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mountkennedie · 6 days ago

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Bad Day

Loki x Reader Loki comforts you after a bad day

You get home from work, putting your keys and your coat away with a long suffering sigh. Today has been… Difficult. Work has been really stressful and though you’d tried your best your manager had ended up snapping at you over something that wasn’t even your fault – and then hadn’t apologised when another colleague had pointed that out. You groan softly – you hate your damn job. But getting something else is proving very difficult.

You slope into the living room where your boyfriend Loki is reading on the couch. Things had got a bit heated in Asgard recently so Loki has been staying with you, avoiding going out where possible. You thought he’d get cabin fever but he seems to be enjoying being at your place. He looks up as you enter, frowning as he sees the look on your face “Darling, what’s wrong?”

You cross the room and sit down next to him, leaning your head on your shoulder and mumbling “Shit day.”

He sighs and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his lap “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.” You mumble.

Loki nods, running his fingers up and down your arm gently “Did someone upset you? Tell me their name.”

“Are you gonna kill them?”

“Yes.”

“You’re sweet.” Despite the teasing nature you know deep down he's deadly serious – you’d both gone out for dinner a couple of weeks ago and you’d had to hold him back when someone had bumped into you in the street then sneered as if it was somehow your fault. Loki had grumbled for blocks about how rude they were and how they should’ve apologised to you.

“I won’t have any upsetting my Darling.” Loki says, kissing your forehead “Tell me who.”

“It- No, it wasn’t any one person. It’s just been one of those days. I’m being dumb.”

Loki shakes his head “You’re not being dumb. You look exhausted.” He grabs a blanket from the end of the couch and wraps it around you, making sure you’re fully-covered and snug, then wrapping his arms tightly around you “You’re not lifting a finger tonight my love, you need to rest.”

You nuzzle your head into his shoulder and Loki chuckles, rubbing his hand up and down your back “You’ve been working too much lately.”

“I need a new job.” You huff “It’s so damn hard though.”

“I know, I know.” Loki soothes, pressing a kiss to the top of your head “Everything happens for a reason my love. You’ll get something soon, something perfect for you.”

You look up at him “Y’know, you’re always so sweet to me for someone who claims to hate humans.”

Loki rolls his eyes “I do. I make an exception for you though my love.” He pokes your side “Even though you’re foolish. How many people had to warn you to stay away from me?”

“A few…” A few was an understatement. You’d had lectures from near enough every Avenger. Steve Rogers had spoken to you for over a damn hour, trying to make you see reason. Hell, Thor had taken you to Asgard and you’d spoken to Odin at length. But it didn’t stop you from letting Loki in when he’d come to visit you and starting a relationship with him.

Loki chuckles “You confirm all my suspicions about humans. You’re weak and foolish. But I love you anyway.” You huff at his comment and he laughs again, kissing the top of his head “Come now, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I’m sorry, aren’t you meant to be cheering me up?”

“Ah yes, sorry.” He sighs “You really do look exhausted my love. Maybe you should quit your job.”

“And live off what? I can’t afford to do that.”

“I’ll figure something out.”

You shake your head “I don’t wanna just sit at home all the time. I like working. I just don’t like this job.”

Loki presses a kiss to your forehead and mumbles “You’re so strong.”

“I’m not, I-”

Loki shakes his head “You are. Okay, not physically strong, granted. But emotionally. I always thought of humans as weak, pathetic. But you’ve convinced me otherwise. You’re so strong my love, I’m so proud of you.”

Your face flushes and you mumble “What’s there to be proud of? I’m a damn mess-”

Loki tssks and pinches your side, causing you to yelp “Well, you deserved it. I’m not gonna let you talk about yourself like that. I’m proud because despite how tired and down you are you still get up every day. You’re still kind-hearted even though to those who don’t deserve it. And you do your best. Every single day.”

“I don’t. I don’t do my best every single day, I-”

“Give me strength. Yes, you do. You don’t realise it but you do. Some days you’re more drained than others but you still do your best. You’re a fighter Y/N.” He runs his fingers up and down your arm again, feeling you relax in his embrace “And besides, you’re a human and I’m a God, you must be doing something right for me to be dating you.” You snort with laughter and he grins “I love you.”

“Love you too.” You nestle into his arms, leaning your head against his chest and closing your eyes, mumbling “You’re comfy.”

Loki hums “Good, I’m not letting you go anywhere anytime soon.” He kisses the top of your head “I’ve got you my love, I’ve got you.”

You relax completely into Loki’s arms, your bad day feeling like a distant memory now. Thinking about going to work tomorrow fills you with dread but at least Loki will be here, waiting for you at the end of the day. That thought alone will get you through even the most difficult days.

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mountkennedie · 1 month ago

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oh author you cooked

One More Time

Request: Hey! Could you write a Faramir x fem!reader where Faramir professes his love and although the reader feels the same, she thinks that she would fail him if they ended up together (I don't know why, you can come up with the reason) so she tells him that she doesn't like him back then something happens, so they end up together. Thank you!

A/N: Hello hello! It is here! I love Faramir I would die for this man lol Hope you like it!!!

Faramir x Reader

Fem reader

No content warnings

3.8k words

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You thumbed the edge of the letter on the desk, the edges worn from your constant worrying. Behind you, the fire crackled and spat in its hearth, hissing between the howling of the wind. The bookshelves in the library creaked and moaned, and somewhere among them someone was murmuring. You looked up at the rain splattered window, eyes drifting from the uniform grey clouds to the rounded roof of the watchtower from the circle below.

Your eyes dropped back to the letter, letting yourself drink in the familiar, messy cursive across the page. Faramir had not written any more letters since the previous week. You sighed and folded the letter back into its envelope.

That evening, one of the last warm nights before the chill of autumn set in, seemed like a lifetime ago. Faramir, inviting you to one of the court balls, his strong arms around you while you danced, his shy smiles and soft eyes. Faramir, leading you away from the crowd, pausing in some moonlit courtyard, speaking such tender words your heart ached.

Faramir, swallowing your rejection, avoiding your eyes, retreating back into the night.

You shook your head and blinked back the tears in your eyes. It was for the best. Even if the hollow ache in your chest would never lessen, even if you would never read another one of his letters.

Faramir had always been too optimistic, too gentle and kind. How could he not realise what would happen if he were to be with you? You were nothing more than one of the city’s librarians, scarcely more refined than the merchants at the markets. What did you know about court, or etiquette, or politics? Did he not realise that you did not belong in his world? That he would eventually grow tired of the hushed words and gossip. That he would lose patience for your social missteps or grow bored by your lacklustre education.

Your parents had done their best, apprenticing you out to the library in hopes that it would better you. And while unfettered access to all sorts of books and atlases certainly did, it was nothing compared to what the nobles received with their private tutors and infinite time. You rubbed your forehead. There were only so many books you could read between manning the desk and reshelving the stray books.

“Daydreaming again, girl?” Cirion appeared from behind a shelf, a grey eyebrow arched.

“No, sir,” you said and tucked the letter into your pocket.

He came up to the desk and leaned against it. His keen brown eyes narrowed under his bushy brows. “I know that look in your eyes. I have known you for years now, child. What is it that troubles you?”

“It is nothing.”

“Was it that ball Lord Faramir invited you to?” You looked away and busied your hands with straightening out the paper on the desk. “Were they cruel to you, girl? Up there in the Citadel. They didn’t say anythin’ about your dress? It was a mighty fine one, even if a bit old.”

“No one was cruel,” you muttered. There had been some murmurs, some subtle glances, but nothing more. Even Queen Arwen was pleasant and friendly towards you, asking questions about the library, delighting in your little stories of mishaps and misadventures. If anything, you had been the cruel one. Faramir’s glassy eyes, downcast and forlorn, flashed into your mind. “I do not wish to speak about it, sir.”

“Alright, child. But you have done enough for the day.” He gestured towards the shelves. “Take one, and go read in that little tower you love.”

You nodded and he took your place behind the counter. You walked between the shelves and paused at the section where Faramir had stood and spoke with you, recommending titles and discussing Gondorian legends. Your heart twisted, seeing the ghost of him there, leaning against the shelf, handsome in his steward’s uniform, open book in his large hands. You pulled down one of the books he had recommended and clutched it to your chest.

Even if you could not have him, you could still have this. An invisible connection weaved between words and stories, knowing you were reading the words he had read too.

You ducked through the rain, rushing from awning to eaves, until you made it to the tower. It was an old guard’s post, and was used for nothing more than storage. The worn stairs were still functional and you climbed up them, emerging onto the roofed area at the top.

Your heart stuttered at the figure with his back to you. Broad shoulders, light brown hair. Faramir. What was he doing here?

He turned at the sound of your feet on the stone and his lips tightened at the sight of you. His grey eyes shifted from uncertainty to unease, and finally settled on something mournful. Your chest tightened.

“My lady,” he greeted.

“My lord.”

You blinked, drinking in the sight of him. His strong arms, clasped in front of him, his pale pink lips, his changeable grey eyes. You did not think you would see him again, would not get another chance to admire his form or hear his low voice.

Faramir cleared his throat and took a step towards you. “You come here to read?”

You nodded. “It’s quiet, peaceful.”

“I did not mean to intrude. I was looking into the items stored here.” He gestured down towards the storeroom. “I will not disturb your peace any longer. Please excuse me.”

He strode towards the stairs and you took a step to the side, swallowing as he passed you. You caught a whiff of his scent, soap and leather, and the faintest hint of lemon from the perfume oil you knew he favoured. You sucked in a greedy breath, willing your heart not to break as his footsteps grew fainter.

How did you come to this position? Squeezing your eyes so tears would not leak from them, clenching the fabric of your dress as the chasm in your chest widened?

You thought back to the day he walked into the library and asked for your help with locating some books. He had come back again and again, lingering between the shelves with you, pausing by the desk to chat, filling the room with his quiet chuckles.

He had started the correspondence, sending a letter to the library, asking for your opinion on one of the legends he knew you had read about. From then it had been endless, the discussions on stories morphing into discussions of life. How intelligent he was, insightful in a way that was almost unsettling, but warm. You could almost hear his voice echoing off the page, the gentleness of his tone coming through the penned words.

You felt for the letter in your pocket, running your finger over the sharp edge of the envelope.

It was better this way.

Faramir traced your words with his fingers, careful not to smudge the ink. The fire crackled in his office and the rain pattered on the roof. The heady scent of dirt and damp wafted through his window. He sighed and leaned back in his chair. How was it possible that the very thing that used to lift his heart, rent it in two now?

He was so sure, had been so sure, that you felt the same. Did he imagine the fond look in your eyes? Or the way your fingers would always graze his when you handed books to him, how you would smile at him then look away, your cheeks flushing.

He had been lost to you the moment he had stepped into the library. There you had stood, eyes bright in the dim of the alcove, smile playing about your lips. Your dress had been made out of plain fabric, the cut simple and pragmatic, but you had filled it with your lovely figure and had worn it with a quiet pride. And when you had turned your gaze to him…

He groaned and swallowed the lump in his throat.

He thought of your laugh, loud and full, so different from the reserved titter of the court. How you would offer your theories and ideas on the legends, fresh and novel compared to what the noble scholars thought. How you did not shy away from contradicting him or teasing him in your letters.

You were like a yellow dandelion growing in between the cracks in the cold white stone.

Perhaps he was forever destined to admire from afar, never to touch, never to hold. But even that was a torture. When you had stumbled upon you earlier in the day, it was as though lungs would not work and his throat would not loosen. How beautiful you looked, damp strands of hair framing your face, book clutched in your hands.

Where had he gone wrong? What could he have done better?

He shook his head. It would do him little good to think like the lovers who thought they could convince another to love them by their actions. The heart had no control over what it longed for. It was no fault of yours, or his, that you did not feel the same. It was simply something that was. And that was both a relief and a source of pain, knowing there was nothing he could do about it.

The most he could do was to leave you alone, to not give you the impression he was hounding your steps. Even if it meant he had to send page boys to the library to fetch books for him, even if it meant avoiding the markets in the evenings where he knew you bought honey cakes or fruit.

Would you go on to love another? Would another man take you in his arms and press kisses to your lips? The thought made his stomach churn.

Someone knocked on his door and he hid your letter in a drawer before calling for them to enter.

Arwen swept into the room, her dress flowing with the movement, with a small smile on her face. Faramir stood, glancing at the papers scattered across his desk and the stack of books in the chair opposite his. “Queen Arwen, forgive the mess, I was not aware you were coming.”

She laughed and shook her head. “There is no need for that, Faramir. This is not an official call.”

A smile tugged at his lips and he gestured for her to sit on the chairs near the fire. “To what do I owe this pleasure, my lady?”

“I am curious about the lady you brought to the ball the other evening.” Her gaze was soft, but with an edge of something that made him shift in his seat. “She was delightful company, and her knowledge of books and libraries extensive.”

“Indeed.” He cleared his throat. “She is the best in the city.”

“I am glad to hear that you hold her in such high regard. I am concerned about our library here in the Citadel.” He nodded for her to continue. “Our librarian had to leave us temporarily. Some affairs he needed to attend to.”

Faramir frowned at that. If the librarian had to leave, he would have told Faramir, written a letter at the very least. “Is he alright?”

“We have given him all that he needs. However, the library now sits vacant. Would you be able to send a letter to the lady and ask if she would like to fill his place?”

He blinked at her. How could he explain what had happened to her? And would it not be unprofessional of him to disregard Arwen’s request simply because your presence around the Citadel would cause him more suffering?

“I… We are not on as good terms as we were before. Perhaps it would be better if another wrote to her.”

“I understand,” she muttered, and Faramir felt that she did. “Will her presence here bother you?”

“I would not allow my personal grievances to stand in the way of what is needed. I am more concerned that my presence would trouble her.”

“Why do you say that, Faramir?”

He sighed and glanced into the fire, deflating in his chair. He had not intended on spilling his heart to her, but he could feel his resistance fraying. Was this one of the magic of the elves? “She does not feel the same. I do not want her to feel as though I am entrapping her in some way.”

Her voice grew low and soothing. “Do not give up hope, Faramir. I have seen the way she looked at you, how she smiled while you danced with her. Perhaps there is something else that is causing her reticence.”

“Something else, or someone else?”

Arwen smiled at him like one would at a troubled child, filled with amusement and sympathy, with gentleness and wisdom. “Her eyes would not leave you for the whole evening. I do not doubt that she feels for you, and you alone.”

His heart swooped in his chest. Was there some truth in what Arwen said? You had been so firm in your rejection, and he had been so miserable in the face of it, that he did not think to ask why. Perhaps Arwen was right.

He held onto that sliver of hope, let it soothe the ache in his heart.

“Be that as it may, I do not believe she will take well to a letter sent by me.”

“I will send one instead.”

“Forgive me, my lady, but I do not think she will take well to that either.”

Arwen laughed, bright like a bell. “We shall see, Faramir, we shall see.”

You gaped at the high stone ceilings, following the arches down to their polished columns. Bookshelves, sturdier than those in the city library, lined the room in neat rows. The air was perfumed by some faint sweet scent and it mingled with the familiar musky smell of books and paper. A fire had already been lit, and it burned merrily in his hearth.

“Will you be able to handle this, my lady?” Arwen said, a smile on her face.

“Yes, I… Of course, I will do my best, Your Highness.”

“Please.” She giggled, a sound you did not expect to hear from the queen. “There is no need for such formalities while we are alone. ‘My lady’ will do.”

“Yes, my… my lady.”

She stepped further into the room and you took her in. She was beautiful, radiant in her luxurious silks, glowing in the morning light of the room. How could you compare to someone like her? To anyone at court? You glanced down at your simple cotton dress. It had been the best day dress you could find in your wardrobe, and even then it felt plain in the face of marble statues and endless halls.

She glanced over her shoulder at you and pierced you with her blue eyes. “You know there were some here who objected to me.”

You gaped at her. Who would object to someone like Arwen?

“I am an elf, foreign in this land of men. Our customs are different, our ways unimaginable.” She smiled to herself. “Aragorn was upset, but such things do not bother me.”

“Why?” You whispered, stepping further into the library.

“People only speak unfounded ills of others if they feel threatened.”

Her words washed over you and you stared at her. Why did it feel as though she understood what was in your heart? As though she saw straight through you with those shifting blue eyes?

“Aragorn once believed he was unworthy of my love.” She turned to face you, gaze never wavering. “That was not his choice to make.”

You swallowed, fighting the urge to fist your dress with your sweaty palms. Her eyes drifted away and her smile brightened. “I will leave you to your work.”

Arwen swept out of the room and left you with her words. What did she mean by that? Was she aware of what had transpired between you and Faramir?

You collapsed onto the cushioned chair behind the desk. Had you been unfair to Faramir by denying him your reasons? By not giving him a choice? But he had not even asked, had so quickly vanished from the courtyard. Perhaps his love for you was not as strong as you thought it was. And yet his words…

You sighed and rifled through the neat stack of papers on the desk. Everything was in order, strangely enough. From Arwen’s letter it sounded as though the previous librarian had to leave on urgent business. You ran your eyes down the filled ledgers and logs, and glanced at the empty tray of books to be reshelved. If you had to leave the library in a hurry, things would not be nearly as organised as they were here.

You brought out Faramir's letter from your pocket, your fingers ghosting your name on the envelope. What should you say when you see him? How should you act?

The door burst open and Faramir strode into the room. You shot up from the chair. He walked up to the desk, but his jaw worked once he came to a stop in front of you. His cheeks were flushed and his breaths short. Did he run to the library?

“My lord—”

“My lady—”

He chuckled and gestured for you to continue. What were you going to say? Your eyes lingered on his lips, and the distance between the both of you felt insurmountable. Was it possible that you could have him? Did he still want you? Your pulse quickened and you swallowed.

“How… can I help you, my lord? Is there something in particular that you’re looking for?”

“You.”

You blinked at him, jaw slack.

“Please, allow me to speak. I assure you I am not here to repeat what I had said that evening.” Your stomach dropped. Had his feelings changed? You gave him a hesitant nod and he continued. “You do not have to answer if you wish, but I must ask why you had… rejected me. I will not hold what you say against you.”

You glanced down at your hands, noticing the letter you failed to hide sitting on the desk. Faramir’s hands rested in front of yours, no more than a palm span away. If only you could take his hand, could lace your fingers through his.

“You kept my letter,” he muttered. “You carry it with you. I… I do not understand.”

Your hands curled into fists and the corners of your eyes burned. Even if Arwen’s words had not persuaded you, the broken tone in Faramir’s voice was enough to force the words from your lips. “We cannot be together, Faramir. Did you not notice the looks people gave us that evening? Did you not hear the words that circulated after?”

“I saw them, and I heard them. But I do not care about them.”

Your head snapped up, eyes meeting his. Your voice came out desperate and strangled. “Faramir, I am poor and I am lowly and I have nothing to offer you.”

“I would not say you have nothing.”

“Faramir, I am not—”

“Do you love me?”

“…What?”

His eyes bore into yours, begging, pleading. “Do you love me?”

What could you say to that, except the truth?

“Yes,” you whispered.

He rounded the desk and took your cheek in his hand. You breathed in his scent, the lemon mingling with the musk. His eyes were glassy and a relieved smile broke out across his face. A tear leaked from your eye and he brushed it away with his thumb. He leaned down, pressing a light kiss to where your tear had dripped. Your eyes fluttered shut, relishing the softness of his lips. They were hot, searing against your cool skin.

“Faramir,” you whispered, fingers curling into the front of his robes.

He drew back and beamed at you. “I cannot believe I nearly let you go so easily. I was ready to leave it be, to nurse my broken heart in silence.”

“What changed your mind?”

“Queen Arwen. She spoke to me the other evening, when she came to me about the news of our librarian.” He let out a long breath. “I hope he is alright.”

A laugh bubbled up in you. “I think he is more than alright. I suspect his leave was due to Queen Arwen herself.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you not think it is suspicious? His sudden departure following our… troubles? And the library is far too organised for it to have been left in a rush.”

His smile widened. “Did she speak to you as well?”

You nodded. “She reminded me that the choice of whether I was worthy of your love was yours and not mine.”

His brows drew together and his eyes darkened. “What could make you think you were unworthy of my love?”

“The court, my low birth, the gaps in my education.”

“Did you think I would care about such things?”

“I don’t know. I did not want to find out. I did not wish to have your love and lose it when you realised how different we are.”

He gave you a lopsided smile. “Are we different? Truly? I reread your letters, every sentence, every phrase. There is no other who knows me like you, who understands the way you do.”

You thought of the small stack of letters you kept in your bedside table at home. “I reread your letters as well. I felt it was the only way I could feel your love for me after that evening.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead and another to your cheek. “There is no need for that now. I am here, and I can give you as much as you desire.”

“How will we face everyone? How do we go from here?” You thought of Cirion, his wrinkled eyes, his easygoing smile. “Would I have to stop working at the library?”

He shook his head. “I will not deprive you of the work I know you love. As for the rest, we will figure it out.”

He reached up and clasped your hand in both of his, laying it to rest over his heart. You leaned into his warmth, nudging his jaw with your nose. Perhaps it would be alright in the end, alright if you faced it with Faramir. Everything paled when compared to his love. You could learn which forks to use, could ignore the stares and whispers, could study more subjects.

But you could not be without him, not ever, not again.

He turned his cheek and captured your lips in a kiss. He pulled back and smiled. “Will you say it one more time? Please, just one more time.”

“I love you,” you whispered. “I love you.”

---

idk if its bc of liv tyler but somehow i always get the feeling like arwen would have a bit of a playful side to her.

#10/10 #faramir

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