“ In the reign of my grandfather King Thrór it was not so. We were held in high respect for our crafts and advancements. We were recognized for our contributions and achievements.” Dís gestures in short bursts here and there, her fingers still busy readying supplies to fletch more arrows. “Once men held us in awe.”
Watching her fingers nimbly move you sigh, “some of us still do.”
Her eyes narrow upon your’s, as if reading your mind she leans closer. Dís' dark lashes flutter, sending her blue eyes shimmering beneath the afternoon sun like a water surface reflecting the flight of swallows. Beguiling and constantly alive with change. "You want a kiss, dont you?” She inquires, her voice dropping to a sensually husky tone.
Angling in you nod, unable to look away now that she has on Other Business First Dís voice. “You know me so well.” since your night of love making the sporadic kisses youve shared have been recorded in a sacred place in your mind.
She moves closer and youre just about to close your eyes and taste her again when her finger lands over your lips. “Earn it,” Dís huskily murmurs. Her smile confident. Her eyes calculating.
And you? You were so wet seeing her sharp eyes focusing solely on your lips. But you nod. “And how may I serve you, my lady?”
She regards you a moment before her smile turns wicked with mischief."Fetch me water?”
Taking her water skin you nod again, rising to your feet. As you pass she gently slaps your ass, smiling broadly when you barely stifle a yelp.
The lack of delphinium brandybuck content is so lame. So im writing some fics for her including delphinium x nefi and im wondering if anyone has any shipname ideas for them?
In the time since there hasn't been a new Sigriel Week, I ended up joining this fandom, and fell in love with this pairing. Is there any chance there will be a new Sigriel Week one day?
No worries if not, just thought I would ask.
Either way, so excited to see you reblogging art for them! Thank you! 💛
Hi there! Thank you for the ask - it's always a delight to find more people who ship these two!
I've (mod @nocompromise-noregrets / likethenight on AO3) been a bit burnt out on Tolkien fandom the last couple of years and have been taking a break to focus on my original fiction, but I do still love the girls very much, and wouldn't be opposed to running another event, although I probably wouldn't have the energy to actually write anything for it.
Actually, what the hell, let's do an interest check!
Who's up for another Sigriel Week?
Me!
Not me!
Maybe me, it depends!
Voting ended onJun 26
And a shoutout to @myeaglesongwrites for reblogging a bunch of Sigriel art earlier this week which I just could not resist stuffing into the queue on this blog! Any of you out there creating Sigriel stuff, do feel free to tag this blog any time and I'll gladly reblog your posts - I am always delighted to find other occupants for this tiny canoe of a ship! <33333333
Well, that looks like a fairly good number of votes in favour of another Sigriel Week! So... when should it be?
Options for date of Sigriel Week 2026
21-27 September (to mark Thorin & Co arriving in Lake-town on the 22nd)
28 September-4 October (to mark Smaug's attack on the 1st)
5-11 October (to mark the Battle of the Five Armies on the 10th)
Other dates (tell me which ones and why!)
Voting ended onJul 3
We have three significant dates, if we assume that the movies follow the same calendar as the books (dates taken from the timeline on the LOTR Project website here): Thorin and the Company showing up in Lake-town and upending the lives of Bard and the Bardlings on the 22nd, Smaug attacking and Tauriel and Sigrid first meeting on the 1st, and the Battle of the Five Armies on the 10th. Or maybe there's another one you'd rather - just let me know!
And if anyone would like to make a banner or some graphics, or has ideas for prompts, please give me a shout.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Sigrid/Tauriel (Hobbit Movies)
Characters: Sigrid (Hobbit Movies), Tauriel (Hobbit Movies)
Additional Tags: POV Sigrid (Hobbit movies), POV Female Character, Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Tenderness, Hair Braiding, Introspection, Elf/Human Relationship(s), Established Relationship, Spring
Summary:
Thirteen years after the Battle of the Five Armies, Sigrid enjoys a moment in the beginning of her love story with Tauriel, where more than just the flowers around them are flourishing.
In the time since there hasn't been a new Sigriel Week, I ended up joining this fandom, and fell in love with this pairing. Is there any chance there will be a new Sigriel Week one day?
No worries if not, just thought I would ask.
Either way, so excited to see you reblogging art for them! Thank you! 💛
Hi there! Thank you for the ask - it's always a delight to find more people who ship these two!
I've (mod @nocompromise-noregrets / likethenight on AO3) been a bit burnt out on Tolkien fandom the last couple of years and have been taking a break to focus on my original fiction, but I do still love the girls very much, and wouldn't be opposed to running another event, although I probably wouldn't have the energy to actually write anything for it.
Actually, what the hell, let's do an interest check!
Who's up for another Sigriel Week?
Me!
Not me!
Maybe me, it depends!
Voting ended onJun 26
And a shoutout to @myeaglesongwrites for reblogging a bunch of Sigriel art earlier this week which I just could not resist stuffing into the queue on this blog! Any of you out there creating Sigriel stuff, do feel free to tag this blog any time and I'll gladly reblog your posts - I am always delighted to find other occupants for this tiny canoe of a ship! <33333333
AHHHHHHHHHHHH. I honestly didn't know if I would get a response, but this is so exciting and I tossed this interest check at multiple people, because I have been yammering on about some of the art I've seen from this blog to those who are interested.
Uh, I write a lot, and have Sigriel fics in my drafts that I would willingly withhold until a possible new event. Or post them and toss them at the event whenever it happens, because they deserve more fics! I haven't managed to read everything in their tag yet, but one day.
I'm a multi-shipper, and these two just... *flails*
ahhh YAY! Please do feel free to spread the word far and wide! :D :D :D
The way my executives function is that as a general rule, I manage to respond within either a) five business minutes or b) five business months (or occasionally c) not at all, oh god) but I am very pleased that this time they let me do a) XD (and thank you! <3333333 I came back to the fandom in 2020 after about 15 years away, spent five years writing like the devil himself was on my tail, and then realised early last year that I had no ideas left at all XD )
Last time the event was in early October to coincide with the fall of Lake-town and the Battle of Dale, so that might be a plan, and gives everyone a bit of time to sort themselves out (not least me!). I'm about to be consumed alive by Writers' Month, which takes a lot of my allotted spoons, and am in the throes of a) some Pride month fics and b) wrangling my four-novel series into submission, but what the hell. Let's see what happens with the poll! (but I'll start percolating some prompts...)
In the time since there hasn't been a new Sigriel Week, I ended up joining this fandom, and fell in love with this pairing. Is there any chance there will be a new Sigriel Week one day?
No worries if not, just thought I would ask.
Either way, so excited to see you reblogging art for them! Thank you! 💛
Hi there! Thank you for the ask - it's always a delight to find more people who ship these two!
I've (mod @nocompromise-noregrets / likethenight on AO3) been a bit burnt out on Tolkien fandom the last couple of years and have been taking a break to focus on my original fiction, but I do still love the girls very much, and wouldn't be opposed to running another event, although I probably wouldn't have the energy to actually write anything for it.
Actually, what the hell, let's do an interest check!
Who's up for another Sigriel Week?
Me!
Not me!
Maybe me, it depends!
Voting ended onJun 26
And a shoutout to @myeaglesongwrites for reblogging a bunch of Sigriel art earlier this week which I just could not resist stuffing into the queue on this blog! Any of you out there creating Sigriel stuff, do feel free to tag this blog any time and I'll gladly reblog your posts - I am always delighted to find other occupants for this tiny canoe of a ship! <33333333
AHHHHHHHHHHHH. I honestly didn't know if I would get a response, but this is so exciting and I tossed this interest check at multiple people, because I have been yammering on about some of the art I've seen from this blog to those who are interested.
Uh, I write a lot, and have Sigriel fics in my drafts that I would willingly withhold until a possible new event. Or post them and toss them at the event whenever it happens, because they deserve more fics! I haven't managed to read everything in their tag yet, but one day.
I'm a multi-shipper, and these two just... *flails*
ahhh YAY! Please do feel free to spread the word far and wide! :D :D :D
The way my executives function is that as a general rule, I manage to respond within either a) five business minutes or b) five business months (or occasionally c) not at all, oh god) but I am very pleased that this time they let me do a) XD (and thank you! <3333333 I came back to the fandom in 2020 after about 15 years away, spent five years writing like the devil himself was on my tail, and then realised early last year that I had no ideas left at all XD )
Last time the event was in early October to coincide with the fall of Lake-town and the Battle of Dale, so that might be a plan, and gives everyone a bit of time to sort themselves out (not least me!). I'm about to be consumed alive by Writers' Month, which takes a lot of my allotted spoons, and am in the throes of a) some Pride month fics and b) wrangling my four-novel series into submission, but what the hell. Let's see what happens with the poll! (but I'll start percolating some prompts...)
I (@arofili) am considering running a trans-themed Tolkien fandom fic exchange later this year, and I want to gauge the fandom's interest in
Hello, Tolkien Fandom!
I am considering running a trans-themed Tolkien fandom fic exchange later this year, and I want to gauge the fandom's interest in an event like this! Please give me your honest answers so I can figure out how best to run this :)
Additionally, if you are interested in ANY kind of trans-themed Tolkien event, even if you don't want to participate in a fic exchange style of event, I'd love it if you could take the survey anyway - I have some questions about different kinds of events you might prefer instead.
There are only two required questions, though I'd appreciate if you'd answer the optional ones as well.
You do not have to be trans yourself to take the survey! This event will be focused on trans characters, trans headcanons, and trans themes, but will not be exclusive to trans fans. Cis fans and folks who otherwise don't use the "trans" label are welcome to participate, so long as you are respectful and supportive of trans identities!
Anyone being transphobic regarding this event (or just in general) will be blocked. If this isn't your thing, you can take the survey and answer "no," or else just move on with your life.
Summary: Completing the 'nothing is gayer than the denial here' category and the 'Moss you have written 2 closet based things are you okay?' Category of Sapphic September.
Dwarrowdam oc (Drós) x f!reader
Summary: you and Drós??? Definitely not in love. Definitely not an item. Definitely not attracted to each other. Oh-hoo! No!! You have 'met' in the closet for months now. But are things EVER going to change? Or is it too risky 👀.
You.may never know. Drós is too busy taking care of you and helping you relax!
Smoot with plot. Have fun.
If I keep editing this I will never finish so it's Up take it and run.
Of note: I headcanons dwarves don't conform to human gender identities. But if they did Drós would identify as living within Trans experience. 🏳️⚧️
🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐
Entering the cramped room you slide boxes upon the shelf this way and that. Allowing the light to further illuminate the storage closet with lanterns' warm glow. Supplies tower above your head into the upper reaches glistening with cobwebs and untouched tools.
The latch thuds upon the closet door's inward swing, the mere sound pulls happiness from the depths of isolation. Delight fills you, a wave of warmth flooding you. Recognizing the way her footsteps fell and the speed at which the door swung.
It's her, you'd know her by any movement she made. By the pattern of her breaths. By her stance alone you would know her. Even among hundreds you would always recognize Drós.
Soft light catches upon her armor as she steps inside, cool metal brilliantly reflecting flame. Drawing your eyes along the surface. Until you find her narrowing gaze peering out and into the hallway towards the main hall.
You hear nothing, but she must with how she remains rigid, seconds turn to minutes. Just as you begin to take a seat upon a storage chest, she swings the door closed securing your rendezvous.
Smile growing, her helm rises and falls mirroring the breath in your lungs. Your breath hitches when her bare face turns to you. Just like the first time.
Fingers brushing you take the helm from her. Your eyes lingering together, melding and pooling with unspoken emotion. “There you are.” Your sweet murmur barely escapes without a muted laugh.
Running your fingers along the raised motif appreciatively your gaze drifts down to remain upon it. Escaping the torrential rush of longing which makes up the third member of these secret meetings. The heartache that doggedly pursued you home and kept you awake late into the evening.
“Here I am.” Her hand rises brushing stray strands along the back of your neck. Drós’ glove trails from your hair to your cheek. Tilting your face back to her. Silently her eyes graze you. Fondness relaxes her brow and softens her face.
The longing you suffer has infected her too. But she never speaks a word of it. Instead it remains in the ways she says your name. Like an insult. Like a hymn. Like a pest. But all with vexed adoration.
Biting your lip you twist away. Maneuvering the helm in your hands this way and that. Entranced by the finely crafted motif along it's front. Spiraling metal raises along the side in intricately laid patterns that your fingers adoringly trace.
The weight of it in your palms grounds you beneath the tidal wave of feeling. “You're trying to distract me with all your staring, Drós.” You scold, false annoyance and detachment issue in the biggest lie you've told that day.
So far. But the day was young and lying was a common bedfellow of self denial and yearning, isn't it?
Setting the helm reverently on the nearby shelf, your hand grazes the top in a tender pat. A silent prayer it may never see war, no more than she already had. You could barter for that, couldn't you? For every spoon you polish a silent prayer of safety fell. Filling every rub with thoughts of her and her armor.
You couldn't protect her the way you wanted but other ways still fell within your grasp. Mundane and tentative things.
Denial is a thing thin as a spoon handle and holds a reflective sheen polishing reality into a mirror. A mirror which reflected every desire when shown denial. Every hidden hope when despair was held before it. But reflecting back what others wished to see was the safest strategy. Denying you knew her the safest bet. Reflecting back on the world what was most appropriate, your words outside this room revealed nothing of her.
Drós laugh is a timbre down your spine pulling you from your worries. “I’m not staring at you to distract you.” Piping up she counters with ease, “rather, you were watching me.”
Scoffing your fingers untie your apron. Tossing the dirtied clothing upon the shelf where it falls obscuring the armor and pile of clean rags. “ If I was, it was because YOU were staring FIRST.”
Gesturing to herself, Drós scoffs incredulously despite the smile tugging at her beard. “Me?”
“Yes you. You and your eyes!” Fake venom hisses from your lips.
Leaning against the wall her eyes follow your every move with hawkish intensity.
Trouncing by you flip the latch on the door. Your secret meeting secured from any prying eyes. The latch sounding a curtain falling. Now veiled from the world outside the facades begin to crumble. Aging pillars unable to fight the call of the earth below. Gravity surrenders and stone collides with soil.
Hands catching upon her waist you stand before her. Observing the minute changes in her expression. Sampling her emotions changing with your fingers expanding upon her gear. Regrettably unable to feel her. But it was close enough. “You.” The word repeats a tint of desire overshadowing faux annoyance.
Her.
We.
Us.
Ugh!
“You were watching me. “ Drós instigates, “ I was doing my job. Which includes,” her voice trails off thoughtfully as she searches the ceiling for the answer.
You're about to make a remark when her snapping fingers interrupt you.
“Oh! That's right! Watching. My job includes watching things,” her hands grasp your waist. “Watching places.” Squeezing her fingers there, her eyes burrow into yours meaningfully. Brows arching high before she tugs you flush against her with a low whisper, “watching people.”
Immediately your heart pounds louder in your ears. Hands perching on her chest. “Oh Drós.” Your fingers drum against the metal, devouring her with your eyes alone. “Oh Drós, NOW you ARE distracting me.”
“Mmm am I?” Ducking closer her lips whisper against yours. “Or am I watching a threat?”
Smiling with every breath that fans over your lips your eyes hood with lust. Tone dipping duskily. “Oh yes? I am so dangerous?” Chasing her lips you let out a huff when she pulls away. Your droll disappointed stare pins her back to the wall, lip pouting out. Arms crossing you grouse disappointedly, “running again? You wound me.”
“You have no idea how dangerous you are to my job.” She grouses her hands skimming your side until she begins groping your ass thoroughly through your clothing. “And somehow? Somehow I doubt your wound.” She murmurs nuzzling now against your cheek with her nose, “have I told you how soft and cute you are?”
“ You have now.” Your giggle floods your chest while her nose presses and rubs. Hooking your finger at the seam by her neck you grin at her. Tugging it beckoning her again closer still. “Look at you, all dressed up for me?” Fingers playing with the smooth pieces’ ridged design, your eyes languidly traverse her relaxing features. “Am I ever to see you out of this? Or are you soldered into it?” Playfully you tug again with all your might, it of course doesn't, doesn't budge her.
A smile pulls along Drós’ lips, “mmm too soon to tell.” Her low laughter floods you with excitement. Anticipation rising in your chest so much higher and faster than before. Now that you had your hands on her there was no letting go. Your eyes only part from hers to peer at her hands. Watching their trailing path over your hair and down to your shoulders. Every passing second brings softness to her gaze.
Finally her gloved hands grip your uniform top where they give it a gentle tug. Careful not to rip it. “What about you? Sewn into this?”
“Sewn solid into it. Can't leave it I'm afraid.” You grouse mockingly, lip pouting with a mournful shake of the head. Leaning fully against her your fingers rap harder upon the chest piece, biting your lip at the soft sound your knuckle creates striking metal.
Drós’ fingers glide down your arm squeezing affectionately while she tsks and sighs. “Horrible.” Her eyes sweep back up to your hair, a wavering expression crossing her face.
Immediately you recognize the devious look filling her gaze. “Don't you dare,” warningly your eyes tighten. Your tone drops in a whisper.
Flitting between your eyes and hair, Drós' eyes grow brighter. Until her mouth fully quirks into that familiar mischievous smile.
“Drós.” Your nose wrinkles the moment her fingers perch upon a pin. “Don't do it.”
Her head tilts, amusement sparking particularly at your attempts at intimidation. It doesn't sway her. She has faced far more terrifying things than you. Scars you have witnessed upon her skin were proof of that. Not even a withering glare stops Drós’ hand sinking into/onto your hair above the pin.
Arms crossing you hiss at her “don't do it.” Voice dropping an octave your stare nettles against hers, “Drós. Don't-”
Its useless, she's already pulling out every pin as the words leave your mouth. Slipping off the band sending it loose.
Head tilting back you shake out the last remaining vestiges of your mandated hair style. “Monster, that took me forever.” You snarl, irked you'd have to find the nearest mirror and re do the thing.
Running her fingers through/over it she shrugs, “unsure why. The style is simple enough.” With each tantalizing brush of her hand came a spark of flame in your core. Drós claimed you were dangerous. You would beg to differ.
Frown faltering back to a smile you melt. Stimulating shivers trace down your body with every twist of her finger and every graze along your scalp. Loving how her touch alone sends electrical pulses down your spine.
“I will put it back in better than it was.” A wink sails from her bright eyes, “don't worry.” She always put it back. Everytime. Her fingers dance and tease adoringly; playing with your hair here and rubbing tresses there.
”Better? Don't be so smug.”Eyes sliding closed with every inciting scrape of hardened gloves you lean against her. Hands upon her shoulders closing the distance between you. Admiring her striking face in the candle light.
Mesmerized by the faint glow in her eyes. Her inviting lips part ever so slightly, pulling you nearer. Hovering over her lips, mimicking her accent, “the style is simple enough.”
The repeated phrase breaks the smile wider, which only grows with scathing commentary. “That impression was horrendous.”
“Whats horrendous is your conduct. You disrobed a member of the lord's manor. How scandalous.” Recognizing her parting lips and her soft sigh your eyes darken with desire upon hers. Preying on her fascination with you was so easy nowadays. Nonchalantly you inform with a chiding tone, “ incredibly improper for a member of the royal guard.” Tsking her you gravely shake your head. “What will YOUR lord say?”
Chuckling low, Drós’ head shakes back, “what will he say?” Fingers trailing tenderly along your cheek, playfully rubbing with the back of her fingers “He won't say a thing for he mustn't know.” She imparts, now leaning to rub her nose against yours, “we must be quiet.”
Nuzzling back your hands stroke her carefully styled beard, endearingly running the beads between your fingers. Cold metal. All matching. Nestled among the braids like bird eggs inside a hedgerow. Your eyes lock upon hers. Breath mingling; sacred and soft. “You know best how to shut me up. Don't you?” You murmur breathily, daring her to move.
Brow arching her eyes lace with lust. Forbidden lust. For softness. For sweetness. For this short tender time. For unlistable unmentionable things you both would do if you could. If time allowed.
Catching your chin in her hand, her brow arches. “Oh, Aye I do.” Tone dropping deeper and softer. Bright eyes trailing slowly down to your lips where they remain glued. Her tongue gleams out licking her own lips. “You know best how to occupy my time.”
The hesitation you share,merely gazing upon the other is reminiscent of older times.
Times when you didnt know who she was. The confusion when one Dwarf somehow stuck out. The frustration when this particular one caught your attention. Questioning yourself how to catch HER attention.
The same was true for her. You were a stranger she couldn't break free of. A presence she couldn't ignore nor shake off after departing the keep.
Both of you circled with uncertainty at the table in your hearts. Pacing to and fro from dusk until dawn. Hands wringing or clasping. Chasing question after question. Thought after thought. Uncertain closing the distance would be worth the heart ache. The loss.
Unsure if it would be a worthy risk when such a love was questionable if not outright forbidden. Between servant and guard. Between man and dwarf.
But you were bidden to attend to the guards. She was bidden to watch the halls. Your collision was inevitable. But you had needed a bit of help.
Chuckling softly you lean against her hand, eyes flitting closed. “Remember when your sister shoved you in here? The first time?”
Groaning her face heats at the memory. Drós sister was entirely to blame for this. “Yes, yes I do recall that.” Drós laments, face heating, “how embarrassing! I shudder to think about it.” Your fond chuckle draws her eyes back to you, her hand cups your chin. Voice dropping meaningfully her thumb begins running along your lip. Drós’ mellow tone imparts a truthful rumor. “ She still believes we are in love.”
As if she wasn't thinking about kissing you! As if she didn't love you.
She was a horrendous liar!
But then again, so were you.
Rolling your eyes at the very thought you laugh. “Love? Hm!” Huffing over her finger you notice the flash of emotion in her gaze. It strikes a match to flame. “What would you say to that?”
“Mm I would say,” she drags out the last part. Brow furrowing for a moment as she studies your face. Her thumb rubbing harder against your lip.” I would say she must have suffered a head injury when she fell off that goat in our youth.”
Catching her wrist you turn and place a kiss along her gloved palm. “I agree. A head injury.”
The room fills with laughter.
“Ssshh! Be quiet Drós!” Scoldingly you slap her chest piece where it thuds harmlessly.
Sputtering, she straightens, prodding her finger upon your lips. “You shush!”
“You!”
You were drawn together like this. Like hematite stone. Magnetized. Charged.
An energy that couldn't be denied.
Laughter fades and again both your hands trail and explore each other's faces. Savoring every plane and surface your fingers land upon. Basking in her presence, only wishing your heart didn't beat so very loud.
“Come sit on my lap, let me see you for the rest of the time we have.” She would have to leave and return to her duty. If the pair of you was caught? There would be worse consequences for you than either of you cared to discuss.
But it passes silently with every gaze you are not alone. Every guarded interaction outside of here is cold and calculated. This must never be uncovered. Its depths never touched even by the two of you.
Unless you were tempted to take things further. A minnow that nibbles your toes in the bath water whenever your thoughts wander too deep.
Tugging you along by your hand she leads you towards the back of the storage closet. Sitting on the nearest storage chest, pulling you over with ease. Her fingers latch upon your hips guiding you between her knees. Sighing wistfully you share a stare meant for the sun and moon.
Her stare alone lit constellations in your heart. She brought the stars and you hung them in the sky. Combined your hands cast them down. Shinning bright hopeful things cascading to earth where they bud beneath the ground. Seeding hints of love burning once in the sky, now burrow below soil. Clusters of quartz emerge. The truth encapsulated within their panes, capturing each memory you build.
Her adoring eyes tided you over during the draught of her voice. Rationing every acknowledgement for isolation's cold grasp. Every kiss or touch a sacred moment filed on paper, clenched between the pages for your heart alone to unfold.
It wasnt magic or fate that kept you both circling. It was choice. It was persistence. No, loving without saying like this was intentional. Prolonging it means a sacrifice of the usual confessions and conventions for each of you. But each moment improvised proved worth it.
”I missed hearing your voice. You're such a refreshment to the senses.” Sighing wistfully your fingers graze her cheek, “but, when do I get to touch you? Without all of this handsome fashion? Hm?” Straddling her waist you adjust against her gear. Another barrier reminding the pair of you where you were. What could and couldn't happen. How you should and shouldn't happen.
The forbidden implications made you want her more.
She wasn't exactly shying away either.
Her eyes shine back with promise and hope. You could fall into them and never emerge. Her hands push up your clothes along your legs. Gloves skimming up and down their length. “Perhaps some day when I get to see you outside of here?”
Appreciatively her eyes trail down your body then back upwards, pupils dilating sharply. Adoring the natural beauty your body held, in all its facets and form. Soaking in every unique detail and mark life had given you. Your name falls in askance heavily from her lips. “But, I think you're forgetting something.” Her laughter comes smokey and low, “where is my kiss?”
Pouting your fingers trail through her hair, appreciatively twirling tresse after tresse. Mind preoccupied. With where? Where would you meet? Her admiring rubs along your leg threatens to distract you completely.
But there was a minnow before you. Surrendering to temptation you cast your net into fate's glassy surface. Your mind churns and simmers on the promise of seeing her without boundaries. Without barriers. Without armor. Inside the fog of lust forming within your mind a wooden structure emerges. It's accommodations and proximity from both places all the more reason to escalate a hidden tryst.
“Theres an inn outside of town. Hissing Fiddle. How about there?” Intentionally your lips ghost hers, twisting away before you make contact. The net has sunken beneath the surface and now it was up to the minnow to wander in.
All to provoke her frustrated sigh. Your eyes scour her face, throwing bait onto gleaming water. Soothing. Coaxing. Seducing. “Next week?”
A hum rumbles her chest at the invitation. Large hands pause trailing your legs to rest upon your hips. “Are you seducing me? ” She teases huskily. Still chasing your lips until she gives up. Kissing along your cheek. She doesn't take the bait. Not how you wanted. But distance was necessary.
Ugh!!
Your heart pounds every time she presses forward peppering you with kisses. Stomach twisting deliciously with excitement and anticipation.
“Mmm no. But I can.” Leaning in your tongue trails a hot path along her rounded ear. Flipping her piercings back and forth with your tongue. Her body freezes beneath you, from past experience you know she's growing wet and hard. Shifting up your tongue alternates between licking slowly and flicking the cold metal.
Your hot trailing marks do the trick, a shudder shakes her broad shoulders with every tracing lathe. “Hows this for seduction?” You giggle with a puff of air over her wet skin, sending her quaking. “Who knew you were so sensitive?”
Each nip and lick along her ear sends her shaking. Sucking the soft skin below and behind sends your guard biting back frail moans. Her hands sink down clutching your ass tightly. Rubbing with her palms, massaging and playing with voluptuous flesh. She's spent many stolen minutes in just this predicament, so much so you each fall into your routine of touches and libations. “You're adorable.”
“You're the only one who I want to hear those words from.” You hush against her ear. Body heating with every grope of her large hands. “Bring those lips back here. I'm feeling greedy.”
Growling upon her tongue you surge over her lips. Pressing and teasing forward and back your kisses pursue and chase one another. Your smile collides with her mouth and her laughter puffs against your lips.
Quickly her soft sighs turn to moans. Your arms drape lazily over her shoulders, fingers lacing and playing. All while Drós’ hands roll your body forward provoking pliant gasps between your melding lips.
In these moments Drós was yours and you were hers. The fire in her soul meets the warmth of your heart every passing moment you're each laid bare.
As the moments tick by your kisses grow harder. Drós’ hands firmly pull you against her waist grinding your core along her body. Twisting away her darkened eyes seer you with a fantastic idea. “Grind on me.” She stifles a moan, “let me take care of you.”
Pulling back your eyes take her in, fingers rubbing her scalp with electrifying drags from your nails. “You want me?” Your coy question comes with practiced ease, this was the routine.
She nods biting her lip. Her hand rolls aside the sheet of chain mail protecting her upper leg. Maneuvering a singular armored plate up against her side. Ensuring you wouldn't hurt yourself upon her.
Regretfully standing you maneuvere layers of fabric until you're resting flush against her thigh. “You're my favorite, Drós.” An experimental glide of your hips brings a hum, “you fit me perfectly. Like this?” Meeting her eyes your hands rest upon her shoulders. “You're on every part of me.”
Her hands steady you. Leaning back against the wall she watches with heavy eyes trailing your figure. “Ride me all day long. I won't complain. Though, maybe less clothes?”
“Yes. Less. I can't wait to-mm! Feel your leg. Feel you.” Biting your lip, your hips roll and grind. The texture and solid mass between your legs is enough to send your breath hitching. But Drós instigates further, angling her thigh upwards just right. The pressure grinds against your core, weakening your resolve to stay upright.
The tension in your body builds. Grasping upon the neck seam of her armor your eyes slip closed. “ I want to feel you. And you? You enjoy watching me don't you?”
“ Yes.” Pulling you harder against her body, giving friction to your core. Pushing you higher her lips grace your ear, where she whispers huskily. “I could watch you all day.”
It sends a powerful shiver down your spine. Hips jolting forward roughly along her thigh.
“I'd let you, it's so unfair.”
Drós tugs down the neck of your top, dragging her teeth a crossed the plane of exposed skin. Loving how you jolt and shudder at her sharp canines. Her scalding tongue placates the goose bumps she leaves in her wake. “I want to please you.” Fingers tightening she drags you harder along her thigh. “I know you'll taste even sweeter wrapped around my tongue.”
Moaning your head tilts back at the thought. Something Drós takes advantage of with her tongue mapping out familiar territory. A nip to the right spot sends you lurching and gasping.
“Are you thinking about me inside you again?” Her tempting words fall molasses thick: dark and sweet. Promising. Just like she was.“You love my hands on you. Wait until you feel the rest of me. I will take such good care of you.”
Logic was melting and pooling out of you. Instead fervent desire took over. Whimpering against her ear, you're panting wet and loud. “Uhn! I am. Drós.” Muffling loud moans from bites to your skin. Your fingers latch, tugging her collar. Each one gives her a boost of confidence. Each one gives her an excuse to taste your skin and smell your hair. Worshiping your every feature.
“You want my finger?” She murmurs against your ear. Playfully a fang scrapes down your skin shooting chills down your spine.
Restraining a whine at the thought your head nods aggressively. “Yes, Drós.”
Biting the finger of her leather glove she pulls it off with her teeth. Tossing it onto the shelf where it lands atop a pile of stained cleaning rags.
Head bowing against her shoulder, you nod again, breathless and flushed. Your body remaining in motion until her hands land upon your hips again. Anticipation courses through you with her hands every motion hiking up the rest of your clothing.
Finally, mercifully flesh contacts flesh.
Drós’ palm returns to kneading and rubbing your ass in appreciative grabs. Her fingers pulling and pressing with practiced strength. A soft huff escaping her lips as her revelry continues driving her. Soaking in your appreciative groan with every rub.
“You're wonderful. So soft and beautiful.” Her hand slides slowly over your hip. Then down further down -down- until her fingers rests upon your folds.“I adore you expressing your desire like this.”
Biting back a loud whimper your eyes flit to hers. But only for a moment. Then they're closing. Savoring her skin upon your folds. Your body grinding needily against her hand, until her other hand lands upon your hip stills you.
“Let me see those pretty eyes, there they are.” Drós praises in a purr, her hand rubbing slow circles along your slit and emerging bud begins only when your eyes return to their home in hers. The soft intimacy of touch and mingling breath keeps you shaking in her grasp. “Your eyes are my favorite. Did you know that?”
Again your mind starts to drown in her. The way she holds you. The way she touches you. Like you were precious. One of a kind. Maybe? Even hers- if you allowed yourself delusions of simplicity and disregarded everything else.
Why did you only run into her at work?! “If we were alone,” you gasp gazing upon her face, appreciating every mark and curve, “ things would be much different.” Even the scars she had were marks of courage and heartfelt strength. She gave all for her lord. Maybe, one day she would give all for herself. For happiness.
Maybe that would be with you. Maybe.
“Oh? How so?” She interrupts your fantasy of domestic bliss. With how her voice drops husky and soft you're flooded with images of sucking her and licking her clean. It only aroused you higher, only brought you closer to her.
Yet still your mind is occupied by thoughts of her taste. Would she squirm and tremble like you did? Would her face twist?
Then she changes direction and your mind blanks. Only the feeling of pleasure sparking through your body and the expanding of your rib cage against cloth registers.
Drós’ hand masterfully rubs your slit in that slow circular motion. Her lower lip tugging into her mouth while she watches you squirm and tremble.
Soft pitching grunts leave your mouth the moment her direction changes. Just the simple rotational change sends bands of pleasure coursing through your body. Lurching forward your body presses down against her hand until you find the perfect pressure. Then you're muffling loud moans and grunts into her shoulder again. Tension tightening sharply in your core. You can't answer, but you hope she knows how much you want her.
Her eyes never leave you. Adoring how lost you were on just her touch. It was addicting, every expression crossing crossing face holds her transfixed. Speeding up her rubbing, her smile turns arrogant and brash. “You can cum whenever you want.” She reassures you smoothly. “This is for you.”
“Mm! No! I want more.” Your frail voice pants against her shoulder. You didn't want the moment to end but the desire for release tortured you. Left your moans sharply burrowing against her.
“You can have all you want.” She murmurs, “ I am all yours.” Her hand keeps a consistent speed and pressure which finally snaps you free.
Overcome with pleasure your eyes tightly shut. Sound muffled over the brilliant impulse shaking you to your core. Her coated fingers carry your mark of approval, and as your eyes open again Drós smug smile shows just how satisfied she was with the state of you.
“You're so busy here. So stressed. You have another in you, don't you?” She casually asks, eyes narrowing. Her fingers slide into a V, encompassing your folds in a gliding up and down motion.
Immediately your back arches, pressing into her touch. Gathering your slick, Drós uses it to lubricate her faster thrusts. You tremble around her with each dizzying pull, hips snapping forward and back. Riding the hormonal high of your orgasm she brings you building for another.
Each swipe of her fingers leaves your entire body shaking and your hips stuttering against her. “ You love this, don't you?” You stammer against her lips, barely grazing a kiss only stopped by her finger finding your emerging clit. A ghostly gasp ensnares your face.
“Mhmmm. I love taking care of you.” Drós confirms without a care. Circling your clit tenderly, her breathing turns ragged once more. Tugging her lower lip into her mouth. “ One day I will have you all to myself and you me.”
“I am yours.” You assure through stammering keens, clinging to the front of her armor by the neckline.
Drós hums skeptically, but there is no missing the hopeful tone in her voice. Nor how her finger slows wanting you to form a coherent thought. “Yes?”
Nodding your eyes crack open, head pressing against hers. “I promise. One day, we will be together.” Thoughts drift of cuddling her, snug in a tub or on the bed. Hell you would cuddle her upon the barren ground. Just the thought of a domestic cuddle runs you hot. You were weak for her love in devastating ways. Domestic thoughts mingle with twilight fantasies. But none compare to what you know life would be like with her.
“ When that day comes, I am going to help you truly relax.” Growling low her lips slowly overtake you. Slowly the kiss churns back and forth between the pair of you. Each trying to feed the other a helping at dinner. “And when I am done? I promise we will finally take that bath together.”
The mere thought leaves you pitifully whimpering. “Promise?” Hips frantically circling on Drós hand driving yourself tender and tender.
“Promise. Now. What's that you like being called? Oh, I remember.” She chuckles breathily. “ Who's my sweet girl?” She murmurs against your panting lips just as finger sinks between your flush folds causing you to squirm and whine.
Your hands are biting into her hair. Eyes pleading with her while your hips lurch and tremble.
“You missed my finger this much? You're sucking me in. Feels like you need to tend to yourself more.”
Her name falls from your lips again while you shift, stretching around her. How many nights you imagined this but it was never enough. Nothing you did compared to her.
“I needed this. Needed you. Mine don't compare to you. ” That finger of hers was thick and long. Powerful from weaponry. Powerful in nature. But what made you whimper most was the heat of it.
“And I you.” Her lips trail kisses along your cheek. Her finger finds that raised spot upon your wall and it stays there rubbing and coaxing. “I'll send you something. Something special. Something for when you're hungry like this.” Drós promises knowing exactly the toy she'd be buying you.
“Promise me you will use it?” Leaning forward she captures your mouth in hers. Seeking out more of your muffled whimpers and breathy gasps to suffocate in her kiss.
A kiss that leaves your lungs burning white from the length and intensity. A kiss that you wanted to lose yourself in completely. To kiss Drós and hold her forever would be paradise.
It would last forever if she had things her way.
But your lungs cannot handle it. Your head spins from the lack of air from how long she's devouring your lips.
You tap her shoulder twice.
She breaks away giving you space to breathe.
Signals for safety were necessary when Drós was too hungry. She was young and you were her first human.
“Sorry, I became lost in your lips again.”Pressing her nose against your cheek she nuzzles affectionately. Her apology is heartfelt. Her finger stills until you return in kind.
“ You didn't mean to.” Your reassurance comes with a soft peck to her bearded cheek. “I am alright. You didn't make me pass out, so no harm done.”
Unlike the first time when the two of you tangled in each other's arms for far too long. Stumbling to and fro. Knocking things down. And Drós? Well, poor Drós learned how humans need far more oxygen than dwarves. The hard way.
You had come to a few seconds later to find Drós stricken with horror. The memory curves your lips into a smirk. “You make me breathless.”
Face reddening Drós blusters, the same memory replaying in her eyes. Darting around the room she averts her gaze, scratching her beard with her free hand.
“Drós?” You begin kissing her nose, pulling her hand down where you guide it back to your hip. “Drós I think it is sweet how much you like me.”
“Well, I don't think murder counts as a ‘ fun activity for first meetings’.” She admits with a sheepish shrug.
“It worked didnt it?” You counter squinting upon her face. Mouth twisting you scrutinizes her. “ It was fun and still is. I look forward to seeing you. Even when we cannot be like this.” A sudden shift of fondness overcomes you, choking out “I am proud of you Drós.”
Her eyes mist as she runs her hand over your cheek. “ And you? I am proud of you. You work hard.” Drós presses butterfly kisses along your neck. Pulling soft giggles from you with every blow she lands upon your skin.
“ So hard, let me keep helping you, hm?” Her finger slowly drags out of you. She laughs lower and darker at the needy whine that leaves your lips.
Your hips wriggle at how empty you feel.
“Still feeling good?” Waiting for your nod she returns to pump in and out in agonizingly slow strokes. “ I'll help you relax. Your only job now is to sit here and look pretty.”
Heavy her hand falls upon your hip again, guiding your bounce upon her finger. Driving it just right to brush along your sweet spot. Grunting moans rush from you, with every moment your mind melts. Desire pooling. Her finger fucking you dumb with every downward press of your hips.
Every stroke against your walls leaves your body clenching her tighter and tighter. Winding pleasure tighter and tighter in your core. Words fail. Your head too fogged to think of anything but her.
Licking her lips she watches the liquid pooling down your thighs and onto her hand. The results of her finger alone thrilling and satisfying both of you. Her voice drips just like you do. ”You're doing so good.”
She works you well and thorough. Her name puffs between salacious sounds. Until finally you break on her. Muffling your final cry against her lips. There she kisses you clean. Through your orgasm and the trembling after glow your lips don't part.
Hungrily you devour her lips and tongue. Your teeth tug and nip against her lips. Knuckles blanching in their grip upon her armor, desperately holding yourself against her. Even as your body flinched and trembles when her movements start again. When your panting starts again.
Your body has barely cooled and she's rubbing your clit in time to her finger. “I know you have another one in you, don't you?” She praises delightedly kissing up and down your neck. Each one a testament to how much she wanted to stay. How much longer she wanted to play.
Play she does. Doting play. Until you collapse against her, her finger slips free. Free until she buries it between her own lips licking it clean. Her eyes roll, moaning lewdly at your taste. Your name is a growl against your ear as she whispers needily, “I want to taste more of you.”
Biting your lip tired desire spikes within you. You wouldn't fight it. You wanted it. But time. Time wasn't for the pair of you to continue.
“We don't have time, Drós. Otherwise I would be tasting you. Remember?” You remind nuzzling her cheek.
Grumbling beneath her breath she sighs, “ time needs to stop existing.” Drós gathers a clean cloth from the shelf. “If you leave like that, everyone will know.” She warns with a suggestive glance between your legs and face.
A glance that fills your face with hot blush. She was right, you would need to wipe down fully before returning to work. Otherwise the smell of sex would tip the other's off.
“I have clean clothes in here. It isn't a problem.”Holding on to her shoulders you test your legs. Ensuring each could bear your weight and not collapse.
“Allow me.” Drós pulls your hips back towards her. The cloth drying you off in ginger circles and swipes, careful not to overstimulate your already sensitive body. “Would you like a few minutes to rest?”
Straightening your top, your eyes meet hers and a devious smile crosses your face. “ I sent the other ladies to lunch when I saw you all arriving. I alone volunteered to stay and watch over you. So I have time before they return.”
“And what of lunch?” Drós hisses with concern.
Pointing towards the shelf your grin turns to a smirk. “I took some this morning and hid it away. I may be impulsive when it comes to you, but I am.meticulous in everything else.”
“I adore this about you.” She praises with a proud smile, her fingers grasp your hair. Maneuvering this way and that. Sliding a few pins and hair bands from your pocket Drós begins fulfilling her promise, humming a song beneath her breath.
A song she hummed often. One that you caught yourself humming when you weren't careful and your mind strayed.
Sitting still you wait patiently. Taking the time to admire her pure concentration, especially how it creases her brow. Her lips thinning and twitching every few seconds. Until finally she held her hands up, “finished!”
Examining it with your hands, you cannot help the large grin forming on your face. It was perfect. Exquisite and far better than you could ever hope to do yourself. “Perfect. As always, Drós.”
Standing Drós brushes past you, her hand runs affectionately across your shoulders before she picks up her helm. “A shame we didn't have more time.” She grouses with a shake of her head.
“Indeed.I dream of the day I can dote on you.” Sighing, your hands straighten her hair and the parts of her gear which had shifted ever so slightly. “One day, Drós. One day.”
One day you would be able to take care of her. One day time wouldn't be against you both. One day. One day.
You cannot help but question if ‘one day’ will ever come.
“ I will be making up for it.” Helm lowering upon her head she becomes just one of many. Uniform and unrecognizable to everyone but you. An unreachable fortress of metal except for you.
A smile curves your lips. Straightening your own uniform, smoothing it back into place. “ As will I. So ensure you have more time, hm?”
Plucking her glove from where it landed, hand it over to her. Your fingers linger upon her hand. Eyes trailing up to her one last time before she breached the hallway and disappeared. “But how will you do that?”
Nodding, she takes her glove from you. Eyes Drifting across your face in a warm ghostly touch. “We will have time at The Fiddle won't we? We can take our time there.”
Never had your heart pounded so hard. Joy relaxes the creases on your face. “Yes, yes we can.” Gushing your hand stays upon her back until she opens the door. Unwilling to leave her side so soon. But as your hand falls down to your side she steps out into the empty hall.
The severance occurs. The twine of fate you wove cut in two.
Heart hopeful for the first time you begin closing the door. But something stops you before you can heave it shut again. Calling to her you peak through the doorway “Oh, and Drós?”
Yknow how i had a nasty fever due to my POTS last Sapphic September. Yeah
yEAH i didnt upload the right google doc for DOVE!!!!
So its been UPDATED
Ill be updating and counting this for this years #Tolkien Sapphic September as i am too ill/ burdened by life complications to finish my current works on time
MINORS DNI
Genre: smut, fluff, comedy.
Dove
Summary: modern disabled reader x mystery dwarrowdam. After an unsavory incident lands you in middle earth, you cobble together a means of work at an old mill. But life among men and dwarves becomes far more eventful when you meet her.
Contains: dwarven pronoun confusion (intentional) top reader, strap, oral, adorable dwarrowdam, disabled reader, cute shenanigans including a Five Nights at Freddies Reference!
Likes, reblogs, comments, and kudos make for a healthy fandom ecosystem😘
Why are you friends with dís? How are you friends with dís? Are you friends with dís? Or rather is dís friends with you? On the river bank beneath the willows you voice your loyalty and something more is revealed in return.
Dís x f!human reader
Gender neutral language for reader
Rating: mature yeah there's smut at the end.
I was going to keep the cognitive dissonance title but it no longer fits. It will be reshelved because a good pun shouldn't be wasted and i have the perfect ficlet in mind for it.
Within the hillside lay not the sapphires of Ered Luin. Rather the flowing rivers winding through the mountains hold cobalt waters lush with fish and stone. Stone wore smooth by time’s passage and water's journey spurned by gravity's guiding hand. Friction like a blanket on a chilly winter night takes rough uneven surfaces and smooths them to completion.
Yet it wasn't the blue of the rivers that drew you in. No you have found another thing so blue that within them laid bare it's own force of nature.
One sickeningly sweet August day you saw them, butterflies sipping from outstretched arms. Veins crushed and mawled beneath instruments of war. Relinquishing trickling cadmium onto the loose soil. A final reach. A final gasp. Preserved beneath resting cobalt wings.
Frozen: as if the blue dripped down onto flesh and crystallizing it.
Staring transfixed, you watched her drink her fill. Slowly sipping drop after drop. Drought after drought. Moment after moment someone's life slipped into hers. Consumed completely;as if they were nothing. Tears and blood now ran through her, and with her into the sky above.
But it wasn't alone for long. They landed one after the other. The ultimate consumption of nature and man. What was this creature so bright and free doing drinking a carnal beverage like blood? What drew it close and then on to taste such an elixir rich of iron?
Was it all animalistic blood lust? Or was there something more that drew each flitting wing down down down to that unmoving perch?
You didn't know. You wouldn't ask. But the same blue that flashed upon the blood stained ground dwelled beneath her lashes. The same color as the butterfly wings. The darkest of browns encasing the brightest of blues.
Back then, standing before him, you didn't ask him what had happened. Why he killed these men. Didn't think to. Merely you offered him your waterskin. He needed something to drink with all that blood dried on his face. “Blue butterflies grant wishes.” Sitting down you on the same log you squinted, watching the lazy wing beats. " What did you wish for exactly??"
Now that you know her? Her pronouns changed but other things? Well, other things stayed the same.
Opening your mouth to speak, you hesitate. Noticing how far off her eyes drift along the cat tails of the opposite bank. Logs and branches rush by, carried by a deluge from the upper heights and the spring thaw. Exhaling through your nose you study her graying eyes. Whenever talk of family or futures cropped up it clipped her wings. Plummeting blue eyes into a stone grey wash. Pain. It was apparent did dwell behind her rough exterior. She just hid it.
“Dís….” Would she be the end of you? Someone torn. Never truly existing in the lives of these men nor the ones you left behind. Never truly belonging. In the opinion of the worlds you shuttled between: you would always be an outsider. But you didn't feel so alone when she was near. Perhaps that was your selfish act. You chase a butterfly you couldn't catch.
Not to keep. But to cradle it in the shelter of your hands. A respite from the elements and birds which hunted it.
“Your eyes give you away, Dís.” Pointing out the emotional pain changing her eyes from one hue to the next. From piercing blue to a slab of stone. Both impenetrable. Both cold. But that doesn't stop you from being her friend.
“You don't need to be brave with me.” You reassure, boring holes into the opposite bank yourself, “we are both running from things. There's no shame in that.”
Her eyes close. A huff blowing through her nose. “I am not running. From anything.” She informs curtly, fingers tightening upon her forearm.
“Oh?” Falling back onto the bank your arms fold behind your head. “Then running from someone?” You guess not really caring if you hit a jackpot.
It was solely to prompt her own thinking. Solely pushing her around her mind, as if she was in a shopping cart and you stopped before every aisle of woe. Thumbing it out with a questioning look. But at each aisle she shakes her head. So on you go pushing the cart through her life of sorrow and pain. On and on and on and on.
The rushing sound of water wove a web within the inhale of the pine and firs high above. You had noticed the change in her over the last month. It came all at once just as loudly as a singular leaf hitting plummets. An audible and surprising crunch upon the ground startling you into realization that summer languishes on its deathbed.
It went just as predictably.
She changed.
You noticed and waited.
She maintained the change.
You ask in a round about way.
She says nothing, skirting the issue as a feral cat presses tightly against a fence. So now you had to clear out the cloche top jar she sat in, persistently proclaiming everything was “well.”
When it blatantly wasn't.
Perhaps she'd give you the privilege of seeing her break through her gilded chrysalis. Perhaps not. It wasn't your place to force her. But you could certainly prod at the armor she wore for any signs of life within.
Because butterflies drink blood on the killing fields, staining themselves the same color as her wine soaked lips.
Behind the pair of you the leaves shuttle in shoals over the baring earth. Soon the harsh autumn winds will begin and biting cold will set in. Winter was tiptoeing ever closer.
“Dís.” You begin again, eyes sliding meaningfully to her pinched face. She flicks a leaf off her arm. You avert your gaze in case she needs space to share. Share anything. Literally anything.
Silence continuously greets your ears. It speaks volumes with your present company. You didn't mind it. But it does cause your line of sight to drift. Studying her face closely. Mapping and marking the landscape there like a cartographer. Highlighting where emotion falls in plains and dried in a dessert.
She wasn't one of your kind. Not in body. Despite it all, mind and heart crafted the rules of attraction; you were a puppet to their strings. Yet for Dís you did not hold a lustful ardent flame. No, for Dís you held something both deep and shallow. The kind of attraction you felt for her was more ascribed for lingering hands; lyrics of what could have been.
“When I arrived here I was alone. It felt awful. Everyone I loved unreachable. Gone but not dead. I felt like a shade.” As the words leave your mouth you wonder why you're saying it. Slowly on their own accord your fingers crawl along the ground. Gentle as the breezing leaves. Unmentioned as morning frost. Wondering to what end you're allowing your hand to move closer to hers.
You shouldn't want her. But you do. You couldn't have her. But you will if she permits a chance beyond a glance. She wasn't the kind of person you could reach, wasn't the kind your world had its mind set upon for you. Nor were you her expected choice. But your eyes remained transfixed upon her like no one else.
The bashfulness falling away before it washed ashore and found itself again.
It felt right but risky. Like you shouldn't even think about it. Nonetheless, try it? But you weren't a coward. Afraid of many things like other people, yes. Yet in this you had so much to lose.
“Your friendship changed that. It means far more than the world here or there. So when I say these things I say them because I mean them. Not because I want something from you.”
You weren't there trapping her to the wall with silver pins when you whispered sweet things. Your words are not a cloche top shielding her from the skies. Desires never intended to prevent her flight into the world beyond; flitting from thing to thing. Task to task. Person to person.
“I want to be here for you, but you have to let me. So whenever you're ready I will be here. Pestering you. Even if its for the stupidest thing imaginable.” Hesitantly running your finger along the edge of her hand.
From your spot on the ground you catch the tentative twist at the corner of her lips.
You wait with baited breath, curious what she is finally setting free. But when she does you are not ready for it. But thats the point with Dís.
“I think you like feeling needed and you've chosen wrong. I don't need you.” She hits a sensitive spot with practiced ease.
“Ow! I'm not needy!” Sitting up with a huff you glare at her. Stray leaves falling from your hair with the burgeoning movement. “Take that back!” You demand now your glare intensifies upon her unflinching face. But was she pushing you away? Was she testing you? Did she honestly not want your friendship?!
“If you do not wish to hear the truth then you may leave.” She informs her eyes returning to the opposite side of the river.
You scoff, shaking your head. “ As if! Now take it back!”
She shakes her head with a soft chuckle.
Growling you lunge upon her. Colliding with her boulder body- like a pidgeon hitting a brick wall. It takes the breath from your lungs. If you had feathers they would be scattering upon the ground from the impact.
“Get down!” You grunt pushing against the ground using all of your strength to push upon her shoulders. But all you feel is the ground giving way beneath your shoe digging trenches into the ground.
Her low chuckle begins to rattle her chest. Watching your struggle with a tired sigh. Dís catches your shoulders helping you stay upright. “Mmm, no.” She intones drly.
“Mm!!! Yes!!” You mock pushing harder still only for your foot to slip and your face to collide with her torso. “No!! My pride! I'll never get it back!”
Dís snickering is slowly growing louder.
Rubbing your cheek you glower before her. Faces only inches from hers. “ Oh shut up! I paid full price for it!”
Her laughter mingles with the clouds and you shove back on her again. “Theres no refunds for damaged pride, Dís! How am I supposed to fix it?!”
It wasnt gravity's grace that pushes her back against the grass. No, you were far more certain she did it on her own accord.Your hands still brace upon her shoulders all the instigation she needed to allow things to unfold. Laughter dying on her lips. Curiosity gleaming in her eyes like tentative wings. Waiting to take flight.
Again: was she waiting to flee or waiting to take control?
Shifting your weight you straddle her, ever pushing down on her shoulders. Eyes meeting hers with mutual knowing she would move at any time. She could move. Your strength was nothing to hers. Or maybe that wasn't true- maybe a different kind of strength you possessed was far greater than hers.
Maybe that's why you've become friends.
This was the closest you've been, with her eyes piercing into your soul. So often they cut you but never so close. So intimately. Without hesitation your soul bleeds from the wound she gifts. The blade of her ever watchful gaze drives deeper when she dryly asks.
“ Are you enjoying yourself now?” She impaled your heart so deeply when she asks such things. For she knows the answer. She can read you like no other. To her? You're a translucent membrane upon a wing.
Heartbeats pass. For some reason your breathing picks up. You can't name the reason. Or rather you wouldn't. Not yet. Not when it was a fragile powerful thing. Alighting upon your palm. Unblinking, preparing for its escape. Undoubtedly ready to ascend the moment a finger involuntarily twitches.
“No.” You begin softer and slower. Coaxing her with words spoken low. “It could be improved.” Your eyes fall from the turbulent icy shoals of her eyes. “You could make it better.” Then down upon her lips. You cannot help but imagine how soft they are. How sweet they would taste upon yours.
“Somehow I doubt the truth in that.” Somehow she doubted it but you weren't a fool. You felt her ribs expand sharply and then fall beneath you. You heard her take a breath the moment you ease down to rest upon her.
Your fingers tenderly brush hair behind her ear. A dark brown cascade nested safely away, your thumb strokes the lobe of her ear. “Then you doubt me? Oh dís, that isn't very nice. Then again I enjoy that about you.” Traveling the round surface without looking from her eyes. She peers up at you and you watch as the chrysalis begins cracking.
“Mmm you could kiss me? That would improve things.” You venture guardedly, feeling your hand tighten upon her shoulder. Noticing how her lips flit between their tight line and a smile and then back. All within a fraction of a second. From flower to flower. Emotion to emotion.
Your head lowering by the second is greeted by the sensation of her hands trailing up your thighs. “Why haven't you kissed me? Are you afraid of me?” She asks and by the way her eyes don't have their usual light to them you gather some truth. You wished that hadn't been a thought in her mind.
But you can still see the blood covering her face. Ever clearer the way she had watched in confusion as you rolled up her blood stained sleeves and wiped her hands clean. One finger at a time your shirt wet by your waterskin cleansing the red grime.
Your hands slowly trail along her shoulder and then down her arms. Pressing them beside her head, your eyes remain transfixed. Lacing your fingers in hers. “I could ask you the same. Are you afraid you'll like kissing me? Will that open up your heart too much too soon? Are you too soft?”
Her head tilts at the veiled accusations. Of softness. No, she was a Dwarf. She knew how to be ‘soft’ as men would call it. To love and to cherish. But to connect- you watched her struggle with that.
How could you not observe her so singularly? But does she not know how to forge deeper bonds or does she just hide? Hide within a chrysalis. Physical intimacy was one thing but emotional intimacy is another beast entirely.
“Your heart isn't as confined as you think it is. They have you caged upon the wall. Butterfly in a glass box. You're a pretty decoration for them. But not to me, never to me. If I were there I'd set you free, unpin you from your glass casket they've assigned you.”
Your fingers trail and whirl a lock of her hair round and round your finger. Spinning like the fate takes golden thread, warping a life. Not knowing Dís is royalty. Not knowing how deeply true it was. Murmuring with every rotation. “Tragedy of Dís written on the plaque. Hmm? Can't even kiss someone when you want to, is that it? ”
Dodging in you, feel her cheek brush against yours as she rises to meet you. Her bearded scruff rubbing against your face. But you turn your head, whispering against her ear. A languid smirk on your face as you provoke and goad. “Unpin yourself from the wall, Dís.” You hush nudging the sensitive skin beneath her ear with your nose. “ Set yourself free.”
In one easy movement she grasps your shoulders and rolls you beneath her. Ignoring the surprised yelp. Her face settles upon you, satisfied with the new predicament. Pinning you upon the ground she shifts her weight to rest on either side of your hips. And if she rubbed down just a bit? That was between the two of you.
“Dís….” Looking up at her you bite your lip admiring her from this close. Your mouth opens and closes until she whispers, “just kiss me.” Her kiss encompasses you in a surge of emotion. Her nose brushes and collides with yours as you kiss. Ebbing and flowing as you each take your turn becoming closer. Your tongue runs along her lip and she growls, deepening the kiss. Pressing against you her hair falls round you separating you both from the world.
Who took off who's clothing first? That question would remain a mystery. One you didn't care for an answer to, it could remain obscured along the river bank. Tangled in the reeds and beneath the rocks upon the bottom.
Just like you were wrapped in her. Kisses flowing like the river lazing by. Whispers brushing among the sound of the blowing leaves. Your nose brushes her cheek as you take a breath. Her eyes slowly open, rejoining yours. You laugh low, fingers playing with the hair at the back of her neck. The softness in her gaze was unmatchable. Her chuckle joins yours. She steals another kiss. You let her run with it.
Run with it like your hand presses between you. She rises, allowing your hand to slip beneath her body. Her kiss slowing into a tender lull, only to pull back when you gasp. Your fingers curiously delve sampling and assessing your core. Finding slick coating you in a slippery dew.
Her eyes drift to yours, gaze heady and dark. Dís tilts her head when you release a soft sigh. Touching yourself again. Her weight divine. Her scent better than any floral note could carry. No she smelled like earthen dusk and days spent speaking beneath the willow trees. And smoke of incense and pipe. She smelled like a home but a home she did not dwell within.
“I want to see how you like it Dís. Show me?” You propose, flinching as an overly sensitive spot reveals a gasp of pleasure. Each one draws her nearer and nearer. In like a lure. In where she kisses your neck.
Her fingers run along your beating pulse. “Don't hold back because I'm here.” She keeps your face from turning away, smiling at the way your shoulders begin to twist as you find the perfect rhythm. “Is this how you think of me after we part?” She asks curiously, eyes committing every gasp and whine to memory. “ Do you say my name just as you do when you moan??” Just as breathy and tantalizing. Just as enchanting to her ears.
You swallow back a whimper. Vividly recalling how you etched her from the dark dreary ceiling of your room. Muffling the sound of your voice so your neighbor didn't hear through the thin plaster wall. Hear your voice lamenting Dís.
Dís. Dís. Dís.
Feeling your face warm, your nod comes slowly but it spreads her grin wider. “Yes, but then I felt bad because we are friends.” The admission feels a bit late. Your hand stills. Carefully studying her face you venture, “is that uncomfortable for you?”
Her laughter floods her eyes. Just as it always did. “Perhaps asking this of me before we were naked would have been prudent.”
Grazing your neck with her lips she sighs contently against your ear. “I don't mind it. Say my name. I want to hear who makes you feel this way.” You give her just that. Again and again. Encouraged with every kiss she leaves beneath your ear and upon your neck.
Everytime you found a new center for your self pleasuring your voice carried louder, she whispers against your ear. “That's it. You're doing it perfectly. “ The teasing of lips on tingling skin.
Again and again until your world stills and your body silences. Simply focusing on breathing her in with each slowing breath. Her presence spins around you in a kaleidoscope of blue wings. Then it snaps beneath her. A flood of contentment washes over you while you bask in her multifaceted lights.
Every Dís you knew, from the blood stained warrior to the keeper of ravens was precious to your heart. Even the Dís that would goad you away from her was engraved like an epitaph into your soul. She would remain there for eternity. Encased in memory and time. Beneath glass. A beautiful thing you could ponder beneath your fingertips.
Each landing of her lips like a landing of wings. Her hand braces beside your head while the other pulls yours away from your body. “Let's try this.” Cupping herself she lowers above you until the back of her hand runs along your core. Moaning as the sensation of her powerful hand grinds against you intimately. Hotly.
Touching both of you at the same time.
Building up friction that sends your eyes rolling and closing. Her name returns to the now dusk sky. Returns to the branches of the willow swaying in the breeze. Returning to you is her gasping moans and strained sighs.
“Faster. Harder.” You urge, hands latched upon her shoulder and cheek. When she hits the right pressure and rhythm you squirm and tremble beneath her. Being pinned to the ground beneath her was worth being confined to your own glass coffin. It was worth being trapped in the futility of it all. Seeing her face twist and her eyes screw shut. Lips parted and panting.
You would pay the price and reap the cost of touching her so softly.
Your hand slides down her bracing arm. “You are so beautiful.” Praising her between strained breaths and gasping moans. Reaching for her your fingers graze over her thumb. This time she responds in kind. Latching a few of your fingers beneath her thumb. Holding onto you as she climbed higher and higher. The atmosphere her only limit now.
Here in the sky it's just the two of you. Her breathing rougher, she feels your wetness coating her hand. Your name finally falls from her lips and your heart soars. “Feeling good?”
Her eyes crack open, glazed and heady. “Mm?” She asks, her pace continuing as she memories the way you shift along the grass from her rolling hips. How your body trembles and bounds beneath her motion.
“Feel? Good?” You moan again, eyes clenching shut as pleasure overrides your body. Your fingers clutch tighter round her thumb as the clouds swirl around you whitening your vision. Your climax hits with the power of a plummeting fall. Warmth buzzes through you in a swarm of heat and fuzzy goodness.
Your eyes open returning to Dís just in time to catch the end of her own peak. Her lips shinning and parted. Dark hair lacing against her face as sweat coats her brow. Your hand slides free and reaches for her. Beckoning her down to rest upon your chest.
“Feeling better Dís?” You sigh happily brushing your hands through her hair. Tending to her once again. Even as she slides to the side she remains beneath your fingers. For now she wasn't beneath glass. Wasn't hidden away from you nor you her.
A shame, you think, that you may never reside beneath the same pane of glass. But that's what made this moment that much more important. That much more sacred.
Dís’ head remains resting upon your chest. She listens to your heart slowing to a gentle pace. She rises and falls with the breath in your lungs. There is peace. Her eyes flit closed as you begin humming. Hands gliding along her deep brown hair. Time passes and you place every second upon a leaf floating by on the river. For safe keeping. For later.
When she sits up you pause. Stopping your humming you pull your hand back. “Is something wrong?” You ask worry knitting your brow.
She shakes her head, cupping your cheek in her hand. “No, on the contrary. But I know how to improve it.” Her eyes drift up and down you with meaningful intent. “Why don't I show you a convenient use for Dwarven fingers?”
Your scowl comes with a confused, “What? They're just fingers?? Why are you smiling like that?!” You ask, staring down at her fingers.
Not so long later you're marveling at Dwarven fingers and burying your own inside of her. Her breath fanning heavily over your neck as she curls against you. It was going to be a long night….
@shirefantasies happy Samhain to my dís pal. May your night be full of light and love.
IMP
Dís x gender neutral reader(any type dwarf human elf dwobbit whatever you want. Heavily implied sapphic commoner tbh ) ficlet. Kinda suggestive but I wouldnt say NSFT.
Summary; you gently tease dís in public just to vex her and perhaps that's all part of your relationship.... 👀dís are you a brat tamer?🤣
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A chill runs down your spine and the stone at your back seeps through your clothing. But her warm hands ease temporary discomfort, running fondly along your cheeks. Coyly you peer at her vexed expression, barely suppressing another laugh at her expense. At her mild but loving peeved glare.
"That wasn't very nice," she intones. Bright eyes holding yours without hesitation. Thumb running circles a crossed the planes of your face. Despite herself her smile pulls at her beard, adoring how your cheeky grin was growing wider by the moment.
"You love it." Grabbing her collar you beckon her closer, " you love me."
"Oh I do. But that?" Her face is drawing closer by the second until her breath fans over your lips. So close but so far. We're you angering her or amusing her? A challenging edge you loved to dance on. "That was certainly something. What did you expect to happen?" She asks finger tapping in thought.
What had you expected to happen?? Removing a hand to tap at your chin you fake innocence, "what indeed," peering at her impishly you continue. "The first time i touched your hand was an accident. " The honest confession was broken by the giggle that followed. Outing your devious intent for the following three times your knuckles brushed the back of her hand. Or the time your pinky hooked around hers for the briefest of moments.
Dís' sigh blows over your lips, the heat of them so very near. "It is dangerous to be in my favor." She lightly scolds, a finger dragging along your lips. "If the wrong person saw any of that." She trails off meaningfully.
"The price I may pay is worth it, should it mean we have moments like this." Worth any price you may lay or any cost incurred upon someone else. Selfish? Perhaps. Cold? Maybe a little.
Her eyes sadden moment by moment before they glaze with ice. " I am not willing for this to cost you a single thing. You do not deserve the burden of this life." Of royalty. Of being a public figure. Sacrificing everything for the people you ruled over and the stagnant personal freedoms were often over looked. For the flashier fancier sides of things.
Diamonds. Pearls. Rubies. Silver. None of them attracted you. Nothing swayed you like her smile. Nothing pulled you closer like her laugh. And nothing rallied you like the times you saw her hurting silently with the gravitas of the mountains itself.
Maintaining her gaze your hand rests upon her arm. Eyes softening upon her glacial front. Knowing innately she was protecting her heart. "Thats not your choice to make, Dís." Shaking your head solemnly you squeeze her arm, "do not begin deciding my fate for me. You will fail. I am here because I choose it. Not because you will it."
"Is that so?" Her forehead rests upon your own, eyes slipping closed. A deep inhale presses her against you. The longer your hand runs over her hair the more she relaxes. Tension melting. Ice receding.
"Indeed." Time slips by and you each remain still. Silently soaking in the simple adoring touch. Eventually your hands cup her cheeks and her yours. "Of all the things I do not deserve in life." You laugh dryly, remembering all the bitter and hurtful things that have happened.
But one thing- one concept- one person stood clearly before you. Something you would hold onto as long as she agreed and held you just the same. "Dís, being by your side is one thing I will never allow to fall through my fingers."
Her nose drags along your face until your lips meet. Slowly building with sweetness and softness unrivaled.
Parting just enough she hums low. Content. Like a cat upon a sunlit floor. Her blue eyes sliver open and greet yours with that serene look so different from before.
"What are you thinking of?" You inquire twirling a loose strand of her hair round your finger. Fully intending in that moment to brush it for her tonight while she read over paperwork.
Her laughter comes low and brassy. "Im thinking about how lucky I am to have an equally stubborn person in my life."
Perking up you grin. "Shall I be worse?" You could definitely do that, your grin turns sinister. Eyes gleaming with excitement. "Shall I actually hold your hand this time? Shall I gaze fondly at you for far too long?"
She moves to place a finger upon your lips but you dodge it. "I know. I should leave exaggerated sweet love notes in your desk!" You weren't serious- well you could be. It all depended on her response. Her openness to whatever trick you were going to pull. Whatever gift you were going to covertly leave her.
Eye twitching she chuckles. Her hands push you back against the wall, firmly holding you there. "Don't push it."
"I'll push yo-" You're silenced by her lips over taking yours with such intensity you moan. Later you would tease her for this. Dís for all her comments on discretion and privacy. For all her lambasting on respecting boundaries on public spaces was groping along your body within the main corridor to the market place hall.
You would absolutely destroy her on this later. She wouldn't hear the end of it. Provided she didn't tire you out first with all this kissing and touching. Especially as her hand reaches somewhere far more provoking. Your voice muffled in her mouth, your best attempts to remain hidden in the shadow of her cloak almost sabotaged when she lands on what she was searching for.
She could easily distract you with this or with softer affirming activities like taking a bath or grooming each others hair. But there was no escaping you; tomorrow was a new day. A new day for finding some way to make her smile.
That's what really mattered.
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