#eomer x reader

𝑳𝒆𝒈𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒔 ⋆˚꩜｡

・Like many Elvish men, Legolas is tall.

・Standing at 6" foot, he seems to loom over you...or that's what it feels like.

・His limbs are lithe and long, with broad shoulders

・Tough hands from years handled his bow and arrows

・Which caught you off guard because he's a very graceful elf

・However, he forgets that you are not a centuries old Elven male who grew up in the forest, with amazing climbing skills and the like.

・So he just thinks you can climb things like he can...

・And it happens all the time.

"Legolas!"

"Yes, meleth nin?"

"You need to help me!"

"Why-"

𝑨𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒐𝒓𝒏 ✧˖°.

・This man is a gentle giant.

・6"6

・He loves using his height to make you feel extra safe around him

・That means walking with his hand against your back when you're in public, crouching down so you don't have to reach to meet his gaze.

・But his favourite is wrapping you up in his arms...you completely disappear when Aragorn gives you a bear hug

・It's best when he's wearing a cloak, and you have a walking fort

・With his size comes a big voice; you've seen how he is rallying his men. But you've never been on the receiving end of any type of shouting.

・No matter how angry he gets, or how worried he may become. He always treats you with grace and respect

・But there are ... problems that come from a parter so large...there is so much teasing

・Whenever you're out in the forest together, he'll pick you up and carry you over streams and slippery rocks.

"There you go, dilthen las (little leaf), you are safe now-"

𝑩𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒓 ⋆˚꩜｡

・A strong body in every sense of the word

・He's 6"4 with large hands and wide shoulders.

・It's sort of like having a husband who is part bear.

・Whenever there are chaotic moments, he will just ... move you. On some occasions he will guide you. One hand on your waist, moving you to somewhere safe.

・There times he'll hoist you up and off the ground.

・Do not mistake this for Boromir being controlling! Because he isn't - he just doesn't want you to get hurt. At all. Ever.

・Speaking of your safety, he is a menace when it comes to it.

・He is your wall.

・A barrier in human form.

・And when someone gets too close, he's right there:

“Watch your step,” he growls without turning, his body already shifted to block them.

𝑬́𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒓 ✧˖°.

・Tall. Very tall.

・6"6

・He's an absolute bastard about his height

・But he never leaves you out of this because of it.

・However... he cannot stop teasing you.

・He loves it.

・Loves placing things on higher shelves when he feels like it. There's no reason to his actions other than, 'I want to push their button.'

・He'll say things like:

“Come now, say that again. I could not hear you from down there.”

and

“What’s that? Must I kneel for you to scold me properly?”

・The more you snap at him, the more he smirks.

・But the sight of you looking up at him... absolutely destroys him.

𝑮𝒍𝒐𝒓𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒍 ⋆˚꩜｡

・Described as taller than the normal Elf, he feels like a giant compared to you

・Around 6"6, his height adds to his allure.

・You've noticed that he's incredibly graceful; never once tripping over, nor getting his hair caught on his face, it's like ... a part of the sun dropped onto Middle Earth and decided to experience life as an Elf

・And yet ... no one is perfect...although he is close...

・Glorfindel has a habit of forgetting you are much shorter than he is

・Meaning that, you see life at a different level.

・So he does tight jars too tight, puts things up too high, and has once or twice forgotten to slow down when walking with you:

"My dear, you haven't spoken for some time-"

"GLORFINDEL!"

"Who-oh. Sorry dear."

𝑭𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒓 ✧˖°.

・At 6"4, Faramir is taller than the average man...very obviously so.

・It makes many people look at him funny when he says he's a scholar, and loves far better than being a warrior.

・Faramir is aware that height affects you both differently.

・He doesn't just notice; he remembers. So he can make like easier for you.

・Unlike other men ... he slows his pace when he walks, so you aren't running after him.

・He places this within your reach - secretly- though. He doesn't want you to realise what he's doing

・He never teases you about your height, in public, only when it's just the two of you. This includes holding you up so you can reach the shelf you need.

・Or walking past a stack of his books, and then grabbing you on "accident".

"Oh my love, I am so sorry! I thought you were one of my books-"

𝑬𝒍𝒓𝒐𝒉𝒊𝒓 ⋆˚꩜｡

・Taking after his father in height, both he and his brother are 6"7

・And yet how the size difference is displayed is wildly different

・Elrohir, the more outgoing of the twins, loves giving you piggy back rides.

・He'll kneel down, point to his back and tell you to "get on!"

・In the past, you've tried to laugh it off, but now it's ... a regular mode of transportation in your relationship.

・You've asked him why and he only responds with:

"...because I missed you..."

・You scoff every time because he literally tries to spend as much time with you as possible

・Has lost you in a crowd.

・Was on the verge of tears when he couldn't find you. (You were at a stall not far from him)

𝑬𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒅𝒂𝒏 ✧˖°.

・More introspective than his brother, he's also less elusive with his movements.

・Straight backed and moving with precision, it makes him feel even larger than he is

・Compared to other men ... he has never lost you, in a crowd, out walking, or elsewhere.

・Elladan knows where you are, at all times. Well that's not really a size thing ... no matter how tall or short you are, your safety comes before anything else

・When you're sick of making him slow his pace, or you having to quicken yours; he'll pick you up and carry you bride-style

・You’re tiny in comparison. And he does not hide how much he loves it.

・He wraps his cloak around you completely.

・When you’re annoyed and stomp away? He walks behind you silently, tracking your every step like a predator

・Then suddenly grabs you from behind and lifts you with a smirk.

Boromir

Boromir is MUCH less subtle than Aragorn

And so when you do not notice his flirting, he is so deeply confused and almost baffled

He gives such heavy compliments, describing you to your face as "radiant" and "gorgeous", but you only thank him and move on quickly

He stays close to you while the fellowship is walking

He places a hand on your waist to softly shuffle you out of something's way

He places his bedroll close to yours each night, staying awake for a while and asking you questions about your childhood and your life

ALL the signs are there, but literally everyone can tell but you

It's almost comedic, and he finds himself becoming even more intense out of desperation

Offering you his clothes when you're cold, always lingering next to you, calling you pet names

Until one day, he just downright asks, "Do you not see what I am doing?" to which you just cock your head, and he sighs deeply out of frustration

Faramir

Faramir already assumes he is unworthy of you, and so your obliviousness only solidifies his insecurities

You unfortunately interpret his affections as his natural kindness

Which makes him faintly smile and withdraw heavily with each interaction you have, making you believe you are doing something to upset him

But it's actually him becoming scared of being obvious, because he is terrified of rejection

And he could never force clarity from you; he would rather wait until you downright tell him if you feel the same way

Forever pining Faramir

He treasures small affections, such as your hands brushing when you're walking, or you lying your head on his thigh when you both sit outside the houses of healing in the garden

Boromir has a field day with it, though and loves watching his brother mindlessly pining over you

Eomer

He thinks he's made it clear from the start and that you're aware

He gives you affectionate names, rides beside you always, compliments your strength and beauty all in one breath

But when you only pat his shoulder in a very 'friend' manner, he freezes and stares out of disbelief

He feels he has made a fool of himself, and so he must redeem his pride

He becomes more physical, respectively

Offering to brush and tie up your hair, wiping dirt from your face, a strong hand on your waist to steady you when needed

But you strangely interpret his actions as Rohirrim custom, thinking to yourself 'Wow, they are strangely affectionate towards each other.'

But only when you bring it up to Eowyn one day that she frowns and corrects you, saying that Eomer does not act that way with anyone else, do you start to question it

But he is more direct than some others, and is not afraid to speak his feelings

"Is this not signs of courtships where you come from?"

Eowyn

She does not flirt easily, but when she does, she aims to make it meaningful and full of intent, and so your obliviousness slightly hurts her

She gives silent affection and rare compliments that hit deep

But defends you extremely fiercely, especially when someone is bothering you

But seeing you treat your tenderness as simple loyalty makes her lose a bit of hope in something happening between you two

She may take it as a sign that you are not interested at all, and withdraw slightly

But the tension remains through long stares

If you seek her out after she misses out of your usual time together, she softens and becomes hopeful, realising how much she truly craves your touch

It is then that she would be direct, telling you that she needs to be seen and heard, not overlooked

The confession is raw and emotional, but worth the slight suffering on her part

Bard

He does not flirt lightly, so if he is doing it, it is with clear intention

And so your obliviousness unsettles him slightly

He is never ignored by anyone when he flirts, so this would be a first

He commits acts of service as affection, such as bringing you food, fixing your clothes for you, sharpening any weapons you need and bringing you on his boat for any reason you may need

And protects you at all points he can

But you only thank him like a friend, leaving him with his brow furrowed and him disheartened

He begins questioning if you are truly just ignoring him on purpose

But the moment someone else shows an interest, he is there SO quickly by your side, acting slightly hostile

Which made you start to wonder about his feelings

His confession is simple but direct, coming up casually in conversation while you both were cooking dinner together at his house

Your genuine surprise had him in stitches laughing, because how could you have never noticed?

.

･ﾟ✧ Aragorn.

Aragorn will stop dead in his tracks if you ask him to “no longer coddle you”. Hands raised but not leaving your side, he will calmly inform you that your wounds had not yet healed and that he would need to take care of you for a while longer. Because of his great intuition and insight, he will touch upon your childhood on his own accord and assure you that everything was fine – you are safe with him. His kindness is greater than any guilt or shame inside your chest. With someone as understanding as Aragorn, is it easy for you to open up about your fears.

.

･ﾟ✧ Éomer.

Éomer learns quickly that you expect nothing of others and that you are very hard on yourself. At first, he thought he could learn to respect your declines whenever he offered you help with the horses or the food. “You do not need to do this for me.” – “But what if I want to?!” One day, it just breaks out of him like that. He is more desperate than angry, though he cannot help but feel a nebulous anger towards those you have estranged his beloved from their own needs like this. More than anything, he wants to see you treat yourself with kindness, no matter how hard the road to this goal might be – he’s by your side.

.

･ﾟ✧ Éowyn.

At first, Éowyn is very irritated when you decline her offers to help you with your broken ankle. “What do you mean, you’ll draw a bath for yourself? You can hardly stand up! I’ll do it, and I won’t hear anything about it.” She is stubborn in her help, but never angry. Because of her relentless and gentle pragmatism towards you, you begin to soften – at least when it’s Éowyn. It takes you a surprising amount of strength to accept help and kindness from others, but each time, Éowyn is there to comfort you, commenting on the progress you’re making if you feel like talking about it. She is proud of your growth.

.

･ﾟ✧ Faramir.

Lothíriel was promised to wed Théodred in two years’ time. And so, you had been sent to wed Éomer in the interim. The king's first nephew, Third Marshal of the Mark; his standing was still far above yours. You felt the match was unequal in that respect, but you also secretly hoped that he did not see it that way.

After finishing well wishes with your family, you were approached by Amrothos, the third son of Prince Imrahil, who had also accompanied your party to Rohan. He had been your friend along with Lothíriel since you all were children. You three were the closest in age and so had gotten into many hijinks together, for which your older brother too often needed to get you out of.

Today, Amrothos was more serious than you had ever seen him when he kissed your hand in parting.

“My dear lady,” he said, “I wish you every happiness.”

You caught a hint of grief and longing hidden behind his eyes. You knew why he suffered, but even with sadness throbbing in your chest, your heart could only love him as a friend. And so, that was how you must say goodbye.

“And I you, my friend,” you said. “Please give my best to Elphir and Erchirion, and tell Lothíriel I will write to her soon.”

“Of course,” Amrothos said. He bid you a final farewell with a deep nod of respect. He hesitated, but finally let go of your hand and stepped away from you. Incidentally, he met eyes with the Third Marshal as he returned to your brother’s side.

Éomer watched Amrothos go while standing behind you in the large hall, with his armor-laden arms clasped before him. His face was almost unreadable…but not entirely. Éowyn noticed the path of her brother’s gaze, so firmly trained on Amrothos as the entire party took their leaving. She hid a smile.

However, it soon dropped when she also noticed you being approached by Grima, the King’s advisor.

“Even in sadness, you retain your bridal glow, my lady,” Grima remarked.

You turned to him with a thin smile, trying to be polite. You could not place it, but there was something about the man that unsettled you. His voice slipped about like an eel, leaving a proverbial film of grease in its wake. 

Éomer tensed, but Éowyn sent him a pacifying look that said, Leave it to me.

She slipped between you and Grima. Giving him a polite excuse, she led you away by your arm to ask if you would help her tend the garden of Meduseld.

“My mother started it long ago, but admittedly, I myself have no hand for growing things,” she confessed with a laugh. You smiled along with her. “However, I thought you might be up to the task.”

Before you and Éowyn left the great hall, you gave your husband a parting smile as well as a nod of respect. He did the same for you, though he left without a word. You noticed the sharper eye he gave to Grima before he took his leave.

You wondered if Éomer too disliked the man, but you had no time to contemplate it just then. Éowyn’s steps were brisk and you needed to keep up with her.

The truth was, your heart swelled at the opportunity to tend the garden. Éowyn had caught you there more than once, touching the dry, deadened leaves with a frown. You remembered your own modest garden by the sea at Dol Amroth, full of lilies and lemongrass, wildflowers and white roses. It had been painful to leave your hard work behind in coming to Rohan.

“Yes, I would be honored, my lady,” you replied. “It is a pastime that brings me great joy.”

“Good,” said Éowyn, with a bright charm in her blue eyes. She squeezed your arm congenially as she led you through the long and cavernous halls of the keep. “Except you must call me Éowyn.”

You began with clearing the wild and overrun weeds and dead plants from the pit that once was a garden. It lied in a quiet room made of stone, so different from the pointed wooden walls that made up most of Meduseld. But high above, there was a wide, square gap in the ceiling that let in the sun, the rain, and the heavens shining down.

You evaluated the soil and what flowers and plants would bloom in time, using Éowyn’s knowledge of what grew here in Rohan. Éowyn and one of her ladies helped you clear the debris, even though you told her that she needn’t do so. She was the Lady of Meduseld, after all.

She waved away your concern and told you that she would rather help you than waste her day idling. By the time the sun began to set beyond the horizon, bathing the room in a dimmer golden glow, the three of you had accomplished quite a lot.

Also, you were now in dire need of a bath. When you took your leave, more eyes followed you than usual. No doubt they were noting your disheveled hair, the dirt staining your clothes and under your nails. The keep’s other maids and attendants whispered to each other, likely scandalized that you, the so-called noble lady of Gondor, had done the work yourself.

Good, you could not help but think in satisfaction. This would give them something better to gossip about. You had heard the whispers from the start.

The lady looks as if she is made of glass. Can she even move her head?

How complicated she wears her hair. Is that the style in Gondor?

She will never last a Rohirric winter.

How haughty is the tilt of her chin. No doubt she thinks us a bunch of wild savages. The Marshal will have his work cut out with her.

Surely, he wishes he could have chosen a bride for himself.

Those thoughts fell heavier upon your shoulders as you made the trek back to Éomer’s chamber…the one you now shared with him. You tried to keep your shoulders straight, your chin parallel with the floor. You did as your mother had always impressed upon you to do. Keep your true thoughts from your face, and show only what you wanted others to see.

However, that expression of aloofness fell the moment you fully entered the bedchamber. You heard the mild splashing of water before you realized—before you saw Éomer washing himself in the bath. The luxurious marble tub built deep into the ground, over in the far corner of the room. The fireplace crackled warmth into the room along with the water’s steam, enveloping you with a comforting air.

You knew your husband had been out on patrol today after leaving you this morning. No doubt he had ridden long and hard throughout the West Mark, perhaps alongside Théodred Prince.

Éomer looked up when the heavy door closed itself. You forgot to grab it so that it shut more softly. He turned to you, his eyes widening a fraction.

“My lord,” you greeted with a quick bow of your head. Your cheeks warmed in a blush. “I am sorry, I do not wish to disturb you.”

“You are not,” he replied, as he eyed you. A subtle invitation, perhaps.

He picked up the soap once more and continued to scrub along his arm. You were drawn to him, and to the sight of wet-slick muscle. Your gaze roamed up the length of his broad arm and shoulders, his chest and collarbone, his damp blonde hair clinging to his skin.

Quickly, your eyes rose and fell on his bearded face. His lips began to twitch upward, but it became hidden from you as he twisted to try and reach his back.

Your blush deepened as you stepped closer. “May I help you?”

He hesitated, glancing at you over his shoulder.

“If you wish.”

You knelt down at the edge of the stone tub. You took the bar of soap from him to help wash his back, though you noticed the more serious veneer that fell over his features.

“Am I doing something wrong?” you asked.

Éomer seemed to return to himself. He blinked up at you and lightened up a touch.

“No…no, thank you,” he said, taking the soap from you. Besides the softness of your touch, he was thinking of his patrol this afternoon. His Eored noticed signs of orcs west of Meduseld. He already informed his cousin Théodred, but tomorrow Éomer would ride out again and hunt them down. He would not trouble you with that, however.

While his back was turned, you saw a scattering of scars you had only glimpsed yesterday in the dim of candlelight. You touched him between the shoulder blades, and his muscles twitched. Your face warmed, but you were gentle in tracing the marks. Éomer paused, allowing it for the moment.

“Do all men in your Eored possess such scars?” you asked quietly.

“Many do,” he said. “The hazards of our occupation, and our duty.”     

He turned and grasped your hand to keep you from dwelling on those thoughts, or from fretting over him. Your eyes met his, and his lips curved. His free hand came up to brush some dirt from your cheek. "What's this?"

“Gardening,” you supplied with a blush.

“I see,” he said, amusement gleaming in his eyes. “Care to join me then? The water is still warm.”

Your breath caught in your throat. He could tell that he’d caught you contemplating the very idea.

“It would conserve water,” you replied.

It succeeded in making him smile. That was something he had noticed about you.

Always concealing her desires behind practicality, he thought.

He tugged you closer by your hand to help you out of your clothes, but you cinched up the soft violet gown yourself. Éomer watched as you raised it over your head, the hem of it catching in your hair. Anew he took in your every curve with pleasure to his eyes. 

You were beautiful. Beautiful and kind. Again, he was reminded of how easily your match may not have come to pass.

Rather than cursed, as he may have felt months ago, he now felt mostly lucky to look upon his bride with the certainty that you were his alone. For him, it was worth the price of being yours in return, even if all that ever grew between you both was friendship and fondness.

He helped you into the bath, and the water rose to meet you when you settled in. Flashing him a somewhat shy smile, you reached up to loosen the complicated twists from your hair, taking out pins and unraveling the strands.

It was a delicate thing you did, and Éomer found himself attracted to the way your nimble hands did it…even though he preferred your hair as it was now: unbound and trailing damp between his fingers. 

He led you into a seat beside him on the ledge, submerged by the water. He washed your back, your glistening shoulders, and your arms, moving the soap over your skin in a gentle, but delicious pressure.

When he reached your neck, he slipped the smooth bar over your shoulder and more gently along your collarbone, dipping slowly between your breasts. You could feel his warm, solid chest against your back.

You breathed out a sigh, grateful, contented, and aroused in equal measure. His free hand found the curve of your waist under the water, and you felt the brush of his thumb along your skin. His hand slid higher, skimming the underside of your breast. A shiver ran down your spine.

“Thank you, my lord,” your voice escaped in a whisper.

“You needn’t be so formal,” Éomer said. His lips moved against the shell of your ear. “I am Éomer, especially when we are alone.”

He set down the soap and rose to sit on the edge of the tub. He drew you up with him by your hips, guiding you to sit in his lap. You felt every firm ridge of him against you, including his hard, heavy manhood kissing the cleft of your rear. His strong thighs underneath you were your foundation, his arms your unshakable support.

You sucked in a subtle breath, holding onto his left arm for balance, especially when his right hand dipped below your belly, brushing your skin, traveling down and down to cup your mound.

“Éomer,” you breathed, just as two of his fingers sought what they wished between your legs. A gasp caught in your throat. Your thighs, already shaking, opened up for him.

Calloused finger pads slipped through your folds and found delicious friction, rolling the swelling bud above your entrance until you began to whimper and writhe against him.

His lips trailed rough kisses along your neck, your chin, soft bites along your jaw. Then those same fingers plunged into you, deeply, finding slick familiarity in your sensitive channel.

Amidst the sounds of quiet splashing, your toes curling in the water around your ankles, your breathing shallowed. Desperation mounted. You reached back and scrapped for purchase, raking your nails through the wet darkened strands of his hair.

He held to him with an arm like an iron band. His hand molded to your breast, rolling the achingly hard nipple between his fingers. All the while, his sword-wielding hand worked you over, those thick digits sliding back and forth inside your quivering walls.

Until finally, a choked cry escaped you. Your core muscles clenched and spasmed around his hand, down to the knuckles. Still, he stroked inside you until you fell back against him with a shudder. Self-satisfied at bringing you pleasure, yet painfully aroused, he watched your breasts rise and fall with your breaths.

“Well done,” he murmured, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth.

You giggled softly, tightening your hand around his. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught his smile.

He guided you by your hips to turn around. You were all too willing to do so, straddling his lap with a slow ease. Maybe a tinge of lingering modesty had your face warming in a blush, but you smiled back at him.

Your hands slipped up his arms as he gathered you against his chest, until merely a whisper lied between his lips and yours. The air began to chill your wet skin, but you were warm wherever he touched you.

“Perhaps we could dry ourselves and move to the bed, where I might return the favor,” you suggested.

Éomer rose a brow, but the idea pleased him, as did your boldness when your hand disappeared between your bodies to stroke his aching cock. A grunt fell from his lips, his fingers pressing into the flesh of your hips.  

“You are learning quickly,” he uttered.

He earned your sweeter laugh. Then you welcomed him into a devouring kiss.  

At least we are compatible in this, you thought, before you weren’t able to think of much else.

AN: There we go, another little snapshot of these two! 💜

I'd like to do a few more of these at various points in their marriage (eventually). I guess you could consider that a kind of series, since it was meant to be from an actual Éomer x OFC series. 😆

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