#faramir x you

[minaturefics]

Once More (With Feeling)

Prompt: Faramir invites an old friend back to Minas Tirith

A/N: It's a little different, just slightly, to how I usually write. It's a rollercoaster, and it's long, so get yourself a hot beverage and prepare yourself for 6k words worth of brainrot.

Faramir x Reader

Fem reader

No content warnings

6.2k words

---

You paced the lavish sitting room, throwing irritated looks at all the doors. Faramir was a busy man, you knew, but he had always been punctual. With a groan you sank into the cushioned bench and stared out of the tall, pointed windows.

Minas Tirith had changed since you were last in the city as a girl. Gone was the heavy atmosphere, the distant encroaching darkness on the horizon, The Dead Tree, its gnarled branches cold and bare, the darkened halls, haunted by Denethor’s bitterness.

The city had thrived under the new king’s rule and the new steward’s management. The white stone glowed in the sunlight, vines grew across walls and flowers blossomed in window boxes, there was chatter in the streets and laughter in the halls.

It was no mystery then, why Faramir wrote to invite you back into the city, now renewed and reborn. No, the mystery was why he wrote to you at all. 

You had only known him for a year, more than ten years ago. Just two young teenagers, bickering with each other over readings while the tutor tried to calm the both of you. He had been a scrawny thing then, growing taller, but not broader. Not quite a man, like his brother was growing into, not quite a boy, like the other children in the Citadel. His hair too, had been at an awkward length, shaggy around his ears, falling about his forehead and into his grey eyes.

But while Boromir might have been the bolder of the two back then, when it came to academics, Faramir was just as eager. He had been relentless in his pursuit of knowledge, hounding the tutors and dogging the librarians, and, more than once, your spirited debates with him had drawn a small crowd of curious onlookers in the Citadel. There was even a time where you had to race him to the library to get your hands on some coveted book before he did.

But perhaps, the most infuriating thing about him was his kindness. 

How he would smile softly after an intellectual argument, as though consoling you, if you had lost, or congratulating you, if you had won. How he would share his notes with you if you had missed lessons, or gift you with chocolate in return for a peek at your own writings. How he would walk you back to your rooms after classes, showing you shortcuts and asking about your day. 

How he had offered you his handkerchief and wiped your tears away the night before you left the city with your uncle. 

Your heart clenched and you blinked yourself back into the sitting room. 

There were voices in the corridor now, and hurried footsteps. You stood and straightened yourself, smoothing the creases in your dress and schooling your features into something neutral. 

The door swung open and a man walked in.

He was tall and broad with the build of an archer, with steady legs and strong arms. His light brown hair fell in gentle waves to his shoulder, and his beard was short and well-trimmed. You took in his sharp jaw, his pink lips, his face, handsome, noble, familiar somehow.

His grey eyes sparkled in the late afternoon light and a jolt shot through you. 

Faramir. 

You stared at him and his barely-there smile grew.

“You’re late,” you blurted. 

His eyes widened in shock before he shook his head and chuckled. “And I was told you arrived early.” His voice was low and rich, inviting and warm.

Faramir. This man was Faramir. Solid, handsome, real. 

“You have my apologies,” he continued. “There was a meeting that ran over. I did not intend for you to wait so long for me.”

“It’s no matter, I was just admiring the city. A lot has changed.” You turned away from him, scolding your racing heart and chastising your rapidly flushing cheeks. You sucked in a breath and straightened your spine. It was just Faramir. 

He came to join you by the window and you kept your eyes fixed on the plains beyond the buildings. “Your letter surprised me,” you said. “I hardly thought I ever crossed your mind.”

A laugh escaped from him, short and sharp. “You’re still the same.”

Your head snapped towards him and you narrowed your eyes. His easy, unfazed demeanour rankled something in you. “It is quite a slight, being told one hasn’t changed in so many years.”

Did he still see you as that awkward, graceless girl? Someone who had not filled out her dresses yet, who made ill-timed comments in conversations, who battled with her skin, her hair, her sharpening mind and her rapidly fading childhood.

He blinked at you, jaw agape. “I did not mean… I simply meant…” He laughed again and gave you a rueful smile. “Forgive me. What I should have said, I suppose, is that I am glad to see you again.”

That strange, foolish feeling was rising in you, like you were fourteen again and you had said the wrong thing at the dinner table. You fought the urge to cross your arms and you nodded slowly. “I am glad to… to be back. Thank you for your generous invitation.”

The words felt strange in your mouth. So formal and distant. Polite. You gestured woodenly at the view. “My uncle would have been pleased at how well the country is doing.”

“I am sorry to hear about your uncle.”

“It has been a few years now.” You hazarded a look at him. His eyes had melted into something soft. You forced yourself to hold his gaze. “I am sorry about your father and,” your breath hitched, “and Boromir.”

“Yes,” he said, voice low. “It has been quiet in the Steward’s House of late.”

Your chest constricted and you wanted to reach out, to lay a hand on his arm, to say, I too have been left alone by all who loved me.

He cleared his throat and nodded at the door. “Has anyone shown you to your rooms yet? I thought that the one on the second floor, that faces east, would be best. But if you’d prefer your old room, I’m certain we can —”

“No.” You swallowed and flashed him a smile, burying the discomfiting feeling. “I mean… No, thank you. I’m sure what you have prepared will be suitable.”

A bell tower somewhere chimed the hour and he grimaced. “I’m sorry but I have another meeting, the last of the day, in a few minutes. Would you be happy to join me for dinner? It would not be anything formal. We could even dine outside, if the fine weather holds. There is so much I wish to discuss with you.”

It was jarring to hear those words coming from Faramir’s lips. Invitations to dinner were something said between two adults, not adolescents.

But you were no longer fourteen, and Faramir was a man now. A friend.

A stranger. 

“Yes, dinner outside would be lovely,” you said. “I look forward to it.”

He broke out into a wide smile. “I shall send someone to show you to your rooms, and please, if there is anything you should require, just ask.”

“Of course, thank you.”

He reached out and took your hand, large fingers enveloping your own, and gave it a light squeeze. “I shall see you in a few hours.”

He withdrew with a smile and closed the door behind him. 

You stared at your hand for a moment, heat rising to your cheeks, before scowling and scrubbing it against your dress. 

-

The evening breeze swept through the open doors and the candles on the table flickered. The temperature had dropped with the sunset, and in the end Faramir had settled for dining in one of the rooms that opened up to a courtyard. Trees rustled and crickets chirped and music from another part of the Citadel drifted over the walls. The warmth from the lit fire licked at his back and he belatedly wondered if he should have offered you the warmer seat instead. 

Faramir caught his eyes wandering from some vague spot behind you to your face again. You were focused on the last bit of roasted meat on your plate, cutting it into dainty pieces before lifting it to your lips. He let his eyes trail over your hair, braided and pinned, to the softness of your cheek, the angle of your jaw. 

When he had seen you that afternoon he could scarcely believe his eyes. He did not expect you to stay the same, of course, and yet… the sight of you, grown, beautiful and striking, made his pulse jump. 

Where was the girl he had known? Who had picked up her skirts and clambered up walls with him, whose quick wit had both frustrated and delighted him? Was she gone, suppressed by etiquette lessons and laced up gowns, washed away by time and tempered by misfortune?

But then you had opened your mouth and bluntly stated his tardiness and he couldn’t help but laugh. No, your spirit was still unchanged, your fire still undimmed.

You looked up and his eyes skittered away. His palms grew clammy and he exhaled. Valar, he was acting like a silly boy, sneaking looks at you across the table, filling his mouth with food instead of conversation. 

“What is the matter, Faramir?” 

“Nothing.” He smiled. 

You had an inquisitive look on your face, half-curious, half-challenging. The same sort of expression you used to wear before launching into an argument. “You were looking at me.”

Heat started to creep up his neck and he dropped his eyes back to his nearly empty plate. “I was just thinking.”

He heard your intake of breath and he prepared himself for an onslaught of words, ready for the cajoling comments and prodding persuasions that you always used to coax him to speak.

Instead, he heard the clatter of cutlery and he looked up to find you arranging your fork and knife at the side of your plate. You glanced towards the open door and, something in that small action, so intensely familiar, made the words tumble from his lips. 

“Would you like to go on a walk?”

“I…” Your astonished look morphed into one of suspicion. “How did you know?”

“You used to walk after meals, if I remember correctly.”

“I didn’t think you noticed.”

He noticed. Of course, he noticed. Boromir had once pulled him aside, warning him that if he did not get his looks and glances under control, their father might start getting ideas for future marriage matches. He had wondered if your uncle had realised this and that was why he had whisked you off to the family estate back in North Lebennin when autumn arrived once more.

In truth, Faramir never found out the reason; he was never told, and he never asked. 

He grinned and stood. A walk would be good. Dinner had been pleasant, with the usual, banal questions asked and answered. Proper and polite. A far cry from shared smirks and ceaseless chatter you once shared with him. Perhaps some movement would ease the atmosphere. “Shall we walk? Is there any place you would like to see first?”

You paused for a moment, biting your lower lip, before a sly smile crept onto your face. “The old lookout tower. The one that overlooked the Houses of Healing.”

“I do hope you won’t chase me up it. I do not think the excitement would agree with the food we just ate.”

“I won’t.” You looked out at the courtyard then back at him, eyes now dancing with mirth. “Are you becoming old and decrepit?”

“More like sensible and wise.” He walked over to the hooks by the door and reached for the two cloaks that hung there. “Here, you are welcome to borrow one of mine. It is cold out.”

He offered you the thicker one and watched as you ran your fingers over the soft wool before throwing it around your shoulders. It fell past your feet, pooling on the floor, and the sight of you swathed in his cloak stirred something in him. 

He led you out into the courtyard and then onto the open ramparts. Hundreds of little lights flickered in the city below. It was quiet, save for the distant bustle of the kitchens and the rustle of the guards shifting on their feet. The wind carried your perfume to him and he inhaled the sweet scent of lilies.

“I have always wondered,” he said, “why you left Minas Tirith.”

“My uncle was worried about me growing up in court. I think he wanted to avoid any pressure that might have befallen me. Marriage offers and gossip and the kind.” You looked away, towards the plains. “I was sorry to leave, but I am glad that I had gone.”

His heart dropped. Had he been selfish? Writing to you and asking you to visit the city when you were clearly happy out in the country? Had you not thought of him once in all the years? He swallowed. “Does it bring you pain to be here?”

“No, not at all.” You shook your head and laughed, and his shoulders relaxed. “I simply meant that I think he made the right decision. It might have been a little boring, but I grew up unrestrained.”

“I do hope you will enjoy the excitement of the city.”

“The change of scenery is refreshing. And I will confess that a break from my responsibilities back home is welcome.” 

He noticed then, the shadows under your eyes, the weary tinge in your smiles. 

Yes, the both of you were no longer children.

The old, crumbling tower neared and your steps quickened. You paused at the base of the steps, throwing a mischievous look over your shoulder, before vanishing up the stairs. He chuckled and hurried after you, taking the steps two at a time. “You said you would not race me!”

“I said I would not chase you up it!”

He caught sight of the edge of his cloak and the flash of deep purple silk underneath it as he rounded the corner. “So you’ll have me chase you instead?”

Your laugh echoed in the narrow stairwell. “I have no doubt that you’ll catch up. You were always the faster one.” 

“And you always the cheater.”

“It is called levelling the playing field.”

The gap between you and him rapidly narrowed, and as the both of you emerged at the top, his hand closed around your shoulder before he could stop himself. You turned, flushed and giggling, eyes alight. Laughter rose in his chest and he chuckled, breathless and buoyant. “You’ll get me into trouble. Like before.”

“Faramir, you are the steward. There is no one to get in trouble with.” You grinned at him before striding towards the merlons. “In any case, I have no plans to lob mushy apples from here so you need not worry about disgruntled guards and unfortunate citizens.”

“I always have to worry about disgruntled guards and unfortunate citizens. It is no easy feat, running a city like Minas Tirith.”

“I can imagine.” Your voice was soft, sympathetic.

He strolled towards you, and you glanced behind at him, shadows from the flickering torches dancing across your face. Your eyes were intense, searching. Valar, he could never stand to hold your gaze when it was like this. It was as though you saw through him. 

“Faramir, why did you ask me here?” 

He shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling boyish and clumsy. “I was… clearing some of the rooms in the Steward’s House when I chanced upon our old classroom. I found one of your old essays.”

“A beastly thing, I’m sure.”

He slowed to a stop beside you, close enough that your cloak fluttered against his legs when the wind blew. “It was rather good, actually. I’m certain you would have made a valuable advisor if you had stayed in court.” 

“Well,” you scoffed. “I do not think the court missed us much when my uncle and I left.”

“Boromir and I did.”

 “You did not write.”

“I was not certain I was allowed to. Father refused to  tell me anything, and then there were other matters. Training, classes, scouting missions.”

He felt a pang in his chest. In truth, he had thought of you over the years, but there were always things to attend to. His father’s growing resentment, his strange prophetic dreams, city matters and trade routes. 

The War. 

It had been a sleepless night when he had wandered the empty halls, opening old doors and peering into neglected rooms, when he stumbled upon the old classroom. It was still and dusty, books stacked by the window and sheets of paper on one of the tables, abandoned as though someone intended to come back, but never did.

He had been hit with an intense loneliness, a hollowness, an aching. 

When he had seen your familiar scrawl on the sheets of paper, along with an unflattering sketch of the tutor, the memory of your playful smile flashed into his mind. And then there was a comforting warmth in his chest, and then for the first time in weeks, he had laughed. 

“Faramir,” you said, and he shook himself out of his thoughts. “I am sorry I did not write either.”

“It is no matter.” A smile tugged at his lips. “We are here now.”

-

“Faramir, if you wobble the ladder I will drop these books on your head.” You gripped the polished wood with one hand and clutched a stack of books to your chest with the other.

“If memory serves, you were the one who had a habit of rattling stools and ladders.”

You glared down at him, scoffing at the grin on his face. He was leaning against the shelf with his arms across his chest, relaxed and languid. That night on the tower had shattered the stiffness between the both of you, and the last week and a half had been filled with nostalgic adventures. 

Between his duties, Faramir had shown you the changes in the Citadel, walked with you to the markets and shops, even challenged you to a slingshot contest which he won. There had been dinners on balconies, and picnic lunches in gardens, and midnight snacks in derelict towers.

He had told you about his experience in the war. His heartbreak at finding Boromir’s cloven horn, the near-fatal Osgiliath charge, recovering in the Houses of Healing. And you told him how you had to manage the family estate, the scramble to build temporary houses for the refugees, how many of them chose to settle and work the land instead of returning to the ruins of their villages.

He had smiled at you in that soft way you knew, had given you the unbroken strip of apple skin he peeled, had discussed new theories and topics with you by the light of the fire.

“Are you coming down?” Faramir smirked at you. “Or are you going to add to that dangerously heavy pile in your hands?”

You shook your head and started down the ladder, feeling the rungs with your feet. 

The library was empty, the librarian having gone home for the day. Light rain pattered on the windows and a fire crackled somewhere in the room. The library, of all places, had remained the most unchanged. There was something comforting in that, in the musky smells of books and paper, of the plush chairs and rickety stools. 

As you neared the bottom, your foot slipped, misjudging the distance to the floor, and you stumbled. Instead of hard stone, you were met with a firm chest at your back and a hand on your waist.

Had Faramir always been this warm and big?

“Are you alright?”

You felt the rumble of his chest, his breath by your ear. 

His hand, large, heavy, burned through the thin silk of your dress.

“Yes, thank you.” You stepped out of his touch and fumbled with the books in your arms, rearranging them into a neat stack. Valar, what has gotten into you? It was just Faramir. You shoved the books into his arms and turned away. “Next time you can go up on the ladder.”

“I think I would flatten you if I fell.”

“I’ll be sure to step out of the way.” You forced a laugh and wandered down the aisle. You heard him follow after you, his steps slow and steady. 

How could such a simple thing affect you so? It was not as though you were so wholly inexperienced; there had been one or two sweethearts in the past, though most of them were short lived.

 Had there been anyone for Faramir? Some pretty thing with a perfect education who could recite poetry and embroider and dance?

Your stomach churned and the twisting feeling in your heart squeezed the traitorous words up your throat. “You know, I am surprised you have not found a partner yet. I would think that the offers must be pouring in.”

“Why would you think such a thing?” He was closer now, just behind you, and you could hear the dismay in his voice. 

“The maids, they love to gossip.” You laughed, but it sounded hollow to your ears. “I spoke to a couple of them when I went down to the kitchens two nights ago.”

He fell in step with you and you glanced at him. There was a small smile on his lips but his eyes looked clouded. “There have been offers, yes, but I have declined them all.”

“Unable to find a suitable one?” You arched an eyebrow at him.

“It is not a question of suitability. There is no need for me to choose a partner for their station or standing. Such things never mattered to me, even more so since my family’s passing. I would much rather have someone’s genuine love and affection.”

Of course he would say something of that sort. You smiled to yourself, heart warming at his words. They would be lucky, whoever he loved. 

The rain fell harder against the glass and thunder rumbled. You glanced at the window, a memory coalescing in your mind. “Is the little alcove still here? The one behind the curtain?

Faramir grinned and inclined his head towards the back of the library. “I believe so, though it has been some years since I have sat in it.”

He led you to the back of the library where a narrow velvet curtain hung in the corner. He drew the fabric back to reveal a cosy space with a wooden bench built into the wall by the window. The lantern that hung from the low ceiling was dusty and unlit.

You padded over to the bench, bending and inspecting the corners. “It is still here,” you breathed, tracing the two sets of initials carved into the wood. “I cannot believe it.”

He leaned over you, so close that you could inhale his scent. Sandalwood and something, paper perhaps, or mild soap. “So it is.”

You looked up and Faramir’s face was mere centimetres away. Were there always so many yellow flecks in his grey eyes? And his lips… did they always look so soft and inviting? 

All you would have to do would be tilt your head, and your lips would connect…

You stepped back and waved stiffly at the lantern. “Shall we light this? We could read here. If you’d like.”

He glanced at the narrow bench. There would be no doubt that the both of you would have to be pressed up in some way to fit. 

“If you would like. I think there are might be some oil on the librarian’s desk, and a lit candle, I could —”

“I’ll go.” 

You turned around and marched away, pressing your hands to your hot cheeks when you were safely hidden by the shelves. You took a breath. It was just Faramir. You would find the oil and the candles and sit and read with him, and think nothing of lips or kissing or how solid he had felt behind you.

-

Faramir was in a hell of his own making. Truly, it had been all his fault. For the first time, he cursed his gentle nature. If he had chosen not to speak and steered you away from the instrument shop…

How could he have forgotten that he was not the only friend you had made in your youth?

Elphir, the boy, no, the man who made lutes and drums had been one of them as well. And how could Faramir have denied you when you had lit up at the sight of the old shop and nearly tripped over your feet rushing to the door? And when you had asked if Elphir could come to the Citadel in the evenings to teach you how to play, he could not find it in himself to refuse you, even as discomfort settled deep in his stomach.

In some fantastical lapse of judgement, or perhaps in some foolish notion to watch over you, he had offered the sheltered courtyard below his sitting room to you and Elphir, and now music drifted into the room. Teasing, taunting, tormenting in the way it would mingle with your laughs. 

He strode over to the window and slammed it shut.

For five evenings now, you had rushed off after dinner to Elphir, returning to your rooms after your lesson without seeing him. The pot of tea you usually shared with him in the evenings sat unfinished and cold on the table each night. Faramir sagged against the stone pillar and stared up at the vaulted ceiling. If Boromir was alive, he would call Faramir a fool and insist that he go over and chase the man away. But what right did he have? 

He was not your lover or your partner, and even if he was, it would be unreasonable to get upset over you spending time with another, especially for something as innocent as music lessons. Faramir was your friend and… 

He was your friend. 

His breath hitched as the thought rippled through his body. Somewhere in the past three weeks he had forgotten that. 

When he had written to you, inviting you to the city, he had only planned to reconnect with an old friend. Someone who got along with him, who understood what his family had been like, who was not a soldier or a subordinate. 

He did not intend to be run away with his feelings.

He had grown used to you in the Steward’s House. Your shawl was draped over a chair, the table was always laid for two, you wished him goodnight in the evening before you retired. He had even considered clearing the set of rooms next to his own for you so that you did not have to walk through two corridors just to visit him.

But alas, you were not his.

“Faramir!” You burst into the room with a wide smile on your face and he startled. You slowed your steps, tilting your head and lowered the arm that held your lute aloft. “Is something the matter?”

He shook his head and tried to smile. “I was just deep in thought. How was your lesson?”

“There is something I want to show you.” You wandered over to the cushioned seats by the fire. “Will you sit?”

He nodded and sat in the lone arm chair instead of sharing the bench with you. Your brows creased for a moment before you shook your head and positioned your hands on the lute. 

A haunting melody began to fill the room. It was simple, no more than five or six notes that changed subtly every few bars. It tugged at something in his mind, a dream perhaps, or a memory. 

A woman humming, a gentle hand on his cheek, the comforting scent of beeswax.

“My mother,” he whispered, frozen where he sat. “She used to sing this to Boromir and me. To get us to sleep.”

Your playing petered out and you looked up at him. “You used to hum it when we were younger, when you thought no one could hear.” You laid your lute to the side. “Elphir taught me the basics of playing. I taught myself the song. In the night, after my classes.”

He felt the corners of his eyes start to burn and he glanced away. How could he not love you now? 

“I am sorry, if I shouldn’t have —”

“Please do not apologise. I…” He shook his head and dabbed at his eyes. “ She would be happy to hear these rooms filled with her music once more.”

You came over to him and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, your thumb soothing the tension in his muscles with its idle strokes. His eyes focused and unfocused on the decorative ribbons on the bodice of your dress. The crackle of the fire and the rhythmic sound of breathing filled the space between your bodies. He felt your hand drift towards the side of his neck, your thumb just grazing the edge of his jaw, and he slowly, slowly looked up at you.

Your eyes were soft and half-lidded, your lips slightly parted.

He did not dare move, did not dare breathe.

“Faramir.” He shivered at the sigh in your voice. “I—”

A knock sounded on the door and you jerked away from him. Cold air replaced where your heated hand had been. 

A muffled voice came through the door. “I have your tea, sir.”

“The tea,” he muttered, rising to his feet. “Would you like to…”

“It has been a long day,” you said, snatching up your lute and striding to the door. “I… Goodnight.”

You flung the door open and he heard the startled squeak of the maid followed by the rapid patter of your footsteps. 

-

You slammed your room door shut behind you and leaned against it. Your breaths came short and quick, chest heaving and skin searing. 

 What had you almost done? What words were going to spill from your traitorous lips? 

It was just Faramir. 

Just… a friend.

You shook your head and slumped to the floor. There was nothing decidedly friendly about what had just passed between the both of you. And… and what? What could possibly happen between you and him? You had an estate waiting for you in Lebennin, there were people who needed your instruction and leadership. And Faramir was the Steward of Gondor; the people needed him as well.

Your trip to Minas Tirith was supposed to be nothing more than a visit to an old friend. You had forgotten yourself. For so many years you had run the estate on your own, had resigned yourself to quiet meals in the day and lonely nights in the study. There was no time, no place, to entertain such ridiculous notions like love.

And yet…

You stared at your hands, hands that had held him for just a moment, had felt the coarseness of his beard and the beat of his heart. 

Want burned in you. 

Want for his lips, his hands. For his gentle smile, for his joyous laughter. For a permanent seat at the table, for space on his shelves for your books.

-

Faramir stared at the tea tray on the table. Two cups, two saucers. A full pot of tea. 

He stroked the side of his jaw, his own fingers feeling indelicate compared to your touch. There was no mistaking the look in your eyes, desire mixed with tenderness. Perhaps it was not so ridiculous to think that you might return at least a fraction of what he felt for you. 

His stomach swooped and a strangled laugh burst from him. 

But was it just a flash of fancy, borne from the moment? A reckless action in the dim of the night?

Were you going to slip from him, retreat back into your shell of polite distance? He would not be able to bear it, to hear your stilted words, to have you shrink away from his casual touches. To have you vanish again, taking your laughter and your light away with you.

Should he go to you? Would that be impertinent? But he had lost you once before with his inaction, and only a fool would not learn from their mistakes.

-

You tugged the borrowed cloak on your shoulders closer around you. It smelled like Faramir, like sandalwood and that evasive something, ink perhaps. Mist had descended on the Citadel and drifted across the parapets like sheer curtains. Your steps were soft on the stone and you wandered from torch to torch, veering closer for warmth, roaming further for the cover of shadow. The guards paid you little attention, and the stars overhead twinkled unbothered. 

Twice you had tried to walk to Faramir’s room, twice you had turned on your heel and fled back to your rooms. In the end, your room had become stifling and you rushed out into the open air. 

Your blood had cooled and, now in the starkness of the open night, you felt foolish. 

You paused by the old watchtower, leaning on the cold stone and staring down at the Houses of Healing. You would apologise when you saw him next, and then perhaps it was time to return to the family estate…

Muffled footsteps approached and you turned. 

Faramir emerged from the mist, still in his day clothes, his hair mussed and his eyes tired. 

“Faramir,” you whispered, arms falling to your sides. You opened your mouth to speak, but your rehearsed speech refused to leave your lips.

He came to a stop in front of you, a disarming smile on his face. “Somehow, I am not surprised to find you here.”

“Were you looking for me?”

He nodded, and amusement coloured his smile. “I suppose, in a way, I have always been looking for you.”

“Is there something you wanted from me?”

His twinkling eyes grew serious. “I wished to speak to you.”

You turned away, suddenly unsure, but his hand reached for yours. His thumb caressed your knuckles and you lifted your eyes to him. “What about?”

“I think you already know.”

You swallowed and tried to speak, but the words stayed lodged in your throat, and your eyes fell to your joined hands. 

“I have never been good at disguising my feelings,” he said, voice soft and low. “I am sure you must be aware…”

Aware? Aware of what? His feelings? That he only viewed you as a friend, and that perhaps you had taken advantage of his kindness, mistaken it for affection and…

His fingers skimmed your chin, gently urging it up. His grey eyes were alight, burning almost, with an open passion so rarely seen in him. You scarcely dared to look away. Your heart pounded in your ears. 

“Perhaps I have always loved you, even before I realised what that word meant. I was too young, too naive.” He cupped your cheek and you leaned into his touch. “But we are older now. And I can say for certain that I… I —”

You surged forward and pressed your lips to his. They were pillowy and soft and carried a trace of bitterness from the tea. He deepened the kiss, pulling you flush against him. You laid a hand on his chest, fingers splaying across his heart. He sighed into your lips, his exhale hot on your skin. You felt him grin and you nudged his nose with yours. 

“I think,” you muttered, “I have wanted to do that for a long time now.”

He laughed and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You are welcome to do it any time you wish.”

“Faramir, why me? And after so many years since we last saw each other.”

“Can such a thing truly be explained?” He hummed to himself. “I suppose the simplest answer I can give is that you bring me joy. And perhaps also, I think we make good partners. We have always made good partners.”

You sobered at his words. “Faramir, we are not children anymore. My estate… I cannot leave it unmanaged. And I have neglected my duties already these past weeks.”

“We will find a way,” he assured. “It is only a full day’s ride from Minas Tirith, is it not?”

“Less, if one has a good horse.”

“Less, I think, if you had the reins.” He chuckled. “We are not children anymore, yes, but that only means that we can truly do as we wish. As we choose.” 

You mulled over his words. “And you would choose to have a busy bride, to have to make trips out to the country with her?”

“I choose to have you.” He stroked your cheek. “And you, my love? What would you choose?”

“I choose, I think,” you said with a smile, “to remain where I have always belonged.”

“In Minas Tirith?”

“With you.”

He grinned and wrapped his arms around you. He laughed into your hair and you tucked your nose into his neck. You inhaled his scent, thinking of the unknown, familiar note in it that always eluded you. Thinking of how it smelled like rain and books, of apple peels and bitter tea.

Thinking of how, perhaps, it smelled like home. 

---

If you made it this far, holy shit thank you for reading.

I characterised Faramir a little bit differently here. I think I have a tendency to conflate kindness with passivity when it comes to him, but I think he can be pretty intense if he wanted to be.

And also, I feel like this entire piece is tinged with the bittersweetness of growing up, but I hope that it veered more sweet than bitter. To you young'uns out there, truly, I promise you, it is not terrible to grow up ❤️

Taglist: @sotwk

[elficially-done-with-life]

Faramir trying to tell you he is in love with you:

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

It takes him a while to realise that he is in love with you

When he realises it, he's nervous as hell, even if he tries not to show it on the outside

Nevertheless, you notice that he often nervously tucks his hair behind his ears or avoids your gaze

It takes him a lot of effort to admit that he's in love with you to himself because he is sure he isn't good enough for you

The first person he told was Boromir, who was overjoyed that there was someone like you to make his brother so happy

He encourages Faramir to talk to you

Faramir invites you for a walk through the forest, as he has realised how much you like nature and animals

You talked about all sorts of things for a while, but at some point he stopped and avoided your gaze

He seemed nervous, but then you gently reached for his hand

His voice was quiet as he confessed his feelings to you

When he finally looked you in the eye again, you smiled softly and gently wrapped your arms around him

[kat651]

Do you have a masterlist?! I would love to stalk your writing hehe!

sorry it took forever for me to answer (i honestly haven’t made one before right now so I had to figure it out it took way longer than I expected)

🎶= Lindir

📚=elrond

🏹=legolas

🍁=thranduil

🪵thorin

🌱bilbo

💙faramir

🍀haldir

🗡️Aragorn

🐟bard

❤️Boromir

Fili🧿

Kili🪨

secret admirer 🎶

Hurt/comfort 💙

self harm elf pt 1 🎶&📚

self harm elf pt 2 🏹&🍁

self harm elf pt 3 🍀

shark week 🎶

ballet 📚

ticklish 🎶

dancing 📚

princess 🎶

sleepless night 🎶

rescue 🐟

bloodthirsty 🎶

song 🗡️

Boromir ❤️

Vitiligo🎶

ears 🎶📚🏹🍁

short🏹

Lovestruck 🎶

love confession 🍁📚🪵🌱🪨🧿

Gandalf’s apprentice 📚

hope your happy, stalker 😂

[mlmxreader]

Fates Entangled | Faramir x m!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ May I request faramir x mreader with prompts "My apologies, I didn't mean to wake you" and "Can you stay a while?" With reader being an apprentice of gandalf? ❞

: ̗̀➛ Faramir was more than happy to take on Gandalf's apprentice as one of his own men, but what seems to be fortune may just be fate itself conspiring.

: ̗̀➛ n/a

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

To begin with, you were happy with your position; being Gandalf's apprentice, you had grown up under the watchful eye of the wizard, and he had become a sort of father figure to you as well as your mentor.

You loved him, of course, but when you eventually grew up, he had granted you the one thing that you had ever wanted: freedom.

Just like any other wizard, you were to set your sights on the world around you and to begin an independent journey to see where you would best be suited - whether that meant acting as a helper and guardian of the woods like Radagast, or being a bit of a troublemaker like Gandalf.

You had to find your own path, and after many years of searching, you had stumbled upon Faramir.

Captain of the Rangers of Ithilien, Faramir was all too happy to welcome a wizard into his ranks, even though you did explain to him that you weren't quite a fully fledged wizard just yet - you still had years ahead to graduate from an apprentice, but he understood.

Forever living in his brother's shadow, Faramir understood all too well.

He was glad to welcome you, as you were around the same age as he was - a couple of months younger, but no more than that - and to have Gandalf's apprentice on his side meant a great deal to the Rangers.

But it was through him that you learned more practical skills - he taught you how to use a bow and arrow, as well as a sword and daggers; he told you that it would be for your own defence when the time came, if he was not around to protect you.

But you appreciated it nonetheless.

As a present for your birthday the day you left his shadow to become your own man, Gandalf had bestowed upon you a sword. It was made from the scales of a dragon, with its handle made from the leather of the beast, and the sharp edges merged with the claws and teeth.

It could cut through almost anything.

Faramir said it was a fine blade, but always refused when you tried to give it to him as thanks for all he did; you didn't understand why, but you were sure that he had good reason to.

Of all the men you had met, Faramir was by far the most intelligent, and you complimented him on that often, even if it did make his features turn a slight pinkish colour.

But that was all years ago, and now you had been serving at his side for so long that he had happily given you the position of his right-hand man.

You were honoured, of course, but you were sure that he had men in his ranks who were better suited. He would just shake his head and tell you that there were no men like you.

It was an awful night, really.

Stone cold and damp, and although you tried various spells to help, you couldn't quite fall asleep; so you got up, gingerly leaving your bed and carefully making your way over to Faramir.

You knelt down beside him, and gently shook his shoulder; he turned over, eyes wide as he gasped for a second.

Immediately, his demeanour softened when he saw you, and he cleared his throat.

"My apologies, I didn't mean to wake you so rudely," you whispered softly.

He sat up, shaking his head. "Is something the matter?"

"I can't sleep," you admitted, frowning. "I know, I know it's a trivial and foolish thing but-"

"Come with me," Faramir grumbled as he yawned, daring to stretch for a moment.

He allowed your fingers to lace with his as he lead you away, further down so that the others Rangers did not stir and could not hear; he lead you to a small clearing.

Standing as tall soldiers, the trees eagerly kept watch, and the brambles bristled as they prepared to bite into anyone who dared to push past them.

Faramir knelt down, starting a fire and gesturing for you to sit beside him once it began to crackle.

Against the slowly brightening skies, the flames seemed to spew orange stars into the heavens, the crackling almost musical as the orange and red danced before your eyes.

Faramir gently pulled you closer, putting his arm around you.

"This ought to help," he told you. "When I can't sleep, I always come here and watch the fire until I eventually get there."

He was about to move, when you gently grabbed his wrist. "Can you stay a while? Please?"

He nodded, daring to smile a little. "Of course."

Settling down beside you, Faramir did his best not to tense up when you laid your head on his shoulder; his face felt suddenly warm, although he knew that it was not the fire that made it feel that way.

His heart pounded and thumped when you laid your hand on his knee, and he had to force himself to swallow hard so that he didn't get a lump in his throat. He had been having those reactions for a while, but only ever when he was around you.

"You're warm," you whispered, pressing your face to the side of his neck.

"I do apologise," he murmured.

"No, I... I like it," you said softly. "You're always very warm."

An odd sensation washed over him, causing his chest to feel both empty and constricted at the same time. His eyes went wide, and he could not beat the smile that spread across his lips.

"You're always so cold," he admitted quietly. "I like it."

"May I?" You asked softly, gesturing to his lap.

Faramir quietly told you that you could, and when you settled yourself on him, he couldn't even try to pretend not to smile. His hands eager and greedy as he rested them at your thighs to keep you steady, his eyes hungry and ravenous as he settled them on your lips.

"I shouldn't..."

"Why not?"

"We're friends," Faramir sighed. "And I don't believe that my father would be pleased if I were to... get myself involved in a wizard's business."

You laughed softly. "And you think Gandalf would be any better?"

"That is a good point," he admitted with a quiet chortle. "But what do you think, wizard?"

You shrugged, putting your hands on his shoulders. "I think that these days dictate our fate, and... and I would like to think that my fate is entangled with yours like the roots of the trees."

"You are a good man," Faramir murmured, the words almost concealed under his breath. "And an even better wizard..."

Gently, he gripped your hand, slowly dragging it from his shoulder so that he could place it against his chest; sneaking your fingertips under his open shirt so that you could feel the gentle and steady thump of his heart beneath his warm skin.

"And I would be honoured to have my fate entangled with yours," he told you. "If you would have me."

You nodded, daring to smile as you cleared your throat. "I would always have you, Faramir."

"Then it's settled."

[cauliflowertree]

faramir - kiss me like you want to be loved.

summary: a long-awaited confession.

word count: 2.4k

fanfic no. 041

a/n: boromir lives because i say so.

it was a difficult farewell between the close brothers of gondor. but both were optimistic they would reunite not too far in the future—both were astute and praised warriors, trained from the day each of them could hold a sword upright.

between you and faramir, the cautious goodbye was somewhat tainted in awkwardness. neither of you were brave enough at the present moment to admit the feelings that plagued you both, effecting judgement, sleep and the completion of even minor tasks for many years now.

“farewell, y/n,” he spoke softly, a hitch in his breath, hesitantly raising an arm, wondering if he was crossing the delicate line of propriety.

“farewell, faramir,” you replied, abandoning predetermined notions of decorum as you finished what he had started, pulling him into a quick embrace, the first you had ever shared. and perhaps the last.

when you released him from your hold, his gaze was fixed upon you, awestruck from the emotions that arose within him from such a simple gesture, beginning to regret that he could not take his brothers place and curse the father that did not trust him with the task. with his mouth agape, and eyes almost sleepy, and heart in torment, he watched you back away from him, stepping into line with his older brother.

he was the last citizen of gondor to remain at the city’s uppermost region, watching you and his brother ride off into the horizon. as such, he felt an abyss form within his stomach, guilt rousing it all the more from the words he left unspoken. he had waved his brother off jeopardy, but of his life he was not as concerned as he was with yours. all his youth and adulthood, he had admired you from afar, shadowed you everywhere you ventured, unstable when he was not near you.

and now, you crossed middle earth without him, courage and bravery in your heart as you promised to fight for those who could not, if the task should fall to you. he had failed to seize the opportunity to reveal to you the object of his desires. and now, as you disappeared into the distance, he feared it was too late for another opportunity to present itself.

he may see no tomorrow, what with the armies of mordor inching closer to minas tirith, each time leaving gondor with fewer men to defend its borders.

but he hoped, he let himself hope.

｡+ﾟ☆���+｡★｡+ﾟ☆ﾟ+｡★｡+ﾟ☆ﾟ+｡★｡+ﾟ☆ﾟ+｡

the trials of the fellowship had taken much of your spirit, only to be stressed by the fall of gandalf the grey. the elderly wizard had provided you with much wisdom and a perfected skillset, and his absence was dearly felt, but by no one more than yourself, someone he might have considered his family.

frodo and sam had begun the disbandment of your company, leaving you behind to pursue a trickier path, but one they must face alone. boromir had been seriously injured, almost fatally, enough that merry and pippin had been captured by an orc pack. but they had now returned, safe and sound where they belonged. though, dear pippin could not stay out of trouble for long.

and gandalf, it seemed, could not stay fallen for long.

“what’s going to happen to me?” asked pippin gloomily, kicking pieces of hay in the barn as you waited for gandalf.

“nothing is going to happen to you, dear pippin. you are safe from sauron if you remain with me and gandalf,” you assured him, ruffling his loose, curly locks.

“how long have you known gandalf?” asked pippin curiously.

“oh! a long time now—since my infancy. he took me under his wing long ago, and i have much to be grateful for,” you smiled fondly.

“i don’t think he likes me,” pippin frowned. “but then, i suppose, i am very accident prone.”

“i think sometimes you do without thinking. but you are young, and gandalf knows this. but he has lived many years, and can sometimes forget what ails the youth, such as yourself,” you explained, and added: “he cares for your safety, otherwise he would not get so angry.”

pippin seemed to accept this truth with a sunny disposition, his mood greatly improving upon hearing your explanation, taking it for nothing but the truth.

“merry!” he cried, rushing off to greet his friend.

“y/n,” called boromir, offering you a full water canister, in addition to your own. “do send my brother my well wishes.”

“of course, boromir. i am sure he will be delighted to hear of you.”

boromir laughed lightly. “yes, a brother’s bond is strong. though, i am sure he will be much more inclined to be delighted with your return.”

you smiled bashfully, turning away as heat crept into your cheeks. a hearty laugh sounded from behind you, and boromir clapped your back. “i see much,” he reminded you. "safe journey!" he called as he exited the barn in search of aragorn.

with a weepy send off between merry and pippin, you, gandalf and pippin set off for minas tirith. a flutter in your heart arose at the chance of seeing faramir again, barely entertaining the thought that he had fallen to an orc’s sword or axe. faramir was the best of his ranks, no doubt he was alive and well. and boromir’s encouragement did little to settle your nerves—the thought of reciprocation was almost too much to bear.

three day’s ride felt like nothing, despite the tribulations you’d been through these past months, for faramir awaited at the end of your journey. as the white city peeked above the distant horizon, shaded with hues of pink and orange, you pushed faster through the expanse that kept you from your destination.

pippin slept against gandalf’s chest, somehow unbothered by the erratic journey. and before long, your two horses were climbing the streets of minas tirith, warning passersby of your coming. the white tree in pippin's vision stood strong, undead—a ray of hope remained for frodo and sam.

you were home.

some hours had passed in gondor, no faramir in sight, and within that time the steward had made perfectly clear he would not call for aide, nor would he accept the ranger as king. but it all temporarily came to naught as the cries of nazgûl sounded from beyond the city walls.

hundreds of horses raced from osgaliath across the grassy expanse, fleeing from the fight they could not win against such forces. the winged beasts took them from above, grasping several men and horses between their talons and launching them through the air.

your sank through your chest, palms instantly bearing sweat as you feared for faramir’s safe return. he was, quite clearly, outnumbered by many, though he had proved to make a rational decision in the midst of war by ordering his men to fall back. still, the terror that gripped you was all-consuming, almost enough to bring you to your knees, for you could scarcely bear to watch.

you turned to gandalf in silent, desperate worry, and he understood the urge you felt to flee the castle walls and help in some way if you could, if it meant they would be saved.

you and gandalf rode out. a light from gandalf’s staff, bright and unrelenting forced the nazgûl away and brought the army of men to safety, faramir included. you could see him, almost clearly in the ranks of his men, riding fast to the city gate. he dared to turn and meet your gaze. the fear had subsided, though the adrenaline remained, and you breathed a heavy sigh of relief, closing your eyes and letting the wind whip through your hair as you silently thanked silent forces for this fortune.

when the danger had slipped away, faramir dismounted his horse and wasted no time in approaching you. he was breathless, tired, but alert. it was a quick, silent moment you thought he might break with a laugh or a welcoming embrace, but instead, questioned you of his brother, to which you informed him of his safety and health. he turned to pippin with a start next, filling you and gandalf with unbridled hope as he revealed he had seen two halflings alive and well not so long ago.

and afterwards, with as much decorum between the two of you as distant strangers, he walked with you and gandalf to meet his father. quietly, he fell back in line with you, conversing with you rather formally, despite that not ten minutes before he almost deserted decency to embrace you without hesitation. but he restrained himself, for what reason he could not quite remember.

entering the castle, feeling, finally, much safer now that he was deep within the city, he let himself look at you. you seemed well, and he hoped that was how you truly felt too. he thought of you often in your absence, though over time, little details and intricacies of your features had slipped away from memory. but now that they were before him again, he smiled familiarly, admiring you for all that you were.

“i must replenish myself,” faramir informed you, hoping you might follow him so he would be blessed with a moment alone with you.

“yes, of course,” was your meek response.

he hesitated slightly, unaware if you had caught onto his subtle indication and were politely refusing or whether it had passed over your head completely. and so he left without another word, jaw clenched and shaking his head at the fool he had made himself look.

“well, aren’t you going to follow him?” asked pippin in disbelief when he was far enough away that his little comment would go unheard.

“whatever do you mean, little one?” you asked with a scoff.

“that is clearly a man who wishes to be followed!”

you trailed his gaze, catching faramir looking behind, but laughed it off instantly. “i- no. you’re mistaken.”

“i am not!” replied pippin, looking to gandalf for approval.

you looked to the old wizard yourself too, hoping for assurance on your behalf, but found nothing of the sort as he smirked at pippin and raised his eyebrows. with nothing leaving his lips, you understood perfectly the meaning of his silence.

most embarrassed by the scene, you hurried off in pursuit of the gentlemen who had left you behind in the hopes that you would follow. but for all your desires that he might wish for you the way you wished for him, catching the signs of this reciprocation was much more complicated than you might have imagined.

you turned down many passages, walked through several corridors, completely in the dark as to where he might have gone. you were so caught up in looking for him, in fact, that you missed him completely, and only found yourself face to face with the man when he called you back.

he had been staring at an old piece of art in the castle, one he must have seen and admired a dozen times before, but had needed something with which to occupy himself as he waited and hoped to see you.

“i was looking for you,” was all you spoke, unsure of how to begin.

“you found me, it seems,” he laughed. “with a little aid.”

he let his smile fade slowly, searching for the words in his crowded mind so that he might perfectly convey all that he thought in regards to his feelings for you. he gestured to an empty bench before the painting that hung tall, sitting close beside you.

“i have been meaning, for some time now, to tell you that which i have kept from you,” he began, keeping you on the edge of your seat. “from our youth, though i did not know it then, i have felt for you something i have never felt for another. and…” his breath was trembling, his eyes fixed to his hands. you took them warmly into yours, and this forced him to meet your eyes, where he found the utmost encouragement. “and when you left those weeks ago, i have regretted every moment since that i did not tell you then exactly how i felt.”

“and how do you feel?” you asked him, needing to hear it after so long.

“i feel…i feel as if- as if you- no. when i am in battle,” said he, “and my sword is kicked from my grasp, the enemy bearing down upon me, it is not, though perhaps it should be, for my men that i find the strength to stand again, to fight with my bare hands if i must. it is not for the approval of my father, nor even for my brother. when i am an inch from death, i find my strength in you, i find my courage in you. my hope, in the thought that i would see you again.”

“faramir,” you whispered through a breath of disbelief, that an honourable man such as he would care for you so deeply, a wayward soul under the influence of a wandering wizard. “i could not wish for a better man to have said these words to me. you are the best i could hope for, and truly i did hope for you,” you laughed through your tears, struggling to find breath under the weight of this joyous revelation.

“my y/n,” he chuckled, his teary eyes following the down-turn of your head as you pulled his hands up to your lips.

cupping your jaw delicately, he raised your eye-line to meet his, gazing upon you like a revered work of art. softly, he brushed your tears away with the pad of his thumb, leaning in cautiously but eagerly for something which the both of you had craved for an eternity. his mouth brushed yours tentatively, opening your lips to accommodate his own. and the pair of you were set ablaze, suddenly and feverishly reaching for each other as if you were not close enough already—his tunic gripped between your fingers, your hand over his neck while his arm snuck around your waist and fingers tangled into your hair.

distantly, he heard his father’s bellows, and it pulled him from you reluctantly. resting his forehead against yours, he regained much of the breath he had lost in your shared embrace, taking a moment to recover.

“i must go,” he said lowly, the baritone in his voice causing you to shiver.

“come and find me when you are done.”

“i would not think to do anything else,” he whispered, kissing the crown of your head before stoically marching towards his father’s inevitable disapproval.

though his approval, in comparison to yours, was trivial.

🏷 @velvetcloxds @entishramblings

[findely-fantasy]

SFW Alphabet: Faramir

Template

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Faramir tends to be a bit bashful when providing affection. He doesn't dislike it, but it can sometimes make him shy. He loves showering you with subtle but romantic forms of affection like giving you a flower he picked off the side of the trail or kissing/nuzzling your cheek.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Faramir would be a great best friend. He would do his best to make sure that you are respected (and will throw hands with anyone who dares insult you). He loves spending time with you and will plan his days around the two of you hanging out. Overall, he's very supportive and just wants you to feel happy and safe in the friendship you have with him.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Faramir really likes cuddling with you! His favorite way to cuddle is any position where he gets to burry his face into the crook of your neck. He also likes it when you rest on top of him and he gets to play with your hair or rub your back.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He 100% wants to settle down, and he's really good at cooking and cleaning too. He taught himself these things pretty early on in his life, so you never have to worry if you require a helping hand!

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

If he ever had to break up with a S/O, Faramir would be really sad about it. Most likely the breakup is for the best, even if it is disappointing. He never wants to hurt the ones he loves, so tears would be shed during the actual breaking-up process. He would still stay close friends with you though.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Faramir is committed and is ready to marry you whenever you're ready to get married. He is content with being patient if you'd rather wait, but he wouldn't have a problem with getting married quickly, especially after an engagement.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Physically he's very gentle. Whenever he touches you, you almost don't feel it because his touch is feather-light. Emotionally he's gentle too: his eyes hold the deepest affection for you, and he's not one to raise his voice toward you, like, ever. If he does raise his voice, it's to defend you or someone else.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He loves them! He especially likes it when he can burry his face into the top of your head and breathe in the sweet smell of your freshly washed hair or more casual hugs where he gets to press a kiss to your temple.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He says it pretty fast, but it takes him a bit longer than he would have liked to build up to the statement. He thinks that you are such a wonderful and beautiful person, which made him nervous to tell you. Also, he didn't want to ruin your friendship if you didn't feel the same way. So in short: he said it fast but thought went into the process of telling you.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He doesn't get jealous to an extreme, because he knows that you are just as devoted to him as he is to you. When he does get jealous, he lets others know that your heart belongs to him alone (a sentiment that you agree with greatly). He's always there to defend you with words or sword if ever someone is making you uncomfortable as well.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

His kisses can range from deep and passionate to casual or playful depending on the situation and both of your moods. He likes to kiss you on the forehead and really likes kissing your jawline. Faramir likes to be kissed primarily on the mouth and on the top or palm of his hands.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He likes them! Because of his upbringing, he's always kind to them and listens intently when they speak. He would love to have some of his own someday!

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Mornings with Faramir are spent slowly. He likes to wake you up by gently rubbing your shoulder or back and then spending the next thirty minutes or so holding you close. When you two are in a hurry, you work together to make sure that you're both ready for the day so that you are on time for whatever tasks need to be completed.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights are relaxing. In the evenings you two will go on walks together and then come home to eat dinner. Once you both have eaten, you two will wash up together and hop into bed to sleep.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Faramir opens up slowly, which is part of the reason why it took him awhile to confess his true feelings to you. He carries a lot of insecurities with him because of the way his father treated him when he was younger, and it pains him to bring it up. However, he knows how patient you are, especially as he gets to know you, and your warmness allows him to open up more and more over time without fear of judgement.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He's not easily angered and is really only angry if someone wrongs you.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He remembers so much about you to the point that it's impressive. He has things like your favorite flower, what books you like to read, and the order in which you do certain activities memorized. He collects little details about you and keeps them in his heart and mind forever. It's a sort of love language for him.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

His favorite moment in your relationship is your first anniversary together. He loved knowing that your love for him ran deeper than the surface, and was excited to find that you wanted to spend more time with him after that first year as well. He looks back at that memory with fondness.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Like I said before, Faramir does not get angry unless someone hurts you. If someone were to hurt you with words or force, he would address it right away and make sure that that person never came near you again (if they hurt you on purpose. In situations where someone accidentally hurt you, he would be more patient and would try to find where/how the accident or miscommunication occurred.

Faramir likes it when you defend him with your words. He didn't have very many instances where people stood up for him (besides his brother) so it's nice when you speak up on his behalf.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He puts in a lot of time, especially when he has the time to give. He loves setting up little things for you like a bath with candles or a picnic on the first day of spring. He's really particular about dates so he never misses your birthday or any other important calendar days.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He can be very insecure with himself, which causes him to doubt.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He's concerned to a certain extent. He always makes sure that he's clean and that he looks neat, but his looks are not something that get a lot of attention beyond that unless it's a special occasion.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yes and No. Faramir was able to find out a lot about himself through you, but ultimately he knows that he is his own person and that he would be fine with or without a partner.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He knows a lot about different things related to nature, specifically flowers. Plants provide him a lot of peace, and he can see his own strength in the branches of a tree or the stem of a flower.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

In general he doesn't like it when people put down others to make themselves feel better. It makes him uncomfortable and he always speaks up if he witnesses it.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He feels the most comfortable sleeping on his stomach. If you're sleeping together, he will often wrap his arm around your waist as he rests. He also sleeps really deeply. Once he's asleep he's out for the count.

[sorrow-and-bliss]

Courting Faramir

Just some headcanons for courting Faramir. The Bestest Boi.

Warnings: None.

The Most Unassuming Guy Ever™

Even tempered.

Always seems to have a gentle smile on his face.

If cool wind blows, Faramir would give you his cloak.

Lightning fast reflexes.

Faramir is non-aggressively protective. It's sort of a quiet awareness.

Honestly, this guy is probably one of the respectful dudes out there.

Having been raised in the court he is likely a good dancer.

The most courtly gentleman ever.

Bouquets of wildflowers.

Kisses on your hand.

Gentle strolls in Ithilian.

Gondorians would adore you because Captain Faramir has exceptional taste.

Sometimes you race horses.

He took you to Henneth Annun. (glass waterfall curtain place)

Happy to spend hours in Minas Tirith's archives, pouring over history with you.

Probably has a few secret spots in the city he found to hide from his father.

Assisting the poorer folk in the city.

He would not push you to learn defense but would indulge you if you requested it.

He would test different weapons with you, even obscure ones, to find the right match for you.

After you have your perfect assortment, he will get the best instructor for you if it's not himself.

By the time he's done with you, you've become a deadly assassin.

He gives you an armor set all your own.

It's etched with intricate designs, obviously tailored for you.

You watch the sunset together

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Stars - Faramir X Female Reader

Title: Stars

Faramir X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Reader's father (Mentioned), and guards (Mentioned)

Requested by Anon!

WC: 1,018

Warnings: Oblivious Reader, friends to lovers, slight angst, and fluff

The stars, they shine down at you and Faramir just as they did when you were children. It's like their magic never left them - that you're still part of this beautiful universe. And you were beyond happy to be in the same universe with Faramir. You can remember every star from the sky. You know what the constellations meant because you've studied them for so long that you could recite them backward by now. They calmed you, as did Faramir beside you. His hand was in yours as the grass softly tickled you as you lay under the stars. You remembered when you were both kids, running around the courtyard together, dancing together, and pranking the guards. You remember laughing so loud that your throat hurt, and most of all… You remember how happy you felt, and what a great day it was until your father called you back home. 

Your friendship never died as the years went on if anything... You grew closer. So much closer, you began to fall for your life-long best friend. The only problem was that you knew Faramir would never feel the same.

And, yet, you were wrong... So wrong.

Faramir was head-over-heels for you. And you had completely missed his obvious signals. Every. Single. Time. When he brought you flowers. No, they were just a sweet gesture from a friend. And that necklace he got you for your birthday? Yeah, what a sweet and caring friend thing to do! And when he told you basically every day that he loved you. Yeah, I love you too, best friend! You were that oblivious. 

And yet, Faramir never stopped trying. He would confess to you every day until you realized his true feelings for you. And yet, here you both were, staring up at the stars above, and he was speechless. He didn't know what to say. What could he say? Everything he had tried left him in the same place he started at. Only a friend. Only a confidant. 

"Y/N," He finally spoke up, tilting his head to the side to look at you, "You know I love you?"

You turned your own head, a smile on your face, "Of course, I love you too. You know how important our friendship is to me."

He nodded, looking away again, a blush rising up his cheeks. He then turned back towards you with a hopeful expression in his eyes, “Remember when we used to prank the guards? Tossing pepper in their armor?”

You let out a laugh. “Of course, I remember. It was the best day of my life.”

Faramir hummed, looking back at the sky, “The best day of my life was when I met you.” He confessed, making you blush as you smiled warmly.

“Well, I take my statement back then. The best day of my life was when I met you too.”

Faramir sighed, anxiously shutting his eyes as he listened to the breeze and the crickets. "Will you marry me?"

"What? Faramir? What are you saying?" You asked, as Faramir sat up and you followed.

"I wish you weren't so oblivious, Y/N. For years I've been in love with you. Yet..." Faramir sighed, running a hand through his hair, "You never truly understood that when I said 'I love you,' I meant it romantically."

"But I'm your best friend! I understand everything!" You insisted, shaking your head.

"No, you do not. You do not understand how I feel," He argued, pulling out the box from his pocket before handing it to you. Your fingers brushed against each other as you reached out to take it, finding a small wooden box.

"You were serious?" You looked up at him with wide eyes, "How could I have been so blind? For years?" You looked into his eyes, tears gathering at your eyes, "This is why I thought there must be something else going on with you! You're always so nice to me and I was too dense to realize!" You took a deep breath and wiped away the falling tears, "I am in love with you too, Faramir. I have been since we were children."

"Oh, thank goodness," He said, sighing in relief as he leaned forward and pulled you into an embrace, "It's so good to hear you say those words."

"So good to hear you say those words, too," You smiled against his shoulder, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "I'm sorry I couldn't see it sooner. I’ve been so blind. I thought about all those gifts and kind words… Were just that… Gifts and kind words. Deep down, I was so upset, knowing you probably would never feel the same for me as I feel for you, but I was wrong. And I am so sorry I didn’t see it sooner."

"Don't apologize," He said, smiling softly at you as you separated, "There's no need for apologies. We'll sort it all out later." He then took the wooden box from you, opening it to reveal a ring. 

"Are you not supposed to court me first?" You asked and Faramir blushed, frowning slightly.

"Uh, well, um," He stammered, "If you desire so, we can start courting. I'll save the ring for later." He laughed nervously and you giggled.

"Well, alright then," You replied, reaching out and taking the offered hand on your own. "Let's make the most of it. Together." He squeezed your hand firmly and kissed your knuckles lightly.

"Together," He agreed, kissing your forehead. You grinned and held onto his hand tightly, letting yourself enjoy the warmth and comfort radiating off of him. You were glad that you had finally realized, feeling so foolish about missing his hints, but at least you could admit it now. Yes, you were blind, but Faramir made you see… Though you did regret all the time you and Faramir had lost in your obliviousness, you were glad you had the rest of your lives to spend together. Faramir was a wonderful man, one of a kind. A prince among men. A man of true quality. And you loved him. 

[essenceofarda]

Commission for @musing-and-music, gifted to @torchwood-99 !

‘Lady Eowyn,’ he said at last, unable to justify leaving one who was weeping, without first trying to offer some comfort.  Her head jerked up, confirming what Faramir suspected. She sprung to her feet, and her hand went straight to the hilt of her sword. Faramir held his hands up, and stayed like that, until the lady’s breathing steadied. - "The Lady's Hand" by TeamGwenee/Torchwood-99 Fic Summary: After one escapade too many, Theoden and Eomer decide it's time for Eowyn to wed. (post canon au)

This was such a delight to make (and for a great fic too!) !! Thank you to Musing-and-Music for commissioning me!! Everyone go check out this fic and give it some love <3

More info about my commissions here :)

[minaturefics]

Of the Earth

Request: Could I request a fic faramir x reader where she has stumbled into ithilien and he comes across her? he's all angry at first because it's dangerous, but it ends well :) (they don't have to know each other either)

A/N: This one has more ranger!Faramir which was fun to write. Boromir lives because I say so lol Hope you all enjoy it!

Faramir x Reader

Fem reader

No content warnings

4.1k words

---

You inhaled the cool evening air, breathing in the scent of fir and cedar. You followed the worn path, now dotted with primroses and overgrown with fragrant herbs of thyme and sage, and swept your eyes over the trees and shrubs. Where was the entrance to Henneth Annûn? Idhron mentioned that it would be along the side of the mountain. The dying light of the sun filtered in through the trees and the forest was bathed in a dreamy glow. Ithilien truly was such a beautiful land, even now, still sullied with the lingering darkness of the orcs.

Something rustled behind you and your hand flew to your short sword. Your eyes darted around, breath hitched in your chest. Were there orcs about this evening? Most of them had been driven away, especially after the destruction of the Ring, but there was always the risk of stray orcs around. The forest settled, still and silent, but you kept your steps light and quiet as you continued on. 

You neared the rock face and raised a hand to the rough surface. Idhron had said that the entrance looked little more than a crack, just wide enough for a man, and that what differentiated it from other cracks was the feeling of the stone. He had said that it would be cool and damp, and that there would be a change in the air, a subtle rushing in of the breeze. You continued past a few fissures until you felt exactly what he described. With a final glance behind you, you slipped into the stone. 

You felt along the wall of the crevice, eyes adjusting to the dim, careful not to stumble on any errant stones or steps. There was a faint glow on the wall ahead, orange and warm, and you frowned. Torches? A fire? But Henneth Annûn was supposed to be empty. You drew your sword and rounded the corner. 

“Do not move if you value your life,” a voice said, low and stern. 

You froze and blinked at the hooded figures in front of you. Their weapons were drawn. Your eyes darted to the white tree on the leather breastplates of the men and you relaxed a fraction. 

“Peace,” you said, lowering your sword. “I come from Minas Tirith.”

“We were not informed of any other parties dispatched to Ithilien. And you do not look like a messenger.”

“I come on behalf of Ioreth, of the Houses of Healing.” You sheathed your sword and offered the pommel, where the crest of the white tree was embossed, to the man. “Would the Enemy carry a sword from The White City? I think not.”

The figure threw his hood back and you flinched. Captain Faramir. 

Prince Faramir. 

“My lord,” you murmured, stunned, and he gestured for his company to lower their weapons.

His grey eyes were cold and stern, his lips set in a displeased line. “What are you doing here? Do you not know that there are still dangers lurking in Ithilien?”

“I am well aware. But I have come on a matter of urgency — I am in search of a plant, a herb, that they require. I have been searching for the last two days.”

“And you would dare venture out alone?” He frowned. “Why were we not informed of such an errand? My men and I could have found the plant for you.”

“By the time Ioreth realised what plant she required, your men had already departed. And it is not as though we, in the Houses of Healing, are told where the rangers go.” 

His brow cleared a little but his jaw was still tense. 

“As for leaving the city alone — there were no others we could spare to come with me. Our little band of foragers are not as well staffed as the rangers and guards,” you muttered, a hint of bitterness lacing your tone. “I was not going to let some woman die simply because I had no companion on this quest.”

“I cannot decide if you are brave or foolish,” he muttered and nodded to dismiss his men. They took one final glance at you then wandered off further into the cavern. “How did you find this place?”

“Idhron told me. It was getting dark, so I thought such a shelter would be a good place to camp for the night.”

He sighed and shook his head. “Come, my men were just about to sit and eat before we were alerted to your intrusion. Join us, and we can talk.”

He led you to one of the caverns where a few worn tables and chairs were scattered about. Some of the Rangers ate at the tables, but most were seated on some woven mats on the floor. Braisers lit and warmed the space and the distant hush of the waterfall echoed above the chatter. Faramir handed you a bowl of stew and a piece of bread and sat with you at one of the empty tables. 

“How do you know Idhron?” he asked.

“He is a friend of the family. They did not wish for me to join the rangers as they thought it would be too dangerous but I did not wish to be designated to a life of weaving or scribing. He had suggested foraging for the Houses of Healing as a sort of compromise. It allows me to be in the wilds, but the work is far less perilous than that of a ranger.”

He hummed. “He is a wise man.”

You nodded and went back to your stew. How strange it was to be seated at a table with Faramir. Prince Faramir, you reminded yourself. You tucked your dirt stained fingernails under your palm and tried not to slurp while you ate. You glanced up, eyes trailing over his wavy hair, to his proud brow, down to his lips and short beard. He truly was handsome up close; it was no wonder the Houses of Healing were all a flutter with gossip after he had stayed there. His eyes met yours and you nearly choked on your stew. 

You cleared your throat and let your eyes fall to the table.

“Tell me about this plant,” he said.

“I do not know what its proper name is but we call it Dawn Root. It is leafy and unassuming and the only way to find it is to listen for it.”

“To listen?”

“Yes, it… it chimes. It is easiest heard at dawn, hence its name.”

“How curious. I have never heard of such a thing,” he murmured. “Will you be searching for it tomorrow morning?” 

You nodded, and he said, “I would like to accompany you, if you are amenable to that.” His gaze had softened, the firelight melting the steel in them. “It is not because I think you are incapable. I simply wish to see this strange plant.”

Your stomach lurched and you gave him a hesitant nod.

”I must confess to some curiosity about how a practised forager goes about it. We are taught some basics, enough to keep us alive, but I’m certain there’s still much more to learn. Even after the sun has risen, perhaps we can still forage, if you do not mind sparing some time to show me.”

Your eyes  dropped to your half-eaten stew. Faramir wished to learn from you? “What would you wish to know about?”

“Mushrooms,” he murmured, a slight smile in his voice. “We’re taught mostly to avoid them unless we are absolutely certain they are not poisonous, and even then, most of us are wary. I am fond of morels, but I know they have a deadly counterpart.”

You shrugged. “They are easy to differentiate. In fact, it is the season for them now. We might find some while we are looking tomorrow.”

“I suppose, then, I can trust you to pick some?”

Your eyes rose to meet his. They were unguarded now, so different to how he looked before, and a gentle smile was on his face. He looked like the sort of man you would cross paths with in the market or in the library. Just an ordinary man, eager for mushrooms. 

 “And then you’ll cook them for us?” You asked with a chuckle and he nodded. “I did not think there would come a day where I would see Prince Faramir standing over a campfire, cooking.”

The moment the words left your mouth you snapped your jaw shut. What were you thinking? Teasing him like that? 

You opened your mouth to apologise but his eyes crinkled with amusement and a breathy laugh escaped from him. “Do you know how to cook?”

“Only well enough to survive.”

He grinned. “Ah, then perhaps this is something I can teach you in return.”

-

Faramir held the torch aloft and swept his eyes across the trees and shrubs. It was so dim, the sun still yet to break the horizon, that he could scarcely see beyond the torch’s little sphere of light. Every morning for the past week, he had set out with you to search for this plant. You walked beside him, steps so silent he wondered who had taught you to stalk and creep through the land, your eyes fixed on the darkness, focused yet distant. 

The light illuminated your profile, highlighting it in a soft orange. He followed the line of light down from the line of your forehead to the swell of your lips. You had shown up at the cave with your hair mussed and your skin shiny with sweat, and yet, in that moment, you seemed to him more beautiful than the courtly ladies of Gondor. 

Ever since his appointment as Prince of Ithilien, it seemed like there was no end to the subtle romantic overtures from the nobles.

There was no need for an advantageous match, both Boromir and Aragorn assured him, but even if there was, he could not betray himself to pick someone based on some arbitrary checklist of what would make a good partner. It wrenched his heart each time he spoke with the ladies — they were lovely and polite, intelligent and funny, but they were all lacking a certain something he could not name.

It seemed, to him, with each passing day, that he was destined to be a bachelor like his brother, though unlike Boromir, it would not be of his choosing.

When his brother had offered to temporarily take over the post of Steward while Faramir cleared and reestablished Ithilien, Faramir had marshalled his men and left the city within the week. It would be good to get away from the empty rooms and halls, away from the hollowness that echoed the loneliness within him.

Some part of him missed the warm and dry library, the scent of books and paper, but there was peace to be had in the wild too, in the quiet of the caverns, the stillness of the morning. And even now, in the silent understanding between two people united in the quest for something.

He squinted out into the dark and sighed. “We can hardly see in such low light. Perhaps we set out too early this morning.”

“You are not using the right sense, my lord,” you said, a sly smile growing on your face. “As I said, it chimes.”

“I cannot hear anything.”

“Perhaps if your steps were not so loud…” You flashed him a smile and he chuckled, a strange warm feeling growing in his chest. How long had it been since someone, anyone, aside from his company and his brother, dared to joke with him?

“My steps are hardly making a sound. You move like a cat; it is unnatural.”

“What is unnatural is seeing you out here.” You laughed. “I thought that —” Your smile vanished and you glanced away. “Forgive me, sometimes I forget myself, especially away from the city. I did not mean any offence.”

“I am not offended.” He smiled. “I would like to hear what you were about to say.”

You eyed him, hesitant, then looked away and spoke your words to the woods instead. “I… I thought that you would prefer to be in the city. I am well aware that you were, are, a good captain and ranger, but your love of literature and lore is just as fabled. I did not think you would return to your former roles now that we are in a time of peace.”

“Such a sentiment certainly isn’t unfounded,” he mused. “But sometimes even I, too, find the city a little stifling. It is nice to simply exist as oneself, unobserved by people.”

“I shall do my best to keep my eyes to myself then.” You laughed and he relished the sound before you pursed your lips and forced yourself to stop. “Um, what about your men?”

“We have travelled a long and weary road together. We see each other as friends.”

You opened your mouth then closed it with a snap, forging forward, and his chest tightened. He had thought that all the nightly conversations at dinner would have put you at ease with him but alas. He wished you would speak freely, like you did late at night when your tongue was loosened with fatigue. 

He adored the way you would speak of your little adventures out of the city, eyes aglow with a fond smile on your lips. How you had one too many mishaps with a collapsing tent, how one of your companions taught you the shapes of the stars, how there was no greater thrill than discovering some strange new herb.

And just last night, you had leaned close to him while he fried the morels. The cavern was loud with chatter, but he had deliberately kept his voice low and gestured for you to move closer when you said you could not hear him. He could smell you, musk and moss and lemon from the homemade bar of soap you said you brought. You were so real, so alive. And when an errant strand of hair fell over your forehead, his fingers twitched to tuck it behind your ear.

If he were to do such a thing, would you welcome it? Or would the height of his station prevent you from entertaining such a notion? It vexed him, the way you would speak to him as an equal, a friend, then suddenly pull back, withdrawing to formalities. Perhaps he should make it clear to you that there was no need for such things.

“I was thinking…” he began.

“Hush,” you whispered. “I hear it.”

He stilled, straining his ears, and there, just faintly to his right, was a clear tinkle. You followed the sound, pausing every other step to listen, and he trailed after you. The first of the sun’s rays spilled through the trees, casting the forest, and you, in a hazy glow. His eyes lingered on the lines and curves of your body, marvelling at your grace.

You let out a triumphant cry and knelt a few paces in front of him. Just as you had said, the plant, leafy and unassuming, was chiming softly. You gently dug it out and cradled it in the palm of your hand. Its roots were a deep crimson and remained undamaged. You grinned at him, so open and so genuine that his heart ached with some unknown feeling.

“I must head for the city at once,” you said, tucking the plant into a canvas bag.

“You do not have a horse, correct?”

“A horse? Valar, where would I get a horse? They have been in short supply since the war, and Rohan are yet to send more over. And should the city even have some, the guards and messengers would take precedence over the foragers.”

“I did not realise your company was so ill-equipped.” A strange discomfort settled in his stomach. “It is no matter. We have some horses, please, take one.”

You blinked at him, astonished. “Where do you keep them?”

“There is another tunnel in the rock face not far from the cave entrance. It is large enough for horses to pass through and widens onto a grassy plateau. Come, let us make haste.”

You nodded and the both of you hurried back to Henneth Annûn. While you gathered your things, he untied and retrieved a horse for you. When would he see you again? He supposed he could always visit the Houses of Healing and ask for you, but perhaps you would not appreciate that. You still seemed a little ill at ease with him and, despite his own stirring feelings towards you, he would not wish to discomfit you further. With a sigh, he led the horse out to meet you. 

Saddled and ready, you gave him a lingering look, then turned and galloped away. 

-

You handed Ioreth the most recent bunch of gathered herbs, trying to ignore the curious glances the other women gave you. Ever since you arrived in the city three weeks ago on Faramir’s horse, the Citadel and the Houses of Healing have been abuzz with rumours. It did not help that a couple of days after your return, a messenger had arrived at the Houses of Healing with a letter for you with the bright blue wax seal of Ithilien stark on the envelope. Your foraging company knew better than to ask, but it seemed everyone else was not above gossip. 

Iotheth gave the whispering women a stern look, thanked you for your herbs, and handed you another list of plants required. 

You grumbled to yourself. Faramir’s horse! You did not know it was his, but perhaps you should have noticed the round medallion on the bridle which bore the newly created crest of Ithilien. Still, in the quiet of the night, you wondered why he had chosen that particular horse for you. Perhaps it was the most agreeable one they had, or maybe it was the most well rested, or he thought that sending you on his horse would be the most efficient way for you to reach the city without anyone stopping you.

Or perhaps… perhaps he simply wished to send you on his horse.

No, no. What a foolish thought. Evenings spent in conversation and mornings spent foraging and letters sent with the supply carts and messengers was hardly a basis for anything more than friendship.

Still, the letters had been unusually intimate. There were the usual inquiries about the patients and medicinal herbs, how the outpost in Henneth Annûn was coming along, whether the resource changes he and Boromir agreed on were helping your company of foragers, but there were also little personal comments and questions. 

Other women here in the city might beg to differ, but I think the Rangers’ uniform is far more attractive than the guards’.

You’ve never used a bow? They can be quite handy, especially when hunting dinner. Perhaps when I am back in the city I can teach you. 

Thank you for the pressed primrose you sent, they remind me quite fondly of my time in Ithilien.  Do you have a favourite flower? 

We’ve had another delicious morel dinner. I must confess that the sight of them makes me think of you.

It would amuse you to know I overheard some ladies mourning your absence from the city. Though, I begrudgingly admit that I share their sentiment. 

The lily perfume Ioreth made for you sounds lovely. I imagine it must smell wonderful on you. 

No, I do not write to you out of a sense of obligation. I look forward to your letters; you bring me more joy than you can ever know.

And each time he had signed his letter as ‘Faramir’. Not ‘Captain Faramir’ or ‘Prince Faramir’, but just… Faramir. 

Your heart fluttered when you thought of that, but you squashed the feeling as soon as it arose. He was a prince, for Valar’s sake. And you were just… just…

Ioreth’s voice broke through your thoughts. “Girl,” she said, amusement in her eyes. “You have a visitor.”

“Who in Arda would come see me here?” you groused, pocketing her plant list. “All my friends are out —”

Faramir stood in the archway, his cheeks red from the wind and his cape hem muddied.

“Not all your friends, I hope,” he said, an unsure smile on his face.

“Fara — My lord,” you muttered, bowing your head a little. 

His brows drew together. “Please, I am certain we are past such formalities.” You cast a nervous glance around the room and his frown deepened. “Shall we speak elsewhere? There is something I wish to discuss with you.”

You nodded and led him to one of the secluded gardens outside. “I did not know you were returning to the city,” you said. 

“I had thought of sending a letter but I thought what I wished to discuss would be best done in person.”

“That sounds serious,” you murmured. “Not ill tidings, I hope?”

You paused by one of the shrubs, rubbing a waxy leaf between your fingers, avoiding his eyes. What could be so important he would make the trip back from Ithilien? 

“I hope you will forgive me for being selfish,” he said. “Coming to the Houses of Healing and seeking you out. I am not oblivious to the… the rumours circulating around the city.”

You took a hesitant look at him. “So why did you come?”

“I wished to see your face when you give your reply.” He swallowed and clasped his fidgety hands behind his back. “I have read your letters again and again, trying to find some sort of hint or clue in them, and in your last letter… You said I brought you joy.”

You stared at him, the sound of your heart loud in your ears. The words had slipped from you before you realised, but you had left them in, a cautious declaration of how you felt, hoping that he would take it as a friend being overly sentimental.

“I must know,” he said. “Is there… Is there a chance you might return my feelings?”

“Your feelings?” you stuttered, scarcely believing what he was saying. 

“Yes,” he said slowly. “You are a most singular person to me and there has been no other who has captured my heart so.” 

He paused and looked at you, hopeful and apprehensive all at once. You gaped at him. 

Singular… Captured his heart…  All this time, he felt the same?

“Ah,” he said, voice flat, eyes shuttering. “I suppose your silence is enough of an answer.” He took a step back. “Forgive me, I —”

“Wait, no, please.”

He stilled but his face remained impassive.

“I am simply in disbelief,” you said in a rush. “I did not think… I dare not hope…” A strangled laugh burst from you. “Of course, of course I share your feelings.”

A smile spread slowly across his face and he offered his hand, palm up, to you. You reached out, but the sight of your hands, rough and dirt stained, stopped you.

“Why do you hesitate?” he murmured.

“Faramir, you are a prince. And I am not of equal standing or birth.”

“I do not care for such things. You are kind and brave, and smart and good-humoured.” He offered his hand once more and you tentatively curled your fingers around his. “And you are beautiful.”

He tugged on your hand and you stepped closer. Slowly, slowly, he brought his forehead to yours. You sucked in a deep breath, inhaling his scent of leather and musk, relishing his nearness after so many weeks. He nudged your temple with his nose and pressed a kiss to your temple.

He hummed, low and satisfied. “The perfume really does smell wonderful on you. I suppose I must smell a bit ripe in comparison. Though, in my defence, it was a swift ride, and I was far too eager to see you.”

“I think you would benefit from a bath, yes.” You chuckled and drew back. “But Faramir, what about the court?”

“Tongues will always wag, my love,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “But we shall face them together. And besides, you have already shown your service and care for the people. What more could Gondor ask of you as my partner?”

“I suppose I cannot argue with that.” You grinned. “But maybe, we could proceed slowly? I do not think I would fare well if I were immediately tossed into society.”

“Of course. And it shall give me time to court you, properly. I will be returning from Ithilien soon, and then I assure you, there will be flowers and walks and picnics.”

“And mushrooms?”

He laughed and kissed your cheek. “Yes, and mushrooms.”

---

A/N: Lowkey feel like the pacing was a bit off. I originally planned for it to be longer, but my brain decided to be shitty lmao so I had to pare it back. I hope the flow is still okay.

Nirnroot was inspiration for the Dawn Root, lmk if anyone picked up on that lol

[modernincorrectlotrhobbit]

[kat651]

imagine: comforting Faramir after his brother dies

Mir: a nickname for Faramir 

Faramir sat by the river, fidgeting with a pendant that once belonged to his brother as tears streamed down his face. He was now alone. His brother was the only person who believed in him, or so he thought. 

You came and sat next to him. “Hey.”

Faramir jumped at your sudden appearance. “I-I, y/n!”

He quickly brushed away his tears and put in a smile. 

You grabbed his hands. “It’s ok to cry ya know… it wouldn’t be normal not to.”

He sniffed. “I’m fine.”

You sighed and put your arms around him. “Mir, it’s ok, you don’t have to be unemotional when you’re around me. I won’t judge, I promise.”

He let out a sob and put his arms around you. “I miss him, I miss him so much…”

You hook his face in your hands. “I know you do, and I’m sorry,” you whispered, gently wiping away his tears with your thumb. “It’s ok, I’m here, and I’m not leaving you…”

He sobbed into your shoulder and you gently rubbed his back. “I’m here for you, I promise…”

He pulled you closer and took ragged breaths. “It hurts…”

You weren’t sure what to do so you just held him close and whispered words of encouragement and comfort into his ear as you rubbed his back lovingly. 

-.-.-

Faramir came up to you a week later and you could tell he was on the verge of tears. 

You pulled him away and held him close. “What is it?”

He looked at you and sighed. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a burden lately,” he whispered. 

“No, no, Mir, you’re never a burden.” You whispered, gently rubbing his back. 

He sighed. “Why do you help me? I mean, yeah we’ve been close for years but… why do you go out of your way to make sure I’m okay?”

You sighed. “You really don’t know?”

He shook his head, “No, I don’t.”

You placed your hand on his cheek. “Because I love you, Faramir, I really do…”

He looked at you slightly surprised before smiling and pulling you in for a kiss which you gladly gave. “I’ve loved you for a long time… I just never knew how to tell you.”

He smiled and wrapped his arms around you once more. “Thank you for everything, y/n, I really appreciate it…”

You smiled, gently placing your hands on his cheeks. “I’ll be right here when you need me…”

“And I’ll be here if you need me…” he mumbled as he placed his forehead against yours. 

[intoxicated-chan]

𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐫…

Summary ➳ You are a street rat in Gondor, after the rise of soldiers patrolling the streets, you become desperate for coin and meet the man you attempt to steal from.

(A/n) ➳ I would consider this a series but not really a storyline/story. It’s more like headcanons/scenarios because I have a lot of them.

You guys can check out the masterlister for this if you wanna request something!!

Word Count ➳ 1.2k

Content Warnings ➳ Gender Neutral Reader, Reader’s age is eight, stealing, mentions of starving, violence, mentions of death…

Series’ Masterlist

Thirteen Years Before LOTR: Fellowship of the Ring - Reader’s age is eight - Boromir’s age is twenty seven - Faramir’s age is twenty three -

You were part of a misfit group in Gondor, causing trouble wherever you all went. And you all had one thing in common, all of you were unwanted by your families. It’s what kept you all together, made you believe you were your own family.

You all got away with various crimes, and being the youngest of the family, you listened, learned, and paid attention to whatever they did. You knew your way around Gondor like the back of your hand, well… Almost all of Gondor.

But it was like a flip was switched. Suddenly soldiers patrolled the streets, it didn’t matter the hours. The citizens spoke of how they cannot wait to get rid of the thieves plaguing their homes. You watched as the thieves were dragged off.

You were scared, and they all saw it. They reassured you that it wouldn’t happen to them and they would be with you, forever.

Yet one-by-one everyone started getting picked off, getting into trouble that was certain to be their demise, or getting into fights that they could not win. It was until you were the only one left. If you continued and followed in their steps, you would surely end up like them.

So you tried to stray off the path that they all followed, but being on the poor side of Gondor meant you had to do it to live.

You went back to stealing, getting into fights over food or even housing… You weren’t proud of yourself but hey, you were still breathing. That’s when you got over your head. You heard there was a high price on any of the soldier’s swords. No way someone would dare to try but you were willing.

It was late at night when you found two soldiers alone, chatting and the younger one was drinking at the older one’s request. When the younger one went inside, believing he forgot something, the other seemed to follow, leaving their swords behind.

Maybe you could take both, get paid double. You would be set for a long time if you used the money wisely.

You slowly made your way to the swords, grabbing the hilt of one and reaching for the other. You were suddenly pulled away by the shoulder while the sword in your hand was taken back. You were met by the eyes of the older one.

One would say he looked angry, but it seemed like he was more frustrated than angry.

“What’s ?” He kept a soft grip on your shoulder, letting you run if you pleased. But you were scared, unsure if he was going to use the sword to strike you down. “What is a little child doing playing with dangerous weapons?”

“I-I didn’t mean to sir, I promise!” You begged.

“It’s alright.” He smiled, setting the sword against the wall. “But you shouldn’t go touching stranger’s belongings, if I was someone else, they might not have been so kind.” He warned you, releasing your shoulder. “What is your name, child?”

“(Y/n).”

“Well (Y/n).” He searched through his pouch and tossed you a couple of coins. “Here, go and get warm. There’s a tavern that would take a single coin for a week. It gets very cold in Gondor around this time.” He took the swords, sheathing one and with his back turned to you. “Take care (Y/n), I hope you will not find trouble.” And he enters the tavern, following the younger one.

“Did something happen?” Faramir asked, taking the sword when it was handed to him.

“It was just a child.”

It was strange for a stranger to have an effect on you. You tried to live by his words for the next couple of weeks, anything to keep you from straying on the road you were on. But you were down to two coins left, two weeks, and the weather wasn’t getting any warmer.

People stay inside to keep warm, and when people stay inside, there is no work to be done.

You were starving, you could buy just for the day from the two coins or use the coins for the shelter given to you. You would say the hunger clouded your judgment, and the cost for the soldier’s swords was still in the air.

You swiftly maneuvered around the boxes blocking the street, you looked through alleyways for any soldier leaving their weapons unattended, unaware of another soldier following you from afar.

But as far as you could search without looking suspicious, none decided to leave their swords, not even from a moment. They all desperately searched for warmth.

Your last resort was to steal from the very few vendors still open, all you needed to do was distract, snatch, and then run back to the tavern. You made sure to calculate a route that would surely lose the vendor.

You pulled the cloak tighter around your frame, hood up and head down, you walked to the vendor asking questions and picking out what you wanted. While they were busy, you grabbed the largest piece of bread dashed away.

“Hey!” The vendor shouted. The soldier ran after you but made no promise to the vendor, the vendor believed that the soldier would drag you back to them.

You made cuts through the alley, jumping over boxes and did your best to speed past soldiers without looking suspicious, but it’s difficult when you’re being chased. Your lungs burned as your legs felt heavy, it seemed that the cold weather didn’t like you and slowed you down.

When you cut into another alley, you tripped another box. You let out a cry, falling to the stone cold ground. As you dragged yourself to the bread, it was taken from you and you were thrown over someone’s shoulders.

“Let me go!” You demanded, struggling against his hold.

“No one is going to help a thief.” You remembered that voice, just barely.

“S-Sir?!”

“Quiet down.” He ordered you, rushing deeper through the alleyways until it was a dead end, he finally let you down yet still kept the bread in his hands. “Did I not say to keep out of trouble?”

“You hoped that I wouldn’t get into trouble.” You retorted, reaching for the bread only for him to pull. You reached for it again but he held it over your head. You weren’t going to even try to jump. “What do you want from me? Who are you?!”

He quickly hushed you, covering your mouth with his gloved hand. “I’m Boromir.” Your heart dropped. “You are young, you shouldn’t be out here without your parents but from what I’ve seen, you don’t have any… How long have you been alone, little one?”

He stepped closer to you, his arm coming down, and handed you the bread. His hands were caring, especially when they took your hands to hold the bread.

You sniffled and held the bread close to your chest, you broke down crying. You felt his arms come around your body, kneeling to meet your level. He rubbed your back as you cried into his shoulder. “It’s alright, little one.” His thumb swipes away a tear. “I’ll take care of you now, you’re safe.”

© Intoxicated-Chan 2023, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without my permission.

[cauliflowertree]

—oneshots

kiss me like you want to be loved

[mlmxreader]

A Losing Battle | Faramir x m!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Hello! Can I request male reader with really bad separation anxiety x faramir with prompt "Just close your eyes and go to sleep, I'll still be here" ? ❞

: ̗̀➛ You and Faramir will be married one day, but that doesn't stop you from constantly worrying about him.

: ̗̀➛ brief mentions of injury/fighting

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

Faramir frowned when he noticed that your horse was tethered beside his, as he had explicitly told you to stay with his men when he had left; that horse would not allow any other rider in its saddle, and it vexed him to think of what possible reason you could have for showing up at the camp.

Of course, he understood that you tended to worry and panic a lot when he was gone for more than two minutes; he knew that you liked to be within his vicinity as often as you could be, and that you would sometimes find it overwhelming to be without him.

But he didn’t want you to get hurt, either; he needed you to stay back so that he could deal with the task at hand and make it back to you without needing to try desperately to keep you safe at the same time.

He tried not to think anything of it as he approached where he had been sleeping, but when he saw a rather large lump beneath his blanket, he knew that there could only be one person in the entirety of Middle Earth who would do such a thing.

Faramir didn’t mind, though, not really; when he got down on one knee beside you and gently shook you awake, he realised that he didn’t particularly feel angry for you at disobeying him, and nor did he feel particularly disappointed to find you beneath his blankets.

If anything he was relieved to know that you were still alive and that you had made it there in one piece; it made him smile when you snuggled into his blanket, taking in his scent for a moment.

Faramir knew you well enough to know that you weren’t so easily woken, and it was likely that you had fallen asleep after trying to stay up waiting for him to get back.

Perhaps any other day, he would have felt guilty for making you stir, but tonight, he just wanted to lie down beside you and know that you were there in his arms. Safe and protected, as always. 

It did take him quite a while to wake you, but when you looked up at him with your face half covered by the blanket and your eyes still blurry from sleep, he couldn’t help but to smile and to take it in for a moment.

“I do apologise for disturbing you, but erm, you do happen to be in my bed.”

“‘M always in your bed,” you muttered softly, struggling to sit upright but getting there eventually. “I’m really sorry, Faramir, I know you said to stay put and to wait until you got back, but I started thinking about, y’know, everything and I started worrying if you would be alright, and-”

“I understand,” Faramir whispered kindly. “I know that you tend to think too much for your own good. I will not shame you for that, ever.”

You nodded, wrapping your arms around your knees as you rested your chin on them and hummed. “Thank you…”

“Of course,” he whispered. “If you’re to be my husband one day… well, you know the rest of it. And Boromir was always the better speaker between us, anyway.”

You laughed softly, nodding as you beckoned him to sit beside you, which he did so gladfully, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “One day I will be your husband, and you will have to put up with me at your side constantly - regardless if you order me to or not.”

Faramir grinned as he licked his lips, nodding slowly. “Is that not exactly what happened tonight?”

“Well, either way,” you shrugged. “How do you feel, anyway? I heard from some of your boys that it was pretty brutal out there.”

He nodded, clearing his throat. “We all managed to do fairly well - a few of the men were injured but thankfully nothing major.”

Immediately, you switched to sitting between his legs, your hands wandering his body to check for any piercing in his armour. “And wha-”

“I am fine,” Faramir said calmly, taking your wrists in his hands and holding them close to his chest as he shook his head. “I did not suffer so much as a blow from a shield.” 

You nodded slowly, splaying your fingers out across the taught leather breastplate as you swallowed thickly and licked your lips. “Not even a bruise?”

He shook his head, putting his hands over yours. “Not even a bruise.”

“Alright,” you whispered, pressing your forehead against his shoulder. “Just as long as you promise you aren’t hurt.”

“I’m not,” he told you softly. “I promise you, I am not hurt… although, I am a little hurt that you would try and steal my blanket from me on such a cold night.”

You smiled, shrugging as you tilted your head to the side for a moment. “Well, maybe, if you’re so cold, we could share?”

“I think that would be a good plan,” he admitted, waiting for you to get comfortable before he took his breastplate off and laid down beside you. “You know, you can just close your eyes and go to sleep, I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

You nodded as you snuggled into him, trying to squirm as close as you possibly could. “You promise?”

Slowly, Faramir threw his leg over you to keep you against him, and he was quick to let his arms welcome you tightly the second he could. “I always promise. Believe me, you will soon enough get sick of me.”

You laughed softly, tiredly as you pulled up the blanket so that it sat around you both, although you could feel the cold breeze against the backs of your legs. “I doubt that could ever happen, really.”

Faramir wanted to laugh, although the way you were pressed against him and the feeling of your soft breath against him was all too difficult to ignore, and he soon found himself fighting against the urge to sleep; he waited, though, only daring to admit defeat when he felt you go limp in his arms as your breathing became all too steady.

With a smile on his face, Faramir allowed himself to lose that battle. 

[sorrow-and-bliss]

Lord of the Rings Masterlist

Please note that this is strictly Lord of the Rings, not Silmarillion or Hobbit.

Main Masterlist: Here

Reblogs are fine.

There are plans.

Boromir:

Boromir x Little Sister

Boromir x Rape Survivor

Faramir:

Courting Faramir