This one shot was inspired by some of the imagines from imaginxhobbit on tumblr. It is not a direct response to any particular one, but simple a bit of crack/fluff that demanded to be written. It involves Thorin x Reader and should probably be rated "Mature" just to be safe. It is NSFW, but doesn't actually involve any smut. Thanks for reading and enjoy. ;)

I'll be Watching You

You didn't really save Thorin Oakenshield's life. Not really. Gandalf, Bilbo and one of the eagles actually had more to do with Thorin being alive and breathing than you did.

But still, it was nice of everyone to give you some credit, especially since they hadn't really wanted you around in the first place.

Thorin and his company had come to your village in the latter days of summer seeking shelter for the night. What they found instead was a cluster of burned out ruins that still reeked of death, ravaged fields and you; the sole survivor of an orc attack.

You had begged to come with them, but Thorin had thought you'd be too much of a burden. After all, you didn't have a weapon, nor would you have known how to use it if you had. You could cook, but then so could Bombur. You could mend torn clothing and repair boots, but the dwarves were not terribly fashion conscious so those skills were of only marginal use to them. In addition, you were small for a human, only an inch or two shorter than Thorin, but not nearly as sturdy.

So, really, you were of little use to them. They felt pity for you, that was obvious on their faces. But they had enough trouble of their own that they didn't want to add one puny young woman to the mix.

In the end, it was your two bags of vegetables; the few crops that you'd been able to salvage, harvest and dry on makeshift racks, that swayed them. A lump of salt, a broken crock of honey and another of molasses had just sweetened the deal.

You'd done your best to be useful throughout the journey. Though after you'd fallen into a crevice in the dark and had to be pried out, you'd been excused from firewood collecting duty. Mostly you washed pots and pans and sewed torn clothing.

Most of the Company was cordial toward you, Fili and Kili especially. They seemed to view you as a new source of entertainment and delighted in telling you outrageous stories, only to burst into laughter when you actually believed them. But their teasing was not unkind. They did seem to truly enjoy your company. The other dwarves either payed little attention to you or were grudgingly polite. Bilbo seemed glad to have someone to talk to who had better manners than the dwarves and Gandalf was kind, answering your many questions with gentle good humor.

The only one who did not seem to accept your presence was Thorin. He either aggressively ignored you or snapped at you when you made a stupid mistake. Granted, the stupid mistakes had usually put you in peril. But since you'd never been more than a mile from your little village, you thought you were keeping up with the Company fairly well simply because you hadn't died in the first week.

Nevertheless, Thorin's criticism stung and you often had the uncomfortable feeling of someone watching you, only to look up and find Thorin's deep blue eyes regarding you beneath heavy brows. You weren't sure what those looks meant, but you were pretty certain they weren't good.

It seemed a perfect example of just how contrary your luck was, that you fell in love with the dwarf leader somewhere between the Carrock and the Lonely Mountain. You found yourself gazing at Thorin more and more, noticing how the sun picked out the few strands of silver in his glossy black hair. You noticed that each morning, he folded his bedroll with absolute precision and that he sometimes favored his left shoulder when first waking.

You watched his expressions closely, noting the softening of his eyes when the hobbit said something especially funny or the glint of respect when he discussed the quest with his fellow dwarves. You often saw affection in his face, sometimes hidden behind his stern gaze and sometimes not. Despite his regal bearing and aloofness, he was kind and fair with his people. They loved him deeply, that much was obvious. Even little Bilbo admired him greatly.

It certainly didn't help that Thorin was astonishingly handsome and the more accustomed to dwarf features you got, the more handsome he became. You developed a healthy obsession with his arms and chest early on.

There were no opportunities to bathe, not that the dwarves seemed to find that occupation terribly important. But when there was time and when they seemed relatively safe, Thorin would remove his cloak, his armor and roll up his sleeves to splash water on his face and the back of his neck.

He'd caught you staring the first time he'd knelt at the edge of a stream with his forearms and a triangle of chest exposed. The sight of those corded muscles lightly sprinkled with dark hair had left you wide-eyed, open mouthed and doing an impressive imitation of a landed fish. When Thorin had looked up to find you gawping at him, unable to speak, he'd given you such a thunderous look that later, you'd been surprised that a bolt of lightning hadn't arced out of the sky and singed you on the spot.

Thankfully, a few survival instincts had kicked in and you'd retreated from the river with your face flaming bright enough to light up a cavern. After that, you'd been much more secretive about watching him, thought at times you were certain he knew and simply tolerated your furtive looks.

Your crush only intensified during the journey and once the Company reached Erebor and Thorin descended into gold induced madness, your heart broke for him. Balin advised you to hide and though he didn't say it, he implied that Thorin's gold lust might turn to a different type of lust if he were given the opportunity.

Grieving and frightened, you'd stayed out of the way, eventually accompanying Bilbo when war broke out. It was when the hobbit realized that the Durins were walking into a trap that you'd played your small part in saving Thorin.

You'd run ahead of Bilbo because your legs were longer and so you'd arrived just in time to see the hideous pale orc Azog deliver what should have been a fatal blow. Your scream had echoed in the frozen space, but when Thorin rose up to kill Azog, you'd thought for one joyous moment, that he was miraculously unharmed.

But that joy had turned to horror when Thorin collapsed, blood gushing from a grievous wound. You'd raced across the ice, slipping and sliding and nearly crushed him when you fell at Thorin's side. In an instant, you'd torn off your shirt and pressed it to the wound and then added a small chunk of ice on top with some vague notion that the cold might help stop the bleeding.

Bilbo had arrived and had the good sense to hop up and down, waving his arms and attracted the attention of one of the eagles. Not really understanding what was going on, you'd thrown yourself over Thorin when the eagle swooped down to retrieve him and had been crushed against the dwarf in the great bird's talons until it had dropped both of you at Gandalf's feet.

Then you'd watched, with tears streaming down your face as the wizard healed the most urgent of Thorin's wounds. Thorin had been borne away by two dwarves after that and once the horrendous battle had ended you found out that Thorin had was being tended by Oin, and though badly wounded, was expected to live. Kili and Fili had both been severely wounded as well, but again, thanks to Bilbo's quick thinking, they too had survived.

In the weeks following the battle, you'd found a niche for yourself in restoring abandoned rooms to some level of comfort. So many supplies had been left behind all those years ago when Smaug had first come, that you were able to outfit most of the bedchambers quite nicely.

You'd tried twice to visit Thorin. The first time he'd been unconscious. Looking deathly pale, his cheeks sunken and his brow drenched with fever, you'd looked upon him with your heart on your sleeve. Any of the dwarves who hadn't figured out your feelings for their king before, had had no doubt after you'd spent a nearly an hour clinging to his hand and sobbing.

You'd kept his chambers supplied with the cleanest linens and bandages and a steady supply of both ice and hot water, but you hadn't attempted to see him again until a couple weeks later.

Unfortunately his bellows of anger had stopped you at the door. The dragon sickness might be gone, but Thorin was not happy about being confined to bed. You'd retreated before even stepping over the threshold.

So, it wasn't until today, nearly six weeks after the battle that you had word that Thorin was not only out of bed, but had been slowly regaining his strength and walking around his reclaimed home.

"Have you seen my new invention?" Kili asked when he came upon you altering a dwarrowdam's gown. You might be about the same height as a female dwarf, but they were much stouter.

"What new invention? And how are you feeling, anyway?" you ask, glad to see the handsome young dwarf.

"Oh, I'm good as new," Kili assures you with his customary cheeky grin. "Thorin is better too. Oin finally let him get out of bed, though it may have been more out of self-preservation than anything else. Uncle has been getting increasingly testy," Kili confided.

If the furious bellows you'd heard were merely "testy" then you'd hate to see Thorin truly enraged.

But Kili continues before you can ask anything further.

"Which is why I came up with my invention. Oin won't let Thorin take a bath because he doesn't want him bending down and causing his innards to start bleeding again, so…"

You immediately blanch thinking of just how precarious Thorin's recovery has been and lose track of what Kili is saying for a minute or two.

"He was getting a bit ripe, if you know what I mean," Kili continues, not realizing you have been ignoring him.

"What?" you ask.

"The water spout," Kili says and it's obvious that you're supposed to know what he's talking about. Apparently Kili realizes how distracted you were and repeats himself.

"I built a pipe that carries water past the furnaces to a platform. The furnaces heat the water and when you open the lever, hot water pours out. You can stand under it to wash." Kili beams at you and you nod your appreciation.

"That sounds clever. But I didn't think dwarves cared all that much about bathing."

Kili looks both shocked and insulted. "Do you think we're uncivilized?"

You feel your eyebrows climbing up your forehead, but wisely keep your mouth shut. "Well, it does sound better than heating water over a fire and then carrying it to a bath. It's usually cold by the time I get the tub full."

"Exactly," Kili says proudly. "You should give it a try. No one is using it right now. You should go before people get done with their workday. Here, I even drew a map so you could find it easier."

You're amazed at how thoughtful Kili is. He's apparently realizes how many times you've gotten turned around in Erebor. He urges you once again to try out the new water spout right away and thinking how nice it would feel to wash in water that is actually hot, you agree. Handing over the map, Kili leaves you to gather up your things.

A quarter of an hour and only one wrong turn later, you arrive at an enormous slab of granite that sits beyond the main furnaces. You hear the chug and clank of machinery far in the distance, but this area is fairly remote.

The smooth granite floor stretches out in front of you for quite a ways, eventually ending in what appears to be a cliff that falls off to who-knows-where. A freshly made groove, beautifully smoothed, cuts through the center of the floor and carries water off the side of the cliff. Directly beneath a distant shaft that allows sunlight into Erebor is the cut-off end of a large pipe.

The pipe stands at least ten feet off of the ground and water gushes out the end like a waterfall. Further down, a lever closes and opens the pipe.

And directly beneath the pipe and the gushing water, standing in a pool of distant sunlight is…

Oh, by the gods…

You clap a hand over your mouth and cringe in dismay.

The bathing area is occupied. And not just occupied by anyone. Thorin stands beneath the gushing water, his long dark hair streaming down his back as suds cascade down his body.

Suddenly, you understand why Kili was in such a hurry to get you down here.

The sneak!

You make a mental note to put nettles in his bed sometime in the near future.

But at the moment… right now it feels as if your feet are nailed to the floor. You could not walk away if your life depended upon it.

Thorin stands directly beneath the flowing water, a ray of light turning his body to bronze. His back is to you and… oh, what a beautiful back he has. Strong slabs of muscle bunch and stretch as he moves, tapering down to a narrow waist and hips. The perfect globes of his buttocks make your hands twitch with the need to feel them. Muscular thighs run down to strong calves. His feet are placed hip distance apart.

A whimper escapes your throat as you imagine him lying face down on a bed and you have permission to touch and kiss and lick your way across the smooth expanse of his back.

Except that his back is not perfectly smooth after all.

Just above his lower back is a scar. It is raw, red and puckered and you realize that this is where Azog stabbed him. The blade went all the way through, nearly impaling Thorin on the ice. Perhaps it did actually impale him and only the dwarf's incredible strength had made him able to rise up and strike down the orc.

For one fierce moment you wish that you could resurrect Azog just so you could kill him again. But the angry thought passes as Thorin turns.

Apparently some tiny part of your intelligence is still functioning, because you instantly scramble back into the shadows. Your dress is a dark blue and so it probably blends into the shadows just fine. You hold your breath, hoping he doesn't open his eyes and see you…

Thorin has turned all the way around and is facing you now. If you thought his back was worth looking at, his chest is even better. Strong muscles bulge on the upper part of his chest as he reaches up to spear his fingers into his hair. His nipples are deep brown and perfectly flat. The muscles of his belly resemble the washboards that you use every week to scrub laundry.

You had heard once, long ago, that dwarves were hairy all over. As thick as the pelt of a bear, someone had said. You now know this is not true.

Thorin has a dark hair scattered across the expanse of his chest and arrowing down his belly, but it's not as thick as a pelt by any means. It actually looks quite tempting, as if you could run your fingers through the sparse strands and feel the smooth warm skin beneath. Of course, you'd want to slide your tongue over his chest as well, lick the flat disc of his nipples and tease them with your teeth. You would definitely want to lap at the hard muscles on his stomach and kiss the smooth skin… except, once again, his skin is not smooth.

There is an old scar on his left shoulder. It looks remarkable like an arrow wound and you wonder how it happened. You remember that he sometimes favored that shoulder during the journey when sleeping on the cold hard ground caused all sorts of aches and pains.

But the worst is the puckered wound just below his rib cage. The skin is still raw and red though it has obviously healed. It's bigger than its counterpart in his back. This is where Azog drove his blade into your king and the dwarf that you love. You can't even imagine the destruction that orc blade did to Thorin's organs or how much magic Gandalf must have used to repair him enough that he had a chance to live.

The quick death that Thorin gave Azog was unconscionable. Azog's head should have been paraded around Erebor on a pike.

While it was still attached to his body.

While he was still alive.

But once again, your thoughts of revenge on the dead orc are scattered when Thorin leans back to finish rinsing soap from his hair.

You follow the line of bubbles down his chest, down his belly and down to…

Oh, good lord…

Thorin is hung like a horse. That expression finally makes sense to you now. Covered in thick, dark hair, his balls are nearly the size of your fists. True, your hands are small, but still… You didn't know they came in that size.

As for his manhood, thrust forward as he arches his back, it is large and thick and astonishingly impressive. Corded with heavy veins and turned ruddy by the hot water, the very sight makes your knees weak and belly clench. You whimper again though you're not sure if it is from fear or need.

You suddenly recall, years ago, your encounter with Tommy Huggins behind the haystack on his father's farm. You'd let Tommy kiss you at the harvest celebration and didn't mind at all when he suggested that you find a nice, private spot to continue. One thing had led to another and soon Tommy had been hovering over you naked. There had been a quick thrust, a pinch of pain, a second thrust and then Tommy had howled in your ear like a banshee. Finally after a grunt, he'd pulled his limp little member out and dribbled on you.

The incident had been a complete disappointment and you'd wondered why in Middle Earth people engaged in such an activity. Even goats seemed to enjoy the act more than you had.

But now, you had a distinct feeling that any dislike of the exercise had been entirely due to Tommy's inadequacy.

Just looking at Thorin made you feel things that Tommy never had. The place between your legs clenches with need, feeling achy and hollow, desperate for what only Thorin could give. Your thighs feel soft and limp as if they want to fall open and sizzles of desire spark and pool in your belly. Your breasts feel heavy and full and begging for a large hand to close around them.

You almost reach up to touch yourself, when a deep and slightly amused voice interrupts you.

"Still up to your spying, are you?"

Your gasp is so loud that it could almost wake Smaug in his watery grave.

While you'd been admiring Thorin's dwarvish… assets, you'd completely forgotten about his dwarvish eyes. He could see in the dark ten times better than you could and no doubt, standing in your little patch of shadow, you were as visible to him as a bird in the sky.

You clap your hand over your eyes and squeak, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

He doesn't respond, no doubt because he doesn't hear you over the rush of water. But a moment later, you hear a squealing sound. Peeking between two fingers, you see that Thorin has turned the lever and shut off the flow of water.

He picks up a towel and ruffles his hair with it, before moving on to more interesting places. You quickly cover your eyes completely again.

"I'm really sorry," you call out. "I didn't know anyone was here and I was… uh… taken by surprise."

Boy, wasn't that the truth? Taken by complete surprise that Thorin was even more gorgeous than every fantasy you'd ever imagined. How he got that tree limb tucked into his trousers, you couldn't guess.

"Funny," Thorin said, "Kili assured me that no one would come here at this hour."

"He did?" you ask, whipping your hand down from your eyes. "Why that dirty, rotten…" Oops, you've just gotten an eyeful again. "Um… sorry," you drop the basket with your bathing supplies on the smooth floor and cover your face with both hands.

"It appears that my nephew has trouble telling time. I'll have to instruct him later." That sounds definitely like a threat and inwardly you cringe. If Thorin is angry with Kili, you wonder just how angry he is with you.

Suddenly there is a delicious warmth right in front of you and the scent of soap and clean skin. Large hands reach up to pull your own away from your eyes.

Thorin is standing directly in front of you. He doesn't look angry. In fact, there just might be a twinkle in his blue eyes.

You drink in the sight of him. It's been so long since you've seen his face. His cheeks are a little thinner than they used to be and he's not quite as tan, but otherwise he looks healthy and wonderfully alive. His face is beautifully carved with high cheek bones and a strong jaw and it is one of the dearest sights in the world.

Your traitorous eyes dart downward, but luckily, or perhaps unluckily, he is wearing a pair of leather trousers. His feet are bare though and you see another scar. This is where Azog impaled his foot. It looks painful still.

Quite suddenly, your eyes fill with tears when you realize just how close you came to losing Thorin. You might not ever actually have him, but at least you can live in the same city as he and perhaps see him once in a while.

"Hey…" he says softly, reaching up to cup one side of your face. You really start to cry then.

"You almost died," you hiccup. "I thought he'd killed you!"

Thorin gathers you into his arms and your face is suddenly pressed into a warm, slightly damp and very male chest. If you weren't crying so much, this would be bliss.

"I am very much alive," Thorin rumbles in your ear, "and I understand I have you to thank for it."

You shake your head awkwardly and tell him about Bilbo's quick thinking and Gandalf's magic.

"I would have bled out if not for you," he says, his voice deep with emotion. "Thank you."

You sniffle and blink up at him. You don't think Thorin has ever thanked you for anything ever before.

He continues cupping the side of your face and you can't help but lean into his touch just a little.

"You did not visit while I was convalescing," he states and you hear a touch of hurt in his tone.

"I did," you assure him quickly. "I did. But you were asleep and I cried all over you and made a bigger fool of myself than I did today. And the next time, I tried to see you, you were… er… you sounded as if you were not in the mood for visitors."

He broke into a grin. "Yes, well, I am not good at lying in bed day after day. At least, not when I am alone," he adds, his eyes twinkling.

You glance up at him, startled. Is he flirting with you? No, not possible. He doesn't even like you. You're certain of that. Aren't you?

"I have not seen you in the hall for dinner," he says next.

"Oh, I um… have been eating in the kitchens."

"Not anymore," Thorin states. "You will eat with us from now on."

"But I don't want to be a nuisance. I know you didn't want me to be part of your Company…"

"I changed my mind about that long ago."

"You did?" You can't believe what he's telling you. Nor can you believe you're standing here while he's half naked and his fingers are gliding softly over the side of your face.

"Yes, I did," he says huskily. "I'm not sure when it started," he muses, "perhaps when we pried you out of that crevice or when you started ogling me."

You sputter. "I did not ogle you! I was just uh… erm…"

Thorin raises a brow in amused disbelief.

"I…" you try again. "All right. I may have watched you from time to time. Just a little bit," you mumble.

"And yet, you never noticed me watching you back," Thorin says, a hint of triumph in his voice.

"What?"

The amused twinkle in his eyes has gotten brighter. "Come to dinner tonight. I have been saving a place for you ever since I left my bed."

"You have?"

He nods. "I want you in it tonight and every night."

You nod back, feeling completely amazed. Thorin leans forward and, taking you by surprise again, presses his lips to yours in a brief kiss.

Your lungs seize up immediately and your knees threaten to give way. The kiss is over in the blink of an eye, but you are left staring at him in dazed astonishment.

Thorin apparently finds the look on your face quite amusing, for he grins at you, one of the rare smiles that you've ever seen on his face. You're left with the impression of a well-shaped mouth and perfectly white, straight teeth.

Then he sweeps past you and calls over his shoulder, "Until tonight then," and walks away. Bemused, you turn to watch him and note that there is a jauntiness to his step that you've never noticed before.

Your lungs suddenly stutter to life and you draw in a large breath that makes you cough. By the time your paroxysms have ceased, Thorin is no longer in sight and you have a sudden urge to get clean and find something very nice to wear to dinner. Since it's apparent that you've been missing some very subtle signals from Thorin, you can't wait to see him again.

I'll be watching you, you think with growing excitement.

A/N: Thanks for reading this little bit of fluff. I hope you enjoyed it. I've completed an original story about elves on my Fiction Press page: u/171614/ I hope you'll check it out. Cheers! :)