#daddy!thorin

[imaginethorin]

Imagine telling Thorin he’s going to be a father.

Imagine telling Thorin he’s going to be a father.

[fizzyxcustard]

HI HI HI only if you want can i request “I needed you” and “I’m not going anywhere” for fluffy Thorin please please please

(I tend to write a lot of romantic stuff, so I thought you might like this instead. Daddy!Thorin. ‘Adad’ = ‘father’ in Khuzdul.)

A loud, shrill shout broke both you and Thorin out of your sleep. Immediately, without thinking and on pure instinct, the King dashed out of bed and into the joining room. You dashed on behind, almost falling out of bed in your desperation to get into the next room. 

Your daughter was sitting bolt upright in bed, covers tossed aside, and she was weeping into her arms. Thorin scooped the five year old up into his arms and brushed away the sweaty strands of hair from her brow. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m here,” Thorin whispered and pulled her tighter towards his chest to offer a kiss. 

“Did you have a bad dream again?” you asked, reaching over to touch your daughter’s hair. 

“Y...yes,” she said, peeping out from her father’s chest. Her large, watery blue eyes looked at you and your heart melted in those moments. “I needed you.” 

“We’re here now, dearest,” you told her. 

“Come on,” Thorin said and got up from the bed, walking past you and into your shared bed chamber. He placed the little girl down into the centre of the bed and kissed her cheek. “I’ll go and get you some cocoa.” 

Thorin left the room and you looked on as your daughter sniffed over the last of her tears. “What happened in your dream?” you asked. “You do know it’s only a dream, my petal? Nothing bad will happen to you. Your father and I are here, and lots of our guards are downstairs.” 

“A monster came for you and Adad,” she said, looking down into her lap in sadness. “Cousin Kili came to help, but the monster had already hurt you and Adad.” 

By the time Thorin had returned with your daughter’s drink, she had already snuggled down into the covers. Her eyes were beginning to close, but they soon snapped back open at the sight of steaming cocoa. 

Both you and Thorin watched her with pride, sitting in silence for a minute or two. 

That night, the three of you lay together, and amidst laughter, tickling and a round of games, you fell into a peaceful sleep. 

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine Thorin using your babies as a way to prevent people from yelling at him

*le first time it happens*

You: *finally fell asleep after thirty six hours of labour*

Thorin: *napping on the couch in the living room with his two newborn daughters also napping on his chest*

Dis: *arrives at the mountain, is super pissed Fili lost his eye, and kicks in the door of Thorin's chambers*

Thorin: *jumps awake and moves to shield his children with his hands*

Dis: *yelling* I have a bone to pick with you.

Babies: *all hell breaks loose and they start to cry and flail*

Thorin: thank you for that sister, I had just gotten them to sleep. *begins to calm them, and coo at them*

Dis:*using a hushed tone* whose are they? *takes one from him and starts to bounce her gently in her arms*

Thorin: they are mine, quite a lot has happened in the last year and a half.

Dis: how old are they, they couldn't be more than a month old?

Thorin: you would be right, they are only a few hours old. Their mother is in the bed room sleeping, she was in labor for a day and a half.

Dis: what happened to Fili's eye?

Thorin: he lost it

Dis: yes, I noticed but how?

Thorin: a sword probably, why don't you ask him?

Dis: *grumbles at him, and gets slapped in the nose by the baby*

Dain: *comes yelling down the hall about Thranduil, but when he get to the doorway he stops yelling and starts whispering* PEBBLES! *goes over to Thorin and tries to steal the baby he is holding*

Thorin: *pulls the baby away from his cousin and growls* No, I just got her!

Dain: *looks at Dis*

Dis: *hiss at him and bares her teeth*

Dain: *pouts* I wanna hold a baby.

Dis: wait your turn then.

*the next morning*

Thorin: I'm taking one of the pebbles with me to work.

You: aw having some separation anxiety, my dear?

Thorin: no, nobody yells at me when I'm holding a baby, and if they try the wee one will out yell them.

You: nice, we'll swap them out ever two or so hours, so that they get feed enough and so there is at least a twenty minute window to get yelled at, not including diaper changes.

*later*

Thorin: *sitting on the throne with his oldest daughter asleep in one arm and a scroll in the other hand* this is the most peaceful day I've had since I killed Smaug.

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine Thorin playing his harp for your child

Thorin: are you ready?

Baby: *gurgles childishly and waves chubby hands at him and blows spit bubbles*

Thorin: *begins to play a happy little tune*

Baby: *screams happily, clapping their hands, and rocking back and forth*

Thorin: *laughing happily* there's my happy little dancer!

[averil-of-fairlea]

A Dream Come True

Song that made me do it: Beast of Burden

He stretches and yawns, snuggling closer to his mother's bosom. She sings his name and places him between her and Thorin.

The baby falls fast asleep. His mother's fingers repeatedly tap the top of each of his toes. It has a lulling effect on her, and she finds herself slipping away from him.

Jolting up, she clutches her chest. A hurricane lantern on a low table across the room casts quiet light over the bed. The child isn't there.

She feels around for him frantically, her nails scratching a shirtless Thorin in the back, her voice calling to him.

“What is it, habanuh?” he moans sleepily.

“Where is he, Thorin?”

He rolls from his left side to his back and rubs his eyes.

“Where is who?”

“The baby.”

He runs his hand over his whole face. “They’re all in their beds, Averil. No one sleeps with us anymore.”

Then, under his breath, he mutters, ““thank you, Mahal," even though, truth be told, he loves cuddling with them and watching them sleep. He just doesn't like getting kicked in the night.

He repositions himself on his right side, and closes his eyes again. But they only stay shut for a few seconds.

Averil is still sitting up, trying to come to grips with the fact that she was only dreaming of that child. He seemed so real.

Thorin reaches up and runs his fingers along the back of her arm.

“You probably were dreaming of one from our little army."

“No," she says, remembering what she called him as she tucked him in. "His name is Kieran."

Thorin thinks about the name. He likes it very much.

Suddenly, she pulls her silky gown over her head and drops it over the side of the bed. In another instant, she's facing him, her hands on his beard. She kisses him deeply.

Thorin eagerly receives her fervent kisses, his foggy sleepiness replaced with passionate flames. She impatiently begins pushing his nightwear down from his hips until he takes over and pulls it off completely, kicking off the covers in the process. She looks at his lower half. Thorin is completely ready for her, and her for him.

She rolls on top of him, and her hand guides him inside her with ease, the first of many times this night.

“Help me make our Kieran come true, Thorin.”

She begins to rock him.

I really shouldn’t, he thinks. I should withdraw. The twins are still so young. We shouldn't have another - not now.

We always wanted a large family... He's still reasoning, even as he enjoys the sex, as always. But is this passion part of her dream, or...

Just then, Averil bends down to his left ear, her breasts pressing against his chest. His arms are outstretched and their fingers are twisted together. She begins sucking his earlobe.

It drives him wild. Everything about her drives him wild, since the moment they met. Always has, always will.

Thorin grabs her hips and she sits up and rides him for dear life.

And nine months and four days later, she holds a new baby in her arms: Kieran, literally a dream come true.

[averil-of-fairlea]

"You're Nearly There" - Imagine Thorin Watching His Child’s First Steps

[x]

More Daddy!Thorin here

*****

Thorin was in bed, threatening to get up and stomp into his study, instead of keeping his injured left leg up and resting.

“Keep it propped up,” you said, standing over him, holding a twin son on each hip.

Defeated, he eased back against the pillows, then suddenly smiled at you. “Why don’t you set them down a moment and lay here with me?”

You blushed as your eyes widened, then you shook your head. “The last time I hurt my ankle and you joined me in the bed, we created these two.”

“And that would be lovely this time, as well, but there are too many witnesses." He patted your side of the bed. “Just for a moment. Put the boys on the rug with their little blankets and playthings."

Oh, that look! You couldn’t resist.

You placed Frerin and Rowan down on the large, plush, ornate rug across from the bed, double-checked for hard edges and choke-potential objects. Only your favorite soft reading chair sat nearby.

Satisfied that they’d be safe “for a moment,” you sauntered over to the bed and lay next to Thorin, resting your head on his chest, both of you looking at your little children as they gazed lovingly at their parents.

“Shouldn’t they be walking?” Thorin asked after a few minutes of observing them playing, and stroking the arm that you had draped across his body.

“Are you really ready for that? Once they start, they won’t stop.”

“They’re 13 months old. Lily, Thror and Thrain were walking at three months.”

You swatted his hand. “More like nine-and-a-half, ten and twelve months, Thorin Oakenshield."

“They should be walking.”

He called their names, followed by, “Walk over here."

You laughed. “They’re supposed to obey your command, just like that?”

“I am their King, after all.”

He did it again, this time removing his hand from your arm and outstretching it.

“Frerin and Rowan, use your legs and walk to us.”

The most the boys had done was crawl, pull up and cruise the furniture.  They were building up their confidence, cruising for longer periods of time, but they were still unsteady. No way were they ready for….

“AHA!” Thorin said.

You couldn’t believe it. Frerin was the first to grab hold of the oversized reading chair and pull himself up, slightly wobbly, but determined. Thorin urged him closer, telling him to take his time.

The boy took a step, still keeping a firm grasp on the fat chair cushion, then another, then releasing the chair altogether, and stepped lightly, lightly, lightly, eyes focused on his waiting father.

You moved back, trying to take in this scene, and Thorin sat up, swinging his legs from under the covers.

“Careful of your ankle, Thorin,” you whispered as both his feet touched the hard stone floor. Your eyes were still glued to your sons.

Thorin extended both arms now. “You're nearly there,” he said.

Just then, Rowan followed Frerin’s lead and pulled up on the chair, but lost his grip and fell back on his bottom. Pulled up again, fell down again, as Frerin stepped gingerly toward the bed.

You held your breath, not sure which boy needed the most encouragement, not wanting to startle either one with cheers.

Rowan was getting frustrated. He whimpered as he reached for the chair cushion again, while Frerin got closer and closer.

“Frerin,” Thorin said firmly. “Wait for him.”

You watched in awe as Frerin stood in one spot, teetering just a little, and stared at his father, understanding – how?! – that he should not to leave his brother behind.

Thorin gently beckoned Rowan to walk.

The child grasped the cushion with all his might, squeezing the material between his wee fingers.

And he was up.

You gasped, tears flooding to your eyes, as Rowan released the chair and stumbled toward Frerin, who waited until his twin was just a footstep behind him before proceeding to the bed and their father’s welcoming arms.

Thorin couldn’t help it. You couldn't help it. He laughed and let out a thunderous cry as his sons drew nearer, and you squealed and clapped, telling them how proud you were.

They started laughing and losing their focus – and their balance. Thorin leaped from the bed, wincing briefly as he slammed onto his injured foot. He caught the two falling, giggling boys before they hit the floor.

You hurried to the edge of the bed and looked on as Thorin’s great arms held his twins close. You couldn’t tell who was enjoying the moment more: him or them.

“So, they’re walking,” you sighed, propping your arm up and leaning your cheek into your hand. “Happy now?”

Thorin kissed Rowan’s forehead, then Frerin’s.

“I’m very happy.”

[averil-of-fairlea]

Uncle Dwalin

imagine || Based on this “everybody lives” AU head canon + art 

Dwalin still couldn’t figure out how he, of all people, got roped into this.

There was something about the governess needing to tend to her sick husband and the other one still running an errand in Dale. Kili was with Tauriel visiting her kin, Fili was on a diplomatic mission, and Thorin needed to be with his wife, who was quite possibly going into labor with baby No. 7. Dis was by the queen’s side - she preferred to be there rather than babysitting.

“You’re the next best choice for the task,” Thorin told him, patting his back firmly as he led his longtime friend to his children’s nursery, which gave Dwalin more willies than anything he’d faced on the battlefield.

There was Frerin, who, with lightning speed, was repeatedly taking apart, then re-assembling, a set of toys with moveable parts, including a winged toy dragon that Dwalin knew had taken Bifur a full day and a half to make.

Thrain sat in a small chair, screeching as the oldest, Lily, stood behind him, working her way through his tangles with a brush. Thror, the second born, was rolling around baby Kieran, who sat in the center of the room, kicking his stubby little legs back and forth and shaking his rattle. Frerin’s quiet twin, Rowan, painted in a corner, but even that looked intense as he swirled and twisted and splotched on the concoction of colors on the large sheet of paper with a bristle brush.

Dwalin turned to Thorin. “You can’t be serious. I’m not cut out for this!”

Upon hearing his booming voice, the older children looked up and squealed, “Uncle Dwalin!”

Despite his trepidation at playing babysitter, he welcomed his pretend nephews and niece with bear hugs and gentle head knocks. He couldn’t love them more if they were his own children, and he would protect them fiercely as he had their father. He growled playfully at Kieran, who looked at him curiously, then smiled and kicked excitedly.

Thorin scanned his children’s darling faces as they returned to their play. “Don’t hurt him too badly,” he ordered, with a wink.

“We won’t!” they sang mischievously.

Dwalin assessed the scene again, sighed, then marched over to the rocking chair usually reserved for the governess.

No sooner had he settled in and started feeling comfortable than Thror began climbing up the back of the chair with something in his hand. Dwalin was just about to grab him when Rowan stopped painting and asked, “What happened to your hair right there, Uncle Dwalin? He pointed at his bald spot.

“It’s gone.”

“But Uncle Balin has all his hair,” Frerin said.

“And?

“And, you’re brothers!” Lily said as she ran through more snags in Thrain’s long locks, making him howl.

“SO?”

“So, you should have hair like him,” she said.

“Following that logic, lass, I suppose you think my hair should be snowy white and flipped up at the ends, too?”

She stopped brushing Thrain’s hair, much to her brother’s relief, and looked thoughtfully at her pretend uncle for a while, trying to imagine him with flowing white locks.

“No,” she decided. “You’d look terrible with white hair.”

Dwalin grunted and with both hands finally slid the squirming tot hanging over his right shoulder down like he was setting down a sack of sugar.

“What on earth are you doing, lad?!”

“I stuck you with Orcrist!” Thror said, jabbing him with a short pointy oaken tree branch.

“You call that sticking?” He grabbed the wooden dagger and examined it. “Who made this?”

“Lily,” every boy in the room said in unison.

She looked up from her brushing and smiled proudly.

“Hmm…not bad. A little too sharp for playing, though,” he said, tucking it into an inside pocket. “By the way, does your mother know I’ve been showing you how to make play weapons?”

“She figured it out,” Frerin said.

“Great,” Dwalin grumbled. “Does she know I’ve been training you on the sly?”

Every head nodded, except of course for Kieran, who looked like he was concentrating on something, his cherubic face focused on Dwalin’s.

“She said you should stop being sneaky about it and just train us every day already,” Lily said.

Dwalin blew out an exasperated huff.

“She also knows you’re the one who taught us ish kakhfê ai-‘d dûr-rugnu,”Frerin said.

“WHAT? I never taught you that!”

“But you’ve said it in front of us,” Lily said.

“And I‘ll have you know your father has said that PLENTY of times - shouted it in the halls of Elven royalty, no less!”

“But he’s never said that in front of us,” Rowan said shyly.

Dwalin made himself calm down. “Does your mother know all the good I’ve shown you? How to spit melon seeds as far as you can? How to belch like you mean it? How to clear a room with a quick squat and grunt?”

The room erupted with giggles and roars, especially Frerin, who did all those things like a champ.

“You forgot about the stitching,” Rowan peeped, remembering how Dwalin had tenderly repaired a patch in the boy’s trousers after a rough fall in the grass tore the fabric at the knee.  He’d shown Rowan how to thread the needle, how to stitch in a straight line.

The raucous room suddenly fell silent as Dwalin tightened his jaw and bore his eyes into the timid child, who hid behind his twin.

“You can sew, Uncle Dwalin?” Thror asked in amazement.

Small, wondrous eyes were on him. He was cornered – and flattered.

“Aye.”

“Will you make me something?” Frerin asked.

“No.”

And then the pleas began. Make us tunics like our father’s! Can you make hats? Make something for Amad’s birthday!

“You little hellions, I only fix rips and such, I don’t design,” he said unconvincingly.

But they sensed his fib and kept begging.

Suddenly there was a whisper of a grunt followed by a ghastly scent that exploded in the air and rose up, wrapping around everyone’s faces, smothering them.

“Ugh!” The children wailed, each one scrambling for something in the room to cover their noses with – blankets, pillows, towels, their own clothes. But it was too much, too much!

Lily ran over to the door, pulled it open and went flying out of the room, her brothers following. Dwalin heard them fall into the arms of their returning nanny.

“Ha-ha-ha!” Dwalin said, reaching down and lifting Kieran up proudly.

“There you go!” he said. “You saved me, laddie! Clearin’ the room, just like Uncle Dwalin taught ya!”

‘

[averil-of-fairlea]

Friends, I couldn't wait until tomorrow.