Tag: thorin

Bagginshield prompts? :D prompt #19 please (this reminds me of a drawing by ruto where bilbo was deep into writing his book and thorin convinced him to “come to bed” or whatever he meant to say :P)

19) kisses meant to distract the other person from whatever they were intently doing

Thorin was no stranger to hard work, but twelve hours was too much. He had awoken early in the morning (never as early as Bilbo though, not since he had been permanently excused from first breakfast) to find Bilbo at his desk. Now it was nightfall and two normal meals, which meant something like twenty hobbit meals by his estimate, had gone by without Bilbo poking his head out of his study. It was unnatural. Something needed to be done.

Bilbo did not look up from his page when Thorin entered the room, the scratch of his quill a counterpoint to Thorin’s careful footsteps where were no doubt thunderous to Shire-folk. Bilbo still wore his checkered robe, and likely had not dressed at all that day, but instead awoken with some new idea for his book, (which was already a wild flight of fantasy that bore little resemblance to their actual quest), had meant only to jot down a few ideas, and been engrossed ever since.

Well, it would not do to stop his work, not if it was important. But after twelve hours without a word, Thorin thought he had at least earned the right to be a minor nuisance.

His hands first fell lightly on Bilbo’s shoulders, and his husband murmured an acknowledgement but did not cease in his scribbling. It would not be the first time Thorin had offered a shoulder rub while Bilbo worked, nor the first time the same had been offered in return while Thorin wrote his letters to Erebor. But his hands did not stop there, but lingered at the opening in Blbo’s robes, his touch tracing up from there to Bilbo’s throat and then to his ears, and there Thorin leaned in to pepper the sensitive lobes with nibbled kisses.

That earned him a gusting sigh, and more importantly no order to stop. The scratching of the quill slowed, but did not cease. This called for drastic measures.

Thorin parted the robe so it exposed Bilbo’s shoulders, his hands traveling in stroking, seeking arcs over Bilbo’s skin. His tongue traced the edges of Bilbo’s ears before his brought his kisses lower to his throat. Distantly, he heard the quill stop.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Thorin murmured.

“Only your own death scene, it took me some time to work up to that part you know. Very emotional,” Bilbo said. He feigned offront, but his voice was breathy as he tilted his head back to give Thorin better access.

“And for your efforts I thank you, otherwise I’m sure we will be swarmed with well-wishers the minute your book is printed,” Thorin spoke the words into Bilbo’s shoulder as he covered it in open-mouthed kisses.

“Oh, we can’t have that,” Bilbo said. He turned in his chair, and caught Thorin’s bearded chin to plant a lingering kiss of his own on his lips. “But I must say I enjoy the reminder that it is only a clever fiction.”

“Indeed, and if you can spare a moment, it would be my pleasure to remind you of the reality,” Thorin smirked against Bilbo’s lips, and found no resistance in tugging him to their bedroom to do just that.

may i please haz 6 bagginshield

6.
lazy morning kisses before they’ve even opened their eyes, still mumbling half-incoherently, not wanting to wake up 

Beorn’s home may be large and strange but it was, before all other things, a farm and all such farms woke with the sun. A fact that Bilbo was grouchily aware of as the first rooster crowed, and sounds of life began to spread throughout the oversized abode.

“Thorin.” A sleepy mumble answered him. “Thorin! We need to move, the others will be awake soon.” Another mumble, but this one irritable.

Bilbo turned over within Thorin’s arms so his nose was pressed to the warm chest he had showed with such attention the night before. The night before…that had been an unexpected turn of events. Not that Bilbo was complaining. He was more fuzzy on how it had happened. Generally speaking, his deepest held fantasies weren’t so obliging on coming true. After all, he had only meant to, well, hint at Thorin that he enjoyed the other’s company. That perhaps they could spend more time together, walk side by side, maybe get to know one another.

He had not expected the kissing. Or what came after the kissing.

“Thorin, if we’re not there when they wake up, the others might come searching,” Bilbo tried again. There was a distinct lack of alarm from Thorin at the prospect of being caught in bed with his hired burglar, which was extremely unhelpful. “Thorin—”

A warm kiss filled with lazy ardor silenced his words, and as it was followed by more  lovely kisses, he wasn’t one to give up on the chance to enjoy them. Thorin’s arms tightened around him, drawing him close, and Bilbo was surrounded by the scent of him, the heat of him, with memories of the night before crowding out his previous concerns.

“Oh fine, but if tongues start wagging, I’m not the one to blame,” Bilbo said. Another mumble, this one sounding suspiciously contented at the prospect, was the last word Bilbo got on the matter before he gave himself up to a truly delightful morning.

Bagginshield Kiss my dude??? Bruhhh 7

7) routine kisses where the other person presents their cheek/forehead for the hello/goodbye kiss without even looking up from what they’re doing

It was a bloody stupid thing to do, and Bilbo’s only excuse for it was that everything surrounding the rebuilding of Erebor was happening at a break-neck pace, and that included personal lives. It also included even less sleep, somehow, than he recalled getting on the quest. 

So with the Company all gathered around a salvaged banquet table, maps and accounts laid out in a flurry before them while more dwarves trickled in every day, and day and night had no meaning because there was so much work to be done and they were underground, he had hardly thought of it.

Clearly Thorin had hardly thought of it either, when Bilbo stood and stretched with a yawn, his spine popping as he stretched after a day spent sitting.

“Well I think that’s me for the night. If spend one more minute looking at those scribbles I quite believe my eyes will fall out,” Bilbo said. He made no pretense of dwarven constitution. There was a lethargic murmur from the surrounding dwarves, a half-hearted wave from Ori as he glanced up from his work.

“Goodnight,” Bilbo said to Thorin, and leaned over to give him a companionable pat on the shoulder. It was all they’d agreed upon for when they were in public, at least until such a time as they chose, a time when it made sense to try to explain to the others what they barely understood themselves.

Bilbo did not know exactly when staying up beside Thorin’s sickbed to free the healers to see to the other wounded had turned to sharing that bed. Or when it had turned to falling asleep at Thorin’s side to the steady beat of Thorin’s heart, as soothing a sound as he had ever heard with how close it had been. 

He could not pinpoint it, but once both were given their separate quarters set up within Erebor, they had exchanged one silent, knowing look and that had been that. Bilbo wasn’t sure he’d spent a single night in his generous quarters, only used it to store his clothes (though even those were making a steady migration to Thorin’s wardrobe, only for convenience’s sake of course) and then it was on with his little ring and sneaking back to the only place that felt like home since he’d left Bag End.

It had been at least a month now though of waking up beside Thorin in the few hours of sleep they were afforded, but those private moments of warmth between waking and sleeping were a better courtship than any Bilbo had thought to have, with anyone for that matter, much less with Thorin when they might so easily have had nothing at all.

He would admit in retrospect that small part of him had hoped the little pat on the shoulder would be sign enough to Thorin of his intentions, once a suitably unsuspicious amount of time had passed and Bilbo had absolutely been seen entering his own room for any eyes that might be there to pry. For those eyes would certainly not note the tiny opening of that door as an invisible, hobbit-size form slipped out.

That said, they really did need to stop the sneaking around though, as much of a game as it had become, as lovely as the privacy and lack of prying had been, but that was hardly on Bilbo’s mind at the moment. There was nothing on his mind except how badly he looked forward to that bed, and the warmth of Thorin beside him to share it.

So when Thorin inclined his head in return with a murmured, “Goodnight,” Bilbo had not thought about it, or about anything at all when the pat on the shoulder turned to a familiar goodnight kiss to Thorin’s forehead.

The murmuring of the other dwarves stopped. Bilbo stopped. The warm creep of exhaustion over his eyes and brain stopped, replaced with a sudden horrible alertness.

But maybe it was his imagination. Maybe they’d gone undetected, with the others too focused on their work. Bilbo craned his neck, peaking out of one eye in a hope against hope…

Nope. Every eye in the room was trained on them. Kili was openly gaping, and Dwalin’s expression was worryingly unreadable.

“Uh,” Bilbo tried, intelligently. “I… suppose someone just won a bet?”