pregnant reader who is upset her husband left without saying I love you
The moment he arrived home, he began to look for you - his wife. His whole world, his everything only to come face to face with said woman who refused to look at him.
"Please just tell me what is wrong."
"You've stopped loving me!" You wailed.
"And how did you come to that conclusion?"
"You didn't say goodbye, give me a kiss or anything when you left this morning!"
"You were asleep, I couldn't wake you up - not when you lay awake for more than half the night." He smiled softly, relieved that - that was the issue. He was afraid he had messed up somehow without knowing or meaning to. He sighed with his smile still evident. "I don't even think it's possible for me to stop loving you."
You sniffling was muffled as he held you firmly against his chest, refusing to let you go.
"My sweet girl, why would you ever doubt my love for you? Do I not give you every second of my being - devoting it to you solely?" He continued as you just silently began thinking it over, sniffling every once in awhile.
"You're making me feel foolish." You admitted.
"You are not foolish, you have every right to be upset - I should have spoken to you before I left in the morning. And for that, I apologize. Will you forgive me?"
"Only if you say the words you did not say this morning."
He chuckled. "As you wish, love. I love you." He paused, placing a kiss on your cheek."I love you-" Kiss "I love you." Kiss "I love you." Kiss "I love you." His smile only deepened as you let out a stream of giggles, a wide smile now replacing your frown.
"Is that enough for you, my love?" He questioned, holding your face in his hands.
"Maybe once or twice more." You falsely looked as if you were truly debating it.
He attacked your face with kisses before uttering one last, "I love you."
Sure, it was foolish to get upset over trivial things as such but he would never deny you anything. He would be certain to say what he feels for you to ensure your happiness. A very simple girl with a very in love man doesn't seem so bad at the end of the day.
"I suppose I love you too even after the stunt you pulled this morning."
Rivendell greeted them with the coolness of waterfalls, healing silence, and the scent of blossoming trees. After the frantic ride through the wastes, fleeing from howling Wargs and ruthless Orcs, the Last Homely House felt like a dream come true.
For Thorin Oakenshield’s company, the past few weeks had blurred into one endless cycle of mud, sweat, blood, and road dust. And Y/N had shared every hardship equally. The dwarves had long grown accustomed to seeing her in an oversized man’s shirt, coarse trousers, and worn-out boots. Her hair was always hidden beneath a traveling hood, and her cheeks and nose were invariably smudged with soot or dried mud. She was a master at building fires, argued with the dwarves over stew portions, and never complained when forced to sleep on bare stone. In truth, amidst the chaos of survival, they had almost forgotten that a woman was traveling among them.
Only occasionally would the little Hobbit gallantly offer scraps of cloth, sourced from heaven knows where, so the girl could clean her face even a little. Y/N remembered that first awkward moment when Bilbo, looking embarrassed, handed her a clean piece of fabric to wipe her face after a downpour. Y/N had accepted it with surprise and wiped her face with relief. But when she pulled the cloth away, she curled her lip in disgust, noticing Bilbo wearing the exact same expression.
"I think I won't be giving this back to you," the girl cleared her throat, staring at the mixture of mud, sweat, and blood on the fabric. Bilbo nodded enthusiastically in agreement.
The dwarves had already visited the local fountain to wash, scrub their beards, and change into clean, albeit simple, tunics. They gathered on one of the open terraces awaiting dinner, loudly discussing Elven food as they fastidiously picked through salad leaves in bowls. Hardly anyone noticed Elrond smiling contentedly. Though a noble Elf, he took a certain pleasure in annoying dwarves.
"Where is Y/N?" Ori inquired, looking around the magnificent hall, his eyes scanning the table where Elrond, Gandalf, and Thorin sat.
"Some Elven maids led her away first," Fili grunted, popping a tomato into his mouth.
Their conversation died instantly when a beautiful lady appeared in the doorway. She stepped onto the terrace with confidence, seemingly oblivious to the pack of dwarves. There was something special about her; she was markedly different from the Elves, and that was exactly what commanded attention.
Dvalin froze, his wine cup hovering mid-air. Fili and Kili’s mouths hung open simultaneously, and Bofur dropped his favorite pipe.
Only by looking closer did they recognize Y/N’s features. The Elven maidens who had taken her under their wing had performed a miracle. The road grime was gone, replaced by glowing, clear skin. Her hair, freed from coarse knots, fell in soft waves over her shoulders, adorned with thin silver threads. But the greatest shock was the dress. Weightless, flowing silk the color of moonlight and young foliage draped softly over her figure, emphasizing her waist and the graceful line of her shoulders.
Y/N nervously adjusted a long sleeve, embarrassed by the intense, ringing silence of her companions.
"What?" she asked hesitantly, her voice sounding unusually soft. "I look silly, don't I? I told them I needed my old jacket..."
"Silly?" Kili breathed, the first to regain his speech. He stepped closer, as if afraid the vision might vanish. "Y/N, by Mahal’s beard... we simply forgot."
"Forgot what?" she frowned.
"That you’re a girl," Fili blurted out honestly, earning a sharp elbow to the ribs from Dwalin.
"You look stunning, lassie," Balin smiled warmly, rising to bow to her. "But, truth be told, we truly aren't used to seeing you... like this."
"Though these Elvish rags are far too thin," Dori grumbled, eyeing the fabric as if it were no stronger than a spiderweb. "It’s pretty, I won’t deny it, but is this clothing for such a brave maiden? No warmth, no dignity!"
"Right you are!" Gloin chimed in, slamming his fist on the table. "When we reclaim Erebor, Y/N, we shall sew you a proper dwarven gown! Made of heavy ruby velvet, embroidered with gold thread along the hem and sleeves!"
"And with patterns!" Bofur added, giving her a cheerful wink. "Believe me, in dwarven attire, you’ll look much better than in these Elven petals. No drafts, and fabric thick enough to stop an arrow! We promise you that!"
Y/N laughed—sincere and bright—and the sound made Thorin Oakenshield, sitting at the other table, take a deeper breath of the Rivendell air.
The King-in-Exile had not uttered a word since her appearance. His piercing blue eyes followed her every move. Thorin felt something heavy and hot stir within him. He, too, had forgotten. He had forgotten how fragile and beautiful she could be, because every day he had seen only a brave brother-in-arms, ready to charge an Orc with a dagger.
But now...
Thorin listened in silence to the chatter of his kin, but his thoughts drifted far beyond promises of velvet dresses. He looked at her exposed neck, her slender wrists, and thought that Elven silk was indeed too pale for her. She needed deep, rich colors to complement the glow of her skin.
And jewelry.
His mind was already painting pictures that made his heart beat faster. Elven silver does not suit her, Thorin thought possessively. She needs the gold of Erebor. Massive, warm gold woven by master smiths. A heavy necklace of sapphires to reflect the starlight, mithril bracelets, rings set with deep emeralds. He would shower her with the treasures of the Mountain once they reclaimed their home. She deserved to wear treasures pulled from the very heart of the earth, for her spirit was harder and brighter than any diamond.
Thorin’s gaze flickered to her loose hair, and another thought flashed through his mind, causing his hands to grip the armrests of his chair tightly.
A crown.
Not just a circlet. The crown of the Queen of the Lonely Mountain.
He imagined that crown upon her head—a circlet woven of starlight and red gold, unworn for generations. Thorin pictured her walking beside him through the vast halls of Erebor, in a velvet gown, chiming with gold, wearing a crown that proclaimed her power and his absolute devotion.
At that moment, Y/N turned her head and met Thorin’s gaze. The laughter on her lips faded slightly, replaced by a soft, hitched breath. In the eyes of the King Under the Mountain burned a flame so dark, ancient, and possessive that shivers ran down her spine—shivers that had nothing to do with the cool wind of Rivendell.
Thorin slowly inclined his head in a slight, dignified half-bow, never breaking eye contact. He said nothing aloud. But in his gaze was an unbreakable dwarven promise: “Wait until we reclaim the Mountain. And you will see how a Queen is truly meant to look.”
characters included- Aragorn, Kili, Fili, Thorin, Boromir, Faramir, and Legolas
y'all, I went overboard, I had wayyy to much time on my hands after work so here's 7 characters (my fingers are cramped now, worth it though :) )
Aragorn-
Aragorn is deeply perceptive — quiet, but emotionally intelligent. He notices things long before you voice them.
One evening, you’re sitting together by the fire in the quiet of Rivendell, and your silence stretches just a little too long. Your gaze flicks to his tall frame, the way he moves with natural grace, even with the weight of destiny on his shoulders and then to your own hands, small and fidgeting. You feel it surge: the ache that you're not enough, not fitting, not worthy.
He shifts closer.
“You think I do not see you,” he says gently, dragging out his next words. “But I do. More than you know.”
You try to brush it off with a laugh, but he takes your hand and presses it to his heart.
“There is strength in you that no sword could match. If you have learned to believe you are lesser because the world has not learned to see you clearly, then let my eyes be enough - for now.”
He doesn’t offer empty reassurance. Aragorn offers loyalty, steadiness. He loves you for the depth of your mind, your differences, the resilience in your smallest gestures. And he reminds you with his actions, again and again.
Kili-
Kíli notices something’s off when you flinch away from his teasing.
He’s sprawled on the ground after a sparring match, laughing, trying to tug you down beside him yet you hesitate. He sees your eyes dart to your body with a scrutinizing glare, hears the sharp edge to your voice when you mutter, “Maybe you’d be better off with someone more like you.”
Silence.
Kíli's expression drops. He gets up, brushes off his knees, and stands very, very still.
“Is that what you think?” he asks softly.
When you nod, he wraps his arms around you, lifting you slightly off the ground until you can’t ignore the closeness, the affection.
“I don’t want someone like me,” he murmurs into your hair. “I want you. I love how your mind works, even if it runs a thousand miles a minute. I love how you stand beside me even when you’re scared. And I love this”—he touches your nose to his— “shortness. It means I can protect you and kiss the top of your head.”
He makes you laugh even when you’re crying. That’s Kíli’s magic. He loves deeply, earnestly, and without a single condition.
Fili-
Fíli is more reserved than Kili. Thoughtful, a bit more poised, but when you start withdrawing, he notices.
You’re quieter lately, dodging his compliments, brushing off his touch. One evening the tension draws to an edge and he corners you, gently-firmly, when you're both tending your weapons.
“You think you’re not good enough for me,” he says bluntly. “Why?”
You shrug, eyes lowered. “I just… I don’t always understand people right. I forget things. I talk too much, or not enough. I’m not a warrior, or royal—”
Fíli crouches before you, his golden braids brushing your knees. He takes your hands in his calloused ones.
“Royalty doesn’t make someone worthy of love,” he says. “Kindness does. Courage does. Being honest, even when it’s hard - that is what I admire.”
He places your hand over his chest. “You are exactly who I want beside me. Never let old titles or foolish voices tell you otherwise.”
Thorin-
Thorin’s love is fierce, protective — and hard-won.
So when you flinch at a council meeting, too aware of your place beside him, too small, too unsure, too unlike the rest of the proud, battle-scarred dwarves yet Thorin sees it.
Later, in the quiet of your chambers, he places his crown aside and sits next to you.
“I do not want a queen carved in stone,” he starts. “I do not need perfection.”
You try to explain the ways your mind doesn’t always process things easily, the moments when you shut down, the way his legacy feels like a mountain beside your self-doubt.
Thorin doesn’t interrupt.
And then, he says softly, “I know what it is to feel unworthy. I have stood in the halls of my ancestors and doubted my right to even breathe.”
He cups your face with rough hands. “But you give me peace. When the world is too loud, you are the quiet I reach for. When I forget myself, it is your voice I remember.”
He kisses your forehead with reverence. “You are not lesser. You are my balance. My heart. And you deserve love not in spite of who you are, but because of it.”
Boromir-
He doesn’t take it well. Not because he’s angry at you, but because it hurts him to see you carrying that weight.
The moment the words come out “I’m not what people expect when they see you. You could do so much better than someone like me”-Boromir turns with a look like someone had knocked the wind out of him.
He sits beside you without a word, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, and pulls you firmly against him.
“Do you think I care what people expect?” he says eventually, voice rough. “My whole life, I’ve tried to live up to what others thought I should be. And none of that brought me peace. But you? You bring me peace.”
He gently taps your temple with two fingers. “Whatever storms you carry in here, you don’t face them alone. Not anymore.”
He kisses your temple and holds you like he’s shielding you from the world.
Faramir-
He notices before you say a word. The way your shoulders curl in slightly around others. How you hesitate to speak in front of the council. How you apologize for being “too much” and “not enough” in the same breath.
When you finally break and whisper, “I don’t know how someone like you could love someone like me,” Faramir doesn’t speak for a long moment. Instead, he cups your face with both hands and leans in, resting his forehead against yours.
“Do you know,” he whispers, “I used to believe I was unworthy of love too?”
You blink, surprised, but he continues softly. “I grew up in the shadow of others- measured and doubted, Then I met you. And you never asked me to be anything but myself.”
He pulls you into a gentle embrace, voice barely above a breath.
“You see the world in your own way. And it's why I love you. Not in spite of who you are, but because of it.” he continues to hold you with a weeping gentleness as you work through this now, together.
Legolas-
When you tell him- eyes cast downward and voice cracking, that you feel out of place beside him, he doesn’t laugh, doesn’t offer surface-level reassurances.
He simply kneels in front of you, lowering himself until he has to look up at you.
“You speak as if love is earned through perfection,” he says quietly. “But I am not flawless. I have doubts. I have fears. And I am not untouched by time, though mime nostale seem so.”
He reaches up, brushing your cheek with a feather-light touch.
“I chose you not for how the world sees you, but for how you see the world. You remind me that there is softness even in pain. Beauty in difference.”
He offers a rare, gentle smile. “And I quite enjoy looking down only because it means I can look at you.”
Then, leaning forward, he whispers, “You do not need to reach my height. You already reach my heart.”
Thorin with his dragon sickness, but it's not the gold and jewels he's hoarding...
It's you.
You've heard of the dwarven protectivness and intensity with which they care for their One, but everyone looks a little worried over Thorin's behavior. It isn't normal. Even by dwarven standards.
You aren't allowed to be out of his sight. He keeps you less than a hand width away at all times, guarding you with sharp eyes and an even sharper tongue.
His jealousy even gets to the point you're just kept locked away in his room because he simply can't stand the idea of another being looking at you.
He worships you though. Truly. Completely. Especially when the two of you are alone at night. He's obsessed. Possessed even.
But he won't hear it.
Nothing will come between the King Under the Mountain and his Treasure
[The Hobbit characters + your wedding celebration]
a/n: shoutout to a big brained anon for requesting this - i had fun with it, as i haven't written these characters in a while! hope you have fun reading it and remember: reblogs+comments+nice asks feed & motivate the author 💕
summary: gn!reader, no [y/n], mentions of drinking, just silly fluff! i did the characters that inspire me so sorry if your fav's not here.
disclaimer!! no use of AI in my writing, ever.
༊ THRANDUIL
big royal wedding, a larger than life event which happens somewhere outdoors amongst the trees, beautiful and light
firstly, it is incredibly aesthetically elaborate and decorated; as well as quite ceremonial and lengthy, fitting for a very important royal couple
but most of all it is incredibly romantic, all things considered
the way he looks at you is just beyond. so much love.
his vows are very long and detailed and flowery, making you tear up, you swear you almost see a tear in his eyes too.
to say that you had the best of the best would be an understatement.
elves and highly esteemed guests come from all over.
it lasts long, both the ceremony and the party.
let me just say the drinks are STRONG AND GOOD. high chance of things getting out of hand eventually.
maybe it’s a custom or something, but you got lavished in gifts prior to the wedding.
it’s the stuff of legend all around elven kingdoms because it was such a momentous, perfect day.
he definitely toasts to you, waxing poetic, and everyone must be subjected to listening bc they don’t really have a choice mwahahah
؛༊ THORIN
dwarves take their big life events seriously.
it’s elaborate and ceremonious, quite serious during the formal portion of the event, but the party afterwards is an absolute blast.
it’s also a royal wedding which means it lasts longer than the usual ones and everything is so rich and elaborate
your ring is astonishing, as well as the finest jewelry handmade just for you and Thorin for this particular occasion.
he’s taking it so seriously and he was also very involved with the planning and fine-tuning.
the food is AWESOME and the drinks are abundant.
does he get slightly tipsy and carried away afterwards, when the most important parts are done and he can relax and enjoy the fact that you are together forever <3 maybe.
definitely holds a speech in your honor, making your face heat up profusely.
and a toast also. or multiple.
he will kiss you deeply multiple times throughout the night even though he usually keeps the PDA lowkey and is respectful but ITS HIS WEDDING HE MAKES THE RULES!
؛༊ BILBO
you know his birthday party, that iconic one? before that, there was this very special party!
the whole Hobbiton is buzzing and so many people are borderline meddlesome, and so curious about the fact that their strangest of neighbors is getting locked down 👀
Gandalf is obviously a special guest too, but alas, news of a good party travels far and wide so there’s a high chance of some dwarf friends showing up bearing finest gifts for the happy couple (and the gifts are very fine indeed, intricately crafted jewelry worth a small fortune, inspiring even more curious whispers all around)
Bilbo is STRESSING sooo much about everything, it would be endearing if he wasn’t stressing you out by proxy – he just wants you to have the most pleasant day! every now and then you need to calm him down as you get further into planning, but alas, he survives
there’s fireworks! in all your favorite colors
he stumbles over his words slightly during the ceremony but he can’t help it, he is just overcome by how much he loves you and that you’re actually getting married!
the party lasts until dawn basically; whoever survives, survives.
he’s not one for much dancing in front of hundreds of guests, but he’s obliged to take you for a spin at least a couple times (and show you off a bit, he’s allowed to be sweetly possesive).
not removing his hands off of you for a single second – you’re his now, and also stunning, and why should he not be all over you, especially on this day?
a billion kisses and maybe even a small makeout session or two when he thinks nobody’s watching (except the nosy relatives who gasp, but they won’t remember much in the morning anyway…)
؛༊ FÍLI
the most romantic little affair ever.
as much as he was pushed to make it a big royal thing, he managed, with his charming stubbornness, to talk his uncle and brother into making it at least a medium-sized event, as per your wishes and comfort.
as much as he is involved with planning the whole thing by your side, his main priority is that you get everything you want, whether it’s a flower that is completely out of season, or a cake flavoring that can be found only three kingdoms away, he will pull out all the stops to make you feel like absolute royalty. to him, it’s in a way also proving that he will be an amazing, dependable husband
before the chaos of the day, you two ditch the traditions and actually get ready for it together, and of course, wedding braids are a must.
it’s very intimate and sweet, calming both of your nerves prior to the grand event.
the only downside is that now you have to wait to extend those sweet moments into something more, but you will definitely be sneaking off here and there to indulge in each other just a bit before the end of the party.
he will not leave your side for a single second all throughout the day, he is all but glowing with pride and joy with having found his one person for life, and making it official in front of those who matter to the two of you
one of the sweetest parts of the day was when the two of you shared the first dance as a married couple – he held you as close as possible and you will never forget the shimmering look in his blue eyes
؛༊ KÍLI
well the two of you crazy kids were feeling particularly adventurous and enamored that you straight up ended up eloping – when he was in love, that was it, and waiting and organizing something for months in advance wasn’t really up his alley; as long as you wouldn’t feel like you’re missing out on something.
he writes his vows in the form of a letter to you, as do you to him, and you read them out to each other somewhere beautiful, preferably during sunset or some romantic time like that.
there are definitely some wholesome and happy tears involved, but it’s certainly the perfect occasion for those!
naturally, you put each other’s hair into intricate braids, with the utmost love and care
you know what’s amazing?? there is nobody else around which means you can kiss each other to your hearts’ content!
when you return home as a very MARRIED couple, there is definitely a bit of commotion and surprise, but also… he’s a mischievous romantic, so at least his brother wouldn’t have been all too shocked
maybe you get talked into at least hosting a big dinner for the closest family and friends
he can only avoid his uncle’s insistence so much…
but it doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things – you had gotten what you’d originally wanted anyway, so you might indulge those closest to you and let them partake in celebrating your love story
this dwarf is absolutely smitten with you and it’s evident on his face 24/7, he is just so elated at the thought of spending the rest of your lives together!!
my most beloved taglist @emmathefanficgal @sweetheartrosesz @bakingintheshire @stars-n-spirals
