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Juicy July 2023 // Day 21 // Prompt: Hiking / Camping Thorin Oakenshield x f!reader Sent in by anonymous request

Content & Trigger Warnings: unprotected PiV (it’s fantasy, wrap it up)

Word Count: 824

Rating: Explicit, NSFW, 18+

event masterlist // ao3 // taglist // main masterlist

It’s not out in the open, not really, but everyone knows what’s happening.

Fili and Kili are on watch while the rest of the company rests on the forest floor in an oddly shaped crescent moon formation. The night is a bit cold, not enough to make the fingers and toes feel like needles, but enough that one can see their breath.

It’s quiet except for the wind, which makes a few of them think of howling spirits. In that noise is a voice, yours, a whisper, but heard as if caught up in the blistering sound.

“We can’t.”

It’s met by the rumbling rasp of Thorin responding but no one can discern what he says.

“What are they whisperin’ about?” asks Ori softly.

“None of your business,” mutters Dwalin. “Now, go to sleep.”

Bofur jerks up when he hears you whimper. It slices through the cold and the wind. He turns his head to look before Dwalin sits up and knocks him on the thigh.

Bofur scowls. “Excuse—”

“Hush,” states Dwalin plainly. “They’re having a moment. Leave em’ alone.”

“Doing what exactly?” Bofur pushes, thick eyebrows rising in an almost mocking manner.

“Doing what put all of us in our mothers’ belly. Now, mind yourself. Go to sleep.”

Bofur blinks, nearly chokes, his face going bright red before he throws himself back down on his bedroll.

Everyone pretends as if they see and hear nothing.

“We can’t.”

“The wind’s too loud. No one will hear.”

“I don’t think-”

“I need you.”

Thorin is on top, one arm braced beside your face. Your hand clasps the back of Thorin’s head and then slips lower to dig your fingernails into the nape of his neck.

He takes you in a slow, lazy manner. Thorin has one hand under the crown of your skill, pillowing it from the uncomfortable ground. Your heel slides down the back of his thigh. He thrusts a little more sharply, and it forces a moan from your lips.

“Shh,” he murmurs. Thorin’s tone is coaxing and tender.

You palm Thorin’s cheek, thumb running under his bottom lip. He is inside you, thick and searing. He drives forward in low, sharp strokes. He rumbles words of contentment into your neck, laying flat on top of you, hips rolling between your spread thighs, insistent.

Thorin shifts slightly, bracing his weight, eyes glinting in the dark. You cling to him, holding tight even though he has you pinned. He rocks forward, then back at a consistent rhythm, enjoying the warmth of your body. Knowing Thorin, he might do this until morning, until the dawn slinks ruby-red over the horizon.

He’s done it before.

No matter how subtly he takes you, Thorin is still heavy, so big that every plunge aches like an old burn. He punches the breath from your lungs, his bare hand finding purchase over your mouth when you whimper or grunt. This pleasure is debilitating. Thorin blankets you, holding you down, thrusting deep, but careful as to not make too much sound that could awaken the others.

Thorin nuzzles his nose along your jaw. Another thrust, and you clench. You whimper. Thorin grasps your hip, squeezes like he’ll leave a bruise, which you don’t mind. You always love the marks Thorin leaves on your skin.

Thorin peers down at you, the weight of him inside seeming to swell and pulse. You’re stretched to your limit, knees clamped around his waist. Thorin nips at your skin and grinds his pelvis against you, pushing up against the bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. Your back arches as much as it can, nails stabbing into his neck. You can feel the strain of the muscles, the bunching of his shoulder blades as you clench around him, his own body reacting.

Thorin is in your lungs, in your stomach, embedded into your entire being, and you can’t remember where you end, and he begins.

You bite your lip, eyes rolling back when Thorin delivers another stroke, his length and girth dragging against your walls. To stifle your moan, you lean in and press your mouth to his. Thorin takes it, almost greedy in the way he accepts.

That pace disappears. Thorin pounds a bit harder, a bit faster as the wind picks up and howls. Then you’re exploding around him, lost in a sea of pleasure, thrown off the boat, sinking fast. Distantly, you hear and feel Thorin groan into your mouth. Then you’re entirely full, nearly overstuffed, and then it’s so much wetter between your legs.

Everything comes back into focus. Thorin’s mouth is sweet and tender against yours. You peek over his shoulder and see everyone in their place. Asleep. You think. You hope.

“No one heard,” you mouth.

Thorin twists and then you notice a few heads drop quickly to their bedrolls.

Heat creeps up your neck and Thorin stifles a chuckle before draping himself over you again.

taglist:

@chaosartic @slovoss @shireluva @foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @everydayiamtrifling @beholdgremlins @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @singleteapot

Being in fandom has been such an affirming experience for me. Because fan-fiction has always been associated with teenage girls in pop-culture. But interacting with people who are adults in fandom-unabashed and enjoying themselves-makes me so hopeful.

SO

here's a thought:

yes i do take criticism

Here’s a pt 2 no one asked for lol

This mess me up

The part of TMNT that throws me off the most is how you can track the progression of time through the generation that each group of turtles represents. Like:

TMNT ‘87: Gen X

TMNT ‘03: Early Millennials

TMNT ‘12: Late Millennials

ROTTMNT: Early Gen Z

Mutant Mayhem: Late Gen Z

(Obviously there are more but these are the five versions I’m most familiar with)

Like I’ve finally hit the first generation of turtles where all four turtles are younger than me and it’s so strange how each generation’s culture is completely reflected in the characters’ behaviors and upbringing. I think that Mutant Mayhem’s post-mutation Splinter is roughly as old as the first generation of turtles, or at least close to it. How long until we get a Gen Z Splinter??? The 2012 turtles would be 26 today???? The original turtles would be roughly 50?????

My brain hurts.

cute stitch gifs for @liliesforedith

i just want to say how GRATEFUL I AM TO FINALLY HAVE FOUND SOMEONE WHO CHERISHES 2007 RAPH LIKE I DO, other people dont get how special and sexy that man is <3

I'm not gonna lie to ya'll, I got so many of these kinds of messages in my inbox about how happy & excited people were to finally see some 2007 tmnt works. It honestly makes me so happy when I get these kinds of messages! i don't post them all, but they mean a lot to me.

I remember first seeing the 2007 movie, and when I went online to search for some fanfiction about it, there wasn't much at all. There's a major lack of tmnt 2007 content, it's wild. So, since I'm a "if nobody does it- I'll do it myself" kind of person, I literally made this account and wrote a whole 2007 raph fanfic because nobody else has- not a lot of users write about 2007 guys! I honestly didn't expect this much traffic on my account and readers/followers/supporters, thank you! I'm forever grateful for this account, and the discord server I created specifically for tmnt lovers. THANK YOU GUYS ILY XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

So, this is your sign to write! Even if you just casually read and would never post, but love to write fanfiction about the guys. Write the fanfic or headcanon of your dreams!

ILY GUYS AGAIN OKAY XOXOXOXOXOXXOXOX - MEL/MELON/MELANCHOLY

Okay this was literally my communist manifesto omfg

Imagine: They know you can’t sleep at night

Thorin, Fíli, Kíli, Bilbo's reactions when you can't sleep well during the journey.

Used to camping or not, sleeping outside in Middle-earth was something else than sleeping in your late comfortable bed in your world. 

Thorin

Even though Thorin clearly noticed you’re tired every day, there is nothing he can do. Too many things to worry and think on this journey before looking after you. Gandalf wanted you to join them, so he has to take care of you.

Except that the wizard is always lost in his thoughts and doesn’t notice your tiredness, or you hide it well. 

In truth, travelling on a pony is not tiring, especially because you always share it with a member of the company and they know how to keep you awake with their fun story or songs. 

Not sleeping the night, otherwise, it’s more tiring! The East Road is harder and colder than you thought. And of course, you don’t have any modern, comfortable material. Who could sleep on this ground with just a blanket under you and another on you?

But, you don’t want to trouble anyone so you stay quiet about it. Everyone has other things to do than babysit you…

One day, at the surprise of everyone, Thorin offers to share his pony with you. To give the other ponies a rest, he said. As you don’t want to argue and you’re quite happy to ride with him – even if it’s embarrassing – you do as he said and sit before him.

As Thorin rides in the front, you can’t hear what the others say. Luckily, it’s not raining so it’s calm and peaceful. You can admire the landscape while Thorin manages the pony’s reins.

At some point, you wake up in a startle. Thorin just has the time to slip an arm around your waist to avoid you from falling. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” you hurry to say, looking around you and noticing thanks to the sun that you slept for a while. “I shouldn’t fall asleep!” 

Your cheeks are burning, but you feel so well-rested now. Maybe it’s because of his comfortable, fluffy coat, or the peaceful atmosphere, or his warming, relaxing smell…

“Stop moving or you will fall,” he sighs as he holds you tighter to him. “I-I’m sorry!” is the only thing you can say.

“We’ll stop in two hours,” he says as you understand he means you can sleep again. “But, I don’t want to bother you. What if I fall and take you down with me?” you murmur as you feel his arm around you adjusting, making you blush, of course.

“I hold you. Don’t worry about it,” he murmurs in a regal, convincing voice. Then, as you lean against him like before, you fall quickly asleep. Maybe riding with him was the best solution so that you can rest…

N/A: Or sleeping with him on the ground. We can easily find other solutions, right?

Fíli 

Since you had left the Shire with everyone, some nights were more tiring than others. Hard, cold and wet ground is not your favourite thing, but you could have recovered in a few inn, or in great places like Rivendell or Beorn’s house.

But after that, Mirkwood is quite a challenge. The nights are almost totally dark with weird noises and a feeling of always being watched. You’re not scared because the company is close to you, especially Fíli since he decided the forest wasn’t safe enough to let you alone even for a minute.

So when the spiders attack, you don’t have the strength to defend yourself. When the elves capture you, it’s the same. I think you're the last person they capture since they know you won't do anything. Very embarrassing…

Woman or not, you're thrown in a dungeon like the dwarves, no special treatment! The place is not comfortable but it’s dry and no sooner do you lie down than you fall asleep.

“Let me see her!” “She may hurt!” “It’s a woman, don’t let her in this place!” You wake up, still tired like when you have slept for too long and your body doesn't know where it stands. You hear Fíli yelling from a cell far away from you. You don't know how long he's been shouting, but his voice sounds tired.

As you start to wake up, you hear your door’s cell opening and someone entering quickly. Fíli knells before you and puts his hand slowly on your upper arm. “I was just sleeping, Fíli. I’m fine,” you smile as you sit up slowly.

Fíli hugs you suddenly, his mouth coming closer to your ear. “I know you were sleeping but I needed to see you,” he whispered, holding you tightly. “I know you need sleeping but I didn’t know if you were hurt, and those elves–” 

“I’m fine,” you cut him off before he gets angry. “And I’m safer here than in the forest.” 

You laugh until you notice you’re the one one. Fíli ends the hug and looks at you, “You’re safe only when I'm with you. I will stay here with you. Now you can go back to sleep as much as you need.”

“Thanks…” you can only say, too embarrassed by his words as you lie down, looking for his hand to hold. Now he is with you, you truly feel comfortable to sleep for days.

N/A: Oh, it’s more fluffy than I planned. 😅

Kíli 

“You can sleep between us tonight if you want,” Kíli says one day after he saw you yawn several times in the afternoon, winking with mischief. He caught up with you on his pony with his brother not far behind. 

“Maybe in your dreams,” you answer with a smirk, making everyone who heard you laugh. Even Bilbo smiles. 

But little did you know that your answer would trigger a new form of amusement for the dwarf. Not a day went by without a similar remark when he saw you yawning. And as you don’t sleep well on a hard, cold ground, you yawn a lot…

You always laughed with him, inventing new answers making the others laugh, until your tiredness almost cost your life. After the trolls' exhausting night, you decide to sit down against a tree while the company explores the trolls’ cave. After a night like that, you could rest anywhere. So even if you didn’t want it, you fell asleep. It’s only when Radagast arrives that you wake up. 

Half awake, you hardly understand what is happening. When the company starts to run, you try to follow them but all the fatigue you have accumulated over the last few days is making your movements slow and difficult. Some dwarves want to help you but Thorin’s yellings convince them to continue to run. You notice a few arrows flying next to you, killing the orcs closest to you until you end up alone in the middle of nowhere. A few orcs notice you and quickly run after you. Even if you look around you, there are no traces or voices of the company, only the yells of the orcs.

At this moment, you only have your hands to defend yourself, or your feet to run. But Mahal, Yavanna or any god from here had decided otherwise. A group of elves on horses arrive just in time to save you. They bring you to Rivendell where the company is regrouping in a circle. 

During the conversation between Gandalf and Elrond, the latter helps you get off his horse. Gandalf smiles like you never saw and before you can say anything you feel two strong arms pulling you in a hug. Before you can say anything, you hear in a trembling almost crying voice, “I thought I lost you!”. Some incomprehensible words follow with quiet cries. You don’t know how to react so just close your arms on the dwarf you have recognised as Kíli, stroking his back to calm him.

“I’m fine,” you say with a smile as you look at the company, all still worried about you. “I’m a burden. You had no choice but to abandon me.”

“Don’t say that!” Kíli shouts as he pulls back to see you, his eyes still wet and red. “You’re not a burden! You were only tired and we left you alone…” He suddenly cups your two cheeks and pulls your forehead against his. “I promise we won’t abandon you again! And you’ll sleep next to Fíli and me every night! No negotiation!”

You can’t help but laugh at his attitude while you hear his brother sigh as he shakes his head.

N/A: I made him cry again. Oops! 😏

Bilbo

The ground is hard and cold at night. The morning dew is coverding you every morning. You don’t remember the last time you bathed. But well, do you have any other choice?

Oh yes, you have thought of walking back and to the Shire, but you can’t abandon them. So you stay quiet, enjoying the journey anyway. The days, when there is no rain, are fun. The company is fun and enjoyable.

However, there is one who doesn't mind complaining! Recently, a day hasn't gone by without Bilbo asking to stop at an inn. At first, he was asking politely, but now he just grumbles when the night falls.

It’s always a funny situation, especially when a dwarf hears him. “We’re sorry the ground is not to your taste, Mr Baggins,” some of them say. “Do you want some feathers for your pillow, Mr Baggins?” asked one of them when they plucked birds for the evening meal.

Of course, you try to hide your laugh, but Bilbo saw you every time. As you're in the same situation as him, you don't want to laugh, but the dwarves' remarks are always so unexpected that it's hard to hold back. So to take his mind off the situation, the two of you often have a chat before sleeping - even if you're a long way from sleeping. 

Yet, one day, Thorin decides to stop in a town to buy supplies and allows everyone to stay at the inn. As you have no money, you share your room with Gandalf and as no dwarf wants to share their rooms with Bilbo, he joins yours.

We won’t lie. It’s the best night for so long. A warm bath, wine with your meal, a bed. You even forget how comfortable a bed can be! Your room is far from what you used to in your world but it looks perfect at this moment: warm, dry, and with a bed.

“This is the best breakfast I ate for a long time!” you happily say in the next morning. “No offence intended, Bombur.” The cook dwarf smiles, understanding what you mean. You devour your breakfast like the company next to you.

“Did you sleep well, Y/N?” Fíli asks, nudging his brother with a smile. “Oh yes, very well,” you answer with your mouth full. “I was so tired, the timing was perfect! I’m glad Thorin let us sleep here.”

“I’m sure it's not uncle you should thank,” Kíli says with a wink, making the other laugh. You stay a moment motionless, frowning in incomprehension. “Did you sleep well, Mr Baggins?” Fíli follows up, laughing at the hobbit’s reaction.

Bilbo was listening without a word until he heard his name, choking on his breakfast. As you all stayed in a Men’s inn, the furniture are too big for him and he had to put cushions under him to get to the table, bringing him to almost the same height as you. You quickly notice his cheeks becoming pink as your smile gets bigger. Oh, and don’t lie. Your cheeks are pink too. 

“Oh, right! I should thank you, Bilbo,” you start, calling him by his first name as he had asked for a long time ago. You take his hand and squeeze it warmly, making his whole face pink. “I could never have slept in that bed if you hadn't asked so many times. I think I owe you.”

When Bilbo can speak again, he shakes his head, “No no no. You owe me nothing. I-I need a bath and a bed too!”

Then the others laugh and start speaking of something while you watch the hobbit resume his breakfast. Maybe you need to find something to thank him, but what? 

N/A: What would you give him to thank him? 😏

Can you please write a fic where Thorin falls in love with a human girl, but he thinks she is disgusted by his looks? 🙏

Hi there, Nonny!! I know it took me forEVER, but here you go and i hope you like it! 💜

The Harp

Summary: You and Thorin are friends, but then you find out his feelings for you run deeper, and he’s holding back because he feels he is not good enough for you.  

Pairing: Thorin x fem!Reader (post-sack of Erebor, pre-quest for Erebor)

Warning: None. Just fluffy fluff

Rating: G

Word Count: 4.7k

***

He came into the dining room at the same time each evening and always sat at the same table—the one in the far corner, which was also the darkest corner of the room. He was polite, but kept to himself and you noticed how he always sat with his back to the wall and rarely did his eyes pause from scanning the room. 

The other diners eyed him with just as much suspicion but then again, they all eyed each other with suspicion as well. It was second nature to this lot, as they came from all four corners of Middle Earth. No one was actually from Emyn Vanya. No, every warm body had come from somewhere else to this tiny village on the outskirts of everywhere and yet somehow in the middle of nowhere. Some came to start over. Some came to forget. Some came to do both and some were just passing through. But everyone was from somewhere else and almost no one wished to discuss where that somewhere else might be.

You couldn't help but notice him, for he was a dwarf and the Grey Gander did not see many dwarves in their dining room. And not only that, but he was a handsome dwarf, to boot, with black hair, touched here and there with hints of silver, that spilled over his shoulders in a long tangle of curls. His most striking feature was his eyes, however, for they were the most piercing shade of icy blue you’d ever seen. There was a hardness within those pale eyes, one belied by his polite demeanor and deep, if soft, voice. 

Night after night, this man came in alone. He sat alone. He spoke to no one other than you when you approached to take his order, just as you did this evening. He was polite, if reserved, and spoke only when absolutely necessary, which was an interesting change from the patrons who grew louder and more opinionated as they dove further and further into their cups. 

“Welcome back,” you said with a smile as you approached him. “Might I fetch you a drink to begin?”

“Thank you. A tanked of ale would suit.”

“Of course. And do you know what you’d like or are you still trying to decide?”

He looked up at you with those striking eyes. “The hunter’s stew.”

His order never varied and you were certain you could just bring him a bowl of the stew without asking, which was why you couldn't resist a bit of playing with him. “I think we should start calling that your usual. Perhaps we should change it on the menu itself.”

That earned you one of the dwarf’s rare smiles. “I am not so certain that is necessary.”

“Well, you’ve been in here eight of the last ten nights and have yet to order anything different.” You couldn’t help teasing him. You sensed a hint of sadness in him, one that might explain the hardness in his eyes. And while it was a bit of a risk, teasing this man you didn’t really know, you had to admit, his smile made the risk worthwhile.

“But,” you added, taking your teasing further than you normally did, “you would have to tell me your name first. I certainly cannot ask to rename it Dwarf Stew. That would give the wrong impression, don’t you think?”

A darkness flashed through his eyes and you knew you’d overstepped. Your mind raced as you struggled to come up with something to smooth over his obviously ruffled feathers, knowing your employer would be furious if your flippancy drove away a paying customer. “I mean… that is… I apolo—”

“No,” he interrupted softly, shaking his head, “there is no need to apologize. And you’re right, it would sound odd. So, I suppose then, it would only be fair to tell you my name, wouldn’t it?”

Your heart beat a little faster at that. Perhaps it was but your imagination, but his voice sounded lower than it normally did. Lower and bit growlier. Had he, by any chance, noticed you the way you’d noticed him?

No, that was madness talking. Very few people noticed you aside from being their serving girl. You tended to blend into the background far too easily and since so many people in Emyn Vanya were only passing through, they paid little heed to you.

Still, that didn't stop you from replying, “It would, yes.”

To your surprise, that earned you a laugh. A genuine, honest-to-goodness laugh and one that sent flutters through you as it rolled across the small table in your direction. Like his voice, it was low and silken, and those flutters made you forget your own name for a moment.

“Very well,” he nodded, his eyes meeting and holding yours, “I am Thorin.”

You offered your name in return and added, “It’s wonderful to make your acquaintance, Thorin.”

“And yours as well.”

Heat climbed into your cheeks and you ducked your head, saying, “I will be back in a few moments with your ale,” you hesitated, then added, “Thorin.”

“I will be here.”

Thorin sat back as you darted off and couldn't believe his cheek. What had possessed him to even think to flirt with you? Your interest had to be only because he was a paying customer, because there was no way a woman as beautiful as you could possibly be interested in him. 

The first time he stepped into the Grey Gander, he’d noticed you at once, noticed how easily you smiled and joked with the tavern’s patrons. Your laughter was a silvery melody that made everyone turn in your direction and smile even if they had no idea what it was that made you laugh. 

He noticed everything about you—from that amazing smile and intoxicating laughter to your beautiful eyes and easy grace with which you moved about the crowded dining room. You never seemed impatience, or irritated, and even when someone gave you a hard time about something, you never lost your temper and somehow managed to defuse the most volatile of situations. 

The second night he’d come in, he’d witness such a scene, almost reaching for his sword, propped against the table, when the giant of man actually grabbed you by the arm. He had no doubt he’d have intervened if you needed it, but you didn’t. You smiled at the man as you peeled his fingers from your wrist and very sweetly informed him that if he touched you again, you’d turn him from a rooster to a hen in one fell swoop. 

It was at that moment, Thorin lost his heart.

A foolish notion at best, as you would never feel about him the way he did you. Why would you? He was a dwarf. He had no home. He had been in line for a throne, but now supported himself by moving from place to place, taking work where he could find it. 

That was what brought him to Emyn Vanya. His trade was blacksmithing and the village needed one. So, there he was, in the dining room of the Grey Gander, admiring you from afar and wishing he stood a chance at winning your hand. 

It was just as well, for what did he have to offer you? A king with no kingdom was no better than a pauper, really. Not to mention, he certainly couldn’t compete with the men of Emyn Vanya, who were all taller, slimmer, and far more attractive than he certainly was. You would be a fool to even consider him.

But, he watched you from afar, watched as you moved from table to table, how you brought a beaming smile to the face of an old crone, how you soothed angry children bickering over a toy, how you made a crying infant smile by making silly faces until they could do nothing else. 

How you focused on him as if he was the most interesting man in the room and not, for lack of a better phrase, a homely, homeless refugee. 

If only…

He sighed as you approached with a tankard in one hand. His heart beat so much faster when you met his gaze. His mouth went as dry as the plains between his lost kingdom of Erebor and the city of Dale after the dragon Smaug torched it from one end to the other.

You set the tankard before him. “Your supper will be ready in but a few minutes, Mr. Thorin.”

Mr. Thorin. He smiled, shaking his head. “No Mister. Thorin is just fine.”

“Oh, well that wouldn’t be proper now, would it?” Your eyes almost sparkled as your easy smile curved your lips. “After all, we only just met.”

“This is true,” he nodded, reaching for the tankard. Then, on impulse, he added, “Perhaps you might join me one evening?”

You looked taken aback and he immediately berated himself silently. You fool! What is wrong with you?

But then you smiled. “I think I would like that. I have an off night tomorrow. Would that work for you?”

He was stunned, not only by your agreement, but by your suggestion. No woman ever approached him that way. He’d always been the one to ask. You were bold and he admired that. So, he nodded. “That would work just fine for me.”

“Wonderful. What time?”

“Half seven?”

“Half seven it is,” you told him. “And I’ll be back in but a moment with your supper.”

****

What were you thinking? How could you just blurt out an invitation to him that way? He must think you a harlot, or a wanton woman for doing so. 

But at the same time, as you smoothed a hand along your skirts, you had to admit, you looked so forward to seeing him without having to wait upon him. It was a nice change of pace for you. A break in the monotony of your life that was work, sleep, and more work.

You’d told him where you lived, a rundown little flat above the florist’s shop, and at half eight, when the knock came at the door, you nearly jumped clear out of your skin. Then, laughing at your foolishness, you hurried to the door, before he thought you’d changed your mind and left. 

You smiled as you pulled open the door. “You are early.”

“I allowed myself extra time in case I found myself lost. I’m still new to these parts and this town takes a bit of getting used to.”

“If you remember the streets run east and west, and the avenues run north and south, you might fare better.”

He bobbed his head. “I would, but there are three florists on this street alone.”

“It is a very competitive business in Emyn Vanya.”

“So I’ve noticed.” 

You hesitated a moment and then stepped aside. “Come in.”

As he stepped over the threshold, you tried not to dwell on how shabby your flat was, with its scratched and scuffed hand-me-down furnishings. After you paid your rent and made certain there was food on the table, there was not much money left for luxuries such as nice furniture. Normally, it didn't trouble you. This was your home and you thought it cozy, if a bit rundown. But, when you tried to see it through Thorin’s eyes? 

You saw exactly how awful it must have looked to him. Threadbare sofa. The armchair had a hole in the cushion thanks to a broken spring, which meant that not only was stuffing peeping up from the hole, one received a nasty poke in the backside, should they think to sit there. 

And of course, there was that awful water stain in the far corner. You had no idea from where it had come, only that no matter how much you tried to paint over it, it bled through. You’d given up trying when paint fell into the luxury category.

But, he reached up for the frogs at his throat and then whisked his cloak off to drape over his arm. “This is lovely.”

Lovely? You looked about, wondering exactly what he found so lovely about it. “It’s a bit… ah… worn, don't you think?”

“Lived in, is how I would describe it.” He smiled at you. “Homes should be lived in. That is how they become such. Otherwise, they are but houses, flats, nothing more than buildings.”

You looked back at him. “Lived in?”

He nodded. “Lived in.” 

Then he looked back at you and for a moment, you were rendered speechless. Did he have any idea whatsoever as to how handsome he truly was? Because if he did, he certainly did not act as if he did.

Of course, you kept that to yourself, especially when that night, a deep friendship was born. You had dinner together on the nights when you weren’t working. You spent off days together, sometimes running errands with each other, sometimes just doing nothing. He had a knack for the acrostics printed in the village newspaper and the two of you spent your share of days or nights looking up which answers you thought would work. It didn't matter. He had quickly become your dearest friend and while you loved that, you’d also begun thinking that perhaps there was a bit more to your relationship than only friendship.

It was too bad he’d never given any indication at all that he saw you as anything more than a friend.

So you stayed quiet. Autumn gave way to winter and the Yule holiday was only a few days off when you made your way to Thorin’s forge at the northern end of town. A bitter cold wind whipped down the narrow alleyway where his shop was located and you didn't have to look to know you were near it. The carved wooden sign identifying the forge creaked on its hooks as it swung in the wind. Through the swirling snow, you could still make out the word etched into the wood. 

Blacksmith

Beneath that word, Thorin had carved symbols as well, and when you’d asked, he’d smiled and explained that they were a language called khuzdul, which was his native language, actually. He’d attempted to teach you some of it, and showed nothing but patience as you fumbled over seemingly simple words. Little by little, though, it became easier and left you wishing you had something like that to share with him. 

But then you found something. One night, over several goblets of wine, he confessed that he once played the harp, but had lost his when he’d lost his home, but that was all he would say about either the harp or what happened to his home. So, you’d saved a bit of your pay each week and put it aside and then went to the music shop at the far end of town and found what you’d hoped would be a suitable replacement harp. It wasn't a big, grand instrument, as those were far beyond what you could ever hope to afford, but you hoped he’d like it the same. You couldn’t remember the last time you were so excited and impatient to give someone a gift as you were this one, which was why you braved the worsening weather.  

So there you were, at the far end of a gray-shingled building with a roof in need of repair, listening to the almost melodic sound of metal striking metal. The closer you drew to his workshop, the warmer the air grew and as you rounded the corner, a blast of heat hit you square in the face. It was a welcome sensation as your cheeks felt quite numb from the cold. 

He had his back to you and heat shot through you at the sight of him, shirtless in deference to that blasted heat, the muscles in his back and along his shoulders bulging as he held a piece of iron in one hand, a hammer in the other. The clang rang through you when he brought the hammer slamming against the iron, again and again and you couldn't help but just stare. 

Your eyes roamed over his naked back, heavy with obviously well-earned muscle, and inked with black lines of varying sizes that covered his entire shoulder, stretched across his back, and into the opposite shoulder as well. You had no idea what the symbols and lines meant, but they looked very similar to the ones carved into the forge’s sign, so your guess was they were dwarfish runes or words.

The heat in the forge was brutal regardless of how cold it was beyond the walls. Sweat prickled along your back as you stepped closer. You didn't want to startle him. The iron with which he worked began with an orange glow, but slowly, as he pounded it flat, the glow faded and when he set down the hammer and used a pair of tongs to pick up the flattened piece and thrust it into a tub of water, steam actually rose from the tub.

“Thorin?”

He jumped, letting go of the tongs as he spun around and now heat shot up into your cheeks at the naked chest you found yourself staring at. Like his back, his chest was just as broad, with black hair swirled from one nipple to the other and down across his belly. More symbols had been inked across it, meeting with the design on his left shoulder.

“I am so sorry,” you stammered, tearing your eyes from that impressive sight to meet his startled blue eyes, “I was trying not to startle you.”

“What are you doing here?”

You hugged the package close. “I had to go and pick something up and thought while I was out, I’d stop by.” You peered around him, at the iron still resting in the water. “What are you making?”

“A sword.” He reached for the towel draped over the workbench and swept it across his forehead. “You should not be in here. It’s far too dangerous.”

“I will come no closer then. But tell me, who commissioned the sword?”

“No one. It is mine. I work on it when I’ve a bit of free time.”

“Might I see?”

“It’s not even close to being finished.” He came around the bench and stood before you. His black hair was damp at the temples. 

“You don't have to stop on my account, you know.” You took a step closer to him, the urge to reach out and touch him so powerful, it nearly overwhelmed you. You wish you had the courage to tell him how you’d come to feel about him, as you’d had when you’d left your flat. You’d left there full of fire and determined to confess your feelings for him, but unfortunately, by the time you reached his forge, that courage evaporated like the water in the tub had. 

“It would be rude of me to continue.”

“Not at all. I think it would be fascinating, watching you work.” 

His gaze shifted slightly to his left and you followed it to see what he looked at—a heavy dark gray henley lay draped over a chair by his desk. Without thinking, you shifted the package to one arm and reached out to catch him by the upper arm as he stretched for his shirt.

“Wait, don’t,” you said, shaking your head.

“Don’t?”

You nodded. “I—what is this?” You traced your fingertips along the thick black lines curving his shoulder, unable to believe your own brazenness but unable to halt your touch as well. 

“It’s my… my… it’s a raven,” he managed, his voice deep and huskier than usual. He cleared his throat. “The symbol of my clan, and my family crest.”

You could not keep yourself from tracing along those lines as little by little, the image of a raven wearing a crown slowly showed itself to you. You’d held back from telling him how you felt for so long, now that the opportunity to perhaps go beyond friendship had presented itself and you were not about to let it slip by. But… you had to be careful. It was a delicate matter and that called for delicate handling. The last thing you wished to do was destroy your friendship with him.

With that, you lowered your hand “It’s lovely.”

“Thank you.”

“This is for you, by the by.” You pressed the package toward him. “I know Yule isn’t for several more days, but when I went to pick this up, I grew far too impatient to wait.”

He stared down at it. “What is it?”

“Well, you have to open it to find out.”

He took the package and slowly unwrapped it and then just stared, his blue eyes growing shiny as he murmured, “How did you know?”

“You told me, silly.” You nudged him with your shoulder. “Remember? We were talking about how my neighbor plays the harpsichord and how awful it sounds and you told me you once played the harp. So, I asked Mr. Trumble if he could find me a harp for you and he did me one better. He made this.”

“He—” those blue eyes met yours, wide and incredulous—“made this?”

You nodded. “He did, indeed.”

He gazed down at the harp, and then back at you. “I—this—this is beautiful. I thank you.”

“There is one condition to it, however.” You nudged him once more. “You must play it for me.”

“Oh, I couldn't now. I’d be far too rusty.”

“Well, once you flake off all the rust.”

“Fair enough.” He offered up a smile brighter than any you’d ever seen from him. “You shouldn’t have done this, though. Save your wages, don’t spend them on me.”

“I didn't mind.” You shrugged as if you spent that kind of money all the time. “And it’s Yule, so it was but a small sacrifice.”

He stepped closer. “This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me, you know. I will treasure it. And you.”

And with that, he leaned in and to your surprise, pressed his lips to yours. You froze at first, caught by utter surprise, as this was the last thing you’d expected him to do. For one maddening moment, you wondered if perhaps you were just imagining it.

But then, his lips moved softly against yours and your toes actually curled in your sensible boots when he brought his hands up to cup your face, and you knew that this was, in fact, actually happening. And how wonderful it was! The sensations that rippled through you were soft and sweet, the crisp, coarse hair around his mouth tickling at first, but then you found you didn't mind it so much as it was a caress of its own. 

Your head did a slow spin, his kiss leaving you lightheaded and when your hands came to rest on those massive upper arms of his, your fingers pressed into muscle that greatly resembled stone of their own accord. You were afraid your weak knees might buckle on you at any moment.

His kiss was slow and sweet, teasing and gentle and when his lips parted and his tongue swept gently along yours, your head spun even faster. A rush of heat swept through you. Your lips tingled. Your heart beat harder and faster and it took every bit of will you had to not melt right into his arms. 

When he drew back, his eyes were soft, swirling with an emotion you couldn’t quite place and he seemed as breathless as you were as he murmured, “I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time now.”

“What?”

He nodded. “I do and I did and now I just want to do it again.” Then he paused, a hint of sheepishness creeping into his smile, into his eyes, “Unless, of course, you’d rather I didn’t.”

“No, I’d not rather that at all,” you told him, smiling as you curved a hand against his cheek. “In fact, I’d like it very much if you would do it again. And again. And I think you should keep doing, no matter where we might be.”

A low chuckle rumbled up from the depths of his chest. “So, I am not about to send you screaming into the snow?”

“Hardly.” 

“Are you certain? I mean,” he rubbed his bearded jaw ruefully, a sheepish smile coming to his lips, “I know people whisper about me and poke fun at me behind my back.”

“They whisper about you because they are fascinated by you. And no one pokes fun at you. I know they think you’re quite an excellent smithy, judging by what I’ve heard. And I won’t even tell you what the women say about you.”

To your surprise, his sheepish smile faded and a darkness came to his eyes. “I can only imagine.”

“Have I said something wrong? I thought I was complimenting you. Do dwarves not like to hear how handsome they are thought to be?”

“Handsome?” He snorted as he shook his head. “That’s kind of you, but I’ve seen my own face and that is not how I’d describe it.”

“Well, perhaps you should but have Mr. Sinclair examine your eyes, for you are not only handsome, but very handsome.”

He stared at you, clearly not believing a word you said. “Thank you, but you are just being kind, as you’ve been since we met.”

“Thorin,” you caught his hands in yours, “I’ve been wishing you’d notice me as more than simply your friend, that you’d kiss me, and perhaps I’ve been too brazen in taking the first step. If you wish me to leave you alone, I will.”

“Leave me alone?” His eyes went wide and he shook his head once more. “No, no, I don’t wish that at all. In fact, I—”

A scarlet flush swept up into his cheeks and he went quiet. You waited for him to continue, your heart hammering away at your ribs. All you wanted was for him to pull you into his arms, to tug you flush against that massive chest, and kiss you until you forgot your name.

“You what?” you asked softly.

“I lied. About the sword.” He smiled then. “It’s for you, actually. For Yule. I meant it to be a surprise.”

“For me? But I don't even know who to wield one.”

“Worry not, for I will teach you. When the weather breaks.”

“You did this for me? You would do that for me?”

He nodded. “I would do anything for you, you know.” His eyes softened then as he smiled. “I love you.”

This was the last thing you ever expected him to say and you could only stare at him for a long moment, as your stupid brain forgot how to process words. The best you could muster was a whispered, “What?”

“I love you. I’ve been wanting to tell you for some time now, but how could I when I thought you would be embarrassed to be courted by me. So, I relegated myself to knowing we would only ever be friends, but now…”

“Embarrassed to be courted by you? Are you mad, Thorin? Are you absolutely and completely mad? Because you would have to be to think any woman alive would be embarrassed to be courted by you.” You shifted to wind your arms about his neck. “And no one has ever made something for me. At least, not something as beautiful as a sword. So, if I didn't already love you in return, I would have most definitely fallen at this moment.”

He smiled. “So, all this time, it would’ve only taken a sword to win your hand?”

“I’m a very simple woman, Thorin. You should know that by now.”

Your heart skipped a beat as he eased his arms about your waist, pulling you flush against him. He leaned closer, his lips just brushing yours as he murmured, “I’ll keep it in mind.”

You tried to think of something witty to reply with, but then his lips met yours once more and rendered words unnecessary.

***

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Misty Mountains

Pairing: Thorin x Reader

Genre: Light romance/fluff

Description: Throin helps you get back to sleep when you wake up from a nightmare while he’s on watch.

Warnings: None

Word count: 717

Your blanket fell to your waist as you jolted up from your bedroll, breathing heavily.

As your eyes adjusted to your surroundings you groaned quietly, rubbing your face with your hands.

Ever since you’d heard the orcs and wargs shrieking in the night, you’d been on edge. Fili and Kili’s story hadn’t helped matters, although thankfully Thorin had shut that down quickly.

Knowing you wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep easily, you pushed your blanket off your legs and stood up, stretching silently before you began weaving your way through the sleeping dwarves and towards the small fire at the mouth of the cave, careful not to step on anyone.

You doubted Thorin would be happy if everyone woke in a panic because you’d taken a tumble onto one of them.

You sighed silently. Thorin.

Despite the dwarf king's grouchiness and stubborn manner your attention had been drawn to him from the first time you met him, the unimpressed expression he’d worn as Gandalf announced you’d be coming was still etched in your brain as clearly as if it had only just happened.

Still, you liked to think-or hope-that he’d warmed up to you by now. It certainly seemed like it sometimes before he’d say something in that grouchy tone and it felt like you were back to square one.

Or maybe you were just delusional and imagined the tiny smiles you thought he gave you before turning away when you caught his gaze.

Speaking of, when you reached the mouth of the cave Thorin, who sat against the wall on his bedroll keeping watch, was already looking at you.

When he caught your gaze he raised an eyebrow in question.

“Couldn’t sleep.” You mumbled, holding your hands out to the fire, hoping to warm them on the dying flame.

“Nightmares?” His voice was low, quiet enough not to wake the others.

You gave a slight nod. Were you really that easy to read?

Again, as if reading your thoughts, he spoke. “Everyone has them. I’m not surprised after that story Fili and Kili told.” He shook his head in exasperation.

You were both silent for a moment before he murmured your name, drawing your attention again. “Come here.”

What?

He beckoned you towards him again, and you stepped away from the fire, stopping in front of the dwarf on the ground in front of you. 

“Sit down.” 

You blinked.

When you made no move to do as he said, Thorin reached up and took your hand, tugging you down to sit with him.

“Thorin, what-” Your cheeks flamed, and you were glad it was night as the dwarf maneuvered you so that you leant against him, head on his chest, fur coat soft against your cheek.

“Try to sleep. You need your rest.” You tried to keep your breathing steady as you felt his arm around you, holding you securely, but comfortably against him while his chest rumbled slightly under you when he spoke.

You hesitated to close your eyes, feeling your tiredness creep up on you again, but gave up and let them flutter shut at Thorin’s next words. “I’ll wake you if you have a nightmare. Don’t fight it.”

You sighed quietly as you turned your head into Thorin’s chest a bit more, and felt him drape his blanket over the two of you with the hand that wasn’t holding you to him.

You listened to the embers crackling as they died, when Thorin shifted slightly and his voice joined the sounds of nature. You easily recognised the song as the one sung the night at Bilbo’s place and found yourself focusing on his voice, his chest vibrating beneath your ear.

“Far over the misty mountains cold,

To dungeons deep and caverns old,

We must away ere break of day,

To find our long-forgotten gold.”

Thorin’s voice was the last thing you heard as you drifted off to sleep, his thumb rubbing across your upper arm lightly as he sang.

“The pines were roaring on the height,

The winds were moaning in the night,

The fire was red, it flaming spread,

The trees like torches blazed with light.”

And no one needed to know if he pressed a kiss to the top of your head while you slept when he finished the song.

Taglist

@fizzyxcustard

Hehehehe… Some older Thorin art (which I have posted here before) 

Misty Mountains

Pairing: Thorin x Reader

Genre: Light romance/fluff

Description: Throin helps you get back to sleep when you wake up from a nightmare while he’s on watch.

Warnings: None

Word count: 717

Your blanket fell to your waist as you jolted up from your bedroll, breathing heavily.

As your eyes adjusted to your surroundings you groaned quietly, rubbing your face with your hands.

Ever since you’d heard the orcs and wargs shrieking in the night, you’d been on edge. Fili and Kili’s story hadn’t helped matters, although thankfully Thorin had shut that down quickly.

Knowing you wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep easily, you pushed your blanket off your legs and stood up, stretching silently before you began weaving your way through the sleeping dwarves and towards the small fire at the mouth of the cave, careful not to step on anyone.

You doubted Thorin would be happy if everyone woke in a panic because you’d taken a tumble onto one of them.

You sighed silently. Thorin.

Despite the dwarf king's grouchiness and stubborn manner your attention had been drawn to him from the first time you met him, the unimpressed expression he’d worn as Gandalf announced you’d be coming was still etched in your brain as clearly as if it had only just happened.

Still, you liked to think-or hope-that he’d warmed up to you by now. It certainly seemed like it sometimes before he’d say something in that grouchy tone and it felt like you were back to square one.

Or maybe you were just delusional and imagined the tiny smiles you thought he gave you before turning away when you caught his gaze.

Speaking of, when you reached the mouth of the cave Thorin, who sat against the wall on his bedroll keeping watch, was already looking at you.

When he caught your gaze he raised an eyebrow in question.

“Couldn’t sleep.” You mumbled, holding your hands out to the fire, hoping to warm them on the dying flame.

“Nightmares?” His voice was low, quiet enough not to wake the others.

You gave a slight nod. Were you really that easy to read?

Again, as if reading your thoughts, he spoke. “Everyone has them. I’m not surprised after that story Fili and Kili told.” He shook his head in exasperation.

You were both silent for a moment before he murmured your name, drawing your attention again. “Come here.”

What?

He beckoned you towards him again, and you stepped away from the fire, stopping in front of the dwarf on the ground in front of you. 

“Sit down.” 

You blinked.

When you made no move to do as he said, Thorin reached up and took your hand, tugging you down to sit with him.

“Thorin, what-” Your cheeks flamed, and you were glad it was night as the dwarf maneuvered you so that you leant against him, head on his chest, fur coat soft against your cheek.

“Try to sleep. You need your rest.” You tried to keep your breathing steady as you felt his arm around you, holding you securely, but comfortably against him while his chest rumbled slightly under you when he spoke.

You hesitated to close your eyes, feeling your tiredness creep up on you again, but gave up and let them flutter shut at Thorin’s next words. “I’ll wake you if you have a nightmare. Don’t fight it.”

You sighed quietly as you turned your head into Thorin’s chest a bit more, and felt him drape his blanket over the two of you with the hand that wasn’t holding you to him.

You listened to the embers crackling as they died, when Thorin shifted slightly and his voice joined the sounds of nature. You easily recognised the song as the one sung the night at Bilbo’s place and found yourself focusing on his voice, his chest vibrating beneath your ear.

“Far over the misty mountains cold,

To dungeons deep and caverns old,

We must away ere break of day,

To find out long-forgotten gold.”

Thorin’s voice was the last thing you heard as you drifted off to sleep, his thumb rubbing across your upper arm lightly as he sang.

“The pines were roaring on the height,

The winds were moaning in the night,

The fire was red, it flaming spread,

The trees like torches blazed with light.”

And no one needed to know if he pressed a kiss to the top of your head while you slept when he finished the song.

Taglist

@fizzyxcustard

Not a King to You (Thorin x Fem! Reader)

AN: Bridgerton scenes have been all over my TikTok recently, so this happened… I’m also about to  be done with school and I’m so excited to have free-time again for writing. I hope you all enjoy! 

“Did you not hear me?” Thorin suddenly turned, and for a moment your memories flashed back to his Dragon Sickness, his screaming amidst the gold hoard while you all searched for the Arkenstone. 

“I made my order, and I am not going back on it.” 

“Thorin, please, you’re being unreasonable,” You urged, pausing in your trail after him, you felt your pulse quicken. His eyes were darkened, and for a moment you felt uneasy as he stared. 

“I’ve made my decision, I am the king, I decide.”

“Thorin-”

“I am your king!” Thorin bellowed out, glaring as he leaned forward with his words making you take a step back. 

The room grew silent as he stared at you, and for a moment you felt like arguing, arguing that he’s not being himself and that you did not deserve to be spoken to in such a manner. But instead, you took another step back. 

“I’m sorry,” Your voice was eerily professional as you clasped your hands in front of you. “I thought you were just…Thorin, to me,” The weight of the crown pressing onto your head was suddenly heavier than ever before. The uneasy feeling in your gut returned, and suddenly you were aware of just how different Thorin felt in this moment. This wasn’t your husband.

“(Y/n) I-”

“My mistake, my King,” You smiled. “Do you need anything else from me, or may I be excused?” You could feel the eyes of the guards on you as embarrassment crawled up the back of your neck. Of course this had to happen in public, being made into a spectacle. No one could deny Thorin’s decision, not even his wife. 

“(Y/n),” Thorin was softer now, bodily language shifting as he took a step towards you before stopping. 

He took in your body language, the way you leaned back away from him and how your eyes refused to meet his. Gulping down the lump in his throat, Thorin nodded, “You are excused.”

“Thank you, my King.” You bowed your head just slightly enough to show proper professional respect, but not enough for your crown to slide before turning and exiting the hall, lip quivering as soon as your back was turned to him. 

“Have a good evening, my King,” were your final words as you disappeared from sight, tears stinging your eyes. 

That was the last that you had seen of Thorin, as the moment you left you called upon your handmaids to assist you in moving your things to another suite just down the hall. For days you succeeded in avoiding him, until tonight. 

“A letter, from the king,” The messenger said as they passed the envelope to your hands, uneasiness settling in your gut. Divorce papers? You couldn’t help but go to the worst case scenario as you nodded, “Thank you,” You gave a small smile before dismissing the messenger. 

Turning to your desk, you carefully opened the envelope, slicing the wax seal with your letter opener. 

Eyes drifting over the paper, your brows furrowed. It was an invitation to dinner. 

Looking out the window, you realized it was nearly that time. Sighing, you weighed your options. Don’t go, or go and see what Thorin has in store for you. 

“If you’re scared, then do it scared,” You recalled your mother’s words, always the one to tell you to do the thing you didn’t want to. Groaning to  yourself you felt the urge to slam your head down on your desk but instead you simply dropped the letter on your desk before calling for your handmaid. 

“I kindly request your assistance, I’m needing to dress for dinner.”

-

The dining room was empty when you arrived, making your heart sink. Just like so many dinners scheduled before, Thorin hadn’t shown up. 

Glancing towards your usual seat, you noted that two plates of food were already prepared, still steaming. So, the cooks thought he would show. 

Rounding the table, you instead chose to wait by the window, staring out over the vast green hills and ridges that led to Dale and eventually, to Laketown. 

“Thank you for finding this,” Thorin’s words caught your ears but you didn’t dare move, enjoying tracing the path of the Running River, imagining yourself on a little boat drifting down said river. 

“I know this is her favorit- (Y/n),” Thorin paused, breathing out your name as his face brightened with a grin. You showed up. 

Being addressed, you internally sighed, turning to acknowledge him. 

“Thank you again,” Thorin dismissed the servant before returning his gaze back to your form, the room going silent as his eyes glanced over you from head to toe. It had truly been days since he saw you, during the day being so wrapped up in meetings and ‘urgent’ matters, he hadn’t had a chance to try and reconcile with you sooner. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” You broke the silence, looking away and feeling tears sting the back of your eyes again. 

“Like what?”

Scoffing, you shook your head, “Like you still love me.” 

“(Y/n) please- I’m sorry,” Thorin put the bottle of your favorite spirit down on the table before rounding it to get to you. 

“What I said to you was not okay, not in any situation,” He reached out, a flicker of hope dancing in his chest as you didn’t recoil, allowing him to take your hands in his. “I cannot provide an excuse for my actions, nor can I provide a reason for both are dismissive for how much I’ve hurt you.”

“Please look at me,” One of Thorin’s hands released yours in favor of cupping the side of your cheek, the warmth of his hand was the breaking point as a tear finally escaped and trailed down your cheek. Looking up at him, you were surprised to find guilt and anguish at the sight of your tearful face, his thumb gently sweeping over the swell of your cheek to wipe it away. 

“I look at you like I love you because I do love you, please don’t ever doubt that.” 

“I’m not a king to you, I am Thorin, the blacksmith you met so many years ago.” 

“Are you?” 

“I am, and I will do whatever it takes to reassure you of that.”

Reaching your hand up you gripped his hand, your breath leaving in a shaky exhale as you shut your eyes. Thorin leaned his head down, pressing his forehead against yours. “If you will let me, that is?” 

“Always,” You murmured, briefly opening your eyes before they slipped shut again as Thorin pressed his lips to yours in a soft kiss, the ache from being apart becoming apparent as you relished in his touch. 

“Now, let’s eat,” Thorin murmured after pulling away, not wanting to separate from you but knowing you both needed dinner.

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Thorin- 

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painted my first love thorin oakenshield

He is literally so husband...

Just waiting for Fanfics of Din Djarin being a father of 15 children...

I def see din as a girl dad, just imagining him living his little cottagecore dream with his son safe and sound and with little girls that have his dark hair and eyes <33 his heart would be so full and he’d love and protect his family with all he has. He’d train them to be strong warriors that proudly wear the symbol of clan djarin. The finale has me maladaptive daydreaming loll

Okay but same, anon. Same.

——

He can hear the children before he sees them; he’s around the back of the house, checking the crops, pulling up root vegetables and dumping them into a wheelbarrow.

Later, his love will cut those up. Stew some with some meat for dinner, and preserve the rest for winter. You’re handy in the kitchen, and he’s grown fond of the pickled vegetables that you love so much.

Wheeling the cart around the side of the house, he pauses to wipe the sweat from his forehead; it’s mingling into his curls again, but that’s alright. He’s long since gotten used to being slightly sweat damp, letting the sun further tan his olive skin to a deep bronze.

He sees Grogu first, splashing in the shallow pond a few feet from the house, using the force to send mud balls towards the girls.

They’re so alike that most struggle to tell them apart; there’s only a year between them, and they both resemble him far more than you. Both with his dark curls, his obsidian eyes, but they have your temper, your spirit.

Both girls hold small shields, gifts from Bo for their last new year’s turn. Giggling riotously, they try to deflect the mud being slung at them by their brother, until the youngest shrieks, scrapes mud from her shield and flings it right back.

All three children are drenched, covered in mud and water and laughing their heads off. It’s exactly the sort of childhood he didn’t get, but he doesn’t begrudge them a moment of it. This is what he meant, when he told his people they should fight, give their children a chance to play under the sunlight.

They might be playing around now, but he knows his children are strong. All three of them, and the fourth on the way will be, too. All three wear the symbol of his - of their - clan, the girls in gauntlets and necklaces, Grogu in his breastplate given to him by the Armorer years previously.

The baby will, too.

When the eldest spies him, she straightens immediately, shifting into the casually attentive stance he’s taught them; a warrior’s stance. Clearly, she isn’t sure what to think. Will her father disapprove of this horseplay when he values discipline, culture, tries to teach them to be warriors?

He kneels down as though to speak to her, waits until she’s looking at the ground, then scoops up a handful of mud and lobs it at her lowered shield.

When the four of them troop into the house an hour later, drenched in mud and laughing, the girls hanging off his arms and Grogu on his shoulder, you take one look at them and shake your head, fondly ordering them to take baths before they eat, muttering about just sweeping the floor.

Giving the girls a conspiratorial smirk, Din sneaks up on you, wraps his arms around you and plants a kiss on your cheek, smearing your dress with mud.

You shriek with laughter, chasing him towards the bathroom, the girls and Grogu howling with laughter as they watch their parents.

In short? It’s perfect. It’s the life he always dreamed of having, but never thought he’d get. And he wouldn’t change a thing.

dwarven hair customs

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You remembered?

*The Hobbit

•Thorin Oakenshield x Reader

-Thorin surprises you in more ways than one on your birthday, a day you didn’t think he’d remember so well.

This story was written as part of @band--psycho’s birthday celebration challenge!! Happy birthday my friend!!🥳🥰 I hope you’re spoiled rotten when the day comes xx

Prompt: “You remembered?”

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“Thorin? Where are we going?”

The concern in your voice was clear as day, your worry growing by the minute as you followed him away from the others who were still sleeping this early in the morning.

You didn’t know what time it was, but the sun was just waking and the birds had only just started their song. Thorin must’ve been on watch last night, though he’d never woken you before. Not like this.

Moving out early as a troop? Yes. Signs of danger nearby? Certainly. But never you on your own at the crack of dawn. His silence wasn’t helping either.

He was the quiet type, the one who observed and thought things through before speaking or getting involved in anything. So where was he leading you? And why?

Despite your curiosity you hadn’t once hesitated to follow him. He’s never given you any cause to suspect or fear him, so when he woke you and asked you to follow you had done just that.

But it seemed that the more yous walked the more tense he became, and so after what seemed like an eternity, you finally broke the silence.

“Is everything okay?“

Although hoarse, your voice was loud and clear enough for him to hear, even from his position feet in front of you. Yet despite that, it you didn’t receive an answer right away.

As you waited, you kept your gaze tied on his back, attempting to read his body language. Occasionally looking away only to keep an eye on your path, lest you trip over a root or walk into a low hanging branch.

The trees were starting to thin, perhaps there was a clearing up ahead? You’re interrupted from your thoughts at the sound of a gruff voice finally answering one of your questions.

“Nothings the matter, I merely…” seeming lost for words, you remained silent, giving him time to think it through, and not a second later he divulged, “wish to show you something.”

Well that wasn’t what you were expecting.

You liked to think you knew him well enough by now, yous had been travelling together for months after all. What had started off as a relationship comparable to that between cats and dogs, quickly formed into a close friendship that you treasured. And you knew he did too.

He was always there to offer you support, and had even started to confide in you himself, sharing his worries and memories of a time long since past.

He had taken the time to get to know you, the real you, and accepted you for all your faults, though he’d disagree to the imperfections you too often saw in yourself.

“Ooff-“

Suddenly ripped back to reality, you find yourself face first in a solid furry mass, and you quickly realise you’d walked straight into him.

The fur of his thick coat tickled your nose, overpowering your sense with something uniquely him. Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you take a few steps back before apologising.

“Sorry, I didn’t notice you’d stopped.”

Turning to look at you over his shoulder, you’re greeted with a small, but genuine smile curling his lips.

“Quite alright, we’re here.”

Tiki ring your head at his words, your brows furrow as you look at him, “where?”

His smile grows warmer as he steps to the side, offering you a bow that had you gasping in winder. Wide eyed and slack jawed, you seem to float forward to really take in what you were seeing.

He’d lead you to a cliff side with a breathtaking view; below you stretched lush forest, rolling hills and a long winding river slithering through everything like a snake in the grass.

And surrounding this picturesque scene in the background, were mountains standing proudly in the background, the sun peaking over them as it rose to glory in a sea of purple and orange hues.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen something so… beautiful, though that didn’t seem strong enough a word.

You’d forgotten for a moment just where you were and who you were with, that is until you feel a presence by your side.

“Beautiful, isn’t it.”

It wasn’t a question, you edit. Think anyone could question that remark. Even an orc would appreciate this kind of beauty.

“It is,” looking up at him, you couldn’t contain the smile on your face as you added, “thank you for showing me. I can’t remember the last time I watched the sunrise.”

You turn your attention back to the sight before yous, eyes closing in bliss as you take a deep breath of the crisp morning air.

Momentarily oblivious to the sights surrounding you, you missed the way Thorin looked at you in that moment. His piercing piercing gaze softening with a warmth he reserved only for you.

He watched in envy as the light morning breeze played with your thick (H/C) locks. You seemed so at peace in this moment, and he didn’t want it to end.

“I…”

He breaks off his sentence by clearing his throat, hand rising to rub at his beard as he mumbles something to himself.

Opening your eyes again, you turn your attention towards him. Though you didn’t understand the language, you recognised it as his native tongue, khuzdul.

“Thorin? You all good?” Your lips curl at the edges upon seeing him so… ruffled. For someone usually so put together this was certainly a surprise.

“I have, something for you.” Your eyes narrow on his scruffy cheek, you could swear- was he blushing? Your eyes widen at your unexpected observation, a giddiness rising within your chest at the thought though you don’t comment on it.

He was clearly uncertain at the moment and you didn’t want to give him reason to retreat into himself. After all he was-

Your mind screeches to a sudden halt ass his words finally hit you like a ton of bricks. He had something for you?

“For me? Why?” You counted your fuzzy mind for a reason, head diluted to the side as your brow furrowing in confusion.

An action he too copies. His nervousness seems to have been to the side for the time being as he stares a you as though you’d grown another head.

“I thought today was your birthday, was I mistaken?” You froze as realisation dawned, it was your birthday. How could you have forgotten…

Today you officially turned (Age). You supposed after all yous had been through lately, and the ever growing concern of what was to come had put this occasion far from your mind.

You didn’t usually celebrate it, though you do recall mentioning to him weeks ago now that it was coming up, however you didn’t expect him to remember.

I’m fact if memory serves right yous had sat up late into the morning talking about everything and nothing that particular night, grasping at any topic that popped to mind given that neither of yous had wanted your time together to end.

Still, it touched you that he had indeed remembered that little detail.

Your distracted from your thoughts as you see him pull his coat forward with one hand, before reaching into the gap with the other. He digs around for a few seconds before pulling out a small package.

Your eyes dart back up to his, as you murmured in disbelief, “you remembered?”

“Of course I remembered,” holding out the parcel towards you, you hesitantly reach out before carefully picking it up, scared that if you moved to quickly or acted too roughly then you might wake up from this dream.

Thorin watched as you practically cradled it in both hands, staring in awe at the small present.

“It isn’t much,” he says it as though he’s disappointed he couldn’t have gotten you more, and you couldn’t help the amused breath that escaped you at the thought.

“Thorin, bringing me out here to watch the sunset with you, was more than enough as a a gift. This… this is more than enough.”

You were sure whatever it was held more value than all the riches within the lonely mountain as a whole.

The parcel itself was feather light, wrapped in a floral printed cloth that had you pondering its origin. It appeared similar to a woman’s handkerchief, and held together with a single piece of string cut long enough to wrap around the gift a couple times.

Clearing his throat, you divert your attention from the gift back to the dwarf before you. You watch as the usual stoic and composed king kicks at the ground, looking everywhere but at you as you tenderly hold the surprisingly well wrapped gift in your hands.

“It really isn’t not much,“

“Don’t say that. This is… you have no idea how much this means to me.” You hadn’t meant to so rudely interior him, however you wanted him to know how much this truly did mean to you.

At your words his gaze immediately locks with yours, his piercing blue eyes, usually lazy yet sharp seeming so warm and tender in this moment.

“Can I, can I open it?” You kicked yourself for your hesitant tone, though Thorin didn’t seem to mind or notice. Instead, he nodded, his hand sweeping plan up towards you in a welcome gesture.

You don’t waste anytime gently tugging on the ends of the string, unravelling it and allowing the binding to fall lose on your fingers. As you did so the floral cloth came loose along the crease of the fold, revealing a rather plain looking wooden box.

It was stained a deep red colour, with a symbol carved upon the top though you didn’t recognise it. Surrounding it was a border of intricately carved Celtic like knots. You absentmindedly raise a finger to trace the symbol, curiosity peaking as you memorise it slowly.

With your gaze fixed so intently upon the box, you missed be way Thorin nervously fidgeted, swallowing thickly as he watched you stroke the hand carved box that acted as part of your gift.

He knew exactly what it meant, and he also knew that you did not. And yet, he couldn’t help but imagine it… this was his way of laying the foundation for a stage he wasn’t entirely ready to set foot upon.

Clearing his throat once again, your gaze flicks to him as he lowly grumbled in a gruff voice, “I hope you like the contents as much as the box.”

You shake your head, cheeks warming slightly as you realise just what you’d been doing. He must’ve thought you’d lost your mind.

However there was no malice in his tone, no impatience or judgement, in fact if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was amused. The twinkle in his eye only confirming his suspicions.

Lips pouring slightly, your brows furrow as you reply, “it’s not my fault the details are so beautiful. Slow and steady wins the race don’t you know!”

“I see,” he concedes fondly as you once again look back to the box, this time, willing your hand to finally lift the lid and reveal the secrets within.

Your breath catches in your throat, eyes widening as your mind works to take in every detail and mentally ingrained it.

Inside the box, cozy like an egg within a nest, was a necklace cupped within a folded bit of cloth; very similar to what the box itself was wrapped in.

You reach out and hook a finger under he chain, slowly lifting it to better look at what he had gifted you.

The chain itself was thin, dainty in appearance but you could feel that it was tougher than it looked. However, what really caught your attention, was the focal point of the jewellery within your grasp.

Held onto the chain with small metal loops, was an intricate knot, made from a thin, wire-like strips of metal. It curled over and around itself like a snake, and hanging from the bottom by another metal loop, was a smooth white jewel.

It was breathtaking in its simplicity, symmetrical and curled perfectly in a way one wouldn’t believe it was handmade, but it had to be.

The last time yous had stopped off at a small town for some supplies, yous had all been together. Even when yous did separate, you were always with Gandalf or Thorin, and those two weren’t far from one another when around other people.

You couldn’t recall seeing any jewellery stalls, only markets selling the essentials. So he had to have made it himself, but…

Glancing up at him, you were only convinced more by the sheepish look on his face. His smile had given way to a more somber expression. He seemed so… unsure of himself.

And that wasn’t like him at all.

“Thorin? Did you make this? The necklace and the box?”

He swallows thickly before once gain clearing his throat, hand raising to rub at his beard as he confirms your suspicions.

“I did. I admittedly bought the box, and the cloth, however I carved it myself. It isn’t comparable to anything you’d find in Erebor, however it was the best I could do with what I had. When we reach our destination, I’ll find you something more valuable. You can pick anything you’d like.”

You recognised the gesture in his words and appreciated it none the less, but you didn’t want any of the riches within the mountain. You didn’t want jewels or fancy metals, you didn’t want riches and wealth…

What you wanted, more than anything in this life, stood before you.

“Thorin, this- if I was given the choice between all the riches of Erebor , or the gift within my hands now, I’d would pick this; every time.” Your eyes crinkle as tears form within your eyes.

Happy tears of course, though you could see Thorin jolt at the sight. You wipe your face upon your shoulder as best you can given you had a gift within each hand.

“(Y/N), I-“ the panic in his voice had you laughing under your breath.

“They’re happy tears Thorin, don’t worry.”

Feeling as though you’ve collected yourself as best you could for the time being, you smile brightly at him.

“I’m so grateful for what you’ve done for me today. This necklace, the box, the views… so far it’s been the best birthday in a long while. Not even a hoard of trolls could ruin this day. Thank you.”

His lips curl at the sides, a small grin appearing as he sighs in relief.

“Would you, like me to put it on?”

You visibly perk up at his words, your sure if you were a dog your tail would be wagging manically at the thought.

“Yes please!” You we’re perhaps too quick to answer, however you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Closing the small distance between yous, you hold the necklace out for him to take, and he does so with the utmost care.

The sight melts you heart a little bit, but you don’t dwell on for long as not even a moment later he motions for you to spin around and you do so.

You feel the heat radiating from his chest to your back, even with the thickness of his open coat between yous.

A shiver slithers down your spine as his rough fingers graze the sensitive skin of your neck as he work to collect your hair into one hand, sweeping it over one shoulder.

Taking the hint you take hold of your thick, (H/C) locks yourself as his hands reach around you, one end of the chain held in each of his hands.

You lift it so he has an easier time laying the chain around your neck, before clasping it shut.

You allow your hair to fall back into your shoulder, and take a moment to truly admire the piece of art he had gifted you.

It fell to just below your collar home, and left a cold sensation where it lay against your skin, but you could care less.

The box remained grasped gently in your hands, thumbs still tracing the symbols etched into the surfaces. Before you can think to question the meaning behind them, your surprised to feel Thorin once again taking hold of your hair.

Pulling it from your shoulder, he allows your mane to fall back into place, before tenderly running his fingers through the mess of curls.

Your breath catches in your throat, as butterflies erupt within your stomach.

“I’m glad you like your gift.”

The low gruff tone of his voice has goosebumps erupting along your arms. He’s so close you can feel way his breath disturbs the hairs upon the crown of your head.

“I’ve never, that is to say I haven’t-“

He cuts himself off abruptly, his hand dropping and it’s almost as though a spell had broken.

Slowly, you turn to face him, and as a result, he takes a step back, allowing you space to live if you wished. Ever so respectful.

Your brows furrow as you watch his nerves return. His breath seems to quicken, as he licks his lips and rubs his palms against the sides of his jacket. He stares fixedly at the ground between yous, although, you can tell by the look in his eyes he’s undecided about something.

“Thorin? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I just… I have something I need to ask, something I’ve been meaning to ask for a while now.”

He was rambling. Your eyes narrow, gaze pinching on the appearance of a reddish hue forming upon his cheeks, was he… he was blushing!

The notion had your butterflies returning, you could feel a tension building between yous and you could feel he was trying to get a cross something significant.

You said nothing, afraid that you might put him off or scare him away.

So focused on his expression and the situation, you didn’t notice as his right hand reaches into his pocket, nor do you notice that it’s clenched when he pulls it back out.

“I… I just,”

Without thinking, and in a similar manner to a child, he suddenly holds out his clenched fist between yous. You notice the tremble in his extended limb, though again you don’t mention it. Gaze fixed intently on his hand, mind racing to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

“It is my hope, that you would consider accepting these also.”

His fist unfurls to reveal another intricate piece of metal work, this time in the form of a bead. For a second, your mind is blank, then it hits you.

Was he… was this a…

In your time spent travelling with dwarves you had learned a lot about their culture and traditions; one aspect of this knowledge that had particularly interested you was their courting traditions.

“Thorin…” you breathlessly mutter, though he seems to pick up on your unspoken question.

“It’s a courting bead,” there was a tremble in his voice, and tears once again overflow as emotion builds within you.

“Would you, (Y/N) (L/N), consider accepting-“

Later on you would find yourself feeling slightly guilty at interrupting him so abruptly, but you couldn’t gain yourself any longer. You knew where this was going, and you already knew your answer.

Before he could utter another syllable you had swiftly closed the distance between yous. You threw your arms around him, and it was just as well for his quick reflexes; for he had managed to not only open his arms and ready his stance in time to catch you, but had also tightly clasped his fingers around the head so as not to lose it.

“Yes, yes, yes!!! Of course I will!”

You hear him huff out a laugh under his breath, his free hand coming up to cup the back of your head, as the other held you around the waist, bead still held protectively in his grasp.

You don’t know how long yous stay in that moment, holding one another so closely, but you feel as though you could stay here forever.

The box remained clutched in your hand, and you were careful not to get it caught in his hair as you pulled away at the feeling of his hand dropping from the back of your head.

Yous allow a few inches to grow between yous as you step back, and he raises the hand with the bead between yous, once again opening his fist to show it to you.

“Would you allow me to braid it into your hair?”

The hopeful look in his eye warms your heart, and you don’t hesitate with your reply.

“Of course.”

You once again turn your back to him, though this time, when his fingers comb through your hair, he’s more sure of himself. You can feel it, and you wonder if this had been his plan all along.

When you had first met him you though him condescending, stoic and grumpy. Granted you still though he was grumpy and stoic, if someone had told you that months down the line you’d see him being so thoughtful, sweet and romantic, you’d have scoffed in their face.

Yet here you are. You couldn’t help but feel lucky to have joined in this journey. If you hadn’t, you’d have never gotten to know him and the others so well- you’d have never gotten the chance to see this side of him.

The rhythmic motion of him combing through your hair and the delicate brushes against your scalp was slowly yet surely lulling you into a trance, and by the time he was done, you were well and truly on a high.

You turn back to face him, lips curling as you find yourself once again informing him, “this truly is the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

“Im so glad to hear it, amrâl. You’ve made me the happiest man in all of middle earth. Well and truly.”

You beamed at one another, both taking a moment to take in your new status as a couple. An official couple.

“As much as I would love to stay here with you, the others will be waking soon, if they’re not already.”

Frowning for a moment, you only just think to consider if the others knew. It was just over a five minute walk alone to get here, yous had to have been gone for at least half an hour. “What if they’re already up? Won’t they be worried about us?”

“Don’t worry, I told Gandalf.” He reassures.

“Ah, I see.” Of course, Gandalf wouldn’t have missed a trick anyways.

Sighing, you agree with him, and you both begin the walk back to your temporary camp, Thorin a foot ahead just to lead the way. With his attention ahead, to raise a hand to the back of your head, gently feeling the intricate braids he had put into your hair.

You follow it down to the bead, a biting your lip to stifle the smile that grew at the feel of it between your fingers.

“Did you tell the others what you had planned for this morning?”

He chuckles under his breath, “Admittedly, I did not. We’ll have that to look forward to.”

Dropping your hand back to your side, you briefly imagine the reactions yous will receive upon meeting up with everyone.

This will certainly be fun.

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Thank you so much for taking the time to read this story, I hope you enjoyed!

love,

Acatalepsy xx

@band--psycho

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One More White Hair.

Masterlist of fan fiction

Fandom: The Hobbit

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader (human)

Warnings: ANGST! Insecurity, mutual pining, fluff.

Summary: From the imagine, "Imagine that Thorin is in love with you but won't let on as he believes he's an old man and is no good for you'.

Comments: Requested by two anons and @lemond57 Thank you to everyone who voted in the poll regarding when this fic should be set. The majority asked for post Quest. We also get a bit of match-maker Dis. So, enjoy!

As always, if you like the story, please consider a reblog. It really does help. If you would like to be added to any of my story tag lists, or my Follow Forever tag list (where you’re tagged in everything) then please let me know.

Thorin sighed as he stood in front of his full length dress mirror. He was sure that another grey hair had appeared overnight. It shone silver as it wove through his braid. Each hair was a reminder of all those years that he was ahead of you. But nothing could stop his heart wanting you as much as it did. By human years you were in your prime of life, at your peak. Thorin felt as though he was now deflated, crumbling away as he approached his second century. Surely if he had met you all those years ago when he was young, and his hair was black and his skin free of blemish, you would have fallen for him. The scars which littered his body acted as a map of all the wars he had participated in. Each blemish was a sign of his experience. Your skin was still unmarked, unbroken. So much innocence.

That evening would be your weekly dinner with Thorin, the rest of his court advisers and Dis. Since being part of the King's Company only a few months prior, Thorin had made sure you now had a home, security and position. You remembered your first day at council, all eyes were on you. No one of the race of Men had ever taken a seat on Dwarf council. However, as time passed, you had gradually found your place. Dwalin and Balin had welcomed you immediately, having been two of your traveling companions.

In your bedchamber and you began pushing through the clothing which hung in your wardrobe. Dresses, tunics, shawls, cloaks, robes. One dress sat at the end of the line of clothing: it was the dress that Thorin had gifted you upon moving into your bedchamber. It was deep, midnight blue. Dresses always made you feel insecure, as if unwanted attention would be drawn to you and mockery would be shown. And this one had been no exception, until now. You picked it up and draped it over your arm. Something hit you, a revelation... it was the same colour that Thorin always wore. Had this been a simple coincidence? Probably. You highly doubted that Thorin would have thought that deeply into such a thing as this.

With a sigh, you shifted away and began to dress for the occasion.

Thorin was first in the hall, sitting at the head of the table. And gradually everyone began to appear, filling up the seats around the long table. Wine and ale was on hand, plenty to keep everyone merry.

You sat at the far end of the table, next to Balin. First off, you placed a napkin into your lap, preparing for the meal. Then you looked up and noticed Thorin glancing at his own reflection in a goblet. Why did he do this so often? Was he becoming vain?

Thorin sighed and looked over toward you, noticing that you had your gaze in your lap. But his heart hammered in anxiety and delight at the sight of you wearing the dress. It looked just as he had imagined; it was a snug fit and showed off your curves beautifully.

Balin smirked to himself as he noticed Thorin watching you. It had become known within the main circle of advisers that Thorin had his eye on you. However, you remained oblivious to the fact.

The evening went as it normally did: eating, drinking and plenty of chatter.

You noticed that Dis kept whispering to Thorin, nudging him. But his face would then contort and grow angry, until finally he hissed something at her and she crossed her arms in frustration. "I think you take the stubbornness of Dwarves to a whole new level!" Dis exclaimed.

"Enough!" Thorin bellowed.

Everyone stared for a second at the King and his sister, then shifted their nervous gazes elsewhere.

"Umm, we'll begin taking our plates to the kitchens," you proposed, feeling awkward. The rest of the table, apart from Thorin and Dis, muttered in agreement and grabbed their plates and cutlery, hurrying to the kitchen, which was just out of the hall.

Thorin and Dis remained sat down, almost side by side.

"Thorin, I'm being serious, you need to tell her," Dis said, her voice soft but firm. "You've given everything for this kingdom, for our people. You deserve some happiness. I see the way you look at each other."

"Dis!" Thorin warned.

"You think the fact you're older than her makes a difference. It doesn't."

"Look at me!" Thorin exclaimed. "I'm an old man. What kind of woman would want..."

"She would," Dis replied. "Trust me. You've got nothing to lose here, Thorin, and everything to gain. Just talk to her."

Thorin sighed and smiled weakly at Dis. "I shall."

As the guests of Thorin's dinner began to disperse, he called you back. "Can I talk with you privately?" he asked.

Dis smiled to herself and winked at Thorin as she disappeared out of the main double doors.

"Of course," you said. You sat down at the table where Dis had been sat. "You look worried. What's bothering you?" The set of his face seemed to be that of anguish. Did this relate to his outburst earlier?

Thorin blinked hard and looked down at the table.

You reached across and took his hand. "You've put your faith and trust in me this far, please do not stop now."

"I..." Thorin began, his silver blue eyes locked with your gaze. "I love you."

You gasped, unable to hold back your shock at this. "You...you..."

"I love you," he said again. "But I'm old, and while I know my sister means well, she doesn't see the years on my face that I do. Every time I look in the mirror, I see one more white hair. My body is littered with scars. I should not be yearning for you the way I do...."

You gripped his hand tighter, your thumb caressing his. "You're not old. You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen."

"What?"

You smiled as you saw his eyes widen in shock. "I mean it. You are. You might be older than me, Thorin, but I never see your age. I just see a beautiful man who I would never have any chance with."

Thorin chuckled. "You're very wrong in your estimation of chances."

You brushed your hand through his long locks, still smiling as you did so. "These white hairs just add to how handsome you are, you know?"

"You are trying to flatter me now..."

"No, I'm speaking the truth. I'd never speak anything but truth to you. I've seen you look at your own reflection so many times, and I kept wondering if you were growing vain."

Both of you couldn't help but laugh.

Thorin cupped your cheek with his hand. "It felt like with each new white hair you were growing further and further away from me."

"Never," you whispered, and leaned in for a kiss.

***

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Holy nunchuuuuuuucks, I can't believe I'm here again, why do you have to tempt me so?! Anyway! 2007, the turtles' SO bonds with Splinter and for a while everything is incredibly good but then here comes the awkward childhood photo or memory!

Got you! so sorry for the wait, college is overwhelming rn but when is it not tbh

I haven't forgotten about the other requests ya'll have sent me btw! I'm just getting it done at a snail's pace LMAO

TMNT 2007 Imagines: Embarrassing Photos

I’m doing this formatted to where the S/O meets Splinter! There’s a fic at the end with your turtle of choice :)

Key: --- followed by italics = flashback is happening or ending

Leonardo

Leo has an awkward photo of him drooling while sleeping as a kid

Though that habit is long gone, he still shudders at the thought

Cannot believe he used to drool until he saw the photo

Brings it up one day when talking to you about each other’s childhood memories

“I um…I used to drool as a kid.”

He used to sleep in a big pile of pillows and blankets with the rest of his brothers, but he would always wind up being cuddled with Donnie, as he moved the least in his sleep (mikey kicked, HARD.)

He doesn’t tell you about the PHOTO master splinter has of it

This is early on in the friendship turned relationship, and when you get comfortable talking to Master Splinter for long periods of time (it was scary in the beginning, because, well, he was a giant rat who could read literally anyone,) he does his favorite thing: whip out the photo album

While Leo is in the dojo meditating, the others joke around and tell Splinter to show the Leo photos

And he does

And oh, he doesn’t hold back.

Raphael

Raphael had a teddy bear when he was younger

He was emotionally attached to that thing, seriously

Not really an awkward memory, but embarrassing for him

Splinter remembers Teddy all too well, seriously.

He has a photo of Raph and Teddy somewhere, though Raph never told you about it at all

“Teddy!” - 6 year old Raph

Oh, Teddy. 

Attachment issues incoming

Wouldn’t let splinter wash it because he didn’t want Teddy to get hurt

He had to steal it from him while he was sleeping just to wash him

Raph literally could tell the difference right away and got sad

It reflects on him now, Raphael (as much as he may deny it) doesn’t like being lonely. He likes to have someone there (either to bother, talk to, smack, all of the above.) He NEEDS his brothers. 

After getting to know Splinter more, he gives more details of the turtles’ upbringing, and (segue) whips out the photo book to show you all the turtles as tots

Donatello

Donnie has one photo of Raph dunking him in the tub while the others laughed

Its truly menacing, but Donnie kind of just

Represses it

It’s a really embarrassing moment, and luckily splinter caught it right in 4K

Once you begin dating donnie, you go up to splinter one day while he’s cleaning the bookshelf as you watch him pull out the photo album 

He gives you this smile as if he knows you’re wanting to see the baby donnie photos

Don’t tell donnie by the way

Raph and Donnie used to be on and off besties, they would fight one day then be hanging out the next. If Leo was trying to get Mikey to stop crying, Raph and Donnie were being devious together somewhere in the Lair

Raph brings up dunking Donnie often, especially if they’re at the Farmhouse. He’ll just casually bring it up like, “remembah when I used ta dunk your ass when we were kids?” 

Cue Donnie speed swimming out the lake and onto dry land

Michelangelo

Mikey cried, A LOT

He cried for basically anything and everything 

Too cold? Cried. Too hot? Cried. Just right? He’d find a reason to cry anyway

One time Raph smacked Mikey a little too hard, and he cried for a solid hour

Im talking ugly crying drool snot everywhere 

He was not letting that go

Raph apologized (many many times) 

Donnie thinks he was being a drama queen

Leo suggests that it would make a funny childhood memory, and Splinter laughed at that and snapped a photo of Mikey as he was calming down and hiccuping after getting a hug from Raphael

It’s actually a cute photo, but Mikey still gets mad about it for some reason

Thinks about his cry baby days a lot, but honestly, the crying got him what he wanted at times

Especially from Donnie

Leo was Mikey’s favorite brother and vice versa, Leo would always try and help Mikey when he was crying (which was very often)

He tried to be funny or comfort him, either way, it made their bond stronger

“And this,” Splinter points at the photo, “is a memory I find rather amusing from my son.” 

You try to contain your laughter, but the way your boyfriend looks as a child is too cute and too comical to not laugh at. “Do not hold back your emotions, laugh all you want.” The rat says at he notices you trying to contain yourself. 

It’s probably one of the funnier photos you’ve seen of your boyfriend so far. Though, he sort of told Master Splinter to never show anyone. However, you weren’t just anyone. You had legal right to see it.

You would take this witnessing to the grave, but it’s always nice to know more about your turtle’s past. Though him and his brothers had a nice childhood with what Splinter was able to do for them, they had ups and downs as well. 

If anything, Splinter did everything in his power to give them a seemingly normal childhood. They did what normal kids did:

Leo just so happened to drool a lot when sleeping. Splinter points to the photo of Leo on a mountain of blankets, and his closed eyes and unconscious self completely oblivious to the drool coming out at the time. He must've had a good dream. Leo sometimes wakes up in the middle of the night and wipes his mouth to see if he drools. He doesn't wanna drool on you if you're sharing a bed together. He doesn't drool anymore, but, he still has to make sure. If you sleep together often, he waits for you to fall asleep first.

Raph had attachment issues to a stuffed animal. It's such a cute photo of Raph hugging onto his teddy bear for dear life on the couch during the early morning. He slept with it all the time. Raphael has shown a few times where he has to cuddle you. He's touchy, all the time. He feeds off of physical touch. Don't tell anyone, but he probably couldn't go a day without kissing you or hugging you in some way.

Donnie was used as collateral by his other siblings. This photo has to be a core memory for Donnie. It's an action shot of Raph dunking him halfway in the tub water, while Leo and Mikey giggle on the opposite side of the tub. It's probably why he never likes to go in the lake while Raph's in it when you all take a trip to Casey's grandma's farmhouse in the summer. Though he knows you can't physically dunk him, Donnie thinks about if you'll just turn around and do it while you're taking a relaxing bath together.

Mikey cried a lot. Though, even human kids probably didn’t cry as much as Mikey did. You see the photo of Mikey crying while Leo tries to comfort him, and Splinter mentions that Mikey would cry for practically any and everything. Mikey doesn't cry now, but he has this puppy-dog look he gives you whenever he wants to do something with you or wants something from you.

As you had only been dating him for a few months now, you were still uncovering pieces to a fun little puzzle that was the sewer life. 

You continue looking at the photo of your boyfriend, seeing how small he was back then, compared to now. He's a...big, muscular turtle. How his tiny shell doesn't compare to the one he has now. But, his facial features are all the same.

“How’d you do it?” You turn to Splinter, “I mean, raise them?” 

Master Splinter smiles, and leads you to the family portrait of all of them together. Though not kids anymore, this was taken recently. Before Leo left for South America a few years back. It was a sort of farewell photo, as per Leo’s request. He was always a family-oriented turtle.

And now, here comes the origin story of said photo. 

---

“Tha flash is too damn bright, Genius!” Raph scolds his younger brother- Donnie- after he complained for the 5th time that Raph’s eyes were closed. 

“I can’t make it any more dim, hothead!” 

“Ladies, ladies, you’re both pretty! My face hurts,” Mikey whines, “are we done?”

“Not until Raph beats the try not to blink for 5 seconds challenge.” Donnie snaps.

“Not until Don here stops tryin’ ta give his family a seiz’a from tha damn flash!” 

“Raphael, language.” Splinter interrupts, scolding the second oldest turtle in red. 

“Guys, I want a good photo before I leave. Can we all be civilized for 5 seconds?” Leo huffs. He leaves his spot from the frame and finds a way to shut off the flash. It wasn’t needed, anyway. 

“Now was that so hard, Einstein?” Raphael turns to Donnie once again, only to get a subtle middle finger as a response that Splinter couldn’t see and scold Don for. 

And finally, after all that bickering, they got the photo done. It comes out really good, and Mikey boasts about how he was always the most handsome turtle out of all of them.

“Dude, I’m gonna miss you,” Mikey says, this is the last day they’ll be together before Leo leaves, and it gets a little emotional. Mikey’s back to his old ways, almost crying as he runs to give his older brother a tight hug. 

Donnie’s gonna miss Leo, too. But instead of crying, he just has a sad look on his face. He was never one to cry, really. 

Raph, on the other hand, is stoic. He doesn’t show his emotions. But, he’s gonna miss his older brother. A lot. Probably more than the others. What is he gonna do without him? Could he even function without him?

“I’m gonna miss you too little brother,” Leo hugs a crying Mikey, “I’m gonna miss all of you. Truly.”

---

The family photo holds more meaning than the others, and Splinter cherishes it so much. 

“I did what I could,” Splinter says, “And…though I know not to be arrogant or smug, I believe I did a great job with them.” 

They are strong, loyal, and amazing turtles that protect the city. If anything, Splinter just made the best heroes in the world. If only the world knew about his accomplishment. 

You smile at your boyfriend’s sensei, “I agree with you. I mean, who else could protect New York City as good as your sons?” 

You weren’t wrong, either. You remembered the first time you met the turtles, and your soon-to-be boyfriend. You knew the police took their sweet ass time with responding to crimes, so you sort of had to deal with whatever hardship on your own. But a gang? No. 

So, yes, you were forever in debt with the turtles, but you couldn’t complain. They were four distinct personalities, and were so interesting that you just had to know more. 

And honestly, this “embarrassing photo” did just that. As you and Splinter continued to go through the photo album, he gave background on each photo you saw. It was your first time ever going through the book, as Splinter never really had this much time with you one on one to do this, but you enjoyed it. It appeared that Splinter did, too. The wrinkly smile that was plastered on his fuzzy face truly showed his content. He loved to reminisce and remember about the old times, and how quick time passes. Time is a thief, and he was lucky enough to have captured those moments. 

Especially the one photo of your boyfriend. 

The photo that you wanted a copy of, so you could keep it in your own personal album at home, where it would be safe, and you could pull it out whenever you needed a good cheering up or giggle.

Splinter did an amazing job with his sons, and though he probably skipped on the relationship advice thinking it wasn’t possible, your boyfriend was doing great with you. 

/// Taglist:

@bee-1n-space @ducky-died-inside Masterlist

I might start adding polls to my future posts for yall to vote on if you liked it or not :) just to see what people enjoy/don't enjoy

𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 1,422

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | A night in a beautiful meadow and an innocent question leads to a startling confession.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Literally none. Just an oblivious reader and nervous Din. Fluff rised to the max.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | Guy’s this made me weep with how cute it is. So just fair warning I guess?

Like most things, it started with a simple question.

“Cyar’ika, can you hand me that wrench?”

You were helping Din with some repairs on the Crest when you heard that word for the hundredth time.

As you picked up the tool, your mind wrestled with the wandering thoughts of what that word meant. Din called you that all the time. He’d throw some others in the mix every once and a while.

Mesh’la.

Cyar.

Cyar’ika was most common, though. You didn’t speak a bit of Mando’a so you had no clue what he was calling you. He could be calling you the worst thing ever and you wouldn’t even know. But even with his rough exterior, you highly doubted that he was referring to you as anything too horrible.

With every cyar or mesh’la or cyar’ika your curiosity grew. But you didn’t voice your questions with the fear that you’d overstep some invisible boundary. You and Din were close…well, as close as the mandolorian would let himself get to you. He’d told you his true name, so you counted that as progress. He still had so many secrets, though. So you didn’t want to push him to reveal stuff he wasn’t ready for. You would take whatever he’d give you. You would have him however you could.

But sometimes your interest was almost too much.

Like at daybreak when he would touch your shoulder oh so gently and say, “Good morning, cyar.” In that deep velvety cadence his voice had in the mornings.

Or when you’d just had a close call on a mission and he would rush to you, frantic, and place his hands on your cheeks. “Are you alright, cyar’ika? Are you hurt?” The words would leave his lips in a hurry and sometimes jumble together. You knew what he was saying nonetheless.

It was those moments when he showed you gentleness and concern and care, that you found it hard not to blurt out everything on your mind.

“What does cyar’ika mean?”

“What does cyar and mesh’la mean?”

“Do you know what it does to me when you touch me?”

“Do you love me as much as I love you?”

But you kept quiet and let the thoughts mingle in your mind. You were just going to leave well enough alone. Hoping that possibly ignoring your curiosity would make it and your developing feelings fade away. That proved to require arduous effort that you found yourself lacking day by day. And eventually your efforts proved to be in vain.

The night it happened the Crest had landed on some forest planet. Din had just wrapped up a difficult hunt so he perched the ship on the first globe he could. You and the kid had been cooped up inside for days now so as soon as the hatch opened you were both bounding down from the cockpit.

The kid ran into the tall grass of the field, chasing frogs and crickets with the moonlight guiding his expedition. You stood close to the ship just watching him with a loving smile. Din came to stand beside you, quite as ever but his presence was a comfort you relished in far too much.

The first blink of light had you curious. The second and third and fourth flash had you in awe.

The serene meadow was set ablaze with glittering brightness. Fireflies floated high and low, strung about the tall grass like hundreds of flawless silvery stars. They blanketed the grassland far and wide, down to the glimmering lake in the distance.

“Oh wow,” you breathed. You ventured farther out into the plain, turning in a slow circle absolutely awestruck.

You could hear the child’s gurgling laughter from near by. You couldn’t help the giggle that erupted from your throat. The dazzling excitement from the whole experience making you somewhat astounded. You’d never seen anything like this before. Something so beautiful.

You face Din, still standing guard at the front of the ship. “Isn’t this spectacular?” You questioned.

You could hear the airy chuckle get past his vocoder. “It’s certainly something.”

You roll your eyes in a very childish manner and tilted your head in confusion. “How could you think this is anything but…what’s the word for beautiful in Mando’a?”

You’ve caught his full attention now, seemingly catching him off guard. He appears stunned beyond words. Beyond thoughts as well perhaps. You don’t understand why. It was just a simple question but it seemed to have knocked any rational notion from him.

What you don’t know is that while you look at him with such sincerity in your eyes as you wait slightly nervous for his response, his brain is nothing short of a mess.

“Din,” you begin. “If I’ve crossed a line somehow-”

“The word is mesh’la.”

That stops you short. Your heart thudding to a halt for several seconds as you take in the sudden confession.

“Mesh’la,” you repeat softly.

You have no idea that his knees almost buckle at the sound of your voice speaking in his mother tonuge.

Your face heats at the implication. Mesh’la means beautiful. Din calls you Mesh’la. Din calls you beautiful. He thinks your beautiful? Or was it meant as something like a courtesy? Was he just being a flirt? No, Din wasn’t the type. So he must think it if he calls you it.

“Y/N.”

You speak up before he can get another word out. “You think I’m beautiful?”

He nods. “Yes.”

A grin tugs your lips up ever so slightly. Relization dawns on you as your mind recalls all the affectionate exchanges that you fooled yourself into thinking were merely friendly.

A coo from below takes your attention for moment. The kid is at your feet with his arms stretched up for you. You hold him in the crook of your elbow as you close the distance between you and Din. When you stop in front of him, a radiant smile is permanently place upon your lips.

“And uh, cyar’ika,” you whisper. “What does that mean…?” You’re a little hesitant let all your questions come to light. A small part of you still worried you’re reading too much into it.

He takes a deep breath and you try to ignore the anxiety cursing through you. “Cyar’ika…” He’s never sounded this breathless before. “It means sweetheart.”

The blood rushes to your cheeks with a new furry, painting your skin scarlet. It terrifies you a little that you can’t see his face, that you can’t read the expressions he wore right now. You think you know where this is going but not being able to sense the situation from the other person makes it hard to be sure. You can see that he’s tense, possibly waiting for you to tell him that your were uncomfortable. But you wern’t, you were a nervous wreck but you were not uncomfortable with this knew information in the slightest. You were trying to figure out how to move forward with this without seeming like a lovesick fool.

After waiting an eternity trying to get a hold of yourself, you make a decision. You slowly bring your hands up to him, gently gliding along his arms until they reach the broad expanse of his shoulders, and then the cool surface his helmet.

You can feel his panic but you softly sush him. Eventually, your hands still on the side of his helmet, where you imagine his cheeks would be. You picture them flushed like yours. Even through the impenetrable beskar, you feel like the heat of his skin is melting into yours. You imagine how it would actually feel to be skin to skin with him. If you ever had the privilege to experience that you were sure you could die happy.

What happens next is a surprise. Din clutches your hands in his and brings them down between you both. He then slowly touches his forehead to yours. The shock of cold metal draws a gasp from your lips.

“Ni ganar hid ner kar'taylir darasuum teh gar par chaaj'yc too munit, cyar’ika.” A whispered admission comes from him.

You can’t help but laugh as you have no clue what he said. “What?”

He chuckles along with you. “I said that I have hid my love from you for far too long, sweetheart.”

Your heart cracks open with so many emotions it’s overwhelming. It aches inside you but the pain is welcome because you’d rather have this, him, then the uncertainty you lived in for so long.

I poured over this for days and I still feel like something isn't right. But oh well, maybe it'll come to me later. 🤷‍♀️