#viggo mortensen x reader

[shangchiswife]

dating aragorn headcanons!

hi guys this is the first time in a while that i've written something so i hope that you enjoy. i just recently rewatched lord of the rings and i'm obsessed with aragorn again so here are some headcanons!

aragorn x gn!reader

Aragorn is the biggest gentleman ever. You basically won the lottery when you started dating him.

The lyrics “In a world of boys he’s a gentleman” are about him 100%. Taylor Swift you are not slick at all.

Do not be fooled by his rugged looks, this man is the biggest romantic. He will plan the most romantic dates for the two of you even when he’s busy trying to be King. Even when he’s busy with his kingly duties he will still find a way to shower you with affection. Whether it’s leaving little love notes on your nightstand or bringing you a flower bouquet, he always wants you to make sure that you know that he’s thinking about you.

Aragorn’s love language is through acts of service. He wants to do everything for you. You are his first priority. You’re not feeling well? He’ll drop everything in his schedule to make sure you’re alright. Your weapons aren’t clean? He’ll clean them no problem. You’re cold? Bro will gladly take off his shirt and give it to you so that you’re not cold anymore.

When you guys were trekking through Middle Earth this man made sure that you got as much rest as possible

“Aragorn it’s my turn to take watch” you had said, rubbing your eyes with exhaustion. He walked over to you and put a hand on your shoulder. “You’re still tired, rest, sweet one, I’ll take care of it.” “But-” “No buts,” he said as he pushed you down gently. “Alright well I’m taking your shift tomorrow night,” you grumbled as you put your head in his lap and immediately fell asleep.

Let's just say he didn’t let you take the shift the next day.

He is soooo overprotective of you. He’s always been very protective over those he cares about but he’s especially protective over you since you’re his number one priority. Aragorn's actions are driven by genuine concern and love. He simply cannot bear the thought of losing those he holds dear and will do whatever it takes to keep them safe.

He’s the person who taught you how to fight. You were so embarrassingly bad at first but Aragorn never once made fun of you. He was patient even as you started getting annoyed with training. He was determined to make you a great fighter and it worked.

During the fellowship, you fought fearlessly alongside Aragorn and took down hundreds of orcs together. At one point, Merry even playfully called you guys a power couple because of how hard you both fought together, which made you both grin at each other.

You and Aragorn are basically the hobbits’ parents. They all love you so much and look up to you both with the utmost respect. You both admire them a lot too. Their loyalty and determination never fail to inspire both of you to keep going, even when things get tough and the future feels uncertain.

You’re also best friends with Gimli and Legolas. They have so much respect for you. They are also always trying to one-up each other when it comes to you so they can be your favorite. Spoiler alert you could never choose between them!

Gimli often pretends to be grossed out by displays of affection between you and Aragorn, and likes to tease the two of you with mock disgust. “Oh, just get a room already!” he’d say which would make you and Aragorn laugh. However, deep down, he secretly harbors a soft spot for romance and enjoys witnessing the love and affection between you two. He may grumble and groan about it on the surface, but in reality, he finds it heartwarming to see the bond you share and the happiness you bring each other. 

Aragorn isn’t really big on PDA but once you’re alone together, he's affectionate and attentive, making sure you feel cherished and cared for in every moment you share.

In public, he keeps it subtle with affection, but every now and then, he'll gently caress your palms or hold your hand, just enough to let you know he's there. It's his quiet way of showing love without drawing too much attention.

This man loves to give you forehead kisses. Whether you're feeling on top of the world or weighed down by the challenges of the day, Aragorn's forehead kisses are his way of saying that he’s always going to be there for you.

You often find yourself snuggled against his chest, your hand resting over his heart while his arm encircles you protectively. His fingers trace gentle patterns on your skin, a soothing sensation that relaxes you. 

He also has the softest singing voice. It’s so pretty. He mostly sings old Elvish tunes but sometimes he’ll sing some songs in English.

You and Aragorn both share a love for animals, and you often find yourselves adopting stray creatures in need of a home. He's clearly a dog person through and through (I don't make the rules), but he has a soft spot for cats as well.

You love it when Aragorn tells you stories about his past. Whenever he starts recounting his adventures, you're all ears, completely mesmerized by his past. Secretly he loves your fascination with his stories and it fills him with a quiet sense of warmth.

You have a shared love for adventure and often find yourselves exploring new places together, whether it's hiking through scenic landscapes or just going around Gondor.

He is also the best listener. You tend to yap a lot but he does not seem to care at all. He will listen attentively, asking questions every so often, drinking in your every word. He always wants to make sure that you feel heard. 

Aragorn also dreams about starting a family with you. He's always imagined the joy of being a father and raising children together, but he'll only take that step if you're both on board and excited about it. Your comfort and readiness are his top priorities, and he wants nothing more than to embark on this adventure together, hand in hand.

[luna-writes-stuff]

Francesca, Aragorn

Song link

Fanfic, gn! reader

Angst with fluffy ending

Word count: 2651

Tw: Mentions of battle/injuries/deaths. Mourning and loss and whatnot. Aftermath of the Battle of Helm’s Deep.

Summary: When you joined the fellowship, it was in order to protect the ring bearer. You had never been in a true fight, nor had you ever slain anyone before. Your first battle had been a gruesome one, and you struggle to compose yourself afterwards. Aragorn comes to your room to comfort you.

Requested by @rebelbagel . You initially wanted Until It Sleeps, but when I was writing it, I realised the fic was pretty much exactly the same to this one (hurt/comfort). This one was written for someone else who didn’t want to be tagged, but I decided to combine it with your request! I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but I still hope you like it <;33

Buy me a coffee/force me to write more

“Do you think I'd give up? That this might've shook the love from me? Or that I was on the brink? How could you think, darling, I'd scare so easily?”

You weren’t a fighter. Never had been. You’d never even killed someone to begin with, and that would say a lot considering the life of a ranger. You knew how to hunt, you knew how to hide, but you would never fight unless there had been no other option. And in all your years, the need for it had never been apparent.

You should have known better when you joined the fellowship. You had met Aragorn years earlier, and began travelling together shortly after. You had aided him in bringing the hobbits to safety in Bree, after which you swore to protect him and the ring bearer. You knew the journey would be a dangerous one, and you would never get through it without fighting, however much you wished to have held the same positivity as Merry and Pippin.

You had gotten the relatively easy route initially. Your first kill had been an Uruk-Hai, and though still terrifying, you didn’t feel much remorse for it afterwards - they were ruthless killers to begin with.

But everything quickly went downhill after the Battle of Helm’s Deep. The desperate screams of the women, the final shouts of fallen men, rain water turning red upon reaching the floor, and the abandoned weapons. You had expected to calm down once the battle had been over and you were free to return to your appointed chambers, but somehow, the feeling of desperation and grief only seemed to grow at the impending silence. The second you had entered the room, you had sat down on the bed, simply staring ahead, your eyes glued at the wall, hyper aware of all sounds around you.

“Now that it's done There's not one thing that I would change. My life was a storm, since I was born. How could I fear any hurricane?”

You could still hear the sobbing and praying in the square, followed by footsteps in the keep and hushed whispers which you couldn’t quite decipher. But most heartbreaking of all were the mothers crying out for their lost children. Your fight did not lie with the people of Rohan - you had fought alongside them. Yet, it felt as if you were to blame for all this pain.

Familiar footsteps were heard coming up the hall, before gently halting in front of your door. You wanted to call out, be it to dismiss him or to invite him, but you couldn’t bring it in yourself to make any noise. So when he knocked and you remained silent, he let himself in.

“You should let someone see your injuries,” He remarked kindly, having already taken note of your sudden silence after the battle. He knew better than to comment on the whole ordeal immediately. You merely shrugged at him, your eyes slowly falling onto his figure. He sighed as he observed you, silently closing the door behind him before nearing you.

He didn’t say anything as he sat down beside you, his own injuries seemingly not having been attended to as well. You didn’t tease him for it. Not now. You just stared back at the blank wall, your mind replaying the scenes that had occurred only moments earlier.

“If someone asked me at the end. I'll tell them put me back in it Darling, I would do it again.”

His hand on yours is what slowly pulled you out of your mind and back to the present. You didn’t know what to say. No words would make up for what you had seen or what you had felt. It just felt wrong. All of it did.

“The people of Rohan will be safe now,” Aragorn tried to console, but you interrupted him halfway. “These are mothers,” your finger pointed towards the window, where sobbing was still audibly heard. “And they just lost their children.” Then, your head turned slightly, your eyes trailing up to meet his. “How do you cope with that?”

Sincerity and sympathy formed in his eyes as he furrowed his eyebrows together, visibly contemplating what to say next: “We can’t linger on that which is already lost.” You just scoffed at that, shaking your head lightly. “That sounds easy.” He dared risk a little smile at that, squeezing your hand in reassurance.

You tried to copy his smile, forcing happiness onto your features. A single choked sob escaped you as the lump in your throat began to build, your eyes squeezing shut as you tried to push the feeling down. You didn’t see nor hear Aragorn push closer to you until his arms were around you.

“If I could hold you for a minute Darling, I'd go through it again.”

He didn’t speak as you broke down in his arms. Your hands clung tightly to the back of his shirt, your face buried against his chest as your body shook with your sobs. You had endured hardship before this travel, and had seen enough of it during your travel, but it suddenly seemed to become too much. Inexplicable grief washes over you. Grief for people you fought with; whose names you might not have known, but who you would have laid your life down for.

The aftermath seemed to simply be the breaking point. When all adrenaline had worn off and reality had begun to settle in. The moment you realised what you have done and what it had cost. The aching in your body seemed all the more visible now, but somehow it hadn’t even come close to the mental turmoil soaring through your body.

If this is what Aragorn had felt during all his earlier battles, you weren’t quite sure how you would manage after that. You had sworn to protect Frodo, and though he wasn’t near now, you would gladly give your life to pave the way for him. However, now you wanted nothing more than to simply stay here and help everyone build the keep back up again.

“I would still be surprised I could find you, darling In any life. If I could hold you for a minute Darling, I would do it again.”

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you admitted through sobs, too embarrassed to look back up at him, even though you were sure he wouldn’t have minded. Be that as it may, you heard his gentle voice soothing you, shushing you before speaking: “I understand.”

You didn’t know what you expected him to say, but you would have at least anticipated some resistance. Some voice of reassurance telling you that you would be okay. That it was simply all in your head and that there was no reason to be stuck up on this. You would have anticipated anything but him telling you that he simply understood.

If this was your moment and your decision to stay, he wouldn’t even fight you on it. You and him both knew that you staying here would only make the destruction of Mordor and Sauron more difficult, but Aragorn was willing to risk it all just to let you handle on your own boundaries. If you hadn’t already fallen for him before, you might have just done it all over now.

“For all that was said Of where we'd end up at the end of it. When the heart would cease. Ours never knew peace. What good would it be on the far side of things?”

The hurricane of anguish and anger slowly settled as you properly processed his two words, your crying eventually dying down, though his grip did not fade.

Finally, you looked up at him, confusion on your face. “What if I were to stay? Are you not going to ask me with you?” “Why should I?” He countered softly, no ill intentions on his tongue. “Of course I would want nothing more than you beside me, but who am I to force you into a fight you do not wish to be part of?”

You couldn’t suppress the slight scoff in your throat as his words. Shaking your head lightly, you rested it back upon his chest, his hold now more comfortable than soothing. “This fight requires everyone to take part,” you lectured quietly. “Sauron takes no neutral opponents.”

Instead of a verbal response, he lowered his head lightly, placing a kiss in your hair, letting it linger for a while.

“It was too soon When that part of you was ripped away. A grip taking hold Like a cancer that grows Each piece of your body that it takes.”

“If you wish to stay here, I will let you.” He confessed, his voice a mumble against your skin. You would have loved to stay and get caught up in a fairy tale where you didn’t have to face the consequences of your actions, nor keep to the promises you had made. But you knew better than to remain there that was safe and false.

“I don’t know.” You answered honestly, hesitation clear in your voice. A heavy sigh came from you as your shoulders drooped. “It was all so much.”

Aragorn hummed in understanding, his hands squeezing you slightly, before parting from your hold. “The aftermath of a battle is the hardest part of fighting.” When you nodded at him, he continued: “But it also reminds me of why to never stop fighting. If I had not, I do not think I would have been on the right side of history.”

Again, you couldn’t help but smile slightly, wiping the tears from your face as you tried to forget about your breakdown seconds prior. “You want to leave a legacy.” You voiced.

“Though I know my heart would break I'll tell them put me back in it. Darling, I would do it again.”

“Yes,” he admitted. “But not for the world.” Then, he rose from his seat on the bed, now making way to the window, observing the people walking around on the battle-ridden fields. “For those who properly knew me. I do not want to die, knowing I could have fought.”

He turned around at his own words, dropping his head to the side as if hearing his own advice for the first time. “You live. That is why you keep fighting.”

You wanted to believe him. He seemed so confident about his own speech that it nearly enticed you as well. But as you followed his footsteps and came faced with that which you had dreaded this entire time, your expression fell again: “What about those who lost their kin. Their loved ones?”

Aragorn followed your gaze, spotting an elderly woman weeping at the tears of an older soldier - one who you could have only guessed to be her spouse. Empathy came to Aragorn’s senses. Yes; he did feel bad for the people. It was, in a way, his responsibility to keep them safe. And though a great half of them had been alive, he could not say so for the rest. Yet, he kept his head high: “It is not up to us to determine their sorrow, nor force ourselves into their narratives. Let them grieve in their own way.”

“If I could hold you for a minute Darling, I'd go through it again.”

Your hand found him as you stood beside him, your head leaning on his shoulder as you observed the people. You could understand his point, and you wanted to feel that way as well. But words were easier spoken than actions were executed.

“Yes, lives were lost,” the man continued. “But there always will be. We remember those who have fallen and fight our next battles in their honour. There is no dignity in dying for salvation.”

‘There is no dignity in dying for salvation’. Those were words that you could understand. Words that you might have believed and emphasised with. He did have a natural skill for great speeches. You voiced this to him: “Spoken like a true king.”

“I am no leader.” He chuckled, shaking his head. Before he could bring his argument, you interrupted him, pointing towards Théoden, who was speaking to a small group of men: “I think the people would disagree.” Then, you looked up at him, shrugging nonchalantly.

“I think I would disagree.”

“I would still be surprised I could find you, darling In any life. If I could hold you for a minute. Darling, I would do it again.”

He reciprocated your look, that somehow permanent and effortless expression of gratitude and love written on his face. “I would have you; king or no king.” He spoke sincerely. “I do not care for the thoughts of others.”

In any other scenario, you could have easily said something back. But the comment seemed to come out of thin air, taking you by surprise. Regardless of the amount of times he had expressed his love to you verbally, it could still take you aback at times. Your face heated at his words, a flustered ‘thank you’ spilling from your lips as you forced your eyes to the mountains ahead.

Darkness loomed there, the sky having turned almost black. If there had been any sunlight left, it was not in the east of Middle-Earth. Helm’s Deep appeared to be the final destination of a little sliver of light, its luminescence faint, but apparent. It reminded you of what you had yet to face. That this battle might not be the most difficult one yet. Perhaps you were right to stay. It would certainly be the safer option.

But there was no point in being on the wrong side of history.

“I would not change it each time Heaven is not fit to house a love Like you and I.”

“I could not stay,” you ultimately decided aloud. “If I can do anything about the terror of Sauron, I should. His defeat is near, I know this.”

A snicker of relief came from Aragorn as he let go of your hand. “You have great hope in Sam and Frodo,” he shared. “Keep it; hope is your greatest weapon.”

“No,” you dismissed. “My weapon is my greatest weapon. And maybe you.” Finally, a genuine smile climbed on his face. No assuring chuckles or elevating grins; a genuine, relieved smile. “Maybe me?” “If you were not here to tell me all this, I don’t think I would have walked with you to the ends of the earth.” “You do not have to,” Aragorn tried to convince, but your mind was already made up.

“No, I’m going to.”

“I would not change it each time. Heaven is not fit to house a love Like you and I.”

His arm wrapped around you as he pulled you into his side, a hum of acknowledgment vibrating through him. “Then I am glad to have you at my side.”

You turned your head to the side, leaning down to place a kiss on the hand that held your arm. In response, the fingers flexed slightly; a signal of near affection and endearment. If he could not voice it, he would show it.

“I’ll fight,” you hummed, nodding your head towards the square in front of you. “For them. And for all who might follow them.”

And though a fight against Sauron sounded terrifying, you found yourself oozing with new-found confidence, if not some sort of comfort. A legacy; not for the people of Middle-Earth, but for your kin. Something to remember you by. If you were to go down, you weren’t doing it by giving up. You would do it beside him, fighting for those who cannot. And somehow, that seemed more peaceful than you imagined war to sound like.

“I would not change it each time. Heaven is not fit to house a love Like you and I.”

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Imagine # 983

Gif NOT mine.

If this gif is yours (or you know who's it is) please let me, so I can give you/them credit.

Gif credit goes to - @godzillawillsaveus (Unless told otherwise.)

Year posted - 2022

"EDDIE SAWYER!" (Y/n)'s voice rang out throughout the house, making Tex freeze in his tracks. "Shit." He cursed under his breath when she stormed into the living room, her arms crossed and an annoyed scowl on her face. "How many times do I have to tell you?" She hissed at him. "Tell me what Darlin'?" He questioned innocently, flashing her his best puppy dog eyes. "Stop tracking mud and blood into the main house! That shit stays in the mudroom and kitchen!" She remained him, making him subconsciously glance down at his messy boots on the living room rug. "Awe I'm sorry Darlin'." He frowned softly, having forgotten altogether how dirty his boots had gotten. "I'm tired of having to scrub these damn rugs, do you have any idea how hard it is to get blood out of these things?" (Y/n) huffed as her arms fell to her sides, an almost defeated look in her eyes. "I know, I'm sorry baby. I'll clean up my mess." He offered as he took her into his arms, kissing the crown of her head when she leaned into his touch. "You better." She hummed before leaning up to kiss him properly, a smile ghosting her lips as she did so.

Short and sweet! Hope y'all liked it! Reblogs/Likes/Comments are all greatly appreciated!

[paarthurnax59]

The man to portray Orobas, a Prince of Hell. The very talented Viggo Mortensen!!!!😁 This is going to be sooooooo fun to write with Viggo Mortensen as our demonic tormenter in "Living Without You".

[benslittlestarkiller]

Hobbitlove: A Day in the Shire - Sam’s Ruminations

♡ Samwise Gamgee x Frodo Baggins ♡

Description: Sam, older, wiser, and married happily to Rosie, sits on his porch one day ruminating on his tragic love affair with Frodo.

Warnings: NSFW content, anal sex, creampie, CBT, bondage

Word Count: 1,040

♡

It was a balmy Saturday in the Shire. The gentle breeze played at the daisies, making them dance in their flowerbeds. Samwise sat outside of Bag End, smoking pipeweed and watching the birds fly to and fro. As he neared the end of his life, he reached a stage where he found himself ruminating on the past. He had grown so much since his youth when he used to garden for Mister Bilbo and then Mister Frodo after that. He had traveled to Mordor and back. Married his sweet Rosie, had beautiful children, and even became mayor. Life’s twists and turns had shown Sam more than he ever thought he would see as a young and virile Hobbit. His Rosie had died years ago and his children had left him to live their own lives. Sam looked up into the blue sky, losing himself in his memories…

It was morning, the first day of Sam’s new job as a gardener to the scandalous Mister Bilbo Baggins. Much talk of Mister Biblo was heard about the Shire and his adventures, even more talk spread when he took in his orphaned nephew Frodo. 

As Sam passed through the gate of bag end he was greeted by a handsome Hobbit he could only assume was the Frodo Baggins himself. Sam was caught off guard by Frodo’s delicate beauty. His piercing blue eyes seemed to assess Sam and then Frodo smiled and Sam was lost. 

A polite companionship bloomed between them in the coming months, the two started off just giving polite greetings but there was a magnetism that seemed to draw them together. Soon they began to chat over mundane topics and those talks together grew longer and more intense as the two Hobbits grew closer and closer.

Sam would lay in his bed at night and dream of Frodo. He saw him laughing as he played pranks. He saw his shy smiles as they shared secrets. Desire bloomed in the pit of his stomach but Sam knew there was a line he couldn’t cross. Sam was an employee of Mister Bilbo and by extension Mister Frodo. There was no way he would be interested in his uncle’s gardener. 

But one day everything changed. 

It was a rainy day. Mister Bilbo was away dealing with his relatives, leaving Frodo home alone. Sam started of repotting the prickleberry bushes but soon the rain became too dense for Sam to do any work. Frodo called him inside to wait out the rain. Sam was soaked to the bone and Frodo offered him a change of clothes. 

Sam went to a room to change, first removing his wet shirt that clung to his defined muscles that he acquired from all his gardening. He unbuttoned his pants and started to remove them when Frodo opened the door, “Sorry, I forgot to give you a towel—” 

Frodo blushed and so did same. Things were falling apart, Sam thought to himself. He was caught in a compromising position. His ass was out, the globes plump and pink. Frodo’s eyes couldn’t help but stare. He had harbored a secret longing for Samwise ever since he first laid his eyes upon the other Hobbit. There was a line that he knew the two of them couldn’t cross and today was a day of reckoning, a day for crossing lines. 

Frodo thought back to the times where he would watch Sam working in the garden. On hot days Samwise would remove his jacket and shirt. Frodo would watch the sweat travel down the handsome and lean form. The sunkissed golden skin covered in golden hair enraptured Frodo.  He longed to be held in Sam’s strong arms. To be cared for lovingly. Frodo found himself thinking of excuses to be around Sam and speak to him. In his heart the seed of love was planted. Each night he would tend to that seed until it blossomed on this rainy night. 

Frodo didn’t mean to intrude on Sam’s privacy and he immediately dropped the towel and vacated the room. Sam rebuttoned his pants and chased after him, “Frodo! Wait!” 

He captured Frodo's hand in his own. Holding the delicate hand in his rough calloused one. Frodo turned to Sam and held him in his gaze. The stared at each other for one heart beat, and then two. The two of them moved closer and closer to each other unknowingly until they were a hair’s breadth apart. Sam could feel the heat of Frodo’s breath on his face. Frodo reached up a trembling hand to gently caress Sam’s cheek. 

Frodo’s touch felt warm, like the sun shining down on the flower beds. It made Sam’s face redden with heat and the bud of suppressed desire finally bloomed into a blossoming flower of hobbitlove. 

Their lips crashed together none too gently. Their love burned hot Frodo’s hands traveled down the exposed flesh of Sam’s body. Sam moaned into Frodo’s mouth. Trembling just as much as Frodo, Sam moved his hands along Frodo’s shoulders, traveld down his chest to unbutton his shirt. Each inch of exposed flesh sent a jolt of fresh desire to Sam’s core. Soon they were both shirtless, their hardened bodies pressed together. The fit like a key and a lock, made for each other. The two of them moved back into the room, falling together in a mess of limbs onto the soft featherbed. 

Clothes were discarded as their fevered bodies moved together, yearning to be closer than close. To feel each other deep inside, to feel the depth of their hard love being spread open, spread before each other. Sam and Frodo worshiped at the altar of love, their moans a song sent to the ainur in the heavens. They painted each other’s bodies with their exhaulted love, drinking it in, savoring every salty drop. 

Once they finished they realized that once wa snot enough. Their bodies entangled in their hobbitlove all throughout the night and well into the morning. 

As Sam sat on his bench in Bag End, he thought back to that rainy night and smiled. He had know Frodo’s love and would always cherish it to his dying day. 

THE END. To be continued? Like and subscribe for more. LET me know you thoughts in comments bellow

[emmyspov]

Prompt 77 (Tom Stall x Reader Drabble)

author's note: hah, apparently i enjoy writing for non-existent fandoms, but that's cool! I did say I was craving some domestic sweetness after watching a history of violence and the winter / Christmas prompts were amazing to get started with that!

warnings: none that I'm aware of, also no spoilers for the movie :)

word count: 0.7k

gif by @fancydracula

It was the first Christmas with Tom owning his small diner in your little town in Indiana. You've been a regular there ever since - the beverages were good and the pie was even better.

The fact that Tom himself was kind, quiet and a little shy was simply another perk.

This morning was no different.

"Hi Tom", you greeted the man behind the counter who immediately had a smile on his face.

"Hiya, honey. What can I get you? The usual?"

You nodded and climbed onto one of the chairs right across from him after taking off your coat and scarf. Watching him do all of his little tasks brought you immense joy.

The smile on your own face widened once Tom set down a steaming mug in front of you, as well as a piece of your favourite pie.

"So what are are you up to this Christmas? Visiting family?", you asked, digging into the baked good.

The man shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing special. I'll open the diner like usual so everyone who doesn’t have someone to celebrate with either can drop by here."

You let the statement sink in for a few seconds while following his every move with your eyes.

"Do you maybe want to spend the evening at my place?"

The question probably came out quicker than he could understand which made the situation only worse.

"You don't have to obviously! I mean, you could, if you're comfortable. Not that I wouldn't be comfortable with you, I am just saying. Your plan on letting the diner stay open is also good- not just good, pretty great actually." The realisation that you were rambling set in, so with the last bit of courage you had, you quietly added your last statement: "I just don't want you to be alone on Christmas."

His lips were slightly parted as he stared at you. "You being serious?"

You nodded. "I could pick you up after your shift."

Tom put down his hands next to the sink before leaning over the counter, closer to you.

"It's a date then." You felt the blood rushing into your cheeks at his statement. "I might be the luckiest son of a bitch alive", he whispered again and showed you that grin you started to adore.

You were excited.

After finishing the pie and your favourite drink, you went back home to prepare everything for tonight.

And finished just in time - with butterflies in your stomach and feeling good about yourself, you went back to the diner and arrived just as Tom was locking the door to his apartment right next to the diner.

His eyes fell on you as soon as he turned around, pupils dilated. "Holy cow."

"Hi there", you replied softly, a smile gracing your lips. "Ready to go?"

The man across from you nodded and let the keys slide into the pocket of his coat. "Never been more ready."

You chuckled and held out your glove-covered hand for Tom to grab. Where the confidence came from you didn't know, but you also didn't care.

The walk to your place was filled with both comfortable silence and pleasant conversation.

"Here we are", you stated after you unlocked the door and mentioned for your date to head inside.

You were currently standing in the kitchen, pouring two drinks, when Tom cleared his throat.

"Before we do anything else, I just-" He handed you a small envelope. "I suck at giving gifts, but… I hope you still like it."

"Oh my, thank you, Tom! You didn't have to!"

He smiled. "I wanted to. By inviting me over today you literally made me the greatest gift possible and I wanted to return the sentiment."

You pulled out a piece of paper and simply stared at the sheet in your hands.

It was a drawing of inside the diner, Tom behind the counter and you in your usual spot across from him, pie and mug in front of you.

After what felt like forever, you finally pointed at your outfit in the drawing. "Isn't this what I wore when I came into your diner the very first time?"

Tom shrugged once again, a grin playing around his lips as he noticed the smile on your face.

"What can I say? It was admiration at first sight."

[leonsmommykink]

Tex Sawyer headcanons please?? I always need other people's headcanons for him

tw: nsfw if you squint

let’s start off with the fact that he’s um, VERY handsy

whether it’s holding your hand or waist or putting his hand in your back pocket, mans cannot keep to himself

he flirted with you a little when you both first met, but he doesn’t understand the concept of pick up lines

if you say one to him he’ll just be like 🤨

meeting him was surely something too. you’re lucky you’re hot otherwise you would’ve been food 💀

he’s a domestic style man so when he sees you doing something as simple as doing the laundry he gets all tingly and gushy :(

he will help you out with your chores tho

the only brother he’ll let you around by yourself is junior because he knows better than to make a move on you

he’s the type that, even though he gets up fairly early, he’ll stay in bed to watch you sleep bc you just look so angelic

when y’all first started dating it scared you tho

he can see himself having a family with you in the future and having y’all’s own little place not too far from where y’all are now (he still has to take care of his current family obv)

he wants a son and a daughter btw

a lot more romantic than people make him

if it’s your birthday this man will get up at the crack of dawn to make you breakfast in bed.

overall tex would literally be the best boyfriend and husband in the world <3

[hirokosoul]

just look at his hair😌💗

[spideyanakin]

Fool Of a Took

Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis; Blurb where you go to a gala with Tom and more then half of the cast of Lord Of the Rings if there, but Tom has no idea who they are. 

🧚🏻‍♀️Masterlist 🧚🏻‍♀️

“Tom.” You clanged to Tom’s arm for dear life as you felt your soul slowly leave your body.

“What?” He chuckled as he turned his head to you.

“Im going to have a heart attack.” You looked forward to where you saw Viggo Mortensen talking with Orlando Bloom.

Tom chocked on his champagne as he watched you almost melt on the spot.

“Who did you see?” He dropped his glass and placed his hands on your shoulders knowing very well you must have spotted someone you loved.

“Legolas and Aragorn.” You chocked out as you tried to breathe, suddenly feeling uncomfortable in your dress.

“Who now?” Tom tilted his head before turning around to scan the people finding no one he identified as ‘Legolas’ or ‘Aragorn’

“My childhood crush is talking with my aunt’s celebrity crush.” You repeated as you felt the air being removed from your lungs.

“What?” Tom turned his attention back to you and chuckled before taking a new sip of his drink.

“Omg Sam is here?” You breathed out as you started to panic. “Im telling you if Boromir walks in I will faint.” You pointed to Tom and thanked the bartender who handed you a cocktail and chuckled as he saw you fangirl over them.

Tom looked at the bartender who was taking someone’s order and you with blank eyes. He had no idea who you were talking about and it made him wonder how many Mojito’s you had.

“Alright, babe I think we should go light on the cocktails.” He grabbed it from you and took a sip for himself.

“Aaaaaah there goes Frodo.” You squeaked and held Tom’s arm even tighter than before as Elija Wood walked up to them.

Tom winced as your grip hurted him.

“Alright now please tell me what’s going on.” He chuckled before removing your hand from his arm and taking it in his.

“The fellowship is talking a few meters away from me.” You looked at him the eyes your soul about to leave your body as Orlando started walking towards the bar.

You looked at him as he mindlessly walked towards you. His eyes shifted to you making eye contact. You smiled and he smiled back before bringing his attention to the bartender.

You eyed Tom again and by the look on your face, he knew you were a fan. He pointed to him and mouthed a ‘him?’ with a puzzled face.

You nodded furiously and didn’t take your eyes off Orlando as he went back to talking to the other actors.

“Isn’t that the guy who plays in Pirates of The Caribbean?” He questioned.

Your eyes widen as he mindlessly put the drink to his lips.

“Dude you never watched Lord of the rings?” The bartender asked Tom.

“No?” He chuckled and your face fell.

“FOOL OF A TOOK!" You lightly slapped his head "How. Have. We. Been. In. A. Relationship. For. Two. Years. and. I. Didn’t. Know. This?”

“I just never got to it.” He chuckled as he patted his head where you had slapped him.

“HOW?” You almost screamed.

“Yeah, men! Lotr rocks.” The bartender added before leaving to take somebody else’s order

“So the guys from Pirates of The Caribbean was your childhood crush?" He smiled before turning his head to look at who was talking with him. "And let me guess the guys who play in Greenbook is your aunt’s crush?” He asked pointing at them with his drink making you frown.

“First Legolas is my childhood crush. I just admire Orlando for his acting as him. Second Viggo Mortensen played ARAGORN before he played in Greenbook!” You snapped and he raised his hands in innocence.

“Alright.” He chuckled. “You want to talk to them?” He asked like it was no big deal.

Your eyes sparkled as your gaze turned to them.

“Yes! Oh my god, I love you so much." You cried as you kissed his lips and pulled him towards the group. "But we’re watching all the lotr tonight and you better like them or else ill will literally break up with you.”

-TagList-

@averyfosterthoughts​

[luna-writes-stuff]

Day 14: Paper Rings, Aragorn

Song link

Fanfic, gn!reader

Fluff, slight hurt/comfort

Word count: 2790

Tw: Royal wedding traditions, self doubt (Aragorn), hurt/comfort. It’s so fluffy omg

Summary: The night before the wedding is meant to be spend apart from each other. But the rooms are cold alone, and you find yourself longing for Aragorn more. And when you do encounter him, you find he has insecurities of his own to deal with.

“The moon is high Like your friends were the night that we first met Went home and tried to stalk you on the internet. Now I've read all of the books beside your bed.”

Your anxiety was through the roof. This was your last night spent alone in your room. You were to wed Aragorn the next day, but it was expected for you to catch some sleep before the big event.

But tradition told that it was forbidden for the pair to see each other the night before the wedding. And you usually spend your nights with Aragorn. Leaving you alone in your room was the stupidest thing they could have done, for now you were not only anxious, but cold as well.

The maidens had stoked the fire for you, so though it should warm the room, the blankets felt colder than they ever had. Lone moonlight shone through the windows as leaves would occasionally tickle the glass. The sounds did nothing to soothe you.

And so, you did the one thing that made sense. You had to see him.

“The wine is cold Like the shoulder that I gave you in the street Cat and mouse for a month or two or three Now I wake up in the night and watch you breathe.”

Stalking through the halls, you made sure to keep your footsteps light. No one had to wake up because of you. If they caught you, they would send you back to your room anyway.

Where you had been cold earlier, you were now positively freezing. The halls were much colder than the rooms had been, the tiles and entirely different story altogether. But you were set on getting that extra piece of warmth tonight.

“Kiss me once 'cause you know I had a long night Kiss me twice 'cause it's gonna be alright Three times 'cause I've waited my whole life.”

Looking around the corner twice, you silently ran up to Aragorn’s door, your cloak trailing behind you. You found it surprising to not see any guards at his door. That, or you found them in the middle of their shift.

Rapping your knuckles around the door thrice, you heard a hum from the other side of the door, acknowledging your presence.

“Will you let me in before they see me?” You whispered against the wood, keeping your eyes fixed on the gigantic halls.

Shuffling was heard from within the room, before the door opened slowly, a loud creak bouncing off the stone walls. Hissing upon the sound, you pushed yourself in the space between the door and the doorstep, nudging the door slightly as you made your way in.

Aragorn couldn’t even comment on your presence yet; you were closing the door before he even dared to ask you why you were there.

“I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings Uh huh, that's right Darling, you're the one I want.”

“Why are you stalking the halls this hour?” He wondered, turning you around by your shoulders so you were to face him.

You grinned sheepishly, forming your lips in a thin line.

“I was cold.”

“Cold?” He repeated, not sure whether he had heard you correctly or not.

“Yes. The bed is rather big when you’re used to someone snoring away beside you.” You answered, placing your cloak over one of the chairs in front of the vanity, before sitting down on the rug in front of the hearth.

“Did they not stoke for you?” Aragorn asked, walking up to his bed and grabbing a furred blanket.

“They did,” you hummed, warming your hands over the fire. “But I was still cold.”

“And I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this Uh huh, that's right Darling, you're the one I want.”

“I am sorry if I offended your tradition.” You apologised as he sat down next to you, placing the blanket over your shoulders. “I would not be here lest I really needed to.”

“I know,” he agreed, rubbing your arms a couple of times to keep you warm, that everlasting serene look on his face. “I was to leave it up to you regardless. Traditions form houses, but not all change is evil.”

You smiled at that, shaking your head in humour, relishing under his touch. “Poetic as ever, I hear.”

“In paper rings, in picture frames, in dirty dreams Oh, you're the one I want.”

The youthful glint in his eyes remained as he leaned in closer, placing a chaste kiss to the side of your head.

“There was a reason you chose to spend your life with me.”

“Well, you were a king.” You joked, earning a mocking glare from the Gondorian.

“Lost king,” he corrected. “And, thank you.”

“Be grateful for it, darling,” you commented, grabbing his arm with both your hands, leaning into it. “Now, you can never get rid of me.”

“In the winter, in the icy outdoor pool When you jumped in first, I went in too I'm with you even if it makes me blue.”

Aragorn hummed in content, seemingly lost in thought. You could not blame him. Moments like this offered you true peace; in front of the hearth with your beloved, a bright future ahead.

Unbeknownst to you, Aragorn was lost in those thoughts as well. But the less pleasant thoughts.

Gondor had been taken by his hand only months prior, and it had been an entire ordeal thus far. Halls were to be rebuild, homes needed renovation, and the loss of soldiers and citizens from the war was beyond count. Aragorn became king of a broken kingdom, with less citizens than it had ever held before. Even the amount of children roaming the streets had been depressing since Pelennor Fields.

“Which takes me back To the color that we painted your brother's wall Honey, without all the exes, fights, and flaws We wouldn't be standing here so tall, so.”

“It seems absurd,” he voiced, drawing your attention. “We met as mere rangers, not even familiar with one’s names. And now, we are to be wed. Rulers of a kingdom.”

A slight rush of heat to your face caught you off-guard. Aragorn always made remarks like that without warning. They were kind, and endearing. But unexpected nonetheless.

“You seem to be doing a great job so far.” You praised, trying to shake off your blush. But instead of the usual appreciative response, your soon-to-be-husband now remained silent

And you knew him better than to shake it off as him not paying attention, or giving you a silent answer.

“Kiss you once 'cause I know you had a long night Kiss you twice 'cause it's gonna be alright Three times 'cause you waited your whole life.”

“Pleasant thoughts?” You tried, grabbing his hand and rubbing circles on the back of it, trying to soothe him.

“No,” he admitted, looking down at your hands. “Quite on the contrary.”

You let out a quiet ‘ah’ of understanding, nodding with your words. You wouldn’t vocally tell him to explain. He’d do it regardless of your actions or words.

“This kingdom hasn’t looked this damaged in years. We lost so many people in battle, it has become difficult to repair anything in the time I have been seated at this throne.”

“Heavy is the head on which rests the crown.” You mused in understanding. “But you must understand; you are not alone. Your people are behind you. You have got your friends, your wards. You have me.”

Now, he turned his head towards yours, his eyebrows furrowed together in silent desperation. He did that often.

It was a look you had grown to hate.

“I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings Uh huh, that's right Darling, you're the one I want.”

“Kingdoms aren’t built in fortnights, months. Not even years. They aren’t something that is fixed with the clap of your hands; they have issues.” You went on, trying to offer reconciliation.

“But your people are happy with you. The streets and structures might not look it, but the people behind it have been at your full support since you helped vanquish the dark shadows of Mordor. They gave you not only their respect, but their patience. Is that not all that is needed?”

Then, finally, a tiny smile began to form on his face, those worried lines on his forehead slowly disappearing as his eyes set gentle again.

“And they should be glad to have you at their head as of tomorrow.” He praised. “With words and speeches like these, you will give them hope again.”

“And I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this Uh huh, that's right Darling, you're the one I want.”

Now it was your turn to smile, letting your head rest on Aragorn’s shoulder.

“I cannot give them what they already hold. I can only amplify that.”

“And don’t you ever stop doing it,” he encouraged, resting his head atop yours, wrapping one of his arms around your figure as he drew you closer.

The body proximity plus the blanket and the hearth was enough to let the warmth return to your body. Your feet had slowly stopped feeling as if they had frozen, and your teeth were no longer clashing together.

This was exactly what you had meant when you felt the need to visit Aragorn at this hour of night.

“In paper rings, in picture frames, in dirty dreams Oh, you're the one I want.”

After your conversation, a comfortable silence fell upon the two of you. Anxious thoughts about the wedding had left your mind; and Aragorn was no longer left wondering about his leadership. At least for the night.

Something like this was a thing that neither of you supposed you could ever hold. It was gentle and fragile, yet it has lasted this long, that you felt as if it could face the world all over again.

The quest to Mordor had been difficult on both of you, but you refused to leave either’s side, even before the Battle of Helm’s Deep. Your loyalty and trust towards one another had grown tremendously in that amount of time. As soon as Aragorn had announced the ending of Sauron to the people of Gondor, he had asked for your hand. Not even a night nor an entire day after that. Immediately. For him, there was no doubt.

“I want to drive away with you I want your complications too I want your dreary Mondays Wrap your arms around me, baby boy.”

“Is it wrong of me to say I wish to stay here tonight?” You mumbled, almost scared to break the silence. It had been so peaceful.

“No,” came his answer. “I am glad you want to.”

A light chuckle came from you as you raised your head, gazing into his eyes.

“What will the staff say when they find us in the same room tomorrow?”

A grin now formed on Aragorn’s face, his shoulders raising briefly, already imagining the looks on the faces of the guards and maidens.

“They’d be petrified.”

“Good impression for a king,” you winked, standing up from your seat on the floor, using Aragorn’s shoulders to help you get up.

“Need I remind you of your simultaneous coronation tomorrow afternoon?” He joked in a humoured tone.

“I want to drive away with you I want your complications too I want your dreary Mondays Wrap your arms around me, baby boy.”

Scoffing at the words, you walked up to the bed, flinging yourself onto the pile of blankets.

“I can do this,” you whispered to yourself, suddenly realising all change for you tomorrow morning. How did they even expect you to get through this night alone?

The mattress dipped beside you, and you knew Aragorn had followed your short walk. A gentle hand was placed on your back, drawing patterns on it with a soothing gesture.

“Can we not stay in this bed tomorrow as well?” You muttered, raising your head from the blankets so Aragorn would hear you as well.

“I do not think our subjects would be pleased with that. They are expecting a royal wedding tomorrow. Parties have already been announced through the entirety of Minas Tirith.”

“I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings Uh huh, that's right You're the one I want.”

Turning on your back, you looked up at him, placing your hands underneath your head.

“I will be ruling a kingdom tomorrow.” You realised aloud. “That is insane.”

“You will do great.” Aragorn reassured, resting against the headboard as he grabbed your head lightly, placing it on his lap.

His hands found their way into your hair, toying with the loose ends and braids, the metal clashing against his rings as it filled the quiet night air.

Shivers ran down your spine as you closed your eyes in contentment. Much was to change for you, if course, but you were glad to do it with him. How different your life would have been if you had decided to stay in another inn all those years ago. The mere thought of it made you realise how lucky you had been.

“I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this Uh huh Darling, you're the one I want.”

Before you even knew it, you had drifted off into your dreams. Aragorn noticed the second your breathing evened out.

He knew you’d be anxious this night, yet, instead of voicing your worries to him, you helped him with his own insecurities. Though he grew to adore those notions, he wished you would talk to him about them. To voice your own worries so he could offer you the same comfort you had offered him.

But he was still glad to have you there. If things took turns for the worst, he knew you’d come to talk to him. For now, he was simply half you found your peace and resilience and managed to finally fall asleep.

“I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings Uh huh, that's right Darling, you're the one I want.”

Gently, he had picked up your figure. Or, as best as he could from his seat. Placing you on your back, he let your head fall against a pillow, covering your body with three warm blankets. The furred rug that had been on the bed earlier, had now been abandoned in front of the hearth.

He left it there. He was not to get up now. He had grown quite tired himself, and he did not want to risk waking you up by moving around again.

And so, he laid down beside you, pushing your figure closer to his as he got comfortable. When he was sure he wouldn’t move again, he grabbed both your shoulders softly, and laid them closer to his chest, until your head fell in the crook of his neck.

You always laid like this while out in the forests with him. He figured it was his safest bet at the moment.

“And I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this Uh huh, that's right Darling, you're the one I want.”

It did not take long for sleep to claim him as well after that. Your soft snores and the calm ambiance of the hearth in the room, lured him into his dreams swiftly.

His arms had stayed wrapped around you throughout the entire night. His head placed atop yours again, his breath brushing your hair every so often. The sound of his heartbeat subconsciously drifting you even further into your own nirvana.

It was your peace that brought him his.

“In paper rings, in picture frames, in dirty dreams You're the one I want In paper rings, in picture frames, and all my dreams Oh, you're the one I want.”

The day of tomorrow would not be any of your worries for that night. Those were worries for the next morning. The reactions of the maids were not important, nor would the talks throughout town be.

All Aragorn could think about was to have you on his side after that night. To hold your hand in front of everyone, to place that gorgeous crown on your head, and to dress you in the most lavish dresses his kingdom had to offer.

Tonight was pure peace and serenity. There was no more place for anxiety nor turmoil. Worries would have to wait for another few hours. Sometimes people can take away those negative things with the mere clap of their hands.

“You're the one I want, one I want You're the one I want, one I want.”

[valyrian-ruins]

Request from @fastidious-and-precise​ : Imagine request for aragorn where he proposes to the reader who is a dunedain like him and was/is part of the fellowship? you can pick whether it’s set after the quest or during or even before. thanks :) Hi ! Thank you for you request and I’m so sorry for the time it took me to do it but I hope you’ll like it ♡ ( Sorry for the grammar mistakes ♡ ) - Allegra You never would have thought that you’d be in this kind of quest on which rested the Middle Earth’s destiny. Oh, all your life was an adventure since you were a Ranger and you were not the most careful about taking risk but it was always at a lower level than protecting all the lives in Middle Earth. 

Aragorn was not really fond of the idea of you, the greatest evil of Arda, and your lack of prudence reunited in a quest but who can stop you from doing what you want ? Nobody, really, he has already tried so many times. He knew you from many years and even if Arwen has caught his eyes with her elven beauty and soft but brave personality, she has never compete with your inner fire and your features as beautiful as the Valars.

 You were in animated discussion with the Hobbits about many things you had saw in the Shire and you didn’t understand. You were someone who loved discovering anything about any kind of your world, even the smallest things. Your (E/C) were shinning in the light of Rivendell and your smile was so contagious, leaving no choice to Aragorn than smiling of his own just at looking at you. Suddenly, the voice of Gandalf was heard. 

« She will be an extraordinary addition to this quest. We’ll need this light she brings with her to pass through the darkest path…And I think she can give you a bigger bravery than the one you already have. » 

His sentence was punctuated by a smoke circle and his signature smile, looking at the Dunedain knowingly. Y/N and Strider were courting since forever now and the future was so incertain. Touching something in his pocket, Aragorn thought this was the right time for his plan because after the beginning of this quest he might not have the opportunity to do it.

 He waited for the moonlight to take you in the gardens and you agreed, knowing perfectly it was maybe the last time for you to be alone. Following him through the night, you were letting all of the fragrances of the gardens appease your anxiety about the coming events. 

« All of this seems like a dream you know…Like how can we be here, in this place where it seems like nothing bad can happen but tomorrow being in a foreign place where anything is gonna try to kill us for a stupid ring… » you said in a whisper, trying to not disturb the peace of the garden.

 Aragorn came closer and gave you a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

« And this is for this exact reason that I think it’s the good moment for ask you something. » Looking at him intrigued, your eyes rounded in surprise at the sight of him taking something out of his pocket. He opened a little cloth and revealed a simple ring with a (S/C) stone in its center.

 « Y/N…Do you want to be my wife ? 

« Aragorn…Are you sure about it ? I mean, yes, of course I’ll be your wife but we don’t know about… » 

He cut you with a kiss, taking the rest of your words on his lips to erase them of the moment before whispering tenderly. 

« All I need to know is that, with you by my side, nothing will stop me. » A big smile takes place on your lips, your hands coming to cup his face before kissing him again, letting a little laugh escaping against his lips when he made you spin around. 

[little-diable]

Gin melin - Aragorn (angst/fluff)

Currently taking requests. 

Warning: Death. 

Gin melin = I love you 

Gin melathon an-uir = I will love you for eternity

Enjoy my loves. xxx 

Aragorns eyes were glistering, the night was dark, the screams of Sarumans Uruk hai echoed through the night. (Y/n) stood next to her brother Legolas, she could barely hear him and Gimlis bickering as her eyes were focused on Aragorn. She knew that he was scared, knew that hundreds of men would fall tonight and leave their wives and children behind. 

The (y/h/c) haired girl didn’t fear death, nor did she fear Saruman, the only thing that she feared was losing her friends, her brother and then man she fell in love with many moons ago. 

(Y/n) clutched her sword tightly, her hands were sweaty, even though she was freezing, she was already drenched in blood, but it wasn’t hers, thank goodness. 

“(Y/n).”, she heard Haldir scream, just as she turned towards him she watched the sword hitting the back of his head, (y/n) was frozen on the spot, she barely heard Aragorns battle cry. Tears blurred her vision, her heart was beating unbelievably fast, anger flooding though her. She started killing every man, every Uruk hai near her, while the tears wouldn’t stop falling. 

She felt somebody's grip around her arm, ripping her out of her trance, her (y/e/c) eyes found Aragorns, he momentarily puller her against his chest, kissed her head. 

The fight went on for many hours, the feeling of losing Haldir overshadowed the relief of Rohans victory. She was sitting in a room, (y/n) felt guilty, as if she could have protected him, she could have saved him, but she wasn’t fast enough. 

“(Y/n)?”, Aragorn was standing outside of her door, he was exhausted, yet relieved. She slowly arose from the bed, (y/n) looked awful, blood splatters still decorated her clothing, her eyes were puffy, cheeks red from all the crying. Aragorn pulled her into his chest, thumb stroking her cheek, trying to show her that she wasn’t alone in this. 

They never spoke about their feelings, never had the time to, she knew that his heart once belonged to Arwen a long time ago, knew that he probably still held Arwens heart in his hands, but what she didn’t know was that Aragorn was deeply in love with her. 

“I could have saved him, he died because I wasn’t fast enough, it’s all my fault Aragorn.”, she inhaled his fresh smell, her tears were drenching his linen shirt, Aragorns hands tangled themselves in her hair. He pulled her away from his chest, looked her into her eyes “no you couldn’t have saved him.”, and pressed a kiss to her lips. 

She momentarily stopped breathing, his lips felt soft against hers, (y/n) pulled him closer, not wanting to let go. “Gin melin.”, she whispered against his lips, he couldn’t stop the small laugh leaving his lips, “Gin melathon an-uir (y/n).”

[lillianofliterature]

tortured heart | aragorn x reader | 2/2

REVISED on August 4th, 2022. Expanded from 7.5K to 7.7K.

a/n: this short series is based on a request sent in by @blissful-swift.This is also for @nutella-hitler who requested to be tagged in a fic.

summary: as his hands meddle with herbs and linens, mingled with your blood and his own tears, Aragorn’s darkest fears are realized.

warnings: wounds, blood/gore, violent circumstances, sickness/fever

word count: 7.7K 

music: Healing Katniss, Rue’s Farewell, & We Could Go Home by James Newton Howard 

“Legolas,” Aragorn summoned, his voice quick and assertive, pulling the elf from his anxious position on the other side of the fire and close to his side. The fair-haired archer knelt down beside him, his gaze following where Aragorn gestured with a jut of his stubbled chin. "Place your hands here, where mine are, and push down firmly." 

Legolas quickly replaced Aragorn's hands with his own and waited for the ranger as he rose with haste and made his way to their supplies, which laid in a heap next to Gimli. 

He grabbed his pack from where it lay and brought it back to your unconscious body. Legolas watched pensively as Aragorn fumbled through the bag, careful to keep the pressure on your wound even. Legolas had laid out most of the medicinal things just moments prior, but there were a few items he had overlooked. 

He watched as Aragorn turned his body towards the fire in an attempt to quicken his pace of searching. With a grunt of frustration, Aragorn shook his pack to its side, spilling its contents onto the ground in the light of the flames. Within seconds, he snatched up a silver flask that glinted in the firelight. He unscrewed the flask and wafted it under his nose, pulling away with a disheartened look. 

Aragorn's displeasure came from the realization that he had only brought ale, which was a weaker beverage in the sense of its alcoholic content. It was good for warming up a cold body and taking the edge off of a hungry stomach, but not strong enough for sterilizing an open wound. Aragorn glanced at your pack but didn't bother to check your flask. He knew you only carried ale, and occasionally a small store of mead.

"Legolas, what did you bring with you?" 

"Just wine from my father's halls. It's won't do much for this, I'm afraid," Legolas looked apologetic. He wished he had something of more use. It was true that elves could hold their liquor better than most, but elven wine was soft and sweet. It wasn't meant for making one drunk, but rather to pair well with fine dishes and desserts. It took bottles of the stuff to make someone inebriated and Legolas only had a few ounces.

"Gimli?" Aragorn's gaze found the dwarf's above the tips of the flickering flames as he sat brooding in worry on the other side. His stout companion seemed puzzled by his inquiry as he glanced from your body and back to the ranger, as if Aragorn's question seemed unrelated to the predicament at hand.

"Ay', uh," He cleared his throat. "I brought some pipeweed. An extra tunic in case ah' soil this one. A few pairs of socks—finest wool in Moria; thick stuff. May not be pretty tah look at, but it'll save ya from losin' a toe when the frost nips at yah in the night. Oh, and ay' brought 'ah spare pipe in case 'ah lost this one. And there's a shilling of—..." The dwarf trailed off as he noticed Legolas turn back to face him, his hands still pressed firmly on your abdomen. The incredulous look on the elf’s face was matched by Aragorn's annoyed expression, which was soon accompanied by a sigh.

"In your flask, Gimli, what did you store in your flask? Ale? Mead?"

"Oooh," Gimli nodded slowly. "I brought this—" 

Gimli pulled his flask from his pocket, swishing its contents around. "Strongest brew this side o' tha' Iron Hills. Make 'ah mere man choke up 'is own gullet." 

Within seconds, Aragorn had screwed the lid back onto his own flask and got to his feet. With two large strides, he snatched the bronze flask from Gimli's hand and opened it. With one small sniff, Aragorn knew it was potent enough to complete the task. He turned his heel and knelt on the other side of your torso, across from Legolas, whose hands were still steady. 

"Lift your hands gently," Aragorn said, his voice calm but full of authority. "Now remove the cloth. Slowly." He watched as Legolas followed his instruction carefully, allowing him to pour a generous amount of the liquid over the wound. 

As he did so, he glanced at your unmoving face, surprised to see you unfazed by the contact, which was no doubt extremely painful paired with the depth of your wound. In one breath, he was thankful that you were blind to the pain in your unconsciousness, but in another, it worried him all the more. Something this strong would indefinitely jolt a body's reflexes, but with you, nothing happened. Aragorn swallowed his worry and looked at Legolas. The elf was holding the blood-drenched cloth in his hands, trying not to despair as he realized what was happening to your body before his very eyes. He'd rarely seen death, especially not anything so brutal and gruesome—not inflicted upon his companions. 

"Aragorn—" The ranger followed where Legolas' eyes fell. The elf's hands were tainted with crimson liquid and the once pure cloth of Aragorn's shirt was stained red and dripping onto the earth. Aragorn sympathized with Legolas; he knew the young prince had hardly seen death in his life, yet in the last day alone he had watched one companion die before his eyes and now another's blood was riddled in his pores. 

He wanted to comfort his friend, but there wasn't any time to spare. Comfort could come when you were conscious and on your way to mending.

 "Rinse your hands and throw that piece out. We can't use it anymore. Bring those other strips from the pot over here. She needs fresh bandages." Aragorn’s words seemed to drift from one pointed ear through to the other. The elf was frozen as he stared down at his hands, which trembled slightly in the cascading light of the fire, the color of your blood staining his pale skin. Aragorn's heart rent within his chest for him, but there simply wasn't time for this! "Legolas! The bandages."

The elven prince was startled to action and promptly made his way to the waterskin canteens by the fire, pouring some over his hands just enough for most of your blood to rinse off. He ignored the pink tint that remained as he reached for the collection Aragorn's remedies. There were a few strips of clean cloth that had been sterilized a little earlier, which were now dry. He picked one up and, while unraveling it, handed it to Aragorn. 

Aragorn glanced at Legolas' face as he took the strip from his hand and doused it with the liquor within Gimli's flask. He then leaned forward, dabbing the gash in your torso gently, probing it enough to let the alcohol sterilize whatever infectious grime had nestled itself there. He was sure, no doubt, that the Uruk's blades were never purified, cleaned, or even made with a straight edge. Your skin bore the ramifications of their hastily made weapons. 

"Take the yarrow and mix it with a little bit of water and grind the blossoms up until it's firm. It will help to stop the bleeding and seal the wound. Gimli, take those strips out of the boiling water and drape them over the edge to dry. I'll need them for her other cuts. And find the linen gauze in her satchel; I'll use it for the binding." 

Both companions set to complete the tasks given to them as Aragorn began the tedious task of cleaning your wounds—but before he could properly clean them, he had to find them. He was aware already of the deep gash in your lower abdomen, which was the worst of all. But apart from your torso, everything was still hidden beneath your clothing, just barely peeking out from wherever your clothes had been torn. In order for Aragorn to clean and purify the flesh, he had to have access to them.

He took his knife and carefully loosed the seams at the shoulder of your sleeves so they could be removed easily, leaving your upper torso covered and shielded from the brisk evening air. There were a few cuts to your face and a light laceration to your left arm, which could now be seen well enough to clean. The rhythmic sound of the rock grinding into the bowl that Legolas was using to mix the yarrow and water into a paste provided Aragorn with a stimulant to pace himself. With each small cut, he allowed himself a few seconds to dab water over it and remove the blood and dirt, and a few more seconds to apply a little of Gimli's liquor. 

Every few seconds, he would glance to your torso, watching the cloth there slowly sop up more blood. He tried his best to focus on one task, but the loss of blood was beginning to worry him. With the laceration on your left arm, he could see a little bit of your deeper tissues beneath the initial abrasion. Each time he poured water over it, fresh blood pooled in its place. Aragorn's mind began to race. If you kept losing blood like this, you would be gone within the hour. There would be no way to bring you back if you died from—

"Here, this is the first of the yarrow," Legolas unknowingly broke through Aragorn's anxiety as he knelt down next to him, handing him the first small batch of yarrow on a clean rag. "I'll make some more for her smaller cuts." As Legolas laid the rag in Aragorn's palm, he promptly returned to his bowl and cluster of uncrushed yarrow blossoms. 

Aragorn hadn't the ability to utter thanks as he crossed over to your right side where the gash was. He removed the cloth gently, which was soaked through with blood. He tossed it onto the earth next to the other ruined strip. With more water over the gash to rinse the fresh blood onto the ground beneath you, he used two fingers to press the yarrow into the marred flesh. When he filled the wound, he spread a light layer of it on the edges of the broken skin, sealing up any available passage. 

By the time Aragorn had finished, Legolas had another batch of the paste prepared for the other wounds. Aragorn promptly applied it to your arm as he had your torso, and then used a tiny bit to seal up the cuts on your cheeks. Legolas and Gimli watched impatiently, awaiting their next task. When Aragorn finally stood on his knees and turned towards them, they sat up straight. 

"I will need both of you to help me," Aragorn instructed, preparing the thicker gauze he had wrapped up in a coil from his satchel. The two companions came to his side, eagerly listening as he guided their hands. "Gimli, I need you to keep her sitting up just enough to allow Legolas to pass the gauze underneath her into my hands."

Gimli sat on the ground as Aragorn gently nestled your shoulders onto his legs, where Gimli was to support your back with his arms. Your head rested back against Gimli's chest where he could see the dark crimson in your (h/c) hair and the dried blood that had tainted your flesh. It was enough to bring the disagreeable fellow to a few tears that threatened to spill over his round cheeks and into the braids of his beard.

He watched quietly as Legolas and Aragorn repeatedly wrapped your torso, passing the gauze back and forth until it was layered generously. After that, Legolas wrapped your arm while Aragorn placed small patches of the gauze over your cheeks. When they finished, Aragorn helped Gimli position your body onto the ground gently. As Gimli stood, both he and Legolas noticed the shift in Aragorn's demeanor. 

Now that the bleeding had been stopped and the wounds had been medicated and cleaned, he could find some peace within himself. Although there were still dangers that could arise through the rest of the night, they had at least gotten the largest task done within a little more than an hour, which was incredibly good timing for such extensive wounds. 

But now came the waiting and the watching. 

Aragorn would have to watch carefully to make sure the yarrow had sealed the wounds, to make sure your temperature was level, and to watch the hours to ensure that you would become conscious on your own soon. He sat on his knees where he had been for half an hour, nursing your wounds, slouched and weary. As Gimli and Legolas settled themselves on their meager bedding, Aragorn stood and retrieved both his and your covers, rolling them out as he pulled them up from the ground. When he did so, your satchel tipped over, spilling your journal and a few other items onto the dirt. He bound the blankets in one arm and stooped to return your things, but the journal he kept in his hand as he seated himself on the ground beside you. 

He covered you gently with the thicker blanket, hoping to ward some of the chill off from your exposed body. It would be senseless to put fresh clothes on you when he would have to replace your bandages as soon as the morning dawned over the plain. You were right next to the fire as well, which would provide a lasting source of heat. 

As silence fell over them, Aragorn decided to flip through your journal, eager to see what you had stored away within its pages since you had last shared your writings with him. That was something you often did every few days with Aragorn as you traveled together, but since the Fellowship had been established and the journey to save Middle-earth had begun, there seemed to have been less time for personal pleasures. Now there were night watches, early hours, four hobbits to guard, and many other tasks that seemed to have overtaken the peaceable sense of your regular lives. There were a few nights, however, that Aragorn had stayed up after his watch to sit with you through yours, despite your protests, which had allowed you both some time to revel in one another's company.

Legolas and Gimli watched as Aragorn slowly turned the pages of the journal with a solemn smile upon his features. They recognized the book as yours; they had seen it in your hands many times since the journey had begun. There was one moment, though, as he read, that his brows drew together and his jaw tightened, and they wondered what he must have stumbled upon. When he looked up and studied your face for a moment as he contemplated what he had read, he brushed a strand of your hair from your face. They both looked away, towards the fire or upward into the sky, feeling as if they were witnessing something that was tacitly private and tender. They didn't utter a sound.

Aragorn didn't comment either as he heard Gimli's sniffles from the other side of the fire, nor did he act as if he noticed the way Legolas uncharacteristically rocked back and forth slightly as he tended the flames, or the way his fingers fluttered against each other in anticipation. As another hour wore on, their postures slouched and began to weigh heavily upon them. Aragorn, although tired, couldn't begin to think of resting himself. But there was no reason for them to avoid sleep. 

"Legolas, Gimli," He spoke gently with a comforting tone and a faint lopsided smile. "Get some sleep. There's no sense in all of us staying awake." 

"But Aragorn, what if you need help during the night?" Legolas asked, concern laced in his graceful features.

"Then I will wake you," He answered, nodding towards them in reassurance. "I'll be fine, so long as she is."

"Are ye' sure, laddie? We wouldn't mind sharin' tha' load with yeh."

"Quite," Aragorn's smile grew, but they saw the tiredness in his eyes. "Sleep."

His companions shared a questioning glance before settling beneath their bedding and allowing themselves to succumb to their exhaustion. Legolas, although an elf with considerable stores of energy, was even wearied by both the journey and the emotional strain of what he had witnessed in recent hours. And Gimli, however much he maintained his emotionally vacant facade, seemed quite worn himself from losing Boromir, the hobbits, and watching you struggle for life before his very eyes. But even their worries could not keep the sleep away for long. In a few minutes, Gimli's snores accompanied the crackling of the fire and the steady cadence of Legolas’ slumbering breath.

 For a long while, Aragorn returned to your journal, drinking in the richness of every page as though it were the very wine in Legolas' flask. You had written pages worth of things about the four hobbits and their gentle quirks, their innate kindness and hearty humor. You had scribbled down sketches of their curly hair or the way their feet compared to his and Boromir's. 

He chuckled as he studied the sketch of his foot next to Merry's. He remembered that evening with perfect clarity. It had only been two days after the Fellowship had departed from Rivendell, when everyone was still getting acquainted with one another. He had noticed how quickly the hobbits had taken to you, no doubt for the way you could feel like home to any soul that crossed your path. 

The sketch had taken place as everyone had settled in for the evening by the fire. Merry and Pippin had been telling stories about their home, describing the Shire and its quaint beauty, as well as the hobbits who inhabited it. 

You had become absolutely enamored with the thought of such a lovely place. However, amongst their words, you had been stuck on one detail about hobbit physiology since the moment you had met Frodo during the council meeting. Aragorn had been waiting for you to inquire about their feet for nearly three days; he knew you thought it both adorable and rather hilarious, that beings of such small stature would have such large feet—and the volume of the hair that grew on them! It was the source of your giggling as they went on with their storytelling. 

But as you asked your questions in between their sentences, you had had the brilliant idea to sketch their feet, which had soon led to you comparing Merry's feet to your own, and then Boromir's, who had also been subject to laughter on the subject; and finally, you had turned to Aragorn, who had been less than welcoming on the idea of parading his feet for eight other men to stare at. But the look on your face as you turned to him had been full of merriment and he could not risk disappointing you, however ridiculous the request was.

 He had been oblivious, however, to the butterflies that had erupted in your stomach when he had shied his boots away from your greedy hands and donned a bashful smile - all until you practically begged him, pulling at his arm with your delicate hands. He hadn't lasted more than a minute before you were seated by his bare feet, pencil scribbling away, as both Merry and Pippin peered over your shoulder, with Merry occasionally offering his foot as a model beside his own.

In the next few pages were different flowers and blossoms from weeds, as well as a few leaves of various shapes and colors. They were adhered to the page with the now-dried syrup Sam had brought along in his pack, much to the hobbit's dismay. Next to each carefully pressed object was a note, labeling the plant and the day it was picked, the reason it had been kept, and who had given it to you. The flowers and their frail pedals had been picked and given to you by Sam, who was always admiring their differences as the company trekked onward. 

Next to Sam’s chosen blossoms was one (f/c) flower that he remembered giving to you around the same time. He gently ran his finger over the perfectly dried petals as a swell of giddish happiness erupted within him. You had thought enough of it to keep it preserved next to your other treasures.

Next to it was a note written in careful penmanship.

 From Aragorn, in the afternoon on the fifth day of our journey, just before we reached the borders of the Lothlorien forest. He said it reminded him of me, since it bears my favorite color.

I thought it very sweet of him.

I shall cherish it forever.

Aragorn could feel the heat rise in his cheeks. He quickly flicked his eyes to the next page.

The leaves had been plucked from shrubs, trees, and the ground by Frodo, who claimed to have a collection of them himself in his home in Bag End (and had suggested turning them into garland once the journey was concluded). The weeds, of course, had been given to you by Merry and Pippin, who had somehow found beauty in their simplistic and plain blossoms. 

It was comforting to see their input in your journal, especially now that they had been separated from the rest of you. Aragorn's thoughts wandered to Merry and Pippin as he read their reasoning for picking the various weeds; some for the funny way they smelled and others for their odd shapes. 

Where were they now? Were they injured? Were they even alive at this point? 

With a steady hand, he closed your journal and set it beside him, unable to continue reading your eloquent words, gazing upon your simple handwriting, and admiring the pressed oddities hidden between its pages. It was obvious to him now that no matter how hard he tried to focus on the hope that you would be on the mend by morning, it was of no use; he would always worry for you. He would always fear a life spent in your absence.

The truth of the matter was that, if he was to lose you, to watch your life slip through his fingers before his very eyes, it would kill him completely. It was irony at its finest; to speak of that kind of inward death when your body was bruised and frail before him. It was a very ill-favored joke, a matter conveyed in very poor taste, as it were. 

And yet he did not laugh. Nor did he smile. In fact, he felt himself swallowing tears. 

Aragorn's eyes settled on your features, recalling the words carefully written in your journal, recollections of each day and the things that mattered enough to be put to paper; the things so important to you that they had to be preserved. As he studied your bruised skin, a dark thought entered his mind with tumultuous volume. Would there one day be a time when he would wake to remember that you were no longer living? Would there be a day he would have to learn to adjust to never seeing your smile, to feel his thumb caress the softness of your cheek, or never being able to close his eyes as he listened to you speak? Would there ever be a time when the comfort of your presence ceased to exist? Or when those bright (e/c) eyes did not return his gaze, knowing every thought that passed through his mind?

Amidst his worries, Aragorn noticed the blood that had been mingled into your hair and skin and the dirt-smudged in your features. He leaned over your body and retrieved one of the rags he had used to clean your smaller cuts, which was still quite clean. He poured the waterskin over the rag, dousing it with fresh water, and scooting himself close enough to be able to place your head in his lap. 

Carefully, he took bunches of your (h/c) hair and ran the wet rag through it, cleansing the blood from its strands. He then took the rag and folded it inward to a clean side and gently scrubbed the dried blood from your forehead and nose, and finally over your lips. His fingers slowed there as he noticed, not for the first time, the beauty in your natural features. 

It was mesmerizing. 

He returned the rag to your forehead and swept it one final time over your skin. When Aragorn's fingers brushed against your forehead, the brief contact revealed an intense heat that had begun to radiate from your skin. With a puzzled expression, he placed the back of his hand against your forehead and neck. They were broiling hot. Beadlets of sweat were gliding down from your hair to the nape of your neck. 

"No, no, no," Aragorn mumbled, leaning forward on his knees, and laying you back onto the ground. His mind began to race with rapid thoughts of fear, worry, and responsibility; he knew what was happening, and there were limited ways that he could fix it. Most of what would come would be up to you. With firm force, Aragorn patted your cheeks in an effort to draw you into consciousness. "(Y/n), can you hear me? You need to wake up—now!" 

 The sound of Aragorn's voice roused Legolas from his slumber in seconds. The elf turned his head from his pillow and adjusted his eyes to the bright light of the fire. With a look at the sky, he could see that it was only the young hours of the morning, with the moon still high among the stars. He glanced to Gimli, who was still snoring, and to the heap of supplies that sat untouched, and finally, he flipped onto his back to find Aragorn leaning over your body with a tense expression. 

He was much more anxious than he had been before; there was a childlike urgency in his eyes. 

"Aragorn? What is it?" Legolas' groggy voice brought Aragorn's gaze to his. 

"She's caught a fever." Aragorn simply answered, shucking the blanket from his legs and taking large strides toward the collection of herbs Legolas has set out hours before. He grabbed a handful of jars and wrapped herbs and brought them back to your side. He began to unravel the wounds that he and Legolas had covered earlier, searching for the infection that had brought the fever on so quickly. 

"What can I do?" Legolas knelt beside Aragorn, watching anxiously as the ranger peered under the edge of the bandages wrapped around your abdomen. 

"She needs something to eat, whether she's awake or not. You could make some broth with the herbs I have here. They'll fight the sickness from the inside and give her some strength." Legolas took the herbs and began to boil water over the fire. While he waited, he nudged Gimli with his foot, drawing the dwarf from his slumber with a violent jolt.

"What are yeh tryin' tah do!? Give me ah' heart attack?!" Gimli chastised, rubbing a hand over his unkempt beard. 

"It's (Y/n). She's become ill," Legolas returned to the fire, snipping off the leaves of the herbs and crushing others into powder before pouring them into the pot. Gimli sat up and rubbed his beard a moment longer before getting to his feet. 

"What's that?" He inquired, peering over the boiling pot.

"Herbs to help her gain her strength back." Legolas watched as Gimli wandered over to his pack and pulled out a bundle of cloth. As he made his way back, he unraveled it and began dropping tuffs of dried meat into the pot.

"What are you doing? It doesn't call for your petrified meat!"

"It's dried pork; it'll give'er more strength than that grass yer' dumpin' in there."

"Gimli, you're supposed to be helping–"

"No, he's right. I was unaware that we had meat. Good thinking, Gimli." Aragorn's voice silenced the bickering of the two companions. Gimli's smile was smug as he looked at Legolas and added the rest of his pork into the mixture. Before Legolas could return his smugness, Aragorn's heavy sigh captured their attention. 

"It doesn't make any sense! Her wounds are fine; there's no sign of infection anywhere," Aragorn said, his voice laced with frustration. He rubbed a hand over his mouth and chin, considering the possibilities. "We must have missed something." 

Legolas and Gimli watched as Aragorn pulled your boots from your feet and searched your legs a second time for any swelling or gathering moisture through your green leather. As the minutes wore on, he found one area on the inward side of your lower thigh, only a little more than an inch long. He ripped the fabric open enough to expose the complete wound, revealing a small gash with a green tint to the tissue surrounding it. 

What worried him most were the vessels of blood that bulged around the wound, gradually fading into the skin. It had bled little in comparison to the others and had dried much quicker, pulling the trousers close to your skin and hiding it rather well from his sight earlier on. From the looks of it, it seemed to be a wound inflicted by an arrow. He chastised himself for having looked over it before. 

"Legolas, come look at this," He said as he tenderly fingered the swollen skin. There was a fever here, too. When Legolas' shadow flickered beside him, he opened the cloth of your trousers to show the elf. "What does that look like to you?"

"Poison," The elf replied with a sudden expression of distaste. "They must have dipped the shafts of their arrows with it." 

Aragorn did not utter a sound, nor did he return his friend's fretful gaze. He only stared at the wound, considering the next course of action he could take for something this far along. In a mere moment, he was opening his jars and mixing things in his hands. A few things he chewed in his mouth with haste before applying them directly. After that, he began to medicate the wound as best as he could with what else he had. Until the broth had been prepared, Aragorn toiled tediously over your body, suppressing his thoughts with his calculated remedies, whispering between breaths only words that Legolas could interpret as elvish. 

When he had finished, he maneuvered himself around and placed fresh rags drenched in cold water on your forehead. Every few minutes, he would check the dilation of your eyes, warring with himself not to cry when he saw your eyes staring blankly into nothingness. He covered your feet with spare woolen socks and draped blankets over your body above the thigh in an effort to chase the fever. When Legolas finally brought the broth, Aragorn took on the task of trying to get you to swallow. He hoped the sensation would wake you since nothing else had. 

"Come on, (Y/n), swallow," He whispered as he tilted your head upward and set the edge of the bowl to your lips. "Swallow for me. You've got to try."

Gimli and Legolas sat themselves down in their bedding, not able to keep the tears from their eyes. It was heartbreaking, not only to see Aragorn so torn, but to see your life become so fragile, to watch you wilt like a flower as the hours tired on. Once again, they uttered no sound and gave no indication that they heard his tender pleas towards you. They began to wonder how it would be if they had lost another companion by morning. 

How could they part with your body? How could they offer proper respect to you? How would they be able to tread onwards without your footsteps beside theirs? 

Aragorn knelt forward and attempted to pour a small amount of the broth into your mouth, hoping that it would be swallowed. When it pooled out and trailed down your chin, his shoulders dropped. What else could be done if you remained unresponsive? He had done everything he could to medicate the wounds. This part was entirely up to you.

His tears blurred his vision as they spilled over his cheeks. He set the bowl down beside him and wiped the broth from your chin. Taking in a shaky breath, he leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek. When his lips parted from your skin, he lingered there, gingerly holding your cheek in his hand. 

"Please, (Y/n), I can't save you if you don't try," He murmured, resting the side of his forehead to your temple. His breath met your ear. "Please, just try. You have to help me in this," When he rose, he placed a lingering kiss to your forehead, his tears dripping from his chin. "Do not abandon me to take up the crown alone, to embark on a life with your absence."

He sat up once more and picked up the bowl, whispering encouragement to you as he tried once more to offer you broth. As the liquid cascaded into your mouth, there was a stolid pause as he waited either for it to pour back out or be swallowed; nothing happened. He laid you back down, defeated within himself. Your recovery was a slim hope, now; a dim flickering against the horrid realization of what was to come. You would be dead by dawn. 

He set the bowl back down and buried his face in his hands, rubbing the exhaustion and crippling stress from his worn features. All three men studied the grains of dirt on the ground, buried in their grief. Aragorn released a silent, guttural sob as it leaped from his lungs. He dropped his head into his hand and the other he laid over your own. His tears poured forth without restraint; without dignity. 

What else was he to do? 

 The sound of sputtering pulled three pairs of eyes to your face with shocked silence. The broth in your mouth spilled out as you coughed and attempted to raise your head. Aragorn sat frozen as he stared at you, too stunned to react. 

"For—for Valar's sake! Are yo–are you trying to drown me?!" You managed, taking in heaving breaths between gargled words. You closed your eyes tight as your head throbbed. As you regained control of your body, you began to feel the weight of the blankets on top of you and the cloth on your forehead. Rather suddenly, you became aware of the searing pain in your abdomen, and a throbbing numbness near your knee. Your left arm felt as though it had been crushed and your cheeks burned. 

What on earth had happened?

"(Y/n)!" They all echoed.

"(Y/n), you're awake!" Aragorn breathed, taking your face in his hands. You heard him sniffle as he placed a salty kiss upon your forehead. He was finally able to surface above his tears, as one surfaces above the raging current of a river.

"What—...what happened?" 

"Don't you remember? You were attacked by the Uruk-kai," Legolas explained, coming nearer.

"And I lost?" You scoffed.

"What do you remember last?" Aragorn asked, brushing your cheek with his thumb. You could see the remnant of his tears glistening in his eyes. His gentle features brought a weak smile onto your lips as you tried to remember. But when it came rushing back to you, your lips fell into a frown.

"I—I remember going after Merry and Pippin. I knew you were running to find Boromir, so I thought I would trek ahead and try to get them back." Your voice was breathy and weak, but it was like sweet birdsong to Aragorn's ears. He had feared he would never hear it again. You lifted your head meagerly and looked around. "Where's Boromir? Is he alright? And the hobbits? Did you not go after them?"

"Boromir was slain, (Y/n). He, too, tried to rescue the halflings. He provided a distraction so they could escape." Legolas explained.

"What? He—he’s gone?" 

Legolas nodded slowly as your voice dipped with remorse. You looked up at Aragorn.

"And the hobbits? Were you able to save them?"

"Our concern was with you first, (Y/n). You nearly got yourself killed." Aragorn placed his hand on your forehead to check for the fever. It was still warm, but much cooler than before. When his eyes met yours again, you could see his relief had become a subtle frame of frustration. "It was foolish of you, going on alone like that! Did you want to die?!"

"Nonsense! I was fine! You should have left me and gone ahead!" You retorted, trying to pull yourself up into a sitting position. You winced as you did so, the pain in your abdomen increasing significantly. You felt Aragorn's hands on your upper arms, gently guiding you back down to the bedding. 

"Here, sip this. It will give you some of your strength back." He brought the rim of a bowl to your lips. You felt the warmth of his hand behind your hair, helping you lift your head. It was the same stuff you had almost choked on only minutes before. You swallowed one gulp and pulled your head away from it, earning a huff from Aragorn. He should have known you would be this difficult.

"How much time have we lost? We must set away immediately! Merry and Pippin are still out there," You ignored his second offer of broth and took in a deep breath, trying once more to sit up, ignoring the pain that surged all over your body. 

"You—" Aragorn began, applying pressure to your shoulders as he forced you to lie back down, "—are going to rest. We will continue our search soon enough."

"But the hobbits, they're onl–"

"There is nothing for it, (Y/n). We cannot control what has happened, nor the time that has passed," He chided, allowing his voice to grow a little stern. You were impossible sometimes! Even on the brink of death, you refused to realize how much strain your body had been put through. 

"I scouted the edge of the plain, just ahead, before I came back with the yarrow," Legolas offered.

"What did you see?" Aragorn asked, glancing up as he carefully tipped the bowl upwards to your lips once more.

"They moved beyond my range of sight not long after I spotted them, but if they're as foolish and unwise as we know them to be bred, they'll have gone through the forest of Fangorn."

"Why didn't ye' say somethin' before?!" Gimli barked, giving the elf an incredulous expression. 

"We needed to care for (Y/n). It would have been unwise for us to set off alone without Aragorn and leaving her here wasn't an option." Legolas explained to the dwarf, defending his reasoning with a deliberate tone. He turned to Aragorn and gestured with his chin to the plain. "The Old Forest will have slowed their journey to Isengard considerably. They are far too dense and impatient to have gone around. They will have tried to make their own path through it, which will take more time."

"Aye!" Gimli sat straight up, a smile forming from somewhere underneath his copper beard. "We may yet have a chance!"

"Not if we lay around," You mutter in between mouthfuls of broth and chunks of pork, evading the rim of the bowl Aragorn was bringing to your mouth. "We have to hurry."

"The sun is not even risen, (Y/n). You need your rest, as do the rest of us. We'll set out in the morning, as soon as I'm sure that you can withstand the journey." Aragorn's word was final. 

Once you had eaten the rest of the broth and its contents, he fed you a few mouthfuls of some disgustingly bitter herbs. 

Soon enough, you had drifted back to sleep, as well as Aragorn, who nestled himself not far from your side. For the next few hours, until the sun had risen far above the horizon, Legolas had remained awake to keep a careful watch on you while Aragorn regained his energy. When you began to wake that mid-morning to the sound of rustling about, you found that the small camp had been picked up and ready for travel, while your companions munched on Lembas bread and mead. 

Within the hour, you felt ready to begin the trek onward (or at least swore as much, though Aragorn’s skepticism remained unchanged). Rather than allow you to overexert yourself upon waking, he insisted that he change your bandages and apply more numbing extracts to help with the discomfort. 

He was incredibly tender as he wrapped your torso once more while Legolas helped you stand. When you had been patched up, Aragorn had assisted you in donning a fresh tunic. He had refused to let you wear a belt, however, for fear it would irritate your abdomen further (which you protested for the issue of not having a place to hitch your scabbard and blades). He felt worried enough at the chance of agitating your wounds with the walk you had ahead of you. 

While Aragorn and Gimli snuffed the fire and began to discuss the next best step with you in tow, Legolas had agreed to braid your hair since you were unable to lift your arms without encouraging the pain to become worse. So, with the prettiest braid you'd ever worn and the most fretful ranger aiding you in each step as you leaned against him, you set forth to regain your large-footed friends. 

 Aragorn realized as you leaned into him, his arm wrapped under your own, that the greatest pardon had been given to him in your recovery. He could see now from the terrible magnitude of his fear that he had felt through the night, that losing you would declare death upon his own soul—it would proclaim everlasting torture upon his heart.

 bonus scene: ( this is my favorite part, the rest is garbage ) 

This was ridiculous. You’d practically lived half your life mounted upon a horse, and now because of a few scrapes, you couldn’t manage it on your own? You huffed in annoyance with your uncooperative body.

"Take your time, (Y/n). I'll not have you risk opening those wounds again," Aragorn's hands held your waist firmly as you attempted to mount the large steed that shifted awkwardly in front of you. You gripped the saddle with all your might, ignoring the pain that surged across your body as you tried to hop up. There had been three unsuccessful attempts already which had resulted in Aragorn's foot being smashed under yours. 

"Again?  I wasn't the one who opened them in the first place." You retorted, just before pulling up on the saddle and balancing yourself perfectly onto its seat. You sighed contentedly while Aragorn released the pensive breath he had been holding. 

"Scoot forward a little—but be careful not to rub your thigh against the pummel," He instructed, sliding his foot into the stirrup. There had only been two horses that could be spared from Eomer's charge whose riders had perished in the night ambush on the Uruk-kai. You watched as Aragorn tested the buckles and tugged on the skirt. "Now, stay still."

"Wait, you're going in the back?" Aragorn halted just as he pulled up, planting his foot with a thump onto the ground again. The expression on his face questioned your inquiry. "I would rather sit behind—if you don't mind."

"I thought we agreed that it would be more comfortable for you to sit in front, that way if you tire during the journey you can lean against me."

"I would rather lean forward against your back. It would impair you less."

"And what if you fall asleep and plummet to the ground?" 

"I won't. I'll hold on." You smiled sheepishly, knowing Aragorn was skeptical. He always was when you had injured yourself - or really any time there was a chance of putting you at risk. When he finally nodded, you swung your leg back over and began to slide yourself down from the saddle so he could mount easily without having to dodge you. He placed his hand firmly on your knee, stopping you where you sat.

"No, no—stay where you are. You don't need to do that all over again."

"How are you going to bring your leg around?" You asked, swinging yours back.

"I'm not quite sure," He smiled curiously, slipping his foot back into the stirrup and preparing himself to pull up. When he hid, he was slow and steady, carefully tucking his leg under him until he was up far enough to release it over the side. When he did, he tottered to the side momentarily, warranting you to fling your hands forward and steady him. His chuckle encouraged a genuine smile to form on your lips. When he glanced over his shoulder, you could see that he, too, was grinning. "Just like that, I suppose."

You allowed him to get comfortable before wrapping your arms around his torso to keep him balanced on the steed. Before long, Gimli and Legolas and done the same, without the minor inconvenience of mounting in the wrong order. And with that, you were riding across the plains of Rohan, towards the edge of Fangorn Forest. 

When it was discovered that the halflings had survived the ambush and made their way into Fangorn forest, you were able to dry your tears as you clutched little Merry’s belt. After you had met Gandalf the White within the shrouded cover of the trees, you found yourself exhausted from the exertion of the day's revelations. As you mounted the steed once more, you fell asleep against Aragorn's back during the ride to Edoras. 

Aragorn would never admit it for fear of worrying you further or giving power to his innermost fears, but he was glad you had decided to sit behind him instead of in front. It was not only much easier to steer Brego, but it was also comforting. It was a warming sensation to feel your head resting against his shoulder and your arms wound around his torso. He was beyond the feeling of relief as he felt your presence so close to him. 

He had faced his worst fears during the night and hoped desperately that they would never reoccur. He prayed that, should you one day agree to take his hand, he would be granted death before you. But he doubted he would be given such a pardon for a second time in his life.

tags: @blissful-swift @nutella-hitler @blueshirtcadet​​ @merlin-288​@ceruleanrainblues​ @midzard-hoe​ @ashley-in-underland

[bowieandqueen11]

There Is Always Hope / Aragorn Imagine

Request: hello, do you write for lotr? if so, could i request an aragorn x female!reader fic? i don’t know how detailed you prefer requests to be but anything along the lines of the reader being a fighter and a good friend of aragorn’s before any romance would be great. thanks! 

I HAVE BEEN WAITING TO WRITE FOR LOTR I LOVE IT SO MUCH THANK YOU!!

Comments are much appreciated!

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breathe as you sit outside the entrance of the great hall at Helm’s Deep, waiting for Aragorn’s arrival. You can feel your kin, walking with an enchanting song rising forth from their pale lips. Their bright eyes glint in the pale light of their blue lanterns, their white and blue robes hanging around their ankles with translucent silks, their iridescent hair braided with the moonlight. 

You take a deep breath, sensing him coming near and aching for these days of fear to end, for the Fellowship to succeed in their travels. The air has the gentle heat of a new season, not warm, or cold, but tepid. On the ground lies the wetness of a recent rain-shower, soaking into the dark mud. You imagine yourself alone, hearing only the chatter of Theoden from inside the fortress, until you stop to really listen and look. 

Pulling out your sword, every sense of nature converges into a single energetic joy. It is as if there is a feeling passing between each living thing, a bond that is tangible and blended, a melody beyond the range of ears but available for the heart. And so, as each leaf moves in the evening wind, a part of you does also. Battles may be coming, but hope flows through the wind and into the hearts of elves and men alike.

‘I’m glad you made it here, even if I did keep you waiting.’

‘You always know how to make an entrance, Aragorn, son of Arathorn.’

The man stands on the steps in front of you, his eyes bright and active as he glances at you, but you can sense the tiredness behind their swirls. His fingers dance over his sheath, other hand on his hip. Without words, you are aware of his heart, of every emotion that swims beneath those calm features. In his movements is a softness, an inner peace that reminds you of the forest deer, that he is truly here in this moment and no other. The past few weeks, you have been in so many places with so many humans and been alone, yet right here and now, you feel the familiar connection between the two of you: it's a hug without hugging, a conversation without words.

‘Are you not afraid of what’s coming, Aragorn?’

‘You forget, Y/n, there is always hope.’

‘That must be why Elrond called you so.’

You feel the heat rise to your cheeks as Aragorn looks in your direction; he grinned and you snapped your head away, knowing that if you continued to stare you may never look away again.

‘You are also the greatest fighter in Middle Earth.’

‘And you are the greatest rider.’

You don’t speak, only smile slightly as you allow the silence to envelope you both. He comes to sit beside you on the step, knee bumping against yours as you pull down the hood of your cape and unclip it from your shoulders. He gladly accepts the warmth as you lean over to wrap half of it around his frame as well, the two of you huddling next to each other, pondering over the days to come as the moon shines down at your feet.

‘You need not join the battle, you know. You can escape with the women and children. You shouldn’t have come here in the first place, I have put you in danger-’

‘You know I can’t do that. I came here to fight by your side, and fight I shall.’

‘You are too brave for your own good.’

‘And you are too foolish for your own. Come, practice with me, before the dawn comes again and we must face the day.’

He laughed as he stood up, turning to face you as his boot turned into the stone. You threw off the cape as he helped you up before he drew his double edged sword and raised it skyward, bowing to you slightly. You circled. You held your own Elven blade even, a perfect, undaunted horizon; always leveled with the nose, just as Elrond had taught you. Aragorn’s sword came bellowing down towards you, but you counted, pushing it aside with your sword. You knew the next thrust would be to your chest, so you pushed your shoulder toward the oncoming man, his blade narrowly missing your waist.

‘If we keep going, we’re going to wake all the men of Rohan.’

‘If you want to give up, there’s no dishonour in telling me.’

The corner of Aragorn’s eyes crinkle as he throws his head back and laughs, not noticing you grab his arm and pull the sword out of his hand. He glances down at you with a playful smirk, drawing one arm around your waist and kicking your left foot with his own boot, covering you with his back as the two of you spun to the floor.

‘And what dirty trick do you call this?’, you ask, as you place your palm flat against his rising chest.

‘Winning’, he replies softly, almost like a whisper on the wind as his calloused hand reaches up to roughly entangle in your hair, thumb tight against the back of your head.

He reaches up, and you freeze in confusion as you feel Aragorn’s lips land on your cheek, like a dew freckled petal caught in a breeze, so soft and with the smallest hint of coolness.  It wasn’t enough for you, though. You placed your finger under his chin, stubble tickling your skin until he turned to look into your eyes, lowering your face until your lips met. The weirdest part was, when your lips came into contact with each other, it sent shivers down your back, the intoxicating smell of early morning dew and the taste of honey making you lightheaded.

As you parted, you saw his eyes sparkle and lips curve up into a smile.

‘This must be a dream.’

He strokes your cheek, the edge of his fingertip grazing over the tip of your chin as he grins down at you.

‘Then it is a good dream.’

Please support me on Kofi!

[youngthiefindarkness]

“Aragorn!” You call out, rushing to him as quickly as you can while avoiding the bodies left from the battle. 

Reaching him, you felt arms tightly embrace you, mutterings in elvish you did not fully understand reached your ear. 

“I’m here.” You whisper, content with just staying here for a minute or two.