A Lifetime Apart (Thorin x OC, Pre-Smaug, rated T) — This fic was written for the Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang 2021 for the lovely @gwen-ever. [1] [2] [3]
Blame it on the Dress (Thorin x reader, rated E) — [1] [2]
The Castle on the Mountain (Thorin x OC, Gothic AU, rated E) — [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]
Heart of Gold (Thorin x OC, Pre Quest of Erebor, read the whole fic on AO3, rated E)
In Your Arms (Thorin x reader, rated G)
Just Like the Ones I Used to Know (Thorin, Dís, and Frerin, rated G)
New Pleasure (Thorin x OC Dania, rated E)
The Shadows Which Fire Throws (Thorin, Dís, and Frerin, rated G)
Shelter From the Storm (Thorin x reader, rated E)
Waterfall (Thorin x reader, rated E)
Welcome Home (Thorin x reader, rated E)
📚 Richard and Lorelei Series 📚
Office Hours (Richard Armitage x OC, Professor AU, rated E, read the whole fic on AO3)
Italian Holiday (Richard Armitage x OC, Professor Au, rated E)
Home for Christmas (Richard Armitage x OC, Professor AU, rated E)
💗 Other Characters 💗
Against All Odds (Dís x OFC, rated M, read the whole fic on AO3) — This fic was inspired by the talented @lathalea's wonderful art for the Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang 2022.
Candlelight (Ori x reader, rated T)
All of my works are also available on AO3.
If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, let me know!
Thorin and Roac, from the summit of the Lonely Mountain.
Drawn for the wip-roundup event hosted by @acorn-and-oakleaves, where I got to work with the wonderful @fantasyinallforms and illustrate their story Right from Under your Nose.
I've collected all my drawings inspired by that fic here. I hope you like it! Pose reference was Fable and Amy from Wings and Wildlands
Here's my pencil sketch that I used as base for the digital painting. I've started to really like using pencil drawings as a base for digital!
This art piece is so very amazing! 😍😍😍 Every single thing about it makes me ooh and aaah, the details, their affectionate pose, their expressions… and Thorin’s amazing crown plus his armour 💙
Now I just need to write something inspired by this 🤫
@usuallysublimepenguin you have outdone yourself, this is absolutely breathtaking!! The colours, textures, and the pose 😍
As a side note, I’m very glad that Lath brought my attention to this beautiful art piece after she was inspired by it as I’m not much on Tumblr these days and would have missed it otherwise!
I just want to thank you very much for your addition to the Neo-Khuzdul list of Personal Pronouns for Non-Binary folk like myself! Until now I've been referring to my character as Zigilhû, using the hû to refer to them as an it, and I was more than happy enough to work with that. But the addition of khi has made me absolutely ecstatic. I'm perhaps feeling entirely too emotional for this, but thank you so very much for your consideration, you wonderful person!
Well met, friend!
Your message truly warmed this old scholar’s heart. Thank you so much for your kind words — and please know: you are not “too emotional” for feeling seen. Language, after all, is not just about structure and grammar — it’s also about identity, recognition, and belonging. If the addition of “khi” brought that feeling a little closer to home for you, then I am both honoured and humbled.
Your use of hû in the past makes perfect sense — and indeed, in most cases, it’s the correct form when referring to objects or concepts that are grammatically gender-free in Neo-Khuzdul. For example:
“The fabric’s colour is red. Red is its colour.”
Neked ankhâdhu baraz. Baraz ankhâdhu.
In such instances, where we’re referring to something that is neither gendered nor personified, hû remains the right choice. But what about when the reference is not to an object, but to a person whose gender is not specified — or deliberately not assigned?
That’s precisely where khi steps in.
⚙️ On the Creation of “Khi”
Neo-Khuzdul, like many conlangs built on Semitic roots, often lacked overt gendering outside of clear male/female distinctions. Tolkien himself didn’t assign grammatical gender to Khuzdul nouns (even the Elvish languages do not have a grammatical gender, i.e. there is for example no gender agreement between noun and adjective or definite article and noun), and I’ve followed that principle closely — deliberately avoiding the addition of gender markers unless absolutely necessary.
You might be surprised to hear that Neo-Khuzdul includes 136 distinct pronoun forms (though granted, many similar or near-identical ones) — and at first glance, that number might seem excessive. But in truth, it’s quite natural for a well-developed language. Even English, which often seems simpler, has dozens of pronoun forms once you account for cases (subjective, objective, possessive), number (singular/plural), gender, and reflexivity — not to mention formal or informal tone. Neo-Khuzdul simply makes these distinctions more explicit and organized, especially across levels of respect, gender, and grammatical roles. Once you understand the system, it becomes remarkably consistent.
Overview of all Neo-Khuzdul Pronouns
However, I also recognized that language needs to evolve to meet the needs of its speakers — fictional or otherwise. And so “khi” was introduced years ago as a third-person singular pronoun that could be used in situations where:
The person’s gender is unknown
The person’s gender is irrelevant
The person’s gender is non-binary
Or when one wishes to speak inclusively (e.g. in laws, oaths, or ceremonial speech)
It parallels the English “one” or “they,” but without the formality often associated with “one” in modern English. In fact, I encourage users to think of it as equivalent to “his/her” or “a person’s” rather than overthinking its tone.
“A trader must polish his/her items.”
Usjar tabtisi mat fakâtkhi.
In the sentence above, usjar (trader) is gender-free, and khi comfortably occupies the same role as “his/her” — without implying either.
🧭 What About a Gender-Neutral 2nd Person?
For second-person non-binary reference, Neo-Khuzdul uses za. It follows the same case logic as other 2nd person pronouns — with full declension visible in the reference chart:
za – nominative/accusative
-za – genitive determiner (your)
aza – genitive pronoun (yours)
zefsa – reflexive (yourself)
duza – lative (to you / you have)
So if you’re ever referring to yourself or another person in the second person, za and its forms are your go-to.
🔁 When to Use Khi, Hû, or Za
🔧 A Work in Progress — But A Work for All
It’s important to note that gender-neutral forms in Neo-Khuzdul are not an afterthought. They are part of a living structure, built to support anyone who wants to engage with the language and culture of the Dwarves. You — and everyone like you — belong in these halls of stone.
Thank you again, truly. If this project has offered even a small sense of representation, then it’s done something worthwhile. I’m thrilled that “khi” found its place not just in the language, but with you.
Name one worldbuilding headcanon of yours that you are most proud of contributing to the Tolkien fandom.
Thank you so much for your ask! :) <3
That's such a wonderful idea and I adore the way you're spreading appreciation for Tolkien and fan creators throughout the fandom! :) Thank you for doing that ☀️☀️☀️
And before you say I'm late - I'm like Gandalf, I'm never late, I arrive precisely when I mean to :D
I've been thinking very hard about your excellent question - it's a really tough one - but I think I have managed to find one that I'd like to talk about.
The Significance of the Ravens of Ravenhill
The Ravens of Ravenhill have a close bond with the Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain. Among them, there are White Ravens (one per generation), created by Yavanna (with some help). A White Raven's goal is to protect one specific dwarf whose fate is significant for the future of the Middle Earth. The White Ravens have dreams that warn them about danger or give them a glimpse into future events.
I don't want to go into much detail here because I wouldn't like to spoil anything to anyone who is reading this, but if you'd like to know more, I used this concept in one of my stories: The White Raven.
The story focuses on the White Raven who is the protector of Thorin Oakenshield and on the perils they both have to face in order to fight off the evil.
I'm not sure how significant this contribution to the Tolkien fandom is, but as long as there are people who like the story, it makes me a very happy writer :)
Hey, everyone, look! Look! I have something wonderful to show you!
@thatshadowintheuniverse just sent me this lovely art piece that shows king Thrór struggling with his madness and prince Thorin finding him in the treasure chamber of Erebor.
It's a scene from the first fanfiction I posted online - Springtime at the Lonely Mountain (you can find it on ao3 - I'll leave the link in the comments so tumblr doesn't mess with this post).
I am very humbled and extremely happy that such a talented artist like you decided to illustrate my story! I gushed all over it in the DMs already but I want everyone to know how much it means to me! Thank you so so so SO VERY MUCH! 💙💙💙
And now I'm getting back to looking at those wonderful images, they depict the mood of the chapter and of this scene in particular so well! I'm so touched 💙💙💙
Tagging my friends and followers whom I'd like to share my happiness with:
Just a reminder that the final check-in is fast approaching! One person per collab pair must check in by email on or by March 30th, 11:59 pm EST.
All signed up writers and artists will have received an email with instructions on how to check in. We only accept check-ins by email, so please do not send us a message here on Tumblr or on Discord. Check-ins are mandatory so if you are very late and do not respond to our messages, you run the risk of being dropped from the event.
March 30th also marks the deadline for requesting extensions.
If you do not require an extension, please keep in mind that fics and art are due in the AO3 collection on April 14.
We are happy to announce that the TRSB24 Gallery is now open on our website!
This contains all collaborations that were submitted for the gallery at the close of last year’s TRSB. If your collab is not in the Gallery and you’d like to be included, there's still time! You should have received an email that contains a link to the Gallery Submission Form.
just saw a fanfic on ao3 have a dedication for chatgpt... that section is meant for your horny perverted mutual who proofread your work, you violated sacred law and you will be torn apart and laid bare btw
Summary: Although Erebor is his once more, Thorin knows there is still a great threat to the peace of Middle Earth. Azog is gone, but another has taken his place and has sworn to finish what Azog began. Erebor is back, but it’s sadly lacking in protection and as much as he hates the thought of it, Thorin knows there is one thing that will guarantee the safety and continuation of his line.
War is coming and all Eirlys of Mirkwood wishes to do is fight alongside her brother Legolas and the other elves, united with Men and Dwarves in their attempt to quell the renewed tensions between them and the orc army of the north. But, her father, Thranduíl has other plans. Unite his kingdom with the newly reestablished kingdom of Erebor and use the power of both to defeat the orcs.
An arranged marriage that neither side wants, but both sides need. But what happens when the two sides realize that maybe—just maybe—being together isn't quite as bad as they'd thought...
Pairing: Thorin x ofc Eirlys of Mirkwood
Warnings: None
Rating: T
Word Count: 3.9k
Read on AO3
When she opened her eyes the next morning, Eirlys was alone and she thought for a moment that perhaps she’d dreamed the previous night. Dreamed the previous weeks.
But then she heard the soft pad of bare feet on wood and rolled onto her belly to gaze out at the terrace. There, dressed in only his trousers, was her husband. She smiled. He is my husband.
The chill in the morning air did not seem to faze him. He did not shiver. Didn’t rub his hands along his thick biceps or forearms to try to keep warm. Instead, he bent slightly forward—most likely leaning against the railing as she often did—and let the pale early morning sun splash across his skin. It highlighted the swells of muscle along his broad shoulders, down his equally broad back, but her smile faded at the sight of the scars that marred his skin, for there were quite a few. When he moved and the hair that fell halfway down his back shifted, it exposed still more marks. Some were old and had gone white, some were newer and still pink. Some were smooth, but more than one had jagged margins, and she wondered how he’d come by them.
The sunlight shone along his black hair, the ornaments he’d woven into it glinting, throwing off flashes of light here and there with the slightest of movement. She didn't know what he watched, but something seemed to have caught his attention.
She snuggled into the pillow beneath her cheek, perfectly content to simply study him. The previous evening had been nothing short of magical and while she hated to see the morning come, she knew there would be more nights like their first and she looked very much forward to them.
He turned then and her breath hitched. If she’d thought him beautiful in the moonlight, that was nothing compare to him in the daylight. Her dwarf was the powerfully built man she’d ever seen and when he smiled, her heart actually skipped a beat, a soft laugh bubbling to her lips when he grinned and greeted her with, “So that’s why my back grew warm.”
“I’ll not apologize. You’re quite handsome, you know.”
His grin widened as he came back into the room. “I thank you for the compliment, but I’m certain not many would agree with you.”
“I find that hard to believe,” she replied, rising to prop her head on her fist. “They must need glasses, to think such a thing.”
He sank onto the edge of the bed. “I thought this moment might be awkward,” he confessed, trailing his fingers along the length of her hair.
“Why? We did nothing wrong.”
“No, we didn’t. But… it was still nothing I could have prepared for. And I mean that in the nicest way, before you think I found fault with it, or you.”
He skimmed along her hair, over her shoulder, and the caress sent heat streaking through her. Her eyes grew heavy-lidded, but she refused to let them close even as she shivered beneath his touch. “I also found no fault with you, Thorin,” she told him softly.
“So I did not disappoint you, then?”
She heard the note of teasing, the hint of a smile, in his voice, and shook her head. “Not at all. Did I disappoint you?”
His eyes darkened slightly and he shifted to ease himself over her. The hair curling away from his chest tickled her bare back, and he nuzzled her, whispering, “I think it impossible for you to ever do such a thing.”
Now she let her eyes close, his lips soft and warm, his beard coarse and tickling her skin as he swept teasing kisses along first her cheek, then over her jaw. Sweeping her hair to let it spill over her left shoulder, he then kissed his way down along her neck, over her nape, across her shoulder. With each pass of his lips, her skin grew more sensitive, the warmth that uncoiled in her belly bubbled into heat that spread through her veins.
He slid one hand along her arm, to her hand, beneath her pillow, and covered it, linking his fingers with hers as he whispered, “Does anyone expect us at this hour?”
Her thoughts came muddy and slow, thick and lazy as she managed to murmur, “I care not, to be honest.”
A soft laugh whispered across her back and her toes actually curled as he kissed down over her left shoulder blade. “Good.”
Thorin crept lower, drawing the sheet down to her hips, pausing when she shivered. “Are you cold, mesmel?”
“No.” She could barely make her voice go above a whisper, she felt so languorous. He punctuated each kiss with a teasing sweep of his tongue, and with each caress, the heat within her grew. The now-familiar knots slowly tightened, slowly lowered into her core. He came back up, flattening again her, his breath warm against her ear.
“Your Majesty?”
Eirlys and Thorin groaned in unison at Madris’ voice. With a muffled growl, Thorin eased off her, onto his back and she winced, calling back, “What is it, Madris?”
“Your father sent me up to remind you of the breakfast before everyone departs.”
Eirlys bit back the oath rising to her lips. She’d forgotten about the breakfast. “Give us a minute, please?”
“Of course.”
“I forgot about the breakfast,” she sighed, sinking back into her pillows.
“It is of no matter.” His words wafted slowly into the air, heavy with what sounded like regret. “There will be other mornings.”
That brought a smile to her lips, one that stayed there even as he gave a rough sigh and rose from the bed to go to the wardrobe, where his chest stood alongside it. “Do you promise?”
“Why, Queen Eirlys, you sound almost wanton.”
He said it with a grin, which warmed her blood once more. “Is that a yes, King Thorin?”
Crouching before the chest to lift the lid, he bobbed his head. “It is most definitely a yes.”
“Good.”
“And now,” he stood, a heavy dark grey henley clutched in both hands, “I will go and assure your maid I’ve not been in here ravishing you silly and if you don't mind clumsy dwarven hands assisting you, I will help you dress.”
“She might not believe you.”
“I am very persuasive when I wish to be.” He drew the henley over his head, winking as he emerged through the neck. “Although, I might warn her we will be late to the breakfast. I think she will understand though, given that we are newlyweds.”
“Thorin, we can’t keep our guests waiting.”
He thumped past her, pausing to bend and press a kiss into her forehead. “If they have complaints, they can come visit me in Erebor to voice them.”
“I like how you think.”
He winked once more and then crossed to the door, where he tugged it open and stepped to into the corridor. Eirlys sighed softly, then reluctantly rose from the bed, crouching to swipe her nightgown from the floor, where it had spent the night. The wrapper lay beside it, but further under the bed, and she snatched that as well, balling both in her hands as she stood.
She moved around the foot of the bed, toward the basket where she’d dump the garments, when something caught her attention from the corner of her eye.
The dark splotch stood out vibrantly against the white linens. Blood.
“I thought you might not want your maid to see that.”
Thorin’s voice suddenly in her ear made her jump. He’d come up behind her without a sound, and slid an arm about her waist as he spoke. A feeling of foolishness swirled through her at her starting the way she had, but at the same time, his concern touched her as well. “It’s silly to be concerned about it,” she murmured, shaking her head. “It isn’t as if no one knows what happened here last eve.”
“Still… it’s no one else’s concern, either.” The arm about her waist tightened briefly. “Although, I’ll wager both houses will await the announcement of an heir’s imminent arrival in the coming year.”
“An heir…” She peered up at him over her shoulder. “I do hope we might adjust to being married first.”
“Of course. But…” He smiled as he released her, and stepped around to whisk the linens from the bed and balled them in his arms. “I rather enjoy how one goes about begetting an heir, so I daresay, we will have one sooner rather than later.”
She didn't answer, not that he gave her a chance. Instead, he tossed the ruined linens into the basket and then crossed back to the wardrobe to tug open the doors. “What did you wish to wear today, Eirlys?”
A sense of unease settled about her even as she forced a smile to her face and said, “I think the pale blue will suffice.”
By early afternoon, the palace became a frantic hive of activity as the wedding guests readied to take their leave. Her father and Thorin had disappeared after breakfast, although neither would tell her why, which irritated her as much as Thorin’s statement about begetting an heir troubled her, and Eirlys tried not to dwell on either as she went in search of Madris to aid her in the packing they need to do to make the trip to Erebor in the coming days.
“Eirlys?”
She paused at a very familiar voice, one she had not heard in what seemed like a lifetime, and turned to smile. “Lachon? Is that really you?”
Lachon of Rivendell hurried toward her, sweeping her up to swing her around. “Did you think I would miss an event such as this? Princess Eirlys of Mirkwood actually settling down and taking a husband?”
She couldn't help her laughter as he set her down, and she smiled up into his warm dark eyes. “My father was none too fond of you, if I recall.”
“Well, now, that would be because he caught me attempting to take liberties with you, if you will also recall.”
“Lachon, we were but children when that happened.”
“I was a boy, yes,” he nodded, tucking her arm through his, “but you were anything but a child.”
Her cheeks grew warm. “Either way, it was a lifetime ago, so I suppose Papa thought it would be safe.”
“And he judged correctly. I would never have missed this.” He looked around, the sunlight glinting russet over the reddish-gold hair streaming down his back. “But, where is your new husband? I should like to offer him my congratulations on winning your hand.”
“He is in with my father even as we speak.” She peered over her shoulder, toward the Throne Room, where she figured her father and Thorin were discing whatever it was they discussed. “I’m sure it has something to do with how many soldiers will accompany us back to Erebor.”
“A wise idea, to be sure.” Lachon bobbed his head as they strolled along the walkway, where sun splashed the wood as if lightning their path. “Gundabad has grown far bolder and if you are making your way from here to the Lonely Mountain, it would be best to have as many soldiers as your father might spare.”
She paused, peering up at him. “Have they grown so bold? I know they’ve ventured closer to our borders in the last few weeks, but are they stronger? They have no leader.”
“Oh, but they do once more have a leader.” He turned to her. “And by all reports, he is far worse than Azog or Bolg would ever be.”
She tried to ignore the sudden knots in her stomach, the sense of unease that settled about her. “And has he a name?”
“Rildu. He is a cousin to Azog, or more aptly, was a cousin to him. And that blood knows no mercy, no empathy, and no compassion. And yes, they are stronger now. Stronger and far more determined to rule whatever they can.” Lachon nodded in the direction of the Throne Room. “From what I understand, he is also to out for revenge for what your husband did to his cousin, and what your brother did to Azog’s son.”
“Wonderful.” Her unease grew. Erebor was almost two days’ travel from Mirkwood. Not incredibly far, but a good portion of their journey would be along open road, which would leave them more than a little vulnerable to attack.
“Let’s not talk about it now,” she told him, forcing a smile to her lips, forcing a cheeriness she did not feel into her voice. “Instead, tell me what you’ve been doing since we last met?”
“A little of this, a little of that.” He shrugged. “You know how I am, Eirlys. I’m not overly fond of doing the same thing over and over.”
“I know, but I’d have thought Elrond would have given you the opportunity to channel your energies into one objective.”
Lachon chuckled. “He has. More than once.”
“And still nothing, eh?”
“I tried to have him speak with your father,” he replied, his smile fading and his eyes growing soft.
A hint of unease unfurled in her belly. “We’ve been through this before, Lachon. And besides, I’m married now, remember?”
“I know, more’s the pity. Although,” the familiar gleam leaped into his eyes once more, “I am happy for you and Thorin, is his name?”
She cocked her head to the side. “You very well know his name and do not try to pretend otherwise.”
“Guilty. But tell me,” he lowered his voice, “does the fact that he is a dwarf trouble you at all?”
“No,” she replied without hesitation, shaking her head, “not one bit. Why should it?”
He offered up a long look. “Surely, you remember well the last time they passed through here. We heard about it all the way in Imladris.”
She sighed. “The last time they passed through here, it was for the wedding of the king’s nephew to our own Tauriel. So, I’ll wager whatever you heard of that was not nearly as horrifying as what I think you’re alluding to.”
“Don’t be daft, Eirlys. You knew I meant the last time they were here uninvited.”
She stared hard at him. Of course she knew what happened when her father imprisoned the dwarves. They escaped and made their way first to Esgaroth, then to Erebor itself, unleashed Smaug and destroyed the town on the lake.
But, all she said to Lachon was, “What is it you’re saying, man? Don’t beat about the bush, but man up and say it.”
“Your dwarf king went mad. Went mad and nearly wiped out your father’s army, your brother and Tauriel, all of Esgaroth, as well as his own kin.” Lachon’s dark eyes almost glowed. “And yet you’ve married him just the same, which astounds me.”
“Why?”
“Because when I asked for your hand, you refused. And yet you willingly pledged your troth to him—a dwarf?”
She rolled her eyes. “I refused you because we wanted different things, if you’ll recall. You had our lives all planned out and yet failed to ask me what I felt about any single aspect. I’d rather not have a husband who plans my life for me without any input from me.”
“And your dwarf has listened to you? Has he taken into account what you want?”
“Although, I’ll wager both houses will await the announcement of an heir’s imminent arrival in the coming year.”
“An heir…” She peered up at him over her shoulder. “I do hope we might adjust to being married first.”
“Of course. But…” He smiled as he released her, and stepped around to whisk the linens from the bed and balled them in his arms. “I rather enjoy how one goes about begetting an heir, so I daresay, we will have one sooner rather than later.”
Still, she couldn't very well tell Lachon how Thorin had not troubled himself to ask her whether or not she even wished to have children. “Lachon, you know how families such as mine are when it comes to marriage. It’s all about the alliances that are created.”
“So, it’s one of convenience,” Lachon nodded, “so why not simply say so?”
He stepped closer and before she could do anything, he caught her around the waist to pull her close. “Remember, my grandmother was Oropher’s mistress. We should continue the tradition, Eirlys.”
“What our grandparents did has no bearing on what we do, and you know as well as I do that those rumors were never more than that—rumors,” she told him, shaking her head. “Now, unhand me.”
“We belong together, you know,” his voice lowered, grew throatier, his arms in fact tightening about her, “and you would be but wasted on that fool, mad dwarf.”
“Lachon, don’t you—”
Before she could finish, he caught her lips in a fierce kiss, his arms like bands of steel about her, pressing her own arms almost painfully against her sides. She tried to jerk back, to pull just beyond his reach, but she had no leverage and no way to force him to yield.
“What goes on here?”
The angry growl of Thorin’s deep voice was enough to make Lachon pull back and she was able to yank free of his grasp. “Thorin, I didn't hear you coming.”
“No,” he growled, turning cold blue eyes to her, “I’ll wager you did not. It’s time for us to take our leave.”
She smiled. “Good. I was just coming to find you.”
“Were you?” His gaze shifted to Lachon. “Did you perhaps mistake an elf for me?”
Her belly knotted. “It isn’t quite what you think.”
“Really?” Thorin came up to them, putting himself between her and Lachon. “You were at the ceremony yesterday, weren’t you?”
Lachon bobbed his head. “I was, indeed.”
“So you know that her Majesty is now married. To me.”
“I do.”
“Good.” Thorin offered up a mild smile and then, to both Eirlys’ and Lachon’s surprise, leveled the elf with a punch that seemingly came from nowhere.
Lachon crumpled to his knees and Thorin crouched before him, adding, “If you come near her again, I will kill you. Do you understand that, elf?”
Blood trickled from the corner of Lachon’s mouth, and he gingerly prodded at his already swelling bottom lip as he nodded.
Eirlys pressed her lips together to hold back her smile as she looked over at Thorin. He’d seen the kiss, but he’d no doubt seen her fighting Lachon off as well, which filled her with relief. At least his anger was aimed at the right person.
She moved to slip her arm through his. “I’ve never been so thankful to see you, Thorin,” she whispered, giving his arm a gentle squeeze.
“Indeed,” he replied, his voice cold, “and now it is time for us to take our leave.”
With that, he started off, and she stumbled as she tried to fall into step with him. Fury practically radiated from him as he stalked away from Lachon, still on the floor. Eirlys had to practically run to keep up with him, and as they rounded the corner leading to her chambers, she said, “What is the matter?”
“The matter is that you were kissing another man the morning after our wedding.”
“Wait,” she dug her heels into the floor to halt him, yanking her arm free, “I was what?”
“I saw you.” He spun around to face her. “Laughing with him and then the next minute, kissing him. Now, I know you and I might not know each other well yet, and perhaps that isn’t exactly how a marriage should begin, but—”
“I want’t kissing him. He was kissing me.”
He stared at her, eyes cold, arms folded. “As if there is a difference.”
“There is this time! He kissed me and made it so I couldn’t free myself.”
“Is that so? I thought you were trained alongside your brother, with Tauriel, with the others, to defend yourself. Didn’t you tell me that? That you are skilled with a bow and arrow as well as steel? And yet, you could not avoid a single kiss?”
“I couldn't when he’d pinned my arms to my sides, you fool!”
“I am indeed a fool,” he replied with a sharp bob of his head, “for now I am bound to you, my faithless queen, for the rest of my days. You should have but told me your heart belonged to another, for I would have refrained from consummating our marriage and then could have possibly freed myself.”
Her heart beat at triple its pace as she held his angry stare. “If that is what you wish to do, then leave for Erebor without me. I will tell no one of last evening.”
“Your sheets were stained with your virgin’s blood, your maid saw them and for all I know, they’ve been presented to your father as proof of our joining. So, as much as I would now rather just leave you behind, I can do no such thing.”
“I did not ask him to kiss me. I did not want him to kiss me, Thorin. But he did so anyway. I’ve not betrayed you nor am I faithless, but instead fell prey to a man who used his size and strength against me to his advantage and for all I know, he saw you there and that was why he did what he did.”
“We will never know, I suppose.”
“No, but you’ve already made up your mind as it is, so I don't suppose it matters one way or the other.”
“No. It doesn’t.” He turned and strode away, calling over one shoulder, “We leave in thirty minutes’ time and do not think to hide in your chambers. You will be with me in my coach if I must throw you over my shoulder and put you there myself.”
“I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction,” she snapped.
He paused then, turning back toward her. “Satisfaction?” He shook his head. “There is no satisfaction. I knew better than to trust Thranduíl. Woodland elves lack all honor and now I am trapped with one for the rest of my days.”
“Thorin, I do not lie when I say I tried to free myself from him. I—”
“Of course you did. I saw what a struggle you put up. Please, do not insult my intelligence.”
He bit off the last part as he whipped about and stalked off without a look back. A heavy sigh rose to Eirlys’ lips as she watched him go, watched the way the light played along his silver-streaked black hair, the way it glinted off the silver ornaments woven into those long curls. As soon as he calmed down, he would realize she told the truth. Why else would he hit Lachon the way he did?
Lachon.
She stalked back to where he still sat, his back against the wall, probing the swollen lower part of his face. Crouching alongside him, she said, “If you ever come near me again, Lachon, I will see to it that you never know another woman again. Am I clear?”
“Bugger off,” he mumbled around his puffy bottom lip.
“Gladly.”
With that, she stood up and marched off, wondering who had been fool enough to invite him to the wedding and how she untangled herself from the mess his being invited had created for her.
Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @fizzyxcustard @xxbyimm @kibleedibleedoo
Summary: Noelle James knows soul mates exist, the trouble is, she just can’t seem to find hers. Especially since hers seemed to have existed only in the world of cinema and The Hobbit movies. No one believes she actually spent time in Tolkien’s Middle Earth and even fewer believe Thorin Oakenshield existed in her world, either.
So when she finds herself unexpectedly alone on yet another Christmas, she has no way of knowing exactly what the universe has in store for her this time.The trouble is, this man claiming to be Thorin can’t possibly be him, for he died at the hands of Azog the Defiler at Ravenhill. She saw him die with her own eyes.
So, it can’t be him.
Or can it?
Pairing: Thorin x ofc Noelle James
Warnings: None
Rating: M
Word Count: 4k
Although dinner started off a bit tense, with Andy glaring at Thorin at almost every turn, Noelle found herself holding her breath less and less as her mother peppered Thorin with a million and one questions. He answered each one without seemingly growing impatient or irritated by them, and for that, Noelle offered up a silent thanks to whichever higher power might be listening. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so terrible after all.
To ease her apprehension even more, with each question Thorin, he answered without hesitation, Noelle saw the disapproval grow into approval in both of her parents’ eyes.
Until…
“So, Thorin,” Andy said, reaching for his glass of wine, “tell me, where are you from?”
Noelle stiffened, but Thorin merely smiled as he replied, “I doubt you’ve heard of it, really. It’s very far from here.”
Andy’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Try me.”
“Dad, it really—”
Thorin’s hand came down over hers and he smiled. “It’s all right, mesmel.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am.” His fingers tightened against hers. “Andy, I’m from a small kingdom called Erebor.”
“Erebor—” Andy’s eyes went wide and Noelle once more held her breath as he stared at Thorin for a long moment before exhaling hard with a whispered, “Are you kidding me?”
“I am not.”
“Erebor? As in the kingdom under the mountain?” Andy looked from her to Thorin and back. “Noe, is he for real?”
She slowly nodded. “Yeah, Dad. He’s for real.”
“He thinks he is Thorin Oakenshield?”
From the corner of her eye, Noelle saw Thorin stiffen, and his fingers tightened further over hers as he replied, “Think it? No. No, I don't think it. I am he.”
“Tolkien’s Thorin Oakenshield? The King Under the Mountain?” Andy burst out laughing, throwing his head back as if it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. “Noelle, is he really for real?”
“Andy,” Diane broke in softly, “knock it off.”
“Donnie, do you hear this? He thinks…” Andy’s voice trailed off as he stared at Diane and Noel bit the inside of her cheek when he finally said, “Wait… you believe this?”
Diane nodded slowly. “I do. Noe’s told me about Thorin, and how they met.” She paused and shot him a pointed look. “Three years ago, like I said earlier.”
“Three—what? You never said when, you only said you knew of his existence.”
Diane shrugged. “I was hoping to avoid… this… just as Noe probably was.”
Noelle reached for her wine glass as her father stared at her now. “Almost three years ago exactly, Dad,” she explained. “I’d tell you to ask Ian, but he doesn’t remember meeting Thorin the first time, so that won’t do you any good.”
“Ian met him? Ian Carter? The nerd I thought might be my son-in-law? That Ian? And what do you mean, the first time?”
“Dad, he was never going to be your son-in-law and yes, him. And I mean just that. When Thorin came here three years ago, I went to Ian to see if he might know how to send him home.”
“Send him home?”
“Andy, hush and listen, won’t you?”
Andy lifted his wineglass and as he took a long swallow, Noelle glanced over at Thorin and smiled. “Yeah, Dad. Thorin needed to get home. And we thought a physicist might have the answer, but he really didn’t. And we figured it out on our own, so it really didn't matter.”
She realized her mistake a fraction of a second too late when her father asked, “And the answer was?”
Thorin cleared his throat. “We had to go back to where I landed. The turtle pond.”
Andy set his glass down. “Turtle pond?”
“It’s a pond in Central Park, Dad. That’s all. And he went back and that was that. Until now.”
Diane sighed softly. “She went to Erebor as well.”
“What?”
“Mom!”
“He needs to know the whole story, Noe,” Diane told her.
“No,” Andy shook his head, “he doesn’t. He really doesn’t. This is all so insane. And you believe this, Donnie?”
She nodded. “I do, yes.”
“But…” Andy stared at them all, one by one, shaking his head as he muttered, “It’s just not possible… it isn’t.”
“I know,” Noelle brushed Thorin’s thumb with hers, “but it happened and here we are.”
“So, you’re here. From Middle Earth.” Disbelief shaded Andy’s words, but it was fainter than it had been earlier. “Why?”
Thorin smiled and as his gaze alit on Noelle, warmth uncurled in the pit of her belly when he said, “For Noelle.”
“For my daughter?”
“Aye,” Thorin nodded, “she is my One.”
“She is your…” Andy whispered, looking more stunned than anything. “Well, I’ll be damned…”
Noelle glanced at Thorin, who winked and gave her hand another squeeze. And that was the end of conversation for a while, as they gave her father time to process what he’d just learned. For the rest of the meal, he was relatively quiet, and Noelle offered up a silent thanks to Mahal or whoever it was who made that possible.
****
“They like you.”
“How can you tell?”
Noelle smiled over her shoulder as Thorin came up behind her as she stood on the deck off the kitchen. Snow still fell, swirling silently about them, muffling any and all sound as it did.
All in all, she thought his meeting her parents went well. Her father behaved himself, for the most part, and her mother seemed to genuinely like Thorin, and neither one seemed to think he was crazy in any way, which was definitely a plus.
“Because I know them. I just didn't think my dad would connect you to The Hobbit so quickly. He’s read Tolkien, but isn’t what I would call a fan of him. At least, not a rabid one, anyone.”
“It could have gone far worse than it did.”
“Truer words were never spoken.”
He smiled as he eased his arms about her shoulders. “Aren’t you cold out here?”
“A little, but I always loved how these woods look when it snows. When I was a kid, I would sneak out here on snowy nights and just go for walks near the pond.” She leaned into him, his warmth becoming hers, which made the cold far more bearable. “My mom was always afraid I’d get lost and she’d never see me again, while my dad was convinced I’d fall through the ice on the pond itself. And I never did either.”
“There’s a pond out there?”
She nodded, gesturing to the trees to her left. “Just through those trees. When we were all still living here, we’d have bonfires and skate at night and my mom would bring out the best hot chocolate ever.” A soft sigh bubbled to her lips. “I don’t remember the last time we were all together, though. My brothers are scattered all over the country, so it’s pretty rare.”
“You have four brothers?”
“Yep. Mark and Rob are older than me, Gus and Jay are younger. Mark’s in Washington State, Rob lives in LA, Gus is in Boston and Jay’s in Little Rock, Arkansas. I’m the only one who’s stayed in the area, but I don't get to visit here all that often, either. We’re all crazy busy, you know?” She shrugged, snuggling back against him. “And we’ve all got our own lives, so I don't think any of us misses the others unless you really stop and think about it. They’ve all got jobs and families and lives. And then there’s me.”
“You have a life and a job.”
“Yeah. And I never cared about whether or not I had a family. I always thought that I might have kids some day, but I don't even know about that. I liked my life the way it was, you know?”
“Liked it?”
“Well… yeah… but that was before this crazy ass dwarf fell into my world.”
She felt the chuckle rumbled through her on its way to his lips, and his arms tightened about her. “Should I take offense at that?”
“Nah.” She turned toward him, sliding her arms about his thick waist. “But, being with him has definitely complicated my carefully-ordered life.”
“He never intended to do that, you know.”
“I do know. And I’m not complaining, Thorin. I just—I didn't expect this. Any of this.”
“Nor did I.” He bent toward her then, his beard lightly scratching her as his lips found hers. His kiss was soft and gentle, but she felt it clear through to the center of her being. The notion of soul mates was one she’d readily scoffed at, since it seemed to her that finding hers was next to impossible. But as his kiss deepened and her blood warmed and the snow and wind faded into the background, Noelle had the feeling she had found him after all.
Thorin pulled back, his breath a wispy, silvery cloud as he whispered, “I still love you, you know. That has not changed.”
She looked up, blinking as snowflakes fluttered into her eyes, and nodded. “I know,” she managed to whisper back as her throat tightened. “And I still love you, Thorin.”
He offered up a smile that she felt clear through to the center of her being, and when he drew her close once more, she melted against him. This time, his kiss was not nearly as soft or gentle, but a bit hungrier, more demanding. Not that she cared. Instead, she returned it with as much fire as she could muster.
The sleek wood railing bit into her back as he pressed her against it, but she only barely noticed it. Heat swirled through her, wild and welcomed, and she shivered as his tongue eased between her lips to caress hers in a long, teasing stroke. Her heart hammered her ribs, the cold was forgotten.
The sliding door squeaked and Noelle jerked back when her father said, “Oops…”
She peered around Thorin to glare at him. “Dad, what’re you doing?”
“I was just doing my nightly check of the locks. You’re lucky I didn't lock you out here.”
“Dad.”
“What? I’m not used to having to worry about anyone out on the deck.” To his credit, a hint of color rose along his cheeks, visible in the light mounted on the eaves over the slider. “And I apologize for interrupting you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Dad, go back inside.”
“Andy! What the—what are you doing? I told you to leave that door alone, already!”
Noelle swallowed a groan as her mother poked her head out. “Mom… can’t you do something about him?”
“Do something about him?” Her father replied dryly. “Him is standing right here, you know.”
“Mom.”
“Andy, get back inside!” Diane snapped, exasperation woven through each sharp word. “Honestly, you know better.”
With that, Andy withdrew into the house and Diane smiled. “Sorry about that. I’ll just leave you both alone.”
“No,” Noelle pulled out of Thorin’s arms, “it’s okay, Mom. We’re just going to go to sleep anyway.”
She waited for her mother to insist they sleep in separate rooms, but to her surprise, Diane just nodded. “I’m making pancakes in the morning, so…”
“Pancakes?” Thorin looked from Diane to her. “What are pancakes?”
“I’ll explain inside,” Noelle told him, giving him a gentle push toward the door. “I’m freezing out here, so can we just go?”
She and Thorin ducked past Diane, who closed and locked both the screen and sliding doors behind them. “Good night, Noe. Thorin. See you both in the morning.”
"Night, Mom."
“Good evening, Diane.”
Noelle held her breath as they crossed through the kitchen to the hallway leading toward the back staircase. The stairs creaked softly as they made their way up to the second floor, where Noelle slipped her hand into his. Her room was at the end of the hallway, overlooking the backyard and while she’d been on her own for years, it still held hints of her childhood from the pale gray walls and dusty rose floor-length draperies, to the French bulletin board that hung in the far corner. The photographs and newspaper clippings were decades old, the newspaper yellowed and faded with age. The photos had the grainy look that gave away their age, the people in them—friends and relatives—were ones she’d not seen or heard from in years, but as soon as her gaze alit on them, memories rushed forward.
Thorin stood in the doorway. “This is your bedchamber?”
“That it is. It’s only slightly changed since I actually lived here.” She gave a gentle tug on his hand. “Come in. My mom isn’t about to leap out of the closet and chase you with a bat, you know. I’m a grown woman and allowed to have boys in my room now.”
That earned her a grin. “That’s good to know, about the bat, I mean.” He came completely into the room and closed the door behind him. The floor creaked as he ambled across to the windows. “It is peaceful here. It reminds me of Ravenhill.”
“Really? Ravenhill was anything but peaceful, as I recall.”
“It was then,” he peered at her over his left shoulder, “but now, it’s quite peaceful. But, I will admit, I’m not overly fond of venturing up there of late.”
“I don't blame you.” She came up behind him, easing her arms about his waist. “How long did it take you to recover?”
“Almost a year. There were a few setbacks, an infection that almost ended me. But Óin and Narnerra took excellent care of me. Me, Fíli, and Kíli. Between them and the elves—”
“The elves?” She couldn't keep the disbelief from her voice.
He nodded, the moonlight glinting off the silver ornament holding his hair at the nape of his neck. “You saw elf magic for yourself, didn't you? At Esgaroth?”
“Yeah… I did… Tauriel, right?”
“Tauriel. Their healers have even greater gifts.”
She pressed her cheek against his left shoulder blade and gave him a gentle squeeze. “Thank God for gifted elves, then.”
He slowly turned toward her. The snow had stopped and the moon broke through the cloud cover to bath him silver, to make his eyes glitter like aquamarines. He bent toward her and she flattened her hands against his back as their lips met.
His arms tightened about her, his lips parting as his kiss deepened. Noelle melted against him, letting her hands slip beneath his dark gray henley to sweep up toward his shoulder blades. His skin was warm, but not exactly smooth as her fingertips swept along uneven ridges she suspected were scars from Ravenhill and the Battle of the Five Armies.
As her hands grazed along his back, she dragged his henley with them and he broke his kiss long enough to tug the shirt over his head and let it flutter to the floor behind them. His hands curved against her cheeks as he bent to her once more, his lips fierce and hungry. Well, hers were just as fierce and hungry and within minutes, her room grew too hot for comfort.
His hands slid along her sides, easing her soft cashmere sweater up and she bit down on her bottom lip when he swept his kiss along her chin and down the front of her neck. Her blood bubbled hotly through her veins, the cashmere a caress of its own as he whisked it from her and kissed his way down into the valley between her breasts. Fire raced through her, her skin tingling as he tugged her closer still, the crisp dark hair spread wide across his chest teasing her nipples into tight points. Heat rose from him, sank into her, and when he unhooked her bra and it slipped down over her arms, she let it fall to the floor and sucked in a sharp breath as bent to capture one aching nipple between his lips.
Her fingernails bit into his shoulders at the sensual caress, at the way he swirled the tip of his tongue so teasingly about her nipple. Her back bowed of its own, tension winding through her, hot and thorny, as his fingers danced along her sides, down to the snap of her jeans. Those thick fingers were equally nimble, easing the button through its hole, tugging the zipper down, slipping beneath the small triangle of black fabric that was all that remained between her body and his touch.
He slid into her heat and she inhaled sharply once more as his fingers moved slowly along her aching, damp flesh. Her head spun wildly at the sensations running riot through her, hot and tingly and enough to make her want to wrap herself entirely about him and surrender completely to the magic of him.
A finger slid slowly inside her. His teeth tugged gently on her nipple. And with that, the wave drew away from the shore. It built strength as it rushed back, threatening to drown her in desire as he brought her to the brink. Held her there for what seemed like an eternity.
Then his thumb brushed that sensitive bead and he shoved her out into the abyss. Fire tore through her as the sweet pleasure of release flooded her and she could do no more than cling to him when she went throbbing over that amazing peak. His name was a husky whisper on her lips, her fingernails dug hard into his shoulders, and she clung to him, arched to meet each stroke until the wave washed over her to leave her breathless and sated against him.
He gently brought her back to earth, his fingers sweeping lightly along her inner thigh as he murmured, “Maralmizi, mesmel.”
Despite how wildly her head spun, Noelle managed a breathless chuckle as she whispered back, “You think I forgot, didn't you? Maralmizu…”
He didn't answer right away, but instead slid his arms about her waist, lifting her easily to meet his gaze. She held those beautiful blue eyes for a long moment, then murmured, “I want you.”
“What about the risk?”
“I’ll chance it.”
“And if I am whisked back? What then?”
“What if you aren’t, though?”
“We won’t know until it’s too late and then, there’s no undoing it.”
She drew in a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and nodded. “I know.”
He brushed her lips with his. “Are you certain?”
“Absolutely.”
“Noelle.”
She managed a smile. “I know, but… you have no idea what you do to a woman, Thorin. You simply don’t.”
He said nothing again, but then a slow smile crept across his face as he bent to press her down into the mattress. Noelle tightened her arms about his neck, pulled him down to meet her kiss.
Spark met kindling and that was it. There were no words, just the feverish tugging and shedding of remaining clothes and Noelle held her breath as Thorin reached between them and guided himself to her. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders, her fingernails sinking into his skin at the sudden thickness of him inside her. She couldn't hold back her low moan of satisfaction, but could only muffle it as he slid deep and went still. It was done. There was no going back now.
He caught her hand in his, linking their fingers as he pressed it down into the bed alongside her head, whispering, “Noelle,” as he gave a gentle thrust.
That was all it took and as he bent to capture her lips with his, he began moving. His thrusts began slowly, but quickly increased both in speed and depth. She arched her hips, moving in time with him, savoring the fiery heat he sent surging through her. Knots of the sweetest pleasure twisted inside her, melting her core as she surrendered to it, allowed it to course through her, to sweep her out to sea.
His fingers tightened against hers. His lips found hers, as fierce and demanding as his body, and she melted beneath him, clinging to him as he thrust harder now. Harder. Faster. Going deeper still until she thought she’d go mad with the need for release.
Then it happened. Fire tore through her. Pleasure scorched her from the inside out, threatened to devour her whole. Her fingernails bit into his shoulders, dragged down along his back, over the scars dotting the landscape as the knots grew unbearably taut, then burst to flood her with white-hot ecstasy that had her squeezing him, quivering around him to make him moan above her.
He surged hard, his body tensing as he followed her to the peak and she took him with her, her legs tight about his waist, her body tight about his. Her name leaked through his gritted teeth, he shuddered above her, and then—
“Noelle!”
His harsh whisper became strangled as he came, arching hard inside her, shuddering again, trembling as he surrendered completely. When he sank again her, Noelle wrapped him in her arms, her eyes stinging with unexpected tears. There were no words, no way to describe what she felt in that moment, to describe what she felt for him in that moment.
He fought for breath, the hot blasts against her neck quick and hard, but then little by little, they slowed and he whispered, “Zamaralmizi hikhthuzul. No matter what happens come tomorrow.”
Blinking back those annoying tears, she tightened her arms about him further. “Zamaralmizi hikhthuzul, Thorin. Always.”
“And if I do disappear, know there will be no one else.”
“Thorin—”
“No.” He lifted his head, his eyes heavy-lidded and sleepy and utterly seductive just the same. “There will be no one else. You are my One, even if it means I am in Erebor and you are here.”
“Same.” She smiled up at him, even though her eyes still stung and she wondered if they were shimmering as badly as she felt they were. “But maybe it won’t work out that way.”
“Perhaps.”
She wasn't at all certain he believed that any more than she did, but she said nothing. There was nothing she could say. They couldn’t undo what had happened and she had no desire to undo it anyway. Instead, she lay there with him, their bodies remaining joined, a few minutes more.
Quietly, he eased from her, eased off her to stretch out alongside her. The warm air chilled without his heat, and slowly, she sat up to grab the quilt neatly folded at the foot of the bed, then lay back down, drawing in over them as she curved up against him.
Thorin draped his arm about her shoulders, pressing her closer still. Despite her apprehension over what would happen come tomorrow, drowsiness washed over her. Draping her arm across his hips, she murmured, “I have missed you, you know.”
“As have I. Missed you, I mean.” His fingers brushed lightly along her shoulder, down over her upper arm.
A peaceful silence settled over them and despite that drowsiness, sleep didn't creep over her at all. Instead, she lay there, content in the darkness, her fingers skimming lightly along his belly, down over his left hip, back up.
Down below, the grandfather clock in the family room struck midnight and Noelle wondered how much time they had left. She didn't want to think about it, but had no choice now. Resisting Thorin was futile and she’d known it from the moment her eyes alit upon him again in Ian’s office. If making love with him meant that he’d be gone come nightfall, she’d carry the memory of him for the rest of her days, and she’d meant what she’d told him. There would be no one else. How could there? There wasn't a man alive who compare to him, no matter what. She’d learned that already.
His fingers slowed, then went still, but she lay there for some time still, just savoring the feel of him against her and hoping like hell they hadn’t just made a terrible mistake.
Tag List: @mrsdurin @exhausted-humxn-being @notlostgnome @quiall321 @evenstaredits
A/N: Well, yes, I am back with more Richard and Lorelei! What can I say? I just love these two so much and cannot control my muse 🙈
After watching Missing You a few weeks ago, I just couldn't stop thinking about RA in those suits in his office, which gave me major Professor Armitage vibes, so I decided to revisit an old one-shot I had written and here we are 😈
I actually posted this one on AO3 a little while ago, but figured I should post it here as well. However, given that engagement is a bit low on here, I may only post future fics on AO3, so be sure to subscribe to my profile and the series so you don't miss out!
Summary: Richard and Lorelei are getting ready for an alumni event at the college when they get a little distracted...
Relationship: Richard Armitage x OC (Professor AU)
Word count: 1.6K
Rating: E
Read on AO3
“The black or the grey one?” I ask as I step into the bedroom, holding up two dresses. “The grey one is a little boring, but the black is a quite short, so I’m not sure it’s really right for an alumni event…”
Richard, who was fiddling with his tie, pauses and looks up at me. Then, with a mischievous smirk I know all too well, he walks toward me and says, “I like this one,” as he wraps his arms around my naked waist.
Though my blush tells him all he needs to know, I shake my head and step out of his embrace.
“Be serious,” I say as I turn to face the full-length mirror. “I need your help.”
“You know what? I think you’re taking this too seriously and it would do you good to relax before we leave.”
Ignoring his suggestive tone, I toss the black one on the chair next to the door and start to unzip the grey dress. The more conservative and professional choice.
Richard, however, has other plans. He steps in and takes the grey dress from my hands, tossing it aside before wrapping his arms around me from behind.
“Not the grey one. It’s too serious—and it doesn’t do you justice.” As he speaks, he caresses my bare stomach with one of his large hands, staining my skin with goosebumps.
“Richard,” I groan in frustration. “You’re not helping!”
“Why don’t we just stay here, then?” he suggests, ignoring the look on my face to press a lingering kiss onto my shoulder, and despite my best intentions, I lean back against his broad chest.
“We can’t stay here; our presence is expected,” I say, trying to remain reasonable. “Besides, I’ve never been to one of these events before.”
“It’s boring—trust me,” he replies, now moving to nuzzle my neck, his beard scratching me softly, and when his lips close in on the sensitive spot below my ear, I can’t hold back my sigh.
“Well, I won’t know until I go, won’t I?” When he doesn’t reply, I shake my head. “You’re just trying to get into my pants.”
With a wide smirk, he looks up to meet my gaze through the mirror in front of us. “I’d say I’m pretty close.”
I can’t hold back my laugh, causing Richard to smile against my skin. “The event is in an hour, so you’re gonna have to control yourself and help me get dressed,” I insist despite very much wanting to stay here with him and let him continue. His hand on my stomach does not move, but the mere thought of it exploring all the sensitive places of my body makes me lick my lips. Suddenly, Richard’s smile widens, and I know he has not missed the frustration in my voice.
The hand that now moves across my back is further proof that he can too easily read the signs of arousal in my body. When his fingers close in on my bra and effortlessly unclasp it, it takes a great deal of effort for me to protest.
“Richard,” I groan and turn my head toward him as he pushes the straps down my arms and onto the floor, but I forget what I intended to say next as he silences me with a deep, hungry kiss.
Despite all my best intentions, my resistance crumbles in an instant. His beard scratches my heated skin in a most alluring way as his tongue slips between my lips to meet mine, sending fiery tingles swirling through me. Even months into our relationship, his kisses are enough to make me yearn for him in ways I had never thought possible with previous partners. His passion is intense, sometimes even rough, but he is always tender and patient, leaving no inch of my skin uncherished, and now, despite the ticking clock, all I can do is melt in his arms and beg for more of his intoxicating caresses.
Desperately needing to touch him and give him as much pleasure as he lavishes upon me, I try to turn around to face him, but he holds me firmly in place. One of his arms is wrapped around my middle, holding me tight against him, while the other hand moves to cover my breast and squeeze it, his thumb grazing my hardening nipple. Need begins to pulse in my core as he continues to tease me, but as pleasurable as his touch is, I need more. I need him , but he holds me tight, and when I finally manage to beg for him to let me touch him, he shakes his head. Then, to my surprise and confusion, he gently turns my head toward the mirror.
“I want you to watch as I pleasure you,” he explains in a low, almost growling tone.
Heat pools between my thighs at his words, and I cannot help but whimper. Shyness surges through me as I see myself in the mirror—my hair slightly in disarray, my cheeks flushed, and my chest heaving—but the burning lust in his gaze and the large hands that explore my curves chase that feeling away. As though hypnotized, I follow the hand that now slides down my bare stomach and, finally , under my knickers. He stills for a moment, his eyes gazing into mine, and the smile that graces his lips tells me he knows exactly how much I am enjoying this.
With the tips of his fingers, he teasingly traces my folds, coating me with my arousal, all while his other hand continues to caress my breast. Unwittingly, my hips buck against his hand, wordlessly begging for more, and a pleased sigh escapes my lips when he grants me my wish. He lets go of my breast for a moment to drag my knickers down my legs, then wraps his arms around me once more. There is something so incredibly arousing about standing completely naked in front of the mirror while he stands behind me, dressed in his black suit, and a low moan escapes me even before his hand returns to worship the most intimate parts of my body.
“ Richard… ” I whimper when his thumb brushes against my clit, sending sparks of pleasure through me.
In response, Richard chuckles against my ear before biting my earlobe, and I shiver. I am sure he will slide a finger inside me or even make me face him so he can make love to me, but he does no such thing. His fingers settle into a steady rhythm against my clit, one he knows will shatter me in no time, and I am forced to hold onto his forearm to steady myself as my core throbs against him. When a particularly powerful jolt of pleasure erupts inside me, I arch against him, my bum pressing into his growing hardness, which leaves me with no doubt as to how much he wants me, yet still, he does not move.
“I want you,” I manage to say between breathy moans, looking up to meet his eyes in the mirror as he continues to caress me.
To my surprise, despite his ragged breaths against my ear, he replies by saying, “Later,” then presses a lingering kiss into the crook of my neck.
His fingers increase their pressure on my clit, and that tightening, throbbing ache deep inside me grows almost unbearable as I stand suspended on the edge of release. Nothing I say makes much sense, but Richard does not need words to understand that I am now begging him not to stop. He knows I am close, even if only by the way I now roll my hips against him to increase the friction of his hand. I desperately want to keep watching us in the mirror, but as wave after wave of rapture crashes against my core, I let my eyes flutter close.
“I told you to watch,” Richard suddenly growls in my ear.
Whimpering, I obey him, and the burning intensity of his gaze and the perfect movements of his fingers against me bring me over the edge. The whole room spins around us as sweet, burning ecstasy licks me from the inside out, leaving me a trembling, moaning mess in his arms. Only once he is sure my orgasm has subsided does Richard remove his hand, though he still holds me tight against him, for which I am very grateful as my whole body feels boneless.
“What time is it?” I ask reluctantly after a while, still slightly breathless.
“We’ll be a bit late,” Richard replies, causing me to groan. “Don’t worry, love.”
“But what about you—”
“Don’t worry about me—we have to go.” He finally lets go of me, and I turn around to face him, only for my gaze to drift down to his very prominent bulge. My core throbs at the sight. “Just get dressed; that will already make it easier for me,” he chuckles. “And we can continue this when we come back.”
“Alright,” I say with an apologetic smile. Then, as I reach for my bra and knickers, my eyes widen, and I exclaim, “Shit, I still don’t know what to wear.”
“What about your navy dress—the one with the short sleeves and the polka dots.”
“Wait, that’s actually perfect!” I say with a relieved laugh. “And you say you have no fashion sense.”
“I just know what looks good on you, sweetheart,” he replies with a smile, and my heart flutters.
If you enjoyed this fic, be sure to reblog and leave a comment! 💗
Tag list and people who might be interested: @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @i-did-not-mean-to @xxbyimm @middleearthpixie @enchantzz @myselfandfantasy @notlostgnome @laurfilijames @swoopswishsward @quiall321 @dianakc @sazzlep @albionscastle @evenstaredits @louk419 @sweetestgbye
A/N: Well, yes, I am back with more Richard and Lorelei! What can I say? I just love these two so much and cannot control my muse 🙈
After watching Missing You a few weeks ago, I just couldn't stop thinking about RA in those suits in his office, which gave me major Professor Armitage vibes, so I decided to revisit an old one-shot I had written and here we are 😈
I actually posted this one on AO3 a little while ago, but figured I should post it here as well. However, given that engagement is a bit low on here, I may only post future fics on AO3, so be sure to subscribe to my profile and the series so you don't miss out!
Summary: Richard and Lorelei are getting ready for an alumni event at the college when they get a little distracted...
Relationship: Richard Armitage x OC (Professor AU)
Word count: 1.6K
Rating: E
Read on AO3
“The black or the grey one?” I ask as I step into the bedroom, holding up two dresses. “The grey one is a little boring, but the black is a quite short, so I’m not sure it’s really right for an alumni event…”
Richard, who was fiddling with his tie, pauses and looks up at me. Then, with a mischievous smirk I know all too well, he walks toward me and says, “I like this one,” as he wraps his arms around my naked waist.
Though my blush tells him all he needs to know, I shake my head and step out of his embrace.
“Be serious,” I say as I turn to face the full-length mirror. “I need your help.”
“You know what? I think you’re taking this too seriously and it would do you good to relax before we leave.”
Ignoring his suggestive tone, I toss the black one on the chair next to the door and start to unzip the grey dress. The more conservative and professional choice.
Richard, however, has other plans. He steps in and takes the grey dress from my hands, tossing it aside before wrapping his arms around me from behind.
“Not the grey one. It’s too serious—and it doesn’t do you justice.” As he speaks, he caresses my bare stomach with one of his large hands, staining my skin with goosebumps.
“Richard,” I groan in frustration. “You’re not helping!”
“Why don’t we just stay here, then?” he suggests, ignoring the look on my face to press a lingering kiss onto my shoulder, and despite my best intentions, I lean back against his broad chest.
“We can’t stay here; our presence is expected,” I say, trying to remain reasonable. “Besides, I’ve never been to one of these events before.”
“It’s boring—trust me,” he replies, now moving to nuzzle my neck, his beard scratching me softly, and when his lips close in on the sensitive spot below my ear, I can’t hold back my sigh.
“Well, I won’t know until I go, won’t I?” When he doesn’t reply, I shake my head. “You’re just trying to get into my pants.”
With a wide smirk, he looks up to meet my gaze through the mirror in front of us. “I’d say I’m pretty close.”
I can’t hold back my laugh, causing Richard to smile against my skin. “The event is in an hour, so you’re gonna have to control yourself and help me get dressed,” I insist despite very much wanting to stay here with him and let him continue. His hand on my stomach does not move, but the mere thought of it exploring all the sensitive places of my body makes me lick my lips. Suddenly, Richard’s smile widens, and I know he has not missed the frustration in my voice.
The hand that now moves across my back is further proof that he can too easily read the signs of arousal in my body. When his fingers close in on my bra and effortlessly unclasp it, it takes a great deal of effort for me to protest.
“Richard,” I groan and turn my head toward him as he pushes the straps down my arms and onto the floor, but I forget what I intended to say next as he silences me with a deep, hungry kiss.
Despite all my best intentions, my resistance crumbles in an instant. His beard scratches my heated skin in a most alluring way as his tongue slips between my lips to meet mine, sending fiery tingles swirling through me. Even months into our relationship, his kisses are enough to make me yearn for him in ways I had never thought possible with previous partners. His passion is intense, sometimes even rough, but he is always tender and patient, leaving no inch of my skin uncherished, and now, despite the ticking clock, all I can do is melt in his arms and beg for more of his intoxicating caresses.
Desperately needing to touch him and give him as much pleasure as he lavishes upon me, I try to turn around to face him, but he holds me firmly in place. One of his arms is wrapped around my middle, holding me tight against him, while the other hand moves to cover my breast and squeeze it, his thumb grazing my hardening nipple. Need begins to pulse in my core as he continues to tease me, but as pleasurable as his touch is, I need more. I need him , but he holds me tight, and when I finally manage to beg for him to let me touch him, he shakes his head. Then, to my surprise and confusion, he gently turns my head toward the mirror.
“I want you to watch as I pleasure you,” he explains in a low, almost growling tone.
Heat pools between my thighs at his words, and I cannot help but whimper. Shyness surges through me as I see myself in the mirror—my hair slightly in disarray, my cheeks flushed, and my chest heaving—but the burning lust in his gaze and the large hands that explore my curves chase that feeling away. As though hypnotized, I follow the hand that now slides down my bare stomach and, finally , under my knickers. He stills for a moment, his eyes gazing into mine, and the smile that graces his lips tells me he knows exactly how much I am enjoying this.
With the tips of his fingers, he teasingly traces my folds, coating me with my arousal, all while his other hand continues to caress my breast. Unwittingly, my hips buck against his hand, wordlessly begging for more, and a pleased sigh escapes my lips when he grants me my wish. He lets go of my breast for a moment to drag my knickers down my legs, then wraps his arms around me once more. There is something so incredibly arousing about standing completely naked in front of the mirror while he stands behind me, dressed in his black suit, and a low moan escapes me even before his hand returns to worship the most intimate parts of my body.
“ Richard… ” I whimper when his thumb brushes against my clit, sending sparks of pleasure through me.
In response, Richard chuckles against my ear before biting my earlobe, and I shiver. I am sure he will slide a finger inside me or even make me face him so he can make love to me, but he does no such thing. His fingers settle into a steady rhythm against my clit, one he knows will shatter me in no time, and I am forced to hold onto his forearm to steady myself as my core throbs against him. When a particularly powerful jolt of pleasure erupts inside me, I arch against him, my bum pressing into his growing hardness, which leaves me with no doubt as to how much he wants me, yet still, he does not move.
“I want you,” I manage to say between breathy moans, looking up to meet his eyes in the mirror as he continues to caress me.
To my surprise, despite his ragged breaths against my ear, he replies by saying, “Later,” then presses a lingering kiss into the crook of my neck.
His fingers increase their pressure on my clit, and that tightening, throbbing ache deep inside me grows almost unbearable as I stand suspended on the edge of release. Nothing I say makes much sense, but Richard does not need words to understand that I am now begging him not to stop. He knows I am close, even if only by the way I now roll my hips against him to increase the friction of his hand. I desperately want to keep watching us in the mirror, but as wave after wave of rapture crashes against my core, I let my eyes flutter close.
“I told you to watch,” Richard suddenly growls in my ear.
Whimpering, I obey him, and the burning intensity of his gaze and the perfect movements of his fingers against me bring me over the edge. The whole room spins around us as sweet, burning ecstasy licks me from the inside out, leaving me a trembling, moaning mess in his arms. Only once he is sure my orgasm has subsided does Richard remove his hand, though he still holds me tight against him, for which I am very grateful as my whole body feels boneless.
“What time is it?” I ask reluctantly after a while, still slightly breathless.
“We’ll be a bit late,” Richard replies, causing me to groan. “Don’t worry, love.”
“But what about you—”
“Don’t worry about me—we have to go.” He finally lets go of me, and I turn around to face him, only for my gaze to drift down to his very prominent bulge. My core throbs at the sight. “Just get dressed; that will already make it easier for me,” he chuckles. “And we can continue this when we come back.”
“Alright,” I say with an apologetic smile. Then, as I reach for my bra and knickers, my eyes widen, and I exclaim, “Shit, I still don’t know what to wear.”
“What about your navy dress—the one with the short sleeves and the polka dots.”
“Wait, that’s actually perfect!” I say with a relieved laugh. “And you say you have no fashion sense.”
“I just know what looks good on you, sweetheart,” he replies with a smile, and my heart flutters.
If you enjoyed this fic, be sure to reblog and leave a comment! 💗
Tag list and people who might be interested: @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @i-did-not-mean-to @xxbyimm @middleearthpixie @enchantzz @myselfandfantasy @notlostgnome @laurfilijames @swoopswishsward @quiall321 @dianakc @sazzlep @albionscastle @evenstaredits @louk419 @sweetestgbye
