Happy Midsummer weekend to all who are celebrating!
You know how on Midsummer you are supposed to gather seven different flowers or herbs and put them under your pillow to dream about the person you are going to spend your life with?
I’ve been talking with @linasofia about how Midsummer would look in Erebor. I got a little bit inspired, and this is how this fic came to be. Thank you for the inspo and for your support
Let me know how you like it. If this little story catches your interest, I may write more, so let me know if I should continue!
Rating:G
* * *
Thistle. A Midsummer Night’s Dream
“Thorin, let’s go! Frerin is waiting for us! He has already left!” Dis tugged at Thorin’s sleeve.
“Patience, let us wait for a better moment,” he leaned towards her and whispered.
They were sitting at a large table in the Main Hall of Erebor, surrounded by song, dance, festive music, delicious food, and happy Dwarves. The whole Erebor was celebrating Midsummer. Everyone was there, even their Grandfather. King Thror had been lately avoiding the crowds and spending more and more time in the treasure chamber, which worried Thorin immensely. Now however, his long, elegantly coiffed silver beard glistened with beads and precious gems, and he seemed as cheerful as he used to when Thorin and his siblings were tiny pebbles sitting on his lap and playing with his crown. It warmed Thorin’s heart to see his Grandfather smiling once again, without that ominous dark frown on his face.
The King stood up and proposed a toast to the prosperity of the kingdom. Cheers and merriment followed, and in the commotion, Thorin and Dis managed to sneak out, leaving the sounds of the feast behind them.
“Do you think Frerin asked Dvala to join us?” Dis wondered as they were walking along one of the corridors leading out of the Mountain. Thorin frowned, “I thought we agreed on keeping this silly idea a secret.”
“Oh, come on, Brother, do not be so gloomy!” she nudged him with her elbow. “You can survive one evening of fun in a good company. Dvala is a sweet girl, I am quite fond of her!”
“Frerin should focus on his mining apprenticeship, not on girls.”
“Just like you are focusing on your dwarven law studies by training with Dwalin instead?”
They took a turn and walked down the staircase that led to the gates of Erebor. Frerin was supposed to meet them nearby. Thorin grunted, “Grandfather says he expects his heirs to be well-versed in many different…”
“You’re such a bore, Thorin! There’s more to life than duties and studying,” his sister insisted, making him groan inwardly. “You will see, one day you are going to meet a lovely girl who will steal your heart and show you that there are more things to life than musty old tomes and swords.”
“I doubt it. I do not wish to complicate my life with affairs of the heart. I am expected to wed someone chosen by Mother and Grandmother. My marriage has to benefit our kingdom. Now, we need strong allies more than ever,” a shadow passed Thorin’s face at the thought of the recent serious disagreement their grandfather had with his brother Gror, the lord of the Iron Hills, ceasing diplomatic relations between both dwarven strongholds. And then, there was that catastrophe of an audience when King Thror suddenly refused to hand over the necklace made of the Gems of Lasgalen to King Thranduil. As it turned out, the ruler of the Woodland Realm hadn’t planned to pay for the work of dwarven master jewelers in the first place, but Thorin had seen King Thror solving more delicate issues without any problems before. Now, whenever he looked into the eyes of his Grandfather, he saw only darkness and greed. But not tonight. Tonight they sparkled with joy, and that was a blessing from Mahal.
“Stop talking about politics, Brother!” Dis scolded him once again. “It’s Midsummer today, have you forgotten? We are going to sneak out of the Mountain, gather seven different flowers, make wreaths out of them, and then…”
This was….amazing, wonderful, sweet and beyond my expectations!! I love how you captured the connections between Thorin, Dis and Frerin. And I would love to hear the talk Thorin is planning to have with Dwalin. Poor Dwalin, he better be honest! And the dream!!! I will keep the warm feeling in my heart for a long time. You picked the perfect name for her ”Saga”. Thank you so much for writing and sharing this. Please continue the story, we all need a Midsummer Night’s Dream! ❤️❤️
As always, your reblogs leave me speechless and I’m melting inside You’re encouraging me to write more in such a wonderful way! Thank you so much
I’m happy you liked her name, it’s so telling. And those two definitely have a story to tell…
P.S. I’m already thinking about the next chapter :)
Happy Midsummer weekend to all who are celebrating!
You know how on Midsummer you are supposed to gather seven different flowers or herbs and put them under your pillow to dream about the person you are going to spend your life with?
I’ve been talking with @linasofia about how Midsummer would look in Erebor. I got a little bit inspired, and this is how this fic came to be. Thank you for the inspo and for your support
Let me know how you like it. If this little story catches your interest, I may write more, so let me know if I should continue!
Rating:G
* * *
Thistle. A Midsummer Night’s Dream
“Thorin, let’s go! Frerin is waiting for us! He has already left!” Dis tugged at Thorin’s sleeve.
“Patience, let us wait for a better moment,” he leaned towards her and whispered.
They were sitting at a large table in the Main Hall of Erebor, surrounded by song, dance, festive music, delicious food, and happy Dwarves. The whole Erebor was celebrating Midsummer. Everyone was there, even their Grandfather. King Thror had been lately avoiding the crowds and spending more and more time in the treasure chamber, which worried Thorin immensely. Now however, his long, elegantly coiffed silver beard glistened with beads and precious gems, and he seemed as cheerful as he used to when Thorin and his siblings were tiny pebbles sitting on his lap and playing with his crown. It warmed Thorin’s heart to see his Grandfather smiling once again, without that ominous dark frown on his face.
The King stood up and proposed a toast to the prosperity of the kingdom. Cheers and merriment followed, and in the commotion, Thorin and Dis managed to sneak out, leaving the sounds of the feast behind them.
“Do you think Frerin asked Dvala to join us?” Dis wondered as they were walking along one of the corridors leading out of the Mountain. Thorin frowned, “I thought we agreed on keeping this silly idea a secret.”
“Oh, come on, Brother, do not be so gloomy!” she nudged him with her elbow. “You can survive one evening of fun in a good company. Dvala is a sweet girl, I am quite fond of her!”
“Frerin should focus on his mining apprenticeship, not on girls.”
“Just like you are focusing on your dwarven law studies by training with Dwalin instead?”
They took a turn and walked down the staircase that led to the gates of Erebor. Frerin was supposed to meet them nearby. Thorin grunted, “Grandfather says he expects his heirs to be well-versed in many different…”
“You’re such a bore, Thorin! There’s more to life than duties and studying,” his sister insisted, making him groan inwardly. “You will see, one day you are going to meet a lovely girl who will steal your heart and show you that there are more things to life than musty old tomes and swords.”
“I doubt it. I do not wish to complicate my life with affairs of the heart. I am expected to wed someone chosen by Mother and Grandmother. My marriage has to benefit our kingdom. Now, we need strong allies more than ever,” a shadow passed Thorin’s face at the thought of the recent serious disagreement their grandfather had with his brother Gror, the lord of the Iron Hills, ceasing diplomatic relations between both dwarven strongholds. And then, there was that catastrophe of an audience when King Thror suddenly refused to hand over the necklace made of the Gems of Lasgalen to King Thranduil. As it turned out, the ruler of the Woodland Realm hadn’t planned to pay for the work of dwarven master jewelers in the first place, but Thorin had seen King Thror solving more delicate issues without any problems before. Now, whenever he looked into the eyes of his Grandfather, he saw only darkness and greed. But not tonight. Tonight they sparkled with joy, and that was a blessing from Mahal.
“Stop talking about politics, Brother!” Dis scolded him once again. “It’s Midsummer today, have you forgotten? We are going to sneak out of the Mountain, gather seven different flowers, make wreaths out of them, and then…”
“Only if you’re going to make the wreaths for us, Dis!” Frerin exclaimed, jumping from behind one of the green marble columns.
“Do you want everyone to hear us, you clot?!” she hissed, making Thorin smirk. Dis wasn’t of battle age yet, but she already started resembling their mother more and more, growing just as fearless and fierce. She rested her fists on her hips, stomped her foot, and declared, “You are going to make your midsummer wreaths yourselves! That’s what the tradition says!” “Remind me, brother, why are we doing this?” Frerin rolled his eyes and looked at Thorin helplessly.
“Dis bribed you shamelessly, and I… may have lost a bet,” Thorin admitted reluctantly. Indeed, he made a bet with his sweet, little, supposedly innocent sister. A simple bet, and a very stupid one. He still couldn’t believe he let himself be tricked so easily. Dis was supposed to challenge Dwalin to an arm-wrestling match. If she were to win, Thorin would fulfill her wish. Just one simple wish. But if she were to lose, she would write a two-scroll essay on the history of settlement in the Blue Mountains for him, a week’s worth of work. He hated history, but his tutor was very exigent. Besides, since Dwalin was a formidable arm-wrestler, Thorin was sure his best friend would win. To his dismay, Dwalin didn’t, and Thorin still had trouble wrapping his mind around that fact. Dis. Won an arm-wrestling match. With Dwalin, one of the strongest Dwarves he knew. He still remembered how Dwalin grinned at him in triumph, pushing her arm down slowly, but then Dis gasped quietly. Dwalin looked at her as she said, or rather purred, “Oh, my, you are really strong!”, and then she batted her eyelashes. This was enough for the mighty Dwalin: distracted, he loosened his grip – and that was exactly what Dis was waiting for: she slammed his arm down in a blink of an eye.
And now Thorin had to fulfill his little sister’s wish and follow her out of the Mountain instead of drinking ale with Dwalin and discussing his latest axe design. Who would have thought that younger sisters were such a menace?
“You are doing this because you are my beloved brothers and care for me greatly,” Dis grinned and added with a wink. “We can’t win with her, Thorin, can we?” Frerin looked at him pleadingly.
“A warrior knows when a battle is lost. We must wait for a better opportunity to counterattack,” he offered, making an imitation of Lord Fundin and his lectures on war strategy, causing his brother to chuckle.
When all three of them finally found themselves on the slopes of the Lonely Mountain, the summer evening surrounded them with warmth. Scents of nature wafted into Thorin’s nose. It was long after sunset, but the surroundings were bathed in the silvery light of the moon. In the clear air, Thorin could see the silver ribbon of the River Running below and the distant lights of Dale. “Granny says it’s the perfect time for picking the midsummer flowers!” Dis announced behind him. Frerin groaned in despair and followed her, but Thorin didn’t move. Perhaps if he pretended he hadn’t heard her she would let him be, he thought. “Thorin! You lost the bet, remember?” his sister addressed him pointedly and he had to capitulate.
“I do. Something tells me that you will never let me forget about it for as long as we live,” Thorin offered, disheartened. It turned out that picking flowers was much easier than he thought. Besides, he wanted to be done with that silly flower business as soon as possible and return back to the Mountain.
“So, Frerin, why haven’t you invited Dvala tonight?” Dis asked in a light-hearted tone after they wreaked sufficient havoc on the meadow. She was busy weaving her wreath that consisted of lots of red, yellow, and blue flowers. Thorin hadn’t the slightest idea what each of them was called nor did he care. After a pause, Frerin responded, sticking his tongue out as he tried to copy her movements, working on a bunch of pink flowers, “I did, but her aunt wouldn’t let her go.” “Oh, bother, that aunt of hers. Oh, I know!” Dis smiled mischievously, “I will talk with Mother, and she will invite them both for a picnic, so you and Dvala can…” Thorin’s sister’s voice drifted off into the air as he shook his head, focusing on his own cursed wreath. After having his fingers assaulted with thorns, he came to the conclusion that neither thistle nor blackthorn twigs were the best choices for this pointless task. “Great! Now, put your wreaths on your heads and show me how you look!” Dis ordered. Thorin raised an eyebrow, “Is this really necessary?” “Dwalin says that if you give me any problems, he will stop training with you!” she crossed her arms across her chest. “Traitor,” Thorin muttered. He expected many things but not his best friend taking his sister’s side.
“Are you surprised, Thorin?” Frerin chuckled, putting his pink wreath on his head and making a funny face. “You should have seen them both in the northern passage! Oh, Dwalin, those flowers are so pretty! – Not as pretty as ye are!” He imitated Dis’ and Dwalin’s voices and then proceeded to make kissing noises.
“Be quiet, Frerin, or I’ll tell Mother that I’ve found Principles of Love and Lust under your bed!” Dis furrowed her brow. It was interesting, Thorin observed, to see how Frerin’s face turned from pale to strawberry red. And as for Dis and the kissing noises, he decided to procure a cask of ale and visit Dwalin to assess the intentions that he might have towards his little sister. They will either drink the ale together or he would smash the wooden cask on his best friend’s stupid head. That thought put him in a somewhat better mood.
“Tell me, sister, how do I look?” Thorin put that misery of a wreath on his head. The things he has to endure for his siblings.
“Thorin!” she clasped her hands and beamed. Thorin tried to ignore Frerin’s chuckling from behind. “You look stunning! Like the Forest King in his flower crown!” “Are you telling me I look like the ruler of Mirkwood? Like an elf?” he huffed. “Not at all, silly! More like one of those fairy tale creatures, with horns, furry legs, and hooves. Like a grumpy satyr!” giggling, she closed the distance between them, stood on her tiptoes, and placed a wet, affectionate kiss on his cheek.
“Thank you,” she whispered into his ear.
“How long are we supposed to wear those wreaths?” Frerin said before Thorin could say anything.
“Until you go to bed tonight. Make sure to put them under your pillows and then each of you is going to dream about the love of your life. At least that is what Granny says!” Dis explained, putting her own wreath on her head.
“That means Thorin is going to dream of Deathless and his anvil!” Frerin sniggered.
***
Thorin hadn’t given much thought to his sister’s last words until he returned to his chambers. Getting ready to retire for the night, he removed the prickly wreath from his head with a grunt as it turned out to be entangled in his braids. It took him a while to separate his hair from the stems, twigs, and flowers and Thorin solemnly promised himself to comb and wash his hair properly first thing in the morning. Falling on his bed in exhaustion, he managed to put the mutilated plants under his pillow, just like he promised his sister. And in the morning, he would have a serious talk with Dwalin.
Sleep came to him quickly, mere moments after he closed his eyes.
He stood at the edge of a forest clearing, breathless. She was there, sitting with her back towards him, in the middle of a runestone circle. He could make out the shapes and Khuzdul runes carved into them, but he paid them no heed, his eyes drawn to her bright silhouette. Bathed in sunlight, she seemed like a glowing, luminous being and not a… dwarf maiden. Clad in a long white gown, with a flower wreath and a couple of simple braids adorning her flowing hair that made him think of pale marble with gold veins, she seemed like a benevolent spectre from another world, like a glittering pearl found at the bottom of the sea.
And then he realized she was singing. A soothing, soulful melody reached both his ears and his heart, and it was as if the day became even brighter, the air even clearer, and he felt a sweet taste in his mouth as if he had been drinking the sweetest mead.
Wanting to hear her voice better, Thorin took a step forward, but the song suddenly stopped.
“Who are you?” she turned towards him and asked in a gentle voice, a curious smile dancing on her lips.
“Thorin, son of Thrain, my lady,” he made a customary bow and approached the circle.
“A dwarf… here?” she tilted her head.
“You seem surprised, my lady,” he replied, trying not to think of how bright her eyes were and how pink and full her lips were against her sun-kissed cheeks. “Indeed I am. No one ever comes here, only me,” she said absentmindedly. “Then I am honored to be your first guest,” he added quickly. “Welcome to my meadow, Thorin, son of Thrain,” after a hesitant pause, the maiden stood up and curtsied elegantly, as if she was in Erebor’s throne room and not in the middle of an ancient forest.
She gestured at him to enter the stone circle and asked him to sit down beside her, just before she lowered herself gracefully on the grass. His heart was beating fast, but he moved slowly, carefully, not wanting to startle her, as if he was on a hunt and she was a prized doe.
“Tell me where you come from, Thorin, son of Thrain. Tell me of your homeland,” she whispered, and he noticed a faint blush appearing on her cheeks. It was at that moment that he realized that her eyes were green as priceless emeralds, like the soft grass beneath them, and he drowned in the boundless sea of her gaze completely.
He spoke of the kingdom of Erebor, of its beauty and wealth, of the skilled miners, jewelers, and stonemasons. He spoke of the wonders hidden deep inside of the Mountain and of the breathtaking view from its top. And she listened and listened like no one ever before has listened to him, and she asked insightful questions, and wanted to know more and more. “It seems like a wondrous place to live at,” she confessed, bringing a delicate white flower to her nose and smelling it with her eyes closed, a soft smile tugging at the corner of her lips. He wanted to smell it together with her. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. And he forgot that he was supposed to dislike flowers. “If you ever happen to travel to Rhovanion, it will be my pleasure to show you the beauty of Erebor,” he offered with an encouraging smile. The thought of walking beside her through the endless passages of the Mountain and having her smile back at him just the way she was smiling now was making him almost dizzy with inexplicable joy. This is what he wanted more than anything else.
She nodded in reply, and the blush on her lovely cheeks deepened, and his heart skipped a beat.
“May I ask you something, Master Thorin?” her sweet voice reached his ears. Hearing her speak his name, as she wrapped her shapely mouth around it, made his breath hitch. He didn’t even notice that she hadn’t called him ‘my lord’, as it was customary since he was a prince. He didn’t care. She simply glanced at him shyly from under her eyelids and it was everything he needed, and more. “Do all the dwarves of Erebor have as unruly hair as you do?” her question rang in the air, her eyes glittering with mischief. Trying to mask his surprise, he ran his hand through his hair, realizing that he had his wreath on his head only when his fingers bumped against its prickly surface. His hair underneath seemed indeed tousled and unkempt. Thorin grunted, feeling warmth spilling on his cheeks. That was not the first impression he was hoping for.
“Forgive me, my lady, I must look like a wild beast to you.” “You are too well-mannered to be a beast, Master Thorin,” she giggled. “But wild, yes, I have to agree with you.” That will teach me not to pick thistle for my midsummer wreath. A truly useless plant,” he shook his head and chuckled.
“I was rather happy to see your head adorned with these flowers. As you can see,” she pointed at her own wreath,” I too chose thistle. My hosts say that it is prickly and unpleasant to touch, but it symbolizes bravery, strength, and determination. A thistle wreath becomes you.” Thorin had to stop himself from puffing up his chest proudly, trying to convince himself it was simply courteous flattery, nothing more. “I thank you for your kind words, my lady. May I ask who your hosts are? Does this forest,” he gestured around them, “not belong to you?” “Not at all, Master Thorin,” she shook her head, pale golden locks spilling down her shoulders, making him want to run his fingers through the soft sea of her hair. “We are in an elven realm called… In Khuzdul, we would say ‘The Flower of Dreams’. We are dreaming, so it sounds very fitting, do you not think?” “Yes… it does. We are indeed dreaming, are we not?” he spoke slowly as the realization washed over him. This was indeed a dream, he remembered clearly the moment when he fell asleep in his bed in Erebor. What was surprising, this dream felt more coherent, more vivid than any other dream he had before. He smelled the sweet scent of flowers in the air, he touched the soft grass, he heard the birds chirping, and he saw a lovely maiden’s face in front of him, so real that he had to ignore the sudden urge to kiss her soft lips. Yes, this dream was different. “It is the Midsummer Night, the night of wonders and magic,” she nodded. “You said this place lies in an elven realm. Is it elven magic that brought me here?” Thorin frowned. He knew the history of his people, he read of the great friendship between the great artisan of Durin’s folk, Narvi, and the elven prince Celebrimor, of the creation of the Doors of Durin. His Grandfather’s dealings with the king of the Woodland Realm, however, taught him to be suspicious of elven intentions. Silvery laughter rang in the air. “Neither of us has pointy ears, Master Thorin. I have never heard of dwarves dabbling in elven magic. Or are you an elven wizard in disguise?” Thorin chuckled, “Not that I know of.” “Then it very well may be dwarven magic, the magic of Mahal and Kaminzabdûna bequeathed upon us on this very night. Or perhaps it is just an exceptionally vivid dream, nothing more,” she offered, looking away, her small hands resting in her lap idly, the flower forgotten between them. “No, my lady, you are not a dream, you cannot be merely a figment of my imagination!” he protested vehemently and, on the spur of the moment, he took her hand into his. Her skin was cool under his touch, but as soon as their fingers met, a tingling sensation rushed through his body.
She gasped, “Have you felt it too…?” Thorin looked into her widened eyes, her lips parted in astonishment, her hair glowing like a halo around her head. “As well as if I were wide awake, my–” he interrupted, bringing her delicate hand to his lips and kissed it gently, reverently.
“May I know what I shall call you, my lady?” Her melodic voice reached his ears in a whisper as if she was entrusting him with her greatest secret, “My name is Saga.”
Thorin opened his eyes. His chest heaved. He took a deep breath. It was dark, except for the faint light of a forgotten candle. Instantly he knew where he was. His bedchamber in Erebor. He closed his eyes again, hoping to return to that meadow, to her. To no avail. Sleep wouldn’t come. He felt hot. Something prickled against the skin of his palm. Thorin brought his closed hand to his eyes, but before he opened it, he knew what he was about to see.
A thistle flower.
* * *
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A/N: I’m back!!! This is a very very very belated holiday/Christmas themed imagine.
Thorin paced around as he considered what he was about to do. He had dreamed of growing up and marrying Y/N as a young dwarfling, but it was not until he reached adulthood that he realized the true extent of his feelings. So, in a bid to win her over he had sat down in front of a scrap of parchment and brainstormed up every sort of gift he could either buy or craft that would touch Y/N. He had eventually remembered the snow globe incident:
Two small dwarflings raced down the corridors of Erebor, giggling and chattering as they went. The two bumped into passersby as they went but nobody complained. The young prince and his companion were far too cute and joyous to be scolded. “Come on Thorin” Y/N giggled as they tugged him along to their family quarters.
So, I’ve decided to split this one into two parts, so I will give you the first one right away :D
Words: 2,9 k
Warnings: reference to sexual activity…
Summary: Fíli invites his almost gf on a trip to the beach with his brother and cousin. A friend comes along. Shenanigans and accidents ensue…also, there will eventually be smut ❤️
“Baby,” Fíli was leaning against the outside of Maura’s office building, “how was work?”
While he was speaking, he already held out an iced drink to her and offered her his arm to guide her down the street to his waiting car.
As expected, she was dead on her feet and in an appropriately sour mood; work had been crazy lately and her boss had made some insane demands on top of the already overwhelming workload.
When she was done venting, Fíli threw her a quick glance, gauging the atmosphere before he came out with the idea that had been buzzing in his head the whole day.
Ahhhhh this is purely cute and fun and playful and I love it so much already!!!!
I’m so glad you split it up so we could be blessed sooner with this already hot and sexy story!!!
My, my, Maura is certainly relaxed already…I wonder who she gets that from I already love the cheeky dynamic between her and Fili and don’t even get me started on Lexi and Ori. The theme of this fic is cute and it definitely is that.
I can’t stop laughing at this though;
Maura’s head shot up to check on her friend who was slinking around the rocks like some strange reptilian lady in search of shadow.
I’m so glad you’re writing this!! Thank you for sharing it and indulging in this idea we had ☀️
anonymous asked: Can I request the reader and Kili having to talk about the fact that you’re human and won’t live nearly as long as him? :) Written by: Anna Pairing: Kili X OC Notes: it’s kinda short, sorry about that, but I’ve been in a little bit of a writing slump, so hopefully cute, short little things like this will get me out of it!
You had been trying to avoid this for a while now, it was something that you never wanted to think about, but, as of lately, Kili had been increasingly persistent about it. So here you two were, sitting together in his room, neither of you wanting to actually start the conversation.
Kili cleared his throat as he started to twiddle his fingers, not meeting your gaze. “So… (y/n),” He began slowly, as if not entirely sure what to say.
“I know,” You said. “If we’re going to make this work we need to talk about it.”
He nodded almost solemnly, “It’s just, because you’re a human, you’re going to age faster than I am.”
You nodded in agreement, only wanting to pull the older dwarf into a hug at the moment and forget about this conversation as a whole, but you knew there was no way that was happening. “Well, you’re already older than me, so that’s good for us, but what does your age equate to in human years?” You inquired.
Kili gave a small shrug, looking up to meet your eyes. “I’m not really sure, dwarves normally live until we’re about 250 years old, well, that’s if we’re lucky, how long do humans live for?” He asked curiously, cocking his head to the side adorably.
250 years… that was much longer than you were ever going to live! “Well… One hundred years is considered lucky for a human, the average is about seventy five.” You mumbled.
The brown haired dwarf’s eyes widened as he furrowed his brow. “Seventy five?” He asked in disbelief. “That’s almost how old I am now…” The dwarf trailed off, turning his head down once more.
You gave a nod in agreement, “Yes, that’s my point. Kili, I love you, but I… I don’t know if this will work.” You choked, tears beginning to well up in your eyes.
Kili immediately noticed, and he sprung up from where he was sitting, moving next to you to and pulling you into his warm embrace. “(y/n), I promise you, everything’s going to be alright, we’ll figure something out.” He soothed, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his chest.
You pushed your head into his body, wrapping your arms around his waist and snuggling into his side. “I love you.” You sniffled, closing your eyes.
His lips pressed against the top of your head. “I love you too, Miz Duzkak.” Kili mumbled into your hair.
Kili pulled away from you, holding you by the shoulders to look into your eyes. “Maybe… maybe we could talk to Thorin, he might know something, or Balin, even.” He said hopefully.
You laughed lightly at his enthusiasm. “Yes, hopefully.” You agreed, a small smile gracing your face.
The dwarf grinned, apparently happy with your agreement. “But not now, right now, I just want to be with you.” He murmured and a second later, he was pulling you closer to him once more, right onto his lap.
You curled yourself up on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck to get closer to him. “Thank you, Kili.” You whispered.
Kili kissed your head once more, moving one large hand into your hair to tangle his finger in the strands. “Anything for you, Miz Duzkak.”
locked-winchesters-middleearth asked: Hi! I absolutely adore your guy’s work! Could I request a Thorin X Reader where they’re secretly in love and he takes her behind a tree one night and ravishes her, trying to keep quiet? Thank you! Written by: Anna Pairing: Thorin X Reader Notes: I’m not all that comfortable writing smut at the moment… More like I’m just a crappy writer, so this is more pg-13, sorry >.< Hope you like it all the same though c:
You were roused suddenly by a soft rustling noise from behind where you had set up your bed roll. “(y/n)!” You heard a gruff voice whisper from behind you.
Rolling over so you were on your side, you looked up to see Thorin crouched over you, his hair dangling down the side of his face as his hand rested on your shoulder. “What are you doing?” You hissed in reply. “It’s practically midnight.”
“Get up.” He ordered, his voice still in a almost harsh whisper as he wrapped his hand around your bicep.
You groaned, rolling back over so you weren’t facing him any longer, trying to lull yourself back into your peaceful slumber. But of course, the future dwarf king was having none of that.
A second later, you found yourself being tugged back over so you were facing him once more, but this time he pulled you upwards and into his arms, tugging you to his feet. You suppressed a shriek of surprise, not wanting to wake the others as you were unwillingly jerked from your comfortable bedroll.
“Thorin!” You demanded, “What in Mahal’s name are you doing?!”
He began to pull you along behind him, his hand wrapped gently around your wrist as he tugged you away from the group. But he didn’t say a word, only moving forwards until the two of you were hidden in the edge of the trees along the clearing that the company had settled down in.
A second later you had found yourself being spun around and pushed back against the rough bark of a nearby tree. You were shocked for a moment as you tried to comprehend what had just happened, but when you saw Thorin standing in front of you, his body pressed up against yours, you realized what he was doing.
You let out a tired breath. “Thorin, I’m exhausted, can’t we just get a little bit of rest?” You practically begged, meekly trying to push him away, but being unsuccessful.
A growl burst from his throat as his eyes bore into yours. You were about to try and push the dwarf you loved so dearly away once more, but before you could, he had surged forwards and pressed his lips tightly against your own, fiercely kissing you.
You groaned against his mouth, the tiredness from a moment ago diminishing by the second. Thorin was pressing you tightly against the tree, one of his arms wrapping around your waist while the other trailed up your side, drawing closer to your chest. You had pulled your arms up around his head and wound your fingers into his curly hair, tugging it slightly as the kiss became more and more heated.
He broke away from you, both of you breathing heavily as your mouths hovered closely to each others. “Are you still tired?” He breathed, his nose brushing against yours.
A moan escaped your lips, as you closed your eyes in ecstasy. “No.” You got out, only wanting him to kiss you again.
You could see the grin on the prince’s face now as he adjusted his grip on you, shifting you further into his arms. “Good.”
