#boromir oneshot

[entishramblings]

Fuck the Forbidden Pt. 2

[Boromir/F!MermaidReader]

PART 1 | PART 3 — coming soon

Fuck the Forbidden: FTF LINK MASTERLIST

A.N: my apologies for taking so much time to update: graduate school is a tornado, plus getting sick and the craziness of holidays season didn’t help. Anyways, thank you for your patience and your continuous support! I literally read all your comment in order to inspire me to write again!

Request: none

Pairing: Boromir X Fem!MermaidReader

Summary: The Reader is a Mermaid and witnessed a shipwreck. She becomes interested in human life—particularly one human: Boromir.

Disclaimer: Any mythology relating to the mermaids of middle earth is not canon. also I tried my best with arda water/river geography plz don’t come at me—it’s not one of my finer subjects :/

Word Count: 5.7k — listen, yes, I STILL have a problem

Warnings: depression, drowning, ptsd, alcoholism, angst, comfort, fluff, stalking (idk how to make that last one sound less creepy. you’re just gonna have to read it).

MASTERLIST | AO3 | WATTPAD

The following day, (Y/N) waited in the depths of the Anduin River by the entrance of the Minas Tirith castle. Sure enough, the captain, decorated in silver, came out upon his steed. Though he did not have the cheer he normally held—despite his recent struggles—he seemed….different. (Y/N) had hoped that he didn't remember what he saw under the lake. Maybe he figured he was too drunk and his mind was playing tricks on him? Maybe he would forget it all together? However, that fearful look in his eyes when he glanced at the river told her otherwise. It appeared Faramir failed to convince his brother that the mer-folk were just a myth.

Boromir deviated from his routine as well. He did not go to the market for the breakfast that he seemed to love. No, no. Instead he went out towards the edge of the city–towards the docks. And (Y/N) went with him. He passed his horse off to another and walked upon the wood, passing ship and boat, until he came upon a small fishing vessel. (Y/N) swam around it and took to the surface upon its side, far enough to not be spotted, but close enough to see and hear.

“Iwar,” Boromir called out. “You there?”

“Oi!” the old man replied, emerging from the sails. “What can I do for yer?”

“You have a moment?”

“For ye? Of course I do, lad. What is this about?” Iwar stated, squinting in the sun.

Boromir huffed, and pulled something from his pocket. He lightly tossed it to the older fellow. “What do you make of this?”

Iwar frowned, holding the whale up before his face by the string Boromir had used to make it into a necklace. “Where’d ye get it?”

“In a pond. One that connects to the Anduin River.”

Iwar sent him a strange look. “Do ye know what this is made out of?”

Boromir shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.

“It’s bone, Boromir,” he replied tentatively.

At this, the captain’s lips parted. “Bone?”

Iwar tossed the whale carving back to him. “Aye, couldn't tell ye what it came from. Whittled too much away for that. Ye said yer got it from a pond?”

He nodded, swallowing dryly.

“Could’ve washed up from the currents.” Iwar stated, nonchalantly, returning to the tasks of his sail. “Some trinket someone lost to the sea.”

Boromir dipped his head, his anxiety present as he fiddled with the whale.

Iwar glanced at him. “Something else, boy?”

Boromir inhaled slowly. “Iwar, do you–do you really believe those tales of the sea-folk?”

The old man sent a weary look at the captain as he tied off one of the ropes upon the fabric. “Aye. Saw one of em’ when I was just a lad. Nearly lost my life.”

Boromir focused his gaze upon Iwar. “I think–I think I saw one last night.”

At this, the older man froze. Slowly, he turned his full attention to the captain, dread slipping from his face.

Still, Boromir continued, trying to justify his sighting. ‘Though, I don't know. I was very drunk. Had a couple ales too many. My mind could’ve—”

“You were out on the sea last night?” Iwar interrupted, confused.

Boromir shook his head.

“The shore then? Never heard of em’ venturing so close.”

Boromir released a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “I, uh, I was in the pond by the Minas Tirith castle.”

Iwar’s form stiffened as he walked toward the captain. He nodded at the bone carving in Boromir’s hand as he spoke in a tone that held so much anxiety that it radiated through the air around him. “The same pond where ye found that?”

“Yes.”

Iwar’s eyes widened wildly. “I’d tell ye what, lad. Ye have been marked by em.’ And that—” he dipped his head at the whale once more. “—I reckon that's human bone.”

Blood drained from Boromir’s face, replaced with sheer panic. His fingers clumsily grappled with the carving, uncertain of how to handle it. Reluctant to make direct contact, he hesitated before settling on gripping the string, allowing the whale to dangle. Disgust etched across his brow.

“I’d get out while ye can. Stay away from the sea waters, boy.” Iwar warned.

….

That night, Boromir didn't go to the pool of water by the white walls—nor the following night. He, quite frankly, didn't go near the water at all. He stayed far from the beaches and from the Anduin River. He took longer paths to where he needed to go in order to avoid such circumstances that put him near what Iwar had described to live in the sea.

And this—all this broke (Y/N)’s heart. It stirred up a tumult of emotions—sadness, anger, fear, and frustration. Therefore, on the third day, she sought solace in a secluded nook along the Bay of Belfas. Hoisting herself onto a warm rock, she sat, enveloped in her misery. Her once-vivid fantasies of the land-people and Boromir now dissolved into sorrow and regret. What lingered was the haunting image of Boromir's disdainful expression when Iwar speculated that her gift was crafted from human bone. Any mer-folk would be delighted to receive such a heartfelt gesture! But Boromir wasn't of the sea, now was he.

(Y/N) stayed upon the rock for hours, hoping the sun would soak up her melancholy mood. However, that is not what the golden beams absorbed. Her skin dried, her hair lightened and billowed freely, and the scales on her tail lacked the moisture they once held. It was at that moment discomfort struck. Excruciating, searing pain surged through her tail, a relentless agony that prompted a deep cry from her lips. Every nerve seemed to flare with an intense, burning sensation, rendering her nearly paralyzed by the sheer intensity of the pain. She couldn't move, only shake and claw at the rock she perched upon. It felt like hours as she laid there, praying to the gods to make it end. And when it did, she instinctively reached for her scales. However, to her surprise, her hand met no such thing; instead, flesh had replaced the once-familiar tail.

(Y/N) gasped.

Her father had said…

He had tested them all…

None had the gift….

He lied.

Emotions swirled around her naked form as she stared at the strange extension that replaced her glimmering scales—legs. Anger, irritation, sadness, regret, frustration, excitement all ran through her blood.

Slowly, she stood. As she took a wobbly step upon the rock, a loud, breathy giggle escaped her lips.

Was this a dream?

(Y/N) took another uncertain step, and another, and another—until she stumbled, her hand reaching out to break her fall. However, a splash came from that, for her palm struck where water had gathered in a dip upon the rock.

Immediately, she felt it.

Her skin tingled, then burned and stung, stretching and pulling in a painful dance. (Y/N) cried out as the pain intensified. With scales attempting to form on her dry legs, the tugging became excruciating once more—tears streamed from her eyes as she desperately scrambled towards the water.

Her form slipped and rolled, right off the rock and into the ocean.

Immediate relief enveloped her. Scales continued to knit together without a hint of pain. The water soothed her. It coated the soreness into nonexistence.

(Y/N) allowed her form to sink, adjusting.

There she floated, letting her body and mind adjust to what had just happened.

It was then when one of the turmoiling emotions overtook the rest of them. It coursed through her gills and surged through her veins.

How dare he…

With a decisive flick of her tail, she propelled herself toward her father's palace.

The anger granted her remarkable speed, causing other merfolk to whip their heads around in confusion as she barreled past them.

She swam directly to the grand chamber, where she anticipated her father perched upon his throne, and busted the door open with her tail.

“HOW DARE YOU?!” she screamed at him.

Heads turned instantly—her father’s, her sisters’, the guards’.

“HOW DARE YOU LIE TO ME, FATHER. HOW DARE YOU NOT TELL ME I HAD THE GIFT?!”

Her father rose, signaling the guards to leave. They swam away quickly, avoiding the impending wrath of the sea's king and his children.

“You lied straight to my face,” (Y/N) stated.

“(Y/N), what are you talking about?” Anahita interjected, appalled by her sister’s tone.

Mareena added to her statement. “That is no way to speak to our father!”

(Y/N)'s tail flicked with irritation as she focused her gaze on the man before her. “I have the gift to walk among the land-folk.”

Una gasped. Seria’s mouth dropped open. Rana’s eyes widened. Nerida’s brows shot upwards.

Their father swam towards (Y/N). “You went to the land?!” he growled. “It is forbidden.”

“I DID NOT GO ONTO THE LAND!” She snapped back. Taking a deep breath, she spoke again. “I was letting the sun warm me upon a rock when it happened—the tingling, the splitting, the pain.”

“You went to the surface—”

“How dare you not tell me, Father!”

“I DID NOT TELL YOU BECAUSE OF THIS!” He yelled. “Because I knew the minute you would figure it out, you would want to test out your new form. You would put us all in danger.”

“YOU HAVE PUT ME IN DANGER. YOU HAVE MASKED YOUR PROTECTION IN LIES THAT HAVE ONLY CAUSED ME PAIN. HOW DARE YOU!” (Y/N) retorted.

With that, (Y/N) swam away. She twisted through the reefs and the grass. She slipped through the schools of fish and their bubbles. She slithered through the rocks and caves. She did so until she was back in the Anduin River, where the lively markets and the hustle of people's households awaited. Breaking through the water's surface, she emerged with a cautious awareness, ensuring she remained unseen.

She swam along the edge until she came upon a line of clothing strung between two buildings. On it hung sheets as bright as a lemonpeel angelfish, a skirt holding the vibrance of an orange clownfish, a flowing wrap the hue of a blue tang fish, a pair of trousers the color of a brown leafy sea dragon, a top shaded like that of a pink fairy wrasse, and a flowing dress the cream color of a stingray’s belly.

(Y/N) looked at her surroundings.

The people were on the other side of the clothing line—all mucking about in the market. None even bothered to shed a glance behind the fabric. All were too busy going about their day.

Therefore, with little regard for the forbidden nature of her actions—because, really, fuck the forbidden—(Y/N) decided to defy the rules that had once controlled her life.

Originally, she hadn't intended to act in such defiance, but the anger coursing through her veins urged her forward into impulsive urges.

Hauling her form out of the water, (Y/N) manipulated the water clinging to her, using her fingers in twisting and rippling motions. She gathered the liquid into a cohesive ball and, with a flick of her wrist, sent the sphere dancing through the air before it plopped back into the river.

The tingling sensation began, followed by the excruciating pain, and soon enough, the transformation into legs commenced.

Anxiously, (Y/N) stood. Her shaky legs wobbled as she adjusted to their unfamiliar form. Her trembling fingers swiftly seized the cream colored dress—she didn't want to stand out, she needed to blend in—and she clumsily slipped it on. Her gaze then fixated on a brilliant blue wrap. The color resonated with the deep seas she hailed from, and she couldn't resist. The mermaid grasped the silk and yanked, winding it around her hair in a manner she had observed from land women when peeking from the river. Letting some of her locks cascade out of the twisted band, the blue fabric draped over her shoulders. She smiled.

Her hand instinctively rose to her neck, where her necklace adorned with shells, sea glass, and bones encircled her skin. A frown crossed her face. She couldn't part with it—this cherished gift from her since passed mother. Therefore, she let it remain, finding that it didn't look too out of place.

(Y/N) ventured into the market, nervously navigating the bustling city of Minas Tirith with her new, wobbly legs. The vibrant atmosphere teemed with life and excitement as diverse groups came together to weave the people into the human race. So many men, women, and children—all different sizes, all different shapes, all different skin tones—bustled through the streets.

Young children ran through the tents playing games and tricks on one another. Often enough, a woman was pursuing the chase while yelling for their halt of mischief. Men were not involved in this matter. Instead, they loudly called out the names of what they sold, along with prices, at the busy passerbyers in hopes of getting a customer. Never had (Y/N) seen something so brilliantly enthralling and engaging—not in her time under the sea with the mer-folk.

As she moved through the people, she discreetly snagged what she needed. A pair of sandals disappeared from a rack, and she swiftly turned away before anyone noticed. Vibrantly colored bracelets caught her eye at a vendor's stall, and she couldn't resist snagging a few. Additionally, she plucked food from bins and baskets. She didn't know what it was—but oh how delicious it tasted when it was not dunked in the salt of the sea.

Here, (Y/N) stayed, exploring the thrill of humanity and letting their culture enrapture her senses. So much so, that she failed to notice a soldier adorned in silver until she collided with his metal-plated chest.

Her form tumbled backwards, taking an extra moment to steady.

“Are you alright, miss?” a concerned voice inquired.

(Y/N) slowly raised her head to meet a familiar face: Faramir.

Unable to find her voice, she could only nod in reply. Shyness and anxiety filled her as she backed away from the unexpected encounter.

He acknowledged her reply with a dip of his own head before turning to another soldier a little ways away. He made way towards him and gently touched his arm. “Boromir, we should get going. Father is expecting us.”

(Y/N) went still. Her inquisitive gaze shifted towards him, and indeed, there stood Boromir. His dark, sandy hair brushed upon his forehead, tousled slightly from the refreshing breeze. Vibrant blue eyes held a sternness, concealing the sadness she knew resided in his heart. His pink lips pressed into a firm line, refraining from the warmth of a smile. Boromir was clad in the silver armor and the metal weapons that she had seen him in nearly every day. He looked fit for his position as captain, his authority nearly radiating from him. Now that she was upon the land, he seemed so much bigger—so much stronger. So much more important.

(Y/N)’s cheeks began to heat, prompting her to quickly ducked behind the fabric of a tent. After giving herself a moment, she peaked out.

Though she knew she shouldn't, she found herself following them. At a safe distance, she mimicked every turn, accentuated every step, and utilized every path they took. And when the Steward's sons crossed the threshold of Minas Tirith Castle, so did she.

Instantly, she was met with just as much business as the market. Servants flooded the halls, carrying trays of fruit and platters of meat. Maids held onto neatly folded laundry and finely pressed sheets. Guards bustled about, their steel clanking as they moved through the halls, to get to their next shift, meal, or rest.

(Y/N) was so overwhelmed that she failed to notice a group of soldiers rounding the corner. As they pushed past her, a heavy shoulder slammed into her, the edge of the metal plate catching her forehead. The impact sliced the skin open, causing her to tumble backward against the wall.

Surprising her, she felt a gentle hand upon her arm, holding her steady. A soft voice that she knew all too well, that spoke words all too similar to his brother’s, filled her ears. “Are you alright, miss?”

In a daze, (Y/N) looked up at the dark sandy hair, vibrant blue eyes, and perfect pink lips of Boromir. Too stunned to speak, she merely stared at him, every thought that had occupied her mind vanishing in the moment.

Boromir turned towards the group of soldiers who had caused the commotion and knocked her down. With a tone infused with authority and anger, he snapped at them, “Watch where you are going!”

They turned, initially confused and uncertain of Boromir's reprimand until they spotted the frightened and injured girl beside him.

“What kind of soldiers are you that you let your steel hit a woman!” Boromir added, his irritation even more obvious. “Keep better track of your things—and your forms!”

The soldiers nodded, though their indifference was evident, and they shuffled away without much concern.

Boromir turned back to (Y/N), repeating his prior question, his tone gentle once more. “I apologize for the actions of my men. I will reprimand them later, but right now you are more important, yes? Miss?”

She looked up at him, blinking. He didn’t recognize her, did he?

“You’re bleeding,” he stated softly, his finger pressed gently upon her forehead.

A quiet gasp of pain escaped (Y/N)’s lips and her expressions distorted slightly.

“My apologies. I did not mean to make your pain worse. May I take you to the infirmary? We can get that treated.”

Unsure what to say—and what an infirmary was—she nervously dipped her head.

“Alright,” he began. “Let’s get you moving.”

Gently, he helped her move away from the wall, one arm wrapped around her waist. However, with a couple steps, her vision swirled and she stumbled.

Boromir caught her quickly. “Whoa, whoa. Slow down. Just a step at a time.” His brows pulled together as he looked down at her. “Are you dizzy? Is the room spinning?”

“I—I,” she stuttered. “Y-yes, uh, sir.”

He released a heated breath from his nose, the anger at the men who had harmed her simmering within him. However, he pushed it away, ensuring his attention remained on her. "How about you sit back down? Lean against the wall to keep you upright, yes?"

(Y/N) nodded, allowing him to help lower her to the stone floor. As the coldness rushed through her bones and the stillness began to steady, she looked up at him. “T-thank you,” she whispered. “Uh, sir.”

The captain smiled softly. “You may call me Boromir.”

She nodded slightly.

Boromir looked up and stopped a passing servant. “Could you please fetch me a medical kit from the infirmary? Just basic supplies.”

The man nodded, accepting the order, and rushed off. Moments later, he returned with various materials in a small box.

Boromir expressed his gratitude as he opened the kit. Without hesitation, he took hold of a soft cloth and gently swiped it upwards, collecting the blood that was now trickling down (Y/N)’s forehead. He then pressed it against the cut that was bleeding rather heavily. "Hold this there," he commanded gently.

The woman reached up to follow his instructions, and Boromir proceeded to lay out an array of little bottles and scraps of cloth. "What is your name?" he inquired as he doused a cloth in the liquids of one of the containers.

Her eyes followed his motions nervously. “(Y/N),” she replied timidly.

The Captain smiled, attempting to provide some comfort. “Are you from around here, (Y/N)?”

She shook her head.

“No? What are you doing in these parts then?” He asked.

“I—I don’t know.”

Boromir frowned, looking up at her from the medical supplies. She appeared more disoriented than he had initially expected. Perhaps the blow to the head was more substantial than he had thought?

“You don’t know?” He questioned, no alarm in his tone. Meanwhile, he began threading a needle, preparing it for the task of stitching her forehead. “Have you come with anyone? A husband? A father?”

She frowned, a blush creeping into her face at the implications of his words. “N-no. Alone.”

Boromir pressed his lips together, a sudden loneliness hitting him—one that he knew all too well—as he placed the threaded needle upon a clean cloth.

“Do you have a place to stay?”

She shook her head.

“Hmm. Alright. Let’s get you cleaned up, then we can worry about that.”

Boromir took the cloth from her forehead, his hand brushing upon hers as he did so. He then began bringing a damp cloth towards her face.

Instantly, her eyes went wide and she ducked away from the material. “It’s alright. It’s alright. It’s just alcohol.” He replied, lowering the cloth.

“N-not water?” She whispered, almost fearful.

He shook his head. “Nay. Water would not clean it properly. This will prevent any infection, though I’m afraid it will sting a bit. Is that alright?”

Slowly, (Y/N) nodded.

Boromir pressed the cloth to the cut and, instantly, she hissed.

“I know, I am sorry,” he murmured.

Gently, he cleaned the wound, being careful to not make any sudden movements that may startle her. When he was certain it was clean, he moved to pick up the needle.

“I will have to stitch it back together so it heals properly.” He looked into her worried gaze and he instantly felt guilt tugging at his heart. It appeared she had never experienced such an injury, or perhaps she had but never received proper treatment for one.

Cautiously, he used his other hand to pick up her own. Her soft palms brushed upon his hardened calloused, gentleness upon her touch. Placing her hand upon his knee, he spoke softly, “If it hurts too much just squeeze really really hard, and I will pause, alright? It is important that you keep your head still, yes?”

She nodded, adjusting her grip upon his knee, a mixture of anticipation and anxiety in her eyes.

Slowly, Boromir began the delicate task of stitching her skin back together. Her grip tightened upon him, only slightly, as she adjusted to the strange sensation of tugging on her skin.

"You are doing beautifully, (Y/N). We are almost done. I promise," the Captain reassured her. As he finished the last stitch and skillfully moved the thread to knot itself, he breathed out, "There we go," placing the needle back upon the cloth. He smiled gently, a reassuring warmth in his eyes, as he carefully cleaned the area around the stitches. "All finished," Boromir stated before leaning back, (Y/N)’s hand slipping from his knee.

“It will be sore for a bit,” he said. “But it should heal in a week. The stitching will fall out on its own, so if it starts to come out, do not worry. Though, I would advise you not to get it wet.”

At that last sentence, (Y/N) smiled softly. She wasn’t planning on getting wet—not anytime soon.

“Can you stand? Has the dizziness subsided?”

The woman nodded and slowly rose to her feet, taking Boromir’s hand when he offered it.

“Let’s find you a place to rest while you heal. And I would like to apologize for my soldiers’ actions once more. You are welcome to stay in Minas Tirith as long as you would like. I will make sure you get everything you need.”

(Y/N) looked up at his kind expression and spoke with that same nervous hesitancy. “Thank you.…Boromir.”

The captain guided her through the castle, arriving at a room. He opened the door and gestured inside with a soft smile. "It is yours to stay in. I will ensure the maids are alerted to provide you with adequate care. If you need anything else, my chambers are just down the hallway to the right, the second door."

She nodded in reply.

He bowed his head. “I will leave you then, miss.”

With that, he was gone.

(Y/N) moved to the center of the room and slowly spun around taking it all in. It was massive and airy. The windows were wind open, the sea breeze rushing in and caring hints of the city. The white curtains blew with that gentle wind, dancing in its whispers. The walls of the chamber were adorned with intricate tapestries depicting only what she could assume to be the legendary tales of the city. They were woven with beautiful silver and turquoise thread, catching the light so delicately. A bed sat in the middle of the room, soft white blankets and comforters piled on it. (Y/N) walked towards it and gently sat upon the fabric. It was….strange. Very different from the large shells she was used to curling up in.

Feeling a sudden tiredness take over her form, she laid down with ease. Resting her head upon the pillow, she allowed sleep to consume her.

…….

When she finally woke, the sun had set, and the stars took their place among the blanket of the sky. Cautiously, she pulled her legs from the cage of blankets and let them dangle off the side of the bed. They looked so….strange upon her form. She was used to her glimmering tail that collected light to share among the waters. Not—not this. She lowered her feet upon the stone floor, almost startled by the coldness that greeted them.

Hunger settled into her stomach as she moved towards the door. However, she found herself at a loss, unsure where to find a meal at this time. The markets were long since closed and she knew not where the kitchen in the Minas Tirith castle was. Of course, she could wander down to the tavern that Boromir frequented regularly—she knew the way well enough, but she didn't have any means to pay.

(Y/N) shifted on her feet. Boromir did say she could come to him if she needed anything….

Almost as if it were an excuse to see him again, she slipped through the door and began following his directions to his chambers. With every step, her heart pounded harder. She would get to see him again—and it wouldn't be through layers of water.

Upon arrival, the door stood ajar, allowing a whisper of cold air to drift from his open windows. Cautiously, she peered into the room. It was shrouded in darkness, with only the soft glow of the moon reflecting upon the vast room—oh, and what a beautiful room it was. The room eluded a captivating chaos, in the most exciting way. Tablets and shelves were filled with various items—maps, books, stones, germs, inventions, and trinkets. The room held a multitude of objects, each beckoning to be looked at, studied, and pondered—igniting a sense of wonder and an urge to guess the intention. Oh, it was a captivating sight.

“Boromir?” she called out.

Silence.

Slowly, (Y/N) stepped in. She let her feet carry her throughout the room, her hand brushing upon every object that her eyes could consume. She picked things up, examined them, then put them down for another. She did so continuously, urgently, the thirst for knowledge of the humans’ customs eager in her blood. She did so, until she came across something familiar—something she was surprised to see.

(Y/N) picked up the bone carved whale from the shelf that it rested on.

He had kept it.

A little grin formed on her face, for after his conversation with Iwar she didn’t think he would.

“Does that one interest you?” A soft tone asked.

(Y/N) jumped, startled.

Boromir chuckled lightly, stepping into the room. “I am sorry. I didn't mean to startle you.”

She glanced down at the whale carving before looking back to him.

“I am not quite sure how that one came into my possession,” he continued as he moved to stand beside her.

She frowned, looking up. Her eyes were now direct at him, focused and stern—for the first time since he had met her. He would be lying if he said it didn't startle him a bit.

“You don't remember?” she asked, her tone strong.

“Well, no it’s not that. Of course, I remember how I got it. It just was a bit peculiar.”

(Y/N) tilted her head, not understanding.

Boromir sighed, his tone was distant as he spoke, his blue gaze not wavering from her curious eyes that suddenly seemed so bold. “A friend of mine says it's a dark omen, ment to mark me for death.” His vision trailed across her face. “He says it is made of the bone of my fallen brothers, urging me to follow them to their deaths.”

“Do you believe that?”

He blinked, his gaze lingering upon the whale. “I do not know what to believe.” Boromir looked at her expression. “What are your thoughts on such a statement?”

(Y/N) shrugged, placing the whale in its spot upon the shelf. “I believe people don’t understand other cultures and customs. I believe they make their own assumptions out of ignorance and fear.”

The captain raised a brow at her intelligence. “You are feeling better then?”

“Hmm?” (Y/N) hummed in question as she moved to another object.

“Well, that is the most I have heard you speak since I met you. You are wiser than you appear to be.”

She only shrugged in response, picking up a telescope and looking through its glass—by the wrong end.

“Though,” Boromir continued in a teasing manner as he plucked the object from her grasp, turned it the correct way, and placed it back in her palms. “That wisdom seems not to extend to everything.”

She frowned, looking through the glass once before placing it down. She then went for a music box, her confused expression deepening. “We do not have all these….these things where I am from.”

Boromir reached across her and twisted the little lever, releasing the gentle music from its hold. “And where is that, may I ask?”

At the twinkling sound, her smile, born of pure delight, extended from her expression. Her response to his question, however, was only that of a simple word, “Far.”

The captain raised a brow. “How far?”

(Y/N) shot him a strange look, placing the music box down and picking up a crystal sphere instead. “You ask a lot of questions,” she mumbled.

He grinned playfully. “You do not seem to give many answers, Miss (Y/N).”

She glared at him.

With that playful smile, he spoke again. “Would it help if you got to ask a question?”

(Y/N)‘s eyes crinkled with thought as she placed the object down and turned towards him. She saw how his shoulders slumped ever so slightly, how the circles under his eyes appeared so dark, how his expression was so hollow. Softly, she spoke again. “Why are you so sad, Boromir?”

Taken aback by this, his lips parted. “I—I do not know what you mean.”

She took a step closer to him, a step that nearly eliminated the space between them, and her piercing gaze burned up at him for the truth.

Hesitantly, he whispered that truth, as if she compelled it right out of him. “I—I recently was in a shipwreck. I thought, well, I thought I was dead—left for the watery graves below.” He paused, just for a moment. “But yet I am here and I do not know why. And, I am beginning to question things that I know, well, thought I knew, for the world appears different now.”

Silence.

Boromir's soft voice then picked up again, his breath warm upon the woman’s face. “Why are you so sad, (Y/N)?”

At this, her shy nature returned. (Y/N) turned her head away, not wanting to look at the source of her sadness.

Gently, Boromir tugged on her chin, forcing her to look at him. “You implored me to tell you such a truth,” he whispered. “May I not ask the same of you?”

(Y/N)’s tone was soft. “My truth is complicated.”

“Are not all truths complicated?” he responded.

With that, she withdrew from his grasp—a hold she desperately craved—and created enough distance between them, leaving him to wonder if such closeness had occurred at all.

A loud grumble then echoed through the dark room—splitting the darkness with something else, something much for lighthearted.

“When have you last eaten?” Boromir asked.

Her brows pulled together as she looked at her stomach.

He chuckled, offering her his hand. “Come. Let’s get you some food. I can take you to my favorite place.”

“But I—I have no coin,” she whispered shyly.

“You are a guest of Gondor, Gondor will see you fed.”

(Y/N) smiled, that innocent gaze returning. She hesitantly took his hand and he led her through the castle and towards the tavern.

The two arrived at the tavern rather quickly. Urine, stale ale, and sweat flooded (Y/N)’s nostrils—familiar aromas reminiscent of her vigilant watch over Boromir along the Anduin River. The lively atmosphere enveloped the pair. In the corner, a bard sang to the patrons, his melodic voice resonating throughout, enticing some to join in. Drunk men, tapping their feet along to the beat of the tune, howled in laughter and glee as they clinked their ales together and shoveled food into their mouths. Requests for additional drinks prompted maidens, adorned in long skirts and aprons, to gracefully deliver brimming glasses, the foaming liquid sloshing about.

(Y/N) smiled, taking in the environment.

Boromir cast a glance at her out of the corner of his eye, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. “It’s just a tavern.”

She turned to him, her grin unwavering. “We don’t have taverns where I am from.”

He raised a brow. “And where is that? You never said.”

She shrugged. “Far.”

(Y/N) moved deeper into the tavern, with Boromir following suit. He motioned towards an available table, and they both took a seat. Before long, a serving maiden approached. Boromir signaled for two meals and two ales, and they promptly arrived.

The woman wasted no time and eagerly indulged in her food, swiftly emptying the plate.

Boromir tried to suppress a smile as he saw this, for he was glad she was getting proper nutrition after her likely long and hard journey. He, of course, wished to know more of her origins; though, he could see she wasn't quite ready to discuss such things. Instead, he opted to answer any and all questions she had which began with her curious tone.

“Boromir, would you be willing to tell me of your city? How you live in these parts? I wish to know.”

His soft gaze made contact with hers and he nodded, chewing his food and swallowing before he spoke. “What would you wish to know?”

“Everything—its structures, its people, its culture, its history.”

Therefore, Boromir spoke of such things. He described the White City's towering architecture, the valor of its people, and the complexities of the various beliefs held. He relayed its history and tales, showcasing the values of the Gondorian people.

His narratives ignited a spark in her eyes, drew laughter from her lips, and filled her heart with joy.

Fuck the forbidden indeed.

As the hours stretched on, Boromir’s friends joined them. (Y/N) could see the gleam in their eyes and catch the less-than-subtle teasing tones as they whispered about Boromir bringing a lady to their tavern. Faramir, arriving shortly after, seemed prepared for a night of dealing with his drunken brother, only to find himself pleasantly surprised by his brother's apparent sobriety and the joy the unknown woman seemed to bring to his melancholy soul.

Yet, amid the cheerful atmosphere, a pair of shifting gray eyes belonging to an old man that (Y/N) recognized as Iwar, kept her uneasy heart alert.

…..

Everything Tag: @lea----b @aredhel-of-gondolin @princecami @the-fandoms-georgie @jazziwritestolkienprimary @swimming-in-stardust @elvish-sky @red-riding @hey-its-nonny @mirclealignr @laneynoir @straysugzhpe @runningfeather @finallyforgotten @kaiawrites @commanderawkward @xxbluestrifexx @slytherinambitious @desert-fern @skairipakomtrikru @genderfluid-anime-goth @sotwk @sirenofavalon @hobbitsesoftheshire @asianbutnotjapanese @mgchaser @heavenshumour @heavenshumour @clairealeehelsing @starenemy @ceruleanrainblues @casuallyeating-blog @cheari @aheadfullofsteverogers @imthebadguyyy @beehivehappy @queenmariex @newjsns01

Everything But Spice Tag: @goldfearless @cauliflowertree @heranintomyknife23times @mxmia @unethicallypleistocene @amessofmultifandom

Boromir Tag: @scyllas-revenge @lord-westley @callistobalisto

ADD YOURSELF TO MY TAGLIST(S)

#vayawrites #lotr #lord of the rings #the hobbit #boromir #boromir x reader #Boromir/reader #boromir fic #boromir fanfic #boromir fanfiction #boromir x you #boromir/you #boromir one shot #boromir oneshot

[h4rrypotterf4n]

Stuffed animal

Pairing:  Legolas x Reader

Wordcount: 1210 words

Warnings: hurt to comfort; The fellowship being mean to reader

Summary: After the fellowship made fun of you sleeping with a stuffed animal a certain elf is there to comfort you.

Finally, you were able to rest a bit. Aragorn and Gandalf found a clearing in the forest they both agreed on resting for the night. So, the fellowship prepared their bedrolls. When they finished Sam began to cook dinner, Aragorn sharpened his sword, Gandalf watched how Boromir tried to teach the hobbits how to make a fire, Legolas rested with his eyes closed against a tree and you were preoccupied with staring at the elf across from you. You’ve had a crush on him since you first saw him at the council of Elrond. And how could you not? Long blond hair, icy blue eyes, a fierce warrior, you could rant about him all day.

 “My lady,” Aragorn pulled your gaze away, while he gave you a plate of soup.

 “Thanks, Aragorn,” you responded gratefully.

 “You know,” he began as he sat next to you, “you should just tell him, that you fancy him,” you nearly choked on your soup at his declaration.

 “I- what?”

 “Come on, it is painfully obvious that you both like each other,” he left you stunned, to say the least and walked over to Gandalf.

Soon darkness fell upon the camp and the only source of light was the slowly dimming fire. The fellowship sounded asleep, so you slowly sat up and as quiet as possible opened your bag and pulled your stuffed animal out. You can’t sleep without it but felt ashamed of your little habit and chose to hide it from the others. As a woman it was hard enough to proof that you were capable of this quest. You cuddled against it and let the faint sounds of the fire and the snores of Gimli lull you to sleep.

 You woke up to loud laughter from your friends. Groaning you turned to the other side trying to shut them out and get a bit more rest. But as your mind slowly came to its senses, you missed the light weight in your arm. Hastily you opened your eyes to see your little friend wasn’t anywhere near you. You hurriedly began searching for it through your things.

“Do you miss something?”  Gimli laughed at you, while he held your stuffed animal up.

“Our fierce warrior sleeps with a stuffed animal who would have thought of that?” Boromir mocked you. You looked around hoping someone would defend you. But the hobbits just laughed along, even Aragorn and Gandalf smirked at their cruel jokes and Legolas was nowhere in sight, he was probably looking for any danger ahead of us.

 As the humiliation became too much and you felt tears threatening to fall you ran into the forest. You only stopped when your vision was too blurry to see properly. Sinking down with your back against a tree you buried your head in your bend knees, while you continued to cry.

Meanwhile Legolas came back from inspecting the further road. Thanks to his elven ears he heard the conversation, and he was furious. Because unbeknownst to you he also had his eyes on you since the day he first saw you.

 “What was that?” Legolas asked in a stern tone.          

 “Oh, we just had a bit fun,” Gimli answered still laughing.

 “Fun for whom? Because of what I’ve witnessed (Y/N) just ran crying into the forest,” the elf bit angrily back.

 “Maybe it’s better if she’s gone. I mean if she still sleeps with a stuffed animal she can’t be of much help, can she?” Boromir piped in defending Gimli.

 “She is a strong warrior with a kind and loving heart. She is a perfect addition to this company. She has proven herself often enough. We all know that. And besides everyone has something from home to remind us of it,” Legolas pointed out and everyone fell silent knowing he was right, „For example Gimli, you have your necklace with pictures of your family. Aragorn, you have your evenstar and Frodo, you have your mithril shirt. So why shouldn’t she be allowed to have something, that remind her of her home?” he went on in rage and the fellowship let their gaze fall to the ground in shame, knowing he was right.

 “While I go looking for her, I advise you all start thinking of a good apology for her,” he said already walking in the direction you took off but not without your stuffed animal.

While he searched for you, he freed it from a few leaves that were tangled in the soft fur from sleeping on the ground until he picked up quiet sobs ahead of him.

The sight in front of him broke his heart your whole body shook with the sobs you desperately tried to muffle with your hand.

 “I think you forgot someone,” Legolas spoke as softly as he could. Startled you looked up to see he was now sitting beside you with your little comforter sitting in his lap.

 “G-Go away, Legolas,” it warmed your heart that he was trying to comfort you, but you do not want him to see you like this.

 “So, you want me to return with your friend?”

 “It’s stupid anyway,” you grabbed it and threw it away which shocked Legolas. The elf stood up and walked over to the poor animal to pick it up.

“I do not think it’s stupid. I actually think it is quite relatable,” you looked up at him to find there was no lie in his eyes and your stuffed animal closely held to his chest.

 “You don’t?”

 “No, I could not for I too miss my home. Every one of us does and it is cruel to make fun out of something, that helps you,” the elf explained softly sitting next to you again.

 “I got it from my parents when I was a child. It’s the only thing I still have of my family. They died

w-when I was young, “

 “Which makes it even more understandable that you carry it with you,” 

 “You really do not think of it as stupid or childish? “

 „No, I don’t. I can’t think that of someone I love, “

he blurted out and started to lightly blush as he realized what he had said. 

 „Y-you love me? “ You asked kind of shocked. 

He thought for a second what he should do now but decided for the truth. 

 „Yes, “ he whispered as he looked to his feet.  

 “I love you too,” you whispered back making eye contact with him when he looked up. You watched as a smile came upon his features and involuntary you mimicked him. Slowly he leaned closer to you but before your lips touched, he stopped. 

 “May I?” Legolas whispered looking down towards your lips. Instead of answering you closed the gap between you two. Trying to convey every emotion Legolas felt for you he kissed you back. 

 “How about we go back and give the others the chance to apologize to you?” He asked when you both broke away from one another for air. You nodded in agreement and stood up with the help of Legolas hand.  For the whole way back, he didn’t let go of your hand instead he looked at you with a smile on his face. 

#legolas x reader #lord of the rings #lotr fellowship #aragorn #gimli #boromir #frodo baggins #merry brandybuck #pippin #legolas #lotr fanfic #lotr #stuffed animal #legolas fanfiction #legolas imagine #legolas oneshot #samwise gamgee #legolas fluff #legolas comfort #gandalf #legolas fanfic

[asgardianhobbit98]

Never Alone - Boromir X OC

relationship: Boromir x OC

fandom: Lord of the Rings

word count: 1421

story summary: alerted something bad might happen to his love, Boromir attempts to soothe his anxiety by ensuring she knows no matter the distance, he will always be there with her. His actions might just save her life.

inspired by Bram Stoker's The Chain of Destiny.  

notes: this was written for @heilith to try and cheer her up a little bit <3 she prompted me to publish it and I’ve finally gained the courage to do so too! It’s my first Boromir fic and on top of that, I haven't written anything in AGES o.o please be gentle with me

Made a little AU, hope you all enjoy it! reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated

tag list: @fizzyxcustard @middleearthpixie @glassgulls @evenstaredits @knittastically @heilith @lathalea @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms if you'd like to be added or removed from my tag list, please let me know

As the only female soldier in the ranks, Elydia had her own private room to get dressed in. Chainmail rattled as it poured over her bosom, before crinkling together around her waist as she put her belt on. She let her hands slide down her thighs a bit, for no reason really other than the fact she knew she had an audience; an audience, mind you, that liked the sight of his strong woman.

Grabbing a gauntlet, Elydia turned to offer a knowing look to the man whom had attempted to sneak in, but had failed incredibly due to his squeaky boots.

Boromir, son of the steward of Gondor, stood leaned against the doorway to the small room. He didn’t look surprised upon being caught, but he also did not reciprocate her smile.

Starting to tie her gauntlet so it sat taught against her arm, she tilted her head in a silent question to him. His continued silence prompted her to voice the question: “What has my beloved warrior looking so pouty?”

“I do not pout.”

Smirking slightly at succeeding to cut through his silence, Elydia focused her green eyes down at the gauntlet once more. “Mm… I did not want to say you were ‘brooding’. It gives away too much of my thoughts on you. After all, brooding is the sexy man’s pout.”

Boromir looked away from her only to try and contain a chuckle. This was not a time for light-hearted conversation. “I wish to talk to you.”

“What of, my love?”

“I had a disconcerting dream.”

Gauntlet finally tied as tightly as she liked it, she turned her gaze to him once more. “Disconcerting? How?”

“It was of you. You did not make it back.” He stepped inside the little changing room fully, and reached out to her waist, calloused fingers moving over chainmail shakingly. “You fell. You were alone, no one near to offer you courage to keep fighting. And you did not return home to me.”

“We promised each other we would not have these conversations. That we would trust in each other’s abilities. That is what you said when I worried for you last time.”

“I know.” His fingers stopped shaking as they grew heavier on her waist, trying to offer a gentle gesture of reassurance. She understood, and nodded her head to let him continue. “It was not your abilities that failed you. It was your belief of whether you could make it out. And…” He pulled out a little handkerchief embroidered once by a far smaller Boromir. His initials were in the corner – a rough job meant only to teach him how to mend clothes should he need it when out and about. The fine skills were usually only taught those seeking work within the artistry of sewing. This was the work of a warrior, and a precious gift to offer.

But the imagery…

Elydia could not help but giggle at it.

“Are you offering me a lady’s favour?” she joked.

“Please be serious.” The heaviness of his words shocked Elydia into letting her smile fall. “I wish for you to have it, so you know you are not alone. So you know, you are fighting to come back home.” He shoved it into her hands and then backed up as if to avoid her shoving it back at him.

Despite finding it beyond silly as this was nothing but a dream, Elydia did not motion to give it back to him. Instead, she stared at the handkerchief for a while, then moved to tie it around her wrist, initials in facing outward for her to see. Without a word, she turned away from him and grabbed her other gauntlet, putting it on over the little favour he had offered her.

In silence, he watched her ready the gauntlet, then the rest of her armour, and lastly attaching her sword to her belt. Only then did she turn to him and smile. “Maybe I don’t believe dreams can tell the future, but I can tell this will calm your anxious mind.” Gently, she placed a gloved hand on his chest, fingertips over the white tree embroidered onto his noble clothing. “I will keep it. And I will come back.”

He took her hand in his to lift her knuckles up to his lips. “Be safe, my lady.”

“My lord,” she greeted back, smile and blush a heavy indication of her feelings for him and her appreciation toward his gentle gesture.

…

A village within the borders of Gondor had reported issues of Orc attacks at night. Of course Elydia, one of their greatest warriors, was tasked with going along with her men. It would have been foolish to send anyone else.

But this Orc pack was not like the others. They were smarter than expected, and having taken them for granted, Elydia was mortified to find herself in the exact situation Boromir had described he’d dreamed about.

One by one her men fell around her, the darkness of the night allowing for only their screams to reach her ears as they fell – which only amplified the fear this situation caused her.

Her horse squealed in fear, and she did not blame him for throwing her off his back and bolting to safety.

But she was alone now. Truly alone.

The last of her men’s screams had died out a while back.

Orcs were surrounding her, taking their time with the last soldier standing (or… lying down, really) for their own sadistic satisfaction. She could easily reach for her sword and fight as it was not far away, but one arm was definitely broken from the fall, and she had a nasty gash on her leg – there was no way she could make it out alive. There was no reason to fight.

With a sigh, she let her helmeted head rest in the grass, ready for the slow and agonising death these Orcs were going to give her… when her eyes caught sight of her wrist. There, underneath the gauntlet, a little piece of fabric was visible… a tiny sliver of white amidst the dark of her surroundings… the white city… Boromir…

The favour!

“I will keep it. And I will come back.”

She clenched her jaw to face the pain, before reaching out to her sword to fight.

Fight to get back home.

To get back home to Boromir, as she had promised.

…

For how long she had been unconscious, Elydia did not know. All she did know was that when she next awoke from a hazy adrenaline rush of pure survival instinct and dissociation so the pain would not stop her from fighting and walking, and moving home, fingers were brushing through her hair.

Not her fingers though.

There was pain, yes, but she was comfortably wrapped up in a warm sheet on a fluffy bed and pillow. The fingers running through her hair offered a calming sensation that dulled the pain for a moment enough for her eyes to flutter open.

The fingers stilled, almost as if in shock, before another hand touched her cheek and turned her head ever so slightly to the side – her eyes reached those of Boromir sitting beside her bed. He looked tired, pale even… knowing him, he’d stayed by her side since the moment she was rushed in to have her wounds treated.

“My love…” Elydia whispered through a dry throat. Relieved she had made it, she attempted to move in some way closer to him, but the pain stopped her and so did Boromir’s hushing.

“Relax… You’re home.”

“Thanks to you.” Boromir’s eyes flickered down to the handkerchief still around her wrist. Despite her half conscious state of mind, she’d refused to let anyone touch it, not even to wash it of filth and blood. It was too precious to her, now for two reasons. “I should have listened to your dream…”

“It is alright. You made it back. And you will recover.”

“I will.” Elydia’s words were filled with determination, her stubbornness not going to let her body do anything but recover.

It made Boromir chuckle a bit. His beloved Elydia.

“Good.”

He leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead, but as he went to straighten back up, he regretted it halfway and instead leaned down to press another kiss to her nose… then her lips…

“I wasn’t alone…” Elydia whispered, sleepy once more. “That’s why…”

“And you will never be either,” Boromir promised before kissing her lips once more, lulling her to sleep...

AO3 link (limited access - only those with an account, sorry)

my carrd

thanks for reading. if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment

#the lord of the rings #boromir #boromir x oc #the lord of the rings fic #fanfiction #oneshot #my tolkien writing

[heranintomyknife23times]

A Love Letter

This is my first time posting my writing anywhere because imposter syndrome is a permanent resident in my head, but out of pure self indulgence I did @creativepromptsforwriting’s weekend game. I’ll reblog the post explaining the rules in case anyone here would like to do this too, but what you need to know is that I randomly chose a prompt and had to write something in fifteen minutes.

Warnings: One sentence mentioning consuming alcohol. Brief mention of an injury sustained in battle.

Premise: An unnamed speaker is writing a love letter to Boromir (though he is never mentioned by name) in the wee hours of the morning. He is supposed to march off to battle the next morning and she worries she will never see him again.

Prompt # 400: “I have never been happy at 4 am.”

———————

A Love Letter

My dearest friend,

I doubt I shall ever let you read this. If we even meet again after tomorrow. But I can not sleep, and I doubt I will sleep at all unless I get this off my chest.

Our first meeting was like finding a geode in a pile of rubble. You were so rough around the edges and I was so blind that I did not see you for what you truly were. Even as I actively pushed you away, you came to me, a stranger in a strange land, and you showed me hospitality unmatched by even Elrond in his Homely House.

It was as if fate brought us together and had no intention of letting us separate. I thought our travels to Imladris would be the end of our short-lived friendship, but by some strange turn of events I traveled across the world with you.

And on that day where I almost lost you, it was as if the geode had broken open and I could finally see the beautiful person you truly were.

Pierced by arrows, you called out for me. I have been yours since that day. Standing at your side as you healed and walked and grew stronger again gave me life and new hope. When my heart was cold with fear and doubt, you lit a tiny spark of hope, and that has turned itself into a flame.

Not only have you taught me to hope, you have taught me to love. You have taught me to love the world around me and everything in it. Your intense faith in the goodness of your people has melted my heart.

And now I am here with you. We’re sharing a bed after a night of drinking and dancing in an attempt to distract ourselves from what comes tomorrow. I have no idea how we got here, but I woke up and your arms were around my waist and my head was against your chest and our heartbeats were in perfect synchrony.

I have never been happy at 4 am, but tonight, I think I am the happiest I have ever been. And if I could just live in your arms forever and hear nothing but the beating of your heart and your gentle breaths; if the only thing I ever saw again was your kind, glittering eyes, nothing else in this world could possibly destroy the peace in my heart.

I am staring at you now. You are still sleeping. In a few hours, dawn shall spread her rosy fingers over the eastern horizon and you shall be parted from me for the first time in months.

If you could read my mind, if you could hear my thoughts, you would know that I am telling you again and again how much I love you.

I love you more than life itself.

And though it must be my imagination, I thought I just heard you say in your sleep:

“I love you too…”

#lotr fanfic #boromir #weekend game #writing #Lord of the Rings #fluff #longing #yearning #writing prompt #oneshot #drabble

[rohirric-hunter]

Okay so there is one glitch that occasionally crops up in the unhinged lotr mobile game that interferes with gameplay: the Mordor Engineer/Rókma has an attack where he throws an explosive at an enemy, which damages that enemy and adjacent enemies. Now, normally this isn't an issue, since when facing off against him he's typically my absolute first priority to take down, specifically because this attack is so devastating.

However, it's also devastating in an unintended way; occasionally he will somehow miss with this attack, the projectile will fly off the screen, and then the battle will be locked. Everyone will just stand there. No more enemies will attack and the player will not have the option to take their turn. You can't even retreat. The only way to get out of this is to force quit the game and load it up again.

#unhinged lotr mobile game saga #like i said usually i take this guy down before he has a chance to get this attack off #but ive been struggling with one of the daily challenges #because one of them has this guy on a team with boromir and faramir #and when boromir and faramir are on the same team boromir is your priority #you need to take him down absolutely as soon as humanly possible #or he and faramir will execute a combo move that theres just no coming back from #like legit they have oneshotted multiple heroes on my team from full health with this combo move before #so essentially i need to somehow be able to take down boromir and rokma before either of them can get to their special attacks #so. uh. in one turn #OR i could just wait until they fix the rokma bug #devious idea tho: the rokma thing happens even when autobattling #maybe i should put some effort into unlocking him and put him on my arena defense team #no that would be extremely poor sportsmanship #very tempting tho #probably get the bug fixed faster #i actually do have one more thing i can try #i think one of the isengard heroes has an ability that can block special attacks for a turn #have to use it on rokma as im not sure if the combo starts with boromir or faramir #and faramir is basically untouchable until youve taken down all his allies anyway #anyway #it is really funny to see it happen tho

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

🍃Tolkien Masterlist🍃

Smut: 🔥🔥

Fluff: 🌸🌸

Heated Fluff: ⭐️⭐️

Friendly: 🌈🌈

Angst: 🌨️🌨️

💙 Collage

💚 Oneshot

💖 Preference/Headcanon

💜 Quote

💞 Blurb

Aragorn

- Just A Girl 💚🌸

- Waited So Long 💚🔥

Arwen

- Warrior Girlfriend 💙🌸

Bard

- Baker 💙🌸

- Break Stuff 💚⭐️

- Mermaid 💚🌸

Boromir

- Sleepy Reader 💜🌸

- Princess 💖🌸

- Waited So Long 💚🔥

Eomer

- Heart-Shaped Box 💞⭐️

- Queen of Pain 💜⭐️🔥

Fili

- Size 💚🔥

- Loved You Before 💚🌸

- Undressed 💙⭐️

- Elf Princess 💙🌸

Glorfindel

- Chanel 💚🌸

- S&M 💚🔥

- So Tight 💞🔥

Kili

- We Didn’t Start The Fire 💚🌸🌈

- Elf Princess 💙🌸

Legolas

- She Knows It 💚🌈

- Big Girl 💚🌸

- Edge Play 💚🔥

- Tongue Piercing 💚🔥

- Waited So Long 💚🔥

Lindir

- Toys 💚🔥

Thorin

- 9 to 5 💚🌸

Thranduil

- Relaxing Day 💙🌸

- NSFW Alphabet 💖🔥

- Old Lady Reader 💖🌸

- Leaving A Party 💙🌸

- A Kingly Tour Guide 💙🌸

- Sleeping Loves 💜🌸

- Jewellery and Paintings 💙🌸

- Breath 💚🔥

- The Kiss 💚🌸

Multiple

- Meeting 1 💖⭐️

- Meeting 2 💖⭐️

- Meeting 3 💖⭐️

- Meeting 4 💖⭐️

- NSFW 1 💖🔥

- NSFW 2 💖🔥

- Lindir x Reader x Glorfindel 💞🔥

- Lindir x Reader x Glorfindel 2 💞🔥

- Favourite Position 💖🔥

- Fairy x Mermaid 💚⭐️

- Elves x Hobbit Women 💞🌸

- Elves Kissing 💖🌸

- Human and Elves 💞🔥

- Love Triangle 💙⭐️

- Kink Alphabet 💖🔥

#Tolkien #Tolkien Masterlist #Aragorn #Aragorn x reader #Arwen #Arwen x reader #bard the bowman #bard the bowman x reader #Boromir #Boromir x reader #eomer #eomer x reader #Fili #Fili x reader #Glorfindel #Glorfindel x reader #Kili #Kili x reader #legolas #legolas x reader #Lindir #Lindir x reader #Thorin #Thorin x reader #Thranduil #Thranduil x reader

[aphroditesmoon]

ෆ masterlist ๑⁠˙

AO3 ACCOUNT for my book ship fanfics

requests: closed 🫶

A/N: there is no guarantee that I will do your request, I write what im comfortable with.

DNI: racists, sexists, homophobes, ableists, pro-israel

fandoms; -house of the dragon, -the last of us(hbo/game), -wednesday(netflix), -lord of the rings(books/movies), -the last kingdom(netflix), -cosmere(brandon sanderson), -narnia(books/movies), -spiderverse(itsv/atsv), - mortal kombat(game), -call of duty modern warfare(game), -percy jackson and the olympians (books and tv series)

PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIAN°°°

Clarisse La Rue X Reader

enemies to lovers hcs

(warning: mild violence, kissing )

the look of love, the rush of blood

(warnings: aphrodites daughter!reader, fluff)

back to you

(warnings: ep2 spoilers, protective clarisse)

I like a challenge when the prize is you

(warnings: platonic luke x reader, kissing)

wish you'd tell me

(warnings: oblivious reader, flirty clarisse, kissing, mostly fluff)

cause I love this curse on our house

(warnings: sparring violence, arguing, hurt/comfort, fluff at end)

love letters from the sea to the shore

(warnings: siren reader, slightly ooc clarisse)

lacrymosa

(warnings: in chapter description)

•••

SPIDERVERSE°°°

Gwen Stacy X Reader

first date hcs

(warnings: none, fluff, fem reader)

relationship hcs. fluff hcs 2

(warnings: cursing, fluff, kissing)

lose your faith in me

(warnings: hurt/comfort, curse words, gn reader)

mirrored hearts

(warnings: afab reader, gn terms, spider-person reader, curse words)

love it if we made it

(warnings: curse words, gwen's peter is alive, gn terms, reader described as having long hair)

picture me better

(warnings: none, afab reader, gn terms, flirty gwen, adhd coded reader, fluff)

I'm holding my night in your hands

(warnings: fem!reader, flirty gwen, maybe ooc gwen a bit, overthinker reader, fluff)

see how it shines

(warnings: none, fluff, flirty gwen, fem reader)

heaven

(warnings: angst)

•••

THE LAST OF US°°°

Joel Miller x Reader

running free

(warnings: angst w fluff, mentions of blood)

here with me

(warnings: age gap (reader is 34), fluff)

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Tommy Miller X Reader

dating tommy hcs (warnings: nsfw, pregnancy, mentions of gun/shooting)

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Tess Servopoulos x Reader

tess x sunshine reader: oneshots/hcs

be sweet to me (warnings: violence/robbery)

•••

LOTR/ THE HOBBIT°°°

Gigolas (Legolas Greenleaf x Gimli Son Of Gloin)

winterlude

(warnings: none)

sweet creature

(warnings: gore, blood, orcs)

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Boromir son of Denethor x Reader

lady of the lake

(warnings: lotr spoiler, physical assault (unintentional)

halfling

(warnings: none)

let time heal

(warnings: wounds, injuries)

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Aragorn son of Arathorn X Reader

shrike

(warnings: hurt/comfort ish, mostly fluff, mentioned nudity)

Legolas Greenleaf x Reader

too close

(warnings; nsfw, smut, enemies to lovers, jerk leggy)

•••

WEDNESDAY °°°

Wenclair (wednesday addams x enid sinclair)

afterglow

(warnings: slight angst w fluff ending)

cara mia

(warnings: implications of homophobia)

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Wenclair x Reader

dove

(warnings: bullying, outcast reader, gender neutral terms for reader)

like real people do

(warnings: transmasc reader, afab reader, nb pronouns)

cherry pit

(warnings: requested/reader with name)

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Xavier Thorpe x Reader

it's you I think of

(warnings: (jealous!xavier, fluff ending)

as strange as it seems

(warnings: none)

how to get out of love

part ii

(warnings: angst, mentions of blood and wounds)

newlyweds hcs

(warnings: slight nsfw, absent parent)

celebrating your birthday with him hcs

(warnings: reader uses he/him pronouns)

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Yoko Tanaka x Reader

devil's sweetheart

(warnings: smut, nsfw, minors dni!!, mention of abusive relationship, cheating)

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Wednesday Addams x Xavier Thorpe

(coming soon)

•••

THE LAST KINGDOM°°°

Osferth x Reader

from eden

(warnings; smut, nsfw (minors dni!!)

tinderbox of a heart

(warnings: mentions of prostitution and child neglect)

osferth taking care of sick wife reader hcs

(warnings: none)

sweet

(warnings: nsfw, smut (minors dni!!), slight angst, black cat/golden retriever)

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Sihtric Kjartansson x Reader

in full bloom

(warnings: pregnant reader, bit gore, s5 spoilers)

•••

HOTD°°°

Jacaerys Velaryon

replaceable

(warnings; angst, minor character deaths)

- part ii

- part iii

- part iv (nsfw!!)

lady of the house of wolves

(warnings - gore, violence, minor character death)

bejeweled

(warnings; nsfw, smut, minors dni!!)

all's blood runs dry but yours

(warnings; blood, nsfw, smut, minors dni!!)

kerosene

(warnings: none yet)

- part ii

- part iii

opal angel

(warnings: none)

jace as your boyfriend (modern!au)

(warnings: smut, minors dni!!)

daughter of whispers

(warnings; none)

delicate

(warnings: THAT decapitation scene)

halloween

(warnings: grief, mentions of death)

reverie

(warnings: social anxiety, nsfw, smut, minors dni!!)

go as a dream

(warnings: none)

out of touch

(warnings: nsfw(minors dni!!), gore, slight angst + fluff

ending)

lotus

(warnings: none)

silver into rain

(warnings: none)

jace with breeding kink hcs

(warnings: nsfw, smut, minors dni!!)

jealous jace

(warnings: none)

andromeda

(warnings: angst w fluff ending)

kill bill

(warnings: jealous!reader)

mended hearts once sewed apart

(warnings: angst w fluff, jacemond has beef)

thoroughfare

(warnings: angst, death)

jace as a daddy's girl hcs

(warnings; none)

moonkissed

(warnings: nsfw, smut (minors dni!!)

tutoring jace modern!au hcs

(warnings:none)

golden

(warnings: slavery, mentions of SA)

part 2 part 3 part4

sweetest thing on this side of heaven

(warnings: none)

stuck on a puzzle

(warnings: bit angst, all characters r aged up)

heavy is the crown

(warnings; aged-up jace, mentions of canon character deaths, nsfw, mentions of smut, grief)

let the light in

(warnings: cheating(not on jace), infidelity, grief, angst)

fade into you

(warnings: age-gap, targcest)

sea, swallow me

(warnings in description)

Part 2 part 3 part 4

you go back to the old house but you've been locked out

(warnings in description)

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Harwin Strong

melting moment

(warnings: smut, minors dni!!)

#jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon x reader #harwin strong x reader #hotd x reader #house of the dragon #jacaerys x reader #jace velaryon x reader #wednesday netflix #wenclair fanfic #wednesday x xavier #xavier thorpe x reader #wednesdays addams #xavier thorpe #enid sinclair #yoko tanaka x reader #yoko tanaka #gigolas fanfiction #legolas x gimli #legolas x reader #legolas greenleaf x reader #gimli x legolas #lotr fanfic #lord of the rings #the last of us hbo #joel miller x reader #joel miller #boromir x reader #masterlist #my masterlist

[hottpinkpenguin]

Knees - Boromir X Fem!Reader

Oneshot, word count: 3,167 Summary: You've tried to keep your feelings for Gondor's favored captain a secret, and done a damn good job. Until now. Warnings: angst, fluff, heavy steam, implied oral sex A/n: the poem in this oneshot borrows heavily from the lyrics of 'Old Gods' by Emily Scott Robinson (highly recommend her music if you enjoy Nanci Griffith, James Taylor, or Joni Mitchell)

Boromir could feel the beginnings of a headache pulsing at his temples. The din of the crowd milling around the Tower Hall was grating on his last nerve. His father had insisted on an extravagant banquet to celebrate his recent successes as the High Warden of the White Tower, but Boromir would have preferred to rest and spend the evening strolling through the streets of Gondor unbothered. Eager to get away from the crowd, Boromir strode out of the busy throne room onto the south facing balcony.

The night air was warm and smelled of jasmine. Boromir took a deep inhale, leaning his hands on the rail of the balcony and gazing out over the Pelennor Fields, the expanse of grassland that stretched out from Minas Tirith’s feet towards the banks of the Anduin. Boromir strained his eyes against the dim twilight; he thought he could make out the parapets of Osgiliath, Gondor’s first capital, now little more than a ruined river crossing. Faramir was there, as commander of the city’s garrison. Boromir had ordered his brother to oversee repairs to the old city to prepare for the coming battle. Beyond the dark smudge of Osgiliath’s long-vacant towers, an ominous blackness loomed over the land of Mordor. His thoughts turned bleak as he wondered what was stirring behind the mountains in that black land. Scouts reports had confirmed that orcs were-

Boromir jumped at the tinny clang of something metal hitting the stone floor in a darkened corner of the balcony. Instinctually, Boromir’s right hand grasped at the hilt of his sword and unsheathed it in barely more than a breath. He crouched into a warrior’s pose, his sword held out in front of him and his features steely as he looked for the source of the noise.

The quickness of his movements startled you almost as much as your clumsiness had startled him. You were glad for the darkness as you felt your face flush with embarrassment at your discovery. You hadn’t expected the High Captain of Gondor to skip out on his own banquet; in fact, you’d been counting on having the balcony all to yourself, so you’d be able to write in peace. There certainly wouldn’t be anymore of that, now that the small candelabra you’d been using for light was in two pieces on the stone floor. 

You leapt to your feet, muttering apologies and trying to keep your heart from beating out of your chest. You’d never been so close to Boromir before, and certainly not alone in the dark. Your mouth went dry at the realization. 

As one of the Steward’s personal scribes, you’d spent most of your life in the Tower Hall of Minas Tirith. On occasion, your work brought you into close contact with both of Denethor’s sons. Faramir was something of a friend to you, despite the difference in your stations. You both shared a love of the written word and his quiet temperament mirrored yours, making you fast friends. But it was Faramir’s older brother, the handsome and lordly High Warden, that made you go weak in the knees. It had been that way since you’d been old enough to notice such things.

You’d always admired him from a distance and kept your desires to yourself, confiding your feelings only in the pages of your journals. Nothing would come of your infatuation, you knew; Boromir was next in line for the Steward’s role, which was the closest thing Gondor had to a king. His title required him to wed someone of noble birth, and you knew his father would have nothing but the best for his favorite son. While your family was not poor and your duties as a scribe were a great source of pride to them, you did not have the aristocratic heritage needed to be a worthy match for the High Warden. And even if you did, he’s never looked twice at you, a harsh inner voice reminded you, causing your fragile heart to crumple at the reminder.

“Forgive me, my lord, I didn’t wish to disturb you.” Your voice sounded small and pathetic, and you felt your cheeks blaze with renewed embarrassment. 

Boromir relaxed at the sound of your voice, dropping his sword and chuckling softly. 

“You shouldn’t make a habit of startling armed men, you know,” Boromir chided you gently as he bent to pick up the fragments of the broken candelabra at your feet. He was so close that you could see the seams on his blue brocade tunic. When he stood, the candelabra in his hands, he stood almost a half foot taller than you. If you’d been bold enough to hold his gaze, you would have been forced to incline your chin up at him. But you kept your eyes fixed intently on the gray stone floor, hoping he couldn’t hear the erratic thudding of your heart in your chest. He was so close you swore you could feel the faint tickle of his breath on your temple. Your skin erupted in flames where his breath danced over it.

“I’ll make a note of that, my Lord,” you stammered in reply, barely able to keep your voice from breaking. 

“Please, Y/N, how long have you known me? Dispense with the ‘my Lord’ nonsense, I beg you. I’ve heard enough of that tonight.” The sound of your name in his voice sent a thrill running up your spine. You hadn’t realized that Boromir knew you apart from the dozens of other faces he saw on a daily basis around the halls of the Steward’s quarters. That fact, coupled with the High Warden’s closeness, scattered your thoughts like marbles on a smooth floor until you didn’t trust yourself not to press yourself against him, twine your fingers in his hair, press your lips to his, run your hands along the planes of his stomach, pant his name until you were breathless, grab his-

You audibly let out a small, breathless gasp as you tore yourself away and bid your feet to run. You knew that if you stayed that close to him for one more second you would do something irreparable and shameful. All you heard as you left, practically sprinting away into the relative safety of the well-lit throne room, was the blood pounding in your head. It drowned out the sound of the night breeze, the sounds of the party, and the sound of Boromir calling after you…

**********

Boromir watched as y/n scurried away like a frightened animal into the banquet room once again. He must have misread the signals, must have misinterpreted the tension in the air between them. Boromir wasn’t used to being rebuffed in his advances; most people were swayed by his easy charm, his skill with a sword, and his title at the very least. But y/n seemed immune to him, always preferring the quiet company of Faramir. Feeling frustrated and embarrassed, he called out after y/n, but his voice was swallowed up by the sounds of merriment in the throne room. 

“You damn fool,” Boromir cursed to himself as he ran a regretful hand through his hair. He tossed away the broken pieces of y/n’s candelabra, anger at his misstep boiling in his chest as he made to stride off. It was then that he saw it, resting precariously on the balcony’s railing. A small, leather-bound journal. 

Boromir hadn’t noticed it earlier, although he recognized it instantly. Y/n always carried such a journal. Aside from Faramir, it was y/n’s most steadfast companion. 

Boromir froze, eyeing the diary, a conflict raging within him. He knew that whatever contents the journal held were private and to open it constituted a violation of honor. The thought twisted like a knife in his gut. But, on the other hand, Boromir had always longed for a peak into y/n’s mind. For reasons he couldn’t quite articulate, Boromir knew that there was beauty there, if only he could access it. 

He hesitated for only a moment, casting a wary glance back towards the banquet hall. If y/n saw him, Boromir’s far-flung hopes would be dashed forever. No one was looking, and y/n had disappeared into the crowd. It was now or never.

Like a man dying of thirst, Boromir grabbed the journal greedily and cracked it open, his eyes roving the pages and drinking in the words. It was a journal, but so much more. There were smatterings of poetry: some of it original, Boromir deduced, but some of it copied down from y/n’s work in Minas Tirith’s library. Every so often, Boromir found a sketch. Most of it was of Minas Tirith, drawn from the vantage point of the mountains that rose up behind the city. A few horses, children, nondescript landscapes. They were beautiful renderings, detailed and delicate in the linework, incredibly lifelike. 

He continued to flip through the journal. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but in his eagerness to scour the entirety of the book he found he couldn’t focus on any one page for longer than a moment. 

Not until he found his own likeness staring out of the page up at him. 

Boromir recognized himself in y/n’s drawing immediately, although the pen-and-ink Boromir seemed finer somehow. Boromir’s heart pirouetted in his chest as he drank in the drawing, trying to decipher where it was that y/n’s drawing deviated from reality. Y/n had captured the line of his jaw perfectly, even the small scar above his right eyebrow. His hair was rough and unkempt looking, as if he’d just returned from a horseback ride, and he wore his simple fighting leathers. The eyes and lips were a perfect mirror to his own, but still there was something about the drawing… 

His eyes slid down the page to where, at the very bottom of the drawing, he saw a single line of small, impeccably neat handwriting:

A King in a long line of Stewards

Boromir felt the breath hitch in his throat. The sentiment was simple but beautiful, and it touched something very deep inside him. 

The feverish hunger to devour the journal’s contents in a single gulp from moments before slowed and dwindled to something much more tender. Boromir flipped the page slowly, the same neat handwriting covering the backside of the sheaf of paper where his portrait was drawn.

You must be a trick of the memory that the old gods are playing on me,

You travel with my love over plains, mountains and seas.

Your blue eyes are there when I close mine, 

Your voice chases me while I dream,

My heart cries out in the darkness for you,

The roots of the world shake with its scream. 

I’ll drown in this desire and choke on this need,

Say you’re mine once and I’ll fall to my knees.

Boromir read the lines more times than he could count, luxuriating in the words until he could hardly breathe. He knew y/n’s words when he heard them, although he’d never heard anything close to this. Never dared to hope that anything approximating this was in y/n’s heart. His mind danced with a misty light, his heart suffused with warmth. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, using the fading light of the banquet inside to read the lines over and over again until he had them memorized. 

At some point he surfaced from his reverie, his heart beating erratically against his ribs. He stood up from where he’d sat against the railing, smoothing the front of his tunic and the sides of his hair. With a final inhale, he strode off purposefully, weaving through the thinning crowd of Gondor’s nobility, ignoring their greetings. He didn’t hesitate until he found himself standing in front of y/n’s door. Shakily, unsure of what he was about to say, he knocked twice. 

**********

You heard two soft knocks at your door. You glanced at the moon outside, surprised that anyone would pay you a visit this late. It was nearing midnight, you guessed. There was a fluttery feeling in your chest coupled with a pit in your stomach that you hadn’t been able to soothe with either tea or a warm bath. You felt as if you were losing your mind by inches. You’d spent your entire life, more or less, in Boromir’s home and you’d crossed his path hundreds of times before. Why now were you suddenly undone like a smitten child? Your feelings for him weren’t new, so why were you abruptly unable to control them?

You tried to push those thoughts from your mind as you crossed your chamber and unlatched your door. You suspected it would be Teithand, the master scribe. On rare occasions he gave you a special assignment and made a habit of visiting your private chambers to discuss the details of these duties at all hours of the day or night. 

But the figure darkening your doorway wasn’t dressed in the long, cream robes of a scribe, but instead in the formalwear of Gondorian nobility. 

Boromir smiled at you, and the sight of him, leaning casually against your door frame and close to you set your heart ablaze again. The thoughts you’d tenuously strung together shattered and your breath hitched in your throat. 

When you saw the small journal clutched in the High Warden’s hands, however, your stomach fell into your feet. Horror and something deeper than shame consumed you in an instant. 

You hardly had time to process what was happening before Boromir stepped into your chamber confidently. He tossed your journal onto the bed behind you, his now empty hands coming to the small of your back and the side of your face as he caught your lips with his.

You froze. You’d lost all semblance of coherent thought. The whiplash of emotions had left you feeling terrified. Thankfully, your body reacted faster than either your head or your heart. 

As if you’d done it a thousand times before, your lips moved in sync with Boromir’s and your hands tangled in the thick strands of his auburn hair. You gave yourself over to instinct as your mind dissolved under the pressure of his lips. His breath washed over you - warm and ragged - as the two of you pressed your bodies against each other, eager to melt together in the quiet dark of your chamber. His hands roamed over you, tentatively at first, but faster and firmer as you responded to his touch with neediness. You heard a small, desperate groan escape from the back of his throat; the sound of it almost sent you catapulting over the edge of the logic. 

You caught yourself in the instant before you lost all control of yourself, breaking the kiss and pulling back just enough to catch his eyes. 

“Boromir, what is thi-”

“I’m yours,” he whispered back, cutting you off with his words followed by another kiss. This time his lips refused to stay contained to yours. He tipped your head back, exposing your neck to him as his mouth moved along its length. The places where his lips connected with your skin burned like a brand. You felt a heat building deep inside your core. 

“I’m yours, Y/N” he said again. This time it was him who had the sense to pull away. You were panting, and you would have been self-conscious if it weren’t for the fact that he too was on the verge of gasping. His hands came to either side of your face, framing them as his eyes bored into yours. 

“Aren’t you…” Boromir’s question died on his lips, replaced by an impish grin. He raised an eyebrow at you, his eyes moving between your face and the ground beneath your feet. Between the confusion starting to coalesce in your head (what the hell is going on? the rational part of you screamed) and your body alight with desire, you didn’t have enough wherewithal to decipher his meaning. 

“Aren’t I what?” you asked dumbly. A sliver of anxiety spliced its way into your chest… maybe what you were seeing in Boromir’s eyes was just the neediness of a lord looking at someone he knew was game for a tumble in bed, and not the mirror image of your satisfaction at the fulfillment of a long-denied devotion. 

“Going to fall to your knees,” Boromir replied, placing a soft, gentle kiss on your lips. It was almost a question, as if he were asking you. The brazenness of his request startled you, but the heat in your core blazed in response. There was also something familiar about his words…

“In your journal… you wrote, ‘say you’re mine once and I’ll fall to my knees’… I’ve said it twice now, and yet here you stand.” He chuckled softly, his lips dancing along your jaw and over your cheeks as you tried to catch up to his meaning. 

Then, like a clap of thunder, it clicked. The poem. You’d written it over a year ago, the night after Boromir had left Minas Tirith with a garrison of Gondor’s guards to ride to an outpost at the southern border. You’d almost forgotten your words - you’d written so many of them, all of them for him. 

You let you a small laugh in surprise and a hint of embarrassment.

“Didn’t anyone tell you it was rude to read another’s writings, my Lord?” You emphasized the last two words, shooting him a wicked smile as you made good on your written promise and sank to your knees in front of him. Your fingers went to work on the lacing of his trousers, the urgency of the moment rekindling between you. Boromir caught your chin with his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to catch his gaze. He looked breathtaking, standing over you. A King in a long line of Stewards, you thought as you drank in the sight of him. 

“Call me Boromir,” he said simply. “I won’t have you calling me ‘my Lord’ for the rest of our days together.” His tone was casual, but you could hear the intention of his words. You hesitated only momentarily before returning to the task at hand. You broke into a smile, wide and triumphant, and although your attention was focused elsewhere, Boromir’s expression matched yours exactly…

#boromir #boromir x reader #boromir x y/n #boromir x you #boromir imagine #boromir fluff #boromir lotr #sean bean #lotr fic #lotr imagine

[esta-elavaris]

Not-Yet-Written tag game

Thank you for the tag @inkedmoth 💜💜💜 gotta talk about the fic ideas I have that I have not yet written.

Boromir/Sybil

A one-shot where Boromir meets Sybil while Bera is still living, having arrived, injured, at the cabin before the events that kick off HWFG.

CTW-verse

A Groves/Theodora AU -- but given my current workload, I'm thinking of really paring this down just to a series of snippets, especially since we're now getting our Groves fix from RTOF.

Modern!James AU -- my 4395 recent text posts explain this one 🫠 this will probably end up needing to be a behemoth.

Other

Aemond Targaryen/OC -- power imbalance, toxic dynamic, Aemond being not nice, but not to such an extent that it's just constantly painful to read and impossible to root for the relationship.

Dracula/OC -- (ft. Richard Roxburgh's Dracula from Van Helsing (2004), but it probably wouldn't follow anything to do with the plot of the actual movie). This idea has been in my head for a long time but it's all very cliche and expected...but I'm thinking of just embracing that aspect and writing it anyway, because that's what I want to write, and if others happen to find it entertaining then that's just an added bonus.

Haldir/OC -- I have a oneshot half-written for this, but that's mostly me toying with dynamics and tone for the full-scale fic, but that's a very far-off thing. Elven pining, mortal danger, the works.

Gale Dekarios/F!Tav -- listen, I can't even play the game yet, I'm living via watching others play it on YT, but I haven't been this sick over a fictional character since the likes of Norrington and Boromir so it's going to happen. No idea how or when yet, but it will. It's a foregone conclusion.

These are the ones fully on my mind, but I have a foul habit of getting carried away with whatever I'm watching/rewatching at any given time and I cannot be held responsible for what happens in my word documents when that happens, so 🫠 although rn I'm trying to save that energy for flufftober novelty one-offs, for the sake of my sanity/workload.

Tagging @bumblingbriars @ass-deep-in-demons @quillofspirit and @scyllas-revenge

#tag game

[apricusapollo]

yeah so anyways aragorn / legolas / boromir oneshot no one asked for but I wrote anyways

the link

#lord of the rings #lord of the rings fanfiction #aragorn #legolas #boromir

[theship-thewalrus]

If your open for requests I’d like one for boromir from lotr!

Where he has a crush on a witch who is gandalf apprentice and she saves him from getting killed by giving him half of her soul

I don't mind if its headcanon or a oneshot or anything😊

Hi Anon!! I love this!! I truly hope it was what you have been looking for <3 also I found the magic words from a generator so if they actually mean anything I would love to know :)

boromir x female!reader

basically what the ask is :)

word count: 586 words reading time: about 3 minutes warnings: mention injury, blood and near death

You had studied under Gandalf the Grey for many years, learning from the wizard in the hopes you too could possibly learn a fraction of the man's infinite knowledge. Witchcraft and wizardry were becoming less and less sort after and taught, not many wizards taking on apprentices and not many wanted to learn. It felt like in a sense the magic of the world was dying, Elves were returning to their ancestral homes, Dwarves staying in their mountains, allowing men to have free reign of the world. It brought you great sadness to think that one day you may be one of the only people with magical ability in all of Middle Earth. With Gandalf falling to the dreaded beast, Balrog, that fear was slowly becoming a reality.

Travelling with the fellowship was fun and exciting, though losing Gandalf had put a pause to the usual cheery nature of everyone. Before then everyone was fairly close, getting along the best they could on the ride. You often found yourself speaking with Boromir, the man providing you with unlimited jokes and stories to keep you entertained. Though you got on well with everyone, it was clear you and Boromir were becoming quite close. Everyone caught the longing stares he gave you, how during a battle he would stay closer to you to ensure your safety. Yet nothing gave away just how much you liked him, on your part there were no longing stares. Nothing to truly tell them if you reciprocated the man's feelings or simply saw him as a friend.

But as they watched you weep over the dying man, holding him close to your chest the best you could without hurting him, they knew you loved him just as much as he loved you. You did not care for the blood getting on your hands and clothes. Only caring for the man in your arms as you break into loud, uncontrollable sobs, begging him to be alright. Boromir's face held a content smile, holding on softly to your arm.

Gandalf had always warned you about certain spells that were deemed too dangerous and dark to ever try to do. He knew you were curious by nature and you would stumble upon them sooner or later. Thus, he taught you about them only briefly, mentioning the ones in your book that were far too dangerous for you to attempt. But all his warnings seemed to leave your mind as you looked down at Boromir, for you only wished for him to be okay, to stay at your side.

"Impoire Herisum Ascenaeaturi Damcio" as you begin the incantation the world seems to shift, the air growing stale. "Impguin Vaseoulum Xaaoturi Syvbeo." The sky darkened, the trees around you almost leaning into where you sat, and the ground rumbled as the volume in your voice rose. "Impayailum Taneoious Sulba Zeiuul Ziayuerate Accguin." Lightening struck the ground, one could not say if it struck you or simply near you.

The colour began to return to Boromir's face, no longer looking ghastly and sickly. His pained, staggered breath returning to normal and the strength returning in his hold on you. As you had shared your soul with him, spared him from the afterlife for just a little longer. A part of you felt almost selfish for doing so, but you could not back out now, for it had been done.

He was back with you and you with him, not even death had the power to rip you apart.

#boromir x reader #boromir imagines #lotr imagines #lotr x reader #lord of the rings imagines #lord of the rings x reader

[ass-deep-in-demons]

Ok, I'll be honest; I wanted to leave a comment on AO3, and I will if I can, but I can't remember my password! I just wanted to say that I finally had the chance of reading Speaking in tongues and I LOVED IT!! I loved the part with the narrator describing the tomes she is translating (I'd like to read them as well!! ;)) and her "encounter" with Boromir was nothing less than steaming! Tell me you are actually writing a part two because I need him catching, or at least confessing, feelings for her... and maybe a love declaration among the books!?

Thank you for this lovely fic, and I hope you have a lovely day!

^ live footage of me reading your comment!!!

Here is a [link] to the Boromir x OC oneshot for those who missed it!

Thank you for reading and thaking your time to message me, I'm so humbled and so so glad you liked Speaking Tongues <3 Writing it was a personal journey; I specifically wanted to portray female openness, the joy of intimacy, and how people can connect through touch.

I do have a part two planned, and there will be some developments between Boromir and the Archivist BUT...

This is the canon setting and Boromir is young (approaching 30) in this fanfic. As we know, the canon Boromir never married and had no lasting romantic relationships. Still, in many fanfics he is portrayed as somewhat experienced. It would honestly make no sense for a soldier in his 40s to be a virgin, right? But Boromir is also honourable and has high personal standards, so I sort of wanted to explore that. Like, what sort of relationships, and with whom, could he have reasonably engaged in (considering the canon setting) before we meet him in the Fellowship of the Ring?

Now for some background about our Archivist Gal! (I left her unnamed because this fanfic is meant to be read with a sock on your doorknob; for all intents and purposes she is a reader-insert.) Her father is a merchant and he used to travel to Rhun to buy silks and spices, and her mother is half-Easterling. The family lives in Pelargir. Because of Sauron's return and the war with Mordor, commerce routes are no longer safe. The merchant father had to put his trade expeditions on hold, so the family is now in financial trouble. To remedy this, our Archivist moved to Minas Tirith with her older brother's family. The brother joined the Steward's army to feed his wife and infant, and our gal apprenticed in the Archives, because she'd had training in letters, numbers and knows Rhunic from her mother. Her goal is to earn enough money for her dowry to return to Pelargir, marry some well-sutiated son of another merchant, and maybe take over her father's business. So, it is as she's stated in the first part of the fanfic: she is not really interested in Boromir as a romantic partner or a prospective spouse, but rather as a... friend with benefits?

Soooo, basically.... it's complicated ;_; Where will their relationship progress from there? I don't even know rithg now :D We'll have to wait for part two! Fair warning though, I can't promise a conventional happy ending, and there might be some angst oops.

Thank you for sending the ask and giving me the opportunity to nerd-out about my OC some more. I love you <3 Here's an obligatory Boromir gif:

#[arda] #boromir #boromir x oc #ass deep in demons #ass deep in tags

[ach-sss-no]

new oneshot:

Boromir and Gollum talk a lot

#fic: schrödinger's hobbit #adjacent #they talk so much

[necrobratz]

Lifted Weight

➴ Trans Faramir Oneshot

Boromir decides to rid his little brother of the too-long nuisance that resides on his head.

—

A 1k word trans joy fic with purely fluff and comfort. Boromir is a good big brother :)

#i wrote it literally just for my own comfort #they’re very special to me #rhreheuuuueueueue #*sobbing* #boromir #faramir #trans faramir #trans tolkien #Lifted Weight #lotr #lord of the rings #my fics #eros speaks

[cauliflowertree]

┊͙ ˘͈ᵕ˘͈ WHO I WRITE FOR—

FANDOMS & CHARACTERS— [subject to change]

gilmore girls -> jess, tristan, dave, rory.

harry potter -> harry, hermione, luna, draco, fred, george, blaise, ginny, cedric, tom, theo, mattheo, sirius, james, remus, regulus, lily, narcissa, bellatrix.

lord of the rings / the hobbit -> aragorn, legolas, eomer, eowyn, faramir, boromir, haldir & bard, thranduil, kili, thorin.

the maze runner -> newt, gally, thomas.

stranger things -> steve, dmitri, joyce, hopper, chrissy, nancy, robin.

star wars -> anakin.

the mentalist -> patrick.

grishaverse -> the darkling.

pretty little liars -> aria, jason.

timeless -> flynn.

the vampire diaries -> damon, stefan, elijah, katherine, klaus, kol, rebekah.

twilight -> bella, edward, carlisle, charlie, jasper, alice.

bridgerton -> anthony, benedict, eloise, daphne.

criminal minds -> aaron, spencer, jennifer, emily, derek.

anne with an e -> gilbert, anne.

dead poets society -> neil, todd, charlie, knox.

little women -> amy, jo, laurie, beth [platonic!].

teen wolf -> stiles.

pirates of the caribbean -> jack, will, james, elizabeth.

the hunger games -> finnick, peeta, haymitch, katniss, johanna.

pride and prejudice -> mr darcy.

RULES—

don’t request any smut. nsfw themes are okay but i don’t write full blown smut.

i will write platonic fics & romantic fics but please specify which you want when you request.

i will write: oneshots, blurbs / drabbles, headcanons & dialogues, fem!readers and gn!readers. if you don’t specify in your ask which you prefer, my default is usually gender neutral.

i don’t write male readers, sh, professor x minor!student, poly relationships, parent fics or pregnancy fics.

i only write marriage fics for bridgerton & pride and prejudice!

request status; CLOSED

#gilmore girls fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #marauders fanfiction #lotr fanfic #the hobbit fanfiction #pretty little liars fanfiction #vampire diaries fanfiction #twilight fanfiction #bridgerton fanfiction #flower patch

[random-imagines-blog]

Lord of the Rings Masterlist

In an attempt to organize the blog and keep everything in order, masterlists are being made to join together into a masterlist of masterlists to make it easier for those on mobile. Thanks for being patient! 

⭐ contains smut

Legolas

Oneshots

Prove You Wrong {Legolas Oneshot}

Imagines

Imagine volunteering to be part of the Fellowship just to annoy Legolas.

Imagine Legolas spotting you’re in trouble.

Imagine trying to sneak up on Legolas but he senses your presence.

Aragorn

Oneshots

Taking Pain in Large Doses

Imagines

Imagine being injured in battle and Aragorn taking care of you.

Imagine singing songs with Pippin and Merry, and catching Aragorn’s attention.

Imagine Aragorn coming home to you, bringing you your favorite exotic food.

Imagine being Legolas’s ex but falling for Aragorn.

Imagine Aragorn hearing news that you are betrothed to another.

Gimli

Imagines

Imagine Gimli coming across you in the Mines of Moria.

Boromir

Imagines

Imagine spending your afterlife with Boromir.

Imagine finding yourself in Middle Earth, and becoming close to Faramir and Boromir.

Imagine Boromir taking you home after a battle.

Imagine telling Boromir that you’re pregnant with twins.

 Merry

Imagines

Imagine Merry thinking you’re someone from the fairytales he heard growing up.

Imagine Merry swearing to protect your life with his.

Imagine trying to get Merry’s attention but he’s too busy eating to notice.

Imagine Merry trying to impress you by proving he’s taller than Pippin.

Pippin

Oneshots

A Moment Sometimes

Starfall

Behind the Crimson Door

Imagines

Imagine living with Pippin in The Shire and he brings in a surprise pet one day.

Imagine being put in charge of Pippin.

Imagine Pippin receiving the news that you’ve been injured in battle.

Imagine causing mischief with Pippin.

Frodo

Oneshots

Jenny of Oldstones

Imagines

Imagine Frodo teaching you things he had learned on his adventures.

Imagine taking care of Frodo when he has nightmares after his adventure.

Samwise Gamgee

Oneshots

Imagines

Eomer

Oneshots

Fallen

The Dream

Under the Rose

Imagines

Imagine Eomer seeing you swimming nude.

Imagine Eomer growing angry with the other Riders of Rohan for getting close to you.

Imagine braiding Éomer‘s hair while he sleeps.

Imagine Eomer not being happy that you took Merry under your wing.

Imagine Eomer catching you imitating his speeches.

Faramir

Oneshots

Waiting

We

Personal

The Way Back

Gathering Light

Imagines

Imagine tending to Faramir’s wounds.

Imagine Faramir catching you talking to an ex.

Imagine finding yourself in Middle Earth, and becoming close to Faramir and Boromir.

Imagine Faramir thinking he’ll have to spend his birthday alone.

Imagine always tripping over Faramir’s armor.

Imagine Faramir tickling you.

Imagine Faramir taking care of you while you’re sick.

Haldir

Oneshots

Tonight Tonight

Imagines

Imagine being a bard, and impressing Haldir.

Thranduil

Oneshots

The Bad Place

The Sky is Falling

All the Love

Seeing Stars  

Imagines

Imagine enjoying a rainy day with Thranduil. 

Imagine Thranduil being entranced  by your sleeve tattoo.

Imagine meeting Thranduil to build a bridge between your elven colonies. 

Thorin Oakenshield

Oneshots

Over

Imagines

Imagine Thorin coming across your sketchbook.

 Fili

Imagines

Oneshots

Kili

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine catching Kili staring at you.

Imagine Kili helping you to button your dress before a feast.

Imagine Kili realizing you’re no longer by his side.

Imagine making Kili lose a bet.

Elrond

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine being an elf from a place Elrond had never heard of before.

 Bilbo

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine attempting to entice Bilbo on another adventure.

Imagine packing Bilbo’s bag for him before he leaves.

 Bard the Bowman

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine Bard the Bowman finding out that you’re one of the few witches in Middle Earth.

 Tauriel

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine Tauriel being unable to ease your pain.

Galadriel

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine seeing Galadriel under the light of the Full Moon.

Imagine being an emotional human who falls for Galadriel, a cold elf.

Fellowship in General

Oneshots

The Wild

Imagines

Imagine being a fire mage and being part of the Fellowship.

Imagine the fellowship seeing your face for the first time.

Imagine having a skill with enchantment magic, and joining the fellowship.