#eomer x fem!reader

[gloomwitchwrites]

Hii I like your writings! If you're still taking requests, can you write something about Eomer and the female reader? The reader is Aragorn's older sister. A ranger and a renowned warrior. After Eomer personally meets the owner of the stories he's been hearing for years, he may begin to fall in love with her. If you write, thank you in advance, if you don't I totally understand, no problem.~

Greetings, Anon! I'm SO sorry it took me so long to get to this request. It has been sitting in my inbox for a hot minute. Thank you so much for reaching out and dropping this off. I hope you enjoy this little thing I put together.

A Sudden Spark

Éomer x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: mild suggestive themes, slight canon-divergence, fluff, yearning, crush at first sight

Word Count: 1.4k

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist

The Great Shadow is fading.

Evil is not gone. It is simply receding, lingering in the farthest reaches, waiting for the final blow of steel that will eventually come. There is a brightness that stretches over everything like a warm blanket draped across the shoulders. It is as if the Sun returned after a long sleep.

Éomer breathes deep, allowing the brilliance of sunshine and the floral aroma on the wind to fill his lungs. A peace settles over him, a gentleness that extinguishes all ache from the last few months. Éomer is battle-weary. He lost his uncle, and nearly lost his sister.

A few years of peace are what he and everyone needs.

Turning away from the Pelennor Fields, Éomer reenters the feast hall of Merethrond. Taking up residence beside a tall, white pillar, Éomer observes the crowd around him, drinking from his mead cup. Everyone is in a celebratory mood. As they should be.

The battle is over. Gondor has a king. And yet, there is still so much to do.

Éomer celebrates along with them. The mead is delicious if a bit strong, and he has a tender urge to experience life. A fair maiden with lovely lips and curves would surely satiate that subtle hunger.

But darkness and duty lurk in the back of his mind. The bright sunshine and fresh air only quieted it for a moment. Rohan is without a king. Éomer will take up the title. He has not officially been crowned but it will happen after all of this is done. From this point on, Éomer must serve his people in more ways than he has previously. While he has always been a ferocious fighter and a skilled rider, the politics of ruling will become a new burden.

Éowyn will support him, but for how long? She is currently tangled up in Faramir’s arms, the two of them moving across the floor in a dance that sends the bottom of her dress spinning. Her smile is wide and pure, cheeks lightly flushed from exertion and most certainly from the beginnings of love. Faramir’s smile is just as wide and bold, their gazes locked on one another as if there is no one else in the room.

No. Éomer will not always have his sister. It appears that he will lose her to another sooner rather than later. But he is not upset. If anything, he is happy for her. She deserves so much, especially after all they’ve lost.

That leaves only him. He too will need someone at his side that is more than simple counsel. Éomer will need a wife. That is the reality of things. Someone for him to love and to love him in return, to birth his children, to listen and give advice, and to assist in taking care of the realm. While it is a duty, Éomer deeply longs for companionship.

But all this responsibility subdues the celebratory mood. It slots his thoughts into all that must be done on his return to Edoras.

Éomer is happy for Aragorn. He is happy that Gondor has a king, and that Gondor will be a great ally. He is happy that Aragorn has reunited with the woman he loves, and that the lands are no longer scarred by darkness and death.

He takes a long swig of his mead, leaning harder against the pillar as he observes the dancers in the middle of the hall. The mead is strong and sinking into his bones. The buzz is sharp in his blood.

“Not joining in?” The feminine voice draws Éomer’s attention away from the dancing couples and to the end of his right shoulder.

Éomer freezes, his mead cup halfway to his mouth. The woman standing next to him smiles sweetly. Your gentle beauty is soft and inviting. As Éomer continues to stare, that sweetness morphs into amusement, and that one look sends a little shiver up his spine to slice through his heart.

When he doesn’t answer, you arch a single eyebrow, and Éomer hastily clears his throat.

“Not for me,” he admits, immediately drinking some of his mead.

“Dancing?”

Are you asking him? It feels like you are but Éomer hasn’t always been successful about understanding a woman’s signals when she’s interested. Usually, Éomer is the one approaching.

Éomer nods because he doesn’t trust his voice. He might choke on his words this time instead of a simple cough.

There is a stretch of silence before you speak again. “But you are celebrating.” You nod toward his cup. Éomer briefly glances at your empty hands.

“And you are not partaking,” he comments.

You laugh. “The Lord of the Mark is observant,” you tease, smile stretching toward your ears.

Another stretch of silence, and your eyebrows start to rise toward your hairline, head tilting slightly. Éomer blinks and then heat rushes up his cheeks.

By the Gods, he should have realized sooner.

Éomer pushes off from the pillar, straightening his shoulders and back, smoothing the front of his formal tunic. “Would you—”

“Yes,” you reply automatically, eagerly reaching for him.

Your hand is warm in his. Éomer follows, allowing you to lead, dropping his drink somewhere on a random table before entering the crowd of dancers. The music is upbeat and light. Éomer wouldn’t call himself graceful, but he did grow up learning traditional dances for this very reason.

But you continue to lead, and somehow that is comforting. Éomer is always prepared to take charge and make decisions. He does none of that now. You are smiling, clasping his hand, this stranger that has suddenly captured all his attention.

Perhaps forgetting for a bit is a good thing.

Éomer goes through two dances with you before the music slows a bit. Before, he hardly had a chance to speak, but now the two of you are close together, bodies pressed tight. He briefly glances over your shoulder and notices Arwen’s smile. She is watching him, and you. His gaze falls to the man beside her.

There is a slight frown on Aragorn’s face. Why is he frowning? Why does he appear concerned?

“You know my name but I’m afraid I do not know yours,” says Éomer, his face slightly tilted toward your own.

You give it casually and Éomer blanches. He knows that name. He knows who you are.

For the time he’s known Aragorn, Éomer has heard the stories from others, never from the man himself. He keeps you secret, not leaning into the tales told about you. You are his sister, the elder but not by much. But you are not soft and delicate, or so Éomer has been told.

You are daring. Adventurous. A fierce warrior and Ranger. You wield sword and bow with gracefulness and deadly aim. Éomer had heard that the Rangers came during the battle, but he did not see you. Then again, Éomer was far too busy trying to keep himself and his fellow Rohirrim alive.

The image he built of you in his head does not match the woman before him. The way you match his every step and how your hands feel against him, all speak to gentler things. Before him is a sweet and soft woman, but as he peers closer, Éomer notices the subtle shifts of your movements. There is a warrior’s grace to the fluidity of your body against his and with every leading step.

There is power within you along with the soft.

Éomer’s heart suddenly snags, stuttering before becoming a pounding drumbeat. When you turn your smile back to him all coherent thought leaves his brain except one.

She’d be a fierce queen.

The music swells and then melts away, and you release Éomer to step back and bow deeply. Éomer mimics the movement. When the two of you straighten, it is at the exact same time, and then you step far too close for a stranger.

“This is where we part,” you murmur, soft lips forming the words yet also sending Éomer’s brain into a foggy scramble.

You incline your head and begin to draw away. Like a lightning strike, Éomer moves into the space you just occupied, snatching your wrist to pull you close.

Your lips part in surprise, chest heaving slightly. Éomer’s gaze drops to the exposed tops of your breasts.

“This is where we part,” he repeats, gaze returning to your face. “For now.”

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[lathalea]

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[middleearthpixie]

Here I come bringing my obsession your Ask Box!

AUgust Mashup:

Eomer + Enemies to Lovers + “I didn’t know you cared.”

No pressure: Please and thank you! <3

Ahhhh... I know this took me FOREVER, but here you go (and you should know, this is my very first time ever writing Éomer, so I really hope I got him right!)

I hope you like it! 💜💜💜

Fair Enough

Trope: AUgust Mashup Enemies to Lovers

Quote: “I didn’t know you cared…”

Pairings: Éomer x fem!reader

Warnings: None. Just fluffy fluff

Rating: G

Word Count: 4.6k

***

“Isn’t there some way we could just—you know—knock him from his saddle?”

You bit back a smile at Cynewyn’s suggestion, although it did have merit, and tried instead to focus on the plate you were drying. “The trouble with that would be, we might spook his horse and if it was injured, we’d never forgive us, would we?”

“Well, no. I don’t suppose we would. But, the horse might be just fine. Only Éomer would get no less than he deserves.”

“True, but it’s a risk I’d rather not take. The last thing either us or papa needs is to to pay for replacing his horse.”

“It would be no less than he deserves as well, the snake. I’d like to throw a rock at him right now.”

“Makes two of us, but again—” 

“I know,” Cynewyn sighed, “it’s a risk you’d rather not take.”

“Exactly.” You smiled at your older sister. “We can only hope that one day, he gets his and that we are lucky enough to witness it.”

“Which is not going to happen.” Cynewyn went quiet as she dunked another plate into the washbasin. “Still, why would he do that to you, anyway? What was the point?”

You shrugged, taking the plate to wipe dry. “To make sport of me, I suppose. After all, isn’t it funny when a man pretends he’s interested in you and then when you show up at your agreed upon meeting place, he’s nowhere to be found? And isn’t it funny when he and his friends were just outside of the pub, giggling like children, is just so amusing?”

“Men? Bah! They are but boys. Big boys, but boys just the same.” She passed you another plate.

You said nothing, but dried the plate and then slid it onto its shelf in the cupboard, atop the small stack you’d already dried. In the time it took you to do that, Éomer had moved on down the road that ran before the kitchen windows of your family’s small stone cottage. You should have known he’d been sporting with you when he asked you to meet him at the coffeehouse the previous week. Until that morning, he didn't seem to know you were alive. It was only too bad you could not say the same, because not only did you most definitely know he was alive, you thought he was the most perfect man alive. That afternoon, however, he toppled from that pedestal and shattered at its base as far as you were concerned. 

Of course, that didn't mean his thoughtless actions didn't hurt. Because they did. They most definitely did. 

But, you’d not think about what happened any longer. He’d gotten a good laugh at your expense, but you would rise above it. You had no other choice, really. He was the king’s nephew and you were… well…

You were nobody, really. 

A depressing thought.

You finished drying the dishes and left your sister to whatever it was she was doing. You shared a room and night after night, you would stretch out on your bed and try to read whilst she went through her seemingly bottomless supply of fabric for whatever gown she was going to try to copy from whichever lady she saw in town. She was really quite gifted, so you didn’t mind when she asked you to be her model, as you had no dressmaker’s dummy. But tonight, she did not need your assistance and, claiming a headache, instead she chose to go to bed early. A good night’s sleep was always welcomed, but as you lay there in the dark, sleep mocked you instead. It had been happening more and more often now, as the world grew more unsettled and while you could usually find some way to drift off, tonight was not one of those nights. You were simply too restless and so you slipped from the small stone cottage to go for a walk. 

You tried not think about how disappointed you’d been when Éomer stood you up at the coffeehouse. Perhaps you should have expected it, but it hurt just the same. Of course, you weren’t the only one who imagined catching his eye. Half the women of marriageable age in Edoras dreamed of doing just that and no one could blame a one of you. Not only was he the king’s nephew, but he was so blasted handsome, with his long, wavy dark gold hair and direct hazel eyes. And whenever you saw him on horseback—you melted a little on the inside each time.

Of course, now he knew you fancied him and not only that, but he’d used it against you. Knocking him off his horse wasn't even close to being enough. Still, you couldn't dwell on it forever. In time, everyone who was in that coffeehouse would forget.

Everyone but you, anyway. 

“And that is the last we will think of it,” you muttered, trying instead to focus on something, anything, else as you strolled on. 

It was a peaceful night, hints of the coming autumn in the crisp edge of the breeze that stirred the leaves last night’s storm had pulled from the trees. The best thing about the stone cottage at the end of the road in Edoras? You were the farthest point from the king’s residence, which meant you would most likely not cross paths again with Éomer at this time of night. True, he’d been riding south, which meant that at some point he would pass by here again, but you’d have enough warning, as the road was wide and almost no trees lined it. Sneaking up on you would be almost impossible. 

Not that he would even try. He’d made himself perfectly clear where you were concerned. 

The night sky was clear, spangled with stars and moonlight bathed everything as far as you could see an etherial silver color. There had been rumblings to the east, and you’d heard talk amongst the menfolk about the possibility of war, and you also knew that orcs had been seen on the borders of Rohan. And that was why you did not leave your house without a blade of some sort. Although your father was not overjoyed at the thought, he allowed both you and Cynewyn to carry a small sword, which you were almost never without. You weren’t a master by any stretch of the imagination, but Papa had made certain you and your sister learned how to defend yourselves, should the need ever arise.

Your walks had become your way of remaining sane when it seemed there was so much uncertainty all around. The thought of war was so foreign to you, as your father insulated you and Cynewyn as best he could, and yet you knew it wasn’t far off. The king’s health was failing, and you’d heard rumors that he, Éomer, and the king’s advisor, Grima, had been butting heads of late. 

Perhaps that was why Éomer had gone thundering past the kitchen windows on his horse as he had. One too many cross words with his uncle, maybe? In some ways, you hoped so, for if Éomer was banished, life would become easier for you.

But at the same time, if you were completely honest with yourself, you knew if he left for good, you would miss him terribly. How difficult it was, caring so much for a man you also tried so hard to despise! If only you could forgive him.

If only.

You vowed once more to not think about it. 

Instead, you concentrated on the beauty of the night sky, of how those stars seemed so vast and endless, how the moon managed to bathe things silver although it gave off no light. You listened to the whisper of the wind through the scrub grass and bushes that dotted the landscape seemingly to the edge of Middle Earth. The wind whispered, crickets chirped, and in the distance, an owl hooted. A normal night.

Or so you thought.

You heard the noise before you saw the creature that made it and as those sounds reached your ears, the stench reached your nose. Your heart lurched, your stomach kinked, and a sour taste filled your mouth, brought on both by the stink and the coldest, iciest, most petrifying fear that ever permeated your being.

Papa always told you not to venture too far from the road. One never knew what lurked in the fields sweeping east and west, where twisted trees grew in clumps and provided cover for many things.

Such as the orc now standing over Éomer’s prone body.

You ducked, shifting toward the stand of pine trees twisted by the winds, which thankfully carried any sounds you might have made away from the orc and Éomer. Metal clanged Éomer blocked the orc’s downward swing with his blade. He held fast, his arms trembling from the effort and his heavy glove the only thing keeping the dual-sided blade from slicing into his hand.

The orc appeared to brace harder against his blade, determined to run Éomer through and you couldn't let that happen, no matter how angry or hurt you were because of him. So, you slid your blade free and crept about the pines as silently as you knew how. You’d learned from Papa, who would take you with him when he went hunting, and although you could never bring yourself to kill anything, you learned from him just the same. Besides, an orc wasn’t anywhere near as beautiful as a deer or fox. Quite the opposite, really. They were the ugliest, vilest, most disgusting creatures to walk the earth as far as you were concerned. 

Your soft-skinned boots made no sound as you approached and the orc never knew what hit him when you swung and cleaved his head clean from his shoulders. What was left of him collapsed like a sandbag atop Éomer, who swore softly as the creature’s thick, black blood splattered him. 

Nausea rose in your throat as it spattered you as well, and you tried to ignore it as you grabbed the still-warm shoulder and threw the corpse back. “Are you all right?”

“I’ve had better nights,” Éomer groaned, rolling over and onto his knees, his sword clattering softly in the dust. “What are you doing out here?”

“I was but going for a walk. What is that—” you gestured to the dead orc—“doing here? They do not usually venture so close to our borders.”

“They grow bolder and have been for some time now.” He rocked back on his knees and swept his silver and brass helmet from his head to let it clatter to the ground alongside his sword. “Are you all right?”

“Me? I am fine.” You resheathed your sword and carefully crouched alongside him. His dark blond hair was damp with sweat, pulled away from his face and held back with a small strip of worn leather. “And you?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“What happened?”

“It’s nothing.” He winced as he shifted onto his backside and gingerly prodded at his left thigh.

You looked down, your stomach clenching at the sight of the wound that must’ve bled terribly, for the entire front of his trouser leg was stained with a large wet patch. It looked as if the orc’s blade had sliced through the fabric. Without thinking, you brushed his hands aside to see for yourself and as soon as you had, you wished you hadn’t. 

The wound was ugly and raw, a long slice from just below his hip to his knee, and still bled freely. “We need to get you home.”

“You go on. I need to find my horse.”

“Your horse is not here,” you told him, scanning all around to make certain you weren’t lying. You were’t. There was no sign of a horse anywhere about. “Come, let’s get you up and I will help you.”

“Just leave me…”

“Oh, don’t be a fool!”

He jerked back. “I am serious. Leave me. The last I want is harm befalling you on my behalf. So please, just go. There will be more of them coming, looking for this one,” he nudged the corpse with one boot. “And I am not at all certain I’d be able to protect you.”

“You mean you aren’t certain you’d want to.”

He just stared up at you. “I didn't say that, nor would I.”

“You might as well. Aren’t I only a laugh to you anyway? Ever the fool for you and your friends to chuckle over.”

At least he didn't try to deny his actions or motivations as he said, “Oh… the coffeehouse.”

“Yes,” you nodded, “the coffeehouse. So, you’ll forgive me if I don't believe you would lift a finger to keep an orc away from me. Of course, you would do well to remember that it was I who saved you from an orc regardless. Still, if you wish to be left alone, far be it from me to insist on staying.”

You moved to stand, only to have him catch you by the wrist. “No, please,” he said softly, looking up once more, “don’t go. I—I owe you an apology for that.”

“To save your sorry skin, no doubt.”

To your surprise, he chuckled. “I deserve that.”

“Oh, that’s mighty big of you to admit,” you said dryly. “How very big indeed.”

“Very well, you’re right, you know. About all of it. And I mean that in the most sincere manner possible. Honest.”

That took a bit of wind from your sails and you sighed. “Perhaps we might fight about it later?”

He bobbed his head. “I wholeheartedly agree with that notion. Much, much later. In fact, we should never speak of it again.”

“Once you apologize, you mean.”

“I just did apologize.”

“No,” you shook your head, “you said you owed me one, which you do of course. But admitting it is not an actual apology.”

To your surprise, he burst out laughing. It was cut short by a sharp inhale of pain, but his smile only wavered as he snorted, “You’re joking, right?”

“You mean to tell me you honestly considered that an apology? Those sorry words? Truly?”

“Well…” he nodded. “Yes."

“Fine.” You stood up and brushed dirt and crushed pine needles from your backside. “I’ll bid you good eve then. You should hope you’re mobile once more before they come looking for their friend.”

You had every intention of marching off, of just leaving him there to rot, not caring if any more orcs happened upon him. It would serve him right. Apology. Bah! He could go pound sand, as Papa would say.

However, you only got maybe ten feet away when your conscience got the better of you and you came back to find he hadn’t moved an inch. 

“Come,” you growled, crouching beside him once more to take hold of his left wrist. “Let’s get you back.”

“I didn't know you cared,” he said even as he allowed you to help him up.

“I don’t. I should let you rot.”

“So, why aren’t you?”

“I don’t know. I’m a soft-hearted fool, I suppose.” You gave a not so gentle tug. “We should go. His pack is bound to notice he’s not returned and I do not want to have to explain to your uncle how I let you get butchered by orcs.”

“I’ll be forever grateful,” he replied drolly.

“Do you wish my help or not?”

He draped an arm about your shoulder. “Yes, of course I do. And I appreciate it as well.” He winced. “How far are we from Edoras’ border?”

“It’s better if you don’t know.”

“That far, eh?”

He leaned heavily on your shoulder, and you tried to ignore the stinging along your neck, the dull ache that spread down into your shoulder from bearing the brunt of his weight, as he was considerably taller and heavier than you were. “I’m afraid so, yes.”

“Wonderful.”

For reasons you couldn't begin to explain, the drollness in his deep voice made you laugh. “Yes, I couldn’t agree more.”

You managed to get him back to the road, him leaning hard against you with each step he took on his wounded leg. And with each step, his gait slowed. “Take care,” he said when you stumbled. “It would do us both no good if we fell.”

“I beg your… pardon,” you gritted, hefting him higher on your shoulder once more, “but… you are… not light, you know.”

“I know and I appreciate your help here as well.” He went silent for a long moment, then, drew in a deep breath and added, “And I’m sorry. For what I did at the coffeehouse.”

“All you had to do was come in and tell me you’d changed your mind, you know.” you told him, staring straight ahead, waiting for Edoras’ reassuring lights to come into view. At least then, you knew you’d be close to home and close to safety. 

“The thing of it is, I didn’t change my mind.” The regret in his voice surprised you and you stopped without warning, catching him as he stumbled, then scolded, “Take care, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“I’m sorry, but what? What do you mean, you didn't change your mind? Of course you did. I was there, remember? I was there and you were not.”

“No, I know that, but,” he pulled free, easing his arm from about her shoulders before shifting to settle on a rock, “I need to sit a moment.”

You didn't fight him, happy to be free of his weight, even if only for a few minutes. You rubbed the side of your neck. “Only a few minutes, though. We don’t know how much time we have left.”

“I know.” He looked up at you. “I didn’t change my mind, you know.”

“So you’ve said. What you haven’t said, was why you just left me sitting there like a fool.” Finally, you were able to get that weight off your chest, your eyes stinging the way they had in the coffeehouse, when you realized he was not coming through the door. “Why did you do that to me?”

“I was coming in,” he said slowly, looking up to meet your gaze, “and when I saw you… I got nervous and I know that sounds idiotic, but it’s the truth. It was a stupid, fool thing to do to you and I am ever so sorry I hurt you. If I could but do it over, I would walk through that door and we would not be having this conversation. And for that, I am also sorry.”

You had waited so long for him to assume responsibility for how he’d hurt you. And now that he had, you were at a loss for words. How did you respond to that? What did you say?

“Am I supposed to believe you had an attack of nerves? You, of all people?”

“Is that so hard to believe? I’m only human as human as any other man, you know. And that means that yes, sometimes, I have an attack of nerves. I’m not made of stone, I’ll have you know and you—”

You waited a moment for him to finish, your heart beating erratically now as those words were the last ones she ever thought she’d hear from him. But, when he remained silent, just staring at the ground, you leaned in. “I what?”

He looked up then, his eyes soft, and murmured, “You stole the breath from my lungs.”

You could only stare. Were you but dreaming or perhaps he’d suffered a head injury before you reached him? One of those had to be the truth because there was no other rational explanation for his words, no matter how they set butterflies free in your belly to batter your insides with their wildly-beating wings. 

“Éomer, I—I don’t know what to say,” you finally managed. 

“No, I’m sure you don’t,” he replied softly. “And I cannot fault you. But, if you could find it in your heart to forgive me, I would like another chance. A chance to right things between us.”

“Things between us? Is there a thing between us, never mind more than one?”

To your surprise, a sheepish smile lifted his lips. “I should like there to be.” 

“I don’t even like you, you know.”

His grin widened. “Somehow, I don’t believe that. After all, you came back, didn’t you?”

“Don’t let it go to your head. I could still leave you out here.”

“You could.” He nodded, then shook his head. “But you won’t.”

You stared at him for a long moment, then let out a heavy sigh of resignation. “No. I don't suppose I will.”

His eyes sparkled with mischief. “I knew it.”

You offered up a smile of your own and then, with all the force you could generate, you punched him square in the shoulder. 

He yelped as the blow sent him rocking backwards. “What was that for?”

“Because you, Éomer, are an ass and I should leave you here to suffer whatever fate you deserve.”

“You should, but I wish you wouldn’t.” He reached for your hand, caught it, and linked his fingers with yours. “I am truly sorry, though. You have to believe me.”

“Why should I believe you now?”

Éomer winced as he carefully stood. “Because I would like the chance to right my wrong where you are concerned.”

You looked up at him. “And how do you think you can do such a thing? I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” 

“I’m fairly certain I do.”

He smiled then and bent and before you could say anything, his lips met yours. Despite his wounded leg, he caught your face between his hands, not so much as wavering as his lips moved teasingly and gentle against yours, as his tongue eased between your lips to caress yours, and you shivered at the silken caress. His lips were soft and warm and those butterflies fluttered harder now, with more fury as he kissed you slow and deep and made your head spin as it had never spun before. 

Éomer was slightly breathless when he drew back. “So, will you allow me another chance? A chance to right what I’ve done wrong?”

“By all rights, I should say no.”

“But you won’t.” His hazel eyes sparkled with mischief.

“No,” you shook your head slowly, “I won’t.”

In the distance, came the snarl of wargs and that was enough to spur Éomer to drape his arm about your neck once more and say, “We should go.”

“A wise idea, to be sure.”

You made it back to Edoras without incident and you wasted no time in rousing the healer  from her bed, just as she wasted no time in shooing you from the infirmary. Someone must have alerted Éowyn as well, for she came hurrying down the corridor, her hair bound up away from her face and still in her nightdress.

“What happened?”

“He was set upon by orcs just beyond the border.”

“But what were you doing out there?”

You managed a smile. “I was but going for a walk. I was having trouble sleeping, and sometimes that helps.”

“You need be careful,” she warned. “What if you’d been alone?”

“We won’t think about that.”

The healer came out. “My lady,” she said with a tired smile. “His lordship is resting now and he’d like to see you.” 

Éowyn stepped forward, only to have the healer shake her head. “No, my lady, I’m sorry. He meant you,” she said, looking at you.

You swallowed hard. “M-me?”

The healer nodded now. “He was very clear.”

“I’ll just see what he might want,” you said, feeling no little guilt at Éowyn’s almost hurt expression. “And when he hears you’ve come down to see him, I’m sure he will ask you be brought in.”

Éowyn said nothing, but bobbed her head and you followed the healer into the small, quiet, semi-dark room. 

Éomer was abed, the linens stark even against his pale hair, and your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, as you’d never seen him so informally dressed, his loose tunic left unlaced to offer up an enticing patch of what you were certain was a finely-muscled chest. The image that came to your mind brought those butterflies to life once more deep within your belly. 

His eyes were closed, his enviably thick lashes dark crescents against his pale cheeks, but as you drew near, they opened and a tired smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “I thought perhaps I’d dreamed everything that happened this night,” he said softly, “but the pain is far too real.”

“I assume your healer stitched the wound. It looked fairly ugly.”

He nodded. “She did. I can resume duties in a week, according to her.” He gestured for you to come closer and when you did, he added in a whisper, “and we won’t tell her when I’m gone come morning, will we?”

“You should take her advice.”

“I cannot. Not right now.”

“Éomer, you will be useless with only a few hours’ rest and one leg. You need allow yourself time to heal.”

“Are you taking her side?”

“In this?” You nodded. “Absolutely.”

“But… you’re supposed to take my side.” 

“I would be, if you weren’t talking such foolishness.”

“Ouch. You wound me.” As he spoke, he reached out and caught your hand, and your mouth went dry as he gave a gentle tug. “Come and lay with me.”

“I couldn’t.”

“You could.”

“Éomer.”

“What?”

“I don't even like you.”

His eyes glinted with a hint of mischief. “We both know that isn’t true, don’t we?”

“Oh, it’s true.”

“Liar.” He tugged again. “Are you truly going to make a wounded man beg?”

“Éomer.”

“What?” He brought your hand to his lips, to your surprise, brushed its back with a kiss and murmured, “Please?”

You stared down at him for a long moment. “You are supposed to be injured.”

“I am injured. Nearly twenty stitches are holding that wound closed. But somehow, I don't think I’ll mind being trapped in this bed, if I have someone to share it with.”

Your heart fluttered. “Éomer. You are in an infirmary.”

“I know, but I’m in my own room, as you see.” He smiled. “No one will bother us and I promise to keep my hands to myself.”

With that, his smile grew mischievous. “Unless, of course, you’d rather I didn’t. And then, the next time I see you in the great hall or the yard, I’ll just look across at you and smile and only you will know why.”

You sighed softly and then, after a quick look about, gingerly stretched out alongside him, your heart beating faster as he drew his arm about your shoulders to tug you closer. You peered up at him. “And why will I be smiling?”

His eyes glinted with that same hint of mischief that let loose even more butterflies in your belly. “You’ll see.”

With that, he caught you beneath the chin with one bent finger, lifting your face ever so slightly and as his lips captured yours, you smiled. “You aren’t going anywhere come morning, you know.”

He broke the teasing kiss to gaze down at you. “Is that so?”

“It is,” you nodded, “because you have some very real making up to me to do. And I’m fairly certain it will take longer than a few hours."

“Making up to you, you say?” One dark brow arched and his smile grew wicked with promise. “I think that’s fair enough.”

***

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[edgessunflower]

Reunion after battle

Pairing: Legolas x Fem reader

Description: After getting injured and separated, you manage to find your way to Helm's deep and reunite after helping in the rest of battle

Everyone stood stunned seeing you walk slowly looking for them until you locked eyes with Legolas feeling tears form in your eyes. You had gotten severely injured by Uruk hai not being able to save Boromir as you blindly crawled before going unconscious being found by your horse who stayed with you before running to Rivendell where Elrond rode your horse back to you immediately taking you back and having all the healers he had work on you, you wake up the day after in quite a bit of pain seeing Galadriel in front of you as elrond and Arwen talk on the balcony of the room you were in "Welcome back to the land of the living Y/N" you knew she was talking to you but didn't see her mouth move "Thank goodness you're alive" slowly over the next few days you recovered and made your way to where everyone could be learning from elrond that he had found out that Gimli, Aragorn, and legolas were on their way to Rohan and to find Merry and Pippin which hurt you knowing that they were not found. You managed to get to rohan being stopped by a man named Eomer who had come back from helm's deep to get reinforcements leading to you joining him and helping with the last bit of the battle helping and briefly meeting his sister Eowyn before the battle was over leaving many dead and tons injured looking frantically for any of your friends feeling your heart crack when you see Haldir dead as you searched for them until you saw a familiar and enchanting pair of eyes that made you crumble as you burst into a run jumping in legolas's arms as you sobbed before pulling your other three friends into your arms feeling relief when you see Gandalf alive and later on your heart soared seeing pippin and merry, you smile in your tent seeing legolas sharing a hug before closing your tent quickly placing a kiss on his lips pulling away before he smiles pulling you into a longer sweeter kiss "After this is done, come to Rivendell" you smile and agree before heading out of the tent hand in hand.

[friendship-ditch]

Whumptober Day 20 - Shoulder to Cry On

Eowyn x Fem!Reader ✼

Summary: Eowyn needs a hug.

Warnings/Notes: None, just someone hold her please shes baby

Word Count: 1133

  “Y/N!”

  The doors to your room couldn’t have flown open any faster, handles clattering against the wall. A white shape stormed inside, golden hair flying in the wind from the burst of movement. Within seconds she was at your side, fingers clasping your sleeve like a lifeline, digging into the fabric with her bitten nails.

  “Woah, hey..!” You steadied yourself from the impact, moving one foot backwards. Carefully you moved Eowyn’s messy hair from her face. Her cheeks were red and hot from anger, eyes teary as she gazed up at you. “What happened?”

  “I am forbidden from joining any further patrols!” Eowyn cried, grip tightening on your arm until it was almost painful. She gave you a little shake, tugging your arm back and forth. “Eomer has forbidden it!”

  A week ago on this day Eowyn had finally convinced her brother to take her onto one of the hunting patrols of the Rohirrim. They were some of the calmer patrols compared to those of defense, but it took weeks of begging for Eomer to finally agree to her pleas.

  The other warriors said nothing when they saw a woman in their ranks but they were not pleased. Eowyn had taken it upon herself to prove them wrong, but when a small party of orcs attacked things changed. Her sword snapped in half–though it was not her fault, the blade had not been used in years–and she was nearly murdered in cold blood by one of the foul creatures. Had it not been for Eomer, Eowyn would not be standing at your side. 

  You were thankful and Eowyn tried to be but deep down she was bitter.

  “They say it is because the plains are not safe. But they lie.” Eowyn’s voice grew louder in anger. She released your limb and left behind deep indents beneath your sleeve. The floor creaked beneath her as she paced back and forth as though she meant to dig a canyon in the wood. “They will not let me join them because they think I am not worthy, that I am weak. Eomer gave me a faulty sword on purpose to remove me permanently. If that stupid, stupid steel did not break!”

  You watched her stomp back and forth for a few minutes, listening to her frantic, enraged ranting with soft eyes. By the time she finally stopped she whirled around to face you, face redder than ever and eyes wide.

  “Are you even listening to me?! Or do you view me as foolish as the rest do?” Eowyn was almost never angry at you, and she wasn’t even now, she just needed something to take her rage out on and you were right there on a silver platter. “You’re supposed to support me!”

  “I said nothing.”

  “Because you think I’m a fool!” Eowyn exclaimed. Had she a sword clasped where it should be, the blade would be against your throat. Anger was flowing through her veins like blood, eyes almost red from strain and glaring. “You think I am weak! That I’m not cut out for this! You’re just like the rest of them!”

  Ouch. 

  As cruel as her words were, you knew she didn’t mean them. If you were in her place, you’d probably feel and act the same. Eowyn’s temper was a beast in itself and it had taken you countless hours to tame the creature.

  Your hands found her shoulders, palms engulfing the tips as you held her still, half out of fear her anger would bubble so ferociously she would take off. Her body was trembling, fists clenched tight.

  “I don’t think that at all.” You said firmly.

  “Then why do you say nothing? Why do you stare at me as though I told you the sky is orange?” Eowyn cried, fingers once again sinking into the fabric of your shirt. She tried to shake you again but it was a weak attempt, anger slowly being replaced by the tears filling her eyes.

  “Because you don’t give me a chance to speak.”

  “I-...”

  “I don’t think you’re weak. You’re one of the strongest people I know; the strongest woman.” You let your voice soften a tone, one hand resting now on the side of her burning neck. “But your temper is what warps your mind and buries you…”

  “Don’t say that.” Eowyn whined, now desperately trying not to cry. Her bursts of anger were always intense, though the aftermath was even heavier. She looked away and bit her quivering lip.

  Your other hand cupped her cheek, tilting her head so she was looking at you once more. “If there’s anyone cut out for this, it’s you. And throwing a tantrum about it isn’t going to get you anywhere.” Your voice was now a soft murmur, eyes boring into hers. “Breathe.”

  Eowyn desperately tried to fight but your gentle commands were finally getting through to her. As your other hand met her cheek and she found her face nestled in your palms, a weakened sob broke free from her lips.

  You pulled your hands from her face and instead snaked them around her body. One pinned her head against your shoulder, fingers stroking her hair. The other hooked around her waist and kept her flush against you.

  “I’m… I’m sorry.” Eowyn sobbed into your shoulder. Her arms wrapped around you in return and she sank into your arms as though all of the fight left her body. Her tears soaked your shirt, body trembling with cries and gasps.

  “You have no reason to be.” You nuzzled your nose into her hair, pressing a kiss to her scalp as you rocked her from side to side like you were comforting a crying child. Your thumb drew gentle shapes over her back, drawing out the last of her guttural cries and softening them.

  Finally Eowyn began to calm down, the last of her tears drying upon the fabric of your garments. She slowly lifted her head from your shoulder and gazed up at you. Her lips were still trembling, eyes big and watery.

  “Feeling better?” You whispered once your gazes locked.

  With a watery smile, Eowyn nodded. Her face found its way back to your warmth, cheek against your shoulder. A soft sigh escaped her lips and her eyes fluttered closed again. “Rohan is lucky for you…” She whispered, voice a little raspy. “If I did not have your arms… I fear I would have slaughtered half of the Rohirrim.”

  You laughed and gave her a tight squeeze. “I do not doubt it.”

  Eowyn’s smile grew at the silent mention of her strength, and that you believed in it. She fell slack in your arms and sighed once more. “Thank you.”

  “Always.” You smiled too. “Perhaps we should get you a new sword.”

  “Please.”

[hottpinkpenguin]

Blessing - Eomer X Fem!Reader

Oneshot, word count: 4,4045 Summary: Loving a Lord of the Riddemark comes with its fair share of trade-offs. Even more so when you're riding into battle right next to him. Warnings: steam (mutual bathing, nudity, kissing, heavy petting if you squint), canon-typical violence, some playing with the timeline,

You unsheathed your sword in one swift, strong movement, the grating sound of steel on steel as the blade scraped against its scabbard. Your horse, Túrion, reared up on his hind legs as Saruman’s Warg-riders charged across the empty plain in front of you. You had only moments before their forces would smash against your company’s line. Turning back to face your comrades, you lifted your sword high into the cold, early dawn air. 

“For King, for country, for your families and homes!” You shouted as loudly as you could manage, hoping your voice carried over the sound of whinnying horses nervous for battle and the growing roar of the Wargs. The faces of the six dozen female warriors at your command – your swordsisters - broke into a unified scream. The battle cry echoed across the dusky plain, and you noted with a grimly satisfied smile that some of the foe balked at the sound. 

Túrion pulled sharply at the bit in his mouth, signaling to you his anxiousness for battle. You felt the same frenzied energy; it had been ricocheting through your bones ever since King Theoden had given you his begrudging permission to mount up and join the rest of the Rohirrim in guarding the citizens of Edoras as they made the dangerous march to the mountain keep at Helm’s Deep. Your nerves came partially from the knowledge that this was the only change you and your swordsisters had of proving your mettle to the rest of Rohan, and partially from knowing that, although you had the king’s blessing to fight, you distinctly did not have the blessing of his heir and your lover, Eomer. 

As another bloodthirsty cry erupted from the lines of mounted soldiers behind you, you gave Túrion his head, kicking him into a gallop as you thrust your blade high and forward, signaling the charge. 

“For Middle Earth!” The riders behind you echoed your call to arms as the company leapt to action. 

The sound of hundreds of hooves pounding into the frostbitten ground roared to life as your unit charged forward to meet the oncoming Warg-riders. Your mind slipped into a red haze of battle-fueled fury as your sword sliced through its first victim, then its next, and so on, until you and your sword were one and the same. 

* * * * *

The sun was high in the sky by the time you re-sheathed your sword. The muscles of your sword-arm shoulder screamed in relief as you let go of the weight of your blade. You swung down off Túrion’s saddle, examining your stallion’s wounds. Most were superficial cuts, but there was a deep gash cut into the meat of his left flank. Dark crimson blood stained his grey speckled coat, and he whinnied in protest as you gently prodded the rough edges of the wound. It would require cleaning and sewing, you decided, which meant you wouldn’t ride him for a few weeks while it healed. 

“My brave, brave boy,” you cooed at him tenderly as you moved to the front of his body, stroking his sweaty neck sweetly. You saw his eyes soften at the sound of your voice. You let your forehead fall forward to connect to his snout. He chuffed at you lovingly, rubbing his nose on you as if to reassure you he was alright. Túrion had been your horse for almost ten years, and he’d joined you in every battle you’d fought in so far. 

“It seems your horse fared better than you, my lady.” The voice behind you was reproachful but laced with relief. You smiled, ignoring the admonishment in Eomer’s words as you turned to face him. 

“Eomer,” you sighed dreamily, your voice misty with exhaustion as you let him envelop you with his arms. The layers of armor and chain mail and fighting leather between you left you unhappily separate from his reassuring warmth, but the knowledge that he – like you – had survived the Warg attack made you weak in the knees with joy. 

“You’re hurt, Y/n,” he mumbled gruffly against your hair as he placed a tender kiss on your forehead. 

You pulled back from him, puzzled. You hadn’t noticed any injuries during the battle, although it was very possible that adrenaline had dulled your awareness. 

“I am?” you replied in bewilderment. You lifted your arms gingerly, trying to feel for the injury more than look for it. There was an appalling amount of blood and sinew and entrails staining your armor; all of it from your enemies, you’d assumed, although Eomer seemed to disagree. 

“Your head,” he said by way of clarification. His expression was pained as he touched the side of your face up towards your right temple. Although his pressure was gentle, you noted a tenderness at his touch, and his fingertips were tacky with half-dried blood when he withdrew his hand. Your mind idly flicked through the memories of the battle, trying to identify when you’d been injured. You knew some of the Warg-riders dipped their blades in poison – usually the officers – and if the injury had come from one of them, you’d need to see an apothecary for the herbal antidote. You had a vague recollection of your helmet being knocked from your head by an errant arrow. As you tried to piece the memory together, you realized that the arrow must have sideswiped your skull, leaving a shallow albeit bloody gash there. 

“I’m fine, it was an arrow,” you sighed in relief as you gently ran your hand along the cut. It was narrow and straight – most certainly the work of an arrow rather than a blade. You saw Eomer’s shoulders visibly relax; his mind must have raced to the possibility of poison just as yours had. 

“Thank the Gods,” he breathed out, cupping your cheeks in both his hands as your foreheads connected. Your eyelids fluttered shut as you enjoyed the sound of his breathing syncing with yours. The sounds of the fading battle and dismounting riders around you faded into the back of your awareness as you let Eomer’s presence wash over you. 

When you finally drew back to meet his gaze, you saw the anger that he’d tamped down just long enough to ensure you’re safety flare to life in his honey-brown eyes. 

“What in the devil are you playing at, exactly?” he snarled accusatorily. You had to suppress a chuckle at his rage. He was the bravest man you knew, like one of the royal knights of old out of a children’s fairytale, but when it came down to you, his protective anger reminded you of an hissing, spitting kitten. You wanted nothing more than to pepper him with kisses and have him walk you to a nice, warm bath, although you knew that your doting affection would only enrage him further.

In an attempt to hide your smile, you turned back to Túrion, undoing his breast collar and easing the saddle off his back. 

“Whatever do you mean, my Lord?” Try as you might, you couldn’t quite extinguish the note of teasing in your sarcastic question. Eomer’s nostrils flared in response. He grabbed your upper arm, pulling you about to face him. His eyes were simmering, his handsome lips pursed so tightly they were white against his sun-tanned skin.

“You rode into battle knowing you didn’t have my blessing,” Eomer growled. He released your arm as a few of his men walked past, eyeing the two of you surreptitiously with sidelong glances. Your romance with Eomer was no longer a secret, although both of you tried to keep your personal affairs separate from your roles in Rohan’s military. 

“I had the King’s blessing,” you snapped back once his men were out of earshot. “Last I checked, the King’s blessing still outweighed yours, Lord of the Mark.” Using Túrion’s saddle as a buffer, you brushed past him, leading your horse by the bridle towards the line of soldiers pulling back from the corpse-riddled battlefield towards the shadowy mountains off the west, where the safety of Helm’s Deep thick stone walls awaited. You could practically feel the heat from Eomer’s gaze boring into the back of your head as you walked away. 

Let him burn himself out, you told yourself as part of your instincts yearned to turn back and make peace. You knew Eomer’s anger came from a place of protectiveness, and you loved him for his devotion. By the same token, you also wanted him to realize that a warrior’s blood pulsed through your veins. It wasn’t your fate to be a lady of Rohan’s court, waving embroidered handkerchiefs at him as he rode off into a glorious death in battle. Your fate was to ride out next to him and meet your enemies standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him. Like him, you would lay down your life to protect those you loved. You’d never dream of taking that away from him; and you expected him to give you the same latitude in return. 

Holding your chin high, you let your feet carry you away from him, eventually getting lost in the crowd. You’d be lying if you said your pride wasn’t a bit wounded that he didn’t chase you down, but he didn’t. Eomer was far too proud for that.

* * * * *

It wasn’t until nightfall that you reached Helm’s Deep. The adrenaline of battle had long worn off by then, and you were beginning to feel every bump and bruise covering your body. Based on the scattered reports you’d picked up on from the other unit commanders, you knew that the battle was far from over. Saruman’s main force was marching towards Helm’s Deep as you spoke. The Warg-riders had been little but a scouting force. You only hoped to have enough time to eat and, if the Gods were merciful, rest. 

Once you’d seen Túrion to the stables and tasked a stable hand with patching up his wound, you made your way towards the main hall of the keep. Theoden’s court had assembled there, and he’d ordered all of his unit commanders to adjourn there for a hot meal and battle strategy. Thankfully, your company had lost relatively few of its number, while others had sustained heavy losses. Despite the bone-deep fatigue that pulled at your eyelids, you forced yourself to stay keen to the king’s brief on his strategy for the coming conflict. Given that your company was still majority intact, you suspected that you’d be part of the castle’s main defensive force along the lower ramparts. 

It wasn’t purely exhaustion that threatened to pull your focus elsewhere; from across the dimly lit hall, you could see Eomer at his usual place to the king’s immediate left. His expression was somber, and you doubted that anyone noticed the slight groove between his eyebrows that betrayed his inner turmoil. But you knew his face the same way you knew the feel of breath in your lungs. You’d be able to feel his emotions in the dark. 

After the king dismissed the company leaders under strict instructions to rest as much as possible, you felt your feet automatically lead you up towards the head table where Theoden, Gamling, and Eomer sat together, their heads bowed as they continued to talk of strategy. Noticing your approach, Theoden smiled at you warmly and waved his nephew off.

Eomer protested his uncle’s dismissal, partially out of a sense of duty and partially to spite you, but Theoden would hear none of it. “Soldiers are never guaranteed another sunset, Eomer,” he chided his nephew sternly but not unkindly. “Don’t waste this one mulling over the details of tomorrow’s doom. Go. Be with your heart.” 

Theoden’s words touched you, and you bowed your head gratefully at him as Eomer rose with a sullen pout. As you turned to follow a very surly Eomer out of the hall, you swore you saw Theoden shoot you a conspiratorial wink. 

The walk to Eomer’s chambers was quiet, although not tense. There was an understanding between you two: despite your quarrel, both of you expected to spend the evening together. And although there were differences of opinion, you knew that you were secure in his affections, just as he knew the same of you. You and Eomer had been doing this dance for too long to let something so petty drive a wedge between you, especially on a night like tonight. You weren’t sure if it was your imagination, but at times you swore you felt the faintest tremor in the mountain that Helm’s Deep was cut into, a foreshadow of the unimaginable force marching your way. Theoden’s scouts had reported an army as large as ten thousand strong, pouring out of Isengard’s gates. The very notion of ten thousand was almost beyond your imaginings, and it pierced your heart with an unmuted terror. You knew Eomer felt it too - everyone did. 

Perhaps it was that shared terror that kept both of you silent as you entered Eomer’s chambers. He closed the door behind you softly, dismissing the guard who stood watch by the doorway. You’d only been to Helm’s Deep once before, but the chamber was exactly as you remembered. The court servants who had fled Edoras with the rest of the nobility had brought with them precious few luxuries, but among them were a pile of freshly laid towels, a bar of soap, and an array of candles spread throughout the room. You breathed a sigh of relief when you saw steam rising from the simple, porcelain tub in the corner of the room. A warm bath was exactly what you needed right now. Sweat and dried blood from the morning’s battle had dried on your skin and in your hair. You weren’t a particularly vain person - your lifestyle hadn’t afforded you such luxuries - but you were not above enjoying a thorough soak and a soft bed to lay your head on at night. 

Without sharing a word, you and Eomer began removing your armor. Unlike earlier, where his anger hung around him like a stormcloud, his mood now moved in the direction of contemplative. You felt his gaze on your face as you lifted the heavy chainmail tunic you wore under your leather armor over your head. With the weight of your armor removed, your limbs felt loose and light. As you swung your dirty braid over one shoulder and began undoing the plaits, Eomer finally broke the silence. 

“I never get tired of seeing you like this, you know.” HIs voice was softer than you expected, and it caused your breath to snag in your chest. You lifted your eyes to him as you shook out the roots of your hair. His face was streaked with dirt from the fight, and there was a dark blue bruise that you hadn’t noticed earlier blooming under one eye. But beneath the grime and his week-old stubble, you saw a soft smile gracing his lips and a gentle light in his eyes. You couldn’t help but smile back. 

“Like what, my lord?” you replied teasingly as you unlaced the bottom layer of your armor - a heavy tunic made of quilted wool. The chill damp of the air felt delicious against your bare skin. You didn’t relish the idea of re-donning everything in just a few hours, especially given that you wouldn’t have time to wash the tunic or clean the plated armor, but for the moment it felt incredible to be rid of those putrid, heavy layers. 

“Undressed, in my chambers.” Eomer’s reply was somewhat muffled by the hem of his own tunic, which had snagged around his head while he was undressing. You laughed at the sight of the Lord of the Riddemark, future King of Rohan, half-naked with a dirty tunic wrapped around his neck. You stepped over to him and helped untie a few more laces at the neck of the tunic, easing his head through the opening and freeing him from the confines of the tunic at last. 

“Such language in front of a lady,” you replied mirthfully as Eomer gestured towards the tub. You accepted his invitation gratefully, stepping one foot into the warm water and then another. The bathwater turned grimy as you let your body sink beneath the surface of the bathwater, dipping your head back to wet your hair. 

From outside the tub, Eomer grabbed the bar of soap and wetted it before running it over your hair to form a lather. When he began rubbing your scalp with firm fingers, you let out an audible moan as you let your head lean back against the edge of the bath. 

He chuckled as you gave yourself over to the incredible sensation.

“I see no lady here,” he replied after a moment, earning a playful glare from you and a splash of bathwater in his direction. He dodged the blow easily, letting out a laugh of his own. 

“Your manners need work, my lord.” Your retort had little bite to it; you were too mesmerized by the patterns Eomer’s fingers wove against your scalp. Your eyelids fluttered closed as you let relaxation seep into every fiber of your body.

“No lady,” he continued, bending down until his beard tickled your ear. “Only a woman. My woman.” Your toes curled under the surface of the water as he dragged those last two words over the gravel in his voice. Sensing he’d plucked the right chord, Eomer chuckled proudly as he planted a kiss to the soft skin in front of your ear. You reached up to grab his hair and pull him to your lips, but he’d already withdrawn. Your eyes opened just in time to see him sink into the bath next to you, the water level rising dangerously close to the lip of the tub. Like you, he grunted in appreciation as the warmth of the water began to work out the kinks in his tired muscles. 

You allowed him to settle against the far edge of the bath before you moved towards him. He opened his arms in a well-rehearsed move, allowing you to settle between his strong thighs and lean back against his firm torso before wrapping you with his arms. Your head lolled back against his shoulder, his cheek coming to rest on your freshly rinsed hair. This was not the first time you had shared such intimacy with your lover; far from it, in fact. But, much like he had pointed out earlier, there was no dulling of affection between you two. Instead, you felt your feelings for him deepen with each passing day. 

As the two of you sat together in the cooling water, you traced absentminded circles over his forearm. Your gaze landed on the dancing flame of a nearby candle as you let your mind wander into a space just shy of sleep. You felt Eomer’s breath deepen against your back as he too relaxed into the quiet. 

After several minutes of companionable silence, you squeezed his arm to rouse him from his reverie.

“Do I have your blessing for the battle ahead, my lord?” Although you used the same playful tone you’d employed moments prior, the question was a serious one. You felt Eomer tense ever so slightly behind you as he considered his response. 

Sensing his hesitation, you pressed on.

“You know I will fight tomorrow, with or without it.” Eomer tensed further at your callous words, although both of you knew they were true. You let your tone soften as you added, “although I would feel all the better for it if I had your blessing.” 

He let out a soft sigh, shaking his head slightly. 

“Whatever did I do to find myself in love with a woman such as yourself?” Each of his words was drenched in devotion, and the sound of it made you curl against him as he squeezed you tightly. It wasn’t a direct answer, but you understood his meaning. His blessing wasn’t something to give or take away; you always had it. Eomer had known what you were long before he’d fallen into your bed, and you’d been certain not to soften those parts of yourself that found a home in battle just for his sake. 

“You are truly one of the lucky few,” you cooed back, relishing the sensation of him nuzzling down against the skin where your neck and shoulder connected. You reached a hand up behind you, lightly gripping the back of his head and encouraging him to let it hang gently against yours. He obliged, sighing contentedly as you began twirling strands of his hair around your fingers. 

“I swear to the Gods, y/n, sometimes I don’t know if you’re my salvation or my downfall.” His confession came with a distinct note of pain. You knew that pain well: it was the pain of loving a warrior. The pain of having to say a potential goodbye each time they rode into battle. The pain of subsuming the urge to protect him at any and every cost under the need to follow orders. It was the pain of frantically searching for an all-too familiar face amongst the bodies of the dead on a battlefield. It was a unique kind of pain, and one that both of you had known you’d always live with when you’d allowed yourselves to fall in love. 

You ignored the way the bathwater sloshed over the edge of the tub as you turned to face him. His eyes were misty as you cupped his handsome face in your hands, running your thumbs tenderly along his cheekbones. 

“Eomer… my love…” Before you could finish your thought, he pulled you against him, his lips meeting yours greedily. In an instant, you recognized the intention behind his kiss. A knot of desire began to coil in your stomach as your fingers tangled in his hair. He pressed his kiss down into your mouth harder, and you felt the mingling of fear, pride, devotion, and love in behind that pressure. Your chest bloomed with heat as the kiss deepened. Suddenly, Eomer rose from his seated position and stepped out of the bath, his muscles tensing enticingly with the quick, agile movement. Bending down to lace an arm under your legs and one behind your back, he lifted you quickly from the now tepid, grimy water. He carried you to the bed with a purposeful heat simmering in his eyes, making that knot in your stomach tighten further as butterflies began to take flight in your lungs. He laid you on the soft blanket, his arms coming to frame your shoulders as he settled his body over top yours, caging you in between his flexed biceps. Just before his mouth met yours again, you lifted a finger and pressed it to his lips. He froze, his eyes on you with curiosity and a hint of frustration. 

“Your blessing, Eomer,” you said breathily, trying to tamp down your own impatience. “I want your blessing.” It had never felt important before, but the longer your mind lingered on the battle ahead, the more compelled you felt to hear those words. 

His honey brown eyes danced with delight as you withdrew your finger, allowing him to speak freely. He didn’t hesitate.

“You have it.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your lips. 

“You have my blessing always.” Another kiss at the corner of your mouth. 

“Today.” Your jawline. “Tomorrow.” Your collarbone. “For all of your days.” Your shoulder. “And all of mine.” Back to your lips. 

Your heart seized in your chest as the tenderness of the moment bewitched you. Eomer hovered over you, each of you basking in each other’s gaze for another heartbeat. You saw the tender light in his eyes turn molten just as your own mind turned back to the needs of your body. 

“Now, my lady,” he whispered. “Allow me to show you exactly how much of this lord’s blessing you’ve earned.” He dove down to kiss at the now cleaned skin above your breasts, earning a delighted cry from you as you let your eyes flutter close. 

Somewhere in the darkness covering Rohan, an army ten-thousand strong marched closer; but for that moment, your love chased away the dark…

[koobop]

I recently rewatched all of the (extended edition obvs) LOTR movies! so I really wanna write some fics for the characters. help me pick which one to work on pls!!!

[lilxberry]

I Thought I lost you - Éomer

Requested By: @kahlstop​

Reader is courting Eomer and she rides to war with eonwyn and stays by her side but gets stabbed with a blade (quite deep) so after Eomer runs to eonwyn and she is taken away by Aragorn, one of the riders tell him that reader is mortally wounded and so he rushes to get to her and she’s asleep for a long time and one day she wakes up and there’s fluff and tears and he proposes cause I never wants Reader away from his side!

I kinda changed it a little but overall, it’s still the same, just some minor tweaks. I also included a little bit at the end when you first came to me with a request. Your original request, (’Hullo! Could I get an Eomer x (human) with the morning after the wedding Fluff?’), is kinda at the end of this one.

I hope you like it, especially after I made you wait so long for this, which I feel super sucky about. I’M SO SORRY AHHH.

Warnings: Mentions of violence. Mentions of blood. Mentions of injury/wounds. Mentions of SMUT, (no actual smut). Pretty much it. Plus, fluff. 

Words: 1,979

Pairings: Éomer x Reader (x female reader)

(A/N: Is it just me or can anyone else just kinda imagine this dude being like a sweet lil’ virgin and he would 100% save himself for marriage?? Yeah?? No?? Maybe??)

(A/N 2: My doods, why do I suck at thinking of titles lmao)

_______________

“Éomer, please, do be careful.” The slight hint of fear in your tone as you spoke to the man that courts you were audible to him and him alone, as the others surrounding you make a ruckus preparing to ride out and fight.

Éomer deeply breathed out through his nose as he leant down to place his forehead against your own in an affectionate manner. “I cannot promise that I will make it back, my love, but you must know that I will try my hardest to return to you. even if I were to be missing an arm and a leg.”

You close your eyes softly and gently rub your nose against his own, relishing in the moment that may be considered the last you share with the man of Rohan, the man you love.

Voices boom away from you both, calling those to ready to ride out. Reluctantly, Éomer pulls away from your grasp, the heat from your body dissipating almost immediately, making him miss your warmth already.

“I shall see you soon, my love,” he called out, stepping further and further away from you. With one last look of longing, he turned and made haste towards his horse near the front, helping to lead the charge.

You watched his back until it disappeared within the crowd and sighed. You turned your face towards the ground, eyes burning with unshed tears.

But then, a commotion to your left caught your attention. Peering over, you spotted the hobbit they called Pippin clash and lock eyes with a soldier. After witnessing their interaction with your eyes trained solely on the pair, you’re quick to realise that it was no soldier, but, in fact, Éowyn.

You inhale sharply, realising why she wears the armour and why she has tucked away her flowing, blonde hair into the helmet. She was planning on going to war. And that is when a plan of your own formulated in your head.

With that, you were off to set your plan into motion with a final sentence uttered quietly to yourself. “You shall see me sooner than you think, my love.”

_______________

It wasn’t too difficult to find a horse that wasn’t in use surprisingly, even easier to swipe spare armour and a pair of men’s trousers. Your dress was speedily ditched so you could adorn the metallic protective wear and flexible clothing, although, it needed minor alterations to accommodate your figure.

As you follow on horse back with your own sword sheathed at your hip, you make sure to adjust your helmet properly atop your head, ensuring it’s secure and proper fitting.

Yells, no doubt commands, were faintly heard from your position way far into the back of the herd. Your head snapped up at the authoritative voice and that’s when you realised, you’re on the outskirts of the battlefield, your enemy appearing as tiny figures from the opposite side.

You suck in a breath, preparing yourself as you see the first few rows of men ride quickly across the large, open area, seething in anger, battle cries from both armies. The satisfying sound of your sword being pulled from its sheath and the weight of the weapon quickly occupying your strength consumed you and soon enough, your own battle cry was heard as you and your row charged out, joining the fight.

_______________

Your horse was abandoned in the early stages of the fight, quickly being cut down by an enemy. You fought ferociously, swinging your sword left and right, slice through enemies with speed and precision, the blood of your enemy coating not only the blade you wield, but you, yourself.

As you fought to protect yourself and bring down the enemy, a worrying thought stilled lingered in the back off your mind, distracting you plenty. Where is Éomer? You have failed to even catch a glimpse of your beloved, adding a weight to your chest. A painful, heavy weight.

But just as you brought down yet another grotesque orc, your eyes seemingly land on the person you’ve been worried about most. Those dishevelled locks of sunshine swishing animatedly around him, discarded helmet somewhere on the floor, as he swung his own weapon, a faint glistening of sweat coating his forehead.

Upon closer inspection, you note how greatly outnumbered he appears to be. Five enemies closing in on him, forcing him to strike twice as hard and twice as fast as he slowly takes steps back. Concern and an overbearing amount of courage surged through you, seeing the person you love in such danger drove you to run towards the man and his foes, your arms raising your sword high above your head.

The orc brought his sword down, but instead of clashing with Éomer’s, he was surprised to see another blade from a soldier taking the brute force of its swing. You force the orc backwards with a hard shove, it stumbling over its heavily booted feet, before quickly swiping at one of the others that continued to advance.

Éomer was quick to join your side, readying his stance quickly and charging forward with you. Orc after orc you worked together to bring down, soon, a moment presented itself to allow you to finally breath in, albeit shakily.

The both of you were so caught up in that tiny opportunity for a breather that, before you knew it, an orcish blade swung out towards Éomer. Panicked, you jump in front of the man, you sword missing its mark, allowing the offending weapon to impale the right side of your abdomen below your ribs.

A pained scream tore itself from your throat and you began to fall towards the solid ground as Éomer was quick to take down the orc. As your back connected harshly with the ground, your helmet separated from its position on your head, exposing your (H/L), (H/C) hair to all, to Éomer.

Éomer had been so caught up with the battle that he didn’t have the time to observe you properly, not until now, now until the woman who had captured his heart lay on the floor heavily wounded, blood oozing out of their injury, slowly losing consciousness.

He quickly dropped to his knees beside your weakening body and stretched his hand towards you shakily, afraid to touch you in fear of escalating your pain. “Y-Y/N?” You were writhing in pain and he knew that if he didn’t do something fast, whatever that may be, he will lose you.

He quickly but cautiously placed one arm under your knees and the other behind your back, your face already scrunching up at the pain. “I’m sorry, my love.” He lifted you, raising to his feet, all the while a agonising, pain wrenched scream tore itself from your throat. Éomer could feel the tears build up within his eyes but he willed himself not to cry, not yet. There was still chance to save you.

The sounds around you became a distant buzz, you felt numbness mix with your pain. Your eyelids grew heavy and you didn’t know whether you could keep them open for much longer. “Stay with me, stay awake. Don’t close your eyes.”

Éomer’s words of encourage did little to help, although you appreciated them all the same, and you closed your eyes, falling unconscious, the darkness greeting you as the man you loved carried you across the battlefield.

_______________

There was a soft light that you took notice of from behind your closed eyes, waking you up more with each passing second. Your eyelids slowly fluttered open and when light came into contact with your (E/C) orbs, you were quick to squeeze them shut once more, groaning.

“Ah, good, you’re awake,” a soft, feminine voice spoke to the right of you. Still feeling groggy from sleeping for so long, you turned your head towards your right and squinted your eyes, only to see a female healer organising what appeared to be a large bowl of water atop the bedside table. “Please, try refrain from moving, it may agitate your wound further.”

You lightly placed your hand over your abdomen whilst looking down, faintly remembering what had happened out on the battlefield. You opened your mouth to speak but it appears the woman had already known the question that was at the tip of your tongue as she swiftly cut you off.

“Lord Éomer is fine. If I’m correct, he should be waiting outside of the room. He’s been quite persistent to see you,” she softly giggled. “Should I tell him you are awake and want to see him?”

All you could do was nod, slightly dumbfounded by the fast pace of the conversation. She gave a curt bow before making her way around the bed, across the room and out of the door, gently closing it behind her.

Not even a full minute later, the door opened once more to reveal the man you’ve so desperately been wanting to see. Like a crack of a whip, he crossed over to the left side of the bed you lay in and sat on the edge, clasping his larger hands around one of your own.

He brought them up to his lip and placed a timid kiss upon your knuckled. “Never, never do something so reckless like that again. I thought I lost you.” Although it was barely mumbled against your hand, you heard him loud and clear.

A small smile broke across your face as you pulled your hand away from his own, only to reach up and gently cup his cheek, stroking it with a feather light touch. Éomer leaned into it almost as if it were routine, which forced your smile to grow.

“Lets just be thankful that I am alright and that we are here together, yes?”

He chuckled lowly, nodding in agreement before leaning down, being mindful of your wound, and resting his forehead against yours. You both closed your eyes, relishing in the sweet moment between you both.

After minutes of silence, Éomer decided to finally break it. “Marry me.” Your eyes shot open, only to be met with his that were already looking down towards you expectantly, his gaze hopeful.

“Yes.” Your whisper was so quiet, you were afraid he hadn’t heard your answer, but one look at the massive grin that found its way on to his face told you otherwise.

_______________

---ONE MONTH LATER---

Morning light bathed the room in a soft glow, rousing you from your sleep. Your eyes slowly opened to be met with a broad, bare chest and arms comfortably tight around your waist. You smiled, closing your eyes, and burying your face into Éomer’s chest, scooting closer into his warm embrace and inhaling his scent.

Your smile grew as you felt his arms tighten ever so slightly around your waist, a loving kiss placed on your head. “Good morning.” You could almost hear the lazy grin as he spoke with a voice still laced with sleep, an octave or two deeper than usual.

You lifted your head up to look towards your new husband and smiled seeing as he was already looking down at you. “Good morning.”

“How did you sleep, my love?”

“I think you already know that I, in fact, didn’t get much sleep.” The low rumble of a chuckle was a pleasant feeling.

“I must confess, even though it was tiring, I enjoyed consummating our marriage.”

You giddily giggled as your hand lightly traced shaped across his chest. “I do believe that neither one of us need to be anywhere so soon. Maybe we should consummate it once more, just to be sure.”

His relaxed expression turned into a wicked, mischievous grin as he manoeuvred his body to hover over yours, his arms propping his body up, hair falling on either side of his face. “Ah, yes, just to be sure.”

_______________

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Man, I suck at getting stuff out

College had been kicking my ass man lmao

I’m pretty much free though so I’m all good to write again, I guess

Also, this was the last request I received before throwing myself into college work so, yeeee

Anywho, I hope you enjoy

As always, requests and constructive criticism in welcomed and greatly appreciated :D

[gloomwitchwrites]

Burnt Bread

Éomer x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: fluff, physical & emotional hurt/comfort, family issues, established relationship, alcohol

Word Count: 2.4k

After being left to fend for yourself in your father's bakery, you end up making a massive mistake that earns his ire. Fleeing, you find comfort with the one person who you're utterly safe with.

A/N: Dedicated to @firelightinferno

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist

“I’m leaving. Watch the shop.”

You glance up from the sticky dough beneath your hands and find your father near the door. He sways on his feet slightly as he attempts to tug on his coat. “I’m leaving” is just another way of telling you that he’s off to drink, and by the look and smell of him, he’s already started for the day.

It wasn’t always like this, and it’s only become worse over the years. Following your mother’s death, your father’s reliance on mead has become a crutch, a vessel for his loneliness. It doesn’t matter that you are alive and here for him.

While you don’t entirely resent him for falling into this state, the frequency of it does worry you. Worse, it’s driving a wedge in your relationship with him. He’s becoming distant and detached. His frequent disappearances leave you alone to take care of the shop and everything that goes along with it. It’s not difficult, and you enjoy the work, but when the shop is busy, you can’t always keep an eye on things.

You’re starting to grow tired of this, and you don’t want to feel resentful of your father. You’ve always loved him, even on the days when he comes home stumbling.

“For how long?” you ask flatly, trying not to sound upset that he’s departing yet again. This is the fifth day in a row your father has left the shop in the morning to drink. You fail, a little indignation creeping into your tone.

Your father hears it because he scowls in your direction. “Don’t know,” he mutters, as he teeters toward the door.

There is no final goodbye or backward glance. The shop door slams shut, and tears begin to form in the lower lids of your eyes. Brushing them away with the back of your hand only dusts your cheeks with floor.

This constant distance is tiring.

Putting all your frustration into kneading the dough on the table, a little bit of that steam begins to cool. Once you’ve had enough, and your arms ache, you cut and shape the dough, setting it aside to rise.

The bell above the door rings as the first customer of the day steps inside. And then it begins.

This is why you miss your father in the mornings. Everyone loves seeing your face. They appreciate your kind smile and helpful attitude. Most days, your father is nursing a hangover and keeps to himself, leaving you to take care of everyone that walks in. But without him, you’ll need to do both.

The front of the shop quickly packs with people. You’re so busy taking orders and wrapping bundles of freshly baked bread, that at first you don’t smell the slight hint of char in the air. It’s only when you finish helping a customer that you catch a whiff of it.

The older woman’s nose crinkles in confusion, and while she says nothing, her reaction gives you pause. Inhaling, you consider the scents in the shop, grouping them into different categories. There’s sugar, butter, and—

Your eyes widen, and then you’re rushing to the large stone oven at the back of the shop. “Oh no. No no no no.” Grabbing the large, wood paddle off the wall, you hurriedly scoop up and toss the bread onto the nearby table.

Some are perfectly toasted but others, like the ones closest to the fire, are charcoal. You slide the paddle in and retrieve a loaf that is entirely on fire. In your surprise, the paddle and bread fall to the floor.

They both clatter loudly and you drop to your knees, using your apron to smother the burning bread. The tears fall easily, and the heat from the apron is hot and irritating, but you put it out. You’re so absorbed in trying to salvage what you can, that you don’t realize where the wide part of the paddle is.

Your hand goes out and connects with it. You jump back with a light cry, cradling your palm. The paddle is wood and not metal, which is some comfort, but your left hand is throbbing.

The bell above the door rings, and you glance up, eyes wide and frightened like a deer.

“What is this?” comes the sneering voice.

Your father is back, and you can smell the sourness from here. He half-sways, half-limps around the counter to where you’re kneeling. His pupils are wide, and he has to lean on the countertop for support. That yellow gaze roams over you, to the burnt bread on the floor, and then back to you again.

“You stupid girl,” he whispers. Then, much louder. “You stupid stupid girl!”

This is the part of him you dislike the most. When he’s deep in his cups, all kindness is gone.

“I’m so sorry, father. We were busy and I didn’t realize—”

“Do you know how much you’ve cost us? This is two dozen loaves.” He picks one up and throws it at your face. His aim is terrible and completely off. All you have to do is bend a bit and it sails right over your head.

“Father—”

“Do you do this to me on purpose?”

“Father. Please—”

“Every day I have to look upon your face and see your mother. A daily reminder that she is gone!”

“Please,” you beg softly, staring down at your hands.

“Get out!”

You bolt up and rush out the door, nearly knocking over an elderly woman about to walk inside. You run and run until you pass through the gates of Edoras, stopping only when you make it to the burial mounds of the kings. You fall to your knees and then onto your back, staring up into the sky.

It’s morning, but overcast, the clouds a stormy gray like they’re ready to cry and join you in your sorrow.

There is only one person who could give you comfort, but he is not here. He is gone, expected back today but you’re not sure when. Even if you were to wait for him, you’re in no state to greet him. Éomer should see you happy when he returns, not tear-stained.

No one holds vigil at the burial mounds. This will be your respite. This will be your chance to slow your racing heart and dry your eyes. Once you’re calm, once you’re no longer wishing to flee from this place, you’ll hold vigil at the gates until Éomer arrives. Going back to the shop to face your father is out of the question.

The grass is a soft bed beneath you. Closing your eyes, you press your hands against the earth, splaying your fingers wide, focusing on the individual blades of grass under your palms. This will be your anchor until you can find a bit of peace.

“What are you doing on the ground?”

Your eyes snap open and you turn your head to the right, meeting the amused smile of the man you love.

“Éomer,” you breathe, sitting up to grab at the front of his leather armor. It doesn’t matter that your hands sting, you pull him down onto you wanting his closeness.

His gentle laugh is perfect, and when your mouths meet, everything slips away. Éomer settles between your legs, his forearm resting by your head while his other hand reaches back to grab. He meets bare thigh, and the contact is exactly what you need.

Éomer is real and whole and with you.

The kisses that start with soft excitement quickly become deep and heated. There is a slight harsh bite to his breathing as the two of you presses closer. Your hands slide up to wrap around the back of his neck, but as they crest over the lip of his armor, the tender flesh on your palm screams out.

Hissing, you draw back, clutching at your hand.

Éomer stills and then pulls away from your lips. His head tips downward, glimpsing the burn before you can hide it from view.

“What happened?” he asks, his tone tipping toward concern.

“It’s nothing,” you murmur, as the memory of your father comes roaring back.

“It’s not nothing,” he replies firmly, his brow creasing. “Show me.”

Slowly, you unfurl your fingers, revealing your palm. Of everyone in your life, Éomer is the safest.

Éomer’s mouth forms into a deep frown as he clutches your wrist, drawing your hand closer to his face as he inspects the burn. “Did someone do this to you?”

You shake your head. “No. Just grabbed some hot bread. That’s all.”

Éomer sees right through you. “You’ve been crying.”

“It hurts.”

Éomer sighs, gently guiding your hand down to your chest. When he releases your wrist, Éomer reaches out to trace the backs of his knuckles against your cheekbone. “You can tell me if it was your father.”

When the tears start to accumulate in your eyes again, Éomer leans in and lowers his voice. “Did he hurt you?”

You shake your head. “Not with his fists.”

Éomer’s exhalation is shaky, like he’s trying to calm his own anger. “You’re coming with me.”

“Éomer—”

“You are coming with me,” he repeats. “We will talk, and I will tend to these burns.” When you open your mouth to argue, Éomer shakes his head. “Don’t be stubborn.”

He slowly sits back on his heels and helps you come to sitting. Then he’s on his feet, bringing you with him. Éomer;s horse, Firefoot, grazes nearby.

Éomer’s hands lightly brush away the blades of grass that cling to your skirts. “Would you like to walk or ride back?”

You love Firefoot dearly, but you’d rather take your time arriving to Edoras’ gates. You’re still not calm, and a slow walk with Éomer at your side might just help you find some peace.

“Could we walk?”

He nods. “If that is what you wish.”

Éomer leads Firefoot by the bridle with one hand, and with the other, he clasps yours. He does not push or dig around, but instead moves at the pace you set. Éomer knows your signals without you having to say anything. Instead of inquiring about your father or what happened, he talks about his time away. It gives you a chance to shift mindsets, to focus on him and nothing else.

When the two of you are in his private room, Éomer guides you over to the hearth. He lays out a small nest of furs and gently helps you down on them, taking care not to accidentally brush against the burn. Once you’re seated, Éomer moves to a far corner of the room to remove his weapons and a few heavy pieces of armor. Then he comes back to you, sitting beside you in front of the fire.

“Show me your hands.” Reluctantly, you present them. Éomer frowns down at them. “Tell me again your father didn’t do this to you.”

“He didn’t. I promise.”

Éomer sighs heavily and his hands wrap around your wrists. He gently guides your hands closer, inspecting the burn. It’s only on your left hand, and Éomer slowly releases the one that’s fine. “I’ll have someone fetch some ointment for this and bandages.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“It is. I’ll take care of it.”

You snort and Éomer’s mouth quirks up into a smile. “Think I’m incapable?”

“A strong warrior like you capable of such tenderness?” you tease.

His smile softens. “What about all the times I’ve been tender with you?”

Your cheeks heat with the memory. “Not in that way,” you mutter, trying to hide your embarrassment.

“Would you prefer that as well?”

“Perhaps later,” you breathe, heart quickening in your chest.

Éomer lifts your wrist to his mouth, placing a kiss on the pulse point. “I’ll return shortly.”

When Éomer acquires the correct ointment and bandages, he sets to work. He cleanses his hands, scrubbing his nails and between his fingers before he begins. Then, with purposeful slowness, Éomer lifts the injured hand and begins rubbing the ointment into the surface-level burns. They likely won’t blister but they’ll sting for a week or more.

Once the ointment is applied, he unwraps the bandages, guiding it over and around your hand to keep the ointment in place. He ties off the extra and cuts it off with a clean blade, tucking the little bit left into the wrappings. Éomer is overly cautious but it’s sweet.

He is always so gentle with you.

“You spoil me,” you murmur.

“I enjoy it,” he replies, turning your hand over to double-check his work.

A soft sadness creeps in. “One day you won’t.”

Éomer glances up. “How so?”

You shrug as if the words don’t mean anything. “You’ll marry a princess. She’ll beautiful and fair. The people will love her.”

Éomer shakes his head. “Why would I ever want such a thing when I have one right here.”

“Don’t tease.”

“I’m not.” Éomer kisses your fingers and gently guides your hand to your lap. In a move so delicate it momentarily steals your breath, Éomer cups your cheek and leans in close. “All I ever want. All I ever need. Is right here.”

Éomer stands before the back door of the shop your father owns. He’s still fuming, but not nearly as much as when he saw your hand. For some time, Éomer has wanted to give this man a piece of his mind. You are precious, and more importantly, you don’t deserve his ire.

The man is a drunk, and everyone knows it. Most show him pity because it all started with the death of his wife—your mother. But that was many years ago, and any pity Éomer felt for the man has long since evaporated.

Squaring his shoulders, Éomer pounds on the door like he’s trying to splinter the wood.

You are still in Éomer’s chambers, curled up in the pile of furs he created in front of the fire. You are sacred to him, the woman he wants above all things. One day, you will be his, and will no longer have to answer to your father.

The drunkard swings open the door. “What?” he growls before he realizes who stands before him.

His eyes widen, and he straightens up, smoothing out the rumbled apron. He fumbles over his words and Éomer holds up a single hand, silencing the man.

“I’m not interested in excuses.” Éomer takes a step into the shop, towering over the man. “If I ever see her in tears again because of you, understand that my next visit will be much less pleasant. Is that understood?”

“Perfectly.”

Éomer wants to stay more, but he draws back his rage. He nods curtly, and exits, only wanting to return to you.

taglist:

@foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @firelightinferno @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @protosslady @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado

[rckflg]

CHARCTER MASTERPOST

enjoy :) hope you like this free food

i will link each character’s masterlist in this post

MOVIE MASTERLIST

STAR WARS UNIVERSE

han solo

princess leia

luke skywalker

padme amidala

anakin skywalker

obi wan kenobi

kylo ren

general hux

poe dameron

rose tico

finn

boba fett 

fennec shand

din djarin

paz vizsla

cobb vanth

HARRY POTTER & FANTASTIC BEASTS

harry potter

hermione granger

ron weasley

ginny weasley

george weasley

fred weasley

charlie weasley

bill weasley

neville longbottom

oliver wood

seamus finnegan

dean thomas

cedric diggory

luna lovegood

cho chang

fleur delacour

pansy parkinson

viktor krum

voldemort/tom riddle

bellatrix lestrange

fenrir greyback

lucius malfoy

narcissa malfoy

igor karkaroff

barty crouch sr

barty crouch jr

professor severus snape

alastor moody

sirius black

remus lupin

nymphador tonks

newt scamander

theseus scamander

MARVEL & X-MEN

black widow / natasha romanov

yelena belova

hulk / bruce banner

antman / scott lang

tasm!spiderman / peter parker

hawkeye / clint barton

hawkeye / kate bishop

echo / maya lopez

kazi

nebula

daredevil / matt murdock

mobius m. mobius

deadpool / wade wilson

negasonic teenage warhead / ellie phimister

cable / nathan summers

domino / neena thurman

storm / ororo munroe

mystique / raven darkholm

wolverine / james howlett / logan

rogue / anna marie

phoenix / jean grey

cyclops / scott summers

havok / alex summers

jubilee / jubilation lee

banshee / sean cassidy

quicksilver / pietro maximoff

angel / warren worthington

x-23 / laura kinney

magik / illyana rasputina

wolfsbane / rahne sinclair

mirage / dani moonstar

nightcrawler / kurt wagner

magneto / erik lensher

please let me know which version of the x-men characters you would like me to write for when requesting

BIRDS OF PREY

harley quinn

huntress

black canary

renee montoya

victor zsasz

THE SUICIDE SQUAD (1&2)

harley quinn

rick flag

captain boomerang

polka-dot man

ratcatcher 2

bloodsport

peacemaker

LORD OF THE RINGS

merry brandybuck

pippin took

aragorn

legolas

gimli

arwen

boromir

faramir

elrond

eomer

eowyn

haldir

THE HOBBIT

bilbo baggins

thorin oakenshield

kili

fili

dwalin

THE LOST BOYS

david

marko

paul

dwayne

star

michael emerson

STAND BY ME

ace merill

denny lachance

eyeball chambers

billy tessio

TWILIGHT

carlisle cullen

esme cullen

alice cullen

jasper hale

rosalie hale

emmett cullen

edward cullen

bella swan

charlie swan

billy black

jacob black

seth clearwater

leah clearwater

paul lahote

sam uley

TELEVISION SHOW MASTERLIST

THE MAGICIANS

eliot waugh

quentin coldwater

julia wicker

alice quinn

margo hansen

penny adiyodi

kady orloff-diaz

mariana andrieski

henry fogg

fen

PENNY DREADFUL

vanessa ives

ethan chandler

dorian gray

brona croft

victor frankenstein

THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY

vanya hargreeves

klaus hargreeves

luther hargreeves

allison hargreeves

diego hargreeves

ben hargreeves

lila pitts

CHARMED (1998)

piper halliwell

pheobe halliwell

prue halliwell

paige halliwell

leo wyatt

cole turner

CHARMED (2018)

macy vaughn

mel vera

maggie vera

harry greenwood

abigael cain

niko hamada

PEAKY BLINDERS

tommy shelby

john shelby

arthur shelby

ada shelby

finn shelby

polly gray

alfie solomons

luca changretta

aberama gold

bonnie gold

johnny dogs

STRANGER THINGS

jim hopper

joyce byers

dr alexei

robin buckley

steve harrington

billy hargrove

max mayfield

NETFLIX’S DRACULA

dracula

SHAMELESS (US)

fiona gallagher

ian gallagher 

carl gallagher

debbie gallagher

lip gallagher

mickey milkovich 

kevin ball

veronica fisher

male!reader platonic &/or smut & fem!platonic!reader only for ian & mickey

CRIMINAL MINDS

spencer reid

penelope garcia

luke alvez

aaron hotchner

elle greenway

kate callahan

CARNIVAL ROW

rhycroft philostrate

vignette stonemass

tourmaline

GRIMM

nick burkhardt

hank griffin

captain sean renard

seargent wu

monroe

rosalee calvert

adalind schade

trubel

N0S4A2

vic mcqueen

maggie leigh

tabitha hutter

DOCTOR WHO & TORCHWOOD

9th doctor

10th doctor

11th doctor

12th doctor

13th doctor

simm!master

missy / gomez!master

dhawan!master

rose tyler

yazmin khan

river song

bill potts

nardole

captain jack harkness

toshiko sato

owen harper

MISCELLANIOUS

PEDRO PASCAL

the mandalorian / din djarin

javier pena

maxwell lord

whiskey / jack daniels

dave york

fransisco ‘catfish’ morales

marcus moreno

OSCAR ISAAC

poe dameron

nathan (ex machina)

apocalypse / en sabah nur

kane (annihilation)

gomez addams ; platonic!reader or familial!reader only

JOEL KINNAMAN

rick flag

takeshi kovacs

pete koslow

erik heller

stephen holder

ed baldwin

ANDREW GARFIELD

tasm!spiderman / peter parker

[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

[edgessunflower]

The cool rain and burning love

For @ironmandeficiency cause she needs it! 🥺

Pairing: Eowyn x Fem reader

Description: After a bad day Eowyn takes you in the rain which is the best thing to happen to you that day

You walked into Eowyn's room changing out of the uncomfortable big dress you had to wear that made you feel like you were suffocating changing into a smaller more comfortable dress walking out a few seconds after eowyn had been in the room. She turns looking at you as you lay on her bed next to you as she smiles "You okay love?" you look at her with your hand partially over your face "I've had a rough day and I need the day to end" you explain to her how bad your day was from waking up and falling off your bed hitting your head, getting shoved by a guard and nearly falling down the stairs had it not been for Eomer grabbing your waist, the big poofy blue dress you wore crushing your ribs making it very hard to properly breathe, and ending up throwing up across the corner from the stables. She listens to you until you finish putting down her book and gently helping you up following her outside where you saw the sky a light grey feeling raindrops fall on your face and soon the rain slowly starts pouring down on the ground and on the two of you "Eowyn it's raining let's go in before we get colds!" she laughs watching her tilt her head to the sky feeling the raindrops fall on her face while also pouring through her dress and soaking her hair as you slowly look to the sky feeling the drops fall on you as well. You felt a splash in your face stopping your heart for a second and your eyes shooting wide open to see eowyn laughing before you chase after her managing to get her back with a splash to her face in between all the running and laughing being drenched from head to toe until you stopped in front of each other behind a big rose bush next to eowyn's bedroom window feeling hot despite the cold chill of the rain. You both giggled until your lips were together and you were holding each other's faces for a few minutes before the cold was unbearable going inside to her room changing in night dresses and laying under covers cuddled up to each other occasionally kissing the other's lips, face, neck, and even chest as you felt the warmth from the blankets and body heat falling asleep not knowing or seeing eomer peek his head in smiling to see his little sister and the girl who he had been friends with for years and thought of as a younger sister as well quickly and quietly closing the door telling the maids and his uncle not to disturb the two of you.

[friendship-ditch]

Whumptober Day 11 - Loneliness

Eowyn x Fem!Reader ✼

Summary: Grima's foul words send Eowyn into a dark pit of loneliness.

Warnings/Notes: Subtle descriptions of suicide and an agressively rushed ending

Word Count: 1890

  “Oh, but you are alone.”

  Eowyn shook her head as the bitter words of Grima Wormtongue rang through her mind. Her nails clawed at her head, clasping themselves over her ears as though that would be enough to block the unembodied voice that taunted her, dark tendrils clouding her mind.

  It was a bitter truth that she reluctantly began to accept. 

  She was alone.

  Her uncle, the king, depleted a little more each day until he was no longer the man she recognized, but a weakened, sick and dying shell of who he once was. Her cousin, Theodred, passed during the night from wounds deep and cruel. Her brother, Eomer, had been banished from Rohan as a whole along with those loyal to the king, meaning all of the Rohirrim. Eowyn was not the only one alone, but so was all of Rohan. If evil came to their kingdom as it had been predicted there would no longer be a Rohan.

  The only company Eowyn had left was Grima, a company so foul and cruel she would rather face the ghosts of her loneliness then spend another second at his side. Perhaps it was truly that horrid excuse for a man that had driven her to this perpetual state of solitude for he poisoned her mind with deranged altered truths, but by the time she came to this realization it was too far for her to return.

  Eowyn fled the bedroom of her deceased cousin in search of one or the other; fresh air or a quick end. There had been many nights of sleepless debate, a blade of some sort in one hand and pen in the other. She could not write or read but wanted to try leaving a note anyway. The cruelty of the world did not make her cruel as well… she didn’t want to hurt those around her.

  Fresh air was easier to come across than a stray blade. Eowyn stormed out onto the front steps of Meduseld, feeling the sharp wind nip at her face. She began to pace back and forth across the stone. 

  If her eyes were not blurry from tears, she would have seen you coming, but she was so caught up in the turmoil of her own mind and the pain rushing through her body that by the time she recognized you coming towards her you had already collided.

  “Forgive me, I should have moved out of your way.” You stammered, taking a step back, chest aching a little where she nearly ran you over. At first you felt a prick of annoyance she nearly mauled you without even realizing but once you saw her teary eyes and darkness on her face your anger faded.  

  Eowyn scowled at you. Who were you to stand in her way? “Yes. You should have.” She chided bitterly. “You are foolish, woman. Raise your eyes when you walk.” Her voice cracked. It wasn’t you she was scolding, but herself.

  “I will.” You promised with a quick dip of your head. You never had the… pleasure of meeting Eowyn before, but you recognized the White Lady of Rohan the second your eyes fell upon her golden hair and stern face. “I take it I did not harm you?”

  “No harm done.” Eowyn turned her head, lifting a hand to swipe at her damp face. When did she start crying? This was the last thing she needed, to break down in front of a stranger. She inhaled deeply, set a cold expression on her face and tried to walk past you.

  But you blocked her. 

  “Move.”

  “Actually, I was wondering if you might be able to help me.” You came up with a quick lie.

  “I’m busy at the moment.” Eowyn replied harshly before pushing past you and walking away.

  You watched her quickly run off, not wanting you to see the tears on her face. You knew better than to hunt her down, deciding to just let her be and hope you stumble upon her later.

  And you did.

  Once the sun had set and the bustling city of Edoras had calmed down, you wandered to the stables to sit with some of the horses and hang out. Then you noticed a white shape brush past you and head behind the stables.

  You tracked the ghostly presence, their dress lit in the bright moonlight until you found them.

  Eowyn sat down on an abandoned bench that pressed into the back of the stables. In her hand reflected a sharp blade, a stolen dagger from the armory. Her fingers nimbly turned it over and over again, eyes glued to the metallic beauty as if it had put her in a trance. She would never admit how often she fell into this position; the delicate debate between living and dying. How beautiful would a knife look stained with her blood? How much better off would everybody else be?

  Eowyn was no stranger to the unapproving looks she so easily found angled in her direction when she was younger and would spar with her brother, or when she would express unhappiness with the idea of being locked into a life of nothing more but bars and cages. There was nobody that understood her, not even her own brother.

  As lost as Eowyn was in the daze of contemplated death, she did not miss the way your shadow slowly began creeping in. She lifted her head, slipping the weapon into her sleeve.

  “You are following me.”

  “I’m not.” 

  “Then how are you here?”

  “I often come to the stables when… I do not feel right.” You stepped completely out of the darkness, lit from behind by the moon. “Do you feel the same?”

  “What concern is it of yours?” Eowyn did not want to let you in, at least, she tried to convince herself she didn’t. In reality she was bordering on the edge of breaking down and telling you, a stranger, everything. It’s easier to spill your guts to strangers. 

  She must’ve seen the frown cross your face as her shoulders slowly slumped in defeat and her head dipped.

  “I am sorry. You have been nothing but kind to me and I only lash at you.” Eowyn sighed, brushing her skirt aside for you to sit. When you did, she turned to look at you. “What is your name?”

  “Y/n.” You noticed the strange bulge in her sleeve but said nothing of it. You’d just tamed the feral cat at your side, you didn’t want to already scare her off. “What brings you here?”

  Damn you. You were trying to worm yourself into her problems, weaving around her thick defenses and settling where she was most vulnerable. 

  “The quiet.” Eowyn lied.

  “Alone?”

  “I do not have much choice.”

  “Ah…” You nodded. “Neither do I.”

  A soft silence fell over the two of you. You wanted to speak but didn’t want to scare her away. Eowyn half wanted you to leave and half wanted to just collapse into your arms. The loneliness was eating her up inside, it really was.

  Finally, she spoke.

  “Do you believe things will get better?” Eowyn’s voice was hesitant, as if she feared the worst from you.

  But you chuckled softly in response. “I like to think that it will.” You murmured quietly. “We will not always be alone… in fact, you’re not alone now. I’m here.”

  Eowyn raised an eyebrow, surprised but also touched by your bluntness. “You alone believe you can cure my loneliness?”

  “Aren’t I?”

  The stern, cold and dark woman tried to fight smiling, she really did… darkness was all she had come to know and straying from it was unnerving… but a small grin spread across her face anyway and soon turned into a little giggle.

  “Well… I’m certainly not alone.” Eowyn reluctantly agreed. 

  You smiled too, reaching out and gently brushing your hand across your arm. You were rather lonely too and probably just as touch starved as she. So you decided to risk spreading your fingers and laying your hand over hers.

  Eowyn slightly stiffened but didn’t pull away. Your hand over hers felt good. She couldn’t remember the last time someone even touched her in a gentle way such as this. The idea of how long she’s been suffocating in solitude and how you appeared out of nowhere like the savior she always dreamed of made a lump form in her throat. “What are you doing?”

  “Now you’re even less lonely.”

  “You are bold… oddly bold.”

  You chuckled once more, squeezing her hand. “It helps doesn’t it?”

  “I suppose…”

  It didn’t take much prying for you to really weigh out how lonely Eowyn was. She seemed to soak up every word you spoke like a sponge, eyes focused only on you. Hearing someone speak to her as though she mattered made her feel things she thought she’d never feel again.

  When you managed to get her up to her feet to take her on a walk, something came tumbling out of her sleeve, plopping onto the dirt below.

  You beat Eowyn to it, fingers hooking around the metallic handle of the dagger and picking it up. It was oddly warm from being tucked against her skin but luckily didn’t cut her.

  Eowyn paled as you held the weapon up to her. She’d just warmed up to you and you to her, now it was about to be ruined by her foolishness.

  You scanned the weapon in your hand and then raised your gaze to hers. “Should I give this back to you?”

  Relief flooded Eowyn as you didn’t begin to criticize her immediately, but she was still nervous. It wasn’t her dagger, but she should probably put it back… though she was scared to touch it in case she’d do something stupid to herself. 

  “No…”

  “Alright.” You pocketed the knife. Your eyes met hers once more, waiting for an explanation, if she was comfortable enough.

  Eowyn shifted from one foot to the other. “You already know…”

  “Am I right?”

  “I am… horribly lonely.” Eowyn whispered softly. Her arms crossed defensively over her chest and she turned to face the bright moon, pale skin bathing in the bright light. “I do not know how much longer I can wane this solitude… it is eating me away.”

  You moved to stand beside her, following her gaze to the white rock in the sky. Her fingers slowly touched yours and you held them tight.

  “There are times when I can’t take it anymore.” Eowyn’s voice hitched. “And I… I can’t do it. I can’t get it over with, I’m too scared… I suppose that makes me even more pathetic, hm? I’ve no real reason to live yet I cannot end my life because I am scared.”

  “It’s not pathetic.” You murmured and looked over at her, squeezing her hand tight. 

  “You’re pitying me.”

  “No. But… I do want to be your friend.”

  “Why on earth would you want that?”

  “Because I don’t have anyone either.”

  Eowyn hesitated at that, then her grip on your hand tightened. Her head hesitantly bumped into your shoulder with a quiet sigh. “And if we are friends…?”

  “Then we won’t be lonely.” You smiled a little. Eowyn smiled too and you pulled her into a tight hug, feeling her body sink against yours.

[theblogofdurin]

First off, yes this is longer than my own masterlist but that because these amazing writers are better than me and deserves all the glory that they get.

They get all the credit for this post. -> So don't forget to like their posts and follow their accounts and just overall please to make sure to show your appreciation to these writers for all their work :)

Painful self-promotion -> Cloaked in Green Masterlist

-> UPDATES CONSTANTLY

The Shoutout's

@midearthwritings

I haven't interacted with them much but every interaction so far I've had with them, they have been so sweet and I just love them 💯

Masterlist

Be Mine - Dwalin x Hobbit!Reader

Don't you cry - Bofur x Reader

Beating Hearts- Thorin x Reader

And we’ll Love - Kili x Reader

Those who dream - Fili x reader

@ladylouoflothlorien

Amazing writer~ whenever I am need of a Dwalin fix I always go to their page.💌

Hobbit Masterlist

Hunting Wound -Kili x Reader

Twelve Days of Dwarfmas -Dwalin x Reader / The company x reader

@lordoftherazzles

Probably the best Bagginshield writer on this site and I just- muah💞 so I am just going to link everything lol.

Masterlist

"Who’s the short one now" -Bagginshield (my request :) <3)

@lathalea

Again the sweetest and most talented writer ever! I highly recommend all their work, especially their Thorin fics.💕

Masterlist

Cookies- Dwalin x Reader

"Friends to Lovers w/ Dwalin"

All is Fair in Love & Trade- Thorin x fem!dwarf!OC

Strong- Thorin x reader

Lost My Way- Fili x Reader

@luna-writes-stuff​

Just an overall good person and an amazing writer, I highly recommend all their work so again I’m just posting their masterlist.💋💋

Tolkien Masterlist

@guardianofrivendell

aka the person that caused my Eomer and Boromir oppressions^  Another masterlist shoutout❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

main masterlist

Random Fic Recs: MAKE SURE TO LIKE AND COMMENT ON THESE POSTS AND SHOW THESE AUTHORS ALL THE LOVE!

The Company:

“How the company would react to you being hormonal” by @badamtssh​

“ imagine the company's reaction to their newest member also being able to speak one of our languages-” by @anotherbleedinghart

Thorin:

“ Next to the dying fire” by @bogginswritings​

"My Hair" by @luna-writes-stuff​

Dwalin:

"Just Knew " by @elisethewildwolf

"Morning" ->elisethewildwolf

"Quiet Beauty" by @vee-vee-writes

"Words never spoken" by @kurooblossom

"Stubborn" - @soyeahitsmiddleearth

Boromir:

"Nothing but a number" by @averil-of-fairlea

"Heat and Makeup" by writingfromkitchenator

"drunken night" by @fandomwarriror

Éomer:

"Informalities"-@arrantsnowdrop

"Desire"- @simbylmyne

"Jealous! Possessive! Éomer oneshot" -@writingfromkitchenator​

“ Exactly What It Needs To Be” ->writingfromkitchenator

a/n: if any writer has a problem with their work being tagged on here, please do not hesitate to pm me anytime and I will remove it asap.

[meganlpie]

Furs

Based on this request: Hi! I see that still there are few free spots so I would like to ask if you would write another ficlet for Eomer? I know that there are many people who would like to request so I want to be fair, since I already asked about Eomer fic and you accepted it. But this idea dropped in my mind and I thought I would try to ask you. What about mourning and grieving reader who can’t sleep so she spends nights observing the sky and maybe northern lights (there is a legend that northern lights are the souls of dead people). And one night worries Eomer finds her and brings her fur so she won’t freeze to death and hugs her so she won’t feel so lonely. Would you like to write it as romantic relationship, maybe they are about to courting.?

Here you are, lovely. I do not own Eomer. He belongs to Tolkien.

Warnings: Angst! Comfort. It's a bit short.

Pairings: Eomer x fem!reader

The battle had taken its toll on everyone. Everyone lost family, friends, some people even lost themselves. You were one of those that had lost everything. Most of your family had been lost to Sauron's armies and you lost friends as well. And you had lost parts of yourself after fighting so hard.

To that end, you often found yourself wandering the halls of the keep in Rohan late into the night. You couldn't sleep most the time as nightmares and guilt plagued you. Instead, you would make your way outside and stare up at the night sky in hopes of catching a glimpse of the Northern Lights, the souls of your loved ones. For a while, you were able to do this unnoticed. At least you thought so. But when winter came and the icy winds came with it, someone finally caught on.

Eomer had been worried about you. He noticed the dark circles under your eyes. There were times he could see you nearly falling asleep over your dinner plate. He knew you were coping the only way you knew how, but that didn't stop him from worrying. That lead him to following you some nights. He didn't have many concerns about it until it grew colder and you had neither a blanket nor a cloak with you.

After watching you head out several nights without any sort of protection against the weather, Eomer had enough. He wouldn't prevent you from grieving, of course, but he would be damned if he let you freeze to death. He grabbed the large fur from his bed and headed out to meet you. You barely looked at him as he approached. Instead you focused on the sky, the dazzling lights illuminating your face. Eomer could see the tears streaking your cheeks as you whispered out apologies and his heart broke for you. He was pretty certain he'd never seen you cry before.

"Love?" You jumped a little at the sound of his voice, but continued to look up. Eomer sighed before taking the fur and wrapping it around your shoulders. He then sat next to you. His arm moved around your shoulders and he pulled you gently to him. "Staring at the Lights won't bring them back, Y/N," he whispered. You sniffled. "I know. But can't I hope?"

For a moment, Eomer could say nothing. Hope was something he'd had very little of during the war. You had been his hope. But the kind of hope you were speaking of was…impossible. "My love, that kind of hope is dangerous. It drives people mad. You cannot hope for them to come back to us. They can't. You can hope that they are watching over us, guiding us as we continue on in life as we grow stronger and happier even in their absences."

A sob wrenched from you as you turned and grabbed hold of his cloak. "I miss them. I miss them so much," you choked out between sobs. Eomer held you while you cried. You hadn't been able to truly grieve for everything that you'd lost so he said nothing. At one point, he felt tears welling up in his own eyes as well. They fell dripped from his chin and cheeks in to your hair.

When you had cried your fill, you sat up and looked at Eomer's face properly for the first time that night. You reached up and wiped his tears from his eyes, causing both of you to laugh softly. "Thank you," you told him softly before giving him a quick kiss to his lips. "You never have to thank me for that," he replied, "You are the most important person in my life. I'm here for you, whatever you need."

With that, you shifted to where you were sitting again, but still leaning against him. The two of you remained like that until Eomer noticed you had finally fallen asleep. As carefully as he could, the king of Rohan lifted you up still wrapped in his furs and carried you inside where you could get a proper night's sleep. As he moved to lay you down, your grip on him tightened and you mumbled something along the lines of, "Don't go." Eomer gave a soft chuckle as he slid into the bed next to you. "Goodnight, my love. Sleep well."

(a/n: I hope you like it!)

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard @brewsthespirit-blog @sirkekselord @aikibriarrose @lady-of-lies @esoltis280 @stories-by-shanna-p @dark-angel-is-back @motleymoose

Tolkien Tags: @jotink78 @thealbersclan @iwillbeinmynest @wingedlandwasteland @wanderinglittlefangirl @justcallmecinammon @evyiione @legolaslovely

[starryeyes2000]

Masterlist

I do not give consent for my work to be copied, posted, or translated onto other sites. Nor do I give permission for my work to be fed into an artificial intelligence application. My blog is 18+.

-----------------------------------------

Spock/Chapel (SNW)

Episode 1: Shimsha (My Sun)

-----------------------------------------

Lord of the Rings

Aeres (Eomer x Fem!OC) (in-progress)

--------------------------------------------

A Woman in Uniform (in-progress) Una Chin-Riley x OFC, Una & Pike

I Wanna Hold Your Hand (Chapel x OC, Chapel x Spock, Chapel & Spock)

Always (Pike/Una)

From Both Sides: Una (Pike/Una)

How Una Became Number One

Extra Scenes, Codas, and Other Stuff (Season 1)

Episode 1: I Lived It

Episode 1: A Place To Belong

Dispatches from Sickbay (vignettes and one-shots)

Mudd, Harry Mudd (complete)

----------------------------------------------

AOS

Trust Love One More Time (McCoy/Fem!OC) (in-progress)

Dispatches from Sickbay (vignettes and one-shots)

Dating Advice (in-progress)

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i carry your heart (Strange New Worlds Pike/OC Series)

Christopher Pike x OC (Aalin)

Each entry can be read independently.

Volte-Face (in-progress)

The Road Back (in-progress)

Do You Know What Day It Is? (complete)

How Not To Further Your Career (complete)

The Other Side (in-progress)

Babies and Starships (complete)

Rebellion (Mirror Universe, in-progress)

That Night and Morning on Discovery (complete)

Spock's Escape (in-progress)

Uncle (in-progress)

Retribution (in-progress)

In the Shadow of Boreth (in-progress)

It’s Happening To Both of Us (complete)

SNW Season One CALU Scenes

Episode 1: We Have Your Back

Episode 1: It’s His Story to Tell

Episode 1: Our Every Opportunity

Episode 2: Delicate Lines

Episode 1: Whose Life Is Dearer - Part 1

Episode 2: Whose Life Is Dearer – Part 2

Episode 2: Whose Life Is Dearer – Part 3

Episode 2: Whose Life Is Dearer – Part 4

Episode 2: Whose Life Is Dearer – Part 5

Episode 2: Whose Life Is Dearer – Part 6

Episode 2: Whose Life Is Dearer – Part 7

Episode 3: Whose Life is Dearer - Part 8

Date Night: Series of one-shots taking place throughout the series.

First Date (complete)

The Klingon Said What? (complete)

December Twenty-Fourth (complete)

Here's To Vulcan Psychiatrists (complete)

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The joys, trials and adventures of a long distance relationship with a certain Starfleet Captain.

Christopher Pike x OC (Lilly)

All About You (complete)

An Unexpected Love (in-progress)

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Pike x Reader

All complete except noted.

Afternoon Delight: Cause ... well ... I am in charge.

Chase the Bad Away: Chris knows an excellent cure for insomnia. Part of the I Am Not Sick series.

The Box: Sequel to I Am Not Sick

The Captain Goes to Sickbay: Deleted Scene of I Am Not Sick

I Am Not Sick

Home | Touchstones | Walk of Shame

That Kiss | Nothing To Do | Our Song

That Night In the Barn | Need for Speed | It Tickles

Where's An All Night Pharmacy When You Need It (in-progress)

Pairings: Christopher Pike & Child!OC

Christopher Pike x Fem!Reader

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McCoy x Reader

Good Morning Darling (complete)

Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday Ride Again (complete) A sequel to Justice, McCoy Style

Happy Birthday, Darling (complete)

I Want To Watch You Darling (complete)

Do You Trust Me Darling (complete)

I Want To See You Darling (complete)

Dating Advice (in-progress)

Justice, McCoy Style (complete)

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Sarek x Reader

Pon Farr (complete)

Pon Farr: The Morning After (complete)

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Very Long Distance (Strange New Worlds Series Pike/OC series)

The joys, trials and adventures of a long distance relationship with a certain Starfleet Captain.

Christopher Pike x OC (Lilly)

All About You (complete)

An Unexpected Love (in-progress)

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Ski Trip (Fem!Reader) (complete)

The Sketch (Fem!Reader) (complete)

You Might Prefer Me (Fem!Reader) (in-progress)

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Strange New Worlds/TOS

Captain Honorary Dad

A Woman in Uniform (in-progress) Una Chin-Riley x OFC, Una & Pike

I Wanna Hold Your Hand (Chapel x OC, Chapel x Spock, Chapel & Spock)

Always (Pike/Una)

From Both Sides: Una (Pike/Una)

How Una Became Number One

Extra Scenes, Codas, and Other Stuff (Season 1)

Episode 1: I Lived It

Episode 1: A Place To Belong

Dispatches from Sickbay (vignettes and one-shots)

Mudd, Harry Mudd (complete)

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Number One x Reader

Ski Trip (Fem!Reader) (complete)

The Sketch (Fem!Reader) (complete)

You Might Prefer Me (Fem!Reader) (in-progress)

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Star Trek: Discovery

Dispatches from Sickbay (vignettes and one-shots)

That Night In The Cave (final chapter soon)

Kobayashi Maru (complete)

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