#some girl was hounding him for an apology

[idekwtf-is-happening]

Damien’s currently getting cancelled on Twitter for *checks to make sure I’m reading this shit right* apologizing for a joke he made five years ago where he mentioned the conflict in Gaza

#every time I go back to Twitter I am reminded why I keep the app closed #some girl was hounding him for an apology #he apologized #she continued hounding him #he was polite and stated his confusion for bringing up a five year old joke #she again continued hounding him #he tweeted separately that he is stepping back from social media for a bit #she and a couple other sjw teens are now bashing him #friendly reminder that he was the only smosh member to publicly talk about Palestine and his support for them #the sjws are really coming for the sweetest person at smosh saying that they might just have to leave the fandom as to not see his face #dear fucking god please leave then #stfu and cloud watch or something #also his joke want even poking fun at any victims it was simply mentioning the complexities of the situation #that’s literally it #anyways if you see anything like that with someone going too far then just report them and their post for harassment and bullying and #DONT interact with them #they’re literally so pissy that he blocked them after harassing them like no fucking duh dude #anyways I hope they get some love from their parents so maybe they won’t have to live on Twitter anymore #have a good day and report and ignore sjws!!! #smosh #damien Haas #I fucking hate twitter

[ronearoundblindly]

Lease

best-friend!roommate!reader x Steve Rogers

*This was a totally random and spontaneous idea. Not edited. Light language (so we can get *the joke*), pining, light angst, hurt/comfort, and fluff. This work is for all ages! WC ~2k

Sam Wilson introduces you. Both your parents were veterans and active at the VA, so you practically grew up there.

At first, you’re reserved, a little formal, but very nice. Oddly enough, Steve just likes that you don’t hound him with questions about his military service and how it was different based on the decade, etc. You are just…around to listen.

He finds himself filling any (comfortable) silence between you with stories. Stupid things. Things that don’t have to do with the VA or his past or even his present, which is entirely work as Captain America.

Steve gets to a point where he is itching to live off of Avengers Campus, but he doesn’t want to live alone.

One day he finds you hunched over a laptop and grumbling, “why is everything so fucking expensive?”

A sentiment which, of course, he frowns at.

“Sorry,” you shrug, a look of sincere apology on your distraught face. “I didn’t realize it, but apparently, I’m poor with my measly three-thousand-dollar-a-month budget for an apartment. Now I have to find a roommate, and—“ you start wagging a finger at him sarcastically “—I don’t know if you’ve noticed there’re some real weirdos out there. It’ll take me longer to find a safe, stable roomie than it takes to—“

“I can move in with you.”

Steve almost gasps at how fast the words fly out of his mouth.

“Well, not ‘move in’ to your current place. I mean. I can—I would be willing to live with you. Sorry! That sounds bad. You’re not bad. I meant…you know, anytime you want to chime in and stop me would be helpful.”

You remain silent and smirking.

“Right. Okay. So…think about it? Or not, that’s fine.”

“Let’s talk figures, Rogers. The square-footage just doubled, and I need to rework the budget.”

Moving in is shockingly uneventful. You’re easy to get along with, when not suddenly up on your high horse about something, and Steve is easy to get along with under the same circumstances. You push his militant rigidity to the brink on purpose, but never too far.

Things sit out in the wrong place, but it’s never dirty. Stuff doesn’t always get returned promptly, but if he asks, you’re on it.

There are two bathrooms, thank mercy.

He has random and odd hours. You work nine to five, mostly. It’s the perfect level of independence without loneliness for Steve.

Sam and Natasha stop by regularly or ask you both out for drinks or to fun, new places.

One time, when Nat is ribbing Steve to go talk to a cute girl ordering at the bar, he panics and takes your hand in his on the tabletop.

“How can I do that when my date is right here?” he grits playfully through his pearly white teeth. “Leave it alone.”

Each word is punctuated by a shift forward and a slight tilt of his head.

Natasha is unamused and instantly grabs your other hand (which was holding your drink) to pull you toward the dance floor.

It’s awkward for multiple reasons. You’d pay a whole month’s rent to know what Sam and Steve talked about after you left.

Sam takes a different approach, luring—or attempting to lure—Steve into setting up just one dating profile online.

“You don’t have to put photos,” Sam assures, “and you can stick with your first name only. I swear to you, man, this’ll be good for you. Get you out there more. Help me out here, Tagalong!”

He turns to you for support. To be fair, you did quite literally tag along with your parents for years to the VA, and it stuck. Why it sticks as a grown-ass adult? You’ll never know. You just don’t mind Sam Wilson saying it because he means well and never uses it in public.

“Uh, nooooo.”

Sam’s face falls. “What?”

You look at Steve and grimace, clicking your tongue. “He’s not ready for that,” you conclude.

Steve jumps out of the chair, arms wide with victory.

“THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN SAYING!”

“I know you told her to say that,” Sam shouts back.

“Did not,” Steve barks.

“He did not.” You lean against your bedroom doorframe. “I just think it’s obvious.”

That makes Steve deflate a little. “Wait, but…I’m not that bad.”

“Oh gosh,” you fake with a huge smile, “look at the time! Gotta be off to bed…”

The men keep fighting albeit muffled from your side of the wall. The only part you can make out before giving them privacy is Sam, whining, “but you actually like bubble baths and walks on the beach, dude. You’re gonna be money on there.”

“Hey, why do you not, ya know, date?”

You look up from your breakfast, stunned because that came out of nowhere. You’ve lived together over six months now, and Steve hasn’t asked for one iota of personal—well, romantically personal—information.

Twiddling your fork around, you think.

“I always imagine what my parents would think of him, any guy I’ve ever considered being with longterm, and…I was just never proud to say ‘here, here’s the one,’ I guess.”

Your parents have been gone for years. You value their opinion anyway.

“Mhm,” Steve hums, “the one?”

You take a bite of food, straightening your back, tossing a dismissive hand in the air. “Yeah, if you believe in that sort of thing.”

He’s quiet for a while.

“So you’re waiting for the right partner?” Steve finally mutters, and he watches your noncommittal gesturing intently.

That was a ‘yes.’

Natasha knows. Sam knows. Steve suspects but won’t admit to anything. You are kind and unreadable.

You’ve always been kind, so there’s no discernible difference to signal you have feelings for him in return. He can’t bring himself to be anything less than a gentleman at home and makes absolutely no moves to find out.

He stays out in the living room a lot more, all hours, hoping you’ll mention staying in for a movie, praying you’ll be tired enough to fall asleep on his lap on the couch.

He’s in way too deep.

What Steve suspects is that it would be too awkward to start anything while living together, but he doesn’t want to leave you in the lurch for rent or a roommate. He also desperately doesn’t want to move out. The status quo is comfortable.

He loves being comfortable with you.

The stress of not telling you, while needing to make some sort of arrangements should telling you blow up in his face, starts to wear on him.

Steve is a pro at compartmentalizing his life, so it’s when he’s stuck at the apartment without any missions, a handful of meetings, and a team that all have lives for two long months that he cracks…in the least attractive way.

He’s messed up his sleep schedule with worry and playing innocent, and out of the not-so-blue, a horrible, vivid nightmare hits him. Steve isn’t even on the mattress anymore by the time he figures out there wasn’t carpet like this in Germany and the desk chair he grips is not a motorcycle.

“Rogers,” he hears. “Rogers, can you look at me?”

The dark room is somehow hollow and stifling all at once. His head turns slower than his brain tells it to.

Steve blinks.

“Do you know where you are?”

“Hey, sweets,” he husks from a dry throat. “What…”

“Can you tell me where this is?” You step closer and pry one of his hands off the mesh to cradle in yours. “Where are we, Rogers?”

“Home.” He swallows. “Our home.”

Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes, but you nod like he’s done well.

“Okay, Steve, I’m going to get you some water. If you want—“ your fingers smooth over the back of his hand, nudging the other to release the chair “—you can sit on the bed.”

You don’t leave. You don’t even get up from the floor.

He doesn’t notice he’s clutching your hands, shaking slightly until long seconds go by.

“Yeah. Okay.” Steve lets go, otherwise unmoving, contemplating how he ever thought the semi-rough industrial carpet felt the same as mud.

You carefully hand him the water and rub his back, using your nails to trace invisible patterns. He can’t remember what he was so scared of a minute ago. He only knows he’s sweating that empty kind of confused.

“What’s that supposed to do?” he asks absently.

You shrug. “Eh. Back scratches just feel good.”

Steve’s mind remains blank as he sips his water.

: We need to renew the lease soon. Like this week.

Steve has stalled as long as humanly possible; he is officially not being a gentleman now. He is a coward.

: Talk about it when I get home?

: Could you at least tell me if this is a hard NO on staying here or just some concerns/questions? : I don’t get why you’re being like this.

Steve gets it, but he hates it.

: I’ll be back tonight. Should I pick up food?

: ffs : Fine. Whatever you want.

Steve also hates when you’re mad at him…which has been happening more and more.

He’s been distant, he refuses to let Sam or Nat come around for fear they’ll play match-maker and ruin the whole thing, and he is about to ruin the whole thing anyway.

Because he is not smooth. Because he is not prepared. Because he’s built up this perfect and amazing, sweep-you-off-your-feet moment.

And he bungles it.

“Out with it,” you command, haughtily yanking your portion of food from the countertop beside him, heading for the dinette.

“I want to be with you,” he blurts.

“Thank god,” you sigh, settling in your spot. “So we’ll go down to the office and sign in the morning. I don’t want there to be an issue if you’re off to wherever for who-the-hell-knows how long on the date the thing expires.”

“No, I…” but Steve’s voice is too quiet.

“There’s only a tiny window where they’re open before I have to head to work, so let me physically sign first, right? Then I gotta go.”

“Sure,” he slurs.

“Steve?” You turn to see him staring down at his food. He’s still across the room. “Are you okay?”

“I said I—I meant that—“ he huffs out his breath and taps his fist on the counter “—I meant that I’m an idiot,” he finishes softly.

Approaching with that beautiful, open-hearted kindness that haunts his days and soothes his night, you cross to him, scratching his back just the way he’s grown to crave.

“Think you might be hangry,” you chuckle.

He cannot do this. Steve is hanging on by a thread until the graze of your hand slides down his forearm to take his plate, and he spins.

He’s thought about kissing you so many times, he mapped out the angles he’d have to hold himself at, how far he needs to lean to get to you, the care to take wrangling in his strength and sheer excitement.

Steve Rogers is good at planning, at least, this part.

Gentle pecks of his plush lips to yours leave gaps in contact that let you whimper, and he fears you stopping him. He presses, wrapping his arms around you and molding your bodies together. The linoleum of the kitchen floor makes sticky sounds beneath your shuffling feet, squeaking once you hit the adjacent wall.

The force of that knocks your frozen arms into his chest, and painfully, Steve relents to step away, but not far. He bites his bottom lip and tastes the balm from yours, his head tilted in shame but fiery eyes watching you from beneath long lashes.

“Oh,” you breathe out. “Oh…you meant…”

Steve’s tongue darts out hungrily.

“Yeah.”

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

They're soooo cute!!!!!!

#steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #500+ #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers x female reader #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #hurt/comfort

[argreion]

Can i request some more girl dad Leon, or some hcs regarding this? I just love domestic fluff with Leon ughhh i love him :((((

Thank you for sending a ask wonderful anon! (Didn’t expect an anon to ask THIS fast!)

So, I know that what I wrote was subpar, considering it was one of the first times I ever wrote in general. Should expand on what we've seen, y'know?

Apologies if the drabble is a bit iffy with pacing. I feel a little out of place amongst writers due to like... How I write. That feels weird to say- 😭

· · · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · · · ·

Girl Dad Leon! headcanons and a drabble!

· · · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · · · ·

I'll start with the first thing I can see. The dressing up.

❀ He will occasionally dress up for his daughter. Leon curses himself out in his head, as he'd forced you to help him. Tighten the built-in corset, help him with his hair, and please... Don't make him wear heels!

❀ First, it would be a Disney princess, then once he has to deal with Barbie? Or a superhero? Superman? Batman? Spider-Man? Man, he's finally out. He draws the line at a princess, unless the puppy eyes and crying are used against him.

❀ Fine! He finally caved in, with an annoyed, defeated sigh. The outfit is bought on Amazon, amidst your bickering for him to not buy something off eBay. (Look, he's sorry, ok? He may get a decent sum of money each paycheck. Leon is relatively cheap, or looking for a bargain. Blame the kid in him for wanting to save money!)

❀ The only reason he does it is that he loves his daughter, ok!? Maybe you compliment or tease him on being saved by a 'hero', but that doesn't matter! At the end of the day, he doesn't mind as he's forced to save your daughter from one of her stuffies.

Saving another civilian (or being a princess for your child) is a good deed to him. Something else he looks forward to every day, even with the aches in his bones, bruises on his body, and constant doctor visits.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Next are a few other things I have to add on this subject because I do see Leon as a dad who has a daughter AND a son. This is just purely if he has a daughter, so don't mind that. Fluffy stupidity up ahead!

❀ Make-up. Make-up. Make-up. Let's be honest, who hasn't played with make-up a bit when they were a little girl? His daughter has certainly got into a few places she shouldn't! Dabble a little sparkly blue eyeshadow on her dad's eyelids. Smudge some highly pigmented red on Daddy's lips. Isn't he beautiful, mama? Looks like he came out of the circus? Yep, that's the make-up for ya!

❀ Stickers on his motorcycle... Stickers on his helmet. Wears them with pride on his helmet. Even if the laughs of his co-workers, Hunnigan at some points, and Chris! He'd punch Chris if he could, but he can't let his daughter see daddy 'roughhousing' with his friend. Sends his daughter after Chris as revenge for laughing at him. Still the favorite thing of his daughter in general. He'd purposefully buy stickers and let her stick them on anything of his. No guns, though, no guns.

❀ Will sneak a little treat for his daughter before dinner. Shhh, don't tell your mom, ok? He'll probably get hounded for it, and we both know he's a sucker for the two girls in his life. It's a Daddy-Daughter secret, m'kay?

❀ BEDTIME STORIES? Any day that Leon is there and not on a mission, Leon will take his time to read a bedtime story. His favorite is his daughter's favorite because it brings her the most joy! Anything that makes his daughter happy he'll note in the back of his mind. Has fallen asleep with his daughter. (Take a picture and keep it, but also send it to Leon. He'll want it for memories.)

Now for the small thought in my head...

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

How many years had it been since you and Leon went on vacation? Going down to the Bahamas like every rich American did. Or every stressed, overworked dad suggested with a maniacal look on their face. This time, it wouldn't be the two of you. A plus one which was your daughter joined the pair of you. Joined you on the plane to Italy, and in the very Gelateria you stood in with Leon.

It was nice to get away from the smog filled city and the screams of fighting couples. Being able to appreciate the view of the nearby bridge and the welcoming ambience of another country. Asides from avoiding the scams and having to chase down a toddler once or twice... It was nice!

Your daughter was pointing out the window with babbles of joy. Leon was using his mother language as he paid for the gelato for the trio of you. Keeping your daughter beside you was fairly easy, as she waited for a sweet treat. How you wish minutes ago she wasn't screaming, and the only way a kid calms down is with something sweet.

So, why not let your child taste your home country?

“Grazie ancora una volta.” Leon thanked, followed with a small nod as he made his way through the small line towards the pair of you. A smile on his face as a scheme was brought into play. Well, not exactly a scheme—more so just being an ass.

While you pay attention outside the window, an unknown presence crept up behind you. The use of military training in his favor as you spoke with your daughter,

“What do you think of Italy so far?” You questioned, looking down at her. Gently squeezing her hand as she hummed.

The little girl replied, not turning her head from the window. Pointer's finger pressed to the cold glass, leaving a faint smudge as you gently tugged her away. “Daddy said this place was cool when he lived here. Right now, it's just really hot.” She looked up at you, her brows furrowed. “Are you sure daddy was right that this place is cool?”

A response fell dead right on your lips as the feeling of frigidness gently touched your cheek. Your reaction time was slow as a small chuckle came from Leon's lips.

“It'll be cooler with these, bambola.”

Why'd you groan? At the cheesiness or the joke that only managed to make your daughter squeal. Already moving away to go after her father. Like the cookie monster but instead for the sister of ice cream.

You brushed the small bit of gelato off your cheek. A hint of annoyance now bubbling in your system as you brought it to your lips. Trying the flavor that seemed to please you. Silky

“What's this?” You asked, meeting Leon's gaze as he heard the question. The dad is already in the process of handing the small gelato cone off to his daughter.

“It's gelato?” Leon confusingly answered. “I tho-”

“No, no, what's the flavor?”

Was he that forgetful? He lets himself choose the flavors and doesn't even think to tell you? It made you slightly regret even getting with him at this point. Maybe you should've sat down with him to talk about his memory. Not that he'd remember that, anyway.

“It's uh, Cream Caramel. Reminds me of when I was young.”

Leon smiled, with the slight tilt of his hand, as he responded with a more detailed answer. One of the traits you grew to hate and love as he answered. The gelato slowly slid off until...

“Merda!”

Jumping at the loud cuss of your daughter, eyes wide as you snapped your neck to stare at her. Her eyes meeting her father's gelato on the cold, lonely floor. Why were you almost cackling? Leon was staring at the gelato, and you were barely holding in your laugh?

“Where'd you learn that, sweetie?” Leon asked, forcing a smile on his face as a small part of him died on the inside. Brain wanting to cry as he accepted the fact his childhood fell down onto the floor.

Your daughter paused, frozen. Mimicking the statues from earlier as you toured Florence.

“D-dad.” Was the only thing she squeaked out.

When she said that, regret was the only thing that could describe the two of you meeting eyes. One for the fact they let Leon cuss near their child. The other for even saying it.

He knew he should've stuck to overtime as he realized the fuck-up he did.

Writer Gods from above, please don't end my soul for not writing for a month. 🙏

#leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒔

[luxbub]

sandor clegane x stark!reader pt.1

a/n: i actually hate this but i needed an escape from my writing slump, also ignore the fact that i frogot half of my vocabulary ( not proofread )

Sandor clegane whose face was the first one you saw when the king came to winterfall, his face— half covered by a helmet of a hound, with his teeth bared and scrunched up brows—burned from the left side made a grimace come over yours and yet when your eyes met you back shot up straight and a small smile graced your features.

Sandor clegane for who you circled the whole camp for while going to King’s Landing with your father. Even catching the smallest glimpse of his big frame and scowling face gave you enough satisfaction to go on about the day with a smile.

Sandor clegane who of course noticed the stark princess suddenly appearing everywhere he went. Stupid girl and her stupid smile was oblivious of the looks the troops gave her when her skirt swayed so deliciously as she trudged around the camp or when her corset was tightened more than usual and her cleavage looked ready to spill over the neckline of her dress.

Sandor clegane who never smiled before you and your backhanded comments to that cunt of a prince Joffrey appeared( it was never a big broad grin, only the right corner of his mouth lifted up just barely, but enough for you to notice).

Sandor clegane whose favourite place in whole of King’s Landing was a tavern far from the Red Keep, where he could drink his weight and more in wine.

Sandor clegane who you stumbled into one day while rushing through the halls of Red Keep. “My apologies, ser.” Not many women dared too look him in the eye; even the whores he payed, looked at their feet in his presence. Your eyes hypnotised him, the enthracing sound of your voice seemed to freeze him in his place before he answered. “I’m no ser, girl.” He grunted and stomped away, the clanking of his heavy armour being the only sound left echoing in the corridor.

Sandor clegane who had already drank two glasses when you walked through the door with a cloak and hood pulled up as if the filthy scum of flea bottom wouldn’t notice the shiny material of highborn clothes, weaving at your feet.

Sandor clegane who had noticed some of the dwellers visiting the tavern getting a little to close to you, so he stood up—the sound of his chair chirping the wooden floor, catching the attention of nearby drinkers—and marched up to your table, where you were giggling at a man whose hands were wandering too far south for sandor’s comfort. With each of his heavy steps towards you, your giggles seemed to get louder and louder and the man’s greasy hands go lower and lower.

Sandor clegane who stood there for a minute until you and that cunt noticed him. He could feel your stared burning a hole through his head, but dared not to look you in the eye and instead stared the filthy man down. In a matter of seconds he kneeled down and hauled you up on his shoulders, turning towards the exit. “What do you think you’re doing?” Your screeched with your head hanging upside down. From what Sandor remembers from your encounter your voice had not been as high as it was now, your head must have become pumped up with blood for the little time sandor has been having you hang over his shoulders. “What does it look like?” If you asked Sandor he wouldn’t be able to tell you why he did it, why his ears turned red the moment he noticed that you had found company, the moment the scum’s hands started wandering all over your body.

Sandor clegane who seemed to have painted a target on his back now with your little encounter in the tavern, from smiles he was now met with scowls and narrowed eyes. It all kept on going until your father was attacked in Flea Bottom, now it was you whose every move was watched and critiqued, it was you who had to be humiliated from the cunt Joffrey who became a King, it was you who had to see your father's head chopped off.

Sandor clegane who happened to be the only one you found comfort in, after he held you back from meeting the same fate as your father.

Sandor clegane who came to you first when he planned to run away from King’s Landing and it’s stupid King.

Sandor clegane who would not allow you to stay in the castle, so when you said that you couldn’t leave your sister alone, he proposed to take her with you. But when she declined, his knees felt ready to buckle. All this stress and all this torture, would be all for nothing if he couldn’t get you at least out of this hell. Your sister seemed to have noticed him and the absent distance between you two, and started begging you to leave, go without her, tell Robb about her, tell mother about her, but save yourself.

#sandor clegane x reader #sandor clegane fanfic #sandor clegane x y/n #got x reader #got x y/n #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones x y/n #sandor clegane drabble #sandor clegane x you #game of thrones x you #🫧bubbles writes

[miupow]

‧₊˚✩彡 𝘿𝙐𝘼𝙇𝙄𝙏𝙔 PT 2 | 𝙝.𝙠𝙠ೀ

╰⪼ taehyun gives great advice; go out for drinks.

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pairing. hueningkai x fem!reader rating. NSFW, MDNI! words. ~3.1k warnings. jealous!kai, mentions of alcohol/drinking, hard dom!kai, sub!reader, tyun acts as a wingman lol, gags, blindfolds, bondage mention, dry humping, dirty talk, degradation, name calling (whore, slut), jake from enhpyen cameo!! possible dubcon

"Are you a slut?" Hueningkai hisses, big hand palming your bare ass-- you whimper around your gag, tug at the restraints that bind your arms behind your back. "Is that what you are? All you can think about is getting cock, huh?"

Tears were starting to soak the silk of your blindfold, sticking wet and cold to your skin-- you had never felt this raw and desperate in your life. "No!" you try to say, but it comes out a muffled whine.

Huening leans in close, hot breath caressing your ear, fabric of his shirt ghosting your back; his grip on your asscheek tightens, fingers digging into the flesh. "I'm sorry baby, didn't hear you. What was that?"

"I'm not a slut!" you try again, shaking your head wildly, slurred words incomprehensible-- drool ran down your chin and neck, dripped onto the bedsheets beneath you, and moving your mouth to speak only made more spill out. You felt disgusting, pathetic, humliated beyond belief... and your wet cunt ached.

"No?" Kai coos, the palm gripping your ass trailing down between your thighs. His fingertips brushed softly against your fluttering folds-- the first real touch to your neglected pussy. You sob around the gag. It was nowhere near enough. "Then why are you so wet right now? I've barely touched you and you're soaked. You want me to fuck you that bad, huh baby?"

And you wake up before you can answer.

That was the third time that week you had woken up with a mess between your legs-- ever since the Incident at Taehyun's apartment you've been unable to get a proper night's rest. It was irritating, embarrasing, and confusing in the worst possible way; you didn't even like Hueningkai that way.

At least, you thought you didn't, but now you weren't so sure.

Because while they first started off as simple wet dreams, something you could blame your subconscious for (or your very stagnant sex life), they quickly seeped their way into your awake, sociable life, and it was very deeply affecting your ability to function.

You were late to work twice, failed a test because you were too busy daydreaming to study, and hounded constantly with deeply inappropriate thoughts about a boy you could have sworn was a virign. Your unruly mind kept rewinding back to your friends' words, talk about handcuffs and punishments and girls running away screaming-- your sweet, giggly friend apparently ran some secret double life as some sort of sex demon, and you had no idea. Not a clue.

You needed to know more.

"This is about Huening, isn't it." Taehyun states plainly when he answers your call. For a split second, you wished he was less reliable about picking up the phone.

"I haven't even said anything," you whine, a little petulant even to your own ears. Taehyun had always been able to read you like a book, read everyone like a book, and it never failed to piss you off and embarrass you.

"You never call me unless it's about your problems."

Oh. Well. You suppose that's true. He was just such a great listener.

"He's not a problem, I'm just-- is he in the room with you right now?"

You can hear Taehyun's eyeroll reverberate through his sigh. "He's at class. If you're calling to apologize, I can leave a message."

You scoff. "Apologize for what?! I didn't do anything!"

"I think you hurt his feelings. He hasn't left his room all week except to go to his classes." Taehyun sounded more amused than anything else. "You should at least tell him you're sorry for emasculating him."

"Emasculating him?!" And this was why you didn't go to Taehyun when it came to problems involving his own friends. "He's the one being a big baby about it! How was I supposed to know you guys weren't joking? Why didn't you tell me anything?"

"Tell you what, that Kai's a freak? We thought you knew. Plus, it's not like it's even that big of a deal. You're both just being weird about it."

"I'm not being weird about it!" You retort. "I'm just, like-- how long have you known?"

Taehyun was quiet for a very long, uncomfortable moment. "Y/N, if you're about to quiz me on my roommate's sex life, I will hang up on you."

"I'm not, I'm not!" You're glad you're curled up in bed and not out in public; you'd hate anyone to see you this flustered just over the phone. "I'm just confused on how it was apparently 'so obvious' and I completely missed it."

"That's because he'd been trying to hide it from you. He's just been doing a shit job-- thought you figured it out anyway."

You blink. "He's... what? Why?"

Taehyun makes a noise like he's sucking at his teeth, staticky over the phone. You briefly wonder if he's actually going to hang up on you. "I promised Kai I wouldn't tell you this."

"Tell me what?!" You press with a hiss, grasping your phone harder in your hand-- you were getting really sick and tired of everyone beating around the bush with you, like you hadn't already learned more about Kai in the last few days than you had in the last few years. "Tyun, if it involves me, I think I deserve to know."

Taehyun hesitates for a moment before letting out a defeated sigh, deep and weighted like some veteran soldier. You want to laugh, really, but you're too on edge to do much more than hang onto every word Taehyun says. "Kai's gonna kill me for this."

"I don't care. Spill."

"He's... interested in you. Has been since he met you, I think. He was playing up that annoying good boy act 'cos he didn't want to 'scare you away.'"

You let out a breath like it had been knocked out of you with a fist, head spinning wildly. Kai was always so sweet and polite, got you gifts, made sure you always felt appreciated and included... but he had never given you the impression that he was into you. He was just like that with everyone.

But now that you thought about it...

Those smiles he seemed to save just for you, adorable and ecstatic like you had completed some insurmountable task for him instead of just getting him a candy bar or a glass of water, the gentlest 'thank you so much'es that made your tummy flip in the best way. Pretty brown eyes wide and sparkling every time he looked at you-- he would always furiously turn away like he didn't want you to catch him staring.

You caught him staring quite a lot. You always assumed you must have had something on your face.

Sweet Hyuka who told you you looked pretty even when you knew you didn't, stepping into his and Taehyun's apartment in pajamas because Yeonjun hadn't told you it was movie night until he was getting ready to leave. Hyuka who would give up his seat so you could sit on the couch. Hyuka who was always the first to stand up for you if one of the other boys made a snide joke in your expense. Hyuka who hugged you first before he addressed anyone else. Hyuka who would sometimes only come out of his room if he was told that you were there. You always thought that Hyuka was a great friend.

Suddenly, the other night made a lot more sense. Just as suddenly, you also felt very, very guilty.

"Oh." You whisper into the phone, because it had hit you that you hadn't said anything for quite some time.

"Yeah, 'oh.' Now he thinks you think he's a gross pervert." Taehyun snickers. He's enjoying your plight far too much.

"I don't think that." you retort softly, a little sad.

"You should tell him that, not me."

"How am I supposed to tell him anything if he won't pick up the phone?!"

Taehyun's quiet again, like he's thinking. "Listen, Yeonjun's taking us out for drinks Friday to celebrate Kai passing his midterms. I think he's trying to cheer him up. Ask him to come with; you can talk to Kai then."

"...Would Kai even want me there?" You ask.

"Probably not, to be honest. Doesn't matter though, he's not the one paying, he can go cry about it. Plus, I think hyung was gonna bring you anyway-- he thinks this entire thing is hilarious."

You hesitate for a moment. Not only foes this have bad idea written all over it, you also don't have anything to wear. "Promise you'll get me out of there if things get nasty?"

"How would things get nasty?" Taehyun laughs. "The most Kai would do is whine that he wants to go home."

You should have stayed home.

Taehyun was right-- when you brought up the club to Yeonjun, he had enthusiastically mentioned that he was, in fact, going to ask you to come with, and that he was very happy to hear you agree to go. Maybe that should have been your warning.

Huening hadn't so much as looked to you the entire night. You spotted him immediately when you had stepped into the building, platinum blond hair and an oversized grey hoodie tucked awkwardly into a corner booth, big frame shrunk in on itself like he was trying to come off as small as he possibly could. You felt bad for him, really, watching him stare surly into the same drink he had been nursing the entire night-- Kai hates clubs, yet the other boys kept insisting on celebrating with drinks and dancing instead of something Kai would actually enjoy, like a movie. You're fairly sure Kai was already aware that the night wasn't really about him and his test scores.

On top of the awkward atmosphere, you feel naked in this dress. You borrowed it from a friend, since you had nothing nice to wear— it was cute, but backless and low cut, and not to mention about two sizes too small. You were afraid to take large breaths, lest your breasts fall out of the top entirely. 

You think you caught Huening staring from the booth as you sat at the bar with Yeonjun, but it might just have been wishful thinking. 

“Just go up and talk to him,” Yeonjun suggests between swigs of his beer. He keeps looking over his shoulder at the dancefloor like he’s hunting for something— most likely a girl to take home with him.

“And what, grovel for his forgiveness? He looks like he wants to kill me.” you grumble around your own glass, half-hoping the liquor would at least spark some confidence. You felt the opposite of confident, in your stupid tight dress, scared of approaching a boy that professed his undying love for Molang on the daily. 

“Maybe he just wants to fuck you. You look hot.” Yeonjun snickers, glancing quickly over at Kai's booth— from the annoying grin on his face, you can only assume Huening is looking your way. “Go over there and tell him you’ll suck his dick if he’ll forgive you.”

"You're gross."

“You love me.” Yeonjun sneaks another look at the dancefloor; it seems he’s locked in on a target. “Gotta bounce. Yell if you need me to come and save you.” 

“I don’t want your saving,” you retort snidely as he slid his way through the crowd. 

You didn’t have any time to relish in your solitude, barely able to even take another sad sip of your cocktail— an unfamiliar body fills Yeonjun’s empty barstool in what felt like an instant, big mouth grinning like he’d been waiting for a while. 

You suppose the eyes that you had felt on you hadn’t been Kai’s after all. Yeonjun's grins could be decieving.

He orders a beer from the bartender, pretty yet odd accent slurring his words— you weren’t sure where it was from, but you sure did like it. “And another of whatever she’s drinking.” he adds, shooting a grin your way.

“Oh no, I’m alright—” you attempt to shut him down, but your voice wavers. He waves you off with a sweet laugh. 

“It’s on me, baby. You look like you need it.”

You laugh nervously. You weren’t sure if that was supposed to be a diss or not, even including the petname. “Oh, do I?” 

“You look stressed. Something got you down?”

You’re not sure how to respond to that. You’re not sure how to respond to any of this, really. Flirting wasn’t really your forte.  “Just a little.” 

The bartender puts down both of your drinks at once— your handsome new friend pushes yours your way, and you take it gratefully. This isn’t exactly how you wanted your night to go, but this man was hot, free drinks were free drinks, and maybe going home with someone new was a better outcome for your night than moping around alone and having to listen to your roommate get his dick wet. “Did some asshole abandon you over here? You’re far too pretty to be sitting here all sad and alone.” Your stranger croons, eyes heavy as they rake down your body, take in your dress. You squirm under his gaze. “My name’s Jake. What’s yours?” 

“Y/N.” You don’t bother addressing his earlier comment; the idea of talking about your boy problems to this very handsome boy made your skin crawl. “I like your accent, where are you from?” 

“Brisbane.” Jake gave you another pretty, blinding grin. He had a very big mouth with very white teeth. 

“…Pardon?”

“Australia.” Jake laughs. “I’m an Aussie. I was born here though.”

“Oh, I see! Are you here just to visit or do you live here? I mean, if you don’t mind me asking, of course—“

“No worries, pretty girl.” He needed to stop with the petnames before you climbed him like a tree. “I live here for right now. Do you want another one of those?”

“Hm?” You looked down at your glass. You hadn’t even noticed that it was empty, just mindlessly holding it up against your lips while you latched on to every word Jake said. “Oh! Um. I’m okay, thank you!” 

Jake seems displeased with your answer. You wonder briefly if he was just trying to get you drunk. It was working. “You sure? You’re still lookin’ a little sad there, baby.” 

"I'm--"

“She said she’s fine.”  

A big hand grabs your arm without much warning, making you squeak out loud— you whip your head back fast, ready to fight, but quickly freeze at the sight of Huening towering over you with a dark but unreadable expression. His grip was bordering on painful. 

“Excuse me?” Jake retorts, face screwed up in irritation and clearly unwilling to back down from a challenge.  “You know this guy?” 

Unfortunately, you did. “Kai—“ you start, but quickly clam up; Kai shoots you a look you’ve never seen from him before, dark and feral. It twists hot in your belly just as much as it scares you. 

“She’s done. We’re leaving.” Kai hisses dangerously near your ear, loud enough for Jake to hear. You’re too shocked to respond. 

“Hey, what the hell’s your problem, man?” Jake’s griping, but it’s not doing much good— Kai tugs you up out of your seat and drags you by the wrist through the crowds and out of the back door of the club. You want to fight him, yell and kick and scream, but all you can manage is to stare incredulously at the back of his head. He hardly gave you the leeway to grab your purse. Or pay your tab. 

“Kai, what the—“ He pushes you hard against the brick wall of the club, presses himself flush against your back— you can feel the stiff bulge of his hard cock against your ass, his hot breath fan across your neck in jagged, heavy breaths. 

“You think this is fucking funny, Y/N?” he snarls, deep and nasty. His hands press yours against the brick, keeping you still against both him and the wall. “Are you trying to piss me off? Show up dressed like a slut, whore yourself out right in front of me?”

You can only get yourself to let out a strangled squeak, all too distracted by the swell of Kai’s cock, the heat of his body against yours. Was this really happening? 

“C’mon, say something.” Kai goads, rolling his hips. it takes everything in you not to moan. “Why are you being such a whore, Y/N?”

“You’re hard…” You whimper.

“I’m hard?” Kai echoes, sneers meanly. “Fuck yes I’m hard. I’m hard ‘cos you look so fucking sexy in this dress, I love your body; God, did you wear this for me?” 

You’d been telling yourself you didn’t, but you did. You absolutely did. “Uh huh…”

“Dressed up all pretty for me yet you’re letting other men call you baby? Sounds like you just want me to punish you. Is that what you want? For me to punish you?” Kai’s hands let go of yours to grab at your hips, guiding you to buck up harder against him. “You know, I thought you couldn’t take it. Thought you wouldn’t be able to handle me. But now I think you deserve to be put in your place, don’t you?” 

“Kai…” You croak weakly, keen high in your throat when Kai grinds hard right against your clothed slit, nestles his head in your neck to mouth hotly at your skin. 

“Fuck you’re wet, I can feel it. Say it. say you want me to ruin you.” 

He’s right; your pussy’s dripping. You’ve never felt this needy before in your life, and Kai hasn’t even touched you. You can’t help but be a little afraid for when he does. 

Your mind flashes back to your dreams, vivid scenes of being underneath Huening as he tore you apart completely, made you feel raw and alive in ways you didn’t think you ever could. You craved to feel even just a fraction of what you did in your dreams, finally make them a reality. 

You needed him. 

“Ruin me, Kai, please.” you beg, and you meant it. 

"Good girl, fuck." Huening curses hot under his breath, pulls himself away from you— you whine out at the loss, and Huening gives your ass a surprise slap in retaliation. You bite your lip to keep from shrieking. “Fuck, okay, we’re doing this. 7’oclock Monday, okay? My place; Taehyun won’t be home. We’ll have time to talk it out before. Don’t be late.” 

And with that, Kai once again stalks away, heads back inside the club with his hands in his pockets and head held high like he wasn’t just grinding against you moments before. You’re plastered against the wall, dress ridden up your ass, sweaty and hot and so wet it’s starting to drip down your thighs. 

You’re not sure if you’re going to be able to make it to Monday. 

#txt hard hours #txt x reader #txt hard thoughts #txt smut #txt ff #txt fanfic #hueningkai smut #hueningkai hard thoughts #hueningkai hard hours #hueningkai x reader

[first-edition]

Fox and the Hound

Chapter 10

Sum-Joffrey wants to send a message to your family after your brother embarrasses him, so he marries you off to his most unwanted man in his court, the hound. But will this marriage truly be a statement for an eyesore, or will it grow into something more. 

Cw for chapter- mention of rape,mention of wine, alcohol consumption, description of blood and gore, description of prostitution, Cersei being a mean old drunk, talk of pregnancy, 18+ words and themes overall. Slight angst.

Read previous chapter here

You can hear the yelling and the screams of worry outside your chamber door or people hurrying through the halls. You doors open as you and your maids gasp. 

“My apologies my lady but its time to go to the keep.” He says bowing. 

“Of course.” You say gathering your skirt and hurrying out seeing the other ladies of the court hurrying down the hall. 

“y/n.” you hear your name turing seeing sansa. 

“Sansa!” you sigh of relief as she hugs you before you both continue down the hall with the others. 

“Are you alright?” she asks. 

“Yes just a little scared.” you say she nods. 

“Me too,” she replies her grip on your arm tightens. 

“Where is sandor?” she asks. 

“Fighting, hes still kings guard you know.” you say. 

“Thats right..” she says

“Princess, my lady. His grace the king requests you see him off to the battle.” a guard speaks bowing to you and sansa who gives you a weary look before she nods back to the guard who escorts you both to the throne room.

—------

Hound walks into the court yard with joss and another as the other kings guard men drown themselves in whores and ale. Its silent as he walks through and sits pouring himself a drink. 

“You're not staying underground with you lady wife?” bronn asks loudly as the foreign whore sits nude on his lap. A whore who shouldn't be so brave walks over to sandor placing her hand on his armored shoulder. 

“If your lonely ser i could take care of y- Ah!” sandor swats her hand away so fiercely she stumbles back and falls. 

“Touch me again girl and ill send you out nude first to the baratheon's army and they can have thier way with you.” he grumbles. 

Bronn and some other men chuckle. 

“Loyal to your woman are you? First rounds on me” he asks raising his cup to him. 

Sandor rolls his eyes and presses the cup to his lips chugging the rest of whats in his cup. 

“I dont think he likes me. Hes a prince lord now you see, he married the vixen princess but a while ago.” bronn says to the whore on his lap. Sandor sighs sitting back more than annoyed with bronns voice. 

“Shut the fuck up before I cut you in half you little fairy.” sandor huffs. 

“Its warm in here ser, weve got beautiful women and good ale and all you want is to put me in the cold dark ground. How kind of you.” bronn speaks once more. 

More than before, Sandor is annoyed with bronn. Sandor gets up from his seat and walks over to bronn who now moves the whore off his lap. 

“You think you a hard man, fucking, drinking telling stories and singing. You think thats the thing you love the most, but its not. Killing is what you love most. Your just like me. Only smaller.” Sandor says towering over bronn who also stands. 

“Killing cant be the only thing you love. What about your lady wife” bronn speaks again tilting his head back to face hound who is about to draw his sword but the bells begin to ring and everyone hurries out of the court yard. 

“One last drink eh?” bronn chuckle. 

Sandor grumble rolling his eyes and turing away knowing he shouldve drank something stronger to deal with jofferys whining voice. 

—----

You and sansa along with a few of youre maids behind you, stand in the throne you play with the sleeve of your dress.

“SANSA!! SANSA!” you hear joffrey yelling at him sandor and three other guards follow. The overwhelming fear you felt earlier floods your system hoping you not vomit again. 

“Your grace?” she says hurrying to the king as you stay in place your hand pressed to your stomach. 

“My lady? Are you alright?” you maiden says quietly. You nod shakily. 

You watch as jeoffry makes sansa kiss his sword as he continues to boast about how they are going to win as they outnumber them even though kingslandings guard is half the size of stannis.

All the while sandor dosnt take his eyes off you as you watch sansa and jeoffry. He scans you, what your wearing, what you look like, your body language the way you fiddle with the sleeves of your dress. He memorizes every feature of your face. In case hes to die in battle tonight he wants you to be the last thing he remembers.

Another wave of nausea hits you as you stumble to the side your maiden rushes to you keeping you from falling. The wave is not enough to make you cough up your meal but its debilitating enough. 

“My lady!” another hurries to you taking your arm. You give a small whimper in discomfort. 

With out thinking sandor hurries to you as well. You dont notice hes infront of you until he speaks. Your eyes moving to the floor now to his face as he places a hand on your cheek. 

“y/n? Are you alright?” he asks. You open your mouth to speak but only a whine of discomfort comes out. 

More than anything he wants to stay with you but he knows he cant hes not allowed. 

“S-sandor.. I have to tell you something.” you speak pained. 

“DOG lets go!” you hear jeoffry order. 

“Fuck..” sandor mumbles before letting go of you and walking off with the king. 

“Come my lady, we must go down to the queen.” your maid says as you nod looking back to find sandor and the rest gone from the throne room.

Heading down the basement to under the keep you and sansa walk in but your interrupted from finding a place to sit when cersi calls you over to her she sits enjoying a glass of whine. 

You walk over to her and sloppily curtsy. 

“Hmm…you look pale? Has your red flower bloomed?” she ask 

“N-no your grace.” you reply. 

“Mm are you frightened child?” she asks. 

“yes .” you speak plainly. 

“Here. drink it'll ease your fear.” she says handing you a glass of wine. 

“I'm not thirsty your grace.” you speak. Declining the alcoholic beverage. 

“I didn't offer you water, dove.” she snaps at you. 

“F-forgive me your grace but I cannot accept…” you say. Her hardened expression at you softens when she sees your hand rest on your lower stomach. 

“You Are with child?” she ask you nod. 

“Hmm. you shall bare a fine little lord. Does the hound know of your adversary.” she says pulling the glass away pouring the wine into her cup and then handing the extra cup to the maid behind her. 

“....n-no your grace i haven't told him.” you say she gives a slight squint and frown before speaking. 

“You've not told your lord husband especially on a day like this..when did you find out?” she asks rather harshly. 

“T-today your grace just a few hours ago the maester confirmed it.” you speak the wave of nausea finally subsiding. 

“Do you love the hound?” she ask. There it was again the nausea is back. Not caused by the babe in your womb but by the queens insistent ask.

“Yes your grace i do.” you reply. 

“Then why haven't you told him.'' She demands more than asks. 

“He's still a part of kings guard your grace. He’s busy.” you say giving an excuse other than you're terrified of his reaction. 

“Fitting dont you think? He could die out there while you provide life in here…the souls of the dead fuel for the god to give your babe life..a small token of a litter you and my son's dog will have.” she says. 

Everytime someone insults sandor as a dog, or a bitch, of some form of less than animal your blood boils. You want nothing more than to slap cersi across her face and yell but the hand you slapped her with would be cut off and your vocal cords your yelled at her with would be severed as your head rolls on the execution ground. Instead all you can speak is a mere. 

“Yes your grace, it should do me the pleasure of gifting the lord clegane with sons.” you say she gives a smile knowing no matter how hard you try you can t be disobedient. She pats the seat on the pillows next to her gesturing for you to sit down next to her and you do. 

“When i was your age i was pregnant with jeoffry. I did not love his grace the king but i love the children he has given me me flesh and blood my life line. It’s a good thing you love the hound you’ll his children even more.” she speaks before chugging her glass and then holding it out for more wine. 

The entire night cersi drinks and rambles on about children and how shit being queen is. It's only stopped when ser merryn runs into the room. Covered in blood and drink. Women gasp at the sight of his and a few faint at the thought of what outside the gates look like. 

“Your grace they have begun breaching the castle walls.” he says 

“Where is jeoffry?” she says

“On the battle lines with the others.”

“Bring him to his chambers at once. I don't want to hear anything more, do you understand.” she huffs. 

“Yes your grace" he says and runs out. 

“Do you remember when i told you ser ilyn was here to protect us? I lied…when stannis breaches those walls he will take the city but he will not take us..not alive ser ilyn will be doing us a great favor my dove..you and your child will not have to perish under the sting of another mans cock but under a formidable blade.” she says drinking the rest of her cup. 

You glance down before getting up and walking to the doors where guards stop you. 

“Let her go.” cersi speaks you gather your dress enough that once the doors open you hurry out of the room alone leaving sansa and your ladies in waiting behind as you run through the halls and up the stairs you see other guard laying dead in the stairwell and even some servants bleeding to death. 

Hurrying to your chambers you rush through the door seeing three men inside raiding it. You gasp out seeing them bloody as they snicker with their treasures. 

“Oh look what we’ve got here.” The taller one says. 

“Another treasure for us to take, and hmm looks to be a fresh maiden.” The fat one says as he chuckles looking up and down at you smirking. 

“Don't come near me.” You say reaching for a spare blade Sandor had placed in the dresser drawer. 

“Or what you’ll fight with those pretty little hands of yours?... My, my i wonder what other pretty parts you have.” The red haired one says. 

You turn in a hurry to run to the dresser but the taller man grabs you. You scream at the top of your lungs as they throw you down on the ground. Holding you down to hike up your dress skirt. 

“Let’s see how pretty your parts really are!” He says undoing his pants before ripping your dress as you scream and fight desperately trying to get out of the other two's grip as they hold you down. 

The man's face suddenly drops and he falls to the floor with an axe in the back of his skull. You panic as tears fall down your cheek but it settles when you see Sandor in the doorway drawing his sword. The other men getting up and running at him with swords or thier own you crawl back twords the end of the bed. As you watch as Sandor grasp one man by the neck, easily towering over him and stabs his stomach, slashing him almost in two before dropping the body then snapping the other mans neck as his body thumps down onto the stone floor the blood seeping into the bear skin rug. 

Sheathing his sword he walks up to you and kneels in front of you.

“Shh-sh now little fox it's alright I’ve got you.” He says lifting you up despite being bloody you wrap your arms around his hand strokes your hair kissing your head. 

“We’re going.” He says pulling away from you before walking side to side packing things. 

“Wh-where?” 

“Someplace that isn’t burning perhaps north, south.” He says 

“What about Sansa…the king?!” YOU exclaim’

“Fuck the king! He can die just fine on his own.” He says He continues to rummage around the room packing things but stops only when he realizes you're not moving. He looks at you in confusion but you shake your head. 

“S-sandor i..i cant travel i cant leave.” You say He scoffs dropping the bag with a thud. 

“This place is nothing but a burning pile of rubble with a second hand drift of cunts, you really want to stay here and burn.” He says.

“S-stay here with us Sandor.” You say he scoffs, shaking his head at you. 

“Ive been burnt before little fox and its not all fun and games.” He says but continues to watch for any movement you make. But his expression changes from pleading to confusion replaying what you had said just a moment ago.

“Us?” he ask shaking his head. “I'm not staying here with the royal court.” he says 

“No no us.” you say taking his hand placing it against your stomach looking up at him. Your heart beating out of your chest at having to finally tell him. 

“Me and him.” you say again. 

“Come with me.” He says. 

“I-…” you begin.

He grabs your arms and gruffly speaks to you. 

“Please.”

Next chapter here

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#sandor x reader #sandor the hound clegane #sandorclegane #sandor clegane x reader #Sandor clegane x reader fluff #Sandor x princess reader #Sandor clegane x princess reader #fox and the hound

[minaturefics]

Once More (With Feeling)

Prompt: Faramir invites an old friend back to Minas Tirith

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

Faramir x Reader

Fem reader

No content warnings

6.2k words

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The door swung open and a man walked in.

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

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

Faramir. 

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

“You’re late,” you blurted. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am sorry to hear about your uncle.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A stranger. 

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

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

“Of course, thank you.”

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is the matter, Faramir?” 

“Nothing.” He smiled. 

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

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

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

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

“Would you like to go on a walk?”

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

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

“I didn’t think you noticed.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yes, the both of you were no longer children.

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

“I said I would not chase you up it!”

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

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

“And you always the cheater.”

“It is called levelling the playing field.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Faramir, why did you ask me here?” 

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

“A beastly thing, I’m sure.”

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

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

“Boromir and I did.”

 “You did not write.”

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

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

The War. 

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Had Faramir always been this warm and big?

“Are you alright?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll go.” 

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

-

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

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

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

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

He strode over to the window and slammed it shut.

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

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

He was your friend. 

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

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

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

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

But alas, you were not his.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am sorry, if I shouldn’t have —”

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

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

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

He did not dare move, did not dare breathe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

It was just Faramir. 

Just… a friend.

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

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

And yet…

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

Want burned in you. 

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

-

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

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

His stomach swooped and a strangled laugh burst from him. 

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

Muffled footsteps approached and you turned. 

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

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

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

“Were you looking for me?”

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

“Is there something you wanted from me?”

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

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

“I think you already know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Less, if one has a good horse.”

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

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

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

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

“In Minas Tirith?”

“With you.”

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

Thinking of how, perhaps, it smelled like home. 

---

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

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

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

Taglist: @sotwk

#faramir x reader #faramir x you #faramir x y/n #lotr fic #lotr fanfiction #lotr fanfic #faramir

[tinyozlion]

Gundam Wing: Minutia and Trivia

On my long and winding way down research rabbit holes, I often stumble on bits and pieces of trivia that I find quite interesting, but don't really fit anywhere in my usual commentary on Gundam canon and are far too niche and inconsequential to merit a post of their own. HOWEVER. Since I know in my heart that you, dear reader, are also the sort of person for whom background details of the absolute least consequential variety are a source of delight and inspiration, I am compiling some of my discoveries here, and perhaps if I find more, there will be follow up posts. This one happens to be, in a very loose sense, mostly about Romefeller, OZ, and its Special Eyebrow People, because that is where my brain worms are currently converging. Here is my collection of useless trivia. I lay them at your feet like weird pebbles. Look at them. They're neat.

1. The Daily Kingdom Newspaper

It's quite likely that this has already been done, but in the grand spirit of this blog, I have decided to take the path of highest effort for the stupidest reason, and transcribed this paper. This page of After Colony news, ostensibly from July 14th, A.C. 195, appears to be reporting on events that happened towards the end of World War II. It's apparently been a slow news day for the Sanc Kingdom press for several centuries. I found myself getting kind of wrapped up in the stories and was disappointed I couldn't turn the page and find out what happened next. (I mean, I know what happened next, broadly speaking.) Of particular interest were Henri and Camille Dreyfus, Swiss chemists who made a lot of innovations during both world wars. ...They were also apparently noted OZ supporters? Well, what can you expect from a big industrial supplier of*checks notes* acetyl intermediates.

2. The OZ doggy

Pictured below: Treize's well-heeled hunting pet

and a dog is there too *BA-DUM tsch!*

This spotty and behaved hound is a real breed of hunting dog, the German Short-haired Pointer, or GSP! Did you know this, dear reader? I did not know this. This is new Dog Lore to me.

from the wiki: "It is a pointer and retriever, an upland bird dog, and water dog. The GSP can be used for hunting larger and more dangerous game. It is an excellent swimmer but also works well in rough terrain. It is tenacious, tireless, hardy, and reliable. German Shorthaired Pointers are proficient with many different types of game and sport, including trailing, retrieving, and pointing pheasant, quail, grouse, waterfowl, raccoons, opossum, and even deer."

Seems like a perfect bird-hunting companion for Mr. Treize. She'll probably go retrieve the beautiful red phoenix he murdered. I've decided she's named Oscar (after the Rose of Versailles) and she is a very good girl. Braver Oscar! Braver Hund!

3. Luxembourg Castle

This is Treize's abandoned Disney castle in Luxembourg. I owe the background artists of this scene an apology, for in my heart I assumed this was a random assemblage of spare castle-parts they found at Ludwig II's rummage sale. Reader, I was wrong:

THIS is Schloss Viandin, a restored castle in Luxembourg. Look at this place, it's gorgeous! You can hardly tell there's a secret mobile suit bunker in the basement. Frankly, I'm jealous I'm not being confined there, Treize! Stop sulking in the catacombs and go relax in the pretty princess bed until you feel better. Gaze upon the signed picture of Patrick Swayze; let him inspire you.

4. Romefeller's Secret

This one comes to us from the Battlefield of Pacifists manga, which, I've learned, is pretty good actually. (I mean it's not GOOD good, but it contains some interesting stuff). Now, come: I am taking you with me on this journey:

I feel extremely vindicated knowing that there's semi-canonical support for my theory that the Romefeller aristobrats are Austrian. I knew it. I KNEW IT. According to this manga, Romefeller was officially founded in Vienna-- the wording is a little ambiguous in this translation, but if Romefeller had members joining it in 1862, then it had to have existed in some form since then-- which means that the "Glorious Year" of 1956 is something other than its founding date. So what exactly happened in 1956? As I am a hack and fraud, and have been one all my life, I have looked to wikipedia for guidance. Mostly what was happening was the Cold War, colonialism, uprisings, Elvis, research and debate over artificial intelligence, both the hard drive disk and the snooze-button alarm clock being invented, Japan joining the UN, and wait what's this--

COMPUTER, ENHANCE:

...My god...

It's all coming together.

Eurovision is a plot by Romefeller.

The evidence is all here. There is simply no other conclusion we can come to.

--For this, and many other reasons that are well beyond the scope of a fandom blog, you should probably boycott them.

I rest my case.

5. The Romefeller Coat of Arms

I'm no vexillologist, and my heraldic experience is limited to adoptable pixel dragons, but what I am is an insane person with too much time on their hands. And so, to the best of my ability, I have blazoned the Romefeller coat of arms:

Supporters: Two Unicorns Rampant 

Crown: Purpur Crown of Peerage or Lord of Parliament  

Escutcheon: Heater with Two Engrailed Wedge Top - party per pale (halved vertically)

Blazon: Sinister (Right): Argent, Bend Sinister Sanguine; Dexter (Left): Bleu Celeste, Charged with a Ringed (or Celtic) Cross Argent 

Motto Scroll: UPRTUN or UPRTVN

--I don't know what UPRTVN is meant to stand for, but there are truly SO many ways you could play Latin Mad Libs and get a reasonable-sounding answer. At a stab, knowing Romefeller's priorities and values, I would guess it probably contains a, you know, "Unity/Peace/Rule/Tradition/Victory/Necessity", "Unity Through The Rule of Tradition Is Our Victory", or some such deeply worrying thing. Take your pick really.

6. "Herbst" / "Autumn"

The Rilke poem Treize quotes in "Frozen Teardrop" is not terribly difficult to find online, but if you're not sure what you're looking for it can be difficult because he has multiple poems about Autumn, and Autumn Day is perhaps better known; also the internet is absolutely filthy riddled with despicable bots and farmed content that has lost its attributions, so you do have to dig to find where different translations have come from (bless this very Web 1.0 page for carrying on the lord's work in basic html). Here is the original in German, and two complimenting translations:

Herbst -Rainer Maria Rilke Die Blätter fallen, fallen wie von weit als welkten in den Himmeln ferne Gärten; sie fallen mit verneinender Gebärde. Und in den Nächten fällt die schwere Erde aus allen Sternen in die Einsamkeit. Wir alle fallen. Diese Hand da fällt. Und sieh dir andre an: es ist in allen. Und doch ist Einer, welcher dieses Fallen unendlich sanft in seinen Händen hält.

This translation by Horst A. Scholz (linked here so I don't get into trouble) is the most spare and one-to-one translation into English I've found-- I always appreciate having a comparison between the very literal meanings and a more creative reconstruction when I'm reading translated poetry.

Meanwhile on the other end of the spectrum, this translation by Robert Bly is very freeform and agnostic; for my own purposes, I think the use of "Space" instead of "Heaven" happens to fit nicely with the themes of Gundam:

Autumn -translation by Robert Bly The leaves are falling, falling as if from far up, as if orchards were dying high in space. Each leaf falls as if it were motioning "no." And tonight the heavy earth is falling away from all other stars in the loneliness. We're all falling. This hand here is falling. And look at the other one. It's in them all. And yet there is Someone, whose hands infinitely calm, holding up all this falling.

#gundam wing #parsing post #tinyozlion pgw #Trivia and Minutia #Romefeller Foundation #Treize Khushrenada

[yourfavouriteflowers]

Late Night Talks (Remus x James)

A drabble following a break up during the height of the first war. Due to little spacing, Remus and James are forced to share a room.

The crumpled bedsheets only proved to make things worse. A quick shuffling from James, his eyes piercing into Remus’ back. Soft sobs escaped his mouth, a choke of holding himself back. James took in a deep breath and looked up to the ceiling, a shake stuck in his throat seemingly blocking everything from coming up. All the words he wanted to spill, all the apologies he needed to give trapped behind his thoughts suffocating him. His head drops back and he can hear quiet sniffling and slight movement from Remus. His gaze dropped back to the otherwise still body beside him in a panic.

“Remus?” James whispered, like it was the worst thing he could have said, like it was something sacred. But how could it be? the name of his only lover now just a memory on his tongue but it was just a name. Something he should be used to by now. James could hear Remus still. Everything was still, it seemed like time stopped and nothing was force it to continue going; James knew it would eventually. It had to. He couldn’t sit in agonising silence with Remus.

“James,” Remus replied eventually, his voice even more hushed than James’ own. Quiet enough that James only just heard it. Remus hadn’t moved but James could see more of his body. His head was ontop of his arm, looking down into his chest. James assumed he had been crying, or was at least upset because of the dried tears that set on his face and the slightly red corners of his eyes even though they were shut so tightly, as if afraid of what James called him for.

“You’re upset,” James said. It was a statement really. A statement of what had just happened, him finally bringing up a topic they’d both been avoiding since the break up. “I didn’t think they’d put us in the same room.”

Remus turned and looked up, now in a similar position to James and loud out a pained sigh. “You are too. Don’t be like that, I can take care of myself.”

James let out a sob and wiped away the tears that blurred his vision. “Yeah. I know. It just… sucks that things turned out like this. Like I didn’t want to hurt you, you know? I just couldn’t put you through that shit again. And I know you can take care of yourself but…”

“It’s okay, James. I don’t blame you.”

“I think I needed to hear that,” James said and let out a laugh. “Thank you. For what it’s worth, I do love you.”

“I know. I just don’t think we were meant to be, maybe again in some distant future when we aren’t fighting for our lives and our friends are hounding us about getting into relationships. Did we ever even come out to them?”

“Maybe so. I’ll wait for you. I dont think there’s anyone who I can love the same way I love you. And.. no, don’t return it, please. I dont think I could take it. Let’s just enjoy this moment where no one’s fighting or taking sides or anything,” James said, his voice quiet, hanging onto a hope that may not be there. “I never did come out. I think Padfoot was holding out hope that I’d settle down with some girl from school or something. That is just not me though.”

“No, not you at all. Go to sleep, yeah? While we’re still being nice,” Remus said and waited for James to lie back down. The slow movements of the cover made a quiet sound and Remus quickly followed. They both laid in the silence before Remus whispered a last ‘Goodnight.’

wc: 618

#moonysdrabbles #moonchaser #james x remus #remus lupin #marauders #marauders era #dead gay wizards #james potter #drabbles #drabble #writer #one shot #moonsun

[faulty-writes]

Hi, hello!

I found your blog on accident, but it was a really good accident. I love how you write for bnha boys and girls, haven't seen that of an accurate descriptions in a while! It's really enjoyable.

Could I request a female reader with Stymphalian Bird like quirk? Like reader has big wings with very sharp, metal feathers that she can use as blades or just shoot them out. She also has sharp claws that administer poison to the wounds and sharp teeth. Because of that, as her quirk is pretty deadly, she became a villain due to harassment and bullying, but she never kills or severely injures anyone, mostly just destroying property and stealing. However, due to the scale of the attacks, she is considered dangerous, high ranking villain.

But she does it rather to spend her anger and survive rather than actually trying to hurt anyone.

For the Bois Like Hawks, Aizawa and Izuku?

You don't have to write it if you don't want to, I tend to overcomplicate things 😅

[ I'm happy it was a happy accident for you! Apologies that this took longer than expected. Life sucks sometimes. But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. ]

It didn't take a genius to figure out that while you were a high-ranking villain, you never actually shed the blood of the innocent. That's what he found most peculiar, and after months of hounding Madam President, he was finally assigned to apprehend you. Of course, he'd use that as an excuse to find out more about you and more importantly, why you spared innocent lives.

"Sorry there," the sound of your metal feathers crashing against the vacant building was a sound he wouldn't forget. "Guess I'm just a little faster than you, nice try though," he said at your first meeting. He recalled the way you growled, staring up at him with those intense eyes before again trying to strike him down.

Connecting with you was more challenging than he thought. This was even after expressing his interest in getting to know you. He even ventured as far as trying to gain your sympathy by sharing a little bit of his past, namely that his father was a villain and that's why he could understand where you were coming from, but you knew the real reason he told you this was because he hoped you'd open up. But no, you were stubborn and refused to tell a "hero" anything.

"Even with those sharp claws and teeth, you can still be a hero!" He yelled one day while engaged in another furious battle with you. His body had received a few scratches but nothing lethal, of course even if it were, he wouldn't care. He only wanted to convince you that you could still save yourself from this villainous path.

"Heh, well, it looks like you caught me," he joked, daring to smile as you pinned him against the wall with a satanic snarl. "But what's this? Not gonna use your poison, what gives? Or are you just too scared to use it?" His words sent a violent tremble through your body and as capable as you were of poisoning him, you backed away.

"You know, not that I'm much for looks even though I'm considered gorgeous by most, but you should smile more. You'd look even more beautiful than you are." You weren't sure if he meant that to be insulting or not, but why would you smile when you had sharp dangerous-looking teeth?

The two of you were locked in a fierce hand-to-hand combat session when you first met. You scared some innocent civilians and panic arose. Shota was the first on the scene and made the first move. However, he ultimately ended the fight because there was no illegal quirk usage on your end and that meant no crime was committed. You thought that would be the last time you'd see him.

He recognized your potential from the start, and while your skills could be used for a heroic purpose you were still a villain and one, he intended on stopping, yet he wasn't beyond trying to reason with you. He'd always say something along the lines of "I could care less about detaining you, but you could channel your quirk for a greater purpose." Often his words were met with more retaliation.

He taught his students about the dangers of vigilantism. There was no excuse for what they did. They were criminals, and yet he couldn't help but compare you to a young man he met years ago. He was a vigilante, but Shota let his antics slide and never thought he'd let that happen again but something inside him kept calling him back to you.

He knew it was foolish and dangerous to track you down, and he'd never forget the feeling of your claws digging into his flesh and the sickening feeling of his life slipping away because of the poison that ran through his body. Yet, even as he lay in the hospital bed, he knew that your intention wasn't to kill him and that he'd pursue you again.

You weren't sure if you were angry or relieved when he ambushed you in the alleyway. However, how he smirked at you when you pinned him against the wall with your feathers made you feel uneasy as did his words. "You didn't intend to kill me. If you really want a change in perspective, Yuuei can help you." He acted as though he cared, and you hated that.

"Don't just stand there, we may be heroes, but we all agreed to help you, and in exchange, your villain record will be erased." This was the compromise you had reached with Shota after months of arguments and being at each other's throats, you finally agreed to at least see the world of heroes. In return, Shota had promised no harm would come to you, and it was almost funny or pathetic that you believed him.

"I...I just w-want to know more about y-your quirk!" His words were coated in fear, and his eyes were fixated on your claws that were mere inches from his face. But his words also made you stop and think for a moment before declaring him a fool and shoving him to the ground.

His frequent visits quickly annoyed you, so you decided to poison the annoying pest to finally make him leave you alone. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. Izuku returned after being released from the hospital. "I k-know you didn't mean to kill me! A-and that means t-that you have c-compassion!" His words were greeted with laughter. Yes, quite a stupid kid he was.

"W-why did you become a villain? Your q-quirk may seem dangerous, b-but if…if you really want, I can s-support you because I think…I think you'd make a wonderful h-hero!" A small amount of blood was shed when your claws swiped across his face, but you knew no matter how much pain you inflicted on him, he'd keep returning.

"Here, I t-thought you might be h-hungry!" You weren't sure if you were hateful or grateful because Izuku brought you food. "You n-need to eat! Even v-villains…n-not that I think you are o-one, need…need to eat!" You could hardly believe that you thanked him for said food, but hell…it was less work on your part. Villains didn't exactly get a paycheck, so you mostly relied on stealing and scaring others to get food or material means.

When he showed you his notebook and all the details, he had written about you, it changed something. It made you think and wonder why he was so interested in a villain like you. However, thinking back to your previous encounters, you realized it wasn't because he looked at you as a villain but as a person with a troubled past.

When he started bringing his "friends" to you to prove that not all heroes would judge you, there was a certain rage that seeped deep inside you. The last thing you wanted was more annoying brats around, but to your surprise, they were curious and accepting about you and spoke highly of Izuku and you almost hated yourself for agreeing that the once annoying pest was…pleasant to be around.

#hawks x female reader #aizawa x female reader #izuku x fem!reader #keigo x reader #shouta x reader #midoriya x reader #keigo x you #keigo x y/n #shouta x you #aizawa x reader #aizawa x you #aizawa x y/n #midoriya x fem!reader #midoriya x y/n #midoriya x you #bnha x reader #bnha x fem!reader #bnha x you #bnha x female reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x self insert #faulty writes: keigo takami: 23 #faulty writes: keigo takami: headcanons: 23 #faulty writes: shota aizawa: headcanons: 23 #faulty writes: shota aizawa: 23 #faulty writes: izuku midoriya: 23 #faulty writes: izuku midoriya: headcanons: 23

[t3ddytr3atz]

.would you do a romantic Luna with a blind Male hell hound reader.

Sure!

𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐀 𝐗 𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐃! 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄! 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑!

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠!: 𝐥𝗼𝗼𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐡𝗼𝐥𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 :(

•ok, so we all know loona is an asshole so the first time she met you was when you where walking around in hell when you bumped into her while she aggressively barked out a "watch where your going jerk" then left

•the next day she apologized about her behavior and offered to take you to lunch, you agreed because maybe she wasn't so bad?

•while you guys where chatting and eating someone decided to make fun of you for being blind,needles to say you where hurt, but loona quickly shut the guy up with a nasty threat

•after you guys got to know each other she asked you out, after a few dates she asked to be your girlfriend!

•she is very soft around you because she loves you so much and is afraid she'll hurt you or someone else will

•VERY.PROTECTIVE. she keeps you safe and healthy anyway she can, someone bullying you? She'll beat the fuck out of them, need some water? Sit back down she'll get it

•even thought she has a 'tough girl' appearance she loves to cuddle with you in private, like you guys are home alone and she'll be nuzzling into your side while making a soft purring noise lulling you to sleep

•when you first met blitz, he fucked up by saying "why the hell wouldn't you look me in the eyes" turns out you explained you where blind while loona was on the verge of beating the fuck out of him

•your glad that loona was by your side, without her you would have been dead, but you loved and appreciated her just like she did the same with you <3

Hello dear readers! I hope you enjoyed this, have a lovely day/night bye my little bunnies!

#helluva boss x reader #helluva loona #helluva boss #loona x reader #headcannons #fanfiction #x reader

[cowgurrrl]

I know you've written about how rockstar!joel and actress!reader experienced paparazzi but a recent video of rachel ziegler handling the paparazzi well really made me think about how actress!reader would handle them in a similar fashion. they're horrible in general and I feel like actress!reader would tell them off but in a smart, sassy sense lol.

the video of rachel, she told them "sorry??? I'm human talk to me as such" and I think that's how actress!reader would go about keeping them and even if the kids were around too. her and joel, in my mind at least, have a different way of handling them and that's how actress!reader would handle them i feel. (joel thinks his wife is a badass for that because ofc! love to see it!!!)

Oh, Joel does not fuck around when it comes to paparazzi. He has little to no patience and will do everything so their photos are unsellable. Anything from flipping off the camera to mumbling answers to TMZ to even pulling up a picture of Mickey Mouse on his phone and holding it up so paps can’t sell the photos unless they’re willing to pay Disney. It’s extremely smart.

You are a little more gracious. Everybody has to make a living. If you’re on your own, you’ll tolerate a few pictures and questions as long as they’re reasonable and won’t get you in trouble. That, of course, changes once you get pregnant. You still answer questions about work and vaguely say something about the baby being good but you don’t indulge them with details such as your due date, the sex of the baby, or possible names. You figure your good standing with the paparazzi will help you when it comes to concealing Sam and the girls. The flashes and mob scare them and your publicity team has a deal that if they do get pictures of you and the kids out that they have to blur the kids faces unless you change the order (which you won’t do until Sam is eighteen and even then you’re reluctant).

One day, when Sam and the girls are little and you’re still in your two-year time off period to be Mom, you’re going to the grocery store with your very young kid and babies. It’s stressful for any mom to have to wrangle that many small children but especially when people are surrounding you, taking pictures. You do your best to distract the kids, cover their faces, and keep yourself calm but it’s hard. “Can we have some space, please?” You ask politely as you struggle with the double stroller and wiggly babies. While you’re strapping Sophia into the stroller, you hear one of the paps say Sam’s name and ask him something. You don’t even fully hear the question but it doesn’t stop you from whipping around and pulling Sam behind you.

“Did you seriously just ask my five-year-old a question?” You snap. It’s one thing for you to get hounded by the press, but your kid? “He’s a kid. What answer are you expecting to get out of him? Do you want me to find your children and grill them about something while taking pictures of them?” The photographer starts to apologize but you don’t let him. “My kindergartener isn’t media trained or used to people shoving cameras in his face just like every other fucking kindergartner on earth. Can you, please, treat him as such and leave us alone so I can go buy diapers and bread for my family?” They back off, finally, and let you finish loading up the kids. You and Joel’s team sends cease and desist’s to all the photographers who got pictures of the kids that day and orders them destroyed. If a single picture of your children emerges on the internet that neither of you posted, a lawsuit will be sent before the end of the hour and not just one. Two.

One thing becomes very clear to the press that day: Don’t fuck with the Miller kids.

#one for the money two for the show #oftm family #oftm #rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader #joel miller au #the last of us au #tlou au #actress!reader you will always be famous to me

[hum-suffer]

We'll say hello again (nevermind the chasm between us) 9

Gauri smiles serenely as she walks the stable. Danger has always been a footnote in her life— surrounded by competent fighters as well as becoming a competent fighter herself. She knows nothing and no one short of absolute cold planned deceit will kill her, especially now that Bhairavrath is trailing behind her, armed to teeth.

She finds it honourable that he cares so much and doesn't call out his worry as paranoia.

Bahu would be totally worse— he wouldn't have let her deal with this by herself. Bhalla, well, he'd probably string up a storm if he noticed that Gauri was trying to deal with some conspiracy by herself.

He knows she bailed out of her history lessons with a lie, and she knows he will later hound her in her room to tell him just why she has disappeared, but for now, she rather thinks that he needs to focus on his diplomacy better.

(She will never lie to her brother, of course, but him getting grey hair at fifteen because he worries too much for her is less than ideal.)

She slows down when she sees an elderly man tending quietly to one of the younger mares. She looks behind her at Bhairavrath and he nods in confirmation.

"Satyaveer ji?"

The man in question looks up, as if startled by her presence as well as her voice. He straightens up with a surprising rush and bows. "Princess Gauraangi. How may I serve you?"

"Please, relax," she says, managing not flinch at her full name. How long has it been since someone called her by her full name? "You take care of my horse, Ratan, yes?"

Satyaveer nods, wrinkles at the base of his throat tightening. "Yes, yes. He's a feisty horse, that one. Always in a mood. I have experience with horses for more than 17 years, that's the reason i can tame the beast."

She instantly doesn't like the way he is talking about Ratan but Gauri keeps that to herself, her tight lipped smile widening with her increasing discomfort.

"I just wanted to say thank you for taking such good care of my horse." She says, clasping her hands in front of her in the picture of a docile little girl. "However, he has been the reason for my recent accident. As much as it pains me to think so, I must know if Ratan is stable to continue serving me or must I wish him a necessary but upsetting farewell."

They all know what she means with her words and Satyaveer doesn't know just how false she's being as she politely asks if Ratan needs to be put down.

She would never.

(Amrendra says Gauri has a bad habit of getting attached with things she has no business caring for beyond her agendas. Gauri doesn't listen to him anyway, because he's a hypocrite and he, too, cares far too much to be healthy for him.

However, when Bhalla says the same thing to Gauri in contempt, he doesn't let her ignore him until he's yelling at her that she will only hurt herself if she cares and that's a stupid form of masochism. Bhalla made her cry when he first said and apologised with a new pair of armbands for her. He says it often these days, but his apologies have turned to words—lest he empty the treasury in the name of Gauri's forgiveness.)

Satyaveer looks down and licks his lips as he thinks of an answer to her question. Gauri holds her breath. This answer will define just how suspicious she will be of him.

"Truth be told, princess, that horse has descended from a stallion that your father was gifted with by some lord. I've been here exactly since that beast's youngling days and he's always been as unstable as this. I would recommend it if you just accepted fate and said farewell to the horse."

Gauri works to reign in her rage at the man talking about her horse like that and never using his designated name but she ends up smiling at him. "Why didn't you say so before? You were there when I chose him to be mine, weren't you?"

Satyaveer swallows and licks his lips again, stuttering out,"I was— I am, I mean, I am a mere servant. I can't give you any advice without, uh, without being asked. Princess."

Her title leaves his mouth in an almost afterthought and it's laced with annoyance. Gauri nods.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Satyaveer ji."

»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»

Gauri paces in her dance practice room— the only one she knows will be completely neglected for a couple of days since her teacher is sick and has cancelled the classes for the day.

Bhairavrath stands in a corner while she paces.

Gauri gestures with her hands in the air as if she's holding tangible pieces of information as she speaks. "Satyaveer claimed that he's been around since Ratan's young days but Ratan is barely six years old. Which means he must have done some other palace work before becoming a stable boy."

It is a rule of hierarchy, any servant of the palace either comes from a disaster that needs employment to dissolve or they are recommended as a good servant by someone already employed by the crown.

"The vet said that Ratan had eaten something that choked his food pipe," she recounts,"and he also said that Ratan is a behaved horse, at least during the quarterly check ups— the last of which happened a month ago. My accident happened three weeks ago. So, Ratan had one week to be jeopardized."

"If I may, my princess?" Bhairavrath asks. She nods encouragingly, stopping her pacing to give him all her attention. "The facts aside, we must note that if Ratan was indeed jeopardized, which he was, someone made an assassination attempt on you. There must be a motive for such an act."

Gauri nods. "I don't think there can be many people with such motives. I haven't interacted with anyone outside of the circle that you already know. I'm not in line for the throne—due to my gender of all things," and she is still bitter about being unequal to her brothers,"who would even want to waste their coin in assassination of someone who is basically inconsequential in the bigger picture?"

"You're absolutely not inconsequential, my princess!" He says vehemently, eyes wide and lips in pout at his passionate insistence. "You are perhaps the smartest person in the palace, pardon my unintended offenses. You are already working towards becoming a minister of the state someday, which requires immense knowledge and also gives you immeasurable power—second only to the ruling royalty. Someone wants to stop your power from rising, my princess."

Gauri suppresses her giddy smile at the praise and nods,"We must find out who knows about my future plans, as that is the most probable cause of motive."

Bhairavrath nods and before he can say anything else, a conch sounds, indicating dinner time.

Gauri rushes out of the room after seeing if someone is in the corridor and takes a pair of ghunghroos in her arms— to have an excuse if someone sees her flitting around the dance room without reason.

As he is closing the door behind him, Gauri turns to give him a smile.

"Thank you for your praise, Bhairav."

»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»

Amrendra hounds her as soon as they're done with dinner. Katappa looks at the two of them in surprise but falls in step beside Bhairav, trailing them till Bahu's rooms and standing guard outside.

"Where did you and Bhairavrath run off to?"

Gauri opens and closes her mouth as she tries to think of something that won't make him yell.

"I don't know how to start this correctly, so I will give you the basic fact: I think someone sabotaged my horse in a potential assassination attempt. And I tried to interrogate a suspect today."

"What?" Amrendra yells.

(Okay, that idea failed.)

Gauri shushes him. He continues, in a softer but still furious tone,"And why on earth did you not tell me about your suspicions earlier? Or are you waiting for another attempt? Or maybe you're waiting until you're dead so you can come back and haunt me as a ghost?"

She doesn't defend herself right away. She knows she deserves this.

Finally, she grabs his hand. "I'm sorry for not informing you of my suspicions earlier, Bahu. And I'm sorry that I didn't take you with me today. I just needed to confirm my theory before worrying you, in case it was useless, you know?"

Amrendra sighs and pulls her by their joined hands and engulfs her in a hug. "You should tell me these things, Gauri. Who will trust you uselessly, if not me, sister? Who will follow you blindly, if not me? Who will wage a war for you, if not me? It's I who can do unimaginable things for your well being, sister. I daresay, it is my right to worry for you."

"I know," she says, her voice muffled and nose pressed in his collar bone,"I just wanted to keep your peace. Ignorance is a bliss, and all that. I'm sorry. I'm extremely very sorry."

"I don't forgive you, Gauri," he says but he tightens his arms around her and drops a kiss on her head. "I understand why you did it and I would have likely done the same, but I don't forgive you."

Gauri nods, she's ready to take whatever she can get. And she will earn his forgiveness back sooner or later, she knows. Bahu is her other half.

"I love you." She tells him, relaxing and melting into his body, pulled into that sense of warmth. Sleep overwhelms her and she suppresses her yawn.

"I love you, too." Amrendra says, sighing into her hair. "Now, tell me everything you know or suspect."

Gauri groans at the thought of her sleep being delayed but doesn't protest— she knows she's tested Amar's patience at a damn high level, keeping this thing from him.

When she's finished talking, he hums. "Satyaveer..." He shakes his head dismissively and says,"I think I've heard of him, I'll look into him. Don't you think we should inform Maa if someone really made an assassination attempt on you?"

(The instant change from "you" to "we" makes her heart irrationally warm. She shouldn't be feeling so giddy at the thought that her twin loves her and they share everything— especially problems. It is obvious and shouldn't be surprising, he's probably not even aware of the change. But it makes her happy all the same.)

It's a suggestion and Gauri is extremely grateful for that. He knows Gauri requires autonomy in her life, he knows she likes to do things her way and that she's always been impertinent. Bahu knows Gauri definitely hates anyone poking their noses in what's supposed to be her business.

He's right, they should involve an adult— especially Maa.

"We should, you're right." She sighs, twisting down on his bed that they had migrated to while she was speaking,"But Diwali is coming up. Maa is already busy in the preparations for it and if word goes out that someone tried to kill the only princess of Mahishamati right before Diwali, the general public will be in pandemonium. They will panic and fear for their own lives— what's stopping someone from killing them if just anyone can make a swipe at the princess' life? Maa will also surely put a stop to the upcoming festivities and it will stagger the economy. You know the Diwali celebrations of Mahishamati bring enormous opportunities of export and tourism— cancelling all that will imbalance the year's economy and will also affect upcoming years."

Bahu sighs, pushing his head down onto the mattress because he knows she's saying the truth. "I don't think Maa will care for the economy above you."

"I know. But she will face extreme backlash and it will all circle back to her being a woman who cares about her children too much to remain objective in her actions. I'm not insulting her, I'm just saying what will actually happen." She adds the last part because of the incredulous look on Bahu's face and also punches his shoulder for ever thinking that she'd insult Maa like that.

Bahu hums. "So, you, me and Bhairavrath know about this?"

Gauri nods, spreading on her brother's bed like an X. The stretch on her back feels delicious and her already cramping leg feels relief. She mentally tries to remember when her periods will return, the only happiness she can have is that they'd get away before Diwali.

Gauri has no wishes to spend her Diwali, writhing on her bed and crying because of severe stomach cramps.

Sometimes she wishes she were a boy too, at least she wouldn't have to relive that pain every month. But she also knows she's a princess— if she had been a prince, she'd be a contender for the throne and the idea of competing with either of her brothers and becoming bitter since these early days doesn't sound appealing.

Look at Uncle Bijjaldev, she thinks, look at what the lust for the throne did to him, his relationship with Gauri's father, and even his own marriage. His lust for the throne will someday spread onto Bhalla, Gauri knows this. She's tried to keep Bhalla with them, being subtle to try to limit his time alone with his father but she knows Bhalla loves his father and it's morally incorrect to separate a parent and a child in any condition, unless they are harming each other.

"Gauri, go to your room and sleep."

She knows he's being correct but the sentence brings back the memories of the days when she fought to remain close to him and he didn't. It's almost forgotten, that slight, hidden away and healed by his promise to never make her feel unloved again.

So she takes his words in good humour. She gets up, promising,"I'll say the same to you when you come to my room to sleep when you're tired." She says, knowing she wouldn't.

"Yeah, yeah. Good night, get out, sleep." He's already closed his eyes and has his arms out to find that pillow he's stolen from Gauri. She shakes her head and removes his rings and kada from his hands, loosens his cummerband and removes his layered necklace.

It's therapeutic. It takes her back to the days they shared a room and he would fall asleep while Gauri read her books to him outloud.

He's almost half asleep. Gauri runs her hand through his hair, it's shorter these days, and kisses his head. "Good night, brother. I love you."

"I love you, too, Gauri," he mumbles, opening one eye. "Please stay safe, sister."

"I have you, don't I? I'm always safe with you around."

»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»

Gauri wakes up at midnight, when Bahu crawls in her bed and embraces her tightly.

"Amar?" She grumbles, still disoriented,"what's wrong, beta?"

She feels him shake his head behind her. "I couldn't sleep, knowing that you might not be safe. Go to sleep, I won't disturb you."

Gauri rubs her hand over his arm that almost has her in a chokehold and nods. She hums a tune she doesn't remember the origin of and tries to sleep, caressing his hand until she feels him completely relax behind her.

Tears prick her eyes and all she can think about is just how much she loves her darling brother. She can't imagine being even alive without his words to hear, without his face to see and without his petulant whining as he gets sleepier and sleepier.

»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»

Two days go by in a blur.

Gauri gets her periods the next afternoon after she confessed to Bahu and she can't even command enough energy to stand most of the time, let alone go and interrogate the vet.

Bhairav does his magic and goes in her stead—infinitely stealthier and smoother than her.

He tells her that the vet diagnosed that Ratan was fed something that caused him to choke on it and also caused him to vomit several times. Something, that induced a fever in her poor horse.

Gauri deduces that it must have been fed to Ratan either just before the trip or during the trip, when they had all settled down to tie the boar up and Gauri and her brothers were talking with the soldiers over the fate of the boar.

"My princess!" Bhairav says on the evening of the second day, when Gauri insists on going to the arena to practice sword fighting. "You should rest, you don't feel well already!"

Gauri grits her teeth, already at her wits end with just about anyone who breathes in her direction. "I am on my periods, Bhairav, not dying." He opens his mouth to say something but Gauri beats him to it,"Besides, the enemies won't stop and delay an assault just because I'm on my periods, right?"

Bhalla side eyes the two of them when they enter the arena and she can feel his watchful gaze on her back as she spars against Bhairav and absolutely fails. It's a good way to let out her frustrations, sparring, but it ends up making her want to be foolish in hitting something solid, if only to let out her anger again.

She feels too hot in her own body and even the hair sticking to the nape of her neck is irritating her and the feel of her saree isn't right at all and she can't stand the idea of sitting down somewhere in the fear she may leave a stain behind.

"Mahadev should have made me a man." She growls to herself as they put away the laathis they had been sparring with.

Bhalla laughs,"Cheer up, sister. The pain is only temporary. You being a boy would have meant that you'd be always annoying, rather than only sometimes."

Gauri doesn't care for the yelp he makes when she kicks his calf rather forcefully.

____________________________________________________

Hello darlings!!! So, the next chapter will mark the 10th one and I'm thinking that i should make it an interlude in the boys' pov (yes that includes our baby Bhairav obv). What do you think?

Publishing this chapter early in the honor of the birthday of King Kohli and his 49th century. GOAT.

Tagging: @vijayasena @alhad-si-simran @o-merebholebalam @satanicallysatanicchild

#desiblr #suffer ye suhana nahi #desi tumblr #baahubali #bahubali #devasena #ss rajamouli #ram charan #writers on tumblr #fanfiction

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

I like yan papa Crwele having a half fae daughter, but what would happen if their magic is really weak that they don't belong to any of the even dorms and place on the Ramshackle, and him discovered that she really good at getting along with beasts

Now I know you meant beasts like Grim

But what about beastMEN

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Divus Crewel with fae daughter: Half on halfie

If being the prized only-child of Divus Crewel wasn’t easy enough

But being the outlier deemed too weak even with your fae-side

Diasomnia was no second home to you

Even next to Sebek you were nothing short of being absolute dirt 

You know because he said so

“YOU?! FAE?! HARDLY EVEN BY HALF! YOU’RE BLOOD’S DIRTIER THAN MINE! NEXT TO LORD MALLEUS YOU’RE DIRT!” “Sebek! You can’t just say that to people they’ll take it the wrong way?!”

Too late

Rejected by Diasomnia and mocked by your peers all you had to rely on were your loyal hounds

And even they would run away should your father call

Crewel would sense this

While he may not exactly know precisely what your feeling he has an idea

Unfortunately the fray of his students loved to gossip

“Did you hear the Crewl chic isn’t even good enough for Diasomnia?”

“I know! You’d think with such a #@$@$ attitude could she buy her way in?”

“No way wouldn't her doggy stank to stink up the place!”

He doesn’t hesitate to punish the motley crew for even insulting you

“I hope you mutts enjoy rotting. You’re going to stay in this shed until your begging her for forgiveness!” 

Daddy Crewl don’t play

And while it isn’t his place to punish Diasomnia as a whole 

He surely doesn’t take it easy when Sebek is involved

“SUCCESSFUL DAY’S WORK! NOW I CAN FREELY ATTEND TO LORD MALLEUS-”

“Zygovit, you're cleaning the classroom today.”

“BUT I’VE DONE MY TIME FOR THIS MONTH!”

“Would you rather I make it a weekly detention!?”

“...NO SIR. CLEANING RIGHT AWAY!”

 “Hmmph!”

Meanwhile you’re growing hate for Diasomnia was sensed by someonelse with the same sentiment

“Oi, you comin’ or what?”

“I am just be patient!”

Walking alongside Leona Kingscholar with your own entourage and dalmations in front

It was time for a change

In the time your father spent torturing your tormentors you had made some new friends

Your sheer will and desire to command had enough of the beastmen of Savanaclaw serving you hand and foot

They were your dogs and cats that followed your lead as you commanded them

The ones you deemed equal?

Leona Kingscholar alone 

and who better than the trainer’s daughter to bring some motivation to a lazy king

So much for being too weak to be with the fae 

Diasomnia was on guard 

their dorm was invaded and practically unlivable because of the living plant monsters that occupied the dorm

The best of the best aka the Diasomnia dorm was struggling with this plant problem 

no one could find a cause or a suspect 

That is until your father stepped on the scene

Noticing the behavior he applies one of his special commands 

Seeing that the plant-monsters were slightly responsive he immediately thinks of you

Probably with the overzealous diasomnia in tow they’ll confront you 

Lounging oddly comfortable with the Savanaclaw dormleader they ask

“That’s funny you seem awfully interested in me now.”

As its revealed you were the monster’s creator feeding off the hatred for Diasomnia 

Of course hanging around the one person with such deep-seeded hatred for Malleus

I would definitely expect you to overblot 

Specifically targeting the fae group that previously rejected you

Of course you’re talked down by Crewel and Leona

“I-I WILL APOLOGIZE! IN HOPES THAT WE MAY RECONCILE AND AVOID FURTHER ANIMOSITY!” 

“Uhhhh no. I still don’t like you guys and I’m not entitled to accept your deplorable apology!”

Happy to have you back 

“That’s my girl!” “That’s my girl!” 

“WhAt!”

#yandere divus crewel #yandere divus crewel x reader #yandere x reader #platonic yandere #boyfriendleonakingscholar #yandere headcannon #yandere headcannons #yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland

[deejadabbles]

I am here to stir the pots thots! After the delicious ideas that arose in this post (especially in the comments lol) I couldn't get this idea out of my head. @blueink-bluesoul I hope this is a fitting apology for adding to your WIPs 😜

(Implied) Hunter x reader x Hound

warnings for: highly suggestive themes (Minors DNI) jealous and possessive Hunter, predator/prey elements and vibes, scent kink, mentions of alcohol.

Hunter had never considered himself a possessive man.

Slow to trust? Sure. Protective of his loved ones? Absolutely. Overly protective of some? Well, he was too big of a man to wave off the notion without thought.

But possessive?

Hunter had never considered it, or jealously, for that matter. That is, until he met Hound. More specifically, until he saw the way you lit up around Hound.

You had spent the first year of the war on Coruscant, working closely with the Corrie Guard, until your skills landed you with the Bad Batch. It made sense that you had...old friends, that some of the boys in red and white had gotten your affection long before you even met Hunter and the others.

Logically, he knew that, but even still, Hunter couldn't deny the clench of anger that filled his chest when he saw you run at the ARF trooper with that adorable smile. And he certainly couldn't deny the growl that escaped him when said trooper scooped you up in his arms and held you tight.

He couldn't stay annoyed at the other man for long, though, especially not when Hound was so enthusiastic as he pulled Hunter into a brotherly hand shake when you introduced them. Still, with you squished between them in a booth at 79's, Hunter couldn't shake the nagging urge to pull you against him every time Hound rubbed your shoulder or nuzzled against your skin. Especially since you giggled every time he did it.

"You know, Hound, I think Hunter's the only trooper that may have your tracking skills beat."

That brought him out of his possessive musings, your praise like music to his ears. Hound did not seem bothered by your comment, if anything, the ARF trooper quirked a brow in interest.

"Oh yeah? That's high praise coming from you, cyare. That true, Sarge?"

Tech was always the best one at bragging (or, "stating fact" as he called it) but somehow, Hunter couldn't find it in himself to be humble right now.

"I'm the best tracker in the GAR," but, because he still had a nice side, he added, "I'm sure you've got some skills too, though."

That made Hound laugh, a bark of a thing, staying true to his name. "Oh, that almost sounded like a challenge, brother."

"Ooo," you smiled into your drink, eyes darting between the two of them, "now that's something I'd like to see."

Hunter flicked his eyes down to you, and he liked the way you squirmed a little under his half-lidded gaze. "Maybe we should test our skills against each other." He looked back up at Hound, who was wearing a mischievous, toothy grin.

"I'm in, how do you want to do this?" The way Hound looked down at you, much in the same way Hunter couldn't keep his eyes off you, gave the sergeant an idea.

"You wanna help us, mesh'la?" Hunter asked, making sure his tone was low, the tone that he new made your heart race.

Your throat clenched as you swallowed, "How would I do that?"

Hound made a knowing sound, his grin somehow getting wider. "I think he wants us to track you, sweetheart. Wants us hunt you across Coruscant."

Oh, Hunter could feel your reaction to that and if all this time around you in the tight quarters of the Marauder hadn't taught him a new level of self control, he might have given into the urge to slip his hand down your body right there.

Instead, Hunter said, "Catching you would be the best prize, after all."

Maker, if he could smell your excitement already, what state would you be in when they track you down and caught you like a scared doe?

"Al-" you had to clear your throat, "Alright, I'll be your little prize."

Hound sounded more like a cat when he purred, "That's the brave girl I remember. This is going to be fun."

Hunter scooted back in his seat, allowing you just enough room to squeeze past him and leave the booth. "We'll give you a head start, mesh'la. Don't make this easy on us."

If you were shocked at the abruptness of the command, you didn't let it show. Instead, you downed the last of your drink, made sure your perfect ass brushed against him as you climbed out of the booth, and scurried away at a fast pace.

Hunter could feel something primal stirring low in his stomach, and, sitting beside him, he knew Hound was feeling the same thing.

#this is actually just a ploy to egg on that WIP sev XD #hunter x reader #tbb hunter x reader #hound x reader #ARF trooper hound x reader #deeja writes #spicy lemons

[ukingk24]

I want to see (you) - Sorina childhood friends AU

When she’s 5 years old, Erina Nakiri is served food by Jouichirou Saiba. Food has always been a part of her life in a way that no other person can imagine. Despite that, she has no real interest in it. Until she tastes his food. She’s wandered into a tasting for her grandfather and this tall, ponytailed hair man heard her stomach rumble and immediately made her the food that would change her life.

A month after that day, Erina had hounded her grandfather to bring that chef back. Try as she might, she can’t replicate the dish he made. Senz knows she just wants to eat his food again and gives in to his granddaughter. Instead of bringing Jo to her, Erina will go to him.

Erina is excited, expecting a grand mansion fit for a chef of his caliber but gets increasingly more confused when the limo her grandfather had gotten takes her to a hole in the wall diner in some town. Her grandfather assures her that she’s in the right place.

She enters the diner and is surprised with all the customers. She’s even more surprised when a boy her age asks for her order. She asks to see chef Saiba and the boy introduces himself as Soma and tells her there’s no one named Saiba here. The only chefs are his mom, dad, grandpa, and him.

Erina wasn’t expecting the boy to be a chef but she says she was told chef Jouichirou Saiba would be here and she’s come all the way here just for him.

“Well like I said, only my family are the chefs and the only Jouichirou here is my dad. But he’s a Yukihira, not Saiba.” Erina starts complaining on how she came to this nowhere town for the wrong Jouichirou and her and Souma get into an argument. Jo comes from the kitchen to see what all the ruckus is about and is surprised at what he sees.

“Little Erina? What are you doing here?” “Chef Saiba!” “Dad, you know this girl?” “Wh-why did you call him dad? That’s chef Saiba!” “No that’s my dad!”

Jo calms the two down and has to explain that his name used to be Saiba, but he took his wife’s name when he married. Soma is mad that he never told him and Erina is embarrassed because not only did she insult chef Saiba’s home, but she fought with his son!

Erina’s about to apologize when a new voice cuts in, asking what all the commotion’s about. Tamako Yukihira comes from the kitchen confused. Jo explains and Soma asks Erina why she came here. Erina says that she had Jo’s food before and it was the best she’s tasted, so she came to get more.

Tamako offers to cook for her but Jo quickly shuts that down, explaining to her that Erina has an extremely sensitive palate. He’ll tell her more later. Tamako wants to know now and while his parents bicker, Soma offers Erina a menu and tells her he’ll cook whatever she wants.

Jo thinks it’s a good idea and Tamako asks if he’s sure. “Yeah, she came all this way for our food. She’s a customer.” Soma says it so matter of factly that his parents can’t help but be proud. Erina is skeptical but if chef Saiba is ok with it… she selects furukake Gohan and soma steps right into the kitchen.

Erina tries to follow but soma teases her and says “employees only” “hmph, do you know who I am!?” “Yeah, you’re the girl who came outta nowhere and mixed up my dad.” Soma shoots back, making Erina embarrassed. Soma adds “You’re also a customer so I’m gonna cook for ya. Gimme a few minutes.”

As Soma is cooking, Erina sits by Jo and asks if it’s really alright for a boy so young to be cooking in a kitchen. Even she isn’t allowed near open flames without supervision. Jo explains that soma’s been cooking for almost a year now under his tutelage. He’s nowhere near good as Jo, but he might surprise you. Jo asks why Erina came here and how she found him. She answers that her grandfather did some digging and she really wanted to taste his food again.

Tamako comes in and starts teasing Erina about trying to steal her man and Erina blushes a rather spectacular shade of red, stuttering on how that was not her intent. Tamako ruffles her hair and assures her she’s kidding and soon soma comes out with a steaming hot bowl and sets Erina’s order in front of her “order up!”

Erina is hesitant but Jo reassures her. She takes a bite and is instantly overwhelmed due to underestimating Soma. She readjusts and takes another bite and she’s able to find flaws in his dish. Soma asks how it is and Erina says it’s better than she expected, far better than a 5-year-old has any right to cook. Soma starts teasing her for underestimating him and Erina harrumphs. Soma asks if it’s delicious and Erina just says is passable, not willing to give him the satisfaction.

Jo offers to make a dish and Erina readily agrees. Erina and Soma chat a little and jo brings his dish out, he made the same thing as soma to rub it in his sons face. Erina instantly is captivated and says it’s better than Soma’s. Before she can call it delicious, Soma interrupts and demands a second chance. He storms off into the kitchen and starts working on another one. Erina asks if that’s normal and Tamako laughs, saying that Soma’s been trying to beat his dad for months now. Erina is surprised that a 5-year-old has been going up again someone like chef Saiba but jo say’s soma’s the most stubborn kid he knows. Soma comes back with another dish for Erina and while it’s indeed better than his last one, Jo’s is still superior.

Erina and Soma start arguing again and a ringing starts coming from her. She takes out a phone and explains her grandfather gave it to her to keep in contact for the trip. She answers and then gives the phone to Jo. “Chef sai- I mean Yukihira. My grandfather would like to talk to you.” Jo takes the phone and Tamako keeps the kids company.

Jo and Senz talk about the situation. Senz reveals that Erina has a detail security team with her and Jo reveals that Soma is his kid. They continue talking and Jo loses sight of the three. He finds them in the kitchen with Erina watching Soma and Tamako cooking with Kazusato. Erina has no actual kitchen experience at this point so she’s fascinated by how these three are doing, especially Soma. She never thought there’d be an actual chef as young as her.

Jo smiles and tells Erina that her grandfather said it’s time to come back home, there’s a car waiting for her. Erina is a little sad but Soma tells her that she has to come back. He needs to cook for her again so she’ll say his food is delicious. “You’re not bad, I’ll give you that. But you have a long way to go before I say that.” “I don’t care. I'll try for as long as I have to to you say my food is delicious!” Jouichirou and Tamako share a look. A week later, the same black limo pulls up and a little girl asks a little boy for the special of the day.

#shokugeki no soma #my fic #my fanfiction #food wars #sns #food wars fanfic #sns fanfic #soma yukihira #erina nakiri #souma yukihira #soma x erina #sorina #tamako yukihira #senzaemon nakiri #kazusato yukihira