court-jobi - Lyubava_Writes
Lyubava_Writes

Writer | Reader | Fandom Lover | Artist | Floridian millennial | call me ✨darling✨ and my heart is yours | 30 | Looking for love in Alderaan places | Golden dog mom **18+ works found yonder!**

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You Are Spoiling Us!! ! Okay I Wish You Would Write Something With Boromir, Maybe Where He Is Tired And

You are spoiling us!! 😍 ! Okay I wish you would write something with Boromir, maybe where he is tired and reader takes care of him :") something soft ♡

You Are Spoiling Us!! ! Okay I Wish You Would Write Something With Boromir, Maybe Where He Is Tired And

@noldorinpainter So sorry it took me long. :) Also I deviated from your request, but just a little. Hope you enjoy. Oh, in case you're interested, the songspiration was Gorod 312 - Pomogi mne - loosely, but still. The art is by The-Wizard-of-Art

Tagging @scyllas-revenge @glassgulls @lathalea @fizzyxcustard @absentmindeduniverse @court-jobi @middleearthpixie @sotwk @emmyspov @evenstaredits @guardianofrivendell @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @asgardianhobbit98 and sorry, sorry if I forgot anyone, I got lost somewhere between Discord and Tumblr.

Ok, here it is:

Before the Storm

“Your lips are softer than they look,” you lean out of the kiss unhurriedly, basking in the feeling of his breath upon you face.

“Hmm?”

“Your…lips…are…soft,” you alter your own statement – and the sense of it, too, “But only when I kiss you. Why aren’t they soft, when you kiss me?”

You don’t need the answer as much as you need to see that deceitful mouth twitch and tighten, as too predictable images float up before his mind’s eye. The sight is fleeting, yet you cherish it better than any words he could say.  

“You utter the strangest things, dove,” your Captain states with no particular expression.

His eyes are still closed. Your heart forgets how to beat, shrinking in sweet pain, as you touch the very tips of his eyelashes and stroke them as carefully as you can afford it.

“I do them, too,” you whisper more to yourself than to him.

He looks so distant, and so close, and stern, and defenseless.

The armchair by the fire is built sturdy enough to hold the weight of you, curled on his laps and clinging to his exhausted self like bindweed.  

It is unkind – wicked of you to enjoy such moments, when you have to thank his tiredness for that.

For a blissfully long sting of minutes all you can think of is how his breath becomes more and more even, tamed by the movements of your hand, running through his hair over and over again.

“I must go down.”  

“Yes, do,” you agree easily, “Nobody wants you here.”

“Shall I stay and make them?” there’s no single kind note in his voice, but the gleam in his eyes makes up for it to the full.   

You allow yourself a laugh that is more of a sigh.  

“Stay and sleep. They will look for reasons to put up with you meanwhile.”

The arm, which was up to now slack around your waist, gains strength and presses you to him too hard for a caress.

You lose yourself in another endless kiss.

“Consider this one,” offers he as evenly.

You nod, not ashamed of letting him see how you’re learning to breathe again. Lifting his spirits is worth the fear of denial in your book.

“I’ll bring you the furs,” you say, as he finally relaxes back into the tattered seat.

“No,” the protest is sharp and almost order-like.

Startled by this sudden harshness, you pull back, yet he doesn’t let you to slip away too far. It is not his embrace, but his look that stops you this time. The weariness and despair in it drive a knife through your chest, wiping out everything except your love for him – that and pity you hope he’ll never know you harbour for him.

“Please, dove,” asks he under his breath, “I need…”

“I know,” you cut in, unable to bear it any longer, “Take your rest, Boromir.”     

 His palm ghosts against your cheek in gratitude, and you wish you could shut out every emotion that comes with it. You wish for it to end and to go on.

You close your eyes, too, and dissolve in his arms, longing to be reborn into a safer world tomorrow.

With him.

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2 years ago

Star Wars | The Mandalorian | Din Djarin Masterlist

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2 years ago

din saved paz's son

the plot thickens between them

i still think paz would walk 500 miles to call din a bitch but he might be less salty now


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2 years ago

I Will Always Be Here

Boromir & gn!reader 

Requested: Yes! Anon asked “Hello! I was wondering if I could get a scenario with Boromir? Reader gets startled by loud noises and will usually stick close to him if things get too loud. During a particularly bad thunderstorm they show up at his tent and quietly ask if they could stay with him because they’re scared. Could be platonic or romantic, either way would be fine. Thank you!”

Warnings: astraphobia (fear of thunderstorms), mentions of anxiety and panic attacks, I’d say slightly OOC Boromir but we all know this is how they should’ve portrayed him in the movie  

A/N: I changed your request a bit, so they’re not in tents but in a cave, but the plot is kind of the same. Enjoy! 

Main Masterlist

image

This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all. 

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat as you watched the dark clouds looming in the distance. Every now and then the lightning illuminated the depths below and shrouded everything in a mysterious glow for a few seconds. 

You probably would’ve enjoyed the scene in front of you, if you weren’t so terrified of thunderstorms. Of any loud noise really, you weren’t picky. But the loud, unpredictable crack of thunder was the worst of them all. 

Fortunately for you the storm was still far enough that you couldn’t hear the thunder yet. 

But scared or not, you couldn’t seem to tear your eyes away from the clouds. Who knew, if you stared hard enough, the clouds might change direction or disappear into thin air.  

Keep reading

2 years ago

I love when you’re reading multiple fics by the same author and you start to spot all the phrases and adjectives they like to use


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