he felt himself feeling more relaxed, but tension still gnawed at him from the inside. A shiver ran through him as his back met flush with your abdomen, and you stopped your ministrations, your fingers pausing amidst his brown tresses.

“You’re nervous.” You said, your voice disturbing the crackling of the fire as you observed him. It had been a little while since you two could be like this, safe and warm as you both consumed each other’s company in the silence of your shared room. Your love’s royal lineage kept him busy as of late, and so it was only on nights like this where you two could share a tender moment together.

He took a deep breath, trying to relax. “You’re very warm,” he said.

“We’ve done this countless times, Kíli,” you said, continuing what you were doing as your fingers danced in his hair, now gathering some strands to begin your braid. He gave a nervous chuckle as his head leaned into your touch, his deep brown eyes looking up at you.

“I know, amrâlimê,” he breathed, his eyes glinting with reflections of the candles’ flame. “But this is what you do to me.” Every time, without fail, you left him breathless. Even now, as the fire danced and brightened your face, he found his heart racing and his skin on fire. He reached behind him, taking your hand that was fixed on braiding and trailing down his face, then his neck, then his chest until it was placed over his beating heart. “I cannot control it.”

You smiled, leaning down to place a kiss on his forehead, his eyes closing as he lovingly received it. It seemed as though braiding would have to wait. “Why do you still get so nervous when you’re with me?”

A small silence fell over him as he studied your face. Even in the dark, you were beautiful. You seemed to walk in a completely different world than him, made of light and warmth and strength. He had thought so ever since he had met you. “I want to be the best I can be when I’m with you,” he said. “You deserve that much.”

“Amrâlimê,” you frowned, cupping his cheek. “You have nothing to prove to me. I am and always will be yours. That is all I deserve.” You placed another soft kiss on his warm skin, his eyes closing as he exhaled from the feeling. Slowly but surely, he was beginning to relax from the stress and pressure of his life and day.

“You are much more than I deserve,” he said, reaching a hand of his own to rest itself in your hair, his touch tender and careful. You took his hand, bringing it to your lips as you planted a kiss to each of his knuckles.

“Don’t speak so lowly of yourself, my love,” you sighed. “Or shall I prove to you once again how much you mean to me?”

A kind smile crossed his face as he now turned in place to face you from a better angle. He leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on your lips, then your cheek, and then finally rested his forehead against yours. “Not if I do so first,” he said, his hands now leaving yours to cup your face.

“Is that a challenge?” You raised a brow, glad to see he was beginning to actually enjoy himself.

Another kiss met your lips, and you smiled. “You’re so quick to seek competition,” he joked. “It drives me crazy.”

“Mm, is that so?” You teased, kissing his nose.

A sigh left him as he looked into your eyes, and you had never felt so safe. When you were with him, nothing else mattered. He nodded his head. “It’s hard for me to think clearly when I’m around you, my love.”

“Then don’t hold back,” you said. “Go ahead, it’s okay to give in.”

His eyes flitted back to your lips for a moment, before meeting your gaze once more. “You would let me?”

“I would let you have me in any way if it meant I could feel you here with me,” you said. He drew a breath at this comment, slowly becoming more and more entranced by you as he felt himself becoming undone by your words and implications. Once more, his eyes snaked to your lips until finally, he leaned in, placing his slightly chapped lips on your more soft ones.

Your hands wandered up from his shoulders to his neck until they finally met their destination in his brown tresses, the idea of braids long forgotten as your fingertips tangled themselves in his hair. His strong arms supported you as you leaned down to kiss him, your lips dancing together in a soft dance of reunion that the two of you hadn’t had in some time now. How long had it been since the last time?

It felt like forever ago, but Kíli was quick to fix that as he pulled away to trail kisses all over your face. His lips peppered your cheeks, then your jawline, and then slowly he made a path down your neck, his kisses soft and full of love and admiration. He took his time taking in your skin as he placed small bites about your neck in between kisses. There was no need to rush.

“I’ve missed you,” he groaned softly, his voice hush as his breath tickled your neck. You let out a pent-up sigh, allowing your hands to tighten their grip just a little in his hair. You felt him smile against your skin when you did this, and it made you proud. “It’s been so long, my love.”

You nodded, taking a breath. “Yes, it has.” Gently, you tugged on his hair to bring his face back to yours as you placed more kisses on his lips, savoring the taste as you took your time to enjoy this shared space between you two. “Too long.”

“Then let me make up for lost time,” he muttered, his eyes soaking you in as he pulled back and pushed you softly away from him. Your back met flush with the chair now as you looked at him in awe. He seemed to glow in the candlelight, and you had never seen such a pretty sight. He was everything to you.

Taking his time, his hands traced the shape of your figure, his warm palms traveling down your seated body until they rested themselves on top of your knees, gently pulling them apart to get you to spread your legs. Without any resistance, you gave in to his silent demands, baiting your breath as his fingers carefully snaked up your legs to meet the waistband of your trousers. Slowly, he tucked his fingers into the waistband, tugging lightly as he pulled them down. You rose a little in your seat to aid him, your eyes never leaving his pretty brown ones as you let him continue with his plan.

As your trousers now found their place on the floor, the cool air on your legs brought a slight shiver down your spine. Kíli sat up on his knees in between your legs as he rubbed circles on your thighs, his rough hands never feeling softer on your skin. “I want to relish this, amrâlimê,” he said. “I want to take my time with you.”

He leaned down, carefully placing kisses and bites along the inner seam of your thighs, starting at your knees and working his way in, closer and closer to the one place where you were starting to feel more and more warm. His eyes never left your face, wanting to see you all breathy and dazed as he savored the taste of your skin on his tongue. Mahal knows he had missed this. He had missed you.

You knew not what to do with your hands, keeping one over your heart as the other reached down to pet his hair lovingly, adoring the way he looked beneath you. You melted into his touch, feeling yourself heating up more and more simply at the thought of what was to come. “I need you, Kíli,” you said, your voice a fell whisper in the silence of the room where only the fire’s crackling occurred.

“I know, my love,” he smiled, his kisses coming closer and closer to where you wanted his lips. “But I need you to be patient.”

“Please,” you let out, growing weak with want and need. He knew this; he knew your body like the back of his hand. Of course, he hadn’t always been the most skillful with you, but time was a wonderful teacher. He ceased his kisses for just a moment, fingers pulling your underwear to the side so he could get a look at you. He blew cool air on your cunt, and you sighed from the feeling, but it wasn’t enough.

“I suppose just this once,” he smiled, leaning closer to you, and you could feel his warm breath on your cunt as he gazed up at you with loving eyes. Gentle were his fingers as they spread you apart, making room so his lips could place a kiss right on your hooded clit. You felt yourself twitch at the feeling for a moment, a breathy gasp leaving your lips as you gave a light laugh. Kíli beamed at you as his tongue dipped into your folds, licking a swipe along your seam as he kept his stare fixated on you.

Passionate and tender were his touches as he tasted you, already finding himself addicted to your taste. A little sweet, a little salty, but always a fine delicacy in his mind. His tongue carefully lapped you up as he ate you out, your arousal coating his lips as a mix of it and saliva dripped a little from his chin. You tried your best to keep your breathing even, small moans and whimpers leaving your throat as your hand in his hair fastened its grip, tugging lightly. He knew he was doing a good job, and it turned him on. He could feel himself growing in his trousers at the sound of your pretty voice, wanting to silence you with his lips if he wasn’t already so busy with enjoying his meal. You brought your hand that had been over your heart now over your mouth, trying to stifle the sweet sounds escaping you as you tried your best to focus on the way his doe eyes never left yours.

He groaned against you, and the vibrations from it left you bucking your hips slightly, desperate for more of his touches and breaths. “Amrâlimê, please,” he chuckled. “Don’t hide your sweet voice from me, I want to hear you so badly. I need to hear you.”

His pleading and whining tone was more than enough incentive to take your hand away from your mouth, your moans now growing louder as he became more greedy in his endeavors. With a more hurried pace, he seemed to explore you with his tongue, leaving no part untouched except where you could feel yourself needing him the most. But it wasn’t out of cruelty that he did this, rather he truly wanted to savor every little twitch and sigh and whine you gave him as he played your body like his favorite instrument.

Slowly, he added a finger, and you bucked your hips a little from the feeling, loving the way he was beginning to fill you up, though you knew you wouldn’t be satisfied from just this for long. Now wanting to egg you on, he caught your clit with his lips, swiping it with his tongue as he eagerly kept his pace, adding another finger that pumped in and out of you at a tantalizing pace. Your moans grew louder and much more frequent as he laid his attack on your most sensitive part, your head falling back from the sheer amount of pleasure as your legs tightened around him. He repositioned himself for a moment, drawing away much to your dismay as he removed your underwear and placed each of your legs upon his shoulders.

“I need you to keep them spread, my starlight,” he said, placing soft kisses on your inner thighs once more before diving back into the fray of your arousal. You gave a weak nod, barely even registering his words in your mind, for pleasure was all you knew right now. The more he lapped at your sensitive bundle of nerves, the more you could feel that familiar tight feeling growing inside of you. It was all you could think about, your mind drunk on the way his tongue danced inside of you.

And he himself was growing quite drunk as well, your juices like a forbidden candy to him. He couldn’t get enough, his fingers quickening their pace as he felt himself growing hungrier and more greedy. He truly wanted to consume you for the rest of his days, your taste so addictive on his tongue. His pants were now feeling much more constrictive, and he groaned at the feeling as he desperately wanted to replace his fingers and tongue with something else. But he was a patient man, and knew that waiting and letting this play out would be much more enjoyable and memorable for the two of you tonight.

More and more you felt that familiar and delicious tightening feeling grow inside you amidst your moans and breaths of pleasure as you tugged on his hair, pulling him closer to your heat in encouragement. “Please, oh fuck,” you said. “Please, Kíli.”

“Are you close?” He asked in between his attacks on your puffy clit, and all you could fathom to respond with was a quick nod. He smiled as his tongue swiped your insides, incredibly turned on by the notion that you could barely even think or speak from the pleasure he was bringing you. “Good.”

You were just about to ask him to go faster when you suddenly pulled him away from you by his hair, your chest heaving and that tightening feeling dissipating in a disappointed fashion as Kíli looked up at you with concerned eyes. “What is it? Did I hurt you?” He asked quickly, worrying if he had done something to displease you. You shook your head, trying to ignore how much you desperately wanted to finish already. You had other plans first. You wanted to take care of him. You could feel yourself throbbing and pulsing before you slid out of your chair and into Kíli’s lap, straddling him. His eyes searched your hungry gaze as he wondered what was going through your mind.

“No, my love,” the words finally met the air. “I just…” You trailed off, placing kisses along his stubble as you pressed yourself against his growing erection, causing a groan to leave his pretty lips, glossy from your juices. “I want to take care of you.” Your hands trailed down, one on his shoulder to stabilize yourself as the other went down to palm him through his trousers. He was painfully hard, and you smiled as his whole body shuddered from your touch. You loved the way his brows furrowed when you did this, the way his whole face seemed to contort in pleasure.

Your kisses delved lower, now peppering his neck as you made sure to leave gentle bites and marks along his dwarven skin. He leaned his head back to give you better access, propping himself on his arms. “Amrâlimê,” he said, his voice soft and full of need. “You’re too good to me.”

You smiled into his skin, bringing your lips to his ear to softly kiss his earlobe. “I know, now let me show it. Let me give you what you deserve.”

You now stood up, hovering over his body as you offered your hand out to him. He took it without hesitation, eagerly willing to follow you anywhere in Arda as you led him to your shared bed. You guided him onto it, letting him rest on top of your various pillows as he looked at you with so many emotions. Lust, love, and a pining curiosity for what you had in store.

“I want you to be comfortable, love,” you said, your words like honey as you climbed on top of him, sitting next to him as your fingers worked to loosen his trousers as you slowly pulled them off of your lover. His half-lidded eyes watched you carefully as he lifted himself to help you in your mission, his member finally freeing itself from the harsh confines of his pants. A ragged breath left him as his hard cock met the cool air, and you cast his pants to some dark and forgotten corner for now.

Gentle were your hands as you spread his legs, seating yourself in between them before running a hand along the length of his shaft. He gasped at your touch, his eyes transfixed on the way you handled him. “You’re so good to me, Kíli,” you said as you leaned down to place a kiss on the tip of his cock, which was slick with precum. His breath hitched as he watched you, refusing to take his eyes off you. You ran your tongue along his length, flicking his swollen head with the tip of your tongue as you stared up at him. “And I want to show you how much I treasure you.”

“Amrâlimê,” he said, forgetting his words as a moan ripped out of him as you took him into your mouth, bringing your head down as you sheathed him inside of your mouth. Slowly, you brought your head back up, placing another kiss on his tip with a smile that feigned innocence.

“That’s it, let it all out. Let me hear you.” You said, taking him into your mouth again, and his hand shot down to tangle itself in your hair as you slowly bobbed your head up and down along his length, your hands massaging and stroking whatever you couldn’t reach with your throat. He threw his head back and bucked his hips up, causing you to gag. Seeing him in such pleasure only egged you on as you continued, slowly getting faster and faster but still making sure to keep it gradual. You wanted to take your time with him just as he had done with you.

His whines and groans seemed to only get more and more pleading the longer you went on, sweat forming on his forehead as he begged you to go faster. You were happy to oblige but eager to watch him moan your name some more, only increasing your pace little by little. He keened for you, bucking his hips more if only to feel his tip tickle the back of your throat, your gags and whines sending vibrations down his shaft that drove him crazy. You always looked so beautiful when his cock was in your mouth.

As a mixture of drool and precum dribbled from your lips down onto his shaft, you continued quickening your pace, your head bobbing up and down in between small twirls and flicks of your tongue on his tip, which twitched in your mouth. His body shuddered under your touch, his stomach trembling with each of your movements and his shoulders shaking. Your hands were quick to stroke the rest of his length and care for his balls as you felt your jaw going sore from your endeavors.

The more he bucked his hips, the deeper he seemed to bully himself down your throat, and it drove him wild. You kept forcing breaths through your nose, not wanting to take a break for the sake of pleasing him. He was quickly finding that unraveling, tight feeling ball up inside him as his cries grew louder and more frantic. “Fuck, Y/N,” he moaned, his hand gripping your hair tightly. “Please, a little more…”

And quickly, he came undone. You always had this effect on him, skillful enough with your mouth that you left him a moaning mess. You eagerly swallowed every last drop he gave you as his cock twitched in your mouth, pulsing with each wave of his orgasm. His chest heaved as he tried to regain a normal breathing pattern, a soft smile on his face after you eventually swallowed around him one more time before finally bringing yourself back up for air. It felt so cool in your throat as you too tried to regain your composure.

His hand in your hair loosened its grip, now finding your scalp to offer soothing strokes and massages as a silent apology for how rough he had grabbed it. “Tell me how I taste,” he said, eyes clouded with lust as he came down from his high.

You smirked, bringing yourself to his face as you leaned over him. “Why don’t you find out for yourself, hm?” You gently took his chin, guiding your lips together in a sloppy, messy kiss. A whine erupted from his throat as you deepened the kiss with a swipe of your tongue before breaking it, a line of saliva connecting your lips.

“You never finished,” he said, his eyes taking in how beautiful you looked with his taste in your mouth, the slight sweat on your brow making you glow in front of him as he brought a hand to your clit, massaging small circles, eager to please you.

A small whine left you, not expecting his touch so quickly as you buried your head in his neck. “I was trying to take care of you first,” you said weakly, feeling that warm feeling build up again. “I want to make you feel good.”

He hummed, a smile on his lips. “Then why don’t we share the feeling?” His hand left you, now moving your hips to guide you over his length, already hard again. You lifted your hips as he guided his cock inside you slowly, not wanting to overwhelm you. But you were eager as you lowered yourself onto his hips, sheathing himself inside you as you took his length in full. A whiny moan left his lips as you did so, completely caught by surprise at your impatience.

“Fuck…” he whined, and your head returned to his neck to plant kisses and bites as well as hide the small moans and breaths that left you as you began to slowly rock your hips, wanting to feel him as closely as possible, craving that sweet heat of friction. He shuddered from the sudden feeling of your warmth, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he tried to steady his breathing.

“You take me so well, starlight,” he said, his expression completely fucked out at the feeling of you squeezing him so nicely. He always looked so beautiful when he was a whining, moaning mess underneath you. A glistening sheen of sweat decorated his forehead and cheeks, his bangs sticking to him slightly as his eyelids fluttered shut for a moment. It was now that you slowly began to rock your hips against his legs, grinding into him. “Fuck… You’re so good at this.”

“Only for you,” you said with a breathy tone. “I’m all yours.” You sped up your pace little by little, relishing the way he filled you up so perfectly. You could sit like this for hours if you really wanted to, and you knew he wouldn’t complain. He loved the warm wet feeling of your cunt sucking him in.

After a moment of enjoying your movements, Kíli joined you, bucking his hips into you slowly as you began bouncing on his cock, desperately chasing the delicious friction of the current situation. His fingers dug into your hips hard enough that you were sure they would leave bruises later, but that was the least of your worries as you sought to bring this man underneath you undone. With a vice on your hips, he guided you up and down his shaft, the funny feeling from earlier bubbling inside him as he wanted nothing but his release now. Nothing but this moment between you as he broke his moans with soft praises that were meant for only you and nobody else.

“Please,” he begged with a breathy tone. “Harder, please keep going.”

A smile met your lips, feeling proud of how easily you could have this man unraveled beneath you. You lived for this feeling and you couldn’t get enough. Happy to comply with his request, you kept your pace steady as you brought yourself down on him with more force, which was only more enjoyable for both of you as a plethora of pleasurable sounds left your lips. It was feeling so good, so nice, so delicious. Words were hard to form in your mind as you tucked your head in the crook of his neck, biting down and leaving your mark on your world.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he found himself lost in the feeling of how wonderfully you pulsed and squeezed around him. “Please, more…”

You two kept at this for a few more minutes before he quickly came undone, your name ripping from his throat as his brows furrowed in the feeling of his release as he filled you up inside. But you still hadn’t finished yet, and he was ever the gentleman, now slamming you on his length with the last bit of composure and strength he had as you eventually came undone on top of him, your breathing uneven as whines left you and into his ear.

“Had enough yet, love?” You teased warmly, head still hiding in his neck as you tried desperately to regain your breathing as you came down from your high.

“No,” he whispered, his voice laced with lust and want. “Please, amrâlimê… I need more.”

A weak chuckle left you, knowing all too well that this was just the beginning for both of you.

489 notes · View notes

lathalea · 2 years

Note

Please, Fili x reader, Perfect proposal :) Thank you!

Hiii @heilith 💚💚💚 I hope you still remember your ask for the Sweet and Spicy Bingo by @fellowshipofthefics :) I'm sorry it took me so long (real life happens), but here it is. I hope you'll like it!

Relationships: Fili x Reader

Rating: G

Warnings: none

✨ Perfect Proposal ✨

Fíli looked into the mirror and gave his moustache a nervous tug. There was not even a single wrinkle on the festive clothes he wore, his hair was freshly braided and adorned with beads and yet his face seemed uncharacteristically pale. He swallowed. It was finally going to happen today, after so much waiting, after years of pining for you in secret, and—what was most important—after surviving the Quest. Now Erebor was reclaimed and he was finally able to speak of his feelings and ask you to marry him. Fíli dreamed of the moment when he would be allowed to call you his wife… if you agreed to his proposal, that is.

His stomach decided to tie itself into a knot and Fíli realized that he was even more terrified—no, warriors never got terrified!—he was even more nervous than before the Battle of Five Armies began. What was worse, at the very moment when he imagined your lovely face, your smile, and the way your soft lips parted, saying “yes”, every single word of his well-rehearsed speech seemed to have disappeared from his mind.

Muttering a swearword under his breath, Fíli left his chambers. A breath of fresh air was all he needed to clear his head. He was a prince, after all, and he would act like one. He only needed to find his composure. There was still some time until he was going to meet you for dinner in the Royal Wing. Everything was prepared, the music, the atmosphere, the candles, the food... It just had to be perfect. He had to make it happen. But now, Fíli needed a few moments to himself, and he had to be quick about it. Hurriedly, he directed his steps towards one of the outer terraces of the Lonely Mountain.

As he strode ahead, barely registering the surroundings, his mind focused on recalling the speech he was about to make, something thudded against his chest.

“Ouch!” a familiar voice reached his ears. Your voice.

“Gamzûna! What are you doing here?!” Fíli used the moniker you gained after one of the orc attacks during the Quest. It meant “fierce lady”. He looked straight into your eyes, smiling.

“I’m so very sorry, Fíli! I mean, I didn’t…” you started, trying to catch your breath. At that very moment you both realized something. You stood very, very close to Fíli, your hands placed against his hard chest, his arms wrapped around you. He must have instinctively embraced you at the very moment you bumped into him.

“It looks like you have been in a hurry,” he murmured with that alluring smile of his. His arms were still around you, holding you close. Fíli was not letting you go. You tried not to think of what would happen if someone saw you embracing in the middle of a public corridor, his face so close to yours.

“I was seeing Princess Dís and realized what time it was, and I wanted to be quick so that I wouldn’t be late for…” your voice trembled. “For the dinner you invited me to.”

“You are here and I am here too. It seems that we have plenty of time to reach the dining hall, don’t you think?” Fíli winked playfully. “By the way, you look stunning tonight.”

The smile you gave him in return was barely visible.

“Thank you. Since this is going to be our last evening together, I thought…” you cleared your throat, looking away and pulling at one of the intricate laces of your elegant bottle-green dress.

“What are you talking about, Gamzûna?! Last evening? Are you going somewhere?!” Fíli’s eyes widened. He was so close to telling you about everything he felt for you! That couldn’t be happening!

“It seems so,” you took a deep breath. You dreaded every single word of what you were about to say, but it needed to be done. There was that old saying, If you love someone, set them free–right?

“Please, tell me that you are joking! You can’t go!” Fíli protested. His embrace became even tighter.

“It will be for the best. You’ll see. Until today, I had hoped that tonight…” you tried not to sob and shook your head instead. “I like you, Fíli. I really do. And we grew closer during the Quest, all those evenings together, all the dangers we survived… I felt the bond between us was special. You were always so good to me, so caring. I don’t know when exactly I understood what I felt for you, but tonight I wanted to tell you… Well, it doesn’t matter now any more, does it? No, please, let me finish. Today at breakfast Balin say that you needed a wife now, someone worthy of you. And Bofur added this had to be someone who made you smile. Dwalin kept on saying how you admired women who were fearless warriors. And then Kili told me that a beautiful lady stole your heart a long time ago and that it was time you proposed to her. Ori even wanted to show me her picture but then Thorin told everyone to stop prattling. Fíli, it is time for me to return to my old life in the Blue Mountains. I will not stand in the way of your happiness, but I wanted to have this last evening with you. For old times’ sake.”

Fíli’s heart beat strong and fast under his tunic. His brow furrowed. His eyes searched your face in silence.

“I’m going to kill every single last of them!” He finally huffed.

Your jaw dropped. That was the last thing you expected him to say.

“Fíli…?”

“Yes. I’m going to strangle Balin! Then I’m going to cook Bofur in a stew! And I’ll throw Dwalin from the rampart!”

“Fíli! What are you talking about?!”

“ I’ll feed every single one of them to the mountain trolls! And I’ll drop an avalanche right on the top of my brother’s stupid head! That lulkh! And Ori…”

“Please, Fíli! Could you at least let me go?”

“No! You are not going anywhere!” Sparks of anger glinted in his eyes as he covered your hands with his. His voice softened. “Gamzûna, will you tell me now what you wanted to tell me tonight? I would very much like to hear it.”

“There’s nothing I can tell you,” you whispered, avoiding his gaze. “You are supposed to marry that beautiful lady of yours, remember?”

Fíli was now holding your hands in his. His skin was as warm as sun on midday. And his radiant smile was back on his lips, his moustache beads clinking as he tilted his head.

“Aye, it seems that the cat is out of the bag now,” he chuckled, making you frown.

“What’s so funny?”

“Come. See for yourself,” he held your hand and pulled you gently after him, down the corridor. “There is a lady whom I want to marry. She makes me smile and she is one of the fiercest warriors I know. And she captured my heart on the day I met her. This is her.”

As he spoke, he turned you around until you faced one of the stone walls of the corridor. This particular wall was covered with a large mirror in a golden frame.

You were looking at your own reflection.

“What are you saying, Fíli?” your eyes met the reflection of his silver-blue gaze.

“I love you, Gamzûna,” he murmured, stepping to face you, his voice laced with tenderness. “Was that what you wanted to tell me too?”

“I’m afraid not,” you replied.

“Oh…” Fíli’s smile faded away.

Now it was your time to chuckle and hold his hands in yours.

“I wanted to ask you whether you would do me the honour of becoming my husband, Fíli, son of Dís.”

“Gamzûna…” Slowly, reverently Fíli cradled your face with his palms as his lips hovered over yours. “You are perfect.”

“Does that mean ‘yes’?” you whispered, brushing your nose against his.

“Guess,” his hot breath fanned your skin a moment before your lips met but you already knew the answer.

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i-did-not-mean-to · 4 months

Text

MAY-U - Glorfindel x Erestor

This story has been written for @sortumavaara and is accompanied by chibis made by this amazing artist!

Chibi commissions are open!

Characters: Glorfindel x Erestor

Prompts:Neighbours - Locksmith - If you ask me to beg, I'll beg

Words: 2 110

Warnings: a kiss (and potentially criminal activity)

Glorfindel squinted at the door accusingly.

The very next day, he vowed, he’d finally buy a doorstopper to keep those pesky drafts from accidentally locking him out of his flat when all he’d wanted to do was retrieve his mail.

Of course, it might have been a supremely silly idea to do so in the middle of the night, but—being a busy professional—he tended to these domestic chores whenever the thought struck him.

Unfortunately, even the best, most earnest resolutions in the world wouldn’t unlock his undeniably firmly closed front door now.

He considered calling Elrond, but he suspected that he’d gone through all of the seven spare keys his friend had been squirrelling away for emergencies: one, he’d lost at the mall, the other had fallen down an open manhole, two of them were surely somewhere inside his inaccessible apartment, and he couldn’t remember what happened to the others for the life of him.

Maybe, he mused, one was still in the old, battered car he owned but never drove. That sudden burst of inspiration did not help him much either, as the key to that accursed vehicle was in his bathroom drawer, inside his flat.

Fishing his old, battered flip phone, the little battery in the top right corner flickering alarmingly, out of his pocket, he reviewed his options with as much level-headed rationality as he could muster.

He didn’t doubt for a moment that his friends, annoyed and incredulous as they would undoubtedly be, would offer him food and shelter in his hour of need, but the thought of their faces and sympathetic cooing made his blood run cold.

Blowing a stray strand of golden hair out of his face, Glorfindel sagged against the closed door in dismay.

How did this always happen to him?

He was an accomplished ophthalmologist—respected and cherished by his colleagues and patients alike—and yet, he seemed utterly unable to manage something as fundamental as not leaving his flat without a key.

“Hello there, do you need help?”

Glorfindel shot up, banging his head against the doorknob and yelping loudly.

He’d never heard his mysterious neighbour, occupying the flat at the end of the landing, speak this many words in a row. And they were addressed to him!

“I’ve locked myself out,” he confessed in a tiny voice.

“Again?”

Grimacing, Glorfindel brought his hands to his face to hide from the disapproving gaze of the handsome stranger. If even his neighbour, who’d never granted him more than a sharp nod in passing, had caught on to his shortcomings, what were people in general thinking and saying about him behind his broad, muscular back?

“I could help you with that,” the other went on, callously disregarding Glorfindel’s existential crisis in his unshakeable pragmatism. “But you’d have to pay me the common rate for an emergency locksmith.”

That made Glorfindel look up once more; he’d always been so distracted by the darkly magnetic aura of the furtive, slender man with the impressive glower that he’d never stopped to notice that his clothes, while well-tailored, seemed rather threadbare and had been mended with meticulous skill.

The complex they inhabited was far from cheap to live in, and an ungracious but pervasive thought arose in Glorfindel’s befuddled mind: How could this man afford to pay his rent?

As far as he could tell, the mysterious siren with whom he shared a floor and the occasional lift ride went out at all hours of the night, often only returning after morning light when Glorfindel, rising from another night of bleak insomnia, got ready to go to work himself.

“Are you a locksmith?” he asked suspiciously.

“Something of the sort,” the smirking man gave back with a nervous shrug. “I can open your door, right now, isn’t that what matters?”

Glorfindel hesitated for a moment. “What’s your name?”

“Erestor, but don’t worry, there won’t be an official bill.”

The unshakeable sensation of doing something wicked and reprehensible overcame Glorfindel, but he nodded solemnly. “Very well, Erestor. I shall pay you…and I’d like to invite you to stay over for dinner sometime. As a reparation for the time you’ll lose getting me out of this mess?”

Cocking one eyebrow, Erestor moved down the hallway to retrieve his tools from his own flat. “This won’t take all evening,” he said calmly.

“Maybe…it could?” Glorfindel heard himself say in a voice that sounded considerably more suave and confident than he felt.

As soon as he was alone in the hallway again, Glorfindel pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation; his glasses were in the flat and his head had started pounding with a tension headache five minutes ago.

He truly hoped that Erestor would make good on his promise to overcome the treacherous lock quickly.

"You have to move away from the door," a soft, mocking voice resounded.

Glorfindel’s head snapped up, and when he beheld Erestor once more, his tongue went numb in his mouth—he’d tied up his glossy, dark hair neatly and squatted down before the lock, squinting at it in concentration.

The alluring shape of his behind and the elegant curve of his spine didn’t go unnoticed, and Glorfindel desperately tried to redirect his wandering thoughts to something less incriminating.

“Listen, I’m an ophthalmologist—if I can offer my professional services to you one of these days…”

Looking up from his work, his hands enviably steady, Erestor merely cocked one eyebrow. “My eyes are fine, thank you. There just seems to be a considerable amount of lint and other debris wedged into this lock. Do you ever check your key before ramming it into the keyhole?”

Shamefacedly, Glorfindel had to admit that he did indeed not do such a simple inspection.

“I see,” Erestor mumbled distractedly. “No problem!”

His slender wrists were moving delicately until Glorfindel heard the telltale click echoing through the deserted hallway, and his heart sank.

“There we are,” Erestor declared, provocatively pushing open the door and stepping back.

“Do you…want to come in?” Glorfindel asked, all but stumbling over his words.

To his surprise, Erestor seemed to consider his invitation for a few seconds before shaking his head in what looked strangely akin to dismay and regret. “I must be somewhere else. Another time, maybe!”

Softening that ambiguous rejection of Glorfindel’s clumsy advances with a radiant smile, he strode towards the stairwell, tucking his tools surreptitiously under his arm.

Glorfindel threw his suitcase on the bed—he’d only just come home from a symposium about new laser technologies, and he already yearned to be anywhere other than his deserted, slightly disorganised flat.

For three days, he’d been bathed in the company of his peers. At that moment, he’d found them rather dull and boorish, but he now regretted every ungenerous thought bitterly as the gaping emptiness of his own home seemed to expand like a black hole, ready to suck every last drop of light and happiness out of his soul.

Just as he was about to do something laughably dramatic, though, he heard the loose board outside his front door creak treacherously.

Rushing to the spyhole, he was taken over by a recklessly idiotic idea—so much for having overcome that first impulse of madness!

Before he could give himself a moment to think things over, he strode out the door and looked around as if searching for something, pointedly feigning not to notice Erestor standing just outside his own flat.

“I was sure I’ve left it somewhere around here,” Glorfindel mumbled, his eyes glued to the worn carpet, and suppressed a grin as he heard his door clunk shut. “Oh misery!” he exclaimed. “Locked out again! And it’s the middle of the night!”

“I wouldn’t have thought that eye doctors have to work this late,” Erestor commented dryly, gesturing at the long, white coat Glorfindel was wearing and his uncharacteristically neat, smooth hairdo.

“I’ve only just come home from a medical convention,” Glorfindel explained defensively, as he didn’t want the other to get exactly the right impression of what was happening here.

“And, instead of going to bed and resting, you came out here to search for…” Erestor cocked his head quizzically as if it was entirely normal to have vaguely flirty conversations with one’s neighbours in the middle of the night.

“My bag,” Glorfindel replied, trying his best to look appropriately crestfallen. “My medical bag! It was full of goodies too!”

“As I surmise that you’ve been inside your flat already, I dare say that you’ve retrieved your key from said bag and consequently took it in. Do you need help looking for it?” It was evident in Erestor’s tone that he hadn’t in the least bought Glorfindel’s little subterfuge. “I could unlock your door again, and tonight, I have no other plans, so I’d gladly take you up on that late-night snack if you’re not too tired.”

Startled, Glorfindel stared at the apparition in worn grey overalls—had he ever found sturdy work garb to be this attractive before?—partially obscuring a clean, orange button-down until he was sure that his eyes were positively bulging out of his skull.

“Or did you change your mind in the meantime?”

At once, Glorfindel shook his head vehemently, carelessly unravelling his uncharacteristically tidy bun. “By all means, unlock my door and come in!”

All fatigue seemed to have drained out of his system, and he was shifting from one foot to the other impatiently, overjoyed at the prospect of observing those nimble fingers at work again.

Erestor smiled, tapping his skilful fingers against his toolbox playfully, and waited patiently.

“If you want me to beg, I’ll beg,” Glorfindel murmured, suddenly struck with how profoundly unreasonable his whole ploy had been. “I just want to get back into my flat…now more than ever!”

With a breathy peal of laughter, the unorthodox locksmith bent to his task, humming happily under his breath at the sight of the flustered doctor hovering above him.

As soon as the door swung open with a protesting groan, Erestor burst into laughter. “Your pesky bag seems to have hidden in plain sight! It’s right there, in the middle of the foyer, glaring at us!”

Ducking his head in shame at being found out, Glorfindel slunk in and threw an exasperated look into his clean but empty kitchen—he’d not been home, and he knew his fridge to be woefully empty.

“Can I maybe tempt you with delivery food? I’m afraid I don’t have anything edible in the house,” he confessed, avoiding Erestor’s amused gaze.

“Aren’t you a doctor?”

“I’m an eye doctor,” Glorfindel laughed. “And pizza is food for the soul!”

That was a statement with which even Erestor, contrary by nature, couldn’t disagree, so he followed his distracted host into a slightly cluttered living room where he simply halted.

“You may sit,” Glorfindel invited, hoping that he could at least unearth something to drink from the depths of his refrigerator.

“I’m dirty,” Erestor replied.

“Take the overalls off!” Moving towards the kitchen slowly while also refusing to take his eyes off his guest in case he took him by his word, Glorfindel wracked his brain for something smart and charming to say. “Do you also come from work?”

“Something of that kind, yes,” Erestor grinned. The sound of the fastenings of his protective garment coming undone echoed through the tense silence between them, and Glorfindel swallowed thickly.

The need for a beverage was both eclipsed and exacerbated by the revelation of Erestor’s maddeningly form-fitting trousers and impossibly unwrinkled shirt, leaving Glorfindel hovering on the threshold of the kitchen indecisively.

“Are these yours?” Erestor asked with a hint of sharp interest in his voice as he held up a pair of lightweight glasses that had been threatening to slip off the coffee table.

“Hmmm,” humming his embarrassed assent, Glorfindel decided that the refreshments could wait a little longer.

“Very sexy! Put them on for me,” Erestor demanded, getting to his feet and padding over like a sleek predator on the prowl. “I do want you to have all your senses about you when I name my price for my second rescue mission!”

“I thought I’d pay for dinner,” Glorfindel said somewhat sheepishly as he took his glasses and slid them onto his face; Erestor’s impish expression—his twinkling eyes and the tiny wrinkles around his smirking mouth—came into sudden focus.

Before he could dispel the suffocating mist of confusion and desire pervading the room, Glorfindel felt a strong, slightly calloused hand wrap around the back of his neck, and then, warm, soft lips brushed across his own.

“That too,” Erestor smiled. “Later. Much later!”

↬ Masterlist

Thank you so much for joining me on this new adventure.

@fellowshipofthefics here's the last one for May!

Lots of love from me!

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elvain · 6 months

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At The Heart Of Time

The first thing that most young Hobbits were taught was how to grow things. It was, of course, the most important Hobbitish activity: to grow and nurture new life. Bilbo himself had been six years old the day his mother took him to plant new roses in her garden (which would later become his). He still remembered, years later, the satisfaction and pride and joy that he had felt in watching those small plants turn into rosebuds, then roses.

But they had died one day, as all living things tended to do. It was the way of the world for things to come to an end before one was ready. And Bilbo had not been ready. He had sobbed and cried and dug into the dirt of the garden with his bare hands until his father had stopped him and pulled him close.

“Bilbo,” Bungo Baggins had said solemnly. “All things must end in this world. But there will always be, too, a new beginning, because the world keeps turning, and the road goes ever on and on. Do you understand?”

read the rest on AO3. it's been a long time since i updated this one, so reblogs are appreciated/encouraged!

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fellowshipofthefics · 4 months

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Happy Monday, Fellowship! 🌸

Motivation for our works comes in many forms - personal goals, media sparking an idea, and most importantly, the readers/fans themselves! Comments, reblogs, tags, etc. are a great way to interact with your favorite writers! It's not about "complimenting" the work (which is nice and appreciated), but about making a connection to discuss things you both enjoyed!

Most of the time, writers just want to share their creative thoughts with readers, and build a conversation off of that. That's what fandom is all about!

So, for Motivation Monday, we encourage you to go out and leave a comment, a reply, nice tags/reblog, on at least (1) piece of created work for your fandom - or send the creator a nice ask to open a discussion about the work! Yes, this goes for artwork too! Artists also love to yell and scream about the things in fandom that make them happy too!

Go spread some motivation to your faves!

#fotfics #motivation monday #fanfic #fanfiction #writers on tumblr #writers on ao3

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fantasyinallforms · 9 months

Note

For the January Fotfics roulette. I give you.

Royalty au

And

Awful first meeting

This was so fun to write! Thank you! and thank you to the Fotfics team for hosting the event!

This kinda oops into a plot bunny.... ENJOY!

~~~

“The plane left!” Bilbo stood at the terminal kiosk clutching his phone with the screen pointed toward the customer service lady so she didn’t think he was a loon. “The ticket clearly states that the flight was for noon. It’s just past eleven now!” Bilbo struggled to lower his voice. He didn’t mean to shout. It wasn't this poor lady's fault, but he was panicking. He collected himself and continued in a more reasonable tone. “Ma'am. I need to be in Erebor before four in the evening tomorrow. Please, is there anything you can do?”

“I’m very sorry about all of this, Mr. Baggins. Please have a seat, and I’ll see what I can do.” The lady replied and motioned to the hard plastic chairs to her right. Bilbo took his seat with his head in his hands. An hour ticked by, and every minute that passed felt like forever. How long had he worked to get this posting? All for it to get washed away by a computing error? It was too terrible to think about. A long hour ticked by, made worse by his nervous habit of checking the clock every three minutes. He tried to work on some papers to keep his mind off the time, but he hadn't managed a single sentence despite trying.

“Mr Baggins?” A woman in a clean and pressed flight uniform called his name. She was holding a ticket in her hand, and Bilbo’s spirits soared.

“Yes, that’s me!” He gathered his papers together haphazardly and hurried to greet her.

“We managed to find you a ticket on another flight. It leaves soon, but I can escort you to the jet bridge now. Please follow me.” She motioned forward, and they started walking. “The only seat available was a first-class seat, and we’ve taken the liberty of upgrading you due to all the trouble.” relief and a brief excitement washed over him as they kept a brisk pace. She escorted him as promised. Once inside the plane, a stewardess checked his ticket and led him to the first-class eating area. Bilbo had never been in a proper first class. This was a fairly large plane with fancy accommodations. He was wide-eyed, trying to take it all in. Most of the seats were side by side near a window with a partition separating the seats from the aisle. His seat, however, was in a row that went down the middle. The seats had curved walls that extended around them, creating the illusion of a closed-off space, and the seats faced opposite each other so you could face the person you shared the area with. It was clearly meant for people traveling together, yet his ticket indicated that it was indeed his row.

Bilbo struggled to keep ahold of his papers as he strained his neck to look at the numbers above the seats. He was tired, and it had already been a long day, so when he thought he had found his seat, he plopped himself down only to be met with the very unexpected noise and feel of warm of the air leaving someone's lungs on the back of his neck as hands came up automatically to meet his hips. Bilbo startled immediately and stood up at once. Behind him was a tall, broad, handsome man with a short beard and silver-streaked black hair. His face gave away nothing about his feelings on just getting sat on, and Bilbo was absolutely mortified. To make matters infinitely worse, the papers slipped from his hands and cascaded comically around his feet.

“This is seat A1. I believe you were looking for seat A2.” The man said in a buttery, deep voice that did nothing to help his current state of embarrassment. He pointed at the seat next to and opposite him with a smirk.”

“R-right. I’m so sorry I wasn’t paying attention. Let me just gather these.” Bilbo said as he crouched down to gather all his papers and stood just in time for the stewardess to come back around.

“Mr. Baggins, were you able to find your seat?” She asked. Bilbo only nodded. “Wonderful. Can I help you place your luggage in the overhead?” Before he actually thought about it, he said no and shuffled to the correct seat. Bilbo realized immediately that he should have let the stewardess help him. He had never had issues with the overhead bins in the economy or business class, but the ceilings were lifted in first class, and his height proved to be a definite problem. He stood on his tippy toes with his arms far over his head. He could tell his shirt was likely riding up from all the running around he'd been doing. He’s hardly had time to make himself more presentable. Just as he thought he would need to call the stewardess back over, a hand on his waist moved him to the side as his attractive seat companion effortlessly put the luggage away and returned to his seat without a word. Speechless, Bilbo sat down and buckled himself in. This was going to be an exceptionally long ten-hour flight.

For the next hour or so, everything went as it should. They took off, got into the air, and were finally allowed to roam the cabin and unbuckle their seatbelts. The seat had a spacious pull-out desk he happily utilized to brush up on some Ereborian knowledge. He was absorbed by his work but couldn't help sneaking glances at his unintended travel companion. He had a tight beard and a sharp nose with a well-defined jawline. After falling into the man's lap, he could also confirm he was quite a sturdy man. Every time he looked up, the man was already looking at him, and Bilbo quickly looked away in embarrassment. It was hard to stop noticing once he started noticing the man was staring. Eventually, he had to address it for his own sanity.

“It’s very rude to stare at people.” He looked up and held eye contact with the man almost defiantly. No one had the right to be that handsome and intimidating all at once.

“I’m not staring. I’m curious.” The man replied. Bilbo let out a chuckle.

“Then ask me a question. It’s off-putting being stared at by someone whose name I don’t even know.” Bilbo remarked.

“Thorin.” the man replied.

“Pardon?”

“Thorin. My name. Now you know it.” Thorin supplied

“Oh, erm. I’m Bilbo, and if this is about earlier, then I’m sorry. I’m sure that wasn’t a preferred way to start your trip.”

“I can think of worse ways to start a trip.” It was said casually, but Bilbo felt himself blush. Goddess help him. He was a 40-year-old man crushing on someone he had met two hours ago. If he noticed Bilbo’s distress, he didn't say anything and instead continued. “I’m curious why you have a large amount of research on Erebor in front of you.”

“I’m a journalist,” Bilbo replied proudly. Thorin scoffed and leaned back in his chair to take a clipped sip of his drink. “I take it you’re not a fan of my profession?” Bilbo asked.

“No, I can't say I’m a fan of an industry built on invading people's privacy and angling facts to meet their own agenda.” Thorin snorted. Bilbo immediately jumped on the statement.

“I’m not a tabloid journalist writing thoughtless pieces for the margins of fitness and gossip magazines. Going to Erebor is a dream come true for me. The country has opened its borders for the first time in sixty years. I partitioned the Ereborian government for months to allow me to interview the king, and a week ago, I was told I might have a shot! So that’s why I'm researching. I don't want to make a fool of myself. If I mess this up, I can kiss my career goodbye.” Bilbo chided. A cascade of emotions passed over Thorin's face and settled on something specifically neutral.

“So the future of your career depends on a king maybe talking to you?” Thorin replied. Even Bilbo laughed at that.

“That must sound pretty silly, but in a sense, yes. Opportunities like this don't happen all the time, after all. What about you? Why are you visiting Erebor?”Bilbo asked.

“Not visiting, returning. I was visiting my sister in London.”

“So you’re a native Ereborian! What’s it like? I imagine it's beautiful, surrounded by all those mountains.” Bilbo tried not to sound dreamy as the image of snow capped mountains all around him popped into his head.

“Is that not what all this scattered around you is for?” Thorin asked, pointing at the papers on his little desk. Bilbo cleared all the papers into his backpack and replaced them with a well-loved notebook and a pen.

“Papers can’t tell you the heart of the country or why people call it home. What is there to do in Erebor? Where do you go for fun? What’s the food like?” Bilbo asked enthusiastically. The last question was just for him, but he was hungry to know all the same. Thorin leaned in, his eyes growing warm.

“Is this all on the record or off of it?” Thorin asked, pointing with his nose to the now-open notebook in front of Bilbo. He shut the book and put his hands on top of it.

“Sorry, force of habit. Off the record then.” Bilbo said with a smile. Thorin chatted with him about the tall pine trees and blankets of snow in the winter. He spoke with reverence about the craftsmanship of the Ereborian people and the rich communities that raised their children together and built a life in a place once thought inhospitable. Bilbo caught himself in a lazy smile as he lost track of the words being said, opting instead to enjoy the gravel of his voice. He was desperately trying to hold back the other less tame thoughts of how that voice would sound wrapped around his name in pleasure when he realized the conversation had come to a natural end. Thorin taking a sip of his drink allowed Bilbo to collect his thoughts and respond appropriately. “That’s the kind of thing I can't get from online articles and books written sixty years ago.”

“Will this king you're interviewing care about such little things as that?” There was something about the way that Thorin asked that caught him off guard. Like he suddenly had a spotlight on him. As warm as it was, that gaze still held an unnatural intensity.

“Maybe not, but I care about it,” Bilbo replied. “I think the king must care about things like that. They’re his people, after all. This king is the one who opened the borders back up, so I think that points to good judgment. I was actually upset. I petitioned the government to be here two months ago to see the coronation, but they weren’t allowing anyone into the country yet.”

“It was a simple ceremony. Not a lot of pomp or circumstance. It would've been boring to watch anyway.” Thorin commented with a smile

“You were there!” Bilbo shouted before ducking his head and lowering his voice. “I mean, were you invited? Or was it televised?”

“All of Erebor was invited,” Thorin said simply.

“Do you like your king? Or… actually, is that rude to ask? People always ask that about the queen, but I know a few staunch monarchists that take offense to the question.” Bilbo was buzzing with so much curiosity, and Thorin, for his part, seemed to be enjoying the conversation. Or, at the very least, he found Bilbo’s limitless questions amusing. Thorin took a long pause before answering.

“I like the king most days. I can't say I envy him, though. Running a country is… challenging.” Bilbo thought that was the end of it, but he continued. “Though all of this is a moot point.”

“Is it?” Bilbo replied.

“It is. The only way to truly get to know a new place is to experience it, not just read or be told about it. I should take you to my favorite tea shop. You did ask about the food.” Thorin offered casually. Bilbo was unsure he heard the man right. Had he just been invited out for tea with a stupidly handsome stranger he met on a plane? A stranger whose first interaction with him was to be sat on.

“I-I would love that, but we could be headed in completely separate directions once we land.” Bilbo spluttered.

“Maybe, but it’s a small country.” Thorin's smile was blinding now. Bilbo chewed on his lip to hide the flush on his cheeks.

“You really don't have to. I’m sure you’re a very busy person.” Bilbo stammered.

“But I want to. And if I don’t take you, you might try and go alone. You could end up in a tourist district and get the wrong idea about my country to put in one of those articles of yours.” Thorin teased.

Bilbo snorted. “Erebor doesn't have a tourist district.”

“I haven't been home in a month. One could have popped up in my absence.” They both broke out into laughter. The strictness on Thorin’s sharp face faded into something soft and nearly irresistible. The rest of the plane ride went exceptionally smoothly. They chatted some more and ate the first-class meals they were provided in between doing separate tasks like reading or watching a movie. The conversation was light and interesting, and Bilbo found that he barely felt the time pass. At some point, he nodded off to sleep with a book in his hand but woke up with it bookmarked and a thin blanket covering him. Bilbo stretched as he woke and tried to tame the sleep-mussed curls on his head. When he finally got his shoulder to pop and his hair to lay flat, he looked out of the window, and his heart sank. The tall peak of Erebor's biggest mountain was on the horizon. A breathtaking sight, and yet…

“The Lonely Mountain is what that peak is called. The royal palace is built right into the side of it.” Thorin’s deep voice cut into his disappointed thoughts. He startled with an embarrassing squeak and clapped his hand over his mouth with a groan. Thorin only laughed. “Good morning. Or perhaps afternoon. It’s eight in the evening now.” No sooner had Thorin finished speaking when the seatbelt light licked on in the cabin, and the kind voice of the stewardess asked them to return to their seats for the plane's descent.

The ten hours were up. Bilbo felt his stomach do strange flips as he snuck glances at the seemingly unbothered Thorin. It was all utterly ridiculous. He had met this man less than 12 hours ago. It was silly to pine over someone he didn’t even know. The uncomfortable look on his face must have shown because he felt something warm blanket the hand that was gripping the armrest of his chair. He was surprised to see it was Thorin who was giving him a slightly concerned look.

“Is it the turbulence or the altitude dropping? The turbulence is always stronger on the descent, especially in Erebor. I think it’s something about the wind in relation to the mountain. It should pass quickly.” Thorin remarked with a smile. It did, and soon, the wheels were touching down. This would have been the perfect time for a delay, but of course, everything ran as smooth as butter, and soon, it was time to exit. Bilbo unbuckled his seatbelt and grabbed the backpack on the side of his chair. When he turned around, he ran right into a solid wall of chest and braced himself with his hands in surprise. Thorin looked down at him, his eyes a sea of blue, and his arms still raised above his head to reach into the overhead. Bilbo stared up at his face, only vaguely aware that his body was positioned a hair's breadth away, hands still splayed on his chest. Then he became aware. Very aware. Bilbo took a big step backward like he had been burned apologies on the tip of his tongue only to lose his footing, trip over the chair behind him, and land facing the wrong way with his legs dangling over the armrest. He went beet-red and closed his eyes so he couldn't see Thorin's face. He opened them again to see Thorin grinning at him with his head cocked to the right and his arms crossed.

“You’re very prone to accidents, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Not usually,” Bilbo replied. It was true other than today, he was usually very well coordinated. Thorin reached out his hand and pulled Bilbo easily to his feet before handing him his luggage.

“That’s not a very big bag for a long trip. I suppose I never asked how long you were staying?” Thorin asked tentatively as they walked toward the exit.

“Foreign journalists still have their passports restricted to visits less than five days,” Bilbo said apologetically. Thorin’s brow furrowed at that. He muttered a name under his breath before dropping the topic altogether. The airport was very small, with no restaurants or coffee shops like at London Heathrow. His stomach growled audibly, and the sound of it seemed to make Thorin tense, although he couldn't imagine why. “Sorry about that. Airplane food doesn't fill you up all that much. Are you in a rush to be somewhere? I don’t know any places to eat around here, but if you have a recommendation, we can grab something. I mean, just if you want, I’m not presuming anything.” he wasn't good at this. He was a well-spoken person with a quip for every occasion, but his brain seemed to have malfunctioned the moment he stepped onto that plane. What was worse was the apologetic, almost pitying look on Thorin's face.

“I can’t right now but-”

“No, it’s fine!” Bilbo quickly interjected. “I get it, you're very busy. It’s a small country like you said. I’m sure we’ll run into each other again.” Bilbo plastered a smile on his face and made to walk away. Thorin caught him by the waist and tilted his chin until their eyes met, then slowly but deliberately kissed him. It was as slow and tender as it was unexpected. A good unexpected, and Bilbo closed his eyes and let it wash over him. Thorin’s lips were warm and tasted like the smoke of a campfire. Thorin broke the kiss and fixed one of his curls that had fallen in front of his face.

“You should go to Rustabell’s on Gilded Square. It’s near the historic downtown area. You’ll like it.” He gave Bilbo’s form a once over before meeting his eyes one last time and briskly walking away. Bilbo stepped after him, dazed and thoroughly confused about what had just happened.

“Wait, I never got your num…ber.” The words died on his tongue as he rounded the corner. The sudden flash of a hundred cameras going off all at once made him take several steps back. He hurried forward to get away from it and blink the dots from his eyes. Looking back, he was shocked to see Thorin standing in front of the cameras, his face like stone as he faced the flashing lights. Bilbo focused on what was being said by one of the journalists, their press badge laminated and practically glowing.

“Your majesty! Your majesty! King Thorin!” Bilbo paused. King Thorin? His eyes went wide, and he pressed his fingers to his lips.

“Oh shit.”

~~~~

Roulette wheel is here.

#bagginshield #the hobbit #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield #thilbo #bilbo x thorin #fotfics #FIAF(me) fics

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