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legolasbadass · 2 years

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Office Hours, Part 17

Summary: Lorelei Browning has just secured a job as an assistant professor at Exeter College in Oxford. Naturally, she is eager to prove herself and meet every challenge sent her way, but what she does not expect is the tall, handsome stranger who will quickly become much more than a colleague…

Relationship: Richard Armitage x OC (Professor AU)

Word Count: 3.8k

Rating: E (18+)

A/N: By now, you will have noticed that I have given Richard’s brother in this fic a different name from the real life brother of RA. The reason for this is that I’m not comfortable writing stories that include too many details about real people and their private lives, and as such I want to make it very clear that any relatives of the character Richard in this fic are equally fictional and not related in any way to RA’s real family.

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Richard’s quiet sighs fill the room as I press featherlight kisses down the length of his broad chest. I don’t know what time it is, but judging by the pale grey light sneaking in through the curtains, I assume it must be morning. Not that it matters—there is nowhere else I would rather be.

With one arm folded behind his head, Richard gazes down at me as I lie between his legs, the crumpled duvet exposing my back to the cool morning air. His unruly hair falls over his forehead, begging me to caress it, but I can’t resist what he’s offering, so I continue to lavish him with kisses, now lingering around his navel. A growl escapes his lips, once again kindling desire within me, and he buries his large hands in my hair, encouraging me on. I know exactly where and how he likes to be touched, but I take my time, reacquainting myself with his body and taking pleasure in each of his reactions, no matter how small; the way he arches toward me and tightens his hold on my hair, the unevenness of his breath, and the raw tenderness with which he murmurs my name. His scent is all around me; clinging to the sheets and my skin from the long night of lovemaking we shared, but still, I bury my face in his chest and breathe him in as though he is the essence that gives me life.

Trailing my hands over his solid thighs, I steal a glimpse at his shaft, which is already growing hard under my scrutiny. The proof of his arousal drips from the tip, and I unconsciously lick my lips, causing Richard to groan and tighten his hold on my hair. Then, looking up at him from under my lashes, I offer him what I hope is a seductive smirk before pressing a light kiss atop his hardness, helpless to resist him, before tracing the veins with my tongue.

“Lorelei… sweetheart,” Richard breathes out, his voice laced with lust as he hardens in my mouth, and heat pools between my thighs. “Stop—I won’t last.”

I pull away just enough to meet his eyes and teasingly say, “I don’t intend you to.”

His responding laugh is the most erotic sound and it makes my whole body tingle. “I want to be inside you and make love to you until you scream my name.”

I shiver, and my core throbs with need, but I’m not done with him yet. “There’ll be plenty of time for that later,” I reply huskily before licking his shaft from the base to the tip, never breaking eye contact, my hair spilling over his thighs.

With a deep moan, he surrenders to my care. His masculine taste fills my mouth as I take him in deep, rendering me dizzy, my own arousal now humming incessantly in my core. My hands stroke the parts of him my mouth can’t reach, the hairs curling at the base tickling my fingers, and as he shivers and arches into my touch, I can’t help but moan against him. After being deprived of him for two weeks, I find him even more intoxicating than before, and it’s difficult for me to hold back, but still, I force myself to caress him slowly to draw out his pleasure.

“Oh, Lorelei … don’t stop,” he begs, his moans echoing through the room.

I had no intention of stopping, but now I pull him in deeper, sliding my tongue along him, and in no time at all, he tenses under me and spills himself in my mouth. I continue to taste him until he relaxes, his breathing loud and uneven. When I pull away, drops of his release spill from my mouth, so I raise a hand to clean myself and then lick my fingers, all while looking deep into Richard’s eyes.

“God, Lorelei …” A breathless chuckle tumbles from his lips as he brushes away the hair from my face.

Smiling at him, I let him pull me onto his lap, and he groans when the heat between my legs rests against him, allowing him to feel just how much pleasuring him with my mouth has affected me. His strong arms hold me flush against his chest as he covers my lips in a heated kiss, and I can’t help but grind myself against him, desperate to satisfy my own needs. When we pull apart a few moments later, his eyes are dark and heavy, telling me that he longs for the same thing, Slowly, he rolls us over so that I lie under him, my head now comfortably propped up on his pillow, and my heart melts when he rests his forehead against mine.

“I missed this,” I whisper against his lips as I wrap my arms around his waist to pull him closer.

“Hm, yes, I missed getting no sleep at all,” Richard replies teasingly.

My cheeks burn as I laugh and say, “I do believe it was you who woke me up twice during the night.”

“I’ll gladly take the blame,” he says with a chuckle, his hands trailing along my hips and waist until he brushes against the outer curve of my breasts.

We’re both still smiling as we share a soft kiss, his lips warm and teasing as they caress mine. As our tongues become entangled, Richard rests a hand on my right thigh and coaxes me to wrap my leg around him, opening me to him and his eager hands before returning to tangle his fingers in my hair as he leaves a path of wet kisses toward the sensitive spot below my ear he loves to tease with his tongue and teeth. Meanwhile, his other hand pursues its careful exploration of my body, caressing my breasts and waist, then trailing down my bare stomach to dip into the heat between my legs. Moaning into his ear, I roll my hips to meet the fiery pleasure of his skilled fingers, growing wetter with each brush of his thumb against my clit. Already, I’m so close to the edge that my whole body tingles in delight, and I burn for him to fill me, to stretch me and love me until we both succumb to the overwhelming pleasure of each other once more. But then his stupid phone rings.

Richard and I groan in frustration, but he makes no effort to reach for his phone, so I hold him tighter against me, silently thanking him for his decision to ignore the call. His lips follow the rhythm of his fingers between my legs, making my head spin and my blood boil in my veins, but then the phone rings again. Richard curses under his breath. This time, he pulls away just enough to grab his phone on his nightstand, accidentally knocking over the box of condoms as he does so. He offers me an apologetic look before answering, not even bothering to check the screen first to see who it is.

“Hello?” he answers. I expect him to move, but he remains above me, one of his hands returning to my waist to squeeze me gently, and the muscles in my core throb impatiently, unwilling to let me forget how close I was to my release. “Oh, hey, Will.”

It must be his brother, I think as I bury one hand in Richard’s hair, using my nails to lightly scratch the back of his head. A soft smile tugs at his lips in response, and tenderness shines in his eyes.

“No, no, I wasn’t asleep,” Richard says, winking at me, and I have to bite my lips to stifle my giggle. A moment later, he replies to something his brother said. “Nope, I didn’t forget. I just … lost track of time … Okay, I’ll see you then. Bye.”

I wait for him to put away his phone, but I don’t need to say anything for him to explain.

“Sorry about that—my brother and his son are coming over today. I had totally forgotten about that.”

I smirk; there’s no doubt in my mind what distracted him so. But then I reluctantly say, “I guess I should go then.”

“Oh, alright.”

I pause. “Do you want me to stay? I just don’t want to intrude—”

“You wouldn’t be intruding,” he hastens to say. “I’d really like for you to meet them, but I don’t want to pressure you or anything.”

“I’d love to meet them,” I reassure him and seal my words with a tender kiss, gently caressing his beard with my free hand.

Richard smiles against my lips. “Really?”

I nod. “When are they going to get here? Because we really need a shower.”

“In about an hour.”

“What?” I exclaim. “Richard, we have to hurry!”

I try to rise, but he pins me down on the bed and leans in to press a lingering kiss on my collarbone. Then he looks up to meet my gaze, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “We were in the middle of something…”

“We have to shower and clean up the mess downstairs,” I remind him, trying with all my might to ignore how much I need him.

Richard smirks, choosing to ignore me to bring a hand to rub my clit slowly as he crawls down my body. “You underestimate me, love,” he says, now lying between my legs, and my breath hitches in my throat in anticipation. “It’ll take me only a minute or two to make you come.”

And with that, he buries his head between my thighs, and a low moan falls from my swollen lips as I let my head fall back, quite content to prove him right.

***

Forty minutes later, we have showered and dressed, and I walk down into the sitting room to find Richard tidying up. His hair is still damp, making him even more irresistible, and it takes everything in me not to pounce on him and undress him. It becomes even more difficult to restrain myself when he bends down to pick up a cushion we must have tossed to the floor yesterday, offering me a pleasant view of his dark blue jeans, tight over his bum. By now, however, Richard must have sensed my gaze on him, because he turns around with a smirk, and heat rises up my cheeks.

“See something you like?”

Shaking my head, I try to come up with a witty response, but I find it impossible to concentrate when he smiles at me like that, so instead, I decide to help him clean up.

“You don’t have to do that—it’s my mess,” Richard protests as he stands up.

“But your brother will be here soon,” I remind him even though I know he will hear none of it. “Can I at least make you breakfast, then?”

“Sure! Thanks, love.”

My heart flutters in my chest, and I can’t stop smiling as I step into the kitchen and open the refrigerator. Then I frown. It’s practically empty. “So… toast?” I call out to Richard, and he nods. “You really need to go shopping.”

“I was planning to go last night, but I got distracted,” he says. Then, as I take out the bread and put two slices in the toaster, he wraps his arms around my waist from behind, pulling me back into his chest as he buries his face in my hair. “I can’t say I’m mad—it was a lovely distraction.” Turning around to face him, I wrap my arms around him and lean my head against his chest. “I love you.”

Even though we have spoken those three words to each other numerous times throughout the night, I’m still not used to it, and my heart beats faster, my whole body tingling from the nearly overwhelming happiness and comfort I feel in his arms.

“I love you, too,” I respond softly as I squeeze him tight.

We have just finished eating when the doorbell rings, and I look up to meet Richard’s eyes, suddenly feeling nervous. The memory of Richard’s first meeting with my parents is still fresh in my mind, and though I know that meeting a sibling is very different, I can’t help but imagine the worst. And does William know that Richard and I were broken up for a little while? And if so, does he hate me for how I treated his brother?

Richard, however, doesn’t seem nervous at all, and when he notices my hesitation, he cradles my face in his large hands and says, “Don’t worry, my brother will adore you,” before kissing me softly. When he pulls away, I smile gratefully and follow him into the entry.

As soon as the door is open, a young boy around five years old rushes in and throws his arms around Richard’s legs—being too small to reach any higher.

“Hi, Thomas! How are you?” Richard asks in amusement, a wide smile on his bearded face as he ruffles the boy’s blonde hair.

“Thomas—wait! You’ll drag mud into the house,” Richard’s brother calls out as he walks in. Then he notices me and greets me uncertainly as he shrugs off his coat with a glance at his brother.

“Hi!”

“Hi!” I reply with a shy smile.

Though William is slightly shorter than Richard, and he doesn’t have a beard, the resemblance between them is indisputable, especially in their blue eyes and the strong lines of their noses.

Richard clears his throat and reaches out to press a comforting hand onto my back. “Lorelei, this is my brother, William. Will, this is Lorelei.”

“The famous Lorelei,” William says with a smirk. “I’ve heard so much about you. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

I want to tease Richard about this, but I simply say, “It’s nice to meet you, too!”

William then turns to his son. “Thomas, are you going to say hi to Lorelei?”

With an uncertain glance in my direction, Thomas clings to Richard more tightly, then looks down. William offers me an apologetic look, but Richard crouches down to Thomas’ height and hugs him in reassurance. “Thomas,” he says in a gentle voice I have never heard him use before and that makes my heart melt, “this is Lorelei. She’s my girlfriend.”

Thomas frowns at the unfamiliar word. “G—girl—friend?”

Richard and I share an amused look. “Yes. A girlfriend—or boyfriend—is someone you love very much, and you take care of them, just how mommy and daddy take care of you.”

Thomas ponders over his uncle’s words for a while, then, as though satisfied with this explanation, he finally looks up to meet my eyes. When I smile at him, he smiles back, but quickly looks away.

“Don’t worry; give him a few minutes and he’ll be telling you all sorts of stories and begging you to play with him,” William assures me in a quiet voice, causing me to chuckle.

We wait for Thomas to take off his coat and boots while he explains his reasoning for wearing red mittens this morning. Then, as we step into the sitting room, I lean into Richard and playfully narrow my eyes. “What have you been saying about me?”

Richard squeezes my waist, but he doesn’t have time to reply as his brother overhears us. “Oh, just the usual, nauseating stuff,” William says in an equally teasing tone. “How brilliant and beautiful you are and how he can’t stop thinking about you.”

The heat in my cheeks tells me that I must be as red as Richard right now, but I laugh at William’s expression as he pats Richard’s shoulder. His playful attitude tells me that he most likely doesn’t know about Richard and I’s recent troubles, and that realization allows me to relax.

“So Lorelei, you work with Rich, right?” William asks as Richard listens attentively to something his nephew is telling him.

“That’s right,” I reply as we sit on the sofa.

“And what’s your research area?”

“Old English and the influence of that literature on Tolkien. But I’m also interested in the influence of medieval literature in general on modern fantasy.”

“Wow, that’s fascinating,” he says with genuine interest. Then a mischievous smile that is all too similar to Richard’s appears on his face. “Hey, maybe you can finally make me understand why the Eagles didn’t just fly the fellowship to Mordor.”

“Ha ha,” I reply, shaking my head.

William chuckles. “No, seriously, that’s really cool. I love Lord of the Rings, so I’m glad there’s one more fan in the family now.”

In the family. Upon hearing those words, I steal a glimpse at Richard. With an attentive smile on his handsome face, he crouches down to listen to Thomas, who is showing him what appears to be a temporary Star Wars tattoo on his forearm. Warmth fills my heart. I’m no longer afraid of my strong feelings for Richard; everything feels so right with him, and I want to share every part of his life.

“What about you? What do you do for a living?”

“Oh, really boring compared to you—I’m an accountant.”

“Did you just admit that you’re boring?” Richard chimes in with a mischievous smirk, causing me to chuckle.

“Says the bloke who enjoys doing the crossword puzzles in the paper,” William retorts. “Oh, sorry, I shouldn’t bring that up in front of Lorelei,” he adds teasingly.

“Don’t worry—I already knew,” I chuckle, shaking my head.

William raises his eyebrows and opens his mouth in mock shock.“You did? And you’re still with him? That’s impressive.”

“Are you two done making fun of me?” Richard says, though I see in his eyes that he’s not offended in the least.

“Hey, I wasn’t making fun of you!” I reply with an exaggerated pout and caress his bicep. In response, he pulls me into his arms and presses a kiss into my hair, all while his brother watches us with a fond smile, causing me to blush.

“Uncle Richard?” Thomas’ sweet voice suddenly calls out. “Can I play with the Lego?”

“Of course you can!” Richard replies with a kind smile.

“Don’t make a mess, Thomas, okay?” William says, but Thomas is not paying attention. He is on a mission as he walks across the room and opens the cupboard at the bottom of the alcove shelving in the corner, revealing all sorts of children’s games.

“Wow—I didn’t know that was there!” I exclaim as Thomas carries the Lego set of his choice.

“It’s my toys,” Thomas explains as he sits next to me on the sofa. “Uncle Richard got them for me so I can play when I come here.”

“Well, that’s nice of him!” I say, looking up at Richard and sharing a smile.

“Do you want to play?” Thomas asks.

William opens his mouth as if to tell his son not to bother me, but I smile to assure him I don’t mind.

“I would love to play!” I answer, and the smile Thomas offers me melts my heart.

“I didn’t have time to finish it so we have to do that,” Thomas explains as he begins to empty the box. “But don’t worry, I will help you.”

I bite my lips to suppress my giggle. “Thank you, that’s very sweet of you.”

Thomas talks to me about school and his favourite colours as we set off to build the Lego castle. Meanwhile, Richard and William sit at the other end of the room to talk, but I don’t miss how Richard continually glances in my direction, his eyes softening every time I make Thomas laugh. This is not how I had expected the day would go, but I’m very glad William and Thomas are here, and when they leave in the afternoon and Thomas hugs me tight, I already look forward to the next time we will meet.

***

In the evening, I lie in the pleasantly warm bath, the bubbles thick and foamy, my back pressed against Richard’s chest. One of his arms is wrapped around me, and he trails his fingers along my skin, leaving tracks in the foam. With his other hand, he holds a paperback of North and South above the surface of the water; the edges of the yellowed pages are now slightly wet, but he assured me it doesn’t matter. As his deep, rumbling voice fills the room, echoing against the tiled walls, I let my eyes flutter close, feeling utterly at peace.

A few moments later, he stops reading and puts the book away on the stool next to the bathtub before wrapping both his arms around me and burying his face in my neck, which is exposed as my hair is tied into a messy bun. “Are you falling asleep?”

With a quiet chuckle, I shake my head. “I’m just comfortable. Why did you stop reading?”

It’s his turn to chuckle. “Because I reached the end of he chapter.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t believe it!” he says, his voice reverberating through me as he kisses that sensitive spot below my ear, causing me to shiver. “I spend all this effort reading this book to you, even making up different voices for the characters, and you weren’t even listening?”

I open my eyes and peer up at him to find him gazing down at me with a playful glint in his eyes. “I was listening! I just … find it difficult to concentrate on what you’re saying—it’s not my fault you have the most soothing and sensual voice in the whole universe.”

Richard raises his eyebrows in amusement. “Is that so?”

“Hm.”

With a smile, he urges me to turn around to face him. The water sloshes around us as I move to sit on his lap and wound my arms around his neck to bury my fingers in his hair. Water runs in rivulets down between the bubbles covering his chest, and his hair and beard are slightly damp from the humidity. As he pulls me tighter into his embrace, pressing my breasts into him, I feel him stirring between my legs, and warmth floods my core, but both of us are content with simply enjoying the moment for now.

“Please tell me you’re staying the night,” Richard whispers against my lips between countless kisses, causing me to smile.

“I should go to my flat to get some clean clothes though.”

“Why? You don’t need clothes.” As though to prove his point, he trails one of his large hands down my spine to squeeze my bum, and I shiver.

“What if I get cold?”

He squeezes my bum again, causing me to giggle.

“How about this—we’ll go to your flat so you can get your things, and then on the way back we can stop to get some takeaway. How does that sound?”

“That sounds perfect,” I reply before kissing him once more, his heart beating against mine as our lips follow the familiar rhythm of our love.

Tag list: @lathalea @linasofia @mcchiberry @fizzyxcustard @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @i-did-not-mean-to @xxbyimm @middleearthpixie @enchantzz @myselfandfantasy @notlostgnome @laurfilijames @swoopswishsward @quiall321 @dianakc

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#richard armitage #richard armitage fanfic #richard armitage x oc #richard armitage x you #richard armitage x reader #rpf #professor au #office hours

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middleearthpixie · 2 years

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I posted 2,825 times in 2022

That's 1,493 more posts than 2021!

449 posts created (16%)

2,376 posts reblogged (84%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@i-did-not-mean-to

@fizzyxcustard

@lathalea

@blueberryrock

@legolasbadass

I tagged 1,697 of my posts in 2022

Only 40% of my posts had no tags

#richard armitage - 825 posts

#the hobbit - 536 posts

#thorin oakenshield - 474 posts

#romance - 422 posts

#fan fiction - 329 posts

#hobbit fanfic - 325 posts

#hobbit fic - 307 posts

#the hobbit fan fiction - 305 posts

#au - 289 posts

#thorin x oc - 285 posts

Longest Tag: 96 characters

#bottles but not just any ol' bottle. it has to be pretty or unusual or have a witty label on it.

My Top Posts in 2022:

Quiet

Armitage Summer Splash #17 ~ thank you to @fizzyxcustard and @lathalea, as always!

Trope: Illness

Quote: “I need space away from you”

RA Character: Thorin Oakenshield

Relationship: Thorin x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of blood and vomit, death, mourning

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,113

Khuzdul Translations:

Raklûna - Precious, darling one

‘Adad ~ Father

Sigin’adad ~ Grandfather

Uzbadnâtha ~ Princess

Mimûna ~ Little one (f)

Amrâlimê ~ My love

***

He was coughing again. Loud, harsh, hacking coughs echoed throughout your small house, just as they had for the last several weeks. Only in the last day or so, they came with a greater frequency and at all hours. He coughed and gasped for air and then came the plaintive, “Raklûna! Help me…”

You rose from bed, not even taking the time to jam your feet into your slippers, just as you did every time ’Adad called for you. You hardly even noticed the biting cold gnawing at the soles of your feet as you hurried to his room. As the days went on, ’Adad called for you more and more often, breaking your sleep into increments of no more than twenty minutes or so each night. You couldn’t recall a time when you were so tired, so worn down, so absolutely and utterly drained. It was barely dawn, and in your sleep-deprived state, you only just narrowly missed catching your toes on the doorway as you hurried to help him.

“Raklûna!”

His voice was thready, but impatient and without thinking, you snapped, “I’m coming, ’Adad!”

You pushed open the door and your stomach twisted sharply at the foul stench of sick that filled the small room. He’d coughed hard enough to make himself vomit, so now you had that to clean up as well.

He sank back against the pillows, his face gray, his eyes sunken and glassy. Thankfully, he hadn’t been sick all over his nightshirt, and you immediately burned with guilt over that thought. He couldn’t help being sick, couldn’t help that he could only just barely breathe. Each breath was little more than a shallow rasp and he’d gotten to the point where the little bottles of medicine Narnerra had given you to control his pain no longer could even touch it.

His arm trembled as he held out a hand to you, a handkerchief clutched in his opposite hand. “Sit me up,” he rasped, fighting to fill lungs that were riddled with disease to the point where they almost no longer worked.

You nodded. “Let me clean you up and move you, so I might change the linens.”

“Plea—” Another coughing fit seized him, wracked his emaciated body until he fell back against the pillows fighting for air, and lowered the handkerchief now splattered with blood.

You swallowed hard and fought to put up some sort of invisible barrier between you and the scene of your father’s sickroom as you carefully helped him to his spindly legs and then to the chair in the corner, where he crumpled into it like an old shirt and wheezed softly. It was the only way you could whisk the sheets from the bed and wipe down what needed cleaning without being sick yourself. You balled up the soiled linens, proud of yourself for only gagging once, and hurried to drop them in the basket just inside the door.

You remade ’Adad’s bed, but when you turned back to him, you couldn't bring yourself to try to heft him from the chair just yet. He’d grown so frail and weak, you were afraid that, despite your tiny size, you would break at least one, possibly more, of his fragile bones.

The illness came from out of the blue a few weeks back, just after the ball celebrating your upcoming marriage to Thorin Durin. ’Adad’s decline had been swift and steady and you knew it was but a matter of time before you were the only soul living in the cozy house he’d made into a home after your mother walked out. For so long, it had been just the two of you, and you were fiercely protective of him, even if resentment bit away at you as you changed his bed linens for the third time in a night or he slapped away a spoonful of nourishing broth because he was feeling belligerent and didn’t wish to eat.

Overnight, he’d gone from the great burly man who loved to bake and cook and laugh, to the skeletal wraith now crumbled in the chair. His eyes, once dancing with mischief, were sunken and dull. He wasted away before your own eyes, and you were powerless to halt it.

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109 notes - Posted June 17, 2022

Stolen Moments

Armitage Summer Splash # 12 ~ Thanks again to @lathalea and @fizzyxcustard for creating this challenge!

Trope: Oblivious to feelings

Quote: “How dare you?”

RA Character: Thorin Oakenshield

Relationship: Thorin x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Some angst

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,936

Khuzdul Translations:

Mimûna - Little one (f)

Kunbûnaul - Son of a bitch

’Adad - Father

Raklûna - precious, darling one (f)

Kurduwê - my heart

***

There were times when you would cheerfully throttle Thorin blue and this was absolutely one of them. You rose onto one elbow to just stare down at him. “Are you mad?”

“What?” His eyes went wide as he tucked one arm up beneath his head. “Why would you ask me such a thing?”

“Perhaps because I think you might have gone mad?” You pushed up from your elbow, sitting upright. What had been one of the most wonderful afternoons of your life was all of the sudden coming apart. Instead of lying there on the soft skin, your head tucked against Thorin’s chest, your fingers trailing lightly through the dark hair that covered it, and your leg resting over his, while you fought off the delicious drowsiness that always followed a romp with him, you were now dealing with a bellyful of uncomfortable knots. Even the air around you felt different now. Minutes earlier, lust and desire, swirled through it, took away some of the early autumn chill to replace it with the heat of unbridled passion. You treasured these times with him, when the rest of the world faded away and you lost yourselves in one another.

But now, that air of romance faded into the trees around around you. You pulled your fingers thorough your hair to shove it out of your eyes, away from your face. “Why would you do that? Why can’t things just be as they are now? This is perfect.”

“Perfect?” He also sat up, then reached for his trousers, which lay in the soft grass where they’d fallen when you shoved them down his legs not quite half an hour earlier. “We sneak about, jumping at every sound, convinced at any moment, someone will catch us. That is hardly perfect, mimûna. I’d rather not have to worry about it. I’d rather not have to sneak about any longer, to pretend when I see you in the square that we don’t know each other like this. I’d far prefer being able to do something as simple as hold your blasted hand or steal a kiss and not care who might be lurking about.”

You would have loved the same, to be honest. Sneaking about was fun at first. You loved having the delicious little secret tucked away inside your heart, loved see him in town and being able to share a smile with him, while others wondered what it was you smiled about.

But as the summer went on and gave away to autumn, and the air grew chilled with the change of season, that secret lost some of its lustre. Snuggling under a skin with him was cozy. Having to emerge from it into the nippy air was not. You’d become quite adept as dressing without moving said skin, but the fact was, you were growing tired of sneaking and hiding as well. You would far rather fall into a soft bed with him than roll around on the ground, where an ill placed stone or stick could interrupt an otherwise lovely moment.

However, what Thorin suggested was nothing short of madness and could never come to pass. You understood that. Why didn't he?

Still, you felt a pang of disappointment as he stepped into his trousers and drew them up over his thick thighs. “We do not jump at every sound,” you told him, trying—and failing—to keep the sulkiness from your voice.

“We do, and if you’re honest with yourself, you will admit it. And can you honestly tell me you like skulking about and hiding us from everyone?”

“Well… no…” you hedged. “I don’t like it. But—”

“But nothing.” He shook his head without looking up while he fastened his trousers. Then he stretched one hand to snag your chemisette to hold out to you. “So, this is a solution. It’s the perfect solution and I fail to see why you don’t agree.”

“It would be the perfect solution,” you shot back, dragging the linen over your head, where from inside the bodice, you added, “if it wasn’t for the fact that I am not fit to wipe your boots, never mind marry you!”

He didn't reply, and when you emerged from the chemisette, it was to find him glowering at you. “What?” You tugged the wrinkled linen down and stood, then tried to smooth out at least some of the wrinkles. “Why are you looking at me that way?”

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112 notes - Posted June 12, 2022

For the February Writer Event: kissing in the rain :)

Ok - here it is and I hope you like it... :)

Words: 3,501

Characters: Thorin x reader

This takes place just before AUJ -

A Kiss in the Rain

It felt like the rain would simply just never end. You despaired of ever being warm, or even dry, again because it just seemed as if it been raining since the beginning of time. And it showed no signs of letting up. Quite possibly ever.

You kept quiet, though, for you saw Thorin’s expression darken each time one of the others complained about the weather and since they all still weren’t quite sure of you, you kept your own complaints to yourself. All you wanted was to be accepted by them, to have them see you as one of the Company. And if that meant dealing with some rain, so be it. You’d certainly dealt with far worse conditions.

But that didn't mean you weren’t at all thankful when Thorin put up a hand and called, “We pass the night here.”

Here was what looked to be an old, abandoned farmhouse and you frowned as you stared at it. “Are you sure it’s safe?” you asked no one in particular.

Bofur came up behind you. “I suppose we’ll find out now, won’t we?”

You looked over your shoulder at him. He was every bit as bedraggled as you felt, water dripping from his hat, from his thick, dark mustache, his equally thick, equally dark pigtails, from pretty much every bit of him. “That isn’t very reassuring.”

“I know,” he nodded, then stepped around you to make his way into the house. The front door swung open on loose hinges and you remained where you were, practically holding your breath as if waiting for him to let out a horrified shriek.

Thorin swung down from his pony, pressing the reins into his nephew, Kíli’s hand. “Secure the ponies the barn and keep watch over them with your brother.” He surveyed the house from eaves to porch and sighed softly. “I don’t think it’s been empty long and I’m hoping whoever lived here left under their own will.”

“That is no more reassuring than Bofur’s words,” you told him as Kíli took the reins to your pony as well.

Thorin turned to you, and as his blue eyes alit on you, your heart skipped a beat, as it did whenever he looked at you lately. Hopefully, he couldn’t see his effect on you, as you tried with everything you had to hide it. And so far, you thought you’d been fairly successful at it. As far as you knew, Thorin Oakenshield had no idea how just a simple look had the power to make you forget how to breathe. And when his hand came to rest on your shoulder, as it did just then, you temporarily forgot your own name.

You had to keep those thoughts, those reactions, to yourself. Otherwise, he’d no doubt send you away. You were a daughter of Man and the only reason he allowed you to remain with the Company was because you’d saved his life outside a seedy tavern in an equally seedy village between Dunning and Bree. He saw for himself your skill with a bow and arrow, and that you were not afraid to use steel, either, and when you’d asked to accompany him on his journey to the Shire, he’d agreed in order to repay his debt to you.

The Shire was still several days out and you had no idea what awaited you there. For now, however, you would at least pass one night out of the rain. It was only one night, but you’d take it.

A bit of warmth seeped into your shoulder from Thorin’s huge hand resting upon it. Like most dwarves, he was broad-shouldered and barrel-chested, with thick, powerful legs and arms. “Go inside with Bofur and see about getting a fire started while we take a look around out here.”

You nodded, reaching for the oilskin pouch tied to your belt, where you kept your flint and steel. “Of course.”

You stepped away from him, clomping up the steps to the front door. Inside, you stopped dead in your tracks. It was as if the people who’d lived there expected to return imminently. The table was set for four with plates and flatware, and the great room and kitchen were both practically dust-free, they are so clean.

You looked over at Bofur. “What do you suppose happened to the people who lived here? They haven’t been gone long from the looks of things. Are we certain they aren’t just above?”

Bofur looked up, as if able to see through the ceiling. “No. We’ve not looked. Perhaps we should.” He looked back at you. “You wait here and I’ll have Bifur go with—”

“No. I’ll go with you.” You drew your short sword from the sheath at your hip and held it in one hand, gesturing for him to follow you with the other. “Don’t look so worried. Remember how I came to be in your company?”

“I do, but… you’re a… girl.”

“You needn’t say it as if I’ve got some dread disease, you know.” You rolled your eyes and moved to the narrow staircase to the left of the dark hearth, then held out the oilskin to him. “Perhaps you should instead get a fire started and I’ll look.”

You didn't wait for his answer, but tossed the skin to him, and then mounted the staircase to creep noiselessly to the second floor. That was one of your gifts—your innate ability to move without a sound, walking mostly on the balls of your feet as you moved up the stair treads and down the narrow corridor leading to three bedrooms of varying size.

“There is no one here,” you called down, leaning over the bannister to see Bofur with one foot only on the bottom step. “We are alone.”

“Good. Now I can get the fire going.”

You descended to the first floor, tucking your sword back into its sheath. “Fourteen of us, three bedrooms. It will be noisy.”

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126 notes - Posted February 10, 2022

hi ::::::::)

if your requests are open can i drop this in?

for thorin x reader: bandaging each other up and sharing a tender moment, grabbing your lover's face and not being able to let go

Hi there, Nonny!!

I'm sorry this took me so long, but here it is. I hope you like it. :)

In This Moment

Summary: In Beorn’s barn after the battle with first the goblins, and then the Orcs, you and Thorin are bandaging each other’s wounds and it leads to something a little more.

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x Reader

Rating: T

Warnings: Just fluff

Word Count: 2,854

Everything inside the barn was huge. The stalls were huge. The sheep? Huge. The piles of hay? Also huge. The structure itself was the biggest you’d ever seen, with a soaring ceiling that made sixteen voices bounce about until it sounded as if six hundred dwarves, wizards, hobbits, and women had taken up residence inside. Couple that with the low of the sheep, and it was a wonder you weren’t rendered deaf within the first five minutes of slamming the barn door on the huge (of course) black bear that had chased you all relentlessly across stream and pasture, straight to this huge barn. But once the bar dropped into place, and everything calmed, you knew you were safe.

Well, at least for now.

You sank into the corner of an empty stall, grateful for the chance to just stop moving. The last few weeks had been rough, and the last twelve hours were a culmination of that. You let your head come to rest against the rough slats of the wall separating your stall from the next while the sheep glared at you and moved further down before laying down for the night. Darkness crept in, and Gandalf lit two of the numerous lanterns hung on hooks both between the stalls and along the far wall. They provided just enough light to keep any one of you from falling over something and breaking your neck, but not so much that those who wished to sleep would be disturbed by it.

Sleep. Your eyes stung with a fatigue you’d never felt before. You were the newest member of the Company, having come to their aid when you happened upon them battling mountain trolls. You never asked to join, nor did they invite you, but nevertheless, you remained with them and slowly seemed to gain their trust, while they also gained yours.

Of course, had you known what awaited you beyond those loutish trolls. Goblins. Orcs. One fight after another, or so it seemed.

But hopefully the worst was now behind you. You weren’t so sure you believed it, but you certainly hoped it was.

You let out a low sigh and let your eyes close. You’d never run so much, or so fast, in your life, and everything still hurt from the battle with the orcs just the two nights ago. Trolls led to a brief respite in Rivendell, but then came the goblins and orcs and on top of that, being chased by the biggest bear you’d ever seen. Eventful, to say the least.

Little by little, the quiet that had crept in like a cat thickened, only to be interrupted by snores as one by one, the others drifted off, just as exhausted as you, no doubt.

If only you could sleep, as you hadn’t since the eagle dropped you on the Carrock, but despite the burn in your eyes and just the utter jelly-like state of what felt like all of your muscles, sleep mocked you. Any noise beyond the barn made you jump and reach for your sword before you realized it came from outside. Still, your mind wouldn’t shut off and the gash in your right arm refused to stop bleeding. Normally, the sight of blood didn't bother you, but this? This made you lightheaded, much to your aggravation.

The soft crunch of heavy boots on hay grew slightly louder and you stared into the quasi-darkness at the large, furry shape that was, in fact, the leader of your company, Thorin Oakenshield.

He’d fared the worst for the company’s encounters—his face still cut and scraped and bruised. Two nights had passed since you’d come face to face with the orc pack outside Goblintown. Thorin had been their target, and while he’d confronted the leader—a giant pale orc called Azog the Defiler—he paid dearly for it and was far worse for the wear.

Still, those scrapes and bruises didn't seem to trouble him much now. And they certainly didn’t detract from the handsomeness you fought so hard to ignore. You were fairly certain nothing could detract from that, although you’d rather choke on your tongue than ever admit such a thing to him. It simply wouldn’t do. Besides, it was a harmless crush and would pass in time.

Or so you hoped.

His sword, the Orcrist clattered softly against the floor planks, and with a low groan, Thorin sank into the hay next to you. His voice was deep and low as he whispered, “How do you fare?”

“I’ll be fine.” You tried to hold back your wince as you shifted, as you tried to make yourself at least a little comfortable. Impossible. The slightest movement and your arm burned merciless.

Thorin’s sharp eyes missed little, and they narrowed as he reached for your hand. “Let me see.”

You drew back before he could move your sleeve, a low hiss leaking through your teeth despite your best effort to hold it back. “Leave off. I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t be so stubborn.” He grabbed hold of your dirt-spattered sleeve by the cuff and tugged.

You gritted your teeth at the fiery burn that crept from your elbow up as you moved your arm. You cared more about that and less about the fact that Thorin’s removing your tunic left you in only a sleeveless, half-chemise. That was no problem for you. The Company knew you were a woman and they didn't bat an eye over it, but accepted you as one of them just the same, and you’d proven your worth. You weren’t a dwarf, but again, it seemed to matter very little in the end.

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269 notes - Posted May 15, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Make Me

Armitage Summer Splash #1

Trope: Enemies to Lovers

Quote: “Did we make a mistake?”

RA Character: Thorin Oakenshield (pre-sack of Erebor)

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x reader

Warnings: Battle violence, a bit of hand to hand combat, and finally, unprotected intercourse

Rating: T

Word Count: 4,892

Khuzdul Translations:

Mimûna- Little one

’Adad - father

Kurduwê - My heart

A/N: This is my first contribution to the Armitage Summer Splash — so many thanks to @lathalea and @fizzyxcustard for creating this event! 😈💜

~~*~~

“Get up!”

You stared up at the clear blue sky, trying not to panic even though it seemed your lungs forgot how to work. The air rushed from them when you slammed into the ground, and for several horrifying moments, you didn't think they’d re-inflate.

A large hand loomed before you, one you knocked away as hard as you could. A faint rumble of laughter rippled tough the others gathered around and you heard your name muttered more than once. As always, you ignored it. They weren’t going to get to you. Let them laugh and jeer. You didn’t care.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

“On your feet, lass.”

You sat up with a groan and slowly managed to get your feet as your lungs filled once more and you could breathe. You glared at the dwarf responsible for taking your feet out from under you. He was bigger than the other dwarves. Bigger. Broader. The kings grandson. No one would knock Thorin’s butt in the dirt. They wouldn’t dare.

But you would in a heartbeat. Some day.

“Do you need a minute?” Thorin’s blue eyes danced with amusement as he faced you. “Or do you wish to save us both the trouble and simply go on home now?”

“I need no time and I am not leaving until we are dismissed,” you growled back. All you wanted to do was wipe that arrogant smirk from his face and you would do it. Not today or perhaps not even tomorrow, but you would. You were determined to, no matter how hard you had to work at it or how long it took you. He didn't scare you.

“Are you certain? You look very… winded.”

“Why are you so concerned?” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Are you afraid of being bested by a girl?”

The others grew quiet, while Thorin smirked. “You’ll forgive me for laughing, of course.”

You glared at him, but when you found yourself paired off with him once more, you spent even more time on your back, staring up at the high blue sky, promising Mahal that if he let you breathe again, Thorin would be on his back next time.

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271 notes - Posted June 1, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #damn there was a LOT of writing #so much thorin #all the thorin #and richard armitage #LOTS of RA

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londonfalling-rpg · 6 months

Text

What has mood to do with it? You fight when the necessity arises—no matter the mood.

Congratulations to the following applicants, your characters have been accepted into London Falling. We’re excited to start writing with you!

The Empress (Hande Erçel FC)

Mordred (Ana de Armas FC)

Baba Yaga (OC) (Jodie Comer FC)

The Crooked Hand (Richard Armitage FC)

The Wheel of Fortune (Vanessa Kirby FC)

Carrie Bradshaw - Media OC (Pedro Pascal FC)

Please read the New Member’s Guide here (x) and follow the instructions. You have 48 hours to send in your account. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to contact the admins!

We'll be accepting apps today and tomorrow ♥

#accepted app #crime rp #skeleton rp #oc rp #mafia rp #mature rp

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linasofia · 3 years

Text

Masterlist

Thorin

Business & Pleasure

Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader (Modern AU) Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3 l Part 4 l Part 5 l Part 6 I Part 7 l Part 8 l Part 9 l NYE

Bunnelê

Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader x Raymond de Merville (Modern AU) Part 1 l ...

A Shooting Star

Thorin Oakenshield x OC Vega Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3 l Part 4 l Part 5 l Part 6 l Part 7 l Art

Around the Riverbend

Thorin Oakenshield x OFC

Brothers in Arms

Thorin & Dwalin (platonic)

Among The Stars

Thorin Oakenshield x OC Riin (Crossover AU)

Raymond

Petite Voleuse

Raymond de Merville x OFC Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3 l Part 4 l Part 5 l Epilogue

Le Désir

Raymond de Merville x OC Cecilia Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3

Father Quart

Penance 🧔🏻‍♂️✝️

Father Quart x Fem!Reader Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3

Seven 🧔🏻‍♂️✝️

Father Quart x Fem!Reader

A Piece of Heaven 🧔🏻‍♂️✝️

Father Quart x Fem!Reader

More Than Words🧔🏻‍♂️✝️

Father Quart x Fem!Reader

Our Secret 🧔🏻‍♂️✝️

Father Quart x Fem!Reader

Coming Home 🧔🏻‍♂️✝️

Father Quart x Fem!Reader

Sacrifice 🧔🏻‍♂️✝️

Father Quart x OC Charlotte Part 1 l Part 2

Love Never Dies 🧔🏻‍♂️✝️

Father Quart x OC Palmira Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3 l Part 4 l Part 5

Burning Desire 🧔🏻‍♂️✝️

Father Quart x OC Lucia

Various RA characters

The Night Train

Daniel Miller x Fem!Reader Part 1 l Part 2 l …

Into The Woods

Dr Mikhail Astrov x OFC Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3

The Game

William Farrow x Fem!Reader Part 1 l Part 2

Never Together

John Porter x Fem!Reader Part 1 l Part 2

The Call

John Porter x Fem!Reader

In My Head

Dr. Scott White x OC Emily

The Assignment

Lucas North x OC Lovisa

Richard

The Fire 🔥

Creature (Richard Armitage) x OC Polina

Hunger 🧛‍♂️

Richard Armitage x Fem!Reader

Blood Moon 🧛‍♂️🧛‍♂️

Richard Armitage x OC Sofia x Matthew Clairmont Part 1 l Part 2 I Part 3 l Part 4

Naughty Thoughts 🐴

Richard Armitage x Fem!Reader Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3 I Part 4

Event

Armitage Summer Splash 2022 Masterlist 💦

Asks

Christmas with Dr. Scott White 🎄

Christmas Eve with Father Quart 🎄

Art

Father Quart x me by @legolasbadass 💙

All pictures from The Man from Rome & Obsession by @enchantzz 💜

Thorin Oakenshield by @legolasbadass 💚

Thorin Oakenshield by @mysandwichranaway 💙

Star Wars

Starflowers

Obi-Wan Kenobi x OC Eliise

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rattyoakenbitch · 4 years

Text

𝒻𝒶𝓃𝒹ℴ𝓂 𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉ℯ𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

see also; requesting rules

꒰ the hobbit / lotr ꒱

thorin oakenshield

i love you

come out & play

damn nephews

summer rays

blackout ii

his queen

temptress

always and forever

home

little one

come to bed

human

only you

gods & monsters

touch-starved

love sick

scared of the dark

the greatest loss

everything to me

a confession

the fear of rejection

others

tomorrow never came

change

there’s nothing left - the company

underestimated - the company

stargazing - smaug

what the hell is a piss baby? - the company

the fawn // oc x thorin series

oc info

chapter i

chapter ii

chapter iii

chapter iv

chapter v

chapter vi

older th oneshots

kiss me before you go ii - thorin

light of my life - thorin

sweetest of the company ii - thorin

in my my feelings - thorin

thorin’s height - thorin

lucky - the company

hold me - fili

anything for you - thorin

requests & headcanons

poly hc w fili & kili

little thorin hc

dating the company hc

modern reader req w fili

distracting kisses req w legolas

shy req w thorin

naps req w thorin

ouija board req w thorin

sleepwalker req w the company

body swap req w thorin

turned on req w thorin

fluffy buddy req w thorin

꒰ celebrities ꒱

eccedentesiast w richard armitage

he loves me not w richard armitage

not this time w machine gun kelly

don’t touch her w corpse husband

pretty w corpse husband

꒰ shows & animes ꒱

johnny lawrence

because of you

levi ackerman

if he had cared w levi ackerman (aot)

l lawliet

mother hen w lawliet (death note)

mello

don't you go leaving me w mello (death note)

spencer reid

so cold

will graham

worth saving

requests & headcanons

dating the ck characters hc

barrel racer ck hc

sending the aot characters memes

panic attack req w will

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mistresskayla-blog1 · 1 month

Text

Queen of the Forest

Characters: Richard Armitage x Cara Ambrose

Chapter 2

Warnings: Smut, intrigue, pining, angst, love, p in v, voyeurism, masturbation,

Word Count: 2.5k

Chapter 2: His Likeness (April 30th)

Cara stood over the balcony, like Juliet in the laze of the midday. Ajay looked up to the master suite towering over the workspace right at that moment, and his jaw dropped. He had heard about the mistress but had yet to see her. Joshua and Theo had kept him very busy, gathering wood for the feast and tending to other matters for them as he trained. He’d been in the encampment about 2 weeks before he spied his eyes on her and was instantly besotted. The way her smile curved on her mouth, and the way her eyes darted in joy, watching everyone below her. He wanted to be closer to that creature that lived on high like that. Taste the sweetness of divinity. The sun caught her golden locks and it shone like a hallow on her round face. She turned away from him, and a large figure approached her, his dark features matched Ajay’s and an idea crept into his head suddenly. Watching Richard take her in his arms and kiss her warmly. Cara wrapped her arms about Richard’s neck and he kissed her hand, letting it rest on his cheek. Ajay couldn’t hear what they said, but it seemed warm and genuine. He wanted to be that man, he wanted to be with her. He would be with her. His face set strongly as Theo came up to him, his eyes tracking in the direction of Ajay’s.

Theo, “Yeah they are cute aren’t they. A long journey for both of them, but they make it work. Its something to have love like that” Theo grunts as he sets down a bag of sand. Ajay looks down at him, “I must have her”. Theo, “Yeah right man, are you serious, bed the Queen? Get real man. Go find someone else. She is very much off limits”. Theo mused, shaking his head.

---

Cara looked down at a young man below her, as he conversed with Theo and stared up at her. She smiled and then notably blinked, not knowing how she was looking at what she was looking at. Richard approached her from behind, and she turned and smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him as he leaned in. Richard took Cara’s arm and brought her hand to his lips, brushing his chin. Cara kissed him again, and turned to face the courtyard, “Look my love, your likeness”, Cara mused. Richard looked down towards where she was pointing, and chuckled, amused, then he felt unease in his belly. Richard kissed Cara’s shoulder and his husky voice said, “Watch out for him, my dear. I have to go away for a few days. I know how wild you get at festival”. Cara looked up at him, “Me? Wild? (chuckles) Hardly. I just want to dance.” Richard kisses her again on her shoulder, and she shivers warmly. “Just be cautious, I am not here to protect you”, Richard said, keeping his gaze relaxed on the boy. Cara stepped away and moved into the suite. From past him he could hear her say, “But I have Josh and William don’t I?” Richard nodded in response. And moved towards her into the suite.

---

Ajay looked at Theo seriousness on his brow, “I will have her, she will be mine”. As he looked back up at Cara, she smiled down at him, a realization set on her face, as she pointed out to him, and then stepped back from the railing. Ajay beamed, being noticed. Theo, pushed into him with a ruck sack. “Were trudging for morels today, so let’s get to it”. Ajay shifted his gaze, “what?” Theo, “Morels, it’s the season for them, moon waxing and the season warmer, we must gather for the feast in two days”.

Ajay, darted after him, lugging his rucksack and placing it on his back, “Will they, be there?” indicating Richard and Cara. Theo grunted up an embankment on the edge of the camp, “Yes of course, “ pauses, “He might be gone, but she leads the festival, its Beltaine after all, and she is the May Queen”.

Ajay looked back a second, “So I would have a chance then, to get closer to her?” Theo huffed and chuckled. “You’d have a better time catching a rabbit in the wild my dear boy. That women, is off limits. I promise you that, has guards when he is away. And that big lad too. Theo eyes Jed who is pulling vegetables from the garden, a giant of a man, doing delicate work. Kendra’s arm resting on his huge bicep as they both wave in smiles at Theo and Ajay. “I see,” he says calculating things in his mind. They continue into the woods, looking for fallen ash and oak. The further they trudge into the woods, the more Ajay’s head was grinding at how to get to Cara.

---

Ajay gathered morels as he found them, and stooped as Theo was busy to pull some nightshade from the ground as well, snapping off the ripe berries. A wild grin on his face, he had a plan now, and it would only take a few days to get it ready. Ajay took the red berries in his palm and laid them in a cloth he kept in his pocket, watching not to crush them.

---

As the night gathered around the village, a large fire was kept in the courtyard, but business was retired for the day. Only a few straggling folks left, tending to the fire, some were visiting over blankets and grog. Ajay moved cautiously threw the encampment, staying to the shadows as he crept up the ladders to the master Suite. The Moon has already risen in the sky, and flecks of light splashed across the wooded planks of the walkway, as his feet softened on them, slowly moving to the glass doors of the master suite. Ajay peaked inside.. and saw what he could only have imagined.

---

Richard and Cara laid together, in bed, Cara’s arm laid lazily over Richard’s sinewy pecs, and taut belly. She sighed as he kissed her languidly and gently. He began to lower his mouth to her breast, and she moaned softly, her breath catching as his teeth met nipple, he pulled at it gently, beading in his mouth. A low groan escaped his nostrils as his mouth was full of her sweet skin. He pulled his mouth off, pinching the nipple then between his thumb and forefinger, Cara’s back arched to meet his touch, and her hands grabbed him into a kiss. There lips met, wet, wanting and warm. Richard’s hands explored her everywhere.

The sheets dropping lower and lower as Ajay stared through the window at them both.

Richard kissed lower and lower down Cara’s body, grazing her soft belly, and hollows, before reaching her furry mound, and naked slit. His lips made little dewy trails down her skin, and it made her shiver warmly. Cara’s hands moved into his hair, as his tongue began to part her folds gently. Cara cried out in anticipation, and Richard chuckled huskily at her clit, “Do you want something?”

Cara, panted, “I want you to taste me, my King”. Richard licked at her clit and Cara bucked a bit on the bed.. his tongue delved deeper and into her pussy.. easing in and out slowly. Cara squirted into his mouth, and he groaned in appreciation. Her moans growing even louder in the quiet room.

Ajay kept watching, becoming noticeably aroused, at hearing her moans through the open windows beside him.

Richard gulped down her nectar as it flowed from her. The deeper and more exploring his tongue delved into her pussy, the more she flowed. Her pussy tasted like honey, and her nectar quenched his thirst like nothing else on earth. She was his favorite meal, and he happily lapped her up, as she moaned and cried out his name in pleasure. Richard quickened his tongue and Cara dug her hands in his hair, “Please Richard.. don’t make this cum this way,” she begged, “I want you inside me”. Richard was not done quenching his thirst and hunger, so he continued to lap at her cunt, until she shuddered and clenched, gripping his tongue in release. Her body tensing, and a low groan of a moan escaping her lips.. panting as she sat up and pulled his face up by his ears to kiss the taste of her out of his mouth. Richard smiled as they kissed hard, tongues twisting in arching pleasure, they played in each other’s mouths. Richard sat up, his shorts falling to the floor, as he moved over Cara, her legs spread wide to receive him. He propped himself above her on his forearms, and slid his long and thick cock into her slickness… smoothly and deep in one slow motion. Cara pulled at his ass, pulling him into her. Richard smirked and pulled out. Cara looked frustrated, pushed him in, with her strong calves. Richard relented and caught his breath as he sunk in deep and pushed against her soft cervix. Cara, looked at him again, and he dropped his hands to his elbows, cradling her face, as they kissed again. Their mouths just as joined as their sex, in a beautiful flow of energy. Richard made lazy thrusts as Cara moaned into his mouth. Pulling out slow and then pushing in hard, making her cervix throb and ache.

Cara’s moans shifted and got stronger, and Ajay took out his cock and started stroking, paying no attention to getting caught, enthralled with what he was watching. His cock, thick, and veiny and short, untucked from his britches, the tip was bubbling precum, and he used it to slick his shaft, and stroke it as he liked it.

Richard, panted, “God, I love you” as he quickened his pace a bit, going a bit harder and deeper. Cara, cried out as her orgasm built into a crescendo, “More.. deeper, please my King” she gasped, turning her face away from him, her eyes shut in pleasure and intensity. The bundle of nerves inside her cunt were fluttering and clenching and she felt the veins of his cock against her walls, and the way the cap hit her sensitive spot. She let it build and build, taking her fingers and rubbing at her clit in eagerness. Richard saw her grab for her clit and pulled it away, “No my Queen, you will take this without help..” he mused. And pinned her hand above her head, gently but firmly. Richard began to thrust harder, and Cara could feel her clit swell more, and her walls start to clench as she shattered around him, screaming out his name “Oh Richard” She screamed, and he grinned in acceptance of this praise. She shuddered and writhed beneath him. Her cunt squeezing him full inside her, he resisted his urge to release. Richard started rocking into her faster, moving her legs, to rest at his shoulders, he sucked her toe and looked down at her with such sweetness, a tear rolled down her cheek as she tried to calm her pulsating cunt. But each stroke of his cock inside her, just raised her again, building yet another orgasm from within her, her body tingling all over.

As Cara came, Ajay started stroking faster as well, watching intently as Richard fucked her, Ajay was getting close to his finish, but Richard did not seem close at all.

Richard was relentless, he fucked her again and again, building his own release, Cara came again. Richard moved her, rolling her onto her stomach and pressing her down into the bed. His long cock, having no trouble sliding between her juicy ass and into her aching cunt. Richard laid against her, burying himself deep inside her, and moving slow. His hand gripping her neck, wrapping his fingers around the front of throat. Cara gasped as he squeezed slightly and her cunt fluttered on his cock. Richard chuckled, “That’s my queen” he drowled, as he started to go faster and faster. Richard sat up, barely changing his depth, and smacked her ass and Cara giggled. Cara moaned as he squeezed her throat a little more, pulling her towards him, her pussy squeezing against his cock. Richard felt it swell more, and he huffed out, “Oh, god my Queen.. I feel it coming”. Cara panted and moaned and whimpered as he moved even faster and harder against her. Finding his finish and spilling his hot seed into her cunt, feeling it wash up against himself, as it coated her walls and teased her cervix. He roared into the night, “Cara!”.

Ajay felt that same sensation building inside himself, he had paused, not stroking himself, as he watched all the ways that Richard moved Cara around and was marveled by it. As he heard the roar of Richard’s release and Caras’ cries, he rocked into his palm again faster and faster until his own release spilled from his fist and onto the pane of the window, Ajay leaned his head against it. Neither of them noticed.

Cara burst into tears of joy as Richard finished inside her. He laid against her back, and kissed her shoulder… He wanted to move, but he also wanted to stay inside her, just bask in that sensation of utter comfort and warmth surrounding his member. It settled down, and softens, slowly. Richard pulled out, and laid beside Cara, they kiss, facing each other, limbs entangled in an eternal embrace. He looked at Cara and deep love resonated from his heart. Cara reflected the same pulse of love and acceptance. He scooped her legs up over his hip, “Best to keep your legs up, they say”.

Cara giggles, “Oh, have you been talking to Kia again about breeding”.

Richard, “Its important isn’t it. And it was Jed actually. We agreed, once this place was put together, we could start a family, right?”

Cara nods, “We did, and it’s the spring festival, and I’m, ovulating. (smiles)”

Richard places, his hand on her abdomen, and rubs it warmly, “Good luck guys”.

Cara let out a boisterous laugh. “Did you just ‘good luck guys’?” she giggled.

Richard looked at her, “Yeah to my swimmers,”

She kissed him again, “Your adorable” she mused. He chuckled and looked at her warmly.

They kissed again, gently and sweetly. “It’s a perfect time for us to start something new”, Cara said. She settled against him, and closed her eyes, Richard rubbed her legs and pulled a coverlet over her to keep her warm. Cara smiled, “I’m not asleep you know, just tired”.

Richard kissed her forehead, “I know my love, just taking care of you”. Holding her to him.

Ajay retreated, rubbing his hand on the glass to clean up his spunk that would give him away. He slipped away unnoticed and back to his tent. Once back at his tent he pressed the berries in the cloth, letting it drip into a glass jar he stole from the kitchens that afternoon. The dark liquid dripped slowly through the cheese cloth. Ajay smiled and closed his eyes on his pillow.

Taglist:

@sweetestgbye @middleearthpixie @legolasbadass @riepu10 @richardarmitageshands @richardarmitagefanpage @evenstaredits @littlesweetdressmaker @lathalea @scariusaquarius @enchantzz

want to be tagged PM me. Thanks.

#fanfiction #richard armitage #romance #smut #richard armitage x oc #witchy #naturalist camp #queen of the forest #original character

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fizzyxcustard · 7 months

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Covert Eyes (23)

Masterlist of fan fiction

Fandom: Spooks

Pairings: Lucas North x OC (Amy Holland)

Warnings: Stalking behaviour, anxiety, language, sexual references, angst, smut, heartbreak, gunshot wounds and recovery, abduction, hostage situation.

Summary: Lucas takes notice of a young woman, Amy, but his obsession and want to get to know her begin to spiral out of control. Amy is now working for MI-5, after being recruited by Ros. But will her involvement with Lucas cause even more problems and heartbreak?

When Amy's parents get involved, how will things pan out for Amy and Lucas?

Official soundtrack list: here

Comments/Notes: If you wish to be tagged in any of my tag lists for fics or characters, please let me know, and stipulate what you want to be tagged in.

People who don't interact with my fics over a few months will be removed from tag lists.

Bright light burst into the room and the familiar voices of Ros and Jo broke through the shroud of silence that had formed in the room. Halos around their heads. Amy winced against the light….

As Amy lay in bed, waking, she saw Lucas’ outline, his form haloed by a bright light. He was in the doorway. Every time he stood in the doorway, the room dark, with only light from the hallway behind him, it took her back. It felt as if she were time travelling back to her time locked away with nothing by Simon Caulfield’s slimy words for company.

Lucas limped into the room. She could hear his shouts in her mind as Simon Caulfield had put a bullet in his thigh merely seconds before Ros and Jo saved them. Then once they had both been released, Amy and Lucas had been in hospital overnight. They had been given their own private room due to the nature of their reasoning for being in hospital.

Harry had given them both time off to recuperate, and offered counselling. Lucas, as he had done many times, politely rejected Harry’s offer. However, Amy knew that she would probably find herself fighting against the memories for some time.

Lucas got into bed beside Amy, and studied her for a moment. There were dark circles beneath her eyes, but gradually they had begun to fade and the light in her eyes was starting to reappear.

Amy curled her arm around his head, her fingers sifting through his short hair. He was literally her everything.

***

Richard Holland held a small package in his hand, thinking back on the postman’s words that it had been sent first class but accidentally got lost at the depot, so was a week late. He ripped open the thick envelope finding a small stack of papers inside. On the top was a note, written in capital letters.

RICHARD AND SHARON HOLLAND,

THE ENCLOSED PHOTOGRAPHS ARE PROOF THAT LUCAS NORTH IS NOT WHO HE APPEARS TO BE. YOUR DAUGHTER IS IN DANGER.

Richard felt his whole body grow cold at the sight of photos of Amy bound to a chair and blindfolded. Then further photographs showed Amy lying on the pavement in a pool of her own blood, next to another woman also shot. With Lucas standing over both of them, a gun in his hand.

***

Amy and Lucas were still off work when the phone call came. Lucas was sat on the sofa with a mug of coffee, flicking through the channels, rolling his eyes at how shit day time TV was. Amy had been cleaning the kitchen; mundane tasks were enough to take her mind away from the thoughts of Simon Caulfield. The pain in her neck and back was fading day by day, but still enough to cause her grief and keep up a steady dose of painkillers.

“Dad?” Amy asked. “Everything okay?” Amy sat down at the kitchen table and sighed, wincing at sharp stab of pain which shot through her neck.

“I’m coming to fetch you, Amy. You’re not to stay with that bastard any longer!” Richard Holland demanded. “Your mum knew there was something behind the shooter; I know she was involved with Lucas. And I know you were took hostage last week.”

A rod of ice shot down Amy’s back and her heart raced in her chest. “D…Dad….what’s happened?”

“I’m coming to London to get you. He better not be there when I come because I’ll kill the bastard!” Richard seethed.

“Dad, please, stop it.”

“No, I won’t stop it, Amy. I am not prepared to let him do this to you. It’s a good job your mum is at work and hasn’t seen the photos. I won’t let her see them.”

“Who sent you the photos?”

“It doesn’t matter who sent them. I’m coming to get you. Pack some things.”

“Dad…please….”

Lucas could hear Amy’s pleas and hobbled into the kitchen. “Aim, what’s going on?”

Richard growled down the phone line. “Trying to play the protector now, is he? He can fuck himself. He’d better not be there when I come and get you because I really will kill him…”

Amy was weeping as her father disconnected the call. She held the phone in her shaking hand, until it finally fell from her grasp and hit the floor. “Dad knows!” she sobbed. “He’s got photos of me from last week and when I was shot. He’s coming to take me back to Coventry. I can’t leave.”

Lucas’ breath caught in his throat. Everything he loved was slipping away, and for a few seconds he tried to grapple with some kind of rational thought. He knew he couldn’t fight this one; Amy’s father was right. Despite having not heard Richard’s side of the conversation, Lucas knew he was doing the right thing. Amy had to be safe.

Amy dashed at Lucas, grabbing his shirt. She could see in his face that he was admitting defeat.

“You need to go with him, Aim. They can keep you safe: I can’t,” Lucas said, his voice breaking. “I love you too much to let you keep being hurt. He’s doing this because he loves you, Amy. He fucking loves you…and so do I.” His voice finally broke. Tears fell down Lucas’ cheeks and he took Amy into his arms, holding her tight. “Go with him, angel. I can’t keep you safe anymore.”

“You can,” Amy wept, looking up at him. “I want to be with you, Lucas. More than anything. Don’t push me away.”

“I’m not pushing you away because I want to. Fuck. Can’t you see that? It’s because I love you more than anything that I’m doing this.”

“If I do go, I’ll come back,” Amy argued. “They can’t make me stay.”

Lucas smiled through the tears. “You are the bravest person I’ve ever met.”

The next two hours were crippling as Amy packed two suitcases full of clothing. Lucas watched her from the doorway, knowing that letting her go was the only way to keep her safe. Amy belonged with her family who could be the stability she needed. “I am coming back,” Amy said defiantly, stopping for a second with a pile of underclothes in her hands. “I don’t intend on staying there for long.”

“You’ll stay as long as you need to.”

“I’m only doing this to please you and Dad for now, but I’ll be coming back,” Amy countered. She approached Lucas and lifted her hand, cupping his cheek. He kissed her palm, turning into her touch. Then suddenly he kissed her hard, catching her off guard. Heat mounted so high between them and within seconds, Lucas’ lips were trailing down Amy’s throat.

They made love on the bed. It was like the very first time they had made love: intense, passionate, full of want. As Lucas came and then rested his head on her chest, he whispered, “I need to let you go.”

“Lucas, no!” Amy whimpered. “Don’t you dare!”

Lucas got up from the bed, untangling himself from her and re-buttoned his shirt, and then pulled his jeans up, re-buckling his belt.

“When we got back together, I should have known I wouldn’t be worth it,” Amy growled. “I’m never worth it, am I?”

“You are worth everything!” Lucas shot back. His eyes were wide and his whole face was contorted in anger and frustration. “How the fuck can you say you’re not worth it? I’m doing this because I love you. I should have known better than ever bring you into any of this. I should have stayed away when I first saw you.”

Amy choked as she heard those words and dropped to the bed. “You regret me….”

“I would never regret you. I only regret that I caused you so much pain. Your dad won’t be too much longer, I don’t think.” He looked at the clock; Coventry was about a three hour drive away from London. It was now just after one in the afternoon and Richard had called at eleven. “Go with your dad. You are loved so much more than you could ever imagine. By all of us.”

Lucas walked out of the room and picked up his keys in the hallway.

Amy followed on behind, calling after him.

Before Lucas left the flat, he kissed Amy hard one last time. “I adore you so much,” he choked. “Be happy, angel, but more important, be safe.”

Amy sobbed on the doorstep as Lucas left. She watched his form walk down the hallway and out the main door into the street. Pain was ripping her so raw inside and in her own mind she knew that she could never give up on Lucas North completely. No matter what happened and what evil things were thrown at them. Their love would be stronger than any of it.

***

Amy sat in her dad’s car as they drove back to Coventry. There was only silence and the gentle sway of the car as it swept along the motorway. Until Richard broke open the silence. “Fancy a coffee?”

“Okay,” Amy whispered, her voice so hoarse after sobbing. Her cheeks were still vivid red and her eyes full of unshed tears. They threatened to fall at any moment. Just her dad’s kindness and soft voice made her want to cry all over again. Of course he was only protecting her; that had never been in dispute. That was all he and Lucas were doing.

Richard slipped out of the car and headed into a Costa at a motorway service station. Rain was beginning to spit as dark clouds began to move in. Amy stared out of the window, her focus glued to the spot in front of her where a family were getting into their car. A dark haired man, accompanied by a blonde woman. A toddler and an older child, who looked to be around ten. They looked happy.

The sound of the driver door opening snapped Amy back to reality and made her jump. Richard noticed his daughter’s shock and smiled sadly at her. “Here you go, love,” he said, offering her a large latte. “Extra shot of caramel.” Then he winked.

As Richard started the engine, he sighed. “I’m sorry, Amy,” he said. “I’m only doing this for your good; you know that, don’t you? I know you love Lucas. But being with him is going to put you at risk.”

“I know, Dad,” Amy said, her voice quiet. “I know you’re doing this to help me and because you love me.”

“You might be a grown woman, but your mum and I would do anything for you, you know that. We want you safe. No matter how old your children get, your responsibility for them never stops.”

The car was still stationary as Richard glanced across at Amy’s hands in her lap, and he noticed something dark around her wrist as her jumper sleeve had ridden up her arm. “Fucking hell,” he whispered. “Your wrists.”

***

Lucas slammed the flat door as he walked back inside, knowing Amy would be gone by now. The silence was deafening, and a gasp came from the very back of his throat. She’d gone. Her room was tidy, but her diary from her bedside table was gone, along with her slippers and most of the toiletries from the bathroom. He opened her wardrobe, just to feel the pain of her departure even more. There were barely any clothes left.

In the kitchen and Lucas slumped down on the floor, feeling the cold of tiles against his backside and thighs. Pain from the bullet wound shot down his leg, but he didn’t care. The pain couldn’t compare to that of letting Amy go. He pulled his phone from his jeans pocket and looked at the photo of them on his lock screen. She was his everything. Though the pain was excruciating, her very presence in his life had helped him to feel once more. All of the emotional and mental numbness he had felt since coming home from Russia, had been burned away by Amy Holland. She made him feel happiness, contentment, love, pleasure. But also pain. Pain seemed to be a constant in his life now, a permanent friend.

***

Amy stepped into her parents’ house, feeling the wave of familiarity rush through her. The smell of a home she had left many years ago – it was still exactly the same. It hadn’t been that long since she and Lucas had been visiting for new year, but this was different. Today marked the day she would be staying for longer. Maybe until all of this blew over, and then she could be with Lucas again. So she hoped.

“Your mum isn’t home yet, but I’ve burned the photos. I can’t let her see those. What happened, Amy? The truth, please,” Richard asked, his voice was low but firm. He had never been a demanding man, instead always being gentle with his daughters. But today had shown Amy just how fierce he really could be. “You know who sent those images, don’t you?”

“It’s all secret information…”

“No, Amy! I won’t have that shit,” Richard growled. “Tell me. I don’t care if it’s top secret and a risk to national security, or whatever, you’re my daughter and I deserve to know what happened to you.”

Amy stood in the kitchen and looked up at her dad who was waiting for an answer. He had his arms folded and his face was set in a straight expression.

“The woman who shot me was Lucas’ ex and a CIA agent. She faked her death because she killed her boss and went on the run. Then she must have found out about me and Lucas, and tried to make me think he wasn’t really in love with me. And she collared us outside the café that morning and went to shoot Lucas, but I stopped her. And Lucas killed her.”

Richard sighed and held his hand to his mouth. “Fucking hell, Amy.”

“It was Sarah’s brother who took me hostage, wanting to get revenge on him. Apparently, the accomplice of Simon Caulfield was Sarah’s ex-husband; I was told that in the hospital. They went rogue together to get revenge on Lucas.”

“And you were still prepared to stay with him after all this?” Richard asked, his eyes wide.

“I love him,” Amy replied softly. Tears were falling down her cheeks again. “I’ve never loved anyone else like this, and he actually loves me back. For so long I never felt I’d ever find a man who could love me...”

“Oh, love,” Richard sighed. He took Amy into his arms and held her tight as she wept on him. Through tears, Richard looked up at the ceiling, asking in prayer for the strength to be what his daughter needed.

Once Sharon was home from work, Richard explained the whole story to his wife.

“Where are the photos, Rich?” Sharon asked. Her dark eyes were wide with shock and her hands were shaking.

Amy was sat at the other end of the table, feeling as though her whole body was closed off. She hung her head, feeling ashamed of everything that had occurred.

“It doesn’t matter about the photos. I got rid of them. I wasn’t letting you see them,” Richard replied.

Sharon walked towards her daughter. She was slow and deliberate, and her gaze was locked on her daughter’s arms. Her skin was concealed by a thick jumper. Sharon leaned down and gently pushed the sleeve up on Amy’s left arm. “Oh, God,” she gasped, seeing black and purple bruising around Amy’s wrist.

***

Follow Forever tag list: @lathalea @linasofia @xxbyimm @middleearthpixie @knittastically @meganlpie @asgardianhobbit98 @rachel1959 @luna-redamancy @mrsdurin @lemond57 @missihart23 @quiall321 @evenstaredits @catthefearless @glassgulls @sazzlep @heilith @court-jobi @absentmindeduniverse @albionscastle @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @bookworm-with-coffee @danzalladaggers @ourlonelymountain @phantomessangel @estethell @windb3ll @protosslady

#Lucas North #Richard Armitage #Spooks #MI5 #Lucas North x OC #Original Female Character #Fanfiction

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nobleburn · 3 years

Note

8. did you have a muse you tried to play, but didn’t feel connected to

12. what do you think about AUs?

8) Hmmm, I think more than “didn’t feel connected to” it would be “couldn’t figure out how to interact with others with.” I’m not typically the kind of person to make a blog without a strong idea of what the character is and how I want to write them, but for some reason or other, it’s not always been easy to connect with the community? For example, I had a Simon Belmont from Castlevania blog years and years and years ago, before the castlevania anime (fun fact, I used Richard Armitage in the BBC Robin Hood as his faceclaim, which then made it extra funny when he became the VA for Trevor in the netflix series) and although I put a lot of effort into researching the character, compiling stuff from various canon sources, and working up some AUs for how he could exist in other time periods beyond his own, finding people to interact with was really hard, and that made me get a little down on the blog. There have been a few examples like that between canons and OCs, where a blog is just completely Dead On Arrival.

The only real instance I can think of of losing my connection to a muse is Maki Harukawa from Danganronpa? I had a blog for her that I placed on indefinite hiatus a few months ago, after a couple years of writing. It was a similar reason, in the sense of losing some partners and having a hard time finding new ones, but it was exacerbated by some comments I received in private that were not very kind to my portrayal of her. In tandem, those things made me sort of freeze up, and it made replies take me literally over an hour each to write, just because I was second and third-guessing every single thing I wrote. It got to the point where I was lacking motivation, and felt like I couldn’t really figure out what she would do anymore, so I had to put her off to the side for a while. Maybe once I do my multi-muse, I’ll add her back in.

12) It depends on the AU but I’m mostly for them! I like finding ways to fit my characters into other properties or other characters’ universes - “how can I adapt a character like Lilli or Nikolette to Fire Emblem” or “What could I do with Lilli in a modern world setting with magic as a rare and underground kind of thing” or “Partner X has a character or an AU that’s Property Y - it would be fun to fit one of my characters in there and do stuff with them.” “Generic” AUs don’t necessarily do it as much for me. For me personally, it’s harder to sustain long-term enthusiasm for something that’s like, “Vampire AU” or “Organized Crime AU.” If it’s relevant to the character (I have played Marianne von Fire Emblem off-tumblr and had a monster AU for her there, which I felt fit for her specifically) then I’m good for it, but I’m not super great, personally, at writing stuff that’s like “tattoo shop/flower shop AU” or “werewolf AU”. If it’s intended as like kind of a one-off “let’s do a thread and then put it away until the next time inspiration strikes,” then I’m good for it, otherwise it might be harder.

#dcviated #thanks for asking!#answered memes

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i-did-not-mean-to · 10 months

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20 Questions for Fic Writers

Ah, my dear @cilil has tagged me, and I'll try to do at least one Tumblr thing today. I had hoped that I'd have more time this weekend!!! This week was madness...I swear!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

391 (and yes, I am one of those who put between 7 and 133 different ficlets into one work to keep the number of individual works down).

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

1,800,713 (this does not include 2 longfics I've orphaned and several fics I've posted anonymously)

(but I've been writing since July 2021)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Tolkien, roles played by Richard Armitage, roles played by Adam Brown, the odd Dean O'Gorman fic for @laurfilijames, 1 Lucifer fic...)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Tumblr Imagines (it's a collection of ficlets from when I started and has over 200k)

October 2022 Ficlet run (Yeah, as I said, I don't post all my fics separately)

Black (Local folkore meets The Hobbit retelling

Silm imagines and ficlets (Again, a 50k+ collection)

"The only way is up" or "thrice stuck" (Smutty dream sequence with Thorin)

These are mostly my first writings which had had time to amass some few kudos :D

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Always!

It takes me a while sometimes, but I need people to know how much I love and appreciate their support! I love every comment, and I truly wish I was a little better at expressing myself when it comes to these things <3

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I honestly do not remember...Probably, Love letter to the man you've never got to be.

I usually don't do much angst 😇

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Very hard to say because I don't finish too many of my long fics lol. I'd want to say Sticks and stones (Christmas Hallmark story)...it's just that kind of story.

My TRSBs are usually "Happy End given the circumstances" rather than all-out Happy End...lol

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Thus far, no.

I am not relevant or known enough to attract that kind of attention!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Me? No...(There have been spicy scenes in long fics, spicy fics, outrageous ficlets, Kinktober, Dead Dove December, MSV...Ok yeah, I do...and I do all of it. M/F, F/F, M/M, M/F/M...from vanilla to whips. You choose, I write)

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I am an AU bitch. I've done a HP drabble once...Les Mis/LOTR for last year's Christmas event...it happens...

Right now? Twilight Crack parody for a good friend :D

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think so? Who would steal trash?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nobody has ever approached me...

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes...Once for last year's S&D, I am doing it now for the Calendar fic...I love collaboration, what can I say?

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

Ship-ship? Russingon.

OC ship? Ori x OC

Rarepair? Nerdanel x Anairë

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Black - It's one of my first fics...and I've never written that last chapter.

I am also known for having written chapters and chapters of other longfics but just...never posting them lol

16. What are your writing strengths?

I am fast, I am versatile, and I am willing to write almost any character, dynamic, ship, and genre. From tooth-rotting fluff to noncon. From very vanilla M/F meet-cute to kinky sex.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I am bad at punctuation. I rarely have an outline, I just write. I do not plan, I do not come up with complicated worldbuilding, I have exactly 0 HC documents.

I just write whatever comes to mind.

Moreover, I have a real problem with posting. I write A LOT more than I post...because I just can't motivate myself to reread LOL

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I avoid even Tolkien's languages for fear of getting something wrong. I am fluent in at least 3 other languages, but I am not entirely sure whether there would ever be a place for them.

If I did that, I am afraid that it would become incomprehensible as the only one I wouldn't use is my mother tongue. It would sound a bit...magniloquent...

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Tolkien. Only fandom thus far...

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

I don't know. Every so often, I write something I don't hate, but I can't remember right now loool

Open tag for everyone who hasn't done this yet :D

Tell me something about yourselves!

#og post #tag game #ask blog #ask game #cilil #IDNMT answers #writer's question

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legolasbadass · 3 years

Text

Masterlist

👑 Thorin 👑

A Lifetime Apart (Thorin x OC, Pre-Smaug, rated T) — This fic was written for the Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang 2021 for the lovely @gwen-ever. [1] [2] [3]

Blame it on the Dress (Thorin x reader, rated E) — [1] [2]

The Castle on the Mountain (Thorin x OC, Gothic AU, rated E) — [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]

Heart of Gold (Thorin x OC, Pre Quest of Erebor, read the whole fic on AO3, rated E)

In Your Arms (Thorin x reader, rated G)

Just Like the Ones I Used to Know (Thorin, Dís, and Frerin, rated G)

New Pleasure (Thorin x OC Dania, rated E)

The Shadows Which Fire Throws (Thorin, Dís, and Frerin, rated G)

Shelter From the Storm (Thorin x reader, rated E)

Waterfall (Thorin x reader, rated E)

Welcome Home (Thorin x reader, rated E)

📚 Richard and Lorelei Series 📚

Office Hours (Richard Armitage x OC, Professor AU, rated E, read the whole fic on AO3)

Italian Holiday (Richard Armitage x OC, Professor Au, rated E)

Home for Christmas (Richard Armitage x OC, Professor AU, rated E)

💗 Other Characters 💗

Against All Odds (Dís x OFC, rated M, read the whole fic on AO3) — This fic was inspired by the talented @lathalea's wonderful art for the Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang 2022.

Candlelight (Ori x reader, rated T)

All of my works are also available on AO3.

If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, let me know!

#masterlist #the hobbit #lotr #the hobbit fanfic #thorin #thorin fanfic #thorin x reader #thorin x you #thorin x oc #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin oakenshield x you #thorin oakenshield x oc #the hobbit fanfiction #thorin fanfiction #fanfiction masterlist

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lathalea · 3 years

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Day 26: Waiting

Here's today's fic for the Writer’s Month 2021 challenge (see @writersmonth for more info).

Remember that interview with Richard Armitage, the one when he hinted at Thorin perhaps having love in his life before Smaug came? This is my take on things. Yes, it's somewhat angsty, I know, but hey, blame RA, not me!

Before you scroll away, listen: I know I said I won’t be writing any more heavy angst this month and I swear this isn’t it. They get their Happily Ever After!

Today's prompt: word: depth | setting: ghosts

Fandom: The Hobbit (book canon; hot Thorin canon :D) Relationships: Thorin x OC Rating: T Warnings: canon character death, angst... but with a happy ending! It’s not as bad as you think, I swear! (Okay, it's a bit bad, but then it gets better. In a way.)

You can read this fic here and on AO3.

* * *

Waiting

“You are my One and I wish to spend my whole life with you,” you said to me at the eastern slope of the Lonely Mountain. You were Thorin, my prince, and I were yours, your princess. My heart beat only for you, and your love for me shone in your eyes every time you looked at me. Our courtship was like a dream.

We were to wed in one months’ time when the great dragon came. My mother, your mother, and me had been so very busy with the preparations for our wedding. It was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. But it was not to be. I perished in the bowels of the mountain. Death came swiftly, on fiery wings.

I watched you from afar as you traveled through the world with the rest of the survivors, your burdens becoming heavier with each step. I heard my name leaving your lips each time you lay your head on the pillow. Very often, sleep would not come to you. There were tears, and nightmares, and tormented whispers. Only I knew the depth of your despair, for I was always there, watching over you, even though you could not see me. And yet I waited.

And then more misery was in store for you. Your grandfather’s madness. The war with orcs. Azanulbizar. Frerin. Your father’s disappearance. But you never gave up. You built a life for our people in the Blue Mountains. You poured hope into their broken hearts, even if you barely found it in yours. Every night I sang a song for you, the one you adored so much, and then sleep would come to you, even though you could not hear me. And yet I waited.

After the meeting with the Grey Wizard you never hesitated. I followed you through the Shire, to Rivendell, and over the Misty Mountains. I was beside you in the dungeons of Mirkwood. I ran my fingers through your hair, chasing away your worries, even though you could not feel my touch. And yet I waited.

In Laketown, I whispered words of hope into your ears, trying to chase away the darkness lurking over the horizon. When you entered the Mountain, I knew it was too late. The foul dragon magic was already reigning over your mind, turning your friends into enemies. But you wouldn’t give up. You fought. I gathered all my remaining strength and reached out to you. My name escaped your lips; you found the light in your heart and broke the chains of dark magic. The dragon inside you was gone forever, but I was still by your side, even though you could not sense my presence any longer. And yet I waited. It would not be long now.

A red flower of death bloomed around you as you lay on the fresh white snow. I was but a shadow of a shadow by then, but I knew my waiting was coming to an end.

You opened your eyes and saw me again for the first time in almost 150 years. “Thorin, my beloved, I waited for you,” I whispered. “I felt you beside me every day, my love. I counted the days until we would meet again,” you took my hand, as you did for the first time at the eastern slope of the Lonely Mountain, and so we entered the Halls of Awaiting, leaving our bodies and the mortal world behind.

Once again we are together. Forever. I am not waiting any longer.

* * *

Read it? Like it? Spread the love and reblog it!

Fell like reading more? Here is my masterlist for the Writer's Month 2021 event.

Taglist: @fizzyxcustard @shrimpsthings @dark-angel-is-back @sherala007 @amelia307 @anyaspidergirl-blog @jotink78 @rachel1959 @saltwater-in-the-afternoon @linasofia @justfollowtheroad @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @legolasbadass @yourqueenunderthemountain @reblogunderthemountain @guardianofrivendell @elrawienthewhite @xmly-xo @tschrist1@nelleedraws @beenovel @vee-vee-writes @mcchiberry @shalinizhara @dumbassunderthemountain @errruvande @laurfilijames @emrfangirl @s0ftd3m0n @lilith15000

#writersmonth2021 #richard armitage #thorin fic #angst #thorin oakenshield #thorin #romance fic #the hobbit fanfic #happy end #really it gets worse but then it gets better #I swear you will survive it #the hobbit #botfa #fanfiction #thorin in love

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middleearthpixie · 3 years

Text

I posted 1,054 times in 2021

224 posts created (21%)

830 posts reblogged (79%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 3.7 posts.

I added 2,189 tags in 2021

#the hobbit - 359 posts

#thorin oakenshield - 280 posts

#hobbit fic - 202 posts

#fan fiction - 201 posts

#hobbit fanfic - 200 posts

#au - 200 posts

#the hobbit fan fiction - 196 posts

#thorin fic - 193 posts

#thorin x oc - 182 posts

#richard armitage - 176 posts

Longest Tag: 118 characters

#did not road rage at the person who insisted on driving 10 mph below the speed limit the entire time i was behind them

My Top Posts in 2021

Garage AU ~ The Chance You Take

Modern Spin on The Hobbit

Summary: When your car breaks down, there is only one garage in town - Durin’s Garage and Engine Repairs. And sometimes, they do more than just tune your engine, check your oil, and top off your fluids…

Pairing: Modern!Thorin x reader

Warning: A little fooling around, a hint of prophecy…

Word Count: 5,914

This is another installment and homage to @laurfilijames (who is an awesome writer, terrific friend, all around good egg) and her way hot and spicy Garage AU (go, read it now! And also read @i-did-not-mean-to’s installment ‘Nother Time) And keep an eye out for @fandomfaeryreads, who is also working on an installment!

This fic can also be found on AO3

Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @ocfairygodmother @exhausted-humxn-being @shalinizhara @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover

It was almost dark and you breathed a sigh of relief as you managed to coax your old Ford into the lot. Bluish smoke wafted from beneath the Mustang’s exhaust and from beneath the hood. Now, you were no mechanic by trade, but even you knew that couldn’t possibly be anything good. Didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that out.

The sign over the bay of garages read Durin’s Garage and Engine Repairs in rather old-fashioned looking gold script, and the doors were closed. To the right of the bays, there was a door and above that door, another sign, in the same old-fashioned script, read Office and from within, a light blazed. Wonderful. Hopefully that meant a warm body lingered inside. Please, please let there still be somebody there. You only barely knew where in town you were, and you weren’t even sure this tiny little town had an actual name.

The Mustang rolled to a stop and you were pretty sure it actually wheezed as you killed the engine and yanked the key from the ignition. Whatever was wrong, it was going to cost a small fortune to fix. You didn’t even need to be a mechanic to know that.

To top everything off, it was raining. No, raining was not the right word. It was fucking teeming out. Rain hit the windshield so hard and so fast, the garage lights were fuzzy-looking blobs that didn’t resemble anything other than fuzzy-looking blobs. As for the other cars in the lot? You could only assume they were cars. They were just darker, fuzzier-looking blobs through the raindrop spattered windows.

No one came to the door. Wonderful. That meant you had to sprint though the deluge, which would have been fine, had you not chosen to wear a white v-necked tee shirt that day. Too bad it looked so cute with your ripped jeans and the weatherman made no mention of rain at all. Now, if you didn’t move fast enough, you were going to give whatever warm body you happened upon a nice show.

You waited a few minutes more. Maybe someone inside just moved slowly and would be out in a minute or two. Or maybe the rain would let up. No on both counts and actually, the rain fell harder now. Even the weather was against you at the moment. Damn it, why was Mother Nature such a bitch sometimes?

“Fine,” you muttered, taking a deep breath as you reached for the door handle, “it’s run or sit here all night.”

The door swung open with a creak of old steel hinges and you took a deep breath, bracing yourself for the rain, then forced yourself to get out of the car. The urge to kick the car was a strong one, but not only were you wearing sandals and would probably only succeed in smashing the hell out of your foot, but the rain came down in buckets now, so you’d probably drown if you tried it. Instead, you settled for slamming the door. Unfortunately, when you did, the rear driver’s side window promptly slipped halfway down. Old cars were awesome to look at, but could be a bitch to maintain and this one was the queen of all the bitches. Icy raindrops pelted you as you unlocked the door, yanked up the window, and held it in place from the outside as you slammed the door shut once more, then booked across the lot to the office.

You might as well have saved yourself the trouble and just strolled leisurely across that damn lot because by the time you reached the office, you were soaked to the bone anyway. Your hair was nothing more than wet strings now as you shoved it out of your eyes. Then you looked down. A mistake. The white balconette bra seemed like such a sensible choice when you got dressed this morning. It was cute and more importantly, it was comfortable. However, while most of each boob was covered, the cleavage created by that cute little bra was not so well hidden. Wonderful. All you could do was hope that whoever was still in the building wasn’t the least bit interested in boobs at all.

Your car keys dangled from your hand as you offered up a silent prayer to whatever power—if any—might be listening, and grabbed the knob. It turned easily, and as the door swung open, a bell tinkled merrily to alert anyone lingering in there a warm body was out here.

“Shop’s closed!”

The voice emanating from the back was a smooth baritone that actually sent a shiver along your spine, and that was something that never happened before. It was, without a doubt, the most sinfully deep voice you’d ever heard and you could only imagine the man behind it.

But, now was not the time to be ogling a voice—if such a thing was even possible. Your car was dead. You were stuck. So, unless you wanted to sleep outside in said dead car, you had to hope you could get a pity look at it, if nothing else.

However, you were now even painfully aware of how the cold, wet tee shirt stuck to you. You tugged it away from your boobs, only when you let go, it just slapped back against you, feeling even colder and wetter now. Wonderful.

“I don’t mean to bother you,” you called back, shoving your wet hair out of your eyes, “but I’m kind of… stuck.., here.”

A low sigh rolled up front, followed by the squeak of leather and the whir of wheels across the floor. A moment later, you saw the owner of the voice and all you could think was—

God help me…

He was gorgeous. Absolutely, utterly, totally gorgeous. And he practically filled the damn doorway—all broad shoulders and wide chest that looked even broader and wider in the black tee shirt bearing the words Durin’s Garage in gold over the left breast. That damn tee shirt was stretched so tightly across those broad shoulders, across that wide chest. So much broad. So much wide. Topped off with beautiful pale blue eyes and long, wavy, silver-streaked black hair caught loosely at his nape, probably to keep it from getting caught in a fan, or anything else, in an engine compartment. Normally, you didn’t find bearded men all that attractive, but if they all looked like this one bearded man? You’d fall on your knees and convert at that moment to join the Church of the Bearded Man Worshippers.

“Stuck?”

You nodded, trying to pry your tongue from the roof of your mouth. “My car is dead. And I mean, like really dead. I just barely got it into your lot and I’m pretty sure it is not turning over again. And I know you’re closed, but please? I don’t even know where I am really, and now I’m stuck here with this dead Ford POS.”

Probably not the smartest thing in the world, admitting you didn’t know where you were, but at that point, you didn’t care. Your car was deader than dead and you were stuck.

To your horror, his gaze dropped. He caught himself, but you still felt it, and when a slight smile lifted the corners of his lips, you contemplated just leaving the car there and hoofing it out of town as fast as possible. At least, you would unless the floor opened up and swallowed you whole, but the odds of that happening were slim to none.

To his credit, his expression remained utterly businesslike, as if women in wet, white tee shirts came into his shop every day of the week. Of course, seeing how fucking hot he was, it was entirely possible that happened all the time and this was nothing new to him.

Don’t think about that. Just. Don’t.

He came around the counter. “Dead how?”

“Dead as in not running.”

Those laser-beam blue eyes rolled. “I figured that much out on my own. What happened?”

“I don’t really know. I was about three miles from here when I noticed blue smoke wafting from the hood and the tailpipe. I just managed to sweet talk it into rolling into your lot, where it wheezed once and died. Trust me, it. Is. Dead.”

“Blue smoke. Blue smoke is definitely not good.” He strode past you to the window and peered out into the thickening darkness. “Which one is yours?”

Dear God, he filled out Levi’s like nobody’s business, and that made you feel even more like a drowned rat. Water dripped from your hair to soak your tee shirt just in case you’d forgotten you were soggy. “The metallic blue Mustang in the middle of your parking lot.”

The bell jingled merrily when he opened the door and a moment later, he let out a low whistle. "What year is that? Sixty-eight?”

“Sixty-seven, actually.”

“Damn.” He looked over his right shoulder at you as he tugged an umbrella from a bight orange bucket that said ice melt on the side. “You’re driving a fifty-four year old car and you’re surprised it died on you?”

“I happen to like that fifty-four year old car and no, sadly I’m not surprised at all. It’s just I can usually fix what goes wrong with it because it’s mostly minor stuff. But this time, I’m pretty sure it’s beyond my capabilities.”

He arched one brow, but said nothing as he popped open the umbrella and splashed out toward your car. Yes, driving it could be a challenge at times. It took forever to warm up in the winter and sometimes stalled out for absolutely no reason no matter what time of year, but this was the first time it up and died on you in years. And honestly, you didn’t even want to think about what it would cost because blue smoke and a dropping gas gauge probably meant blown cylinders.

You were already soaked pretty much to the skin, so what was a little more rain at that point? You followed him out, trying like hell not to notice that he’d popped the hood and now bent over to peer into the engine compartment with a flashlight and it was only dumb luck that kept his ass from bursting into flames because you could not help but stare at it. Damn… good genes or time well spent in the gym, or maybe a combination of both. Either way, you didn’t really feel the rain any more and in all honesty would not have been surprised to see steam wafting from your wet clothes.

“Yeah,” he straightened up and carefully pushed the hood back down with one hand, “I’ll have to get it into the shop and take a look, but I have to warn you, I’m thinking the problem is with the cylinders, Miss—”

You told him your name and then sighed, leaning against the fender and lifted your face up to the rain. With any luck, you’d drown right there and then, or you’d melt or something. “That’s what I was afraid of. Dare I ask how soon you can look at it?”

“We’ve got a few cars ahead of you. It hasn’t been a good couple weeks for ladies traveling through town. At least not a good week for their cars, anyway. I’m not so sure they’d complain.”

You rubbed your forehead with one hand. The last thing you wanted to hear was about his escapades with these unfortunate souls who probably weren’t quite so unfortunate to be stranded at this particular garage. “Not to be that person, but how many is a few? And I guess my next question is, where is the closet hotel, motel, or B and B?”

“Let’s get this into a bay and I’ll go see what’s on the schedule for tomorrow.” He closed the umbrella and handed it to you. The backs of your fingers brushed the backs of his, and you’d swear you heard a snap of electricity at the contact.

He, however, didn’t seem to notice, just as he didn’t seem to notice the rain spattering him. He moved to open the driver’s door. “Put it in neutral, you steer, I’ll push.”

“I know the routine. Remember, it’s a fifty-four year old car. I’ve done the you steer, I’ll push more times than I care to think about.”

He smiled and when you lowered yourself into the seat and tucked your legs in, he pushed the door closed. You shifted the manual transmission into neutral, waited for him to open the bay door almost dead center from where you sat. He came back around and when he yelled, “Ready?” you told him yes and tried unsuccessfully to ignore how your jeans stuck to your legs and to the seat at the same time.

It took a little effort first, but then the Mustang rolled relatively easily into the bay, and the bank of doors behind you lit up red when you stepped on the brake pedal. You set it back into first gear, and with both hands, pulled the emergency brake, which was a lever located under the dash on your side. Two hands to tug as hard as you could and it locked into place.

You got out and watched him tug down the bay door and twist the handle to lock it. Then, he came back over to you. “It’s a nice car, even if it is dead right now.”

“I’ve had it since I was fifteen. My dream car was a sixty-nine Mach I, but this was what I could find. Not quite the same, but I’ve gotten kind of attached to it over the years.”

“You must’ve to keep it on the road this long. You don’t see too many old cars on the road nowadays, which is kind of a shame, really. I miss working on them. They’re so much easier to tinker with, even if getting parts can be a bitch at times.” He stepped closer and you couldn’t help but notice the way the overhead lights played along the silver streaking his wet hair, the way they glinted off the ornate-looking silver cuff holding his hair at his nape. A hint of motor oil and grease hung in the air, but as he drew closer, there was something else. Something clean, with a hint of cedar to it. You didn’t know if it was his shower gel, or cologne, but it gave you the urge to lean in and inhale deeply. And that would be weird, so you tried to ignore it as you leaned back against the Mustang’s door.

Of the four bays, three were occupied, one being your car. The other two cars were far newer models. A radio played in his office, the faint but unmistakable strains of Led Zeppelin’s Kashmir floated toward you. You weren’t much of a Zeppelin fan, but you liked this particular track. “Is there something I should fill out, or an envelope to drop my keys into?”

“I can take them.”

“I don’t even know your name,” you told him, smiling as you tilted my head just a little.

“Sure you do. It’s on the sign.” He stepped closer. “Thorin. Durin. It’s my garage.”

Thorin. An unusual name, but it certainly suited him. With a smile, you held out your keyring. “Okay then. Now I feel better about handing my keys over to you, Thorin Durin.”

He held out a huge hand, palm up, and as you dropped your keys into it, you couldn’t help but notice the grease ground into the lines of his palm, how rough his hand looked. Working hands. Skilled hands. His fingers were long and thick and that was exactly the wrong thing to notice about this gorgeous man, because now you wanted to know what else was long and thick and as you looked up at him, you’d swear he could read your mind. His eyes darkened just enough that it sent a shiver along your spine. How many times were women told not to talk to strange men? And there you were, locked in a garage with one.

God help me.

But, you didn’t think you were in danger. At least, not much beyond your senses being totally rattled, any way. Mr. Thorin Durin didn’t give off a creeper vibe. Rather, if he gave off any air, it was one of a guy who didn’t quite seem to know just how hot he was, or what effect he had on women, and that didn’t seem at all possible to you. How could he not know? How was that even possible?

Because he most definitely had an effect on you. With each step he took closer, your heart beat that much faster. The air seemed charged. Your belly did strange little flips and all you could think about was pushing up on your toes and letting the tip of your tongue brush along the curve of his shoulder, up along his neck, to his ear to see what it might lead to.

Give me strength.

“Let me get you a towel,” he said, winking as he added, “You look as if you could use it.”

“Just a little.” Your hair dripped onto your chest, lay in loose, wet coils on your shoulders, spilled down your back, and the rain brought a drop in the temperature so you were also cold as well. Thank God your cleavage-inducing bra was padded or else he’d really be getting a show.

“Weatherman lied.” His voice carried across the garage as he went into the back office. “Said it was supposed to be clear and dry tonight.”

“And they go to school for that, you know.” you called back.

A low chuckle rolled her way, followed by, “Right? Like I can’t do the same job by poking my head out the window and looking up.”

He emerged from the office with two small hand towels and seemed almost embarrassed as he held one out. “It’s not much, but it’s clean and more importantly, it’s dry.”

“Thank you.” You took the rough yellow towel and draped it over your head to scrub your hair as best you could.

“Where are you from?” His voice broke through the noise of terrycloth against your hair and you peered out from under it to find him standing only a few feet from you, the second towel about his neck.

“New Jersey, actually. I’m new here.”

“A transplant, eh?”

You nodded. “I am, kind of. And don’t ask me why, because I can’t possibly explain it without sounding completely crazy.”

He caught the towel by both ends, and his gaze remained steadily locked on yours, but somehow that just made you even more aware of how your wet tee clung to you, how the swells of your breasts—damn you, cute balconette bra—were almost as visible as if you’d stood there in just that damn bra in front of him.

“Try me.”

“I’d never even heard of this town,” you dabbed at the rainwater trickling along your temple, shaking your head as it sounded nuts to you to admit this, “but I needed a change, so I basically closed my eyes, hit a bunch of random keys to enter into Google, and this town came up, so here I am.”

“And here you are.”

“You don’t believe me, do you?”

He shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I? I’ve heard crazier things.”

“Really?” You looked around at the cars in his shop and just imagined their owners, wondering if they were all women, who stood in front of this gorgeous man, who positively radiated sin and sex and danger, and wrestled with their inner selves to keep their hands to themselves. Or maybe they didn’t wrestle anyone and just threw themselves at him. Stranger things happened. “I’ll bet you have.”

“We get a lot of people who are just passing through. You’re the first who’s moving here, though.” He slid the towel from his neck and wadded it up to toss onto the work bench along the wall across from the line of cars. The surface was fairly clean, considering it was a garage, and she gathered most of the tools had been stored away in the large fire engine red upright tool boxes. He pointed at his shirt and then at you. “You want something dry to put on?”

“Oh.” You fought the urge to fold your arms over your chest, since it would be pointless anyway. “No, thank you. You know what? I should probably just get a cab and find the nearest motel. You want to go home, I’m sure and I’m really just about done in, so—”

“Don’t worry about a cab. I’ll drop you off.”

The thought of being alone in the close quarters of a car—or truck—with him rattled your senses in a way they hadn’t been rattled in years and it was something you hadn’t realized you missed, either. At least, you didn’t until now. Now, your stomach did a queer little flip and your heartbeat sped up. Now you folded your arms because that little flip, coupled with how cold the air swirling about that garage was, meant your nipples were thisclose to betraying you.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know I don’t.” He turned away, but not before she caught a glimpse of a grin. “But there’s only one cab company in town and they’re a little… shady… I’d feel better if I gave you a ride.”

Oh, Mr. Durin, I’d feel better if I gave you a ride.

Your back stiffened. Where the hell had that come from? Not that mattered, because you meant every word of it. You pressed your lips together as he disappeared into the office once more. Get a grip, you told yourself in the sternest voice you could muster. Men like him are never interested in women like you. He is giving you a ride—er, a lift home, such as it is. That’s it.

But you couldn’t ignore it. The low pull of his voice, his gorgeous blue eyes, his absolutely perfect face and body ignited something in you. Something you’d thought was long dead and buried. And it left you feeling more than a little reckless.

He came back a few minutes later, a black Durin’s Garage tee shirt in one fist. “Here. Before you catch pneumonia. It’s all I’ve got, but it’s dry.”

You stared at it, then took it. “Thank you.”

Thorin stepped closer. “It’s a small. I’m out of mediums and I think the large will swim on you. But this should fit. You’re pretty tiny.”

Compared to him, you were minuscule. But that wasn’t exactly a bad thing. The fluttering in your stomach worsened as your gaze focused on his lips. Would his beard be soft or scratchy? Would it leave red marks on your skin—along your jaw, down your neck…

Along your inner thighs?

What the—?

You stiffened, unconsciously pressing said thighs together. Part of you wanted to just whisk the wet shirt over your head and see what he’d do.

But the other part was afraid he’d laugh or worse, turn away with disinterest. After all, men like him did not notice women like you unless it was when you were in high school or college and they needed help passing an exam or writing a paper. Then, and only then, did they know you existed.

That reckless feeling rippled thorough you again. This might be your only chance to ever do something like this. And what was that old saying?

Oh, right… you never regret the chances you take as much as you regret the ones you don’t take.

Thorin towered over you, all broad shoulders and wide chest. “You can go in the office and change if you want a little privacy.”

You swallowed hard and tried to ignore just how fast your heart beat right then, because it was enough to make you dizzy. Things like this did not happen to you. Men like him never noticed you at all. And yet, he gazed at you intently, your keys still dangling from his right hand. His huge right hand. He noticed you, all right. But, what he thought about you might have been a totally different story.

“I—I’m okay right here.” You don’t know where the words came from but they were out there now, just hanging in the small space between you. He was close enough for you to feel the heat wafting from his body. Close enough for you to smell his clean, almost woodsy cologne.

Close enough for you to see the silver threads wound through his beard as well. This was no boy before you, no kid. He was most definitely a man. And from the looks of him, a man who would know what he was doing.

“You’re staring at me.” His voice was a low, rumbling purr, almost like you’d imagine a tiger’s purr would sound like, if tigers purred. You wondered if they did for a moment, then mentally slapped your forehead for it. Tigers? Really? For fuck’s sake, who cared? You had far more important things to worry about at the moment.

“You must be used to that,” you said without thinking, because surely women stared at this man with the same look of longing a starving person would cast toward a thick ribeye.

“What makes you say that?”

“Have you seen yourself, Mr. Durin? Because if you have, you cannot seriously be asking me why.”

He folded his arms and a wry smile lifted his lips. That smile did the oddest thing to you. You prided yourself on remaining cool and in control and now, this gorgeous man had you holding his stare as you slowly tugged the wet tee shirt over your head, right there, in front of him.

When you emerged, a hint of triumph shot through you. HIs eyes had visibly darkened, the pupils wider now, a hint of sin and promise crept into that wry smile. You held his stare easily as you let the wet shirt hit the grease-and-oil stained cement floor with a soft splop.

Daring him to do the same hovered on the tip of your tongue because all you could think about was what lay beneath those Levi’s and that black tee shirt. And you would not mind seeing what lay beneath his clothes at all.

You couldn’t help it. You drank in the sight of his muscled arms, the way his biceps stretched the tee’s short sleeves, how muscle roped his forearms, which were shadowed with dark, downy-looking hair. You drank in the sight of his thick thighs hidden beneath perfectly faded denim. Dear Christ, he was just so overpoweringly male, and you were in the mother of all dry spells. How could you not be wondering what it would be like to just fuck him right then and there?

He just stared at you with those mesmerizing eyes.

You’d heard the term eye-fucked but never experienced it.

Until now.

Because that was exactly what he did to you. His gaze roamed over you slowly, and you just had that feeling he liked what he saw. He hadn’t even touched you and yet, the cotton lining of your thong was damp. Your nipples were tight little beads and you could tell yourself it was from the cold air in the garage all you wanted to, but it was a lie. It was because his gaze might as well have been an actual caress, one that touched all the sweet spots and lingered there until your body responded to it.

You had to look away before you melted right there, on the floor in front of him. Over his right shoulder, you spotted the cork-board on the wall, covered with news clippings and photographs. You were too far away to see much detail - two dark-haired men and one blond, standing in the same garage. Father and sons? Brothers?

He leaned toward you and your breath caught as he just brushed his lips along your jawline, fainter than a butterfly kiss, moving toward your ear, where he whispered, “I don’t usually do this, you know.”

You swallowed hard. His voice was like black velvet dragged over sin. His beard was both soft and scratchy and you didn’t give a damn what kind of mark it left on your skin because that caress alone sent fire streaking through you. Your eyes closed and somehow, you managed to whisper back, “Do what?”

He swept his lips along your neck now. Your head lolled to the left. You bit down on your bottom lip as he slid an arm about your waist. As that arm tightened. As he pulled you flush against his big, solid body.

“Take on a customer after we’ve closed.” His breath was so warm against your skin, as much of a caress as his words were. You let your hands come to rest on his hips, the denim warm from his body heat. God help you, it was all you could do to keep from twisting your fingers into the bottom of his damp tee shirt with the intent of whisking it from his back.

“I don’t usually do this, either.”

“What’s that, love?”

Love? Oh, have mercy. His cologne teased your nose, mingled with the garage scents of oil and sweat and grime, and without thinking, you nuzzled him. His breath hitched. Both hands curved on your hips.

You turned your head to answer, only his mouth found yours instead, his lips warm and soft, his tongue thick and slow and teasing as he thrust it between your lips. You opened your mouth wider, let your tongue caress his. He kissed you slowly, deeply, his beard scraping along your sensitive skin in a unique caress of its own, until your head spun. He kissed you as if he already knew exactly how you liked to be kissed—soft and teasing, drawing your tongue back into the wet heat of his mouth. Oh, you did indeed like to be kissed this way, it sent the most delicious warm pleasure spiraling through you, made you forget your wet hair and your sodden clothes. It made you forget everything except wanting to feel more of it.

Now, you leaned into him, your fingers folding into the damp cotton stretched so nicely across his chest. Heat wafted from him, and the tee shirt was thin enough that all you felt was thick, firm muscle through it.

The arms about your waist tightened. He lifted you and the next thing you felt was the cold steel of the Mustang’s hood bleeding through your damp jeans. It didn’t stay cold for long and neither, for that matter, did you.

He slid a hand up along your waist, his fingers just brushing the outer curve of your left breast and just that slight touch was enough to make you suck in sharp breath, enough to make you arch your back, and he got the message, for a second later, his huge hand cupped your breast, his thumb found your nipple despite the padding in your bra, and very slowly slid about it. Fire darted through you, hot enough that you couldn’t hold back your mewl of satisfaction.

Your fingers tightened of their own in his shirt, and you tugged it free from the waist of his jeans. You slid your hand beneath it, skimmed it along hot, smooth skin layered with solid muscle. You squeezed it. No give at all. None. He was rock.

He angled his hips between your knees. Without thinking, you pressed your thighs against him, pulled him hard against you and you moaned in unison at the feel of his erection grinding up into you. You ached at the pressure, ached with wanting to tug on his black leather belt to unbuckle it and pop the fly on those Levi’s to see what he kept hidden, to see if he was every bit as perfectly proportioned as he felt. You waited with bated breath for him to unhook the fool bra and let it fall to the floor to join your tee.

Your fingers brushed warm leather, only to have him catch you by the wrist. “Wait,” he growled, gently pulling your hand away from him, “not here.”

Disappointed crashed over you as if the ceiling itself had fallen in. You were breathless and achy with desire, and he wanted to stop? “Why?”

He offered up a smile that was almost shy and he was more than a little out of breath as he murmured, “I don’t usually do this.”

“Take on a customer after you’ve closed?”

His eyes sparkled and a low chuckle rolled toward you. “Well, yes, but that’s not really what I meant, either. I meant this.” His hands came to rest on your thighs, and he squeezed them gently as he added, “I don’t normally fool around with my customers in the shop.”

“But outside the shop is okay?”

To your surprise, he actually laughed—a loud, husky laugh that was almost as arousing as his deep voice was. “I prefer it, yes.”

Then, to your surprise, he slid an arm about your shoulders and pulled you against him. “Tell you what, I’ll get to your car first thing in the morning and tomorrow night, I’ll take you out. Have dinner. See a movie. I don’t care. We’ll just go do something.”

“Thorin, I don’t even know where I’ll be tomorrow night. I’ll be living in a motel until I find a place. And I still have to find the motel.”

“I know where you’ll be.” He pulled away far enough to smile down at you. “You’re coming home with me tonight.”

“Um. Come again?” You winced. Poor choice of words, at least as far as you were concerned.

He didn’t seem notice, as he offered a boyish grin and wiggled his eyebrows. “We’ll stop on the way and grab something to eat and then maybe we can watch a movie and hold hands or something.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you serious?”

“Serious as a heart attack, love.” His eyes grew as serious as his voice as he said, “I have to prove to you I don’t go around seducing women on the hoods of their cars, don’t I?”

You didn’t really know how to answer that, so you eased down from the fender and crouched to swipe your ruined tee shirt from the garage floor. As you stood, it was to find him gazing at you with serious blue eyes now. “You can trust me, you know.”

You held that gaze easily and somehow, you just knew you absolutely could trust him. You couldn’t explain it. You just felt it. Even so, that didn’t stop you from quirking one brow. “Can I?”

He bent and brushed your lips with his. “Absolutely and I will prove it to you. You’ll see.”

“I’ll see what?”

“You aren’t here by accident, you know. This was meant to be,” he murmured. Then, he drew in a deep breath and added, “You’re my soul mate. I’ve been waiting for you.”

53 notes • Posted 2021-11-23 11:49:01 GMT

The Cellar

Author's Note: This is my first attempt at short writing, which is a skill I’m still honing, so I hope this isn’t too terrible. Please, reblog if you will and let me know what you think about it - good or bad. Thank you!

Summary: Pre-Quest for Erebor:

Dwalin is working as a bouncer and Dezana Ashmane is the bartender he’s had his eye on, but is surprisingly too shy to approach. At least, he is until one night, when he finds himself trapped in the tavern’s cellar with her, seeking shelter from a sudden, violent storm.

Pairing: Dwalin/Zana (Female OC)

Characters: Dwalin, Dezana (Zana) Ashmane (Female OC)

Rating: E

Warnings: Forced togetherness, cheap whiskey, soul baring and unexpected confessions.

Word Count: 3,173

Zana had never seen such ugly weather.

It teemed, raindrops hitting the Dancing Frog’s windowpanes, both small and large, with enough force, she didn’t know how the glass remained intact. For the last two days, rain and wind swept through the Blue Mountains, but over the last several hours, the storm gained strength. Wind lashed the eaves, threw open the tavern door more than once, and just in general wrought havoc all through town.

The storms themselves didn’t bother her, but the wind threatened to drive her mad. Wind was a monster that destroyed roofs, ripped down walls, blew in windows. And nights such as tonight were ever the reminder of that.

The tavern was dead, the weather far too terrible for even the most desperate of drunkards to venture out. They’d had one patron in the last hour and he’d finally taken his leave minutes earlier, staggering off into the storm despite her best attempts at getting him to stay by offering to put him up through the night on the sofa in her tiny flat above the tavern. Only she and Dwalin remained. The men and dwarves who provided security for the Dancing Frog took turns staying with her until she finished closing and tonight, he’d drawn the short straw and didn’t look at all happy about it. He remained over by the front door, arms folded, expression bland, bordering on annoyed. He was generally quiet, which made him far more intimidating than even his considerable size did. Tall for a dwarf, he was also all muscle, and not at all shy about using that muscle when the occasion arose. More than once, she’d seen him bodily lift Men off their feet to casually toss out the door as if it required no more effort than emptying a tankard or flagon.

The wind screamed around them, like some great beast determined to rip the roof from its moorings and devour them whole. She didn’t relish the thought of going up to her flat, of getting that much closer to the wind, silly as that was, since of course the wind had no top nor bottom nor sides. It was all encompassing. And angry. So very, very angry, it seemed.

The howling rose in pitch, the air pressure increasing until she had to swallow to make her ears pop. Something hit the tavern door with enough force to blow it open and Dwalin threw himself against it to slam it shut, then threw the bolt. Debris pelted the walls, the windows, and with a resounding screech of tearing wood, the door blasted open, ripping the lock clear out of the molding. The entire building shook as if a giant gripped in its fist, determined to shake them clear out of it.

Dwalin came around the bar, grabbing her by the wrist. “We need to go into the cellar. It’ll be safer there.” Another crash shook the tavern and he pulled with enough force to practically jerk her arm from its socket. “Now.”

She offered no resistance, and allowed him to pull her down past the dark kitchen, past her dark, cluttered office, and to the cellar door at the end of the corridor. He threw it open, guiding her around him. “Take care and don’t fall.”

“I know these stairs well enough,” she told him, pausing to pluck one of the flickering torches from its sconce Even so, she gingerly placed her free hand on the splintered railing, taking care not to run her hand along it.

It was slow going down that somewhat rickety staircase. Two risers were loose, so she took extra care not to stumble on them. Setting the tavern on fire would really put a crimp in everything.

Just beyond the staircase, empty sconce awaited the torch. The flame danced wildly at first, casting long, equally dancing shadows along the rough stone walls. Then it calmed, and gave off just enough amber light to show how dusty, cobwebby, and all round untidy the cellar really was. But, as Dwalin said, it was safe and that was what mattered.

The wind’s howls grew louder, more guttural, followed by the dull, hollow thunk of something hitting the front of the building. Glass shattered, crashing above them to send dust filtering down from the exposed ceiling beams and underneath the staircase.

A long, low craaaack rent the air, followed by more glass shattering. Dwalin grabbed her around the waist, basically tackling her to the damp, uneven stone floor as more debris filtered down upon them. He flattened himself over her, a dwarf shield, as one of the beams split and wood shards rained down. The wind went from a howl to a roar and she squeezed her eyes shut as the entire cellar lit up as lightning forked the sky. There was only one small window, high up on the back wall, but the lightning was that fierce, it needed nothing bigger to be seen.

Another crash, then the winds died down to a moan instead of a howl. Dirt, wood, and various other bits of debris sifted off Dwalin’s back as he carefully eased off her. “Are ye all right?”

She nodded slowly. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

He sat back with a nod, brushing the remnants of everything from his shoulders. She leaned over, pressing two fingers against his cheek, just above his dark beard, explaining, “You’re bleeding.”

“I’ll be fine. It’s but a scratch.”

“I don’t think so,” she leaned closer. The gash ran the length of his cheekbone, narrow, but bleeding freely. “How do you not feel it?”

“It stings, is all.” He jerked back. “Leave off. As I said, it stings.”

“Let me clean it. It looks as if you’ve some dirt in there.”

“It’s fine. Truly.”

But she pushed away and got to her feet. On the far side of the cellar was where the wine and beer casks were stored. On the row of somewhat dusty shelving were leather bottles of port, cognac, and various whiskeys. She grabbed one of the whiskey bottles, even as he said, “I need no fussing. It’s fine.”

“Stop being a baby,” she told him as she knelt before him. She pulled her lace handkerchief from the pocket of her trousers, and carefully tugged the cork free from the bottle’s neck. The whiskey was strong, its heavy oaken scent almost stinging her nose. Whiskey was never her drink of choice—it burned her nose and stung her throat and when it hit her stomach, it was like a fireball exploding through her. But, both Men and dwarves enjoyed it, so she made certain to keep a decent selection in stock.

This one was one of the less popular whiskeys, though, and so she didn’t hesitate to pour some into the handkerchief and press said handkerchief to the bloody gash.

“Aye! What’re ye doing?” Dwalin knocked her hand away as he jerked back and glared at her.

“Cleaning it. Now, do hold still and let me finish.”

“It’s fine the way it is. And—” Thunder shook the building and the winds rose to a roar again, effectively silencing him. She took advantage of it to lean in and gently dab at the cut on his cheek once more.

“Are you always so difficult?”

He glared at her, but this time didn’t try to pull away. “I need no fussin’ over me.”

“It’s not fussing. I just rather not see you die from a simple infection.” She poured more whiskey onto the handkerchief and pressed it to his cheek once again. “I need you here. You scare everyone into not brawling all over my taproom.”

To her surprise, he actually laughed. He rarely smiled, never mind laughed, and now having heard it, she wished he did both more often. His laugh was like a double black scotch—smooth and smoky and very easy on the ears.

“There.” She drew the handkerchief from his cheek. “I think you will live.”

“Thank the Maker for that, eh?” He took the bottle from her and without preamble, lifted it to his lips for a long pull. Then, he lowered it to say, “It sounds as if the storm’s come back.”

She nodded, glancing up at the ceiling as if she could see through the planks, through the ceiling and the roof, which of course, she couldn’t. Rain still pounded down, thunder rumbled, and the wind picked up to a low roar again. “I dread going up there and seeing what that crash was. There is no way it was anything good.”

He held out the bottle. “Sounds like the front windows. And no, nothing good at all.”

“Thank you.”

“Take a nip. You won’t mind so much, then.”

She hesitated, but then took the bottle. Bracing herself for the fire and flame, she swallowed.

A mistake. The whiskey scorched a path across her tongue, down her throat, and when it hit her belly, she let out a low, “Whoooof !” as the fire filled her.

He chuckled, taking the bottle from her. “Not much of a whiskey drinker, are ye?”

Zana shook her head, waving her hands as her eyes watered and her entire mouth burned. “N-no,” she managed to choke, “n-not at all, r-really. Oh, that is awful!”

“Aye, it is hardly the best I’ve ever had.” He sank back against the wall, gesturing to her with the bottle as he said, “I hope ye give 'em doubles for the price of singles when ye serve this.”

“No one ever asks for it. And now I can see why.”

“So why keep it, then?”

“I keep it for Nori, believe it or not.”

Dwalin just stared at her. “Nori? You’re joking?”

“I’m not. He is very sweet, but his taste in whiskey is appalling. And I’ve caught him trying to steal my steak knives, so I suppose he deserves terrible whiskey.”

“I’ll say. This could be used to strip the paint from a wall.”

She chuckled as he lifted the bottle again. “And yet, you’re drinking it.”

“My face hurts. I’m allowed.”

She sat back with a sigh. “If you wish to go home, I’ll be fine. Just be careful out there.”

“No. I’ll stay. If the windows were broken, ye never know if ye’ll end up with ruffians who’d think it a lark to help themselves to your ale.”

“Thank you.”

“No need to thank me. If this tavern closes, I’m out of work.”

“You’d find something elsewhere.”

“Perhaps,” he held her gaze steadily, “but I like it here.”

She’d never noticed how blue his eyes were until that moment, and she also noticed that she needed a sip of the rotgut whiskey, for the look in his blue eyes was one she’d never seen before. Reaching for the leather bottle, she said, “I take it I am not so terrible a shrew to work for?”

She brought the bottle to her lips, bracing herself for the sting and burn. They didn’t disappoint. Her face reacted of its own accord, which made Dwalin chuckle even as he said, “No, you’re not so terrible a shrew.”

He took the bottle back, rolling it slowly between his palms. The silence stretched between them, making her all too aware of how the storm intensified around them. Rain rapped against the glass in that small window like someone was throwing handfuls of nails at the pane, meanwhile the wind blew with enough force to rattle the iron bars across that small windowpane. Thunder rolled through the heavens above as if a giant somewhere shot marbles, and every now and again, the entire cellar lit up from lighting forking across the sky.

She tried not to let her thoughts dwell on the mess awaiting her above. Rain. Wind. Broken glass. Shattered wood. The tavern only broke even these days. It was entirely possible the cost of repairs would far outweigh her income and then she’d be left with no choice but to close.

No. She’d think about that later. Instead, she gazed down at the large hands rolling that fool bottle. The back of both hands bore tattoos in black ink, but she couldn’t tell what the tattoos were of, and normally he wore gauntlets over his wrists and hands, just in case. But, his hands were huge, with equally huge, somewhat battered and slightly crooked fingers. Somehow, she didn’t think he was a stranger to brawls of any sort and in fact, often seemed to simmer with an energy that suggested he only wanted to find exactly that.

But not now. Now, he was almost pensive. And that was an expression she didn’t often seen on anyone, let alone him. He’d worked for her for nearly three months now, and this was actually the most she’d ever even spoken to him, for he rather kept to himself when not needed on the floor.

“Is something the matter?”

“Why would you think yourself a shrew?”

She sat a bit more upright. “Because I suppose I have to be. A woman owning and operating a tavern in a town of dwarves and Men? If I was anything other than a tough old bird, I’d never survive.”

“Shrew. Tough old bird. Is that how ye see yerself?” He shook his head as he handed her the bottle. “A shame, that.”

This time, when she sipped, it didn’t seem to burn so badly. In fact, she took a second one, and that one went down smoother still. “Why do you say that? You don’t even seem to like me all that much.”

“Whatever gave you that impression?”

“You never talk to me. You always seem to be glaring at me.”

“That is just my face, lady. I canna help it. Trust me,” he took the bottle back and tipped it almost completely upside down, set it down with flourish and finished with, “you are anything but either one of those and I like you just fine. And that’s the problem.”

Her cheeks grew warm and a nervous energy fluttered through her, so she jumped up to fetch another bottle, and regretted her decision as the whiskey shot to her head and the room seemed to to sharply to the left.

“A problem? How so?” She managed to right herself, lurch to the shelf, grab the last remaining bottle of Nori’s dreadful whiskey, and plunked down across from him on the damp, dusty, stone floor.

“Because I work for ye.”

She unwound the wire from over the cork and tugged. The cork stuck fast in the bottle’s neck, despite her best efforts. “So,” she said without looking up as she wrestled with the cork, her hand growing sore as she fought with the bottle, “you cannot like me because you work for me?”

“Aye! A man shouldna lust after his boss if he can help it.”

That was not what she expected him to blurt and it was a shame that the cork chose that same moment to cooperate, for she lost her grip on it and it went sailing off into the far corner and out of sight. Thankfully, the bottle didn’t do the same.

“Wh-what was that?”

To her surprise, he blushed. The big, tough, hard as nails dwarf who could lift a grown Man off his feet and not even break a sweat, actually blushed. The flush spread up from his dark beard, along his slanted cheekbones, up into his wide forehead and even the top of his shiny bald head went pink. It seemed like the only thing stopping it was where his hairline began—at the middle of the back of his head, where thick, dark hair fell below his shoulders.

“Aye, now ye know.” He roughly shoved up from the floor to stalk across the cellar, to where the wine casks were stacked. “And now ye know what a fool I am as well.”

She set the bottle gently on the floor and scrambled to her feet. “Wait… Dwalin…”

He didn’t look at her, but kept his back stubbornly to her, and his shoulders stiffened as she laid a hand just over his left shoulder blade. “I don’t think you’re a fool at all,” she told him softly, her fingers curving into the solid muscle layered over his back. “I always thought you didn’t care for me all that much, but I pay well so you put up with me.”

“Lady,” he slowly turned toward her, “you’re wrong. I would work for you if you paid me slave’s wages.”

They were almost the same height, he was just far broader across the shoulders and chest. “Oh, well, if I’d known that…”

It was a risk, and for a moment, she thought perhaps she’d made a mistake. But then, his eyes softened and a smile curved his thick dark mustache. “I should’ve kept my mouth shut,” he growled.

“No,” she shook her head, letting her hand come to rest on his chest, “you shouldn’t have.”

With that, she leaned in and her lips met his. At first, he didn’t respond, but then he slid an arm about her waist, tightened it to pull her flush against him, and his lips moved against hers, soft and gentle. Then those lips parted, his tongue equally soft and gentle as it caressed hers. Despite the chill from the dank cellar, her blood warmed her entire body, one heartbeat at a time, and each heartbeat lasted an eternity as he then wrapped both arms about her. For the first time in her life, Zana felt safe. She felt cared for. Nothing could ever hurt her in those arms, as he’d shown time and again in the taproom, when he’d come to her assistance in dealing with an unruly patron. With him, she would always be safe.

He broke the kiss with great reluctance, his lips still brushing hers as he whispered, “I’ve been wanting to do that for the longest time.”

“I’ve been wanting you to do it for the longest time,” she whispered back, smiling as his eyes widened slightly. “But I thought you didn’t like me, remember?”

“And I thought you wouldn’t want anything to do with me.”

“You’re wrong, dwarf. There is plenty I’d like to do with you.” She winked, then burst out laughing as he blushed again.

That’s when Zana realized the world had gone quiet. The storm had blown over and calmness reigned once more. A shame, really, for now they had no excuse to remain in the cellar, and right then, there was nowhere else she would rather be.

He kissed her once more, just a light, teasing, almost playful kiss, then said, “Let’s go see how bad the damage is and while the tavern’s closed to renovations, perhaps we might find some way to pass the time.”

“I think that sounds like an excellent plan.” She slipped her hand into his and didn’t let go of it as they made their way back to the taproom.

The End

60 notes • Posted 2021-09-04 16:07:56 GMT

The One Where Dwalin is Totally NOT Jealous...

Author's Note: This was request from @i-did-not-mean-to and it took me a while, but here it is!

Summary: Pre-Quest for Erebor:

Dwalin has finally had enough of William (AKA Ol’ Moonface), the final straw being when William makes a pass at Zana right in front of him.

Pairing: Dwalin/Zana (Female OC)

Characters: Dwalin, Dezana (Zana) Ashmane (Female OC), William

Rating: M

Warnings: Table Sex

Word Count: 2,120

Khuzdal Translation: Amrâlimê - My love

Tag List: @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm

Additional Information: If you’d like to be added to the tag list, please let me know!

Zana sat at the bar with William, going over several work orders and she couldn’t keep the irritation from her voice as she said, “You’ve pushed the end date back by nearly five weeks now. I want this work finished so I can reopen my bloody tavern.”

“Take care, Miss Ashmane. There is no need to be upset,” William replied evenly, his expression neutral. Between his bald head and his perfectly round face, he truly fit Dwalin’s description of Moonface. Dwalin had no use for him, but Zana absolutely needed him, since she had a devil of a time getting any contractors in the Blue Mountains to even speak with her, never mind do business with her. She was of Man, and therefore offered more side-eye than anything else. William was a bit of a weasel, and she couldn’t fault Dwalin for disliking him the way he did, but to his credit, at least the workers talked to him—more or less.

“Don’t tell me to take care. I want this done. My doors have been closed since the storm and that was almost six weeks ago. I’ve had to let go of my staff and—”

“So, why is he here?” William nodded toward the far end of the bar, where Dwalin sat, nursing a tankard of ale and glowering at them.

“He is here because he is with me, as I’m fairly certain I’ve explained before.” She tapped the topmost work order, then gestured to the front windows, which bore wicked spiderweb cracks spanning almost the entire wide of the glass. “Now, tell me where my glass is to repair my cracked windows?”

“I’ve told you, the glazier is—”

“Incompetent,” Dwalin broke in, shaking his head. “As are most the lads ye’ve suggested.”

“I do not believe this is any of your concern, Dwalin.”

Dwalin’s blue eyes narrowed. “That’s Mr. Fundinson to ye, laddie. I dinna give ye permission to use my name.”

Zana rolled her eyes, tapping the parchment again. “The glass?”

“I’ll pay him a visit in the morning and see if I can’t get him to move a bit fast.”

As he spoke, his hand came to rest atop hers, which made her back stiffen, but she bit back the retort tickling her lips. Much as she hated to admit it, she needed William to run the interference needed to get the work done, although he was only slightly quicker than the contractors she needed.

“If you would, I’d be grateful.”

He smiled, his thumb skimming along the back of her hand. “Would you, now? How grateful?”

She tugged her hand free and from the corner of her eye, she saw Dwalin stiffen as well, his eyes mere slits. “I would, yes. Now, if we might…”

“Perhaps we should go and talk about this over supper somewhere?” William swept up the parchment to tuck into his satchel. “Somewhere we won’t be overheard.”

“I think we’ve discussed it all we need to,” she told him. “I have no desire to keep discussing unless I see results and so far, I haven’t.”

“Oh, these things take time, Miss Ashmane.”

“Too much time,” Dwalin grumbled as he climbed down from his barstool and came around to grab William by the upper arm. “We’re done here, Moonface.”

“What—what’re you—let go of me!” William sputtered as Dwalin dragged him off the stool and across the sloped pine floor toward the front door.

“Gladly,” Dwalin grunted, then actually lifted William from his feet to toss him out the door, where he landed in the street with a thud loud enough for her to hear, then he jerked the door shut behind him.

“Dwalin! What are you—you threw him out!”

“Aye, I did and I’ll do it again if I see him pokin’ his nose around ye that way again. Only, I might break him over my knee first.”

“Poking his… are you mad?” She had to jump down from the stool because she was too short to just ease off the way both men could. “I need his help, Dwalin! You cannot just go around tossing people from this tavern.”

At his long look, she amended her statement. “Tossing sober people who aren’t doing anything wrong from this tavern. You knew what I meant.”

“Isn’t doin’ anything wrong? He was coming on to ye, right in front of me. Laddie’s lookin’ to die and I wouldna mind helping him out a bit.”

“This is what I mean! You cannot keep doing this. He is helping me get the work done that this place needs so I can open the doors again. How am I to do that, if you keep throwing him out of here? Besides, he knows I’m with you. I’ve made that very clear.”

“So, he’s none too smart in addition to being mostly useless. I shoulda thrown him harder.”

“You shouldn’t have thrown him at all, Dwalin!”

“I regret nothing. He doesn’t care about helping ye. He’s tryin’ to woo you.”

“Trying to woo—do you hear yourself? That is insane.”

“Is it? He touches ye every chance he gets and ye don’t seem to mind much, either.”

“I don’t seem to mind…” She shook her head as she crouched to scoop up the scattered papers that fell out of William’s satchel when Dwalin grabbed him. “I just want my tavern opened and I am not having much luck on my own.”

“So let me deal with the contractors.”

“And have you hitting or throwing everyone who dared put a foot wrong?” She gave him a long look. “I don’t think so.”

“Why? Do ye honestly think I will hit ’em? Have ye seen me hit anyone?”

She paused. “You dragged him bodily out of here and tossed him into the bloody street!”

“He had it coming. Puttin’ his hand on ye. He’s lucky I didn’t lay him out flat right here.”

“You are mad sometimes. Do you even hear yourself?”

“Yer mine and no one touches what is mine.”

“I’m what?” She glared at him.

He glared right back. “Ye know what I mean.”

“I’m yours? As in, you own me? Is that what you’re saying?”

“No! Do I look daft?” He caught her around the waist. “But ye don’t see what he sees when ye look at ye.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means, he wants to get ye into bed. And I am no’ sharin’ ye.”

As he spoke, he brought his free arm about her waist as well, and tugged her up against him. “And if that means I throw a man bodily out of here, so be it. I can do what he does. And,” he added before she could say anything, “wi’out hittin’ anyone.”

“Dwalin…”

“What?”

Her irritation drained as she let her hands come to rest on his shoulders. The thick bands of muscle across his shoulders was still tense, there were still hints of anger in his blue eyes, but at the same time, she had to admit, there was something about seeing him so quick to defend her. “You are mad.”

“No, I’m not.” He bent to her, brushed her lips with his. Then he did it again, harder this time.

And that was it. She let her fingers graze his nape, smiling as he shivered against her. “Oh, amrâlimê,” he growled, his voice low and husky, “ye have no idea what ye do to a man. No idea a’tall.”

“And what’s that I do?”

He lifted her easily, his lips brushing hers as he whispered, “If he knew ye the way I do? He’d be thanking Mahal for making him a man, love.”

“I think that is an exaggeration, dwarf.”

“Oh, no…” He set her on the nearest table, clasped her by the hips, and pulled her hard against him. “As I said, ye have no idea…”

He bent toward her, capturing her lips with his, and she melted against him, winding her arms about his neck to pull him as flush against her as possible. His kiss came gentle at first, but intensified. She parted her lips, her fingers curling into the back of his rough-hewn henley to tug when his tongue swept along hers.

Heat spilled thorough her as he moved down along her neck, his fingers almost frenzied as they caught the bottom of her tunic to shove up. She didn’t try to stop him, but lifted herself just enough for him to whisk it over her head, and then she pulled him back to her.

Her own fingers were just as hurried, twisting harder in his henley, inching it up as he kissed his way down along the inner curve of her left breast. Her back arched, her teeth clamping about her bottom lip as he caught her nipple to tease. It was all so primal, the way his hands moved over her, the way his lips, his tongue, claimed her, and it sparked something inside her that made her want him just as badly.

She tugged, whisking his henley over his head finally, and let it drop to the floor behind her, her fingernails raking along his back, his shoulders, as he moved down, smoking a trail of kisses along her belly. His thumbs hooked in the waist of her leggings and the breeze came warm upon her skin as he wrestled them off.

“Dwalin!” Her hoarse cry echoed off the walls as he sank to his knees, draped her legs over his shoulders, and bent to her. His breath came warm upon her sensitive skin, his tongue soft and gentle as everything inside her began to heat up. Knots, tight and sweet, twisted within her, rendering her senseless as pleasure swamped her. He knew exactly where to touch, where to caress, and how rough or gentle to be and with the first brilliant flash, she arched her back, her fingernails scrabbling across the polished, albeit scratched and scuffed wood beneath her as he brought her to that amazing peak.

Her climax came hot and hard and left her writhing beneath him, and when he pressed a kiss into her inner thigh, she was fairly certain she actually purred. Then, he came up and a second later, he was inside her, arching hard and growling, “Oh, amrâlimê… what ye do to me…” as he offered up a hard thrust.

She melted around him, her legs curling about his waist as he fell into a hard, driving rhythm. The table was the perfect height, and with each thrust, she melted around him a little more. Harder and harder he surged into her. She trembled, her head spinning, dragging her fingernails up toward his shoulders, her voice little more than a husky whisper as he arched hard, went rigid, and growled, “Zana…”

He slowed, sinking against her, fighting for air, his head coming to rest against her breast. With a trembling hand, she let her fingers skim along his hair, surprising soft and silky. “Oh, my…” she whispered, her heartbeat slowing back to normal. “Oh, love… that was… what brought this on?”

“That’s what you do to a man,” came his whispered response, followed by a tender kiss sweeping over the inner curve of that breast.

He lifted his head and gazed at her with heavy-lidded blue eyes. She reached down to trace her fingertip along the flow of his beard. “I love you, you jealous fool.”

He managed a smile. “I am not jealous of ol’ Moonface. He’s not the one here, with bloody scratches down his back.”

“Oh, are you complaining?”

“Do I look tha’ dumb?” He straightened with a wince, then caught her by the hand to draw her up as well. As she leaned in and pressed a kiss against his chest, he wrapped his arms about her and whispered, “I love you, too, Zana.”

“And you are lucky this table held me up. The last thing I need is to start replacing those as well.”

He grinned, kissing the top of her head. “It woulda been absolutely worth the sacrifice.”

It would have been, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. Just like she wasn’t about to complain about his jealous streak. Sometimes, she didn’t mind the feral side of him so much, and this was definitely one of those times.

“I need to get back to work, love,” she told him.

He gazed down at her and her stomach tightened at the glint in his blue eyes. “Ye know, I think ye can take the rest of the day off, amrâlimê. There’s a few tables here I want to test out first.”

62 notes • Posted 2021-10-27 20:36:57 GMT

The Getaway

Summary: After BOTFA - Everybody Lives AU. I

You and Thorin have gone away for what you hope will be a romantic ski weekend in an attempt to save a relationship that seems to be on the verge of falling apart. But things don't go quite as you'd planned...

Pairing: Thorin/FemElf!Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Bickering, Makeup Sex

Word Count: 4,125

A/N: I put a bit of a modern spin on this and the story idea was inspired by @lathalea and this post. This is one of the few short pieces I've ever written (writing short is a skill I'm still working on) and I hope it isn't too terrible... If you like it, let me know or reblog away. :D

You and Thorin had planned this getaway for some time now, a nice break from Erebor in the middle of winter, away from the stress of trying to restore the city to its former glory. Thorin worked so hard, from early in the mornings until late at night, and as a result, he had little free time, and you thought your relationship suffered as a result. Even when he managed to make time to be with you, he was too tired to do much more than cuddle a bit before the fire. His exhaustion fired his temper, your exasperation with his temper fired yours, and lately, it seemed you argued more than anything else.

The reservations in the Blue Mountains had been made weeks ago—four days and three nights at the Blue Mountains Resort. You couldn't wait, as it had been years since you last skied and although Thorin confessed he'd never so much as tried to ski, you knew he'd pick it up in no time. After all, dwarf legs were powerful, so many were natural born skiers. At least, that was what Balin had told you when you first ran the idea past him. Either way, if nothing else, at least you would both have a chance to simply slow down and escape the real world, even if only for a short while. You both needed it. Sorely.

Finally, there you were, in your cozy room at the resort. A fire had been set on the hearth, the flames crackling and dancing against shiny black marble. You hurried through the room and out to the terrace, where a stone fire pit was ready. All it needed was to be lit, and then you and Thorin could sit out in the fresh mountain air and admire the views and feel its powers of rejuvenation. All around you, mountain peaks jutted up, pink and purple and deep blue in the early morning sky. The winds were light and gentle, carrying on them the scent of frost and juniper. You’d been there only minutes and already, you were relaxing. You couldn’t wait for that first run.

Footsteps sounded behind you and you smiled as Thorin eased both arms about your waist and pressed a kiss into the back of your head. “Where are you?”

“Out on the slopes already.” You turned toward him, sliding your arms about his waist. He bore only a hint of a scar on his forehead from his battle with Azog the Defiler. The ones on his lower belly were far more visible, but you didn’t like to think about them if you could help it. Those weeks following the Battle of the Five Armies were still so fresh in your mind. He’d come so close to perishing, but at the same time, had he not been run through by the Defiler, you would never have met him. It was a bit incongruous, to be thankful for something you were also so horrified by. You worked with him, helping him regain his strength and mobility, and even as he cursed you out for being a slave driver, it brought the two of you closer together.

You looked up at him. Normally his eyes were almost equal parts blue and gray, but today they seemed very blue. Blue, but tired. Faint purplish smudged ringed beneath those blue eyes. A vacation, no matter how small, was just what you both needed.

“Are you ready?”

He shrugged. “I suppose we’ll know soon enough.”

“We don’t have to—”

“No,” he cut you off gently, leaning toward you, “I look forward to the challenge.”

With that, his lips brushed yours. His soft beard tickled against your jaw, as always, and while at first, it made you laugh, by now you were used to it. Now, it was just part and parcel of kissing your dwarf.

His lips were soft as they moved teasingly against yours and without thinking, you tightened your hold on him, your hands flat against the wide plane of his back. Those soft lips parted, his tongue light and teasing as it met yours. He certainly knew how to kiss—long and slow and deep—and sometimes it alone was enough to make you want to melt into a puddle of goo at his feet. It felt like weeks had passed since the last time he kissed you this way, and you realized how much you missed it. How much you missed him.

He broke the kiss. “We should go because in another minute, we won’t be getting anywhere near those slopes.”

It was on the tip of your tongue to tell him that was fine with you. After all, it also felt like so much time had passed since the two of you were intimate. And in all honesty, being cozied up in bed sounded like a perfectly acceptable alternative.

But since it seemed he would rather ski…

“Very well.” You reluctantly pulled out of his arms and you both went back inside to get into your boots and to grab skis and poles, and then made your way out to the slopes.

At the foot of the trails, you placed one foot on a ski, and bent to fasten the leather bindings, then did the same with your other foot. From the corner of your eye, you saw Thorin watching how you did it. An offer of help hovered at your lips, but you thought better of it. Instead, you pretended to double check the bindings, all the while watching him. Just in case.

But he seemed to have his boots securely fastened and as you straightened up, you looked over at him. “Perhaps we should take one of the easier trails?”

It was the wrong thing to say. Unfortunately, you realized this a minute too late. His eyes narrowed. “I will be fine. As Balin said, it should come naturally.”

You weren’t so sure, but you didn’t want to risk another fight. It had been happening too much already, the fighting. And over the silliest things.

“Very well. Intermediate, then?”

“Fine.”

Neither of you said much as you made your way to the trail head. There were fewer obstacles than on one of the more expert runs, but was neither as wide nor as flat as the beginner trails. You looked first at the trail, then at him. “Ready?”

“I am.”

“Very well.” You Just remember, being able to stop is probably the most important thing. You can do it this way,” you demonstrated angling both skis in the same direction, “and lean back to slow yourself, Or, you can—”

“I think I will be fine with just the one.”

“Are you—” You stopped yourself as he just stared hard. “Very well,” you began, “are you ready to go?”

He nodded, sidestepping to the trail and then, with a push of poles into powder, he was gone. You followed, and then crouched slightly to increase your speed. As you shushed by him, a low laugh carried toward you, followed by his teasing, “Show off!”

That he seemed already to be enjoying himself brought on a sense of relief. Perhaps he’d be just fine on that run. You shot past him and as the trail curved, you leaned into it, took it clean. As the trail leveled off, you shifted your weight to slow and then stopped, then carefully stepped aside as you waited for him.

He came rocketing through the turn, arms waving wildly, up on a single ski. Then, he lost his balance in grand fashion, hitting the snow hard enough to send powder up while his poles went in opposite directions and the bindings on his skis popped loose. One ski continued on, the other went careening off into the woods and he tumbled to a stop not far from you.

“Thorin!” You popped the bindings on your skis and hurried to kneel beside him. He lay on his back, his hair almost pure white with snow, his eyes glazed over with confusion. You lumbered over to him and sank to your knees alongside him. “Are you all right?”

“What happened?”

“You took a spill. Here, let me help—”

“I don’t need any help,” he growled, shoving you away as he stood up. “Where’s my ski?”

You pointed down toward the fencing at the end of the run. There, up against it, was one ski. “Perhaps you should try a lesson or two? Just so you don’t hurt yourself.”

“Perhaps I should just forget it entirely,” he snapped, trying his best to storm away. Unfortunately, the boots were designed to keep his ankles from moving, and so what he might have meant to be a stomp looked more like an awkward lurch and you had to fight back a laugh.

But, apparently, you didn’t fight it back quickly enough, as his eyes narrowed at you. “I’m glad you find the humor in this,” he growled. “And I’m glad I am your amusement for this vacation. Tell me again why I agreed to this? If I wanted to be aggravated, I could have simply remained in Erebor.”

“Thorin, if you would just take a lesson—“ You reached for his hand.

But he jerked it back. “I’m going back to get some sleep. I’ve had enough of this winter fun.”

And like that, he stomped over to collect the things he’d scattered and limped the rest of the way down the mountain, while you tried to go after him, calling, “Thorin, wait!”

But he made his way along the pathway through the trees and you couldn’t ski that, so you had no choice but to finish the run.

By the time you reached the bottom, your legs were tired and your heart actually hurt. This was suppose to be a romantic, fun getaway and now, Thorin was angry with you. No, not angry. He was furious. He thought you made him look like a fool and you knew his pride was wounded.

Back in the room, you found Thorin sitting out on the deck, in front of the blazing fire pit. He didn’t look up, didn’t acknowledge you’d even stepped out into the frosty air.

“Thorin?”

“What?”

You almost took a step back at the coldness in his voice. It was a tone you’d never heard him use before. Maybe, instead of salvaging this relationship, you’d driven the last nail into the coffin, and the very thought made your heart hurt once more. It was all going horribly wrong and you really weren’t at all certain how to fix it now.

“Are you all right?”

He didn’t look at you, but kept studying the flames, cheek resting against his fist. “I’m fine.”

“I—I thought it would be fun.”

He shifted. “Your idea of fun differs from mine.”

You came around to the far side of the fire pit, trying not to sigh at just how handsome he looked in the glow of the fire. There were so many women in Erebor, in Dale, who would give their eyeteeth to trade places with her. So many who gave her the side eye because their king found himself with an elf. Dwarves didn’t trust elves. Elves didn’t particularly like dwarves and yet, Thorin was the love of your life.

But were you his? You thought so, but lately, he seemed so distant and while at first, you told yourself it was simply he was exhausted, now you had no choice but to wonder if he’d simply grown tired of you.

You sank into the chair across from him. “I though you would enjoy this. Balin said—“

“I know what he said. Apparently I am not quite up to snuff at skiing. I was exhausted halfway down. My legs refused to hold me up.” He let out a low sigh and shook his head. “How long will it take for me to heal completely? Until my legs won’t betray me? Until I do not make a fool of myself in front of y—”

You pressed your lips together at his unintended confession and shook your head. “There was nothing foolish about how you did on that slope. You’ve never skied before and you did quite well, since most beginners don’t leave the the beginner’s slope.”

He shook his head. “I don’t see it that way.”

“Why?” You moved to skirt the fire, to crouch down beside him and let your hand come to rest on his thigh. The thick muscle was like granite through his trousers, the heat rising from him almost as much as it did from the fire. He didn’t say anything at first, so you gave that thigh a gentle squeeze. “Thorin?”

“We need to talk.”

Your stomach clenched at those words. Nothing good ever came of those four words. Your mouth went dry, your hand went still, and for a moment, it felt as if your heart stopped beating. You had to pry your tongue from the roof of your mouth and even then, all you could manage was a whispered, “We do?”

He nodded, and then he looked over at you, his long, wavy dark hair spilling over his shoulders as he shifted. “I know you thought we needed this getaway, that I’m far too occupied with what needs be done in Erebor.”

“You have been so busy, I thought—”

He held up a thick-fingered hand. “Let me just say this, please.”

You sat back, your heart hammering your ribs so hard, you thought you might actually vomit from it. Was he about to blindside you with a breakup? Had he met someone else?

Your stomach knotted sharply enough to send a sour taste up to flood your mouth. Was he already doing… things… with that someone else?

Still, you nodded and swallowed hard against that brackish taste. “Go on, then.”

He lifted his head, his gaze meeting yours. His eyes were so beautiful, so blue and set off so perfectly against the fall of dark hair. “I don’t like skiing and I have no desire to ever set foot on another slope.”

“I won’t ask you to go skiing again,” you managed to whisper, almost wincing at how weak your voice sounded. Your eyes stung. You just knew this conversation was going to end terribly.

His chair creaked as he rose and moved to stand before you. His hands came into your view, those thick fingers linked with yours. A gentle tug, and he pulled you from your seat. “Good. I’m glad we understand one another.”

“Thorin, I—”

“And I know I’ve not been around much these few weeks and when I am around I am either too tired to do much or we seem to be fighting all the time and I don’t wish to do that any longer.”

The roar of blood rushing through your ears muffled his voice, but you still nodded. “It’s no way to live.”

“So,” he let go of your hands and this time, those massive hands came up to curve against your face, his fingers rough as they grazed along your cheekbones, “I have no desire to fight with you, love.”

Your eyelids felt so heavy with each light flutter of his thumbs along your cheekbones. It had been a long time since he’d held your face like this, since he last looked at you with such tenderness in his eyes. And now, was he about to end it entirely? This was not how you thought this weekend would go.

He leaned over. His lips grazed yours. Just a graze, but you felt it all the way to the center of your being. Your eyelids grew so heavy, almost as heavy as your heart as he drew back. His eyes were also heavy-lidded. Heavy-lidded and filled with invitation, one you hadn’t seen in a while.

His mouth slashed over yours, lips parting, tongue hot and slick as it grazed yours. His fingers tightened against your cheeks, his fingers stretching into your hair. He threaded them through it, twisted to angle your head to give him deeper access to your mouth.

You melted against him, your fingers curving about his upper arms, almost tingling against the thick band of muscle wrapped about them. You wanted this kiss to last forever, wanted him to hold you this way forever, if at all possible.

“I love you,” he whispered, his lips brushing yours with each word. “And I’ve no wish to fight with you any longer, amrâlimê.”

Your eyes closed, your head falling back as he kissed his way over your jaw and down your neck. His hands fell to your waist, easing beneath your warm tunic, skimming along your ribs. Your head spun slowly form the sensations coursing through you. He knew just how to touch you, how to kiss and caress, until you practically forgot your own name.

Cold air swept across your skin as he whisked your tunic up and over your head, but you didn’t care as you melted against him, as your hands caught his tunic to do the same. It landed atop yours and when he tugged you flush against him, the soft dark hair sprinkled across his broad chest tickled your breasts, your nipples tightened from the friction.

“We should go in,” came his hot whisper against your ear and he didn’t wait for you to reply, but backed you into the room, away from the prying eyes of anyone else staying nearby, and closed the glass door behind him.

Inside, he spun you about to pin you against the cool glass. You couldn’t keep your eyes open as he kissed his way down your neck, along the inner curve of your left breast. The tingles swelled, spread through you, your blood rushed so hot through your veins, you wanted only to strip off every last stitch of clothing and feel his bare skin against yours.

As if he could read your mind, Thorin hooked his thumbs in the waist of your leggings and you smiled as the fabric skimmed along your legs like a caress. But, he didn’t give you time to step out of them, sinking to his knees before. His breath came warm upon your womanhood, and forget heat—fire filled you at that first slow, silken stroke. You couldn’t think, could barely breathe, your head spun so badly from the absolutely delight coursing through you. All you could do was sink your hands into his thick hair, twist and hold on, as the wave built and rushed toward the shore.

It gathered power, rising higher, cresting, washing over you—

“Thorin!” Your mind went blank, the fire sweet and sensual as it engulfed you. He held you there, as that wave crashed, with another one at its heels, and a third one still. Each one washed over you, threatened to sweep you out to sea and drown you. And just when you were ready to cry quarter, he rose and wrapped you in his arms.

He lifted you to meet his kiss, then spun you about to spirit you to the bed, where he pressed you down, covering your body with his, his hips rocking to meet you. Then his trousers were gone as he settled easily between your thighs.

You fought to keep your heavy-lidded eyes open as he devoured your throat once more, whispering, “But I didn’t get to—”

“Next time, love,” he growled, easing a hand between you. “For right now, I just want you.”

“Oh!” You couldn’t hold back your cry as he eased inside you and slowly thrust. He filled you, inch by teasing inch, stroking every single pleasure center along the way. The only thing better than the first thrust, was the next. And the one after that. Each thrust was sweeter than the last, his rhythm smooth and easy, and without hurry.

You folded your legs about his waist, smiling as he sucked in a sharp breath, let out a low moan, and thrust with increasing speed, increasing depth. Your moans matched his as your body tightened around him, as your climax steadily built. He moved faster now, surged deep, his fingers twisting in the quilt beneath you as he fought for leverage to go deeper still. You lifted your hips and that was it. The first ripples came soft, but with each more powerful thrust, those ripples intensified, the pleasure hot enough to sting and sweet enough that you didn’t care if it sent you up in flames.

You trembled around him, which made him moan louder and thrust harder and without thinking, you sank your fingernails into his shoulders as the white-hot flash erupted and you came in fiery burst once more, throbbing all around him. He arched hard, his entire body tensed and your name rose to his lips in a husky growl as he surrendered to the moment as well.

He sank against you, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his head coming to rest in the curve of your shoulder as he managed to whisper, “I far prefer this over skiing any day, love.”

You couldn’t hold back your breathless laugh, reaching up a hand to brush his hair away from his face. Without thinking, you curved your hand against his cheek, his beard softly-scratchy against your palm. “As do I.”

“I have missed you, amrâlimê.” He drew back enough to gaze down at you.

“I’ve missed you as well, but I understand,” you told him, grazing his cheek with your thumb. “You’ve been so very busy.”

“That is no excuse.” His eyes grew serious as they held hers. “But, there is something I wished to discuss with you and while this probably isn’t the best place to say it, I don’t feel I should wait.”

The peaceful glow that always followed making love with him drained away and your mouth went suddenly dry. So dry, you had to unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth. “What is it?”

“I’ve grown tired of trying to sneak away and steal a few moments with you, and when I do manage to, we seem to only fight. I don’t wish to do that any more, either. Surely, you must be tired of it as well.”

“I—that is—I—” You really didn’t know how to respond because while the truth was, you were very much tired of it all, you still thought what you had was worth saving.

“You can be honest, love,” he murmured.

The silence stretched out between you, thick and somewhat awkward, especially when he eased off you and stretching out alongside you.

“Yes,” you finally admitted, “I suppose I am tired of it as well, but—”

“So, the solution is simple—we need to be under the same roof, so to speak.” He reached over to trace the tip of his forefinger along your cheek. “So, I suppose I’m saying I wish you to marry me, love.”

Your heart stopped beating. You were certain of it. There was no way it hadn’t because you had to have died. “Wait… what?”

He smiled. “Will you marry me?”

“But, I thought…that is, you said…” You frowned as your lips and tongue refused to form coherent sentences. But then your lips quivered, trying to curve upward instead of down as he caught you and tugged you atop him. “Are you serious?”

“Think you I ask women to marry me all the time?”

“Well, no, but…”

“So?” He gathered your hair in both hands and let it slip through his fingers. “You’ve not given me an answer.”

“Of course I will,” you said, dipping toward him to brush his lips with yours. “I’m not completely mad, you know.”

The quilt rustled softly as he rolled to pin you beneath him. “What did you think I was going to say, that you stumbled over your answer?”

You gazed up into those blue eyes you loved so much and whispered, “I thought you were going to say you didn’t think this would work out, that we shouldn’t see each other any longer.”

“Never.” He dipped to kiss you, his lips brushing yours as he added, “I’d have to be mad to walk away from this. And I am not mad. Although, I would happily walk away from skiing for the rest of our time here, if it’s all the same to you.”

“As long as we can stay right here,” you replied, trailing your fingernails down his back in the way you knew alway made him shiver against you.

He didn’t disappoint, and even let out a heavy sigh as you did it again. “Love, right here sounds absolutely perfect to me.”

63 notes • Posted 2021-09-12 19:39:19 GMT

Master List

So... I write things. Sometimes a little, sometimes a lot. If you'd like to be tagged in any of them, let me know!

Requests also open, if you're feeling squirrelly! :)

Also, if you enjoy something, please reblog to your heart's content! Comments are always welcome as well!! <3

You can find my stories here and at AO3.

Multi-Chapter Works

The Hobbit

~Thorin~

More Than Meets the Eye ~Thorin x oc female Arielle (Post- BOTFA AU Where Everybody Lives)

Someone to Watch Over Me ~ Thorin x oc female Seren (The Hobbit, Slight AU)

In Time ~ Thorin x oc female Amara (Post-BOTFA AU Where Everybody Lives)

One Shots/Drabbles/Shorts

~Miscellaneous Shorts~

How Will I Know ~ Thorin, Dwalin, Balin, Kili, Fili, (Modern AU) ~ This ties loosely with In Time, and The Cellar & Other Stories.

~Dwalin~

(Oldest to Most Recent )

Durin's Garage AU - Good Trouble - Part 1 | Part 2

The One Where Zana Faceplants

The One Where Dwalin is Totally NOT Jealous

Meet the Fundinsons

The Morning After

The Cellar

~Thorin~

The Getaway -Modern!Thorin x reader

Monday - Modern!Thorin x reader

Durin's Garage AU ~ The Chance You Take - Modern!Thorin x reader

82 notes • Posted 2021-08-16 22:05:30 GMT

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