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guilty-pleasures21 · 4 months ago

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My friend and I were talking about Jason and she said it would be cool if Jason's S/O got along with Bruce, but I honestly don't see that happening?

I can't imagine being in a relationship with Jason and at the same time thinking Bruce is a nice guy after all

What do you think?

Oh my god! I’m so excited for this! I decided to respond in the form of a story 😉.

Bruce Wayne

Warnings: brief references to loss and trauma.

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It took nine months for him to finally let you in enough for you to start falling in love with him.

You’d first met Jason in the library; specifically the literature section. He’d been standing by one of the shelves, quietly flipping through a copy of Jane Austen’s Emma. He’d had the build of a stereotypical jock, so you’d honestly been a little surprised to see him focusing so intently on the British classic. But those were just your own biases, so you’d quickly tossed them aside in favour of returning to your search. Halloween was coming up, which always put you in the mood for one of your favourite classics: Dracula. It was short and the unconventional style of writing was always a little jarring at first, but you absolutely loved reading about how the characters puzzled through the mystery. You’d knelt down, searching the shelf where the novel should have been sitting according to the alphabetical filing system. But it hadn’t been there. You’d frowned and tsked in irritation, then quickly snuck a glance at the man standing behind you. You’d barely caught him raising an eyebrow at you over the top of his book before he’d quickly lowered his gaze, acting as if he hadn’t even noticed you there. You’d turned back to the shelves and stood up, checking to see if someone had accidentally misplaced the book after picking it up for a quick read … There! On the top shelf! You’d stretched onto your toes, reaching for the spine, but your fingers had barely grazed the edge of the shelf.

“Need some help?” You’d turned to find the man’s attention fully focused on you now, his startling green eyes studying you intently. He’d lowered his book, allowing you a glimpse of his rugged features, his wide lips and his crooked nose that looked like it had been broken and reset a few times already. He’d raised an eyebrow at you and you’d realised suddenly that you’d been staring.

“Oh!” you’d gasped, embarrassed by your own actions. “Uh, thank you!”

You’d stepped aside, giving him the space to get the book for you, and you couldn’t help but notice how big he was - tall and strong and broad. He’d grabbed the book with ease and rolled his eyes at the title before handing it over to you.

“Excuse me?” you’d said, frowning up at him whilst cuddling the book protectively to your chest. He’d given you a once-over in response, taking in your small form, so fragile compared to him, then he’d gone back to his side of the shelf, his expression unimpressed.

“Nothing,” he’d drawled, opening up his book again. But the amount of sarcasm contained in that single word had only caused your anger to bubble even more.

“What’s wrong with Dracula?” you’d asked, a hundred different retorts coming to mind immediately. Your heart had thudded with anticipation as the adrenaline had raced through your system, your defences instinctively locking into place to shield you from whatever hatred might have been about to spew from his mouth.

“It’s a little cliche, isn’t it?” he’d suggested, picking up his book again. “Halloween … vampires … You in a book club or something, princess?”

He’d flashed you a little smirk, his expression more teasing than unkind, but the condescending nickname had raked over your nerves like nails on a chalkboard. “At least his characters are more nuanced! And he develops more of a plot in these few pages than Jane Austen does in any of her hundred novels! It’s not just the same old story of two extremely unlikeable characters falling in love over and over again under a different title!”

Jason had flinched at your outburst, taken aback by your sudden vehemence. He’d told you later that he didn’t usually let people off so easily, but he hadn’t been able to get mad in the face of your adorableness. You’d rolled your eyes at his admission, but smiled anyway as you’d curled up into his side. It had taken about a year after meeting him before you’d finally realised the real reason he hadn’t shot back at you - the reason he’d just given you an amused smirk and asked if you’d read all of Jane Austen’s ‘hundred’ novels.

Because he’d seen in you that same instinct - that same fear - to always be on your guard, to always be prepared for someone to attack you and know that no one would come to your defence but you.

And that was how you’d first become friends with Jason Peter Todd.

It took three months after you’d admitted your feelings for him to yourself before you’d realised that he was never going to be the first one to make a move.

You’d been sitting on his sofa, watching a movie at his place as was your weekly Friday night ritual. You’d never been able to get into Jane Austen’s books, but you’d always loved the movie versions of her stories. Jason had been sitting beside you, legs spread apart, one elbow on the armrest, his hand propping his head up as he’d focused on the movie. You’d inched closer to him at a cautious pace, slowly closing the distance between the two of you.

“What are you doing?” Jason had asked finally, nothing ever escaping his notice. His tone was amused - as it always was when he was with you - but it did nothing to ease the churning of your stomach as you’d gathered up your courage. You’d kept your attention fixed on the television, watching as Alicia Silverstone sat in the exact same position as you, puzzling over how to express her true feelings to Paul Rudd beside her.

“I like you.” A blanket of tension had smothered the room at your confession, the only sounds coming from the movie that neither of you were paying attention to anymore. Finally, unable to take it any longer, you’d paused the movie and turned to Jason, your brows furrowed in irritation. “Well?”

He didn’t know whether to laugh or bolt in terror. Of course you would be the only person to confess your feelings and then get mad when the other person didn’t respond. But he had that same instinct too: to take your fear and twist it into anger - to defend yourself even before the other person could think to attack.

He’d turned away from you, his leg starting to shake as he’d processed your words. He couldn’t- You couldn’t. You couldn’t like him! Not like that! You were his friend and … he couldn’t afford to f*ck up the best thing had ever happened to him in his life! Even if he’d been finding it more and more difficult to stop his gaze from lingering on your soft curves and your full lips and imagining what you would feel like pressed up against him with absolutely nothing in between your bod- No! No. It was a horrible idea.

He’d turned to face you, wanting to list out all the reasons he wasn’t good for you. But you’d known him for too long now and you knew by the defeated slump of his shoulders exactly what was going to come out of his mouth.

“Don’t!” you’d exclaimed, jumping to your knees and clamping your hands over his mouth before he could speak. His eyes had widened in surprise at your sudden movements and you’d removed your hands from his mouth, satisfied that you’d startled him enough for him to not argue with you. “I don’t want a list of bullshit reasons about why you think you’re not good enough to be in a relationship or how you think it’s going to mess up our friendship or whatever else nonsense you’ve somehow convinced yourself of over the past few years.”

You’d rearranged yourself on his lap then, swinging your leg over both of his and sliding your arms around his neck as you’d laid your head on his shoulder.

“I love you, Jace,” you’d continued softly, running your fingers through his hair. “We can take it slow - we have the rest of our lives, after all - but I want to make this work. I want us … I want you. I just want you, for the rest of our lives.”

You’d sat there in silence for a while, letting him digest your words. And slowly, his heartbeat had slowed and his muscles had relaxed until finally, he’d let his arms come loosely around your waist. “I don’t-”

He’d cut himself off as his voice had cracked with emotion, and he’d tightened his grip on you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You’d continued to brush his hair gently, keeping your breathing steady and allowing your weight on top of him to keep him grounded. You’d seen him have panic attacks before and though he’d told you a little bit about what had caused them, he still hadn’t gone into much detail about it. All you knew was that he’d gotten beat up by a bad guy as a kid. He’d seemed horribly uncomfortable even telling you that much, so you’d never pushed him for more information. You were too good to him.

“I love you, Jay,” you’d repeated, holding him close to you, trying to physically transfer your love for him from your body into his. Eventually, you’d sat back and moved your hand to his cheek instead. You’d studied his features carefully: his thick eyebrows, his moss-coloured eyes, the tiny scar that cut into the corner of his upper lip … “We can … take it slow …”

And then you were kissing, your lips brushing each other’s softly as your tongues explored one another’s mouths. You’d let him take the lead, stepping back after being the one who’d made the first move, and soon, your kisses had turned heated: his hands squeezing every curve they ran over, your fingers sneaking beneath his shirt to glide over his hard muscles, your hips moving against one another’s as you'd both started getting excited. Eventually, he’d lifted you up and walked you backwards to his bedroom, your lips never leaving the other’s as you’d pulled each other's clothes off along the way.

And that had been the best night of your entire life, no thanks to Jason Peter Todd.

It took another six months after that for him to tell you the whole story of what had happened.

He’d sat on your sofa, leg shaking vigorously, teeth buried in his lower lip as he’d waited for you to say something. It hadn’t been easy, but he’d finally told you the whole story: the day he’d gone to the warehouse, the thrashing he’d gotten from The Joker, the trauma of having his soul forced back into his body … and then having the only person who’d saved him from the streets - who’d promised him that there was something in him worth saving - turn around and tell him that no, there really wasn’t anything in him worth saving after all. Now you understood why he found it so hard to let himself be loved by you - to believe that anyone could ever find something in him worth loving.

“Oh, Jay.” You’d wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close to you and murmuring into his hair over and over again that you loved him, you loved him, you loved him. You loved his righteous anger and his concerned protectiveness and his unwavering sense of justice. For you, there wasn’t any part of him that wasn’t worth loving - that wasn’t worth saving. Over and over and over again. Maybe you hadn’t been there to save him then, but you were there to save him now. As many times as he needed someone to.

Finally, he took you to meet his family.

You clasp the man’s hand, fixing him with a wary expression as you shake it. “Mr Wayne.”

“Please, call me Bruce,” he insists, fixing you with the same smile he’d probably been trained to wear as a child. You let out a noncommittal hum as your hand falls back to your side and you don’t miss the minute flicker in his expression in response to your cold demeanour. But he brushes it aside and glances over at Jason in question, waiting.

He’d told him a few days ago that he was planning to ask his girlfriend to come over for Thanksgiving. The rest of the family had already met you - mostly by stalking Jason and constructing elaborate situations in which they’d ‘casually’ ‘bump into’ both of you on the street or a café somewhere - and they’d all been delighted by his sweet little girlfriend who, at times, seemed to have even worse of a temper than him, but who also appeared to love him more than anything else in the world. Bruce’s heart had swelled at the thought of someone giving his son all the love he deserved - all the love he himself had failed so miserably at giving him - and he’d barely managed to keep a lid on his excitement when Jason had finally mentioned bringing you over. But he’d follow his son’s lead and do only as he said.

Jason shakes his head slightly, telling Bruce not to take it too personally, then he guides you to the kitchen, his arm wrapped firmly around your waist. Bruce waits for the rest of his kids to follow, then finally, he joins you all at the dining table.

The atmosphere is lively, everyone laughing and joking and sarcastically listing all the things they’re thankful for. You join in the fun, easily fitting in with the rest of his family, but there’s a moment when you pause - when your gaze lands on Bruce and you find yourself taking a moment to study his expression.

He hadn’t said much the entire meal, but he’d watched his family with an expression of tenderness - of disbelief - his lips curled into a soft smile as he’d surveyed his loved ones celebrating this day of thanks together. And it struck you: the familiarity of that look.

Because how many times had you seen it on Jason? Jason, who would watch you with that same tenderness on his face whenever you did something to make him believe that maybe, just maybe, he really was worth loving. From something as simple as calling him cute when he was annoyed with someone for deviating from his mission plan to the bigger stuff like surprising him with a tray of brownies you'd made from scratch because you knew they were his favourite. He'd spent so long being convinced that he wasn't worth loving that he still couldn't quite believe it whenever you made space for him in your life. And now here was Bruce, giving the large, boisterous family he’d so carefully cultivated the exact same look.

The moment continues to linger in your mind as you all settle down to watch a movie, Jason's siblings arranging themselves across the various forms of furniture scattered around the room while you cuddle up with him on a loveseat by the sofa. The night soon turns into a game of who can stay awake the longest as one by one Jason's family begins dozing off, their satisfying meal coaxing them into a state of sleepiness. You yourself find it hard to keep your eyes open when you're wrapped up in your boyfriend's big, strong arms, all snuggled up against his broad chest. Eventually, Bruce forces everyone up and to their beds, making sure they're all safely tucked in before retiring to his own bedroom.

You lie with Jason in his bed, tickling his scalp in the way that always makes him drowsy, even when he's finding it difficult to sleep.

“What?” he asks finally, sensing that you're still awake. You narrow your eyes in thought, combing through all the information Jason has ever shared with you.

“How old was Bruce when his parents died?” You knew the story, of course - Bruce Wayne had lost his parents in a mugging incident when he'd been just a child - but you hadn't grown up in Gotham, so you weren't too sure about the details of the case.

“Hmm, I think he was eight,” Jason supplies, doing his best to stay focused despite your soothing touch. “Why?”

Eight?! That must have been horrible! “And did he … have a lot of other family to take care of him?”

He was rich - obscenely so - and he had a house big enough to rival the President's! So of course he must have had some wealthy aunt or uncle who'd taken him in after his parents died.

“No,” Jason mumbles, starting to lose the battle against sleep. “He just had Alfred.”

Your heart squeezes in your chest, hurting on behalf of the little boy who'd had to grow up almost completely alone, no parents, no siblings, no one at all who understood his circumstances and gave him a reason to keep living.

“But … How did he keep living? In spite of it all?”

Jason hums softly, not quite registering the question as he splays his limbs out across you. “I don't know. How do any of us?”

You swallow down the lump in your throat and resolve to forget about it. For now, at least.

You wake up earlier than Jason the next morning - a rare feat, especially considering that it's almost noon - and head to the kitchen to get some coffee after taking a shower. You're surprised to find Bruce already doing the exact same thing, but he greets you with a welcoming smile.

“Need any help?” he asks, giving you enough space to stand in front of the machine. You study the various buttons and knobs, trying to see if you can puzzle it out yourself. But in the end, you decide that it's probably better to just let him handle it.

“Um, yes, please!” you agree sheepishly, stepping aside and letting him take over. “Can I just have a latte?”

He gets to work making you your coffee, then invites you to join him in the garden outside. You clutch your cup tightly, refusing to make it so easy for him to get into your good graces, but you join him anyway, intrigued to find out more about this man who had forsaken your precious Jason when he'd been just a child. You sit in silence for an uncomfortably long amount of time, refusing to start the conversation first. So Bruce begins.

“My kids have told me that they think you’re really good for Jason,” he tells you softly, gazing out at his beautifully staged garden. He turns to you and his gaze bounces between your face and the table as he continues speaking. “I’m glad … I’m glad that he’s finally found someone … who makes it easier.”

He chose his words carefully, unsure of how much you knew about Jason’s life, so you decided to enlighten him. “He told me … everything.”

Bruce lifts his head and fixes you with a surprised - and wary - look.

“I know … about his parents and Red Hood and … and The Joker.” Your voice grows soft at the last part, your heart aching at the memory of everything he’d told you. You slide your gaze over to Bruce, who’s lowered his head at the revelation that Jason really had told you everything. You narrow your eyes at the look of shame on his face and the rage begins to take over you. “I know … what you did after he came back - or, really, what you didn’t do. Were your morals so important that you couldn’t … Didn’t you think …”

You clench your fists, trying to find the words to convey your emotions. Finally, you push yourself out of your seat, your features hard with the same righteous anger that Jason always wore. “I love Jason! I think he’s the most wonderful, sweetest, most caring human being I have ever known in my life! He deserves the world and everything more! And you …”

You dig your nails into your palms then force yourself to take a deep breath, letting the anger pass through you.

“I agree.” He says it so quietly that you almost miss it. Then he holds your gaze and repeats the words. “I agree with you. Jason deserves everything he never thought … he was good enough for.”

He clasps his hands together, fidgeting with his fingers as he tries to figure out how to continue. “I …”

I was wrong? I did my best? I’d do it differently if I could go back in time and fix it? The excuses leaped to the tip of his tongue, but they were all lies. Jason Todd had always been Jason Todd, and it didn’t matter how many times he ran over the millions of different scenarios in his mind: the two of them would have always ended up in the same stalemate in the end. Because Bruce Wayne had always been Bruce Wayne too.

Bruce sits back and returns his gaze to his garden, serene and calm and the opposite of everything his life had ever been. “Is he still going to therapy?”

You grit your teeth, irritated by the sudden change of topic. But you’ve loved Jason Todd everyday for almost two years now: you knew how to look for the subtle shifts in his expression, the small ticks and habits that gave away his emotions when he was working so hard to hide them. So you don’t miss the tightness of Bruce’s jaw and the tension in his biceps and the minute shifting of his shoes as he probably wriggled his toes in them.

“Yes,” you sigh, sitting back down again. “He’s doing a lot better.”

“Good.” Bruce nods slowly. “Good. And his … Has he had any attacks recently?”

He turns to you, his eyes overflowing with concern, and the final remnants of your anger leave you. “He’s had a few, but they’ve been getting less over time. And he’s gotten better at dealing with them.”

Bruce nods again. “I’ve heard about this … tapping technique? Apparently it can help with anxiety if you tap certain places on your body? I can send you a few links if you think it might help him?”

And suddenly, he’s not Bruce Wayne, the untouchable billionaire with the practised smile, nor is he Batman, the sour vigilante who thinks he knows better than everyone. He was Bruce Wayne, the little boy who’d lost the most important people in his life and been forced to learn how to grow up without them. The little boy who fought so desperately every single night to make sure that no one else would ever have to go through the same things he had. The little boy who still couldn’t figure out why no one had thought that he was worth saving. Just like Jason Todd.

And now you understand. Bruce Wayne had never forsaken Jason Todd. He’d never abandoned him or chosen anyone else over his precious second son. He just hadn’t known how to save the little boy who’d been forced to grow up on his own, who fought every single night to make sure no other child suffered the same fate as him, who had never been able to figure out why he hadn’t been worth saving. He hadn’t known how to save himself.

“That’d be great,” you tell Bruce, giving him a warm smile. His lips curl at the ends in response and he sits back again, lighter now that you seemed to have forgiven him. “And Bruce? Thank you for saving Jason.”

Bruce lets out a self-deprecating chuckle and shakes his head in disagreement. “I didn’t-”

“You did,” you tell him, firm in your conviction now. “You saved that little boy from a rough life on the streets. You helped him live again after he came back. You gave me the Jason Todd that I know and love today. So if you think that there’s anything I’ve done to save him, it’s only because you saved him enough first for him to get to me.”

Bruce stares at you for a minute, his expression unreadable. Then finally, he smiles. “You know, I guess my kids were right about you after all.”

And that was why you and Bruce got along so well, you would think to yourself any time Jason would ask you about it. Because Bruce Wayne had always been Bruce Wayne, but he’d done the best he could to make sure that Jason Todd always stayed Jason Todd; that no matter how hard the world shoved him to the ground, no matter how strongly he believed there was nothing in him worth loving, the world needed Jason Todd. The world needed someone who would do the right thing, even when it was difficult - especially when it was difficult. You smile and ruffle Jason’s hair.

“Because Bruce Wayne has always been Bruce Wayne,” you tell him in response. Jason rolls his eyes at your usual vague answer, but his lips curl at the ends like they always do. He lies down, resting his head on your lap, and you stroke his hair softly as the two of you continue watching your movie.

So yeah! Those are my thoughts 🤔😋.

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greenwitchfromthewoods · 7 months ago

Text

broken trust. [part1] l Joel Miller

Summary: you used to be very close, but he broke your heart, now your paths have crossed again

Warnings: angst, guns, knife, blood, violence, swearing, mentions of sex, alcohol, Ellie appears

A/N: i wanted to write something for Joel (again, I’m sorry...) and i'll break it up into a few parts. hope everything goes as i planned. something like lovers to enemies to friends to lovers. do you understand any of this, because i don't? i hope my scribbles don't scare you off. thanks for reading and feedback in any form. 🖤

"Fuck!"

You hit the wall with such force that the air left your lungs and for a moment you lost your breath. Your back hurt like hell, but you didn't have time to focus on the pain.

Focus!

You should have been more careful, but the noises from the ground floor of the building distracted you. The man took advantage of this moment, hitting you so hard that you hit the wall, badly bruising your back.

"Get up, you little slut!" he growled, approaching you and kicking you painfully in the stomach.

The gun slipped out of your hand and even though you blindly groped the concrete floor, your fingers couldn't find it.

"I said - GET UP!" he roared, grabbing you by the jacket and lifting you up, then pressing you hard against the wall. "You thought you could catch me by surprise, huh? Stupid bitch!"

His hand tightened around your throat. You tried to push him away, but the man was bigger than you, so all you could do was struggle like a fish caught in a net.

"You should know your place." he hissed, seeing you struggling for breath. "Don't mess with people bigger than you."

"I-I can't d-do that." you whispered with difficulty.

"What? What the fuck did you say?"

But he didn't find out what you said. You pulled your leg up and with your free hand reached for the short knife hidden in your boot.

It had to be fast.

And accurate.

You didn't have a second chance.

Focus!

You hit the man's exposed neck, the silver blade smoothly cutting through his skin, piercing into his flesh. The hands clenched around your neck immediately let go of you as he fell to his knees, then to the floor with a dull sound.

You took a few deep breaths. Too much time wasted.

You noticed your gun a few steps away from you and quickly picked it up, heading towards the stairs to find the source of the noise.

The building should have been abandoned, at least that's what it looked like. Broken windows, grass growing on the lower roofs, a few rusty barrels. They had to be some kind of warehouse.

"Don't aim at her, asshole!"

A loud male voice echoed through the empty interior. You quickened your pace, but now you were more careful, more focused. You noticed a slightly ajar door and slipped into the room.

It must have once been a hall or something. Moving behind the shelves, you headed for the source of the raised voices.

"Tell the kid to put the gun down!" a male, low voice rang out very clearly, you saw the outline of a male silhouette.

"Ellie, do what he says!"

"No!" a girlish, terrified, but also determined voice reached your ears now.

"Put the fucking gun down!"

You heard the sound of a gun falling. You were so close now that you could see the attacker clearly.

The old leather jacket he was wearing was already pretty worn out on the back. You could see the shoes and legs of the girl who was in front of him, covering someone kneeling on the ground.

"Let us go!" The girl, whose name was Ellie, tried to control the situation. "We won't tell anyone you're here."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" The man aimed a gun at her. "I should kill the old man, have some fun with you, and then, together with my buddies, find the place you came from. That's close, right? Tell me!"

"Oh, shut the fuck up!"

The sound of your voice echoed through the room so suddenly that everyone froze. They looked around nervously, and then a shot rang out. The girl squealed as the man standing right in front of her fell, and a blood stain began to appear on the floor.

She quickly jumped to her gun, trying to find the shooter or where the shot came from. Then she noticed you as you came out from behind the shelf. You still had the gun in one hand, but you raised your arms in surrender.

"Is everything okay with you?" you asked. "Did he hurt you?"

"No, not me, but him..."

You glanced at the man on the floor. He was holding his arm, his fingers covered in blood. You saw dark hair interspersed with gray, wide shoulders, dark eyes that seemed familiar to you.

"It's you?" you whispered in surprise.

Your footsteps echoed down the staircase as you ran up the dusty stairs. First...second...third floor. You ran to the door and opened it with the key.

"Joel?"

You spotted him dozing on the couch with one arm folded above his head, the other lying on his stomach. You smiled at the sight and quickly went inside. He opened his eyes at the sound of the door closing.

"Hi. What kept you?" he asked, sitting up and rubbing his face with his hands.

He didn't even know when he fell asleep waiting for you. It was dark outside and you were already a few hours late. However, he saw that you were safe and sound, and he sighed with relief.

"We're going to celebrate today!" you chirped happily, placing your bag on the table, and something strangely knocked on it.

"Celebrate what?" Joel asked, standing up and stretching.

Two glasses appeared in your hands. He saw your face light up with excitement and a big smile on your lips. God! He loved your smile. In a place like QZ it was his most precious treasure.

You pulled a bottle, of what Joel recognized as whiskey, out of your bag.

"Where the hell did you get that?" he asked as you started pouring the drink "What happened, Y/N?"

"We did it! We did it, Joel!" you repeated and then pushed the glass into his hand "I can't believe it! I talked to Howard, that smuggling guy from the other end of the zone."

Joel choked on his drink.

"Howard? I told you not to go to him alone." he said, frowning.

"Oh, listen to me!" you put your glass down without taking a sip, you were so excited that emotions were pouring out of you in buckets "Howard knows someone who can get us a car. A car that actually works!"

"Bullshit! He doesn't know anyone."

"But I talked to that guy!" you were pacing around the room the whole time. "He wants a lot, but we should be able to handle it. I thought about it the whole way here. This is our chance, Joel!"

He was leaning against the kitchen table and watching you carefully. He didn't know what was worse, the fact that you went to Howard by yourself and met up with another strange guy, your excitement, or the fact that he would have to brutally bring you back down to earth.

This was your dream, and Joel had instilled it in you months ago. He knew that you always wanted to live outside of Boston. Ever since he met you a few years ago, he had seen the part of you that wanted something normal so badly. It irritated him at first, but then, as you started spending more and more time together - you were a really good smuggler - he loved it.

You were his bright spot in this gloomy place, someone he came back to and who was important to him. You filled some empty place in his heart, and that was good.

So when you had a really bad moment in your life Joel wanted to give you some of that hope too. He started spinning a story that maybe one day you'd find a car and escape from this place. Find a safe haven somewhere else, maybe another settlement, maybe you'd go find Tommy, his brother.

And you totally bought into it. It didn't bother him, until now. Joel knew that those dreams were like houses of cards, they could collapse very easily.

"Are you listening to me?"

Your voice brought him back to reality.

"Y-Yeah, this all sounds...great." he replied uncertainly and took another sip of whiskey. "Are you sure you want this?"

"We both talked about it." You laughed, walking up to him and wrapping your arms around his waist, your warm lips finding his and brushing them gently. "We just have to plan everything, but I'm sure we'll figure it out."

He brushed your hair away and smiled. His heart ached because he already knew how badly he'd screwed it all up.

And even that night when you made love, when you moaned his name as his cock moved inside you, your words kept replaying in his head. Like a broken record. He kissed your lips, caressed your body, and at the same time he wanted to apologize to you for everything he had to do.

"Can you walk?"

You were proud of yourself that your voice didn't shake. Joel nodded. His eyes were wide as he stared at you like he'd seen a ghost.

"That asshole shot him." The girl said.

You gave her a quick look, then walked over to Joel to see his arm. His jacket was bloody, but it didn't look too bad.

"It's a superficial wound. He'll be fine. Just a lot of blood." You stated. "Ellie, yeah?" The girl nodded. "Will you help me?"

You and the girl picked Joel up. You could feel his gaze on you, but you avoided it.

Focus!

You had to help them get out of here.

"Do you have a car or something?" You asked.

The girl shook her head.

"Great. So you must be from Jackson." You stated. "Come on, I'll take you there. He needs to see a doctor."

"Wait!" Ellie looked at Joel confused. "Can we trust her?"

The man nodded.

"Yeah. We can." He cleared his throat and added "This guy said he had friends with him."

"Yeah, he did. There were four of them."

"You killed them? All of them?" The girl's eyes widened in surprise "What are you? A serial killer or something?"

"Like all of us, right? Come on, it'll be dark soon."

You led them out of the building and through the small parking lot at the end of which your car was parked. You opened the door and pulled out a first aid kit from under the seat.

"I can only give you something to stop the bleeding." You said, looking into the box.

"No need." Joel replied.

"Don't be stubborn. Take this." You pressed the bandage into his hand and threw the first aid kit inside. "Hop in kid, I'll take you home."

The girl happily climbed into the back seat. Miller, however, was still standing by you. It was hard to avoid him, feeling his eyes piercing through your skin.

"How did you find us?" he asked.

"I wasn't looking for you, I was looking for them. For a few days." You replied, looking at him. "I came across them a while ago, they were looking for a place to stay. I think they heard about Jackson or something."

"They didn't seem nice."

Your gaze went to his shoulder. He pressed the bandage, but he seemed to be feeling better.

"And they weren't." You mumbled. "Come on, we're not just going to stand here."

You opened the car door and were already getting in when Joel spoke again.

"Y/N, thanks."

"You're welcome."

[PART 2]

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

#joel miller #pedro pascal #the last of us #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader

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honeydjarin · 1 year ago

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MOUSE IN THE KITCHEN

OPLA SANJI X SHORT!READER

Luffy isn’t the only one with a penchant for sneaking into the kitchen.

request: Hiii, if you want to I'd like to request a Sanji x short reader, where they try and help him out in the kitchen but can't reach anything. No pressure, just wondering

genre: fluff

word count: 2,000

a/n: normally I avoid any sort of specific physical features in my fics in order to make them as inclusive as possible, but as someone who must climb the shelves at the grocery store in order to reach anything, this request spoke to me. This one is a little silly and nothing but fluff. I hope you enjoy!

It’s late. The sun sank below the horizon long ago, leaving no trace of the adventures and games that took place during the daylight hours. Everyone else on the Going Merry is asleep. You really should be sleeping too, and you had been, not too long ago.

You don’t know what it is that stirred you from your slumber. Perhaps some noise as the ship rocks on lazy waves, or a crew mate talking just a bit too loud in their sleep. It doesn’t matter, really. What does matter is the thoughts that worm their way into your mind the longer you lie awake. Thoughts of something light, something sweet, something to satiate a craving, your body convinced it’s time for breakfast despite your mind knowing dawn is hours away. It doesn’t take long for the hollow ache in your stomach to drive you from the comfort of your hammock and up towards the galley.

You know the kitchen on the ship well. You know which floorboards creak and which are safe to step on, where the chef hides traps for Luffy and how to circumvent them, where all of the ingredients to satiate your sweet tooth are hiding.

Just thinking about the reason for your intimate knowledge of the ship’s kitchen is enough to send heat racing up your neck and settling beneath your cheeks. You press your fingers to the skin where your burning blood pools beneath the surface, taking a moment to relish in the sugar sweet feeling of a simple crush—a single name swirling through your brain is all it takes to leave you giggling quietly in the night.

Sanji, the newest member of the Straw Hat Crew. Sanji, the one who will never let another go hungry, not even a stranger. Sanji, the man with sun soaked hair and a honey dipped tongue.

Sanji.

When the chef first joined the crew, you admired him. He was caring and steady, he knew what he believed in. With his handsome looks, quick wit, and open flirtations, it didn’t take long for that admiration to slip into something that felt sweetly like affection. You couldn’t help but want to spend more time with the cook, hoping to join him in the activities that bring him the most joy so that you might better understand him. It didn’t take long for you to become nearly as familiar with the galley as he is.

You step into the kitchen, closing the door quietly behind you. You leave the lights off, not wanting to risk anyone else catching you in the galley (or getting the idea to grab a snack themselves). Instead, you stand in the dark, waiting for your eyes to adjust. Moonlight spills through the windows of the room, bright enough to see by, if you’re patient.

It isn’t long before you’re able to move again, walking along a familiar path towards where Sanji stores all things sugary.

There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach that you’re doing something you shouldn’t. Like if you have to sneak around then you’re in a place you don’t belong. This is Sanji’s space, cataloged and organized to best suit his needs and ensure the crew has enough supplies to last between islands. It feels strange to be in the kitchen without the sound of his laughter or the smell of something delicious cooking on the stove top.

Sanji’s presence is the piece that makes this space feel so comfortable. Without him, it feels too large, hollow. The galley has no life without its chef. You never really thought about how the kitchen would feel without him in it, and can’t help but hope it isn’t a feeling you become used to.

You know if you wake up the cook he will make something for you. He would rub the sleep from his eyes, only half succeeding, before asking what he could make to help satiate your craving with a smile. You would feel guilty the whole time.

It’s better to sneak through the galley for something you can find on your own than to disturb Sanji’s sleep.

The first thing you search for is chocolate. You crawl onto the countertop, balancing on your knees as your feet dangle over the edge, before opening the cabinet in front of you. You eye the chocolate chips, the miniature sweets sitting at a level seemingly so easy for the rest of the crew to grab. You doubt any of the others would have to climb to reach them.

Unfortunately, the only chocolate on the shelf is unsweetened. The lack of added sugar may be perfect for baking, but they won’t be sweet enough for your taste on their own.

You begin to drop down from the countertop, fully intending to continue your search for the perfect treat. Your feet drop to the ground quietly, and you land in an almost crouch. Perfect, the ship is silent, as it should be. You straighten up, intending to continue your search, but your knees, still tight from your recent slumber, crack as you stand. The sound rings out in the otherwise silent kitchen like a gunshot.

Maybe your creaking joints wouldn’t be a problem in a normal kitchen, but Sanji, who has ears attuned to any slight sound coming from the Galley (thanks to Luffy’s many attempts to raid the space at odd hours for food), surely heard the pop in his sleep. You may as well have knocked down all of the pots and shattered all of the dishes.

It isn’t long before the sound of hurried footsteps and frustrated grumbling reaches your ears. The door to the galley slams open, lights flickering on just a moment after, leaving you squinting as your eyes adjust to the room once more.

“Luffy, I swear if you touched any of the food I’ll—oh.” Sanji’s voice carries through the kitchen, his accent thicker than normal, sleep still clinging to his words. Your name rolls off his tongue, and you think it sounds sweeter in his sleep-addled voice than any chocolate could taste.

“Sorry, Sanji. I didn’t mean to wake you. I was just a little hungry,” you confess.

“You could have woken me up,” he says, just like you knew he would. “I’d have been happy to cook something for you.”

“I didn’t want to bother you. You deserve to rest. Especially when you already wake up so early each morning to make breakfast.”

Sanji hums, stepping farther into the kitchen. He looks more awake now than he did when he first arrived. His eyes don’t stray from your own as he speaks, no longer concerned about the state of the galley.

“For you, love, it’s never a bother.” The smile he offers you sends your heart fluttering in your chest. “Anyway, I’m awake now. What would you like to eat?”

He’s too good to you, too gentle. How could your heart ever stand a chance?

“I was just planning on eating a little chocolate, but it seems like there's only the unsweetened kind right now.”

“Ah, of course. Only something sweet would be fitting for my sweetheart.”

Your breath catches in your throat. His. He called you his.

You bring your hand up to your mouth, trying to hide the growing grin that spreads on your lips as you nearly melt from his words. The warmth blossoming in your chest will surely turn you into a puddle on the floor, and then Sanji will know just how much his words affect you (if he doesn’t know already).

“Can we make something with chocolate in it?” you ask.

“We?” Sanji repeats, as if he didn’t expect you to help him in this task. His gaze softens, eyes gleaming with something like affection, before adding. “Of course we can. How do strawberry and chocolate hand pies sound? I picked up some fresh jam at the last port.”

“It sounds perfect,” you say. It’s far more than you hoped to find during your late night search. When you got out of bed, you never would have guessed what kind of sweet you would find in the kitchen. You definitely didn’t expect to spend time baking with Sanji.

The two of you work comfortably together, only speaking when Sanji provides specific instructions or when you need clarification. The hazy fog of sleep still hovers over the both of you, even if you’re both awake enough now to function.

“Could you grab the chocolate chips for me?” Sanji asks.

It’s a simple request, one you can easily complete. You know where he keeps the chocolate chips, the unsweetened treat seeming much more appealing now that they’re going to be baked into something.

You make your way back over to the counter, situating yourself below the cabinet where the chocolate is stored. Then, you place your hands on the cool surface, preparing to make the climb. You’re certain Sanji knew this was the path necessary for you to take to reach the ingredient too. There’s no way for you to reach the chocolate chips without being higher up.

As you jump, using the force of your arms to help pull yourself up towards the counter just like you’ve done in other kitchens many times before, an unexpected force settles on your shoulders, pushing your feet back towards the ground.

“None of that, sweetheart. There will be no climbing on the countertops in my kitchen,” Sanji reprimands. He’s gentle in his scolding, the uptick of his lips and gleam in his eye letting you know he’s not really mad. “Sorry, I thought they were a bit lower.”

He doesn’t seem sorry.

You open your mouth to protest against what could only be meant as a jab about your height, but only a squeak comes out. Sanji’s warmth seeps into your back as he presses close, the shape of his hand burning into your hip as it settles there. You can feel the way his body stretches as he reaches up, leaning further into you, before easily grabbing the bag that seemed so far out of your reach. Any words you might have had to tell off the man for doing something for you when you could easily do the task yourself (as long as you could climb on the counter) fizzle out.

Sanji doesn’t look at you as he reaches for the chocolate, but the easy smile on his lips morphs into a lazy smirk. His thumb rubs slow, intentional circles where his hand remains steady on your hip, as if he was soothing a startled animal, coaxing you to stay close instead of running away, something you just might have done if he wasn’t purposefully grounding you while your thoughts soared.

Oh no, you think. He knows.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that Sanji was already aware of your feelings for him—you’ve always worn your heart on your sleeve—but you had tried not to make your feelings for the chef too obvious.

Sanji pulls the chocolate chips down, but he doesn’t step away. He still holds you close as he bends, his face lowering until it’s right beside yours. Then, without warning, his lips are pressed to the curve of your cheek.

The kiss is quick, feather-light, but you’re certain he can feel the way your blood burns just beneath the surface of your skin, his quiet mumble of so warm the only confirmation you need, even if you weren’t meant to hear.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I just couldn’t help myself.” Before you can react, Sanji steps away from you, taking you in for only a moment longer before turning back to the task at hand. With how smoothly he acted, there’s no way he hadn’t planned that little stunt he pulled.

He definitely knows.

Sanji is already placing the hand pies in the oven by the time you’re finally able to move again, and you can’t help but feel almost frustrated that the chef didn’t give you a chance to return his affection.

You’re left waiting impatiently as he sets the timer, the miniature pies now the last thing on your mind. Sanji doesn’t seem to understand—you’re craving something sweet, and as far as you’re concerned, the sweetest thing on this ship is him.

a/n: thank you for reading〜♡

#vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #opla sanji #opla sanji x reader #opla x reader #sanji x you #opla sanji x you #opla x you #opla #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece live action

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animeyanderelover · 5 months ago

Note

hii I'd love to know how you think that yan jouno (bsd), L(death note), Gojo and Megumi(jujutsu kaisen) would react to a short darling, have a nice day:D

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, clinginess, paranoia, specific body type of darling

Tags: @maggiequinn59 @shumidehiro @leveyani @izanami78 @lovley-valentine7

Short darling

L Lawliet

🍰L initially wouldn't give it too much thought as he has other things to worry about than your small height. It's probably once he has abducted you and lives with you that he really starts paying more attention to your short height, especially since you struggle with things that he can easily fulfill since he is taller than you. For the first time he starts considering your small figure amusing, all the more whilst watching you desperately attempting to reach something that is too high up for you. If you were to give him the cold shoulder after the abduction he asks Watari to put everything on higher shelves and places on purpose only to push you into begrudgingly asking L for help when you need something but can't reach it. It's especially fascinating since he has never considered himself as someone tall yet with someone as short as his darling he looks in comparison very big. Sometimes he just feels the urge to grabs your hand and compare the size of it with his own, black eyes observing the clear difference fascinated. Other times he just wraps his arms around you and presses you against his chest when he wants to cuddle, almost managing to hide you in his hold.

Jouno Saigiku

♦️Standing at 5'11, Jouno is a rather tall man yet his height has never been something that he has paid specfic attention to nor has it ever mattered to him how tall the people around him are. It doesn't even matter to him that his darling is shorter than the average person, at least not until he either notices that you feel insecure about it or until he notices that the fact that he towers over you intimidates you whenever you do something that displeases him. In that moment it starts mattering to him simply because it is another thing that he can use to frighten you and keep you in line, a fragile spot that he can target whenever he should feel in a sadistic mood, relishing in the way your heart starts beating as he stands before you. Unfortunately he isn't able to perceive with his eyes how you look in comparison to the people and objects around you, something that has only started bothering him as of recently and especially when people like Tetchou bring your small height up. Teruko probably gets along so well with you because both of you are on a small side in comparison to others but for the sake of not letting her be a bad influence for you Jouno ensures that she stays separated from you as often as possible.

Fushiguro Megumi

💙Height isn't an aspect that Megumi has ever found himself paying much attention to, at least until he developed an obsession with you. He may stand at only 5'9 yet even he looks tall in comparison to your short build and whilst he may not say anything it is something the sorcerer starts giving more attention than he ever has before. He notices how you struggle in life a tad bit more due to your small body and subconsciously that only increases his protective tendencies. When you try to reach out for something that is placed on a higher ground he immediately walks over and gets it for you, whenever you are in a crows his blue eyes are glued to your figure even more than normally as he's worried that he may lose you in the crowd of people, especially since you're on the very short side and e's always staying only one step away from you as soon as there are other people around you two as if paranoid that they might assault you. At this rate he's just babying you but if you were to confront him about it Megumi would most likely deny it. He's helping you after all, he's seen how challenging some things are for you simply because you are so small and he just wants to make your life a bit easier.

Gojo Satoru

🩵You could not have wind up with a man who could have annoyed you more for your tiny build. Worst of all is that Gojo is over 6'3 which only worsens the way he babies and gushes over your short height. If there's one thing that Gojo loves it is teasing you, sometimes simply looking around when you talk to him as if pretending that he can't find you until you threaten to kick him, a luxury he allows you to do as you're the only one he allows to touch him. When you're talking to him he bends down or simply squats down, blue eyes sparkling with mischief the moment he notices how you start getting mad. The moment he holds something away from you there is no way that you can reach it anymore though he always tells you that if you give him a kiss he might consider returning whatever he has stolen from you back to you. It is only his luxury to tease you for your height though as everyone else will receive an intense glare from him the moment they start making comments about it and god forbid someone uses their own height in an attempt to intimidate you. Loves holding your smaller hands in his big ones or lifting you up and twirling you around.

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emelinstriker · 4 months ago

Text

{Eternal Servants AU} Ao Lie ♡ Adoration

Art drawn by me + the AU itself is mine.

Took way longer than the previous ones cuz my brain did not wanna stick to tryna finish this until recently fhgndfghnfhgd

[TL;DR] A dragon joins the team.

♡ ~ Fluff ~ ♡

A man in a green robe groggily woke up. He raised his head slightly from his position on the floor to take in his surroundings. He was in between two rows of large wooden shelves. There was text in bold reading "Interdimensional Geographics" on either side.

Was he... in a library? But why? Did he fall asleep while reading a book?

He sat up, groaning a bit as he held the back of his neck in pain, before he glanced at one row of bookshelves in confusion. He did hear talking coming from somewhere past all the bookshelves, but he was unsure whether or not he could trust those voices. He also wasn't sure why his neck was throbbing in pain. Given the way we was lying on the floor, he brushed it off as simply pain from his previous position.

While trying to stand up, he noticed a little note on the floor. All it had written on it was: "Find Master."

Raising an eyebrow at it, the man in green picked it up, turning the piece of paper and verifying that those were the only words written on it. Weird. He couldn't remember writing that down. Actually, now that he thought about it, he couldn't remember much in general. And it all just confused him even more, making him feel a slight bit of panic at his lack of memory.

The man in green had to think about what he did manage to recollect... He had more than one name, but he could only recall being called Ao Lie. He remembered traveling with what he believed were his friends, although he could only specifically remember a monkey's face from that group... Besides that, he could only faintly remember two people talking in a language he did not understand, followed up by a crow's caw. Every other memory seemed to have been pushed aside or blurred.

And assuming he wrote that note to himself... who was this supposed 'Master' to him if he had no recollection of them? Was he their disciple? Either way, since he had no idea on what else to do, he decided to try find this supposed 'Master'. Maybe they knew why he had been knocked out in the library.

Suddenly, Ao Lie had the urge to rush towards the voices he heard earlier. It was like some strong pull when he felt some form of internal panic. He didn't know why. He clearly wasn't in any danger, after all. But it felt like someone else was. Someone important to him. He dropped the note and decided to hesitantly answer to the call, moving around the many bookshelves. However, this sudden feeling of urgency left him as quickly as it came... But why?

Upon turning at another bookshelf, he stopped.

While he did take notice of the tall lion and the man on wheels, his eyes were mostly focused on the person who had their back turned to him, with a tiny black silhouette of a blob on their shoulder.

Mink already took notice of Ao Lie in return, letting out a groan. "You can't be fucking serious."

You hummed in confusion at the curse's comment. "What's wrong, Mink?"

Then your two other champions took note of this green stranger. Nezha was quick to take on a more defensive position behind you, his fire-tipped spear at the ready. Azure on the other hand simply looked intrigued by this guy across from them. Because the first thing he noticed were his void-black eyes. The exact same ones all of your champions had...

After realizing they were all looking behind you, you turned around to see the man with the long, white hair. You didn't recognize him at all since you've never seen him in the palace before. But he did seem to recognize you. Or, well, at least your title.

He moved a bit closer to you and the others as Nezha kept his guard up. Just in case this was another Celestial Hunter pulling some illusion trick again. Once the white-haired man reached Nezha, who was pointing his fire-tipped spear at the newcomer's chest, he looked over to you, past your pink champion... and he kneeled.

"You... You must be my Master", Ao Lie stated more to himself than you, his voice sounding like he was in awe at your presence. He then lowered his head a bit in respect, which made some of his hair move from his back to his front.

Blinking in surprise, you awkwardly scratched your head. Nezha hummed, seemingly contemplating still poking Ao Lie with a bit of fire. After all, he couldn't be too sure about him being another Celestial Hunter or not. But before he could hold his spear closer to the white-haired man, you stopped him by gently tugging on his cape.

"He seems to be real. I don't think you need to check", you commented as you raised an eyebrow at him, knowing full well of his and MK's stabbing tendencies. Your pink champion reluctantly lowered his weapon and gave you a little bow, muttering out a "Yes, Master" behind his mask.

You then turned back towards your apparently new champion, who was still kneeling. "Uh... You may rise- Uh- Wait- What's your name? And how did you get here?" At your questions, the white-haired man happily stood up as he gestured with his hands... or rather sleeves, because both of his arms were fully covered by his green robe's long sleeves.

"My name is Ao Lie! And I, uh, honestly have no idea. I just... kind of woke up on the floor here a couple of minutes ago, hehe", he confessed awkwardly. You knew almost all of your champions also didn't know how they ended up in the palace, but this was the first time you encountered one just after his arrival yourself.

Azure finally decided to speak up as he examines the newcomer. "Ao Lie, if I may ask. Do you remember anything from before waking up?"

The man in green opened his mouth happily to answer him, but then he realized... Why could he barely remember anything?

You couldn't help but watch in sadness as his smile turned into a frown as he spoke. "I... Well, I remember that I'm from a family of dragons... I turned into a horse, though I can't remember why... Oh! And I was carrying a guy around as a horse while being accompanied by... I think friends?" His eyebrows furrowed as he tried his hardest to remember his past. But much like the others, he only seemed to recall specific aspects of it.

And knowing how pointless it was for them to force out out some kind of memory, Azure sighed in disappointment. "That's enough, thank you. No need to try to force your way into any potential memories, it'll just give you a headache."

Nezha grinned beneath his mask as he leaned against his spear, holding back a chuckle. "Yeah, we've tried. Especially MK. I feel like that just made his memory even worse than it already was. He only keeps doing it because he keeps forgetting that he already tried forcing his memories back."

You gave him a confused and baffled look, to which the celestial simply shrugged in response. MK having the worst memory of them all wasn't new to you, but you didn't know about his attempts to force his memories back. Though in order to ease your worries by just a bit, Nezha added, "He's fine. It's just more of an endless cycle of that short-term memory he has to deal with. And him trying to forcefully remember things just adds to all his confusion." Your pink champion then waved his hand dismissively. It wasn't a big deal to MK after all, just a confusing point about his own lack of memory.

You grimaced a bit at him, not exactly trusting his sudden dismissal of the topic. However, you also didn't want to pry further, knowing about how well your champions could dance around concerning things happening in the palace. They did avoid talking in-depth about their brandmarks, and they did seem to hide many other secrets you were curious about. Such as blood stains on them when they hadn't been on any battle missions.

"Um.. Anyway. Ao Lie was it, right? I... Uh... I'm... assuming you're one of my champions..?" You said, hesitantly trailing off towards the end as you weren't sure how you would be able to confirm such a statement. Because void-black eyes weren't exactly an accurate way of confirmation. It merely meant they were infected.

Ao Lie tilted his head a bit in confusion. "Champion? Does that mean I have to fight in an arena?"

"I mean we don't have an arena, but-" "No, no, no- No fighting in an arena-" You quickly cut Nezha off before he could suggest anything brutal.

Mink, still boredly sitting on your shoulder as a tiny blob, decided that it'd be a good idea to torment-check the green newcomer. Just to take a jab at him and see how much he can take before breaking. Because judging by his current looks, he really did not look like he could be of any use to Mink. He snickered as he grinned at Ao Lie. "So, you're a dragon, right? How about a test of wits and strength? You know... Just to prove to our dear Master that you're actually worthy of even calling them your Master." You gave Mink a little bit of a baffled look, not knowing what he was planning. But he did weaponize your title a lot, even when you clearly disapproved.

The man in green perked up at your black champion's words. He seemed oddly excited about the idea of doing something to show off what he can do. "What do I have to do?"

However, before Mink could say anything that would end up in some catastrophe, you quickly used a finger to bonk his small ken-doll-looking form on the head. It didn't hurt him, but it did catch him off-guard. "Ah- What the- Hey-"

You glared at him, unamused. "Could you maybe like, not trick the others into doing evil or concerning deeds for like five minutes?"

The small ink demon huffed as he shoved your finger away from him. "Oh please. Your definitions of evil and concerning are so simple-mindedly black and white, it's pathetic. I would've actually suggested that he duels me in the scroll. Take it as more of a test of his strength."

It was indeed true that a duel in the scroll was more of a psychological test. If Ao Lie managed to beat the ink demon, he would most certainly be accepted by your other champions as one of their own. But perhaps it was too soon to- "Alright, I'm down! Let's do it! That sounds like fun!"

You grimaced at the dragon's eagerness to duel the ink demon curse. Azure seemed more surprised that the man in green would happily jump into battle without any knowledge or questions regarding Mink's powers. Meanwhile Nezha was rather amused at the offer. After all, if he could get a front row seat of seeing someone else having a shot at eliminating the inky pest, that'd be great.

"Okay, how about we don't have you beat up the new guy? He literally just got here", you quickly intervened as you stepped closer to the white-haired man. It was odd to you how the others had a little bit of white in their hair, except for this one. He seemed to have fully white hair. So perhaps it wasn't actually a signifier that labeled one your champion?

"Anyway, Ao Lie was it? If you don't have your memories right now, you could stay with us and we can try figure things out with the others", you offered as you held out your hand to shake his hand. The white-haired man gave you a puzzled look for a moment before reaching out with a smile, shaking your hand rather strongly. Though, his hand felt rather sharp...

"That's so nice of you! Thank you, Master!" He had barely just met you and it already seemed like calling you 'Master' came naturally to him. Which was surprising, considering that Nezha told you it took him and Azure at least a little while to get used to addressing their personally first Master as such. The others also seemed rather hesitant at first. Though, he couldn't talk for the two simians as they were the first ones to pledge their allegiance and servitude. And Mink just plainly refused to call you his Master, unless it was to sway the others.

Just to make sure the newcomer was actually unharmed upon arrival, you decided to have him visit the medical bay first. You didn't have the tools or knowledge to do a full check-up, but you asked him for permission to check if he had any of those black wounds the others had. And he did. Right on the back of his neck. He then realized that must've been why his neck had been hurting a bit since he woke up. He just thought he must've been unconscious at an uncomfortable angle for too long.

While Azure went looking for the others to tell them about the new champion, Nezha decided to stick around in case the newcomer tried anything. He knew you were safe with Mink, but he couldn't take any risks. Not when he didn't know the full capabilities of the man in green.

And as you were assessing Ao Lie's neck situation, the pink champion's sight landed on the table next to him. Something caught his attention. It was one of those zip-up bags with a familiar black substance inside. Apparently it hadn't been picked up by an Overseer yet. The Oracle must've been busy.

His gaze then turned back and locked onto the green champion, watching you hand him new clothes to try out later.

"Tell me or a servant if you need a different size or want something different in general, alright?" The celestial heard you tell the dragon, to which the man nodded happily.

However, something else that caught Nezha's attention were Ao Lie's hands. He only noticed the way they were somewhat sharp claws and practically fully black when he held onto the neatly folded clothes... His hands looked suspiciously similar to a certain crow's hands... The pink champion furrowed his eyebrows. He wasn't the only one who noticed as Mink crossed his arms, eyeing the white-haired man suspiciously.

You then turned towards Nezha, "Could you show him around, please? We would still need to figure out where he's gonna sleep, so just show him where everything necessary is." While it was technically a command, you couldn't help but make it sound like a gentle request. The celestial bowed his head before leading Ao Lie away, keeping an eye on him at all times.

Sighing, you rubbed your temple. So much was happening at the same time again. You also had to make sure the others were okay since there still were some Celestial Hunters they were disposing of.

"Hmpf. Are you done collecting immortals like trading cards now?" You heard Mink ask in annoyance as he still sat on your shoulder. Rolling your eyes at him, you gently bonked him with your finger again, making him whine once more.

"I don't even know how they end up like this in the first place, Mink. For all we know, the servants could have been going through a trial before ending up here-" "They didn't. None of us did", Mink said with a slight hint of annoyance, cutting you off. You raised an eyebrow at him in response.

The ink demon looked you dead in the eye. "Be happy they don't remember the infection process. Or you would have a bunch of immortals traumatized at the feeling of their body having been altered to a point of no return." He crossed his arms before adding, "And be happy I can't feel pain. Or I wouldn't be on 'friendly terms' with either one of you."

"What are you talking about?"

He was about to add to his rant, but then stopped himself. "...Ugh, nevermind." You already knew he was hiding a lot from you, but his responses just gave you more questions than answers. However, you knew better than to try get more out of him, considering he would just end up toying with you, dangling the answers in front of you, yet still too far out of your reach.

But for now you had to deal with your new champion.

Perhaps asking Mink another time would be more appropriate.

[ Masterlist ]

#eternal servants au #lmk x reader #ao lie x reader #art #lmk fanart #esau x reader #esau ao lie #esau nezha #esau azure #esau mink #lmk au #lego monkie kid #ao lie fanart #lmk ao lie #bai longma #monkie kid au #lego monkie kid au #fluff

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talesofesther · 1 year ago

Text

what once was mine | ch 5

Loki x Reader

Series Summary: When watching what once was supposed to be the rest of his life, in an empty room in the TVA, Loki sees someone he can't recognize; a girl who's all tenderness and loose smiles, and most importantly, she was smiling at him.

A/N: Writing a lovesick Loki is my new favorite hobby.

Masterlist | Read ch 4 here

There was something about you. Still, he couldn't quite place what it was. But there was something. He's not sure if it's the way your eyes crinkle on the sides and you avoid your gaze when you smile or if it's the frown on your lips and the raised eyebrow look you usually give to him when he shows up at your desk.

Loki didn't know what it was about you, that got him in an absolute trance, and he felt the gravity around you pulling him in.

A sharp pain in the back of his head snapped him back to reality, a small grunt escaping his lips.

"I swear I'm regretting all my decisions right now," Mobius spoke from beside him, unrolling his jet ski magazine he had just smacked Loki with, "If I have to repeat everything I've just said just because you were too busy drooling over-"

"I was listening." Loki cut him off a little too urgently, finally moving his gaze away from where you had been talking with B-15 a few steps ahead of him. "And I wasn't drooling," he grumbled.

"Yeah, right," Mobius mumbled, leaning back on his chair as he followed Loki's gaze that had, unsurprisingly, returned to you. "Did you two get to talking already?"

Loki sighed, he watched as you propped yourself up on someone's desk, fiddling with the loose tie around your neck as you spoke with the hunter. "Not exactly," he frowned, "She still avoids me most of the time. She's difficult."

Mobius hummed in agreement, now mindlessly flipping through his magazine. "You're telling me."

Tapping against the arm of his chair, Loki craned his neck to look behind him where Mobius was sitting. "Are you two close?" He asked with genuine curiosity, "You seem close."

"She's a pain in my ass," Mobius threw the magazine aside and picked up a stack of documents, neatly placing them inside a folder. He briefly glanced at you, who now sat alone, swinging your feet back and forth as you watched people walk by, a small fond smile appeared on his features. "But she grows on you pretty fast," he spoke quieter, "I gotta give her that."

The ghost of a smile crept into Loki's lips too. He jumped slightly when the folder was unceremoniously dropped onto his lap.

"Now make yourself useful and take that to the library," Mobius raised an eyebrow at him, "Some of us actually have work to do."

─── ·❆· ───

Loki praised himself for being able to reach the library without getting lost. He read the date stamped on top of the file on his hands and browsed the shelves until he found said date, neatly stacking the file in between the others already there.

As he was about to walk out, he caught sight of the joyless woman who sat behind the desk in the corner; the permanent scowl still adorned her face as she typed away at her computer.

Loki took the sharp turn and came to stand before her. He waited a beat before pressing the bell atop her desk once.

The typing halted but only her eyes moved to look at him. "Yes?"

"I'm on the lookout for a few files, if you wouldn't mind assisting me." The smile on his lips was rather mischievous.

After about a minute of following the woman around the library, Loki was pleasantly surprised to be handed the file he had actually asked for.

"Happy reading," the woman mumbled, and left him be.

In between the cramped shelves, Loki turned the file in his hands, tracing his fingers under the name written on the first page. Your name.

He wondered for a moment if it would be inappropriate, an invasion of your privacy. Prying into your life as if it were a book for him to read. He tried to justify with the thought he'd only be reading the parts with him in it.

As he slowly made his way out of the halls of shelves, Loki took a brief look at the basic pieces of information on the cover of your file. Your picture at the front was… endearing—much as he wouldn't admit it out loud—you had your arms behind your back, your lips pulled into a line, and your eyes quite wide with apprehension, wearing the same TVA uniform that Loki got thrown into when he arrived. You were human and from Midgard, which already got Loki mildly confused as to why his future self would've gotten this close with a Midgardian of all people.

Loki rounded the corner of the last shelf with his eyes fixated on the file, and he nearly dropped it when something suddenly collided against him full force. Or rather, someone.

A small oof escaped your lips when you bumped face-first into him. You took a few steps back, blinking several times with a frown on your eyebrows.

Biting back a gasp of surprise, Loki quickly hid your file behind his back, mustering his most convincing innocent look.

Your eyes finally found him and you sighed quietly. "It's you."

A small, teasing grin stretched Loki's lips and he narrowed his eyes at you, "are you following me?"

You raised an unamused eyebrow at him, adjusting the lapel of your jacket and straightening your posture; "why would I follow you?"

"Because I'm terribly alluring." His voice took a slightly lower timbre, he leaned just a tad closer to you.

All you gave him was a roll of your eyes before circling past him so you could continue on your way. Loki turned with you, keeping his hands behind his back and away from your line of sight.

Much to your dismay, he fell into step with you.

"And now you're following me?" You asked, feigning uninterest as you made a point of avoiding his gaze, heading towards the elevator.

Loki hummed; "Not at all." He stayed just half a step behind you, trailing his eyes over the way your hair fell over your shoulder, just barely revealing the black earring you wore and making him wonder if it would feel as soft as it looked if he were to run his fingers through it. "We just happen to be going to the same place."

As you waited for the elevator to arrive, Loki managed to fold your file once and stash it inside the pocket of his jacket. You went in and Loki followed. The silence that lingered as the elevator slowly made its way up made Loki feel uneasy, he shifted in his stance and stole not-so-sneaky glances at you every few seconds. Has this elevator always been so slow?

"Would you like to stop for tea?" The words stumbled past Loki's lips on their own. "Or, coffee, whatever it is you drink." He felt the need to add, to feign nonchalance.

You kept quiet, but quiet was good, it wasn't a no. Loki realized, as he pretended not to be watching you, that what kept pulling him towards you wasn't curiosity anymore; at least not only curiosity. You were going to be his in the future, that much was clear, why or how he couldn't know, but his would-be future self had been lucky enough to be loved by you. And that was it, he realized. Loki never had anything to call his in his life, he never truly belonged. And when he first saw you on that screen, he just knew it had been his choice; he would have been lucky enough to find you and choose to call you his, to be yours.

Loki's breath hitched in his throat. That feeling in his chest, his heart knew where it belonged, who it belonged to; even before he did. And you were right there and Loki couldn't push away the thought that… he was yours, even if you weren't his. Not yet, and maybe not ever again.

You kept quiet. The elevator was nearing its stop when you hit the button that led to the cafeteria floor.

The place was emptier this time of day, almost peacefully so. There were only a few people here and there, sitting at the tables while enjoying a quick meal during their break.

You spared Loki a glance, "Go find us a table, yeah?"

Loki didn't object as you walked off to grab a drink. He picked a table in a far corner, away from any unwanted disturbances, and waited. This wasn't about drinking tea, not really; he didn't mind not having a drink.

You came back a few minutes later, holding two mugs; each steaming hot and with a bag of tea floating inside. You sat down in front of him and slid one of the mugs towards him.

Loki fought to keep his face impassive, to not make you uncomfortable by displaying how the gesture had touched him. He took the mug slowly, warm ceramic heating up his cold hands. When he took the first sip, his eyes briefly closed in delight, surprised that you knew exactly how he took his tea. But he shouldn't be.

When he opened his eyes again, he noticed your gaze was, for the first time today, fixed on him. Your lips were slightly parted and your hands hung loosely around your mug on the table. It was almost as if you were gauging his reaction, hanging onto every twitch of his muscles. To prove a fact or dismantle a lie.

"It's… lovely, thank you," Loki spoke softly.

You gulped at his words, then cleared your throat and took a generous sip of your own tea, that most likely burned its way down your throat given the way your eyes watered. "Yeah, sure."

Loki softly tapped his mug as it rested on the table, he glanced up at you, his eyes betraying him with the softness he tried to hide. "You know, I'm truly quite impressed."

He captured your attention, and you turned to him with slightly raised eyebrows.

"I wasn't expecting them to have such good tea around," Loki raised his mug to prove his point, "for a place that, literally, has access to all of time, their food options are rather limited." He complained with an indignant frown.

There was a smirk fighting its way into your lips that you gently ducked your head to hide. "I have to agree, sometimes I just wanna slip into the timeline to grab a milkshake or a smoothie."

Loki struggled to keep his voice working when he saw the hints of a smile on your face, but that's also the reason why he kept talking. "Right? And then there's the neverending paperwork. I mean, honestly, for a place like this they sure are so old-timey, aren't they?"

You laughed. Genuinely laughed, and Loki delighted in it. He wanted to bottle up the sound and keep it with him forever. His lips hovered in a dazed smile of his own, and he simply looked at you—all doe eyes and pink cheeks—engraving the image in his mind with the pride that he was the one who made you happy, if even for a second.

Shaking your head, you avoided his eyes. Biting your lower lip before you said; "Oh yes, that's one of my biggest critiques yet."

A quiet chuckle escaped Loki's lips, and he made it his mission to keep the conversation going for as long as you'd have him.

When you drank the last sip of your tea, which was most likely already cold given the time that had passed since you first got it, you looked at Loki with the ghosts of that smile still lingering—a little crooked and still a little hesitant, but beautiful to his eyes nonetheless.

"I have to go," you said, voice quieter, as if you spoke louder it would break the moment. Your eyes glimmered under the artificial lights, for a beat it looked like you wanted to say more but you bit it back. "But thank you for the company."

Loki nodded softly, "It was my pleasure." He hoped you could see it in his eyes that he meant it.

Loki watched you leave. He watched as you walked into the elevator and held his gaze from afar until the doors closed. The feeling hit him hard and square in the chest, making him close his eyes and exhale a shaky breath—he was falling for you, and it killed him to think that he might be falling alone.

He took the file still hidden in his jacket pocket, unfolding it only to see the picture of you staring back at him. He looked at it for a long time, yet never opened it. He wanted to do right by you. If he were to know you, know the story you would've had together, it would be because you choose to let him.

Later that day, Loki stopped by the library again. He took a single last glance at the cover of your file before stashing it back on the shelf.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Read ch 6 here

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

Loki’s taglist: @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @justaproudslytherpuff @justanotherkpopstanlol @chronicallybubbly @chaoticqueen33 @7minutes-tomidnight @uncle-eggy @oliviaewl @dd122004dd @tani725 @lokihaha34 @levanneisdumb @innebulae @mochminnie @mayemperess @alyeskathewave @buginktsworld @cremebruleequeen @wyvernthekriger @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson @avengersfan25 @mischief2sarawr @yokolesbianism @arunabrak @athenasproverbs @h-l-vlovesvintage @princess-ofthe-pages @daisy-the-quake @talesofadragon @rainbowsocks @alexandra-001 @mary-jinx @stevenknightmarc @falconxsoldier @ladymercury8 @shirukitsune @ladymischief11 @starkzdaughter @navs-bhat @creat0r-cat @cinnamonbambii

@anundyingfidelity @creationcitystreet-em @or-was-it-just-a-dream @agustdpeach @oreo-cream @jollydeckk @agent-tempest @spidermantaylorsversion @127djarin @imthedoctorlove @duckwithsunglasses @lokidokieokie @cookieeecutter @anuncalledbridge @finechalamet

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki imagine #loki #marvel #loki series #loki x you #marvel x reader #loki x female reader #imagine #fanfic #angst #fluff #what once was mine #loki fanfic #my story #loki laufeyson x reader

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mistystepmoonbeam · 9 months ago

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Reborn into BG3: Chapter 12

You're reborn into BG3 with only the memory of your past life. Now you're Tav's companion on his journey, and must learn about yourself as much as your new reality.

Chapter 12: You take a walk through the cellar in the blighted village. When the others catch up you say something that freaks out Astarion.

Word count: 2.6K

A/N: I was undecided if I wanted to post this >.> But what the hells.

You’re on your own, now. Just for a bit, thanks to Wyll convincing Tav you don’t need to be watched at all times. And with no more goblins between you and camp you’re able to be left alone to sort out…yourself, you guess.

You didn’t throw up again after leaving Ethel’s, but you may have done some crying as you walked in circles around the forest by the village. If it wasn’t for having to face the others you’d have run back to camp, pulled scratch into your tent and bawled your eyes out.

Though you promised to go back to camp you find yourself in the blighted village. You can't read the sign at the entrance but you know it says Moonhaven, and you try to memorise what you think the letters might be.

A little stop can’t hurt, you think. Anything to avoid a conversation about what happened. And you can collect the herbs that are in the cellar, along with anything else that might be useful. You take a small swig of the health potion to get the taste of bile out of your mouth and then stash it into your bag, since it’s now nearly empty after leaving your personal hoard at camp, and head down into the cellar. Whatever objects had been clinking in there remain a mystery–you still haven’t looked inside and won’t even as you add more to the pack.

As much as you had wanted to abandon your staff you took it with you. Necromancy or not, it could bludgeon someone should the need arise. And apparently it can cast light in a small radius around you because it does just that when you make it to the bottom of the ladder.

With a slight purple tint, the staff lets out an eerie glow giving you just enough light to see by. There’s a small buzz of energy through your body that you assume is the Weave. Not wanting to question things anymore, you get to work prying open the barrels and crates and find the herbs you’re there for. You circle around and pick up a couple health potions, a couple mystery potions to be identified later, and find the hidden lever. You hesitate before pushing it down, but curiosity gets the better of you in the end. You watch the shelves move and step into the secret cave.

Now that you’re aware of the phantom limb and what it has been reaching for, you can feel the dead weigh on your mind. You know where they are, kind of in the same way you could navigate your room in the dark. They’re permanent objects stuck in place, and should you so desire, you can reach out and move them.

“I guess I’m a necromancer,” you mutter as you pluck a bone cap out of the ground. “Awesome. Couldn’t be a wizard or a sorcerer or…wait, am I one of those?”

Wyll seemed to make it sound like a necromancer was separate, but it kind of was a subcategory of wizard.

You straighten and keep moving, turning the corner and finding the cavern. You ignore everything there and head for the mirror that waits beyond the wooden planks.

When you step up to it the staff's eyes glow violet again, and the mirror slides open. You sigh. “Necromancer it is, then.”

But…maybe there’s a clue to your identity in this place if you’re powerful or rich enough? You move inside and find the lab on the right, the paperwork scattered about, and logbooks. Or you assume they’re the logbooks—you can’t read, after all. Instead of flipping through them you head to the exit and find the rusty key on the shelves. Soon enough you’re standing before the first trap that lights the braziers, and risk the step. The room is filled with light as the fires blaze to life.

The Necromancy of Thay is just beyond the barred door, and this time you can hear it. It whispers to you, quiet little voices that speak in a language you don’t know. They’re distant, but like with the bodies of the dead you know where the book is.

It takes some strength to push the rusty key into the padlock on the door, and with some force you manage to turn it. The whispers quiet.

“A well hidden laboratory, wonder what it’s doing down here?”

You turn to find Tav, Wyll and Astarion walking into the lab. He still has both eyes, at least. After he outed Astarion you thought he might take the hag’s deal.

“How did you find this place?” you ask.

He only offers you a shrug, eyes darting around the lab in search of loot.

You relent, “I found the hatch and started looking around.”

Tav smiles and rests his hands on the back of his head. Maybe he’s just happy you aren’t ignoring him again, or running away. By the way his tail flicks at the air you think that might be it, and the reason he’s being quieter than usual.

“I followed your tracks,” Wyll reveals. Well, he did hunt down all sorts of beings as the Blade of Frontiers. “What have you found?”

“Creepy book,” you reply. They approach you, surveying the book and everything else in the small cage.

“Trapped, most likely,” Astarion says. He steps forward carefully and does something to the stand the book is on. It’s so quick you don’t have time to peer around him and get a good look at what “disarm trap” really looks like.

Astarion picks up the book, turning it in his hands. They begin to discuss what it could be when you remember the bracers that are down here. You slip away without a thought and find the nearby gilded chest, poking it before opening it. There are traps here, who knows what else could be rigged to explode?

When you open the chest you feel a wave of magic—Weave—come from it. It’s different from the warmth of the healing magic, somehow sharper, more demanding. You pull the bracers out and put them in your bag, nearly overflowing with loot now.

You turn to rejoin the group only to nearly run into Astarion on the level below you. You stumble back and catch yourself. “I think Shadowheart was right about putting a bell on you.”

He gives you a smirk, genuine, your surprise. A thought occurs but rather than ask it you bite the inside of your right cheek.

“You are just full of surprises, aren’t you?” Astarion asks. You don’t know what he’s referring to, considering the amount of surprises you’ve had lately. He goes on, waving one hand in the air. “Filthy rich, can’t read, enchanted clothing, and now, a necromancer.”

“To be fair, I don’t know anything about all of that.” You try not to sigh too hard thinking of what Auntie Ethel had said.

“I wonder what other secrets that little head holds…” he muses. It’s more to himself than you. “And you killed on my behalf, I’m flattered.”

“I didn’t mean to, though.”

“I know, that’s what makes it all the more entertaining. You, the picture of innocence, murdered a man for a vampire spawn. Ha!”

You furrow your brow, unsure how you could be considered the picture of innocence. But maybe that was only compared to those Astarion knew. It was your first murder…and only murder! Not first. Just the one, and only, murder.

Yes, you are rather innocent in the terms of this world.

Astarion pinches your cheek between two fingers, bringing you back to the conversation. “Don’t think this makes us even.”

“Okay,” you say when he lets go. You rub at where he’d pinched, shocked he touched you so casually. And not just that…his fingers are warm. “Uhm…”

Astarion quirks a brow. “Yes?”

“Can I ask you a question? About being a vampire.”

He leans his weight into one foot, crossing his arms as he eyes you warily. “I suppose.”

“Why are you warm? Shouldn’t you be, like, cold? Or room temperature?”

Astarion, for all his acting, is easy to read. His eyes widen as he steps back, arms uncrossing and held out before him like he’s trying to catch his balance. “What did you say?”

“Sorry, is that rude?” You shift on your heels. “I just thought vampires would be cold, with the…being dead, and all.”

“We are,” Astarion confirms, voice grim.

“But your skin is warm.”

“I assure you, it is not.”

“I literally just had your hand on my cheek. You’re warm.”

“I think I know what temperature my own body is!” Astarion huffs and walks away. You notice the bag that rests on his back has the weight of the book within.

You move down the steps as he paces, annoyed.

“What’s wrong, Astarion?” Tav asks.

You answer, “I asked him why—”

But you don’t get to finish it because Astarion wraps one hand over your mouth and the other on the back of your head, successfully silencing you. He says, “Nothing! Nothing at all. Just discussing what reward I might offer for valiantly saving me from a monster hunter.”

You roll your eyes. But having his skin on yours again confirms his heat. He feels like a living, breathing human. Why did that freak him out? When he releases you he gives you a hard stare that’s easy to understand. Shut. Up.

Wyll and Tav watch you, waiting to see what you say but you just shrug. “It’s not that important.”

Wyll frowns, but lets it go. For now. Tav bites into his bottom lip but keeps silent.

Astarion’s words remind you of something you’d like to forget. The Gur. You can’t even recall his name right now. Maybe you should have tried harder to keep Astarion away, or convinced them to not go there at all. But you didn’t, and there was no reset now.

You watch Tav flit about the basement collecting loot. It does little to help your mood, but at the very least you take comfort in the fact that they didn’t call you a monster for what you did. You promise to keep better watch of those chords in your head, the little phantom strings that connect to the dead around you. Because avoiding the dead is an impossible task, at least as long as you travel with Tav and everyone.

When you return to the surface the others are waiting by the well. You spot your bag of gold on Gale’s shoulder and hurry to take it from him, but he holds up his hands to stop you. “What kind of man would I be if I let an injured person carry so much weight?”

You’re about to argue but think better of it when the world sways a little. You manage to stay still, probably, and thank him instead.

“Oh, right,” you say, pulling the magic bracers from your other pack. “I thought you might want these.”

Gale takes the bracers. It’s then that you notice the bags under his eyes are especially dark—and you realize he hasn’t told anyone about his condition. As far as you know. The little lines that travel up the side of his neck and towards his left eye are darker, too.

Your thumbnail scratches at your staff as you wait for him to say something. Anything. Literally anything would be good right now because it’s been ten whole seconds of him staring at the bracers and that’s long enough of him being silent that the others are now looking.

“Gale?” Tav asks.

It jolts him out of his stupor. “Yes? Oh, yes.” He looks at you. “Thank you. Perhaps there’s something I must admit…”

Gale goes through his first speech about the orb, and then his second. It’s a lot to take in in one go, if you haven’t heard it all before. At the end he says, “I understand if you want to part ways—this orb, for lack of a better word, is immensely dangerous.”

Tav asks, “Why?”

All eyes turn to him, his head tilted with a smile on his face.

“Because I could explode,” Gale says slowly.

“So?” Tav points to each companion as he adds, “Shar worshipper, warlock turned devil, angry githyanki, infernal engine that could explode, vampire, necromancer with memory loss, and I’m sorry Halsin we’ve barely just met, but…uh, old?”

There are worse things to be said, about all of you.

“Plus we’ve all got worms in our heads,” Karlach says. “Oh, well except for…”

Gale lets out a small laugh. “Thank you. All of you. Now, even I’m getting tired of my own voice so shall we get going?”

The group begins their journey back to the goblin camp.

“I am not angry,” Lae’zel says, her voice almost a hiss. “At least not at any of you. The mindflayers, however…”

Halsin walks next to her, asking questions about the tadpoles and their magic, while Astarion and Wyll follow, then Shadowheart, Karlach, and Tav. You and Gale are last to leave the village.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Gale asks.

You hesitate too long before answering. “No.”

“You are a terrible liar.” He keeps his voice low as you walk, putting the bracers on his wrists. “But I consider that a good thing.”

You chew the inside of your cheek, unsure of what to say. They seem to consider your knowledge to be some kind of deadly premonition, so maybe you should lean into that. “I can’t really explain it.”

Gale smiles but it’s weak.

“We’ll find lots of stuff for you to eat,” you assure him. “Or absorb, I mean. Like those!”

You point at the bracers. He holds them closer to where you know the orb is tattooed on his chest, breathing deeply.

“And if we can’t find anything there’s always my boots, or coat.”

“You would offer me those?” Gale looks you up and down like he had when you’d first met.

You shrug. “Of course. Oh, do you need them now? Because I just need to sit down to get them—”

You lift a foot as you walk, nearly stumbling to the ground when Gale stops you. “No, no, I’m fine for now. I am just—very grateful to have such a generous companion.”

“It’s not really generosity if it’s something you need though,” you argue.

Gale smiles gently but moves on. “So what’s this I hear about you being a necromancer?”

Whatever emotion crosses your face makes him pull back and try to change the subject. Regret, maybe, or pain. You can’t focus on controlling your features with so much going on. “I don’t want to be…that. I can feel…I can feel where they are—like something is dragging behind me. It’s heavy, but easy. I don’t want it to be easy.”

“Just because something comes easily to you doesn’t mean you need to do it.”

You look up at him, unaware your gaze has been on the ground this whole time. “But I did it by accident. I can’t—I can’t exactly control it.”

“That’s no problem to learn,” Gale says, as if moving the dead was no harder than riding a bike. “Learn to control it, and don’t use it. Though if you can move a boar in your sleep you must have some considerably…powerful benefactors in Baldur’s Gate to deal with.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t mean to frighten you,” he says, “but if you can use magic without the intent, without the movements or incantations, then you hold a great power. And that is something that doesn’t go unnoticed by the wealthy elite.”

Chosen. Like Gale had once been of Mystra you too could be the preferred mortal of a god.

“Meaning there may be some unhappy people if I don’t use magic.”

“It’s only one possibility of many,” Gale assures you. “And until we know more I am happy to help you control your magic. I’m told I’m an excellent teacher.”

You twirl the staff between your fingers and laugh. “It would be an honour to learn from you.”

Taglist:

@half-poison-and-half-hope @sanscas @hotmesshobbit @godoffuckedupcats @thequeen-oni @terrenuserinj @straewberrysoda @theomnipotentfox @becksynthetic @quitecontrary-to-mary @furblrwurblr @mega-trash-cringe @fandomsbookclub @dontneedbiologytoadopt @pebble-bb @v3lv3tvampir3 @mrow-kat @jeneralmischief @notsaelty @runaway-17 @aoirohi @tinswhimsy @xxgrimripp3rxx @kemonocat-blog @thetiredtoad0-0 @sleepydang @iwannabealocalcryptid @troutberryspoon @betwixttheweave @the-pale-elfs-love

#reborn into baldur's gate 3 with no memory and plenty of money #reborn into bg3 #astarion x reader #tav x reader ???#I keep forgetting about the staff to be honest #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction

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thezombieprostitute · 3 months ago

Note

Sending you good vibes. ✨

And this man.

You know, I've never written for this giant of a man.

A/N: I do not speak German. I'm pulling a few things from this post and The Little Book of Foreign Swear Words by Sid Finch.

A/N2: Tall reader. Also, for context, König is almost 7' tall.

Warnings: Bad German. Please let me know if I missed any.

Working customer service was a sure way to get you to dream of running away to the middle of nowhere and never interacting with people again. And it's not just the customers, either. If you have to hear your manager bitch about "kids these days" one more time you're gonna start throwing things.

You swear your manager, Lance, gets a kick out of making you, the tallest employee, restock the lowest shelves. For a guy who seemed so confident in himself he sure felt the need to put others down for his own ego. He even chuckles to himself as he walks by and you're bent down for those bottom shelves.

With your knees not able to take much more, you let yourself stand up for a breather. You're startled by a "Scheisse!" On the other side of the cart you were unloading is a veritable giant of a man with grey blue eyes. He looked just as surprised to see you as you were him.

"Tut mir leid," he says. "I...I didn't see you."

"I um...I was pretty well hidden," you stutter. You're so caught off guard by the handsome man you have to look up to that it takes you a few seconds to regain your professionalism. "Um, is there anything I can help you with?"

"Oh, nein," he shakes his head. "Just trying to find some beer. Good stuff that doesn't uh...schmeckt nicht nach Pisse."

"Well, let me go ahead and get this cart out of your way then so you can see all of the options."

"Danke." He almost sounds relieved that you took the initiative and he didn't have to ask. Considering he immediately goes for the beer that your cart was blocking you get the feeling he was looking at it for some time. You wouldn't be surprised if he tended to feel awkward, socially at least. You know what it's like to be too tall for your own good.

Of course that's the moment Lance decides to check up on your progress. He's already upset at seeing you standing at full height, but with the giant standing next to you, he apparently feels the need to metaphorically swing his dick around.

"What the hell, Giganto? You get too tired of being on your knees? That cart needs to be emptied. You're way behind!"

"Mr. Tucker, there's a customer," you warn.

"What is he your cousin or something? Probably can't find anyone big enough to put you in your place unless you're related to them, damn inbred---"

He's cut off by the giant customer grabbing his neck.

"Dein Schwanz ist so klein, dass es 'ne Maus nicht merkt, wenn du sie fickst."

As much as you don't want to stop him, the customer is assaulting someone. "Sir, I really appreciate your help, but I don't want to have to call the police."

He lets go of Lance, "you are right, Häsechen. He is not worth the police visit." He reaches into his pocket and writes something on a piece of paper before handing it to you. "Should you seek...different employment, give a call. KorTac is hiring and someone as...patient, smart as you could do well."

You smile as you take the paper from him. Given the glares Lance is giving you, you'll likely need to call by the end of the day. You hope you'll get to see him again. Looking at the paper he gave you it has the number followed by "KorTac. König"

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @ronearoundblindly

#zombie asks #könig x reader #könig x tall!reader #könig x you #könig imagine #konig x reader #konig x tall!reader #konig x you #konig imagine

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dark-l-angel · 8 months ago

Note

if you want requests, I am so delulu, I'm stuck in my own world 24/7 and my brain refuses to stop.....

Jason, who growing up had a crush on reader, but being the clueless person we are we have no clue (I swear it's a curse, I genuinely don't know that someone is into me until they say it. No flirting computes with me) but then the whole- ya know, not living thing happens.... The thing that leads up to Red Hood (I refuse to say it) and reader is later confronted by either Dick or Alfred at the funeral and they're like

“You know he like you, right?” and readers response is

“Not as much as I loved him”

which I guess causes a whole sad thing that I can't cope with, so you decide what happens from there, but basically the ending is when Jason is not the scary evil Red Hood anymore but more the Jason people fantasize about, he tells reader how he feels and IDK man something cute and fluffy, my brain is just sad all the time so all I have is the sad stuff.

Anyways, this is a lot longer than I thought it would be, but here it is, please ignore it if it's weird or too much 😅

have a nice day, peace out ✌️

Princess, believe it or not i had hundreds of scenarios to this situation at fucking 5 a.m when i was ab to pass my bachelor exam *I'm talking math day 💀

And having your own world is nice actually.. ❤ at least you have an escape place from painful reality and ur comfort character is hugging you in your rough times. Hope happiness strikes you like jason's beauty did to me 😃💝 love u deeply 💖

Reunion

Jason todd x fem!reader

"You know that he liked you.. right?" Dick's voice ringed in your ear.. even after all this time.. it's like it happened yesterday..

Thinking while staring at a book jason used to read when you both were younger.. before.. that incident..

You put the book away and picked another, you shared the same love of books with jason, that explains why you become a loyal customer to libraries and coffee shops.

It was always a sad thing to go to libraries, yet it felt like happiness to you.. finally some freedom from this cruel world. You don't have to suffer through reading some simple lines with deep meanings.. in fact, it changed you 360 degrees, your vision to the world has changed since ever jason introduced you to the books.

You were walking around the library while hugging different books, looking carefully through the shelves of another chosen one, Losing all connections with your world, not feeling a specific guy staring at you in admiration.

Your eye fallen on an interesting novel, but it was on the top shelf. You tried to reach it but failed, and you got that idea of reaching it through another book was by your hand. You did, the novel is coming out, but still not enough, you had to put extra efforts by standing on the top of your toes.

"Too bad short angel can't reach her little novel" a tall handsome man was towering you from behind, you looked up and his eyes fell into yours, green emerald eyes inspecting your angelic features in admiration carefully *while you took your time to enjoy his mesmerizing gorgeous beauty like the little whore you and i will do*.

He smirked before looking back to the novel and pulling it out for you, gosh he was handsome, but.. you could swear you know him from somewhere.

He reads the title loud before saying "damn baby girl you've got some pretty good taste out there.. i like it" he smirked "oh thanks, I've always liked that type of stuff especially when *author name* added his pov of the topic.." he laughed.

As you both sat at a coffee shop and continued babbling ab different books to different subjects.. almost everything.. as if you actually know this person years ago, the problem was that you weren't the type to get comfy to people easily.. so what's the matter with this guy?.

Probably his smile that cached your mind? or his emerald eyes and their beauty? his funny jocks? Or it's your shared likings? Or the fact that he was the only person to be able to crack his way through your dead heart and plant a rose of adoration that was meant only for him? The only person to have the ability to warm your heart after all these years? Or him being the reason of your tears of laughter?... sooo much questions going through your head.

You finally managed to ask him.. " i feel like i know you from years, never had fun like this since then.. do i know you by any chance?" You said while wiping away the tears of laughing on his stories.

"You didn't recognize me y/n?" You didn't tell him your name yet.. how would he- "i missed you so much actually... i have been thinking about you in everything i was doing back then, dick might probably told you about it, yet i still do think about you all the time..." you watch the man goes on.. but dick? He spoke about jason only.. and jason is.. gone.. "you forget me y/n?" That can be..

He smiled staring at you in pure love and admiration and adoration.. "It's jason.. the dumb boy who fell dumber in love with you, angel ♡".

Hope you like it ❤ baby gurl was here 😘

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cmncisspnandmore · 1 year ago

Text

One Night Stand; Part 3

Pairings: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Reader

Warnings: OOC Simon (kinda?), fluff, alcohol, pregancy, talks of abortion, vomiting,

Summary: Its been 3 months since your night in the sheets with Simon and your life just got a whole lot more complicated.

A/N: I know, I know. okay. I get it. Not everyone like the pregnancy trope, so if you dont im sorry. If i lose some readers for this then im sad to see you go but i hope to see you in future writings i do for the COD men. This is not going to be like other pregnancy tropes that get all mushy and fluffy and light after. This story will be filled with dark themes coming in later chapters that i hope will keep people interseted. We all know Simon Riley's life cant be easy, so if you're still here after this part. Buckle up. Its a wild ride.

Word Count: 5,015

New to the Series? Catch up here: Part 1, Part 2

The bar looked exactly the same as it did three months ago. The music wasn't as loud, but that was probably because it was still early. Many people were still at work at 5pm on a Thursday.

Not you, you had found a job working online, writing articles for business pages. It wasn't the most exciting thing in the world but it paid well, and it occupied most of your time. An added bonus of not leaving for work was you never had to worry about coming home from the office to find someone on your couch. You shake your head trying to clear the thoughts. You weren't even 100% sure why you were here, the chances that Soap even knew Simon were slim. But he had said he knew almost everyone that came to the bar.

So there was a chance.

One you couldn't pass up, you had to at least try.

Wrapping your coat around you tighter, you walk into the bar. The dim lights reflect off the shiny tables. A few people sit at them, watching a replay of a game on tv. You glance around behind the bar, looking for the familiar mohawk.

It pops up from behind the bar towards the end, Soap holds a bin of limes in his arms. He sets the bin down on the shiny black countertop, pulling a small cutting board out from the top of the bin and a knife. He slices a lime in half as you slide into the seat in front of him. His blue eyes meet yours and a smile breaks out on his face.

“Lass! Good to see ya, you disappeared on me the last time ye were here!” He smiles, turning the lime and cutting it again.

“Sorry about that, I needed to clear my head, I hope I didn't upset you,” you smile back, placing your hands on the bar.

“Nay, what can I get for ye? Vodka Soda?” he asks, setting the knife down as he turns towards the shelves of alcohol behind him.

“Uh, actually, can I just have water instead?” You bite your bottom lip and Soap nods, grabbing a glass and filling it. He slides the glass of water in front of you, and you stare down into it.

“Everything okay?” he asks, looking at you with one raised eyebrow.

“Oh yeah, I'm fine. Early day tomorrow ya know? Don't want to be hung over is all.”

“Aye i get that, so what brings you here?” Soap leans his forearms against the bar, “Miss me?” He smiles.

You can't help but roll your eyes, “Oh totally,” you laugh.

“I knew it, not many women can resist the MacTavish charm,” Soap grins, he stands back up and picks up the knife. He cuts each lime into wedges before putting them in the bin, you reach over grabbing one from the cutting board and squeeze it into your water.

“Aye! Paw off,” Soap smiles, shaking the knife at you. A smile of your own breaks out on your lips as you watch him.

“You have plenty to spare, plus someone around here has to keep you busy.”

“I assure you Lass, the folk around here keep me plenty busy,” Soap points over your shoulder where Price and Gaz are walking in. They’re deep in a conversation as they make their way over to where you are sitting in front of Soap.

Kyle is the first to notice you, and he pauses looking at you over. “Y/n, it's good to see you again, not going to lie. I was kinda sad you left without a goodbye last time,” Gaz takes the seat on the left.

“Sorry about that, I promise to say bye this time. I don’t want to bruise your ego,” You say over the rim of your glass.

“Good, I don't think I can hear him wallow about it anymore,” Price says as he sits in the stool on your right. “So what do you think of London? Everything you could’ve imagined?”

“It’s alright… It rains a lot more than I'm used to, but it's not too bad. Definitely different from the small town I'm from,” you look over at him. He gives you a small smile, and turns towards Soap.

“Soap, we ship out tomorrow morning, be ready at 0600 hours,” Price grunts as Soap puts the last lime into the bin.

“Yes sir,” Soap turns towards the bottles of liquor on the shelf and grabs a bottle of bourbon. He sets it down on the counter with a soft thud, he then grabs two glasses for them, pouring each man two fingers. He slides the glasses across the bar to them, the acidic smell of the bourbon makes your stomach turn. Saliva pools in your mouth as you desperately try to swallow.

“Oh uh, Soap, I wanted to ask if you knew someone actually,” You take a sip of water, your eyes following him as he moves behind the bar. Soaps bright blue eyes look over at you, his brows furrowed together.

“I might,” he smiles. A loud noise from behind you startles you, and a drunken man tumbles into the back of your stool. His drink spilling down your back as he leans against the back of the barstool, the smell of the alcohol hits your nose.

“Oops,” the drunken man mumbles, his breath wafting over your face.

Your stomach rolls, as Price and Gaz help the man up. Gaz and Price half drag him away from you as he continues to mumble about his drink. Gaz says something and pats him on the chest as they pull him to the door. You stand from the chair, the fabric of your coat and shirt now sticking to you. Nausea rolls through you as you try to breathe through your mouth.

“You alright lass? You look a little green,” Soap is now standing in front of you, a clean bar towel in his hands. He gently pats the towel against your soaked shirt and coat trying to soak up some of the liquid that's seeping into your skin.

You can't answer, if you open your mouth you’re sure you’ll throw up so you push past Soap and hurry towards the bathroom. Soap follows behind you, pausing at the door to the women's room. You shove open one of the stall doors and drop to your knees. The cold tiles bite through the fabric of your jeans, as the contents of your stomach is emptied into the porcelain bowl. It takes you several minutes to stop dry heaving, your stomach clenching painfully with each contraction of your abs. When the feeling settles you stand, before rinsing your mouth out with some water from the tap. You grab a paper towel, wiping your hands and mouth.

“You alright in there?” Soap calls through the door, his voice laced with concern.

“Yeah..” you call back, tossing the paper towel into the bin and pulling open the door, “Sorry about that.” You shove your hands into your pockets as you come face to face with Soap. His eyebrows knit together in worry as he looks over you, one hand hovers in the air as if hes going back and forth on if he should touch you or not.

“You su-” he pauses looking over your shoulder, his eyes widened slightly.

“MacTavish, the bar can't run itself…” A familiar voice rumbles, the hair on the back of your neck stands on end. Memories of your night 3 months ago rushes back, that same voice that murmured praise to you as he pounded into you.

You whip around, at the end of the hall stands Simon, his black hoodie pulled up over his head, his mouth and nose covered by a skull print face mask. His brown eyes widen slightly as he sees you. “Y/n…” he whispers.

“You two know each other?” Soap muses from behind me, his hands coming to rest on my shoulder as he walks by. An uncomfortable silence settles over the hallway and Soap slips by, muttering “I’ll leave you two alone…”

Simon takes a few steps towards you, and it seems like he takes up the whole hallway. You look up as he towers over you, his face is unreadable, he lifts a hand, brushing his fingertips across your cheek. It sends electricity skittering across your skin, your breath catches in your throat.

Over the past 3 months you have tried to forget about the man whose brown eyes haunted your dreams. Whose touch caused your mind to go blank. Like someone wiping a harddrive. But there was no forgetting, not anymore. He was here in front of you, sure, you had come to ask Soap if he knew him. But you hadn't expected to run into him tonight. You still had no idea what you were going to say to him. How do you justify just leaving his house at 3am?

“You could've said goodbye, you know… You didn't have to sneak out and call an Uber at 3am..” Simon whispers, and guilt slams into you. He knew you left. He wasn't asleep like you thought…

“I-I..” you stumble over your words, unsure what to say. There wasn't anything you could say really. You knew you should’ve just waited, dealt with the awkward small talk. Maybe even exchange numbers you would never plan on using. But nope.

Instead you fled. Just like you fled after your sister's funeral.

At least you were consistent.

“I’m not upset, I understand.” Simon adds after a moment, his hands shoved deep in his pockets of his hoodie.

“Simon.. I.. I’m sorry.. I’ve been going through a lot. And i didnt .. I couldn't face you after that. Not, not that you did anything wrong. Because you didn't! I mean you were great. I just,” You run a hand through your hair. “God, this is not how I wanted this to go.”

“Breathe. Love, breathe.” Simons hands cup your face and you freeze. “It’s okay, like I said I'm not upset with you,” he lets his hands drop, and you nod.

“I didn't know you knew Soap,” He muses, leaning against the wall. You shuffle your feet, taking a deep breath.

“Yeah… I met him the same night I met you… You know him too, yeah?”

“Soap, Gaz, Price and I all serve together,” Simon rubs the back of his neck with his hand, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“Oh! I don't know how I didn't pick up that you were military,” You bite your lip looking down at his black boots.

“We didn't exactly get to know each other very much that night..” Simon says, and a small blush creeps up your cheeks at the mention of your night together. “So what brings you here tonight?” Simon asks.

The familiar feeling of nausea swirls in your stomach again, you clench your fists, nails biting into your palm. Something you have come to do a lot over the past few months. “I came here to ask about you, actually. I needed to talk to you..” You whisper, and Simon's brows furrow.

“Well you found me.. What did you need to talk about?” He asks, as you chew your bottom lip. Anxiety creeps into your chest, wrapping itself around your lungs like an icy hand. The air rushes from your lungs, your eyes burning with tears.

How the hell could you turn this man's life upside down?

“Hey, hey,” Simon whispers, his large hands clasp your shoulders steadying you. The world feels a million miles away, like you were floating out in space untethered. Everything sounds muffled, and the lights are suddenly too bright in the hallway. You raise your shaky hands, running them through your hair. A large hand guides you down the hall a little until the bitter cold air of winter in London hits you. You gasp, your lungs filling with the cold air, goosebumps break out along your heated skin.

The world slowly comes back into focus, soft murmuring in your ear as large arms wrap around your middle holding you against a solid chest. “Breathe, you’re alright, you’re okay… Just breathe, Love.” Simon murmurs into your ear. Tears fall from your eyes, trails of hot tears stream down your cold cheeks.

“I’m sorry I left that night…” you gasp in between sobs, “and i am so sorry im going to say this…” You whisper the last part. At first you aren't sure Simon heard you but after a moment he turns you around. His arms are still around you as he looks down at you, your teeth starting to chatter from emotion and the wind.

“Whatever you have to say can't be that bad, love. Did you find out you had some like STI or something? Do I need to get tested?” He asks, his brown eyes searching your tear stained face. His hands moving up and down your body in an attempt to warm you up and comfort you at the same time.

You shake your head, if only an STI was the least of your problems. “N-no, i didn't give you anything like that…” you choke out.

Simon watches you as you stand face to face with him in the same alley you met him in 3 months ago. Although this time you’re different, instead of the woman who was caught in her own head. Who was running from demons he couldn't see, trying her best to show the world it couldn't break her. Instead standing in front of him was a woman who was scared, who looked so lost in the world, like she was barely hanging on. He studies you, even as you stand in front of him crying, your entire body shaking. You were still beautiful, and he would be lying if he said he didn't think about you.

You had haunted him every moment since he heard you leave the apartment. When he heard the door click shut it took everything in him not to follow you out. But he didn’t, he laid there staring up at the ceiling until almost 5, before he got up and started making himself some tea. It was then he noticed the note you left your swirling handwriting on the scarp paper wishing him well. He was saddened to see you hadn’t left a way to contact you, but part of him understood. He had offered you a chance to get out of your head for a while. He hadn’t asked you on a date. He DIDN'T date.

The onslaught of disappointment was tough for him to swallow. Simon was never upset when a woman he brought to bed left with no goodbye, and a hasty note. Simon preferred it that way, it was better if the one night stands didn’t stick around but for some reason Simon couldn’t stop thinking about you. About how your curves felt beneath his palms. The silky smooth expanse of your skin. The way your moans stirred something deep in him, or the way your eyes told him more than you ever would.

Now as he looked down at you, standing in the darkened alley way. He knew whatever you wanted to say was about to bring his world crashing down. But instead of the overwhelming feeling to flee, that he normally had when confronting emotional issues like this. Simon wanted to hold you close and tell you that it was okay, that whatever it was you could face it and make it out the other side. During his years of doing interrogations and studying people he had learnt the signs of when someone was teetering on the edge. It was clear in your face and body language that you were one gentle gust of wind from toppling over. Crumbling into pieces he wasn’t sure anyone could put back together.

“What is it then Sweetheart? I’ll help you figure it out, whatever it is.” He whispers, pulling you closer to him, his body heat seeping into you, as the wind blows. You sniffle, your shaking hands coming up to swipe at the tears under your eyes. You take one last breath, eyes closed as you brace yourself.

“I’m pregnant.”

It’s like the world stopped spinning.

Time was suddenly suspended, as you pried your eyes open to look at Simon. His brown eyes were guarded. His brows pulled together, as his hands stopped their motions for a fraction of a second. Your lungs burned from holding your breath, your throat tight. Every muscle in your body was tense, as you waited for him to say something. Do something. You needed some sort of reaction from him. Yelling, screaming, swearing, anything was better than the earth shattering silence that took place after you muttered the two words you hadn’t yet said out loud since you found out.

It wasn’t like you planned on getting pregnant by your one night stand. Hell. It was the LAST thing you wanted. You were always careful to get your birth control shot every 3 months. But with the chaos of the last few months, somewhere along the line you must’ve missed your last appointment. It wasn’t until you went into your appointment earlier today to get a shot that they had informed you they couldn’t administer it. That you were already pregnant.

“Okay.”

The word shocks you, and for a moment you aren’t sure you hear him right. You raise an eyebrow, as you look at Simon.

“Okay?” You ask.

“Yeah, okay. We’ll figure it out.” Simon states, his hands resuming their soothing motion up and down your sides.

“You’re not.. not going to freak out?” You whisper.

“There’s nothing to freak out about, this isn’t just going to go away. So we need to talk about our options, and we will. Just got standing in the back alley of a pub.”

“Okay…” you whisper, as Simon’s hands guide you towards the emergency exit door that he brought you through. The inside of the bar is louder than before, more people have shown up. Soap, Gaz and Price are all talking at the end of the bar. Your glass of water is filled and sitting on a napkin. They all look over when you two walk over.

“Ghost, Soap was just telling me that you and y/n know each other. Small world isn’t it?” Gaz smiles, his brown eyes looking between us.

“We do,” Simon turns to Price, “I’m going to be bringing her home, I’ll see you at 0600 tomorrow, Captain.”

There’s a look that passes between Price and Simon, but he just nods, then turns towards you. “I hope to see you again, dear, maybe next time we can all have a nice meal.”

“Maybe,” you smile, after waving goodbye to Soap and Gaz, Simon leads you out to the street where the cars are parked.

“Did you drive here?” He asks, looking down at you.

“No I took the bus,” you shove your hands into the pockets of your coat. It was still wet from where the guy spilt his drink, and you shivered.

“I’ll drive you home,” Simon takes your hand, pulling you towards his truck. He pulls open the passenger door and waits for you to get settled in the seat before shutting it. You run your hands together as Simon climbs into the driver's seat. He starts the truck, turning the heat on high.

“Where do you live?” He asks, as he turns on the headlights.

“On Ashton street, the apartment complex there” from the corner of your eye you see Simon visibly stiffened, but he doesn’t say anything as he pulls away from the curb. The ride is mainly quiet, neither one of you having much to say. As you get closer to your apartment your anxiety starts to grow again. What if he tells you to get rid of it?

Is that what you wanted? What if he decided he would rather give it up for adoption? Would he help you find a family? Maybe he would tell you he didn’t want anything to do with a baby? Could you deal with a baby? Bile burns in the back of your throat, and you try to swallow it back down. You weren’t about to throw up all over his nice truck. The grimy bathroom of a bar was one thing, but Simon’s leather interior of his car was not an option. Simon turns down a side street, there weren’t many streetlights on this stretch of the drive. You try to focus on the passing shadows but the rolling and twisting in you hug doesn’t let up.

“Can you pull over please?” You whisper, and Simon glances at you. Your hands bunched in the fabric of your coat, your eyes closed as you take deep breaths. Simon eases the car over, barely putting the car in park before you flung the door open and hop out. You move a few feet into the woods, your hands scraping against the tough bark of a tree, as you get sick. Bile burns your throat and nose, tears stream down your cheeks.

Warm hands gather the hair from your face and hold it back. Holding your hair back with one hand the other rubs up and down your back. It takes several minutes of dry heaving for you to be able to stand up. A handkerchief is suddenly floating in front of you. You take it and wipe your mouth with it, shoving it into your pocket after.

“You okay?” Simon asks, as you take a deep breath.

“Yeah, I’m okay, sorry..” you mumble, as you turn back to the car and climb back in. Simon doesn’t say anything as he climbs in and continues to drive to your apartment. As he parks his car, he glances around, his eyes resting on the boarded up windows of the glass door.

“Everything okay?” You ask, noticing as he stares at the glass like he’s trying to get it to tell him what happened to it.

“Yeah. Sorry, let’s go inside,” he mumbles, climbing out and coming to your side. He pulls open your door and offers you a hand. You walk towards the building Simon’s entire body is tense as some residents barrel out of the door. They’re shouting and swearing as they stumble out, a lit cigarette dangling from their fingers. Simon pushes you behind him, as they pass, he watches as they head over to a parked car and continue arguing in front of it.

“They’ll stop arguing after a while. They do this often..” you mutter to Simon as you take his hand pulling him towards the door. He grunts and follows you up the three flights of stairs to your apartment. You hesitate, your hand on the knob as you take a deep breath. Entering was always the hardest part now, every time your hand touches the handle the images of your family break through the mental box you shoved them into. You let out the breath you were holding and pushed open the door. Flicking on the light switch next to the door.

Your eyes falling on the empty couch against the far wall in the living room. Some of the tension leaves your shoulders as you stare at the threadbare fabric. You step further into the apartment allowing Simon to slip in behind you. He turns the locks on the door, and reaches down unlacing his boots.

“I don't have much to offer.. Is water okay?” You ask as you shrug off your alcohol stained coat. The fabric is a sticky mess, the fabric ruined from the drink spilt on it at the bar. Tossing it onto the counter, you head over to the cabinet and take down two glasses.

“Water is okay,” Simon walks into your living room and takes a seat. He watches you fill the two glasses with water and you come and sit on the other side of the couch, handing him the glass.

“When did you find out?” Simons asks, taking his face mask off and shoving it into his pocket and taking a sip of water.

“This afternoon… I went in to get my birth control shot and they make you do a pregnancy test…” You pull your legs up to your chest, holding the glass of water in one hand. The other hand wraps around your shins keeping them pulled up to your chest.

“Did they tell you how far along you are?” He asks, “So we know what our options are, I mean.”

“They said based on the blood work, 12 weeks. But I have to go in to get an ultrasound next week..”

“Okay, so we don't have a lot of time to make a choice… have you thought about what you want to do?” Simon sets his glass down on the table next to the couch.

“I .. I don't know.. I was waiting to hear what you had to say before I made up my mind.” You mumble, your eyes trained on a spot of carpet that is fraying.

“If I'm being honest, I never wanted kids. They were never in my cards… I'm not saying I don't like them, kids are great, I just never pictured myself having any,,” he admits.

Your heart sinks.

Here we go, he's going to tell you to get rid of it, and tell you to delete his number, forget he exists and move on with your life.

“But, with you, it feels right.. There's just something about you that I can't get out of my head and at the risk of sounding like a total barbarian. The thought of having you in my life until I die because of this baby fills me with excitement. I wanted to go after you when you snuck out of my apartment but I didn't want you to be uncomfortable. The night I spent with you was one of the best nights I've ever had. So if you would like to, I would love the chance to raise this baby with you. Even if it's as friends and nothing more. Because I know that you were put into my life for a reason, and I'm going to take any chance I can get to keep you around,” Simon finishes, his hand coming to rest on your ankle.

You sit there for a few moments, mind reeling with everything he just said to you. He wanted to raise a baby with you? Just so he could get to know you? Did you really have that much of a profound effect on him? Would he still feel the same when he found out what had happened to you? Could you do this? I mean really do this?

Babies are huge commitments. They were for life; there was no backing out. But the way Simon was looking at you, like he would take on the world for you with barely knowing you. It made you feel like you could do it. As long as you didn't have to do it alone, well, at least not completely. You chew on your bottom lip for a few more minutes, the thoughts rolling around in your head as Simon's eyes trail around your apartment.

“Okay…” you finally whisper and Simon's head whips towards you.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay. I-i don't think i can get rid of it anyway… The thought makes me feel sick,” you confess and the tension in Simon's shoulders all but disappears.

“Alright, we can figure this out. No pressure for us to be together, we can just start by becoming friends, and seeing where things go okay?” He smiles, and its a real genuine smile. Your heart stutters in your chest, and you can't help your own smile that spreads across your lips.

“If we’re being honest here,” you sigh, wringing your hands together in your lap,”I couldn't stop thinking about you either… I mean, even before all… yeah.. You know.”

Simon's hand comes over to rest on the side of your face, and he leans forward pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I'm glad to hear that I wasn't the only one with lingering thoughts,” he chuckles.

Simon drops his hand and looks around your place once more, a furrow deep in his brow. He opens his mouth to say something but thinks better of it, before he notices the time on the clock hanging on your wall. It was almost 10 and he needed to check over his gear before he shipped out in the morning.

“I hate to do this… but I have to go,” his lips pulled down into a thin straight line.

“Oh right.. You told Price you would see him in the morning…”

“Yeah… Look, i can't tell you much, but i don't know how long i’ll be gone…” he looks around, and grabs the notebook you write your ideas for articles down in and scribbles on a spare piece. “This is my number, i won't promise i’ll respond while i'm away, but if anything happens, call this number 3 times in a row and you’ll get through to someone who can get a message to me okay? But that is only for emergencies, otherwise just text me and i’ll do my best to get back to you, alright?” He tears the paper out, coming to stand in front of you. He presses the paper into your hand. It crumples slightly as you close your hand around it.

“Okay,” you murmur, looking up at him from your spot on the couch. His fingers crush along your cheek as he brushes a strand of your hair back from your face.

“Be safe, keep the door locked… i’ll be back soon and we’ll go do something fun and get to know each other.” Simon smiles, as he takes a few steps backwards towards the door.

“I’ll hold you to it,” you smile, “Be safe out there.”

The only response is the soft click of the door.

Next: Part 4

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tobylix-blog · 7 months ago

Text

Gratitude - Aragorn x f!Reader

Content & Warnings: platonic, fluff(ish) Word count: 3.6k Summary: Aragorn returns to become a king and pay back for the kindness of a merchant's daughter, whom he has met during his past visit to Minas Tirith.

You open the store once again. The city is wrecked. The siege was barely three days ago. But the market is the first place to come back to life. As long as it's loud and busy the city lives. Your storage is filled. By some miracle no fire or stone has touched your street. You fix the door open and hang out a long piece of cloth - a sign that the store is working. You turn back to tidy up the shelves behind the counter when someone steps in. Judging by the sound of voices several people come in at once.

"A minute, gentlemen, I'm almost with you," you say over the shoulder, not quite looking at them yet.

The voices are quiet, and for a moment all is silent in the store. Then a loud thud comes. You turn to see a whole bag of coins on the counter as a rich, melodious voice sounds from among the men.

"My friends will need the finest clothes for the coronation and so will you, miss".

Your eyes slowly rise from the counter to the man speaking. His familiarity strikes as a low blow. His appearance changed drastically and yet hardly noticeably. He stands proud and is wearing fine clothing with the White tree of Gondor on it, but the gaze of his gray eyes is as piercing as before.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The street is busy with people. Morning rush in the market doesn't fade until noon when the sun gets just too high. Through dozens of conversations unfolding between merchants and customers bargaining over the goods, old friends who suddenly met in the middle of chaos and servants figuring out how to get it over with sooner, you hear a distinct male voice saying. "Get lost, outlander! Northerners are out of their mind if they think I will sell them even a piece of shit! Damn rangers."

You recognize the voice. The trader from the armory a few doors down the street. As threatening as he appears, he isn't usually that hostile to customers. From your point of view, two steps above the ground you can only see the dark hair of the man he scolds. Man is saying something back but his voice you can't quite hear. Instead a loud response comes from the inside of the armory.

"Put your silver up your thin arse! Get away from my store before I put a hammer through your head," this time it's the smith himself. You shiver a bit hearing his rough voice.

Stranger only stays in front of the armorer's shop for a moment before moving on. You finally see him fully when he appears from the crowd. Tall and dark-haired he doesn't seem all that different from men of Gondor. His clothes give away the fact that he is indeed a Ranger. You hear more sneers following him from the other side of the street where old men sell leather. Their tannery is actually a few streets down from here, but they still keep a display in the busiest part of the market. Unpleasant fellows. They even got in a quarrel with your father a few times trying to steal his customers. Probably that's why you take a step down from the door and call out to the stranger. There's no other explanation at all.

"Ranger! Come look at our fabrics. Best broadcloth in all Minas Tirith! Vast selection and best prices for you."

The Ranger stops, looks around for a moment, and seeing the wares through the open door makes his way down to look over them. He looks at the materials laid out on the counter over, fingers them, and seems intrigued by the selection. He reaches out to examine a particularly colorful one.

"You have a very good selection here. Are these local, or imported? They look very fine."

You may be only 13 years old, but you know the goods well. "These wools are gondorian. Look at the quality here. There are none like this anywhere in Arnor. I also suggest these linen fabrics delivered from Linhir," you say imitating your father's manner of speech.

The Ranger smiles faintly at seeing you so assured in your speech and so young. He looks over the wools and linens.

"Linhir, eh? Impressive that you get such high quality goods from so far away." He looks back at you with visible curiosity. "Are you the shop owner's daughter?"

"I am," you confirm and after a little pause pull a length of dyed linen from underneath the counter. "This one is rarely to anyone's liking but you seem to be fitting the description of 'not anyone', if I'm not mistaken. Take it. There's enough for a good shirt."

The Ranger smiles more broadly this time, and picks up the length of linen. He examines it thoroughly, and nods slowly.

"You've got a sharp eye, to guess that I'm someone who doesn't blend in, lass," he says with a touch of humor in his voice. "And this is definitely worth the coin. How much are you asking for it?"

You name the price. He rummages his pockets for a moment before cold coins drop heavy in your palm. "There's more than needed. I'll be right back…" you say and rush into the house. For a minute only some shuffling is heard. Then you return to the counter.

"Here," you tell the Ranger. "Change and well… everything."

You pass him a coin of change and a small bundle. The Ranger pockets the change, and then takes a look inside the wrap. After a moment, he smiles faintly again.

"Is it common practice for you to throw in a meal with your sales?" he asks, amused.

You feel blush creeping up your face. "If the tavern owners are half as hospitable as the blacksmiths are, you will need it."

The Ranger laughs at that, and his smile remains afterwards. "You've an excellent point, lass. The hospitality of tavern owners seems to be in constant decline. And I'm not sure about the blacksmiths either."

It's clear in his voice that he's jesting, though he is obviously remembering his earlier confrontation with the blacksmith. You watch him put on the hood of his cloak as he walks away blending in with the crowd. You don't remember much from the rest of that day, except for occasional sidelong glance from the leather men. No wonder you don't. It's been over eight years since then.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Many thoughts arise at once, clouding your mind like a swarm. Yet they all are silenced by one phrase, that a dwarf says. "What is the meaning of this, Aragorn?" He says something else about how it's not the king's duty to walk from stall to stall, choosing fabrics, but it doesn't matter.

You slowly slide off the stool you were standing on, by some wonder landing on your feet and not gashing your knees against the wooden floor. The words are pounding in your head. Yes, that's right. People surrounding him are.. not exactly people. An elf, a dwarf and two hobbits. Just as the rumor has it. The king has friends of other races and folks.

Your body is stiff when you muster a bow to him. This tall man, Ranger you once met, turned out to be the last living heir to the throne. Some absolutely mad joke of fate that might be.

"It's an honor to see you here, my king. Though I must apologize for the disorder and lack of manner," you manage to utter finally.

He smiles faintly at your bow. "It's good to see you again, lass," he says, raising a hand to forestall any further apologies. "And there's no need to apologize. Your manner is fine, especially given the circumstances."

He leans forward a bit, eyes still sparkling with the faintest hint of mischief. "You seemed surprised just now when you saw me. As if you've seen a ghost walk into your shop."

"It isn't everyday that a faintly familiar ranger pays a visit… and happens to become a king, your majesty," you say. Your eyes dart from one of his companions to another until you settle with the image. From there on your steps are fast and words are even faster as you fall into the usual pattern of work. It helps to set all worries aside.

"Midnight blue and ink black broadcloth for Gimli, son of Gloin," you arrange the fabrics on top of the counter before the dwarf. "Goes well along with both gold and silver."

"Bright wools and soft satins for brave hobbits," you speak pulling out lengths of colored textile and showcasing them to Merry and Pippin.

"Silver silk brought all the way from Lorien for honorable Legolas of Mirkwood," you suggest, unsure yet if smuggled wares could meet the request of an elf.

"Linen from Linhir and hemp from Dale for your majesty," you offer a multitude of colors to the future king.

Aragorn's eyebrows rise in mild surprise at the speed with which you handle the various requests. You clearly know your craft, and well. You pick out the colors and patterns with ease. He runs his hands over the soft fabric of the broadcloth you picked out for Gimli. After a moment, he nods slowly.

"Excellent choice for my friend," he says, glancing at the dwarf. Gimli grins back and nods in agreement.

"It's an honor to meet your expectations, my king," you bow slightly under Aragorn's somewhat disapproving gaze.

You watch as the others look through the selected fabrics and nod in agreement, choosing the best fitting ones. Aragorn himself looks rather delighted by the wares. He picks out a length of hemp cloth, turns it over in his hands a few times, examining the weave and texture, and finally gives a satisfied sigh.

"I'm still a Ranger at heart," he says, glancing up at you. "My taste in clothes runs toward the simple and practical. This hemp is just the thing."

He sets the hemp down on the counter and smiles back at you. "I do wonder, though… which one will you choose for yourself?"

Your heart skips a bit at the question. "For myself?" The words leave your mouth before you get a chance to think them through.

Aragorn smiles at your surprised expression. "Of course," he says. "I doubt I need to tell you that the coronation will be a grand event. There will be people, nobles especially, with all the fashion sense and more coin than sense. You will be the only one in something plain and unadorned if you stay away from the occasion."

He looks down at your clothes. You're well-dressed for a trader, a clear sign that the store's profits stay high despite any turmoil, but it's clear that your dress is ordinary, suitable for an ordinary day. "You deserve something better than that."

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand, your majesty…" you mutter. "I might be able to watch the coronation from among the crowd, or standing on the parapet if the luck is good. But my dress makes no difference in that luck."

Aragorn lets out a small huff and shakes his head. "No, lass. You have seen me before, and you weren't among those sneering and showering me with cheap mockery. As far as I'm concerned, you're entitled to a seat of honor at the ceremony. And I'm not letting you take that seat while you've still got your old clothes on."

You look at him in disbelief. This idea seems absolutely mad. You have probably lost your mind during the siege, and now you're imagining the whole thing. That the King, Aragorn, would be in your store personally inviting you as a guest to his coronation and willing to pay for your dress because of some decade old encounter. You shake your head and blink a few times trying to get back to reality. And yet he is still here. The same smirk on his lips as he leans on the counter.

Aragorn's smirk grows a bit wider when he sees your reaction. "Don't doubt your eyes, lass," a hint of humor is present in his voice. "I am standing here. And I am inviting you."

He looks you up and down, taking in your current clothes and appearance. "And if you don't pick something suitable, I'll do it myself, and you won't like it."

At that you only shake your head yet again and turn around facing the many shelves behind the counter. You know the wares like the back of your hand and don't waste much time picking out the more delicate linens and a length of silk from southern Gondor in light blue hues. Aragorn only looks them over once and gives a nod of approval.

"An excellent choice," he says, looking up at you with a smile. "You have an eye for color."

You nod slightly, unable to speak anymore. It all seems so impossible and unreal. Aragorn pays for everything he and his friend choose as well as for the lengths for your own dress; he also leaves behind enough to pay any seamstress in the city for the gown. It's only a few minutes before you're left behind. Alone and bewildered by the meeting.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the next couple of days you pay a visit to a seamstress that once had sewn your mother's wedding dress. She takes the order readily and in the next morning a boy brings back a bundle with the finished gown. It's light and flowing like water in the river. You wait patiently until the day of coronation to finally put it on.

The dress seems to be enchanted somehow. You don't feel like a merchant's daughter walking through the crowd at court, being accompanied by a guard. You don't feel alien standing in the front rows among noble ladies and just a few steps away from lady Eowyn — niece to the late king of Rohan — and lord Faramir — son of the last steward of Gondor. You feel as if this could be some other life prepared for you by fate. And still you can't quite place why the king would step out of his way and do something of that sort for you.

Throughout the whole ceremony you can't tear your eyes away from his silhouette. You recognize the familiar color and texture of fabric, hugging his neck from beneath the armor. You watch him walk regally and at the same time very openly among the guests. Many are his friends. The ceremony ends with his grateful bow to the hobbits as the whole court follows his example. And with that begins the feast.

The great hall of the palace is decorated and festive. The long tables are filled with food and drinks. People flood the hall, taking their places. You watch the whole Fellowship find themselves close to the king. And your own place is somehow not that far away as well. Just among the members of the few remaining noble families of Gondor, blending you in with them.

As the feast progresses more wine bottles are opened. So far you managed to avoid the many cups of wine being offered by neighbors at the table, but it was getting noticeably harder. Some surely mistook you for a daughter of some less well-known, but clearly wealthy family, that would make for a good bride for one of their many sons. Before the direct confrontation becomes unavoidable you get away from the table and into a side gallery. Unsure as to where you should be going, you escape onto a balcony. It's empty and the scenery is beautiful. Fresh air is soothing against the heated skin.

You lean onto the parapet of the balcony, taking this chance to immerse in peace of the early night. Judging by the music, the dancing must have started, and that sounds like another perfect way to excuse yourself from the table later. But before you even decide to head back, you hear the sound of the balcony door slightly creaking at being opened and slow footsteps approaching.

You turn around and recognize Aragorn, who must have found a great time to sneak out of the spotlight relatively unnoticed. Back in the hall he looked nothing like the Ranger you once met, but here in the faint moonlight and subtle orange hues casted from the windows you can spot more similarities than before.

"Good evening, your majesty," you greet him politely with an appropriate bow.

Aragorn smiles faintly at your bow. He steps forward and leans on the parapet next to you. After a moment, he speaks, his voice more casual than it was earlier.

"You know, you don't need to call me by my title. Especially not while we're alone like this."

The suggestion catches you off guard. "I don't quite understand what should I call you then… or why that would even be possible," you confess your doubts.

He looks over at you and raises his eyebrows. "Why would it be possible to call me by my given name? Because I'm allowing it. For the time being, at least."

Aragorn turns to you completely so that he's leaning against the parapet, with one arm resting on it. The simple action bringing color to your face as you get to see him fully. "You met me before I was king. As far as I'm concerned, that means you still have the right to call me something other than 'your majesty' when we are alone, like this."

"There're many people in this city and beyond its walls who have met you before, Aragorn," his name feels almost alien on your tongue. "But I doubt that they all receive the same… treatment."

The king lets out a small huff and smiles faintly. "No, I suppose not. I doubt I'd be able to recognize any of them, for starters. You, however, were more memorable…"

He gives you a brief once-over. "You were more memorable," he repeats, his gaze fixed on you for a moment before he looks away and back out at the city. "It could be a mere coincidence, but I trust my fate and its signs. My visit to Minas Tirith eight years ago was the last one. It was the time when I attempted to make the final decision of whether to follow the path of an heir or give up. The way I was greeted with dozens of insults and many more curses in the streets of the White city was the sign that I assumed to be an advice against pursuing my right for the throne. You showed up before my eyes right when I was ready to give up. So young and eager, so welcoming and confident. I couldn't tear my eyes away from you. You seemed as the very essence of the new Era. You singlehandedly charged something within me with this new will to fight for such future."

You stand there too stunned to say a single word, your mind racing with thoughts. You would never expect to hear something of the kind. The way you acted during that first encounter was a surprise to you as well, as if… well, as if fate pushed you to be more hospitable and welcoming to this stranger.

The more you keep thinking about his words the brighter the scarlet tone on your cheeks turns. You try to get rid of the definitely wrong ideas you got, but they just keep reappearing in your troubled mind.

Aragorn glances over at you and takes notice of the shade of red creeping over your cheeks. He can't help but give a small chuckle. "And now you're blushing again. I wonder why?"

He reaches forward and carefully takes your chin, his hand tilting your face up towards him slightly. "What could possibly be going through that mind of yours, I wonder…"

Your eyes dart to his with righteous indignation. "You know what!" you exclaim rather impolitely, but continue in a much calmer, quieter manner. "How could you be speaking of fate so easily…"

Aragorn lifts an eyebrow in amusement as your voice rises then falls off again. His grip loosens a little, his fingers now resting on your cheek, still turning your face to look up at him.

"You don't like the concept of fate?" he asks, with a faint smile. "You don't think the right people can meet at the right time?"

"No, that's not what I meant. However, you sound so sure of the way you interpret those signs of fate. As humans we are only able to follow the path prepared for us, not knowing what lays ahead, aren't we?" you say trying to explain your mind's confusion. "But you seem to understand more, and that seems impossible to me. Especially, when," you pause for a moment searching for the right words. "When I somehow get involved in your fate."

He looks at your expression, studying your eyes and face, his fingers still touching your skin as he speaks.

"You are involved in my fate," Aragorn says, his voice low and serious. "You have been for a long time, whether you knew it or not. But I knew it. Not long after we first met. I knew there was a greater purpose to that encounter, even if you did not. And I made sure to be grateful for your timely appearance. Though I must admit there might be more than just gratefulness…"

He removes his hand from your face and makes a few steps towards the door back into the hall before turning around and facing you once more. "Dancing will continue for another hour, but it would be a shame if the king doesn't dance even once because a beautiful lady decided to spend her whole night on a balcony, right?"

Your gaze glides over his hopeful gray eyes and faint smile until it finally lands on his outstretched hand.

#aragorn x reader #lotr #lotr x reader #aragorn #oneshot

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animemensblog · 2 years ago

Text

Invisible

Gojo x gn!reader

Summary: what happens when Gojo meets someone who is immune to his six eyes?

No warnings :)

It was a hot day, sun beaming down and causing sweat to build along your hairline. Your headphones weren't helping with the soft muff cupping your ear and rubbing against your skin. Although it's tolerable in the shade, that means nothing when you decided today all your errands would be done by walking or train.

As you turn the corner you notice a small convenient store with a huge sign advertising 'buy one get one' on all cold items during the summer. The choices were clear; spend more money to cool off or finish walking home and die the second you enter your no ac apartment.

When you opened the store door you could feel the vibration of the bell and a faint ringing that seemed to last forever. Your feet were sore but weren't dragging, they almost felt like they were floating. You reach down in the fridge, grabbing water and a juice. The condensation quickly dripped off your hands and onto the ground, as the drop falls it splatters and hits your leg.

You stare at the water dropping towards your ankle, soaking a part of your sock. It quickly becomes uncomfortable, and what better way to ignore it other than changing your playlist?

You start shuffling to the counter, standing behind a tall white haired man waiting in line. As it moves forward, you can hear the cashier and the customer talking very loudly. As if their heads are against your chest and yelling into it, the vibrating and thumping echoed in your lungs and stomach.

As you click on a new song, an awkward laugh in front of you erupts, shortly after the stranger turned around and hit you. His arms had swung and threw you to the ground, along with your drinks and phone which managed to disappear. When you look up he's standing there, staring like he saw a ghost, his eyes were blown wide and his mouth partially agape.

At first, you thought he was just shocked. I mean, wouldn't you be if you hit someone to the ground? Then, you noticed your shorts slid down your thighs, revealing the rather brightly colored underwear peaking through. Your legs shut as you stand up, giving him a nasty glare and a meek "pervert".

Gojo on the other hand can't grasp how he didn't notice you, or even hear you behind him. His six eyes are supposed to help him, right? So how did he miss you approaching, standing there for minutes and managed to throw you to the ground? It didn't make sense.

"I'm not a pervert" Gojo says as he follows you around the store

"Your stalking says otherwise"

His pace picks up so he's less than a foot behind you, "ha! I bet you wish that's what I was doing!" He says, striking a small pose in hopes you'd notice. "Really, I just want to make sure you're ok-"

You turn around, almost chest to chest. Usually he'd be excited someone so pretty came so close but that look said maybe he shouldn't be happy. "Leave me alone" you spit before going back to searching, he watches as you turn into the isle to the right and follows.

"I can help you, ya know! I've been told my sight is the best" he boasts, turning into the isle he saw you go into.

"Really? Because you didn't see me at all before" you mumble behind him, once again he quickly turns around to find you kneeling.

"How are you doing that?" His tone had switched, it sounded like he was worried, concerned. Almost upset.

"Kneeling?" You question

"No! That's not what-" He shakes his head and sighs, they're just a normal person he thinks to himself. "Nevermind" he sighs again, then went back to looking for your drinks.

You think finally, he's gonna leave me alone. Thats until he's yelling for you from another isle, "ohhh strangerrrr!" He says dramatically, "I found your drinksss!" You can see him waving his lanky arms over the shelving.

"Most annoying man I've ever met, and I've known him less than an hour. This is some bullshit for an already bullshit day.." you continue mumbling as you almost stomp to the other side.

When you turn the corner, he's still waving his arms. He truly looked ridiculous with that big ass smile, jumping up and down like he's done the impossible. You sharply inhale before getting a running start- if he isn't going to acknowledge you when you're in the same isle, you'll just have to get it back on your own.

Despite how loud the impact of your feet was, to everyone else they were silent like paper landing completely flat on tile floor. You jump up as soon as he comes down and yank the bottles from his hands then landing before you hit the fridges. The only sound anyone else heard was you landing- the running, deep breaths and mumbling had gone unnoticed.

For a third time, the Gojo Satoru couldn't see or hear you. You. A normal person he just happened to run into while he was picking up snacks for himself, Geto and Shoko.

"You're quite annoying, you know that?" You ask as you make your way back down the isle towards the counter. Gojo doesn't realize when he started walking, gravity was just pulling him towards you. It was screaming that he needed to know who you are, how you operate, every detail a human can possibly know about themselves. More specifically, he wants to know if you're good or bad, if you're loyal or untrustworthy, if you're single or taken.

He marches up beside you with (and you hate to admit it) a charming and bright smile. He nudges your hands out of the way and pays the cashier, then turns to you and only gives you one of the bottles.

"You can have the other one later!" He says smuggly before snatching his receipt from the guys hand.

"You're a cute couple" the worker says.

"What? Ew no" you argue while leaving Gojo at the counter. He's embarrassed to say the least and only shrugs as he follows you, again.

He silently, and blindly, followed you halfway back to your apartment before you turned around to acknowledge him. "Are you actually a stalker or something?" He takes a step closer to hover over you, placing a tiny flick to your forehead.

"How are you going to hear my answer if you're wearing those headphones?" He softly asks

"I can hear perfectly fine, unlike you." Your eyes narrow at him and he chuckles. That gentle laugh has your heart skipping a beat or two.

He hums as he opens your water and takes a gulp. "Hey! That's mine you creep" you say as you try to grab it.

"I'm not a creep!" He laughs, raising his arm above his head.

"You wouldn't be following me if you weren't" you say inbetween jumps.

He once again avoids the question, this time by walking around you. "Where we heading?" He asks

"I'm heading home, you're leaving me alone."

"Aw why can't I come?" He pouts, you scoff at him while you cross the street.

"Isn't it obvious? You're a strange man following me like a lost puppy. Of course you don't belong in my house."

"But I want to go!" Gojo whines

"Why?"

Why does he want to, he wonders, is there even an appropriate answer?

"I wanna know you" he mumbles as he looks down at you, waiting to see your reaction. He imagined it as cute, sweet maybe, instead your eyebrows are furrowed and you looked mad. And yet, you let him follow you. In silence, of course.

Your mom did say make friends. I mean, she never said bring strangers into your home, especially when they borderline harassed you. But you can't shake him off, plus he's seems nice? However nice someone can be after bothering and assaulting you.

You turn onto your street and stop, "how do I know you're not going to hurt me?" Your voice sounded weak to him, even softer than when you called him a pervert earlier.

"Why would I hurt you?"

"Why would you wanna get to know me?"

He chuckles, "why wouldn't I?"

You wanted to gag. What was this, a love sitcom?

"I'll tell you what-" you take a deep breath, "I'll give you my number and if I decide you're not a creep, or a pervert or a stalker, or-"

"I get it" he says as he rubs the back of his neck

"If I somehow decide you're not any of those things, I guess we can hangout."

"Hangout?! It'd be a date!"

You pull out a pen from your bag and grab his arm, "Just because you're not a disgusting man, doesn't mean I'll go out with you. It just means you can get to know me, like you said."

"Yeahh but I meant like I'd take you out to dinner or something."

"Then tell me that." you chuckle, a sound that was music to his ears.

"I'd like to take you out to dinner, or something."

"You're weird" you laugh and walk away, when you hear him following you shooed him away and disappeared down a small alley.

When Gojo looks down at his arm, ready to immediately put it in his phone, he sees '9-1-1' and "get help <3" written.

#jujutsu gojo #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo saturo #jjk x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jjk satoru #satoru

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thetxtdevil · 9 months ago

Text

Royal Guard pt. 1

Taehyun x Reader

Inspired by the author @page-matcha

Royal!fem!reader touching herself late at night in her personal chambers while guard!taehyun stands outside her door at his post hearing every single noise you let out. But he's forced to stay outside and stay in his spot.

this was just so good that i had to write something.

content: smutty, royal!fem!reader, guard!taehyun, female masturbation, slight perv tae, my grammar and spelling has left the building a long time ago…

word count: 1.5k

you were the most exquisite maiden of the palace. effortlessly wearing the tightest corset with the most intricate embroidery and gowns that swayed with every move you made. you had people's heads turning, girls wanted to be you, men wanted you. being the kingdom's only princess was the cherry on top. however, with the outmost beauty you had, it left people astonished with your lack of husband even lack of courting.

spending time with your friends in the garden next to the palace. they were chatty and you found it entertaining.

"ooo he's cute." one of your friends points out a gentlemen.

the others giggle and agree while you smile at him but ignore the opportunity.

"ugh come on y/n you have to be interested in someone"

"you cannot force love it just has to happen" you say calmly as your eye up a batch of tulips.

your friends roll their eyes and they continue to look at bachelors. you were pretty but you were also smart. you are not going to settle with a simple man you had to find the perfect one. as a princess you were also a romantic and needed some romance in your life.

having enough of the hot sun and your loud friends you retire to the castle. a few maids surround you, one giving you water to drink, the other patting down a cool towel on you. your eye then catches a familiar face, a guard that the queen, your mother, tends to trust the most. he looked like he had a mission to get somewhere and wanting to know where your mother is you rushed to him after thanking the maids. you pick up your floor length gown so you could speed walk to the guard.

"excuse me"

the guard instantly stops and turns to you.

"yes you majesty"

surprised by his quickness and his great features you struggle to remember what you were about to ask.

"if you're wondering about the queen's whereabouts she is in the library, please don't mind my assumptions"

you smile lightly to him "i was wondering that"

"i was about to go there, would you like me to escort you?" the guard says while sticking his arm out for you to hold onto

"yes, i would like that very much" you smile at him again "and remind me your name"

"i am lieutenant general taehyun your majesty"

as you both arrive the library taehyun opens the door for you. you thank him before you were greeted by your queen mother's presence. you walk towards her.

"nice to see my beautiful tulip, grab a book a read with me"

you gladly do as she says and start looking for a novel. the cathedral windows light up the tall shelves of books, twirling around you settle on one area. looking closely at the titles of the books, you set your eye on one. reaching up to grab it you find your height betrays you. next thing you know a hand reaches high than yours to grab the spine of the book.

you look over at your hero which turns out to be taehyun. "thank you"

"you're welcome princess, my i say you picked a good book"

"that's good to hear, it look interesting"

you look up at the man who's looking at you with such warmth. you can't help but get lost in his big brown eyes. butterflies start to flutter in your stomach. you mother glances from her book to see you and her trusted guard. she smirks to herself keeping her thoughts to self and continues reading.

taehyun's puppy eyes suddenly turn into a stone-cold gaze as he realizes he was staring at the princess for an inappropriate amount of time.

"enjoy your book my princess" he says bowing to you

you head towards the lounge chairs you mother was laying on. every now and then you would glance at the guard feeling those butterflies again.

"i have an event in the palace tonight, would you like to join?"

you look over at your mother sighing. you go to so many events as your duty being a princess it can get tiring.

"I would like to politely decline"

besides your mind had other things to do tonight. you mother softly pinches your cheek as she smiles at you accepting your decline.

---

the sun was setting from your library day with your queen mother. you have parted ways a long time ago to do your own things. your mother was looking over what has already been prepared for the event of the night. as she straighten out the fabrics upon the table an idea pops into her head.

raising her hand for a guard to come she says "can you bring lieutenant general taehyun to me"

taehyun was outside the palace yard looking over the horses, testing their fitness and skills. he notices a fellow guard rushing to him.

"the queen summons thee"

guard taehyun rushes through the dimly lit castle halls. he finally gets to the ballroom being used tonight. the queen was talking to the maids and butler as she gets a glimpse of the guard.

"your highness"

"hello taehyun, I have an assignment for you tonight"

"yes your highness, anything I will do for you"

"can you be princess y/n's chamber guard tonight?"

taehyun gulps, he was about to question his presense on the event but decides to settle the conversation.

"will do, your highness" he bows and starts towards your chamer.

---

as he arrives the current guard informs him that you had just finished your bath. taehyun then tells the guard that their duty is now to look over the ballroom. your chamber doors are open wide revealing to taehyun the beautiful architecture of your room. wide windows that look over the kingdom one side and a big lake on the other side. your bed was in the middle with purple silk sheets and pastel color drapes encapsulating it.

you walk out with a towel in your hand drying your hair. you gasp as you see a man in your room but relax when you see it was the very handsome guard taehyun.

"sorry to scare you, your majesty, i am your guard tonight"

"oh" you say shyly

"is there something wrong?"

"no, i was just hoping to have alone time tonight"

"do not worry about me your majesty i will be just outside your chamber doors

you nod at him with a small smile. taehyun stares at you, admiring the silk slip you're wearing that matched your bedding. he straighten his posture when he caught himself glancing at the curves of your breasts. he bows to you and walks outside the chamber hiding from your sight but still within range.

you blush at the guards lingering gazes. once he was out of sight you threw your towel and fall down on your bed. you felt relaxed not having to worry about being a proper princess at the moment. fully getting into bed you open your book and start reading it, but as you're reading the feeling of butterflies keep filling your stomach. you can't help but imagine guard taehyun's handsome features being close to you again. letting those big veiny hands roam your pristine body.

you let your hand caress your breast you lean your head back on your plush pillows. your book forgotten, you let your hand fill up your sore breast from the very tight corset making a few soft sighs leave your lips. your legs were rubbing together trying to create friction on your soaking heat. you slide your dominate hand down to your already bare cunt. middle finger slipping against your folds making you sigh once more.

taehyun was a vigilant guard watching over every atom outside your personal chamber, but then he hears a small noise. he dismisses the fact until he hears it again, he walks across the rooms door trying to see if anyone is around the corner, but there was no one. as he gets back to his post he glances into your room. there he sees the most unholy sight of your pretty thighs spread apart showing off your fucked out face, your breasts bouncing from you fucking yourself with your fingers.

it takes a lot out of tae to stop himself from going into your chambers and replacing your small digits with his. with his greatest strength he goes back to his guarding spot.

there he stands there listening to every moan, whine, and whimper coming out of your pretty lips.

there he stands getting uncomfortably hard against his suit. forced to stay outside, forced to stay loyal and protective.

read -> pt. 2

A nuisance,

TxT's Devil + @page-matcha

#txt imagines #txt hard thoughts #txt hard hours #txt smut #txt thoughts #txt devil #taehyun smut #txt x reader #txt x y/n #txt x you #taehyun x y/n #taehyun x reader #taehyun x you #taehyun scenarios #kang taehyun

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okchijt · 1 year ago

Note

Just noticed you've updated your masterlist and I just knew I had to make this request

Can I please ask for some basic headcanons of Harvey Dent from Telltale Batman???

Author's Note: Thank you so much Anon for the request! I love this man, I love him so much in this game. If there was a Harvey route then you might as well say I went for it all the way lmao. I have such brainrot for this man so again, thank you so much for wanting me to write for him! Also, all of these HCs take place before Harvey gets drugged cause he didn't deserve to go through all of that and not get an antidote😔 And lastly, go ahead and check out my masterlist if you like what you just read and if you want to request anything yourself, thank you, and enjoy!🩷

Harvey Dent Romantic Headcanons

🪙 Harvey would be the type of boyfriend to worship the ground you walk on. Well, maybe not that extreme but it's close! If his ''relationship'' with Selina is anything to go by then you just know this man is devoted and head over heels in love with you! He's super soft and romantic with you, wanting nothing more than to make you the center of his universe. He's basically the dream boyfriend type of guy.

🪙 As much as Harvey adores the idea of Gotham City knowing you two are together, he'd begrudgingly make sure to not show you off in front of cameras, paparazzi, and reporters. It's all for the sake of your safety, with all the stuff that came out about the Wayne's he doesn't want the same thing to happen to the two of you if by any chance anything ever came out against him. He doesn't want you to be caught in the crossfire, no matter if you'd be involved or not in anything he does when it comes to making political choices. He just doesn't want you to go down with him because he loves you too much to allow yourself to get hurt like that by anyone, he won't allow it. Ever.

🪙 Because of how tall Harvey is in this adaptation compared to his other versions I just have to say he would totally use his height as an advantage in the relationship. He doesn't care how short you are or by any chance actually close to his height, Harvey will still view himself as the protector in the relationship because of his height. As cliche as it is he'll sometimes put things on higher shelves and wait till you call for him to get the said object because no matter how hard you try you can't reach it. Harvey knows he's above average height and will use that against anyone who tries to harm you or makes you uncomfortable. Usually, his height does the trick because despite being fit he won't punch for shit. So he relies on his height to scare someone off as he stands in between the person that upsets you and you and either gives them a silent glare to back off or tries to defuse the situation with his words. He loves it when you depend on him, or specifically his height, it makes him feel useful to you. Also, it's adorable to see you either pout at him for using his height against you or smile up at him gratefully for his help. It always makes him feel so smug and lightheaded afterward to see you like this.

🪙 Doens't matter if you're into politics or not Harvey will, from time to time ask for your opinion before he makes a decision. He never asks you anything complicated or talks about subjects that could put you in danger or you have no idea about. He'd only ever want to know your opinion about the good stuff, like: What should he name the new child hospital or how would you improve some of the run-down parks to make them better suited for the public again. It just makes him feel all warm inside knowing you've also helped to make Gotham better, no matter how small the contribution was, Harvey is immensely proud of you for your support and the care you put out when helping him no matter how big or important the issue is.

🪙 Ever since meeting you, Harvey's goals have changed somewhat. He still wants to fix Gotham's endless corruption and crime, but now that he has you, he wants to change Gotham for you. Obviously, his other motivations still stand, but you're the main one now. Someone as amazing as you deserve only the best, so Harvey will make sure to make the city fit those expectations. He'll change the city to fit the mold, that mold being you. He'll make the new and improved Gotham not only for the people but for you, it's the least he can do after you've stepped into his life and made it something he could only ever dream about. He can't wait to make Gotham a safe enough place to finally feel free to worship you openly for everyone to see.

🪙 Harvey's love language includes quality time and physical touch! Honestly, I see Harvey as having all of the love languages so it was hard to decide his main two, but looking back at the game I say these two fit him the most! There have been two instances in the game where Harvey wanted to spend some time with Selina because he wanted to, they didn't arrange any meet-ups together, it was all him so I say quality time fits him well. If Harvey could he would spend his whole day by your side, he wouldn't let you go out alone at night and would always insist on driving you home himself. He'd often visit you unannounced at random hours of the day just to spend time with you cause he missed you, offering to go out to lunch together or to stay in and cuddle and watch a movie. If there's no work to be done and there are even five minutes of free time he can have to himself, he will either use that time to quickly drive to your place for lunch together or just call you on the phone to hear your voice if he can't afford the time to be physical there with you.

🪙 I picture Harvey as being extremely touchy with the person he loves, and that person just so happens to be you! He just can't get enough of you! You drive him crazy! Of course, he needs to have you in his arms 24/7! Not so much in public though, as much as he would love to show you off to the world he knows the dangers that come with it and he'll never forgive himself if you got hurt. That's why as soon as you're out of sight and in private, personal space will be thrown out the window. The stress of his campaign can only ever go away once he gets to have you all to himself. He'd cuddle you during the night, never once letting you go till the morning finally sets in and it's time to get up, it'll take a lot of convincing and kisses for Harvey to let you go and get up himself so you two won't be late to your respective jobs. When you're in the kitchen, making dinner Harvey has his arms wrapped around your waist as he buries his face into your hair. Or on the rare chance that Harvey gets to work from home, he'll have you seated on his lap as he does paperwork, making the normally stressful and boring job of signing and reading papers all the more enjoyable because he has you. Sometimes he can't help but get distracted though when he has you like this because he'll stop working every few minutes just to shower you with praise and kisses.

🪙 PDA is out of the table. As much as it pains Harvey to not have his hands all over you when out in public, he just can't afford the media going after you. Running for office already brings him a lot of attention, if people saw him with the person of his dreams out and about holding hands and kissing, there's no way you wouldn't be getting harassed by the media for it. That's why it's rare for you two to hang out in public, the only exceptions are dates when Harvey makes sure there will be no paparazzi or reporters to disturb you during your time together. Outside of that you two are total strangers/acquaintances in the public eye if Harvey can help it, though he dreams of announcing to everyone who his beloved is one day as he proudly shows you off. But he knows that day will never come, so he sticks to showering you with his love in private to make up for his neglect in public.

🪙 Since your relationship is a secret, at least to the public, Harvey will grab any chance to kiss you if he knows no one is watching. He's not that stupid to act out on his desires in a place full of people, so he'd be sure to think of an excuse to get you two alone with no people or cameras around so he can show you just how much he yearns for you. Harvey's kisses are always desperate, sensual, and passionate, he wants you to feel all of his love for you with a single kiss that will leave you both satisfied till you have to depart again. Though in private expect a lot more heated and longer kisses because it's just you and him and no one else to catch you. Outside of your lips though, Harvey's other favorite place to kiss you is your forehead, mainly because there's less bending over involved to get to your lips so forehead kisses are just easier. But putting that aside he loves it because it's just so soft and innocent, his arms wrapped around your waist as he leans down and kisses your head before nuzzling into your hair as he whines about how much he has missed you is just the sweetest thing.

🪙 Cuddles with Harvey are a mandatory daily activity, you cannot escape once this man has his arms around you. I imagine Harvey being the big spoon that does not mind being a little spoon occasionally. And by that I mean that it's almost impossible for this man to be a little spoon, not because he doesn't want to, he does, it's just his height that's the problem. Harvey cannot imagine himself being cuddled by you without crushing you. So his version of the little spoon is just you clinging onto his arm or sides like a koala and hugging him as hard you can. The action never fails to make him smile, making all of his worries disappear instantly, replaced by his love for you. As a big spoon though, Harvey would either be lying at his side or on his back as he hugs you tightly against his chest, burying his face into your hair as he breaths in the scent of your shampoo as well as kiss the top of your head from time to time as he whispers his love for you. During those times Harvey truly feels safe. You're his rock, the only thing that can ease the stress of it all, it all just feels so nice he could fall asleep like this with you forever. Always cuddle with a blanket around if it's a colder season though, this man's body temperature is built for the summer not winter, so just keep that in mind before you cuddle. Summer is great though, you've basically got a cooler that won't let you go unless he absolutely has to! Now that's what I call heaven!

🪙 Harvey is a super clingy guy, so it's no surprise that he gets jealous or threatened from time to time when it comes to you, and can you blame him? Only your most trusted friends know that you're together so it's not like he can fault some rando's trying to get a chance with you, but it's not like he'll allow it either! Harvey is sensible enough to realize when a person is flirting with you though, so if it's just a friend or they're not pulling any moves on you, he doesn't mind. Heck, he would even join in on the conversation and gradually direct it toward his campaign to promote himself some more or he'll just watch you with a smile from afar as he lets you have your fun. All of that goes out the window once Harvey realizes that the person is actually flirting with you, he knows he has to be careful though with the way he handles the situation to keep your relationship a secret and not raise any suspicion. Harvey's mood gradually sours and his eye twitches with irritation as he surpasses the urge to glare at the person, knowing he can't just yell at them to back off. He'd try to come up with an excuse to get you away from them instead. He'd walk up to the two of you, mustering up his best smile as he says: "I'm so sorry for interrupting, but (Y/N) is needed in the meeting room right now, please excuse us''. To which he'd immediately gesture for you to follow him as he holds out his arm to you like a true gentleman before he escorts you to the said ''meeting''. As soon as you're inside the room, Harvey locks the door and is immediately all over you, arms wrapped around you as he kisses you all over, growling to himself how you're his and he won't anyone take you away from him. Either that or he'll wait till you two get home to do the exact same thing if he can't do it immediately because of the lack of privacy. The point is, that Harvey will make sure to remind both you and himself that he's the only man for you during those times. Feel free to interpret that however you want.

🪙 Harvey takes dates extremely seriously. He always puts his all into them, making sure they always feel special and different from the last one. The dates are always arranged in a way where you won't get caught because Bruce is such a good friend he'll rent out entire restaurants for the two of you to spend time together without a worry. Both Harvey and Bruce agree you only deserve the best so it's always the best restaurants the city has to offer where you'll be enjoying your dates. Either that or your favorite place to eat, no matter how fancy or non-fancy it is, as long as you're having fun Harvey has nothing to complain about. Though casual dates are also his favorite, whether it's just you two staying at home and having dinner as you watch a movie, or going to coffee shops together for breakfast or to relax from your jobs for a bit. Coffee shops only work because you can always excuse it as an out with a friend or it's work-related, it helps Harvey feel more relaxed because of the believable excuse.

🪙 You are the pinnacle of Harvey's happiness and existence. Your well-being and happiness are the most important things to him and he'll make sure you get the most love and devotion he can give you. Every day is just a new day of Harvey reminding you how much you mean to him, it makes him perfect for anyone who just wants to have a safe, secure, and loving relationship. He does get paranoid from time to time, but with you by his side, he knows he can accomplish anything. Whether that is changing Gotham or himself, he'll do it all just for you, his only reason and motivation to live.

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